The Great Wall

January 31st. Open to all heroes. Officers and Generals especially. Take note that the design of the wall was approved by Stitch and closely matches the ramparts at Jamestown from Pocahontas.


Li Shang watched with great anticipation as the carpenters worked diligently to put the finishing touches on his newest addition to the encampment. The officer stood, with his arms folded, towards the very front of the camp, where the entrance was marked by the three stone pillars. He wore a white shirt, and black trousers, with a steel dagger held within his sash. His hair was tied back in his traditional ponytail. He dropped his hands to his side, winching slightly as he did so.

Fallowing 627's visit, Shang had been diagnosed with three cracked, and two broken ribs. Around his midriff several bandages where tightly wound. Invisible under his shirt. These hopefully would keep the errant fractures in line enough to set properly. But with each step her took, each rotation of his body, a jet of pain shot out from a point in his back. Not nearly as badly trashed, his right arm was likewise wrapped tight with bandages. The pain had been utterly excruciating at first. But not even a set of broken ribs would sideline the imperial solder. Shang saw it as a test of his mental and physical strength to endure the pain and refused to let it sideline his duties.

It had been a good few days since the violent attack that had shook Priderock, and gave the man his injuries. In it's wake was one dead, and others maimed for life. They had been caught unaware. Shang had felt himself partially responsible for the attack. It had come after the abduction of a member of their army, and a harsh warning about security from another. As soon as he was able to leave the inferiority, he set himself about ensuring such an attack would never occur again.

The Imperial army had been good at building walls. So good that whiten his stash of plans left over from his father, Shang produced the blueprint for a rampart. The sun rose one morning to the site of the supply train rolling into camp. Behind their Irish tongued Baldwin rode seven flatcars with springs groaning under the great weight of a large number of thick wooden posts. Standing 22 feet tall, when planted they would jut 18 feet above the ground. Hitched at the rear of the train where a set of boxcars, doors swung open to reveal a virtual army of carpenters. All had been paid for with gold, Human Villein gold that had been taken from Agrabah fallowing the burning.

Construction of their Great Wall was instant. Around the clock laborers toiled to dig a trench that circumnavigated the whole of both the encampment, and the rocky monolith. The posts where released from their flatcars, and rolled into place. Where they could, block and tackle had been used to run lines from the tops of each post to the pilot beam of Casey Jr. The bottoms of each post dropped into the trench. When the signal was given. Casey would reverse, and pull each post into place. The noise of construction, hammers, drills, sawing, went on and one. Along with the deep chugging and bellowing whistle of the locomotive as he struggled to pull each post into place. Once the posts where in place, bands of iron where wound around them to lock them in place. Between the posts clay was packed. Once dry it would have the consistency of brick.

Behind Priderock, a gap was left for the railroad tracks. Another gap would be left at the entrance to provide a gate. Where the location of the wall's construction proved too unsuitable for use of the locomotive, the previously erected posts where used to crane and lever the next pillar into place. Once completed, the entirety of Priderock, the encampment, and the watering hole, would be within a fortified rampart made of wooden beams 18 feet tall. At each gate would stand watch towers. Bronze alarm bells would have to be cast and hung at regular intervals along the wall's inner surface.

The officer felt the ends of his mouth turn up in a smile. The wall was nearly complete. Nearby, at the very end of the track, Casey jr through thick clouds of smoke into the air as he slowly pulled the last post into place. The sounds of hammers rang out as the carpenters worked to secure the beam. Now all that was left would be the construction of the gates themselves. It wouldn't completely repeal invaders, but it would make a surprise attack very difficult.

While it was nothing like the stone and mortar construction that had been hoped would repeal the hun, he felt that his industrious ancestors would be proud of this achievement.

The large creature made of snow had little trouble lifting and putting the beams in their right place. He was troubled though, he hadn't seen Elsa in some time, a few days at least. His grip on the beam loosened, and he had to catch it to stop it from shifting the wrong way to make it a perfect fit.

"Sorry," he grumbled, eyeless sockets turning to glance down at Shang, wondering if he approved of his work.

Once again, Simba's land was undergoing radical change. The last time, it was Scar's lack of respect for the balance of nature that caused it. This time, it was the building of walls. Though he knew it was right to do so, Simba was in two minds about it. For generations, his home had been a landmark, a beacon of hope that stood strong and held meaning for every animal on the savannah. And now, they were effectively fencing it off. It hurt to think about. But, at the same time, duty was present, and strongly so. The attack launched by Stitch's 'cousin' had been the last straw. If people were to be kept safe, the wall was the way to go about it.

Joining Shang by his side, he glanced up at him. "How are your injuries?" he asked quietly. On that topic, he made a mental note to ask the medics how the rest of the injured were getting on later. His eyes drifted back to the hard workers. The wall was almost done, and looking plenty sturdy enough. There was a muted thud from the side, and Simba looked in time to see Marshmallow, the huge snow beast, catch part of the wall to fix it back in place, muttering apologetically. "Thank you," he told him, voice still sincere and sombre thanks to the mental weight of the attack that his people had suffered.

Tarzan was perched high on the wall, looking out over the pride lands.  Crouching there, he felt the wall was sturdy under his feet, but nonetheless unnatural.  Gorillas moved from place to place.  When there was a threat, they found a safer place or chased the thread away.  But with such a large camp, with so many injured-- with women and children as well-- it was not ideal.  And at any rate-- there was no safe place to run to.

The wind picked up and he turned his head, hair blowing around his shoulders.  To Tarzan's sharp eyes the pride lands seemed peaceful for now.  Though he was quickly learning that quiet was not to last.

He slid down a ladder, landing lightly on the ground within the compound, and joined Simba, Shang, and Marshmallow.

"If there is a fire?"

The climate was hot and dry and water was not always readily available.  If the villains chose to try and burn the wall, what would stop it?

The officer turned to acknowledge their king's presence with a half bow of his head. Indeed, it was a radical change. But wars always seem to bring on cuch changes. Traditions, monuments, borders, and culters all make way for the brutal power of war. They must adapt, or face obsolescence and eventual destruction.

"How are your injuries?"

"Enough to make themselves known, but not enough to stop me." Shang firmly answered. As long as he was capable of takeing in breath, he would fight. But looking at their Leon king, his lip curled slightly, before answering with less authority, and more concern. "Three cracked ribs, and two broken. I'm alright as long as I'm standing strait, but I'm getting little sleep due to it. I've been taking some medicine, but it's not helping much."

He turned to face his wall, the sounds of construction echoed out, along with the whistle blasts as their locomotive went to work tugging yet another beam skyward. The officer gave a firm smile, and a nod of approval to the ice creature. All help was appreciated.

"It's an eyesore." He continued, turning his attention back to Simba. "But it doesn't have to look pretty. It just has to work. Now, as for fire..."

He looked up at the newly arrived ape-man. His expression takeing on a bout of pride, and a slight hit of smugness.

"...It's all creosoted. I dare them to set fire to this thing! It will be hard to light, and it lacks the want to burn."

"Anything I can do to help, Shang?" Silver asked as he stepped around the corner row of tents, heading towards the general and Simba. "I may have one less hand to work with, but I can still be put to good use," he said with a gap-toothed grin to the others.
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Mega bounded over to Tarzan, beaming from ear to ear. "Tarzan!" he called. "I haven't seen you in months! Where did you run off to?" He slowed to a trot and came to a stop a foot or two away from the ape man.