The Great Woof Rebellion

[Firetooth]

Firetooth the Cat was slumped on his measly wooden throne, head in paws and fur ruffled. Once more, the goodbeasts in his realm had been conscripted by the tyrant, General Volkov, under the pretence of collective responsibility. Once more, the rich granaries that his innovations - irrigation, crop rotation, and of course GMOs (hated by Volkov's senior advisor, Food Babe)- had filled were being drained dry by the greedy beasts, roaming beasts from Volkov's demense, who came and went into Firetooth's lands as they pleased, eating and drinking their fill.

"Oh yes, being in a clan is great...when you're the leader" Fireooth hissed, to nobody in particular. He grabbed a goblet from his throne's arm and raised it to his lips, only to realise it was empty. Furiously, Firetooth lobbed the empty goblet at a nearby Wolf, snoozing miserably on the floor. It missed, but hit the floor with enough force to raise the Wolf from his slumber.

"Sharptooth!" Firetooth snarled. "Where is my wine? I made orders for the vineyards to be harvested this morn!"

The Wolf looked wearily at the noble and good Wildcat, then slumped his head back onto the floor and tiredly replied "my liege, I am afraid Volkov's men requisitioned it."

"What?!" Firetooth snarled, leaping to his feet. "That fiend! Oh, we have given so much to this Woof clan of his, but what we have we received back in return? Empty vineyards, empty granaries, and conscripted troops!" Under his breath, Firetooth muttered "I never want to turn share troops on."

Sharptooth remained silent, then let out a slow snore and continued his slumber. Firetooth's nostrils flared as he prepared to awake his sleeping compadre - but before he got the chance, he was interrupted by the slamming sound of the great doors of the throne room being flung open.

"My liege!" panted an exhausted-looking weasel. "I bring news from the Briarlands!"

"Oh?!" Firetooth exclaimed, his dour expressing suddenly lightening a little bit. "What is it? Has our proposal been accepted? Has the noble warlord Briar seen sense?!"

The weasel made to speak, but failed to produce anything intelligble other than panting sounds. "Speak, fool!" Firetooth snarled, striding up to the poor beast and grabbing him by his throat. "What is the news!"

The emissary tried to speak, but unfortunately could not as his throat was completely enveloped by Firetooth's mighty paw. Frustrated, Firetooth ripped the poor weasel's head off and tossed it aside.

"Idiot!" he snarled, kicking away his head. "How can he-" Firetooth stopped his predictably insane tirade as he noticed the weasel had a note clenched in his fist. Dropping to all fours, Firetooth pricked the note with his claw, raised it before his face and opened it, his face contorting into a devilish grin as he each letter passed under the gaze of his keen eyes.

The Most Exalted and Noble Firetooth, Greatest of all Beasts and Warlord Supreme,

After careful consideration, we have decided to support your noble scheme to depose the most despicable and loathed Volkov. Find attached $1 billion in cash dollars, towards this most noble end.

Do not disappoint the people of the Briarlands - we expect you to make good on this investment.

Regards,

Lady Briar of the Briarlands

7.4 hours ago    Briar (#8) has sent you 7,492 Skiffs carrying...    $1,000,000,000

The grin widened until it could widen no further, then Firetooth raised his head back and let out an appropriately evil laugh. After an appropriate amount of cackling, however, he realised he actually had no diplomatic power in Woof.

"Bother!" Firetooth grumbled. He picked up the decapitated head of the poor weasel, and addressed it directly. "I suppose you must make haste to the Briarlands and make known that I have erred in my assessment of...stuff" he sighed. "Also, tell her that the $1 billion in cash dollars is strictly non-refundable. Make haste, boy!" he snarled, tossing the head out of the throne room and watching as it rolled down the steps, on an important diplomatic errand.

Firetooth dejectedly turned and dragged his feet back to his throne. As he did, he swore he could hear the sleeping Sharptooth murmur "idiot."

Ok, maybe this wasn't my most brilliant scheme, Firetooth mused. But we have acquired $1 billion in cash dollars, that shall aid our every effort to secretly depose the tyrant Volkov. Until that day, I suppose we must quietly endure these injustices...

[Juska]

Are we using the Turbo board to discuss RtR?

P.S. The above was well written and quite a good read, but I'm not really sure what's going on.....

