LINES-World of Magic
- Thread starter Lord_Iggy
- Start date
das
Regeneration In Process
When should we send orders?
The Strategos
Thanatos
- Joined
- Jul 21, 2002
- Messages
- 1,175
Lord_Iggy said:
I also have the largest number of infantry among PC's, are you going to start ignoring my orders to increase them because sheesh, it's not like 100 will make a difference anyway
. Objectively speaking my trade counter IS wrong. Just looke at Ur and Illyria's stats, they have "Trade: Indus (1/2) Karthage (1)" and "Trade: Karthage (1/2)" respectively while I have Ur (1/2) Illyria (2/3). OBJECTIVELY Karthage's trade stats are one turn off. NOW if this is just a penalty for having so many trade routes, I understand that. However, since in the multiple times I have complained about it, you haven't once suggested that this was a normal penalty that everyone who has a certain number of trade routes will suffer, it is only natural (from my point of view) that I assume that it was just a mistake and badger you to fix it. Now if you respond to this and say that my trade counters being off is a normal penalty that I incured because I have too many trade routes, I'll understand and thank you for clearing it up. If however, it was because you honestly think that my stats were right, then I think I showed that they aren't right (because it would be unusual that you made the same mistake with both Ur and Illyria's trade counters and because I caught the "mistake" the very turn it happened) and I expect you to change them and give me the 10 galleys I tried to buy last turn with my trade 
. All I want is a clear explanation and I'll drop the whole issue, never to raise it again. Thank you.Before 10:00 AM Pacific time zone. Best to send 'em by Friday, just in case.
@Strategos- Okay, maybe it's just been constantly off for a few turns, because I distinctly remember updating them. I'll raise them to the levels of the other people.
jalapeno_dude
AKA Panda Judo Eel
Orders sent.
Disenfrancised
Beep Beep
@Cleric: Remember you still owe 1 econ point for passage to Cuba (I'm also going to move my forces back to only the city so you get the whole Island)
Kozmos
Jew Detective
Roger that,gonna send quick orders soon.
Kentharu
Zebra Commander
umm, so we HAVE to send orders today... or can me (procranstation) send them late
Disenfrancised
Beep Beep
(orders sent)
The scream went on and on, growing louder and more inhuman as it approached.
No earthly lungs or throat could produce such a noise thought Jacoor as he cowered under the table top. This was something else, something wrong. He knew of course that the jagged rocks of the Kynarth hills made an excellent training ground for the Suzerainties monsters and that there was a temple-militant not forty miles away that concerned itself with their summoning. That must be where the noise was coming from and that the priest must have everything under control; there was no need to be afraid...no need to be afraid...
The scream cut off suddenly, only to start again, louder. And during that brief cessation, he could hear a crashing sound - as if the very trees themselves were being overturned.
...but he was afraid. Contrary to his boasting to his friends about his trip to the capital, he had been too scared to look into the dark pits where things not of this world bred and boiled. "By the All-in-One" he mumbled "I really am a coward", he had even been scared to check up to the Wayhouse on his own, it was only fear of his fathers disapproval that had finally impelled him to action...
The sound of falling trees could clearly be heard now as the banshee wail roared on and on, closer and closer.
...Jacoor curled up as small as he could make himself "oh please, oh please, oh please" he whimpered, to frightened to even form a proper prayer - his soul would pass unmarked into the abyss...
In the background, shouting could be heard over the screaming, the breaking of trees and the thrashing of monstrous limbs.
..."oh please, oh pleas-"
Something struck the squat tower of the Wayhouse with a wet splat that shook it to the foundations. The building creaked and groaned as something scrabbled up the side like an enormous tick up an arm...
"CRUNCH"
Some vast proboscis penetrated the Wayhouse like a wasp paralyzing its prey, ichors or venom spraying around the room. As the monstrous spike on the end was thrust one way or the other it seemed to taste the air...searching...searching for him! A tiny gasp of fear betrayed him and the appendage swung in his direction. In the split second before it struck Jacoor could make out every black hair and iridescent scale. As his whole lift seemed to twist and condense around the onrushing spines Jacoor thought he could hear something,
"...exshh-kab-enhuat!"
Then darkness.
________________________________________
"...boy...boy...BOY! Wake up or by the gods I'll feed you to a horror!"
Jacoor shot awake. He felt unharmed except for a few burning spots where venom had struck him, looking around he could see not sign of the monster, only the devastation it had wrought.
"The beast is sleeping outside like a good little leashling, damn fool of a summoner was trying to show off and got something to big to hold, these *********ch children they have us handle today..."
Jacoor focus on this newcomer - he had the ornate mask of a priest and the stench of incense hung about him, but he was garbed like no priest Jacoor had ever seen. In place of the heavy robes normally favoured he wore marvelously carved armor of wood and leather, surmounted with a shawl woven with images of monsters. Who was he? Priests don't curse either.
