ENES: World of Magic II
- Thread starter Erik Mesoy
- Start date
To House of Leonhard
From The Church
We seek peace. The great undead armies of the north pose a threat greater than either of us could pose to one another. Now is the thime to work together and not destroy one another.
For peace to be made we have two demands, firstly that these lands be ceded to the Church
http://img108.imageshack.us/img108/6964/peaceproposalez9.png
and secondly all tribute from the Cammaran Union must end.
From The Church
We seek peace. The great undead armies of the north pose a threat greater than either of us could pose to one another. Now is the thime to work together and not destroy one another.
For peace to be made we have two demands, firstly that these lands be ceded to the Church
http://img108.imageshack.us/img108/6964/peaceproposalez9.png
and secondly all tribute from the Cammaran Union must end.
Squabbling fools! Yes! Unite, so that your dead may pile higher still as my inevitable victory draws nigh! Unite, with your bittrest enemy, foolishly attempting to thwart unconquerable death! Live your last days with those who stole from and fought you!
Death cannot be denied.
The Strategos
Thanatos
- Joined
- Jul 21, 2002
- Messages
- 1,175
I have thought often of writing a book. This desire is not rooted in some altruistic motives on my behalf, some out pouring of good will, seeking to share my knowledge with future generations in order to improve their lives. Nor is this desire mere vanity, a wish to see something outlive me, a pathetic grasp of immortality. No, if I would write a book, it would be for pride. Pride, you see, is so vastly different from mere vanity, one is a copper coin, another a vault of riches. One is a tame housecat, the other a roaring lion. Vanity is a petty thing, fit only for small minds and smaller wills. Pride, that is the ambrosia of the gods. To write something, to establish a vocabulary that shapes the world, that is my motivation. To force, by my mere will, future people to use my vocabulary, to force future overmen to fight against me, to marshal their greatest will and intellect in an effort to break my monolithic hold over their vocabulary, to force them to overcome me
that is why I would write a book.
And if I wrote this fictional book, my first chapter would be, not on armies, or logistics, or even politics, or economics. No, my first chapter would be on fear. For you see, when we win our final victory over the Romans, it will not be because of vast, well-trained armies, or new technologies, or even myself. No, we will win, we must win, because of fear.
You scoff perhaps, how can fear win a war? You cannot see fear, fear cannot charge the enemy, fear cannot defend a fort. And yet here you make a juvenile mistake. For you assume that because you cannot see something, that thing does not exist, or if it does exist, it is not powerful. But what god knows a force more powerful than fear? Fear exists in every man. It continually stalks each man, a silent predator, waiting for its chance to strike. A man can operate under some fear, we call that man brave, but no man operates without fear. And, as even the brave find out, there reaches a point, when fear strikes.
It starts with an uneasy feeling, deep within the pit of your stomach, as if it were alive, vainly attempting to warn you of the coming danger. But of course you ignore it, or even worse, you listen to it, but are still helpless, unable to do anything, surrounded by fear. It then creeps its way up your body, leaving cold chills in your very bones like some slug leaving a slime ridden path behind it. You attempt to fight it. Ha! As if you, an insignificant pile of dirt could defeat something like fear. And so it inexorably advances. Now it has arrived at your throat. It constricts, you find your breathing labored, your skin breaks out in a cold sheen, as if trying to expunge the fear through its sweat. You swallow, but you cannot, a lump getting stuck in your throat, and you are choking, choking, choking
Yes. That is your screams. Those are your wails of terror. Those cries, which seem so distant are your own, begging for mercy, begging for release. Your eyes dart here and there, but in vain. There is no escape, there is no deliverance, only fear.
The Romans, they fear me. They fear the night, for I am there. They fear their friends, for there too I am. They fear being alone, for I am there. They fear, because in being able to be anywhere I choose, I am everywhere, behind every door, in every shadow, in the counterfeit smile of every friend. They fear, for I am their nightmare.
So what do I, the nightmares of others fear? For I said that all fear. Even the monsters, who others fear, themselves fear. Me? I fear insignificance.
And if I wrote this fictional book, my first chapter would be, not on armies, or logistics, or even politics, or economics. No, my first chapter would be on fear. For you see, when we win our final victory over the Romans, it will not be because of vast, well-trained armies, or new technologies, or even myself. No, we will win, we must win, because of fear.
