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/tg/ - Traditional Games

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It started with a message that spread across every electronic device on the planet. Glowing words that declared that humanity needed to prepare for a coming change. Three days later, the skies lit up with auroras of seemingly impossible colors. And echoing across the globe was a voice that no man could make. It declared that all those who had visited the website known as 4chan in the past three months were to be vacated from the planet as punishment for a crime that humanity had committed. The poor fools were given the option of carrying two hundred pounds of gear or, as an act of mercy, were allowed to take one person(and only one) and one hundred pounds of supplies for the both of them.

Those dogged survivors were given ten minutes as a wave roared across the world, swallowing them up in a curtain of light, never to be seen again...Only to seemingly in the next instant wake up upon another world.

Now exiled to a world so far from home that nothing remains the same, they are forced to scrape out a living upon a wild, untamed planet under an alien star.

Welcome to Planet 4chan.
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Lenore is an ancient collective writing thread. It isn't a Quest thread; it predates them. You join with the premise that you've been dumped on an alien world given only ten minutes to prepare beforehand. Though we're all kidnapped at the same time we do not arrive at the same time. Seven previous waves have appeared before you, lived, died, and built civilizations. You arrive fresh and new to this place.

Attached is the Newbie Guide PDF. There's also a LOT of additional information, collected in this file:

Consider those a reference, not required reading. Skim the newbie guide first, but after that just have fun!

We do have an IRC for you to ask questions or discuss events where writers cross over.

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This is the /tg/ region of this new world. Feel free to start your own city in it. Although it may look like there are a lot of cities our area is the size of Brazil; there's plenty of jungle for you to get lost in.

/tg/ is divided into two major civilizations. The Confederacy, a powerful unified group of city-states that respect human rights, and the Fedorans, a small empire that definitely do not.

You needn't join either should you decide to write a settlement (keep in mind the Fedorans WILL lose, so it's best not to join them), and you can write for other regions. Just remember, what alien artifacts exist are alien high tech; there is no magic. Try to keep things grounded in gritty (though not grim) realism.


For existing writers: Some new guidelines have been implemented.

1: One major Ethereal artifact per writer. I.E. builder lances, alchemists, the Postmod's Hammer, etc. A city might have a mechsuit or two (with their usual limitations) and of course some dwarves and/or gnomes. No human artifacts, new major artifacts should be discussed in the IRC prior to implementing them to be sure they work in and do not break the setting.

2: Please discuss fights with other writers in the IRC, decide on the outcome you want between the two of you and then write up a one or two post summary. Some of the fights have been dragging on entirely too long.
Finally the last thread wasn't archived. Here's the foolz link to it:

Hello good sir, i'm sorry to disturb your humble thread.
Can i ask you which program\tool did you use for the making of these maps?
Thank you in advance, kind sir.
The actual large maps have sorta always been a mystery. They just appeared one day. The small regional map was made using CC3, a damn fine mapping tool.
I made the local map in Campaign Cartographer 3.

The world map I have no clue. I think it was made by someone in GIMP.
You mean Cartographer 3?
Ah, cool.
Ok then, thank you, you're a gentleman and a scholar.
The Tower, has started to push our timetable up. We've set a standing order to the Rangers still on force recon that we are moving to the next phase of the operation. the perhaps unimaginatively named, operation Yowler. Using the information gleaned from our men there we're moving River cities Rangers through the swamps alongside some of the Cypress Groves 'banshees' Women who are damn terrifying and may or may not be at least on par with River citie's schmuck bait soldiers.

This said, Kog Itself is sending well over three hundred men south, Cadia is also bringing out the big guns. I'm talking two full regiments of their own men, they'll be held in reserve until we begin the second phase however and will be moved accordingly. the Tower is acting as the spear head and seeding forces through the region to cause hell. Rangers and Boyz are to move in and mop up after attacks on smaller settlements. More importantly we will be using the tunnels to their full effect to that end, Karskins some of the best tunnel fighters from Cadia will be forwarded into them to set up a beachhead at what is called Johnston's Landing. From there we will begin Stage two.
Journal Log 79

Some visitors came by today. More resistance factions. The Sisters and the Swampers. From what I gather, the Sisters just kind of show up and set everything on fire or explode bombs and then leave. An anti-fedoran terrorist group. The swampers are...Mormons? I don't know. We had a nice little meet and greet, passed some news and rumors around. Johnathan's landing, whats left, is under Fedoran control again but that isn't expected to last. There's also another slug fest going on in some other settlement to the north a bit. No idea who's winning that but it's apparently as bad or wose than the Johnathan's Landing fight but with no ships. I'm tempted to run up there and pick a fight but we've got people to train here.

So, the morning radio update mentioned the Tower of all places sent an attack force into the area to run logistical warfare. We're to cooperate if they need the assistance and allow them use of our radio if they need it. I don't know if they're going to pay a visit to Fort Dunmer here but I've alerted the local command to keep an eye out and not go in swinging. The last thing we need is a “blue on blue” incident. Otherwise, everything is going great around here, the freedom fighters are taking to their learning with gusto.

Now I just need to figure out who in the base is the traitor. I haven't had reason to suspect that there is one, but I have a feeling. The Fedorans are evil and insane but they aren't stupid, no doubt they have their own counter insurgency working. I won't be taken unawares.
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The Subway:

With all the plans going on right now there are many projects on the back burner. One of those projects is "The Subway System".

Not a true subway, obviously. But there are expertly-made tunnels of stone running between settlements underground. Currently traveling between cities takes some time using these. It doesn't take a genius to realize that a system of carts in these would speed things greatly.


1: Animal drawn carts. Animals hate the tunnels in the first place, they poop, and I don't want to clean it. Somewhat viable regardless.

2: Electrically powered vehicles. This would take a ludicrous quantity of materials.

3: Steam powered carts. Nowhere to vent exhaust, tunnels will cook us.

4: Hand carts on a wooden track. In my opinion, the most viable option. The Keep already has a sawmill. We can construct handcarts primarily out of wood. This means they're not drawing from supplies going to production of Mars Pattern Rifles, and it means we don't need electricity. A small team on a handcar can pull some decent sized cargo and make good time. Still pretty difficult though. It'll take years to lay all the track and the tunnels are NOT uniform. There's also the issue of securing the track to the stone floor. They're generally wide enough for two carts and a walking path (quite wide) but not always. The workmanship is amazing, but the tunnels sometimes have very sharp turns or inclines that would make handcars unviable. We'd have to expand the tunnels ourselves.

Currently it's an option. We're considering adding a short length of track to The Tower past the incline and testing a handcart on it. The incline is too steep for track, unfortunately, but beyond that it seems viable.
The term, L-generation warfare has been thrown about lately. This reffering to the fact that we no long are simply playing by the rules of former warring nation states. One example of this is the fact that certain teams of Second and First waver rangers are going south with bundles of clothing from Earth. again this is part of the longer campaign. they will blend into newbie groups and use them to lead internal strikes when captured. Rangers have done this plenty of times in the past and though dangerous it can pay back in dividends.

We sadly however cannot issue the Mars Pattern Rifles yet, as we are lacking the supply lines for them. However the Mark V(not five, Vee) bows are now out and incorporate the basic composite ideas used by the Northern cities. The Rangers are calling them Vendettas, we're not ones in command to argue that.
Also mentioned to us is the "Ski Lift" Solution.

A rope attached to an electric motor which pulls carts along a track automatically.

This requires generators, though we're working on wooden wind generators and most settlements have watermill generators by now, thousands of miles of rope and carts with track.

Potentially viable, but every option is a major issue in terms of logistics.

An alternative to wooden track has been proposed: Cutting grooves in the stone floor of the tunnels for carts. Possibly viable, though cutting hundreds of miles worth of tunnels by hand is going to take years and a ton of manpower either way.
You ever woken up in the middle of the night to the sound of a horny alien Tyrannosaurus?


Well ain't you fucking special.

It would seem the seasons are triggering Stanley's hormones so now his heart's all a flutter with the thought of pretty little lady Run MotherFuckers. That said, this also means that other males are looking to secure territory and getting more aggressive. So, we're fucking holed up in a tower on a lake, again. And waiting while two twenty ton alien dinosaurs kick the shit out of each other. We're placing bets currently on which is gonna win. Mine's On Stanley.
god damn, we're going through threads at a rate of knots and yet i still never see one on the front page
never happens Lenore just is sorta there. In the Background, watching you sleep.
the sad nature of living in a massive rolling jungle is that we miss animals from time to time. This is true regardless of where you live really though rare is it you miss a dinosaur. Reports of similar animals have been sighted throughout our rather short history however, this is the first specimen brought in by the Rangers.

Like many species of The Drakes, such as the Run Motherfucker the animal looks disarmingly like a Theropod dinosaur. Though measuring only around ten to twelve feet snout to tail and being far more gracile than its robust Western Cousin. The Jungle drake is an animal well suited to of all things Fishing. It's narrower profile is meant to move between the thick stands of trees and the arms are longer, the midlimb all but receded back into the body. Once again ending just before the elbow of the fore limb. this is not all that surprising. What is however is the claws, hooked and designed to snatch prey out of the water the animal is well adapted to moving through shallow water and taking down shallow water species such as spear eels and the snakelike morphs of Yowlers.

that's correct people we have found something that eats Yowlers.
Jungle Drakes are solitary and highly mobile animals, living along the riparian shores and even swimming them to reach the far side. The beasts seem to be only bothered by humans if they are nesting and are actually quite shy.

Jungle drakes are covered in a fine layer of water shedding feathers. Males will have large tail fans that they will flash to attract mates as well as use in elaborate courting and making of nests afterwards. beating mud into depressions on the shoreline where they lay clutches of two to three eggs. The head profile is meant to catch slippery prey and and though four parted like all members of the order is narrow and has backwards, curved teeth allowing it to more easily hold onto prey animals.
these things are in.../tg/?

fuck us man. that's no good.
eh it hunts yowler young. That alone makes it okay in my book.
Happy New Year Lenore.
sounds cool, i love small, fast and vicious dinos let's see more stories where they get tamed and used in battle
Im with this guy, so long as it eats yowler and dont eat us then i love the things
Maybe we can train them and use them as some kind of hunting dog.
its possible thought since they're a solitary hunter it'd be tricky. Totally worth it though
There is none, simply put mammals as we know it do not exist on thing planet. That is of course true for every kingdom of life as we know it. This is a fact of living on an alien planet. However there are still species that we would call mammal like. And that, is what I'm here for.

We have found two major orders of mammal like organisms on this planet, Order Wamble(this is likely in flux) Which is the order of Fuzzy wamblers and Chubbs, species that we have found that are in fact homeothermes and bear after closer inspection(and slightly less green) true hair to some extent. As well as beaks. These to the layman are two of the largest give aways of the Order.

Secondly we have the Order Theivius which if formed from animals such as the nighttheives and corsairs. These are predators that also have true hair, though are lacking beaks and instead have a similar mandible structure to most birds. Also homeothermic they are largely nocturnal animals. Also, upon closer inspection of the animals mouth parts we see that each 'jaw' ends in a strong tooth like organ. This would suggest that at one time they too possessed beaks.

((I may or may not have the level of seperation mixed up for that I suck dicks and apologize))
They're fools. But that's no surprise. Amateurs.

The Confederates sent a strike team down to do a job like I used to do as a Green Beret. Train people. Strike at soft spots. They've been using their radios - and they haven't been using code.

Since we realized they were using radios we started to boost our receivers. We were initially running everything at low power, living in a bubble. Now? We've boosted it a great deal. And oh what we've learned.

Several hundred people coming south, announced loud as day over the radio. Weapons plans, troop numbers, defenses, the location of prisoners.

The Mars Pattern Rifle is worrying. The Confederates are strong, but they're also stupid. They have soldiers, but those soldiers were mostly line troops, not people used to thinking like insurgents. Even the people who fought in Iraq were used to high tech solutions to securing communications and disabling bombs. They don't know how to fight in a world brought this low.

Sly Marbo knows. That Delta Force fucker hasn't fallen for the bait, but the rest of them aren't so sharp. Kitycity is impregnable unless you've got modern artillery or you can starve them out or get someone to betray the gates. The jungles are impossible to really patrol.

So guard posts have been reduced. Patrols pulled back. Locations made insecure. I've got a squad of my own men with knives and pistols and bombs. They're all in just a few big, obvious locations. When the traitor lets us in the night of blood will begin.

Let the Whizzard try and make their hwatchas and shit he heard about on the radio. The greatest strength and weakness of any group is always the people in it.
well this is gonna suck.
A list of Fedoran weapons technology:

Modern guns, limited ammo supply.

Stone weapons; spears, knives, axes. Spears are often paired with atlatls and thrown. Slaves carry multiple spears.

Leather armor. (They haven't figured out silk and don't have Tortollos of their own.)

Gunpowder production.

Wooden cannons, three types of shot. Plain stone cannonball, thermite stuffed cannonball, and Black Ivy stuffed cannonballs (similar to CS Gas plus severe, lingering itching)

Clay grenades, filled with gravel, usually filled with some black ivy powder and jitterbug poison. Molotov cocktails in clay jars.

Bows, crossbows, chu-ko-nu. Arrows poisoned with jitterbug venom and black ivy extract or tipped with gunpowder explosive. Chu-Ko-Nu are never tipped with explosives.

Spears tipped with gunpowder charges, an anti-cavalry weapon.

Bamboo organ guns. Primary anti-siege weapon along with cannons; almost no Ballistae or catapults. Boiling cane sugar can be poured from the walls during siege.

Developing rockets (simple) and Hwatcha based on reports of Confederate designs.

Hivers. (Slave stealing denial system, the Confederates seem to be able to cure parasnake infestation so we're not planning to use them against the Confeds in the future.)

Remotely detonated gunpowder explosive. Useful only within Catan, relies upon Fedoran cell-network, scavenged phones and parts to make remote detonation bombs.

We do not have a good mine for metals so most materials are made of stone, wood, and natural materials. Builder weapons and artifacts have been mostly reforged into small knives/bayonets or cannibalized for nails and infrastructure like Catan's cell tower.
Right kiddos! Be a science Whizz and pay attention, the Grand High Whizzard has an important announcement to make: A new type of explosive!

I know you must love piss as much as I do, but did you know it was explosive? Well the Grand High Whizzard did!

Boil some delicious whizz and mix in some Nitric Acid and just a few other things and you have a grand little bomb!

The notherners can make dynamite and start working on TNT - mean while we'll be making TNPee! Hehehee!

Remember kiddos - let it all flow out! The enemy will taste our yellow fury!
(Side note: These are extremely simple to make IRL and I have no interest in teaching people the exact recipe for simple explosives. Needless to say it's well within Fedoran capabilities and the capabilities of probably every faction.

Do not try to make these at home, please.)
As with mammals there is simply put certain things that will not make sense if you were to compare the two. Lenoran flying animals do not have beaks for example, they sport the four part mouth that we find in the builders. We believe this is actually a commonality with all life on the planet. And has been adapted and adjusted accordingly to deal with different enviroments and feeding strategies.

Bird wings are comprised of two limbs with a stretch of skin between them. The fore limbs most often on a given species are adapted to grasping and being used as we would understand legs. This results in ground dwelling species often having well developed grasping abilities and stronger fore limbs. The rear limbs are most often smaller and used for walking, with the larger 'birds' it often is a waddling gait on the ground.
As always, opinions?
nice to see clarification of things. Though it makes me wonder where things like yowlers fall.
on all six legs
...I was ambushed by that not gonna lie.
Huh weird to think birds don't have beaks
Well, they really arent birds as we know them anyways
The Keep was abuzz with activity once again, the ironworks we had planned are underway and the smiths were constructing the first bore, which was proving more of a problem than we had first planned.

Personally Im happy its not my responsibility. What is though is planning and preparing for the upcoming assault and to have the men ready when it happens. Alongside the officers of both Da Boyz and the Outriders, I am helping to organize the training of the forces that we are going to be commiting alongside the other Confederate forces. We have had Da Boyz step up their training, getting them into shape and having them run drills with wooden mock rifles. Now they can be seen either out in the open fields jabbing, parrying and clubbing for bayonet practice or in the jungle participating in war games alongside the Outriders.
The Outriders spend the time Day Boyz work on bayonet practice instead drilling on the Scale Wolves, once the first guns get built they will be learning how to shoot on horseback as well but their main job is likely going to be as Dragoons. We wouldn't be dropping the lances entirely but the battle at Kog had shown how much their use relied on ambush situations or striking at unguarded flanks. They are already starting to look a little more like actual soldiers rather than just a bunch of enthusiastic volunteers. Really though a lot of this is figuring out what works and what doesnt, and alot of the planning on tactics is as much a learning experience for myself as it is for the others.

But no matter how much I see our people improve, or how much time I spend learning or evne after how well they did during the battle at Kog, I can't help but have a bad feeling about this all, like we are overlooking something simple. I try to distract myself from the feeling by getting back to work on the farms and overseeing the crops progress. But it doesn't leave. I don't know. I'll bring it up with the Mayor, he usually see's things that others overlook.
The Ironworks is up, producing decent amounts of wrought iron. I've also put together a kennel here in River City, ready to preserve mankinds most faithful companion. I've got breed books set up, and at my count we're looking at at least 2000 known dogs in the Confederacy. Unfortunatly, a number of the are fixed and the female:male ratio is 3:1. Thankfully, we can preserve the dog. Unfortunatly, it's highly unlikely we can do anything but build up the species for several decades. No purebreeds allowed; too many health problems.
The crops are doing well though. The hemp plants have been recently harvested and the plantation expanded so that we can start large production of hemp related products, the hemp clothing alone is worth it in my mind, its comfortable and it feels softer than silk after the flax cloth we've gotten used to. I know we have actual silk from the Tower as well now, but except for the silk armor I actually prefer to wear the new hemp clothing, because after the flax cloth it feels like silk clothing is going to fall right off my own body.

Food production is also under its usual expansion, all in preperation for the upcoming wave and stockpiles are being readied for the same reason. Pots are being stacked and readied for trasportation while the WTTC has kept a couple of its River boats ready at the Keep and the others are mobilizing all across the Confederacy, helping the usual collection of supplies for Camp Abaddons use.

The Scale Wolves corral has also gotten to crowded and we've need to build three more to house all of them comfortably, we've also learned how to properlly build their actual sleeping pens as well, using a communal area with soft earth and a low covered cealing is much better suited to them than the individual stalls we had copied from horse stalls. They also seem to be growing bigger and stronger than the wilder breeds with their regular and more balanced feedings. They've also integrated pretty well into everyday life around the Keep as well and those that haven't been picked for military are being used by people for a variety of tasks and even as pets. But its nice to see people who once shrank away when one was lead through the streets instead riding their ow or stopping to pet one as they walk by. It makes me wonder who has changed more in this short time, the Scale Wolves or us?
I'm sorta wondering how long till someone gets mauled by one of these things by sheer stupidity.
it allready happened, Lucky was the very first to tame one and the first thing it did when he went up to it is maul his arm
I am not...I am not the True First mother, like the new First Father this was not something I wanted but rather had no choice in. Now, Coming to me bearing something and asking something the Other's have appeared. To say we were cautious is not wrong nor is it unwise to imagine that as they set foot within the hunting grounds they were trailed by the nestlings that had been seeking game in the wood.

Their low speaker explained the workings of their bauble. Some of the young males crowed with excitement eager to try this weapon out. Already my sisters work in the Forges dissecting and gleaning the workings. Though we cannot make the power the mechanisms we can. And I hear and feel their songs echo through the tower as they begin their work.

In exchange they need the wing's talons however, and as first mother I am eager to show my kindred that war is yet to be found in this once empty land. They ask us to speak via their machines, not magic but mechanics they explain and I am eager to understand this...concept. We as a wing must adapt it would seem and the silvered strike is in need of molting the shame it has born for so long.
I honestly couldn't imagine something we were overlooking - until the X-Com project built the first 'large scale' radio receiver to see if we could listen to alien transmissions from the satellite we hadn't previously detected (low priority) or our own units down in Fedoran territory (high priority).

The radio waves in this world are easy to pick up; there aren't a lot of competing signals. We figured out something terrible. The Fedorans have radio. The Fedorans also realize we do. They've been listening in for a while.

In a pretty typical example of laziness some of them speak in code and some do not. The uncoded civilian transmissions delivered to us many secrets. Someone who can read between the lines can see military strength, deployments, and so on. They're planning a massive retaliation for sixth column attacks around Kitycity, though we can't crack the details.

The cypher they're using seems to be a simple one. Their military expert (according to the radio, a 'Lord John') put it together. It's good, and would be difficult to break... except the Fedorans only stick to the codes about 90% of the time, the rest of the time accidentally speaking in plain english. The people at the Reservoir are working on cracking their cypher now.

We realized we're going to have to start encoding our transmissions, but that we will face the same problems of lazyness. Lucky came to me and suggested Windtalkers - and suddenly our alliance with the Builders takes on a much greater importance than before. Buildtalkers. Remarkable. We'll sell it to them as being, "Speakers of War."

The Fedorans already know a lot about us. A great deal of damage has been done. I've sent written message via tunnel of my discovery. With careful discipline we can turn this into an advantage.
They ask us to sing! They ask for songs, for the words of their simple ways to be sung out and their battle glory sent to others far away. Warsingers, they ask us to be. Such things are known though never so far apart. Upon the field our people sung and will sing again it seems. I'm curious to see the First Father's reaction to this. He has been gone too long. They turn to me, and Even as I find myself eager for the war and the crafting of its artfice, I know that my nestling will not all come back.

To them , this is acceptable. They are young yet and they know the songs well. I shall send Two sixes with them. They shall sing our songs and use these....Radios to communicate. Our songs shall echo unseen and we shall use these gifts of theirs in battle. I have also dispatched my more Veteran sons and Fathers with them, another two and one half sixes. They shall act as counselors upon the ways and wends and guide their blade into their foes heart. The cities were of Iron and of our people's legends. We know them and they us.
Wait, the builders are coming to war with us? Like dispatching multiple groups of their physcho-war loving asses?
more like they are sending 12 to act as radio code-talkers and another 15 to act as war consultants
I get the feeling at least that latter portion is gonna wanna kick some ass. Also do we know if any of them can use a gigant still?
Likely yes, how well that will end...honestly we're like 99% sure they'd just go full murder machine on anything near them if they used one.
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The Other's during their wait here have begun doing...something. They take out small figures, carefully carved of some strange wood and each painted. Along with them they have a small handful of little cubes with dots on them. Strangely they roll them and consult what we have learned are recorded works of their people.

