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 Post subject: Wife of Bwyan
 Post Posted: Wed Oct 26, 2016 9:41 pm 
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This is something I've just been inspired to write. I hope someone enjoys it as much as I enjoyed writing it. If this offends anyone, I apologize in advance.

Start of the first turn of the end of the beginning (or, last turn of the first guys before the other guys get their turns) Impewial label: Monday.

    Erfworld is perhaps endless. The Weirdomancer masters hiding in exile within the magic kingdom, referred to as the More Or Less OK Minds, Who Sometimes Think Similarly, have theorized that: “the hexes of Erf extend in both directions, within and without.” This makes little sense to others, except to the hippiemancers, who added a corollary: “far out, man.” Basically this gives way to the not so widely believed belief that there were perhaps more than the original 99 sides, or even a thousand. This is of course contrary to scripture, which partially explains why the MOLOKMWSTS, or, to make a neat name out of their anagram, the Molokumwists,  are currently living in exile within the magic kingdom.
    Far to the, erm, left... of the lands of which you know, beyond the strawberry fields of Jetstone, the brooding cliffs of Transylvito, beyond the vast oceanus lies a land where sides like Gobwyn Knob and Charlescomm are just stories in books in the library. In this land there are many sides. Overlords and Kings, Crown (labeled) Princes, there is a vast collection of sides. Somewhere within them (we’ll call this hex 0,0,0) stands a city known as Wome.
Wome was a powerful side populated by a tribe of humans calling themselves “Womans.” The Womans were originally led by a succession of Tribunes and Consuls. Then the great Kaiser Jules Erfu changed his title to First Citizen, which made sense to absolutely no one, since as a general rule subjects were not subject to citizenry. They took orders, they did not have many aspirations of greater freedom. With the exception of higher level units, casters, warlords, heirs apparent, etc. So when Not First Citizen Brutus Cassius Judas was not named as the heir, he took matters into his own hands. He did not stay First Citizen long, as the actual successor, Doctor-Prince Octavius Augustus Octagion stabbed him with a stack of stabbers and succeeded to the throne.  Naturally, as the Predictamancers will tell you, Fate took its due in its ironically twisted way.
Doctor-Prince Octavius decided that his father-overlord’s titles were too much to bear, and promptly adjusted his own title to just a symbol: Rx (the ruler formerly known as doctor-prince) and then changed the overlord title name to “Empewow” for several reasons. First, the Womans were strong, and tended to dominate the sides around them. The Sand Elves had become their natural allies, and in the deserts of their surrounding wilderness they could move without penalty and conceal themselves in the trackless dunes. So the title needed to be more than king. Second, he was a Rhotaceist. He was a scriptural fanatic and believed that several passages in the Book of Canon reveal that the Divine Tongue was spoken with a rhotacism. That is, pronouncing R’s as W’s. Plus, bonus points because it jumped out at you. Wow! Who’s that? It’s just the EmpeWOW! This made sense only to the crap golems. Empewow Rx slowly decayed in signamancy and named a successor (Humpewdink II). He then quietly depopped on his 19,091th turn.
That brings us to the present, and the Howy Woman Empiwe. Through the machinations of the foul overlord Humpewdink, his casters formed a link and created a powerful magic item that could bind rulers into oaths of duty to the Womans without interfering with the sovereignty of the side. Thus he was crowned Empewow. This created a massive complex, not just in the mind of the Empewow, but literally a vast industrial complex. Over time the land became tainted with the foul wastes from their mighty works. Golems of marble, iron, and glass popped in multiple cities, in multiple numbers, every turn. These golems would strip mine the land in an endless search for gems (and some believed that the empewow was on a mad quest for the arkentools) and other loot. Golems were constantly constructing specialized works in their cities that increased their production, but had many side effects, the least of which was the changing of the terrain type of the city’s hex. The actual living units, when popped, lived a life of luxury and decadence. Ultimately, however, things changed for the worse. The hundreds of turns of decadence ruined the signamancy of the Empewow, his casters, his subject rulers, their subjects, his own subjects, all the way down to the stench of the cities and general look of decay. Many barbarians in the far reaches of the Empiwe wait like vultures for the coming turn where the fat old beast finally went belly up, and the feast began. Then Bryan popped.