[Firetooth]

I think we should, unless there's an RtR thread I missed

On the topic: I basically kept joking that if somebody sent me $10bil, $5bil, even $1bil id depose volk. Then briar sent me $1 bil. Thus the thread

[Gen. Volkov]

"This is becoming annoying." said Volkov to the other warlords in his clan. "Firetooth's idiotic determination to somehow depose me is starting to threaten the greater purpose of our clan. Something needs to be done."

A thoughtful expression comes over Shadow. "Sir," he ventures, "perhaps that is the answer. Firetooth is an idiot. Maybe we can use that."

"What do you mean?" asks Volkov.

"Well", Shadow answers, "what if you bestow the title 'Leader of Woof' on him, without actually giving him any real power? He's dumb enough that he might mistake the title for the thing itself."

"Hmm, yes, that might work," muses Volkov, "good idea my friend."

So messengers were sent out to Firetooth, congratulating him on becoming "Leader" of Woof, and detailing his many important duties now that he was the "leader". Mostly involving goodwill tours of the front lines. Meanwhile, Volkov and the rest of Woof got back to executing their grand strategy.

"That takes care of that idiot," Volkov thought to himself.

[Firetooth]

Firetooth was pacing around the throne room, gesturing wildly in the air to nobody in particular as he went. "So, we invest this $1 billion in cash dollars into a hit assassin squad of moles. Volkov will never see them coming then..." the ranting Wildcat paused, picking up the decapitated head of his poor weasel helper. "Pop goes the weasel!" he snarled, tossing the weasel's head in the air.

The slumbering Sharptooth let out a disdainful snort. "Mole assassins? After the idea of trying to send Volkov insane by sending three irritating foxes and a soothsayer wearat to his court, that has to be the single stupidest idea I've heard today. So stupid, in fact, that I feel permanently less intelligent for having heard it!"

Outraged, Firetooth snarled and booted the weasel's head at Sharptooth; the weasel's head flew past Sharptooth and knocked over a candlestand.

"Well I don't see you coming up with any ideas of your own, dear brother!" Firetooth hissed.

Sharptooth looked at Firetooth scathingly, his head still resting in his paws. "You can't depose the head of your clan just because he made you share a few troops. You have no diplomatic power! Just accept that you are a powerful warlord in a powerful clan and work with him." He shook his head and chuckled "I mean, look at that plebiscite we conducted across the lands: we lost by 5,000 votes to 2,000 when paired off against Volkov - and 1,000 of those votes were coerced."

"Silence!" Firetooth snarled. "I am the Warlord Supreme! You will address me with respect, as I plot a way for myself to rule Woof, with you by my side. Together, dear brother we can rule the whole land. But first, we must come up with a plan to - "

The creaking of the great doors interrupted the Warlord Supreme, and both brothers turned their heads.

"Hello?" Firetooth inquired, with an obviously irritable edge to his voice. "Is somebody there? Enter!"

An obviously terrified stoat slowly entered into the throne room, sweat visible on his brow. "Firetooth, oh Warlord Supreme, sir," he managed to say, voice cracking as he spoke. "I bring news from the capital: Volkov has heard your demands, and -"

"Oh?!" Firetooth exclaimed, running up to the stoat in excitement. As the terrified stoat cowered before him, FIretooth paced around him, practically bouncing off the stone floor in anticipation.

"Has he abdicated? Or did he agree to one-on-one combat? Or did the gluten-free snarecakes I send to his court drive him mad?!" He picked the stoat up by his shoulders, and raised him so that he was standing and looking up at the great ginger Wildcat. "Well?"

The stoat gulped nervously, but managed to speak without pause "he has, sir, oh greatest of wildcats, and all beasts, and Warlord Supreme Without Peer...agreed to our demands! He has appointed you leader of Woof, effective immediately."

"Finally!" Firetooth roared, throwing the stoat into the air in excitement. He did a victory lap around the throne room on all fours, giddy with anticipation. "I am going to make this clan great again!" Firetooth vowed "I will build a wall, from the lands of Shadow to the marshlands of Genevieve. Not a single more beast from the Juska Wastelands shall enter our territory. And I shall make Volkov pay for it!"

