Subj: [ffml] [MW] Taking the Town Date: 00-07-21 19:06:06 EDT From: skyhall@hotmail.com (Sky Hall) [slightly edited for continuity by Spacecat] Reply-to: ffml@egroups.com To: ffml@egroups.com "What is that?" inquired Ricca as he crested a hill with Tim and Jayel. "That," said Tim, indicating a fortified village with a moogle banner waving, "is in our way. We must remove it." Jayel betrayed some doubt in his face, but Ricca merely nodded and turned his chocobo around and rode back down the hill. Tim and Jayel soon followed. Tim approached a lieutenant who had been digging in the earth and conferring with a dragon rider. When close enough, Tim dismounted and approached the men, who both stood and saluted. Ricca and Jayel joined them. "Report," said Tim, returning the salute. The lieutenant kneeled down next to a model of the village he had erected. "Sir, it seems the moogles took the village and seeing as how it was on this open plain and they could observe the land for miles around, fortified it. They even used the outer buildings as part of a wall to completely encircle the position. There are three gates to enter the village, and several wooden towers." "By my count, sir," said the dragon rider, "the moogles may have four hundred in there, maybe more. I saw two magitek armors, medium sized as well. I think that is all they have." Tim nodded. "Suggestions." "Sir," said the dragon rider, standing up straight, "the dragons can carry boulders and drop them on the village. I doubt the ceilings of the houses are strong enough to hold up and will quickly break. Also, a good strike from a boulder on those wooden towers would surely destroy them." Tim nodded. "We could prepare a siege," said Jayel. "Start setting up picket lines and wait for the moogles to come out or go to this town." "Any civilians?" asked Tim. "No sir," said the dragon rider. "I beleive there are no humans in the village. I didn't see any laundry hanging out to dry." Tim smiled and nodded. "We wait till Captain Clive and Evan arrive. Then we'll move. Also, I'll need Captain Nighthawk. Gather all our forces here." Tim walked back to the crest of the hill and surveyed the town. It was two miles away, but he was able to study it somewhat. It had been one week since Tim had left Hiel Keep. He had passed control over to a contingent from the Lance Henriksen Army. In the week, Tim's command had been moving south and encountering minimum resistance. Tim's observation was correct, the moogles where pulling out of Doma. Small groups were scattered here and there, but all were heading for Doma City and to the southern frontier of Doma. Tim now looked at the most eastern fortification held by the moogles in Doma. He wasn't sure if would be a later staging area for a counter offensive to the Doman army or what, but he had his orders from General Wang himself to charge ahead, clear out all enemy resistance, and proceed to Doma. It was Wang's plan to have the entire Doman army come together on Doma City, crush whatever moogle forces where there, and then move south, to Southvale, and meet any new threats. It was now known that Emperor Turin was in Southvale with a large army. But they were not moving north. This bit of information made Tim's neck itch. Another piece of info Tim had heard concerned the former soldiers of Vector. When discovered that hte moogles had turned on the civilian population, those that could, fled in every direction. Many soldiers fled right to South Figaro and demanded to join the Alliance to remove the moogle host. The Vectorian Militia prisoners of war where released. However, the Alliance did not know what to do with them yet. Tim put aside his thoughts about the war in general and brought his focus back to the village. "Maybe Thulio can help," he thought to himself. "Are you sure about this, sir?" asked the young magician from Thamasa. Tim considered Thulio young, even though he was in his early thirties, since the man displayed timidity and awkwardness. Tim was still unsure whether this was due to his being a social recluse or is difficulty in dealing with soldiers. "Trust me, Thulio," said Tim, making his voice endearing and friendly. "You won't be killing anyone, and it's a simple spell. I know you can do it, and it will help so much." Thulio sighed and looked down. He then looked back up. "Very well, sir." Tim also knew that Thulio lacked self confidence. The warmage took a few steps forward on the small observation hill and raised his arms. He began chanting, his eyes closed, and an aura surrounding him. He then opened his eyes and extended his hands forward, continuing to chant. A wind began blowing, Tim could see it by the way the grasses in the fields began swaying. The wind was small and light, but seemed to occupy a space, and it was obviously moving, and growing stronger. Wisps of dust began getting picked up from the roads and patches of dirt. The wind grew stronger and bigger as it headed towards the village. More dust and some grass and leaves was picked up by the wind and carried in it. The wind was now taking a shape, a large sort of cloud. It was evident of it's shape by the flying debris within it. More dust and dirt was swept up, along with more grass and leaves from plants. Near the village, the wind seemed to cut into the dirt road that led to it, causing a splash of dirt to leap into the air and join the already darkening mass. Then, upon reaching the village, the cloud stopped and consumed it. The wind picked up more dirt and continued to swirl it about. The air became thick and