+----------------------------------------------------------------------+ | The Olympia Times email@example.com | | July 13, 1994 issue g1-3 | | | | turn 3 104 players "PBM fun since '91" | +----------------------------------------------------------------------+
Questions, comments, to play: firstname.lastname@example.org
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If the immediate and direct purpose of our life is not suffering then our existence is the most ill-adapted to its purpose in the world: for it is absurd to suppose that the endless affliction of which the world is everywhere full, and which arises out of the need and distress pertaining essentially to life, should be purposeless and purely accidental. Each individual misfortune, to be sure, seems an exceptional occurrence; but misfortune in general is the rule.
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Credit for Times press ----------------------
Henceforth, factions may only recieve one 25 gold payment for Times submissions per turn. Players are still welcome to make multiple submissions, but only the first will receive a payment.
Payment for press is at the GM's discretion.
Please remember to keep the line length to 72 characters or less, so I don't have to reformat your submission.
Credit for fractional days of study is now shown in the turn report. For example:
Partially known skills: Combat , 2.57/7
This character has studied 2 4/7 of 7 days required to learn Combat.
Carnage already! Seven peasants and five soliders lost their lives and three nobels their liberty. A fouth lay critically wounded..
Was the world really so small that battle was necessary for scare resources? Why, He himself was the second most experienced traveller in the lands and he had seen but six provinces.
With a heavy sigh, Wanderer mounted his steed, bidding a fond fairwell to the pleasures of Newleaf as he headed north to the fabled Silver City.
The old man wandered the streets of the Imperial City, wearing tattered rags. Slack-jawed, he roamed unseen through the court of the Palace and the filthiest alleys. He wandered the docks, where the longshoremen shouted obscenities to each other. He silently visited the silver towers, where the magi whispered dark secrets to themselves.
Aimlessly, silently, he wandered the recesses and avenues of the Imperial City. And when he was done, The Wanderer came upon him, and he was whole again.
Shay Tollin knew that the gate that had sent him here was no accidental fluke. The Hand of the Wanderer was upon him. And he must go out into this world, finding new Disciples, teaching the Way of the Wanderer. He knew the first disciple was nearby. But he also knew that their time together would be short.
The decrepit rented house seemed even more crowded that it actually was, perhaps because of the forcefulness of the personalities present. Drawn inexplicably away from the final death of the world, the dozen present - led by a Periphery swordsman, an Imperial princess, her least-trusted general, and a half-alien priest - and their sundry companions had but one aim: to reforge a safe haven for their inexplicably absent savior, the Daughter of the Wind. It was rapidly agreed that once-Lord Yupa [r1v] would bear responsibility for negotiating with others in similar straits, tiny bands trying to dodge beneath the wheels of power-obsessed juggernauts.
Beware: Barbarian tribes who haughtily lay claim to vast lands, yet untrod, unseen, unconquered! Any Faction we come across who has advertised itself in the Times in this way will be assaulted without warning.
Jacob sighed heavily. Who would have thought it would come to this? He knew it was a green crew and a new captain when he'd signed on board, but Jacob had thought the officers would at least have known how wide the Atnos Channel was! Now the ship was grounded just one day out of port, and nothing but wilderness on all sides. "No," thought Jacob grimly, "not *nothing* ... *worse* than nothing." Graveyards full of moaning undead were never high on his list of fun ways to spend an afternoon. With any luck, the ship would be re-floated today and they would once more be at sea. "Until they run it aground again, anyway," he thought. It was going to be a long trip.
So what alliances are still looking for new folks? I hope there's at least one...
Okay, quantities of Yew, Wood, and their byproducts (longbows, pikes, crossbows, archers, pikemen, crossbowmen) are now available. Please contact the posted selling agents in transactions for these "items."
Conversation overheard in the streets of the Imperial City
Argent - Well, Lord Gonzo, where shall we go now? Boron - Excuse me sir. Chromium - Pardon me my lady. Dionysis - I am truly sorry lord. Gonzo - Yes sir, you walk on the bottoms and I'll walk on the tops. This place is so bloody crowded that there is barely room to take a bleeding breath much less turn around! Ferris - Perhaps we should build a ship. Boron - No, I don't think that would be a good idea right now. They are 4 deep building ships on the quays. Looks like Haiti ('wonder where that came from). Gonzo - Curse it, let's head out of here. You fellows keep up now. We don't need to get separated in these crowds. Come along Ferris, don't daudle. Boron, form the pikemen up in ranks and lets form a phalanx to force our way through the crowd. No, my good man, I am not interested in purchasing you clay pots, we have more than enough of our own.
