[spoilers]Commodore is Tokugawa of Zulu, or, playing for second place.

[novice]

I think a blockade should still work, that war thing is just to break trade routes without actually blockading anything. I have a different theory on why the iron trade remains unbroken. Although it's hard to be sure without studying the map.

[Commodore]

Huh, weird. Well, moot point now...I'd rather he make cataphracts than muskets or longbows. Still seems I need to kill some of my black marketeers.

[Commodore]

The Siege of Indianapolis was led by the great general Hamilcar Barca in his forty-ninth year. Using mobile impi to pillage roads and bridges along his advance, he completely cut off the peninsula where the massive city of Indianapolis brooded. Hamilcar's army was vast and slow, and he spent the better part of three seasons reducing the great walls and earthworks of the Byzantine city.


Hamilcar went down in history as the first modern general, uncaring about glory, wealth, or renown. His home city of Jubjub Bird was under constant threat from the Byzantines, but he also knew that the surprise southward stroke was the best chance for finally conquering Byzantium. In Slithy Toves, the empire's heroic epic was written in response to this colder way for warfare, and well-trained knights in the heroic mold rode from the stables of the city for many years still.


Hamilcar's personal guard was a great company of elephants, trained in the arts of combat particularly against the fearsome Byzantine cataphracts. Nonetheless, they joined in the battle as well, easily overrunning the catapult-shaken defenders.


The Battle of Indianapolis, once it was finally met, was as one-sided a slaughter as the world had ever seen, with the 12th Assegai storming the walls in the very end to capture the great city's banners.


In the rout that followed, much of the city's infrastructure burned, and even the great Moai Stones were destroyed, to be rebuilt in the centuries to come. The city was renamed Frabjous Day, for the celebrations of the starving citizenry when the victorious Zulu marched past the gates of the city.


Hamilcar, meanwhile, knew at last peace would come for his own beloved city, now no longer a front line. But still the wily general schemed still, plotting the downfall of the Byzantine empire as a whole. An opportunity presented itself to perhaps raze the city of Cincinnati, defended by only a single company of longbows. Two veteran knight companies boarded the fast fleet lead by the Foggy Bottom, but harsh westerlies kept them in port for the rest of the winter.


Although battles would still rage inland, with the defeat of the fleets of Indianapolis the northwestern oceans belonged to the Zulu. Back in the core, settlers were commissioned for the distant islands of Wiffling and Frumious.


But the iron core of Byzantium still stood.

[Commodore]

The Foggy Bottom fleet set sail from their sheltering bay on the northern tip of the Indianapolis Peninsula in the spring, braving the harsh storms that crash into the western coast of North Westros. With the veteran navigators of the fleet ignoring the coast, the fleet came upon the city of Cincinatti in less than five weeks, well before reinforcements from the Byzantine capital could reach the city.

The first company of knights, the Shining Strikes, were trained in the arts of shock and land warfare. In awkward barges, landing with their horses, they attempted to land a little south of the city and steal a march upon the longbow regiment defending. They died in the surf in a panic, killing only a few score defenders as their whole company withered under the volleys of Byzantine arrows.


The second company of knights, however, were the valiant Thundering Circle. Veterans of countless battles, the experienced Thunders quickly realized their horses were not an asset in an amphibious attack, and so left them in the ships, assaulting the garrison under cover of a moonless night.


A fierce, sharp, and ugly battle was fought there upon the docks and amidst the wharves of Cincinatti. The Thundering Circle lost nearly half their number, but they captured the docks and then their support landed with ease. Dawn saw the fires already sweeping the great city, and the battle-worn company of knights awaiting the angry reinforcements from Lafayette.

But the city still burned, and then there were only three great Byzantine cities remaining.

[Commodore]

Around the dawn of the sixteenth century a new literary movement arose in the western areas of the Zulu Empire. The pastoral poets manning the Great Fleet grew increasingly enamored with the romance of the wild Western Ocean, using the imagery and terminology of the sweeping new caravels in their poems and art. Of these Nautical Romantics, the first and most influential was Artor Zim, a native of Olya's Cot in the south of the Jubjub Province.

Artor was inspired by the First Exploration, a the first sweep of the northern waters of the Western Ocean. The southern flotilla anchored at his village when he was ten years old, leaving a last impression. In his "Sonnet #3", he draws upon his memories and his own frustration, for his early ambition to become a sailor was put aside when he had to assume his father's role as the town's clerk.



