[RPG] [FEI] The Lasnaar Militia Federation's New FoF System

[Samuel Knowlton]

Galiard and Ser Ulwitt Dodd led a small troop of some twenty soldiers 
through Ossaet's central square on the way to the castle.

Ahead of them, decked out all in red, were Galiard's old 
unit-turned-Ossaet-militia-turned-rebel- militia, the Very Special Special 
Forces, led by none other than Percy, whose recent assault on the Duke had 
been thwarted by a flying bundt cake.

They were holding signs and placards and marching around the portcullis.

"...UNFAIR WAGES..."

"...MORE OVERTIME!..."

"...WE'RE PEOPLE TOO..."

"Percy," said Galiard.

"M'lord," chirruped Percy brightly, tottering over to where the Duke was 
scratching his chin. Dodd and Sabrina both looked on, expressionless.

"Forgetting for a moment that I should be having you drawn and quartered for 
treason," observed Galiard with no visible effect on the unflappable Percy, 
"what is all this?"

"This is the Local 419 of the Lasanar Militia Federation," replied Percy.

Galiard blinked.

Percy looked annoyed. "We've unionized," he said.

"Unified?" repeated Galiard.

"Union-IZED." Percy insisted. "Banded together. Formed a collective 
bargaining unit. What happens to one happens to all."

"...why?" Galiard still hadn't managed to wipe the dumbfounded look off his 
face.

"There's always pay," began Percy; "we figured out that thirty good men get 
paid in a week approximately what Your Grace makes in six hours; then 
there's hours worked, which is to say that militia is on call every hour of 
every day, while Your Grace can't be bothered to get out of bed before nine 
for anything less than a hanging..."

Galiard's left eyebrow went up on 'hanging,' as if to remind Percy of his 
impending, well, hanging.

"...and, finally," Percy chewed his lip, "we feel it's awful unfair of you 
to come in here and be about to punish us all for that little mis-hap in 
which we may have, erm, fought you and the Republic of Lasanar in the name 
of the traitor Doyle, JUST BECAUSE, and I do mean JUST BECAUSE of an 
administrative mix-up. I mean it's not as though anybody ever asks us what 
WE think. It's just 'go here, guard this; oh we're seceeding now, go and 
kick your brother in the head 'fore he wakes up and does us all in. Do you 
think Doyle came in here and conducted a vote? He didn't! Do you think 
Menelmereth came in and took a poll? She didn't! And where's Doyle now? 
Can't find him! Where's Valion? Can't find him either! So just hang 'ol 
Percy, that'll set things right! Percy, the mastermind architect of 
everything ever went wrong in Lasanar! Take it out on him!"

"Ah," said Galiard eventually. "I see." He didn't.

"Who is that?" Ser Dodd spoke up, pointing to sickly-looking man wearing a 
mud-stained black robe, milling around in the middle of the crowd.

"That," said Percy, puffing out his chest a bit, "is the union's first major 
purchase! We got together and all chipped in."

"...and bought a person?" Galiard inquired.

"Not just a person," beamed Percy. "It's an Teckno-logik-cally advanced 
Friend-Or-Foe Recognition System. Saves us the trouble of having to tell 
who's here to kill us and who's just bringing the biscuits in the morning."

"It looks," observed Dodd, "an awful lot like Vogt, the crazy old bugger 
back in Semon who used to predict snowstorms in July and an apocalypse every 
third Tuesday."

"Someone got him a new robe," agreed Galiard. "I thought we had him pushed 
into the bog?"

"We did!" answered Dodd, surprised. "I did it myself."

"So how does he tell who's a friend and who's a foe?" Galiard asked 
curiously.

"Well I'm not a man of science," said Percy in what was perhaps the most 
obvious thing ever spoken, "but apparently he has a special sort of, ah, 
what did he call it. A reckoning! That's right. A Cursory Reckoning."

Galiard frowned, trying to pinpoint the alarm that started to go off in the 
back of his head.

"He had a lot of buddies," said Percy. "All the militia unions got one."

"You're sure it's a 'cursory reckoning?'" Galiard tilted his head, squinting 
at the bizarre-looking robed man. "You're sure it wasn't 'Chaos Requiem?'"

Percy scratched his head. "Actually," he said, "Now that you mention it..."

The Teckno-logik-cally advanced Friend-or-Foe Recognition System screamed.

"ROGUES!"

Placards fell to the ground. There was a loud hiss as several dozen swords 
were collectively drawn from their scabbards. Percy kicked Galiard in the 
shins.

Dodd put Percy down with a mailed fist to the side of the head. "Begging 
m'lud's pardon," said Dodd, "perhaps we should..."

"RUN!" Galiard hollered, turning and bolting down the avenue with Sabrina 
and Dodd in tow.