SexyFighters.com

[Feingo Ferinton]

(All of this positive feedback from people on my character has lead me to the desicion that I should let you in on the story, or at least a major part, of Feingo's life. I've decided that it would be cool to write this said history in the form of the journal that he kept from his first day at OCS, to the disasters that lead to his downfall. Now granted I'm not going to write EVERY entry from this time, in fact, the only full entrys are the first and the last two. Other than that, italicized words are exerpts of his entrys, and regular words are the parts of the story I tell. It's lengthy, but I really think you'll find it's worth it. Enjoy!)

17th June, 1882
Dear Journal. Today starts my first day of training here in Kingstown. I’ve traveled many miles from the north, from my home and family, just to be here and begin the life that I know Father always wanted for me. He always used to tell me how great an officer I would someday make. I can only hope I won’t let him down. Mother never wanted this life for me, fearing I would either die or see too many others die to want to carry on. But she also knew that I would have to follow my heart to be truly happy, which is why she put up minimal fuss when I told her of my plans for departure to the officer training school here in Virginia. Part of me feels guilty for leaving her there alone, but she resourceful, and I’m confident that she will find plenty of ways to keep herself busy. However, I feel that, if only Father were still alive, things may have been easier on the both of us. The summer here is much hotter than the north. The others and I arrived here by train at noon, then were commanded to march the remaining four miles to the school. Few of us had ever marched before, and the heat made things extremely difficult on many, especially those of us so used to a colder climate this time of year, or any time of year for that matter. I could feel the sweat dripping off my fur from beneath my shirt and coat. The fact I had my baggage slung over my shoulder didn’t help much either. Once we arrived at the Kingstown campus, we were immediately put through hell beyond imagination. Constant screaming and shouting as we were told to get in a line and stand at attention. Those who disobeyed, or simply made a mistake in following orders, found themselves being punished before they had a chance to explain themselves. Once we were in our line, we were introduced to Major General Bovinere, who presented himself as the man who would be responsible for our pain for the next year. He told us that we were here because we knew that this was where boys became men who would lead other men, and anyone who felt they were not ready for that responsibility should pack up and get out of here now. Though I said nothing, I could tell there was something uninviting about the captain. I had never met a bull before, and he was no fine example by any means, with his many scars and his broken horn. It was obvious that he had either seen many a battle, or simply one too many bar fights. After that, we were taken on a tour of the campus and of the school itself. Never before have I seen such beautiful buildings. Were it not for the fact that we will be receiving harsh training here, I would think I was to be spending the next year in a castle. We were then taken into the main hall where we were once again commanded into a single file line. Here, we had our individual uniform sizes taken, and were then given our dorm number before being dismissed for the remainder of the evening. I left the main hall, wandering the halls until I finally came to the door which matched the 218 written of my piece of parchment. I was the first to arrive there, meaning I got my choice of the four bunks within the room. As always, I went with the one closest to the window. Gazing out at the stars at night always has helped me fall asleep. It didn’t take too long from then for me to meet my bunkmates. First to arrive was Michael, a black and orange tomcat from Connecticut who seems a very kind fellow. It only took a short introduction for us to engage in extensive conversation, in which, he insisted that I call him Mike. The second was Thurrell. He’s a wolf like myself, only shorter with silver fur and a very noticeable black spot over his right eye. I haven’t said anything on the subject, but I think I’m going to call him Spot. He’s from right here in Virginia, so maybe he can help us better prepare for the weather around here. However, I don’t see how he can bare to wear that trench coat of his without dieing of heat stroke. The final arrival, sporting an excessive amount of luggage, was Jonathan, an otter from coastal Rhode Island who seems very quiet, but is possibly just shy. Either way, I’m looking forward to gaining a friendship with these three as the months pass. The remainder of the evening was rather uneventful. After dinner, we were dismissed to return to our dorms with the advisory that we get a good nights sleep to prepare for our classes the next day. So now, here I sit on my bed, writing by the moonlight. The others have already dozed off, and I suppose that I had best do the same, for tomorrow, I can only guess what awaits us all as we start this new, unknown experience.

The year went by fast from that point. In that time, the four bunkmates became very good friends. Including Jonathan, who though he was quiet, eventually warmed up to the others. They all spent the year studying hard in the majority of their spare time, but Feingo seemed to accel past the point of anybody else there, without putting forth any extra effort. Most people looked upon this as a good thing, but some had a different opinion.