dark, and from a distance, the observers could see the buildings and walls slowly disappear in the ever growing murk. Thulio's "Dust Storm Spell" had done it's job, and seeing how effective it was, the dragons, which had been circling far away, waiting, flew towards the village. The dragons swooped at the village, each carrying a boulder the size of a man. It had taken a while for the flying beasts to take flight from the ground carrying their heavy loads, and many of them were bursting from the fire gas which was swelling their bodies. It was very uncomfortable for both dragons and riders. But now they were diving and soon they would be able to release their bombs. The dust storm rose about thirty feet off the ground and thus the dragons would be safe from it's wind effects. Nearing the moogle defenses, the dragons leveled out at about fifty feet and got ready. Thulio, sweating, saw that the dragons where ready and to stopped chanting, the wind stopped and the dust and debris began settling. Like a bath being trained, the level of the dust dropped down. Passing over the village, the dragons, close to forty, dropped their boulders. The large stones crashed down haphazardly among the towers and buildings of the village. Roofs caved in, towers were demolished, and rocks struck hard earth. "Alright men!" called out Tim. "Charge!" With a mighty battle cry, two hundred dragoons and one hundred cavalry rode out from behind the hill and charged the village, their chocobos pounding the earth, spears at the ready. And following them was two hundred and fifty knights and close to eight hundred other infantry soldiers. The avariel also took flight and Nighthawk led her flights to the village to start raining hell upon the moogles inside. Tim went back down the hill, mounted his chocobo Fluffy, and giving her a reassuring pat on the neck, spurred her on to join his soldiers at the village. After dropping their bombs, the dragons then veered and dove low. Flying over the top of the village, they unleashed a firey blasts from their bodies. The dragons had so much fire gas that they unleashed a hellish assault on the wooden structures. After the last dragon passed, fire and smoke began issuing out of many of the structures. One dragon fell. The dragoons took the lead, riding their sturdy mountain chocobos. Ricca was no with the assault, he and his rangers were kept in reserve, much to his chagrine. Tim had decided this type of combat was not the best for the rangers, and would be meaningless losses to such well trained men. So he stood atop of the hill, with Thulio, and watched. Nearing the village, the dragoons readied their small shields and began blocking against the crossbolts unleashed from the few remaining towers and some of the windows of the outer wall. The dragoons veered to the right and began circling the village. Some of the dragoons carried small jars of oil, and these were hurled into the village through open windows, over the low walls, or unto the roofs of the buildings. Some also carried torches which were thrown in as well. With the already started fires, a small conflagaration started within the village. Other dragoons carried bows and arrows, along with the regular mounted archers, and began picking off moogles. The avariel began unleashing their arrows into the village, their deadly aim taking heavy tolls on the already inundated creatures. A battering ram was wheeled was brought forward by the chocobos and several men dismounted and began applying it to the gate. Several archers kept those men covered. By the time the gate had been broken, the foot soldiers had arrived, and although winded, charged into the village. The resultign battle was short and one-sided. The moogles were quickly thrown into a panic and many fled, only to be picked off by avariel. The village itself burned to the ground, the magiteks being destroyed as well. At the end of the day, Tim stood outside of the charred remenants of the village and assessed the situation. Ten men had died. Thirty were injured, five of them critical enough that they would be handed over to the next civilian populations they encountered. No avariel were killed. Tim had feared he would suffer greater losses, but was glad that he was able to figure out some use for his warmage. "Alright men," said Tim. "We set up camp here. Tomorrow we rest, and the day after we start heading west, along the border, but then on to Doma City." The men cheered. They would soon pay the moogles back for what they had done. --Sky Subj: [ffml] [MW] A Division Date: 00-07-21 23:46:06 EDT From: larathia@mcs.net (Larathia) Reply-to: ffml@egroups.com To: ffml@egroups.com Nighthawk walked - some might think stomped, but she left no boot-prints - towards the pavilion of the human officers, her rigidly controlled movements giving the signal to her flight captains that she was very angry indeed. Since they knew why, and heartily approved, they made no bones about getting the hell out of her way and out of earshot. Not *her* earshot, since they knew well enough she never yelled, but their own; they didn't want to have to answer to any orders she might give in this frame of mind. Not in the mood to bother with the standard courtesies, she brushed right past the guards at Tim's tent, and they were startled enough to let her pass - and once she was in, since she drew no weapon, they weren't sure if they should drag her out. Glaring at a very surprised and startled Tim, Nighthawk said, quite softly, "I will have words with you, Lord Tim. You will hear them. Will you walk