THE DARK ONE IS COMING!
Let all who would follow the Dark One prepare themselfs. You must know either the skill Combat or the skill Magic. Study these skills and ready yourselfs for the arrival of the Dark One. Those who follow him shall be rewarded,those who fail to worship him shall be destroyed!
Delusions of Grandeur both
one before, one after, on an island languished
by the world ignored.
It had been a very bad day for Oswyn, the clerk in the Imperial Land Claim Registry Office. Hundreds of sweating, screaming nobles tried to file their claim to this or that continent. Foul language led to a scuffle. Then blows. Then a full scale riot. It took a full company of Imperial Guard to clear them out. What a mess! And guess who got to clean it up? "Who do these barbarian lordlings think they are?", thought Osywn. Then he smiled. With Imperial power virtually non-existent any longer, the claims were worthless. He proceeded to dutifully file all the salvaged scraps in the Imperial records.
Okay, okay, okay. Repeat after me: It's ONLY a game. Why should anyone, least of all "BoneHeads", "Mongoloids", "Gh-ators", "Camaro Companies" "MAFUBAR" - or anybody else - be making serious claims to all these far-gone regions???
After all, kids, we're all still stuck in Provinia, aren't we???
Just a friendly reminder from... THE WATCHER
P.S. You're welcome.
LEAVE THE POOR ANIMALS AND MONSTERS ALONE -----------------------------------------
It is in this writers opinion that the animals and monsters should be left alone. There are enough humans around to fight if you feel the urge.
To ensure the survival of Olympias threathened animals and monsters, the Sen Clan will institue a captive breeding program. Please let us know about any stray rats, wolfs etc. and we will arrange to come and pick them up if they are north west of the Imperial City. Perhaps other kind souls could perform these services in other parts of the continent.
Will trade workers for peasants on 1/1 basis. Contact me on Compuserve 73145,1022 or AOL Poliorcete. Will also provide transport on galley in exchange for peasants or sailors. Skeeve
Weaponsmith avaible for hire !!
As soon as We will have reached our destination point somewhere in the Olympian Universe we will be able to provide anybody in need of weapons with at least some high quality weapons.
Contact i0d for more informations about availability.
Transports have to be provided by the customers. Perhaps someone else will be able to set up a transportation service or some sort of Banking system ?
The information Network would be able to participate.
So you've just finished building that mighty sailing ship. But you've got all these extra workers left liing around? Well, you could always DROP them, but you're investment would be lost.
There is a better answer! SELL them at the market in the Imperial City. I will buy any and all Workers, for the amazing price of 10 Gold. I will also buy any and all Wood, for the same amazing price (10 Gold)
The Emperor's geographer stood surveying his workroom. His assistants and scribes were all laboring diligently to annotate the maps with the myriad new claims to the various islands and regions of the world. Since the Bone Entente laid the first new claim in recent memory to Ossicus, Rimmon, and Tollus, the claims had been pouring in. He had had to add three new scribes to keep up with the work. He wondered briefly about the Bone Entente and their huge claim. Who were they. Certainly no one he had seen around Court - all those groups had their own claims.
The Royal Geographer's attention was diverted when he noticed one idle scribe in the corner. Not good for morale to have a loafer, he thought, as he strode toward the misecrant. He paused when he noticed there _were_ no claims for that section of the map on the table. He hesitated a monment, then sent the scribe to help the overworked Camaris scribes.
Later, he thought of selling the information that there was a continent as yet unclaimed. He might get enough gold to buy a position in the church for his third son. When he mentioned this to his wife, proud of himself for the idea, he was unprepared for her wrath. 'Idiot!' she said, get a charter from the King! You deserve it for years of faithful service. If we can establish ourselves there, you can give our third son a _Barony_, and the same for our fourth and fifth sons too!
Later that month, armed with a charter, the Royal Geographer Emeritus set off with his family and retainers for Krussos. Grandiose plans chased one another through his head. He did not envy his former assistant, now serving as the Emperor's Geographer, as that individual tried to cope with the continuing flow of new claims.
Journal Entry - 3/2/01
The council has made its decision. We are to depart from our current location, leaving the tyrants to squabble amongst themselves, and create a new realm elsewhere - a realm of freedom, of happiness, of Chaos. I am sure that there will be conflict - the cruel hand of Law rarely releases its victims without a fierce struggle - but we will prevail in the end. We must. Who else is strong enough to stand against the oppressors?
