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Tales of a Veteran Llama - The Furry Escape

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Preface


     Hello. My name is Sir Griswold Percival Thembrick. I am a llama. I am a proud veteran of the Llamanian War, and a loyal subject of Queen Llamina. I am writing these memoirs primarily to chronicle my experiences whilst fighting for the freedom of Llamania, but also to record other key points in my life thus far.

     Before I begin, it is necessary to explain something of the cause for the Llamanian War. For the past several centuries, Llamania, a small country, had been ruled by good llama monarchs, staying free from tyranny and war. But ten years ago this very day, our peaceful country was attacked by the evil ruler of Llambria, Emperor A'mall, with the intent of swallowing our country and making it part of his domain. But little did Emperor A'mall know that the hearts and patriotism of thousands of my fellow Llamanians were alive and well, and that he was starting a fight that would be far from easy…

     I hope these stories will both entertain you, and inspire you to be the best llama that you can be. If you are not a llama, I hope that these stories will entertain you.

    Sincerely,
    Sir Griswold P. Thembrick


The Furry Escape


     Peering through my binoculars, I couldn't help a small gasp. After fifteen scouting missions through this same segment of the forest for signs of enemy activity, we had finally found something promising.
     My fellow scout, Jeric, placed a forefoot on my shoulder. "What is it, Griswold?"
     I lowered the binoculars and handed them to my comrade. "It looks like a cleverly camouflaged warehouse, Jeric. Perhaps even a factory. We may have found an enemy supply station."
     Jeric whistled softly as he saw the same sight I just had. He turned to look at me. "Should we go back and report?"
     I shook my head. "No, we don't have enough yet to report. There's no smoke coming from those chimneys, so as far as the General would be concerned, it's just an empty building, abandoned and badly overgrown." I took back the binoculars. "We're going to have to get a closer look."
     "Do you think that's safe?"
     "No. Let's go."
     I led the way through the underbrush, Jeric following close behind. We made it thirty feet closer to the mysterious building before Jeric hissed through his teeth.
     "Stop!"
     I stopped. I saw a moment later what had alarmed my comrade. Two armed llamas marched shoulder-to-shoulder along the north side of the building. The insignia on their helmets was the national emblem of Llambria; these were definitely the enemy. I took note of their weapons: MarshMaster 53's. The most powerful marshmallow guns in production – illegal in some provinces.
     I pointed and muttered under my breath. "Take a look at that firepower."
     Jeric nodded. "Definitely not just an abandoned building."
     "We have enough now." I looked my comrade in the eye. "Jeric, double back to base, and tell the General we should send a combat scout team, assuming we'll have to take out more guards than the ones we can see to get inside that building. I'll make sure no one follows you."
     Jeric hesitated. "But…"
     "I'll be fine, Jeric! I'll wait a few minutes, then follow you. Just go!"
     Jeric nodded, and took off into the trees.
     To this day, I don't know if it was the result of Jeric's flight through the forest, or just some woodland creature, but a twig snapped.
     "What was that?" the larger of the two guards cried out, and they both rushed straight towards my position.
     "Run!" I cried in the code language of the Llamanian military, hoping Jeric would hear me. I leapt up, yelling and firing my stun gun. I hit one guard and he sank to the ground, instantly unconscious, but the other shot the gun out of my hand with his MarshMaster. I leapt forward and, drawing from my skills at llama-fu, roundhouse-kicked the dangerous weapon out of the second guard's hands.
     It was at that moment that I saw motion in my peripheral vision – a third guard! But it was too late. Something slammed into my head, and I saw stars. I don't remember hitting the ground.


