First off, you guys rule!
I love running games when there
is nothing to track down, nobody to hound for orders, etc.  It makes it a
pleasure and not a task… so thanks for that.  And before you chalk
it up to thanks from some random deity which you probly get every day, do
remember this is coming directly from Him.  Yeah.
 
So what happened?  We have
a pretty broad spectrum here… some folks grow their empire by leaps and
bounds, others by leaping bounds, some by bounded leaps, and a few are sullenly
bound to leap silently into the night as their hopes of someday dominating the
modern world are dashed by those others who were busy leaping and bounding.
 
ADJUSTMENTS!
 
RETREATS!
Well, let’s face it. 
Ancient Egypt and the Hordes of Gaul don’t do so well, as they dominate
the retreat phase…
 
Egypt:  A Cyr and F Creta
Gaul:  A Burdigala
 
BUILDS!
Carthage: Build 1
Gaul: Remove 1 (or, remove the
retreat)
Germania: Build 2 (our biggest
leaper and bounder)
Macedonia: Build 1
Persia: Build 1
Rome: Build 1
Egypt:  If both units
retreat, even… but +1 or +2 if you take some retreats OTB.
 
That’s it!
 
Remember I do RETREATS and
BUILDS together, so don’t miss your builds expecting some interim mail
from me.  Builds may be made conditional upon the retreats.
 
PRESS:
It's not that easy being green
Having to spend each day
forgotten on the map edge
When I think it could be nicer
being red, or blue or purple
Or somewhere much more sociable
like that
 
It's not easy being green
It seems you don't figure into
anybody's plans
And people tend to ignore your
emails 'cause you're
Not anywhere near where they are
right now
Or where they want to be
 
But green's the color of a tough
turtle shell
And green can be inaccessible
like a tree top
And green can be as hard to spot
as a chameleon,
or willy as a grasshopper, or
distant as the sea
 
When green is all there is to be
It could make you wonder why,
but why wonder why
Wonder, I am green and it'll do
fine, it's beautiful
Even if no one will talk to me
 
******************************
 
Baal speaks a WORD, is whirled
away to Dominion’s seat,
Seven hills, ringed with swamps,
tinged with melancholy wisps.
There shades of nightmare avoid
his eye, flee his silent step,
where sluggish streams struggle
down to a star lit sea,
 
******************************
 
Prayer offered to Tabiti in the
Summer of 219, somewhere in Kul Oba
Tabiti, ye God of Gods,
Supplier of Horses to our
Hordes,
Harbringer of death to our
enemies,
Accept this offering from your
loyal subjects
And bring death to those who
oppose us.