DUELMASTERS NEWSLETTER
Date : 10/07/1999 Duedate: 11/03/1999
KYR'TERR ARENA
DM-71 TURN-86
This Weeks Top Honors
THE DUELMASTER IS
BLAMELESS COOK
WANNABEES (244)
(71-2362) [8-2-0,66]
Chartered Recognition Leader Unchartered Recognition Leader
BLAMELESS COOK LEGION '8'
WANNABEES (244) D.O.A. (245)
(71-2362) [8-2-0,66] (71-2369) [4-1-0,51]
Popularity Leader This Weeks Favorite
BLAMELESS COOK LACROIX
WANNABEES (244) WARRIOR DESIGN (285)
(71-2362) [8-2-0,66] (71-2671) [3-0-1,36]
THE CURRENT TOP TEAM
WARRIOR DESIGN (285)
TEAMS ON THE MOVE TOP CAREER HONORS
Team Name Point Gain Chartered Team
1. D.O.A. (245) 19
2. WARRIOR DESIGN (285) 8 WANNABEES (244)
3. WANNABEES (244) 7 Unchartered Team
4. THE CODA (190) 0
5. EDGE OF EXTINCTION (48) 0 WARRIOR DESIGN (285)
The Top Teams
Career Win-Loss Record W L K % Win-Loss Record Last 3 Turns W L K
1/ 5 WANNABEES (244) 8 2 0 80.0 1- 1 EDGE OF EXTINCTION (48) 6 1 1
2/ 2*WARRIOR DESIGN (285) 3 1 1 75.0 2- 2 THE CODA (190) 2 0 1
3- 6 CALL OF THE WILD (361) 30 18 3 62.5 3/ 3*WARRIOR DESIGN (285) 2 1 0
4- 7*THE NEW KINGDOM (362) 5 3 0 62.5 4/ 5 WANNABEES (244) 1 0 0
5- 8 THE CODA (190) 125 91 13 57.9 5/ 0*D.O.A. (245) 1 1 0
'*' Unchartered team '-' Team did not fight this turn
(###) Avoid teams by their Team Id ##/## This turn's/Last turn's rank
TEAM SPOTLIGHT
+ ]H[ + ---:--- + ]H[ The Andorian League #23 ]H[ + ---:--- + ]H[ +
Andor and points east:
There had been argument about the form of the cavalcade that set out from Andor
for Murska. Chancellor Bohr had favored a carriage for the king, another carriage for
important members of his retinue, a third for luggage, and a substantial escort, say
forty or fifty men. Mickeal had stated a preference for a horse for himself and one
for his bodyguard. They had compromised, finally, on a single carriage for assorted
luggage, the king, his minimal retinue, and his bodyguard mounted, and an escort of
only ten men. The escort was led by Traal Saru, the head of palace security, at his
own request.
The first day's travel was from Andor half way to Fratsfa, a distance of some
twenty-five miles. Mickeal would have pushed on to Fratsfa, adding another twenty
miles to the ride, but Khazakh and Traal Saru both vetoed it on the grounds that it
would tire him too much, with Khazakh adding that even with relays forty-five miles in
one day would be too hard on the horses. They had arranged to stay the night at the
home of Lord Vanj, just outside the town of Tronsha.
When Saru rode ahead to locate the turning to Vanj's estate, Khazakh guided his
mount closer to the king's. "It is in my mind that Saru intends to try something
here," the warrior said. "Do you know anything of this Lord Vanj we will be staying
with?"
"Ambitious, but with a rigid sense of honor." Mickeal hesitated. Was it this
Lord Vanj he was thinking of, or...? But it shouldn't matter; a scion of the ancient
Van was the same wherever met with. "He would not be party to anything underhanded or
traitrous." Unless Vanj, like a few other men here and there, still believed that
Mickeal was not the rightful king of the Andorian League. In that case, aiding Saru
to kill Mickeal would be an act of loyalty rather than treachery.
Before he could continue, the minotaur spoke, seeming to pluck Mickeal's thought
from the air. "There was a time not so long ago when many men of good faith believed
you an impostor, and there is no dishonor in removing a usurper from the throne."
