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From John Settler:
Even though I continually have to trudge back and forth between the marble mason, the marble quarry, the marble mason, then the storage house, and do it all over again never ending - I am thankful for two specific things: job security and that I did not become a soldier.
* See Settlers Breaking News Part (Pg21) ----->Quote:
Originally Posted by MaximusMeridius
Perhaps go to " [Ubi Official] Caption Competition " Pg 20 - will help.Quote:
Giving Thanks to Santa for releasing BB_* from rabbit graves and restoring Settlers Islands back to … cont. b4
:)
Asia
btw - ty for ur comment... Cheers ! Happy Holliday's every1...
I am thankful for my pleasant childhood memories of Thanksgiving.
My sister, mom and pop visiting my cousins, aunts and uncle at my godfather's house.
Sitting around the kiddie's table.
Feasting on turkey, spuds, gravy and cranberry sauce.
Topping it all off with pumpkin pie.
Sipping chilled cider from the porch.
Chilling a bit while thee adults talk about boring things.
Loading into the car for the long ride home.
Looking forward to another get together in a month for Christmas at my house.
I have some priceless childhood memories.
I hope everyone has a few pleasant memories they can visit.
Thanks mom, dad, ...
My settlers are thankful for living like royalty in their Noble Houses that all have ocean-front views due to the commercial zoning restrictions in the island's center.
As a rule, the settlers that populate the isle of Scouse are thankless little ingrates.
They live in fear of their despotic god
Scouser
extracting them from the herd,
filling their bellies with watered-down brew, and
sending them off to die meaningless deaths in foreign lands.
Shifty eyes
hover over tense grins
hover over quivering neck muscles
hover over racing hearts
hover over ulcerated stomachs
hover over sweaty palms
hover over quaking knees
hover over feet that dare not flee,
as they dutifully and nervously tell their children
to be thankful of the coal mines.
Thankful for the coal mines
because that is all that stands between
them living out a sad and unfulfilling life,
and
them becoming meatbags
to be sacrificed to the squeaky voiced
Sir Robin,
of whom they've heard horrifying tales.
As a rule, the settlers that populate the isle of Scouse are thankless little ingrates…
But
of late they are thankful for
their god's time being monopolized by
the magical and mysterious
University.
Scouser hears their prayers;
Scouser counts their tears;
Scouser awaits Christmas,
at which point He will make their fears
a reality.
Richard was tired - it was mid-evening he knew but the sun was still up high in the sky and he was still at work making brew. Ever since they took away the Halloween things from the island, the sun had shone brightly day and night. Thankfully he also knew that the mysterious person who guided them and frequently moved their places of work and homes about would be disappearing like they always did soon which would mean that everyone on the island could take a deep breath, switch over to the skeleton crew, and finally get some rest.
Not that they ever said it aloud but everyone on the island thought that this being was relentless - always watching and throwing good men after bad at every bandit camp that remained. It's not like the bandits ever really bother us. They just sit there, he thought as he loaded up another batch of wheat and water into his still. That was when he heard it - the strange sound, like a click, that always heralded 9 hours of time without being watched, it was early tonight.
A cheer went up through all the islanders around the island but all he heard was his fellows from around the mayors house cheering. Everyone gathered in the streets and they all seemed to be coming towards his place. Able the island mayor could be heard saying, "Now now gents, just because we have extra time this evening is no cause for undue rowdiness," as he was pushed along with the crowd toward the brewery and Richard knew that a party was in store. He looked back at his hard work and made a decision.
"Brew for everyone let's give thanks to an early end to work!"
"Here here!" Cried the crowd. And brew was served.
Word spread quickly and soon others were contributing foods and drink to what was rapidly becoming a full on island party; fish from the fishermen was cooked alongside meat and sausages, water was brought for those who didn't drink brew and everyone celebrated and was thankful for an early end to the work day. (Although the being and work would again come all too soon for the revelers.)
I am a settler, a builder that is thankful each day
that the sun and the lights will shoot their array
of sunshine, thankful that that the halloween event is all but over
now sober, bi-polar, i give thanks for to both Elliot and his pumpkin friend
who never leaves his shoulders to no end
PVP, thank you UB, is just around the corner
we give thanks and our guild we be the mourner
of others who get in the way.
We give thanks to the great gem givers, the developers this day.