     I awoke slowly to the rumble of heavy machinery. As the fog over my mind lifted, I gradually realized that I was on my side, on a hard metal surface, with all four feet tied together. I moaned at an intense, throbbing pain in my head.
     "Ah, I see you are coming around, Llama."
     Forcing my eyes open, I instantly saw that I was staring down the barrel of a MarshMaster. What caused me more concern than the firearm was its owner; a monkey. Emperor A'mall was employing non-llama mercenaries to aid him in his conquest. An alarming revelation, to say the least.
     The monkey nudged me with his gun. "Get to your feet, Llama. The Commander should be here any moment to decide what to do with you."
     I stared up at the monkey. "All four of my feet are tied up. I couldn't stand up if it would save my life."
     "Oh," the monkey said, instantly looking worried. "All prisoners have to show respect to the Commander by standing." He scratched his head. "Now what'll I do?" He growled. "I hate it when this job gets confusing!"
     I knew monkeys weren't very bright, so I decided in that moment to try a ridiculous idea. I had little to lose. "If you put me on a leash so I couldn't escape, and then untied me, then I could be standing when your commander arrives." I laughed to myself. Monkeys couldn't be that stupid.
     The monkey's eyes widened, and he smacked his forehead with a palm. "I can't believe I didn't think of that!"
     I managed to contain my excitement as the monkey actually grabbed a coil of rope off the wall, and began to tie it around my neck. Monkeys were that stupid.
     The monkey bent down to untie my feet. "Don't try anything funny, Llama."
     Of course, I tried something funny the instant my feet were free. A swift kick, and the monkey was snoring peacefully within seconds. I grabbed the rope dangling off my neck with my teeth, and quickly gnawed through it. I was free to move now, but I was still in an enemy building.
     With the monkey dispatched, I studied the room I was in for the first time. Eight machines the size of cars lined the walls, making a loud, rhythmic racket. I approached the nearest one for a closer look. A conveyor belt coming from the heart of the machine carried fluffy little white items and dumped them into a large bin. Marshmallows. They were manufacturing ammo. If Jeric made it back with a combat team, they would definitely not be disappointed.
     I quickly jogged to the nearest door and reached for the handle, but it started to open before I touched it. I hastily darted into the blind spot that would be created by the door when it swung inward.
     A high-ranking llama, judging by his stripes and medals, entered the room, followed by two monkeys with MarshMasters on their belts. This must be the Commander. They walked right past my position behind the door, and I didn't waste a moment in silently darting out of the room behind them before the door closed.
     "What's this?" came a commanding voice through the door just before it clicked shut behind me. I didn't have much time before I was pursued, so I took off at a run.
     Careening blindly through endless hallways, it didn't take me long to run smack into a patrolling llama. I knocked him out before he even had a chance to blink in surprise. I took and donned his MarshMaster and utility belt, then hesitantly put on his helmet. The helmet displayed the national emblem of Llambria, so it almost felt like treason to wear it, but I had little choice. I couldn't deny the benefit of having a disguise, even if it was distasteful. I dragged the unconscious soldier into a supply closet and shut the door.
     Hearing the sounds of pursuit, I took off down the halls, this time at only a fast walk. Now that I had a disguise, it would only look more suspicious to be tearing through the building at top speed.
     I rounded a corner, pushed through a pair of swinging double doors, and immediately found myself in an enormous storage warehouse. Thousands of crates were stacked to the ceiling throughout, all marked simply MM on their sides.
     Marshmallows, I thought to myself. There was enough ammunition in this room to load half of Llambria's guns twenty times each.
     I darted behind a stack of crates to catch my breath and listen for my pursuers. The sounds indicated that they were still some distance behind, probably still searching the hallways. I darted from stack to stack, staying towards the outside of the building, looking for something useful to aid in my escape.
     Rounding the next stack, I found a massive garage-like door in the outer wall, nearly twenty feet high. I bent closer and sniffed near the edge of the door. I smelled fresh air, so this door definitely led directly outside. I stepped back to scan the wall for signs of a means to open the door. I spotted a red button, ten feet above my head. I sighed. They obviously didn't want it to be easy to open this door. In the interest of keeping the building hidden, they probably wouldn't even open this door at all unless there was an emergency.
     "Squeak!"
     The sound was barely audible, but it made me jump. I looked frantically around me to find the source. I found it, down by my foot. A squirrel, reaching into a tiny hole in the bottommost crate of the nearest stack, was pulling out marshmallows, one at a time, and delightedly eating them.
     I don't know how the inspiration came so quickly, but in a single moment, I had a plan.
     I quickly scooped up the squirrel, holding onto him tightly. He wriggled manically.
     "Leave alone! Leave alone!" the little creature squeaked, straining at my hold.
     "Relax, little friend," I said as soothingly as I could manage. "I want to help you get more marshmallows than you could possibly eat in your whole life."
     The struggling instantly stopped, and the squirrel licked his tiny lips. "More marshes? More marshes?"
     I nodded. "Millions of marshes!"
     The little fellow's brows furrowed in confusion. "Millun marshes?"
     I sighed. Apparently millions was too many for this fellow's mind to comprehend. I thought for a moment about how to convey the massive quantity. "Lots and lots and lots of marshes!"
     That made sense to the squirrel, and his eyes widened in sheer wonder. "Lots of marshes…"
     "But you're going to have to help me do something first, understand?"
     The squirrel nodded its tiny head with lightning speed. "Help. Help then get marshes!"
     "Right." I brought the squirrel closer to my face. "How many little friends do you have?"


