January 2240

Azure House, Oval Office, New Tokyo

We had been chuckling in the Oval Office, sharing a joke as to which idiot had designated our Transport Craft with the same avian classification as our famed shield-bearing Battlecruisers.

‘You can bet that Sharpey had nothing to do with it!’ I’d roared, tears pouring down my face.  It was one of those moments that only two very close friends can share-those times that you would find the slightest thing setting you off. It was most unseemly for two of the most powerful men in the Galaxy but it was most touching nonetheless.

And then the President’s PA had knocked on the door.  We had pulled ourselves together as Bridget Delancia came in-a comely Hawaiian girl-always most attentive to the President-I liked her.

The look on her face wiped the smiles off both our faces in an instant.

‘Bridget?’

She was stood in the doorway-immobile-face ashen-not able to speak

‘Bridget!’ My shout snapped her out of it. She came to and started speaking in a stammer:

‘Mr-Mr-Mr President. Er-we-I don’t know. The Chief Medical Officer is here. Sir people are dying-outside…all over the country! It’s all over GNN’

‘What the hell are you talking about?’ I shouted, shaken. Her fear was infectious.

But then a commotion in the hallway-feet running. One of the Secret Service Agents had collapsed outside-was that blood seeping from his exposed skin?  I keyed my lapel mic.

‘It’s Mormon-get a detail in here the President must be protected-we have a possible airborne threat inside and out! Move it!’

In those first few hours two hundred million souls perished-and that was only on Earth.

What we didn’t know as our Presidential party made spacefall was that this hellish scenario was being repeated all across the galaxy-wherever there was life there was sudden and unexpected and bloody death. 

I was later told that it was probably my swift actions that had saved our lives-it was my indication of a biological threat that ensured that those agents that came rushing in to protect the Chief Executive were suitably attired and had spare NBC suits in hand. We were headed for Earth’s thin atmosphere in Space Force 1 within minutes.

Those first few hours living with the Doomsday Virus were the worst because no one knew what we were dealing with. We had all remained suited for several days waiting to see if the virus would take any of our number. Thirty of us had boarded the craft that cold January morning-within hours we had lost a third of our number. Some bright spark had already worked out that those who died a horrible, gurgling death, were the ones who had boarded the craft and then suited up. The President’s physician was aboard: he had been suited up when he’d boarded-as had we.

And that’s how it was for the first desperate hours and days: just a desire to survive-somehow. The President was different; he wanted news, however and wherever he could get it. Whilst I was frozen by fear and inaction the President was all orders, instructing us to get the news feeds on and for Radio Ops to sweep the atmosphere for any signal wherever it came from.

Dr Amponsah had been married but not once did he ask after his wife and grown up daughter. All I could think about, however, was my husband and my son: maybe this was a human disease and Altarians wouldn’t be affected?

We soon received news from our various Fleets-one of which (a Cruiser Fleet) was vectoring in to escort us: this ‘situation’ was being played out all across the known galaxy: it was a true doomsday plague. Within 24 hours we had received word of the virus from some of our scientists on Earth. The plague was extremely virulent-its origins unknown but possibly engineered by the Dread Lords. Once in contact with it the survival time was no more than twelve hours. The survival rate was zero….

Ironically our space combat fleets afforded the greatest protections, provided none of the crew had been on furlough planetside recently-some ships in this category had been decimated.

Two days later we de-suited, believing ourselves safe at last. No one got ill. I frantically searched the manifests for news of my son. I didn’t have to search far: he was now a 2^nd Lieutenant on the TAS Cincinnati, a first generation Eagle Battlecruiser equipped with Armour to take on the Greenskins and thus based far to the South East near Altarian and Torian space. Its Brief was to patrol the newly assimilated Marsack system ready to deter any Torian aggression.  There was no illness on their vessel thankfully-unlike one of the other ships in that fleet, the Ohio, which lost 50 of its 300 crew in the space of a week after a contaminated pet had been smuggled aboard by a lonely crew man.

I had received word from my beautiful beloved on the third day-he was safe (for the moment). Doctors had examined him and deduced that his Altarian blood gave him some sort of limited immunity. It was baffling: if he had immunity on Earth, why were the Altarians in their own systems suffering as much as we were on ours?  It was just one of many questions that we tasked our best and brightest surviving scientists to solving. All our Federal funds were channelled to controlling the threat first of all and then trying to find a cure. After three weeks life on our many inhabited planets was fast becoming intolerable as law and order started to break down progressively: there was only so much governing that could be done from a thousand kilometres up in spite of the Vice President and the remaining members of the Federation Council’s best efforts planetside.