Mickeal glanced over at him, but there was no expression he could interpret on
the non-human face. "Do you think I'm an impostor?" he asked.
"The question does not arise," Khazakh said calmly. "I have pledged myself to
defend you." The corners of his mouth lifted in a rare smile. "I do not know you
well, except by reputation, and there are differences in behavior. This is not
unheard of in one who has come to the throne unexpectedly and taken up the burden
without preparation. You are the king we have, and you're doing a good job.
Besides... the League might not survive a fight over succession at this time.
"An honest answer, if not straightforward," Mickeal said wryly. "I--"
Khazakh twisted suddenly and thrust the king from his horse, kicking free of his
own stirrups and leaping to the ground as well. Mickeal heard the solid thunk of a
crossbow bolt into a tree as he continued his roll toward the ditch beside the road.
Andor:
"I don't want to stay in Andor," Llud said out of the corner of his mouth. He
was trying to watch in all directions without seeming to do so. "I graduated here,
and the wrong people might recognize me. Besides, I think we'd do better to, uh,
`play the provinces' first--"
Belana glanced at the stocky warrior skeptically. His features were ordinary,
and she would have classed him as distinctly unmemorable, which was a good thing for a
criminal to be. Still, maybe he'd had a following at the arena. You could never tell
what the fans would go for. "Where, then?"
"The Clanhold seems like a place where things are happening," Llud suggested.
"I graduated from Aruak City--I'm as likely to be recognized there as you are
here. Still... there are other cities in the Clanhold, and I know my way around
there. Yeah, okay, let's try down that way."
Skaithvarn:
The Ventan had set up their camp at an abandoned farm, judging by what Senator
Dole and Bonner Springs could see by lantern-light when they arrived. Vasvo shouted
for somebody named Omavo, and when a younger Ventan appeared, instructed him to "put
these two with the woman."
"More prisoners?" Omavo asked. "Will not the Ulmurvians be angered to the point
of attacking us if we continue to take prisoners?"
"You're a fool," Vasvo said coldly. "You have no understanding. Take them and
shut them up securely... if you can manage that difficult task." His tone dripped
sarcasm.
Omavo shrugged and gestured for the two Convincians to enter the barn. A single
lantern hanging high under the roof lit the space dimly, showing that three of the
stalls had been converted into cells by the addition of barred doors. There was a
young woman in a fine but rumpled gown in one, and another held a man who looked like
a shepherd. Omavo opened the last door and waited while Dole and Bonner walked
through. Then he closed the gate and laid his hands on it, muttering words that
neither Convincian could understand. Magic locking, presumably.
Dole took those minutes to study the youngster. At first glance, he looked
Ventan, but at second glance his appearance seemed slightly off--a little shorter, a
little sturdier in build, his coloring a little stronger--blond hair instead of milk-
white, healthy color in his skin, and sky blue eyes instead of pale. Half Ventan,
perhaps...? And how would the Ventan treat a hybrid? If Vasvo's attitude was an
indication, then this young man might be fertile ground for subversion. Dole smiled
to himself. And who better to persuade a dissatisfied and intelligent young man that
opportunity lay in daring and disobedience?
+ ]H[ + ---:--- + ]H[ *** **** *** **** *** ]H[ + ---:--- + ]H[ +
Tarrgir:
The day was quickly drawing to a close, the sun already set in the western sky.
The air was filled with the sounds of late summer: crickets chirping loudly, the calls
of crows searching for a nightly roost, mothers calling children inside for the night.
The gray color of the sky held no mystery, nor did it inspire thoughts of late summer
romance. It simply threatened rain.
"If I ever see another bright, sunshiny day, it will be too soon," Deadpool
complained. He was smiling for the first time in months, since the summer had brought
heat and bright sunshine he'd been miserable. "I hope I can get to the Isle soon. I
hear it's almost always nice and gray there."
Cable looked at the warrior sidelong but said nothing. Ever since Deadpool had
come back from the dead, winning his way through one of Greywand's Dead Tournaments,
he'd been like this. Cable had finally given up trying to convince the man that the
Isle of the Eye wasn't much different in climate than Tarrgir. He did have to stifle
a laugh, however. Deadpool's mention of the Isle was ironic, for if he managed to be
invited, he and all his opponents would be immortal. Since he'd taken up the worship
of Ahringol, he believed it his solemn duty to send as many people to join the god of
the dead as possible.