I am thankful for the sandwiches that keep me going for a couple of hours...and gold, lots and lots of gold!
I am thankful for the many adventures that I have experienced and was able to bring back most of my troops hale and hearty to rest and fight again. I am very thankful that my island has survived, mostly intact, the many disasters, trials and tribulations it went through this year. My settlers are well cared for and content.
But I am most thankful and indeed amazed at the many great friends I have made while building my island. I can now honestly say I could not have enjoyed this time so much with out their help and guidance. Their willingness to assist and share their most precious resources with me is nothing short of a miracle. I know that I can continue to rely on them and they on me to improve my quality of life here. For those of you who say it's only a game I say to you, look again! Sadly,you are missing out on the best part.
Settler Williard Fiddlehopper, better known as the Grim Reaper, is thankful for the new barracks. It allows him to train his troops better and faster!
Twas a good Thanksgiving. Our settlers ate all the wheat, sold many goods and conqueored more bandits once again. "Gems are of high value they say and we want our pay!" When they beg to fight, for their freedom they will smite, and rejoice with their island and settle awrite...
The settlers are thankful that a Black Friday Gem sale didn't cause a riot on their island.
Could not resist in pulling a Sei Shōnagon for an opportunity like this~ She was a high court Japanese Lady about 1000 years ago. Go read her diary, The Pillow Book, it’s hilarious.
Things my settlers are thankful for.
Angels in sector 1 for protection during the Dark Days of Halloween.
Lack of pumpkin semetaries. They were creepy.
The many deer on the island for the Thanksgiving Day feast for there are no turkeys to be found on the entire island.
The Eternal Wheat Field in sector 3. It will never deplete so there will always be bread and ponies although it does leave the island vulnerable to ninja buffers in the wee hours of the morning.
Aunt Irma and her lovely baskets.
Belonging to The Creators Guild. As infuriating and wild as the TC wolves, wolverpinerooda, badger, Kryptonian, she-wolves, dragon, rhino, Devil, tame bon vivant, dires, Eyebrow of Doom and assorted loups-garoux can be, they are an awesome support system and a great source of entertainment.
Tavern that is conveniently placed next to the village school in sector 4. Let’s face it; the teachers could use a few good stiff ones after spending a day with the island’s adolescent population.
Scary but fast Grim Reaper General.
The Island Beatification Project which has yielded many pretty gardens on the island, particularly around the nobility’s housing; it makes for a very nice view each and every day.
Many benches won from adventures. Makes for great seating to admire said pretty gardens.
Gems. They fund the beautification project.
Exotic baskets. Settlers are so happy to get tropical fruit that they work three times as hard for 12 hours.
Lawlcano’s carpet bombing. Leaves the island looking like Tinkerbell paid a visit and had one hell of a party.
Zombies that visit from friends’ islands. They motivate the settlers to work four times as hard for 18 hours.
Community vegetable garden in sector 7.
Herbivore wolves.
(tongue in cheek guys -- not meant to get anyone's bloomers in a bunch)
The settlers are thankful that there are no women on the islands.
Therefore they do not have to:
- Answer risky questions like, "Does this country style dress make me look fat?"
- Hide all of the brew mugs after having the guys over for, "Let's Take Down One-Eyed Bert Night."
- Leave room in front of the residences to park more carriages.
- Plant roses and otherwise prettify the island -- thus they can leave more room for The Look of Mordor approach to island building.
- Come home early from The Tavern.
- Turn the gems from the gem pits into jewelry rather than using them to buy Drill Masters and Vet Generals.
- Eat any of the vegetables from the vegetable gardens.
- Pass up on all the horse bacon deer burgers they want
- Go to bed at a reasonable time instead of adventuring all night while swapping stories about their huge XPs with their buddies in guild chat.
- And last but not least: Watch chick flicks that have Wild Mary as the romantic lead.
i am thankful for roll back refund ubi generously gave us a bountiful compensation wich pleased the settlers on my island very much it was more than ever expected and more than they lost and the awesome guild im in tyvm and happy thanksgiving to those who play and ubi
i am thankful for no recent roll backs!!!
I am thankful for my very generous friends that always keep my buildings buffed ;)
Decker Oakheart led the way into the east wing of the newly upgraded Mayor’s house. He supposed it was a sign of the times, of the settlement’s prosperity, that the mayor could afford to put so many of their hard earned resources into what seemed such a lavish expense. And at least the place was bigger, now. Other than a few other small Storehouses far to the north and east, this was the only place they had for storage. In fact, if it wasn’t for the added space, it was likely that this autumn’s Thanksgiving feast would be held, like last year’s, outside, where it grew colder every day.
