OOC: Sooo...here we were, planning to attack Damned, when they appeared to be all online and suddenly got the top 3 ranked kingdoms. Poor us! At least there is still an RP-battle to be won!

Starting stat: they big, we small. We have 2 members extra.

IC:
On a windy mountain peak in the lands of the Legion of the Damned, one could discern a group of knights, waving the banner of the OAFS with its trademark fishingrod. The majority of the group was hacking away at something with some sort of weapon consisting of a handle and a long curving blade. A smaller person was walking around the group and constantly raised some sort of small stick to the heads of each of the others and suddenly began to speak…

“Why the long faces, men?”

Having finished his rounds with his measuring-staff, Porckie threw his company an inquisitive look. One of his trusty soldiers sighed and mumbled something in reply…

“It’s just…you promised this war would be exciting, sir…”

“Exciting?”

“Yes, exciting! And now we’re here, simply butchering off these things, which do not even offer us any resistance! It’s just…you said exciting and…”

“ I never said exciting! I distinctly said egg-scything and that is what we’re doing!”

With that, Porckie symbolically penetrated the shell of a nearby dragons’ egg with his scythe and watched the outflow of yellowy liquids …

“Ooo, I just love new yolk !”

His knights shrugged in unison and continued to attack the other shells with their scythes. Porckie sat down on a rock and watched the lands below. These lands, he knew, belonged to the Legions of the Damned, a group of evil followers of Angelique, who took advices from a horse. The OAFS had members who did things with horses; one in particular would add a horse to his vices, but letting the horse advice him? No, this was all very silly…

“Sir? We have extrapolated all the eggs as you commanded sir!”

“Good! Gather all the yolk and we will make a victory-omelette!”

Glancing across the dragon’s nest, now devoid of life and eggs, Porckie smiled. They were stupid not to have their defenses up, he thought and smiled mischievously. With that, Porckie deemed the dimmed Damned doomed….

For the umpteenth time Rhynne shook her head.

Seriously, my first adventure as a bow-for-hire is not going as planned, she thought to herself.

When she had first arrived upon these lands she had made inquiries about who would take an inexperienced warrior into their ranks. Well inexperienced in as far to say that she had yet to see battle.

She had met a bloke named Frou-frou who had persuaded her to join up with his band. What kind of name was Frou-frou?, she wondered, curious enough by that alone to join up with him. Any man that went by Frou-frou had to be a man secure with himself, and probably formidable in the battefield, for surely there had been many beatings associated with carrying that name.

So after thinking it over carefully, she had decided to join up with this lot. How bad could it be?

"Heh", she muttered, as she carefully swung her scythe at the nearest dragon egg, picturing Frou-frou's features upon it.

Haha! You were right ole girl! They were so intrigued with MY gardens that they were completely unawares of my minions lurking to strike! Haha! A great consul indeed! Someone! Increase this consul's wages! Give him three times the oats! Haha!

Caligula stood at a table map with his officers, all vicious maniacs he had hired, but he simply could not stop laughing... Perhaps it was the brown hashish? or maybe the purple kush? the glacier freeze? no no. None of these things had drove him mad thus yet.

Haha! Enough of this talk! Swaffle them while I go enjoy a bowl of roasted hashish with my friends up on the hill! haha!

Caligula strode from the room, leaving his officers baffled and shrugging to one another. As he walked out the door, he could hear his officers doing good work. In the courtyard, Caligula jumped atop his steed (and consul) and rode to great the band of fisherman who had thrown their rocks at him.

Haha! Smells like an omelette! Oh Porckie friend, why have you sullied my gardens!? My tomatoes were just beginning to ripen! Haha! Tomatoes!

Caligula jumped down from his steed and looked around at the occupying force of his lands.

Haha! You may be making omelettes with my eggs, but over other hills, we're making your eggs! Haha!

Toph sat in his study, reading the daily reports on the quality of paper coming out of his paper mills. Being a full time mage and historian tended to lead to a lot of paper-use, and Toph was always looking for some better quality stuff. Judging from the paper that he was reading, his latest batch was, well... less than ideal. Toph scribbled down a note: 'stop latest rock-incorporation projects', and muttered grumpily as his pen danced fitfully across the page, avoiding the small rocks that had been used in the making of the paper.

Toph's door opened, and he looked up to see a messenger coming in with a large bunch of papers. "Here are the reports on the guild we are attacking." the messenger said, leaving the papers on the edge of Toph's desk and waiting patiently for a response. Toph reached out and grabbed the stack and started reading, determining just how many of his priests and temples were likely to be destroyed in hte upcoming endeavour. About halfway through, Toph's eyes widened, and if anything, got bigger as he flipped through the next few pages.