The two were walking to the Academy, Cable answering a summons from General
Kyrican, the headmaster there. He knew what it was all about, and didn't trust the
Aruaki any further than he'd trust a Rirorni shaman. He'd brought Deadpool along in
case anything went wrong. The warrior was active as a member of the Andorian
Assassins Guild, and could blend into shadows as well as anyone he'd ever known.
They continued in silence for several blocks, each lost in his own thoughts.
Deadpool was anxious to get back to the arena. He'd been inactive for far too long,
and was anxious to kill a few new recruits, thus making his god all the more powerful,
and earning him new enemies to kill. Cable's thoughts, as seemed typical of late,
were turned towards that distant Isle, and the children he had there. It had been
years since he'd seen them, though news of them, especially his son, reached Tarrgir
from time to time. As they neared the Academy gates, Cable turned to Deadpool to
instruct him to take to the shadows. He stopped dead in his tracks and glanced
around, searching the shadowed doorways and roof-tops around him, for Deadpool was
nowhere to be seen. Or heard, for that matter. It was his turn to smile as he
resumed walking, knowing one of his most trusted, if a bit eccentric, allies was close
by keeping an eye on his back.
In the days to come, he was sure that would be needed more than ever.
-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-
Report from the Academy
The smell in the cellar hadn't improved in two years. The smell of blood and
death would probably never come out, just as the floor remained stained with its
blackness.
Kyrican sat easily in the same chair he'd used two years before, the same chair
he'd been sitting in when his daughter, together with three companions, had managed to
capture him and brand him a traitor. Two of those companions he hadn't known at all,
though he later found them out to be members of the Assassins' Guild. The final
member of that group, however, was quickly and quietly becoming his most hated enemy.
He'd had as much from the upstart as he could take, and the time for swift vengeance
was drawing near.
There was a soft knock at the door, bringing the General back to the task at
hand. He'd needed to get his hands on some professionals, and this person was
supposed to have the best line on what he was looking for. Wordlessly, he nodded to
the guard at the door, who in turn raised the bar and pulled the door open.
Standing in the doorway was a cloaked, hooded figure. Tall, but not so tall as
to stand out in most crowds, the person's full height could only be guessed. The
cloak and hood did much to conceal the features of the new arrival. Moving with the
grace of a cat, the cloaked being glided forward, the sound of metal boot heels on the
stone floor seeming out of place and ugly compared to the smoothness of his or her
movements. A table stood between Kyrican and the approaching figure, with a single
stool on the figure's side.
Two delicate, leather clad hands raised up, palms outward, from the confines of
the flowing gray cloak. Reaching up to the hood, the hands grasped it sides, and with
deliberate slowness, pulled the hood back revealing a woman's face, her features
plain, but not unattractive. Her hair was jet black, but had no sheen or life to it.
It was cropped shoulder length and worn hanging straight down. It was just the right
length that she could do just about anything with it, put it up or pull it back in any
number of styles. Her eyes were brown and unremarkable. She was as "plain-Jane" as
any woman Kyrican had ever seen.
She gracefully bowed from the waist, lowering herself to the stool in the
process. Her expression didn't change as the two of them sat, staring at each other
across the table. Kyrican noted how easily she matched his stare, and worried that it
was him who first broke eye contact and cleared his throat to speak.
"I trust..." he began, but was cut off as the woman spoke up, interrupting him.
"Don't," she replied, her voice husky and soft.
Not sure he'd heard her correctly, Kyrican once again nodded to the guard at the
door, who saluted, then left the room, closing the door behind him. The sound of a
latch being thrown from the outside echoed through the cavernous room, then all was
silent once again.
The woman's expression didn't change as the two resumed their staring. She had
to know what was happening here, otherwise she would never get to make that report,
and THEY wouldn't be happy without it. Her life could be over soon if she failed.
But that was the thrill of it for her, the lie and death risk tied to everything she
did.
Kyrican decided quickly that he didn't like this woman, but he couldn't seem to
bring himself to disobey her quiet command. He became angry with this thought,
wondering if perhaps magic had been used on him.