[SIZE="4"]Like so many others, we may be ships,
Soft passing in the night unheard, unknown,
Though long ago did we leave our docks' slips,
In nearby bays I'm content here to roam,
Whereas you now have traveled very far,
And may yet seek to wander awhile more.
I can hear the call of the morning star,
For all that I prefer the closer shore.
Settled, stolid, a harborage of stone,
My ambition is to make a safe haven,
But that may mean remaining still alone,
As I sail in tiny inlets hidden.
For I am ever by the coast's near lee.
While you head from sheltering cay, to sea.[/SIZE]

[DaveV]

Cincinatti ... Cincinatti

Since rego is playing, I guess it's up to me to defend the spelling of my adopted city.

Cyneheard had it right: the second "n" is doubled; the "t" is not. I made the same mistake a few times before I adjusted to what seems like an unorthodox spelling.

[Commodore]

Since rego is playing, I guess it's up to me to defend the spelling of my adopted city.

Cyneheard had it right: the second "n" is doubled; the "t" is not. I made the same mistake a few times before I adjusted to what seems like an unorthodox spelling.

Right. Weird Ohio names anyway...

Briefly, I figured I'd note the general world situation. The mini-map shows it eloquently enough, actually. I've made it to the Final Five, I think, unless one of the jolly green giants decides I need to be executed.



Krill, as can be seen, owns a vast portion of the world and will soon own more, once he decides to use that +140k power rating to take over Azza. Size can be a bit deceiving, at times...but in Krill's case, it actually underrates his position, because the bulk of his land is that lush equatorial band, teeming with cottages, resources, and workshops. He's also helped by the #2 guys...

Pingo control a wealthy, compact core on Centralia and the lower, lusher half of Westros, not to mention the many southern islands. They are going to finish off Yuri any day now, and then it's an open question what they do. They certainly have the land to win now, but they may choose to go north to control all of Westros. If so, I'll die bloodily, but I'll die. They are supplying Krill with tech, weirdly enough, but they are avoiding trades (that I can see) with the tech leader and #3 seed...

Scooter, at last finishing off Brick to become king of the dunghill. His GNP and wonders are very impressive, but no Sid's, no Mining Inc, and Kremlin whips being nerfed means he ain't going to match production with the big boys. His day in the sun is now, with rifles and soon I am sure fast galleons owning the seas...but what can a whale do to Krill's elephant? Take away that big green island maybe, but knowing Scooter he's more likely to hit the oddly passive #4...

Nakor...misses Ceiliazul, I think. Krill has stolen cities but they seem on good terms now, he's just doing his little thing over there. I watch civstats, so that tells me basically nothing where Egypt is concerned. Maybe he has a clever plan, I'm only tracking Krill and Pingo closely, but right now he's fighting for "next victim" status with #5...

Me. Commodore, TokuZulu. Our brave but small empire is slowly but surely crushing Cyneheard, but once that's done, we're going to be the small but unappetizing lowest of the remainder. I'm not sure where we'll be going next, honestly...if Pingo decides to try for all of Westros then I guess our game ends that way, but if they continue with their friendly disinterest...I'm just not sure. A fleet might be able to wreck Aztec lands in the north, torching off a dogpile on Krill, but why on Earth would I want that? I'm not keeping any Krillian lands, and he's the one remaining dude who hasn't pissed me off. Pingo pink dotted me, Nakor traded iron to Cyneheard (casus belli against Cyneheard in the first place), and Scooter worst of all gifted the Byzantines Gunpowder, which will probably mean another 25 turns of conquest here. So diplo win Krill there, I reckon.

We shall have to see, methinks.

[YossarianLives]

Thanks for the summary, and overall enjoyable thread in general.

[Commodore]

James Mardoc, known as "Cook James" through most of his life, was born on the island of Brilig and served for a decade in the Zulu Navy as a ship's cook. He mustered out of the navy and went on to become a spice trader, specializing in the out-of-the-way nooks and crannies of the world, always seeking new spices and recipes. In his own life, he was one of the most famous men in the world because of his cookbooks. His Epicurian Pioneer's Cookbook is stil one of the most-used in the world today, and his Northern Living periodical is still published with new recipes every month.

