Espionage Credit!!!After the brutal in-fighting that disrupted the Arstotzkan design team a few years ago, the team has taken pains to generate an atmosphere of love, well-being, and acceptance for their members. Their traitor, after going a few years without Moskurg taking up their offer for espionage, disappears from the capitol in the south. Apparently their issue has been resolved; as such,
Moskurg loses their Espionage Credit.Research Credit!!!The battle reports have been compiled.
The blizzard was gaining in strength as the final captive breathed his last, the limp corpse dangling beneath the snow-covered boughs. Grim and resolute was Myark's expression as he surveyed the scene, his hands resting upon the staff of True Light. Around him bustled a squad of elite mage hunters, their rifles slung across their fur-clad backs. Myark himself wore only his robes and armour, his mastery of fire magic precluding the cold from affecting his body.
Thunder rumbled overhead, and several hunters looked around nervously- though it could be natural, no Arstotzkan soldier could hear the sound without needing to suppress an urge to dive for cover. Gunners ran over to man the two cannons set up to guard the camp, eyes peering through the snow for the tell-tale glow of Moskurg's aircraft. The archmage took a deep breath and rolled his shoulders, eyes still on the executed prisoners.
Without warning, a dozen trees exploded in flashes of blinding light, splinters of wood flying through the air. A particularly large piece was on course to pierce Myark's skull, but it burst into flame in midair, burning up completely in the space of a second. A smattering of ash settled on the plain grey cloak. He grunted, brushed the ashes away, and turned to face the skies. Around him, the momentary chaos subsided as the hunters' professionalism became apparent; the lightly injured stoically ignoring their pain, and tending to those who suffered more serious wounds, whilst others unslung rifles and swept their gazes methodically across the sky. For a strike to be so accurate, the caster must be nearby- near enough to shoot, at least.
With a single shouted word, one of the watchers alerted others to the sight of a rapidly approaching glowing shape. Immediately cannons turned to face the threat, though their operators held their fire for the moment, knowing that a careless shot would be wasted against the glowing metal hull. For his part, Myark started to summon forth a dozen flaming spheres, in anticipation of a firefight.
Rapidly the glow approached, until its form coalesced into that of a Skyhawk, bearing down upon the gathering at breakneck speed. Cannons barked in anger, aimed at the engines, yet they could not track the rapid craft, and their shots deflected harmlessly off of the hull, leaving naught but small dents. Barely had the watchers time to make out the flowing script painted across the side of the vessel- which, were they capable of reading the holy script, they would observe to say "Aleizat Lilah", or "Glory to God"- before its hull buzzed the treetops, branches scraping across the polished surface. No sooner than it had arrived the Aleizat departed, flying off into the snows- though not before dropping off a number of gifts.
Hunters dove for cover as dozens of flaming shells rained from the sky, covering the ground in unquenchable fire, filling the air with noxious smoke. Myark alone strode uncaring through the flames, which of course could never touch him. And so it was Myark alone who noticed the Aleizat's second gift descending upon them, in the form of a dozen black figures riding glowing tubes- and a single figure bedecked in gold and purple, dropping down without any equipment to slow his fall, his magic alone enough to arrest his descent.
A trio of fireballs took out a trio of paratroopers, but the other nine- and their master- reached the ground all but unopposed, those hunters who noticed them before they landed too slow to bring their rifles to bear. Leaping off of their rides and drawing swords in one smooth motion, the Black Phantasms laid into the scattered hunters with a vengeance, whose tendency to forgo armour was now their undoing. al-Mutriqa fell like his namesake upon the hunter captain, whose crystal armour shattered beneath the warrior-poet's golden mace.
A flash of annoyance crossed Myark's face as he watched the hunters fall before the phantasms like an untrained mob. Raising his staff, and intoning a word of power, he unleashed its potential upon the assailants. Faced with a close-range assault by the mind-breaking artifact, several wavered, giving the hunters time to regroup, discarding rifles for crystal axes. But their reprieve was brief, as al-Mutriqa raised his wand- the wand of Heroism- bringing its ancient magic forth in direct opposition to the Arstotzkan creation. For all that they derided the magic of the ancients as crude, unscientific nonsense, undeniably Moskurg's artifact held power, on a level to match their own. The magic fighting for the minds of the midnight warriors filled the air with the taste of strange spices, made the trees shimmer, and caused the two artifacts to glow ever brighter.
