Forgotten Freedom:40
V : Ketler.
Ketler : Mmmm... *snork* Jaela... plug suit... zzzzzzzzzzz...
V : Ketler!
Ketler : *Incomprehensible murmur*
V : KETLER, GET UP YOU LAZY ****!
- V kicks Ketler out of bed*
Ketler : WHAT?!
V : We need to talk.
Ketler : You don't even exist! You're just a figment of my adolescent imagination and an overactive sex-drive!
V : Oh ho! Is that what Kanatash wants you to believe? That I'm not real? MUAHAHAHAHA! I have quite the surprise for him... *giggle*.
Norbaz stands in the kitchen, cooking with the door locked. After beating the chili back into its pot with a spoon, he tries to steady his thoughts aloud.
Norbaz: Okay...so the letter wasn't there under the door when I went back...think...maybe a redshirt found it and thought it would make good blackmail on me.
No...then the news would have spread among them like wildfire among them and I'd know about it. Someone too it, either from or into the door...either one
doesn't bode well...damn...damn.
As he muses, he fails to notice Satnak in the room.
Satnak: You should watch your angsting and pay more attention to the stove.
Norbaz: AH! Don't do that...wait, Satnak? Didn't I give you one of the spoons of endless Chili?
Satnak: No...actually that's why I'm here.
Norbaz: Could have sworn I gave it to you....sorry about that, here.
Norbaz takes one of two blazng red spoons from his belt and hands it to the half elf.
Satnak: Thanks...you know from what I've heard, you probably forgot because of all this drama going on in your mind.
Norbaz: Yeah...that's sounding about right.
Satnak: Well, don't think to hard. I may now have an endless supply of chili, but that doesn't mean I don't want to try any of the new blends your working
on.
Norbaz: Heh, thanks, I'll keep that in mind.
Satnak leaves Norbaz to his thoughts and lattest batch of chili, and another pair of eyes watches him from the shadows. A pair of cat eyes, followed by a
mischevious grin with thoughts of blackmailing the chef consuming its thoughts....oh yes, Marish would have fun with this situation.
Giant Demonic Chocobo: WAAAARRRKKKKK!!!!
Terra: All right, all right.
Tifa: What'd he say?
Terra: Well, since they're not completely natural, I'm having a little trouble understanding the dialect, but I think he said something about keeping Marish
away from him.
Marish sits in stalker mode on the other side of the deck, drooling. Just before she pounces, Andrea grabs her by the collar.
Andrea: NO! Bad kitty! No Chocobo for you!
Marish: :weep:
Giant Demonic Chocobo: WAAAARRRRKKKK!!!!
A look of shock and slight disgust crosses Terra's face.
Tifa: Now what'd he say?
Terra: Something about 'rubber tubing' and 'certain parts of her mother'. (shaking her head) You don't wanna know.
(In Sa'vors citadel dimension, from the training grounds echo the sounds of spells and weapons training, the hiss of arrows flying through the air and the
loud barkings of Corporals to whip new batch soldiers into shape and train them in the physical and damanding tasks ahead of them. Feal-thas stands on the
training grounds perfecting his art at wielding spell and balde together. Sa'vor and Tara stand on the balconies above watching the troops battle against
summoned or illusioary foes and watch the wraith like scout divisions move silently through the trees)
Tara: this is an impresive army you've got here, how many of them are there?
Sa'vor : almost ten thousand, and i've only had a month. the fully trained ones have been assigned the jobs of trainers to speed the process up. all ready
thier quite capable of inflicting heavy casualties on an army four times their size.
Tara: why build this legion at all? couldnt Kithle just destroy all the countries armies with his magical might?
Sa'vor: he could, but he is only one soul. these billions to be will be the enforcers, they will crush human armies with thier skill with the aid of magic
and weapon. strenght, magical ability, intelligence and tactics all rolled into a base creature that can survive the most hazardous conditions.
Tara: what happens to the ones whom die in training?
Sa'vor: if it was a first mistake then they're raised, but if the Half-dragon in question was a liability; not fit for his role he was designed for we try
and find a new role for him. i cant waste precious soldiers.
Tara: amazing though. how disiplined they are, the armies i've seen have always been a horde or a collum thats held together only by a thread. how did you
do it?
Sa'vor: that would be telling
Tara: ( grabs his arm and thrusts it behind his back. Sa'vor winces and gritts his teeth. its almost ten minuets of pure agony before he gives in.)
Sa'vor: they know that strenght comes through disiplin, from spawning or birith they are trained to fight and are trained with tactics. though most of this
information is burried within their minds and activates through training. also they're commanders and leaders are always capable of communicationg through a hive mind like system. they keep each other updated constantly on troop
movements and thier numbers.
