Hello. This is the scribe of Agrias de Feura, The Guy With The Eye Of A
Magpie, catching you all up on current events here in the wonderful city
of Eleusis! Go wolves!
Well, the weather's looking a little on the snowy side today, and the
wind is blowing ssw at about 10 knots, and the conditions are looking
dismal, as usual.
Now, before we go into details, let's get a little background
information on the teams.


Team Jaizur, what's your take on the situation?

""Well, Scribe, what we plan to do, is humiliate the Pandorans, so they
run crying home to mother, eventually dropping their guard, so we can
loot their temple of 9 rooms, and steal all their earrings.
""That doesn't sound like a very good plan, but what do I know? I'm just
a scribe!""

""And what about you, Team Pandora?""


""Well, the joke's on Jaizur, considering that we don't have any
mothers! So the only one we'll be crying home to is your wives! Ba-zing!


""Agrias, you're stupid.""


""Woah now, c'mon, save it for the field! There's plenty more to go
around, so let's not waste it here.""


""Now, I hear that there's already been so insidious activities going on
in Asthan's seemy underbelly. Jaizsur, any comments?""

""Well, Scribe, I've gotten reliable information that one of their
prized shrines was taken down just a few short days ago, you know the
one, it's in Arcadia, in the cemetary, which is where they'll be in
about a year. In the Cemetary. Get it? Get it? *wink wink nudge nudge*""

""Yes, I got it, it was a really bad joke, thank you for the commentary,
Jaizur.""


""And what about you, Agrias? What have your course of actions been?""

""Well, what I did, was, I "*whisper whisper whisper whisper*....and
then I *whisper whisper whisper*....and THEN, to top THAT off,
I....*whisper whisper whisper*.....so oi sez to 'em eye sez, oi, wheres
my munnoi? And the bugger just walked eff!" So yeah, that's what
happened, and you heard it from me first, scribe I pay handsomely.""

""Err, yes, well, I'm just trying to get the facts, annoymous
patron-type guy. Nothing more! I am neutral!""


""Now, getting back to our story...""


""Jaizur, why did you and your New Army declare war on Pandorans? And
why don't you have better weapons than pointed sticks?""

""Well, to answer your first question, Scribe~; it's because I had
nothing better to do, and most of my New Army are old drunks who are
really Petran Soldiers who needed something to do before their livers
exploded from the alcohol consumption. I wanted to make a difference.
That's why I'm fighting off the Pandoran efforts as best I can.""

""And what about the pointed sticks?""

""What pointed sticks?""

""The ones your army is notorious for using in lieu of actual weapons.""

""What's "in-lieu" mean?""


""Instead of.""


""Oh right, I knew that.""

""Sure you did. So why use sticks instead of swords?""

""What a stupid question, Scribe!"" Everyone knows that sticks are the
most damaging weapons in existance! Nothing better except novice punches
and kicks! Where have you been for these last hundred years?""

""Locked in a closet, being fed through a hole in the ceiling, with no
light, and very little entertainment.""


""But in any case, I'll get beat for saying that later on, so moving
along!""

""Jaizsur, it becomes more and more apparent to the citizens of Achaea,
that no one really gives a damn about this anymore, any comment on
this?""

""What's a citizen?""


""Someone who lives in a city.""

""Oh, right, I knew that.""

""Sure you did.""

""Well, Scribe, that's what I'm here for! To -make- them care!""

""But what if they still won't care, Jaizsur?""

""Errm. Then it's time for Plan-B!""

""And what, praytell, is that?""

""We beg for mercy and ask them to spare us when they assimilate our
lands.""


And there you have it, folks, straight from the scribe's mouth!
The outcome of this war looks like it could be anyone's game! No pun
intended, of course.""

Now, it's off I go, back into the closet, to waste away my years in the
blackest night.

But before I go, I leave you with these words of advice:

Say what you will about that first ale, but nothing brings a father and
a son together more than dumping a dead harlot down a well.



Yours in service, Scribe, de pardu, Scribe to Agrias de Feura, The Guy
With The Eye Of A Magpie.

Good night, folks!

Penned by my hand on the 18th of Sarapin, in the year 404 AF.