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     Post subject: Re: Wife of Bwyan
     Post Posted: Sat Oct 29, 2016 11:44 am 
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    Bryan stood in the audience hall for the first time. He was a Woman, wearing Segmented Armor underneath the robes of a diplomat. He carried a drusus at his side, which he knew he could use with deadly effect. He also knew that the sword was not his primary purpose. Bryan was a Diplomancer. Not a spellcaster per se, but his special made negotiation his real weapon. His face was pleasant, his beard trimmed just so. His hair was long enough for others to envy but short enough to be taken seriously. He was athletic but not skinny or wiry. His signamancy was fresh and disarming. And his smile... his smile was contagious.
    Unfortunately, Prince Bryan of the Woman Empiwe was utterly alone in this hall with not even a golem to impress. This perturbed him more than a little bit.
    Where is everyone, he wondered.
    He left the empty throne room and wandered about the castle. This was his first adventure, and he was excited. He'd never walked in a corridor before. The carpet was red in the middle with gold on the borders. The hall was adorned in tapestries that depicted a sandal raised up at an angle. He knew this crest instinctively, for it was his Impewial crest, the rampant sandal. Turning the corner, he saw at the far end of the hall, a tiny unit clad in white, wearing a tall mitre hat almost as tall as he himself. Bryan's excitement overcame him and he called out to the unit.
    "Hello! I say, over here. My name is Bryan and..."
    "Pwease wower your voice, Pwince Bwyan." The tiny man moved towards Bryan, his little legs appearing to move much faster than his body was propelled forward.
    "You know my..." then he lowered his voice as the tiny priest tutted him again. "You know my name?"
    "Of cowse. You'we Pwince Bwyan, popped today. What a wondewful, bwessed awwangement. Weawwy, a dweam wifin a dweam..."
    "Yes, of course, that's all well and good, but see here. I've just arrived and I don't know where to go or what to do, and I was hoping..."
    "Empewow Humpewdink wiw want you to pwesent youwsewf at couwt. I wiw awwange that. Meanwhiwe... Perhaps yow would wike to fweshen up?"
    "Um, well, I just popped, so I don't think..."
    "Wondewfuww." He clapped his hands loudly, startling Bryan, since they had been whispering. From a concealed door behind a tapestry, a stone golem dressed in the Segmentata of the Empiwe appeared and saluted.
    "Stack wif Biggus Nickus. He wiww show you to youw wooms. Vewe you wiw fweshen up for youw audience wif youw favah." He turned to walk down the hall, and Bryan followed him.
    "My what?"
    "Favah. uhm... youw pawent. Youw wuwah."
    "Um... wuwah?"
    "Weadah? I'm very sorry, I'm having a terrible time understanding you, and well, I just popped..."
    The little man sighed in frustration and closed his eyes.
    "Empewow Humpewdink."
    "Ah. The Overlord. Of course."
    The tiny caster rounded on him with a dead serious look. "Do Not call him Ovewowd. He wiw disband you."
    "Right. Yes. My apologies."
    "No need to apowogize to me, Highness. I'm just a wowly servant of the cwown. I'm subject to his waws as much as you awe." They continued walking. After a time, Bryan came to a sudden realization.
    "I'm sorry, but I'm new. We haven't met yet, and I feel terrible about that. I'm Bryan..."
    "Pwince Bwyan.."
    "...Prince Bryan, and what do I call you?"
    "My name is Petew. But my full addwess in fowmawity is Chief Heawomancew Cook, Dane of Fwowent. Most pepow caw me Dane Cook ow just Chief Cook. But some caw me Dane, and my fwiends caw me Steve."
    "Erm, ah..." Bryan saw nowhere in there an invitation to csall him one or the other, or even an indication of preference.
    "Dane? That's a title of nobility is it not?"
    "Not qwite. I was chief heawomancew fow Fwowent befowe the Empiwe annexed us," Chief Cook said. Here, Bryan detected some hint of wistfulness.
    "King Dane Bwamage was not intewested in awwiance. He joined the Empiwe as part of a pwot to assassinate the Empewow. He pewished aftew rebewwing at couwt." He sounded saddened by the thought. Cook continued.
    "Aftew that, Fwowentians weaw the star of knowing," he guestured to the gold star stitched to his robe. Up to that point, Bryan assumed the star to be merely decorative.
    "We awe cawed Danes as an insult. To wemind us of the pwice of tweason. Its a buwden, but its just." Dane Cook straightened and looked blankly at Bryan. For a moment, Bryan waited for him to say something. When he did not, Bryan opened his mouth to ask another question, and Chief Cook pointed behind Bryan. He looked, and standing behind him was the stone Golem, Biggus Nickus. It beckoned for him to follow it. Bryan looked back to see Chief Cook scuttling down the hall, a surprising distance away from him. He shrugged and followed Biggus Nickus. After a few minutes, Bryan said something about the size of the place, but Nickus just glanced back at him as he spoke, listening for signs of any orders but did not reply. They moved on in silence.
    Thankfully, their trek through the gargantuan manse ended at a brightly colored door guarded by two golden golems dressed in white robes. The robes were similar to Bryans, and gave him the sneaking suspicion that these golems were popped today, too.
    "Uh, hello." The two golden golems bowed. He chuckled.
    "Nice to meet you." He held out his hand to shake, with the directed thought of an order. The golem put out its own arm and the two of them shook hands. Bryan was surprised that these golems followed his orders. Gifts from father, perhaps? This didn't seem to be turning out bad at all. He turned to the golem still shaking his hand.
    "Lets go in."
    His chambers were indeed beyond his expectations. He found that his favorite weapons, something he didn't even know he had until just then, were on display all over the main rooms like decorations. He lifted a special one, a hand crafted axe made by the monsters of Rock, natural allies to a subject side called Queensland. He struck a chord. The room exploded into a vibrato electric riff. The golden golems, and even Biggus Nickus, stomped their feet and clapped their hands as he rocked. The hair stood up on the back of his neck. Titans, he was good.
    "Can you dance?" Bryan asked. The three golems lined up and showed him their moves. He was amazed. Golems that could dance-fight just like him.

