Subj: [ffml] [MW] Klingons off the Starbord Bow
Date: 00-08-24 10:57:38 EDT
From: larathia@mcs.net (Larathia)
Reply-to: ffml@egroups.com
To: ffml@egroups.com
Nighthawk stood and held her balance in the swaying motion of the wooden
wagon, and tried to look proud.
Although she could remember nothing of the cause of her fatigue, it had
been slow to leave her even with all the restorative spells the priests
could provide. Today was the first day she'd felt up to flying any
distance, but she'd decided it was wiser to conserve her strength and ride.
She would need her wings in the final battle.
For that was how she'd come to look at it.
Listening to the tales of Bacca, Nighthawk had come to the conclusion that
she was spiralling in time; events going in a circle as time moved forward.
If she survived the 'final battle' of that cycle, it would either begin to
repeat from the beginning, or it would mark the end of this world's Age of
Legends, and things would be more controllable. It would take a few decades
to be sure which way things would go; she devoutly hoped that three wars
was enough for whoever was running the show. Her people, if they lived,
would be here a long, long time, and doing the same war over and over would
grow tiresome.
Triu was practically bouncing, so much spring was in her step. She'd
brought the wagon as an offer from Lord Tim, and she got to ride as
bodyguard. Hardly out of basic training, and she was given orders of
importance. Her energy and enthusiasm were beginning to get on Nighthawk's
nerves; very soon now she was going to pack the boisterous young elfling
back off to Lord Tim, who seemed to have become Triu's first crush.
At last, she caught up with the rest of the troops. Wagons were nothing if
not terminally slow; one reason supply lines were always so vulnerable.
Lord Tim had constructed a rather impressive earthen defence; she reminded
herself to get the mages on to strengthening it. On her arrival, the rest
of her people who had been waiting for her gathered 'round. Her flight
captains, and the spokesmen for the mages and priests, pushed their way to
the front so as to hear her orders.
"I give you now *standing orders*, flight captains," she said. "I may or
may not be up to extended flight when the final battle comes to pass. I
wish you all to know what you must do so that you may act on your own and
do so with wisdom. I will support you in any way possible."
Immediately her people froze; every eye and ear waiting intently.
"Standing orders for the flight captains: You are at all cost to prevent
the moogles from crossing the river. Destroy any means they might use to
cross, and kill any that look to be creating such means, be it boat,
bridge, or rope ladder. Should this fortification be breached, your primary
goal will be to aid in defense *here*; fall back if you need to. Do not
interfere with the dragons; their orders are separate and they will not
need us underfoot. If your flight handles day battles without significant
injury, you are free and encouraged to make night attacks. I leave it to
you to discuss rotation; of who will remain here and who will guard the
river, and who will attack. You would not be flight-captains if I did not
trust your judgement."
"Standing orders to the mages: You are to remain here, and use your magics
of wind and earth to defend this fortress. Not having to fly will allow you
to use more of your energies on your spellcasting - but you are NOT to
enter melee combat. Should moogles breach near you, you are to flee; you
are a valuable resource and not to be risked when soldiers trained in melee
are around to protect you. We need those wind walls, hurricanes, and
quickmud pits more than we need another soldier armed only with a dagger."
"Standing orders to the priests: You also are noncombatants. If you've
managed to perfect your wraith spell, use it to get downed allies off the
damn field and behind these walls where medics can treat them. If you
haven't, treat the ones you can reach but do not venture past this
fortification. Again, if your area is breached, flee; by your ministrations
dozens more will live; we do not need your sword arm, we need your faith."
"Triu: you are going to be Tim's shadow, but I advise you to stay the hell
out of his way when he's thinking of fighting. You are to keep him in sight
at all times; if any sudden change of plan is needed, he will signal you
and you will relay those orders to the captains. Victory *must* be assured;
therefore we must fight as one force and not three. Relay to him also the
standing orders I have given; let him know how to identify our mages and
priests so his soldiers can defend them - I think he will see the wisdom in
preserving their skills. Under no circumstance are you to attempt to
influence him in any non-personal matter; I will not give you my reasons,
but trust me that they are valid ones. On personal matters, of course, I
leave your decisions to you. I have prepared flare arrows for you - if a
true emergency arises, shoot a distant moogle with one; he'll go up like a
firework and I'll be able to see it, as will the captains."
"I will serve wherever I appear to be most needed; if machines are brought
into play, leave them to me. I will also attempt to buttress the power of
the mages wherever possible. If you urgently require me, you know how to
reach me. Dismissed."
As they all scampered off, Triu thankfully heading back to Tim and
therefore out of her hair for a while, Nighthawk heard the sounds of
battle. The noise wasn't loud enough for it to be THE battle; looking up,
she saw no dragons but a hell of a lot of missiles buzzing around. If the
dragons weren't needed, her people probably weren't either. Good thing; the
flying arrows and ballistae would have made takeoff a risky proposition.
Moving to the front, she saw Tim's men making hash out of an expeditionary
moogle force.
"Ah, Lord Tim, you've begun the game without us," she murmured. Raising her
communications ring to her face, she spoke: "Anyone that wants to have a
little target practice, to the front lines. No flying." All questions of
legends and divinity aside, Nighthawk did love playing in the chaos of
battle; most of her race did. And a well-placed arrow could multiply it
tenfold. Getting on a box so she could stand and fire over the wall without
standing on it or making herself too large of a target, Nighthawk unslung
the Heartseeker and calmly began firing her silver arrows where they'd
cause the most problems for the moogles. After a few minutes, she could see
the brown arrows of her fighters along with Tim's own archers flying
through the air. She smiled, and kept on shooting.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
http://www.mcs.net/~larathia
ICQ: 22170253
A witch who is bored might do *anything*...the last thing you want a witch
to do is get bored and start making her own amusements, because witches
sometimes have famously erratic ideas about what is amusing.
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Date: Thu, 24 Aug 2000 09:52:40 -0500
Reply-To: ffml@egroups.com
Subject: [ffml] [MW] Klingons off the Starbord Bow
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