with me, or shall I say them in the presence of your peers?" Tim did not appreciate being ordered to do anything by the avariel captain, but he was aware enough that there was little he could do about this particular breach without severing the tenuous alliance; besides, he'd never seen her furious before and wondered what had caused it. Her stance was apparently casual, but his trained warrior's eyes noted that every single muscle was poised just shy of a battle stance. There would be no harm in hearing her out; he believed he knew her well enough to know that even so angry, she would not attack him. So he nodded once, quickly. "Let's take a walk then. It's all right, men," he said absently to the startled guards. "She is not a danger." Nighthawk said nothing until they had walked past the perimiter of the camp, on a wide route circling the burnt remains of the village. "Lord Tim," she said, still in that soft controlled voice, "you had my people fly near a firestorm today. None were injured, and none died, but my people have lost much confidence in you for placing them in such jeopardy. And I am not in the least bit pleased that you should place them in unnecessary danger when real ones are quite easy enough to find." Tim was taken aback. "What danger? None were injured, none died, you said so yourself. How is that placing your people in danger?" Nighthawk's wings twitched for a moment, almost spreading but quickly closed. "I should have guessed you to be one who favors fire, Lord Tim. My people found yours by following the smoky trail in the sky when you poured oil on Hiel Keep. Do you have no idea what fire *does* to us?" Now Tim was beginning to feel annoyed, at being put on trial when he wasn't aware of committing a crime. "No, I don't. Nor do I recall your making any mention to me of any particular danger from fire. I cannot be held accountable for making an unpleasant command decision when you withold vital information, Captain." Nighthawk smiled, or at least showed her teeth. "No, I did not, Lord Tim. Which is why I am talking to you rather than having shot you some hours ago. Oh, do not reach for your weapon. You knew I would not attack or you would not have come with me. And if there is one thing that living many millenia has taught me, it is how to hold my temper. You want to know why we are angered, Lord Tim. Then hold your own temper a moment and watch." Nighthawk spread out her wings, and ran over them with her fingers. "We are not quite as skilled as birds when it comes to wing-grooming, Lord Tim, but we have learned. I will use fresh feathers rather than ones from my fletching-bag so you will know the extent of the risk." Finding a few loose feathers, down mostly, but one long flight feather too, she worked them free from her wing. "Have you flint and tinder? Most soldiers I have seen do." Tim nodded. Nighthawk held the feathers out in her hand, shining black with tiny tracings of deep blue. "Strike a spark near the feathers, Lord Tim." He noted that she spread her wings out straight behind her, to avoid any possibility of coming into contact with the sparks. Wondering what would happen, though his mind was already providing probable conclusions, Tim struck flint to steel and sent a spark near the feathers. A small spark landed on the flight feather. It took only a moment for it to catch the feather into flame, igniting all the other feathers. Nighthawk stood there, calmly holding a small fire in her hands. The smell of burned feathers filled the air. "I am protected from all but the direct blast from a dragon's breath on my home world, or a volcanic eruption, Lord Tim. I worked long and hard to gain that protection, and I will not give you details. Yet you see how even I would be vulnerable to the smallest campfire without it. Every last one of my soldiers lacks that protection, Lord Tim. Should so much as a live spark touch the wings of any of my soldiers, their wings would go up like live tinder, burning them alive midair. That none of them were harmed in this day's work is a blessing of the Goddess, and your great fortune, for were they harmed, I would have taken their blood-price out on your hide and my respect for you be damned. I owe that to my people, as you owe loyalty to your own. Do you understand?" Tim could only nod, his mind on the speed with which the feathers had burned. "Yet why did you not tell me of this danger, or refuse to fight near the firestorm knowing it existed?" Nighthawk furled her wings, her anger cooled by Tim's immediate grasp of the problem. "My people are aliens to this world, Lord Tim. We are here to fight the moogles, not humans or dragons or clones or anything else. Just moogles. For that reason, we must have the goodwill of your King, Cyan. But Cyan is half-mad, clinging to a kingdom that is no longer in his control. You, he fears and admires, I think, as an agency beyond his control and as the means by which he can become a true king again with a kingdom to rule. Us, Cyan frankly mistrusts; we came at too opportune a time to play upon his need for aid, and while not altoghether sane he is not a fool. We came to him as the last human leader; with his approval we can fight alongside humans without fear of them turning on us. So when he sent us to you, we had to obey, even though we are of little real use here. We *must* follow orders of yours that are witnessed by your men, so that Cyan can recieve word that we are not a danger, that you have us 'under control'. And do not doubt that there are such friendly spies in your army; all