In the fourth week the President could stand it no longer and ordered an immediate return to Tokyo-we would take our chances with the virus, he had declared. It would be better than dying a death by isolation up in geocentric orbit-the people needed to see their President. The Secret Service predictably resisted and sparked the first real loss of control that I had seen my friend display in all the years that I had known him.

‘You will return me to my capital immediately! I have no intention of being held hostage by fear-we take our chances ladies and gentlemen-that’s an order!’

There were no more protests.

We now entered what has been subsequently called the random phase of the virus: no longer were people being carried away by it without warning and in great numbers. Instead it was apparently picking out its victims at random-there was no longer any pattern to the deaths, no obvious source and no way of predicting where it would strike next. It was the most frightening period of all since on the surface there was some semblance of normality, with people trying to rebuild their shattered lives whilst underneath there lurked the ever-present fear that you, or someone you were close to would succumb to the symptoms; the heavy, rasping breathing followed by the red rimmed eyes and finally the skin oozing blood-so much blood everywhere: the virus didn’t let you go with dignity-instead it dragged you kicking and screaming into oblivion in a spray of red flecked mucous.

All I could think about was being with Mirathro now everyone at the Azure House was on Light duties; our orders to spend as much time with our nearest and dearest as we could. The President still had his wife at this time but their daughter had been lost in the opening hours of the terror.  In spite of his own grief my friend always had the presence of mind to enquire after my own family whenever we saw each other-it was the mark of the man.

And then one day I arose to find Mirathro knelt at the bed, his head in his hands. I had asked what was wrong, fearful, not wanting to believe the inevitable but when I had looked into his eyes, usually a piercing aquamarine blue, I had known.

He had died seven hours later in my arms………

Ah hello Chancellor-thanks for the gee up-have kinda been busy and since noone commented on my last post I kinda thought ppl had lost interest in this one

Have always said that whilst there is at least one reader I will carry on and as you say there are the Torians and the Dreadies to be sorted-will try and get a post in this coming week mr

Thanks

You may add me to the list of readers following this excellent AAR!

VENGANCE!

Oh its on now..pay back is gonna be a bitch... ..cant wait for the next installment.

Rally Point ‘Dread’

The Gathering of the Task Forces

Dec 2242

‘CAUTION IS NOT A WORD THAT THE DREAD LORDS ARE LIKELY TO BE FAMILIAR WITH GENERAL!’  I had shouted all pretence at civility now gone.  ‘You have now taken over seven months to even start the prep for the assembling of this Task force-AND WHAT DO WE HAVE TO SHOW FOR IT?  Two lost Scouts!’

For once Mooto had been lost for words as I let rip and given that I was there on an errand from the Council and the President himself I outranked him and he knew it.

This was a ‘conversation’ that we were having deep in the recesses of the Outpost Starbase 7145 halfway between our furthest planet East, Kryseth and the Dread Lords haven of Almada.  The distances were enormous as our quarry was on the other side of the known galaxy but instead of approaching this new commission with energy and vigour all that Mooto had given us was delay and paralysis.  The Kestrel Class Battleships, specially configured with Advanced Shields and Black Hole Guns, (our version of their Doom Rays) had not been upgraded as the Council had requested.  Moreover, no Scouts had been sent to start to draw out the Frigate Fleets from their home base and worst of all the proposed Task Force was sitting idly at Kryseth instead of forming at our location at Rally Point Dread, which was much nearer the objective.

‘What the Frak is he doing?’  The President had raged after getting an earful from worried Council Reps-‘I  have a re-election to fight and that man is sitting on his hands!  A fifth Term Mike-that’s what this little sh*t is threatening to take from me!’

It had been the dog-end of the year 2242 and in November there were the Pan Alliance Presidential elections, which we had once again persuaded Dr Amponsah to stand in.  Numerous measures had been implemented during the life of his third and fourth Terms in office to ensure the President’s popularity to the many and diverse peoples of the Terran hegemony.  Not least amongst these was the continued mining of mysterious galactic resources that when transferred to the water supply on our various planets resulted in a corresponding increase in mood and morale.  ‘Social mood engineering ‘ the white suits at the Ministry of Culture and Morale (MCM) had called it euphemistically-people might have deemed it a subtle form of brain washing in times gone by.  Be that as it may this was politics and Dr Amponsah had staked his fifth term on the annihilation of the Dread Lords: people needed to see that this was not some empty pipe dream if the terror of subjugation or worse by these other worldly God-like creatures was to be abolished for once and for all.

