I think you may have done those in the wrong order, Monk...you can't very well take 124 without taking 125 first.
Your AP is also off. Takes 1 action to conquer 112, 1 to raze it, which leaves you with 3 actions remaining once more.
So after all of that, you could still either continue conquering, or take two additional actions, since you have them left over.
But on a different note...
"We have come far."
Murmurs of agreement follow this simple statement of fact.
"We have prospered in these lands, and for the past two years, we have been free of the Ocean's grip. The grounds here are fertile, and we have dispersed the lakes to water our fields and feed our homes."
A few snarls greeted the mention of their self-bound nemesis, though they quieted quickly as the onlookers began to be drawn in by their council leader's voice.
"Only our Outpost in the North, keeping watch over the waves' invasion of the land, need be reminder of our dark past. And so only it has remembered! We have forgotten what brought us here! We have forgotten why we have come! We did not swim through Foulest Sea, risking damnation and corruption in the water's grasp, to grow fat and content!"
Riled, a mixture of shouts of denial and condemnation of the salted waters they hated so burst forth. Once the crowd had quieted some, the elder continued, a gleam in his eye.
"And so, we have decided, as a whole, that it is time for the next test of our abilities. To the south lie more incursions of the sea into sanctified lands. We have found our predisposition for the waters to be to our own great advantage in transporting them. Once cleansed of salt, we may bend the waters to our will, and so we have. Salt and sea are not meant to be conjoined! It is foul, and this is assured, for none may drink of it and come away more healthy than before! None save we, the blasted and damned children of the abhorred Leviathan. NOW! Now, my kin, my brethren, my sisters; now we strike our first blow against the hell-spewn waters! To the South, we begin our preparations! I call for volunteers to undertake this mission, to risk damnation in the cavernous seas of Hell itself, to keep our future generations safe from this menace!"
As a great cry went up, the elder, councilman, and high priest smiled to himself. The people were faithful.
And as the summer crept on, the promise was followed through; these were merfolk motivated by belief, unwavering and unbroken, despite their hesitance to return to their hated enemy's embrace, for however brief a time. They would be needed home for the harvest, but for the moment, they swam, and the merfolk swam over sea, to land and sea again, setting up what preparations they could for the coming retribution, before turning back, heading home in hopes of reaching their families before the harvest.
Trade could soon begin with the Babelians, whom they had happily negotiated peace with, some months ago. They may be surprised to find the merfolk on their back door, but conquest had no place in their minds, not now. Spilt blood only fed the Great Enemy, and weakened all those who stood on the side of Blessed Land and Lake.