Introduction & Disclaimer:
The Empire of Vector has rapidly expanded its territory across the Southern Continent, enveloping the larger city-states in the south and east through its superior armed forces and advanced technology. Years back, General Leo Christophe captured the commercial port of Albrook south of Vector, and oversaw construction of a canal and railroads connecting this window of trade to the factories of the capital. The agricultural regions of the east, as well as the rich oil fields outside of Albrook, were quickly overtaken later that year. The young MagiTek general Celes Chere has been mobilizing her army to march west against the city of Maranda. And Kefka Palazzo, the mad general and Emperor Gestahl's trusted vizier, now leads a large army toward the northern city-state of Tzen. As the self-styled "Gem of the Star Plateau," Tzen's wealth of mineral resources will surely aid Imperial efforts to colonize the north.
Disclaimer: Kefka is the licensed property of Square. Mentioned members of the Tzenian royal family and Kefka's army are of my own creation.
* * * * * * *
"Let's MOVE IT, you losers! Get your incompetent rears in gear and MARCH! Hup, two, three -- you! Get back in formation NOW, before you regret it!"
Kefka Palazzo, the infamous MagiTek Knight and insane sorcerer, literally pranced around the head of his column of troops, leading them north where the battlements of Tzen loomed in the distance. Clad in his usual verdant, tacky robes accented with gold and pink, and having slid a pink Chocobo plume in his pale hair, the most...flamboyant of Gestahl's confidants was easily recognizable at the head of dull the brown mass of uniformed Imperial soldiers.
Members of Kefka's command were quite annoyed at the fact that such a nutcase be appointed to lead such an operation. Speaking to one another as they marched, the soldiers made cracks and complained about Kefka as wisely as is recommended in the presence of Kefka -- that is, quietly.
"Can you believe this psycho that we have as a general?" a young private inquired of his colleague next to him. "He's been a disgrace to the Army ever since that infusion."
Not realizing that the column had stopped, this latter man nearly bumped into the lieutenant in front of him. Oblivious, he replied, "And those clothes that he wears! Emperor Gestahl lets him wear such a pansy outfit?"
"A real clown, that one. He looks the part. He';d look better in the circus than in command of a unit."
The second young man laughed and said, "If I had the chance, I'd definitely tell Palazzo to his face that he's no General Leo."
And an all-too familiar laugh was heard behind him, followed by the words, "The only problem, though, is that ya didn't turn around when you uttered that little comment."
Going pale all of a sudden, the private wheeled around to face Kefka. Pallid as the soldier before him, the corners of the mage's red-painted mouth were turned up in a smirk, eying with obvious contempt this brash young private who spoke ill of him.
"S-sir Palazzo!" the private exclaimed. "What a surprise! I d-didn't know--"
"Shaddup," snapped Kefka. His brow furrowed even as he grinned, he continued, "Insulting your commanding officer, private, is a most grievous error, one that I highly loathe. Under my command, there is only one fit punishment. But first, your name."
Visibly sweating, the private, said, with much stammering effort, "P-private Jels M-mann, from Vector, sir."
"Well, Private Jels Mann from Vector," came the cool response. "It is with much displeasure that because of your disgraceful lack of conduct, I will have lost two men before the attack on Tzen even commences."
The soldiers around Mann had begun to disperse, forming a ring fifty yards in diameter enclosing him with Kefka. "Two? But you're only dismissing me!"
"Oh, no no no," said Kefka, shaking his head while training his sneer directly on Private Mann. "I don't dismiss those who disobey. This isn't that goody-goody Leo's army." Turning his head to the left, he snapped, "Lieutenant!"
The officer Kefka directed his attention to turned and saluted. "Sir?"
"Find an able-bodied private among the men and tell him to carry a letter which I'll dictate." Kefka paused for a moment as the lieutenant produced a notepad and a lead pencil, preparing to write Kefka's dictation. He then continued, with a malevolent grin and a giggle, "'Dear Mrs. Mann, it is with my extreme apologies and regret to inform you of the death of your son Jels at Tzen. Signed, Kefka Palazzo.'"