For now, at least, there was plenty of room in the east wing, and long Pinewood tables and benches filled the room. Decker’s son, Ian, growing bigger as he approached his teenage years, stopped to take in the sights, and the people. Their population had certainly grown over the past year, and neither Decker nor Ian could remember seeing so many of the Settlers in one room.
Behind Decker, his wife, Eleanora, spoke soothingly in quiet tones to their youngest, their daughter Gabrielle. The girl was only six, and had quickly buried her face into her mother’s skirts as they entered the crowded room. Decker watched some of the others catch sight of them and nod in greeting—Solomon, who ran the old Mill, surrounded by his five children; Farmer Henry and his wife and two of their three boys, the boys now taller than their father; and Joseph the Butcher, who Decker couldn’t remember seeing dressed in anything other than a bloody apron. Decker, the town’s Explorer, was only recently back from his latest foray into the wilderness, and hadn’t seen many of the townsfolk in quite a while.
He caught sight of the mayor’s wife, across the room, and figured the mayor himself had to be somewhere close by, and led his family in that direction.
“Welcome back, Oakheart!” A man said loudly, approaching from one side of the large room and clapping him on the shoulder. It was Tomas, who worked at the Sawmill next door. “You didn’t happen to find any large stashes of Pinewood out there this time, did ya?” On one of his journeys, Decker had come across some huge stacks of lumber. The extra resources had served the fledgling town well at the time, but Tomas had grumbled about the find taking work from him—and made a point to mention it every time the two saw each other.
“Not this time, Tomas,” answered Decker, shaking his head. It was true. He hadn’t. Though considering what he had come across, he rather wished he had stumbled across something so mundane. Not that he would have told Tomas, anyway. He’d already resolved that any more lumber finds would be silently and secretly moved into storage.
They continued to move across the room, running into a few more people on the way. Helen, the burly apprentice Weaponsmith, stopped them and talked about Ian apprenticing with her once she opened her own shop—she even grabbed his biceps to check on the muscle mass there, and after a frown encouraged him to start swinging a hammer. There was Gretchen the Brewer, who was in a low cut dress too small for her, who had obviously imbibed a healthy portion of her own product, and was clinging to the arm of the recently widowed Andrew the Baker. And there was the pipe-smoking William, master Mason, serious as ever, who was in the middle of a conversation with Karl the Geologist about having to find another Stone deposit.
Finally arriving near the head table, Decker stopped and bowed low in front of a gray haired man dressed in long velvet robes. “Greetings, Exalted One,” he said. “You remember my wife, Eleanora? And Ian and Gabrielle?”
The mayor nodded slightly—inclining his head any further may have knocked the opulent crown from his head. He didn’t speak for a few moments, instead sipping slowly from a jeweled goblet. “I’m glad you have returned safely once again, Oakheart,” the mayor finally said. “Though General Vickers here tells me you haven’t brought the best of news.”
The pinch faced General was never far away, and at the mention of his name he turned and joined the conversation.
“I’m sorry to say that it’s true, mayor.” Decker said. He hadn’t made a report directly to the mayor, yet, since returning, but he had stopped in at the Barracks. He hoped the Exalted One would forgive him for wanting to see his family first, after so long away. “Bandits. Several camps of them. Far to the east, yes, but close enough to be a threat.”
“Pphht. Rabble,” said General Vickers, waving his wine glass dismissively. “We’ll drive them off soon enough.”
“I wasn’t aware that your army was in position to move on this… rabble,” the mayor said, looking down his nose at Vickers.
The General emptied his glass, taking time to collect his thoughts before replying. “We’ve quite a few new Recruits, sir,” he said. “We’re drilling every day. We’ve Bronze Swords in sufficient number, and the Brewery has been meeting our needs. But what I could use, Exalted One, is some of those Bows your brother has been talking about.”
“My brother? Theodor?”
The General nodded. “He’s been talking about training Vlad as a Bowmaker. If we could have some archers, those bandits wouldn’t stand a chance against us.”