They also move the little figures, roll the dice and remove some, talking excitedly back and forth. They've shown one of my younger Sons, Moves with the Dust some of the figures and he seems intrigued. The, Low speaker says that it is some form of game they play. A ritualized form of making war and uses strategy and tactics of some form.

When they left, they left a parcel with the Weapons as well. Printed on it were the Words. Assault on black reach.
...I can not see how this will end. But it doesn't bode well for anyone that loses.
Sometimes it's easy to forget with all the war production, study of alien artifacts and struggle for survival that we're a bunch of gaming nerds stuck together on an alien world.

A group of entertainers from Kog came through today with a unique performance. A FATAL public character build. We ended up with a dwarf as ugly as sin, working as a prostitute with a preposterous anal circumference and scat fetish.

It's easy to forget where we came from. Sometimes something - even something as base and crude as FATAL - can remind us of that. It's a wonderful breath of fresh (if smelly) air.

We've had scattered gaming groups for forever now, and often used the Keep as a common area. But I think I'm going to adapt one building as a gaming building specifically. We shouldn't forget why we're in /tg/ and not starving to death in /b/. That building will help to remind us.

Today, today was perhaps the second strangest day of my life. The first being 'booped to an alien planet'. I've been working here for awhile now, I'm a third waver. Which means ya know, I'm not as crazy as the first Wavers, though I have to say those first waver ladies are amazing in...er anyways getting sidetracked.

Today, I had a builder and an elf come into the pavilion. It was just around sunset and they walk in like it's nothing, meanwhile a group of rangers, drunks, and children are all tailing them as they walk up to one of the 40K tables. And set down an Assault on Black Reach boxset. The elf explained that Walks with Dust or something would like to play a game of Assault on Black Reach...we didn't have the heart to correct him.

So I volunteered. I'll say this much, for an alien birdmanthing. He was surprisingly polite for an ork player.
Aggressive; we are not. Spirit; we have.

New monsters; evil. But after mating; gifts sometimes left.

Cutebold tribe; no love of warhammer 40k, melee classes in D&D, or battletech. Great love; Magic the Gathering, Eclipse Phase, Settlers of Catan, Yu-gi-oh.

New Monster Language; hard to learn. With mastery; expertise. New monsters say; cutebold bad MTG players. Cutebolds usually win. Hate; control decks. Cutebold tribe; control deck masters.

Not just game; in bets, win food. In bets, win exemption from mating with new monsters, win new games, win resources.

Eclipse Phase; just for fun. Remember stories of old generation; times of great fungal technology. Cutebold tribe love Werewolf; pretend to be monster, not victim. Love Wraith; Promethean.

Like old monsters; cutebold tribe study new monsters. Learn; grow. Survive; adapt. Read human books; play human games. Cutebold tribe cannot fight; think instead.

Perhaps; aid new monster enemies of new monster masters. Bring they; better life; more blue cards; more d10; more White Wolf games; more food; no forced mating; new Chinese Checkers board; freedom.
why do I feel like they have a single chinese checker board to share between them all.
why do I feel like the aliens are just gonna end up being as nerdy as we are, like we're gonna have Builders playing fucking Dnd and Exalted by the end of things.
Cutebold vocal range:

Cutebolds are not human. That seems like an obvious thing to say, but the voice of one will quickly remind you if you forget.

They're extremely skilled mimics and actors. They take the role of what you want them to be, not what they really are.

For instance, they can speak English easily. We cannot speak Cutebold language at all.

When we first found them the tiny creatures sounded like Barry White. Male, female, or their weird third 'drone' gender, that was their default voice. Now they sound exactly like a girl from my harem. Exactly. You cannot tell the difference at all.

It's a good thing they aren't able to attack or kill people. They're smarter than me, and more manipulative than me. And that is saying something. Humans often consider me sly and smart. They make me feel like a dumb bullying brute. I can't afford to underestimate them, whether or not they can fight.

They still have the halting cause and effect style of speaking, something about their thought process is different. They tend to see things in long chains of cause and effect and action, ending up looking like they've tossed everything and the kitchen sink into a sentence or using short broken ones. They speak like humans when imitating us, though.

I believe that being underground creatures primarily, they developed their vocal range as an alternative to vision in caves without fungus. They do this really weird sound like a chirping purr sometimes. Slowed down recordings seems to show it going from far lower than the human voice can to much higher pitches than humans can hear extremely quickly and repeatedly. They say it's a way of 'seeing'. I think it's echolocation.

They're extremely useful and unnerving. What mining is done they do in their mazelike underground caverns. The Empire couldn't work without them. But their skill at imitating people so quickly and perfectly and yet so subtly off can be extremely disturbing.

At least they're good in bed.
We should have seen this coming. For some reason we had gotten set in our ways and figured that the Fedorans would just be like /b/. Well shot ourselves in the foot on that one. But, we can take this to our advantage. We're already running people through the tunnels. Unspoken and bearing messages.

meanwhile the orangemen are sending us a little alien help. Warspeakers, we're calling them. I cannot wait for the look on the face of the First fedoran who is listening to the Radio when they hear one of them fuckers.

This, this is messy right now. but we can fix it. Rangers are being called back and redirected at what amounts to scatter shot right now. we're also using our own cant that some of us had from the old days. It's not adequate for full on war but it's a stopgap.

When you tell a ranger to go hunt a mazda well...he has a strange habit of going to ground. we're also using personal experiences to get points across. That scout is currently getting an ear full of the River city ransom and how there was some asshole shouting about no monopoly and had overheard them when they talked about bringing a copy in from Kog. Let's hope he remembers correctly and isn't as smart as the tortolo.
the current name for this is Cat talking. Partly due to the commonality that many stories have...with cats. Seriously all we hear on our radios is how various cats in kog have done such and such. Its hilarious all the more so because we're fairly sure Fedorans don't even have cats like we do. At least not in any substantial numbers.

At the rate things are going, they're going to believe our armed forces are comprised almost solely of crazy cat rangers...they really wouldn't be that far off.
So I'm suck down here in the ass-end of Kitycity listening to Confederate radio broadcasts for military info and shit, and they've got some kind of goddamn cat radio show is going on up there.

They seem to think they're the only ones in the world with cats. I'm in fucking KITYCITY. The Place is wall to wall cats! Smells like a gigantic goddamn littlerbox. Even the brothels are cat themed!

I've hated this place since the first time I stepped foot here. Only good thing we ever used these fleaballs for is tying bags of slow burn gunpowder to their tails and setting them loose on /y/king ships.

Fuck I wanna kill these Confederate assholes. Oh well. We're gonna have a good old fashioned culling to keep the numbers down soon. I'll just have to live with tossing a few into pots of boiling sugar. When we take Kog I'll show 'em what I think of their funny fucking cats.
>killing precious terran fauna
>Lenore year 4
>Expecting people who have taken freaking Fedoras as their national symbol to into common sense

>Expecting Fedorans not to be sociopathic disgusting fucks
point taken, they are truly scum and must be purged. Now here's hoping our builder bros don't go full retard and get sweapt away in a 40K craze before that.
>Confed Soldier: Fuck, where is our support? Those builders were supposed to be here days ago!

>Meanwhile in Kog, the Builder team has swept the 40k tournament with their all-Kroot armies. No one has the heart (or balls) to tell them those don't work in the rules
oh lord. they are both the worst and best players.

>Also suddenly Builders adopting Ork mannerisms around 'humies' not because its funny just because it's relatable and something they think Humans will understand better.
Journal Log 80

There's been some pretty strange radio broadcasts going around. First it sounds almost like someones talking in metaphors. This goes on for a few days, then the cat stories start up. Then there's some really fucking weird sounds coming through. I think I get the idea though. The enemy is listening. Very well. I sent off a big fuck you to them for the last 48 hours. I've set my phone to the radio transmitter on a short angle and broadcast Phil Collin's greatest hits on infinite loop in the direction of the nearest Fedoran city. Since we've been parked in Fort Dunmer long term, we've set up a windmill to run the generator so we're not constantly having the cart circle the yard.

Speaking of Fort Dunmer, training continues. Reports from Sixth Column are that the Fedorans are pulling back from a lot of their holdings while fortifying other locations, they've abandoned several indefensible farms in the area. Some of the people want to go out and capture it but it's probably trapped to all hell or has been stripped of anything valuable. They still want it for the sake of calling it a victory. It's not going to fucking earn them Civ points or anything, waste of an action and will spread them too thin. Johnathan's Landing has been fortified heavily. I suspect they'll come for us next, but not from the front. They aren't /b/arbarians. They're worse.
I can feel it coming in the air tonight

Oh laaaaaawd
I've been waitin' for this moment

for all my life

oh laaaawd
I hate my job. I just... I hate my job. Phil Collins.

I liked it better before we got electricity.
the Radio war has begun. Kog, with one of the more powerful broadcast centers has decided its time to fuck with the Fedorans. As such we are cycling through our impressive music selection. All of it random as fuck. First on the list...GWAR. and a follow up helping of lenny kravitz because somewhere there is going to be a Fedoran that will cry. I will ensure it. After that, some Lady Gaga and Toby Keith.
You're going to let this get progressively more horrible aren't you. I'd say there has to be laws against such things but I know better.
Journal Log 81

Something came through the tunnels today. Something from back home. An elf and.. it's a builder. A fucking builder. These Sixth column people never heard of an elf. Looks like a cancer patient glowing like a rave. Then there's the fucking alien with him. Also glowing like a rave. They needed an explanation. Fuck, I needed an explanation. The entire base's population and possibly all their weapons were down here to see what this was all about. So apparently these two are joining my team as radio translators because we've inadvertently been giving away radio secrets. Anyways, we got them on the radio and I finally got and gave a proper update to the local events. Shits going down. Soon. But the war is still a ways off. I hope these two can defend themselves in a fight because we may be dragged through one. I bet the builder can handle itself but the elf? We'll see. They also want to play pnp games in our off time. Who taught the builder this shit? What have they been doing in those woods? Well we from a tabletop and wargaming board, we've gone and infected the aliens with our culture. Great. Hope they like fucking Shadowrun.
I want to get away, I want to get away
I want to get away, I want to get away
I want to get away
I want to fly away
Yeah with you yeah yeah
I got to get awaaaaay!
We entered the Fedoran territories just in time to find some of our primary targets abandoned. Using their tracks throughout the forest we were able to find a small farm outpost. The farm consisted of two large fields of crops in good condition, a stone tower with a heavy reinforced door, and a separate group of lean-to’s that reeked of decay and squalor.

The Tower itself was impenetrable in the time we had, however the slums for their slaves told us about their hasty departure. Several of the slum shacks had half eaten evening meals left out or spilled across the floor. The food was still lukewarm so they hadn’t left but a short while ago. While I continued to investigate the outpost I sent a team of five men to scout the perimeter and pick up their trail. The slaves hadn’t known of their departure time so there had to be signs of struggle or signs of the slave masters trying to pull their toys with them.

I half expected the fields to be salted. I didn’t understand why they hadn’t burned the field down. That is, I thought those things before the door to the Tower swung open and the last remaining Fedoran stumbled out to finish the job. He looked rather goofy with his grey fedora with a Scale Wolf feather in the band. He was tall and lanky and appeared to have never worked a single hard day in his life here on this world. When he stumbled outside he met a small group of my men who drew their bows on him. When he tried to jump back inside the tower two arrows pierced his calves and sent him falling to the ground.
I sent 30 of the Hunters to follow the trail of the retreating Fedorans and their slaves. Myself and a group of 5 Hunters have secured the tower for a little bit of light interrogation. Of course the Little Admirals are with me and Alexis has this look in her eyes that worries me. I know the thoughts in my own head of how to deal with this scum are not pretty, but her eyes scream of a lust for revenge so strong it is worrying me. I’ve given her my k-bar and a chunk of wood and requested she slice up some thin and long splinters to use with the Fedoran. She is preoccupied trying to think of ways to use them for now.

The Fedoran was, unwilling, to talk about relevant information. Sure I learned all about the sick things they do with a native fauna called “Cutebolds”. Sure, stories of fucking a wound on a Yowler and how pleasurable it is were told. Nothing important. Nothing that didn’t turn my stomach. I called Alexis in to ask her for the splinters and let the sick bastard see her. When I told her who she was and what she had been he went as white as a ghost. Apparently the fat lazy bastard was famous among a certain group of lazy bastards. He knew the stories of how the bastard had operated his ship. He saw the bloodlust in Alexis. I slipped on a pair of gloves and asked Alexis for the splinters of wood as well as my K-bar back. I was handed the wood, but the K-bar had to be retrieved from the thigh of the Fedoran. I had used the Fedoran’s tshirt to treat the arrow wounds. Now I had an additional would to treat before beginning the interrogation.

Alexis was told to leave. I had no intentions of allowing her to watch which would further corrupt her. I used her stabbing him as an excuse. She resisted at first but when I lowered my voice and spoke slowly to scold her she dropped her shoulders and ran off towards Kathrin.
The human body is a resilient thing. It fights off infections from an alien world. Can be shot or stabbed multiple times and actually survive. Pain thresholds are amazingly high when given the thoughts of survival. When confronted with a situation with no chance of escape it can shut down functions to limit pain and endure until the end.

Our guest was not a hardened member of society. He was still the auspie neckbeard one would find playing Magic and arguing over rules. Lenore had not changed him. Fedorans had prevented that. He was blubbering, squealing, and crying like a stuck pig when I finished bandaging his new wound. I may have repeatedly jammed my finger in it to let him know how it felt for the Yowlers.

I asked for information on the leadership of the Fedorans. He refused to answer so I showed him one of the splinters. A nice long chunky one. When I put the wood up against the bottom of his finger nail his mind made the connection and he began to wail harder. Once more I asked him to name the leadership and once more he denied me. His wail when I jammed half an inch of wood under his fingernail is still making my ears ring.

When I pulled out a second piece of wood to use on the next finger he snapped and began blurting out all kinds of information he knew about the /d/m, John, and the Grand High Whizzard. General locations of cities, which leader was in charge of which city, estimates of ship numbers remaining among the Fedoran fleet. The canary sung rather beautifully. When he was finished revealing all of the information he knew I gave him a quick death. Alexis was furious I had not allowed her to end his life. I was glad I could prevent her from dirtying her hands any further.
hate you so much... that's stuck in my head now. I think I'd rather have splinters jammed up my fingernails than the radio terrorism you're all performing.
(as sung by William Hung)
And she bangs, she bangs
Ooooh baAaby
When she moves, she moves
Iii goOo craazy
'Cause she looks like a flower...but she stings like a bee
Like ev-ry girl, in history
Welcome to Lenore we will break you in the worst/best way.
Why Why does anyone have this?!
We now delve into the deep history of the morphology of Lenoran fauna. In particular into why the Scale wolves, Racing deer, tortolo, and yowlers all have what at first look seems to be a normal jaw structure. This is of course expected, these animals are actually from what fossil records we have encountered during excavations of the mines some of the more recently evolved fauna.

And, upon closer inspection of the skull morphology and topography we find something very interesting and perhaps unique to the rather large clade of life forms. When you inspect the jaw structure of say, the tortolo and look in the interior of the tooth line, roughly equidistant from each other are a set of small bony ridges that appear to have been much reduced and once removed from the greater part of the skill are actually a separate and now much like the appendix useless organ. Well, not useless, it is believed that in the tortolo that these are used to help generate the undulating motions of the tooth plates on the rooth of the mouth. It is theorized other Lenoran fauna with a 'by-grapsing jaw' have developed a number of adaptations that might at first not be present. A carnivorous example of this is the serrated 'micro jaws' that are found in Yowlers and appear to be meant to hold onto and worry at the flesh of prey. Some people have taken to using these as steak knives...
huh, that's something I hadn't even thought about really. I mean it should have come up at some point I guess, but weird.
Welcome back douchebags to 89.6 Confederation Station where we give you mindfuck madness all hours, every hour on the hoouuurr!
With your favourite host with the most, the mad dog with rad hog, on the mike on his bike, the mc doing pcp: Doooomriiiiiideeerr! Fuck Yeeaaah!
I'm bringing you a simultaneous request out of Cadia from a Mister Creed and the Tower from a Mister Eldrad: 'the Cheeky Song' by the, you fucking guessed it genius, the fucking Cheeky Girls!
Now we aren't any old radio station assholes, and because this is a double request we're gonna play the song twice, not consecutively, AT THE SAME TIME!
Cheeky girls…………
Ooh boys cheeky girls
Ooh girls cheeky boys
Ooh boys cheeky girls
Ooh girls....
So, there's like three races that writers can work from now?

The Humans who we know how to write about that.
The Builders who are super warlike.
And the Cutebolds who are well not kobolds.
humans are pretty much the only actual 'race' that is written, anything to do with builders and cutebolds is usually hashed out in IRC and then posted within established conventions of these aliens
Well beat me to the punch i see.
I don't mind people writing from a cutebold perspective, but I'd prefer you come into the IRC first so we can go over some meta not-in-thread stuff about how they work.

Generally speaking there's precisely one colony of builders and one colony of Cutebolds. The Cutebolds live under Monstergirlopolis.

Probably the most important thing to keep in mind is that Cutebolds aren't actually cutebolds; that's just a nickname. They're actually the remnants of a society that was arguably more advanced than modern day humans (in some ways), just using biotech, the remnants of which exist as the dangerous fungi of Lenore today. The remnants have little knowledge of how any of that worked.

A cutebold is something like a young teen human with an extraordinary grasp of cause and effect chains. They're amazingly skilled mimics with a good feel for social situations and are inherently manipulative, though not evil per se. They vary in terms of morality like humans do. They cannot directly fight at all; it's instinctive. Not a social choice. They aren't nice pacifists. They'd love to kill their enemies and fight back, but are simply not capable of it. Hence the focus on traps, misdirection and manipulation.

The most important thing is that they're not human and don't think like humans. They're not native to Lenore, they're as alien to it as humans are. So those are important things to keep in mind if you want to write them.
Kobolds. They have fucking Kobolds in the Fedoran lands. Whenever the GM let me, I'd play a Kobold. I liked Cutebolds. My Kobold encounters scared my players shitless. In Fedoran lands, they rape them. I knew what they do to people, but somehow I hate them more now. I commandered a workshop from the Engeneering Guild. I'm building it now. The Devestator. I've taken plans by a friend of mine back home, and now I'm building a refined version of the Puckle Gun. I'm going to give it to one of the Builders to carry out my revenge. No one hurts my favorite monsters.
The hell is a puckle gun? And why do I feel builders are going to love it.
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Its an Autocannon, A revolving flintlock cannon.
A revolving flintlock autocannon. Yeah, I can see us using them
When was you when radio war beginning?
I was sat in Abaddon eating smegma butter when Snuggiefag ring
'radio is war'
So is this war being called the Radio War now?
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*Looks at Commander*

Sir, you might want to listen to this.

Its gotten a bit weird out there.
Balderdash, these confederates seem like...is that Baby got back?
Get ready for a 6 hour loop of "The Wheels on the Bus", motherfucker.
Oh god, we're on your side!
I think so sir.

And just earlier i think someone was playng Rick Astley too.

What the Fuck is your problem?

Were dying out here trying to get these Fedorans off our asses and your screwing with the Radiowaves.


What he said.
Who wants to hear songs from Sonic Underground for the next 24 hours?
It beats Whatever the Fedorans have been playing.
This is for those Fedoran motherfuckers. Now, who wants to hear PewDiePie?
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Wonderful news! The Confed has been so kind as to gift us music. The fools are using their energy and broadcasting power to bring radio all the way down to us.

Many of us haven't heard music in years. After we rigged up some speakers around the town and told the slaves we felt nice and were gifting them with music we merely had to start letting the music play. Sure we sometimes get stuff like "The Wheels on the Bus" but even that is a welcomed gift to those of us that haven't heard notes and lyrics for years. They also think songs like Lenny Kravitz - Fly Away is torture. Lenny used to be my boy!


I've been asked by one of my sons to forge a...corvus Helm, it would seem to be something that the Other's have from their Home Nest. Worn by their Marines, warriors most devout and fearsome, mythic near deities it would seem. I have set my daughters to the task and have begun the preparations for proper armors to be forged. We have not waged a true War in many years and though the sons I sent forth wear the armor of their Elder Fathers, they are limited in number.

I shall protect my sons and my nests Future, the shields shall be back by the wood of the Forest and their swords shall gleam, The Other's Hammer shall thunder upon the battlefield and we shall wear the helms of two Great Nests upon our brows. The diadem has been donned and I go now to make War and Bring life to my kin and kith. My sons return from the Old Nests, the Iron cities bearing the ores to be forged and shaped and made anew. We Sing now, the songs of mothers past and of the Nest, of the silvered strike the wings talons gleaming.
...did one of the builders just ask for a beakie helmet?
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Indeed the did.
What horror have we unleashed upon this world. At least its not...orks? I guess?
Sirs, We're getting some strange sounds coming over the radio waves and for once I don't mean the awful J-pop and Bruce springsteen remixes. If I had to hazard a guess sir its...Singing? It sounds a bit like someone put one of the damned alien birds you see all over the place ya know, the ones that are monkeys? Well it sounds like they have one siting at a mic right now, and just fucking singing its little monkey-bird-thing heart out.

The fuck are they doing up there? Fucking them?
So here's a question. Are we going to lose?

I flipped to the side of Catan early on because I knew we MIGHT be able to take them in a fight but we'd come out of things badly wounded. Together we made an empire.

I don't intend to fight to lose, but I'll flip to the side of the Confederacy if it becomes clear we can't win. I'd even sign their stupid human rights charter.

I've got some plans in that case. One of my wives is being trained to rule in case I need to flip. No doubt they won't let me stay in charge, but putting a woman in charge would make it look like I'm sincere in changing. Of course she's so thoroughly brainwashed by this point she can't sneeze without my permission.

I don't need to be in charge of the city in order to continue the fight. I can retreat to a small, well guarded compound with my wives and daughters and focus on building a cult.

Of course if the Confederates don't buy it I've got some alternatives. I've still got some ships I can escape on with my family, south to /u/ or far north to /b/, perhaps.