The woman smiled at him as he furrowed his brow, thoroughly enjoying the
situation. The more emotional she could get this pompous man to be, the easier it
would be to figure out the legitimacy of his claims. Her superior was never one to
let an opportunity to slip by, and a powerful man like Kyrican would be the best ally
they could have right now, next to Orn Ohlarin himself.
"Don't trust, General," she said smoothly, her voice deep and haunting. Her
accent was thick, perhaps Caleaman; they often had almost Delarquan accents. "I
wasn't worried about the guard overhearing. If you trust your guards, that's your
concern, not mine."
Kyrican wasn't in the mood for banter, and had half a mind to tell her so. But
he didn't, and instead pulled a scroll case from his belt and handed it across the
table to the woman. "That is to be delivered to an agent in Seam," he said. "You
will meet him at the Shaken Hand Inn. He will be wearing the uniform of a temple
guard. The password is "Priam". Use it in casual conversation. The response you
need to hear is "Tahrriena". Answer back to confirm with "dog days of summer".
The woman's smile was gone the moment she accepted the case. She listened to the
instructions carefully, noting the passwords and committing them to memory. "I'll
dispatch this with one of my best men," she said quietly.
Kyrican raised an eyebrow in surprise at this proclamation. "I'd thought you'd
be delivering these yourself?" he said, though it sounded more like a question. She
rose to her feet even as he was speaking, keeping her eyes locked with his the entire
time.
"My people will be in touch," she said when he finished speaking. "They wanted
me to pass on that they are overjoyed to have found someone who also has the best
interests of the Aruaki in mind. And to say that it will be a pleasure working with
you to further the Aruaki interests in the League."
Kyrican's face took on an even more dour expression as he watched the woman bow
and turn swiftly away. Walking towards the door without a sound. It wasn't until his
guard had closed the door behind her, securing the latch once again, that he realized
her boots hadn't made a sound.
-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-
ALL: For those wishing to participate in the upcoming Reports from the Academy, give
ear and listen!!! You will need to send your information (warrior census data) and/or
your permission to me so I can get your warriors involved. Please send me a diplo,
personal ad, note, or e-mail (Armalias@aol.com) ASAP. I'm looking forward to writing
in Tarrgir again, and these recurring Reports will be of a wider scope than normal,
spanning multiple cities within the Andorian League and beyond! So please, come one,
come all! Let's make Tarrgir's role-playing presence something to once again be proud
of!
+ ]H[ + ---:--- + ]H[ The Andorian League #24 ]H[ + ---:--- + ]H[ +
Deadpool watched from above as Cable marched into the office of General Kyrican.
His former manager-turned-friend had a blank look on his face, as if being there
didn't concern him in the least. Kyrican rose from behind his desk as the larger man
entered, Deadpool was enjoying the vantage that the Crow's hidden passages provided.
Kyrican smiled disarmingly as he took Cable's hand and they exchanged the time honored
test of strength with a brief handshake. Deadpool noted Cable's reaction to Kyrican's
strong grip more than he noticed Kyrican's reaction. Deadpool knew how strong Cable
was...sometimes he thought he'd known it too well.
Cable took a seat across the Aruaki headmaster's desk when Kyrican offered. He
nodded in thanks, but didn't speak. The large man was doing his level best to appear
disinterested, and Deadpool was himself almost convinced. Deadpool felt a bit of
jealousy as Kyrican offered Cable a fine cigar from a dark wood case. Imported from
the Karnhorn Empire, from the look of the decorative box. Cable accepted and lit the
stogie with one of the dwarven matches he always carried.
Kyrican appeared calm, and even friendly, as Cable lit the cigar. The Aruaki
took his seat in the large chair behind his desk, molding easily into its familiar
confines. Deadpool thought he looked too comfortable for a traitor, for that is what
Cable still suspected of the man who had once conspired with Rirorni against King
Mickael. Deadpool had no reason not to believe in his friend's assessment, but that
was why they were really here. They needed to find out what was going on with Kyrican
and the rest of Tarrgir's council. The best way, near as Cable could figure, would be
to get a position ON that council. Deadpool chuckled inwardly and had to stifle a
laugh at the thought of the stiff necked Cable in the role of politician.