I've come to the conclusion that Maj. General Bovinere doesn't like me much. While studying in the library today, he approached me with a very disturbing frown upon his face. "Your insecurity is starting to annoy me Ferinton." He said. "I've just finished talking with several of your instructors who all say they've never seen anything like you or those friends of yours. You're trying to prove something, and that makes you insecure about yourself. You're never gonna get a damn place exept shot if you keep it up!"

Still, it came to pass that graduation day came, and Feingo came out at the top of the class, the other three at his heels. This meant that they, alnong with the other top ten graduates, left the school two ranks higher than anybody else. During the ceremony, papers were handed out with the first assingments for the new graduates.

This day which was looked upon with so much joy, couldn't end without one sad note. Thurrell and I have both been assigned to the 43rd infantry out of Oregon, but Michael is heading for Washington, and Jonathan will be down in Mississippi. It was hard to grasp at first, but the four of us are Captains now, and must be prepared for this sort of thing. We made a pact not to lose contact, and write whenever possible of our journeys.

A photographer who was attending the graduation agreed to take a personal photo of the four together for five dollars, though Feingo never saw it until many years later.

The years from 1883 to early 1890 passed by with relatively few major events. The four friends continued to write each other almost every day, Feingo and Thurrell often putting both their letters in one envelope to save postage. In 1887, there was a serious conflict between the 43rd and an attack force of rebels in which two officers were killed, and Feingo lead a group of fifty men out to assist the weakened troops, eventually leading them to victory. For his actions, he was awarded a silver star, the rank of major, and the title of Commander. His friends were very happy for him, but part of him always wondered if, at age 23, he was really old enough for such a responsibility.

In March, 1890, the head general at Oregon came to Feingo with a proposal.

... He told me that the French were on the brink of war with the Dahomean tribes of Africa, having already recieved one attack on the port of Cantou. The french had been building up their armies for a while, but any extra help was always looked upon as a good thing. He said that Washington had decided that to keep the alliance with the French strong, that they were offering bonuses to companies that would volunteer to join the French Foreign Legion for two year periods to help settle the conflicts, and that he thought I should take it.

Feingo thought about the General's offer for two days before he accepted, on the terms that Thurrell be allowed to join him, and that he have his choice of the two additional officer positions that were still available. The general agreed, and Feingo waisted no time in giving him the names and whereabouts of Michael and Jonathan. (A decision he would learn to regret) Therefore, the four of them met again, along with a company of fifty men, in New York Harbor, where they rejoiced in their reunion for a short time before beginning their trip to France.

It took six days to finally reach the French shores, arriving just in time for the start of the first Franco-Dahomean war. This war, even though bloody at some points, went by quickly, and when it ended in 1891, Feingo had made it through without loosing a single man.

I look at this as a great victory for us all. We have made it through the hell and blood of war without any loss. I know I couldn't have done it without my friends at my side, for it was together that we lead those men to triumph.

In the quiet time after this, Feingo taught himself how to speak French after being told that most of the African tribes spoke french, and that it would be useful in an enemy situation.

... Though I think the French are just sick and tired of speaking english to us in their territory...

In August of 1892, as the company was makeing preparations to return home, Feingo, Thurrell, Michael and Jonathan were informed at an officers meeting that conflicts had arrised in the Dahomean territories that were beggining to take the form of another Franco-Dahomean war. The French feared that conflict was iminent, and confessed that they had no native backup for the French Third Republic which was stationed on the front lines. Feingo, along with the others, knew that a transfer of troops would take far too long and leave the French with little support, so they made a decision. That night Feingo adressed his men.

“I propose to you that instead of leaving these boys high and dry just yet, that we stay and fight here for one more year, or until this new war is over. I promise you all that you will be paid extra for your time, and at the end of the war, you will all be released from duty and sent home to your families. We’ve faced these men before, and I am a firm believer that we can do it again and end it quickly!”

The men took well to his words, and they were all soon sent to join the FTR under the command of French General Dodds. Cm. Ferinton became Dodds second hand man, with the order that he only use his power of command over his own men, and leave Dodds’ men to him.

From here, the journal entries end, and the last two bits of Feingo's tale are told on two separate items set into the back cover of the journal; one on a crumpled and yellowed peice of parchement, and the other on the back of an envelope adressed to him.