"Never seen a Warrior Brother before child? The robes aren’t much use when you’re chasing across the landscape after something with twenty times as many legs as you've got! Now if you get me some food and mead double quick now, I won't tell anyone how you fainted like a little girl!"
Jacoor began to protest but was cut off by this unlikely priest.
"And you better get yourself some new trousers too, before you stink up the place mind"
The scream went on and on, growing louder and more inhuman as it approached.
No earthly lungs or throat could produce such a noise thought Jacoor as he cowered under the table top. This was something else, something wrong. He knew of course that the jagged rocks of the Kynarth hills made an excellent training ground for the Suzerainties monsters and that there was a temple-militant not forty miles away that concerned itself with their summoning. That must be where the noise was coming from and that the priest must have everything under control; there was no need to be afraid...no need to be afraid...
The scream cut off suddenly, only to start again, louder. And during that brief cessation, he could hear a crashing sound - as if the very trees themselves were being overturned.
...but he was afraid. Contrary to his boasting to his friends about his trip to the capital, he had been too scared to look into the dark pits where things not of this world bred and boiled. "By the All-in-One" he mumbled "I really am a coward", he had even been scared to check up to the Wayhouse on his own, it was only fear of his fathers disapproval that had finally impelled him to action...
The sound of falling trees could clearly be heard now as the banshee wail roared on and on, closer and closer.
...Jacoor curled up as small as he could make himself "oh please, oh please, oh please" he whimpered, to frightened to even form a proper prayer - his soul would pass unmarked into the abyss...
In the background, shouting could be heard over the screaming, the breaking of trees and the thrashing of monstrous limbs.
..."oh please, oh pleas-"
Something struck the squat tower of the Wayhouse with a wet splat that shook it to the foundations. The building creaked and groaned as something scrabbled up the side like an enormous tick up an arm...
"CRUNCH"
Some vast proboscis penetrated the Wayhouse like a wasp paralyzing its prey, ichors or venom spraying around the room. As the monstrous spike on the end was thrust one way or the other it seemed to taste the air...searching...searching for him! A tiny gasp of fear betrayed him and the appendage swung in his direction. In the split second before it struck Jacoor could make out every black hair and iridescent scale. As his whole lift seemed to twist and condense around the onrushing spines Jacoor thought he could hear something,
"...exshh-kab-enhuat!"
Then darkness.
________________________________________
"...boy...boy...BOY! Wake up or by the gods I'll feed you to a horror!"
Jacoor shot awake. He felt unharmed except for a few burning spots where venom had struck him, looking around he could see not sign of the monster, only the devastation it had wrought.
"The beast is sleeping outside like a good little leashling, damn fool of a summoner was trying to show off and got something to big to hold, these *********ch children they have us handle today..."
Jacoor focus on this newcomer - he had the ornate mask of a priest and the stench of incense hung about him, but he was garbed like no priest Jacoor had ever seen. In place of the heavy robes normally favoured he wore marvelously carved armor of wood and leather, surmounted with a shawl woven with images of monsters. Who was he? Priests don't curse either.
"Never seen a Warrior Brother before child? The robes aren’t much use when you’re chasing across the landscape after something with twenty times as many legs as you've got! Now if you get me some food and mead double quick now, I won't tell anyone how you fainted like a little girl!"
Jacoor began to protest but was cut off by this unlikely priest.
"And you better get yourself some new trousers too, before you stink up the place mind"
Erik Mesoy
Core Tester / Intern
I've sent orders, yes I have...
*demands an update*
*demands an update*
das
Regeneration In Process
I predict that soon, this world will become VERY exciting.
Lets wait for the update, though.
Lets wait for the update, though.
The Strategos
Thanatos
- Joined
- Jul 21, 2002
- Messages
- 1,175
Mintho let his eyes wander over the motley rabble assembled before him. Alright fall in. Echoing his orders, his subordinates started railing at the men. Gradually under their insults and prodding, the rabble lacklusterly shuffled into a semblance of a line. Mintho gave a mental sigh. It certainly wasnt like the old days. Back in General Carthagos day the army was made up of real men, not these half-savage barbarians. Then the army was made up of pure blood Karthaginians. Now the army was diluted, its members nothing but riff-raff fleeing their homelands law. The mercenaries were only slightly better. They at least could fight, as long as your opponent didnt pay them more.
Looking back, the current state of the Karthaginian army seemed inevitable. In the earliest days, their army was made up of a citizen militia drawn from Karthages populace. They fought to protect their own lands, their home, from its enemies. It was men like these who fought off the pirate invasions from Karthages early history. As wealth continued to flow into Karthage these militias became the basis for the permanent army. This was the high point of Karthages military, heroes of General Carthagos campaign that ended the pirate threat forever. Year long training turned them into a finely tuned military machine, able to take on and defeat forces many times larger.