Nonetheless even with the pressures of a re-election campaign and the many politicking journeys we were having to make all over our territories I  was still taken aback by this outburst from my friend. He had appointed the man in the first place, despite my misgivings, after all!

‘What would you have me do Mr President?’  I had asked disingenuously-I knew what had to happen here. 

The President had let out an explosive sigh and had re-seated himself at the desk, glancing out of the viewing ports of Space Force 1.  For a few moments, He allowed himself to become mesmerised by the beautiful patterns that our warp engines were making of the stars then he snapped back to our reality.  His eyes narrowed and a familiar hard edge crept into his tone.

‘Mike we are on our way to the Wodan System-it’s half way to Kryseth.  The Council has been clear-you are to take ship from there to the Starbase in Sector 71-16.  I  believe that is where Mooto is carrying out the pretence of planning for this assault on Almada.  He is to be relieved of his command permanently.’

The President produced some papers all bearing the Presidential signature and Counter-signed by the Chair of the Council-it was the end for General Transa Mooto. 

‘Make sure that you prosecute this with all your vigour General’ he had entreated me ‘for too long we have lived under the threat of these Dread Lords-much has been lost-I need not remind you of that’

‘I will not fail you Mr President’ I had said, unbidden tears starting to my eyes.

I had taken the chance on Kryseth to see my son, who was now a Gunnery Officer aboard the TAS Iwo Jima, One of the newest of the Kestrel Battleships being sent to assemble in 71-16.  It had been good to see him and a proud moment for any father watching his son follow in his own footsteps.  I had made some enquiries of some ‘friends’ that I knew on the ship as to the lad’s progress-every report had come back glowing-he was set fair to be a future ship’s captain for sure.

With Mooto out of the way I set to work, rediscovering all of the old energies.  I  had first assigned an able Deputy, A Torian, Brigadier General Hias Pzientho, and then told her to establish the closest links to Professor Sharp and the bods at the Mitrosoft Corporation-my intention to upgrade our ships as we went rather than wait for all as Mooto had been.  My appointment to this annihilation mission seemed to do the trick with the coming election-it seemed people had a lot of faith in me: the President duly won his historic fifth term at a canter. 

No time for me to celebrate, however: within a couple of months, we had assembled not one but three Task Forces.  The first was the most offensive: Task Force 910 consisting of five Kestrels and one Condor: its brief to draw out the Frigate Fleets and aggressively engage them.  The second was Task Force 970 and consisted of five Hawk Battleships-it’s job to mop up after 910.  Lastly, there was Task Force 751 a multi-ship type Task force consisting of five Transport ships carrying 10 million Space Marines escorted by a motley combination of venerable Harrier Frigates and ageing Condor Battlecruisers.  Gunnery Captain Starla Mormon’s ship was part of 910-they would be right in the thick of it: if that bothered me, I tried not to show it, instead urging our Defence Science Guild to accelerate their research in the ultimate in beam weapon protection: invulnerability fields. 

‘It will be done when it’s done General.’  I had been told curtly.  No doubt the white suits were wary of a repeat of the cataclysm that their ‘Nightmare Torpedo’ missile system almost caused: a projectile who’s explosive warhead actually rippled the fabric of space/time in the area of detonation utterly pulverising everything within the blast area.  Initial tests had not been properly controlled, however, and for a while, the scientists thought that there would be a chain reaction that would destroy the universe itself.  Clearly testing on further experimental defences and weapons would proceed with more caution.

By summer 2243 we were on the move-I was aboard the Terran Alliance Flagship: the TAS Mayflower and would command and control the assault from several parsecs behind.  The Mayflower had been in service almost twenty years but had been refitted many times and as such was fast enough to get herself out of any trouble.  She had a small crew of 30 not including my staff of roughly 60 and all the most up to date communication hardware so that I  would have real-time data feeds from the ensuing battle.  For the first time in a long time, I felt truly alive again and as I settled into my Command Chair in the Operations Centre, I flashed a grin at Hias and the expectant staff.  I keyed the mic:

‘This is it guys-this is what we have all been waiting for.  There will be sacrifices ahead for sure but it is nothing as compared to the sacrifices that our proud civilisation has made before.  Remember your loved ones that died in the Doomsday plague or aboard the many ships that have been destroyed without mercy by our enemy over the last eight years’ I noted a few people dabbing their eyes at this last.

