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Post by Tarro on Dec 26, 2023 20:48:57 GMT -5
THEY WILL SING OF FIREWORKS TO COME
A party of his villagers he had sent ahead to scout the tuffle capital a week ago had returned. They brought good tidings and news that the winds were in their favour.
“We were allowed in without any hassle. After that, sneaking about was child’s play,” reported the man whom he had put in charge.
The tuffle capital. He had been to it a few times, so few he could count them in one hand. It’s a one-of-a-kind metropolis of its time, built far before the saiyans’ arrival and withheld their savage assault, and perhaps took significant damage over the ages, but none of the battles raged against it have had a lasting impact on it, largely due to the tuffles’ cunningness and resilience.
“Good. I take it you succeeded in your mission?” he asked openly, leaving it for them all to reply. He fixed himself on his seat, his back against the bar, and his attention solely focused on them. He was met with happy looks. How not, if the first thing they did was speak of the easy time they had inside tuffle territory, after decades of waging war against them.
“Aye, Tarro. You look at it from afar and you think it has solid foundations, but the only thing keeping the city standing is them continuously reinforcing the buildings. They weren’t meant to stay standing in times of war. Their city is outstanding!-- For a people who are living peacefully, not ones facing a deadly threat.” The man, balding at his crest and with short hair to the sides of his head, nodded in approval.
Tarro folded his arms and listened on.
“Then, where should we plant our bombs, and from where should we strike, do you think?” The warrior looked intently at his most trusted brother-in-arms, Olvar.
“Let’s see…” He laid down a hand-drawn map of the city they had covered.
The tuffle capital was much alike to the theirs; its people had everything they needed in close vicinity and in large numbers. “They have many shops and industries of the same kind of product all throughout the city. Striking there would cripple them… in the case of a long siege. There’s too many targets, too little time, and too many problems if we went this route. I suggest against it.”
Tarro narrowed his sights at the map. It matched more or less what he remembered of the capital. He studied it for moments to come, to have an idea of how to traverse it when the time came.
After a few moments of silence, he pointed at the outskirts of the city.
“What about fortifications? What kind of defenses should we expect?” asked the chieftain, who looked back up at the man filling him in.
“It’s a walled city, although the walls don’t reach high and can’t hope to stop us flying in. They do have anti-Oozaru artillery, but those are largely ineffective. For our assault, we should fly in as a unit, with gaps enough to stop them from firing down at us, all at once. We’ll come unannounced, so the attack should go smoothly,” Olvar filled him in.
“Hm… Then, anything we should be on the lookout for?” answered Tarro.
Olvar was taken aback by Tarro’s worry, but, alas, he did his best to ease them. He did understand that this mission was do-or-die, that the stakes were far too high to risk error, or, even worse, failure.
“Well… The leaders of the tuffles will show up, so our best hope is to inflict maximum damage from the start, and fight our damndest till the end. We will retreat as you have ordered when we start hitting a rock wall, and retreat to the Borgos Bluffs to our cave.”
At the end of the report, Tarro interjected, “you’re missing something.”
Olvar paused. “Ah… I am?” He was clearly unsure what thing he was referring to.
“The King. He might send his forces against us. He stopped the assault once– no, twice over. He might do it again. We’ll have to bet that he doesn’t, for the sake of the success of our mission.” And even if he does, the glory that comes with standing up for his people where their leader didn’t? Nothing can ever match that. Their names would live on in sagas that their descendants will hear and sing of!
The party fell silent. They had not considered their own people to be a threat, an enemy. With this reminder, his scouts now knew what they were in for; no matter what Tarro said before the rest of them, the chances of victory were slim. What they were looking for was dealing damage, not more but not less. It would serve a reminder to the tuffle people that the conflict had not yet seized.
“What districts should we strike? And how should we move inside the city?” posed the leader.
“I’ve marked the facilities we should hurt on the map. I forgot to name them, but…” Tarro traced Olvar’s finger to the north-western structure drawn on the map. “The hospital and the makeshift field tents. We should strike them where it hurts, hard enough that they can’t recover.” The healing facilities would do just that. If they can cripple the tuffles’ healing equipment, then they can’t come back for a counter-attack. Hell, they’d be too busy licking their wounds to worry about who it was that struck them.
“Then, the transport docks is our arguably our second most important target. It’s between that and the comms tower. We cripple those, and they won’t be able to flee or call for reinforcements. That’s why I suggest we move into the city as two units: one from the north and one from the south, and focus our fire on those two buildings, whilst attacking the people to stir up fear and chaos.”
Attacking civilians… He had nothing against them, but he had heard tales of it too often, that they experience the horrors of war and grow up with vengeful hearts. Let them live and they’ll pick up arms against you, and become the soldiers that you rid yourself of. He couldn’t let that happen.
The party assembled yet again, with reinvigorated purpose and clear objectives. They checked their gear at the pub and said their farewells to their fellow warriors, some to their families and others to their friends. They all shared one thing in common: they were leaving something behind in pursuit of their goals. They were also all driven by their common hatred for the tuffle people and disapproval of the inaction against them.
For him, it was his home and people, and, most importantly, the person he’d come closest to calling a friend. He dapped up Fannal, whose worried look didn’t suit him. “I’ll be back, friend, do count on it. We will be here, together, for the final push. Achieving the dreams of our ancestors.” A zealous smile adorned his lips to the notion. “You can count on it,” said the older one of the two in return. His frightened look didn’t fade, even after he reassured him.
Alas, he was bound by duty.
His five-man cell moved out of Radditsu village and directed themselves to the tuffle citadel. They split off before reaching the vicinity of the city, and each went to their designed location: Olvar pledged to the communication tower, he to the transports, Kallabash to the hospitals, Sproute to random factories and buildings to the far west, at the backside of the city, and Bokcho would roam the city, staying alert and on stand-by if anybody needed help.
His entrance to the city was uncontested. He made haste for his destination, boosting forward with a thirsting white flame that wove through the air, as his destiny was to be woven. His heartbeat quickened. It was the moment of truth. Partially, the success of their mission would be based on this. His feelings of anxiety were overshadowed by a thriving lust for glory than ran deep within him.
The spikey-haired lad dropped onto the roof of the facility and surveyed it for possible entry points. As he did do, he reached for his scouter and spoke through it a message to his squadmates.
{Tarro's transmission}
In turn, Olvar replied.
{Olvar's transmission}
Each of them had a bag strapped to their bodies. He had his to the side of his waist.
By the time he arrived, so too did his allies. Each of them checked what they were up against, as they were with orders not to be brash, but to keep in mind that they were to be in and out, so as to not raise suspicion.
{Kallabash}
{Olvar}
{Sproute}
{Bokcho}
HP: 0/260%
KP: 6/6
MP: 1/6
PL: 20,100
Current transformation: N/A
Items: Scouter, armor lining
WC: 1446
KP: 6/6
MP: 1/6
PL: 20,100
Current transformation: N/A
Items: Scouter, armor lining
WC: 1446