Ironically enough, it was Karthages prosperity that contributed to the diluting of her army. As her empire grew bigger, it demanded a larger navy in order to protect her now far-flung interests and to protect her merchant fleets. More and more Karthaginians chose to attempt to get rich through trade rather than have a steady career in the army. Soon the requirements of defending the empire required Karthage to look elsewhere to supply the manpower she so desperately needed. Soon Greeks, Italians, Libyans, the entire diversity that made up the Karthaginian empire could be found in her armies. Lulled by centuries of peace, their training became lax, they grew complacent, growing soft from unending garrison duty. Two quick campaigns against the Helvetia and the Atlantica further eroded the army. The ineptness of their enemies and the local support that Karthage received limited Karthages casualties, masking the rot that was slowly eating away at the army, turning it into only a shell of its former self. After the wars, many believed that Karthage, completely surrounded by allies and peaceful nations would never need to fight again, the only reason to keep an army would be to garrison the neglected forts and help local rulers to enforce the laws of Karthage.
Mintho was not one of those people. While other units sat around playing dice and drinking wine, he was determined that if a war ever came, at least one command would be prepared to smite Karthages enemies with righteous wrath. That is why he was here, surrounded by men shuddering from the coolness of the predawn. A quick ten mile jaunt in full battle gear before breakfast was just what this army needed. And that was just the beginning
Looking back, the current state of the Karthaginian army seemed inevitable. In the earliest days, their army was made up of a citizen militia drawn from Karthages populace. They fought to protect their own lands, their home, from its enemies. It was men like these who fought off the pirate invasions from Karthages early history. As wealth continued to flow into Karthage these militias became the basis for the permanent army. This was the high point of Karthages military, heroes of General Carthagos campaign that ended the pirate threat forever. Year long training turned them into a finely tuned military machine, able to take on and defeat forces many times larger.
Ironically enough, it was Karthages prosperity that contributed to the diluting of her army. As her empire grew bigger, it demanded a larger navy in order to protect her now far-flung interests and to protect her merchant fleets. More and more Karthaginians chose to attempt to get rich through trade rather than have a steady career in the army. Soon the requirements of defending the empire required Karthage to look elsewhere to supply the manpower she so desperately needed. Soon Greeks, Italians, Libyans, the entire diversity that made up the Karthaginian empire could be found in her armies. Lulled by centuries of peace, their training became lax, they grew complacent, growing soft from unending garrison duty. Two quick campaigns against the Helvetia and the Atlantica further eroded the army. The ineptness of their enemies and the local support that Karthage received limited Karthages casualties, masking the rot that was slowly eating away at the army, turning it into only a shell of its former self. After the wars, many believed that Karthage, completely surrounded by allies and peaceful nations would never need to fight again, the only reason to keep an army would be to garrison the neglected forts and help local rulers to enforce the laws of Karthage.
Mintho was not one of those people. While other units sat around playing dice and drinking wine, he was determined that if a war ever came, at least one command would be prepared to smite Karthages enemies with righteous wrath. That is why he was here, surrounded by men shuddering from the coolness of the predawn. A quick ten mile jaunt in full battle gear before breakfast was just what this army needed. And that was just the beginning
Kentharu
Zebra Commander
Diary of Krippa
The drums of war, beat yet again. And the tides of fire and scorched souls rise from the ashes now long gone. Those crazed Magi, that mad king, oh the agony of this servitude. My bondage, for ever forgone to this society of immortal fire. The pillars never seem to quiet themselves, in there never ending blazes. War drums do indeed beat, like the hearts of my men, my comrades who march forth to slaughter yet another unsuspecting bunch of fools. Those Atlantica, who ripped themselves apart now will be burnt into submission. Merzan had began his lust for power, no peace, just more, more land, more magic, more power, more gold. I care not, I am just the simple observer in the midst of the battle field. The one who seems to shadow himself inside men, and yet fight along side them. New boats had been made to transport us to the new islands of Atlantica. It was dangerous, since those Magi were so mortified of the water. They were like childs, or my brother, who was long dead now but during his life his mind had slowly decayed, seemingly faster than his body would.
I remember, how he would tell me of what he saw, when we were children. The lights and sounds he heard, I was enthralled at the time, by his shear brilliance and the fact that he, of course, was my older brother. He showed me his paintings and his poetry but after he turned 14, my father began to break all of his art, and tear apart his poems. He had said that men were not artists, they were warriors. This was because my father was a soldier himself, a dedicated warrior of Merzan, our past and present king. My father we a built man, unlike my brother, he always had a slight frown on his face, even when he smiled. His sword never left his hip, even though in his old age he could scarcely lift it, and whenever he went out, he always had his red cape, with Merzans seal of honor.