The yellowed parchement has several distinct stains on it and has apperantely been written with a very bad pencil. It reads:

Day Unknown. I have found this parchement in my pocket and have nothing else to use in this state, so it will have to do. Dear Journal. This may very likely be the last time I write, so I had better sum up on what has happened to me. Last I wrote, we had been sent to join the FTR on the front lines of the Dahomean territories under General Dodds. About three nights ago, though I cannot be sure anymore, we were resting about four hours into the territories when we were attacked by surprise by Dahomean warriors. They were ruthless, and we were completely taken off guard. By the time we were able to put up a defense and drive them off, I was informed that thirty of my men lay dead in that field. As I walked through and observed the battle grounds myself, I made the first of many terrible discoveries that have come since then. About fifty feet ahead of me, my dear friend Thurrell lay dieing, two Dahomean spears thrust through his abdomen. I ran to his side, his eyes already swimming with the look of imminent death. I clutched his hand and pillowed his head with my other hand. "Don't you die on me" I said with tears in my eyes, "You can make it through this. I know you can!" He looked at me with those deep green eyes which I will never forget and smiled. Then he squeezed my hand with the last of his strength and said to me, "Make sure you get yourself out of this alive." before closeing his eyes for the very last time. I sat there and wept by his side for a good ten minutes before picking myself up and returning to tell Michael and Jonathan the news. General Dodds would have none of this, he stopped our mourning and told me to gather what was left of my men and follow the Dahomeans and find out their hiding place. Though I didn't want to, He quickly reminded me of who was in charge, and I realized I had no choice but to do so. I now wish that I hadn't as we discovered that the Dahomeans were all but waiting for us once we entered the woodlands. They took us all and brought us here, a torture camp. They beat us almost to death as processing. I have been placed in a solitary cell, I know not of the othermen except for the screams I hear when I myself am not being beaten. Today, as two warriors were dragging me from one of the torture huts back to my cell, I looked into one of the huts we passed and was nearly killed by what I saw. Tied to the post ceter of the hut was what was left of Michael. He had been stripped of all but his pants, and his skin has been wipped raw, and his eyes have been gouged from his skull. Worst of all, I could see that he was still breathing. I fought my captores and called out his name, only to hear a gargled mubling comming from within the tent, they had also cut out his tounge. I screamed to my captores, demanding in French that they let me go. One turned around with a machete and slashed my face over my eye, and the other knocked me out. Now I am here, lying on the floor of my cell in a pool of my own blood, and doubting I will ever see my home again. If anyone should discover this, please know... I tried.

It took five days for General Dodds to discover the torture camp and rescue Feingo and his men. Come that point though, all that remained were Feingo, Jonathan, who had had every limb broken, and one other man from the infantry. The three were sent to France where they were treated for their injurys before being sent home in December of 1892. Once back in the states, all three of them were granted an immidiate retirement and, and were each given the Purple Hearts, Prison Camp Survivor medals, and a golden uniform pin for the FFL and FTR.

Feingo rented an apartment in the area of New York Harbor where he stayed for almost two years, spending most of his time drinking, but sobering up after 13 months. Then, in May of 1894 he recieved a letter, the envelope of which is now written on and used as the last entry. This is what it reads.

I recieved a letter today in this envelope that has sent a knife though me. A month ago, I read in the papers of the young infantryman whos was rescued along with Jonathan and I. He had jumped to his death in Manhattan, leaving a note that said he couldn't bare to live anymore after the things he had seen. Then today, I recieved this letter from Jonathan. It was his suicide note. He had written and sent it to me before taking his own life. Also included was a smal stiff paper that had been folded over. I opened it to discover the photograph we had had taken on our graduation day over ten years ago. I cannot recal how long I wept at this news, this picture, before finding the strength to write this. The note ended by him telling me that this was his decision, and not to blame myself for what he had done. How can't I blame myself? I was the one who wasn't strong enough to escape and get help. I was the one who gave that damn proposal and signed fifty men into their deaths! And I was the one who accepted that offer requested that the ones closest to me come with me into hell!! I went along with a whim, and now fifty men are dead, two by their own hands. I see this as the end for me. I cannot live with myself, not with what I've done. Mother was right. General Bovinere was right. They were all right. My life has lead to nothing but pain, and there is only one way I can run from it. Goodbye to all I know and love, for when you read this, this pittiful note on the back of a used envelope, I will have sent myself to the hell I deserve.

