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| The Olympia Times times@olympia.rt.com |
| March 11, 1992 v2n6 |
| |
| Turn 13 Circulation 62 "In Atnerks We Trust" |
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Orders due: March 18, 1992
Questions, comments, bug reports, to play: olympia@rt.com
Happy Olympia from San Francisco! This is quite a beautiful city. If
I had lots of money and didn't have to commute each morning, this would
be where I'd want to live.
Development this turn has been limited by my vacation, but you may still
notice a few changes. Nothing major, however. The rules I sent out with
last turn are still current.
Note that the "Locations visited" category in the new summary
section will only take into account locations which your characters
have seen beginning with this turn, since the code to keep track
of this was just added.
The eager young mage's apprentice defied his master and ran to the door of
the Magicians' Guild. "Haha! Soon that old fogey wouldn't be fit to lick my
shoes," he sang with glee.
The boy looked up at the sign. "Guild of Magicians," it said, "low one-time
membership fee: only 500 gold." His body suddenly slumped. He stuck his
hands into his pocket, and pulled out a rat's tail, bat wings, old dice, and
7 coppers, along with some pocket fluff.
He checked his belt pouch -- the 42 gold Master had given him to buy newt
tongues with. He emptied his shoes -- a few old rocks and a shiny silver
pebble, along with some shoe fluff.
The young apprentice counted and counted, then gave up in disgust, throwing
belt pouch fluff all over the street. Then his spirits lifted again. He ran
to the Warriors' Guild... then the Thieves' Guild.... then the Trader's Guild...
then the....
It was getting dark. He walked back to Master's dwelling in gloom, which slowly
turned into dread as he thought of the whipping that would be waiting for him
back at the lab.
Help !!!
While quietly wandering the highways and byways of this fair continent, I
found a most fearsome visage lying in wait for me, preparing to spring out
and slay all passers !!
The offending beast is a vile, wicked Troll lurking on the highway which
leads from Hothras to West Hothras [1030]. While I would prefer to be the
heroic slayer of such a foul fiend and the capturer of it's treasure hoard,
I was sorely unprepared for such at the time and was forced to flee.
I therefore call upon all the heros of the land to go forth (and fifth) and
slay this creature before it preys upon other less fortunate travelers !
All those who were bemoaning the boredom of life in Drassa,
Go West young men !! Go out and prove your skills !!
Any Medics who may be in the area should set up shop nearby the trail.
Situations Vacant
=================
More young Ladies Wanted !!
===========================
Are you young, beautiful and preferably female ?
Do you find home stifling and restrictive ??
Do you want to earn your fortune ??
Do you want to meet people and help to spread joy and happiness ??
Apply (in person) to Kaspar [581] at the Drassa Hotel, in the penthouse suite,
for your personalised interview and examination !!
I am still interviewing young and attractive ladies for my entertainment
troupe which I intend to form shortly. Interviews for the previous group of
applicants proved so exhausting that I was forced to rest for the remainder
of the month, so am placing this offer again for all those of you who
missed it the last time.
All applicants for the many positions I have available (my manual lists 245
positions and I would like to fill them all), should be young, attractive
and preferably female, although this last detail is negotiable.
Come one, come all !! (preferably one at a time)
Sheriff Pelenth of Drassa was in a quandary. He considered
Zyzak a friend, and yet he had clearly broken the law. Pelenth knew
his duty, but he didn't have to like it.
"Saddle up, boys," he said, and the Fighters of Pelenth
mounted what horses they had. "Going to be slow going, not enough
horses..." he thought. They trooped out of Drassa, headed for
Hothras. "Got to get a new right-hand man," thought Pelenth, "there's
nobody to mind the tower while I'm gone. I just hope Blimph doesn't
screw it up too badly."
A few weeks later, they rolled into Hothras. A quick scouting
showed that Zyzak's troop had left for West Hothras, and had already
crossed over the border. Pelenth raised his sword in a silent salute.
"I have no quarrel with you outside my boundaries, Zyzak, and I'm sure
you know that. Live well, but come not back into the lands I protect
until you are ready to make restitution for your acts."
As he turned his horse and headed for Drassa, he could be
heard to chant:
"And the magical [sic] chip inside his head,
gets switched to overload.
