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Commander Fippy and Ferrel's Fraggers!By Fippy The following tale was related recently at a gathering in East Freeport. Though a narrative, it was gently sung by the beautiful Half-Elven Bard, Nepenthia; punctuated with her own hauntingly mesmerizing mandolin tunes. "Whilst I, Nepenthia, relate this fanciful tale, I leave it to your own conscious to decide whether it be totally true - for isn't truth stranger than fiction? - or the result of a particularly long drinking weekend, crawling the bars of Qeynos. If you have met Lashun Novashine you will know that he is a most persuasive and at the same time, irritating disciple of his chosen Lord, Rodcet Nife. It was on a chilly spring morn that I decided to stop outside the gates of Qeynos and talk to said individual, the pontificating Mister Novashine. A word to the wary… any attempt to dissuade him from his righteous path will be as futile as serving tea to gnolls with your best china! Never the less, as I stood there and argued... nay, debated… with him over the whys and wherefores of religion and piety, there did fall upon the land an uneasy silence. In one breath, the trees halted their sway in the gentle breeze; the birds chattered not; those insidious rats that scrabble constantly at your feet, stopped scrabbling and eeking; the merchants stopped haggling; the gate flags dropped to their masts; the annoying Dwarves sitting to my right stopped…. well whatever it was they were whining about; and most surprising of all, Novashine stopped his preaching mid sentence! As one, we fell silent in that moment of ominous dread. The sun was peeking over the horizon, turning the sky that delightful shade of pastel blue that persists between sunrise and mid morning. We looked about. We looked at each other. We looked at the rats. They looked as mystified as we. Mayhap they were just blissfully unaware of their surroundings, but if I was a rat, then I know that I would look mystified with dozens of Humans and Elves peering at me. "Look!" cried a Dwarf. As one, we followed his outstretched hand, pointing to the distant Qeynos Hills. I'm sure that even the rats peered, but I ask you not to quote me on the accuracy of that fact. Now, dear audience, from this moment on, the events took place quickly and without much pause for thought, so indulge me as I preamble my tale with three thoughts that occurred to me in hindsight, much later. First, that moment when we all, as one, squinted our eyes towards the rising sun, would have formed the perfect occasion for a rogue… nay, an entire roving band of rogues… to pickpocket the lot of us. Remember that trick my fellow rogues… stand amongst a crowd and yell, "Look!" and point in some random direction. Of course, how you generate the stillness of air and moment of foreboding doom is another problem. Second, I didn't think it unusual at the time, but there were no gnolls present in the glades and fields out front of the Qeynos gates. Nary a gnoll pup. We will soon find out why. And finally, I realize now that I do indeed have an unhealthy fascination with rats and their psychology. I vow to cure this unhealthy habit. Perhaps another drink will help? But on with my tale, before you all start eeking and scrabbling to get away like cornered rats. Oh, sorry, I promised didn't I? From the horizon came a glowing ball of orange. No, not the sun, that is decidedly larger. As we peered and gawked, it grew larger and took the shape of a flaming arrowhead. It was certainly streaking across the land at an overwhelming speed. At first I took it to be one of those balls of flame that Mages and Wizards delight in sending across the world. Big show-offs those Wizards! Then I realized that there were several, and that they were moving according to the lie of the land; that is to say following the terrain no more than an Elf height above the ground. And then there came the whooshing and whining noise. No, I am not talking about those annoying Dwarves again, but of a cacophonous sound that preceded the flaming arrowheads. Like nothing I have ever heard before. The sound of a thousand unhappy Dwarves plummeting to their deaths in a lava pool of Nagafen's choosing, would not sound as frightening and deadly ominous as the sound we heard that morning. As we clapped our hands to our ears to mute the din, our gaze never wavered from the approaching…. well, whatever they were. The flaming arrows were as large as a house now, and we could make out some kind of creature or structure inside – something bulbous and alien. My fear mixed with excitement and expectation, and luckily my bardic curiosity got the better of my trepidation. I counted seven such flaming arrow-creature-buildings now, approaching down the road at breakneck speed in a neat little formation. It finally occurred to me that standing on the road might not be the most opportune vantage point to witness the spectacle; but before I could move, the whole flaming formation reached the nearest tree and stopped dead in their tracks. Dead – stopped – motionless. Unbelievable. Well, when I say tracks, I don't mean that literally, hovering in the air as they were! Suddenly the flames vanished from the… thing… nearest us. It's true form became apparent as it plummeted the, oh, five feet to the ground, and landed on eight little metallic legs. I boggled at it. I am sure everyone around me boggled too. Even the r… sorry, I promised! Now I might not be the most technical bard in Norrath, but the thing looked to me like the result of a breeding