Subj:	 [ffml] [MW] Spot the Teddy Bear
Date:	00-07-23 22:30:07 EDT
From:	larathia@mcs.net (Larathia)
Reply-to:	ffml@egroups.com
To:	ffml@egroups.com

Neva and Torbeno shuffled nervously; they hadn't worked closely with their
captain before. Neva's force had nine avariel, while Torbeno's had eight;
with the captain, there would be twenty. They weren't at all sure what sort
of force Nighthawk figured twenty could handle.

Nighthawk herself strode up, in her black leather and silk, and silver
fittings that gleamed in the starlight. "Tonight, my captains, we prove our
worthiness. And you do so in two ways; I chose you because you are the
youngest. Now you will have a complete new wardobe before the night is out,
though I doubt I'll take to wearing it much myself unless we can find some
acceptable dyes." Looking at her black gear, the two captains chuckled.

"We're ready, Captain," said Neva. "When do we go?"

"Now." And Nighthawk took off, leaving the other two and their flights to
catch up.

They flew for a while in silence under the stars; their favorite kind of
weather, with few clouds and just a slender sliver of moon. They flew much
closer to the ground at night; unlike their daylight vision, their nighttime
heat-sensing sight was only good to sixty feet - well within bowshot range.
But since all the moogles would see were the two tiny pinpricks of red light
that was the glow of a night-seeing avariel's eyes, the advantage was still
theirs. They glided, using the tailwind spell Nighthawk had devised long ago
to speed her scouts; so there was not even the flapping of wings to give
their position away.

A light touch reached the minds of Neva and Torbeno. Nighthawk's thoughts
came to them: I am reaching you by telepathy; do not try to respond. You
can't, anyway. When we see a moogle grouping, just follow my lead. Signal
your soldiers; there is to be no noise. Tonight, we are assassins.

Both captains nodded, then started signalling to their soldiers. It was
reassuring to them that their captain could speak so clearly even in
darkness and silence.

When they did find a moogle patrol, Neva split off and Torbeno lined up
behind Nighthawk. The tailwind spell died on the change of direction, and
suddenly the moogles found the quiet night air full of the sound of flapping
wings. Diving headlong for their weapons, those that had crossbows aimed for
the flapping noise.

Except the avariel had used that flap to change direction; the bolts missed.
With their prey awake, Nighthawk and her flights shot off a single volley;
twenty moogles down, fifteen dead with an arrow through the eye. And now
there were no more archers. With no more threat of airborne missiles, they
swooped in and started picking off the frightened moogles like skeets at a
shoot. Since there were only fifty in the patrol, their work was soon over.
Neva and Torbeno quickly went about making sure the moogles were dead,
stabbing those corpses who didn't have arrows in the eyes, through the eyes.
Tonight, the goal was skins; an imprecise stab wound would damage the hide.

Everyone chipped in on skinning the hides and removing the penises; since
every avariel used a unique tint for their glass arrowheads and their own
feathers for fletching, once a continual light spell was cast the trophies
were quickly awarded. The entire moogle camp - a temporary sort, with tents
and trenches and such - was inspected; anything remotely resembling
instructions or maps was assembled in one file; these would become part of
the 'report' to Lord Tim. Once anything useful was confiscated, the whole
camp was disassembled and the grounds cleared; very soon it looked as though
no one had been there. It was the avariels' intention to make it look as
though this patrol had dropped off the face of the earth - well, except for
the skinned, genital-less corpses, which they scattered in grotesque poses
in roughly a mile radius around where the camp had been. As Nighthawk said
to her captains when she explained the order "Let them become as beasts;
still they have mind. Let us fright them as we fright orcs; let them know
they are not welcome."

The job done, the laden flights headed back to the makeshift camp. When the
seven uber-flights returned, she listened to their reports and created a
'master map' that showed where all the camps hit had been, and how many had
been in them, and which packets went with which camp. The camping gear from
all the raided sites was taken to a spot distant from all of them, and from
the avariel too, ringed quite solidly with rocks to prevent spreading, and
set ablaze. In future, they would leave such goods with the humans, but
tonight was not a good night to go near them. From her temporary eyrie,
Nighthawk watched the distant glow of that bonfire, and smiled her
satisfaction. So many, many fewer moogles this night. Finally, her people
were free to do some good in the world.

-- 
Larathia


Subj:	 [ffml] Re: [MW] Spot the Teddy Bear
Date:	00-07-28 16:30:06 EDT
From:	darklord@compusmart.ab.ca (His Dark Lordship)
Reply-to:	ffml@egroups.com
To:	ffml@egroups.com


As the Avariel flew away, he made one last look around with his chi, then
stretched his arms. It took many years of training to be able to stand
still for eternal amounts of time.

He had been in the presence of this Nighthawk woman twice now, and neither
time had she given the indication that she knew he was there. Of this, he
was thankful. It would be disgustingly ironic for an assassin to meet his
end from a Sniper.

He cracked his knuckles through his black gauntlets. Turan probably would be
somewhat annoyed by the fact he had a perfect shot at Tim and didn't take
it, even though now he realized he probably could have taken advantage of
that to incite a war between the humans and these Avariel. He looked at his
pitch black crossbow, hidden from the site of even the most keen eyed
feline.

However, perhaps the infomation he was carrying was more important than
that. He knew a weakness. Something that Turan was dying to find in these
winged warriors. And Turan would be more than pleased to know about this
weakness.

Slowly, without a sound, he strolled back to the bushes and lead his black
chocobo out of it's camoflauge. This chocobo was probably the greatest
achievement his title could achive. It was supposedly found by Mog in the
second of the Moogle Wars, and given to the bearer of the title then as a
gift for his services.

This chocobo was immortal, it seems. The last of the Black Chocobos, it
would also seem. Undauntingly intellegent, it perhaps knew more about the
training than he did.

For hundreads of years, the one known as Shadow stalked the night. The title
had lived on for centuries, having passed from master to apprentice.

And now, Shadow had a means of disposing the winged death.

-- 
The eternal lord of darkness...

"And if our dreams sometimes come true, then what of our nightmares?"

-The undisputed Master of Final Fantasy 2

-GM of FF2c

-Member in good standing of Sky's Posse

ICQ UIN# 23424269

IRC Nicks: TheDarkLord, GannondorfDragmire, occasionally Blackthorne

System: Amiga 4000/040 Cybervision64 & Opalvision

     ---INTEL/MICROSOFT FREE---