    "I shall call you Sillius Soddus. And you," he glanced at the other one, "are Naughtius Maximus."

    Prince Bryan May's first day was going pretty awesome so far.

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     Post subject: Re: Wife of Bwyan
     Post Posted: Mon Oct 31, 2016 2:13 am 
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    Buddy you're a boy make a big noise
    Playing in the streets gonna be a big man someday...

    Bryan was no rhyme-o-mancer. He was just a warlord... with a natural rhyme-o-mancy special. His ability to rock was so pervasive that it dominated his signamancy impact on the Impewial Palace (saying "pawace" is apparently not done). For example, his chambers popped when he did, and their contents were largely intended for his rhym-o-mantic research... sound booth, "recoding" studio, and all the instruments necessary for any musical combination possible. The palace also popped an amphitheatre as well as an oval shaped office for official business as Diplomancy was more his real sphere.
    However, right this very moment, Bryan wailed on his axe in a spontaneous rockout that, were anyone to have seen him, it would be plainly obvious that the Titans assumed he popped on the battlefield and his first rock out would be a Fate driven critical success. At least, that's what he thought, and he was all alone, chords echoing off the walls and ceiling at top volume. The three golems pounded out the beat with their feet and hands while Bryan powered chords of sonic inspirado. At the end, he was on his knees, the momentum of his epic powerslide exhausted, face twisted into the passionate rictus of the Truly Rocked, sweat streaming down his face, hair and beard damp.
    The music stopped and the golems stopped stomping.

