Nomads, Day 36

There are quite a few sharks circling, but no one seems quite ready to make the first move.

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Orcs, Day 36

Skulkan gazed at his miraculous creation: half dire penguin, half abomination and half duck... or something like that. The many stages of alchemy, enchantment, magical infusion and grafting had caused the specifics of the operation to be hard to explain.

It stood three quarters of his height and sported glowing red eyes, a sheer steel beak and pig-like nostrils. Frayed feathers thinly covered what looked like stretched-out human skin, all supported by four spindly legs, whose several dozen 'toes' were unusually long and gave one the vague impression of a centipede when one saw the beast in motion. Pincer-tipped draconic wings lifted from the duck's back restlessly, unable to lift their owner but completing the fearsome picture it presented.

The thing quacked at its master, or rather it said "QUEEEEERRK" in a pained, otherworldly and haunting tone.

This beautiful creature was the first completely successful experiment, and the laboratory bore witness to his countless failed or abandoned attempts at bio-magical manipulation prior to this. Bloody piles of flesh and body parts were tucked into the corners in a horrific manner.

But it didn't matter now. The solution to all of his problems was lurching about in front of his very eyes. Within a few days he would have twenty of these things, and then twenty hundred. None would stand in the way of the mighty King Skulkan!

This is moving so slowly I actually forgot what I was doing with most of my stacks.

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Archons, Day 37

Turn sent.

Nomads, Day 37

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Orcs, Day 37

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ok ok I'm only a bit slower than you :p

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Archons, Day 38

Somehow I am still alive.

Turn sent.

Nomads, 38

The time for War is now.

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Orcs, Day 38

The first thing Groolk saw after his collapse in the Pillared Griffin was red, a deep bloody red. He slowly became aware of it shimmering and pulsing in a hypnotic manner. At first he considered that his eyelids were closed or that he was dreaming, but after reaching up his arm to force open his eyes and subsequently noticing the intense pain that convulsed through his crippled body, he knew this couldn't be so.

He got up and looked around. The sight was unfamiliar to say the least: a barren landscape of steep rocks and gloopy liquids bathed in a red glow. He felt himself pulled along towards something which resembled a path, leading up over the rocky horizon in front of him.

When he reached the top, he was greeted with a long, narrow and perfectly flat stretch of rock which wend its way through an enormous lake into the far distance. It thronged with thousands of Orcs, perhaps tens of thousands, all of whom seemed to be waiting in a queue of some description. Some were fighting and jostling to get closer to the front, with many falling (or being pushed) into the lake as a result. Others were jumping on the spot batting at the air, or clasping their ears and crying out as if tormented by some unseen spirit, completely oblivious to their surroundings. The noise of the shouting and crying throng was near deafening.

To either side of the path there were enormous effigies on plinths rising from the red lake. They appeared to show famous and brave Orcish warriors from the beginning of time to the present, heroes who had died under Meandor, those who had been killed fighting Azracs and Dwarves, even those who had fought against other Orcs in a particularly bold fashion. The images were fairly grotesque, as they showed the men and women in their death throes, perhaps even how they were positioned when the mortal blow was struck against them. They were also extremely lifelike, far more so than any mortal sculptor could possibly have managed.

As Groolk stood watching the scene in utter confusion, someone bumped into him from behind and almost knocked him over. The scarred warrior, who had an enormous stab wound showing where he had been impaled through the heart, turned around and looked down at him.

"Well, 'ow'd you die, eh?," he bent over and shook the smaller orc's wrist as though it were a plaything, "a broken arm?! Awww, did some fella snap yar poony lil arm and you just went n gave up tha ghost?!"

Groolk merely winced and then, his eyes staring straight forward at nothing in particular, slowly fell backwards and hit the floor with a dusty *poof*.

Shortly thereafter, an unfamiliar voice boomed in his skull: OH GODS, YOU'RE PATHETIC

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Archons, Day 39

Turn sent.

Nomads, Day 39

The djinn attack went off without a hitch. The sphinx attack got wasted by a bunch of flipping larva.

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Orcs, Day 39

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