You scoff perhaps, how can fear win a war? You cannot see fear, fear cannot charge the enemy, fear cannot defend a fort. And yet here you make a juvenile mistake. For you assume that because you cannot see something, that thing does not exist, or if it does exist, it is not powerful. But what god knows a force more powerful than fear? Fear exists in every man. It continually stalks each man, a silent predator, waiting for its chance to strike. A man can operate under some fear, we call that man brave, but no man operates without fear. And, as even the brave find out, there reaches a point, when fear strikes.
It starts with an uneasy feeling, deep within the pit of your stomach, as if it were alive, vainly attempting to warn you of the coming danger. But of course you ignore it, or even worse, you listen to it, but are still helpless, unable to do anything, surrounded by fear. It then creeps its way up your body, leaving cold chills in your very bones like some slug leaving a slime ridden path behind it. You attempt to fight it. Ha! As if you, an insignificant pile of dirt could defeat something like fear. And so it inexorably advances. Now it has arrived at your throat. It constricts, you find your breathing labored, your skin breaks out in a cold sheen, as if trying to expunge the fear through its sweat. You swallow, but you cannot, a lump getting stuck in your throat, and you are choking, choking, choking
Yes. That is your screams. Those are your wails of terror. Those cries, which seem so distant are your own, begging for mercy, begging for release. Your eyes dart here and there, but in vain. There is no escape, there is no deliverance, only fear.
The Romans, they fear me. They fear the night, for I am there. They fear their friends, for there too I am. They fear being alone, for I am there. They fear, because in being able to be anywhere I choose, I am everywhere, behind every door, in every shadow, in the counterfeit smile of every friend. They fear, for I am their nightmare.
So what do I, the nightmares of others fear? For I said that all fear. Even the monsters, who others fear, themselves fear. Me? I fear insignificance.
Gladinia
Well, who else
I name my continent after what the Ringctholarrarr call it. Praalse. Incidentally, as I found out later, that this means "place we live," in the language of the Ringctholarrarr.
The gulf will be named "The crystal gulf," for it's clear waters.
The peninsula, "Goolsa" which means "place where words fly on the winds." This because The Chosen may hear words that come to them in the form of wind, though this may be any kind of wind; A gentle summers breeze perhaps, or a great gale; bringing with it words of destruction and unrest.
The tale of Goolsa is a tale told by the hearth in the cold winter months, when bright-eyed children clamber onto the old ones' laps, and look up at them. the old ones see the very stars shining in those eyes, and hear the childs voice; asking, as it does every winter: "Please Da," or "Oh, Grandpa, tell us about Goolsa!" And the old one will look away and answer slowly "oh, my child, you heard that tale last year. Will you not hear something new?`Let me tell you about the Ringctholarrarr, for-" "Grandpa! I'm not a young one still!" And the child will plead and beg, and the old one will say: "Very well... but heed my words young one, for this is a perilous tale, and go not near Goolsa, for that path is a perilous one, and the end of the way only the Mistblowers know." And then the old one will begin, slowly...ever so slowly, but the children will be still, for they know that he will now, as he does every year, tell them about Goolsa:
"Hear me, small ones. You know the story of our people, of the ancestors and their golems, of their inability to use magic, of our superiority over them. When we first came here, we expanded south and west, towards the Nomads, and our neighbours, Seleucia Novus. But, many years ago a group of adventurers ventured into the place that we now call Goolsa, wishing to know what was there. These Five; Glarch the Guarder, Felsiina the Findere, Senniise the Seekere, Hinnso the Hider and Kiliisse the Knowere, as they are known now. Back then, they were simply known as Golse, Fircha, Sellva, Hilger and Kirchessa, or Kirch.
As they wandered onto the plains of Goolsa, they were met by the greatest gale known to men. All except Kirch felt the wind talking, almost screaming, but they could not discern the words. As this was what they had been told was normal of this place, they hurried onwards into the wind, hoping to bypass it, and would soon have been lost to the realm of death, had it not been for Kirch.
