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Special Forces OpCentre
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~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~The End~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~
Chapter 1
~Far off into the future aboard the “Libérateur”, flagship of The Aldarian Resistance~
I gaze aft through the rear viewscreen where a distant galaxy slowly diminishes and reflect on the events which led us on a trek to the center of the universe, to the end of all existence. Grand Emperor Victor Sirian-Wombat would have been my title had I not murdered my father. Heralded as Supreme Ruler of the Special Empire, Outer Realms, Sector of No Name, and United Earth, High Commander of the Jedi Enforcers and Diplomatic Censors, I would have united that fading galaxy under one crown. Instead, I am known simply as “The Scourge”. Lord Aldar III, my companion and protector, monitors his fleet’s progress as we hurtle towards The Center, but this is The End and I must begin at The Beginning.
~The Beginning~
A sleek Ranger, flying the colors of the Outer Realms, descended onto the main landing pad of the Special Empire’s High Command Fortress. As a pair of SE corvette escorts peeled away, a party of OR representatives were lowered from the Ranger’s bridge. The strikingly handsome figure who led the procession was none other than the newly crowned Emperor of the OR, Julius Sirian, eldest surviving son of Emperor Sirian I. Waiting for him at the entrance to the fortress was Empress Victoria Wombat, eldest daughter of Emperor Wombat I. The tight-fitting red uniform she wore not only highlighted her as the centerpiece of the SE welcoming party, but also magnified intensely her buxom physique.
Nobility rippled through the air as she spoke. “Most humble greetings to our allies, the mighty warriors of the Outer Realms.”
Julius responded in true regal form. “To our gracious hosts, conquerors of the Altarian menace, we salute you and the supreme salvation that is the Special Empire.”
Two ranks were then formed behind the Emperor and the Empress. As the entourage strode into the fortress, less formal words were exchanged.
“I look forward to seeing you in your wedding dress, Milady.”
“I’m sure you do, Your Highness. Enjoy it while it lasts though. After our wedding, I will be wearing my uniform again.”
“Yes, Milady. Although a quick victory against our common foe, those vile sorcerers, will be assured by my eagerness to begin our honeymoon.”
~After the Beginning~
The old duck stirred as children began to fill the once peaceful courtyard. Having sat through their long and dull calligraphy, etiquette, and heritage lessons, the little tykes were eager to raise Cain. A young wombat cautiously approached the duck, who had been enjoying his solitude on a Victorian-style bench.
“Uncle Quack! Uncle Quack! Are you dead yet?”
The duck responded with his usual blank stare.
“Push me on the swings, Uncle Quack!”
He rose slowly and followed the toddler over to the swingset. It’s not that The Quack had grown so bitter over the years that he refused to talk to anyone, it’s that he no longer believed there was anything worth commenting on. True, the twelfth son of Emperor Wombat I had cut his tongue out, but it was apathy that had robbed The Quack of his speech.
“Push harder, Uncle Quack! Push harder!”
The old duck pushed harder.
“Honestly, Uncle Quack, you’re so weak, you should be dead by now.”
A distant voice responded from behind the child, “Your strength will be our demise, young Victor.”
The wombat turned with surprise. “What was that?” He eyed the old duck, but only found his typical blank expression.
...to be continued
(edit: thanks editor Theoden  )
[Message Edited]
        
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| Nobility rippled through her |
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I read that too fast! I thought it said something about nipples! 
      
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Keep 'em coming, Kit! On Page 5 of the new thread, it's high time we started a saga or three... 
   
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Nothing is really moving in these images but...
 Link
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you son of a...
bacon bits...
there's some egg...
clean up on aisle 5...
someone page Mr. Furious please...
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Perhaps I should have added a disclaimer:
Before clicking this
Link
make sure that you have a trash can available. The Special Forces will not assist in the clean up process if you are overcome by the images. Thank you.
If you are able to stop all the images from "moving" you are stronger willed than I...
[Message Edited]
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Additional Disclaimer:
Viewing of this site may be hazardous for those suffering from vertigo, motion sickness, or inner ear ailments. The administration is not responsible for any resulting illness associated with prolonged exposure to this site.
Thank you.
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Warning! Exposure to the Special Forces empire may be hazardous to your health!
There...you have an official warning label!
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SF are unaffected by that image.
Wombat has a shirt with the same pattern that he wears around the barracks all the time.
 