Feingo never went along with his plans for suicide. Instead, he left America and retreated to the place known not for asking questions, Bon Bon. He has since returned to drinking, doing so only when he hears the voices and screams of those he failed cry out in his head.

These voices, unfortunately, seldom rest.
_________________
BonBon Spirits and Sidearms
Your one stop shop for all your ammo and alcohol needs!

Feingo's story:
http://forums.pleasurebonbon.com/forums/viewtopic.php?t=5873

[Aaron_Thom]

A very sad tale sir. Very good reading though. I hope you continue with this.
_________________
I am what I am and proud to be who I am.
Profile: http://forums.pleasurebonbon.com/forums/viewtopic.php?p=49632&highlight=#49632

[JohnnyPsycho]

I gotta say, I was completely floored by this story. The attention to detail is impressive, and it definitely felt a lot like those old documentaries about the Civil War or something, with narrators reading excerpts from journal entries and personal letters. Over all, the effect gave it a matter-of-factness that made the story even more stark and, if you don't mind me saying, very depressing.

I think we need to find Commander Ferinton a nice young lady to help ease his pain, or at least provide some pleasurable distraction...
_________________
Johnny's Fanfics (including Sureshot! A Bon Bon Tale)

Johnny's backstory
Johnny, Mark II (Project Aten character)

[Feingo Ferinton]

Well Johnny, I'm not sure whether to say thank you or sorry, so... Thank you, and I'm sorry.

(And I definately agree with you on the part about a nice young lady )
_________________
BonBon Spirits and Sidearms
Your one stop shop for all your ammo and alcohol needs!

Feingo's story:
http://forums.pleasurebonbon.com/forums/viewtopic.php?t=5873

[MrWolf12]

I must agree. I have always been partial to tragic characters.

Very well done.

[JohnnyPsycho]

Tragedy's okay, but (no offense to anyone else's characters here) it can get tedious after a while. That's why I've always preferred the comedic side of the spectrum.

"A little song, a little dance, a little seltzer down my pants"
_________________
Johnny's Fanfics (including Sureshot! A Bon Bon Tale)

Johnny's backstory
Johnny, Mark II (Project Aten character)

[Aaron_Thom]

LOL very funny Johnny.
_________________
I am what I am and proud to be who I am.
Profile: http://forums.pleasurebonbon.com/forums/viewtopic.php?p=49632&highlight=#49632

[Feingo Ferinton]

Always the one to make the better of a situation. Ha! I love it!
_________________
BonBon Spirits and Sidearms
Your one stop shop for all your ammo and alcohol needs!

Feingo's story:
http://forums.pleasurebonbon.com/forums/viewtopic.php?t=5873

[Tadelesh]

Very good story, well told. I agree that tragic histories are too common, though every now and then an excellent one like this is more than acceptable.

P.S. Did anyone else notice that the bull was called Bovinere? Clever.
_________________
Wow, sarcasm! That's original.

[Feingo Ferinton]

[Tadelesh]

Thank you, thank you, I'm here 'til.. well, I'm here indefinitely, actually.
_________________
Wow, sarcasm! That's original.

[sexymanz]

beautifuly done... sometimes when i read something emotional i want to cry but im freaking ## years old (over 21) I AM A MAN but i have to cry... is it ok if i cry? its so beautiful and tragic...

*sigh*
_________________
I guess im not really going to be a member anytime soon... so please members of BonBon... please help me out with my character discriptions so that way maybe one day a artist here can put a pic of my character on a forum... i would love to see that happen one day... (anyone please?)

[Feingo Ferinton]

Ha, you needn't worry about a few tears friend. Trust me, I WROTE IT, and I cried, especially when I wrote the part about the picture. *sigh*, It helps make the story powerful when the author gets emotionally involved his or herself.

Also, thank you, and everybody else for your positive feedback.
_________________
BonBon Spirits and Sidearms
Your one stop shop for all your ammo and alcohol needs!

Feingo's story:
http://forums.pleasurebonbon.com/forums/viewtopic.php?t=5873

[Feingo Ferinton]

BIG ANNOUNCEMENT!!!!!