The rivals (nearly ancient themselves) wasted no time being distracted by the magical phenomena, but hastened to bring their magic to bear against the other. Myark fired fireball after fireball at the shining sorcerer, who deflected each with a blast of wind. For his part, the arctic archmage summoned crystal rods to catch the lightning that al-Mutriqa called down upon him, producing crystal at an astonishing rate.
As their respective bodyguards fought around them, the two circled each other, as fire and lightning turned the woods around them into a charred, smouldering wreck. Eventually their circling brought them into arms reach of the other, with Myark drawing his sword as al-Mutriqa brandished his mace. Soon the cacophony of spells was joined by the ringing of adamantium on crystal, the two seasoned warriors deft hands at spellcasting whilst in the midst of combat.
As the duel continued, with no end in sight, the Black Phantasms were having more luck, slaying the hunters more used to ranged combat than swordfighting- an all but archaic art these days, as the clash of infantry had little impact on the outcome of a battle. One hunter, however, managed to detach himself from the melee long enough to pick up a rifle, slot in the HonestStrike module, and take aim at the two duelling wizards. They danced too fast for him to get a bead on al-Mutriqa- but with HonestStrike, he didn't need to. As two of his comrades all but impaled themselves on the Phatasm's swords to keep them away from him, he took a deep breath, uttered a brief prayer to Moskurg's god, and pulled the trigger.
Perhaps he mispoke his prayer. Perhaps Moskurg's god truly existed, and favoured al-Mutriqa- whose piety was beyond reproach- so much that He would not bless a projectile aimed at the golden hero. Perhaps the shot was impossible, with Myark standing fully between the rifle and his nemesis.
Whatever the case may be, Myark let out a cry of pain as the shot penetrated his armour, blood spurting out from his right shoulder. To his credit, he maintained his grip on his sword, even managing to block al-Mutriqa's strike, but the battle was clearly lost, and the next blow to his side could not be blocked. Stumbling backwards, dropping his sword, he fell to the ground, at the mercy of his rival.
"Go on then", he spat, "end it."
Instead, al-Mutrqia raised his hand, whereupon the Black Phantasms stepped back and lowered their blades, leaving the surviving hunters- who were on the brink of annihilation- bewildered.
"Almawt yati lana, ya sadiqi, walakun lays alyawm.", al-Mutriqa intoned in the holy tongue. "Take your leader and go", he told the hunters in a language they could understand.
They did not need telling twice, and the handful of survivors hoisted Myark up, and slinked away into the trees, soon disappearing into the blizzard.
al-Mutriqa raised his hand, and the clouds parted. He led the Phantasms in prayer for the souls of the fallen, Moskurger and Arstotzkan alike, before directing them to cut down the executed prisoners, as that they might be taken home for a proper burial.
All Quiet in the Taiga Front
The flames licked the faces of the rivals. Behind them lay the wreckage of a Moskurger invading fleet. Al-Mutriqa was standing upright, slowly approaching Myark with his weapon drawn. He had sacrificed everything to get to this moment. His army, his dignity, and more. Myark, his hand clutching a serious wound, was smiling. Because even though Myark was to lose against Al-Mutriqa, he knew he had won. He saved the lives of his fellow Arstotzkans.
It started as the sun set on an Arstotzkan front in the taiga. The men there were still recovering from preventing another Moskurg offensive. The local Mage Hunters watched over the fields ahead with their sniper rifles; ever vigilant. The sound of a Restless passing by and occasionally stopping was familiar to the men. The ground continuously rumbling under the firings of the AS-HA1 emplacements. Streaks in the clouds overhead could be traced to the patrolling Lightnings.