And nobody's gonna go to Drassa today,
He's gonna make them stay at home.
Pelenth couldn't understand it,
He always said he was good as gold.
And there can be no reasons,
'Cause there are no reasons,
What reasons to you need to be told?
Oh tell me why,"
And the Fighters broke out in song,
"I don't like Mondays..."
Pelenth:
"Oh tell me why,"
Chorus:
"I don't like Mondays..."
Pelenth:
"Oh tell me why,"
Chorus:
"I don't like Mondays...
I want to shoot the whole day down."
Dominic the Sly [1107] snapped out of his stupor. He had
spent over two months waiting for Pelenth's Guard [1115] to arrive,
and each day he had gotten out his juggling balls, tossed them once,
and quit in disinterest. Even orders from his master to stop waiting
had been ignored.
Suddenly he felt like a new man, and he knew he had the Great
God Atnerks to thank. Still, he was a little disappointed that he had
spent two months getting nothing accomplished. He'd been in Port
Aurnos for almost four months, waiting for that damned guard to
arrive. Every month had a new excuse.
He read the new set of instructions. Apparently the Guard was
in neighboring Tollus, and would be here shortly. He went to work
before the crowd, doing his single juggling trick. There was
occasional faint applause, and now and then someone would toss a few
coppers his way, but it was not a fulfilling existence. Still, the
Guard would be here soon, and then he'd be off! Tra-la!
Suddenly, a man ran up and interrupted the show. "I am Feasel
the Wicked, messenger of the Great God Atnerks," he said. He
instructed me to deliver this message to one Dominic the Sly:
"Pelenth's Guard will not come to Port Aurnos."
"Why?" groaned Dominic.
Feasel gestured hypnotically, and Dominic was granted a vision
of Pelenth's Guard trying to slip past a Gorgon on the border of
Tollus and Port Aurnos. The Gorgon snarled, and the Guard backed away
from the snakes that covered her head. They averted their eyes, then
turned and ran away.
Dominic sat down in the middle of Port Aurnos, put his head in
his hands, and began to cry.
MAPS MAPS MAPS
Tired of finding out about routes one province at a time?
Wondering just where the heck Aerondor is, and how to get there?
For the price of forming one single man, you can own a complete
map of the continent! Find the fastest route from Port Aurnos
to Mt. Norgar! That's 32 provinces, and over 60 different
routes! With every purchase, you earn free updates every
turn. That's right, buy once, and we'll keep you up-to-date
from now until doomsday!
Maps for sale. Complete maps of the main continent, in the arcane
language PostScript. Price: 500 gold. This represents the hard
work of several of our agents for many months.
Note: if you don't have an interpreter for the magic language,
we can provide you with the route information in textual format.
However, because the visual format is so much more informative,
we're sure you'll want it.
Contact Sajac the Black to order.
Pelenth the Grim looked over the letter in consternation.
"Dear Sir:
Your new law outlawing persuasion is an abomination. Without freedom
to travel to a new employer who would give better wages, we are, in
effect, wage-slavs. I mean wage-slaves. Besides, my Lord could
swear me over to another faction and then sue, claiming I had been
persuaded. Being a mere commoner, I could never speak above either
of these mighty men; what judgement could be reached? I humbly beg
you to rescind this unenforceable and altogether nasty law."
The point was well-written, but why no signature? Perhaps the owner
of this commoner would not appreciate his servant's thoughts being
known. "Hmmm..." considered Pelenth, leaning back to consider the law.
It was with no small amount of satisfaction that Merlinium looked
upon the first act of magic in Pactra for the year. As the fog
rolled in, He was high on the powers at His disposal. So it had
taken a week and a half to call in, now it was here. The possibilities
abound. Should Murphy be risen from the grave, this incantation would
make that renoun bowman's strength a weakness, for who could properly
ply a bow in the fog. Being a fair bowman Himself, He shuddered. In
the distance the town crier was shouting the news of the month...
"What, another riddle?, well the same answer `river' is workable,
but the intended answer was no doubt `cave'". But such minor
matters aside, serious work was to be accomplished. Still the
secret of the amulet eluded Him, it was time to search the
archives. Gathering His demon escort about Him, He headed off.
