RWL in the beginning

[The Lady Shael]

 Chapter 1: Prophecy
Background
In the mighty provinces of the lands, creatures rest easier. In the lower provinces, they quaver and wonder about attacks. Life goes on; it always does.

Politically, the mighty Delor Independent Forces have formed what seems to be an unstoppable alliance, linking the highest warlords of the lands in a mighty treaty. Other once-great alliances now squabble to survive after being decimated. Who among them can withstand the great armies? Who among them is able to win through the masses of troops and the many towers?

The Delor warlords themselves have but one fear. Their former leader, Sons of Delor, has broken off to form a new alliance, disgusted with the exploitation of the lower warlords. The great alliance builds defenses higher and higher. They all wonder, however, if it is enough. Sons of Delor has taken, once again, to fighting for gold and other wealth.

Spies within Sons of Delor, and the Deran-Jed Pumer Clan have reported to numerous warlords that there seems to be a massive arms race. Armies huge enough to dwarf even the other high warlords march and drill throughout the massive lands.

In the Fortress of Captain Spigot
The ale sloshed wildly as Captain Spigot, an intimidating fox, slammed his mug upon the table. ?Cut to the point.? He growled.

Across the table from him stood a primly dressed stoat - a physician, wrung his hands. ?Ah?the. The point is, sir?that you will be dead in?ah, a week.? Any further elaboration was cut off as the physician ducked a mug thrown at his head.

?Why didn?t they catch this earlier?? roared Spigot.

?Because?you usually don?t let us in??

?Baah! For good reason. Going to die in a week?? the Captain mumbled. ?You may leave me.? He added. As the physician walked out, he motioned for the stoat to be killed. Blasted physicians. No good news?

Spigot was in more than a bit of a fix. No heirs, no generals he trusted (greedy power grubbing fools, the lot of them)?no relatives. When he died, the Deran-Jed Pumer Clan would be over and done with. Though it certainly wouldn?t be done with a bang! He could envision it now?the mighty armies washing over lands, conquering?pillaging?the world their oyster, or other clamshell of choice! Their irrigation would fail and their aqueducts plummet as the mighty armies of the Deran-Jed Pumers overwhelmed them!

There was but one problem?those Sons of Delor. Always looking for money, they were?but other things interested them, and the Deran-Jed were not easily dismissed. Calling for a scribe, Captain Spigot began reciting a treaty proposal to the Sons of Delor,

?Most Honorable Stormclaw,

Times are fearsome, and peace is dear. I propose a treaty of peace. No tangling engagements, though. Let us leave our futures open. Will you enter into a peace treaty, ending three days hence, upon the 17th hour?

Captain Spigot, The Deran-Jed Pumer Clan.?

The next day, in the fortress of Stormclaw, Self-Styled Emperor of Mossflower
The brilliant hues of sunset dappled the lands of Mossflower, the sun flaming on the horizon as it departed, the moon just visible on the other side of the sky, a mere spliter of it visible. The sky was mostly clear, a couple of clouds on the horizon, an evening breeze tugging at the fur of anybeast outside.

Seven or eight such beasts were gathered on a balcony; five of them had instruments, two were sitting off to one side, and a third was bustling back and forth between them and a nearby table.

"A toast, Svoldira," one of the seated figures said, raising a wineglass. He was a weasel, tall and slim, clothed entirely in black save for the edges of his sleeveless tunic and the hem of his cloak- these areas were a reflective silver fabric. His eyes were blue, his fur the typical dark brown of his species, shading to a cream color on his throat and chest. "A toast to peace. May such things as our armies not always be neccesary."

The other seated figure, a slim vixen, raised her glass to meet his. "Quite." The Emperor took the chance to study his companion again whilst she sipped her drink. Dressed in a dark grey, militaristic, almost uniform-like shirt, the Marshal Svoldira Klamath, cut an intimidating figure. The formal sash, a bright red, which she wore over her shoulder for occasions such as this one, only added to the intimidating image. Stormclaw, on the other hand, knew better. Svoldira was his closest ally, commander of the Aurelia Corps; and, from all reports, his equal at military matters.

They were just getting to the main course of the meal when a messenger rushed in. Stormclaw sighed, slightly vexed; although he had given orders that messengers were to report to him personally, he wished they had a better sense of timing.

The rat didn't wait on decorum. "Warlord Spigot has attacked, m'lord. Not our empire, but every other- including yours, milady."

Svoldira looked furious and Stormclaw could feel his own face twisting into a snarl. "You're dismissed, messenger."

After the rat had left, the weasel set his wineglass down deliberately, slowly, and called to his chancellor. "Muir. How long until our treaty with the Deran-Jed expires?"
The flustered chancellor had, nonetheless, a very good memory. "Two days, milord. Two days exactly."