There's also another option. The /y/kings.

Everyone praises my capture of /y/king ships because it was very clever. However, I have a secret not even the rest of the Fedoran leadership knows.

Early on I took one of my first, most carefully brainwashed brides from /u/ and placed her where the /y/kings would find her - and she's risen in the ranks. She's my inside girl, and is just as loyal as ever. The /y/kings know how dangerous I am, so I could give myself to one of the queens as a slave - and with the help of my brides, work on brainwashing her as well. That would give me control of a /y/king fleet. They don't expect women to do that sort of thing over there. Religion is grand, isn't it?

There's a lot of groups that want my head. If things go south I don't intend to give it to them.

I think I'm going to send the Whizzard to Kitycity so he can test out his new devices in a real combat zone.
I'm not sure what I saw, we were running a patrol to one of the Sugar farms, I think near where Johnathan's Landing is. I'm a little shellshocked still, sorry. But it was getting dark and in the forest we saw these....lights. Like glowing people shapes we didn't think anything of it. You see weird shit down here and the Dragons aren't always afraid especially with this war going on.

One of my men, he went towards them and well, screamed, I saw an arrow take him down, went right into his guts, a stomach wound. He just laid there screaming bloody murder till I stabbed him. After that things went crazy, the fucking forest filled with those damn lights, and....and fuck hang on here. Listen, this isn't me losing my shit from snorting bugs I swear. They were fucking aliens, Like humanoid aliens that fucking glowed and were using bows and arrows and led by a goddamned taller one that was singing crazy shit and gutted half my fucking squad. It left me there on the ground pinned beneath the bodies of my buddies. It wasn't glowing it was fucking armored like some knight but I could see its eyes when the moon hit them just right. They weren't human Sir, I swear to The One true Atheism they weren't human.
A runner returned to the abandoned tower to inform us that the large group had found the trail of the fleeing Fedorans and they were a few hours ahead of us. The Fedoran forces were moving slow trying to move the large number of slaves as well as the personal items back to the cover of what we now knew as KityCity. The outpost was locked up now that we had the key from Sir Wooden Nails. It was time to go hunt down another party.

We caught the slavers near some additional farms and hovels on the outskirts of KityCity. The men had already set up an ambush location where an outcropping of trees encircled the farm the slavers were passing through. As they neared the trees my men struck. Using their bows to take out some of the slavers on the outskirts of the group then rushing in to strike at the leaders inside the group while the slaves were still struggling to grasp what had happened to their slave masters who were directing them.

With the head of the slavers cleaved off very few of the slaves were willing to continue fighting against their purple skinned alien saviors. When the dust settled we had secured nearly 200 slaves and the supplies the slavers had tried bringing to the city with them. However, we did not get out unscathed. Two of my Hunters caught blades while they tried to push through the slaves to kill the leaders in the center. One will survive the ordeal with some scarring along his arm and chest. The other will sadly not survive. He was disemboweled and we did our best to ease his suffering. The worst of it was he was one of our newlyweds at the Tower. When we returned home the task of breaking the news to his wife would fall to me.
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Doomriders back baby! Hope you've been enjoying the best of the fecal drippings of the old worlds musical talent here on 89.6 Confederation Station. Now Im sure your all been wondering what the fuck we've been up to these last couple weeks with out nonstop broadcasts and our strange obsession with musical harassmant? Why we've been putting all this effort into providing you with, admittedly bad, entertainment? Well we've got oyur attention don't we boy and girls? The sounds of a home lost to us and the music we held so dear? We've got you hooked like a crack addled whore willing to do anything for her next fix, don't we? Youre all glued to these broadcasts because it provides you a little comfort in these dark times? Well let me get nice and level with you babies and welcome our guest on to the show, he's not got a name but alot of you might recognize him by his voice. Allright baby, rock on! DOOOOOMRIIIIDERR OOOOOUUUTTT!!
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Hello everyone, I'd like to dedicate this to all the poor souls whose lives were wasted in the assault on Koganusan, fueled by the greed and hubris of a single person.
A Dying Marine

'Twas on Januararys fortyfifth day,
When we set sail the Confederacy;
'Twas on that dark and dismal day,
When we set sail for Confederacy.
'Twas on that dark and dismal time,
When we set sail for the Northern clime,
Where drums to beat and trumpets sound,
And unto Koganusan that we were bound.

And when to Kog we did come,
They thought by the aid of their Fedoran guns,
To drive the Confederates from that place,
To fill their hearts with sore disgrace.
But to their sorrow and surprise,
We saw men like grasshoppers rise;
They fought like heroes much enraged,
Which did affright the Cheetos Sage.

Like lions roaring of their prey,
They feared no danger or dismay;
Bold /tg/ blood runs through their veins,
And still with courage they sustain.
We saw those bold Koganusons
Spread death and slaughter from their guns:
Freedom or death! these heroes cry,
They did not seem afraid to die.

We said to Kog, as you've been told,
With the loss of many a Fedoran bold,
For to make those free men bow to our King,
And daily tribute to him bring.
They said it was a garden place,
And that our armies could, with ease,
Pull down their town, lay waste their lands,
In spite of all their boasted bands.

A garden place it was indeed,
And in it grew many a bitter weed,
Which will pull down our highest hopes
And sorely wound our Fedoran troops.
'Tis now Febtober the sixteenth day,
And I wish I'd never come to the Confederacy;
Where every Fedoran sents been slain,
Bold Fedoran fighters every one.

Now I've received my mortal wound,
I bid farewell to my Fedoran home;
My slaves and 'wife' will not mourn for me,
Whilst I lie cold in Confederate soil.
Fight on noble Confederate sons,
Fear not Fedoran's thundering guns;
Maintain your cause from year to year,
God's on your side, you need not fear.
holy shit the soldier lives.
The recent focus on matters demands that we change the way we use our soldiers. Slaves are fine for farm labor, but terrible in combat against a well equipped enemy.

Rather than work the old way - even at the risk of seriously angering King Fedoran - I'm going to change the way slaves work in Monstergirlopolis.

Slaves will now have the chance to acquire a new status. Above slaves but below free Fedorans. In essence, they're serfs. Expected to fight and work on the farms, unable to own property, but their lives won't be trash anymore.

Of course I'll continue to take all the new women we find for their 'protection' (but mostly so my indoctrination and breeding program continue unhindered).

We're going to begin to issue them better weapons and armor. We have enough to arm a pretty large number of slaves with chu-ko-nu and spears. Neither requires a lot of training. We can also put leather armor on them. At least a helmet and chest-piece.

Only the most loyal and ambitious slaves will get this opportunity. In return they get something like basic human rights and comfort. This will anger the middle class 'free' Fedorans a lot, but this isn't a choice. We NEED to do it. Our previous human wave tactics won't work now. With our fleet so severely reduced in strength we cannot go on large slaving expeditions and this enemy isn't like the /u/topians or /y/kings. They're high tech, with real weapons. To help reinforce things I'm willing to let the most loyal of them into the breeding pits to spend time with the girls. Good genes are good genes, whether they come from a slave or a free Fedoran.

If we lose this will also help me argue I was secretly trying to work for human rights but was forced into doing bad things by the evil King Fedoran.

The Whizzard will be taking a large number of this new class, the "Serfs" with him when he goes to Kitycity, along with most of the Whizzard's guild from Catan and Monstergirlopolis and a large guard contingent of Free Fedorans.
What we initially thought of as...oh for fucks sake. This is Kog! Will someone turn off that blasted music?

Anyways, What we had first thought was a more primitive form of animal is in fact again, relatively recent going by morphology and anatomy. The Run motherfucker, and The Jungle Drake, are to the laymen very similar beasts and in a sense they are. They come from the same basic group of animals that Being the Drakes, land dwelling Reletives to the Rapedactyls, a separate order of animal. But, had we the ability to study their Genome I'm sure we would see only a reletively recent divergence of the groups. And this is perhaps where things get most messy.

You see, the animals are close but not, The Jungle drake is judging by the study of physical anatomy and morphology is actually the more primitive of the two species. The Run Motherfucker is we are understanding the basics of the biology correctly has adapted and evolved a suite of traits that allow for its massive size, Its a fascinating study really will be expanded once we have the first set of books ready to go to print. I strongly suggest you get a copy as they're to be issued to the College almost exclusively.
The handguard on that Kalash is kind of neat. I wouldn't mind having that. Anybody know where it came from?
The Honeypot is growing. We have reached past the "border township" level, we are a full-fledged town now. A lot of things changed since we were that small village gathered around the Old Keep. The middle of the pass is now the hub of trade, with the plazza where the Wood road arrives from the north and the ongoing Copper road to the Confederacy starts. The Builder Companions are finishing the Trade Hotel, a huge hall who already acts as an auction house, bazaar and storehouse. The apiaries are providing enough honey, bees and wax to feed the whole town, and have a surplus to boot. The old part of the town has also changed. Instead of low houses and tents, the Old Keep is now surrounded by food storehouses, the New Brewery, barracks and the Mint. The Militia now has a seat in the Marketplace Gate. I should try to do a map someday, even if it would probably be outdated the second I finish it.

Anyway, we have a Mint, that's what I wanted to say. See, we have been sitting on a pile of Millerite. Until now, we simply extracted it when looking for pyrite and coal and piled it, but now we found an use for that. We traded copper from the miners and metallurgists of the Confederacy for meads and clothes. We crushed the millerite, floated it, roasted it in a McDougall roasting unit until it was pure (or nearly close to pure), then made nickel ingots out of it. We smelted copper, iron and nickel together in secret proportions and we poured it in a mold made by the best recaster, closed said mold, and we had our first coin. The coin has been sculpted in hard wax by our best sculptor, then cooked, quenched and a mold has been made of it.

The coin has a bee on a side and a d20 with the 1 side up on the other. It is small, roughly the size of a .10€ coin, and the same colour. We are going to make more of them, with values from 1 to 20. We still need a name for it.
Its the Be, the more value the more E's so for example a five Be coin is actually called a Beeeee
song is based on the song the Dying Redcoat FYI, not hard to find via google and should have a sound file that gives the tune to which this is set

not sure myself, but the picture is by a guy called JuzzyDee on deviantart under Nameless Soldier, you can check there if you are still interested
neat, guess I'll have to venture the land of deviants to find the source of Kalishna-guards
Wave Eight Plans:

Wave eight is almost upon us. We cannot continue simply absorbing people into our cities; we don't have the infrastructure to support people like that yet even if the cities themselves are large enough to sustain them.

Our solution is to build new cities, of course. Equip a group of people from Abaddon with basic tools and let them build their own city.

They would not, of course, just be trained in the basics and sent out alone. With the council the way it is already the last thing we need is a dozen new members to the Confederacy with full votes.

Therefore, the solution has been proposed based upon Butterroot Keep's adoption of Reservoir Town as a protectorate. In essence, the major cities with council seats are basically the capital of independent states, and minor cities are under the influence of the state's law. However those states are also responsible for protecting and expanding minor cities. So in all reality half the population of a minor city will be from Volunteers in a major city like Kog. This would give them the expertise they need to survive and a great incentive for city-states to support them. These minor communities will mostly be farming communities or dedicated to a single industry like logging. As such, they will not go on the map.

This isn't really a lot like the American Federation system, however. It's more like the EU in some respects. Each place still gets one vote, there's still no president.

Hadesopolis is once again a full member of the Confederacy. Lord Hades disappeared some time ago and the people of his settlement wanted to join, so we've let them. They're a full member state, though Battleborn is in a nebulous position between being a protectorate city of Kog and of Hadesopolis.

Minor cities won't go on the map unless there's something particularly important going on in them. (Like a writer writing for one.)
In other news the city of Cypress Grove has opened up with a major trade good: Fertilizer. They have sulphuric acid in abundance (as well as hydroflouric acid) in the swamps in heavily diluted form. They dredge up the acid, concentrate it, and process it into Phosphate Fertilizer. The process isn't hard once you have Sulphuric acid. We're also importing some to help with our copper production at the Keep. This should greatly increase food output across the Confederacy. Considering how big Earth plants get without fertilizer I shudder to think what they'll be like with fertilizer.

On the subject of copper production and Kog's Iron production - our two cities, by the end of the year, will be producing small amounts. Even if you have the buildings and infrastructure it doesn't mean much if you don't have the manpower or machines. We'll be producing a few dozen tons of copper; they'll be producing a few dozen tons of Iron. (Per year) though I could be wildly off concerning these estimates. The facilities can produce more raw processed material, but if we can't turn it into something useful there's little point.

Once dynamite production is up and mining is faster we'll have more raw ore coming. Once we are done with our current war current metal production can go towards machine building.

Machines are very hard to build right now, but far from impossible. Smiths cast or hand forge parts, then manually assemble them. It's a slow process made slower by the fact that a lot of our smiths are trainees at this point, resulting in a lot of wasted time and resources.

With the electricity we have now, Iron and copper production we can begin producing magnets. With magnets we can begin constructing large, inefficient mechanical motors. With those we can power our machines. Those can do anything things in the old world did.

Making advanced stuff is hard but not impossible. We have the knowledge and raw materials. Making enough stuff is almost impossible. For now.
The construction of the southern road has sped up communications with the Confederacy. A permanent envoy has already been sent in each major city and we've asked for a seat at the council. The mountain range isn't an impossible obstacle anymore, and people, goods and information flow trough the high passes. A small town has been established at the end of the road, a trade outpost named Nuln. It's built over a river to facilitate trade, even if we lack river ships for now.

We've learned that the eight wave is going to arrive in the future. Preparations have been made, new apiaries have been built and housing is on the way. Our honey production has increased by 400% in the last months, and that's no easy feat : finishing the road has freed a lot of workforce to work in the construction projects. New apiaries designs have been introduced, notably high terraces to fit on the steepest slopes over the death fog. As always, bees tent to colonize those news nests in a few days. I sometimes wonder what do they find under the fog to get all that food. So far, even if we are on time with the food production, we are kinda late for housing. Let's just hope no timber convoy will be missing.

We are also introducing the monetary system in the society. Workers are being paid with the new Teef, coins stamped with a bee on one face and a d20 on the other. They exist in values of 1, 2, 5, 10 and 20. Shops, taverns, inns and restaurants require them now. Prices are fixed for most of the stuff, and the value of our coin is basically based on honey. To prevent inflation, I've forbidden its use with outsiders for now, until our economic reforms are made. So far, people are happy with this system. It reminds them home, I guess.
now if only you had skiing
this raises a good point where does it snow on this crazy planet?
Northern /b/; the entire northern continent.
God, so I've gotta go to /b/ for snow?
Look at the world map. Basically anything north of /b/ probably has a temperate climate and gets winters.

/tg/ is basically right on the equator and is a tropical rainforest area.

You'd probably see winter in the /a/mpire too.
Yo mayor, I'm alive. trying to catch up in reading stuff. did i miss anything major?
I don't remember when you last left, but the last thread wasn't archived. Make sure you check out the Foolz link.

Basically we've got an alliance with the Builders now, they're handling communications. Hop in the IRC for the rest.
So, alright, the builder wanting to play Warhammer was weird. This, this takes the cake, and then proceeds to bake another just to take it as well.

I walked out of my house yesterday to see a group of seven foot tall heavily armored aliens walking the streets, in their wake was a damned horde of cats. And, I shit you not. they were being led by a goddamned beakie helmeted Builder carrying one of those new 'thunder hammers' the butter rooters jurry rigged.

It was at this point I turned around and promptly decided I would be sick today and curl up with a bottle of Green to forget all the crazy shit this planet seems to revel in.
These Others enact strategy and war planning on tables with miniature warriors. They move pieces around like First Father's directing battlefields. Talons, Flights, and full Wings directed across the boards at the command of the Other Warleader and his stone cubes. Yet, they do not show their soldiers the honor of leading while armed themselves.

The Others shout at each other in their screechy language. They wear clothing made of plants and dead hides. Nothing is functional or proper for a general.

I lead my brothers to the table of battle. The honor hammer in my second hand, the helm of the "beakies" atop my crown. My Talon has been fighting the Others atop these tables. The Others say my warriors are named Kroots. My Talon Brothers have conversed with the Low Speakers to learn the rules and the ways of each Wing atop the tables. We will use the Kroot forces to annihilate and convert their "Beakies".

For the honor of my Talon I will strike first blood. Let the skill of my Kroot bring honor today.
that...that is such a strange image. A massive armored alien delicately moving around goddamned warhammer 40K minis. And given their meticulous nature I can only assume they're well painted....somehow.
We had to work quickly. The newly freed slaves were given directions to flee towards to avoid the Fedorans and enter the Confederacy. We didn’t give them any current military information, nor tell them about the recently established beachheads in Fedoran territories from fear of one returning to the master with hopes of a reward. If they wanted to survive they would have to achieve it on their own. Moving as a large group they would scare off most predators. Yowlers may be the apex predator, but it’s not stupid enough to attack more than a gross of things it knows to be in competition with it for apex.

I took volunteers for slaves willing to bring the fight to the city and took 10 volunteers. With the Fedorans moving their outlying outposts and farms into the safety net of the city, now was the only time that one could infiltrate the city under disguise as a slaver. I planned to enter the city and let the slaves stage their own revolt inside the slave quarters while I worked at assassinating key targets. One of the slavers from the abandoned tower had managed to keep a black trench coat in decent enough repair. The fact he was still rather obese allowed me to slip the coat over my armor and silk vest. I left orders with my second in command to continue harassing the outlying farms, patrols, and shipments and made it about 20 feet toward the city before the Little Admirals latched on under my arms to stop me.

I turned to them intent on telling them that it was too dangerous for them to accompany me when they both pointed at my face in unison. In my haste to make it into the city I had forgotten the fact that I was as colorful as Violet Beauregarde after consuming an experimental gum in Wonka’s inventing room. The girls rubbed some ash in my hair, used wax to point my ears, and painted black eyeshadow on my eyes. Reports from the Battle of Kog mentioned several assassins in cosplay. It would be only fair to return the favor it seems.
Unknown to me, while the one girl was helping with my makeup, the other was adjusting their own uniforms. Further plunging necklines, lace strips turned into collars with what I can only assume was once a thin gold necklace now serving as a leash. They insist the more docile and brainwashed a trophy waifu is, the less secure their bindings become until they are no longer bound at all. These bindings were merely for show, and would explain why my two waifu’s were so nicely dressed. From the way the slaves spoke about the way women were treated in Fedoran lands I still adamantly refused their accompanying me. The last thing I wanted was for someone to expect I “share” my trophy wife, someone to recognize one of them, or for them to witness the depravity of the Fedoran’s and have to relive what they had experienced. They still refused to listen to me and when their uniforms were finished along with the adjustments to my own attire they practically dragged me along with them towards the city.
We spent a good bit of time standing outside the gates of KityCity. Slavers and slaves from across the surrounding lands were being processed while trying to find shelter among the walls. While standing in wait it occurred to me, maybe I am not the protector of my Little Admirals any longer. Maybe, at least within these new walls, they see themselves as the protector of me? They had been directing the slaves to surround me while we waited. Anyone that came too close was quickly yelled at and driven off by Kathrin. Alexis spent a lot of her time softly whispering among the slaves. I could not hear her over the noise of the crowd but from whatever she said the slaves were all fiercely protecting me.

When we finally arrived at the front of the line Kathrin spoke up before I could. She announced me as some strange elvish name. I was a slave trader caught in ambush by the vile confederates and their allies the despicable yikings. Only a tenth of my current assets survived to protect me. My third through seventh wife stayed to delay the Confed bastards with claims of mistreatment so they would stop to help. Apparently I was also demanding my slaves be escorted to their pens, a proper room to sleep and leave my wives, as well as directions to the pit because the loss of five wives left me backed up and I needed relief that only a team of women could provide.

I nearly choked when Kathrin mentioned my last demand. I had been content with my monk lifestyle for the past year. Sex was never a big thing for me before Lenore and with my new job playing in the woods it was not a priority here. To think that she was telling these men I needed a “team of women” was near insanity. The guards all had various stages of envy in their eyes. Some of what I took to be higher ranking guards had a little more restraint when looking at my two “wives”. Apparently the higher your rank the higher quality your choice of slave women.
Journal Log 82

Fuck. I lost it, I completely lost it. I was GM'ing Shadowrun for my team, the damn builder was playing an orc street sami. Things were going alright and we were all having a good time when it suddenly kicked in. The strangest feeling, almost like a realization. I suddenly looked up and saw the builder. All of this felt wrong, just so wrong. It felt like a builder dream but I was awake. The hair on the back of my neck stood up. Every alarm in my head went off. I had a panic attack. I haven't had one of those since my first run in with a yowler. I don't know what happened. I quickly excused myself and found a dark place I could concentrate and try and calm myself down, listen to music and write. God damn it.
The city was now opened to us. We had been given directions to our accommodations as well as the slave pits. The 10 slaves who had volunteered to bring the fight back to KityCity had left us. They were being led by some guards to a holding cell. However, the slaves had all been equipped with small punch daggers and switchblades. With any luck they could insight a slave rebellion within the city and provide me with the proper cover to move around and strike at key targets. However, until the rebellion began I would have to keep up appearances. My two “waifu” lead me towards the pits. The revolting smells, the howls of pain, the mangled women with dead eyes that had already accepted their fates lying beside women who were fresh arrivals trying to bite and claw at their assailants and only receiving punishment by being beaten with a club, Fedora was hell incarnate.

I held my composer from the smell. I had smelt decay while in the wilds. I knew the howls of pain all too well as people I knew had been clawed apart by Yowlers, and I had participated in the battle of Kog. The women were heart wrenching, but for the sake of taking the Fedoran bastards down I could ignore it. The one thing that truly crushed me, above the wailing cries of a mother giving birth at the top of a tower and the baby being thrown down, above the yipping, clicking, sound of some alien being violated. The one thing that crushed my soul was the pity in Alexis’ eyes and her mouthing the words “I’m sorry”. I fled the pits, trying to yell something about none of the women being the right one, but barely able to keep my composure enough to prevent exposing us. The girls followed me for a few blocks before gently directing me to our accommodations. I spent the rest of the day weeping on a straw bed with Alexis and Kathrin lying close by to keep me company.
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At one point I owned this city, the Fat Cat was officially in charge sure but he was also the one held responsible for any mistakes, but she was the one who really ran things. It had been best that way, she had ensured that women weren't just thrown into the pits and broken by the brutal methods of the sick men who ran them instead they were taken in by the brothels it was the girls there who taught them what they needed to know and made them understand their new position, only the truly resistant were 'broken'. Whats more in KityCity a whores life wasn't all a woman could aspire to, like herself or her best friend Minny, any girl could become a free Fedoran and wield actual power.