     I fidgeted. The longer I thought about it, the crazier my plan seemed. I was depending on a frazzled little squirrel for my escape. Was I stupid, or was I stupid?
     It couldn't have been more than two minutes, but it seemed like fifty before the squirrel returned, appearing through a tiny hole in the wall near the ceiling of the warehouse. He scampered down the wall in moments, then scurried to stand beside me.
     I bent down to talk to the little fellow. "Did you find all your friends?"
     "Yep!" The squirrel pointed to the door. "They all outside wall now."
     "Good!" I pointed up to the red button. "Can you push that button when I tell you to?"
     "Yep!" Without another word, the squirrel practically flew up the side of the wall, stopping near the button.
     I pulled the MarshMaster from the belt I'd taken from the guard, and slowly peered around the nearest stack of crates, into the center of the room. I leveled the gun at the bottom crate in a nearby stack…
     A shot rang out, but it wasn't mine. The gun flew from my hand. I jerked my head to the side, and saw the Commander, standing ten feet away from me, a monkey on either side of him.
     "Why hello, pesky rebel," the Commander spat in a gravelly voice. Then he pointed his marshmallow gun at my head.
     I dove behind the crates, but the projectile grazed my left ear, stinging fiercely and leaving the smell of burnt sugar. I'd lost my gun. Now I would have to draw the Commander's fire if my plan was going to succeed. I ran along the outer perimeter of crates, shots ringing out behind me, but none finding their mark.
     "It's a matter of minutes before we'll capture you again," I heard the Commander say from across the room, "so you may as well come without resistance. I could use another spunky soldier like yourself. Come willingly, and I'll happily spare your life."
     I carefully gauged the trajectory of my dive. I only had one shot at this. "I'll resist you every waking moment until I escape. And as for joining you, I would rather die than betray my country."
     "Well then, you leave me little choice."
     "Now!" I screamed, then dove out into the open, stretched out flat, my stomach just inches above the storage room floor. Three shots rang out, sailing over my head and into the bottom crate of the stack behind me. As I scrambled back out of the line of fire, I heard the splintering sounds I had hoped to hear.
     "Commander, look! The crates!" came an alarmed monkey's voice.
     I made it safely behind a stack, and watched the ensuing mayhem. Since the Commander had just shot out the structure of the bottom crate in a stack, that stack began to topple. It collided with the adjacent stack, and that one with the next, until almost every crate of marshmallows in the warehouse was descending to the ground.
     I took a peek at the large exit door, and saw that it was rising. The squirrel had heard my signal and pressed the button like he was supposed to. I ran towards the door as a thousand boxes of marshmallows splintered open on the ground around me.
     "This changes nothing!" came the Commander's roaring voice over all the other sounds. "You will still be captured, and forced to comply!!!"
     I doubt it, I thought with a laugh.
     Then, came the squeaking.
     Thousands of squirrels began to pour through the widening gap beneath the door, leaping in a great mass upon the feast of a lifetime. I watched as the squirrels began to devour the enemy's marshmallow ammunition from the broken crates. Also, as I had expected, the squirrels in their unbridled zeal overtook the Commander and his cronies, covering them bodily in squirrely furriness.
     "We will…" began the Commander, but his statement was cut short beneath a blanket of sugar-crazed woodland creatures. With a smile, I darted out the newly-opened door as fast as my four llama feet would carry me. With the help of ten-thousand hungry squirrels, I had escaped.
     As soon as I was out of the building, I was met by a very startled Jeric, who was backed by thirty highly-trained combat Llamanians. "You escaped!" he exclaimed with a smile.
     "You bet. And I see you successfully brought back a team." I jerked my head, indicating the warehouse. "They're manufacturing marshmallows. This will be a substantial victory for Llamania."
     One of the soldiers tossed me a spare stun gun, and I caught it. I turned back to face the enemy building. "This operation's goin' down!"


Epilogue


     Of course, we won the victory that day. Fortunately for us, the factory wasn't heavily manned (by llamas) since the enemy didn't want to add to the activity of shipping out marshmallows by shipping a conspicuous amount of supplies to the soldiers stationed there. We captured every Llambrian, and every monkey, and thus made a sizable contribution to our war prisons.
     The squirrels, needless to say, enjoyed their marshmallow feast immensely, and I made carefully sure that none of my countryllamas harmed any of the little creatures as we took down the factory. The king of the squirrels later met with our General, and formed an alliance with Llamania. The squirrels were now actively fighting on our side.
     I found out that the original squirrel who had helped me was named Hubert, and we've kept in touch ever since the war, exchanging emails several times a year. Also, both our families usually meet up around Thanksgiving and Christmas for wonderful visits filled with jollity and nostalgia.
     The Commander actually turned out to be a Llamanian traitor who had managed to rise through the enemy ranks. Queen Llamina herself sentenced him after the war to twenty years hard labor in – believe it or not – the royal marshmallow factory. Only this time, he was to be making the fluffy whites simply for food. How's that for irony?


Copyright ©2012 TheDuckofPower
Any resemblance to actual characters or events is purely coincidental, and a little worrying.
Needless to say, this is not a very serious story, nor is it a serious attempt at literature, but I hope you will enjoy it. :)

:police:
You may not download, use, copy, or modify this work in any way, in whole or in part, without direct permission from me.

Thanks!
© 2012 - 2024 TheDuckofPower
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ChocolateBarrelRacer's avatar
The best! I can hardly wait for the next one! :clap: