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Decline 14: Wasteland 2
- Thread starter Dayyālu
- Start date
Dayyālu
Arcane
This is perfectly normal and should happen. I do not border yet anyone and this makes me feel uneasy. I think I got a bit fucked by Throne positioning.
Every player should have roughly 5-6 provinces, counting Thrones. Better to to get in full swing that silver tongue of yours, sqeecoo.
Wakerake took an awake Pretender. It's KoolNoodles. Uhm.
Caul Shivers
Scholar
And here I am all cozy-like with 2 provinces of personal space in all directions. Wait for the savages to kill themselves off, then mop up.
.
Dreaad
Arcane
Dreaad
Arcane
Dayyālu
Arcane
KoolNoodles
Arcane
- Joined
- Apr 28, 2012
- Messages
- 3,545
What did I just walk into here....
Screw diplomacy, I can't keep these nations straight!
Screw diplomacy, I can't keep these nations straight!
Joined on the 4th of July
Arcane
- Joined
- Jul 4, 2014
- Messages
- 1,563
Veterans of the previous wasteland war, is there any point in owning non-cap non-throne provinces in this game?
Caul Shivers
Scholar
Never; absolutely not; no way, Jose; no chance, Lance; niet; negatory; mm-mm; nuh-uh; oh-oh. Just watch for what the other nab plebs like Grim are doing and do the exact opposite.
KoolNoodles
Arcane
- Joined
- Apr 28, 2012
- Messages
- 3,545
Every little bit of gold helps.
(and with some luck, good events from provinces). But to each their own. Sacreds and summons rule these games.
Dayyālu
Arcane
The Skull says No;
The Alien says Yes;
I say maybe. Provinces get you rarely extra gems, particularly Throne provinces that will weaken as the game goes on (Wasteland provinces have not enough food to keep the living armies fed, thus they die of hunger in 12-15 turns). Sure, the TRUE prize are the other players' capitals, that give 6 extra gems and a ton of gold.
So, if we see someone getting an extra cap, gangbang time. Sheer province count is rather useless in this kind of game, Cap count is essential.
Dayyālu
Arcane
Will do. THREE STALES DAMMIT
And of course, in-character.
Zephyr Arsland
Learned
Onto business...
The prison had existed for as long as anybody could remember. A grim, ruinous building in the outskirts of a deserted town, bordering the infinite wasteland. Its walls had once been magnificent and sturdy, proud ramparts patrolled by silent guardians in light armor and towers with red-and-white banners flowing in the ardent breeze. Now most of them laid cracked and crumbled, heaps of millenia-old rubble covered by the sand, while the few than still stood encircled the only spire still intact, in which basement the only prisoner resided.
Once, there were hundreds of them. The emir had been a wary man, and under his rule the jails were full and the executioner's axe kept sharp. The invasion from beyond the sea had ended it all, and when news of the fall of the capital reached that far outpost by the Sands, the guards opened the cages and abandoned town. Some prisoners followed, a few of them intent on exacting revenge on their captors, but most of them remained there, confused by the sudden turn of events. There wasn't much to do at the nearby town but to eke out an existence scavenging the rubble from the Old Days or as a dry farmer. The silent, weary inhabitants welcomed the men and women from the prison in their midst with almost no comment.
But one remained behind. The guards had not set him free, for he was condemned to death, but not by the usual hanging or beheading but by starvation. A brief debate had been held between those who wanted to open his cage and the others, who said he should just live until his sentence was served. When the key to the cage could not be found, the point proved moot and the guards left him there to rot. He was a wiry old man, sitting on the floor inside a spiked iron cage. He hardly moved and he was so thin you could easily count his ribs and follow the trace of his spine on his back. His limbs were as dry twigs and almost as fragile. The man kept his eyes closed as if dead, but every once in a while a muffled cough issued from his lips, signaling he was, somehow, still alive. At first, many prisoners tried talking to him, but since he never replied, they concluded he must have been deaf, mad or both. They left him alone, and for months no one came. He languished alone in the basement of the crumbling tower.
Seasons passed and the man was forgotten by all. Not even the hyenas that prowled around at night seemed interested in him. The prison fortress became a dusty ruin, the years went by and the village was at one point attacked by the raiders that followed the Orange Mask. The few survivors were captured to be sold as slaves and silence returned to the now decaying town.