good leaders have them if they've ruled long enough. But you know as well as I that you do *not* have us 'under control'; that in fact you understand us even less than we understand you. Till now it has been easy to maintain the illusion of your command; you've done almost exactly as I would have done in your place. But this - my people feel betrayed, Lord Tim. Your ignorance of our weakness is all that has kept them from adding your army to the list of our enemies - your ignorance, and my command. I will tell you frankly that if you should issue another such order, they will refuse to obey. We are not soldiers in the sense you understand, Lord Tim. We are avariel. Our whole attitude to war is different, and it is built into our thinking that an order is invalid if it is clearly given by an incompetent or a madman." "Now hang on just a goddamned minute," said Tim, "I didn't know because not one of your people saw fit to tell me. We've never seen your people before, we have no records of them - how the *hell* does that mark me as an incompetent?" "You are the commander, Lord Tim. Every victory and every failure is laid at your feet. Fairness does not enter into it; that is the position of commander, and you know it. But you see the position I am now in, as *their* commander. If I do as my people demand and vacate the alliance, we will have to worry about human archers as well as moogle ones. But if I do not, my people could die because I have not fulfilled my function as their commander." "Ah," Tim said, raising his hand to ask for a moment of time. "Just a minute. I might have a solution that'll work really well for both of us." He paced a few minutes in a circle around Nighthawk. "Got it. You're right in that I really don't know what to do with you. I get the idea you could spend months doing nothing but talk to me about your people and culture, and I still wouldn't know what to with you. So how about I just issue a public order along the lines of 'give 'em hell', and let your people do things their own way, with none of us around? You could show up at night, I suppose, and that would preserve the idea you're reporting back to me for orders, and I *would* appreciate reports of your activity by the way, but there'd be no risk of you getting into the sort of trouble we've had today. Cyan gets reports that you still answer to me, and you get a free hand, and you're out of my hair. Sound good?" Nighthawk smiled, and it felt like sunrise after a storm. "Yes, Lord Tim. I was hoping you would see it that way. That will do very well indeed." She paused for a moment. "But to be sure, I will give you one of my people's amulets. Don't put it on unless you mean to wear it for the rest of your life, though. There's an enchantment on them to prevent tampering, and to spare any captured avariel torture." She reached into her small bag - her arm disappearing up to the elbow in what looked no larger than a belt-pouch - and came out with a white circle embossed with a black hawk, on a silver chain. "This is used by passing your hand over the hawk, then touching it with your fingers. Anything you say until that action is repeated, I will hear, and you will hear my replies. We will be gone from your battle line during the day; using this will allow you to call us if you need our aid. I don't think that you will; your men are well trained and you do have the dragons. But I would be failing the spirit of the alliance if I did not make the offer." And she deposited the small amulet in Tim's hand. "Goodbye, Lord Tim," said Nighthawk. "And as my people say, good hunting." Spreading her wings again, Nighthawk took off for her own encampment, leaving Tim alone with a strange amulet, and the smell of burnt feathers, and a fairly long walk back to camp. -- Larathia Subj: Re: [ffml] [MW] A Division Date: 00-07-23 19:22:49 EDT From: skyhall@hotmail.com (Sky Hall) Reply-to: ffml@egroups.com To: ffml@egroups.com Tim needed the walk, to keep his furious anger in check. Tim glared about him, fearing he would see avariel lurking, hiding, spying on him. He almost felt like cursing aloud, but realized that the avariel bitch commander would hear him. Yes, thought Tim, she is a bitch. And a bizarre bitch at that. She had the nerve to insult King Cyan, and then the very gall to insult Tim to his face. Tim was lucky his rage sent him into shock, not into action. He could not believe what she had just said. Tim ran through all the conversations he had with Nighthawk. Endless speeches by her on her people's history, strength's, and abilities. Ceaseless anecdotes about her culture and the life of the avariel. And irritatingly common observations and comments about the human commander and his men. Tim had figured Nighthawk for strange, but now she was fully bizarre. And antagonistic. Tim pondered what someone else would have done in that moment, the moment that Nighthawk said to his very face what she felt. No other man would have held back. Even the very mention by her of her strength and power and ability to kill him, the very colonel that she apparently admired. Tim was then flooded with memories. Images from his sordid past. Tim's father had said to him, the day Tim had turned fifteen, "You are a man now and you must be in control of your life and your destiny. You must never let anyone else control or interfere with that. If someone else, other then the king or his agent, says he has power over you, you had better prove him wrong. Weight the consequences, but make sure NO ONE takes advantage of you or insults you." These