But then these assholes ruined it! Not even thinking what it would do to us. The sixth column bastards killed the figure head Fat Cat which mean thtere needed to be a replacement, whom I didnt control, and then those idiots up in the Confederacy started their bullshit which meant it was the Whizzard who got sent to KityCity, alongside all the fucking killing going around the countryside, driving the outlying settlements to the city, meant my city was devolving into chaos.

A Refugee quarter had been set up where everyone new to the city and seeking shelter was kept away from the rest and god when I looked out of my window over into it, it was like looking straight into the worst part of Catan, like looking into hell. Then there were the Whizzards people, all happy in the Fat Cats old fortress. I dont know who was up to it but they had adopted that practice from Monstergirlopolis of tossing male children out of the highest tower. Now most women couldnt walk safely again without guard, where it was once understood that any women by herself was powerful and dangerous. This is what all this fighting for freedom has wrought, what its done to my city. Are you happy now assholes? Is this what you wanted?
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The Inquisition is constantly busy now, either hunting down Sixth Columners who have slipped inside the city or making examples of idiots who think they can do what they want with a free woman. Ive already had to have six men strung up in the last week because they decided they didnt want to pay. If you want a free piece of ass go take your chane in the pits in the refugee quarter, if you want a woman who isnt covered in scars, rife with disease or dead inside then you either pay her or you pay the brothel that owns her but nobody takes liberties with my girls.

Im also getting rumors about their leader, some big shot who is organizing the sixth column and who might actually be operating out of my own fucking city. I have Irvin prioritizing any information about this man and he and some of his best acolytes are on the hunt for whoever is making this shit happen my city!

Because of them Im now constantly stuck deflecting the Whizzards guild everytime they bring up ideas for the city and trying to bring them under some form of control but all they are interested are his inane ideas and weapons and the war with the Confederacy. Its his fault those damn radio broadcasts can be heard everywhere, he thought the terrible music was uplifting and that the confederates were just streaming us because they thought it was some kind of torture, then the propoganda started and everyone in the city can hear it and now that people know its out there they are tuning with whatevet they can find thats available. And still he happily giggles every time we talk about his new piss related weapon, like those damn grenades he keeps stockpiling. Or offering to give me a wonderful golden shower from his magic wand, which everytime I decline I have to arrange the delivery of one of the girls for his nightly 'playtime in his magical realm'. He's insane and he sickens me, he isnt psychotic atleast, but when I get the chance and he isnt needed any more, Im going to gut him myself.
I found myself at a rare moment of peace, where I am not ordering the deaths of men and women I will never see, or committing acts of violence in the name of freedom. It’s in these moments that I reflect what we have done, and what we still have to do to achieve our ultimate goal; to ride K.C. of the Cancer that infests its body.

However, as the days go by and the Chaos spreads throughout the city, I have begun to question if what we are doing is really helping, if by doing what we do, we are indeed making the situation for those less fortunate even worse.

Then I find myself back in MGP, when I was a part of Pelor Cell. What I see here, in K.C., is a bare minimum of what happened in back in that horrible place. I watched as that Spider tortured my fellow in public, putting them on racks and setting them on fire, skinning them alive and filling them with parasites that ate you from the inside out. They didn’t do it for information. They did it for sport.

Therefore, I see the chaos in the streets and I see it as a catalyst of the coming change. It will force the people of K.C., who have long since been indecisive to make a choice.

To stick with the Fedorans and there insanity, or make the choice to stand for morality and humanity.

Now I gotta get back to the HQ before Manx does something stupid like go through that plan of his. Meeting this…women is suicidal, but then again Manx did survive that shot to the face during the Palace Raid, so maybe I shouldn’t doubt him so quickly. Man’s like a Energizer bunny.
Lenore is a dark dark place and we made it that way
That's being planned, but the problem with that is if you go too low, you are in the death fog and bad things happen.
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There are many things that have taken my breath away since coming to this new world. Of them all, the one that takes the prize for sheer scale was in the deep south. Hot and drought ridden, it was too far from the coast to catch the moisture laden southerly winds which meant the land was dusty and dry. A paperlike grass crackled underfoot as stunted thorn bushes lined the hills and wilting trees clustered in the gullies, their leaves hanging like streamers off a clothes line.

Water sources are few and far in-between, but those I did encounter were fast flowing and icy cold. Carving long, meandering paths through the landscape, creeks would often wander through shaded gullies and around great boulders which formed a natural obstacle course for the water to flow around. It was borderline inhospitable, and the landscape had steadily worsened since the last group of humans I encountered almost a week ago. They were a party of Cigil metayers who had sensibly encouraged me to travel during the night as much as possible when it was cooler, and had shown me how to dig up juicy larva from the roots of one of the thorn bushes. Just a few days into the area and I was getting sick of eating them raw, and started preparing them into a pastey stew (Sam Gamgee had it right: when you go travelling always take a little seasoning! I should have bartered for some in Sova or Masaokion).
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Climbing up one of the rolling hills that made up the landscape to get a view of the surrounding countryside, I was struck by the contrast between the pinky-yellow of the ubiquitous dried grass and the faded maroon of a tree with wide, low hanging branches covered in angular leaves wilting in the heat, the former of which marched relentlessly across the hillsides while the latter would merely climb along the ridgelines of decorate the edges of the occasional gully.

When I finally cresed the hilltop I first saw them. A flattened plain lay before me, bordered by low hilly ranges many kilometres long on every side, with one or two of green meandering across it that no doubt marked depressed water courses. At points, the green tracks widened and opened up to reveal deep ravines, out of some of which grew enormous trees resembling old world pines – I must have been easily three or four kilometres away from the nearest one, but it still dominated the skyline dwarfing the bordering hills. More than a match for any skyscraper in New York or Beijing! After a moment of consideration, I realised several things. Firstly, that it was high enough to breach the cloud layer (meaning water was surely more accessible on the higher branches). Secondly, that it’s long and flat branches combined with great sloping roots meant I could potentially climb up the side. Finally, there were thin plumes of smoke coming up from around the base indicating the first settlement I had seen for far too long!
hmm the edge of the southern Nightmare forest? Or just relic trees from when it went further south?
down near /cgl/ id guess since he mentioned Cigil
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Pulling out a wad of paper, I made a quick charcoal sketch of the flatlands before me, taking in the course of the gullies and paying special care on one or two intersections. At the centre I placed an embellished tree to represent the nearest of the Gaian behemoth that was to be my goal, with some smaller ones to represent the other ones further out. The sun had progressed barely a fingerswidth in the time it had taken to breast the hill (it was now at about 3/4, meaning 4pm in the local sixteen hour clock or 3pm if adjusted for old Earth time). Although this meant I was in almost the hottest part of the day, my sudden discovery had given me enough energy to brave the relentless sun at least until I reached one of the shaded gullies. My plan (assuming they were traversable) was to follow the gullies through until I reached the base of the tree which should hopefully happen at around dusk.
Deep south, around the edge of /an/
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It turned out to be slower going than I had anticipated, moving through the ravines rather than overland, but plentiful shade and cool water cut down on the number of breaks I needed. Rock hopping much of the way and even going barefoot to wade some parts (stupid stupid!) was quite a pleasant way to travel while it lasted, and with the sun blotted out by a leafy canopy I moved in a perpetual twilight. The only sign of the passage of time was when a sudden chill appeared in the air and the light began disappearing, so I decided to make a small camp and rest for a time before continuing my journey late evening. It was then that I felt a prickle on the back of my neck, as though I was being watch. Surviving for months on an alien planet populated by dinosaurs (and worse) as I had, one develops certain instincts for survival; instincts such as a general get-out-of-dodge plan should something attack. Slowly, I unsheathed a short knife from my hip and extracted a burning brand from the small fire. A rustle of dislodged earth accompanied by a twitch of movement out of the corner of my eye confirmed my fears and with a sudden surge of adrenaline I made a dash for the middle of the stream where it was almost up to my waist (as some apex predators here have a dislike of deep or rushing water, while other nocturnal ones seem deterred by the light and heat of a flame) here I half crouched, holding the knife high in one hand and my makeshift torch in the other. Searching out the source of my premonitions, it was too dark to make out anything but what I did took my breath away for the second time that day. This time for a completely different reason.
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Hanging off the side of the cliff face above my campfire was a great, dark mass. Upon perceiving my rush for defensive ground, I heard a deep snarl as it extended itself to drop down on the far side of my campfire. Being closer to the flickering light there meant I could get a clearer look at it, and all three meters of it was truly terrifying. Some bastardized cross between a centaur and a scorpion but with the upper body of an ape, it would have to have been at least two and a half meters tall if it extended from its crouched gait to stand fully upright. On its lower half was two pairs of thick, black furred legs set low and ending in ham-sized fists which it must have splayed across the cliff face to suspend it vertically. Its body was thick and barrel chested, all covered in coarse black fur. Its head was fat and crested by a thick mane, in the middle of which was set a flat face with wide, flaring nostrils and deep set, glittering eyes. As I peered, horrified, I couldn’t help but noticed its bared teeth centrepiece of which were two great fangs hanging down almost over the bottom lip (as if I wasn’t terrified enough already).
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It leaped over the fire uncaring, and was thudding over the gravelly shore towards me when it paused and flinched as though struck. For a moment I thought my accumulated good luck had finally arrived and I was being set upon by a beast in the throes of dying of old age, but then I realised there were various missiles flying out of the darkness and striking the beast. Rocks, clods of earth and short javelins but it was hard to make out much more. With a bestial roar, the creature unleashed it’s fury on the air, stampeding around and swinging wildly as though trying to swat the missiles out of the air and crumple its tormentors in the process. After a moment however, it gave up and charged back the way I had came along the watercourse. A lithe, masked figure tumbled down the edge of the rock face trailing a rope behind it. Landing agilely on hands and feet, stretches of bronzed skin showed that it was human despite its crudely savage garments (and its graceful curvature indicated it was female, no less). She hurriedly beckoned me to followed, and led me about fifty paces further down the stream to where I viewed the curious sight of a makeshift ladder leading from the shore of the stream up into the darkness of the canopy above.
Atop the ladder was a small tub, apparently suspended off the cliffside. Boarding the tub I had a moment to catch my breath and regain my wits, now being able to take a closer stock of my situation. The tub turned out to be attached to a solid rope running along the top of the gully via an impressive amount of gears and gearshafts, leaving just enough room for three or four people standing (no seats here). When my rescuer (captor?) and I boarded, it was filled to capacity with another two men dressed similarly in reed skirts and faded t-shirts, wearing the same disfiguringly ferocious masks the woman did. One of the men started pumping a large lever along one side of the tub, and with a shudder we started moving along the line at an appreciable rate of knots, the various components and machinery clickety-clacking with every half metre.
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Beneath us, the creek widened and deepened into a violent rushing canal against which it would be almost impossible to advance. The man working the hand lever explained it was a convenient natural defence of the lower reaches. Those turned out to be a cavernous hollow in the base of the tree through which the creek ran (dashing against sharp rocks and boulders in a most unhealthy way), although some small waterways trickled out and into small pools in other areas of the hollow. Down below it was lit by voluminous, man-sized cocoons which gave off a dull green or pink glow and could just lit up bright red mushrooms of equally large size. These mushrooms would grow around large roots which arched over the earthen floor, and the cocoons would be tucked in every which where. We were suspended high above that however, with only a murky stifling dark pierced by occasional beams of moonlight coming from gaps in the ceiling. The driver (Anton, but he said to call him Bruckman) later explained they had blocked up most of the passageways and openings around the base that led into the hollow, so that wildlife outside would not be able to get in as easily. Our stay in this murky under-realm was brief though, as with a jolt we transferred onto a line running straight up which had us climbing steadily upwards towards some hidden passageway through the ceiling.
Ah alright so they aren't nightmares persay, might be something like a southerly cousin then?Trying to figure out so I can do a write up on them,
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It was lucky I wasn’t claustrophobic I had ruminated as we rushed upwards into the darkness. Around us the earthen walls had steadily closed in until we were hemmed in tight enough to brush the edges on all sides, which (when I did) revealed the walls were not earth but rather a spongy mix of rotting wood and roots from some fresh growth. The air was stuffy and thick, and the tombstone silence broken only by the clickety clacking as our tramcart ascended inexorably through the darkness towards a patch of lighter blackness above. All of a sudden we burst out into the cool nighttime air and I felt giddy from a combination of oxygen rush and my surprise at finding we were now climbing along the trunk a great distance from the ground! A stunning vista of the plain stretched out before us, and above rope causeways worked their way between branches and thatched huts nestled into crooks of tree forks or balanced on long flat branches. I was entering a treehouse town to make any child wide eyed with glee.
Dwarder, while having an excellent memory for detail does not have the background knowledge necessary to understand many things he sees.

My writing is pretty vague about many things as a result. I'm basically just trying to create an interesting setting, so take it and run with it if you want.
Fair enough, there's been talk of the Big trees in the nightmare forest being part of a family of Massive trees that use various metals in the soil to make themselves more well big.
The lands near /cgl/ are rugged, ravines run through the wilderness and create an ever shifting environment that is hard to navigate and results in much frustration and separation of populations. Arid and almost desert like on the upper edges of the land, the ravines are a maze of oasis through which wildelife makes its way.

The catoblepas is the jabberwock's answer to this. A close cousin and possible subspecies the animal moves much like its forest dwelling kin. A large blunt face is graced with the bony skull mask of the Yowler's order and covered in dense black feathers the animal looks almost gorilla like as it moves at night. Preying on anything it encounters. Catoblepas are strong swmimmers and known to ford the rapids of of the Ravines to get to new hunting grounds. Powerful forelimbs allow it to move easily climb along the steep faces and enable it to hunt in all manner of terrain.
The sun rose on a new day in KityCity. I hadn’t entered this modern Sodom and Gomorrah for a weekend visit. I had a task to complete. The Admirals informed me that they had learned we were in what was swiftly becoming the slums of KityCity. With the Fedoran’s pulling in the slaves and slavers from outlying areas people who were not familiar with the rules of the city now thought they had free access to amenities. What I had seen the day previous was a slave pit brought in with the new arrivals.

When we went for a walk through the refugee quarters to learn more of the surrounding the streets were abuzz with tales of the clean and willing prostitutes in the actual city. We also heard rumors of a high ranking officer within the Fedoran forces, a well-known scientist. Known for his insanity almost as much as his ability to convert Lenoran resources into old world destruction. The remaining portion of the daylight hours was spent locating the slaves we had brought in and checking on their progress talking with the other slaves. With such a wide number of new arrivals into the refugee quarters it was slow going for them to find people who were safe to talk with. Some of the slaves had been so far brainwashed that any hint of an uprising would bring down the hammer on all of them. We left word with slaves to tread carefully and had 2 of them positioned outside our residence to keep up appearances.

When we returned to our quarters and confirmed the somewhat safety of our area to converse with the slaves they told us of a slave uprising already in effect within the city.
A group called the 6th House had already staged several revolts and the leaders of KityCity had thrown them down just as hard. The KityCity leaders were trying to keep order by force, and the massive influx of refugees and Whizzards were destroying their plans. Alexis meekly chimed in to offer a plan. If we redirect the attention of the KityCity forces towards the Fedoran Refugees and the Whizzard the 6th Column could enact their plans for a revolt and we may be able to take the city.

It took the rest of the night to further hammer out the plan. We would start with murdering a few of the scientists in the Refugee Quarter. If we managed to pin the murder on KityCity defensive forces, or retaliation for the slave pits then we can get the Whizzards to suspect KityCity. After that we needed a way into the actual city to murder a few of the loyalists and pin the murders on Whizzards for retaliation. The slaves would work on finding us a way into the actual city while we worked on the Whizzard murders in the Refugee Quarters.

It also took a few hours of our conversation before someone caught me calling the 6th Column the 6th House. One of the slaves chuckled and told me they weren’t led by Dagoth Ur and to stop confusing the two. The other slave laughed when he realized it as well but Alexis and Kathrin failed to catch the joke. Apparently /u/ doesn’t have a lot of discussions about the Dream Sleeve and the process of being dead, dreaming, and in the world, or dead, alive and in the Dream Sleeve.
Allow me to point out something.

I throw male infants off of the tower, but I do so facing away from civilization and at night. People don't SEE me doing it. That would be monumentally stupid. I am NOT monumentally stupid.

When they die, the Devourer of Children... well, gets rid of the evidence in the way he does best.

So reports of the Whizzard doing this OPENLY in Kitycity were... disturbing, to say the least. As were reports of the common area breeding pits. He's getting an official reprimand over the radio for it where the enemy can hear. I want to seem like I'm the reasonable one. Unofficially he's to dispose of the damn things QUIETLY. Down a pit or something. The breeding program for girls is too important to give up, but it's only going to incite rebellion if we're doing it openly.

I don't like that bitch Ms Fortune. She's a free agent. But she's too useful to do without. I approved of the brothel system.

I have agents there; I have agents everywhere. The Whizzard is picking up idiotic habits from Catan. We have to be practical here.

I'm sending a small portion of my harem, led by my first wife, to rebuild the 'common areas' of Kitycity into replicas of the breeding pits in Monstergirlopolis. I've always been reluctant to do so before now; Ms. Fortune wouldn't allow it and it'd piss off King Fedoran. But fuck it - this is my opportunity.

For those who don't know, they are extremely comfortable, clean, and airy. Lots of perfume, lots of nice scents - even a television for when the girls behave. They're also essentially made to psychologically break and brainwash girls. My cult is incredibly strong here in Monstergirlopolis, in spite of the official ban on religion. There are secret cells in Catan, and now I'll be able to spread them to Kitycity as well.

His mistake becomes my opportunity, I guess. I hope that merry little fatass doesn't get himself murdered. He's damn useful.

In the breeding pits the girls are only beaten or hurt with things that leave no marks or bruises, and only when they misbehave or haven't been broken and remoulded into loyal worshipers. Being forced to contort their bodies into uncomfortable positions are a common punishment.

The girls are only starved during breaking. Even then, they still get meals of gruel. Small, non-nutritious meals mixed with undigestable Lenoran food like the green potatoes. A weak body weakens the mind.

Girls get soap. A lot of soap. Washing is ritualized; the emphasis on being dirty before breaking is heavy.

Girls get nice clothes. Ritually burning their old clothes and connection to their old life is important.

In fact everything is ritualized. They don't even have sex for the first time until they're completely broken; singing devotional hymns and whipping themselves.

They smile as we take the male infants away. On some level they know precisely what we'll do with them. They know precisely what will eventually happen to their daughters, as well, and hold the toddlers on their laps as we show them all educational pornography. They laugh and joke about it.

Sometimes they slip, or crack a little. But the beauty of a cult is that the others pressure them back into proper behavior. *I* don't even have to get involved most of the time. No one can complain they're abused, either. There's never so much as a visual mark, and men who hurt the girls are executed gruesomely. Stomachs cut open, intestines drenched in gas and set on fire. Quite effective at encouraging people to be nice to them. And Catan is such a useful lever. "Be grateful. You could have ended up THERE." So effective.

It's a beautiful system. It's one I want to see in every city on Lenore. I do hope things in Kitycity work out. It'd be nice to add Ms. Fortune to my collection rather than having to eventually kill her.
I wonder how quickly the the Confederates(in particular the mythos) are gonna realize something's up.
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Well science kiddos, it seems I've been a baaad boy. The /d/m had my ear for an hour today chewing me out over the babies.

I swear, it wasn't even my idea! I was relieving myself over one of Ms Fortune's lovely ladies. (One day that delicious ca/tg/irl will get my golden yellow stream right in her eye, oh yes she will! She can't spurn my romantic soul forever!) Well, we were all pretty drunk (hence the need to relieve myself on a cute girl) and some of the soldiers decided to start tossing babies off of the tower.

Now attaching rockets to them to see how far the rockets could carry their weight, that WAS my idea. But even so, I didn't start it! (Turns out, babies don't fly well. Who knew?)

Oh well. Cutebolds can eat meat. I guess we'll just start giving the babies to them to dispose of. We brought along a few with us. If the aliens eat the babies, everyone'll just blame them! Hoo hoo hoo! I'm a genius!

In other news, I'm giving weapons to everybody! Bombs, grenades, spears, spears with bombs on them, arrows with bombs on them, poison on everything. And my lovely piss bombs! Pissy bombs as far as the eye can see!

We've got whirlwind catapults on the walls loaded with piss bombs. The enemy can taste my yellow rain when they come!

Weapons and bombs for everybody! And a box of rare earth chocolates and flowers for Ms. Fortune. One day, kitty-girl! Pow! Right in the kisser! A yellow gold stream to wrap 'round your head like a champions laurel!

Now line up, science kiddos - and get your free gunpowder spears!
Well, that fucking tears it. I've earmarked the fatguy where piss colored robes. I'll have the runner bring the word to Fort Dunmer and along with several other people begin what's being called the Hatrack. Its a list of various people in Fedora-land that have been marked as either catch or kill...mostly kill. Once the deeds been done we take a hat and hang it on a hatrack someone brought from Earth(we have no idea why they did, seriously it was that and a bag of cheetos.) This is mostly to see how many hats were gonna need to hang. Of course the 'King of Fedoraland' Has a special spot complete with a rusted crown set aside just for him.
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I don't know when and I don't know how, but I'm going to get that giggling fat-arsed retard alone at the top of the highest goddamn tower in KityCity and, after I give him the beating of a life-time, I'm going to push him right off the side and watch him paint the ground red.

Its better than he would deserve really, he returned Sheila in a horrid state, the girl was crying uncontrollably. I thought she was being over dramatic personally, sure her job was probablly one of the more unpleasant ones but it wasn't worth crying over, despite the mess she was in. But then she told me why she was crying. The fat fuck was tossing, no scratch that, he was shooting babies out of his tower for sport. Now im not really sentimental type, as Im sure you've guessed, and fuck if you'll ever see me with a god damn hell spawn of my own. But there is shit you just don't fucking do and killing babies is one of them. So yeah, as soon as I can get it arranged, the whizzard dies.