The weasel rose, crossed to the edge of the balcony and looked down at the valley below. A moment later, Svoldira crossed to stand beside him. "What shall you do, then, Stormclaw?" the vixen asked softly.
Stormclaw turned to his chancellor. "Two days... Muir. Rally the army. We march to war."
"Milord, that is not wise... your treaty..."
The weasel's eyes burned into the other's mind. "They're my friends, Muir! He was my friend once. Even Warlord Ragefur I once called friend and ally. And the others are besieged as well? No, I must go. My honor states that I cannot attack for two days? So be it. Two days it will take to reach the fighting in any case. And then there will be a reckoning. Rally the troops."
The chancellor bowed deeply. "Yes, milord."

The weasel was left alone with his guest; the court musicians, some distance away, were playing a song that seemed to fit his mood perfectly. He spread his arms to the sunset sky and chanted aloud, "And the skies shall be stained with fire and blood, and the Emperor shall awaken, and all that has gone before shall be as mere tears in an ocean of pain, and the balance of power shall be destroyed."

They lingered there a moment, as the sky shaded into blackness, and the last of the sun's flames dissappeared into the night, listening. The call to arms began to be shouted all around the castle. The weasel and the vixen both smiled in grim satisfaction. Soon, all too soon, an army of upwards of six million would be marching their way to the stronghold of the Deran-Jed Pumer clan, and a navy of nearly two million ships would be there to back them up.

The weasel, Lord Stormclaw, the self-styled Emperor of Mossflower, turned away from the sunset and entered his castle, searching for his crown and his sword. As Marshal Klamath, also, turned to leave, she heard him muttering under his breath.

"So mote it be."

Days later, with the Deran-Jed command in the small town of Toraville
Spigot stood amid the burning rubbles of yet another town. The flickering flames glinted dangerously off of his polished battle-axe.

?You see,? he remarked casually to the other officers around him. ?This is how an army should be. Not an obstacle, not merely an enemy, but a force of nature? Can one drain the ocean? Or stop a hurricane in full swing? The same answer goes when one would ask, ?Can one stop the Deran-Jed???

And so the mighty army marched on. The Deran-Jed was a massive holding by the time Spigot?s treaty with those mote-ing Sons of Delor was up.

Two days later, on the outskirts of the city of Ferriston
"Steady..." Stormclaw strode back and forth in front of his troops. His armor was polished to a brilliant sheen, his sword sharpened to a razor edge, the blue plume on his helmet fluttered in the breeze. He was here to fight. The Deran-Jed hordes had been sweeping through the woodlands like a flame, and it was here that Stormclaw had elected to launch his first counter-offensive. He expected to fail miserably, but there was always a chance.

"We go into battle for three things. First is for the glory of the empire. I won't try to delude you, men. That's a bad reason to fight. Second is for survival. That's usually considered a good reason to fight. But that's not our best reason. Not today. Today, we fight for the others. The weak. Remember, always remember, that every enemy you kill today would have gone on to wreak havoc among those who cannot defend themselves so well. I will not ask you to fight for me. I will not ask you to fight for them. I ask you- no. Wait."

Stormclaw removed his helmet and, in full view of all his legions, dropped to his knees on the ground. "I beg you. Do it for the weak."

The roar of approval that came from his troops launched the Emperor onto his feet. He slammed his helmet onto his head and dropped the visor. Members of the horde started to chant something.

"Delor! Delor! Delor! Delor!"

The Emperor held up his paws for silence. Silence fell. He drew his sword and pointed to the horizon. "Here they come! For Mossflower- Charge!"

"Mossssflooweeeeeerrrr!" The horde shouted it, a long, drawn out cry as they closed for battle at the dead run.

Four days later...
Muir looked at Stormclaw worriedly. "Milord, we've lost so many troops getting this far... The men are tired."
The emperor nodded, wrapping a bandage around his latest in a series of wounds. "As am I, Muir, as am I. But we've made it to the border of Deran-Jed lands. I refuse to give up now."
Muir shook his head sadly. "It's the guard towers, milord. If we could only break past them..."
Stormclaw pounded his fist into the table. "There's too many, Muir, far too many. But I will not accept defeat. Not now. Not from someone as harsh as Spigot. It's up to the strong to defend the weak, and I'll do that if I can."
"I don't see how you can, milord. I don't see how you can."
"Leave me, Muir, please. I must think."
A candle flickered on in the lone tent.

On the battlefields of the Sons of Delor
The din of battle was all-consuming. Thunder roared as if the heavens themselves were being rent. In a way, they were.