I nearly lost my arm to one of those blasted Atlanticas but no matter, the magi burnt it back out. They molded iron again to it but this time my entire arm isnt gone, just the upper part of it. More and more scars now cut through my face. If only I could escape this slavery in combat, but then what would an immortal warrior like me do? Shall I leave and pursue my dreams of becoming the greatest writer, and greatest poet. There would be little fun in that, and Merzan would not allow it, besides the boy Yusha, his son, he keeps me company. He listens and admires my poetry and paintings, but he is young. Even though already over 100 years of age he still resembles a child.
We march now, to some foreign land to destroy the fools who would oppose us. I fear this though, like a cold wind in the darkest nights, I fear this. Many battles have been fought but none have we lost. It may be that Mezans lust for power will be our downfall. Or so the prophets have said to me but a man who lusts, is no man at all. That is what my mother said and perhaps she is right. As she was right most of the time, perhaps always. It may be that from her grave she would she would send these prophets to warn me, but no matter. I must go forth, fear r no fear, even into certain death I will not be denied my glory. But first I must go to Dreadmire alone, I have taken to that island, perhaps the island will lend us help if I pray there for long enough.
Erik Mesoy
Core Tester / Intern
Clink.Lord_Iggy said:I'm starting the update, but it'll take a while. This is gonna be crazy.
It is the sound of a piece being advanced.
It comes on the heels of a long silence.
All the players have been reluctant to move first.
Now someone has broken the stalemate.
The movement creates opportunity.
Across the world, leaders draw up plans.
Thousands of men will die at their command.
Thousands of years have been spent in preparation.
Now, it will all break loose at once.
There will be destruction.
There will be death.
Most of all, there will be change.
And where there is change, there is chaos.
And where there is chaos, Elgovia will enter the stage.
Already the High Chaosiers have crossed to Europe!
Military Journal of the Third Legion
We crossed the border to Hyperborea on the third Sword of Withertime. We made good time to the portal, arriving as early as the fourth Staff. Our translation to Valusia took three days. We were received without undue comment by the already growing forces present on Na-Uzuldoriom. Our Hyperborean allies saw to it that we were directed to our quarter of the city, although "our three-quarters" is a more realistic assessment of the situation, seeing how we're suddenly responsible for so much of the defense in terms of troop counts.
The island is rapidly becoming an impregnable fortress. The First, Second and Fifth Legions are already patrolling; perhaps the best indicator of our readiness is that our coming does not relieve them in any manner. Each man patrols for ten hours a day for four days, then a day of rest, then ten hours a day for the next three days, and one day of leave.
The Hyperborean garrison is well trained and equipped, but too small at the moment to make a difference. We expect them to be reinforced too, but at the moment, they are working on fortifications. Although less enthusiastic, they are certainly more dutiful than us. Their engineers are constructing a grand seawall around the very coast to stop landing parties, and the harbor is already fortified to such an extent that ships will spend five minutes entering and five minutes leaving to get around the stone piles marked with flags. Once war breaks out, we'll remove those, and any ship that doesn't know the way in or out will run itself aground, delaying the ships behind it even further.
We don't know who we're going to be attacked by - or who we're going to war with. My commanding officer assures me that even his commanding officer has no idea; apparently the top men are desperate not to let their secret out. I can tell you one thing, though - even Karthage, the nation styling itself "Lord of the Inner Sea", wouldn't bother to attack this island. At all hours, there are men standing in the five dozen watchtowers surrounding the island, ready with a brazier of flame and red dust to pour on it should they sight something. I have seen the ballistas mounted on the top peaks - essentially mechanical bows that fire lances instead of arrows. Supposedly, they can shoot as far as the eye can see. I've never seen them fired, though, so I must assume the worst and expect to them to miss or malfunction.
Not that that would matter. The Fourth Legion is due to arrive before the end of Raintime. Provisions are taking up three buildings here already. The outer walls are as thick as my arm is long. We can hold out here for any length of time.
If only there would be a war, so we could prove our skills!
Useful Note - Elgovian Dates
The Elgovian calendar has ten periods roughly equivalent to OTL months: Snowtime, Melttime, Greentime, Lifetime, Joytime, Storetime, Withertime, Raintime, Wolftime, Bleaktime.
Each of these is subdivided into four periods, and the nine days within each of those are named Sword, Lance, Staff, Spear, Bow, Shield, Helm, Plate and Rest, the last being the common day of rest.
January 1st falls on First Spear of Snowtime. Thus Jan 2nd is First Bow of Snowtime, Jan 10th is Second Spear of Snowtime, Feb 1st is First Sword of Melttime, and Mar 1st is Fourth Lance of Melttime.
There are also five high-days or festivals, which I will cover later.