It may or may not also have to do with the weird looks he's been giving me and the flowers and chocolates he sent me smelling of piss.
We're using the tunnels damn it. I just got um sung about what the fuck is going on there. We're not pushing a coup, we're not going to break them. this is a force recon. Rangers are to go in and extract this whizzard before anyone else can lay a hand on him. We're gonna pump him for information and then his hat is gonna get hung.

Is that clear? No Warsingers on this, no elves. Get some of those sixth colum nutters, use the tunnels and take a squad of the Karskin that are bearing this message with you. Extract, exploit and then eradicate the Wizard. Use the tunnels to their full advantage, the Warsinger Cleaves the night has explained they are likely just as extensive as the Kog and River city tunnels. Expect them to narrow deep in the city and widen as you get closer to the edge.

hang his hat gentlemen, I don't care how.
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Throwing glorious strong male babies from towers is unacfuckingceptable.

Now I'm a nice guy. I give a lot of leeway for my men to go out and have fun free of the influence of moralfags. But if you want future generations of top-tier Fedoran men you can't just go out and execute babies.

The /d/m says he's on top of it, but I know that slimy fuck is just out to expand his own power base. Hell, the Whizzard is one of his creatures in the first place. He probably put 'em up to it.

And now the /d/m is all but openly defying me! I'd had enough of that retarded brothel system and told the Whizzard to bring some proper order to the place like we have in Catan. Women need to be reminded this isn't the old moralfag world where you can get away with friend zoning someone like a massive fucking bitch. Oh no. I'm a nice guy. No fucking bitch is gonna get away with treating me like that! I should be able to have any fucking woman I want. I'm the fucking king!

But now the /d/m is sending one of his 'brides' down. Supposedly to spread the light of Atheism, but he's probably going to try to spread that creepy cult John told me about. I should have just had him killed the second he surrendered. Now I can't do anything about him without starting a civil war. Can't pull off that with the asshole Confederates on our backs.

I'm telling John he needs to move up his timetable. Wipe out the 6th column, get back my precious brides where they can get proper care in a healthy environment. Then we can turn on the /d/m and deal with him. Slimy weasel is probably gonna turn on us anyway. Then we can deal with the soft little moralfags up north.

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I have to say that Kitycity is a nice break from Catan! There's never a shortage of people to test out my new toys on!

Like yesterday when some girl in the breeding pits tried to gut me. I got to try out my new mixture for napalm!

Turns out you don't want to do that in a room with a bunch of wood. The /d/m is gonna be pissed about having to rebuild the place when his wife gets here.

Or the sixth column assassin that tried to snipe me from the rooftop! He missed, but my sexy little crossbow fired explosive arrow didn't!

Turns out he was sitting on top of a clothesmaker's shop. The building was stone, but some slaves are gonna have to go naked now. Oops!

Or those guys that tried to storm the Whizzard's tower the other night! Clay grenades dropped right on their faces!

But that messed up the door, and it took us six hours just to get the heavy wooden thing open again...

Or that slave revolt where 50 slaves tried to free some new slaves and escape. Piss bombs for you, my boys!

There are never downsides to piss bombs.

I have to say I'm having a yellow blast in this city! I've never been happier to be somewhere in my life!
Beginning Recording of mission....now.

Alright, from here on the mission is now live. We are recording and will be moving with the utmost secrecy. Dobson has Point with board and gladius reforged. I'll be rolling as command and have been issued our only silenced 9mm with a full magazine.

Designated marksmen is Rodgers, he's rolling with a Savage thirty-ought and will be hanging back at the tunnel entrance and preparing to ensure safe retreat. We are moving at sunset, the tunnel entrance apparently comes up on the far side of the city, a quarter turn from where the target is. Rangers are moving in tandem with us and going the opposite way as a diversion. This will all be executed four days from now. We are to record, recon and capture. This is not an all out assault on the city. The Rangers will be making noise and That's It. Warsinger Guarded movements has informed us that we should be able to use the tunnels once inside and that the 'out tunnels' do not junction like ours did into the city directly. The closest entrance is a little over a block away from the Outer wall. Which means we are moving slow and silent till we hit them.
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The idiot is destroying the city. Every slave that dies is another job that isn't getting finished and everytime he blows something up is another job that needs doing. I made an art of dealing with this shit.

Slave revolt? Supress them with non-lethal methods, either bigger numbers and clubs or cordon them off and starve them out, then grab the ring leaders and make examples of them, the rest work harder for it all.

Sniper? Capture the asshole, extract as much info on him on who hes working with and where his friends are, then grab them and execute them all together.

Actuall assault? Kill them all with conventional weapons, explosives only as a last resort, make examples of survivors.

And the girl trying to gut him? That shit doesn't even happen when you follow my fucking system!

Now im facing pressure from the fucking King of all places! I haven't had to deal with that asshole in forever and its only the Inquisitions work and the satisfaction of the men that has made him accept the system in the first place. I don't know how long I can keep this city in one piece not with everyone screwing it up for us.

I've even heard of the /d/m sending one of his wives to fix up the refugee slum area. Wonderful, the last thing we need is one of those stockholmetes creating an actual foothold for that asshole in my City, the whizzard is bad enough.
King Fedoran is 'forcing' me to move up my timetable. I let him think what he says matters. I'm ready to attack now anyway.

The bulk of the 6th column is focused around Kitycity. Most of the Confederate support is focused around Kitycity. They figured out the radio thing, but that doesn't matter. The weird codetalkers they have are useful. Reports are they've got aliens of their own. We're gonna start using Cutebolds for the same purpose. Fat chance trying to break that code.

They've taken Ft. Dunmer, The Iron Twins, and are besieging Armageddon.

We're going to make a night-strike. All out, bulk of our forces. Most are just raiding - going in for as many kills as they can, then pulling out. The bulk of our forces will hit Ft. Dunmer.

The idea here isn't to take the settlements, because we could have taken them back anytime. The idea is to break the back of the 6th column before the Confederates get down here in force. Kill most of them, scatter the rest. No more worry about big raids or columns getting ambushed.

These aren't the /d/m's questionable loyalty 'serfs' or low slaves. These are my personal soldiers, trained to a modern military standard and using modern rifles and shotguns.

We're not holding back. We're going in, killing as many as possible, and if the heat gets too hot, we pull out.

Thank god the Whizzard is such an asshole. He's like a beacon to draw in suckers.

The traitor has given us their positions. We strike from the jungles in three days.
the Singer speaks now, and we listen. He speaks of movement and we take to the tunnels, for weeks have we raided and drawn back. The Forest is our home and from it we draw strength. Night is our weapon and night is our armor.

Enshrouded we dance upon the branches and listen to His Songs, the True Elf, the high Singer of the darkened Sky, blade in hand we move now like wraiths and follow the movements of their men. Our skins are subdued he has taught us the way to hide in night. And now, we watch as they move through the Forest, defilers and savage. They see us, and we see them. They think us the aliens and like the Fae we laugh and taunt, our women tease them with singing and we make merry just in sight, naked forms dancing upon moonlight.

And then vanish. They call themselves soliders these ones, we hear their voices and see their eyes. Unlike our men they are now Other, no long of The Singers or Elves or Men. Something less and something to torment with blade and barbed arrow. So we bring them gifts of oils while they slumber and their guard is turned around by the whisper of the poisons we lace the air with from our forests. The dust of the insect that jitters is powerful with our work.
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God has spoken to me through the voice of his favorite son; his incarnation on Earth. The /d/m is a blessing for all of us, and has shown us a new way to live. A better way. A cleaner way.

Once I was a filthy pervert who came from Earth and lived on it like a low slimy creature, dragging my soul on the ground and leaving a trail of slime behind me.

But god brought me to this place to meet with my husband. My master. My living god on Lenore. I am thankful that I am his first, that my daughters may one day serve him as I have. He has taken good care of us. We love him. We adore him. My oldest daughter is nearly three now. When I point out her future duties on the educational porn videos our master has us watch I take great joy in showing her her blessed future role in life.

We are fortunate to be born in this time and place, to know such sweet blessings.

The godless heathens of Catan have corrupted Kitycity with their low atheist brothels. The harlot queen Ms Fortune has spread her perverse doctrine of prostitution far enough. Our bodies belong first to god and his messenger on Earth; they are given to men only to help them to see our God's light and truth.

I beat one of the lower brides with a bag of Lenoran oranges and she thanks me, screaming her love for him-on-high.

We will bring our ways to the women of Kitycity, and they shall spread their legs and bring His Light to the masses of heathen men.
We're moving into position, but this isn't gonna be a surprise attack like we'd hoped. They have a bunch of weird fungus-infested ravers out here that seem to be able to see in the dark.

We shoot but we almost never hit 'em. Waste of ammo. There's precious little of that, so we've stopped bothering.

The traitor will still throw open the gates. Doesn't need to be a surprise attack. We just push on faster.

There are hundreds of us. If they want to hold those places, they're in for a rude awakening. We're not holding back this time.
Just got the message! Get the troops ready. In a few days, they're moving out for an assault.

Well that's no worry for me! I'll supply them with plenty of pee! Bombs, that is.

Almost every fighting man and slave in the city is going to be going out. Very hush-hush. When the time comes I'm gonna be on the walls with a pair of binoculars and enjoying the show! I wish we had popcorn here, because this is the perfect time for it!

The /d/m's first bride just arrived. I'm putting her in the tower. A classy lady like that needs the finest accommodations!

Ms Fortune has yet to give in to my advances. Maybe I'll get them to chat. A little girl-to-girl talk. She'll love me one of these days!
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New Monsters; hate unending.

Whizzard gives tribe babies; to eat. Cutebold tribe; smile and nod like new monsters. When gone; tribe vomits. New monster pouchlings; not right to eat. Horror, shivers, sickness, tears, shaking.

To 6th Column; we smuggle. New monster pouchlings; shall live. Save babies; gain trust.

On radios; new monsters make us speak. In quiet; to 6th Column we tell.

Assault coming; major. Fedorans; must die.

On radio; old monster voices heard. Confederacy; not friend. Humans; to be used as tools. Smile; nod. Help now; make hurt each other later.

One day; Cutebold Tribe free.
God that woman! I was ready to gouge her eyes out with my thumbs before she even finished her first tirade on the evils of prostitution. Fun fact honey, just cause you don't take cash don't mean you ain't a whore. Not my choice talking to her ofcourse, that idiot Whizzard requested an urgent meeting. I thought it had something to do with the upcomming assault, instead he locked me in a room with the smiling bitch. Sloppy on my part, never going anywhere without an escort from now on.But i had better things to do than to listen to her prattle, so i may have jimmied the lock open and slipped away after dropping a little something from back home into her tea. Left the door wide open as well for all to see, maybe a few guards will take advantage of the situation.Heh, LSD always was the fun drug.
Wonder if we figured out who that is yet
The revolver clicks behind me. They sniffed me out of the others too late though. Listen as the gears grind and they tell me precisely what I will do when the others arrive. I laugh. I expect no mercy from my comrades
The eight wave is gonna be on us soon. All preparations have been made. Our honey and bees production is enough to feed five times our current population and we currently have gigantic strategic reserves of smoked dried meat, honey and mead. We're still a bit short on housing. Two weeks ago, a big group of exiles came from /v/, I allowed them to settle and we've put them to work in the Masons Companions. I fear the Companions are getting too strong politically and economically speaking. Let's hope the economical reforms will give more power to the manufacturers and the traders.

Basically, the Honeypot New Breweries, the Fur and Leather Workhouse and the Honeypot General Arms Factory will become public limited companies, while the trade caravan fleet will be split and then become PLCs. For now, only the employees of said enterprises will be allowed to buy shares, but I intend to open that later. For now, all the shares (and thus the dividends) belong to the Town. I also intend to keep at least 40% of the shares for the town to have a steady money supply. The goal of these reforms is to allow the companies to use their benefits to expand. The second part of the reform is the creation of the Honeypot Central Bank to set the core interest rates and the Honeypot Credit and Depot Bank to help the money flow from the depositors to the businesses. Both will have buildings in the old town, highly secured.

I've sent five squads of ten soldiers from the militia to the fedoran front to aid the confederacy war effort. Each one of them is equipped with camo hooded capes (both jungle and urban), a light armor reinforced with plates of hard wax and they will be given enough supplies for 3 weeks at Nuln. They are armed with a pair of throwing axes (which can be used in close quarters too), a Bugger side gun and ammos and an Alpine XI long range precision crossbow. Also, I've sent messages to Camp Abbadon to tell them we are ready to welcome refugees from the eight wave.
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Good god almighty it is a good fuckin' evenin' ta be in the Fedoran army! Tonight we're gonna stick it to those commie 666th column bastards and show 'em what it means to be American!

What's that? This 'aint 'Merica anymore? It's a G-damn alien world? Well how 'bout you drink a big 'ol glass of SHUT YOUR FUCKIN' MOUTH, YA COMMIE BASTARD!

'Merica is wherever I whip out my fuckin' trouser snake and piss on the ground, an' I'll pistol whip annyoneat says otherwise. Here in 'Merica we've got a saying. Freedom isn't free. An' those uppity fuckin' slaves are about to learn the price of their freedom. An' yeah, those socialist bleeding heart Confederates, too!

The fuckin' gall of those sons-of-bitches, stealing the name 'o the Confederate Free States. If anyone should'a been the Confederates it should've been us Fedorans! We're rebuilding America - free an' pure, jus' the way God intended.

State atheism? How 'bout you watch that fuckin' lip afore I smack it off your face, smartass? It was a figure ah speech.

Gear up. Aim for someah them fancy-prancy faggy-lightshow motherfuckers an' blast away. Storm th' gates and kill us some filthy left wing scum 'afore they steal our Christmas.

Shut up about the Athiest state! I Tol' ya it was a figgre ah speech! That's it, I'mma pistol whip you now, boy! Comere!

*muffled thumps, screaming*

Right, thosah ya that can still walk, move out! Pull out those good 'ol 'Merican Key-tahnahs an' get tah fightin'!
Oh God ny side's and I'm at work
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The message came in - several hundred of the Fedoran finest are beginning their assault on the 6th column! No way I'm gonna miss out on that!

We're supposed to throw out half our forces to support - but what fun is that? I'm sending ALL of the slaves, ALL of our soldiers, and all of our weapons! Nothing but glorious wave after wave of yellow cloth troops, washing over the enemy like an endless river of peeeeeee!

And of course I plan to advance my romance too! I'm inviting Ms Fortune to join me on the walls. Nothing gets a girl juiced and ready for a night of getting sluced than an action flick, and the bacon-scent of burning human flesh as the 6th column dies is better than any action flick ever made! I'll even let her bring some of her cute little soiled doves with her in case she feels extra frisky!

Rockets! Bombs! Pissy spears, arrows, and Chu-Ko-Nu! We're sending out a thousand soldiers to support the 600 elite Fedoran forces! Hoo hoo hoo!

Tonight, nothing can stop the Fedoran Empire - and nothing can stop me from getting laid!
I hope someone remembers I gave the Builders puckle guns. Tear those Fedorans a new asshole for me, boys!
It was close. The Masons have threatened to get the majority at the council by arguing that the leatherworkers, the armsmiths, the brewers and the trader shouldn't be there as they are now private companies. What the fuck man. That being said we avoided that. I proposed an additional reform : the masons have been split in 3 companies and each one of them has been offered a PLC charter. Everyone (except them) voted for. This mummer's joke is really another proof that the Council composition should be reworked. Or that I should turn everything into companies. Still, now the town have to pay if we want new buildings.

The early economic reform allowed anyone to get a PLC charter. A lot of small shops have appeared in town, providing different services : restaurants, grocers, shops, cafés, doctors but also small workshops like furniture makers. Given they are small, most of the shares have been already bought back and they now belong to the artisan, innkeeper or merchant working there. Now they only have to pay rent, but apart of that they are free to do as they please within the rules of public security and sanitation. A lot of new trades have also sprung up : now, there is half a dozen miniature makers (most of them are doing beeswax sculpts and casts, using the bake-hardening wax created by the alchemy lab). Sculptors have gathered here and their creations are impressive : we already have a full modular space marine sprue, nearly as detailed as the original. I bet those will trade well.

There is also a fairly large snow sports shop now, where anyone can buy wooden ski with wax for a better gliding. I've bought myself a snowboard and a pair of snowshoes. Even if the board is cruder and heavier than the one I had back home, I still love the idea. Fortunately, even in summer the glacier north of the city doesn't melt entirely. I'll go ride a bit tomorrow.

I guess that's one of the few perks for living up there. Not everything is awful on this new world after all.
( http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tqEVCTMkBnI)

The first target was one of the Fedoran “scientists” who was working in a fire spear workshop. Not only would his assassination slow production of Fedoran arms, if we took out the workshop it would completely destroy their ability to produce and hopefully take out some of the supplies. Being from a different Fedoran town apparently meant a completely separate culture. Even though the pit I had sadly witnessed on the first day in this godforsaken city had been closed, and many of the participants now hanging gutted from the buildings, the Whizzard’s continued to blow things up and bring ire from the KityCity guard. If we managed to direct the blame towards the KityCity girls it would hopefully create enough turmoil to incite retaliation. If it didn’t, our next plan would. Tension was already high between the Whizzards and KityCity.

It took a bit of work, but I managed to convince the Admirals to leave my side while I worked on infiltrating the workshop in the few hours before daybreak. My charcoal grey fedora with a Burberry print band and black trenchcoat was enough to place me as a free man among the refugees. My walk to the outskirts of the workshop was unobstructed and only a few people gave me a second glance with the makeup the Admirals had prepared for me. Once I neared one of the rear walls of the workshop I stashed the Fedora and trench behind a wall and stepped into the shadows of a back alley adjacent to the workshop. I located a loose wooden board on the back wall and managed to wiggle it enough to pry it off with only a muffled noise.
I found myself slipping into the back room of a warehouse. The building was pilled floor to ceiling with long spears with gourds or clay pots on the tips. I had seen enough fireworks going off from the Whizzard’s towers and knew enough vague information about Chinese rockets to recognize these as being very temperamental. With a little bit of foraging through their stocks I managed to find a long spool of unused fuses. With a little work I managed to run the fuse down the back of one rack and towards my loose board. I planned to blow the building when I left and remove any chance of these being used against the Confederation military or my own boys outside the walls.

After I had made sure to hide the fuse out of sight I slipped out of the warehouse room and into a main hall. The sound of a large number of laborers came from one end of the hall while the soft sounds of pacing footsteps came from around the corner. I was extremely thankful that the workshop did not have power to put lights up in the hallways. I had seen a few buildings with power, heard music blasting on radio speakers, rumors on the street were of some places with television, but here their power must have been reserved for production rather than making their work space up to lighting code.
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We arrived at Ft. Dunmer 'ta find them 666th column motherfuckers had th' gates closed, but were fightin' amongst themselves. Guess they found our boys on the inside, who had ta' be bribed back to the good and proper Fedoran side with a promise ah women an' wine, but they hadn't made short work 'o em yet!

So I tol' 'em, "Lay down them piss bombs, boys!"

Someah them faggy rave-alians were firin' some repeatan pieces ah shit, took out ah coupleah my boys afore we could get to the gate, but then somebody behind the gates drew their attention.

Well that was all I needed! Them gates came down just like the walls o' Jericho, an' I couldn't resist leapin' on them gates as they fell and ridin' em like a buckin' bronco! Yeeeeeeehaw!

Pistol in each hand, Fedora on mah head an' a stiffy made oh Iron!

I shot down two ah them sissy Confederates with my pistols, whipped a third in th' face an' I'm ready to curbstomp me some goddamn commie sunsah bitches!

Taste that Freedom, ya sissy lily-livered sonova goat! We're gonna show you the ONE! TRUE! 'MERICAN! WAAAAAY!

My hunch was correct as I peeked around the corner and found a large man with a ceremonial collar around his neck passing the halls. He was fairly well dressed in comparison to the other slaves I had seen, but the collar still showed him as being property. The lack of a proper Fedora was the other sign. I waited for him to make the return trip down the hallway and turn around before I fell in behind him. In two steps I had matched his steps, by the third my K-bar was tickling his grey matter after being thrust up into his skull along the back of the neck. I managed to catch the body as he dropped to the ground and pull it into a side drafting room before he began to bleed out too much. When I removed my blade the room pooled with blood. I made sure not to step in any of it so I wouldn’t leave tracks.

Pulling the drafting room door close I continued down the hallway and found a second drafting room that had muffled sounds coming from inside. Unevenly paced footsteps, mumbling, the occasional yelled corrective statement. Paranoia, schizophrenic, megalomaniac. I think I found my scientist! The sound of footsteps coming from the opposite direction of the hallway forced me to backtrack and slip into a separate side room. When the oncoming guard reached the drafting room with the scientist he walked inside. I was lucky not to be dealing with the scientist while he walked in, but now I had two people in one room that I would have to deal with. Regardless of the number I had to act. I was already in the workshop, there was a dead guard on the floor, and I had run lines to blow the place. I couldn’t exactly back out and try again. No save game or dm fiat redo.
I took a deep breath before cracking the door to peer inside. The guard had his back to the door and the scientist continued to pace the floor talking to himself in garbled sentences and the odd outburst. When the scientist stepped past the guard with his back turned to me I stepped into the room. My skinning knife in my left hand and the K-bar in my right I drug the skinning knife across the guard’s throat using the gut hook to tear out his throat rather than slice it. When the scientist turned towards the noise and jumped in surprise I side stepped the falling guard and quickly placed the blade of the K-bar against the scientists throat and shushed him. The yellow robes he was wearing did little to hide the stain growing between his legs. I hit him with a left-handed uppercut and knocked him out cold while the guard finished gurgling through his shredded throat.