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sAY tHOSE sHEILA'S aT g.R.O.S.S aRE hAV'EN a bBQ ,pISS uP (aLL gROG sUPPLIED) fEEL fREE tA iNVITE yASELF...
 
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Good heavens Kit, I suspect I'll have to bookmark your chapters and read them all at once. 
 
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Disclaimer: The events portrayed here are clearly the stuff of make-believe, and just my pathetic attempt to get noticed. And just in case, I apologise to Theoden unreservedly. Oh, and probably to Wombie too. But not to Quack.
“The Fleet Admiral…”
The Fleet Admiral cast his bloodshot eyes over the meeting. The various officers of the Special Forces shuffled in their seats at the long mahogany table.
Monkson turned to Samurai Sam and surreptitiously asked, “What’s up with The Paw?”
Sam whispered, “It’s wombat mating season…I’m afraid he’s a bit frisky lately.”
“Oh, it’s that time of year again…”
“Afraid so…poor Mrs Wombat. And where is Free Tibet today?”
“She’s having a holiday in Nepal or somewhere like that. Can't quite remember where.”
Wild tapped the table. “First agenda item is uh, the resolution to…”
Hurley quickly put his wing up. “Can I ask for a resolution banning all Penguin hitting games?”
Killa Koala sprang to his paws and climbed onto his seat. “I’ll second that if the Forces will do something about the man from KOALA!” He shook his paw angrily.
Nand1 looked askance at the koala. “You have a problem with koalas?”
Jaws shooshed Nand1. “It’s KOALA, the organization’s full name is ‘Kill Off All Lascivious Animals’. It’s some right-wing thing.”
Wild stopped scratching and tapped the table again. “Guys, can we keep to the agenda!”
“Too right!” shouted Mr Furious. “I am sick to death of these stupid meandering meetings that go on all day discussing pointless drivel!” Mr Furious slammed his chair back, overturned the table and stormed off.
Wild nodded. “You’ve made some good points Mr Furious. Good to see the yoga is working. I have to say that I too don’t want this meeting getting bogged down again. Let’s keep things flowing shall we?”
Samurai Sam helped right the table. “Before things start flowing again can I ask if anyone here knows how to landscape?”
Quack turned to Cypher with a quizzical eye. “Why does Sam want lambs scraped?”
“Not lamb scraping ya goose! Landscaping for his new house!”
“Oh. Well he does have an odd accent…”
Killa scratched his armpit. “What is the first agenda item?”
“Thank you for caring Killa” sighed Wombie. “We have a rather large financial problem as you all know. It cost a fortune to save you all from the religious sects on Skowbo II, not to mention the deprogramming. Poor Harel is still in therapy. Anyways, Raj and Piers have come up with what I think, is a very cool proposal. Raj would you like to speak on the proposal?”
“Certainly Paw. We’ve got legal advice that all Special Forces members are personally liable for the massive debt we’ve accrued. But the good bit is that Honourary Members would also be liable…”
The meeting burst into laughter. “Let’s do it” chuckled Cypher. “I’ll draw up a list of gullible members of other Empires that we can target.”
Wild nodded. “Excellent. We'll invite the fools to join and then set the debt collectors onto 'em. Don’t forget they should have a solid income and be a bit naive…”
“I nominate Dad for the list”, said Killa, “he’s loaded.”
“Secondly, we were going to take a vote today about the proposal to expand the pub given our recent surge in membership…”
“I propose we expand the library and macramé centre instead” huffed Killa.
“Who votes for the pub expansion? OK. That looks like a unanimous vote…”
“But I voted for the library” pouted Killa.
“Indeed. Next agenda item is…”
“Can we do something about the flea plague on the ship?” piped up Pagangods666. “Is anyone-else sick of scratching fleas? Where do they come from?”
Wild, Killa and Cypher quietly sat on their paws.
“The new recruit…”
The new recruit entered the Paw’s office and saluted smartly. “Sir, Reporting For Duty. Sir.”
Fleet Admiral Wild Wombat waved his paw. “At ease recruit.”
The recruit stood at ease, uneasily.
“Well lad, tell me about yourself.”
“Nothing To Tell. Sir.”
“You don’t need to talk in capital letters, lad.”
“Sorry. Sir.”
“Hmmm. Now there aren’t many positions left for new recruits…” Wild studied his claws. “Sanitation Officer has been taken…although, let me think…yes…cabin boy is still available. That, or assistant to Fleet Captain Quack.”