Decker looked over at Ian. A grown boy, now. Nearly a man. For a moment, he pictured him on the field, wearing armor, drilling with the other men. Maybe he’d go have a talk with Helen about how soon she was going to make Master and open her own smithy.
“Now, now, boys, no talking about such matters today! It’s a holiday!” Aunt Irma bustled her way into the middle of their circle. As far as Decker knew, she wasn’t really anybody’s aunt. She was also the only one who could talk to the mayor like that. “It’s time to eat. Everybody take their seats!”
Decker led Eleanora and the kids to their spot at the end of the head table. As Explorer, he was afforded a place of honor. The Provision House had outdone themselves this year—the tables were piled high with Fish Platters and Solid Sandwiches. Once everyone had found their seats, a hush fell over the room.
“It has been a good year for us,” the mayor said, a tiny smile touching the corners of his eyes. “And we have much to be thankful for.
“The harvest is in, and we are well stocked for the coming winter. Our Farms have grown in size and number this past year. We’ve added another Mill. There are several new Wells that have been dug, and we’ve managed to make it through a year with only one mine collapsing.” A low rumble went around the room. Everyone remembered that.
“We successfully moved the Coking Plants and Smelters to the north, away from the center of town, and there’s some new cobbled Roads. The Trade Office reports a robust business, and every day we elevate our status with Capital Island’s Guilds. Things are going so well, the Fishermen were telling me just the other day that they no longer have to cast their nets—the Fish simply jump into their boats.”
Everyone laughed at the mayor’s joke. Of course, everyone always laughed when the mayor made a joke.
“You may hear some rumors. You may hear the word ‘bandits.’” He frowned in Decker’s direction, as if finding them were somehow the Explorer’s fault. “You may fear for your safety, and for the safety of your families. But rest assured, General Vickers has the matter well in hand, and that we are even now working on improving the weapons we could field against these men, should they prove to be our foes.”
The Exalted One spread his arms and slowly looked around the packed room, delivering the final blessing in a loud, clear voice. “For what we are about to receive, let us truly be thankful.”
And the Settlers ate.
Settler Joe Miller had a few minutes while the wheat was grinding to think about the rumor he had heard. This rumor was very special. He had never heard the like.
The rumor was that "The Great Being in the Sky" might be soon taking a day off for what was called "Thanksgiving Day" in her world. Everyone was saying, "Wow! No new buildings popping up all of a sudden. No change in structures out of the blue. No playing with the settlers lives by sending them to war."
He thought to himself, "Can I believe such a rumor? The Mayor was the one who was suppose to have started this talk so I should be able to believe it. Wow! If it only happened like they say."
Joe said to himself, "I would really be grateful if this was to really happen. Maybe my family and I could enjoy a meal out in the sun in between the grain grinding. I'll have to keep grinding or 'The Great Being' will know something happened while she was gone." Next he laughed quietly to himself, "Hee, Hee, 'The Great Being in the Sky' has never found out--as far as we know-- where the new settlers come from. She doesn't know that we have children that we hide when she is around. She probably would put them to work before they were strong enough to be lifting these bags of grain or the buckets of water my wife carries while dressed up as a man." Laughing again, "Hah, Hah, 'The Great Being' doesn't even know that we have wives." Sighing, he said to himself, "If only the rumor was true."
In a few days, it happened. "The Great Being" checked on the island for a moment and then was gone. She did not stay around like she usually did. Hurray! the settlers went crazy. They didn't care that they didn't have special foods to eat. They just enjoyed being able to work together to cover the chores that had to be done, being able to have their children with them as they did them, and eating as a family in the sun.
The settlers were so grateful to the really large "Great Being in the Sky" for this thing called "Thanksgiving Day" that the small "Great Being" was having. The settlers were also grateful for their children being able to come out in the sun and that their wives could choose to wear dresses or pants. The women didn't have to pretent to be men. "Ah, what a great day that was," the settlers said to each other for a long time after.
The tramp of marching feet was fading into the distance. Brave horns lent their brassy notes to the breeze, drifting above the treetops. You could still see the dust lazing in the mid-afternoons’ sunshine, and feel it tickle your nose. The afternoons were still warm though the evenings had begun to turn crisp, hinting at the cold weather to come.
Young Jake stared off down the road. He got his name because he was an entire month junior to another Jake who was already working at the sawmill when he started. That was more years ago than he liked to remember. What hair he had left was as white as the snows to come, but he was still Young Jake to all who knew him.