When she walked into the wind she felt no normal speaking of words, or indeed screaming. She felt that the gale was blowing straight into her ear, cramming her head full of its message. Death...Destruction......Blood upon the snow of the fellwinter... Turn now adventurer...Death...Death...DEATH...Death...The fellwinter..Death..Death..Death! Death! Destruction! Death.......................................DIE
Kirch felt the voices pressing into her head, filling it... it must surely explode, she must surely either turn or die... NO!
Suddenly it was quiet again. Her head was empty. She started to relax again, but then the voices came back, and her shield slammed back up again. She was once more in control, and she thanked the gods for that. She saw her mental shield manifesting itself as a pearly-grey mist forming around her. Though the mist looked as insubstantial as faery dust, it was not moved by the gale, and Kirch could not feel the slightest breeze inside her wall of mist. quickly she scanned the plains for her companions. She found them on the edge of a cliff, avout to walk off. Without quite knowing what she was doing, she sent some of her mist flying over to keep the wind away from her companions too. It stopped them right before they walked off the cliff. As she had been able to send her mist easily over to her companions, she tried to project her thoughts to them too, through the mist. "Golse? Fircha? Sellva? Hilger? Are you there? Think to me. I am to your left. Can you hear me?" She saw her companons turn, bewildered. She waved, and they saw her. Suddenly she heard them "Kirch...coming...okay?...nearly...mist..what...Hear...we hear you, do...us?...Kirch?" "I am fine friends, but I cannot hear your thoughts clearly. Come over here, and we will continue. I have found the path." "Okay...now...wait...us."
While waiting for her friends, Kirch decied to experiment with her shield. She made a small hole in her shield of mist, and now the words were not uncontrollable any longer. She listened with interest as the words on the wind told her of how the future would be. They painted a bleak picture of a long cold winter, where the wolves woul roam further than usual, killing thse strong enough to survive the bitter cold. Suddenly her companions were there, asking questions; about the mist, about her thought-projecting, and so on. they told each others of what had happened, and agreed to go on, to find theanswer to these mysteries. Kirch wrapped her companions tightly in a sea of the pearly mist, but left a hole open in her own shield, so she might hear more of these prophecies.
Now, I hear your mothers calling you to bed, children- what is that?-no, I see that you are tired. Do not try that one on me youngster. Off you go." The old one saw the stars in his childrens' eyes dulling with tiredness. There would be enough time to finish this tale later. They had a long winter streched out ahead of them. "But, you hav not finished the tale, Grandpa... We would know more!" "Hah, but you are impertinent, you cub. this was but the telling of the winter winds, childling. No, no more will you hear from me tonight. Already your Ma is thinking the worse of me, for keeping you up to such a time. Run off now, and be a good youngster. And if your ma allows it, though I know she does not approve of it, I will tell you of the spring winds tomorrow. Go now little chick! Scamper off!"
And the children will surely run off, and go straight to bed, though they will not sleep, for their mind's eye is full of winds and mist, of fellowship and heroism, until their daydreaming about magic and mysticism slips over to harmless dreaming, from which our fledglings will wake up from tomorrow, full of adventures and courage; defeating evil and helping the weak, until it is again time to listen to the old one, to hear of the Valley of the Words on the Winds of Spring.
The gulf will be named "The crystal gulf," for it's clear waters.
The peninsula, "Goolsa" which means "place where words fly on the winds." This because The Chosen may hear words that come to them in the form of wind, though this may be any kind of wind; A gentle summers breeze perhaps, or a great gale; bringing with it words of destruction and unrest.
The tale of Goolsa is a tale told by the hearth in the cold winter months, when bright-eyed children clamber onto the old ones' laps, and look up at them. the old ones see the very stars shining in those eyes, and hear the childs voice; asking, as it does every winter: "Please Da," or "Oh, Grandpa, tell us about Goolsa!" And the old one will look away and answer slowly "oh, my child, you heard that tale last year. Will you not hear something new?`Let me tell you about the Ringctholarrarr, for-" "Grandpa! I'm not a young one still!" And the child will plead and beg, and the old one will say: "Very well... but heed my words young one, for this is a perilous tale, and go not near Goolsa, for that path is a perilous one, and the end of the way only the Mistblowers know." And then the old one will begin, slowly...ever so slowly, but the children will be still, for they know that he will now, as he does every year, tell them about Goolsa:
"Hear me, small ones. You know the story of our people, of the ancestors and their golems, of their inability to use magic, of our superiority over them. When we first came here, we expanded south and west, towards the Nomads, and our neighbours, Seleucia Novus. But, many years ago a group of adventurers ventured into the place that we now call Goolsa, wishing to know what was there. These Five; Glarch the Guarder, Felsiina the Findere, Senniise the Seekere, Hinnso the Hider and Kiliisse the Knowere, as they are known now. Back then, they were simply known as Golse, Fircha, Sellva, Hilger and Kirchessa, or Kirch.
