(IR) The 3rd IR, Turn 3 (thread 2) - Page 11





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  1. #101

    Re: Rhialto...

    Originally posted by JohnBrown
    Sure, you could disrupt some things, but cause mass panic like you did before, I kind of doubt it.

    Now, before I tell you what Iuz is going to do to your insignificant agents during his little work-breaks, are you sure you want to come mess with IBKSC?
    I'm not trying to cause mass panic, Iuz, merely a certain level of confusion among your troops.

    Thus, no mass demonstrations, no factories bombed, no acts of terrorism. Just confusing orders, and food and weapon shipments not showing up where they should.

    If you all imagine that some of the most popular anti-military techniques of all time are ineffectual, please go ahead.

    But to paraphrase Michael Coreleone, "If history has taught us one thing, it's that you can kill anyone."

    (BTW-of course I'm going to take on the IBKSC. You're already my enemies. In fact most people are. I accept this and move on.)

 

  • #102
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    ø Ignore Forrester
    And Edena is still quiet.

    Dammit, who is winning??!!

  • #103
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    ø Ignore William Ronald
    Wrong again, Rhialto.

    I directly contacted the player Maudlin and his NPC Koreth Zan about your activities.

    Oh, well you can't be right about everything.

  • #104
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    ø Ignore JohnBrown
    O.K., Rhialto, try this one for an opening shot .

    Any and all agents that are captured alive (please let’s not get into a debate about whether or not is possible to catch a handful of people, because a handful is all I need) are brought before the Arcane arm of the Culture Officers. Once there they are subjected, to a battery of Rary’s Memory Alteration spells. (The various Rary mind reading and influencing spells are very popular right now among the Culture Officers ). After a few mind scans are preformed to make sure the new memories have taken hold, they are simply let go. I could pump enough disinformation into your network that it might take months to recover…all with just a few captured agents. Sure, the effects of the spell can be corrected, but the agent or his controller would have no reason to do so. Everything is fine as far as they know.
    After all it's all about having fun...

  • #105
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    ø Ignore JohnBrown

    One last post before going to bed…:)

    Edena,

    This is yet another "you make the call" deals . William and I would like to know if we could airlift Doomgrinder with the use of dwarven mountain Spelljammers. Once the Culture Officers finished smacking the derro engineers over their head to make them stop spitting on the dwarves, we believe that it would be feasible for these to very ingenious races, working together (with the Culture Officers keeping the derro in line) to figure out how that could be accomplished. Even if it only reduced the travel time some it would still be a big help. Doomgrinder moves so slowly anyways that it wouldn’t have to stop while they are working on the details. It could keep rolling along crushing everything in its path

    Anyway, goodnight all, be checking in again Monday about 9:00 p.m. CST. William, I leave you in command of my forces (just like everyone else ).
    After all it's all about having fun...

  • #106
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    ø Ignore William Ronald
    John,

    Another excellent idea.

    The Kevellond League, The Union of Light and Shadow, The Baklunish-Esmerin Confederation, The Alliance of the Northwestern Crescent, the Ulek states, the Pomarj and their allies try to imitate your opening shot. They also are sending in troops to oppose Vecna. The anti-Red Death Plague remedies are spread around Oerth and Greyspace.

    Any research into useful cures for illnesses or other useful information is shared with allies, especially Forrester and Gnomeworks.

    Rary receives 40 casks of fine brandy. Inquiries are also sent for advice on making this plan work.

    Larissa Hunter, mayor of what was once the proud city of Dyvers, walks over to Archcleric Hazen. An old man is by her side. He walks slowly, leaning on her for support.

    "Archcleric Hazen," Larissa says. She is a grey haired woman in her 50s. There is a look of grief in her face but steely determination. "This is Sir Sammel Hain, the innkeeper who was one of the last defenders of Dyvers. I just knighted him for his efforts."

    "I am honored to meet you. I have heard you helped organize efforts to oppose the Shade and aid in the evacuation efforts. You saved many lives, and have my gratitude."

    "My Lord," Sammel says in a weary voice. "I was drafted to serve in the Greyhawk Wars and at the Battle of Emridy fields. I am an old soldier. What else could I do?"

    Archcleric Hazen pins a medal on Sammel's chest. It is shaped like the two hemispheres of Oerth in the flag of the Oerth Alliance, complete with a silver infinity symbol cradling the two halves of the world.

    "I honored to present you with the Order of the Oerth Alliance. It is given to those who go above and beyond the call of duty. By any rights, you did not have to act. You are 90 years old. However, you chose to answer the call of duty and placed your life in peril. "

    "Thank you, your Holiness," Sammel says. "Mayor Hunter is going to help restore me to a more youthful condition so I can give our young pups some good advice on the battle field. I am not so old that I won't fight for my city or Oerth. Interesting idea this Oerth Alliance? Did it just happen?"