After rechecking the outside hallway I threw the scientist over my shoulder in a firemans hold and made for the exfiltration point in the storage closet. Despite trying my best to quietly sneak back I felt like my laden down footsteps were echoing throughout the hallways. Luckily the gunpowder production was loud enough, or the guards footfalls were normally loud that no one came to investigate. I managed to step out of the warehouse and back into the alley without any further incidents. The scientist might have received a few more bruises while I pulled him out and set the fuse. I collected my trench and fedora before crossing the street with the scientist and slipping into another storehouse as the sun began to crest over the edge of the city walls. Once inside the Admirals greeted me and my fresh prize with and exhilaration that scared me. They were far too into retaliation than I wanted to see them. Alexis was chomping at the bit to string the guy up spread eagle between the two support beams of the storehouse.
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Spread eagle and crucified. The Scientist was beginning to come too as Alexis stuffed what I hope to God were not panties into the man’s mouth and gut punched him. The fire in her eyes was truly scary as she didn’t even flinch and continued to look the Scientist in the eyes as he thrashed in pain while strung up in the air. I had to forcefully gather the two girls up and push them away from him as Kathrin was approaching his backside with a long wooden pole. No matter what I said, or how I pleaded they would not leave him to me. If they couldn’t touch him they insisted they watch him die.

I felt like a virgin being told he could fuck his prom date on prom night, but only if his parents watched him do it. The next two minutes were extremely awkward as I sliced open his pants and exposed his groin. I told him what I planned to do with his body as I traced my skinning blade across his exposed flesh. I was going to make it seem like retaliation from a group of female whores. He would be violated. His next few minutes would be unbearable pain. I stepped behind him and started to impale him on the wood Kathrin had brought. Any thrashing he did would only drive it further. The explosion of the workshop and subsequent turmoil covered his screams.
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Brother, I have been fighting for the Confederacy since the first wave, and let me tell you - I'm ready to tear down the Fedoran trash!

I'm clad from head to toe in steel and I'm using a glaive tied to a long musket, and I've got just one question for 'em.

When this 6'5 behemoth of grey steel comes down to show you the train of pain - what're YOU gonna do about it?

I'm gonna rip you up Fedorans! I'm gonna tear through you like a fat kid through a thanksgiving feast! I'm gonna rip through your ranks like a Space Marine through Tau! So tell me Fedorans - what're YOU gonna do when Thomas the Terminator comes for you?!?

I slam into one of 'em coming through the gate with my armored fist and send his teeth through the back of his skull. Oh yeah! The Fedoran Empire is nothing but a grain of sand in the Sahara desert that is The Terminator!

Glaive through the head of another - shotgun to the chest, armor stops it. You call that a gun? Well THESE guns (*flexes*) aren't just for show, Brother! I'm snapping that back like a heart attack.

Then I see this Skinny little Texan with a hardon the size of a needle pistol whipping a Confederate soldier and screaming about America.

"Fedoran!" I shout through my armor, crude voice amplifier turning it into a roar. "do you think you're what our forefathers were thinking about when they thought up the American Dream? Ooooh, yeah, I don't think so."

He turns and fires and just about pisses himself seeing The Terminator coming his way clad in hardened steel. Well he's in the dangerzone and The Terminator IS the danger, so he tries to run. But when the Train of Pain is chargin' down on you with a choo-choo-choo all you can do is get run down!

Spear in his belly and he gives me a silent clap as the lights in his eyes fade.

You can take my Gigant away for being too crazy but no sunovabitch is gonna call me lazy! Come at me like an ocean and I'll show you the motion of my steel-clad foot up your ass!

I'll hold the line!

“What the. . . “

I could do nothing but facepalm as the reports from a border skirmish at Ft. Dunmer reached my desk at the Apiary. Apparently a former Gigant pilot from the first wave and a participant in the first two wars of Cadia named Thomas had found his way down to the fort despite our best attempts at helping him deal with the anger that the Gigant’s brought to their pilots. Some sick Fedoran fuck claiming to be ‘Merican was spearheading the assault and engaged Thomas at the gates. Thomas had managed to convince one of the forges to build him a metal armor suit to replace the lost Gigant shell. The ‘Merican was wearing some American flag painted clothing with an actual tattered American flag as a cape. Why I know this you might ask? Because some jackoff decided to stop fighting, pull out his phone and record the fight.

A whole group of Fedorans and Confederate soldiers stopped fighting to watch these two overly flamboyant warriors engage one another. Several of the various videos were sent to me along with the reports. Why did I need to watch these two idiots scream and yell at each other you might ask? Well, the surviving soldiers who videotaped it are all asking for jobs as correspondents in the field during the war. Yes, even the Fedorans who videoed it. They wanted bandwidth to host on and as slaves or bond slaves they didn’t have those options. So either I let potential spies into our lands and start Fox New’s shit-tier reporting in our lands, or I alienate potential allies and send them back to the inhuman bastards they are trying to flee from.
The time was coming for his death the leader of the /b/ elves figured out there was only so much he could carry. He stuffed a blowgun down his pants, tied his knife to his hip, grabbed a staff and walked out the gate. He had his mad grin on his face, and when he entered and made a surprised face pointed with his free hand and yelled “what the fuck is that” he then stuck his hand in his pants pulled out the blow-darts, puckered up and shot a dart at his opponent. He jumped backward, dropped the staff and pulled his knife. Grabbed some dirt from the ground and charged at his old boss throwing the dirt at his face.
The Fedorans saw their flag wearing champ go down and they knew, brother! They KNEW that I'm the cream of the crop, the man on top, the tower of power and the best there ever was!

They pulled out their phones and I showed them the train engines! Two 24'inch pythons comin' for you, brother!

Well they fell in behind and dropped their guns but the ones in the woods hadn't gotten the message that I'm a million percent. They tossed their bombs and shot their guns but this armor is made of steel and they have yet to expect the unexpected in the kingdom of madness - and brother, I am the KING of madness.

They shot their rockets and I ripped their arms from their sockets. No gigant but I can still squash a man like an ant. Oooooh yeah!

Ten, a hundred, I don't care! They can show me a hundred percent of their fighting power but I'm running a million - and I say that's a lot better than a hundred!

I'm shaking and breathing with my chest heavy heaving. Powder and rocket have blown my ears and taken my arm out of socket. But I'm not trapped in here with an army - that army is trapped in the Jungle with me! And I got them for a whole night of playtime! A whole night of pain!

And when the Train of Pain, when Thomas the Terminator runs you down with a choo-choo-choo, all you can do is get run down! I strike with the wrath of the righteous!

Did....did he just macho man the fedorans?
Journal Log 83

Well, we found the traitor. I knew there was one. One of the Sixth Column. He was sneaking around the front gate at strange times at night. I alerted my team and we waited and observed. He'd arrive during the Sixth Column guard change, a good ten minutes. Spent one night on the right side of the gate, the next night on the left side and we confronted him when he went for the gate itself. He was planting bombs in the masonry. Some kind of remote detonator using broken phones. He couldn't adequately explain himself and made a run for it. The builder was on him before even we could tell what was happening and cut him in half at the waist with some kind of four armed swing of his blade. The Sixth Column command was soon out demanding explanations. They never expected a traitor. They were the good guys, why would anyone betray them, right? Anyways, it wasn't long before there was a sudden commotion at the gate. The enemy arrived. The force that was to slip in and murder us all had been caught unawares and pushed out of their hiding spot by one of our other patrol forces that had been in the area. Elves. Some hunters. Some lunatic in some kind of heavy armor who just kind of showed up. The Fedoran cult Plan A didn't exactly work out so they went to Plan B, attack anyways. The outer wall of this fort isn't all that thick and it crumbled to their external bombardment almost instantly. The first group through the hole ate a round from the base cannon. More of the wall collapsed and the enemy stormed in. Things got surreal between the guy in the termie armor and some guy dressed in all flags. My team and the trainees volleyed arrows into the Fedoran forces until they got too close and then I drew my blade and let the beast out of its cage. It's an old and thirsty blade, and it drank well this night.
Ted the Texan went down clapping, just the way we knew he would. He was a paragon of the Fedoran way.

Even though that loon in steel armor blocked the gates it didn't matter. There's still only a few hundred of them - and almost a thousand of us.

Volleys of explosive arrows and chu-ko-nu go over the walls. Black Vine cannonballs shoot disrupting gas into the fort, and we elites pick off the stragglers and loners with well placed shots.

We started tossing bombs at other parts of the fort. We're getting in, one way or another.
I remember as a nestling an old story of the world slayer and first father. How as the world slayer ate the land first father stepped back and left in his wake poison. I mantle first father. One fortress one loss scar I shall bear in return the poison and my blade returned.

I let out the dive song the faint and maneuver dance into the tunnel and the false walls to hide behind. A fighting retreat. A bloody gift to our foes
I was nearly half asleep again. The Elf had been stalling. Using his men to surround him and appearing to be conversing while they decided who would stand for them against the Negotiator. I wish I would have paid attention while they were talking. Honestly the Elves next few moments were worth building a time machine to go rewatch when you knew what all he was going to try and pull.

I was midway through a yawn when I caught sight of the Negotiator picking up his sword. Malus had previously stated in this fight swords would be fine. However, the remainder of the rules had, at least I think they had, remained the same. Honorable combat between two individuals for settling a dispute. The Elf walked forward and picked up the staff rather than a blade. He was no priest. He should have been learning to use the sword if the Builders had been teaching him anything. Yet he picked the staff rather than the blade. I should have been more alert.

The Elf literally pulled a “Hey look” and tried to distract the Negotiator. When he shouted out I did a spit-take and nearly fell out of my chair. By the time I had recovered he had jumped back. The Negotiator was stuck wondering what was wrong with his prey. The entire wing, or at least the ones speaking in their vocal voice, were equally surprised by the odd actions of the Elf we had covered all of the Confederacy to hunt down. When one of the Low Speakers began lighting up like a Christmas tree they all let out a howl of anger and the Negotiator lunged out slashing his blade into the dagger sized knife of the elf. The force of the blow was so great that the knife was thrown from the Elves hand.
Whatever constitutes adrenaline was surging through the Builders as they continued their song for blood. The Negotiator found a fistful of sand thrown in his face as he recovered from his lunge. The sand only further agitated him and he knocked the smaller bodied Elf down with a shoulder check. Blinking away the sand in one of his eyes while using the other to focus on his prey the Builder slowly walked up to the renegade as the Elf shuffled back against the wall. The Negotiator reached down and lifted the Regenade Elf up by his throat and flung him across the arena.
By this point the entire wing was a chorus of war hymns all sung to spurn the Negotiator on in their benediction. If action movies taught humans anything it’s that when the bigger and stronger bully is playing with his prey, that’s when the “hero” strikes back. I tried yelling over the Builders, I told the Low Speakers to send him a message, I wanted this ended immediately. Either he ignored me or was unable to hear me as he continued to slowly walk up towards the winded Elf. With great effort he placed his foot atop the chest of the Renegade and leaned in close to the Elves face. His body lit up briefly to convey a message I was unable to understand.

As my predictions normally hold true, especially when dealing with tropey bullshit, the Elf lashed out at the Negotiator. Having been flung in the same direction as his knife previously the Elf was able to cut a massive gouge in the Builder’s face. The Negotiator reeled back and stomped on the Elf’s chest to knock the wind from his lungs one more time while he tried to recover from the facial wound. As blood poured from across one of his eyes the other focused with the same murderous rage seen among Yowlers and Rapedactyls. Prey was within it’s grasp and nothing would deny it. The Builder sword swung down upon the head of the Renegade and cleaved deep into the ribs before getting stuck in the ground of the arena.
I remember when Thomas went down. He wouldn't retreat. Never could.

A dozen Fedorans rushed him. Just like the last group before them, sweating and shaking. He ran them down, stomped them, stabbed them, and ignored gunfire that had to have gone through his armor.

That's when they started shooting cannons at him. With the thermite cannonballs.

I swear to god he BACKHANDED the cannonball shot at him. Blew off his hand, set him on fire, but he just screamed and charged.

Killed three cannon teams and was still on fire when I went into the tunnels. I don't think heaven is the right place for a man like that. When he gets to Valhalla, he can tell them he EARNED his way in during a battle where he killed nearly a hundred men and held off an army. That crazy son of a bitch.

Did I see him die? Well... no. But not even Thomas could have survived that, you know? He took a dozen gunshots and he was on fire. Not to mention the rockets and grenades.

Bless that man. But thank god we took away his gigant. Crazy motherfucker if there ever was one.
Wonder which he piloted
Journal Log 84

It was a losing battle. We were outnumbered and outgunned. For all the Fedorans we cut down, there were more and they were better trained than most of the Sixth Column freedom fighters. The good thing about all the explosives the enemy was using was that it covered the area in a thick smoke. So we took advantage of it, grabbed the cart and Potato and withdrew into the tunnels with as many as we could before sealing it. Most of my team made it out with only minor injuries. We managed to take around some others with us in our escape. We set up camp in the tunnel at the hub with the “fountain” to treat what injuries we did have and wash off some of these chemicals they were tossing into the air. We're going to stay here the night and take one of the south tunnel exits and go from there. Tonight was a bad loss but it was to be expected. Hopefully most of the freedom fighters managed to escape the slaughter. No doubt the Fedorans will be bragging about this for days. They will relax some, thinking themselves unstoppable. We will be there to take advantage of it. The scouting expedition is over. Stage 2 of Operation Hatrack is in effect. We're now a strike team. Now, if only we could get the builder to stop singing about his glorious victories in battle.
The Fell-Handed's first pilot of course
Challenge him to 40k
Of course wonder if all pilots turn into avatars of pro wrestlers
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God the fat son-of-a-bitch is trying to woo me in earnest now, I mean really what girl could ever resist spending such a wonderful time standing on an empty wall with a foul smelling little man giggling as he watches explosions in the distance through a set of binoculars. Really what ever could a girl want for?
A fucking bath for one would be nice.

But not only is he wasting my time again, and after my last stunt with the smiling bitch I'm suprised, I thought even a man as dense with fat a as the Whizzard would of caught on so far, but he was also wasting nearly all the goddamn military power of the city on this assault! Lord Johns plan had been for well trained and well armed strike teams to slaughter Sixth Column forces in the middle of the night, now this rabble would just cause more chaos and confusion, especially with the explosives the Whizzard handed out like fucking candy. And I mean that literally, he's probablly pissed on each of those explosives just like hed did with actual candy.

But I knew this was an opportunity not to be missed so I went along with it, even brought along Selina, one of my most loyal and skilled informants and Billie, actually one of my Inquisition thugs but who was good at passing as a working girl. All of us dressed up in full on slut mode, plunging neck lines and tght tops and short shorts and heels. Once everything was over I made googoo eyes at the Whizzards and pouty lips while Selina clasped Billies hands as she whispered into her ear and they both stared seductively at the fat-arse.
After that a few comments and a little flash of skin was all it took to convince him to rendezvous with us up in the tower where we could show him something special as thanks for the date.

I need to stop by the Cats Paw first though, I had a special gift from the girls for the Whizzard I needed to pick up. Something I think he was uniquely suited to appreciate.
Yes, but in Fedoran lands they all turn into Golddust and Ravishing Rick Rude.


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No woman can resist my charms for long! I may be merry and round but when it comes to sex they all know I can just pound and pound!

I drank a quart of rare-earth gatorade just to get ready, and let my bodyguards have some time off to spend with her girls.

I knew those explosions would get her all hot and bothered! What woman can resist a spectacular show like that put on just for her?

Well not Ms Fortune, apparently! Hoo hoo hoo!

Up the tower I go, bladder 'a bursting, ready for a girl that was clearly 'a thirsting! Ms Fortune better get ready for a long, pissy night - because I am ready to provide!

>heavenly ogivavi
You said it Captcha - hoo hoo hoo!
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The Warmaster had left me in charge of his forces while he went off to infiltrate the enemies city. We had shadowed the military siege units as they moved out of the city and north towards Ft. Dunmer. While we did not have enough men to actually prevent or even assist in the defense we could work the shadows of the rear ranks.

The large crossbows set up to fling explosive bolts at the walls, rocket powered sticks with more explosives, carts of explosives, bags of explosives, goards, pots, and hats of explosives. God the Warmaster is gona kill me if he finds out I’m writing in rhyme scheme now. Anyways, the fools have been building Chinese gunpowder and no matter how well you try to protect the stuff, it’s still primitive gun powder in a primitive bowl or pot secured to a cart or stick.

I split the men among two sections of the siege engines along the lines. Emerging from the shadows they slit the throats of each man running their assigned siege engine and emptied some of the explosives on the ground at the base of the weapon. Five minutes after the first neck was opened we lit the fuse for one hell of a fireworks show. The men struggled to get back into cover as the woods were less dense around the siege engines to prevent such attacks. The lights from all the explosives going off only further illuminated the men while retreating. Lightly equipped men can run fast if threatened by raging mobs of slaves chasing them down. It may be a few days before some of my men can make it back to our rendezvous location.
Oh lord. So wait when we gonna get some gigantimania going?
Who knows - but damn is it fun.

And a better Ravishing Rick Rude video for those unfamiliar with him.

Look at those hips gyrate!
In retrospect, I believe it would be fine if Gigant pilots ended up channeling other large hams such as Brian Blessed and Billy Mays.

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I look out over KityCity from the top of the tallest tower and where once I would of smiled, knowing everything within it danced at my fingertips and that I had stopped it from becoming another hell hole like Catan. But now I feel sick, to many areas were under reconstruction, to many bodies strung up on the Scratching Post and that dark swath that was the refugee slums. He'd ruined it all, the Sixth Column had started it but it had been the Whizzard who had done -this- to my city.

Knowing that chased out any hesitation I had at what was about to happen, not that I had anything against killing him mind you, Id glady bury my hands in his stomach and rip his entrails out one by one for what he had done, but I knew this could cause problems for KityCity, but I had plans to push the blame on the Sixth Columnists, a retaliation for the recent assault. I even had a pair of Sixth Columnists ready to take the fall.

Still I smiled when the door opened and I turned to face the over-eager little troll racing through the door. I smiled even wider when Billie's steel toed boot nailed him right in his balls. He just caved in on himself and I walked over slowly, tossing a little package from hand to hand. Billie and a couple other Inquisition thugs continued to wail on him, fists and boots just raining down on him until I held up a hand. I held the package out and it was shoved into his mouth and bound shut with a gag as he was dragged to the ramparts.

I got up close to him and stared into his eyes, making sure he knew I was behind it all, that he was at my mercy. My grin split my face as I gripped him by his collar and hammered a knee into his balls again.
"Welcome to MY magical realm, Whizzard. This is what you get for daring to enter it!"

A bucket filled to the brim with the piss of every girl of the Cats Paw was handed to me and I heaved it back.

"I've been waiting for this since you got here you fucking troll!"

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Well, sometimes you piss all over the enemy - and sometimes they piss all over you!

As I die gargling pretty girl pee before getting kicked out a window off the top of the tower with a package of my own piss bombs I have but one thought.

I wasn't long for this world as a diabetic no matter what I did - but while I was here, it sure was a blast!

The echoes of a song ring clear through my mind. Wilford Brimley - give me strength as I fall to my doom!

Forget your troubles come on get happy!~

On Diabeetus~

I've done things I shouldn't do.


Do the best you can with what you got.


I had taken my squad further south away from what we learned was KityCity. We followed one of the southern region’s rivers to map it as well as find any potential saw mills, water mills, or hydropower plants that the city might have been using. While we did locate a few simple hovel settlements, the occasional farm or builder ruins it was all abandoned and mostly empty. At one of the farms we located a small family. A young boy barely out of his teens and an older women near her late 40’s had been hiding. They were starved and when they saw strange purple-blue men scavenging through the remains of their hovel town they decided we weren’t Fedorans, so obviously friends. We learned that the woman wasn’t useful in the breeding program and while she had experienced the horrors of Fedoran leadership. The boy was a recent find and while packing everything up to flee into KityCity they managed to forget the two slaves who had been in hiding.

When we asked further questions about the slavery the women let slip that she had been acting as a “Mother” to the other slaves and had worked hard to keep them actively involved in their work. While I want to say she spoke only with love and care for those she tended to, her tone was one of an unwilling matron forced to care for 20 orphans. We placated her and let her tie the rope around her own neck. She mentioned the slaves running off and her telling the masters about it. The boy was in fact her own slave, one she had recently acquired after becoming bonded. She actually envied the girls in the cities still able to get pregnant and provide their saviors with children. However, her slave was to never share his seed with anyone else and she had castrated him and cut out his tongue. Which explains why the boy had never spoken the entire time she aired out her dirty laundry for us.
With the truth revealed I sighed deeply and nodded to two of my men. We had no way to deal with the psychological dependency these Fedorans had created in their captives. We could not man handle slaves who would be revolting against our actions, nor could we provide them the proper mental help they needed. It is truly disturbing, but the best outcome in these situations is the complete destruction of the plant. Seeds, leaves, stems, roots, and all.

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Oh a Johnny come lately, are we?
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Well, FF8 was the first Final Fantasy I picked up when someone gave me the game. The ocean scene at the beginning had my jaw on the floor so that version of Biggs and Wedge is always dear to me.... however, even yours is a little late.
That moustache
Noticed they have /@/ instead of /a/, so some time ago. When was that, anyway?
/a/ is on the map, its down far south
/@/ is there sure but thats the twitter account for 4chan and still exists
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After the battle was over, or to put it differently after Malus announced the Builder victorious I stood and crossed the arena to confiscate the Lance the renegades had stolen. One of the elves pathetically tried to hold onto the lance when I went to pull it away from him and I swiftly jabbed him in the stomach with the butt end of my own staff before yanking it away from him. The lives of the remaining elves was in the hands of the Builders. Their champion had won in the arena and the lives of the elves were theirs to control. I doubted Malus wanted them executed in his arena stands where they stood, but at this point I couldn’t care what he wanted. His stupid tournament had delayed me long enough. If he wanted to stop them, he would have to speak with the Low Speakers themselves to convince them.

He was lucky I wasn’t someone else from the Confederacy. I had been the only person from the Tower to participate in the Second Siege of Cadia. The only person I cared for their survival during that war was the Mayor who to my knowledge was still in Camp Abaddon or Kog running the Confederacy. If I had lost the protection that the Mayor provides for my Tower, or if one of my own loved ones had died during the assault then I probably would have felt the need to execute him and half his city to prevent it from happening again. He was lucky I was so anxious to travel again. He was lucky I liked his architecture and decided to spend a few hours walking his streets along with some of the assigned guards to cool down. The boiling rage of the oncoming storm of war washed away in an instant as retributions blade finally sunk into the skull of the damned. Fuck me, I’m thinking in Builder.
There was no mercy, the facial wound I had received I would bear proudly, through deception and foolish attempts I had sought my righteous fury. My kin put them to the blade upon the floor where combat had been done. Too good for the Nestless monsters, they deserved a death by fire, burnt upon Staked impaled through them.

