Subj: [ffml] [MW] Avenging Private Tyler
Date: 00-08-16 20:11:54 EDT
From: darklord@compusmart.ab.ca (His Dark Lordship)
Reply-to: ffml@egroups.com
To: ffml@egroups.com (ffml)
The city had been under seige for a few weeks.
Karak, leader of the force defending, knew everything was in order.
However,
something in his mind told him not to let up yet.
Perhaps it was because he felt *his* presence near.
Immortality in this world came from many deeds. Mog achieved so called
Immortality through Esper Majick and Cybornetic Implants. Umaro achieved it
by drinking from a sacred fountain. The Mighty Dildo Weapon was born with
the gift.
However, Karak had gained it by raping some broad that happened to be under
the protection of the Dark Lord.
His secret was somewhat sealed. None of the men here knew he was unable to
die, unless of course, the Dark Lord or some other diety was so kind as to
end this eternal misery for him.
Watching life pass him by was never quite the way he had envisioned
Immortality. However, the curse the Dark Lord had placed upon him was not
without it's benefits; Karak had learned some rather spiffy tricks that
Turan would die to have.
Speaking of Turan, he was before his statue right now, citing the chant
that
these two thousand soldiers, the most fanatically loyal that Karak knew
about, gave off every day.
'Turan, majestic champion of the gods'
'Eternal guardian against the parasite that is mankind'
'Praise be to ye, King of the Moogles.'
Many of the Moogles chanted it several times a day. Now, they filed out of
the shrine, fully armoured and ready to defend the city once more.
They couldn't have finished their sermon at a better time. The Gong was
sounded that indicated that the Domans were charging. Karak chuckled.
"Get to the battlements, on the double! Praise to Turan!"
THey stood on the battlements, spears ready, boiling oil just barely
standing on the side, greek fire ready, flaming arrows ready.
The Domans reached the moat. The Moogles mocked them and fondled themselves
in the site of the Domans.
The first grappling hook landed on the battlements and the fight was on.
* * * * * * *
Curt had his crossbow ready. Lieutenant Magnus had positioned his squad
close
to the wall, ready to break through at the first opportunity.
As a group laid out a makeshift drawbridge and brought a battering ram
forth, Curt saw it burst into flames as multitudes of Greek fire was poured
on it and it's bearers. One soldier screamed as he burst into flames and
jumped into the moat.
Magnus roared with his axe, waving his squad around him.
Slowly the force began to walk towards the wall. The Domans had yet to
breech the walls or make it over. Scores of bodies, disasembed young men
who were screaming for their parents, elderly soldiers who had taken one
spear to the gut too many, all converged in a bloody mass.
Curt's unit was in site now. Curt knew this because the man beside him, a
fellow named John, suddenly had a crossbow bolt in his chest. He screamed
before the charge on it exploded, spraying the rest of the unit with blood
and guts.
Curt swore. He looked up at the shooter, who was reloading his crossbow and
had taken sufficient cover from fire. Curt looked about. He saw a large
Moogleboar hacking down scores of men trying to breech the walls. His once
white Moogle fur was now drenched crimson.
TAking aim, Curt fired and nudged himself. The bolt struck the boar through
the skull. Through the rear part of it's brain splattered to the city
below. THe boar fell forward, flattening several of the dying boys at the
castle's base.
Hurrying back to his corp, he joined them just in time to cross the moat.
The water was a sickly dark colour. He had noticed that about all the water
around here. He shrugged as he pulled himself out of the water. No time to
think about that now.
Advancing to the walls, with their shields high to protect from fire, Curt
felt something grasp his leg. Looking down, it was a soldier. Or part of a
soldier. His face was scalded from boiling oil, and the flesh looked like
it was barely hanging on. His right leg had been hit with an explosive
bolt, and thus, was gone. He had been hit by a falling weapon on his way
down, and thus his gut was open and his intestines were spilling out.
He looked at Curt with a look of plea, a look of a childlike innocence that
was forever butchered by a terrible event. A look of hopelessness.
"Help.... mee...." he gurgled as blood trickled down his chin.
Curt pointed his crossbow to his forehead and fired. The soldier fell to
the
ground, a look of relief on his face.
He sighed. He hoped he wouldn't have to do that too much more often.
Swinging his axe, Magnus roared as he and the corp began to climb the
ropes.
Curt quickly reloaded his crossbow and shot at a Moogle just waiting for
them to get within range. The Moogle fell back behind the ramparts.
A man's arm clubbed him in the side. He wouldn't have time to reload again.
Tossing his crossbow aside, he grasped his longsword and charged up the
ropes with his fellows, two of which he saw burning on the ground below
him, screaming the most loud, agonizing, humiliating scream a grown man
could give.
Dodging the caltrops the Moogles had placed on the side of the wall, Curt
flung himself over the wall, swinging his longsword at the first patch of
white he saw. He struck a Moogle in the throat. It gurgled and fell back as
blood seeped out both the wound and it's mouth.
Another Moogle came at him, weilding a lance. Curt dodged it's initial
strike and took aim for it's throat. The Moogle ducked and thrusted it's
spear into Curt's leg. Curt moaned in agony. The Moogle, seeing an
opportunity not often seen in the feat of battle, pounced on him while he
was off balance. The Moogle laid a wet one on Curt's face before trying to
rip off his breechcloth. Curt attempted to kick the horny moogle off but
one of his legs was lame and the other was trapped under some debree from a
catapult strike.