It was only after his death, however, that his personal narratives were found and swiftly published, his gripping stories of adventure and culinary experimentation making one of the most impressive biographies in the world. Throughout his travels Cook James was accompanied by a tall Aryan known only as his man Monday. The two met early in Cook James' career, when he was in the navy serving upon the exploration vessel Pony Show.


From The Adventures of Cook James

We were all almost out of water by the time the Pony at last found the eastern shore of the land of the Aryans. The bleak shores were mostly tundra, with thickets of gorse spotting about the near shore and pine forests visible deeper with the folds of the land. I have known few lands more wild, or more pretty.

To the south, the city of Aryan drew leavies from the whole massive island, this extortion possible only due the city's domination of the copper mines in those hills. I am sure that the officers were making careful notes, for the barbaric city must be overthrown before we settle this land. A lush central valley, wooded and mysterious, is where the bulk of the Aryan people come from.


My party was set ashore to draw fresh water for the ship's store, and I set off in search of fresh kale or something like it, for scurvy was only a few weeks out. I walked alone, but brought with me my fowling musket, and I potted a pair of grey swans on my way into the high heather. I must have gone a good five miles when I heard a great shout.

The native tongue of the Aryans sounds like they are attempting to strangle each sylable on its way out and is completely alien, but I know the sound of fear when I hear it. I took off at a run towards the sounds of struggle.

When I topped the hill a dozen faces turned towards me. Eleven were short men of the northern ice-fishing folk, and they had just potted a massive Aryan man, who was bound but still yelling. A coal bed seemed to be just warming up the massive copper waterpot.

The fisherfolk made move to take me at a run, but I brandished my fowling musket at the closest and shot him in the face. The mighty roar of the piece, accompanied by the shrieks of pain from the man with a face full of birdshot, seemed to give them pause. I quelled my fear (for I had no more shot within gun and reloading would take some minutes) and imperiously gestured with the smoking gun-barrel for the fisherfolk to remove the Aryan from their pot.

Still threatening with the gun, I made move towards the pot and stirred it with my stout wooden spoon, bringing some of the water to my mouth. I quickly spat out the sup, as it was indeed plain, somewhat brackish water! This would not do at all. I motioned for the fisherfolk to begin plucking the fowl I had with me and directed more men to get cleaner water. They seemed confused, but still pliant.

Under my close direction, I had them prepare and spice the fowl with the salt, pepper, and nutmeg from my bag, and then used thistle-spice and nearby softroot to make a broth. The fisherfolk were much impressed, and by the end of our meal the sun was already setting but I managed to trade them some of my spices for the speechless Aryan. I unbound his feets and took him with me back towards the coast, leaving behind the excited native cannibals.

We walked for some miles before nightfall, and I untied the man so he could help me make camp. I asked for his name, but he shook his head repeatedly, motioning that he was my bondservant now. I named him Monday, for that was the day, and we made camp until dawn broke over the cold tundra.


When we returned to the ship I got no little ribbing for my new man Monday, but he was willing and strong, so he was swiftly accepted among the company. I have a fondness for Aryans, of whom the strapping but dull Monday is an exemplar. Our company sailed about the ins and outs of that land for many months after, and we always were sure to fire at any of the fisherfolk who came near.

[Commodore]

The summer after the Fall of Indianapolis, the army of Hamilcar struck out against the capital city of the Byzantines, Springfield. The army was still unreinforced and light on siege weaponry, but Barca knew that momentum was vital against the still reeling leadership of the Grey Court.


He was correct in judging the Byzantines to be passive, as their First Army still stood guard in the Lafayette province. Agents of the Barlow Network incited rebellions within Springfield, an under cover of the disorder damaged the walls of the city at key points.


Alas for the hopes of the Zulu, the defenders of Springfield fought bravely, longbowmen of the city in particular turning back several musket assaults that army odds-makers thought were certain victories. The tired army of Barca was not defeated in the field, but casualties ran high and Byzantine engineers were able to swiftly restore the defenses of the city.


The Zulu army withdrew to the coast to reinforce and resupply, while the Second Army set out into the southern territories of Byzantium, razing mines and destroying roads and outposts in support of Barca's Army. His core force was intact, but would not be able to strike deep into the heart of Byzantium for quite some time.


Nonetheless, the whole of the west coast was at last under Zulu control, as new caravels armed with brass cannons harried and destroyed the last of the Byzantine navy. The port of Columbus still stood, but its triremes were no match for the new-model navy of the great world.


And so still the Forever War ground forward.