YS1:Turn17
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Arcoscephale
It was not long ago that I marched by the side of the great Alexander, learnt battle formations and strategy from his cunning hand. Now, abandoned by the same, I am forced to listen to a local crazy woman about how to arrange my troops.
The hoplite formation was designed to fight as one unit, the spears and weight of the rear ranks lending support to the front line. Stacked sixteen rows deep, this dread formation is nearly unbreakable in battle. I was there at Cunaxa, when the entire wing of the Persian army fled merely at our approach. Imagine if you were dressed in light cloth, armed with a short sword, and, with a rabble of your companions, you looked up to see the sun glinting off a thousand Greek shields, a thousand Greek spearheads blackening the sky. Only insanity or superhuman bravery would compel you to stand your ground, much less fling yourself onto their lines to have your body broken and trampled forever into the dust.
Nowhere on earth has anyone been able to withstand the phalanx. A hundred, a thousand years from now, men will still march out in this formation; it is the ultimate, definitive, triumphant last word in warfare.
But, no, heaven forbid we go with what works. I know, let's divide the strength of the phalanx into tiny little two and three man squads, cluster each of them around a bloody mystic, and, what's more, test this formation in battle, not against a light rabble, but a strongly defended province reputed to be guarded by women who are renowned for their battle progress. But Divikar carries orders from the village elders that Amshula should try this new tactic, and so we are all going to die.
A scout from the eastern marches has sent word that a disturbing race dwells north of this warrior-women province. Their practices are rumored to be quite barbaric, and I hope they have been somewhat exaggerated. On the other hand... sacrificing female virgins. I mean, it's wrong and despicable, an affront to civilization. But I cannot help thinking that Amshula has never been married...
Divikar also brings word of another failed attack upon Skeldmarsh. Apparently a few locals decided to steal some hoplite armor and go avenge Limmy's death. They were scattered like leaves, but some people cannot get enough punishment, and so they are preparing yet another attack. Apparently all the semi-intelligent people on the council have been overruled by the Limmy fanatics, who spend all their time wandering around, wailing his name.
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Machaka
Cetewayo and his retinue performed the rituals which would sensitise them to the existence of magical power began to search. Cetewayo had been very disappointed with the dearth of magic in the lands he had conquered. However, he was sure that this time the search would pay off. He could feel the presence of magic. If only he could find it! They had been walking through the forest for hours when Cetewayo began to notice a change. The trees were becoming strange. It was not yet Autumn, but more of the leaves on the trees were yellow, orange and red. However, none of them had fallen from the trees. It was as if these brilliant colors were their natural state. Soon all of the leaves were the color of flame. Cetewayo could sense the presence of magic so very close. He relaxed and allowed the magic to call him. Soon he heard superstitious mutterings from his retinue. He brought himself out of the partial trance into which he had sunk and was surprised by what he saw. They had come to a small grove of trees. Like all of the trees in sight, their leaves were a combination of yellow, orange and red. However, these trees didn't just look like flame, their leaves were burning, yet not consumed. There was a tangible heat being given off by the trees ahead. The heat wasn't unpleasant, especially for a Machakan. In the center of the grove was a circle of trees and there, in the middle Cetewayo found it. Now he understood the difficulty he had experienced identifying the magic. Laying there on the ground was the answer to the puzzle. There were two magical gems. One was the deep red of a fire gem. The other gem was the lustrous green of nature magic. This flaming forest would be a source of both nature and fire magic. This find was very good news. Most of his magicians used nature and fire gems for their magic.
That evening there was a celebration in the camp. They had found a new, reliable source of magic. Alone it wasn't enough to ensure the health of the nation, but it helped and they had been a part of it. Cetewayo relaxed and observed the festivities. As he relaxed he felt the presence of magic. This was not the flaming growth he had found earlier. This magic felt colder, darker. It felt appropriate to seek this site at night. He quickly left the party behind. They had camped in the ruins of an old city. As he walked he began to feel the magic more strongly. The further from the living he got the stronger the magic seemed. He entered a large ruin and sensed the magic was very near. He was surprised. He was sure that he was sensing death magic. Thus, he had anticipated a cemetery or prison. However, from the little that remained, this seemed to be some sort of hotel or mansion. As he continued he realized that the magic was originating from beneath him. Luckily, he could simply choose to pass through the ground. He emerged into an underground crypt. He realized his mistake. The wealthy among these people had buried their dead in underground crypts under their homes. This one was quite impressive. He could sense powerful magic here. It would be a source of considerable power. This was very welcome news. Well, the workers that would have to excavate the site probably wouldn't be celebrating while they were digging. Death magic frightened most people, however there were those among his magicians who knew how to use it. This would enable them to do so.
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R'lyeh
Owie.
Such nasty little men on their horses, oh, we hates them, nasty sharp pointy lances... and too clever by far. I didn't see -- ha ha, little joke there -- the one who skewered me, though when I sucked the brains out of the closest one I could find the memory of his malice was still fresh. Such a waste -- his mind was riddled with all these unpleasant tasting tumors -- but by the time I could clear the taste out of my mind the horses were gone, and I was surrounded by chattel. It's like filling up on the bread before you can get to the main course: by the time I consumed all of the weak troops, the good meat had fled already.
And blasted cancer-boy had to go weaken my claw-arm, on top of it all.
The rest of my little empire goes well. Someone finally managed to persuade a local lad that the "giant sucking monster of death", as I am affectionately known in the local parlance, was far enough away that he could take up academic studies, and he shall be finished with his training soon. One of my cowardly Ilithid Lords has also sent word that he has secured Red Lake for me, and I go now toward him with visions of freshwater trout. I also hear that one of my Starspawn is working on a heavenly clam sauce that he can't wait to share with me. Good minions.
At least there are no nasty horses at my next meal stop.
Do you realize that there is unconquered sea still to the south of me? I swear, nothing, nothing gets done without me. What have my followers been doing back home? Could they not have delivered into my empire a couple provinces defended by a few fish? I'll kill them, kill them all.
Oh, and it's probably time to send another dolphin messenger to my neighbors. It's such an obvious prelude to killing them all. Oh, the messages will be peaceable enough. But... mwhahahahaha. I'm such a sneaky god. They'll never see it coming.
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