Curt felt around for his sword. Fuck, it was gone. The Moogle finally
pulled
off Curt's loincloth to reveal his member, already pulsing with excitement.
Curt roared as he brought his lame leg around to strike the Moogle. No
luck. THe Moogle raised Curt's legs and Curt felt a warm shaft entering his
ass.
He screamed in horror, not unlike the screams his bunkmates had made as
they
burned on the battlefield below. The Moogle began to take speed. Curt tried
to pull his leg out from under the rock. No luck. The Moogle began to
massage Curt's member. Finally, Curt let out a moan. He was losing it.
Then, the Moogle's gleeful face of victory was gone, replaced with a
crimson
splotch as an axe chopped it on two, covering Curt in the Moogle's blood. A
strong hand grabbed the Moogle's body and tossed it aside. It was Magnus.
"What the hell are you doing with your pants down, Curt? We're fighting a
war!"
"Shut the fuck up and get this rock off me."
Magnus laughed and pulled the debree off Curt. He helped Curt up, while
Curt
removed the remaining parts of the lance. He looked about, his breechcloth
was long gone.
However, he quickly found his longsword and grabbed it. Magnus and him were
now back to back, fighting off charging Moogles. Curt grabbed a disarmed
Moogle and trust his Longsword through it's loins, enciting an ear piercing
shriek from it's lips.
"GODDAMN MOTHERFUCKERS!" he roared. Grabbing a vial of greek fire, he
grabbed a second Moogle's lance and threw it aside, the the Moogle over and
laughing.
Pinning the Moogle down, Curt laughed. His pulsing Member piercing the
Moogle's cheeks, causing the Moogle to moan in pleasure, like this was the
luckiest day of his life.
As the Moogle opened his mouth, Curt thrusted the vial down it's throat. It
had worked on the Dragoon before.
Pulling out, he delivered a swift kick to the Moogle's balls as the Moogle
clutched it's stomache in pain. Grabbing it by it's little antennae he
brought it to it's feet. He looked at it mockingly and then delivered a
kick to it's stomache. The Moogle exploded, its guts, urea and semen
covering the rock wall.
Curt looked around frantically for another MOogle. Seeing one on the
ground,
awaiting the reaper, he rushed forward and began to kick it, causing moans
of pain from it as it slowly went comotose. Finally, Curt felt a hand on
his shoulder.
"Calm down, brother. It's over. We've won."
Curt looked around. The Moogles had surrendered. There were about ten left.
THe Domans had opened the gates. The Castle was theirs.
He looked at the mangled form. From his kicks he had pierced it's chest,
and
it's insides were transformed into a sort of Jelly from his bludgeoning.
It's face was covered in fear.
He sighed. Then something occured to him.
"My breechcloth. Where the fuck is my breechcloth?"
* * * * * *
Karak stood with the ten Moogles that had been captured. Strolling up to
them in full military dress was the Doman King, Cyan V.
He walked up to each of them, examininging them.
"So, moogles. How dost it feel to await execution?"
The Moogleboar he was facing when he said that spat in his face. Cyan wiped
the spit off and stared at the boar.
"This one first."
Two Doman soldiers took the chained boar to a strange rack. The boar was
applied to it and then it turned around. The boar, fanatical as ever,
managed to remain silent as the Domans cut the skin around his ankles and
dragged it down towards his loins, and cut open his stomach and let the
content pour into his face.
Cyan turned back to the nine moogles now.
"The same fate awaits the rest of ye, unless one of ye would have the shred
of decency to tell us what Turan hast planned?"
Karak chuckled.
Cyan stared at him.
"You're not going to get it out of these men, and as for me, I lost the
ability to feel pain centuries ago."
Cyan raised an eyebrow at him. The other moogles remained silent.
Cyan shrugged.
"Very well. Flay them all."
Karak stood there and watched, as each of the finest men assigned to him
were hauled up to the wall and dismembered alive. Finally, when he came
forward, he chuckled.
"Not in this life, human."
And with that he was gone.
Cyan swore.
* * * * * * *
Curt and Magnus, the last of thier squad, looked at the mass grave before
them.
Curt was silent. Something happened on the battlements. He felt like he was
permenantly changed.
This grave was something the Vectorian commander here had established
before
Turan began his anti-human campaign.
Magnus sighed.
"At least the Moogles left it alone."
Curt nodded.
Their eyes gazed across the engravements.
HERE LIE THE VALIANT SOLDIERS WHO
GAVE THEIR LIVES TAKING THIS
GREAT CITY
Jonathan Morris
Tim MacDougal
Glenn Morilan
Tyler Gartym
Curt sighed. So Tyler was immortalized in death.
Magnus sighed.
"Well, I hope he didn't go out without a fight."
Curt nodded.
The pair left a boquet of flowers at the massed grave, and then left for
the
beer tent.
--
The eternal lord of darkness...
"And if our dreams sometimes come true, then what of our nightmares?"
-The undisputed Master of Final Fantasy 2
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Date: Wed, 16 Aug 2000 18:09:25 -0600
Reply-To: ffml@egroups.com
Subject: [ffml] [MW] Avenging Private Tyler
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