The road was now empty, but he watched as though he could still see all those downy-cheeked youths, flushed with excitement at being chosen for recruitment into the military.
He sighed and headed into the tavern, settling onto his usual barstool. Obadiah was there ahead of him as usual, and nodded a greeting.
“They get off OK?” he asked.
Jake just grimaced and signaled for a drink from Tom O’Scars the barkeep. When Tom limped up with his ale, Jake replied, “Ayep. Another green crew, aheadin’ off. Poor fools, won’t listen.”
The three stood in silence for a while contemplating the drinks in front of them, but none drinking, when an unfamiliar voice spoke from the edge of their little circle.
The young stranger was dressed in a stained traveling cloak, with a backpack at his feet, and the road dust still on his face. “What’s wrong with joining the Lords army?” he asked with more surprise than force. “I hurried as I could, but missed the evening muster. There’s supposed to be another one tomorrow, but…” He trailed off into silence as the three old men before him gazed bleakly at him.
The three looked at each other and by unspoken agreement let Young Jake do the talking. “Every season the warrant be posted fer hale youngsters to join up. An’ every season a new crop o’ greenhorns, fall all over ‘emselves to do it. Sure as mornin’. Sure as death.
Where ye be thinkin’ they be goin’? Why be t’ Lord always be needin’ more recruits, an’ no new barracks be a bein’ built? Dem young fools be marchin’ to der doom. Dey be cannon fodder, pure an’ simple.”
Young Jake took a pull at his brew, and jerked his thumb towards the barkeep. “Dis be Tom o’ da Scars. Afore he come back from da wars he be known as Tommy Quick, fastest man in da county.
He heard da horns, he felt da call, an’ answered da muster. Saw da dragon, dat he did. Miracle be he be comin’ back atall, atall. Generals be leadin’ him an t’others from one slaughter to t’another.”
At this point the young man interrupted blurting out, “But there’s a new general now! A famous one. Why, I heard he’s so great that rulers from all the islands bid against each other to hire him for their side. He must be amazing!”
The three began to wheeze, and then to snort, and then to laugh. When they calmed down Young Jake spoke almost compassionately to the youngster, “Oh, he be famous all right ye be. But be askin’ yerself; Famous fer what? What be tha’ mercenary buffoon famous fer?
His reputation be grand indeed. Why, more lads will follow ‘im than any other general in the lands. Usually tha’ be a good thing. Men need to believe in those they follow. But bein’ famous fer bein’ famous be no accomplishment!
Wha’ else he be know fer? He’s spry? Aye, he be spry. Fast as fast can be. Why, when he puts his mind to it, not a man in the islands can narry keep up wi’ him. Even our Tommy Quick here was left in ter dust when the need be there.
And why be there need? Because to into slaughter after slaughter do he be marchin’ all those trustin’ lads that be behind him. And suddenly, when all be lost an’ the men be fallin’ to left an’ to right, where be he? Why he be halfway home already. The fastest horses wi’ remounts stashed along the route, he has. Always does. Other men take twice as long, but back in camp he be. Takin’ a nap, an’ askin’ fer his handful o’ gems, an’ when be t’ new recruits arrivin’, so he can get a new lad to brush his boots, an’ shine ‘is mail.”
A silence lingered over their corner of the bar. The young stranger was struck dumb, and the three oldsters were lost in dark memories of their own.
“Be grateful, lad. Grateful indeed. Give ye thanks tha’ ye missed the muster t’day.” Be goin’ back to yer farm. Land always needs hands to tend her. Go see yer mam again. She’ll be happy to ‘ave ye home again. The hot words be forgotten, an’ yer favorite foods be on tha’ table, sure as sure. Give thanks, lad. Time enough to finish growin’. Time enough to taste some more o’ the sweetness in life. Go on home, lad. ‘Tis the best o’ gifts to yer folks. A thankful celebration ‘twil be.”
We are thankful this thread
is still open indeed -
for while eating our bread
we are taking heed,
of all the good entries
that went on before...
and of all the sentries
that guard by our door.
We're thankful for brew
and also for water -
but would it kill you
to let us have butter?
the bread is kinda dry
(the good bread is all sold),
we still don't know why
(cause Homer likes his gold!) -
so while you're all eating
with the "theys" and the "thems"
it bears much repeating,
"Give KingHomer the gems!"