What was this? A magicians guild? The memory of Remilai came
back to him. Well, the young lad had finally made good. Entering
the building, He was slightly shocked to see a 500 gold fee for the
use of the library, still its books ment much, and He had that kind
of spare change. What was not quite as acceptable was the way they
treated His Demon bodyguards. Sending the Seven(teen) back to
His residence, He proceeded to peruse the pages.
Flicking through a folio He came across an interesting spell
entitled "Xaltons Dwedomer of Mystic Indirection".
This sounded quite interesting, and just maybe it would solve the
problem with the Seven being a little obvious. Waving His hands
in the air he incanted...
Then with renewed keenness He set to work once more on the amulet.
It appears that the partnership (or as some might have called it, "The
unholy alliance" between Gorbachev (the man with the men) and Pelenth
(our good sheriff) (or is he) has broken up! Citing what he called Comrade
Gorbachev's "constant rudeness," Sheriff Pelenth has refused to buy any
more slav's from the former Soviet leader. Additional causes of the
breakup were Gorbachev's mistaken assumption that Faith Fourtine(who has
appears to have either been improperly persuaded or left of her own free
will only days after Conundrum's threat to turn her into an orc overcame
the threat of Pelenth's sword) had been persuaded away from Conundrum by
Pelenth, when in fact both Pelenth and Gorby had concluded agreements with
Conundrum not to interfere with Faith, even though they were entitled to
by law. Pelenth reportedly concluded the argument by saying, "Sell your
slavs elsewhere, for I am not interested." In response to Gorby's "How
about some glastnost already?"
Will they be reconciled? Will Conundrum get Faith back? Will Rich get the
next bug fixes (excuse me, feature enhancements) and enhancements done?
Tune in to next month's issue of "The Olympia Times."
-- an anonymous Corespondent.
Pelenth was returning to Drassa with his Fighters. In the midst of
their rousing ballad, he suddenly felt the mental stirrings of the
strange long-distance, magic communication called "e-mail." He'd
tried to have Sajac explain it to him, but the mage had started
spouting esoteric jargon that made no sense.
"Pelenth...Sheriff Pelenth!" came a voice, that he recognized as that
of Prenola the Puissant. "There is a troll blocking the passage
between Hothras and West Hothras [1030]. Be a good warmonger and
squash it, will you?"
"Er, so there is," said Pelenth, as he turned his horse and looked
back. The large humanoid creature waved at Pelenth, then made an
obscene gesture. "I'll take care of it right away," he snarled.
"Thanks for letting me know."
He did some mental calculations. "36 of us, one of him. Hmm. Hey,
Verne, that's better than 2 to 1, isn't it? It's tough being the
greatest military leader of the age and not being able to do math."
He drew his sword, and off they charged, singing mightily.
Hear ye, hear ye... er, no... Oye, oye... no, that's already been used...
Hey, you!
Yeah, you!
Vote for Gorbachev [562] as leader of the Traders' Guild.
I, Gorbachev hereby promise, that as Guildmaster, I will build roads
using the proceeds from the guild, in order to establish trade routes.
The routes paved will be determined by a vote of the Guild members.
Sound good?
Okay, so vote for Gorbachev! VOTE VOTE VOTE VOTE VOTE VOTE VOTE VOTE
VOTE VOTE VOTE VOTE VOTE VOTE VOTE VOTE VOTE VOTE VOTE VOTE VOTE VOTE
VOTE VOTE VOTE VOTE VOTE VOTE VOTE VOTE VOTE VOTE VOTE VOTE VOTE VOTE
VOTE VOTE VOTE VOTE VOTE VOTE VOTE VOTE VOTE VOTE VOTE VOTE VOTE VOTE
Milord E.-
I wish to apologize for my inability to follow the course you suggested.
You should be apprised of the fact that there is a pernicious Gorgon blocking
my only avenue of travel. I have had some interesting discussions with
fellow travelers, and I hope to be on my way as expeditiously as possible.
My time has not been totally mispent. I have taken several opportunities
to use the practice field here. I was also able to help some of the locals
clear some land for farming. These individuals were gracious enough to put
me up and pay me compensation for my time.
I will do my best to follow your instructions to the best of my abilities.
As ever your servant,
ES