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I am an unclickable option.

I am also that.

[Cheeetar]

Do not blame me for my mercenaries foolish actions in acquiring loot. I cannot control them! If only somehow had sent me money...

[Il Palazzo]

There are no jerks in diplomacy. Only pragmatists.

Cheeetar, you forgot to upload the save, or is this the server lag again?

[Cheeetar]

I sent it to turns@llamaserver.et and then went to school. Sorry about that.

[Wiles]

Also, from 22 to 13 provinces in two turns?  Even Hinnom is going after me, and I ceased hostilities against you!

It was a choice between glory or death. Sending troops your way, or sending them against the Niefel. I wasn't targeting you specifically, your province just happened to be my only way out of the wave of angry Niefel giants.

[Cthulhu]

Let them come!  I will take you with me!

As for my turn, I need to write an essay.  I'll have it in before too terribly long.

[Il Palazzo]

Come on, Cthulhu. Don't keep the turn hostage. Essay isn't an excuse anyway.

[Cthulhu]

I'd hardly call putting homework before games holding anything hostage.

Anyway, turn's in.  You people won't take me down so easily.

[Wiles]

I hope you guys have mittens. I have a feeling a cold front is coming your way.

[Il Palazzo]

The once proud Tel City of Hidden Forest lied in ruins. The long siege over, the might of Hinnom broken, their false god humilated and banished, soon to be forgoten. "What a grand ballad would it make", thought Dag and felt the despair creeping over him. For how could he sing it, if he was mute. If he could at least write it and hear some other skald sing the verses arranged so perfectly and powerfully in his head... but alas, he was BLIND! This one fateful moment, this one moment during final days of the siege, when he let his guard down and a foul fire drake spit fire in his face, this one moment cost him way too dearly.
There he was left by Frode's army, a recluse in the castle's keep, doomed to live a life of a cripple. "A retirement" Frode called it. Damn this fool. He must have faith, for if there was a force in this world which could deliver Dag from his current predicament, it was surely Dogmeat.
"But damnit, he could move his hairy ass and break free already."

edit:(oh, and I've seen what Obama did to those atlanteans last turn. I can imagine E.Albright as he bites on his clenched fist muttering "just kill him already you useless fucks!" Well, at least he got wounded.)

[E. Albright]

Councilor Ygh'yha is indeed disappointed with the outcome of his first foray into the world of terrestrial politics. His valiant attempt to spring a gotcha on Barak was stymied by his bungling, ineffectual underlings. It's not November yet, though, and the winds of fortune aren't looking as favorable for the Yaksha from Kailasa as they were but a month ago...

[Il Palazzo]

Barack O. met his doom at the hand of Atlanteans. Hmmm.
In other news, the treacherous Vanheim strikes. Of all provinces, in the one I've just paid for a fortress. How very annoying.

[Cheeetar]

I wouldn't call it treacherous, but perhaps sneaky.

[slMagnvox]

Barack O. met his doom at the hand of Atlanteans. Hmmm.

Not just at the hands of any Atlanteans, their pretender itself.  Barak's death was not in vain if it drew out this abomination so that the Devas and Kailasa might actively destroy it.

Hi Mictlan, Lieutenant Bandar knocking on your door.

Kailasa would like to open a diplomatic office in Niefelheim.  Please install magma heaters and let us open discussion on perhaps a neutral border along the remnants of Mictlan and Hinnom territory.

Praise Sacred Mount Kailasa!

[Cthulhu]

I'll admit it's pretty scary having all those monkeys outside my castle.  It's like being at the zoo, but the zoo is a castle.

[E. Albright]

Cold... Shadows... A pulse.
Cold... Shadows... Whispers.
Cold... Shadows... A need...

We shift in Our sleep. Strange, Our bed feels different. And the dreams We have are strange.

We dream Our children, now misshapen and degenerate, whisper in Our ear, telling Us strange Names. We dream We rouse Ourselves from Our bed and glide forth into the shaded sunlight of the shallow depths. We dream We follow the scent of the Name pronounced to Us by the abominations. We dream We follow its track for months, pulled by a need We cannot understand. We dream that at long last when We arrive before the Being We have been tracking... it is a tiny sundweller. Yes, it oozes the unwholesome, filthy power of the Discordant Spheres, but it is a mere sundweller, not a Being of Our stature. It lashes out at Us, and We crush it. But where are the treacherous abominations who set Us upon this fool's errand? We seek the arrogant wretches who would would have sought to use Our might as a petty tool. We seek Our chosen, for certainly She would punish these overreaching fools. We slowly glide towards the nearest foul fishman to show these foolish mortals that they meddle in the affairs of gods...

And suddenly, the dream ends. We lie once more in darkness, feeling a touch at Our side where She lies. We shift in Our sleep. Strange dreams.