Storytime, Geek Style!
This weekend we had a LAN party. If you don't know what that means, don't even read this entry, and go watch this.
Food was had, drinks were drunk, and games were played. This is all assumed to be true, and it was so. Between some high-stakes Rise of Nations, some partylicious City of Heroes, and some good old fashioned Unreal Tournament 2004 fragging, there was quite a lot of action to be had. But the highlight of the weekend came from Rome: Total War, wherein we have the following tale- The Treason Of Suzangard.
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Hear my tale, kings and warlords, for I am the sage to the fallen Vizier of Chaos, and I alone am left of my lord's once-mighty army, where we stood at the fields of the city-state of Scypium against the might of five great empires. I alone am left to warn the world: She is coming.
Perhaps we could have stopped her, had the dread knights of Lord Reject not dashed our cavalry to pieces in their mad rush to honourable and glorious death. We broke their spirit and crushed them to the man, but at a terrible cost. Thusly weakened, we would never be able to challenge the Dark Queen, massing her forces on the mountain of Scipius.
Far away, the barbarian hordes of Vulgar gathered on the wide plains, pausing only to repel a desperate strike into their flanks by the Muse Princess's elephantine raiders. Vulgar's troops marched forward, ready to crush all who stood in their way, and already imagining what lamenting women sounded like.
Only the young but wise General Fizreppicus of Rome offered the barbarians a valid challenge, positioned on the slopes of Scipius and waiting for the barbarians to come close enough to attack. But he was outnumbered by a large margin, and so he called to the one army strong enough to support him: the Dark Queen, the Ghost Writer. The Treacherous.
My lord had challenged her rear guard troops, and driven many into cowardly flight, but our forces were not enough to withstand her counterassault, and in the end, only my lord, six of his finest horsemen, and I were left. Alone we could not challenge anyone. So we watched, and moved to a position of advantage, listening to the exchanges taking place as the battle lines were drawn. Around the base of Scipius we rode, as our spies heard the following:
F: Ok, Vulgar is coming. We need to hit him together.
G: Right. What do we do?
F: Get all your troops together. We'll rush down the mountain and crush him with a charge.
G: Ok, all my guys are at the top. Give the signal.
V: GROAAARRRR! BARBARIAN SMASH!
F: Here he comes. Get ready.
G: Oh, I'm ready.
Oh Fizreppicus, the young, the naive! If only he could have seen what I had seen, for as the Ghost Writer lined her forces up atop Scipius, she kept two battalions back, far out of sight. What dire purpose could she have in mind?
The charge sounded, and Romans and Barbarians clashed at the base of the mountain. The horns of Rome sounded, calling to their ally for aid, and it came... as a legion of equine death, riders borne on dark steeds, charging without abandon into the rear of Fizreppicus's engaged forces. The screams of the dying echoed on the wind, but none so loud as the general's cry, "TRAITOROUS WENCH I KEEL YOU!!!!"
My lord shook his head sadly. "We cannot let the barbarians survive. We shall drive their survivors into the dust." And so we charged once more, routing Vulgar's siege engines and then circling back for a final pass. "Death to the betrayer of men!" the Vizier shouted, and our lances plunged into their armies. All for naught; death came to us as it had come to all others, and only I escaped to warn the world.
The Ghost Writer comes for you all.
Food was had, drinks were drunk, and games were played. This is all assumed to be true, and it was so. Between some high-stakes Rise of Nations, some partylicious City of Heroes, and some good old fashioned Unreal Tournament 2004 fragging, there was quite a lot of action to be had. But the highlight of the weekend came from Rome: Total War, wherein we have the following tale- The Treason Of Suzangard.
-----
Hear my tale, kings and warlords, for I am the sage to the fallen Vizier of Chaos, and I alone am left of my lord's once-mighty army, where we stood at the fields of the city-state of Scypium against the might of five great empires. I alone am left to warn the world: She is coming.
Perhaps we could have stopped her, had the dread knights of Lord Reject not dashed our cavalry to pieces in their mad rush to honourable and glorious death. We broke their spirit and crushed them to the man, but at a terrible cost. Thusly weakened, we would never be able to challenge the Dark Queen, massing her forces on the mountain of Scipius.
Far away, the barbarian hordes of Vulgar gathered on the wide plains, pausing only to repel a desperate strike into their flanks by the Muse Princess's elephantine raiders. Vulgar's troops marched forward, ready to crush all who stood in their way, and already imagining what lamenting women sounded like.
Only the young but wise General Fizreppicus of Rome offered the barbarians a valid challenge, positioned on the slopes of Scipius and waiting for the barbarians to come close enough to attack. But he was outnumbered by a large margin, and so he called to the one army strong enough to support him: the Dark Queen, the Ghost Writer. The Treacherous.
My lord had challenged her rear guard troops, and driven many into cowardly flight, but our forces were not enough to withstand her counterassault, and in the end, only my lord, six of his finest horsemen, and I were left. Alone we could not challenge anyone. So we watched, and moved to a position of advantage, listening to the exchanges taking place as the battle lines were drawn. Around the base of Scipius we rode, as our spies heard the following:
F: Ok, Vulgar is coming. We need to hit him together.
G: Right. What do we do?
F: Get all your troops together. We'll rush down the mountain and crush him with a charge.
G: Ok, all my guys are at the top. Give the signal.
V: GROAAARRRR! BARBARIAN SMASH!
F: Here he comes. Get ready.
G: Oh, I'm ready.
Oh Fizreppicus, the young, the naive! If only he could have seen what I had seen, for as the Ghost Writer lined her forces up atop Scipius, she kept two battalions back, far out of sight. What dire purpose could she have in mind?
The charge sounded, and Romans and Barbarians clashed at the base of the mountain. The horns of Rome sounded, calling to their ally for aid, and it came... as a legion of equine death, riders borne on dark steeds, charging without abandon into the rear of Fizreppicus's engaged forces. The screams of the dying echoed on the wind, but none so loud as the general's cry, "TRAITOROUS WENCH I KEEL YOU!!!!"
My lord shook his head sadly. "We cannot let the barbarians survive. We shall drive their survivors into the dust." And so we charged once more, routing Vulgar's siege engines and then circling back for a final pass. "Death to the betrayer of men!" the Vizier shouted, and our lances plunged into their armies. All for naught; death came to us as it had come to all others, and only I escaped to warn the world.
The Ghost Writer comes for you all.