With several more writers approaching the convention, we have decided to do a bit of a reboot of the story line. This part can be considered a prequel that takes place about 2 years ago. While we are still wanting anyone to write about story of the Four Points, we have decided to make several of them part of the Canon storyline.
So in addition to Ether's War Stories, we have Thaddius Effingham of Effingham Productions at the helm for part 1 of 3 of the real story of the Four Points and the time leading up to Condition: Zero Hour
http://www.effinghamproductions.com/ for more of his works!
It was springtime in two thousand and eight. The TV buzzed in the background with nothing but nonsense spewing from its’ speakers. The fellows sat around a cramped table eating and drinking. A couple of them were drowning themselves in booze, or so it would seem, but all of them were glad for a bit of a reprieve from the day’s events. It was a small place despite the group of them being high ranking in the local armies. They never asked for much and were happy to be just to be of service to the people of Four Seasons. Frostscar was hosting this week’s event and it all too often seemed to them that a week between meetings was becoming too far apart.
He sat back looking at the closest friends he had and wondered what would happen in a couple of years when the old man retired. Frostscar was a fit arctic fox with ambition. The old man was a mean- ass wolf that was filled with hate and spite for those that were trying to tear down the meagre empire that was built on the island. The public knew of his eventual retirement and he was slowly building a reputation amongst the people that Frostscar did not care for. The commander felt that the enemy needed to fear the leader of the opposition and for that to happen so did its own people. But Frostscar was not like that at all. His mates knew better and so did much of the island.
Frostscar looked up as Cola, a black panther of solid reputation, placed a plate delicately before him. “Cola! Why the hell can’t you serve stuff like this in the mess hall?”
Before Cola could answer could answer, Cajun, the leader of the Spirit Drinkers tribe and healthy ally of the coalition, spat his food out onto the table with a laugh. The group of them looked at him as he wiped the bite that made the difficult journey through the nasal passage.
“Because, fuzz face, you have too much common sense to give him that kind of a budget and besides, I am personally glad your troops don’t eat like this. If they did I’d have a hard time keeping my guys loyal,” he said with a wipe and slurp that left bits of food littered around his muzzle. Seeming like a toast unannounced, he took a long drink from a bottle of vodka that was more than three quarters the way to its demise.
“He has you there Frost. Feeding us like this and keeping Cajun and Tyler as well pickled as they are is what keeps us in this tiny abode.” Cola placed the last two plates on the table and sat with the rest of them. Tyler was still having issues focusing on Cola after the pickling statement was made.
Tyler would have stood up but his bottle of scotch had already met its end so his body voted against it and retorted back into a seated position instead. “I am not as think as you drunk I am.” At first this was met with confusion and then a chorus of laughter that was often heard leaving this house rang through the neighborhood as it passed through the damp spring air.
Nemet, sat back a bit from the table so his wings would not interfere with the meal during an occasional involuntary flail of laughter, suddenly jumped up. He was a legendary Demonfox. He was renowned for his ability to whip recruits into shape in record time and it was a well deserved reputation. “Shut up! Something’s on the TV” He sprinted to the television and turned it up.
“...believe to have been killed in the blast. The entire downtown core has been blocked by the rubble and the police and moving their units in now to get a better understanding of what happened. We have live, on the scene Rick Furleigh. Rick, what do we know at this point?”
A silver wolf came onto the screen. He stood before a massive cloud of smoke and debris that was scattered all about. It looked like a demolition crew had just finished dropping a building.
“Well, Diana, it seems that a car bomb and a well placed one at that was responsible for the blast. According to my sources it was massive and knocked down six buildings in the downtown core. We are very lucky this did not go off just hours earlier during the Freedom Life Festival that was taking place. But despite that luck we are estimating that the death toll could still be as high as 1500 people. We already have reports that the militant group responsible for this was the Feral Extremist. They have posted on the web a statement and it claims that they will not stand for the way that the coalition takes care of business. They want equality in government and more rights for the people.”
“C’mon guys let’s go!” Nemet almost leapt the couch but was halted by Frostscar.
“No Nemet, at the moment this is still a police matter. We have to wait until we are called. And on top of that how would it look if the group of us showed up together? Us, the commanders, of two separate armies, carousing and half in the bag?”
Tyler stood up “I am completely in the bag, thank you.” Then fell over.
Nemet began to pace as the news continued.
“...back to you Diana.”
“Thank you, Rick. That was Rick Furleigh reporting from the downtown core. As we have reported recently the Feral Extremeist is a militant group that has been threatening to escalate violence across the island of Four Seasons. They lay claims that the capitalist style government that is enjoyed here hurts the smaller governments on the island and claim it is time to go. Until now, our forces that were enjoying a short lived peace treaty with the other armies on the island believe that the Feral Extremist was more “bark than bite”. For those of you just tuning in...”