Myark was there. His Wand of True Light inspiring the men; protecting them. Myark never slept. He, without a hint of fatigue in his wise eyes, constantly patrolled the edges of the trenches. He personally visited every soldier. The Mage Hunters were ever more vigilant under his unending watch. Across the whole Taiga, the soldiers of Arstotzka knew they were safe, for Myark’s watchful gaze pierced every inch of land.
It was Myark’s untiring eye that saw it. In the distance, a solitary red Blind-Flare, washing the trees below in a sea of red light. Perhaps the Moskurgers thought the men were tired. But they were wrong. For every Arstotzkan soldier is rejuvenated by duty. Within minutes, every soul nearby was awake. Every man watching the horizon for hints of movement. Squadrons of the indestructible Lightnings scouring the sky for Moskurger trespassers. Thousands of flares made the sky brighter than day.
It was Myark again who saw the coming threat. But soon, every man and woman of Arstotzka would see it. The innocent sky began to disappear under Moskurg’s airborne blight. Phoenixes escorted by thousands of their fighters. Myark looked around him. At the soldiers surrounding him. Every person, as a proper Arstotzkan soldier, lay ready to sacrifice their life to protect their brothers and sisters that day. To ensure the future glory of Arstotzka.
Myark would not let that happen today. He ordered his comrades to stay vigilant and to watch for invaders by land. Myark would deal with the airborne menace, but he could not do it without the aid of his brothers-in-arms.
Myark’s apprentice was immediately fetched, and the two embarked on Myark’s personal Lightning, clad with War paint. The signature rumblings of the Lightning came to all those within earshot. Within seconds, Myark and his gunner were to the sky. Alone. For as the Lightning took off, Myark let loose a single Blind-Flare to order all Lightnings to the ground. Myark would handle this himself. No Arstotzkans would have to die today, no matter how desperate Moskurg becomes.
Looking at the menace horde, Myark simply knew that all the ammunition in the world could not deal with these numbers. He would have to come up with a more cunning solution. The Phoenixes.
Moskurg had foolishly put all their eggs in one basket. One very flammable basket. The Phoenixes were at the center of the swarming fighters, perhaps serving as some kind of twisted symbol to guide the aimless Moskurgers. With the right attack, Myark could end this offensive and prevent any more loss of Arstotzkan lives.
Myark expertly weaved through each lightning flash blindly aimed from the Moskurger fighters. Lightning blazed past the tips of the Lightning, missing it to instead strike and destroy the poorly-built Moskurger fighters. Deft movement of Myark's hands led to a quick and nimble flight. The craft soared gracefully in the sky, serving as a stark contrast against the fumbling Moskurger menace. Single and quick movements of fingers would lead to hundreds of lightning bolts missing the target. Moskurger craft crashed into each other as they attempted in vain to strike at the shining Arstotzkan craft.
The flight was interrupted by a resounding bang to the side of the craft. Myark sharply turned his head to the distance, where he spotted a single aircraft on the horizon.
Al-Mutriqa.
Perhaps a lesser man would be tempted, for Myark faced his oldest foe. The only Moskurger who was even remotely near capable of challenging him. But Myark's determination, like a true Arstotzkan, didn't waver. He could exploit this; take advantage of Al-Mutriqa's short-sightedness. Draw him away from the other Arstotzkans in order to preserve their lives.
Myark came to fly side-by-side with Al-Mutriqa, and could even see the rage in the old man's face. A shot ringed out and pierced the crystal glass cockpit. A coilgun projectile's path went straight through the chest of Myark, splattering blood against the cockpit and staggering the mage. Myark coughed and weezed, but he would not let this stop him. His eyes briefly glinted with a berserker's rage.
With a single gesture, the Lightning brutally rammed into Al-Mutriqa's craft. The kludge-filled Moskurger spellwork upon the craft sputtered and began to fail, sending Al-Mutriqa careening towards the surface. Rage-filled lightning stroked the edge of Myark's gunship, but to no avail.
Myark knew this would not be the last of Al-Mutriqa. He cut his way through the unending Moskurger horde to finally get to the Phoenixes.