"Welcome once again, Nathan Dayspring," Kyrican said, breaking the silence, but
not the tension. "It has been many years since last I saw you here, in the walls of
my Academy. They have been kind to you."
"I'm happy to be here, General Kyrican," Cable replied, taking a long draw off
his cigar. A light flashed in Cable's eye, a sure sign to Deadpool that he wasn't
pleased to be here.
Kyrican smiled, a warm smile that was somehow condescending. "Your son's
graduation, I believe, was..."
"I'd really rather not talk about that, if you don't mind," Cable said, cutting
in on Kyrican's pleasantries. "I'm a busy man, and I have a campaign to be running,
as you well know. Please, get to the point, as I'm sure you have pressing matters as
well."
Deadpool winced at Cable's lack of diplomacy, which was exactly what he'd feared
in "Nathan Dayspring, Politician". He wasn't alone in discomfort, as Kyrican's ears
had turned red and his eyes were narrowed. "Very well, Nathan," Kyrican replied, his
voice dripping with venom.
"And it's Lord Dayspring, General," Cable interjected, interrupting once again.
Kyrican was fairly fuming now, his ears and cheeks heavily red and his voice a
little bit shaky. "My apologies, milord," he said with the slightest nod of his head.
"I meant no offence, and will come to the point."
Deadpool tensed as he felt a presence behind him. Spinning silently, he drew a
dagger from a wrist sheath and held it back along his forearm. There, below his
vantage from a small shelf above the bookcase access door, stood a woman, tall and
slender, wearing the blacks and grays of an assassin. Deadpool recognized her as one
of his superiors in the Guild, but what was she doing here?
+ ]H[ + ---:--- + ]H[ The Andorian League #25 ]H[ + ---:--- + ]H[ +
Near Tronsha, halfway between Andor and Fratsfa:
Mickeal was glad the ditch wasn't muddy. He rolled up onto one knee, drawing
his sword and raising his head slowly to peer through the tangled grasses that edged
the ditch. There was no one in sight--Khazakh had taken cover somewhere, probably
close by, and the sniper was not visible. Their horses had wandered a little way on
down the road, and the rest of his party was not in sight; they'd fallen behind, but
he didn't know how far.
Now what?
His own impulse was to go after the sniper. He hadn't been paying close
attention but thought the ditch had run along the road for some distance, and there
was a curve not too far back that would make it possible to get to the other side of
the road without exposing himself... Of course, the sniper might be moving, too.
And, of course, pursuing assassins was not supposed to be part of the king's job.
Even when it was the king who was attacked. This wouldn't be the first time he'd
found his job irksome.
Where was Khazakh?
*** ***** *** ***** ***
Khazakh was belly down in the grasses in an area where no reasonable man would
try to conceal himself. There didn't appear to be cover enough for a rabbit. Which
just showed how little most people knew about concealment. His clothing was of a
color and pattern that would blend in with nearly anything, his slow, careful
movements those of a man who had successfully hunted the extremely wary winter-wolves
of his homeland.
The sniper had been behind a clump of wild berry canes at the roadside, but
Khzakh was not so foolish as to suppse the man had stayed there. Still, he had
assessed the probable routes of escape--to the front, onto the road, was clearly out,
and to the rear, so far as he could tell from here, there were more brambles, possibly
an impenetrable wall of them, from the look of things. To the snipers right was an
open area on the bank of a small stream. The left, back along the road, was the most
logical way for the man to move. Also, the curve of the road there would allow the
sniper to get to their side of the road unseen, and if he planned to try again, that
would be a good move on his part.
He wanted to pursue the man, catch him and ask him questions, but his primary job
was defending the king. He began to edge toward the ditch.
Skaithvarn:
"Your name is Omavo?" Senator Dole asked. At the Ventan's startled nod, he went
on, "And you're our jailer?"
The young Ventan shrugged. "I guess," he muttered. His gaze, which had wandered
to Bonner Springs, was definitely admiring.
"Rather quiet out here--"
"Vasvo's going to be the death of us!" the young man exclaimed suddenly. It was
as though the Senator's sympathetic presence had pulled a cork or unlocked a door.