The private in question turned more pale than Kefka; he turned and tried to get away, but Kefka had obviously done this many times before. Before Mann could take two strides, Kefka was murmuring the words of the Bolt 3 spell.
Another step, and a giant bolt of lightning split the clear sky, striking the hapless private. A flash of light from the center of the circle. A light which blinded the eyes of the Imperial soldiers, save for Kefka, who observed with obvious glee the death he had caused. The smoke took a few seconds to clear, but when it did, it revealed the charred corpse of the foolish private, palms up and facing the sun, lips and eyelids burned away to reveal the empty stare of a dead man.
And a high, whooping laughter resounded throughout the column. The men wheeled in every direction, trying to discern the emitter of such a gleeful sound. In a few seconds, eyes having fallen upon the green-robed figure, head thrown back and mouth wide open to expel the emotions it felt, they discovered the source of such laughter was Kefka Palazzo himself.
* * * * * * *
The column, short two men as Kefka had promised, reached Tzen the next day. The IAF and IN had been busy for the past few days. Sky Armor flying contraptions, in reality MagiTek armor retrofitted with propellers, had strafed large portions of the city and weakened its resistance, and warships stationed around the peninsula had shelled Tzen's east and west ports to prevent escape by sea.
No one had uttered a word which...accurately...described their general since Jels Mann had been...well, they didn't want to recall such an incident. And even though they were tired, hungry, and had blisters covering their feet, the troops knew better than to disobey Kefka when he gave the order to attack.
The ensuing battle lasted for less than two hours. The MagiTek armored divisions opened up on command, unleashing destruction in the form of TekLasers and magical beams upon the twenty-foot think walls of Tzen. Tzenian defenders responded with a volley of cannon shot from their outdated artillery, and a flurry of crossbow bolts. Ten or fifteen unlucky troopers didn't get their shields up in time, but other than that no casualties. And then Kefka led the infantry on a charge toward the city gates.
The defenders of Tzen met the Imperials blade for blade, but the big guns of the MagiTek armor provided supporting fire for Kefka's men. With untold ecstasy and with the faint buzzing in his head growing to a shrill cacophony, Kefka felt the thrill of bloodlust as he attacked fighter after weak fighter from Tzen's army. "Come to die, kiddo?" he inquired of one young soldier, visibly shaking from having to confront him, before smashing his head in with his Morning Star. The victim's head disappeared behind a spurt of blood, much of which splattered his killer's face. Kefka felt his tongue flick out to the corner of his mouth -- and the taste! Sweeter than wine! And a little bit of a buzz, to match.
A glint of metal caught his eye. The dead boy's sword, no doubt. His reflection...quite intriguing. The blood marked his face in interesting patterns, pockmarking his cheeks here, yet with a little pat there...yes. A nice streak of crimson across both sides of his face. Quite nice. He liked it. Pleased with his image, Kefka returned the battle.
"Such a grand feeling, when you kill someone," he would say before casting Ice 2 on another helpless warrior. "What a rush! Better than sex, murdering is." The relentless tide of Imperial troops routed the ill-equipped Tzenians and sent them fleeing. Kefka and his honor guard fought their way to the city gates, the general's malevolent laughter trailing behind him as his troops chased the remaining Tzenians off the battlefield.
Kefka Palazzo entered the city of Tzen at the head of a military parade, weaving its way through the grand boulevards inlaid with Jidoorian marble and past houses built of fine masonry. The denizens had fled indoors and watched the triumphant army make their way toward Tzen's royal palace.
The royal family of Tzen, a clan headed by the elderly King Victor Nicola Tzenia, were waiting at the gates to their estate. None of them looked especially happy to see the Imperials in their city.
Even before Kefka reached the first of the steps to the palace, the brash King quite loudly expressed his disapproval of the Imperial invasion. His family stood stony-faced behind him, glaring at the Imperials assembled before them. One comely, brown-haired girl of about 20, apparently a princess, however, caught Kefka's eye. She remained the focus of his transfixion. A lush mouth, perfect for kissing...gorgeous gray-blue eyes, not unlike his own...yet she eyed him with obvious contempt. Not that he noticed...then King Victor's final question shook him out of his trance.