was a strange speech from his father. A quiet man, a strong man, an amazing man, thought Tim. He could not believe his father had said something so profound to him. A man who Tim knew would say ten words a day. It was strange. But Tim wondered what his dad would have done in this situation now. He had just been told that someone would have killed him. Would have, could have, would in the future. That was unbelievable. That was unacceptable. To be told by a bizarre woman with wings that held high notions of dragons as wonderful prey, and orcs as pesky intruders, and as moogles as silly dolls that should be skinned for sport. Tim could accept Nighthawk's lack of decorum and understanding. She was a foriegner, the spell allowing her to communicate with him was not perfect, and human formalities and customs would be a challenge to her. But that was no excuse for insulting the king or for threatening the life of the man who was technically her superior, but realistically was her liason to the Doman Army. Tim had no pretentions about Nighthawk and her arrival. At first he understand that he was to watch the avariel and make sure they were legitement. That was quickly and easily secured. The next issue was incorporating the avariel into the fighting force. That was a little difficult, but seemed to be coming along. But that is where the problems were arising. There was a problem in communication. Tim and his officers were soon becoming aware of this. Nighthawk had wanted to get some more training for her troops, Tim thought she desired to know the great secrets of the masters and dismissed her silly notions. But what Tim did not realize was Nighthawk's true intention of training for a more longer purpose. Nighthawk was tight lipped and expected to be understood the first, which made the translation spell run into serious difficulties. And there were other instances of miscommunication. Nighthawk either did not seem to understand, or she would totally mistake implied meanings. Tim sighed at this sad state. He was not used to having to explain himself to an experienced battle commander. Telling Nighthawk to have her avariel "take to the air, fly to the village, and take out the moogles" did not mean, "fly into the burning village" or "sacrifice all your warriors in the bonfire." Tim could not believe that such a simple command could be misunderstood in that way. Tim sighed aloud, not caring if any of the avariel saw him do it. He would sigh, damnit. So what if Nighthawk would take to comment on it. He was a human being damnit. He wanted to be a good man, to impress his father and achieve some greatness, to have a name that would be known to some people, and perhaps some fame. That's why he joined the army, that's why he desired some fame and glory and some medals. When Doma was still Doma, he was getting medals and accomodations. He was being acclaimed for his success in the Veldt Forest. But having to flee the country due to a moogle horde meant that the people of Doma were no longer elegant soldiers and aristocractic officers, but now desperate warriors, seeing to reclaim their home at all costs. Tim would receive praise, but from his own men. There was no one superior to him to congratulate him. Tim missed being answerable to someone, to have all the decisions made and he could just follow along. Being a mercenary was nice, since you were always serving someone else and what they wanted. You got paid, you didn't have to think, much. But Tim had to display his abilities as an officer, which even he wasn't sure he was doing. He was just displaying his experience and knowledge. Tim realized he did not want to see Nighthawk again. She was too bizarre and strange for him. And he feared her mouth. If she said one more thing... Tim looked at the amulet. He wished he could tell off Nighthawk. No, he wished he could use the amulet right here and there and summon her. And when she showed up, he would tell her off in person. He would say what he really felt about her, not this polite and courdigal manners and "understanding." And if she did pull something, like a knife from her belt, or her bow, he would defend himself and maybe even fight her. Tim did not want to kill her, but he wanted to put Nighthawk into her place. He amended that thought, a place. If she was an ally, then waht was she doing? If she needed to work with the humans, then why did she do what Tim said, and then criticize every detail and mistake he made. Tim wished he could order the whole lot back to wherever they came from. They were too bizarre and too unpredictable, Tim now realized. Nighthawk had the nerve to insult King Cyan and call him crazed. But to Tim, Nighthawk was the crazed one, the stranger with a strange mind. But Tim said or did nothing. He kept his jaw locked, his face straight, and his eyes looking about, but usually forward. He would not let out his feelings on this matter. There was an alliance at stake, and he was not the ambassador, although he realistically was. But he did not want to be the cause for the potential downfall of Doma again by creating a new enemy for Doma. He would leave Nighthawk be. She would do whatever she desired, which Tim was certain would be helping the war effort. But Tim just hoped she stayed busy and did her job, leaving him to do his. Tim put the amulet in his pocket and entered the camp. He headed for the officers tent and immediately went for a wine skin. He would try to get drunk, so he could forget everything that happened, or at least quell the surging anger within him. --Sky