    Bryan, still locked in the last pose of the solo, cracked his eyes open. He saw a thickly built, grizzled old centurion. His rank read as Sergeant, but Bryan could tell he carried the air of authority. He was also a noble, as well as 9th level. His hair was grey, probably bald under the helmet, and he was missing several teeth. He looked worn; a tired look around his eyes that belied the terrible things he'd seen. Bryan was deeply affected by this man.
    "Oh, hello there. My name's Bryan and..." Bryan started.
    "Prince Bryan," the Sergeant corrected him in a deeply rustic accent, very odd for a nobleman. Bryan smiled and nodded.
    "Yes, Prince Bryan. Its nice to meet you. What's your name?"
    The Sergeant grunted with something that could be translated as joyful surprise.
    "Name's First, sire. John First."
    "Right then, Sergeant First. What can I do for you? Would you like some tea? My chambers popped with..." Sergeant First interrupted him, rudely.
    "Orders'r to take you to the Empewow, meet 'is impe-royal fatherliness, shake you out, check you for bugs, you know, spend a turn or two one on one in combat trainin, then spit you out to the field, you know, where the blokes kill each others with real weapons..." he twists a dial on the end of Bryan's axe, causing an un-awesome feedback noise. Bryan un-wielded the axe and replaced it back on the stand.
    "And then you know what? I think you're supposed to negotiate for the Empewow. Some kind of super special diplomatic mission to the Coalition of Barbarian Tribes. I'm that Sergeant what's gonna keep you alive, hear? You stack with me and you stay stacked until I'm a corpse, and I'll make sure it'll be you who lives longer between the two of us."

    Bryan gawped at him.
    "Don't stand there gawping, as if you've never seen the hand of the Titans before! Stack up!" Bryan jumped at the man's order, not because the order carried weight, or that he was compelled to obey, but because that man was scary.
    On the other hand, Bryan was stacked up for the first time. The sensory information was... different, and altogether oddly detached. From this point of view, he could objectively weigh the tactical potential of combat orders that included fighting to the death. Bryan found that to be a horrifying thought, especially while outside of a stack, unfortunately, he was stacked, and that part of him was basically asleep. He understood all this intellectually, however.
    "Probably want to pick one a'those toys you have here. Popped weapons are meant for you." Bryan hesitated, then took a good two minutes deciding on which one to take. He finally settled on one with black and white stripes. As he picked up the bo-diddly, he thought of a question.
    "Sergeant. How big is this coalition?"
    "They have a seven nation army."

    [edited for spelling, grammar and capitalization. redundant word removed.]

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     Post subject: Re: Wife of Bwyan
     Post Posted: Wed Nov 02, 2016 9:30 pm 
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    Welcome my son
    Welcome to Machine
    Where have you been?
    It's all right, we know where you've been.

    The Sergeant's heavy mail boots made deep loud step noises in the darkened corridors. His armor and weapons clanked and clinked, sometimes chinked. The golems, in-stack behind Bryan, made metallic thuds as they marched in time with Sergeant First's mark. Bryan could not help but tap his thumb on the pommel of his drusus as he marched through the palace. He added complexity of the methodical beat, shaving hundredths of a point of move off their trip without any awareness that he was doing anything at all.

    [Discussion excerpt: THE MOLOKMWSTS: General Chat>> what happens when you shave time off of a trip that mechanically takes no time? What exactly is "negative move?" Do those hundredths of a point build up and one day you get a free point of move? Does that add energy to Erfworld? Or Entropy? ]