Since before all of the warlords, was the established power, the Sons of Delor: undefeatable, powerful, the most fearsome warlord in all of Mossflower. There, that day, upon the grassy slopes of Delor-land, the unthinkable happened.

The Deran-Jed pulled off what can only be described as a brilliant maneuver. While Stormclaw was preoccupied with attacking him, Spigot took a huge battalion of mercenaries and new recruits around the armies of Delor. Defenses were routed, guards flattened. Land changed hands. Forcefully.

The Deran-Jed Pumer Clan was now the most powerful, while the Sons of Delor began a swirling descent into the ranks of the mortal. Upon the battlefield, Captain Spigot laughed manically with victory-glee.

That same day, at the edges of what is now Deran-Jed land...
Stormclaw crept forward slowly, making no noise, his allies beside him in the grass. No flame is seen, no armor is sparkling. Not at this battle.

"Now!" Stormclaw leapt up, as beside him many other figures rose out of the grass, and they charged. And the towers, the guard towers that had been frustrating Stormclaw so, fired their long arrows.

Fired them into the Deran-Jed troops, every arrow launched by a loyal Son of Delor.

Stormclaw yelled with exhilaration as he powered forward at the foe. So, that knave, who attacked whilst his back was turned, that turnip-nosed lop-eared unwashed heathen Spigot thought he could take Delor land? Not likely. Not while the emperor lived.

By the end of the day, Stormclaw's lands were back to their former size- and then some, a significant chunk of the Deran-Jed lands now in his royal grasp.

Conclusion
Stormclaw donned a long cloak and strapped his sword to his back. "I can't defeat him, he can't defeat me. Action must be taken to secure peace." The weasel slipped quietly out of his own palace and began a trek towards Deran-Jed land.


Three Days Later...
Stormclaw made it out of his own lands without incident... Made it, in fact, into Spigot's very citadel, his castle- the stronghold of the Deran-Jed war horde. It was when he was passing through a hallway on the fourth floor that things started to get rough.

"'ey! You! with the sword!" yelled a captain, from down the red-carpeted hallway

Stormclaw pulled down his hood and transfixed the captain with a blue-eyed glare. "Get out of my way."

"No weapons above the third floor...weasel."

Stormclaw slowly lowered his sword. "Show due respect. Do you know who you're speaking to?"

"An arrogant weasel, who needs to either give me his weapon, or be escorted to the third floor."

Stormclaw smiled pleasantly, pacing forward to close the distance between himself and the other. "Arrogant, perhaps, but with good reason."

"Others are the judge of that, weasel. You still need to give up your weapon or go down a floor."

Stormclaw's sword flashed into a warrior's salute. "The Emperor yields to no one! En guarde, miscreant!"

The guard swung his cudgel towards Stormclaw's exposed ear.

The weasel stepped back to dodge the blow, then stepped forward, bringing his blade down and his point forward towards the guard's throat.

The guard mock-bowed under the thrust, whapping at Stormclaw's left knee with his cudgel.

The Emperor grinned and jumped back, dropping his sword-point to try and slice the guard's back as he went.

The guard tumbled to the right, still gaining a slash to his side.

Tasting victory, the Emperor stepped forward, ramming his point towards the stomach of the prone guard.

Thinking desperately, the guard flung the cudgel in the face of the enemy emperor.

Stormclaw took the brunt of the blow along his right shoulder, but maintained his forward thrust.

The guard captain twisted to lay flat on the floor, letting the main thrust of the shortsword be absorbed by his chain-mail. Although he'd be left with quite a bruise, he'd survive.

Frustrated, the Emperor stumbled forward, leaning his weight into his sword as he lost his balance. The guard took the opportunity, and, with a heavy gasp, grabbed at Stormclaw's arm, pulling the weasel towards his knee.

The emperor fell to his knees... Unfortunately, this placed his knees directly on the guard's chest. The guard screamed in agony, feet flailing up, only to meet Stormclaw's foward-traveling head. Stormclaw narrowly avoided cutting himself open on his own sword as he took a double kick- unaimed, but still painful- in the face and rolled off the guard. He scrambled back on hands and knees, rising to his feet with his ears ringing.

The guard continued to howl for a moment, then rolled over, dropping blood upon the crimson carpeting. "

"I'll....get...you...."

Stormclaw charged forward drunkenly then dove at the guard, sword pointed at the opponent's face. His wild dive carried his sword-point into his opponent's chest. Although the chainmail was good solid steel, it wasn't up to the pressure of such a thrust, and burst under the stab.

The guard gurgled out his last breath on the carpet as Stormclaw, blood dripping from his blade, sprinted for the stairs up to the next floor of the castle.

