| White Weewoos don't exist. *shifty eyes* |
Circulation: 195,069,709 |
Issue: 818 | 9th day of Running, Y20 |
|
| |
Short Stories
| |
|
Search the Neopian Times
Headlines
"Resurgence: Fiendish Formations" by opossumman
Professor Lambert studied the arcane map once more. A remarkable bit of magical technology, he thought. A map that would not only allow its reader to observe the entirety of the battlefield from afar, but also make them capable of issuing commands to their troops from it. Magically-based telepathic communication, if you will. And if he needed to give orders to a specific unit? Well, the map allowed him to zero in on them to speak with them directly.
Professor Lambert was nearly salivating. A tactician of his caliber would benefit tremendously from this kind of treasure. And yet, despite its wondrous qualities, it wasn't one-of-a-kind. General Aethia, thankfully, had a small set of them, and distributed them to those she felt were most qualified to wield them. Lambert couldn't help but feel for Aethia. She had been running herself ragged throughout this arduous campaign, so to lighten the load for her would be an opportunity he would spring for. The Wraith were likely coming upon their final few waves, but sadly, their numbers were still plentiful, it seemed.
This resurgence of Wraith had worried not only Lambert and the Seekers, but Neopia as a whole. The last time they'd appeared in such large numbers, the impact felt by the planet was immense. Nowadays it felt almost hard to believe that there had been a time when Faerieland called the sky its home.
That made it even more imperative that Faerieland should be completely defended while the current situation is still being handled. Faerieland quite literally can't fall lower than it already has, and as a central source of magic and power for Neopia, it couldn't fall into the hands of the Wraith.
"Testing, can all troops hear my voice?" asked Lambert, speaking in the map's general direction.
A dissonant collection of various yes-es rang through the Gnorbu's ears. On the map before him, he saw not only the troops he commanded (the Seekers themselves, naturally), but also the surrounding area. The terrain, first and foremost, was a clearing. Woodlands surrounded the fighters, with a notable river running through the center. A small bridge was built across it, providing an excellent choke point for the fighters to seize. Listening in, Lambert didn't hear any wind.
This could go smoothly after all, Lambert thought.
"Archers, stay on the back lines. Those of you with melee weaponry, head for the bridge."
"What about the cannon, sir?" asked Jacob, a brass goggle-clad Kacheek, and one of the many Seekers on the battlefield.
Other Stories
---------
---------
 The Forgotten Hero
In these peaceful and pragmatic times, it is easy to forget things that should never be forgotten...things like heroes for instance; Heroes who mapped the course of the history of this great land through their self-less and sacrificial actions.
by 2teach |
---------
---------
---------
---------
|
|
|
