Subj:	 [ffml] [MW] Sitting in a Silent Corner
Date:	00-03-24 01:27:33 EST
From:	skyhall@hotmail.com (Sky Hall)
Reply-to:	ffml@onelist.com
To:	ffml@onelist.com

From: "Sky Hall" <skyhall@hotmail.com>

  “Letters for you sir,” said a voice from outside the office.
  “Enter,” said Tim.
  A soldier came in, bearing a satchel over his shoulder. He handed the 
satchel over to Tim, who sat behind a “desk”, really a table with two 
lanterns sitting on it. The soldier saluted and walked out.
  Tim dug inside his uniform and pulled out a key. He used this to open the 
lock on the satchel. Opening the bag, Tim pulled out the dispatches and 
started reading through them, breaking the occasional royal seal.
  One letter addressed to Tim read,
  “Though we are disappointed you did not follow the general order to 
retreat to South Figaro, we are glad that you took full command of our 
forces that have made it to Nikeah. Because of your exemplary action in the 
retreat from our lands in Doma, and your selflessness in battle, and your 
extraordinary leadership abilities, the General Staff has decreed that you 
shall receive the rank of CAPTAIN First Class. This promotion shall stand in 
the field and office, and all officers and soldiers shall respect this title 
for the duration of the war.
  “The General Staff has decided that you shall organize whatever forces you 
can muster at Nikeah and have them march to South Figaro as soon as 
possible. Our plans are somewhat uncertain, but all available forces are to 
make all haste to South Figaro to be accounted for.”
  Tim finished reading the letter, put it down, and sighed.
  Though amazed to receive the promotion, the language of the letter did 
reflect the dissatisfaction of the General Staff with Tim. Aside from the 
Dragoons, the Doman Knights, and the Commandos, Tim’s brigade was the best 
fighting unit. Many recognized the effort in training and discipline that 
went into Tim’s troops and praised them as elite soldiers. Tim himself was 
sometimes amazed at how well his men performed. Now, instead of a brigade, 
Tim would command a battalion made up of five brigades. The Doman forces he 
could muster were six hundred people.
  Having arrived at Nikeah, Tim found a few soldiers and several refugees 
from Doma. The Nikeah magistrate was trying to contend with the growing 
problem of the refugees by making them set up tents outside the city and 
trying to limit how much they came into town, as theft was rapidly 
increasing. Tim told the magistrate that he would take charge, he being the 
only senior officer above corporeal in the area.
  Securing permission, Tim set the refugees to work erecting hostels and a 
wall. A corner of the outer wall of Nikeah was selected and a wall extended 
out, near the west and north gates, and then enclosed, forming a compound to 
house the refugees. Within this, buildings were erected to house and sustain 
the growing population.
  One of Tim’s former mercenary captains had said, “Idle hands lead to idle 
thoughts. Make people work so they do not have time to complain.” This was 
sound advice. Making the refugees work, they took their minds off of their 
sad predictaments and were able to provide shelter and food to another. 
Also, the crime and infighting went down considerably. The wall helped as 
well, giving the Domans a sense of security, and helping to keep the 
desertion rate down.
  Tim realized as soon as he arrived that maintaining military order would 
be the hardest thing to achieve. So he immediately gave a speech to the 
soldiers, letting them know not to fear and to have faith. “The moogles 
almost bled themselves white taking Doma. We just have to collect ourselves 
and we’ll take back our homeland.” Meeting and talking to every soldier, 
especially the new comers as well helped.
  Tim, following his usual routine, began assembling the soldiers into 
squads, companies, and brigades, even before receiving this latest 
promotion. He appointed new non-commissioned officers and set about bringing 
the soldiers up to his level of training. He then began training them for 
the threats they would likely receive from the moogle and Vector troops.
  Tim had been walking along the beach one day, trying to collect his 
thoughts and dispel a depression that had set in. He watched two young boys 
chase each other and play. The boys ran into the surf and splashed each 
other. When they headed back to dry land, Tim took notice of on boy who 
seemed trap. Tim realized that some seaweed had wrapped around the boy’s 
ankles and was hindering his movement. The boy tried lifting his legs to 
little avail. He could barely walk a full stride and almost fell over a few 
times. Eventually, through some ungainly movement, the boy was able to kick 
free of the seaweed and gain full movement, chasing after his friend.
  Tim thought about this, and came upon an idea of how to hinder the 
movements of the magitek armors.
  “Have you seen woodsman trap wild chocobos?” Tim asked as he spoke before 
his assembled sergeants and sergeant majors. “They can do it two ways. One 
is they’ll throw a lasso around the bird’s neck. Or they’ll lay the lasso 
out on the ground, lure the bird over with some choco-greens, and then draw 
the lasso close, trapping their feet. I’ve seen a few times, the lasso come 
up and wrap around both ankles of a chocobo. The bird tries to struggle, but 
looses it’s balance and falls over. That’s how we’ll take out those magitek 
armors!”
  “I don’t understand,” said one sergeant. “We’re going to lasso the 
armors?”
  “No,” said Tim. “We’ll take rope, chains, maybe even cables, and wrap them 
around the legs of the armors. We’ll cinch them tight, and the armors won’t 
be able to move. They’ll try, but fall over. If they can’t move, they can’t 
fight. If they fall over, they can’t fire their weapons.”
  The men liked that idea and began training teams of men to carry ropes and 
chains to race around the legs of the large mechanical behemoths.
  Tim rubbed his eyes. He had already been working the load of a captain, 
and then some. The promotion would not offset things to much, but he had to 
be sure that men knew and would not cause trouble. Also, he would have to 
relate the news that they had to move out. Many of the soldiers would not 
like that, but orders were orders.
  And there was still a war to fight.