‘Yes you remember them and all those you knew who died aboard our Starbases and on our shipping that have for too long been terrorised by this menace.’  I let my voice rise-all on board and every hand in all three Task Forces was listening as I had instructed this to be broadcast on all Commlinks.

‘But now we have the means and we have the will to do something about it.  Our ships are equipped with the latest in mass driver and shield technology and we will continue to upgrade these  as we progress towards our target.  It doesn’t matter whether you are a Ship’s Commander, an Engineer, a Marine or a Cook nor whether you are human, Torian, Arcean, or Iconian-I will expect you all to think about the greater good of the Terran Alliance when battle is joined.  This is your Commanding General-out.’

*clicks heels and salutes*

Almada System (Sector 71-29)

April 1^st 2244

‘Zero Alpha this is Bravo Zero Alpha-Dread Lord Ground attack vehicles disabled Sir-casualties light-out.’

I had nodded in satisfaction. It had taken us seven long months to fight our way here but my emotions were mixed as I listened to the reports coming back from the two thousand Marine Battalions that we had unleashed upon the home planet of the Dread Lords.  The 3D Holo Tactical board was zoomed into various locations planet-side and depicted with startling computer accuracy the unfolding battles taking place on the surface. The set of my staff’s faces were hard, grim and resolute-we were now in the end game.

We had set our course for Almada in July 2243, Task Force 910 leading, 970 right behind it and then our own ship flanked by our Transport Task Force 751.  Ranging ahead of us was a Squadron of Medium Scouts led by the Legendary Recce Commander Colonel George Jones. Jones was much decorated and had won a Duranthium Cross five years previously for putting his Scout in the line of fire of a pair of Dread Lord Frigates engaged in attacking a Starbase off Grizzly III. The most skilful flying and nerves of steel had distracted the Dreads for long enough to effect a partial evacuation of the Starbase-1090 staff and crew had died nonetheless but twice that number had been saved by his selflessness.

For weeks we crossed the vast expanse of uncharted space: our course North by North East and always we moved ever closer to our quarry.  Then in early September contact our scout screen sighted the first of the enemy Frigates pairs.   I had been catching some much needed sleep when I was hailed in my Ready Room-I knew that it had to be urgent as my orders were not to be disturbed.

‘Contact Sir! Colonel Jones reports first pair of Frigates spotted-he’s monitoring at extreme sensor range.’  This from my breathless orderly-he was a 19 year old lad and plainly excited at his first Naval assignment.

‘I will be there presently Seaman Miskov’

‘Aye Sir’

In the Situation Room all was frenetic activity as the Staff Officers set and reset the tracking computers, which were being fed real-time information from our forward Recce screen.  The simulators then plotted all possible permutations for the movement of and counter movement to the new threat.

I took in the disposition of the enemy and of our forces. Unfortunately the alien ships were off to our front flank rather than directly to our fore and so it would take a while to vector 910 in. I made up my mind in an instant.

‘Colonel Jones select your best Scout pilot and I don’t mean you!’  There were some chuckles at this, which were totally at odds with the seriousness of the situation.

‘I want you to get that man to tag the Dread Lords Fleet and draw them away from us-a heading of West by North west should do it.’

‘Aye General-it will be tricky-one false plot and the Dreads will be onto them. I will see to it.’

‘I know Colonel but I trust in the skills of your people-far enough west and they will hit Iconian and Torian space and their ships will aggressively defend it. Mormon Out.’

Over the next few hours Jones’s man, a pilot by the name of Goethe, carried out my orders to the letter and by the following week both scout and Dread Lords were far to our west.  I reconfigured our formation moving 970 to our right flank and slightly to the rear of 910 such that we wouldn’t be caught out again.

As the weeks went by I made sure that the Ships Commanders kept their crews at the highest state of readiness demanding that they drill and drill again: gunnery, signals, manoeuvre over and over until we dreamt it in our snatched glimpses of sleep.