Actually, we have seen signs of hope amongst the other parties on this new world. The unwarranted land claims have been roundly reviled and even mocked. It seems that the majority of the populace does not desire a dictatorship. At least, this is our hope; it may just be that most would prefer a different leader (i.e. themselves) of an Empire.
As for myself, I am content. Father's allies have consented to give me a place on the council, though I continue to pose as a peasant in order to gather information. Our first thought was that I might overhear the conversations of the leaders of our opposing factions, and I have succeeded in doing just that to some degree; however, I have obtained a great deal more wisdom from the common people - the knowledge of the surrounding realms, legends (which are likely partially true) of the various Fields of Magic which exist in the realm, and advice as to the acquisition of items and skills which will be of great use.
I sometimes find it difficult to contain myself as these poor souls are forced to make obeisance to their "master"; soon, though, those masters will be ground into the dust. Thus sayeth the Hand of Chaos.
As performed by the Great Karnak at the Dancing Frog Inn in Aethelarn:
A: Ray Davies, The King of Id, and Oleg the Loudmouth. Q: Name a kink, a fink and a twink.
"You just can't get decent, or any, help these days", grimaced the Merchant Prince as he elbowed his way out of the hordes of nobles pushing pots in his face. "Not a peasant in the entire Imperial City!" A large stake for him to claim, good men who would follow his lead, and a world full of profits ripe for the taking. There would be the usual problems -- and opportunities -- with those bickering landholders and their internecine struggles. But the Merchant Prince would ride them like a boat on the water, supplying any side in its continuously self destructive endevours and relieving the warmongering fools of their precious gold. Ceramic shards crunched under his feet as he mustered his men. He would leave this city with its deficit of labor and high prices, and seek the trade routes which would bring him the money -- and the power -- he deserved.
The Gigantic Alliance of Nameless Factions claim ownership of all land masses, seas, cloudlands, and any other provinces that may be found in Olympia. However, we are willing to share.
Sludge lounged in the market place of the Imperial City, watching the other nobles wander about. He stifled a laugh as a number of them tripped over the growing piles of clay pots in the area. No matter how many people brought, that pesky merchant would only buy what he needed.
Sludge couldn't figure out why they were all called nobles. He certainly didn't feel like a noble, but he wasn't quite as bad as the peasants here, either. Maybe anyone that bathed was considered a noble.
"I claim Ossicus!" A man standing on a couple of stacked clay pots shouted at the top of his lungs. One of his friends nearby whispered something to him.
"Oh, and all of the Camaris islands, too!" His friend smiled. The group left the marketplace and headed for the docks, where they started work on building a galley.
This business of claiming whole continents was a mystery to Sludge. There were almost two hundred nobles in the Imperial City alone. He figured that two or three of them, stuck on an entire continent by themselves would go crazy with boredom. Probably start attacking other folks just to liven things up.
Sludge sighed, and took a nap.
Sing your hymns of evensong, Sail out to far lagoons, All you fishermen and you fortune-hunters, Sharpen your harpoons, Sing rhapsodies to the fickle gods that guide you, Awake the brave adventurer that sleeps inside you.
Before you vanish away like midnight smoke, So that no signs or memories remain, You might vanish away like midnight smoke, And never be seen again...
You sailors, sail your stormy seas, You gamblers, roll your ball, All you butterflies and you ballerinas, Dance until you fall, Dream and believe, follow what you're searching for, One day the brave adventurer will be no more.
You just vanish away like midnight smoke, So that no signs or memories remain, You'll just vanish away like midnight smoke, And never be seen again...
(this song was brought to you by The Snarkhunters, the biggest alliance (over 100 factions) in Olympia)
Thoughts on Sailing
The sea spreads out before us like a piece of glass-- serene in its majesty. But as our new ship breaks the surface, the moment shatters into thousands of voices-- the master, yelling at his men to heave way the passengers, toasting with Imperial City wine the bystanders, amazed at the size of the ship the workers, proud of their accomplishment. The ship swaggers out of port to meet its destiny.
The Times this month caught up with intrepid sea-captain Taira Yoshinawa via seagull link. Our reporte managed to interview Taira-san just as his ship was leaving harbor in the Imperial City.
OT: Taira-san, we've heard reports that yours is the first ship to leave harbor here at the Imperial City.
