Now I know that I am not a good writer, but I seem to be the one with the most time on their hands while at work ( ), so I make up most of the Voxian stories.
Here it goes: (this takes several post)
Here it goes: (this takes several post)
Victory at the Voice
Prologue: The Voice of Vox Controlli
General Donegeal looks out over the parapet. “The Stormians are quiet tonight.” It’s not really a parapet. More like a tower on the southwest edge of The Voice. Off to the left, a lone figure sneaks out past a different tower some 50 meters away. “They know about our up coming expedition. Maintain close guard. I must go inform the Voice.” Donegeal descends the tower stairs two at a time in hast to get to Speaker Jon II. Out in the fields of cows, the lone figure dashes away to the campfires and tents of the besieging Stormian Skirmishers.
“Speaker!” Donegeal calls out as he opens the double door to the official sleeping chamber of the Voice of Vox Controli. “Speaker Jon!” he again says as he approaches Jon Miller the II’s bed. Jon stirs at the calling of his name.
“What is it, General?”
“Tonight a Stormian spy was seen escaping to the Skirmishers in the Bovine Ranches.”
“So what? There are always Stormian spies sneaking in and out of The Voice, just as there are Voxian spies sneaking around the Stormian Camps.”
In reality, the Stormian “Camps”, are nothing of the sort. The term “camp” implies a temporary situation. These “Camps” have been there for hundreds of years, some over millennia.
“Speaker, it is less than a year before our great expedition is ready to set forth. It is no longer possible to hide the gathering of food and building materials. The Stormian spy knew what was going on.”
“And if the spy knows, the Camps knows. If the Camps knows, all of Stormia knows.”
“Yes, Speaker. All of Stormia will know about our impending expedition. And with most of our soldiers out on… maneuvers, we have but my 10,000 men here to defend the city AND the expedition. Our entire civilization is now defended by only me and my men.”
“And there are 30,000 Stormian Skirmishers outside our doorstep.” Said Jon.
“They will be coming, Speaker, and soon.”
Jon rolls back over, drawing up covers. “I hope so, Donegeal. I hope so.”
Donegeal stares at the Voice of Vox in disbelief.
Jon feels Donegeal’s eyes stabbing into him and flips around. “Years ago, your grandfather organized the first counter attack to the Stormian invasion. It didn’t work and he abdicated the Voice to your father. Your father then sent his first son into the Grog forest to… hamper… the pest infecting the trees. Yours was supposed to be a suicide mission, Donegeal, and you know it. But you didn’t accept it. Somehow, you turned the tide. Your suicide mission turned into our greatest victory, and in the process, you have distinguished yourself as the greatest warrior… no, the greatest military leader the world has known. I have faith in you. So the Stormians out number us three to one. Each Camp of theirs is more powerful than any one of ours.” He smiles. “But we have you.” Jon starts to shake his head. “I don’t like their odds.”
Jon rolled back over and went to sleep. With that, Donegeal knew he had been dismissed. He left the room with a sense of pride and shock. As he was walking down the hall, he mumbled “The raids into Stormian lands, the diversion of our troops, the timing of the great expedition; it was all a ploy by the Voice to get rid of the Stormian Camps!!!” and a great swell of admiration of the Voice of Vox grew in Donegeal’s heart “My God! I hope his faith isn’t misplaced!”
Prologue: The Voice of Vox Controlli
General Donegeal looks out over the parapet. “The Stormians are quiet tonight.” It’s not really a parapet. More like a tower on the southwest edge of The Voice. Off to the left, a lone figure sneaks out past a different tower some 50 meters away. “They know about our up coming expedition. Maintain close guard. I must go inform the Voice.” Donegeal descends the tower stairs two at a time in hast to get to Speaker Jon II. Out in the fields of cows, the lone figure dashes away to the campfires and tents of the besieging Stormian Skirmishers.
“Speaker!” Donegeal calls out as he opens the double door to the official sleeping chamber of the Voice of Vox Controli. “Speaker Jon!” he again says as he approaches Jon Miller the II’s bed. Jon stirs at the calling of his name.
“What is it, General?”
“Tonight a Stormian spy was seen escaping to the Skirmishers in the Bovine Ranches.”
“So what? There are always Stormian spies sneaking in and out of The Voice, just as there are Voxian spies sneaking around the Stormian Camps.”
In reality, the Stormian “Camps”, are nothing of the sort. The term “camp” implies a temporary situation. These “Camps” have been there for hundreds of years, some over millennia.
“Speaker, it is less than a year before our great expedition is ready to set forth. It is no longer possible to hide the gathering of food and building materials. The Stormian spy knew what was going on.”
“And if the spy knows, the Camps knows. If the Camps knows, all of Stormia knows.”
“Yes, Speaker. All of Stormia will know about our impending expedition. And with most of our soldiers out on… maneuvers, we have but my 10,000 men here to defend the city AND the expedition. Our entire civilization is now defended by only me and my men.”
“And there are 30,000 Stormian Skirmishers outside our doorstep.” Said Jon.
“They will be coming, Speaker, and soon.”
Jon rolls back over, drawing up covers. “I hope so, Donegeal. I hope so.”
Donegeal stares at the Voice of Vox in disbelief.
Jon feels Donegeal’s eyes stabbing into him and flips around. “Years ago, your grandfather organized the first counter attack to the Stormian invasion. It didn’t work and he abdicated the Voice to your father. Your father then sent his first son into the Grog forest to… hamper… the pest infecting the trees. Yours was supposed to be a suicide mission, Donegeal, and you know it. But you didn’t accept it. Somehow, you turned the tide. Your suicide mission turned into our greatest victory, and in the process, you have distinguished yourself as the greatest warrior… no, the greatest military leader the world has known. I have faith in you. So the Stormians out number us three to one. Each Camp of theirs is more powerful than any one of ours.” He smiles. “But we have you.” Jon starts to shake his head. “I don’t like their odds.”
Jon rolled back over and went to sleep. With that, Donegeal knew he had been dismissed. He left the room with a sense of pride and shock. As he was walking down the hall, he mumbled “The raids into Stormian lands, the diversion of our troops, the timing of the great expedition; it was all a ploy by the Voice to get rid of the Stormian Camps!!!” and a great swell of admiration of the Voice of Vox grew in Donegeal’s heart “My God! I hope his faith isn’t misplaced!”
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