“Holy shit, I can’t believe they did it.”
“What do you mean Cajun?” Asked frost.
“Uh?... The extremists, they pulled it off. Seriously did you think they could do this?”
“I sure as hell didn’t see it coming.” Nemet was still pacing and Tyler raised
his hand but said nothing.
“Well, I think we should call it quits for tonight guys. Tomorrow is going to be a long day.” Frost was already stressing about how the old wolf was going to start pushing for war again. The boys knew this and began to file out. Tyler, the only human of the bunch, was in the midst of getting comfortable behind the couch.
As Cajun was about to leave he stopped. “Frostscar, I’ve been thinking. With these guys escalating to violence, maybe it would be best if the Spirit Drinkers took an official side. Tomorrow I am going to go see the old wolf and side up with you guys.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yeah, I’m serious. We’ve worked well together in the past. The old wolf likes me and with us already letting you guys have Polarski to upgrade your base it’s pretty obvious to the other factions involved that there are some shenanigans going on.”
With a big grin Frostscar sat back. “You do realize this would make you my second in command.”
“We’ll see about that.” Cajun winked and they both laughed as he padded out of the room. Frost tossed a blanket over Tyler and turned in for the night even though he expected the phone to start ringing any minute.
Then next day Cajun did indeed walk into the lush office of the commander and chief of the Coalition Forces.
“Cajun! What a surprise! Well, not really after what happened yesterday.” The old wolf stood up and extended his hand. They shook with feelings of mutual respect. It was something Frostscar and the Commander never really had for each other despite the political arrangement they had. On the outside the two of them always smiled and made nice but they both new they never really liked each other.
“Have a seat my boy. What can I do for you and your fine outfit today?”
Cajun pulled a flask from his inside pocket. “Well, I’ve been thinking and...”
“Hold on, is that the family label?”
“err... yes.”
“Do you mind?” He pulled out a glass from behind him. “I really wish you’d make good and bring me a few bottles. I know it’s precious to you and all.”
“Certainly, sir. I think it can be arranged since I am going to be working under you and all.”
“Pardon?”
“I’d like to bring my boys over to the Coalition. Officially ally our two armies. I think with the way things are going we can all benefit from it.”
Cajun was smiling from ear to ear. He knew the old man well and this might be what he was waiting for. Frostscar was his friend but he felt that he could do a better job of running the place when the old wolf was gone.
“Cajun, you don’t know how long I have been waiting to hear that.” He stood up and paced around the room with one paw under his greying muzzle and the other occasionally bringing the glass to his lips. This was always followed by a smacking sound and a grin. The family label was truly special.
“You see Cajun, Frostscar has had the rights to my post when I leave for a long time. But when times get tough like they’re about to, I don’t think he is the right fox for the job. The people love him and he’s a nice guy and that is part of the problem. He’s too nice. I need a warrior, not a bureaucrat.”
“What are you trying to say, sir?” Cajun could hardly contain the grin.
“I kind of hoped that before I retired you would come over to our army. You have always worked well with us and the people of Four Season really like you, but at the same time see you for your leadership in arms. You can make the hard decisions that would haunt Frostscar. I need someone with the balls to get the job done.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“So you get what I am saying then?” Cajun nodded.
“Don’t tell Frostscar yet. We’ll give the people a few weeks to get used to the idea of your army saddling in with us. After that, I’ll break it to Frostscar and make an announcement. So let’s keep this between us, please.”
“So how ‘bout I grab some of my guys and head into the downtown core and show the people us working together.”
“Good idea. Frostscar and his men are down there now starting cleanup. What a mess. I can’t wait to bring payback in the form of fire and lead to the doorstep of that stinking roogoyle. Did you see that Potoroo fellow with his pink mohawk on television yesterday bragging about the attack?” He sat down as the rest of his glass emptied.
Cajun tossed him the rest of the flask as he turned to leave. “No I didn’t sir. But I’ll bring you his scalp when I get the chance. I imagine that mohawk would make a nice broom”
Cajun left and he could hear a chuckle behind him as the door closed. The commander got back up and readied himself to leave for his rounds that morning. He would see both Frostscar and Cajun on site later.
Cajun and Frostscar stood together on a hill made of rubble and watched as troops moved rubble and searched for survivors. They held a map and planned the search pattern. They worked well together and both of them were as happy as they could be given the circumstances. They had been at it for more than half a day when they could see the commander’s car coming in the distance.
Cajun was smiling from ear to ear. He knew he would have control of the island soon. The black car moved slowly through the mounds of debris and was not ready for what came next. No one was. The rocket came in from the far side of the site. BOOM! An explosion reverberated through the rubble, there was nothing left of the car in an instant. A pink mohawk could be seen dashing into a truck that took off before the debris even landed.
Cajun put his head down for a moment and then screamed a resounding “FUCK!”