    "No, Sir Samell, it took months of hard work. Already it has reaped great benefits. A cure for the Red Death plague. Better weapons and technology. But we are determined to preserve what is best of the present and the past while building a better future. I wish you well on the battlefield."

    Sammel bows slightly, the best that a man of his years can manage. "Lord, thanks for the hard work." He and Larissa Hunter walk away.

    "Good people, both of them. We will need more of their courage in the days to come."
    Last edited by William Ronald; Monday, 4th March, 2002 at 07:09 AM.

  • #107
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    ø Ignore Edena_of_Neith
    Vecna's forces are attacking along a wide front.
    Against the forces of William and John Brown, on the North Front.
    Against the forces of Dagger and his allies on the Central Front.
    Against the forces of Turrosh Mak on the Southern Front.

    There is no effective way to tell how much of Vecna's force is where at the moment ... there are over a hundred million combatants, spread out over thousands of square miles of land.
    The Shade, previously uninvolved, throw their entire force into the assault, backing Vecna, since they were attacked first.
    The Doomgrinder pulls itself out of the very bedrock of the Oerth, and begins stomping with the feet of titans towards the Shadow Throne.

    And the battle rages.
    It rages.
    People and beings, monsters and undead, are fed into the War Machine like branches of felled trees into a thousand chippers, with about the same gruesome results.
    Hour after hour the two forces fight, titans blasting at each other at 20 paces.
    The magical firefight is visible from Luna, Oerth's moon.
    The dead litter the battlefield, then they pile up in gruesome heaps, then there are hills of the slain.
    As the powerful spells and high tech weapons slug away at each other, everything that stands above ground - trees, rocks, buildings - are all pulverized.
    The battle rages, hour after hour.
    The first day of the battle passes. Over a wide region, it looks like the eruption of Mount St Helens, with the ground churned up, great slabs of shattered bedrock sticking up out of the mud, lakes turned into sludgepools, rivers erased from the map.
    The Torilians descend in their full strength.
    Spelljammers roar into the battle.
    Dragons scream down out of the skies.
    The heavens themselves are filled with explosions, gouts of fire, rains of acid, clouds of sulphur and clorine gas, even as the Lortmil Technomancy sprays gasoline and phosphorus down upon the Legions of Vecna.

    In the midst of it all stands Vecna.
    No spell touches him, no blade can pierce his armor.
    He roars in exultation and glee, as his staff, hissing and turned jet black, fires gout after gout of flame and acid.
    Where the acid hits the ground, the ground evaporates, leaving giant craters. Even the tiniest drops of that acid burn holes in solid stone.
    Where the fire slashes across the countryside, trees instantly burn to ash, rocks explode and the shards melt into white hot lava, and men turn into heaps of ash, blown away in the superheated winds.
    Fires burn out of control across all of southeastern Furyondy, through Gnarley Forest, through the Welkwood.
    All of the Flanaess as far east as the Sea Barons see the sun cut off, the sky turn black, from the great fires in the west.
    Ash falls make breathing difficult, and bury towns, in Nyrond, Urnst, and the western Dark Union.
    Wild Magic storms rage across the Flanaess, with great multicolored clouds filling the sky, lightning striking down at the earth, hurricane force winds sweep across the terrain.

    Kalden, Prince of Swords, meets Vecna in one on one battle.
    Kalden is the greatest swordsman in all of Oerth.
    He sweeps forth his sword, and a bright light strikes down upon him amidst the darkness, and his sword flames like the sun.
    However, Vecna is almost as fast with his staff, and the two duel, sword against staff.
    Long and epic is that duel, as the two fight.
    Again and again, Kalden wounds Vecna, his sword the sword of a demipower, piercing Vecna's Prismatic Armor, cutting the undead flesh, causing Vecna to howl in pain.
    Time and again, Vecna's staff swipes at Kalden, and Kalden cries out, his skin blackened and burned where the staff touched him.

    However, Vecna's endurance seems unlimited, and ever the hellish light burns in his eyes, and with the progression of the battle he grows in stature, and does not weaken.
    He knocks Kalden's sword wide, and with one great thrust, runs him through with his staff, burning a hole 4 inches wide right through Kalden's body, through his heart.

    As Kalden falls to his knees, dying, impaled on the staff, Vecna snarls gleefully at him:

    BOY, IT TAKES MORE THAN A SWORD TO MAKE A WARRIOR!
    YOU SHALL JOIN YOUR FRIENDS IN THAT GREAT ASTRAL GRAVEYARD IN THE SKY!