"General Palazzo, by whose authority are you attacking our state, which has cooperated with the Empire for all these years?"
Kefka turned to the aging monarch and narrowed his eyes. "By Gestahl's, 'Highness,'" he answered silkily, in a condescending tone as if to imply that this was common knowledge. He then giggled as he continued, "He has noticed that your mineral shipments have slacked off, and lemme tell ya, he got a little more than a bit peeved at this fact. I was sent to..." a sly smile, "mediate the confrontation, if you will."
"By occupying our capital and slaughtering our troops?"
"By presenting an example," Kefka purred, "To any who dare challenge us. As I have always said, 'we need not spare these lands that give rise to the Returners.'" He strode up the marble steps of the palace, stopping before the pretty brunette who had captured his interest beforehand. Running a hand across her face in plain sight of her father, he mused, maintaining eye contact with her but speaking to Victor, "Perhaps your daughter, here, can offer a settlement to these whines of yours."
King Victor was puzzled. "Helena? Why would she...?"
"Not very bright, are ya Majesty? By means of marriage, perhaps? No, not marriage, just let her be my concubine. Then we can talk on ending this occupation." Kefka drew closer to the lips of the girl named Helena. For a moment he let his tongue play across her lips, then forced it into her mouth, taking her in...she was even sweeter than the blood he had tasted in the battle. So youthful, fresh...alive.
Helena was not amused; her response was to bite Kefka's tongue and slap him when he withdrew.
The coppery taste of blood -- his own blood -- blossomed in his mouth, and coupled with a smart on his cheek, Kefka felt his anger rise within him. No...he was a trained officer. He would not let such an insolent gesture aggravate him. He fought the rage down, became calm. That is to say, all killers are calm as they practice their craft, and Kefka Palazzo was feared much for this reason.
Indicating the colonel to his side, he barked, "Take this wench back to my tent in camp and have her wait there for me." The officer grabbed the girl by the arm, despite the protests of her family, and pulled her, screaming, out the gate. "As for her family..." He turned first to his men, then to the incensed Tzenian royals with a malevolent grin, "Kill them."
They did not have time to react. Kefka immediately raised his arm and called down a Fire3 spell on King Victor. A giant ball of flame shot from the heavens towards the regent, incinerating him on the spot. Kefka's honor guard charged; the recently widowed Queen's head left her body, as did those of her brothers and sons before hers even hit the ground. A few younger children who tried to run away were sought out by Garm hounds and torn to pieces. A calculated, cold slaughter, and in two minutes, the entire Tzenian bloodline had been massacred.
Kefka turned his attention to the stately boulevards and villas of Tzen. A lovely city it was, but that was what Kefka hated. There was life in this place, happiness, and naive people who felt their lives had meaning. "Sack it," he ordered. "I want to hear the shrieks of thousands dying this day." The army outside heard the call and responded as such. MagiTek armor outside the city opened fire on residential neighborhoods, collapsing houses and trapping hundreds within the rubble. The MKs hacked their way though the markets, cutting down scores of merchants.
Kefka himself joined the fracas, whirling this way and that way through the streets of the inflamed city. Raising his hand toward a row of fine houses, he muttered the arcane words of the Bio spell; clouds of poison descended on the district, preceding the residents' cries of agony as the foul toxins took their toll.
Another neighborhood, less affluent as the now-infected zone he first targeted. Standing in the middle of the street, Kefka raised his arms, muttering another set of arcane words...a tear in dimensional fabric opened behind him, revealing a bleak, empty blackness from which hurtled the forms of huge boulders. Zooming past Kefka, each magically-oriented Meteor sought and found its target in one of the many houses along this boulevard, stopping only as they crashed into the residences. A few hundred dead. Not enough. And yet, he took in with savage ecstasy the voices of thousands screaming in their death throes. A holocaust like no other; the actions of an army as dictated by its madman of a general.
All that night, Tzen burned, its people's screams for mercy unheeded by their merciless conquerors. And all that night, Kefka Palazzo's laughter echoed through the mountains beyond, pervading the darkness with its shrill, mocking, soulless sound.