“Uh…I’ll take the cabin boy position. Sir.”
Wild smirked quietly. “Quack’s reputation has filtered down to the new recruits?”
“The new recruits call him Mr Thirty Percent.”
“That poll?”
“Yes. Sir.”
“Quite. A word of advice lad. Stay away from feathers and scales, and the hairier the fur, the larger the purr. Alright, dismissed lad.”
The young lad saluted and then hesitated. Wild looked up, and queried “What?”
“Um, sir, what exactly are my duties as a cabin boy?”
Wild pursed his lips. “Oh, this and that.”
“Cleaning, sir?”
“Indeed. And other stuff.”
“Um, cooking, sir?”
“Look lad, let’s not get bogged down in details. Dismissed.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Theoden thumped the…”
Theoden thumped the table, hard. “Ouch.”
ricbayer and vincible jumped.
“I am not going to lose this bloody election”, Theoden hissed. Spittle flew from his lips. “I am not going to lose to a bunch of fairies…”
“Elves actually” said vincible.
“Whatever. If I lose the election I’m leaving The Fellowship forever… What are the polls saying?”
ricbayer studied the latest phone poll. “You’ll get the donkey vote again.”
“That’s a given. Cut the hay tax for them again.”
“Our vote is still holding up in Angmar and the mid-west. But you’ve lost ground with the goblins AND the hobbits. The Rohan party will be decimated in Lothlorien.”
Theoden’s eyes narrowed. For an instant he looked cunning. “Have the loggers given us a donation yet?”
ricbayer nodded. “They paid up this morning boss. A very large ‘donation’.”
“OK. Grant them the logging concession for mallorn trees. As many as they can woodchip. And I’ll proclaim the bill to allow oil drilling in Hobbiton.”
ricbayer and vincible grinned. Theoden tapped the table. “My election speech- how is it coming along?”
vincible frowned. “Not sure boss. Are you sure you want to go with ‘I have a scream’?”
“Definitely. And then I thought I could whoop and holler!”
“Sounds classy. Then we thought the speech should have a tight focus on security issues with Mordor. We should highlight your credentials as a renowned warrior of the Great War of the Third Age. And of course the economy.”
“I only served in the Rohan National Guard for a minute and the economy’s crap. There’s not an operating factory in all of Middle Earth.”
“Ah. Then a focus on banning polygamous goblin marriages and weed smoking in Hobbiton.”
“Do it. And perhaps another war with…I don’t know…pick someone.”
“The dwarves?”
“Do they have weapons of mass destruction?”
“Are you kidding?”
“It doesn’t matter. We’ll go with the dwarves. Make something up about mysterious shipments between Dale and the Lonely Mountain.”
“But they make toys…”
“Fine. Leak a story to the press about ‘The Toys of Death’”.
“Yes, Sir.”
[Message Edited]
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KOALA...priceless...as is the rest - thanks Killa! 
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After picking myself up off the floor, I have to say that was totally unexpected!!
| “I only served in the Rohan National Guard for a minute and the economy’s crap. There’s not an operating factory in all of Middle Earth.” |
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Great job, Killa!
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Roj Whitehall is a traitor in the employ of GROSS. Be wary, be very wary. What he's trying to do is send the SF mad. The doctor has already diagnosed me with metaverse paranoia and the hyperspeed terror star syndrome.
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Roj whitehall is a traiter working for GROSS. He's trying to send the entire SF mad. The docter has already diagnosed me with metaverse paranoia, hyperspeed terror star syndrome, GROSS-phobia and bouts of random typing goasjgsdripnseposg bkznb mx0r1bfiozsdgdm,./av dz lsngkneegkgnase,avsdn,eskgnegpegaeognedvnvekaae;g
gegeojbkfbgae-=252it3mgd,gmeogejeoegsedsbdfbfb
[Message Edited]
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Roj whithall is working for GROSS eagnarsdmlsdbndkcnkbncsbidnbdsbncmcnoao
afenget3pt39053r120r81204814-84=1402148fhwekfe
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Goblin - Doesn't that just mean you're acting normal? ...normal for you that is
Killa - Keep them stories coming! Eventually we can bridge the 80 or so years between our storylines.
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