We go home now, I miss the nests songs and I desire the contemplations of the Nest stories to pour through and advise the Sons with.
After action report of Operation The Whizz.

We moved in during an unexpected assault on fort Dunmer, this was perhaps a blessing in disguise though I feel sorry for the poor fuckers out there. Team Alpha moved into the city first, our marksman taking position in a building that had a good overlook of the courtyard the Tunnels opened into. From there we moved at a good pace, Team Bravo moving towards the 'scratching post' Where they would proceed to set two grenades, long fuse at its base. This was Diversion one, Diversion two would be caused on Evac out of the city.

Alpha moved through the Intracity tunnel network, disused at a steady pace. Found no sign of Recent Human or Alien activity within it and made it to the entrance of the tower by the time Diversion one had begun. Guards were rapidly dispatched and entry to the tower gained before Alarm could be sounded. Skelton crew on watch and The VIP missing. We heard what we had at first though was Diversion two a few minutes later and found out some time after that it was the VIP. Tower sweep went as planned, ran into almost no resistance as we breached rooms towards the top.

And then things got weird. Encountered High profile female fedoran, claimed to be wife of one of the City lords, and as such we tagged and bagged her. She at first gave resistance and then resumed the same smile she had had when we entered the room. VIP2 was extracted from the city in due haste. Head was covered in flax cloth and hands were bound with Zip cuffs. Bravo team set off number Two and booked at this point back to the Tunnel entrance, met at the same time. Marksman covered as the VIP2 was moved out and we set the false wall and left Kity City, Casualities were one member of Alpha, caught shrapnel from The second explosion. Was evaced out of the theater with VIP2, inbound for Kog.
The Second stage is when the actual forces are to be mobilized. Force Recon teams are now being tapped across the Fedoran lands and the Builder Warparty is being mobilized via the most expedient route possible to a safe port. With them, are two assests as well as some of the Central Supply and XCOM's personnel. They are handling OOPARTs that will be used in the war effort. Among them are two full cases of green mote stones for weaponization efforts. Each Case holding roughly two dozen stones. This is the sum total of Hadopolis OOPART holdings sans dwarves.

Speaking of which a seven dwarf team has been sent down as combat engineers. The builders also seem to have trouble ordering the bastards around, go fucking figure. They will however respond only to confed and builder commands. We've tested this several times and through various means. Bjorn as well as the Nameless one will be sent incognito with a seperate shipment to be used at the Acting Force commanders discretion. Both Pilots are in control of their faculties and will be able to assist in combat on the ground as well as in the suits. Three mote cases are with them as well. Varying charges. Along with them are the titanicus personnel who will be outfitting the two gigants with weapons including puckle guns and melee attachments.

Confed forces from all settlements that can spare them are also inbound in various strike packages and cells. All with their own modified hand crank 'vox mkII' complete with war singer and Elven decoder ring. They are moving as seperate companies and will be pushing from all sides that we have access too. Expect Cadians, Mead people and Arbites elements to Link up when possible. River city Elves, along with the Valenwood Elf tribe are moving to intercept their own people as well as the Hunter-warmaster party if possible. First target will be again up to the Commanders discretion. We strongly urge however that damage be dealt hard and fast.
>mobilizing Bjorn for war.

Ah yeeeeeeah
The vengeance sated, I turn to the priest in hand both relics. Wing extended and low speaker at my side I begin to explain the intent and motive. We part ways now, The Stave must be returned to the Home Nest lest my people worry. Already my Wing longs to return Home and see the Mothers and Children that we left behind. If you must stay, stay but we and the Low speakers must move on and with haste.

The Stave, Our Stave gifted to us by the Emperor of Iron four hundred years ago will join us when we leave and only rest in the Hands of one of the People, its powers and knowledge guarded once more and hidden well.
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The Negotiator found me wandering around a courtyard enjoying some wonderful /b/tard architecture. Who am I kidding, it’s the same shit the rest of Lenore is building. Wood houses, clay walls, leather and bone structure, sinew binding, the occasional stone structure. I was never interested in bullshit Viking or native American architecture. Rome was beautiful… this world had become mundane to me.

The Negotiator requested back the Lance. I had only been on this planet for what I think are two years. In that time I had learned of the destructive power I carried with me. The burden that the presence of these weapons of mass destruction had on battle fields. The simple fact that my new alien ally had already lost the Lance once to deception. The lance had made its way into an old nemesis’ very house. The only saving grace was that no one knew how to use it. Yet. I tried to play it off as just a religious relic, but I know that only drew more attention to it. I refused to use my own lance unless in dire need for fear that others would see its use and seek out their own. I was the self-appointed guardian of Pandora’s box. If anyone else had come to me to request the lance. If I hadn’t started to trust the Negotiator. I would have never returned it to him.

I smiled and wished him the safest of return journeys. I could not return to the Confederacy and report that I had meet with one of the cities of the /b/ wastes and not tried to hammer out a peace treaty. At least a truce. With my temporary siesta finished I walked back inside to seek an audience with Malus about establishing a peace treaty if not trade agreement now that our two nations were not currently fighting each other.
Journal Log 85

The south passage we took surfaced a few miles from Fort Dunmer in a small forest. I'm not sure what used to be here but whatever it was was destroyed centuries ago. Just overgrown rubble. Not important. We made our coded radio report about the loss at Fort Dunmer and made our way back to observe the situation from the cover of the jungle. We found and dispatched a few Fedoran scouts looking for stragglers. The fort is in ruin. Fedorans are camped around it throwing their victory celebration which looks like something out of the old cult camps we used to find. Same fucking behavior. Doing inhuman things to their captives. It made me think. This is the first time we're the ones invading an enemy nation. It's not just the logistics, manpower and time. It's nerve. These people need to die, all of them. Do the leaders of the Confed have what it takes to order the death of all these people from their comfy offices? What if the enemy surrenders? We can't let them live, not with this kind of behavior. As far as I'm concerned, there are no good or innocent Fedorans. The slaves on the other hand, well that's just a mess. Most are suffering people but there are some that enjoy the Fedoran way. They will have to be dealt with too. I'll do it myself if I have to. No torture. Just a quick death.
Puckle Guns turned out to be a hit. Got orders from Builders for personal use and from the Home Guard to use as fixed emplacements. If we can get some Scale Wolves trained as pack animals, we may be able to use artillery in the field instead of in emplacements. If I weren't needed here, I'd be at the front fighting the Fedorans. I didn't bring all those flash drives full of academic books from my studies just to see them not used. I've got stuff on COIN Ops and jungle warfare I'm going to pass on to interested parties. We've finally sorted out the production of bronze. We ended up finding Tin in Hadesopolis; they're pretty happy to work with us now their shithead of a leader is gone. After we get enough material delivered, we're going to try casting a cannon. Have to make the cast first, though. If we finally get a decent industrial chemist, we can do Haber process and get some fertilizer/explosive production. What I wouldn't give for 10 tons of sulfur monochloride.
Bjorn always means funtimes to be had
I stopped by Central Supply at Kog while I was there on buisness in order to sate my curiosity. I was right. We have enough insturments in good condition to have an orchestra. The only thing we don't have are pianos, xylephones, and the like. This does mean we can perform operas, though. That gives me an idea...
whats a thunderhammer
did you guys make a pseudo-banhammer
A warhammer with guns inside it that go off when you hit something. Like a warhammer/blunderbuss combo.
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the big hammer in the middle, although probablly less fancy looking
that. is. awesome.
Aside from the elfs ridiculous antics the fight wasn't anything spectacular, the alien was skilled, sure, but even watching one as skilled as it in action couldn't make up for such a one sided fight. At the very least the elf did make sure to make his mark by slashing up the aliens face. After that the other elves were put to the sword by the other crazy bird aliens right there in the arena. After that they just bid farewell to the smurf and marched out. My men gave a formal salute as they left.

The weird one though, the smurf, decided to stay for some reason apparantly he wanted to discuss the relations between our two nations. Hehe, it seems that the kids down in /tg/ still had nigthmares of the big bad Bastard and the hordes of /b/. Marvelous.

I wouldn't be able to make any formal treaties of course, such was outside of my power as a single Overlord. But what I could do was represent Bubonicus and take back a provisional contract to Lady S'ndra. After that it would be the business of sovreigns, although even now he doubted S'ndra would wish for hostilities, we continued to hear worse news from the north. She had rather concentrated her efforts on forming closer bonds with the /b/orderlands and it would not be long before she broached the subject of becomming a protectorate with the closest Barons.

No need to let the smurf know this, for all he knew we were a powerful growing force, well equipped and trained and with hordes at our command. Truly we were the stuff of their nightmares, I planned to use that our advantage in any negotiation.
This is gonna end poorly.
Kinesics is such a wonderful thing. The ability to watch a persons body language and what it secretly tells you about their intentions and inner thoughts. Sure it was never 100%, and if you weren’t on top of your game someone could fake body language and throw you off, but Malus made the fatal error of underestimating me.

My offer of a truce knocked him out of the mix of boredom from the fight and what I saw as subtle astonishment that the Builders would execute the Elves in his very arena and then walk out as if nothing happened. The very moment I presented the subject of a truce his body language began to shift. His head raised higher, eyes focused and shoulders shifted to face me more squarely. Confidence and control. His body language might as well have been screaming out that he felt like he had the upper hand in the discussion. I let him take the lead. He need not know I witnessed the tail end of an assault on his own walls and the remains of the army that crashed on his gates before walking up to find the Elves. I knew he was not the power to talk with, I wasn’t the power to represent the Confederacy either, but at least we would be able to start the ball rolling in a good direction.

The truce agreement I suggested drafting up was a simple non-aggression pact with a clause that allowed a diplomat from the Confederacy to come and finalize any actual agreements. Communication is the first step to de-boogie’ing the boogieman. Knowledge of who and what your enemy is was always the fatal flaw that modern horror movies made that turned them from suspense thrillers to gory comedies. Knowledge of who and what the new /b/arbarians were becoming would turn them from the unknown horde to the north that could descend on us at any time into the known enemy from the north that our diplomat could judge their capabilities of descending on us.
Every gotten that feeling that you’re walking into a Lion’s Den?

What about waiting for the Lions in their own den?
That’s exactly what I feel right now, waiting for this Inquisition contact. And I’ve been waiting for what feels like hours. It’s just one more thing to worry about I suppose.

A week of mixed feelings, to say the least. First, we received news from a source we rarely have dealt with; The Cutebolds. We have known of their existence for the longest time, but they have barely ever interacted with the 6th in anyway. Now because of them we learned of John’s Army and their planned assault. We have also learned about the Wizzard’s attempt at forcing the Cutebolds to eat newborns. That bit of news, along with us ending up with said newborns, caused a great deal of rage from the normally taciturn Commander. Killing kids was bad enough, but feeding them alive to the fucking Bolds?
We are barely qualified to look after our own wounded, and these kids…we just don’t have the resources or the knowledge to properly care for them. We’re a Resistance Network, not a Hospital.

Now coupled with the Wizzard’s Demise and the emptying of the City, Manx has decided to make his move. Along with me sitting here, in a known front for the Inquisition, trying to stomach something that almost tastes like potato vodka, Manx has given a general order across the city. To cease all activity, and await further orders. Quite a few were taken back by this order, but they followed it. Most by now know that bad shit happens when you don’t follow Manx’s orders, I mean look at the Militants.

And now I sit here, and wait for the Lions.
Journal Log 86

The Fedorans at Fort Dunmer were attempting to hold on to the position. It was an important location, right on the river that leads to Rivertown. It wouldn't be easy for them considering the amount of damage they did to the walls and the fort itself. It was little more then half collapsed rubble. It also didn't help that more than half their force packed up and marched back to the city with the captives they didn't murder. They weren't my concern right now. The defenders were my target. What they needed were supplies. They were going to be hungry tonight.

They lost most of their powder and ammo on the battle and the Sixth Column food stores had been destroyed. They probably had around seven hundred people milling about that base, most of which were slaves following the orders of their ammoless masters. They had no cover, no tents, no housing.

I have about thirty people, most of them Confed fighters with a handful of Sixth Column. Sixth column aren't trained all that well and mostly use terrorist tactics. Now, what to do with all of this. The main enemy force left behind most of their artillery when they left. It's big and easy to make but more importantly, heavy and slow. The defenders have them set up in a semicircle facing west with the powder and ammo all stacked up nice and pretty in the middle.

So, now the plan. A few hours after nightfall, I'm going to have Sixth Column sneak in and blow the powder and take down the cannoneers if they can on their way out. It'll be good for them. Meanwhile, we will cause a distraction with a few archery volley into the enemy on the west side. We're spending the day digging punji pits in the treeline. Finally and most importantly, Potato will fiercely guard my cart and basecamp.

Potato have very important mission!
Potato must guard cart.
Potato must guard base.
Potato must keep bad enemy mans away.
Potato has been well equipped for mission with generations of Tortolo secret battle techniques and Tortolo natural sneakiness.
Potato still has detractors.
Builder sings mocks at Potato all day.
“Oh, how can tortolo guard cart and base? How can dumb tortolo write journal entry with no thumbs or sapience?”
Potato will show stuck up, stupid bird what tortolo can do!
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Im sure im not exactly what he was expecting. He probablly thought he'd be meeting with some Inquisition jackboot or some femme fatale. Dark, tall and handsome...or beautiful whatever. Probablly in copius amounts tight leather and with a dashing scar or two. Hehehe.
Instead he got me, plain old Minny, in my dirty apron and my cream coloured working smock.

So Im he was suprised when he saw the plain looking girl walking by, cleaning a mug with a cloth, just set the mug down and take a seat across from him,

I had an idea what this was about, with the latest developments the game had changed, the Sixth Column had suffered dangerous amounts of losses and KityCity was in a precarious position with the rest of Fedoran.

"So what can the finest establishment of the City do fo you then? Or is this about what you can do for us, hmm? Oh and do relax, your'e under my protection for the length of this meeting, you wont be touched unless you get violent."
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Some people believe that on some level I lead the Confederacy. Nothing could be further from the truth. The evidence is in the plans I propose that everyone else more or less ignores. I'm about to go campaigning again in the vital time just prior to the Eighth wave arrival.

Here's what I'm going to talk about.

War Plans
People keep wanting to filter down soldiers to support the 6th column's guerrilla war. I think this is the exact OPPOSITE of what we should be doing.

The 6th column is a terrorist organization. Well, "freedom fighters" since they're on our side, but terrorists in all but name. They're poorly equipped, led, and organized. Most of the damage is done by the supposed and near mythical Ex-Delta Force operative among them. They accomplish very little; mostly harassing the enemy.

Has anyone considered what they'll do once we take over Fedoran lands? No, I thought not.

We can prevent them from fighting against US in the future through our "Amnesty and Training" program. The Guerilla war shifts into low gear. Instead, we shift them up here. Grant them official pardons for past crimes (terrorists, remember, they'll have committed a few) and Confederate citizenship. We'll filter them - the useless get to live here, those with actual military aptitude get training and decent equipment. Any new atrocities they commit now can be punished legally, since they'll be official citizens.

We'll have to pull back heavily during the next wave anyway, otherwise we won't pull in all the newbies we can save. We give the same training to newbies, 6th column, and liberated slaves. Meanwhile the Fedorans POWs are shifted to separate work camps out of the major cities.

With this we'll increase the size of our military forces dramatically. Newbies, retrained 6th column and liberated slaves and recruits within our current cities. We'll shift old equipment to trainees.
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This will also give us time to add to the production of Mars-Pattern Rifles. We should have several hundred by that time.

With our newly expanded army we can go into Fedoran Territory and work on taking each town city-by-city, while leaving a sufficient garrison that towns do not turn into chaotic messes.

Make no mistake; we'll probably have to invest heavily into repair and restructure of these cities. That's something we have to regear our shipping for.

Some people believe all Fedorans should be executed. While that's not technically genocide, it's close enough. We aren't as different as we'd like to believe. Rotten leadership rots the core, and otherwise decent people turn into monsters. Had we popped in Fedoran territory most of us would have merely become terrorists at best.

The worst get executed quickly and cleanly. No torture. Those capable of redemption get sentenced to many years in the work camps away from society. The average citizen gets amnesty. However - those cities have rotted for too long.

Rather than simply conquer them, I want us to divide the existing population of those cities up (that have committed little enough crime that they can earn amnesty) and relocate them to existing Confederate cities. At the same time, populations of Confederate cities - largely newbies and volunteers - resettle those lands. In the old world this would be a kind of genocide, but the Fedorans are new immigrants to Lenore just like us. Those that can be redeemed should get the opportunity to be.

That's some of the big opposition. It's too nice and merciful. I know what the Fedorans do. I know what they are. But I won't have us turn into the French Revolution, rafting on rivers of blood.

Whatever problems this causes it's better than building our nation on an empire of corpses. The Keep has always followed a policy of amnesty and reintegration with society and always will.

If I ruled this place it wouldn't be a debate. But I don't, and it is.
Journal Log 87

It was around midnight when we opened fire on the enemy. We moved in from the west and volleyed our arrows into the lot of them. Meanwhile the Sixth column boys went in at those cannoneers and the powder. It was chaotic at first. A group of melee armed Fedorans came charging out towards the direction of the arrows to find punji pits. The rest were milling about in a confused state until someone took charge and started bellowing orders. I found him and put a bullet in his head with the hunting rifle.

We then moved and fired another volley from another location. A few Fedorans with firearms tried returning fire but not one bullet managed to find us because we had already left. Then the powder blew. The shockwave was enough to knock most of the enemy on their ass. That was the signal, the op was over.

We withdrew back to the rendezvous. Turns out the Sixth Column boys decided to take some prizes back with them. Two powder kegs and a box of yellow grenades that smell funny. I'm sure I could find a use for this. They did well. We made our way back to camp, careful to mask our passing.

For the rest of the night we could hear the screams of the injured fedorans from the attack and the occasional scout that wandered into one of our treeline traps. I don't know what they do with their injured, if they actually treat them or just kill them, but either way. The builder doesn't quite like the way we're doing business out here. Too shady for his tastes. I'll turn him yet and I'll do it with Shadowrun.
I'd say this wouldn't be a bad idea the only issue is we need to at least keep the Fedorans pressed against the wall. In one way pressing the attack isn't a bad thing even as the new waves come in. In other's its a faulty solution. So long as we keep the war effort present and continue to harass all but the most secure supply lines we might be able to do both right?
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I made a point to bring up the latest developments of our great weapons developments, no details ofcourse and certainly not how they work but I made sure he knew we weren't the simple lunatics that landed here and revelled in the chaos.
We are a real nation now after all, with an organized military and a growing society.
So if violence were to ever break out again they would be facing a much more potent enemy. Heh, flexing a little bit of military muscle certainly didn't hurt.

The truce went through easy enough, little more than a cessation of hostilities, and a tacked promise to discuss some form of trade in the future. Diplomacy isn't exactly my specialty and I'd much rather be stomping down the main street of Cadia but I knew this is what the Lady would want, and as the Lady commands I obey.

I gave him a more formal tour this time as we spoke, no need to be cooped up in a stuff room and let him see over the expanse behind the wall, seeing the expansive farms lands, the people working them and the red brick houses they lived in, the first signs of true civilization in /b/. Boring perhaps but I sensed he was bored of the inside of the fort. Its a shame he would not be staying longer, Im sure he would of gotten a kick out of seeing 'the Games' when the new wave started.
Aw look they're acting civilized!
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The ideal would be to leave a small force of Confederate soldiers and 6th column troops down there for the season to round up and send newbies up north, so the Fedorans cannot.

Remember, the Fedorans can't raid /new/ like they used to due to their fleet losses. Everyone we recruit from their territory becomes a Confederate citizen instead of a Fedoran citizen as well.

If Kitycity could be turned we could use that as a local hub for retraining soldiers and gearing up for a major war, as well as establish a second newbie camp there. Of course Kitycity would then beome a place we have to defend. However, it's an extremely defensible city and wouldn't need an enormous garrison to hold the walls. Moreover, the manpower devoted to taking or besieging a turned Kitycity by the Fedorans would mean they could recruit far fewer newbies or raid for fewer slaves.

In other words: If we take Kitycity, we hurt the Fedorans badly and we will only gain strength while they lose it. If we don't but ferry people up here instead we'll STILL gain far more than the Fedorans will, just less.

Either way we'll have actual cannons next season that can tear down stone walls, so Kitycity can choose to turn now and retain some autonomy or we can capture it next season.

It's my favorite kind of situation: One where the enemy can only lose and we can only win.
oi, we can be plenty civilized, it just takes a massive wall manned by armed thugs to keep the riff raff out
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People of the glorious Fedoran Empire! I speak to you today as your King!

The terrorists and Confederates sought to take Kitycity away from us. They sought to burn it to the ground, to ravage you all worse than the most depraved /y/king. Well I am here to say that we have struck back, and we are victorious!

It is true that we are not moralfags here in the Empire. We do believe in keeping order, however. We believe in an order where the strong control the weak, and are not controlled by them. We believe in an order where no woman can friendzone you; where good and nice guys who loyally support the Fedoran empire are rewarded by them as they deserve to be! It is that way of life we have fought to preserve!

For too long the 6th column have used Kitycity as a base of operations, a place to infiltrate and control. You may have heard the tragic news - our head scientist, the Whizzard, bravely led our soldiers in last nights glorious victory but was killed by cowardly 6th column assassins. It's clear that the government of Kitycity has been a failure long in the making.

Our soldiers will continue to mop up the scattered resistance from the broken 6th column. But before the 8th wave comes in, they're going to go into Kitycity and rebuild it. New, pure, and strong - the Catan way! No more can a man be denied his satisfaction by the brothel system - no more will 6th column infiltrators be allowed in! The entire old system will be demolished!

It is clear the Confederates will make their first assault upon us there. We will be moving much of our military forces there, begin breaking new slaves there, and begin turning it into a pure and beautiful land where the strong are properly rewarded for their ability, and the weak are left to weep bitter tears of envy.