The Empire of Vector has rapidly expanded its territory across the Southern Continent, enveloping the larger city-states in the south and east through its superior armed forces and advanced technology. Years back, General Leo Christophe captured the commercial port of Albrook south of Vector, and oversaw construction of a canal and railroads connecting this window of trade to the factories of the capital. The agricultural regions of the east, as well as the rich oil fields outside of Albrook, were quickly overtaken later that year. The young MagiTek general Celes Chere has been mobilizing her army to march west against the city of Maranda. And Kefka Palazzo, the mad general and Emperor Gestahl's trusted vizier, now leads a large army toward the northern city-state of Tzen. As the self-styled "Gem of the Star Plateau," Tzen's wealth of mineral resources will surely aid Imperial efforts to colonize the north.
Disclaimer: Kefka is the licensed property of Square. Mentioned members of the Tzenian royal family and Kefka's army are of my own creation.
* * * * * * *
"Let's MOVE IT, you losers! Get your incompetent rears in gear and MARCH! Hup, two, three -- you! Get back in formation NOW, before you regret it!"
Kefka Palazzo, the infamous MagiTek Knight and insane sorcerer, literally pranced around the head of his column of troops, leading them north where the battlements of Tzen loomed in the distance. Clad in his usual verdant, tacky robes accented with gold and pink, and having slid a pink Chocobo plume in his pale hair, the most...flamboyant of Gestahl's confidants was easily recognizable at the head of dull the brown mass of uniformed Imperial soldiers.
Members of Kefka's command were quite annoyed at the fact that such a nutcase be appointed to lead such an operation. Speaking to one another as they marched, the soldiers made cracks and complained about Kefka as wisely as is recommended in the presence of Kefka -- that is, quietly.
"Can you believe this psycho that we have as a general?" a young private inquired of his colleague next to him. "He's been a disgrace to the Army ever since that infusion."
Not realizing that the column had stopped, this latter man nearly bumped into the lieutenant in front of him. Oblivious, he replied, "And those clothes that he wears! Emperor Gestahl lets him wear such a pansy outfit?"
"A real clown, that one. He looks the part. He';d look better in the circus than in command of a unit."
The second young man laughed and said, "If I had the chance, I'd definitely tell Palazzo to his face that he's no General Leo."
And an all-too familiar laugh was heard behind him, followed by the words, "The only problem, though, is that ya didn't turn around when you uttered that little comment."
Going pale all of a sudden, the private wheeled around to face Kefka. Pallid as the soldier before him, the corners of the mage's red-painted mouth were turned up in a smirk, eying with obvious contempt this brash young private who spoke ill of him.
"S-sir Palazzo!" the private exclaimed. "What a surprise! I d-didn't know--"
"Shaddup," snapped Kefka. His brow furrowed even as he grinned, he continued, "Insulting your commanding officer, private, is a most grievous error, one that I highly loathe. Under my command, there is only one fit punishment. But first, your name."
Visibly sweating, the private, said, with much stammering effort, "P-private Jels M-mann, from Vector, sir."
"Well, Private Jels Mann from Vector," came the cool response. "It is with much displeasure that because of your disgraceful lack of conduct, I will have lost two men before the attack on Tzen even commences."
The soldiers around Mann had begun to disperse, forming a ring fifty yards in diameter enclosing him with Kefka. "Two? But you're only dismissing me!"
"Oh, no no no," said Kefka, shaking his head while training his sneer directly on Private Mann. "I don't dismiss those who disobey. This isn't that goody-goody Leo's army." Turning his head to the left, he snapped, "Lieutenant!"
The officer Kefka directed his attention to turned and saluted. "Sir?"
"Find an able-bodied private among the men and tell him to carry a letter which I'll dictate." Kefka paused for a moment as the lieutenant produced a notepad and a lead pencil, preparing to write Kefka's dictation. He then continued, with a malevolent grin and a giggle, "'Dear Mrs. Mann, it is with my extreme apologies and regret to inform you of the death of your son Jels at Tzen. Signed, Kefka Palazzo.'"