"This is a mistake." Toph said, surging to his feet.

"Should I send a message to Fisher's Hall?" the messenger said, producing a pad of paper from his belt.

"no... this is too urgent. I'll go myself."

The messenger nodded and left the room as Toph went to another door, opened it and stepped inside. Within was a simple stone room with no decorations of any kind save for a large orb on a pedestal in the corner. Toph glanced at it, ensuring that the image it showed was the same as always: a picture of a golden dragon, then closed his eyes and concentrated, visualizing an identical room to this one, but with a fishing rod displayed in the orb. When Toph was ready, he released his Gift, felt the familiar vertigo, and opened his eyes.

Toph now stood in that room that he had pictured in his mind. Turning, he opened the door and entered Fisher's hall.

Toph had had similar rooms installed in a variety of castles and towns across Tonan... It was a convenient way to travel great distances... although Toph made sure to only reveal exactly how it worked to his closest friends... he didnt want some random person appearing in his study!

Toph entered the war room, smirking at the crossed rods imitating the typical crossed swords seen in other guilds, and noticed that no one was around.

"Great. Perfect. They've already left. Well, lets see what I can do, anyways..."

Toph strode over to the table and started looking at the plans...

"Operation Gruyère was a success Monsieur Général Comte de Frou Frou!"

"Bien, bien. Zee 'eazuns will be very confused now. Revolutionaree scum!"

Frou Frou started pacing back and forth though the room with rich draperies, casting a glance at the courtyard. At any time now, the heathens might show their faces here. The sheer brilliance of Operation Gruyère lay in the fact that it was quite surprising. Much like eating frogs and smelly mouldy cheeses was something not most people considered a sane thing, some thought Frou Frou daft for it. But Frou Frou knew better. He adjusted his wig and wiggled his bum. His monocle dangled in front of his chest, on a cord. What kept them, he wondered?

"Pierre, is zee balcony readee? Zee escape route prepared?"

"Oui, monsieur. Everyee thing eez readee. And look! Zhere zhey come!"/

The nobleman jumped and squealed like a little schoolgirl who was looking at her first boyfriend unzipping his jacket. But with a nasal male voice. The attackers stopped threateningly at the horizons and readied themselves. Frou Frou was letting out impatient squeals and cursed them onward through gritted teeth. Pierre and the other manservants were standing bak, watching their master work himself up this way. They knew what this would amount to, and they uneasily fondled their leather catsuits. Tonight would be a long, long night. But they brought oil, so it would be bearable.

When the heathen armies were ready, they advanced slowly but surely on the gates of the château. The defenders stood there nervously, being vastly outnumbered. When the heathens broke into a charge and readied the ladders to scale the walls, they threw red roses at the attackers and quite bravely ran away. Frou Frou opened the doors to the balcony and struck a heroic pose. When the first attackers made their way to the walls, which were now devoid of defenders, his voice rang out.

"Hear mee 'eazuns! Your revolution will amount to a grande failure! Your revolutionaree scum leaders 'ave fallen for our cunning trappe! Keez my white cheesy bottom!"

He lowered his satin pants and pointed his great white bum at the attackers, who were yelling at him angrily. When arrows started whizzing around him, he knew that it was his time to leave. As he pulled his pants back up, he felt a sharp stinging pain on his head. He shrieked and hurried inside, after Pierre and the other manservants who had already fled. They went into the "whine cellar", which was called that way because they kept their prisoners there between the empty caskets. They tended to complain themselves to death, about how they had been wronged in the war and how awful it was to not keep wine in the caskets. Little did they know that there was a secret escape route there in one of the caskets.

Thus the Comte de Frou Frou made his escape from the barbarian hordes of the Damned. Operation Gruyère was a great success indeed! They had lost their land and now the château too. It was all too good to be true. They would reign supreme soon! For the people of Frou Frou there was no other way to win a war than to run away and let others do the dirty work.

So they started by bravely fleeing. His manservants had brought the oil and blankets, so they'd be able to make camp in the woods. In three days, they'd reach the sea. Ships were waiting to evacuate them to the lands at the west, a brave seafaring people which would eventually grow tired of the wig-wearing people with rouge asking them for directions to the nearest beach in really loud voices and get rid of the invaders. It was brilliant really. It was a cunning plan that could not fail. The Damned would feel victorious now, but their time would come!!!

He had a letter prepared for the newest member of "Zee Ordeur Of Zee Almightee Feesheengrods", a girl named Rhynne. It was a short letter on beautiful scented paper in a rich envelope. As a letter from an aristocrats should be, complete with a wax seal. On the letter itself stood:

Dear Rhynne,

Our Operation is a huge success! As you read this, the heathens have taken our château and we are fleeing into the woods. I hope things are going that marveilleuse for you as well!