Words poured from him as he told of the Ventan leader's insistence that all non-Ventan
were enemies, of his policy of petty theft (or major theft if the chance offered) in
the villages they passed through, of the intimidation of farmers with hints at curses,
and even of real curses sometimes laid on those who annoyed the leader. "We never
have a chance to settle down, never get to be friends with anyone," Omavo finished,
"not even other Ventan! Everyone's an enemy to Vasvo."
"Things are otherwise in the world at large," the Senator said, as though musing
to himself. "Oh, there is trouble, there are enemies, but there are friends and good
times, too. Educational oportunities... chances for young men to meet young women and
get friendly... chances for a young man to choose his own road and walk it freely..."
"Chances for others, maybe," Omavo said bitterly, "but not for a Ventan."
"Chances for a Ventan, too, perhaps," the Senator said, his voice soft and
insinuating, "if he were to leave those who confine his life and had a friend or two
to introduce him into new circles. I know a lot of people who would welcome a young
man of promise..."
"Omavo! Omavo, where are you? What's taking you so long?" The voice was
Vasvo's, and at the sound of it approaching the barn door, the young man jumped, then
turned away quickly, hurrying to meet his leader just outside the barn. The prisoners
couldn't hear what words were exchanged, but Vasvo's bullying, complaining, critical
tone was clear.
"He may listen to your blandishments," the woman in the next stall said quietly.
"Lady Elida of Ulmurvian, I presume?" Senator Dole said, bowing courteously. "I
am Senator Dole of Amen-Tei in the Andorian League, and this is my assistant, Lady
Protector Bonner Springs. We've come to rescue you."
"By getting yourselves captured?" she asked in a tone between laughing and
crying.
"Whatever it takes to do the job, fair lady," the manager said. "There are many
options open to us, and young Omavo is only one of them."
SPY REPORT
It's me, The Unknown Spymaster, back to give you this week's Spy Report. Sit
back in your seats and we'll have more fun than a barrel of Zontanis. We now have a
new top team for all of you guys to dogpile on. WARRIOR DESIGN now holds the crown
and they are betting they can keep it. Hey everybody, watch out for LEGION '8', who
flew up 17 points in the rankings after mashing THE USEROUS MERCHANT like a melon.
Keep your eye on this beast. Well, if ya don't shows up at the laundromat, ya can'ts
wash yer clothes. BLACK RHINO did not fight this week so his title was forfeit. In
front of all the crowds, BLAMELESS COOK took the Duelmaster's crown for its own. I
give the bum two weeks. Can you believe they are paying me 10 gold to deliver this
stuff?
But enough of that bunch, let's get on to the wimps who like to avoid battle!
Being a spy is great--other people die and you spend the rest of the day
drinking to their memory. Better tanked than dead! Ask not the elves for counsel,
for they will say both yes and no. Silly buggers, eh?
Well, that wasn't too bad; Alarond told me that the people in KYR'TERR have no
sense of humor. Or maybe that they were senseless. Well, there goes another Spy
Report. Good luck in next week's fights. Its been real, and its been fun, but it
hasn't been real fun...-- The Unknown Spymaster
DUELMASTER W L K POINTS TEAM NAME
BLAMELESS COOK 2362 8 2 0 66 WANNABEES (244)
CHALLENGER CHAMPIONS W L K POINTS TEAM NAME
-BLACK RAZOR 2045 15 8 0 108 THE CODA (190)
-BLACK RHINO 1834 10 6 1 100 EDGE OF EXTINCTION (48)
CHALLENGER CHAMPIONS W L K POINTS TEAM NAME
-PARADISE PARROT 1735 12 13 0 97 EDGE OF EXTINCTION (48)
CHAMPIONS W L K POINTS TEAM NAME
-SNOWY OWL 3252 12 6 0 84 CALL OF THE WILD (361)
ADEPTS W L K POINTS TEAM NAME
LEGION '8' 2369 4 1 0 51 D.O.A. (245)
-SIMIEN JACKAL 2578 5 2 0 49 EDGE OF EXTINCTION (48)
-GHOST KNIFE 2537 6 7 0 47 THE CODA (190)
-AKHENATEN 3257 4 1 0 39 THE NEW KINGDOM (362)
LACROIX 2671 3 0 1 36 WARRIOR DESIGN (285)
CHALLENGER INITIATES W L K POINTS TEAM NAME
-GORILLA 3256 5 2 2 29 CALL OF THE WILD (361)
INITIATES W L K POINTS TEAM NAME
-LAR GIBBON 2379 4 1 0 21 EDGE OF EXTINCTION (48)
-LABTEC 3144 1 0 0 20 THE CODA (190)
-SETNAKHTE 3260 1 0 0 14 THE NEW KINGDOM (362)
ROAD KILL 2367 2 3 0 13 D.O.A. (245)
-HYENA 3251 1 3 0 6 CALL OF THE WILD (361)
-THUTMOSE 3258 0 2 0 6 THE NEW KINGDOM (362)
'-' denotes a warrior who did not fight this turn.