experiment between a Klicknik and those robotic spiders the Gnomes are fond of. You know… those clockwork thingies. Except that this one was the size of a building and painted in various shades of blue. Two other markings piqued my curiosity – the head of the thing was shaped and painted like a Black Burrow gnoll; and scrawled on one side of the thing were the words, "Luclin or bust!" As the other flaming things hovered behind the first, a crack appeared in the seemingly smooth underbelly of the first thing. I suppose I ought to find a name for these things soon! Well… maybe thing will suffice. Light appeared in the crack and it widened to make the shape of a door. With a perfect C sharp tone, a ramp slid down from the doorway to the cobbled road beneath it. Finally, all the pieces of the intriguing puzzle slotted into place, as, sure enough, three figures appeared at the top of the ramp and began to walk down it into the daylight. Despite myself, I edged closer for a better look. Gnolls! Black Burrow gnolls to be precise! Certainly they looked very different to how one usually meets them – each of them was clothed head to foot in armour that glinted even in the feeble rays of the rising sun. The armour was blue and crowned with ornate helms in the shape of a gnoll head, whose ears extended into metallic spikes, similar to those that stuck out from the elbow and knee pads. The breastplate housed a row of tiny lights that flickered green and yellow. On wide belts, the three gnoll warriors carried heavy pouches, rows of slots with metal cylinders slotted in to them, and some other, sinister looking devices of unknown origin. Last, but not least, each of them carried a large, spear-like weapon crafted from a metallic shaft that had a nozzle at the business end, in place of a blade. My, oh my, what a sight! The center gnoll, superior in height to its companions, moved a gloved hand to its neck. In the blink of an eye the ornate gold and blue helm retracted in on itself and slid into a recess in the rear of his torso armour. As one, the crowd cooed in amazement, even those Dwarves. "Fippy!" I called out, recognizing that it was he beneath the armour. He looked at me and gave me that gnollish grin of his. "Yip! Nepenthia, my dear." He inclined his head politely toward me and turned back to the throng gathered before the gates. 
"You humans have ruined your own homelands!" he yelled at the top of his voice. He was deafening, louder even than the constant shouting of Mister Novashine. Oh, if only I had such a means of amplification for my outdoor concerts, why I could sing to the entire Ocean of Tears from Sister Island! "Baaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrkkk!! You humans will pay for ruining our lands too!" At that, the three of them raised their weapons before them, menacingly. "Oh Yeah?!" came a more muted shout from the direction of the gates. We all turned around. Three guards stood by the gate, swords raised before them, faces set in a grim challenge. "You manky, scrawny gnolls! Go hither in the name of Antonius Bayle!" I watched Fippy's eyes narrow. "I…. am Commander Fippy of the Black Burrow Legions. Surrender your city and return our homelands to us!" We all turned back to watch Fippy. The guards laughed and slapped their thighs. We turned to watch them do this. "Your father drank too much stout and your mother ran off with a Splitpaw! Go away you silly gnolls!" Several dozen eyes turned back to see Fippy's reaction. "Grrrrrrr. Family Darkpaw of the Sabertooth Clan will slay you all!" With that, they pointed their nozzled-spears at the gate, and as Elves, Dwarves and Humans ran for cover in all directions, fiery blue bursts of magic leaped from the nozzles. Accompanied by claps of thunder, the blue death streaked toward the gates and erupted upon the guards' breastplates. Those of us not hiding behind imaginary bushes or… rodent creatures that I promised not to name…. witnessed the grisly death of all three guards, as bloody bits and pieces of them splattered in all directions – along the road, up the walls, even on to the flags. We all peered at the gates in disbelief. I made a mental note both to be forever nice to Fippy, and to find out which dungeon he got that weapon from! If someone in the crowd wasn't running a favourable book on Fippy charging the gates now, then they ought to be quick about it. But it wasn't over yet. "Look!" the Dwarf shouted again. It is a tribute to Human nature that the Humans all looked in the same direction as they had the first time he had shouted "Look!". Those of us with more wits than Humans looked back to the city gates, indeed the direction to which the Dwarf was pointing. One by one, guards and soldiers appeared atop the city walls and gate towers. The first row crouched down, bows at the ready, whilst a second row of swordsmen stood at their backs. More of Mister Bayle's army poured out of the gates to take up position outside, stepping carefully to avoid treading on the remains of their dearly departed colleagues. Several hundred against three gnolls. Maybe that book wasn't a dead cert after all. "Baaarrrrrrrrkkkkk!" The sound of Fippy's cry echoed from the walls. We all looked his way. "Surrender your feeble city or perish, wretched Humans. Grrrrrrr. You will ruin our homelands no more!" "In the name of Antonius Bayle, Lord of these lands, return to your squalid hole in the ground, gnoll pups!" Dozens of heads swiveled to look at the Human Commander above the gatehouse. "Gnoll Pups?" roared another, female, gnoll voice, easily as