Love,
Le Comte De Frou Frou

He sent one of his trusty manservants to deliver it as soon as possible. He was eager to hear back from Rhynne.

"Push! Push!"

The booming sound of repetitive puffing filled the fields...

"Push harder!!"

...the fields themselves had become covered with some sort of red gory mass...

"Come on Rhynne! I can already see its head! Push!"

...the woman increased her pushing and puffing, when suddenly...

*PLOP*

...she had managed to pull her donkey free from the Tomato-bush. Porckie and his knights, who had already mounted their asses, giggled; this new recruit had a lot to learn. They had succesfully gathered the dragon-yolk and were now riding through some of the Damned cultivated fields. Riding their donkeys side-saddle, they aimed at returning home, still unaware of the actual outcome of the war.

Suddenly, a cloud of dust appeared out in the distance and came galloping towards them. Porckie could not really make out who this person was, but noticed that his horse was wearing what appeared to be some kind of ceremonial robes...

" Haha! Smells like an omelette! Oh Porckie friend, why have you sullied my gardens!? My tomatoes were just beginning to ripen! Haha! Tomatoes! "

Porckie raised his eyebrows, as the man proceeded to come down from his horse.

" Haha! You may be making omelettes with my eggs, but over other hills, we're making your eggs! Haha! "

Porckie raised his left nostril, this solitary person was taunting his group of elite fishermen and was babbling about eggs and tomatoes. Despite the possible culinary context, Porckie felt a sharp pang inside his brain: perhaps the war had not gone as planned! Was this person actually saying that the Damned had attacked his lands while he and his noble knights were scything away at harmless eggs?! He remembered feeling uncomfortable at first when he let Frou Frou handle the war-plans, but his 'Operazion Grrrr' had sounded promising enough. And Toph didn't seem to mi...hold on, Toph had not been present at the warmeeting...Porckie slapped his forehead and exclaimed:

"Arr...poo poo on you Frou Frou!"

Porckie grumbled and turned to his group of knights who stood there disheartedly. He knew he had to do something to raise their morale. Smiling mischievously, his eyes directed them to grab some of the half-thrashed tomatoes. Consequently, he raised his left arm in the air and, on rapidly moving his arm downwars, shouted:

" Fire away the tomatoes! "

With that, a range of tomatoes was propelled at the lonely horseman. Not willing to wait for the result, Porckie's party set the spurs to their asses and rode away into the distance, back to OAFISH lands...

...minutes later, with the entire company puffing away, Porckie's group was met by a strange man, wearing a silk costume and smelling strongly of cheese. He claimed to be one of Frou Frou's trusty manservants and said he carried a message for the new recruit. Porckie grumbled: another love letter. Without looking at the letter, he handed it to Rhynne, noting:

" Another one of Frou Frou's frolics, I suspect. You do realise he only wants to get inside your pants, because he thinks a pair of female trousers will make his bum look bigger..."

The half-tomatoes smacked against Caligula's face and body as the heathens rode away.

Haha! I would expect nothing less of these fisherman. But we'll have the last laugh won't we wise one?

Caligula looked at his horse who shrugged off some mashed tomato with a grunt.

Haha! I know! They didn't even stay to partake in any hash! Isn't that incredible?

Caligula took a ebony bone pipe from his knapsack and sprinkled some brown powder into the bowl area. He lit the pipe and smoked as he rode, leaning to one side of his trusty horse, who every so often, would shift underneath to keep his master upright.

Hahaha... Find Comte de Frou Frou... He musn't escape...

Caligula's horse rode in the direction the heathens had fled, slowly trotting along, not to wake the master. Far away on the castle walls, guards signalled to one another to note that Caligula was continuing onward. Soon, divisions of troops were on their way from Caligula's second realm to assist the master. Caligula was lucky to have such competent men and consul...

Someone shook Caligula. He rolled, groaned, and awakened. With a yawn, he addressed his guard.

Wha? What's the matter?

Sire, they are moving again. We must go.

Caligula shook his head.

Ah, Haha! Yes! Yes, follow them lightly, let them lead us to Comte de Frou Frou, haha.

Caligula stood up in his tent, pissed in his bedding, and drank heavily as he dressed. Stumbling out of the tent, he called for his consul, in charge of war and travel.

Come 'er girl. I can't find ya, I'm bastardly drunk.

His trusty steed moved in and scooped Caligula up. Caligula laughed and pointed to lead the charge.