    Sergeant First led them to the doors of the Impewial Chambews. He nodded to the two shiny platinum golems guarding the door, who in turn opened the massive iron inner sanctum doors.
    Within the antechamber was an entire stack of warlords, twenty in all. Their leader, a nasty, hunchbacked bearded...thing... named lord commander Titus Plautus, glared at them with his one good eye. His golden armor was a stark contrast to the wheezing, sickly, leaky demon within it. Bryan cringed while doing his best not to cringe.
    "What's this now?" Plautus asked, apparently to Bryan.
    "Well then, hello my..." Bryan started, but Plautus looked at Sergeant First and silently directed Bryan to be silent. Bryan was just relieved that the lord commander wasn't talking to him to care about the seeming impropriety and insubordination. Then again, This monster was the chief warlord, so...
    "Reporting as ordered by his holiness, presenting his new popped heir, well, the most recent one anyway." Plautus gurgled laughter, which made First laugh, and so Bryan laughed nervously too. The two soldiers seemed to think that Bryan laughing at this was weird, so Bryan's laughter kind of trailed off and he smoothed the hair on the back of his head nervously and looked away. In this room, so close to some of the highest level units in the Empiwe, Bryan suddenly felt more like a fresh piece of bait. His rather quick mind was still processing the meaning behind all of this as the sanctum doors closed and the inner sanctum doors opened.
    Bryan was ejected into the room while the soldiers and the golems stayed in the atrium. The doors closed behind him with a sigh, like the sound of an airtight seal closing. He could hear beeps and clicks, and the slow sound of a bellows, in and out. White curtains hung in an almost random pattern throughout the room, which forced him to push his way through to the center. As he did so, he found that he could sense a no-combat spell in the room. Some kind of Hippymancy? No... more like very powerful Signamancy. The nature of the room had been altered, as if it was built out of some sort of specially flagged stone. Finally he reached the center. His father. His ruler. His overlord. Well, ok not his overlord. No likey.
    The curtains parted to reveal the great Impewial Thwone. A pillar of some six feet, mounted to the side of which was a massive bed. The bed, strangely shaped in a way to allow the Empewow to sit up, more or less. The whole throne-bed was on wheels and could move about as a siege engine. It did not move very much or very fast, mostly because vertigo and nausea were two of the Empewow's many ailments. At 22,173 turns, he was by far the oldest unit in history. On top of that, Bryan's keen novice eyes had been noting the advanced Signamancy decay even though he did not really understand what he was seeing. But you see it, gentle reader. You know that the Empiwe is rotting from within.
    Empewow Humpewdink II was dressed in a white gown with a string tie in the back. He wore flip flops on his feet, although he had not walked in over 5000 turns. He wore glasses with darkened lenses, and both his ears were filled with cotton. He had a nasty bruise on the side of his forehead. The bed slowly turned towards Bryan, bringing his withered face into view. His face was covered in a thin layer of white stubble and his hair was messy (another note of signamancy decay, eternal bed-head and the dreaded Five O'clock Shadow, a certain sign that decay depop was possible...). His hands were bound to the rails of the bed, and in turn both had tubes and other threads attached to him and then to some kind of cabinet-sized healomancy/dollamancy item. That's when he noticed Chief Cook standing over the Empewow on a dais, kind of mounted to the side of the bed. He was twisting dials and checking readouts. The Empewow lolled his head towards Bryan and spoke.

    "Let me look at you." Bryan stepped forward and raised his arms out by his sides, and wondered if he should speak. The Empewow spoke first.
    "Young Prince. I fear I bring you into this world at a dark time. And I know that the dangers you face, whatever they may be... I am not able to prepare you for yet.
    He paused, obviously winded by so much speech at once. Bryan could tell that interacting with him on this level was extremely difficult for him, and he usually relied on his linked casters to do that kind of work. It spoke measures of the importance he felt this meeting held.
    "I have ordered The Pointer Sisters to link with Lady Jane Nostradame, and their gestalt entity advised me not only to pop you, but to invest heavy faith in you. However..." Bryan felt pride in these words, but tensed.
    "What I see before me, I cannot believe that this, this... you... are the one thing this Empire needs. (No, the Empewow does not Rhotacize, but he expects it) No, I believe that while you are probably fated to live long, I doubt what I see here is what shall save us all from this doom."
    Bryan's shoulders sank.
    "But... but why?"
    "Because, Prince Bryan, you are no warrior. Look at you. Slight of frame. No strength. Small weapon. More suited to roguish backstabbing. Dishonorable, not proper. Signamancy, just... And what is a rhyme-o-mancy special? Are you a caster or not?"
    Bryan bowed his head and closed his eyes.
    "No what?" The Empewow hissed. Bryan panicked. What does he call him? Father? Empewow? My lord? Your eminence? Your holiness? The diplomatic implications were staggering. Numbers began to speed through Bryan's head, and he felt weird. Subconsciously he was working through a very important calculation, weighing the Empewow's title against perceived respect and expected deference, quotients of behavior of the subordinates he's seen. The results hurt his brain and made him want to scream.