Taira: Just a moment please...Weigh anchor!
: Weigh anchor! .
Taira: Now then, what the Times published last month is not strictly accurate. In fact the Flowerpot, a galley captained by an individual known as Petunia was technically the first. But the Uroko-Saki was definitely the first roundship.
OT: What do you hope to accomplish on this, your maiden voyage?
Taira: Well, we want to do some exploring, find some port cities, perhaps discover some trade routes, or opportunities for profit. That's the sort of thing that my investors hope will come about.
: Come about!
OT: We've heard speculation that the Atnos Channel may soon be infested with pirates. Are you worried about them?
Taira: Well, hardly.
: Hard alee!
OT: Some say that's because you plan to be come their chief, a veritable pirate king.
Well, I'm not really all that interested in such insults and gibes.
: Jibe! Jibe!
Taira: Duck! Duck!
Most ingenious. But I think I've had enough of sailing for now. May we hope to interview you in the future?
Taira: Lower the lifeboat!
OT: I'll take that as a yes.
Oleg the Peasant's Lore Archive is *still* open for business!
My alpha-test lore summary was missing some of the lore added right at the end. I have received one new old item, Persuade oathbound noble . As always, the lore archive is available free to anyone who asks for it.
-- Oleg the Peasant [b2q]
Oh, how I've enjoyed spending time with you and dining with you all last month. But, alas, I did bungle my weaponsmithing lessons and now I am up to my ears in lumber but I can't do a thing with it. I had forgotten how expensive good pitch can be! I would very much like you to join me at the next weaponsmithing class so, together, we can make arms for the troops. Perhaps this will help me keep my mind on the task at hand and you did such a wonderful job training the new soldiers. I know this is keeping you from your magical studies but it will give us some extra time together this month. The others will take care of training the men in using the weapons. I'm sorry I must hurry and prepare but I must leave here shortly while the opportunity is still there. I shall miss you every waking moment we are parted. - Kovaq'nu
WE are not amused with the actions of the Ancient Order of Olympians. WE do not find such cowardly, anti-societal acts to be of use to the community of Olympia, and therefore resolve to remove this blight. The Ancient Order of Olympians is hereby warned: Change or be eliminated.
OP NEW - Aethelarn - Crowds crowd city. The quiet city of Aethelarn is being over-run by nobles and their henchmen. Not content to come by land, they also come by the Atnos Channel aboard the galley, Flowerpot. Over 70 nobles have crowded into this, once peaceful city. Residents are reported to be worried that violence will follow this mob into the city.
As told by the philosophers on Half Moon Street:
Q: How many Oleg the Loudmouth jokes are there? A: None. After that you are repeating yourself.
The West Camaris Company announced today that their expedition to West Camaris will be leaving within the month. Company officials are pleased with the progress made on ship constructiona, and expect them to be completed shortly. With departure imminent, share prices have surged upward. In a press release, the company spokesman said "Unfortunately we cannot accomodate all those who are interested in investing. The West Camaris company has a full slate of investors, and does not have room for more."
I think I speak for many new players when I say that the plethora of secret alliances and organizations that have sprung up is somewhat bewildering. I feel that it would speak better of all the alliances if they were to be open about their membership and goals. The point of an alliance is to promote common goals and to deter or deal with aggression. How can that be done when none know the identity or goals of its members? I suspect that those alliances that act like they are composed of mature, responsible factions will be ones that survive until turn 10.
Moonlight gleams from the swirl in the dark night waters, as a small object quietly breaks the surface, and then rotates to point to the north. "Master, there is a marked increase in shipping activity to the north, shall we close to engage?" The figure turns from his charts. "Let the first two go, they carry nothing of value. Wait for the ship carrying the rose perfume, it must not reach it's destination." The small object rotates once more, then withdraws beneath the surface, where only ripples remain.
We, the alliance known as the Bone Entente, have moderated our claims in the face of public opposition. We now claim the small one-dot island located west of the Uldim mountains as our sole and exclusive possession. Previous extravagant claims to multiple continents are obviously absurd and are hereby renounced.
To: Secretary of the White Lodge
I don't see a g5t on the player list. How do I contact you?
Akma the Colorless is interested in trading information with other magi; however he does not want to get into this color thing - White, Black, or Grey. Could you perhaps be a bit more specific as to the goals of the White Lodge? Are you interested in trading information, are you looking for allies, or what are your goals.?