Sharptooth, meanwhile, had been passed a note by the servile stoat. He perused its contents, sighing as he went.

"To the Most Exalted and Noble Firetooth, Greatest of all Beasts and Warlord Supreme,

After days of intense diplomatic pressure, the great council of Woof has been forced to acquiesce to your demands. Truly, our demands on your lands were too great. We have seen that you alone are mightiest in this clan, and effective immediately we have an appointment to bestow:

"Leader" :
(m) Firetooth (#14)

Truly, no beast in all the lands is more worthy of such a powerful title. However, with great power comes great responsibility. Many responsibilities, in fact - all of them great. Attached is a list of these important jobs that the leader of Woof must undertake.

We trust that you will turn this clan around.

Your humble servants,

The Woof Council

Snagging the attached letter on his claw, Sharptooth allowed a wry smile to cross his lips as he read aloud the new duties the "Leader" of Woof must undertake. "Pressganging troops; leading the forces against the Iron Towers in the Juska Wastelands; leading a voyage through the thousand thorns in the lands of Yellow Eyes; digging trenches to protect against possible invasion from the Knights of Honour."

As Firetooth danced around the throne room in glee, Sharptooth simply sighed and slumped his head back into its resting position. Our "Leader," it seems, is an idiot.

[Briar]

"Waiting...always waiting."

Briar gazed out of the high tower window, scanning her frozen domain for any signs of life. The breeze gently moved the leaves of the tufted saxifrage. She saw a rabbit skitter out of his house, tattered clothes hanging off his emaciated body like icicles on the barren trees. "I think it's time to raise the taxes" she mused to herself.

It had been days since she had sent out several of her trusted weasel messengers to several of her neighboring warlords and none had returned. Her leaders were getting anxious. Looting and feasting were not enough to satisfy their murderous appetites. They wanted more gold and, most importantly, more power.


"How long does it take to accept an offer?" she wondered to herself.

Earlier in the week, one of her messenger crickets had brought word that the warlord Firetooth had requested funds to dispose of Volkov. Loving a bit of treacherous drama, Briar had sent $1 bil in hopes of destroying Woof from within. She knew that they would be bound to fail with Firetooth at the helm.

But now she waited for a response. Briar hated waiting.

She wandered over to her ice chest and selected a couple of delectable Otterpops. As she stood munching on the frozen delicacy, she noticed the wind that was coming in the window changed directions. She lifted her snout and sniffed the air. Something had happened.

She rushed back to the cold, grey window sill and saw smoke in the distance. Green smoke. The weasel sent to Firetooth's hall had not returned to the base camp on time, signaling her other minions to light the fire.

Brian growled in frustrated anger. "Does he really think he can take my money and not give me what I want?! This will take a more direct approach I feel."

She walked over to her war table and scattered the pieces of parchment with one long swipe of her paw. Glancing down at the known warlords locations, her mind raced with adrenaline. Bringing in other warlords without an official allegiance brought with it risks that may lead to her destruction. However, Briar knew that without a little diplomacy, Woof would surely lock land and destroy all resources in the surrounded provinces.  "Time to bring in the allies. There is more than one way to skin a cat."

She smiled at her own wit and began to plan.

[Juska]

Juska stared silently into the flames of his campfire as he reviewed the events of the past few days. His horde had grown exponentially and now controlled a majority of the Northlands, the slaves he had acquired on the march through Southsward and Mossflower providing the necessary labor to erect a great mass of iron towers, which his lizard corps of engineers were working diligently to fortify further. The news of Firetooth's promotion to leader of the Dog Clan mattered little to him.

"Firetooth, Volkov, is there a difference?" He asked the flames. Either would hold to the terms of the limited aggressive pact they had agreed when his first stronghold in Southsward was overrun by Shadow......and should they stray his horde would bloody them into submission.

The thing that unsettled him now was the lack of activity, the enemy's attack must come soon. Finally he stood and motioned for his lieutenant.

"Recall Ripgash's 6th battalion of stoats from the market, the Dog Clan's assault will come soon and we need every piece of vermin filth to defend the walls."

[Gen. Volkov]

Volkov was standing on the battlements, gazing into the night, formulating a strategy to combat the massive amount of land Juska's armies had conquered recently. He didn't think taking it back would be an easy task. A messenger hurried up, delivering a note from his spies. Volkov stared at it for a second, before looking up at his messenger.