And as Christmas approached I had a present far better than any previous: A Flash message from Professor Sharp beamed direct to my Quarters:

‘You are well met Andy’ I had grinned ‘Tell me you have good news for me’

‘I do Mike I do. We have been working round the clock for weeks-The President has been a hard taskmaster.’

The President? I was surprised: it was unusual for the Chief Executive to directly intervene in research matters.

‘Yes the man himself-clearly he has a lot of vested interest in this mission of yours. Anyway we have finally completed our research into Invulnerability Fields-it’s the ultimate in shield technology-very powerful.’

‘Invulnerability Fields eh?’

‘Yup-we have termed them as such for good reason-they are so powerful that even Class 10 lasers can’t penetrate them.’

‘Wow. Class 10s? Ok but what class do we think the weapons that the Dread Lords use are?’

‘Well that’s the question Mike-our scientists have not been able to exactly replicate the potency of the Doom Rays-they could be as high as Class 15 on the LS Scale.’

There had been a short silence as I pondered this.

‘So whatever you give me we will still be vulnerable to an extent.’

‘That’s about the size of it my old friend but these enhancements will greatly enhance the survivability of your fleet so…’

‘You are a good man Sharpey-send us the schematics so that our engineers can get to work immediately- I gather that you’ve also drawn up some adjustments that will allow us to fit even more onto our hulls-good job.’

‘For you my friend it is always a pleasure-now go get ‘em and may providence go with you.’

As the Pan-Terran holiday season approached we were engaged in a furious race to reconfigure our Kestrel Class Battleships to the new spec.  It was a race because by this time Jones and his flyers were now close enough to Almada to assess the strength of the forces in the area and those orbiting the planet.  Two Frigate fleets were in close proximity to the home-planet whilst a Dread Lord Cruiser, with frightening firepower was in low orbit to the forbidding world.  The scouts kept their distance-we could not afford to spook them now: it would take at least two weeks to upgrade the ships and whilst this was happening Task Force 910 was defenceless. I ordered 970 in to guard its stronger sister ships and kept Jones and his scouts on a hair trigger alert status.

Finally early in the New Year we were ready to go and just in time: suddenly the Dread Lords Frigates were on the move and were headed directly towards us!  How had they located our position we all wondered?  It mattered not to me-not one bit: my orders to Brigadier Perez, Commanding Task Force 910 and Brigadier Ashanti of 970, was close with the enemy and destroy it in place-our escort force and the Mayflower would follow on at a distance of 5 parsecs. These two were accomplished and able Generals and fared best when given maximum initiative.  My job was to tweak here and there and react to unforeseen events and allow them to respond accordingly. 

It was the Hawks of 970 that entered battle first arrowing into one of the Dread packets moving on an intercept course to us (again what was their Intel?).  This wasn’t quite how I’d foreseen it but Ashanti, descendant of an ancient West African Warrior Tribe, was very eager. We watched, rapt, in the Situation Room as battle was joined. The Hawks were equipped with formidable Zero Point Armour which afforded some protection against missiles and beam weapons.  We were all praying that the manoeuvre and gunnery training would pay off and that the devastating Nightmare Torpedoes that the Hawks were all carrying were as effective against our foe as they had been in testing.

The five ships fanned out in arrowhead with the Flagship TAS Superior in the lead and loosed a salvo of missiles-the range was extreme but well within the operational capability of the Torpedoes.  The enemy Frigates tried to evade but the missiles were locked on and exploded, each in turn, ten such flashes lighting up the situation Board as they did their deadly work. The Dread Lords were mortally weakened but they were not destroyed and returned fire-the unearthly sound of the Doom Rays replicated with startling accuracy by the TAC Computer-there was not a one of us that didn’t shudder as we heard it.  TAS Superior bore the full brunt of the assault but amazingly was not destroyed-damage reports started filtering in as the formation began changing to delta wing placing the stricken flagship to the rear-it was a deft movement but took time to effect-meanwhile a second missile volley was loosed-it took down one of the Dread Lords and by the time they were ready to respond the target had changed-TAS Superior had been replaced in line by the TAS Invincible, whose Armour was undamaged-the remaining Frigate fired scoring hits along the side armour of the Invincible-she stood resolute and unleashed a third volley of Torps, at virtual point blank range, that annihilated the last ship in a crimson glow whose simulation lit up the darkened Situation Room.

