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[Ignus]

I find it better to ignore the graphs. It makes me feel much better about how "well" I'm doing, especially in light of my prize general deciding to be heroic and take EVERY ARROW FOR EVERYONE IN HIS ARMY. Arg!

Expect complaints in prose form!

[Lorak]

Well all I can say is when you've captured as many provinces as I have, and your gold income graph is still a horizontal line because all the provinces have 6 or less income as well as minimal resources, they -better- be full of fucking gems!  XD

[Kebooo]

"Are they all so poor?" Nurbis complained, as he hacked another limb from one of the peasants rallied to fend off the Abysian invasion.  Some intestinal entrails stuck to his battleaxe.

"Poor? What ever do you mean? Look at all of this thick, glorious blood!" Nygon the warlock exclaimed.  He leered at several naked virgins.

[Lorak]

Somewhere on a battlefield, One Eyed Pete was busy throwing pebbles at an army of militia.

"Sir!"  Exclaimed Yu-huang, Pete's personal magic site searcher.  "It appears we have another incoming mental call and it's Lanka's lawyers again.  Something about trespassing on Gondor."

"Tell them to put us on the 'do not call' list"  said the mighty Pete.

"Sir, they are lawyers, not telepathymarketers.  I think you should talk to them."

"Urgh, I'm a little busy right now"  said an irritated Pete as he punched one of the militia who were now poking at his kneecaps with spears.  "See if they are willing to come to a compromise at Lebennin.  Surely they must understand that Mordor is not very rich in gold, and we need the surrounding farmland if we are to have any hope of long term survival as a nation."

[Il Palazzo]

To: Mr.One Eyed Pete,
From: Davidesh Miscavigesh, 2nd Field Lawyers detachment of Lanka.
Regarding:Unlawful repossession of grounds and buildings belonging to the Church of Scientology.

Dear Mr.O.E.Pete,
In the view of your and your followers' recent actions, we are filling a lawsuit against your persona.
We are going to pursue your immediate expulsion from the disputed territories with extreme prejudice.
The fact of your poor economic situation does not concern us in the slightest, as we've got our own expenses to cover, including a new villa for Mr.Travolta. If you're that poor, I'm sure you can find some peasants to oppress in the fertile plains north of Mordor.
Should you deign to remove your troops from Gondor, we will cease any further actions against your organisation, and settle for a peaceful coexistence, with a border drawn between the towers of Minas Morgul(yours) and Minas Tirith(ours).
Otherwise, our legal actions will continue indefinitely.

Yours Sincerely, D.Miscavigesh, for L.Ron Hubbard's Church of Scientology.


In the light of One Eyed Pete's recent legalization of the Church of Scientology throughout the lands of Mordor, we are dropping all charges against him.


WILL BUY RESEARCH. ANY AMOUNT. PAID IN CASH.

[slMagnvox]

Wolkan the Unrenamed searched diligently, turning over some rocks and scratching the moss off trees.

"How boringly unmagical this region has turned out to be!"

Not that the chiefs would give half a damn. They thought of magic as a women's past time. Like knitting. Wolkan knew a little better than that, and Cassette would need all of the arcane arts the tribes could bring to bear. And likely no small amount of knitting either.

"Oh ho! Hmm! No, nothing here either"

A local goon and his henchmen had been employed by Mag as he raided though these woods this spring to act as the local authority. The goon chose this moment to speak up

"Some riders decloaking off to starboard side! I mean, centaurs sneaking past yonder cottage!"

An arrow blossomed in the neck or a bored henchman and Wolkan, true to his antlers, made like an elk and vamoosed.

Dear Ignus
How unsportsmanlike! War shall surely be declared unless you convince the chiefs those centaurs were on a peaceful mission of exploration and archery practice. How do you propose to secure such ill gained territory and could you suggest to the chiefs a more pragmatic border policy?

[Ignus]

"My wife... my wife was carried off by one of those ... one of those..."

The whole village crowded around the table of the Ulm, listening to him try to tell his story through a veil of booze.

 "...lascivious centaurs. Stuck an arrow in my leg, pulled poor, poor Helga onto his back and fled into the west. Poor, poor Helga..."

Another cup came thrusting through the crowd, doing little more than allowing the drunken man to drown his beard in it.

"I have a similar tale, of my sweet Guan-yin. Not two nights ago..."

The small southern man along with the whole inn was silenced as the howling laughter returned. The satyrs were coming back from the forests. To shout, to drink, to fuck, to mock.

And not a man could continue his story. For no matter what else they may have said, no matter how many similar stories of kidnappings and murder came from their fellows, they all knew the truth. Their wives and daughters were not stolen. They left.



Dear Ulm
I come not bringing war, but love! ACCEPT MY LOVE! (Will trade Love™ for sexy Ulmish woman-folk. Or man-folk, as long as they're hot.)

[slMagnvox]

Dear Ulm
I come not bringing war, but love! ACCEPT MY LOVE! (Will trade Love™ for sexy Ulmish woman-folk. Or man-folk, as long as they're hot.)

How ghastly!

[Il Palazzo]

Get a new patch:
http://www.shrapnelgames.com/Patches/PD_DOM3_win.html
The most recently generated turn requires is to run.

If you've got any other Dom3 games running, with turns generated before the update, submit your outstanding turns before patching.

[slMagnvox]

Four hours to host, missing Pangaea's turn. Maybe push the deadline? Could be having problems getting the update.

[Ignus]

Apologies for that. The patch wouldn't apply itself because of being blocked and I couldn't find out from where.

Fixed though, just in time.

[Il Palazzo]

Lol Abysia's passionate message style.

[E. Albright]

Would that be a passionate message begging aid for the poor, beleaguered Abysian armies in desperate need of asbestos sweaters because they're catching a bit of a chill rampaging through the temperate Marverni heartlands?

[slMagnvox]

Would that be a passionate message begging aid for the poor, beleaguered Abysian armies in desperate need of asbestos sweaters because they're catching a bit of a chill rampaging through the temperate Marverni heartlands?

The markets of Ulm to offer best prices on Asbestos Sweaters!


"Oi, Mag! The tribes have gathered like you asked. Praise to Cassette!" shouted Wolkan the Unrenamed. "So, err what is the plan?"

"Well!" rumbled Mag, "It will be like you said Wolkan. The chiefs don't see the value of your precious magic gems but Cassette is determined to convince them otherwise!"

"Arrg, you know the other shamans and I are sick to death of scraping and searching for the things. Why gather the warriors when this will be the work of shamans?"

"Ha, HA!" Mag boomed. "Who mentioned further searching, my good Wolkan? We won't be searching, we'll be taking! We march to war with the T'ien Ch'i!"


Hey Lorak, let's have a war! See you on the field next turn!

[Kebooo]

Orphis sat alone, penning love letters to Mary Sue Hubbard.

Nurbis walked in and interrupted his concentration.

"What is it?!" Orphis snapped.

"Silly warlock, so many naked virgins, and you waste time writing to that old hag?"

"This is what you've come to say to me? Begone!" Orphis turned back and continued writing.

"No.  Of course not.  We have been invited to a grand ball to dance.  They call themselves the Maverni.  You know, those rats that were, until now, right outside of our capital."

"Oh, them.  Silly little creatures, when will they learn you don't poke a hot stove? Just incinerate them all and be done with it."

Nurbis smiled and made a grand exit.  Orphis didn't notice; he was well underway painting his portrait of Mary.

Deep in the mountains, PalazzoDiesThisTime frowned.