    "No Sire."
    The Empewow made a satisfied scoff.
    "You don't even do anything."
    "I do."
    "What. What do you do? What can you do?"

    Tears welling up in his eyes, he pulled up his axe.
    "I can do this."
    And he showed off his skills again to the Titans, and his father. His father sat in raptured silence.
    Sweat and tears on his face. Blood on his fingers. The Black and White Stripes roared and sang its passion.

    Dane Cook's nasal voice spouted from the throne's right.


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     Post subject: Re: Wife of Bwyan
     Post Posted: Sat Apr 14, 2018 1:31 pm 
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    Still the first turn of the end of the beginning (turn of the first guys after the guys who just went last first)

    [Discussion excerpt: THE MOLOKMWSTS: General Chat>> The Titans do not have a sense of humor; rather, comedy is calamity. Dispair and laughter vibrate strings with the same frequency.]

    The sun machine is coming down
    and we're gonna have a party.

    More than twenty seven hexes away from his Capital, Davey collapsed into existence with a gasping sound. A split moment later, his heeled boots touched the ground. He looked at his hands; strong, long fingers. His fingers had rings on almost every one. His gaze went to the soft suede-like deerskin covering his arms, leather tassels hanging from the sleeves. The deerskin jumpsuit fit him like a glove, his long and narrow torso peeking through the deep cut vee neck collar. The jumpsuit was bedazzling, covered in tiny rhinestones and sequins. He sparkled even in this dim light. At his waist was a large single bladed knife in a sheath. His knife. Named for him. He felt his head, noticed that he also wore an eyepatch (wil a gemstone in the middle) but he had no trouble seeing. His hair was cropped short, the platinum of his blonde made his hair somewhat transluscent. His face also had a layer of warpaint.

    Then he noticed his surroundings.

    He was standing (sort of, he was tall) in a tiny garrison made of thick logs. He knew the name of the city in which he popped was Selleca. The floor was mud, and the chamber was filled with units... terrified faces. He immediately understood the grave danger they were all in, just by reading their faces. As he looked from one to the next stabber or archer, he realized that the thudding and thumping sounds were not coming from inside his head.

    The garrison of was in a state of combat right now. How? He was only seconds old, but he already knew it was his side's turn. How could they be under attack on their own turn? The men around him looked like they were already consigned to the City of Heroes. Well, Davey had just popped here, and wasn't ready to leave just yet.

    "Who's in charge?" He asked with a convincingly confident tone.
    Three stabbers pointed at a croaked warlord laying on a cot in the corner. His body was still here, but the X marks on his eyes did not lie. He was due to depop next turn.
    "Anybody mind if I assume command?"

    The faces around him brightened slightly, but still seemed hopeless. They clearly didn't have much faith in his leadership bonus, which was a fake point due to his combined casting special and unit specialty. Effectively, his Leadership bonus was Zero. But he did have a Leadership Score (even if it was zero, zero being better than no score), and therefore could technically lead.
    "I don't know where I'm going from here, but I promise it won't be boring," he finally said with a sigh. He stacked up. The units immediately fell under his command. Ten stabbers, six archers, and a couple slingers. One gump with an eyepatch that looked just like his.