THE DEAD W L K TEAM NAME SLAIN BY TURN Revenge?
NILFIGER 2675 0 1 0 WARRIOR DESIGN 285 DARK CHAMPION 24 86 NONE
PERSONAL ADS
13 September 1999
Hey rookie managers -- Stormcrowe (45) currently has only one unchartered team so
those awards are practically being given away! If you think that ;your newbies have
the stones to face the likes of MHC & Hearts of Oak, Dark Overlord & Descendents of
Darkness, the Fuhrer & Aryan Assassins, Seamus & Irish Marauders, GraveDiggers and
many other hardcore teams and managers then by all means bring them on over. This
invite is extended to all veteran managers as well, but we figure that you are smart
enough to avoid our killing grounds.
All -- Spreading the word about PBM 'zines and newsletters:
Paper Mayhem--has suspended publication. Dave is selling the magazine (due to
illness, I've heard). Looking for someone to assume close to $10k in subscriber debt
and maybe cash on top of it.
PBM Report--has a new editor, Chuck Miro, and owner Madhouse USA. Submissions
should be sent to: Chuck Miro/ASHRAE
1828 L St. NW suite 906
Washington DC 20036-5104
Submissions may also be emailed (no address available).
New! Free! Rains Adventure Journal--send submissions or requests to:
Kyu Seong Lee
PO Box 979137
Unit D 29145-037
Miami, Fl 33197-9137
-- Asmo Dius mgr. the Horsemen DM 47
All Mangers (well the ones that care....) -- Swifty McSwift has died. That's right
D-I-E-D. The poor little guy took his own life after a hellish week of DM turns.
That's right, you are all rid of him for good. No more October Rust teams running
around, no more unending ICQ chat invites, no more annoying PA's. He had two last
wishes: First, Chance takes over Troop 709 and second he had some choice words for
choice people.
Chance -- Rock on, bro.
Crow -- You win.
Nithril/Lerch -- Thanks for being pals.
Manager/Soultaker/UC -- Thanks for all the help you gave me.
R/RR -- Thanks for being such cool guys.
Troop 709 -- Live on, kill often.
DOOMcorps -- BITE ME!!!
RSI -- Thanks for the fun.
And to anyone else who helped me over the years, I say thank you.
Well that's all. Happy Dueling -- RIP Swifty
LAST WEEK'S FIGHTS
NILFIGER was butchered by DARK CHAMPION in a 1 minute bloody Dark Arena fight.
BLAMELESS COOK vanquished THE USEROUS MERCHANT in a 1 minute uneven Title battle.
LEGION '8' overpowered THE USEROUS MERCHANT in a 2 minute bloody mismatched duel.
LACROIX defeated ROAD KILL in a 2 minute fight.