Five Minutes Later
"So, Spigot, my one-time ally, we meet again." Stormclaw addressed his words to the back of a chair in front of a roaring fire.

This was it, the last room of the castle, the highest point of the tower... Spigot's stronghold.

The figure in the chair made no response. Stormclaw strode forward, blade ready. "Answer me, knave, or I'll-" He stopped.

The figure wasn't breathing. Warlord Spigot had died of his disease moments before the weasel Emperor had broken into the room.

"Even in your death," Stormclaw said quietly, "You find a way to rob me of victory. So mote it be. And now I must run before your guards catch me."

The weasel turned and left the room with the crackling fire, glad that this threat to Mossflower had been resolved without his having to kill his former friend.

~End of Chapter One

--------------

Many thanks to the Wayback Machine. Can't believe I never tried it before. I found it looking up the old xepher.net site.

Take a look at these: (Nov. 10, 2002)

Old forum (look who's online! Or who was...)

Signup page hasn't changed a bit since the beginning

Top Ten Scores

(Feb. 10, 2003)

Old forum...*sobs* I wish I could touch it...

[Ashyra Nightwing]

 *sob* I miss the old RWL, when it actually had a plot and stuff, and on the forums cheese reigned supreme...

[Veranor]

Old forum...*sobs* I wish I could touch it...

Watchu talkin bout? Those aren't the old old forums, heck all those posts on iboze are here now (do a search for BIG FAT BUG)

[The Lady Shael]

 Hm, I did look at the date strangely for a minute, because it was after the new forums were up, but I guess it didn't really register...

[Orcrist]

 Heh- I was actually active on those forums...

[Kilkenne]

 *Misses old RWL, too*

#60 may live on forever within me ("Kilk's Marauders" the first)
#61 ever my friend (Ereptor)
#98 ever a loyal member of KM (Nick)
#116 ever a loyal member of KM (windy)
# ? ever a friend (Tarsonis, Josh, Fenix)

I just plain miss it all. Kinda makes one sad thinking about it.
I wish I could see the OLD OLD forums to see my first threads about KM.

*sigh*

(Top 10 scores from that link were taken loong after the game switched servers...)

[caedo caelestis]

 That's a sweet old top 10.

[Ashyra Nightwing]

 Yep. Before the reign of the leader massers...

[windhound]

 *misses DI and KM*  *and PAL as well*  

*pats leaders*  I remember when Beatles did a leader strat and everyone laughed at him..  
I also remember when leaders were used primarily as espionage and occasional attack troop..  very few poisens...  very few murders..  very few kills for that matter..  

*yawneth*

meh

[Ashyra Nightwing]

 But everybody had a much higher networth, for some reason.
..Didn't Tarsonis do a leader strat? I'm sure someone said he did...

*kills leaders*

[Kilkenne]

 Ashyra: Tarsonis did the "I'm a cheater" strat...Proxies and multiple accounts feeding (stoats usually). Remember?

I believe I was ahead in kills for all with 3...It was unheard of at the time, and there was no counter for it, unless I missed something dreadfully obvious.

[Orcrist]

 Yea- there was ALOT of land back then. As in, the average top 10 member had over 100k land and about 100 mil net. Lots of guards, but no one had many troops. I never failed a single espioniage the entire first time I played (until I deleted, but that's a long story). I was normally about 35% huts, which was considered REALLY high for the time being. Ahh- those were good times.

[Ereptor]

 I was just a new lad ready for action.  i created my own clan ( tbv ) with my brother and kilk joined soon after.  towards the end nick and josh gave me the in's and out's of rwl.  good days indeed.  orcrist i was once your enemy as i recall.

[Holby]

 

I believe I was ahead in kills for all with 3...It was unheard of at the time, and there was no counter for it, unless I missed something dreadfully obvious.

Beatles had 9.

*pats leaders* I remember when Beatles did a leader strat and everyone laughed at him..
I also remember when leaders were used primarily as espionage and occasional attack troop.. very few poisens... very few murders.. very few kills for that matter..

Slynder Talderhash was the first leaders player, but he was not that successful with it. I can't recollect the Beatles thing, windy.

# ? ever a friend (Tarsonis, Josh, Fenix)

#123

Yep. Before the reign of the leader massers...

Leaders are an artform, you don't mass them. You /play/ them... yiss.

[Ashyra Nightwing]

 Or you wait in the top twenty, massing happly, then once the leader players have built up a decent store of food, you sack.  Lots.
That took me to rank 4 with my Temperate Storm account... I doubt I could do it again though.

100k networth? I recall Revolution of Valiant Light having 800k...