The private in question turned more pale than Kefka; he turned and tried to get away, but Kefka had obviously done this many times before. Before Mann could take two strides, Kefka was murmuring the words of the Bolt 3 spell.
Another step, and a giant bolt of lightning split the clear sky, striking the hapless private. A flash of light from the center of the circle. A light which blinded the eyes of the Imperial soldiers, save for Kefka, who observed with obvious glee the death he had caused. The smoke took a few seconds to clear, but when it did, it revealed the charred corpse of the foolish private, palms up and facing the sun, lips and eyelids burned away to reveal the empty stare of a dead man.
And a high, whooping laughter resounded throughout the column. The men wheeled in every direction, trying to discern the emitter of such a gleeful sound. In a few seconds, eyes having fallen upon the green-robed figure, head thrown back and mouth wide open to expel the emotions it felt, they discovered the source of such laughter was Kefka Palazzo himself.
* * * * * * *
The column, short two men as Kefka had promised, reached Tzen the next day. The IAF and IN had been busy for the past few days. Sky Armor flying contraptions, in reality MagiTek armor retrofitted with propellers, had strafed large portions of the city and weakened its resistance, and warships stationed around the peninsula had shelled Tzen's east and west ports to prevent escape by sea.
No one had uttered a word which...accurately...described their general since Jels Mann had been...well, they didn't want to recall such an incident. And even though they were tired, hungry, and had blisters covering their feet, the troops knew better than to disobey Kefka when he gave the order to attack.
The ensuing battle lasted for less than two hours. The MagiTek armored divisions opened up on command, unleashing destruction in the form of TekLasers and magical beams upon the twenty-foot think walls of Tzen. Tzenian defenders responded with a volley of cannon shot from their outdated artillery, and a flurry of crossbow bolts. Ten or fifteen unlucky troopers didn't get their shields up in time, but other than that no casualties. And then Kefka led the infantry on a charge toward the city gates.
The defenders of Tzen met the Imperials blade for blade, but the big guns of the MagiTek armor provided supporting fire for Kefka's men. With untold ecstasy and with the faint buzzing in his head growing to a shrill cacophony, Kefka felt the thrill of bloodlust as he attacked fighter after weak fighter from Tzen's army. "Come to die, kiddo?" he inquired of one young soldier, visibly shaking from having to confront him, before smashing his head in with his Morning Star. The victim's head disappeared behind a spurt of blood, much of which splattered his killer's face. Kefka felt his tongue flick out to the corner of his mouth -- and the taste! Sweeter than wine! And a little bit of a buzz, to match.
A glint of metal caught his eye. The dead boy's sword, no doubt. His reflection...quite intriguing. The blood marked his face in interesting patterns, pockmarking his cheeks here, yet with a little pat there...yes. A nice streak of crimson across both sides of his face. Quite nice. He liked it. Pleased with his image, Kefka returned the battle.
"Such a grand feeling, when you kill someone," he would say before casting Ice 2 on another helpless warrior. "What a rush! Better than sex, murdering is." The relentless tide of Imperial troops routed the ill-equipped Tzenians and sent them fleeing. Kefka and his honor guard fought their way to the city gates, the general's malevolent laughter trailing behind him as his troops chased the remaining Tzenians off the battlefield.
Kefka Palazzo entered the city of Tzen at the head of a military parade, weaving its way through the grand boulevards inlaid with Jidoorian marble and past houses built of fine masonry. The denizens had fled indoors and watched the triumphant army make their way toward Tzen's royal palace.
The royal family of Tzen, a clan headed by the elderly King Victor Nicola Tzenia, were waiting at the gates to their estate. None of them looked especially happy to see the Imperials in their city.
Even before Kefka reached the first of the steps to the palace, the brash King quite loudly expressed his disapproval of the Imperial invasion. His family stood stony-faced behind him, glaring at the Imperials assembled before them. One comely, brown-haired girl of about 20, apparently a princess, however, caught Kefka's eye. She remained the focus of his transfixion. A lush mouth, perfect for kissing...gorgeous gray-blue eyes, not unlike his own...yet she eyed him with obvious contempt. Not that he noticed...then King Victor's final question shook him out of his trance.
