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Back to the Archive The Atlantis Times for March in the Year 4
edited by your trustworthy gamemaster
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signed articles
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Grey Wind (27) writes:
We're foot-slog-slog-slog-sloggin' over Africa -
Foot-foot-foot-foot-sloggin' over Africa -
(Boots-boots-boots-boots-movin' up an' down again!)
There's no discharge in the war!
Seven-six-eleven-five-nine-an'-twenty mile to-day -
Four-eleven-seventeen-thirty-two the day before -
(Boots-boots-boots-boots-movin' up an' down again!)
There's no discharge in the war!
Don't-don't-don't-don't-look at what's in front of you.
(Boots-boots-boots-boots-movin' up an' down again)
Men-men-men-men-men go mad with watchin' em,
An' there's no discharge in the war!
Try-try-try-try-to think o' something different -
Oh-my-God-keep-me from goin' lunatic!
(Boots-boots-boots-boots-movin' up an' down again!)
There's no discharge in the war!
Count-count-count-count-the bullets in the bandoliers.
If-your-eyes-drop-they will get atop o' you!
(Boots-boots-boots-boots-movin' up an' down again) -
There's no discharge in the war!
We-can-stick-out-'unger, thirst, an' weariness,
But-not-not-not-not the chronic sight of 'em -
Boot-boots-boots-boots-movin' up an' down again,
An' there's no discharge in the war!
'Taint-so-bad-by-day because o' company,
But night-brings-long-strings-o' forty thousand million
Boots-boots-boots-boots-movin' up an' down again.
There's no discharge in the war!
I-'ave-marched-six-weeks in 'Ell an' certify
It-is-not-fire-devils, dark, or anything,
But boots-boots-boots-boots-movin' up an' down again,
An' there's no discharge in the war!
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Klingons (57) writes:
yo'aj Kahless,
News has traveled on the Grey Winds of the excursion into the Swamps of Siendinon by those who remain loyal to the Northern Wizards. We have eradicated their northern borders, and now the mang find them between their encampments and their homes. After we cleanse the peninsula of their infestation we will shift our mounted troops south to catch them between our garrisons and the hooves of the HuD.
Meanwhile, we find ourselves fighting on a second front. Multiple seaborne incursions have been reported into the forests of Durness. The invaders have scales and the ability to breath underwater. They are wily, and have caught our garrisons unawares. Luckily their first incursion was in a region adjacent to Bal-a-menak; this had allowed us to provide for a rapid response to this threat. Unfortunately, the second incursion was in the far northern stretches of the forests, where our ability to respond in strength is more limited.
Nonetheless, I am confident of Victory.
Spring is here. With it comes battle and Honor.
nuHpIn, Weapons Officer
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Red Drogans (129) writes:
Tanly drew back the string till the feather was touching his ear.
Braught the tip of the arrow onto target.
Then raised it slightly to accomodate the fall over the distance.
Held it.
Let fly.
The arrow started out climbing slightly, but soon dropped in a shallow arc to the dummy at the far end of the field.
It had drifted slightly and lodged above the right hip.
"Nock!" Yelled the Sargeant.
He pulled the next arrow from his quiver, which was starting to get empty, nocked it to the string.
"Draw!"
He drew the string back. The bow initially above his head to aid the pull, then dropping down until the arrow was pointing at the target and the bow was as full power.
"Aim!"
He lifted the point to above the dummy to accomodate the drop. Slightly left, say above the ear for the light breeze.
"Loose!"
He let loose.
Again the arrow sprang accross the gap in a heart beat. Followed shortly after by the sound of it's impact with the dummy. This time low right chest.
To his left and right stood a line of archers, most of whom took a moment to groan. Some because they had missed the target, more because their arms were acking. As was his.
70 something arrows already. He glanced down at the quiver as he pulled the next arrow. 2 left. 78 arrows. Actually 77 plus the one in hand. They would go forward to fetch this batch again soon.
Their 5 minute break would be spent pulling or fetching the 20 arrows spent.
Then they would gather for the next round.
His arm ached becaust that was a lot of arrows. His arm ached because it's what they did the whole day yesterday.
It was noon-ish. They would take a lunch breack after the 100. But would have another after lunch.
And they would do it all again tomorrow.
"Loose!"
Straight as an arrow they say. His arrow arced down and snicked the edge of the dummy. Deflecting to embed itself somedistance away in the field.
So he would have to walk and fetch it.
"Nock!"
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Order of Chaos (139) writes:
Surelleey Loost chuckled to himself thinking of the prank he'd played on Moslleey. Try to send him haring off to some evil and foul smelling gods forsaken swamp! Not likely! Poberlley thought he was so wise, but hadn't realized that Moslleey having just taken an apprentice on, was the one the lot fell to. Can't have a bunch of gutter sweepings and crazies wandering about unattended, that was his duty at the moment. He surely wasn't going into that foul cauldron just to dispose of some Pirates. Not when the area was off at the end of the Skewed-eyed gods forsaken rump of the world! Chuckling softly at the thought of Moslleey, wading through swamps with a bunch of fumbled fingered and half-crazed militiamen trying to chase down Pirates that certainly knew that lair as their own, he returned to his studies.
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Redbull (201) writes:
Sitting Bull wrote in his diary:
I have scanned the Times articles for those that are interested in hearing from others and found it lacking. The more challenging task remains: scan it for meaningful political information and avoid the hubris. Still, I made some contacts from the first activity, much remains to be seen about the latter.
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rumors
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You are not in my shoes.
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Nobody is born a loser. It takes years to mature into that, and decades to master.
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old issues of the Atlantis Times can be found in the Times Archive on the Atlantis page http://www.arno-saxena.de/atlantis/
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48
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waiting list:
0
| | | | Actual Turn:
95
| | | | Next Turnrun:
Sunday
12.09.2010
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