Tara: but what against mounted foes, you dont have any mounted troops of your own
Sa'vor: i shall soon, you'll see. its a suprise
Tara: Oooohhhh, i love suprises!
Norbaz brings a vat of chilli into the mess hall, where there are some redshirts, Kithle, a bunch of the lesser-used……and two beings he does not know yet.
One an elf with way too much emphasis on silver, the other your average crow. However, he quickly figures that these have to be the two new people.
Norbaz: Hey, new guys! Up for your chilli initiation?
The redshirts snigger all around.
Norbaz: But first let's hear your names and backstories. After all, we might not get the chance afterwards.
Silver stands.
Silver: I suppose it all starts…
She leaps up on the table and raises her hand dramatically. The crow jumps onto the outstretched appendage and strikes a swashbuckling pose.
From somewhere far away there floats a beat. In penetrates into the hearts of everyone sitting in the mess hall. Redshirts start tapping their toes or
humming in a way they've never been able to humm before. They somehow manage to cobble sophisticated instruments from random junk. The music grows slowly,
an operatic tune.
Silver: We are not as you are/
Crow: We are from a place so near, yet so-o faaaaaaaaaaar.
Kithle doesn't understand what compels him to sing next. Despite the fact that he is a half-flayer he's picked up some perform skills from his eating
habits.
Kithle: I cannot see this inside your heads/ all it says is basic things/ that would not fit the mindless dead/ you just have my mind running round in rings.
(then, normally): Why was I singing? I'm immune to magic.
Norbaz (singing in a nice soprano): This is not magic, my comrade/ it is much worse/ it is like Otto's and Tasha's/ but within the grip of the mighty verse./ You cannot begin to fight/ what can control the very light/ [The lights change like on a stage.] so sit back and let it guide your voice/ because, in fiction, you really have no choice,/ it is the greatest source of woooooooondeeeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrrrrr…/ that can tear our world asuuuuuuunnnnnndeeerrrrrr…/ [The walls open up as more crew members pour in.] the Muuuuuuusssssicaaaaaaaaaaal…/ NUUUUUUUMBEEEEEEERRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!
Kithle - (in thought) on the plus I can sing now, on the other now i have to kill every redshirt in this room and swear those 3 to silence. The new guys
probably gave me the statue so I could probably just ask nicely. Norbaz.... Oh I'll squeal on marish. (telepathy) Kithle to Norbaz I tell you who got the
letter in exchange you never speak of this to anyone and help me slaughter these redshirts. Nod one for accept.
Norbaz - -nods-
Kithle - (telepathy) Marish, marish has the letter.
Norbaz turns towards the redshirts now putting down thier improvided musical instruments or clearing out thier throats and ect.
Norbaz: Okay everyone, that was a good performance.
The cooky pulls a convieniently nearby lever. A torrent of Chili spills out overhead and floods the areas of the room filled with redshirts...who summarily
break out into song about being dissolved by chili and the involved great irony of the situation. Norbaz exits the mess giving a smile and nod to Kilthe and
trusting the mess of chili left will be willingly cleaned by a single half elf with a taste for the stuff...but wonders briefly if she'll care that the chili
is full of dead redshirts...oh well, they'll all be liquified by the time she arrives on the scene.
Norbaz: Ah, now to business...dear sweet soveirgns I hope I don't suddenly break into song while settling this situation...although, heh heh...I know its
breaking on of the rules, but I might need a barganing chip. Hmm...what to do what to do...
Hours later....
Norbaz waits well hidden in the ceiling of a corridor below deck using the skills of an assasin and rouge of greate skill, while a squeaky bird toy with a
bells on its tail feathers sits innocently in the middle of the floor. Eventually, Marish walks by and looks down at the toy, not approaching. She looks
around the corridor, and having not spotted anyone, expects the floor around the toy. Carefully stepping around it she stands onto the other side while
speaking.
Marish: ah, some people never learn. Like I'd fall for a trap that obvious.
Norbaz pulls a string, causing two iron gates to shoot up from the floor sealing off a cube of area. Norbaz drops from the ceiling and makes his presence
known.
Norbaz: I think we have something to discuss.
Terra enters the computer lab and sees Volrath typing furiously.
Terra: What's up?
Volrath: The Brothers Chaps finally came out with Thy Dungeonman 3!
Terra: About time. Are you finally able to get Ye Flask?
Volrath: Yeah! It's right in front of me! I'm going in...
- on screen* As ye reach for Ye FLASK, a flash of light blinds thee. Ye find thyself in yon grassy field. A signpost shows exits at NORTH, SOUTH, EAST, and
WEST.
Volrath: :eek: :OMG! [SIZE=5]NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!![/SIZE]