May your spells never fizzle,
Well, things where going quite well so far for Bogodon. He had enlisted the help of some worthy individuals and had had word that they had managed to track down the resources he needed to complete a ship to get him out of this rat-hole. It seems that some noble had gone beserk in a nearby province, but that the situation was now under control after some loss of life. The first death in the game perhaps?
The Epic Chronicle of Chaos Part II
As the word of the tremendous victories in Greater Atnos reached the 45th Brigade of MAFOC, the assembled masses of various creatures, undead, living, and the nearly living, let out a great hurrah, and quickly broke out the beer to have a much earned day of celebration. After all they had been working extremely hard to gather the armies of the three lords into one unified force, no small feat when ones guiding principle is chaos. Lords Percival, Xander Crouch and Boastful Bob had spent the better part of the last three months since their arrival in Lesser Atnos arguing over who should have the glory of leading MAFOC in the next battle for liberty, Egalite, et Fraternite.. or something like that. As the sentries on duty near their leaders tent paused at convenient locations that coincidentally offered prime listening spots, the discussions once more erupted into a lively discourse that sounded somewhat like a fist-fight. Boastful Bob grew weary of the prolonged and vigorous discussions, and setting aside his empty ale tankard, stated "I'se jess goin oushide ta relif, to reloaf, ta takes a piss, ya bumsh. Don leaf witout meesh!" The Lords Percival and Xander Crouch ignored him, being locked in a staring contest that had both nobles streaming tears from reddened eyes. Moments later, a terrible ruckus arose from the northern edge of the camp, as a dripping scout wearing the colours of King Garion, stumbled away from a surprised and embarrassed Boastful Bob. This seemed to signal a general call to action as the shouts of many men were heard from the bushes, calling an attack. Hurriedly trying to button his drawers, Boastful Bob tried make his way back to his men, but was quickly pressed to defend himself as men in the livery of the King attacked without mercy. "Don't hurt me, I'm just the cook!" he declared, and then stabbed three men in quick succession as they relaxed their guard. "Suckers!" he sniggered as men from the camp of MAFOC finally joined him. "Are you trying to steal all the glory for yourself, you drunken sot?" demanded a furious Xander Crouch. "I thought we'd agreed to settle on a leader by a gentlemans agreement" sniffed Lord Percival. "Oh just shut up and help me out here guys, it looks like King Garion has brought his whole bleeding army, and our guys is just getting whumped but good!" Indeed things looked grim for our heroes, for in fact nearly the whole of King Garion's army was present. Scores of elite archers sent flight after flight of arrows over the heads of pikemen, swordsmen, knights, crossbowmen, and ordinary soldiers, all wearing the concentric circles that marked men of Lord Garion's service. In all some 900 men of the Kings armies advanced in neatly arranged formations towards the highly disorganized ant-hill that the encampment of MAFOC had become. Over 400 soldiers and undead skeletons rushed around looking for somewhere to go, while the few archers and swordsmen tried to rally a defence against the oncoming relentless wave of deadly steel. As could be predicted things went badly, at least at first. The leading edge of men swept into the MAFOC camp, and cut down all who opposed. But the enemy had a made a serious error of judgement: upon reaching the supply train the soldiers had found the beer wagons, and being an abstemious lot, had put the wagons to the torch. An outraged cry rose up from the men of MAFOC. They instantly rallied to the defense of the remaining beer wagons. Long into the night they fought, and terrible were the deeds done that eve. When the battle concluded, many soldiers of common rank lay dead, and not a few of the nobility. All the men of MAFOC had been cut down, since in their fury at the destruction of the beer, they had fought to the death. Xander Crouch himself was slain, but only momentarily as he reappeared in a burning lake of fire. Percival accounted for two King Garion's men himself, killing both Strider Morg, and O'San in mortal combat. Of King Garion's army less than half survived, and most of the elite men had been killed. It had been a victory, but one at a terrible cost. They soon after gathered their dead, and limped back to the city, where King Garion was met by a strange haunted person, dressed in the robes of a priest. "You have seen your doom, King, and the Doom of all the land rest with you. Think not of victory, because defeat lies at hand. Repent your sins now before it's too late" cackled the twisted figure at the King. "Out of my way old woman" cried the King. "I'm not a wo... oh whats the use" muttered Dennis. Several weeks later, the King once again gathered his forces: his scouts had reported another large force of wild men, singing and marching, whilst accompanied by many large wagons filled with liquid provisions. They had been reported approaching with chain of prisoners, apparently captured while enroute.