However, one day a caravan from the Old Oasis stopped by the tower. It didn't show in any of their maps and they were curious about what they could find in it. The Tinkerer that usually travelled with every caravan found the cage, partially hidden behind a section of crumbled ceiling. Inside the cage, a diseccated corpse was sitting with its legs crossed. Thinking that the mummy could have some valuable jewelry, the Tinkerer had some men force the cage's door. It proved really resilient, but it was finally torn apart with some judicious use of fire magic. But when the greedy man approached the corpse, it opened its eyes and looked straight at him.
-Spare me your touch, young one, and let me regale you with a tale. I have finished my dream.
The Tinkerer screamed in terror and jumped out of the cage. The mummy's eyes followed him. The men around him prepared their weapons, ready to skewer the possessed husk should it even move an inch. But all it did was talk again, with a whisper of grinding rocks:
-I have finished dreaming, and if you bear with me, you will see the results of my dreaming. You will be justly rewarded.
At last the Tinkerer regained his wits and asked:
-Who are you? What are you talking about?
-My name is not important. I have forgotten it, along with everything else. I will not be remembered for it. Only the Dream persists.
-What is this nonsense about a dream?
“Ask him about the reward” -A caravan guard said.
The sitting man smiled and as he did, his face creaked like dry leather.
-Of course. I was once put in here to die of hunger and thirst. I decided not to, and dedicated my time to dreaming the ways of my escape. It took me a little longer than expected… but I have finished at last.
Frankly irritated, the Tinkerer frowned and demanded:
-What ARE you talking about, old man? If a man is indeed what you are…
The corpse -for a man he was no longer- then said this:
-Laphich. I am talking about Laphich. -And without another word, he crumbled and dissolved into a pile of dust and ash.
The prison had existed for as long as anybody could remember. A grim, ruinous building in the outskirts of a deserted town, bordering the infinite wasteland. Its walls had once been magnificent and sturdy, proud ramparts patrolled by silent guardians in light armor and towers with red-and-white banners flowing in the ardent breeze. Now most of them laid cracked and crumbled, heaps of millenia-old rubble covered by the sand, while the few than still stood encircled the only spire still intact, in which basement the only prisoner resided.
Once, there were hundreds of them. The emir had been a wary man, and under his rule the jails were full and the executioner's axe kept sharp. The invasion from beyond the sea had ended it all, and when news of the fall of the capital reached that far outpost by the Sands, the guards opened the cages and abandoned town. Some prisoners followed, a few of them intent on exacting revenge on their captors, but most of them remained there, confused by the sudden turn of events. There wasn't much to do at the nearby town but to eke out an existence scavenging the rubble from the Old Days or as a dry farmer. The silent, weary inhabitants welcomed the men and women from the prison in their midst with almost no comment.
But one remained behind. The guards had not set him free, for he was condemned to death, but not by the usual hanging or beheading but by starvation. A brief debate had been held between those who wanted to open his cage and the others, who said he should just live until his sentence was served. When the key to the cage could not be found, the point proved moot and the guards left him there to rot. He was a wiry old man, sitting on the floor inside a spiked iron cage. He hardly moved and he was so thin you could easily count his ribs and follow the trace of his spine on his back. His limbs were as dry twigs and almost as fragile. The man kept his eyes closed as if dead, but every once in a while a muffled cough issued from his lips, signaling he was, somehow, still alive. At first, many prisoners tried talking to him, but since he never replied, they concluded he must have been deaf, mad or both. They left him alone, and for months no one came. He languished alone in the basement of the crumbling tower.
Seasons passed and the man was forgotten by all. Not even the hyenas that prowled around at night seemed interested in him. The prison fortress became a dusty ruin, the years went by and the village was at one point attacked by the raiders that followed the Orange Mask. The few survivors were captured to be sold as slaves and silence returned to the now decaying town.
However, one day a caravan from the Old Oasis stopped by the tower. It didn't show in any of their maps and they were curious about what they could find in it. The Tinkerer that usually travelled with every caravan found the cage, partially hidden behind a section of crumbled ceiling. Inside the cage, a diseccated corpse was sitting with its legs crossed. Thinking that the mummy could have some valuable jewelry, the Tinkerer had some men force the cage's door. It proved really resilient, but it was finally torn apart with some judicious use of fire magic. But when the greedy man approached the corpse, it opened its eyes and looked straight at him.