BATTLE REPORT
MOST POPULAR RECORD DURING THE LAST 10 TURNS
|FIGHTING STYLE FIGHTS FIGHTING STYLE W - L - K PERCENT|
|STRIKING ATTACK 2 PARRY-RIPOSTE 10 - 4 - 2 71 |
|WALL OF STEEL 2 TOTAL PARRY 9 - 6 - 1 60 |
|PARRY-RIPOSTE 1 PARRY-LUNGE 17 - 13 - 1 57 |
|AIMED BLOW 0 SLASHING ATTACK 11 - 9 - 2 55 |
|PARRY-LUNGE 0 WALL OF STEEL 12 - 10 - 1 55 |
|PARRY-STRIKE 0 LUNGING ATTACK 14 - 12 - 1 54 |
|LUNGING ATTACK 0 PARRY-STRIKE 2 - 2 - 0 50 |
|SLASHING ATTACK 0 AIMED BLOW 1 - 1 - 0 50 |
|BASHING ATTACK 0 STRIKING ATTACK 5 - 5 - 1 50 |
|TOTAL PARRY 0 BASHING ATTACK 5 - 6 - 1 45 |
Turn 86 was great if you not so great if you used The fighting styles of the
used the fighting styles: the fighting styles: top eleven warriors are:
PARRY-RIPOSTE 1 - 0 AIMED BLOW 0 - 0 2 WALL OF STEEL
STRIKING ATTACK 1 - 1 PARRY-LUNGE 0 - 0 2 SLASHING ATTACK
WALL OF STEEL 1 - 1 PARRY-STRIKE 0 - 0 2 LUNGING ATTACK
LUNGING ATTACK 0 - 0 2 STRIKING ATTACK
SLASHING ATTACK 0 - 0 1 PARRY-RIPOSTE
BASHING ATTACK 0 - 0 1 BASHING ATTACK
TOTAL PARRY 0 - 0 1 PARRY-LUNGE
TOP WARRIOR OF EACH STYLE
FIGHTING STYLE WARRIOR W L K PNTS TEAM NAME
PARRY-RIPOSTE BLAMELESS COOK 2362 8 2 0 66 WANNABEES (244)
WALL OF STEEL LEGION '8' 2369 4 1 0 51 D.O.A. (245)
STRIKING ATTACK LACROIX 2671 3 0 1 36 WARRIOR DESIGN (285)
Note: Warriors have a winning record and are an Adept or Above.
The overall popularity leader is BLAMELESS COOK 2362. The most popular warrior this
turn was LACROIX 2671. The ten other most popular fighters were BLAMELESS COOK 2362,
LEGION '8' 2369, ROAD KILL 2367, NILFIGER 2675, 0, 0, 0, 0, 0, and 0.
The least popular fighter this week was NILFIGER 2675. The other ten least popular
fighters were ROAD KILL 2367, LEGION '8' 2369, BLAMELESS COOK 2362, LACROIX 2671, 0,
0, 0, 0, 0, and 0.
The Dawn Always Follows the Night
It can be easily said that the game of Duelmasters has changed greatly over the past
decade or so. Many aspects of the game have changed in recent years: the creation of
Advanced Duelmasters, Primus, regional ADM, Gateway. Modifications to the game have
made it very different since the early days. Some for the good and some not no good.
The Dark Circle has been a major driving force in every aspect of Duelmasters since
very early on. It goes without saying that there is no alliance past or present that
has matched the accomplishments of the Dark Circle. The list of names that have graced
the rolls of the Dark Circle has been a who's who of Duelmasters: Scrag, Neon
Necromancer, Guardian, Papa Bear, mouse, Mr. Animal, Merlin, Sharky, Moriarty, Doc
Steele, Mongo, Boss Rat, Blood Wizard and many more. The alliance has seen many
changes in its time, and now it is time for The Dark Circle to make one last "change".
We have decided to hang up our hats and call and end to this fine alliance. We have
done it all. We can't do any more. The membership of the Dark Circle has done more in
the learning and teaching of the game than any other group before or since. We have
been reviled more than almost any other group since the game's inception, mostly by
those who didn't understand us yet still used what we taught them. We have
accomplished very much indeed, but we, as an alliance, have nothing more to give to
the Duelmasters game or community.
The Dark Circle has officially disbanded and its Wardens are now all independent
managers. With malice towards none and good will towards all, we part company knowing
we have reached the pinnacle of success. We have nothing left to prove. We part as
friends going their separate ways. Think of us as the Beatles of Duelmasters. We did
it right. We did it the way we wanted. We did it in such a way that our
accomplishments are beyond reproach. We part as winners.
Sincerely,
Scrag
Guardian
Merlin
Mongo
Mr. Animal
Papa Bear
Rhialto
Blood Wizard
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