"General Palazzo, by whose authority are you attacking our state, which has cooperated with the Empire for all these years?"
Kefka turned to the aging monarch and narrowed his eyes. "By Gestahl's, 'Highness,'" he answered silkily, in a condescending tone as if to imply that this was common knowledge. He then giggled as he continued, "He has noticed that your mineral shipments have slacked off, and lemme tell ya, he got a little more than a bit peeved at this fact. I was sent to..." a sly smile, "mediate the confrontation, if you will."
"By occupying our capital and slaughtering our troops?"
"By presenting an example," Kefka purred, "To any who dare challenge us. As I have always said, 'we need not spare these lands that give rise to the Returners.'" He strode up the marble steps of the palace, stopping before the pretty brunette who had captured his interest beforehand. Running a hand across her face in plain sight of her father, he mused, maintaining eye contact with her but speaking to Victor, "Perhaps your daughter, here, can offer a settlement to these whines of yours."
King Victor was puzzled. "Helena? Why would she...?"
"Not very bright, are ya Majesty? By means of marriage, perhaps? No, not marriage, just let her be my concubine. Then we can talk on ending this occupation." Kefka drew closer to the lips of the girl named Helena. For a moment he let his tongue play across her lips, then forced it into her mouth, taking her in...she was even sweeter than the blood he had tasted in the battle. So youthful, fresh...alive.
Helena was not amused; her response was to bite Kefka's tongue and slap him when he withdrew.
The coppery taste of blood -- his own blood -- blossomed in his mouth, and coupled with a smart on his cheek, Kefka felt his anger rise within him. No...he was a trained officer. He would not let such an insolent gesture aggravate him. He fought the rage down, became calm. That is to say, all killers are calm as they practice their craft, and Kefka Palazzo was feared much for this reason.
Indicating the colonel to his side, he barked, "Take this wench back to my tent in camp and have her wait there for me." The officer grabbed the girl by the arm, despite the protests of her family, and pulled her, screaming, out the gate. "As for her family..." He turned first to his men, then to the incensed Tzenian royals with a malevolent grin, "Kill them."
They did not have time to react. Kefka immediately raised his arm and called down a Fire3 spell on King Victor. A giant ball of flame shot from the heavens towards the regent, incinerating him on the spot. Kefka's honor guard charged; the recently widowed Queen's head left her body, as did those of her brothers and sons before hers even hit the ground. A few younger children who tried to run away were sought out by Garm hounds and torn to pieces. A calculated, cold slaughter, and in two minutes, the entire Tzenian bloodline had been massacred.
Kefka turned his attention to the stately boulevards and villas of Tzen. A lovely city it was, but that was what Kefka hated. There was life in this place, happiness, and naive people who felt their lives had meaning. "Sack it," he ordered. "I want to hear the shrieks of thousands dying this day." The army outside heard the call and responded as such. MagiTek armor outside the city opened fire on residential neighborhoods, collapsing houses and trapping hundreds within the rubble. The MKs hacked their way though the markets, cutting down scores of merchants.
Kefka himself joined the fracas, whirling this way and that way through the streets of the inflamed city. Raising his hand toward a row of fine houses, he muttered the arcane words of the Bio spell; clouds of poison descended on the district, preceding the residents' cries of agony as the foul toxins took their toll.
Another neighborhood, less affluent as the now-infected zone he first targeted. Standing in the middle of the street, Kefka raised his arms, muttering another set of arcane words...a tear in dimensional fabric opened behind him, revealing a bleak, empty blackness from which hurtled the forms of huge boulders. Zooming past Kefka, each magically-oriented Meteor sought and found its target in one of the many houses along this boulevard, stopping only as they crashed into the residences. A few hundred dead. Not enough. And yet, he took in with savage ecstasy the voices of thousands screaming in their death throes. A holocaust like no other; the actions of an army as dictated by its madman of a general.
All that night, Tzen burned, its people's screams for mercy unheeded by their merciless conquerors. And all that night, Kefka Palazzo's laughter echoed through the mountains beyond, pervading the darkness with its shrill, mocking, soulless sound.