Approaching the Phoenix, Myark had a single plan in mind. The Lightning violently rams into the Phoenix, shaking the crew of both! With quick thinking and quick action, Myark angles the thrust and set it to max whilst simultaneously disabling the Reactor safeties. He would only have one shot to save the front. The Lightning had embedded itself into the Phoenix, and was already tipping the gigantic airship to the side. Screams filled the air as Moskurger crewmen eventually began to fall off the ship.
Disembarking from the still-thrusting Lightning and grabbing his gunner in one hand, Myark jumped onto the deck of the Phoenix. Fireballs and bullets would litter the sky as Myark dispatched all those who aimed to hurt him or his comrade. The time of opportunity was coming, as Myark could see the Phoenix he was on quickly approaching the last two. At the exact moment, Myark jumps off the Phoenix, into the air!
A brilliant explosion lit up the sky, as the Phoenixes collided. The first two would suffer a devastating collision, capsizing the second and throwing it onto the third. Right then the Lightning’s reactor detonated, causing the volatile fuel on board the Phoenixes to explode as well. An amazing chain reaction would follow, as the horde of fighters drew too close to the exploding Phoenixes, sealing their fate to become the same as the airships.
Myark made quick use of the Arstotzkan mastery of magic. Within seconds he recreated a KPD4 manually, without circuitry, entirely by himself. He and the gunner carried over his shoulder gracefully touched down on the ground. Myark sent his gunner to run to the nearest scout squadron to be escorted back.
He shot out another Blind-Flare, designed to attract the attention of Moskurg’s ground forces.
Through the coming hours, Myark would slash his way across many untrained Moskurger soldiers. But he was not invulnerable. The furs adorning him became matted with blood - both Moskurger and his. Eventually, he came to the wreckage of the Phoenixes. The last Moskurger soldier fell to his bloodied Crystal Axe. Yet the light emanating from the flaming Phoenix brought his attention to another Moskurger.
Al-Mutriqa. And behind him, the Black Phantasms. Their glowing Adamantium armor masked with snow and tar. Myark looked down at his wound. The blood was all-too-familiar at this point. But Myark still had to buy time. He leaped into battle, yelling with all his might. His trusty AS-R1 being the accomplice to the death of many a Black Phantasm, their Adamantium armor being no match for the bullet. His Crystal Axe effortlessly cut through many more.
Fireballs were thrown across the field, deflected by Al-Mutriqa's mastery of wind. Blastballs used to prevent blasts of wind from knocking Myark over.
Eventually, Myark collapsed.
He was in no condition to battle. He knelt on the ground, gazing at the new wounds littering his body. Both hands gripping bleeding cuts. Al-Mutriqa slowly walked to stand over him, staring at him.
And Myark smiled.
He had won.
The Moskurger offensive lay in shreds. The Arstotzkan soldiers alive and well. The flares coming up over the horizon proof of that. Myark may have been personally defeated, but it was his actions that let Arstotzka win the day. It was his actions that saved the front. That saved his fellow soldiers. So Myark smiled. He even let out a faint laugh. Myark even knew he wouldn’t die today. For his comrades wouldn’t allow that.
And he was right.
As Al-Mutriqa raises his lonesome sword, an Equalizer shell abruptly impacts the ground next to him, sending him flying along with showers of dirt. Sniper shots pierce the silence as the rest of the fierce Black Phantasms quickly drop one by one without their magical crutches.
Under the harsh sound of a horn, the small Moskurger force begins retreating. Without the help of magic, sheer innovation and Arstotzkan determination would finally win the day. Soldiers clad in gleaming Combat Armor, covered from head to toe in snow, charge with AS-R1 in one hand and Crystal Axe in the other. Within minutes, an all-clear flare is let out and Myark is attended to. Not as a hero, but as a fellow Arstotzkan.