As they marched out of the castle, they passed a large caravan of what appeared to be beer importers. They smiled and offered the Kings men of what they claimed was the "finest ale brewed in Greater Atnos". The King and his men reached the plains outside the city and arrayed themselves in formal battle-drill lines. Then they waited. And waited. Finally, someone said " Look, isn't that smoke coming from the castle?" With a cry of purest outrage, King Garion ordered the men back to the castle, where an inordinate amount of activity seemed to be taking place. The forces of King Garion arrived at the castle in time to see the drawbridge just being razed. As well as all the other parts of the castle. The castle was literally being torn asunder by a miscellaneous group of prisoners, under the guidance of a East Camarin sergeant. A steady stream of stone, furniture, and stray barnyard animals was being tossed over the steadily diminishing walls. King Garion and his mighty army, which had struck terror into many a foe previously, were completely ignored. He stood in shock as a lifetime's work was rent asunder in a mad frenzy of demolition. "Er, uh excuse me! Hello!" "Yez hallo, who ees eet?" cried down the sergeant, in his strange East Camarin accent. "Vat do you vant?" "I believe you are destroying our castle. Stop at once or else we will be forced to kill you a lot more slowly." demanded the fuming King Garion. "Oh zis ees your Castle? Excusez for a moment" replied the sergeant, who turned around and ordered "Fetchez les vaches!" "What are those fools doing? Sound the attack" cried the King. At that moment, a murderous barrage of large animals descended upon King Garion's forces. Cows, sheep, horses, and pigs fell down upon them, launched by the massed catapults in the courtyard. Soldiers fell by the score as King Garion's 400 strong forces charged the castle walls, only to be driven back time after time. Finally, a flugel horn from inside the castle sounded a charge and the gates drew open. Leading the charge rode Lord Tiskanorig, followed by the powerful magus Garan, and the assembled hosts of the victorious MAFOC, all 140 of them fresh from their conquest in Greater Atnos. Sergeant Tharg, having been demoted for obeying orders once too often, led the group of swordsmen who quickly tore a path into the heart of King Garion's men. Their charge overwhelmed the elite guard under King Garion, and within moments, King Garion lay stunned on the ground, a prisoner of MAFOC. With the King captured, the heart went out of the King's army. Soon, the only figures left moving were the soldiers of MAFOC, who quickly looted the bodies of the fallen, friend and foe alike. Taken from Garion in the battle were: 11,567 gold, 10 horses, 6 winged horses, some lana bark, many weapons, an elfstone, drums, all the castle's linen, 3 crystal orbs and magical armour, and literally heaps of clay pots and woven baskets. All in all a fine haul for a good day's work. Tharg had put the prisoners back to demolition duty, when the banners of the 13th division of MAFOC appeared in town, led by the stout Lord Derwyn. Tharg began to wave, but the motion threatened to bring down the walls he stood upon, as they now were reduced to a swaying skeletal remains. With horror Tharg realized that the approaching army was charging, and had not realized that MAFOC had already taken possession of the castle. Or maybe they had? Tharg turned to shout an alarm, but a arrow caught him in the throat. As he toppled over the edge, the weakened walls groaned at the violent motion. Following Tharg to the ground, the remaining walls collapsed in a dusty implosion. In the confusion, Lord Tiskanorig sent the Magus Garan to hold the attackers with promises of reinforcements that did not exist. Quickly sweeping all the loot into a couple of chests, Tiskanorig and a few other nobles fled to the forest, along with all their prisoners. "So you thought you could escape justice by buying off my allies, eh Garion?" growled Tiskanorig. "Well this is not your lucky day, because while Derwyn holds the castle site, I hold you and the execution will proceed as planned." King Garion held his tongue in stoic silence. He had lost his kingdom, his home, and all his wealth. What mattered his life now? As Tiskanorig stepped forward, his two-handed greatsword gleaming in the light, Garion looked up, eyes gleaming a strange red. "I curse you. I curse the world that created you and brought you to me. You will follow me to my doom! Damn this all!" Tiskanorig grinned as he brought his sword down, cleanly severing King Garion's head from his body. The grin faded as a deep ominous rumbling began shaking the forest. As trees began crashing down, the sky turned an evil yellow. A twisted old man stumbled from the trees, shouting over the rising wind "I warned you all! But did anyone listen? noooo. Crazy old coot they said. Old weirdo doom-prophet they said. End of the world? No couldn't happen you said. Well I said so! I told you so...