As they wandered onto the plains of Goolsa, they were met by the greatest gale known to men. All except Kirch felt the wind talking, almost screaming, but they could not discern the words. As this was what they had been told was normal of this place, they hurried onwards into the wind, hoping to bypass it, and would soon have been lost to the realm of death, had it not been for Kirch.
When she walked into the wind she felt no normal speaking of words, or indeed screaming. She felt that the gale was blowing straight into her ear, cramming her head full of its message. Death...Destruction......Blood upon the snow of the fellwinter... Turn now adventurer...Death...Death...DEATH...Death...The fellwinter..Death..Death..Death! Death! Destruction! Death.......................................DIE
Kirch felt the voices pressing into her head, filling it... it must surely explode, she must surely either turn or die... NO!
Suddenly it was quiet again. Her head was empty. She started to relax again, but then the voices came back, and her shield slammed back up again. She was once more in control, and she thanked the gods for that. She saw her mental shield manifesting itself as a pearly-grey mist forming around her. Though the mist looked as insubstantial as faery dust, it was not moved by the gale, and Kirch could not feel the slightest breeze inside her wall of mist. quickly she scanned the plains for her companions. She found them on the edge of a cliff, avout to walk off. Without quite knowing what she was doing, she sent some of her mist flying over to keep the wind away from her companions too. It stopped them right before they walked off the cliff. As she had been able to send her mist easily over to her companions, she tried to project her thoughts to them too, through the mist. "Golse? Fircha? Sellva? Hilger? Are you there? Think to me. I am to your left. Can you hear me?" She saw her companons turn, bewildered. She waved, and they saw her. Suddenly she heard them "Kirch...coming...okay?...nearly...mist..what...Hear...we hear you, do...us?...Kirch?" "I am fine friends, but I cannot hear your thoughts clearly. Come over here, and we will continue. I have found the path." "Okay...now...wait...us."
While waiting for her friends, Kirch decied to experiment with her shield. She made a small hole in her shield of mist, and now the words were not uncontrollable any longer. She listened with interest as the words on the wind told her of how the future would be. They painted a bleak picture of a long cold winter, where the wolves woul roam further than usual, killing thse strong enough to survive the bitter cold. Suddenly her companions were there, asking questions; about the mist, about her thought-projecting, and so on. they told each others of what had happened, and agreed to go on, to find theanswer to these mysteries. Kirch wrapped her companions tightly in a sea of the pearly mist, but left a hole open in her own shield, so she might hear more of these prophecies.
Now, I hear your mothers calling you to bed, children- what is that?-no, I see that you are tired. Do not try that one on me youngster. Off you go." The old one saw the stars in his childrens' eyes dulling with tiredness. There would be enough time to finish this tale later. They had a long winter streched out ahead of them. "But, you hav not finished the tale, Grandpa... We would know more!" "Hah, but you are impertinent, you cub. this was but the telling of the winter winds, childling. No, no more will you hear from me tonight. Already your Ma is thinking the worse of me, for keeping you up to such a time. Run off now, and be a good youngster. And if your ma allows it, though I know she does not approve of it, I will tell you of the spring winds tomorrow. Go now little chick! Scamper off!"
And the children will surely run off, and go straight to bed, though they will not sleep, for their mind's eye is full of winds and mist, of fellowship and heroism, until their daydreaming about magic and mysticism slips over to harmless dreaming, from which our fledglings will wake up from tomorrow, full of adventures and courage; defeating evil and helping the weak, until it is again time to listen to the old one, to hear of the Valley of the Words on the Winds of Spring.
Erik Mesoy
Core Tester / Intern
Player stats are updated - nag me if you're missing something.
Lord_Iggy said:
Diplomatic approach, 186 Ancestral Reckoning, Shieldmeet in Duskmist.