-Spare me your touch, young one, and let me regale you with a tale. I have finished my dream.
The Tinkerer screamed in terror and jumped out of the cage. The mummy's eyes followed him. The men around him prepared their weapons, ready to skewer the possessed husk should it even move an inch. But all it did was talk again, with a whisper of grinding rocks:
-I have finished dreaming, and if you bear with me, you will see the results of my dreaming. You will be justly rewarded.
At last the Tinkerer regained his wits and asked:
-Who are you? What are you talking about?
-My name is not important. I have forgotten it, along with everything else. I will not be remembered for it. Only the Dream persists.
-What is this nonsense about a dream?
“Ask him about the reward” -A caravan guard said.
The sitting man smiled and as he did, his face creaked like dry leather.
-Of course. I was once put in here to die of hunger and thirst. I decided not to, and dedicated my time to dreaming the ways of my escape. It took me a little longer than expected… but I have finished at last.
Frankly irritated, the Tinkerer frowned and demanded:
-What ARE you talking about, old man? If a man is indeed what you are…
The corpse -for a man he was no longer- then said this:
-Laphich. I am talking about Laphich. -And without another word, he crumbled and dissolved into a pile of dust and ash.
Zephyr Arsland
Learned
Requesting a 6h extension, please! Thank you!
Caul Shivers
Scholar
Request denied! Moving on...
CHAPTER 3: Zero Sum Game
Maximus held the little peace of parchment.
Casualties absolute.
General Cuntificus and the men under his command massacred to the very last man fighting savages.
Mission successful.
Finally, a win. He liked the fat bastard, but by god he was incompetent. At least this one time he managed to follow trough and do what was asked of him. Well, expected at any rate.
The mood was rather grim. Several hard faces stared at Maximus across the room with open hatred in their eyes.
Some even say that you knowingly set up Contificus up to die to alleviate our ever dwindling resources.
General Jaximus gave him a level look.
The man was absolutely correct of course.
Cantificus was sent on a mission of great importance. Sadly he died but his life was not wasted! Now we know that there in fact *are* ways to survive in this hell, and it's a zero sum game.
His generals stared at him blankly and Maximus gave them a wicked grin.
Joined on the 4th of July
Arcane
- Joined
- Jul 4, 2014
- Messages
- 1,563
MWAHAHAHAhahahah..aha.. TARGET ACQUIRED. CEASIG AND DESIST OR YOU*LL SEE SOM MAGIC!!
Dreaad
Arcane
KoolNoodles
Arcane
- Joined
- Apr 28, 2012
- Messages
- 3,545
I thought joining Daesh was last year's fad?
sqeecoo
Arcane
- Joined
- Dec 13, 2006
- Messages
- 2,629
Well, looks like my full army got horribly raped by Man'nestuftuatudu's fearsome fire lizard knights! Like, it wasn't even a contest, all my decent sacreds with double bless died in two rounds against equal numbers of knights 
Beware, everyone, lest you end up the same way!
Nothing for me now but to be as annoying as possible by resisting the siege with summons. Ah well. This is the cutthroat world of Wasteland Decline, nothing surprising.
Also, poor Hashish capitol experienced these two events this turn:
That's a third of the population lost in a single turn at luck 0, wow!
Beware, everyone, lest you end up the same way!Nothing for me now but to be as annoying as possible by resisting the siege with summons. Ah well. This is the cutthroat world of Wasteland Decline, nothing surprising.
Also, poor Hashish capitol experienced these two events this turn:
That's a third of the population lost in a single turn at luck 0, wow!
Caul Shivers
Scholar
I'm totally bribable btw. Just putting it out there. No scruples or petty morals to get in the way.
Dayyālu
Arcane
Comrade Grimwulf seems to have dropped from the face of the Earth. No Steam activity for three days. I'm not ruling out aliens, natural disasters or government hit squads (in the latter case, I wish you well, Master Grimmie, remember to fire in short bursts and that I'll be happy to share my basement with you if you manage to reach Europe).
However, with heavy heart, gotta postpone a bit. Let's hope for tomorrow.
However, with heavy heart, gotta postpone a bit. Let's hope for tomorrow.
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