loud as Fippy's amplified voice. The heads swiveled back to the gnoll vehicle-thing in time to see more armoured gnolls trot down the ramp to join Fippy. First five, then another five. One of them, slighter in stature, wore customized armour shaped to her voluptuous body, and a golden helm to match Fippy's. The other nine looked identical to the two guarding each side of Commander Fippy. The female gnoll moved to Fippy's side and her helm also retracted into its base. A flick of her head swept her silky mane of blue hair from her face and eyes. "Gnoll Pups?!" she cried again. "I, Ferrel, defend Fippy's honour!" she growled at the city. The sound of muted laughter emanated from the city. "Is he so mighty that he needs a mere slip of a gnoll to defend him?" "Baaark! Better to be a slip of a gnoll than Human scum! You will never dare to mock him again. Grrrrrrrl." Ferrel put her paws on her hips and glared at us all, or at least those of us not hiding. I watched her turn to the other armoured gnolls. "Frag Team, teach them to respect the might of Black Burrow!" Moving as one, each and every one of the gnolls raised their weapons towards the city gates. A fiery hail of blue pyrotechnics erupted from the nozzle ends of their weapons. I watched blue bolt after blue bolt race towards the city with a deafening crack and the stench of burnt air. I could not stand to look directly at them for fear of being blinded. Never before have I seen such a demonstration of raw power, not even when my guild took on the might of Castle Mistmoore. When the death rays fell silent, I watched as a multitude of heads popped up from behind rocks, trees, bushes… Everyone turned slowly toward the city gates in wide-eyed awe. The dust cleared to reveal a pile of dismembered bodies and limbs massed in front of the gates. I was sure that there had been dozens of troops standing there a moment ago! The flags were no longer flying, their masts severed part way. Even the walls themselves looked as though a family of Hill Giants had been using them as a punch bag. Rubble choked the entrance to the city. As we watched, a handful of helmets popped up between the battlements. Then came more and more, some bold and angered, others looking as if the sky was falling in, which I half expected it to do very shortly. This was certainly a tougher side of the gnolls than I had ever seen in my worldly wanderings. Not even Gnasher Furgitt could stand up to Fippy now. Cries began to go up from the motley assortment of Elves and Dwarves around me. "Go Fippy!" "Support the Gnolls!" "Charge the gates, Fippy!". Lashun Novashine, who had stood by me all this time in speechless wonderment, suddenly surprised me by yelling "Ferrel is my angel from heaven! Her beauty and strength are insurmountable!" I gave him a sideways glare, and planned to have a lengthy debate with him later about where Ferrel and her "Frag Team" fit into the vision of Rodcet Nife. "Baaarrrrrrrrk!" roared Fippy. "You humans have one last chance to surrender to the might of Black Burrow or see your city sacked!" "You and whose army?" came the response from the city walls. I contemplated the mass carnage we had recently witnessed, and decided that Human's weren't the brightest keg in the inn, and that I might start disowning my Human half and call myself all Elf. "Look!" someone nearby yelled, for the third time that morning. For a moment, I wished that the gnolls had killed that stupid Dwarf instead. We all followed his outstretched finger, behind us and to the left of Fippy. The gnolls looked too. Moving through the trees, still some distance away was a sea of soldiers. Their armour glinted gold in the sun, the colours of Antonius Bayle. "Flank platoon," commented Ferrel. "Grrrrrrr. A thousand stupid Humans!" She flicked her blue mane from her face. Fippy nodded and made a palm down movement in the air. The flaming cocoons around the six remaining gnoll machines vanished in unison, and they all dropped to the ground on outstretched beetle-like legs, much like Fippy's machine had done earlier. I think we had all forgotten about them in the excitement. Six ramps opened out beneath the bellies of the huge things. I shot a glance at the dumb Dwarf. If he so much as opened his mouth to say "Look!" I swore I'd grab one of the gnoll weapons myself and strike him down. I had expected more armoured gnolls to appear, as I am sure did everyone else. It came as a great surprise to see hoards of Vah Shir pouring down the ramps to form nice, orderly rows to either side of Fippy and his gnoll troop. Each was clad in green and purple armour, and another of those deadly spears. Backing away from the growing army, I dragged Mister Novashine with me. Hundreds and hundreds of the cat people streamed down the ramps, and soon split into two groups, one facing the city and another facing the approaching foot soldiers. Time to make a book again. Odds on the Humans for having the larger force, although not by much it seems; but overwhelming odds on Fippy's invasion force for sheer destructive capability. Would you pitch archers against those blue-fiery spears and call it a fair fight? No, I didn't think so. Well, dear audience, I see the stage manager waving at me frantically, so I fear my time on stage is up. The intermission in the Freeport festivities draws near, and I am forced to continue my tale later, after some more Elven Ale. Or should that be Black Burrow stout? Gather round later, all of you, and I shall tell The Battle of Qeynos Commons." |
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