From: Erathal the Ancient, Father of Pale Masters, Enslaver of the Demon, Ruler of Duskmist, Archmage
To: Nekros, corpse
Undeath can. Die, cur.
Erik Mesoy
Core Tester / Intern
Trash talk between a (evil) lich and a (goodish) necromancer leader is just PRICELESS.
Both of you have PMs waiting, fwiw. Nothing urgent.
TerrisH
Mischief?
From Lady Hades
To that undead fool who keep's yelling in my Ear.
Will you please kindly make your directed thoughts mono-directional. your indescreeet shouting it getting anoying.
OOC: heh, just thought I would jump in on this.
To that undead fool who keep's yelling in my Ear.
Will you please kindly make your directed thoughts mono-directional. your indescreeet shouting it getting anoying.
OOC: heh, just thought I would jump in on this.
Erik Mesoy
Core Tester / Intern
Warman17 said:
Seeking peace after you declared war on us after cloaking yourself in a false sheen of righteousness makes you look a fool. Here is our counter-proposal:
1.
2. You will support the Cammane City-States against the Undead Horde
3. You will withdraw all troops from our lands immediately
4. You will cease your warmongering expansionist policies
5. You will lay aside the lying rhetoric and hate behind the mask of lies
6. You will acknowledge our right to have vassal states, seeing how the Lokianicans joined us WILLINGLY
7. You will move your troops to the northwest post haste and from there to what was once Bersia. The Lokianican farmers can supply your troops in this.
Oh, and my mages tell me that there is a high degree of disrupted ether, on a path involving you, the undead and someone further to the north. Explain yourself, cur.
(OOC: Not everyone is in on this equally.)
Erik Mesoy
Core Tester / Intern
This post and this post. Searching for posts by Iggy containing "Lerkal" took me all of half a minute. 
Orders are due sometime after Iggy completes his mega-update, because I don't want to pressure him further and make him quit. Meanwhile, Gladinia can continue the "to be continued" story.
Perfumed Lich. That's going on my quotes list, right next to "But he likes my sexual overtures!", which I heard at school today. Long story.
Orders are due sometime after Iggy completes his mega-update, because I don't want to pressure him further and make him quit. Meanwhile, Gladinia can continue the "to be continued" story.
Perfumed Lich. That's going on my quotes list, right next to "But he likes my sexual overtures!", which I heard at school today. Long story.
RoddyVR
Veteran Board NESer
Roddyna Orders
Spending:
1 on Economy
1 on Science
1 on 1000 infantry
Military:
4700 Infantry, 1300 Cavalry, 30 Magi, 20 Engeneers
Split into following groups (as denoted on map):
Red Forts x2 = 2 Fort Holding Groups each
Yellow Forts x2 = 1 Fort Holding Group each
Fort Holding Group = 600 Infantry, 200 Cavalry, 3 Techmagi, 2 Engeneers
Moscow = 300 Infantry, 10 Cavalry, 4 Techmagi, 2 Engeneers
Korinov = 300 Infantry, 10 Cavalry, 3 Techmagi, 1 Engeneer
Green Forts x3: 100 Infantry, 20 Cavalry, 1 Techmagi, 1 Engeneer
Explorer Groups x2 = 100 Infantry, 10 Cavarly, 1 Techmagi, 1 Engeneer
Orders for the Military:
Border Forts: Defend, Patrol, Guard the borders with Furys Domain. Each fort is responsible for a considerable stretch of border, but that's why they have the majority of the Lizard Cavalry to be able to check up on things quickly.
New additional orders: keep an eye on any spoted forces of Furey's Domain... need to know the strength of their forces on the border.
Main City forces: mostly police and peacekeeping duties. and training.
Fort Towns: Training and military presense... recruitment to keep current levels (including sending trained soldiers to Borders to replace any losses there)
Exploration groups:
Two seperate forces...
one to expand our holdings along the river, as far west as possible. Same as always.
The other to go south along the shore. Yes, into what could be thought of as "future Furey's territory".
If it took then this long to expand their borders, then we're going to start expanding ours here first.
If any towns/cities start claiming that they're part of Furey's Domain and that this is an act of war, ask them "when the last time they saw any official from Furey's Domain? How much protection are they getting from Furey's Army? Where by the way IS Furey's army?" Furey's is clearly not interested in providing them with the protection a government should provide untill it is in Furey's interests, and Roddyna is offering it now.