Well, I've been doing a little poking and adding to the original story of Feingo's history ever since I started getting such positive feedback, and I've made up my mind. Thanks to all of you, I have hired a publisher!! I'm going to see this through and turn it into something big (I hope).
_________________
BonBon Spirits and Sidearms
Your one stop shop for all your ammo and alcohol needs!

Feingo's story:
http://forums.pleasurebonbon.com/forums/viewtopic.php?t=5873

[sexymanz]

i really hope this can be published into something big... it can make a lot of people to realize to love what they have before its gone *cries a little*
_________________
I guess im not really going to be a member anytime soon... so please members of BonBon... please help me out with my character discriptions so that way maybe one day a artist here can put a pic of my character on a forum... i would love to see that happen one day... (anyone please?)

[sexymanz]

any luck with getting this published?
_________________
I guess im not really going to be a member anytime soon... so please members of BonBon... please help me out with my character discriptions so that way maybe one day a artist here can put a pic of my character on a forum... i would love to see that happen one day... (anyone please?)

[Feingo Ferinton]

As I stated, I've already hired a publisher. These things take time. It's not like I just hire the guy, then POOF!!, There's your book. In fact, all he really does is give me advice and set dedlines. I'm the one doing all the work...
_________________
BonBon Spirits and Sidearms
Your one stop shop for all your ammo and alcohol needs!

Feingo's story:
http://forums.pleasurebonbon.com/forums/viewtopic.php?t=5873

[Ashton Gray]

Sounds like a publisher to me.
_________________
Silentium est aurum

[Feingo Ferinton]

Yes... seems a tad redundant, don't you agree?
_________________
BonBon Spirits and Sidearms
Your one stop shop for all your ammo and alcohol needs!

Feingo's story:
http://forums.pleasurebonbon.com/forums/viewtopic.php?t=5873

[sexymanz]

thats a dedicated publisher right there... he makes you do the work before it gets published...
_________________
I guess im not really going to be a member anytime soon... so please members of BonBon... please help me out with my character discriptions so that way maybe one day a artist here can put a pic of my character on a forum... i would love to see that happen one day... (anyone please?)

[Drofgod969]

very good work. i could see the camp from his view. little groosem but still very good (i like a little goosem in storys)
_________________
yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery, but today is a gift. that's why it is called the present.
quoted by master Oogway off kong fu panda
Some weep, some cry, some make couches fly. - Katmir
Let me stand behind you in times of peace, let me stand infront of you in times of war, let me stand beside you as a equall, as a friend.

[Feingo Ferinton]

Thank you. I'm Always glad to meet a fan. Good to meet you by the way!
_________________
BonBon Spirits and Sidearms
Your one stop shop for all your ammo and alcohol needs!

Feingo's story:
http://forums.pleasurebonbon.com/forums/viewtopic.php?t=5873

[JohnnyPsycho]

[Tadelesh]

Tch. Johnny, if you're going to correct spelling and grammar, at least do it thoroughly, and mention the capitalisation of words, and the fact that the plural of story is stories.
_________________
Wow, sarcasm! That's original.

[Feingo Ferinton]

now stup it yous too. Dont go coreting peeple just bicuz wee cant spell. itz not nise!
_________________
BonBon Spirits and Sidearms
Your one stop shop for all your ammo and alcohol needs!

Feingo's story:
http://forums.pleasurebonbon.com/forums/viewtopic.php?t=5873

[Tadelesh]

[JohnnyPsycho]

Hukt on fonix werkt fer mee!
_________________
Johnny's Fanfics (including Sureshot! A Bon Bon Tale)

Johnny's backstory
Johnny, Mark II (Project Aten character)

[Tadelesh]

I have no idea what the first and third words there are.
_________________
Wow, sarcasm! That's original.

[Feingo Ferinton]

I lirnd evryfing i no frum mie speek nd spll!!
_________________
BonBon Spirits and Sidearms
Your one stop shop for all your ammo and alcohol needs!

Feingo's story:
http://forums.pleasurebonbon.com/forums/viewtopic.php?t=5873

[Tadelesh]

Really? Everything you know? So I guess you don't know much mathematics, science, philosophy.. anything other than language? Well, I don't know what exactly a Speak and Spell teaches, as I've never actually seen one.
_________________
Wow, sarcasm! That's original.