    And the situation intensified. He felt his chief warlord's leadership bonus. It was a 4, then it disappeared. A moment later, it became a 3. He realized his side was losing.

    Hastily, Davey organized his people. He instinctively ordered the heavier to the front, paired weak ones with strong ones, created a unique rank formation of two stacks for the garrison and then had the gump open the door while his stabbers screened.

    As soon as the door opened, the gump was hit with a volley of arrows. Davey silently ordered it back and sent the stabbers through the breach while the enemy archers reloaded. Thankfully, (for the stabbers, not the Gump) they were crossbowmen and in that brief time to reload, the stabbers did what they did best. Each stabber scored a kill on a single crossbowman. Each stabber then formed up on Davey's pre-planned formation and screened the archers and slingers as they entered the hallway. Davey followed next, his knife gripped tightly. He mentally restructured his formation and the units obeyed without question or comment.

    Davey had no time to grasp that he was a caster. In fact, he only really knew one spell... the hoboken. Yet a caster he was. He had no notions of things like Fate, Numbers, Matter or Life, but he knew how to organize his people instinctively for this kind of fighting, and he knew how to sing. So while his tiny handful of units were buffed by his innate Date-a-mancy special, they were then too made even more effective by his casting specialty: Rhyme-a-mancy.

    His units cleared the next chamber of enemy pikemen, forming an inverted cone and luring them into it like a trap. His singing confounded the enemy as well, causing some sort of disruption to their communication at close range. They had all leveled by the time he made it to the courtyard where his chief warlord was pinned down.

    Davey split his force and mounted the walls, turning the garrison's courtyard into a meat grinder. The chief warlord, a level 3 named Simon Sezz, immediately stacked with Davey and took command. Davey was thrilled at this and fell into a unit support role, continuing to buff and sing and strengthen his stacks. Simon's chief warlord bonus along with the rest made every stabber and the one archer and slinger basically a heavy. As they cleared the garrison of enemy units, Simon leveled and so did all the rest of them.

    Against incredible odds, Davey Bowie stopped the advance of the Sandal Vandals, a barbarian tribe of mixed units from fallen sides who mixed up with the Empiwe. The Overlady Pat the Bald was caught unaware and had he not popped on that very turn, the garrison would have fallen. The Sandal Vandals had somehow secretly turned half of Overlady Pat's garrisoned army to the Vandals. They were in the middle of murdering their brethren when Davey popped. To the survivors, he saved the side. Morale had been poor of late, to say the least.

    Overlady Pat the Bald spent most of that night after the Battle of Selleca agonizing over whether to disband Davey. Sure, he was a miracle. Sure, and a hero. And a natural leader, something the side despreately needed him. But he was dangerous. Without getting too detailed, Pat the Bald had many reasons why she would never want a Signamancer into her Capital. One was the modification to the city that she could not reveal. Five other reasons involved her trysts with casters and... well, her heir. So yeah, she was not keen on ever meeting Davey Bowie.

    Finally she decided to keep him on the front. Keep him moving, fighting and conquering for her until he croaked in battle. She smiled at how clever she thought she was. Little did she know what Fate planned.

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     Post subject: Re: Wife of Bwyan
     Post Posted: Sun Apr 15, 2018 7:30 pm 
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    Shot through the heart and you're to blame
    You give love a bad name