I'm hopefull that i wont encounter much resistance from the populace about being inducted into one of the two real nations on the continent. the "border agreement" with Furey's was between me and Furey, not a continent wide referendum.
Story a bit later...once i write it...
edit, forgot to add the map... here be it.
Spending:
1 on Economy
1 on Science
1 on 1000 infantry
Military:
4700 Infantry, 1300 Cavalry, 30 Magi, 20 Engeneers
Split into following groups (as denoted on map):
Red Forts x2 = 2 Fort Holding Groups each
Yellow Forts x2 = 1 Fort Holding Group each
Fort Holding Group = 600 Infantry, 200 Cavalry, 3 Techmagi, 2 Engeneers
Moscow = 300 Infantry, 10 Cavalry, 4 Techmagi, 2 Engeneers
Korinov = 300 Infantry, 10 Cavalry, 3 Techmagi, 1 Engeneer
Green Forts x3: 100 Infantry, 20 Cavalry, 1 Techmagi, 1 Engeneer
Explorer Groups x2 = 100 Infantry, 10 Cavarly, 1 Techmagi, 1 Engeneer
Orders for the Military:
Border Forts: Defend, Patrol, Guard the borders with Furys Domain. Each fort is responsible for a considerable stretch of border, but that's why they have the majority of the Lizard Cavalry to be able to check up on things quickly.
New additional orders: keep an eye on any spoted forces of Furey's Domain... need to know the strength of their forces on the border.
Main City forces: mostly police and peacekeeping duties. and training.
Fort Towns: Training and military presense... recruitment to keep current levels (including sending trained soldiers to Borders to replace any losses there)
Exploration groups:
Two seperate forces...
one to expand our holdings along the river, as far west as possible. Same as always.
The other to go south along the shore. Yes, into what could be thought of as "future Furey's territory".
If it took then this long to expand their borders, then we're going to start expanding ours here first.
If any towns/cities start claiming that they're part of Furey's Domain and that this is an act of war, ask them "when the last time they saw any official from Furey's Domain? How much protection are they getting from Furey's Army? Where by the way IS Furey's army?" Furey's is clearly not interested in providing them with the protection a government should provide untill it is in Furey's interests, and Roddyna is offering it now.
I'm hopefull that i wont encounter much resistance from the populace about being inducted into one of the two real nations on the continent. the "border agreement" with Furey's was between me and Furey, not a continent wide referendum.
Story a bit later...once i write it...
edit, forgot to add the map... here be it.
Attachments
Erik Mesoy
Core Tester / Intern
I have four out of greater-than-or-equal-to-nine orders. Iggy has his own update to do; Silver Steak is at bootcamp and must probably wait until the weekend with sending orders. The rest of you, write stories or something, so that I don't accidentally start offering your nations to random people I talk to on AIM. Or send orders so that I can start doing your bit of the update in advance. This last option will make the update less likely to be delayed and split between map and text. 
RoddyVR
Veteran Board NESer
EDIT: yikes.. put all my stories in this thread into one word file, and it came out to almost 15 pages.
The Second Czar of Roddyna
Grisha knew that if he did like the other Techmagi he have a slighly lower then average chance of winning the game, they had years or decades of experience on him. So he decided early that he would not build a machine to beat the others, but rather one to outlive the others. In the end he came up with an even more briliant idea, his entry in the circle, would be a large lead ball. No movable parts, no engine to damage, no gears to wear out, just solid lead.
It had been Roddy's last order to the Techmagi before he retired to his workshop, and died 3 days later. "As you know, Roddyna faces a war with Furey's Domain. I will not live to start the conflict, so one of you will have to take the reigns of this great nation and lead it through this dificult time in its growth. As much of your reign will likely be at wartime, I hereby relinquish the thrown of Czar, not to a Techmagi picked by me, but the one who proves him or her self the most powerful by a game. Each of you interested in taking the thrown, will build a construct, no larger in mass and size then a child, and all of them will battle eachother inside the Assembly Table. The winner builder of the winner will be the Techmagi powerfull and cunning enough to lead Roddyna through the war."