Let the strong rule!
you're waifu a shit
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That skinny shit just cost us a valuable spy network. He knew I wasn't going to publicly contradict him and undermine his authority. And for what - so he can satisfy his hard on for breaking women leaders. Great. I knew I should have given him a male figurehead and pretended that girl was just some average hooker.

If I had the time, maybe I'd make this go away. Push it back, pressure him, let the people forget and then quietly change his mind.

But I've got other things to do. Sorry little kitty - you're on your own.

I've checked the forts. The raids outside Ft. Dunmer went pretty well - but Ft. Dunmer has FAR too few bodies. We had that base surrounded - so how did they get out?

Well my daddy fought the Vietcong and I wasn't born yesterday. The Taliban used tunnels a lot too - I taught them how.

So once they started raiding us again I wised up. Followed the foot traffic.

And what do you know - they've got fucking tunnels. Not new ones either. Old ones. Very old. I'm willing to bet these things run under all our cities.

I don't know how we missed this shit. Finding tunnel exits in Catan and Monstergirlopolis and Kitycity has to be priority number one.

We killed a lot at the tunnel entrance. Guess they'd planned to raid us for a while. But I'm no moron. Tossed in some grenades to clear them out.

We've got to follow those things. And I've got to have some sharp and painful words with some treacherous little Cutebolds that kept this shit from us.
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Things are spirraling out of control lately and I know its only going ot get worse. The Whizzard needed to die but I know it's only a matter of time before the King decides that KityCity has gotten to far out of his control. He never liked the way things were run here, the way I had subverted the govenor and implemented the brothel system. He saw it as an afront to his idea of how women should act and serve men.

The idiot failed to see how it the women were actually content with what they had here, and not in the braindead brainwashed state of Monstergirlopolis., they actually supported the government and had a vested interest in the citys well being. Its not like they denied service to anyone, only customers that got to violent or refused to pay were barred from service. He also failed to see how it focused 6th column activity on KityCity and how a certain level of infiltration was allowed to give them a sense of security so we could track their movements and collect other intel on them.

Where did he think he got all the info on the column up till now? Who had been feeding him and John the locations on guerilla bases?

Now KityCity might end up crushed and reduced to a cesspit like Fedoran always wanted and I have a dark suspicion what might happen to me if that happens. But I still ain't sure what I could do about it, I had my girls and the Inquisition was still loyal to me, and I think i could convince the town guard, but would that be enough? Somehow I doubt it. This isn't good, not good at all.
I'd suggest Armageddon. Theyre less likely to catch on AS quickly or perhaps the landing?

Maybe we can work a deal
Welcome my friends to the fabled city of New Babel, the rotten jewel of the south, the golden boil of Lenore, the largest and most dangerous harbor this side of the world. I am the Interpret, and I'll be your guide.

The first thing to know is where do you come from. And by that, I mean the country you were living before Lenore. Anything else doesn't really matter here.

You said you came for trade ? That's good, the Interregnum will be pleased. Or not. Actually maybe you could even get a motion for a resolution against you, but don't worry, even if it's voted nobody really enforce anything anyway.

You looks puzzled, mademoiselle. maybe I should explain how the government works. The Interregnum is supposed to mimic the United Nations assembly from Earth, but at the scale of /int/. Each nation would get a seat, and each nation would get the same power over the decisions. Of course, not every Earth nation has a citizen on /int/. So there is empty seats in theory, until one man or woman of said country come and claim his or her right. Well, you can imagine it easily, the nations with the largest manpower easily abuse the system. They simply use proxies, people acting like they are from another countries. You can easily spot them, they have overblown costumes, and speak in horrible accents. But proxies alone aren't enough to hold a seat here, that would be asking for a backstabbing, a rape, a disembowelment and a burning, and not in that order. You need weapons, wealth, power and influence to keep your rank at the assembly. You can say that behind every man at the Interregnum, there is a Coterie. If you want an example, right after the second wave a German proxy was occupying Poland's seat. A polish guy was watching the meeting of the assembly and, realizing his representative was speaking gibberish he called him out in public. The guy was shot on the spot by a member of the coterie. Since then, the polish have formed their own coterie and claimed their seat back.
Journal Log 88

I killed them. I killed all of them. Their characters anyways. The groups Shadowrun team suffered a full party wipe. I kept telling them, you don't go pink mohawk in Manhattan.

Anyways, the Fedorans sent out a few patrols into the woods to look for us. Several fell prey to traps, others just completely missed us and the ones that didn't fell quietly to our blades. Around noon we intercepted a runner from the nearby city heading for the remains of the fort. He had some kind of botched together device with him. We had no idea what it was until the builder made our daily sitrep to command. The meter on it went fucking crazy and pointed right at the antenna.

Yup, someone put together a radio locater. We let HQ know about this. I wonder how many more they have or if this was just a prototype. Well, either way, it's in my hands now. The radio is in listen only mode now and we're observing radio silence for the time being.

Now, let's see where these Fedoran radio emplacements are.
That's only the first layer of the Interregnum politics actually. Since the heroic times, no coterie controls more than one seat. The large early national coteries have broken down over ideologies and now are only united in name only.

No, it's not really gang wars. I mean, the coteries are more than gangs. They are countries within the city. The major ones are controlling the merchant fleets, the shipyards or the lumbermills. Most of them have privateers and fishing fleets at their disposal. In the city, they control territories and there isn't any part of the country unclaimed and uncontested.

Wait a minute, we can't pass here, it's New New Orleans. This is the territory of the American Black Supremacist party. It isn't safe for whites, especially since they are at war with the White Pride coterie of New Venice Beach. Of course both of those have seats at the Interregnum. The blacks have Uganda's seat and the whites the Dominican Republic.

There is also wars happening for the control of a seat. Currently, the Scottish Independent Party is fighting the British Libertarian Party over the seat of Angola.o So far, the Scottish coterie is backed by France, Ireland and Germany, and they are most likely to win. Gunfire ? Well, that's most likely, even if the British don't really like to fight on the ground.

You may think it's a miracle that the city is still standing independent and untouched after 3 years of war with /a/ right ? Well, beside the massive fleet, I think it's because everyone here is born a fighter. There is also some kind of pride in this glittering shithole of ours. I mean, even if we all love to banter each other, we don't want the japs to win. A single culture ? Are they nuts ? Bah, the few times the shoguns of /a/ have launched a large offensive, each coterie has gathered their forces and we all joined to repel them and their /i/ and /ic/ buttfriends. I like to say that New Babel is too putrid and toxic, even for the /a/mpire.
This gonna be good
We were moving through the tunnels recently, and encountered Fedorans. It was a red on Blue situation they caught us a little off guard. So in exchange we had to lead a long chase. This was not good we had been smuggling people out of Kity City and moving them to a staging area. The Fact the tunnels are compromised leaves us on an even footing. There's also talks of taking the assault on Kity City and setting it as a beach head. We're wary of this mostly as they're not ready for it. Fort Dunmer was a wash so we're back to moving through the damn jungle hunting hats.

There's talk of setting and consolidating forces again. The boats aren't being sent yet and we've sent a man with the handcrank 'vox' set. We're moving cautiously as possible and it doesn't help every damn person we run into is a liable enemy.
I took the guided tour. The city was nice in comparison to the /b/ wastes of a year ago, but I didn’t see anything that truly stood out as superior. Sure they would now be an organized enemy with level heads, at least for /b/ standards. However, I knew my people back home wouldn’t stop innovating while I was gone, and that was just the Tower. I’m sure the Confederacy has changed drastically while I was pissing away weeks of time up here in the North because some ignorant elf wanted to throw a tantrum and run out with mommy and daddy’s keys.

After we finished the tour I thanked Malus for his hospitality and informed him that I would be taking my draft of the truce back to the Confederacy with haste. I hoped that in time we could resolve our differences and work as neighbors. After all, if all of 4chan was brought to this world I was sure there would be a lot more sick and twisted people looking to stomp on our collective sandcastles. We might as well watch each other’s backs while we build towards bigger and better things.
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It took nearly two weeks riding at a leisurely pace for Mistress Morvayn and myself to reenter confederacy soil. We had been talking about what we saw throughout our expeditious flight north. A few days of attempting to mimic the Builder’s spoken language. Even a few days of picking flowers native to the northern climates. When we arrived at the gates of Cadia I called out for one of their guards to fetch me a courier as I had vital information for the Council to discuss. A courier came for me, but not to fetch my letter. Rather he delivered a letter from Jill marked nearly a month previous. War had broken out with our southern boarders.

While I was away sitting around Fort Typhus the Confederacy had been attacked twice and two major cities sacked. Mobilization of armies across the Confederacy had drawn resources from across the land. Jill wanted me to report to the Apiary 45 days ago. I can’t wait to hear what she has to say to chew me out. Morvayn and I let our wolves rest for the remainder of the day and then set off at first light for the Apiary.
The star Nacil has shifted into the eastern night sky while the Mortar and Pestle constellation has returned and is visible again. The planet of Lenore has shifted in its orbit and the last quarter of the year is about to begin. With these signs the Tower has been preparing for the 8th wave. The majority of our military is away and they will be greatly missed as we now have to scavenge the new arrivals without their skills. Couriers report that the Vengeful Eagle was spotted south of Kog sailing home. It should be back in port within three days if the winds stay in their favor.

We have increased the number of dead drop locations for maps leading towards the Tower as well as some basic information sketched out in drawings like “Don’t eat the bug that looks like this, you’ll go crazy” or “This plant is poison”. We should have done enough to show signs of civilization in our area for people to be able to find us. The massive logging campaigns to fuel our forge and kiln while cutting road paths should be one of the easiest signs for someone to spot and follow to us.

I do hope we manage to find additional people with medical expertise during the next wave. Having an EMT and a Pediatrician tag-team all of our health problems is causing a lot of undeserved stress on them. I wish I could help them out but my knowledge of medical technique ends at basic first aid.
Tis a sad time. My lord the great and mirthful Wizzzard had send me to personally oversee the destruction of Fort Dunmer. We sprayed those terrorists with our explosives and marked them with our scents, they have been humiliated! But what's this?! Upon my return to KityCity, I learn that my master has been murdered! With no one in charge, I stepped up, the great Aquarius The Golden!

I have already gathered the other wizzzards and marked each one to let them know it is I who is in charge and let others know by my musk that they are my property and under my protection! Now we all must begin copiously drinking fluids for we have a wet day ahead of us.

The King in the Grandest Hat demands this city be taught the lessons of humility and submission! We, the Wizzzards, will lead the way! All slaves will be brought before us, loyalty will be marked with the gifts of our glorious life giving golden waterfalls and traitors will drown in buckets, our scent being the last thing they ever know! Tis a far better fate than they deserve. I'm almost angry enough at these people for letting those spies and terrorists assassinate my Golden Lord that I may call forth Lord Diaper the Brown from Catan.

I'm sure he has some ideas on how to treat those who refuse to bathe in the warm waters of obedience.
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My genius continues to astound even me! That Avic thinks he is so smart with his stupid books and his freakish little minions. But I was the one who clad our people in the multiple colours of rainbow! Although most people seem to be happy wiht reds, greens and yellows, those like myself, with real taste, adorn themselves in as many colours as possible.

But that is not why Im a genius, no I am genius because I have realized something no one else has! Silk you see, is a very strong material and if handled properly, can be made into an effective bulletproof vest, not much against modern arms but against the new guns that /tg/ is supposed to be manufacturing or the matchlock handcanons, little more than hunks of wood with a metal barrel fixed on top, we are experimenting with they should work very nicely. Don't get the new fixation with the hand canons though, they are heavy, clunky and take forever to reload, pointless in my eyes.

Anyway back to Silk, its really strong right? And Rayon is basically just fake silk! Ergo Rayon should be able to serve as a lightweight and renewable source of armor that will protect us from /tg/s new firearms. So I had some fo the tailors help me create a prototype, tightly wound and heavily padded layers of rayon, all sewn together into a functional and stylish vest/jacket.
I am positive this will get me a reward from Lady S'ndra, heh heh, maybe even her personal favour......
But enough day dreaming. I even made sure to go out and hang it from a branch to take a few practice shots at it with one of the guards hand bows. The armor worked perfectly, the arrows just thudded into it and fell to the ground, one stuck for a second before just falling as well. No penetration at all beyond the first layer.
Now I just need to get a a hand on one of those handcannons and I can rub this new discovery in Avics big stupid face!
oh god /b/ is turning into the Eighties.
Truely a fate worse than death.
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*sigh* Why is everyone in this damn country so god damn stupid? Even the ones possessing even the slightest glimmer of any intelligence seem compelled by some moronic need to act like idiots. It seems I need to keep a constant watch on these buffoons if I don't want them to get themselves killed with their latest 'genius'experiment. Abignale poisoned himself on fumes off of his attempts at 'perfecting' the poison spitter and Ferdinand blew his hand off messing with black powder, fourth explosives related injury in the last four months.

Oh and lets not forget Dennis, fucking Dennis. Now I'll admit he showed potential, spotted those directions on how to properly create Rayon and put together that we had what we needed before anyone was even thinking about something like that. Took seven other scholars to actually figure out how to do it, but he was the one that got it all rolling. Even now im wearing a nice red evening jacket and pants with a white ascot. Very light and very comfortable. I had a small hope he might actually prove to be worth something.

Then he went and designed a silk bullet proof armor, and actually the design is quite good, going over it I see no reason it shouldnt have worked....oh wait, yes I can. He used fucking Rayon and not Silk. Now Rayon feels almost exactly like Silk close enought that its impossible for the average person to tell the difference, but in the end its an entirely different fabric, it just doesn't have the strength of the real deal. So when he stood proudly in the courtyard wearing that hideous vest and let another birdbrain shoot him with a hand cannon it should suprise no one that he took a bullet right through his right shoulder.

I just got done with his surgery and with any luck he should live, his arm will always hurt and he'll lose about 40% of its mobility, but he should live. I need to teach these people how to properly conduct tests and experiments, god damnit Im a doctor not a school teacher.
hehe lord I wonder what else they're gonna try. These guys sound like medieval 'wizards'
awesome, thats what im going for, at least for anyone except Avic
The only sane man in /b/
and he's just a bit of an asshole
It is time to clean this city as King Fedoran demands! I, along with the remaining wizzzards will start our way at the top and work our way down. First, we will call forth the Inquisition and cleanse them in my sacred waters, their loyalty will be known by my mark. From there, we will all cleanse the free Fedoran district to ensure there are no further Sixth Column hiding in their numbers. We will then spray away the filth of the refugee sector and finally the brothels and slave pits! Then we may begin restructuring the powerbase of this city. The King demands the brothel system be dismantled and by the golden sea it will be done. In the meantime, we, the wizzzards shall gather and hold a memorial for our assassinated lord, the Grand High Wizzzard. The drinks will flow freely in his memory.
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My ghost has briefly arisen to show my approval. Here is your membership card.
The troops are still tangled up chasing down Confederates. Things in the city must be getting hectic by now - but we can't afford to let off the pressure. We've got to break them here and now. Otherwise they'll just keep harassing us the whole time we're fighting the Confederates.

I can handle one or the other, but both are tricky.

There's enough of a garrison to keep your typical unarmed slave revolt down, but I'm keeping most of the troops out in the field. The Confederates and 6th column can't get through us all anyway.

We're tracking the tunnels. They lead everywhere.

The Cutebolds knew all along. Took gutting three of them before they talked. Old world slave trading tunnels. They gave excuses about not thinking we'd want to know about slave tunnels used just for them, but I'm no moron.

They're off radio duty. The crucified and burned remains of the ones I killed have been returned to their tribe.

Let the /d/m try to carry out his fucking punishment on me for it. I've been looking for an excuse to take that slimy bastard's head.
poor alien kobold...things.
I love my wives. I really, truly do. It's hard for some to believe, considering that they're brainwashed drones and I made them that way.

But I do. I could describe every feature of Lady Stepford's face, the way the light shines on her hair, her flat, plastic looking but sincere smile she had before I even met her.

I can remember the way the corner of her left eye twitches when she lies, or the unique way her body shivers when she orgasms.

I remember her scent. Rose Oil and Lenoran Oranges and sex fluids.

I love her, and the Confederates have taken her. THOSE MOTHERFUCKING BASTARDS TOOK MY WIFE!

It was never personal, before this. It was never about a vendetta. Just about preserving our way of life.

Today I'm going to go in and tell my daughters that some bad men took their mommy away, but daddy is going to make them pay.

I don't know how, but I will.
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Fedoran Radio Broadcast:

I don't know who you are, Confederates. I don't know what you want. If you are looking for ransom, I can tell you I don't have money. But what I do have are a very particular set of skills; skills I have acquired over a very long career. Skills that make me a nightmare for people like you. If you let my wife go now, that'll be the end of it. I will not look for you, I will not pursue you. But if you don't, I will look for you, I will find you, and I will kill you.
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Should of figured the Whizzards annoying disciples would make a powerplay eventually. They've been pretty clear about their intention to claim the city in the name of the King and to 'weed out' any traitors. Well the jokes on them, currently all the towns guards still answer to me and while they might not be usefull in actively eliminating this problem I certainly have enough power to ensure that they aren't in the vicinity of the Grand High Whizzards funeral. Instead the only forces in the area will be Inquisition agents in Guard uniforms and plain clothes agents hidden in the area.

They were just there for clean up though, no one questions the slaves after all and if you promise them even a little hope they tend to be willing to do damn near anything. Even if that anything is acting as a pallbearer and slipping in a couple of those piss bombs into the casket of the Late Whizzard. They wouldnt know, none of them wanted to open the casket to see the body directly, it was disgusting mess after his high speed collision with the ground. They were all there, in their piss coloured robes bereaving their spiritual liege, if he was such a great man why were they never the ones to endure his golden showers rather than my girls? Bastards every one of them, I felt no remorse for what was about to happen. If anything I was cleaning up the gene-pool, filtering out the sewage from the clean water as it were.

Half-way through the service, when everyone was around the casket to lower it into the ground, the timer went off and the lot of them were engulfed in a balck cloud of smoke as pieces of wood, stone and flesh were flunf in every direction. I watched from close by through a pair of binoculars as Inquisition agents combed through the area, eliminating survivors with knives, no need to waste ammo on lowlifes. This would cinch it though, there was no maintaining our position in the Fedoran Kingdom after this, I was either a traitor or an incompetent. This could get bad.

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The aftermath was pretty messy, body parts, mutilated bodies and bloodstained piss robes everywhere. Several were still alive, mostly those furthest away from the initial point of detonation. The Whizzards casket was once a huge ornately decorated thing, its size one part opulance and one part need to accomodate the fatarse immense bulk, its side covered in imagery of the dead mans favourite subject, piss. I remember one carving in particular of a lich version of the Whizzard floating above undead hordes, unleashing a torrent of a golden shower on to their open waiting mouths. Revolting. Now it was shattered in pieces and its contents were an even finer mashed jelly splattered all across the graveyard.

As I said earlier, my agents were busy putting knives in their backs or across the throats of the survivors. They'd be finished soon and the most intact bodies would be collected to be hung from the scratching post, they would serve as my first sign of rejection of Catan. If I planned to survive this and to keep my girls safe throughout the first thing to do would be to win the city over to my side, otherwise im likely to end up just like the last mayor of this city.

I thinkt he slaves would be my starting point, if I could convince them to side with me then I might stand a chance. At the very least their numbers might buy me enough time to escape to safety with the girls. I'll see this city burn and its people dead before I allow Fedoran to reduce me or my girls to living fleshlights for the King and his men.
To say I was surprised would have been a bit of an understatement. Not the Lion I was waiting for.

This ‘Minny’ was certainly different from the other Inquisitorial Agents I had seen before, but something that I have learned well before I came to Lenore. Never judge a book by its cover.

So first I delivered the message that Manx had tasked me with. My boss, Manx, wanted to have a ‘chat’ with Her Boss, this Lord Inquisitor. Until that meeting was made, the 6th Column and Catachans in K.C. would maintain a Cease-Fire, one which they would keep as long as the Inquisition kept themselves in line. As for a meeting place, Manx thought of the Former Governor’s Palace. On that note, we really need to move that fatass from the Huron Cell safe house, dude’s eating them out of house and larder.

Then after I got that out of the way came the Orphans, the newborns that the Cutebolds saved. We’ve been doing our best to find the original parents, but hope on that front is slim. We are not a Nursery, we are at the limit of what we can do. I under other circumstances wouldn’t have approached the Inquisition on this with a 10 foot pool, but this isn’t about me. It’s about our collective future, and we can’t let it wither and die.

Along with that came up the possible freeing of the Cutebolds, but the likelihood of this happening before the Meeting was slim in my opinion.

“So ya, not a small order in the least, and sorry I don’t do much relaxing. You can blame that on my stint in MGP. Oh and send your Boss our thanks for dealing with the Wizzard, we had people in place, but you beat us to the punch. So congrats and all that jazz.”
serves the fuckers right.
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So I was sent by my boss to meet this guy who was sent by his boss to pass a message that his boss wanted to meet my boss...im a secretary aren't I? Whatever, its the least I can do for Ms.Fortune, she'd repeatedly put herself on the line for all of us and had made sure us girls were protected even in the worst of times. It would be simple enough to organize a metting in the old palace, the Fat Cats castle, it had been under constant surveillance by Inquisition thugs since the death of the Whizzard and they would be able to secure a safe meeting without much problem.

Then it got a little strange and he brought up babies of all things, they seemed to have smuggled out and saved the babies that the Whizzard wanted disposed of after he had been forbidden from tossing them out of the tower. That was wonderful news, we all knew it had been happening but there was little we could do about it, with their return they could be safely raised and our future on this planet secured. The brothels would be able to take them in and they could be handed over to the nurseries for proper care. In the past Ms. Fortune would of considered taking the orphans and enrolling them in a special program to train loyal Inquisition agents, I knew her well enough to suspect she had allready drawn up plans for such in the future, but I would ensure these children were properll taken care of, this was something I wouldnt budge on and I let him know.

He also brought up the Cutebolds, the cute little furry things that had been brought by the Whizzards to serve as codetalkers, they wanted them free, well I couldnt agree to that, but I could promise they wouldnt be abused any more between now and the meeting its not like any of their past abusers were even alive any more and no one else had access to them.

"Oh I don't think its to much we can't handle. Would you like a drink before you get back to your boss? It would be on the house, see it as a toast to the end of a horrible mans life?"

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