Cheering erupted across the ship and I have no doubt that it was replicated in all three of our Task Forces-history had been made: this was the first Fleet encounter with the Dread Lords where we hadn’t lost a ship- a testimony to the skill and ability of Ashanti and his crews.

‘Quiet!’ I had shouted above the din ‘Get a full damage report! Comm Patch me into the Superior!’

It had been a very successful action but the Superior was badly damaged and had still lost several hundred men and women in the attack-roughly half her compliment. The Invincible had only been lightly hit and had lost only 43 souls.  Now was the chance to intervene-I ordered Perez to Guard the weaker Fleet as they progressed the final few parsecs to Almada-it was the least that could be done to reward Ashanti for his action.  The Superior, meanwhile, was to stay behind and make the long journey home to Kryseth-her General transferred to the Invincible.

Perez was eager to match Ashanti’s achievements and it was no longer than a week before his own Task Force  was barrelling into a second Frigate fleet-they took it down but lost their one Condor Battlecruiser, the TAS Ronald Reagan.  The TAS Iwo Jima was now the lead ship of the line-a scattered one with the flagship, the TAS Brasilia, to the rear. I felt a pang of apprehension when I was made aware of the changed disposition of the Fleet-my son was now directly in the Dread Lords line of fire.

Three weeks later and our fleets were making the final approach to Almada when we received upgraded schematics from Sharpe’s people-it was irritating because it necessitated an unscheduled delay as we upgraded the Kestrels once again.  Jones’s scouts were now in high orbit around the Dread Lords Planet and were tasked with keeping a watchful eye on the Cruiser far below them.  Then one of his outlying ships had located yet another Frigate Fleet lurking several parsecs to our West around the Jessuin world of Jessuin II.  Amazingly this minor race was untouched by the Dread Lords-how had they managed to coexist with them?  Maybe the Dreads did not concern themselves with lesser civilisations?  I immediately despatched a flash-sitrep to the IRM: it was a quandary for the spooks to ponder-I had a conquest to prosecute.

So April 2244 brought us to this place: all Dread Lords shipping was destroyed and our Marines were now clearing the planet; resistance was light. In the event the Cruiser had gone down with little fight and I was proud to hear that the Iwo Jima had distinguished itself in that orbital battle its own missiles doing the most damage to the massive Cruiser. It had come at a small cost-four dozen crew lost their lives on my son’s ship-my son and his missile battery were, thankfully undamaged. 

Only when Marine General Osouka pronounced the planet clear did we all realise the enormity of what we had achieved. At last the shadow that had blighted our lives and infested our nightmares was no more.  As my staff hugged and kissed and cried in joy I quietly slipped away to my Ready Room-I allowed myself a few tears alone and in private.

‘This victory is for you Mirathro wherever you may be-I hope you will wait for me.’ 

And then a knock at the door-it was Miskov

‘Sir-the President and the Council are awaiting your call’

‘Very well son-I will be there presently’

I re-entered the Situation Room-it seemed the entire ships compliment were in there-they all broke into raucous cheers and clapping on my arrival. I held my arms up for silence as I keyed the secure Mic,

‘Mr President, this is General Mormon: it is my profound pleasure to report that the Dread Lords have finally been defeated.  Long live the Terran Alliance’……………..

Thanks Admiral

However I know have a bit of a dilemma as far as the actual game is concerned: I really want to try and provoke the Torians into war but everything I have tried has failed.  Have tried:

• Building loads of Influence starbases around their worlds
• Massing my attack ships around their frontier worlds
• generally p*ssing them off

And none of it has worked!  They are allied to the 3 remaining races as am I so I dont really want to fight a war of aggression.

Can anyone suggest anything?  Enemy is set to 'Tough'

Thanks guys (in advance)

True say, you could always just throw everything you got at them and see how it turns out. Of course that would kind of go against Mormon's principles without being first provoked. Like the chancellor said keep making unreasonable demands like a type of tribute. That usually works with these kind of games. If you can also get one the allies to declare war then that would set a nice two on two war that would probably be fun to storytell.

Im sure you'll find something, Im far from being an expert at this game so I can't offer more than that.

cheers

No, one of your allies not one of theirs.

Not had a chance to get into the game yet Chancellor-been mad busy at work-I see a window of opportunity coming this wknd tho

Mascrinthus my point re the Allies is that we are all allied except me and the Torians.  In other words the Iconians, Altarians and Arceans are all my allies and theirs!!

Tolmekian: Wicked.