A couple of the other "contestants" had laughed when Grisha had entered the contest for the throne, and he was determined not only to show them that he could win it, but that he was a more powerfull Techmagi then any of them. While they spent the week designing and building their fighters, he practiced his unusual gift. At first Grisha asked his older brother Misha to help him train, but they both knew it was pointless, the Engeneer had long stopped being a challenge for the Techmagi. So Grisha went to the only Techmagi that he thought he could trust with his secret.
"Good morning Anthony." He said when he walked into the Czar's workshop where his older friend had been spending most of his time.
"Good morning to you to. Come to check out the workshop you will soon command?" For a second Grisha though Anthony was making fun of him too, but he saw that Anthony's eyes werent laughing.
"Are you serious? Do you realy believe I will win the Contest?"
"Ofcourse. Of those that entered the contest, you are the only one that deserves to be Czar. And my uncle would never have left the thrown to a contest that he didnt think the right person would win."
"Thanks. I hope I can live up to your expectations. Though I still think he should have just left the thrown to you. Why didnt you enter the contest?"
"I would never win. The others would, like you, think that I 'should' win and gang up on my construct first. Besides, my home is in Korinov so I dont want to be Czar and have to move back here. More importantly, I am younger then my uncle, but not by that much, I might not last the whole war, and the one thing Roddy didnt want is for a change of Czar during the war, that's why he didnt start it years ago. Now, what did you realy come here for?"
"I need your help for the contest..." Grisha said seriously.
"No, seriously, what did you come here for?" Anthony laughed at what he clearly thought was a joke.
"I dont mean design or building of the fighter, its done. Its a lead ball. I mean I need your help with something other then the fighter."
"WHAT? A LEAD BALL? Are You... actualy i wish i'd thought of that, might have entered the contest. Not a bad idea, you'll get second place though, not a win."
A Metal ball would get second place in the Contest because anyone trying to fight it would either stop or destroy their own construct bashing pointlessly against it, but the last one standing of the other constructs could claim a win because the metal ball could never damage his fighter.
"That's what I need help with. A regular Techmagi, and actualy even a non magician, could get second place with a lead ball, but I can win. I just need to practice against a real Techmagi for a little bit."
"Practice what? Watching your ball? What's there to practice?" Anthony was clearly confused.
"I need to practice taking control of YOUR machines, so that they obey me instead of you." Grisha felt like a great weight had been lifted off his shoulders, he had wanted to tell someone of his ability for two years. And the look of shock and disbelief on Anthony's face made him laugh.
"Say that again..."
"I can control machines I've never seen a blueprint for, but i'm not 100% certain that i could do it while its inventor is controling it."
"You're not 100% sure... how sure are you? This must be a joke."
"I'm about 100% sure i can wrest control of a simple machine from you, I've done it before, you just didnt notice, but I'm not so sure for more complex ones."
It took almost an hour to convince Anthony that he wasnt joking, and to give it a try. When the door stayed closed no matter how much Anthony tried to comand it to open, he was finaly convinced. Later that evening they were up to actual small fighting machines that Anthony had been making recently.
To Anthony's question of "how?" all Grisha could give was an "I dont quite know, I feel it as making the machine misinterpret your comand the way i want it to. My brother always said i should have been an Engeneer, and if i wanted to i could easily join their ranks, but I think my current job is better. You cant tell anyone though, Morgan will try to change the rules of the contest to make the Engeneers monitor us as well as the outside. My brother can 'hear' my ability but cant interfere with it, but i'm not so sure some of the stronger Engeneers wouldnt be able to."
"No problem, I will love to see the face on Morgan's arragant face when his own machine smashes again you lead ball. He as much as told me that he's glad he wont have to embarass me in the contest. And he's not younger then me either, powerhungry bastard would leave the country leaderless during the war."
The Second Czar of Roddyna
Grisha knew that if he did like the other Techmagi he have a slighly lower then average chance of winning the game, they had years or decades of experience on him. So he decided early that he would not build a machine to beat the others, but rather one to outlive the others. In the end he came up with an even more briliant idea, his entry in the circle, would be a large lead ball. No movable parts, no engine to damage, no gears to wear out, just solid lead.