Moskurg will stop at nothing. No person, Moskurger or Arstotzkan, is seen as anything but an acceptable cost for the Moskurger horde. That is what differentiates Moskurg from Arstotzka. It was not Myark, but every Arstotzkan that saved lives that day. Al-Mutriqa stopped at nothing for petty personal glory, and Myark sacrificed himself for the glory of all.
Look to Myark. Be Myark. Protect Arstotzka. Protect your brothers and sisters; your comrades. This is in every Arstotzkan, and you are no exception. For at the end of the day, the war will not be won by magic, but rather by comradery. Arstotzka does not stand alone. Every man and woman under its banner exemplifies Arstotzka.
Glory to Arstotzka.
After comparing the two
extraordinary reports, the Moskurg report is ultimately superior. Anyone familiar with the rivalry between al-Mutriqa and Myark would know that al-Mutriqa would never strike down his fallen rival; never once in all his years of fighting has the crazed fanatic struck down the crazed berserk, no matter how many chances he'd been given. That detail in the Arstotzkan reports instantly brings skepticism to even the most casual listener, defeating the purpose of building moral.
Moskurg gains the Research Credit.It is 949, the Design Phase.Northern Taiga: 1/4 Arstotzka, 1/4 Moskurg
Central Mountains: 4/4 Arstotzka, 0/4 Moskurg
Western Jungle: [color=red0/4 Arstotzka[/color], 4/4 Moskurg
Eastern Plains: 2/4 Arstotzka, 2/4 Moskurg
Southern Desert: 0/4 Arstotzka, 4/4 Moskurg
Northern Sea: 2/4 Arstotzka, 2/4 Moskurg
Western Sea: 0/4 Arstotzka, 4/4 Moskurg
Eastern Sea: 0/4 Arstotzka, 4/4 Moskurg
Southern Sea: 0/4 Arstotzka, 4/4 Moskurg
Sabre: Officer weapon. A single-edged Adamantium blade that favours cavalry combat over infantry combat. Requires training to wield, one-handed. Expensive.
Spear: General infantry weapon. Essentially an Adamantium dagger on a long stick. Very cheap, requires minimal training to use. Can be used double-handed, or single handed with a light shield. Cheap. Obsolete.
Halberd: An axe, a hook, and a spear all rolled into one. Does well against armor and in formation. Cheap
Buckler: General infantry equipment. A small Adamantium shield, held in one hand. Only protects a small area, but can be wielded alongside a shield. Moderate cost, requires training to wield properly. Cheap.
Pavise Shield: A large, thick, high-quality shield to guard against arrows. Can be staked into the ground, or slung across the shoulders. Needs both hands to use while on the move. Very Expensive.
Padded Armour: General infantry armour. Very cheap, just layers of cloth, but doesn't protect against much. Well ventilated in hot conditions, though. Worn under armor. Cheap.
Scale Mail: Officer armour. Scales of Adamantium on a leather backing. Expensive, but lighter than chain mail. Expensive. Obsolete.
Elite Lamellar Armor: All-purpose armor. Worn over padded armor. Thin plates of Adamantium sewn together with leather thongs, backed by more leather. High quality, decent protection against arrows and melee attacks. Adamantium is tailored to the temperature of the theater being fought in, preventing soldiers from freezing to death. Cheap.
Recurve Bow: General infantry weapon. A light bow composed of laminated wood and horn, curved backwards to provide more force. Inexpensive enough to equip many troops with, with very reasonable medium range and power. Can be wielded by horse archers.
Bodkin Arrows: Arrows with needle points. Can reliably penetrate plate armor at point blank range. Can penetrate less reliably further away. Now with Adamantium tips!
Arabian Horse: A light riding horse, from short-lived Iberian settlers in the past. Very fast and maneuverable, but not too strong. Expensive.
Horse Breeding Program: Mass amounts of horses available. Tend to do poorly in the desert, and aren't quite as high quality as the Arabian Horses. Cheap.
Lances: Essentially a heavily upgraded spear. Has a tendency to splinter after the first use. Cheap.
Sailing Ship: Wind-propelled wooden ship. Fast, requires minimal crew, cannot carry many passengers, but does carry at least one wizard - so long as they don't make puns. Very Expensive. Obsolete.