    He rips his staff upward. It tears through Kalden's upper body, through his neck, and divides his head in half.
    The pieces of Kalden go flying in every direction.
    Vecna shatters Kalden's sword with a blast from his staff.
    Then he grinds Kalden's remains into the ground with his feet, and burns them until the ground underneath them bubbles and froths like water in a cauldron.

    The Dragons breathe their huge gouts of fire, acid, pure energy, blowing titantic holes in the ground, burning vast strips across the landscape, massacring thousands of Vecna's people with each hit.
    Clerics and mages fly up and give battle to the dragons.
    Armed with jars filled with gray ooze, they slime the dragons, and before the dragons can save themselves, they topple out of the air in ruin, and gigantic gray oozes rise out of the wreckage, attacking both sides, devouring tree, grass, undead, and living alike.
    Other mages throw flensing, and watch in glee as the dragons are flensed.
    First their scales are peeled off, and go flying as deadly missiles down upon the battlefield.
    Then their skin is peeled off, and then muscle and flesh starts raining down, along with cloudbursts of blood, as the death screams of dragons shatters stone and leaves the living staggering, hands held to their ears, blood running through their fingers.

    Iuz reaps a grim harvest through the Legions of Vecna, and none can stand against the might of the Old One.
    Champions and powerful undead go down before him, and weaker undead cower or run, terrified.
    Finally, a force of liches assemble, and give battle to the Old One.
    Necromantic spells fly back and forth like arrows, until the sky turns black with expending energy, and gray lightning crackles all around.
    The ground animates, thousands of undead Earth Elementals rising from it, berserk and under nobody's control.
    They attack Iuz.
    They attack the liches.
    Both are forced to flee before that onslaught.
    The enraged undead elementals then storm into the armies on either side, hammering with their fists, pulverizing man and horse alike, snatching up whole trees and using them in great roundhouse sweeps.

    The elves attempt to defend the Welkwood from the Legions of Vecna.
    The treants cause all the trees of the forest to awaken and come to their aid.
    A million trees, tremendously strong with the strength of ancient wood, descend on the undead forces of the foe.
    However, the Legions of Vecna unleash firestorms, and Meteor Swarms, and they turn all the underlying soil to mud.
    They envelop the trees with greyish radiances, and the trees wither and die, then reanimate as undead treants, and these command the trees to turn on their own.
    Branches and whole trunks of trees crash down by the thousands as the tree armies battle, while underneath, elf and undead battle hand to hand, and thousands of spells light up the carnage.

    The Shade come into the battle.
    Using the Power of Shade, they whelm the light of the foe, drown thousands of their foes in the pall of Shadow, the screams and defiant cries of elves and men and dwarves not availing them.

    Then the Doomgrinder stomps into view, and the forces of Shade turn hastily to meet THIS monster.
    Even the Shade did not expect this, nor did Vecna.
    Against the titantic construct that is the Doomgrinder, the Shade hurl everything they have, while the Doomgrinder raises it's great feet, and brings them down.
    Thousands of the Shade have no time to even scream as they are instantly crushed into pulp, and the earth itself is pushed down into a new depression.

    The tanks fire, artillery roars, machine gun nests spray the enemy with bullets.
    Gasoline and sulpher, and phosphorus, make for a primitive napalm, and tens of thousands of Vecna's troops, undead and living alike, melt into goo on the battlefield.
    Lightning bolts and fireballs slam into the machine gun nests, blowing them asunder.
    Cones of Cold and Icestorms slam the tanks - unavailing.
    Then Acid Storms rain down upon the defenders, and the tanks and those within them perish in agony as they dissolve and melt into the sodden ground.

    Spelljammers fire round after round of ballistae and catapult shots at the Flying Ships of the Sky-Sea League, along with the more high tech machine gun fire and impromptu artillery fire.
    The Flying Ships fire back.
    Dozens of ships on both sides are torn asunder, sails dropping, decks awash with blood and the bodies of corpses.