It had been Roddy's last order to the Techmagi before he retired to his workshop, and died 3 days later. "As you know, Roddyna faces a war with Furey's Domain. I will not live to start the conflict, so one of you will have to take the reigns of this great nation and lead it through this dificult time in its growth. As much of your reign will likely be at wartime, I hereby relinquish the thrown of Czar, not to a Techmagi picked by me, but the one who proves him or her self the most powerful by a game. Each of you interested in taking the thrown, will build a construct, no larger in mass and size then a child, and all of them will battle eachother inside the Assembly Table. The winner builder of the winner will be the Techmagi powerfull and cunning enough to lead Roddyna through the war."
A couple of the other "contestants" had laughed when Grisha had entered the contest for the throne, and he was determined not only to show them that he could win it, but that he was a more powerfull Techmagi then any of them. While they spent the week designing and building their fighters, he practiced his unusual gift. At first Grisha asked his older brother Misha to help him train, but they both knew it was pointless, the Engeneer had long stopped being a challenge for the Techmagi. So Grisha went to the only Techmagi that he thought he could trust with his secret.
"Good morning Anthony." He said when he walked into the Czar's workshop where his older friend had been spending most of his time.
"Good morning to you to. Come to check out the workshop you will soon command?" For a second Grisha though Anthony was making fun of him too, but he saw that Anthony's eyes werent laughing.
"Are you serious? Do you realy believe I will win the Contest?"
"Ofcourse. Of those that entered the contest, you are the only one that deserves to be Czar. And my uncle would never have left the thrown to a contest that he didnt think the right person would win."
"Thanks. I hope I can live up to your expectations. Though I still think he should have just left the thrown to you. Why didnt you enter the contest?"
"I would never win. The others would, like you, think that I 'should' win and gang up on my construct first. Besides, my home is in Korinov so I dont want to be Czar and have to move back here. More importantly, I am younger then my uncle, but not by that much, I might not last the whole war, and the one thing Roddy didnt want is for a change of Czar during the war, that's why he didnt start it years ago. Now, what did you realy come here for?"
"I need your help for the contest..." Grisha said seriously.
"No, seriously, what did you come here for?" Anthony laughed at what he clearly thought was a joke.
"I dont mean design or building of the fighter, its done. Its a lead ball. I mean I need your help with something other then the fighter."
"WHAT? A LEAD BALL? Are You... actualy i wish i'd thought of that, might have entered the contest. Not a bad idea, you'll get second place though, not a win."
A Metal ball would get second place in the Contest because anyone trying to fight it would either stop or destroy their own construct bashing pointlessly against it, but the last one standing of the other constructs could claim a win because the metal ball could never damage his fighter.
"That's what I need help with. A regular Techmagi, and actualy even a non magician, could get second place with a lead ball, but I can win. I just need to practice against a real Techmagi for a little bit."
"Practice what? Watching your ball? What's there to practice?" Anthony was clearly confused.
"I need to practice taking control of YOUR machines, so that they obey me instead of you." Grisha felt like a great weight had been lifted off his shoulders, he had wanted to tell someone of his ability for two years. And the look of shock and disbelief on Anthony's face made him laugh.
"Say that again..."
"I can control machines I've never seen a blueprint for, but i'm not 100% certain that i could do it while its inventor is controling it."
"You're not 100% sure... how sure are you? This must be a joke."
"I'm about 100% sure i can wrest control of a simple machine from you, I've done it before, you just didnt notice, but I'm not so sure for more complex ones."
It took almost an hour to convince Anthony that he wasnt joking, and to give it a try. When the door stayed closed no matter how much Anthony tried to comand it to open, he was finaly convinced. Later that evening they were up to actual small fighting machines that Anthony had been making recently.
To Anthony's question of "how?" all Grisha could give was an "I dont quite know, I feel it as making the machine misinterpret your comand the way i want it to. My brother always said i should have been an Engeneer, and if i wanted to i could easily join their ranks, but I think my current job is better. You cant tell anyone though, Morgan will try to change the rules of the contest to make the Engeneers monitor us as well as the outside. My brother can 'hear' my ability but cant interfere with it, but i'm not so sure some of the stronger Engeneers wouldnt be able to."
"No problem, I will love to see the face on Morgan's arragant face when his own machine smashes again you lead ball. He as much as told me that he's glad he wont have to embarass me in the contest. And he's not younger then me either, powerhungry bastard would leave the country leaderless during the war."
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