Sirocco: Ships made from lightweight and hardy junglewood and clad in glowing Adamanitium armor. Much more resilient and faster than Arstotzka's ships as of 935.
Ballista: Large siege weapon. Can fire javelins or stone shot great distances accurately. Reliable enough for consistent use. Can be mounted on ships. Wheeled. High-quality siege engineers.Expensive.
Firestorm ammo: Pots filled with Alwathnayu Mukafa'a - "Heathen's Reward". Explodes into sticky flame on impact. Incredibly lethal, incredibly dangerous. Nearly impossible to extinguish. Cheap.
Heathen's Reward: Alwathnayu Mukafa'a, a variant of Alnnar Almugaddasa. More reactive to open flame, tends to expand rapidly.
Fire and Thunder: Even more explosive Alnnar. Less flames, more boom. Can be put in an iron shell to cast fragments at enemies, although the fuse can be finicky.
Thundergun: Large siege weapon. Can fire rounded iron cannon balls through an Adamantium tube. Uses a series of copper coils to accelerate the ammo. Requires a 36-wand battery for each firing event, and uses a set of vacuum tubes to time the coils. Accurate out to Beyond Line of Sight. Expensive.
The Pheonix: A giant tank of Alnnar, propelled into the air by dozens of Adamantium War Pegasi Scrolls. Requires multiple wizards to keep running. Armor is thick enough to withstand 14 mm's up to Medium Range. Features a turret on the bottom to spray the Alnnar on the poor fools below. Slow, highly explosive, but absolutely terrifying. Very Expensive.
Phoenix Transport: A Phoenix, with the Alnnar, turret, and defenses removed. Used to transport troops, ammo, and other supplies to the front lines. Expensive.
Wand of Heroism: Makes a squad fight beyond human levels. A National Effort.
Moskurg's Apprentice Gramary for Inter-magical Competency: Trains some apprentices to Wizard-level. Does not provide more mages. National Effort.
Alsamma Safina: Sirocco, stripped-down and packed with War Pegasi for lift. Requires multiple dedicated mages to keep the carpets enchanted and in sync. Very Expensive. Obsolete.
Skyhawk: An Adamantium airship, with two ballistas and four jet engine clusters for lift and movement. Very Expensive.
Adamantium: Divine metal summoned from the aether. Comes in workable copper-soft and forge-able steel-hard ingots. Temperature can be permanently set. Cheap.
Teletalk: Short-ranged psychic communication between mystics. Enough beacons can be produced to outfit an army. Expensive.
Wand of Thunderbolts: Glass wand, painted with zinc and copper. Adamantium core. Good for a single modestly-powerful blast of lightning, which explodes. Good out to Medium range. Cheap.
Staff of Tubikh Rrahim Albarq: Area-of-affect spell. Prevents all magic from being cast within field of effect out to Long Range. Spell contained within a staff of ivory, field of effect controllable. Produces a glow. Expensive.
Dispell Enchantments: Dispells enchantments on items, including standard crystal weapons. Expensive.
Pegasus: Charmingly named, enchanted carpets. Levitate, can be pushed around with Gust of Wind. Limited height, duration, speed. Typically rolled up and equipped with a saddle. Has pretty tassels. Expensive.
War Pegasus: An even faster, higher, tamed version of the Pegasus. Requires each scroll to be broken-in before it can be used in the field, but now has its own form of locomotion. Enchantments now last longer. Made of Adamantium. Cheap. Obsolete.
Adamantium Jets: A rudimentary jet engine, made of concentric Adamantium tubes. High thrust. Cheap.
Skyskiff: A two-seater Adamantium canoe. Equipped with two Adamantium jets. Very fast, thick armor. Cheap.
Detect Ambush: Reveals non-magical ambushes prepared by enemy troops or physical traps.
Lucky Strike: Magical guidance makes a squad shoot or strike true far more often than usual. Expensive.
Detect Thoughts: Read the mind of an enemy commander to determine their tactics ahead of time. Expensive.