    Bryan could not believe his ears. The Dane's bold accusation hurt him like a fist to his face.
    "Blasphemy? That rocked. Rock is the highest, most Titanic music there is."
    "You pway fow peace. The Titanic Wock is for Waw. You awe bwaspheming."
    "You're a looney," was all Bryan could think to say.
    The Empewow was silent. His eyes were closed, tears still streaming from his eyes. He was smiling. Bryan could see how rapturous his father was, but Dane Cook did not. He rounded on the new Prince.
    "I wiw not awwow such bwasphemous fiwth." There's that word again.
    "Guawds, attend me," the tiny priest said, and two diamond golems stacked with him.
    Bryan was suddenly very aware of the hatred in Dane Cook's eyes. He realized there was a good chance that combat was starting.
    "Now hold on a minute. Father, how could I be blaspheming, doing what I was popped to do?" Bryan's father did not reply. His head drooped and he let out a sigh. Dane Cook looked to the Empewow and suddenly changed direction. With wide eyes he climbed the ladder to the massive Healomancy device that tended to the Empewow. He frantically pulled levers and pressed buttons and spun spinners. He spun the mirror and jerked his head up to look at the Empewow, and then over to glare at Bryan.
    Bryan almost dared not ask.
    "What's the matter?"
    "Wivm. Wivm's wong. Wivm, wivew, widew, Vindavipah."
    It took a second for Bryan to realize Cook was not answering him, but casting on the Empewow. This became alarming.
    The Healomancy machine started to hum audibly. The pitch slowly increased. Dane Cook shouted.
    "Empewow! You must disband him! Cwoak Bwyan! Ow you wiw die!"
    Bryan was completely stricken with the sudden development before him. Did he just injure his father with his music? Could too much rock kill an old man? He looked down at his axe and unwielded it. He dropped it to the floor and ran over to his father's side.
    "Father, I didn't mean to hurt you."
    The Empewow grunted. Twice. Three times... ok he's laughing. painfully.
    "No Bryan. It is my time. I cannot hold it off any longer. The only way to pay this madness is this way. The Numbers..."
    Dane Cook was frantic.
    "Siwe! Destwoy him! Guawds!" Dane Cook mentally ordered the two diamond golems to attack Bryan.
    Biggus Nickus, Sillius Soddus, and Naughtius Maximus were still stacked with Bryan (along with Sergeant First) and they moved to screen their master. Bryan raised an eyebrow at that. Why would father's golems move to protect me from his own guards? Something's not right.
    The Empewow straightened, and looked at Cook.
    "Enough. It's over. Don't make me disband you, Steve."
    Dane Cook dropped his hands and stared at the Empewow, shocked.
    The diamond golems straightened and let down their arms.
    The Empewow spoke.
    "Bryan, I hereby disown you and declare you barbarian. You are free. Your three friends here will go with you. I order it."
    Bryan's outfit swirled and spun around him. His basic signamancy did not change, but the reds of his outfit turned grey; the blues turned black. The gold, brass.
    Biggus Nickus and the other two did not change. Although they made like-life gestures that suggested they were inspecting their new bodies. Bryan detected his barbarian purse, and saw that the empewow had filled it.
    "Father, I..."
    "Play. Once again. Show me the Titans' will."

    Bryan bent down and picked up his axe, glancing worriedly at Dane Cook. He glared, but threw his hands up helplessly. He buckled the axe back into place, and re-wielded it.
    The Empewow spoke.
    "Anyone interrupts Bryan, is disbanded."

    Bryan played.

    As Bryan rocked out in ecstatic agony, the Healomancy machine whined in time with his music, the Dane frantically operated the controls of the strange machine in a mad attempt to stop the empewow from croaking himself with Rock. Bryan just wanted to please his overlord.
    A storm raged around the city as Bryan brought the Titans' will to the empiwe of the Womans, by the chords of his axe, the very reality bent and tore open to spill the contents of Limbo into the sky. Madness spun out of control as Bryan synchronized with the Healomancy device, Biggus Nickus and Sillius Soddus made percussion beats out of marching in place, Naughtius Maximus made the goat horns signamancy and banged his metal head granting a bonus to the other two. Dane Cook held onto his mitre hat and hid underneath the device. The Empewow laughed out loud, rose up into the air, and dissolved into light.
    Lightning struck the citadel and the castle crumbled. Units croaked and vaporized as the floors and walls collapsed into ruin. The horde of warlords outside the room, gone. The vast armies spread around the empiwe, gone. Diamond Golems, gone. A blast of hot sandy air from the sky blew the city into rubble. Bryan lost his balance and fell screaming into the chaos.

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