+----------------------------------------------------------------------+ | The Olympia Times email@example.com | | March 11, 1992 v2n6 | | | | Turn 13 Circulation 62 "In Atnerks We Trust" | +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ Orders due: March 18, 1992
Questions, comments, bug reports, to play: firstname.lastname@example.org
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.
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 . 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  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..."
"Oh tell me why,"
"I don't like Mondays..."
"Oh tell me why,"
"I don't like Mondays... I want to shoot the whole day down."
Dominic the Sly  snapped out of his stupor. He had spent over two months waiting for Pelenth's Guard  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
Pelenth the Grim looked over the letter in consternation.
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 . 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...
Vote for Gorbachev  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.
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
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