--Sky


Subj:	 [ffml] [MW] Chasing After a "Dream"
Date:	00-03-24 01:30:18 EST
From: "Sky Hall" <skyhall@hotmail.com>

  The battalion marched at a steady pace through the mountains to the east 
of Narshe.
  Tim rode on a chocobo at the head of the column of soldiers, taking in the 
sights of the majestic mountains and talking with the soldiers under his 
command.
  Everyone’s mood had lightened considerably since Tim’s arrival at Nikeah. 
What was once a bunch of depressed, resentful soldiers, had been formed into 
a solid military unit.
  When Tim had gathered the soldiers to relate the news, they had all 
cheered. And the subsequent promotions of many men to Acting Lieutenants, 
Sergeant Majors, and Sergeants did much to lighten spirits and instill a 
sense of optimism in the battalion.
  Tim realized that that was what his soldiers, and even the civilians under 
his care, had needed. A sense of progress, of action towards a goal.
  Tim had taken the first steps in organizing the refugees at Nikeah into 
work details. Building homes and a wall around their new settlement gave not 
only purpose, but a sense of community and renewed spirit. The same went for 
the soldiers. After having a barracks built, the soldiers had a warm place 
to sleep, and a mess hall provided the first good meals that many soldiers 
had not had in months. With their bodies prepared, the training regime Tim 
put them on sharpened their minds.
  Not every soldier was able to equip himself with a sword, spear, and 
shield. So Tim had the units roughly organized along lines of men with 
shields and those with spears. This filled two brigades as full phalanxes. 
The rest of the men were told to pick two weapons and to master them.
  As Tim rode along, he spotted one such man. From his belt, a mace hung. 
Slung across his shoulder, a bow and quiver full of arrows. Many of the men 
were arrayed with swords, axes, pikes, even flails complimented the men. A 
few men had javelins. Tim took note of how much his battalion was turning 
into a mercenary company.

  After a while, Tim spotted Martin ahead, stopped at a crossroads. The 
young man had slipped past Tim and hurried ahead.
  Tim urged his mount forward and trotted up to Martin.
  In the months that Martin and Tim had been together, Tim was shocked to 
notice a change. What had once been an awkward, ignorant boy, was now a 
confident, strong, brave young man. Several engagements, much hardship, and 
the promotion to corporeal had allowed the peasant boy to become a veteran 
soldier and a decent swordsman.
  Martin sat on his chocobo, staring into the distance that the road 
disappeared on. He did not notice Tim till his commanding officer was right 
on top of him.
  “Hey Martin, what are you looking at?”
  “Tim,” said Martin, his voice soft and distant. “My home is in that 
direction.”
  Tim looked and nodded. “Aye, it is.” He paused in thought. “If you were to 
return home, you would surprise many people there. You have become quite a 
man, and a very good soldier to boot. I am sure you could achieve anything 
back there.”
  Martin continued to stare.
  “I have learned much from you, Tim,” said the young man. “But I am no 
equal to you, nor would I be for quite some time. You have much more 
experience then I, and you can definitely handle any situation thrown to 
you.
  “What lies on this road… it is something that I dread and fear to the very 
core of my soul. My people have lived in fear of the Dark Lord for 
centuries, it seems. I have learned what my fear is, have learned to face 
it, overcome it, even laugh at it. But this fear, this Dark Lord… he is more 
then I could possibly face alone. If I had an army with me, then I could 
fight and defeat the Dark Lord. But not by myself.
  “I cannot even return home, I realize. To do so would bring shame on 
myself. I have achieved much, but going back to that village, to that place 
where people fear their own shadow, I would go insane. I could not face 
those people, I could not help them either.”
  “What are you saying?” asked Tim, looking at Martin. Martin looked at Tim.
  “Either I go to Shadowbrook with an army at back, or I go with you, Tim.”
  Martin studied Tim and read the message loud and clear.
  “You do know what you are asking, right?” demanded Tim. He was angered at 
Martin’s presumptuous nature. “What you are asking for, at this time, with 
what we have to accomplish, and with so many at stake…”
  Tim closed his eyes and sighed.
  “Why me?” asked Tim to no on in particular.
  The column had reached Tim’s position and Tim opened his eyes, turned to 
his men and called out,
  “We are taking this road!”
  “Sir?” asked one sergeant. “Don’t we-“
  “I said this road!” exclaimed Tim.
  “Yes, Sir.”
  The troop turned and followed the dirt road.
  Tim turned to Martin. “She had better be the best damn woman in the world, 
and she better have several cute sisters and lots of strong brothers.”
  Martin smiled at Tim, but the older man did not respond in kind. Martin 
lost his smile and nodded. He hurried his chocobo to his men.
  Tim sighed silently. He pondered to himself, “He’s a good kid, but by the 
gods… why me? Why now?”
  The battalion marched to a land that seemed dark, forbidding, even in the 
light cast by the bright sun in a cloudless sky.
  Tim could feel a pull in the direction of this road, he could not deny 
that. Something important lay ahead of him. But Tim had orders to follow, 
not a gut feeling. He just hoped that something good would come of this all.

--Sky