    The great Flying Citadels, however, prove more than a match for Acererak's spelljammers, and against the great Dwarven Mountains, their firepower proves futile.
    One by one, Acererak's spelljammers topple out of the air, falling in flaming wreckage onto the battlefield below.
    Powerful clerics and mages, liches and vampires, teleport into the Flying Citadels and Dwarven Spelljamming Mountains, and summon forces.
    However, the defenders were expecting this, and strike with holy symbols, holy water, and large numbers of point blank spells and enchanted arrows.
    Time and again, the mages, clerics, and undead attempting to gain the Flying Citadels and Mountains are beaten back, or sent screaming over the sides to topple thousands of feet into the ground below.
    Time and again, the defenders hold off the invasion, and hundreds of the high level attackers perish.
    However, finally, they establish a beachhead on one of the Dwarven Mountains.
    With that beachhead established, they summon more, and then yet more, of their undead kindred.
    The dwarves fight toe to toe with the Legions of Vecna, hammers and spiked armor, battlerager and dwarven Defender, versus the infuriated vampires, ghosts, wraiths, and spectres. Against the dark mages and clerics.
    The Legions of Vecna prove too strong. The dwarves are driven back, and back, hundreds of them killed, their bodies withering and shrivelling from Negative Material Energy.
    The undead gain the control room.
    The dwarves, seeing the battle is lost, sabotage the controls.
    The dwarven mountain goes out of control, and slams into the side of the Lortmil Mountains, shattering, a monstrous avalanche of broken rock crashing like a waterfall down the side of the mountain range, taking thousands of dwarves and thousands of undead with them, burying the forests below in huge piles of debris.

    The Knights of the Kevellond League lower their lances and charge, cutting deep swaths in the ranks of their foes.
    Only to be hit by massed fireballs, their armor melting, their bodies melting, shrieking as they die.
    Kevellond Mages target the Mages of Vecna with their own fireball barrage, and hundreds of them die as plumes of fire soar into the heavens, filling the sky, turning the whole battlefield a garish red.
    But the surviving enemy mages fire back with necromantic magic.
    Kevellond mages scream in agony as greyish radiance covers them, sucks the very life out of them, their bodies turning into withered husks, then rising as undead monsters and turning on their own side.
    Clerics raise their holy symbols, which flame with blue light, to repel and destroy the undead of Vecna.
    The clerics of Vecna raise unholy symbols, glowing purple and mauve, to counter this attack.
    On the evil side, undead shriek and run, or are blasted into oblivion, turning into motes of silver light.
    On the good side, paladins reel, blood running from their eyes and mouths, crashing to the ground, fleeing the battle.

    Ever the battle intensifies, grows more and more terrible.
    The very ground starts to shake, as the magic deluges it, blood covers it and fills it, and the battle tears great ragged wounds in it.

  • #108
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    ø Ignore Maudlin
    Originally posted by Edena_of_Neith
    The great Flying Citadels, however, prove more than a match for Acererak's spelljammers, and against the great Dwarven Mountains, their firepower proves futile.
    One by one, Acererak's spelljammers topple out of the air, falling in flaming wreckage onto the battlefield below.
    Tremendous post, Edena!

    However the above is probably a mis-reading Don't have any spelljammers, I was sniping them out of the sky myself.
    Last edited by Maudlin; Monday, 4th March, 2002 at 08:44 AM.

  • #109
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    ø Ignore Edena_of_Neith
    The Allied Forces have lost 73 PL worth of armies.
    Over a million elves, dwarves, humans, Torilians, Torilian kender, gnomes, and humanoids lay dead on the battlefield.
    Millions of Shade, and the men, women, and undead of the Legions of Vecna, lay dead, or in the case of the undead literally torn to pieces.

    There is no longer a Gnarley Forest (Maudlin, erase it from the map.)
    There is no longer a Wild Coast in the Flanaess.
    Only a shattered, broken moonscape remains where it was, and northern Wolly Bay is filled with mud and debris.

    Incredibly, the defensive line is holding.
    Vecna and the Shade have not been able to break through.
    They have lost 80 PL in their massive offensive.

    Turrosh Mak and Forrester have bourne the brunt of the losses, as Turrosh Mak was on the front lines, and Forrester's people dropped in to support him.
    GnomeWorks suffered the next most severely, for he also deployed a great force to the front lines.

    Do the allied forces continue to hold their defensive lines, or do they retreat?
    Do the forces of Iuz continue their advance on Shadow Throne, or halt?
    Last edited by Edena_of_Neith; Monday, 4th March, 2002 at 08:48 AM.

  • #110
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    ø Ignore Edena_of_Neith
    In what may be the most poignant moment in the war, the forces of the Black Brotherhood, long awaiting this moment, have successfully attacked and taken the Doomgrinder from the forces of Iuz.

    The mountainous construct that is the Doomgrinder, turns around, and assails the forces of Iuz to the east.
    Racing towards victory, the forces of Iuz are now confronted by the giant contraption, which starts stomping them into red puddles.
    Even the very bedrock that was undeer them cracks and shatters, as the giant construct brings it's unearthly weight down, and great earthquakes rumble through all the Cairn Hills.

    The forces of Iuz, may attempt to retake the Doomgrinder.
    The word Doomgrinder is taking on a whole new meaning now ... (even I did not know that it was a giant construct!)
    Last edited by Edena_of_Neith; Monday, 4th March, 2002 at 08:57 AM.

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