Haha! Come men, let us follow them to their den, where we shall drink their liquor and be slapped for rude remarks by their women.

As Caligula rode west, following his enemy's fleeing tracks, divisions of troops moved behind him as protection from any other excited heathens.

As the day dawned Frou Frou and his men rubbed the sleep from their eyes. The soldiers had been sent out with bows to shoot game, and the servants, lackeys and other people with hands and feet were sent out to gather lettuce, tomatoes and potatoes. The cooks had roasted the meat, and used the oil and vegetables to make rather splendid salads. The potatoes were cut up and thrown in kettles of boiling oil, something Frou Frou had invented and called pommes frites. Of course they had brought wine too and everyone had been drinking too much as they’d have to leave it behind here, lest it encumber them on their travels to meet their allies.

So everyone woke up with a splitting headache and things progressed rather slowly that morning. Frou Frou was pale as a ghost as he whispered commands to his subjects. Everyone who made noise was cast furious glances from those near him, and the group sighed collectively as the sun went up and cast it’s happy beams on the world.

When the camp had finally been dismantled and all wine thrown in the river, lest the enemy find and drink it, the groggy looking bunch made its way to the south, where they had agreed to meet with their allies. All they had brought to feed themselves with was bread, which they carried under their armpits, garlic, which they carried around their necks, and smelly, mouldy cheese, which they carried in their backpacks. Together with their hungover, unwashed bodies, this was the cause of a pungent stench which followed them as they made their way through the forest. Everything with a nose kept out of their way, except a number of insects with bad taste. Once outside the forest, they stopped at a lake in the clearing. Everyone wanted to make a good impression to their allies and enemies they might encounter. They spent more than an hour there, bathing, putting on wigs and rouge and dressing up in their pretty red satin army suits. All in all they looked quite dashing, Frou Frou thought. Rhynne would be impressed, and the dwarf Porckie would finally see the army which embodied style and fashion.

As they pressed on – by now just smelling of sweet perfume, cheese and garlic – they soon saw the meeting point approach. They allies were already there ofcourse. As a noble, Frou Frou insisted on being fashionably late. He adjusted his wig one final time, then approached Porckie and Rhynne who were standing next to mules.

”Bonjour, mes amis! I ‘ave great newse! Operation Gruyère was a ‘uge successe! Zee revolutionaree scum ‘ave taken over our lands and my château as well. Victoire shall be ours!

Allons enfants de la Patrie, le jour de gloire est arrive, and all that!

I ‘ope theengs went well for you also?”

He beamed and shook Porckie’s hand enthousiastically, then grabbed Rhynne’s hands, pulled her close and kissed her on the cheeks. He cast her an enamoured glance, which transformed into one of sheer horror as one of the donkeys shat. Protectively he covered her eyes so she would not have to see such a horrible sight and led her towards his men.

”I ‘ope you ‘ave not been forced to ride one of those, ‘ave you? Zees are beasts of burden, and you, mademoiselle, are not a burden. Jewels of nature such you should ride noble beasts! ‘Orses! Allons, I’ll un’orse one of my men and give you a fine steed!”

Nassir Aroj yawned, stretching his neck up to the ceiling and feeling his scales shift as his neck extended and contracted. He didnt know that he had ever been so full in his life. When that silly Frou Frou fellow had left, no one had noticed the young dragon climing into the kitchen window. Of course, Nassir mused, this was likely due to the fact that he still had his camouflage cloak, recieved on the day he had been born, and somehow growing with him ever since. Sadly, it was starting to show its wear and tear, but what fun Nassir had had with it!

Hearing someone coming, Nassir drew the cloak around himself, being sure to tuck his tail inside the cloth. As before, it was the same Damned patrol... searching for... Nassir didnt know what, and didnt particularly care... he had found what HE wanted... the cheese was gone, the meats were gone, the breads-which had been uncommonly delicious- were gone. As the guard left the room, Nassir stuck his snout out of the cloak and gave a short controlled puff.

A tiny lick of flames shot out of his mouth and landed on the backside of the soldier, who jumped in surprise and wheeled around, but Nassir had already withdrawn within his cloak. Muttering something about ghosts, the sentry turned and left, still rubbing his rear. Nassir smirked to himself. One of the best things about having this cloak was being able to do fun things like that. Llardorwyn and Toph didnt approve, but... even they had trouble finding him when he didnt want them to, and if you cant be found, you're not accountable for what you did!

But now it was time to go. Nassir Aroj pulled himself to his feet and headed back towards the window, then jumped through i- into it. Apparently the dragon had eaten too much and was now unable to get back through the window.

Nassir tried again, to no avail. Finally, he gave up and started for the door. He'd have to escape that way...