Zen Inception: By putting enemy soldiers in a zen-like state, we can use their minds as a relay system to read minds further away. The spell is easy to disrupt, but simple to use.
Gust of Wind: Evokes physical force to create a heavy gust of wind, sufficient to disperse fog and most minor concealment, as well as disperse irritating swarms. Expensive.
Cyclone Shield: Protects the beneficent from most arrows and some blows with a sheath of wind. Expensive.
Storm Strike: Summons heavy rain and winds over the course of a day. Expensive.
Wrath of Allah: Calls upon Allah to allow lightning to rain down, even in snowy weather. Multiple mages allow faster casting of Storm Strike.
Clear Weather: Negates inclement weather within the given area. Nests within Storm Strike for protection.
Hammer of Allah: Induce lightning from summoned storms. Strikes indiscriminately, so can't be used in "danger close" situations. Lighting explodes on strike.
Spear of Allah: Call down an individual bolt of lightning to target enemy commanders. Requires line of sight to target. Can be used in "danger close" situations. Lighting explodes on strike.
Zephyr of Allah - Zephyric Destruction: Tornado cast by a single mage. Very powerful, goes out to Extreme Range. Lethal with debris, less lethal otherwise. Can pick up a soldier, if it passes directly over him. Expensive.
Heretics' Downfall: Greater control over lightning. Can 'persuade' lightning to travel down certain paths despite easier paths being available.
Winds of Ruin: A variant of Storm Strike. Allows the casters to lend their intent to the storm, allowing it to blunt the range of enemy artillery and cast weather attack spells beyond line of sight. Very Expensive.
Tubikh Rrahim: Area-of-affect spell centered around the caster. Prevents all magic from being cast within a short range. Cheap.
Dispell Enchantments: Dispells enchantments on items, including standard crystal weapons. Expensive.
Divine Desert Winds: Sends warm desert air north. Does not reach the taiga. Warms the area by one "level". Very Expensive.
Antichronic Reverbramancy: A trance that focuses on the branching nature of time. Locates "chokepoints" in the branches, where things will happen. Can only detect cataclysmic, nearby events, like artillery barrages, usually within 10-30 seconds. Tends to cause mages to be lost in the flow of time. Cheap.
Behavior Rules. Please Read.As inspired by the "Behavior Rule" attached to Sensei's new Arms Race thread, I've decided to adapt them to Wand Race. Most of these are blatantly copied from his thread, and I expect them to be followed. After running this game for a few weeks now and following the last Arms Race, I'm aware that they're prone to attracting bad attitudes. Keeping the game smooth, on schedule, and argument free is probably a greater concern of mine than whatever you are arguing about: I expect you to be mature and adopt the same attitude.
1. Don't be salty! If at any time you find yourself having an urge to mouth off at another player, step away from the keyboard, go outside, and take a breath. Seriously. Players who repeatedly get angry or passive aggressive will be asked to leave. If you have an issue with the way the game is being run, DO NOT expect a tantrum to get you what you want.
2. Keep in mind that I am not a historian, so there will sometimes be mistakes and inaccuracies. Even in the best of circumstances, minor inconsistencies are a common occurrence. If some piece of equipment is imbalanced/unrealistic, I might consider changing it if you bring it up once -AND ONLY ONCE- and politely state your argument. However, I will err on the side of consistency with my own game, I do not like to go back and change things. Sometimes it is more important to simply keep the game running smoothly than other concerns.
3. Do not accuse me of being biased. Do not accuse me of being biased. I put a lot of effort into being objective and fair and being accused otherwise is pretty fucking irritating. On multiple occasions this has nearly derailed the game and made me want to abandon it all together. I have absolutely no more patience for this, and if you do it YOU WILL BE BANNED.
4. Do not spy on the other team's private thread. Trust me, playing fair is more fun for everyone! If you suffer from a lack of self-control and cannot stop yourself from spying, keep it to yourself. Do not use it to metagame. And do not post what you saw in the central thread. This has happened multiple times now, and if you do it you will be banned with no warning.