"Is this some sort of joke?", the old wolf said with a growl.

The terrified messenger stammered back, "No sir, we double checked twice, those are accurate numbers"

Volkov grinned a predatory grin, "It seems Juska is even more of a fool than I thought. Trying to hold back the might of Woof with such meager defenses."

Volkov thought for a moment, and then went his study and scribbled a quick note, handing it to the messenger to take to Shadow. A few minutes later, Shadow, the young stoat, came hurrying into the hall, and Volkov handed him the spy report.

"Is this really all he has?" Shadow asked with a shocked expression on his face.

"Yes, we checked twice, this will be much easier than we thought," Volkov responded, still with a slightly scary grin.

The young stoat thought for a moment, and said "Well, sir, if you could lend me a few of your stoat battalions, I should have this fellow broken quite easily"

Volkov nodded, and it was so. In one night, Juska's forces were over-run, much of his land taken, and added to to Woof's impressive acreage. The news of Woof's victories spread far and wide, and caused many new vermin to flock to the snarling hound flag, as the Dog Clan's size and power continued to grow. Meanwhile, Volkov sat in his study, plotting his next move. Soon it would be time for him to take matters into his own hands, and for the power of his clan to grow to yet further heights.

[Ereptor]

Cats like naps.  Cats like naps!!  It rhymes!!! Cats! Naps! Cats!! Naps!!  The small but shrill voice grew with childish excitement.  The darkness of the throne room seemed to encourage the echos of the small varmint as the sound bounced to and fro off the grand marble walls.  Another voice similar to the first was muttering to himself, "Urrrr Reeep turrr."  "Urr.."
The sound, half growl half purr, which sounded distant at first and then suddenly seemed to appear right above him.   "Eee Reppp Torrrr"  The rat was stunned still.  "You seeee it just rolls off the tongue...Eee Rrrrepp Torrrrr" the cat said as his tongue rattled with a loud whisper.  The cat picked the unfortunate rat up by the tail and grinned.  He tossed the rat into the dark and strolled towards the grand window sill.  The catch jumped up and stretched out on the edge of his perch.  The land looked peaceful from up here.  Peace was boring, at least it used to be, and Ereptor was easily bored...

"More news from the war milord!" saluted a small cat, which could easily be confused with a kitten, with the exception of the spikes of gray hair on his head and the eye patch.  "War, why do you keep calling it The War?"  "A war is..."  The small cat gave the warlord a look as if he had heard this speech a thousand times.  Ereptor sighed and said, "Okay whats the news trusted Sargent of the guard" and flicked his whiskers.

After the Sargent discussed the armies, alliances and casualties of the past week the large black cat yawned and flicked his tail.  "Send a force to attack the largest of the Woof clan" he tried not to laugh "woof woof woof" he muttered jokingly.

"Woof" he thought.  I wonder how that ole wolf is doing he commented to himself. 
......

High on a hill perched the old wolf.  The cat had to say to himself that the old foe looked majestic.  Ereptor himself had black fur that reminded his army of a full moon glinting off of a dark pool of water.  The cat strode towards the wolf.  The conversed about old battles and the aches and pains of getting old while reminding themselves and each other deadly warrior abilities.  At the end a deal was struck and both wolf and cat seemed to puff with the pride, not in the chest, but more in the shoulders and in the eyes. 

....
"The Wolf" questioned the sargent, "Like The Wolf Bite."  "Yes" grinned the cat.  "You see, any tool of a rat or a stoat can fight each other and call it a battle and sing songs and write stories."  "More than that they can call those battles wars and rant and rave."  "But those are words of the young and restless" grinned the cat.  "Now honor".  "Honor??" asked the smaller cat.  "Yesssss, honor"  said the warlord.  "Honor is more valuable than the bragging of fools of the spoils of war" he said motioning towards the pile of gold trinkets in the corner of the room.  "yes but its the wolf, your sworn enemy.." The cat let out a low growling hiss and the smaller cat shrunk.  "You wouldn't understand my loyal warrior."  "wars come and go but honor is priceless." "These are the things that you will find are of true value."

The walked into the shadows of the great hall and a glint of the moonlight off his fur was seen before he disappeared into the dark.