Back to The Waterworks: Wet Cat

[Jim Roberts]

[Feb 1 PM -- Various]

> “Well, I’m sure it will be nothing that Kenobi cannot fix in the
> morning,” the Medicine Woman concluded airily. “So go with my
> blessing, you two. And be sure to give Josie an extra special ‘hello’
> from me.”
>
> “Ma’am,” Finfin confirmed, and saluted. A moment later, the two
> wizards were on their way, leaving Erik and Tramma behind with the
> Holymolders.

Rather later than originally planned, the black and white ringed
Dimension Folding tunnel once again opened up onto the designated
“telepad” at Castle Sibley. For the second time that day, the two
figures of Finfin Finfinfin and Mithralia Sil-Gan stepped out onto the
paved stones, Mithi’s holding onto the elf’s left hand, leaving his
sword arm free. Predictably, no sudden assault befell the travellers,
and Finfin visibly relaxed when he saw nothing more threatening than
Mikhailene staffers avidly watching the spectacle, the event clearly
being anticipated.

Not long afterwards, the remaining travellers were assembled.

“All good with Lord Erik and High Priestess Rayga?” Ben asked genially,
finishing the last of the “home brew” coffee he was likely to enjoy for
a while.

“I believe so,” the elf replied, and diplomatically added, “And I am
fully confident that your top diplomat will be improving relations with
our Holymolder allies.”

“Capital!” the Abbot declared, perhaps missing the wink exchanged
between his clerk and Finfin’s apprentice. Publicly, Sister Erin might
not officially approve of Tramma’s “diplomatic methods”. Unofficially,
of course, she found them simultaneously unsurprising and – *quite*
privately – rather funny. And there could certainly be no doubt as to
their effectiveness.

Mithi smiled at Moon Priestess Alaelia who had recently been escorted
from the Keeryte Refuge of Symbala. “All well wif yer family?”

“All *very* well,” the Bitani priestess enthused. “Thank you both for
allowing me this chance to see them again. I cannot tell you how much
that means to me.” With a small smile, she added, “I may, however, at
some point be able to *show* you, as well as share some important
developments.” Glancing about at the assembly, she concluded, “At a more
appropriate time and place, of course.”

“Of course,” Mithi agreed.

Possibly as a result of her distracting recent memories, it took the
Moon Priestess a moment to notice that someone was missing. “Fin?”
Alaelia asked worriedly. “Mithi? Where is Tramma?”

“Staying behind wif Lord Erik an’ them ‘Olymolders,” Mithi replied
helpfully.

“Oh,” was Alaelia’s rather crestfallen answer. “Oh… dear.”

“Is there a problem?” Finfin asked quickly. “I am not an expert at such
things, but she seemed intent on helping rather than harming Sir Erik’s
cause.”

Alaelia, however, shook her head. “That is not it. Believe it or not, I
*trust* Tramma. Unfortunately, I *also* trust another *very* good friend
of mine who is likely to not be at *all* happy right now.”

Finfin looked blankly at the Moon Priestess. Mithi, as was often the
case, was rather more in touch with the interpersonal issues.
“Jeyshann,” the apprentice mage said softly.

“Exactly,” Alaelia agreed sadly.

“The Bastet High Priestess?” Ben asked incredulously. “She surely
*knows* that I *had* to answer the Crown’s summons for this Commission,
and that what we are doing is *important*.”

Alaelia nodded, but seemed no less glum than before. “I am *certain* she
understands all that, Ben,” she answered softly, using the Abbot’s
informal name tenderly. “But also, please remember. While we have been
here taking care of admittedly important business, we have also been
enjoying a roof over our heads, and in several people’s cases, many
other fine pleasures of home.”

“While Jeyshann’s been out at the Waterworks,” Mithi interjected,
concern in her voice.

“In the mud,” Finfin added, finally beginning to see where the women
were going with this theme, while also recalling Lomi’s concerns from
the previous night. “Out at the sharp end of things, while we have been
enjoying ourselves back home.”

“And not just in the mud,” Alaelia sighed, “though that is bad enough.
Remember, she is a priestess of a *Cat* Spirit. Who is now not only
dirty, but is also *not* the center of attention. And just as bad,
*wet*, and we all know what they say about wet cats.”

“‘Mad” don’t cover ‘alf of it,” Mithi mourned.

“No indeed,” Alaelia glumly agreed. “Now, none of this is a new
development, and I was fully expecting to have to face this complication
on our return. What I was *not* expecting was to have to face this
without Tramma to hide behind. She is just as close to dear Jeyshann as
I, and is in a far better position than I can manage to handle these
sorts of negative emotions.”

“I am uncertain if I can help,” Finfin added diffidently, “but if there
is, I am certainly willing to try.”

“Only if you are willing to be a scratching post,” Alaelia predicted
grimly. “And that may well be in your future, no matter what you may
choose. It will be times like this that Jeyshann is most apt to recall
that she still has a bone to pick with you.”

Turning to the Abbot, the Moon Priestess added somberly, “And most
*especially* with you, Ben. It is not fair and is not something that you
deserve. But please remember that Jeyshann IS close to the Spirits, one
in particular that you and I both suspect is a major Maia, and she is a
MOST important ally. Please be as patient as you can. I know she can be
trying, believe me, but she can also be tremendously helpful.”

“I have had her hands around my throat,” the Abbot remembered with a
wince. “I don't wish to ever evoke such a response ever again. I shall
try to be as patient as possible. like a trek through the never ending
desert.” He gave a sad smile as he recalled, “I heard a story about a
tribe of people that took 40 years to reach their destination. In the
name of the Belmak I shall try.

Moments later, the passengers for the final outbound leg of the day were
assembled back at Sibley’s “telepad”. There was no specific reason that
they *had* to leave from the same spot where they had arrived, but it
was a useful convention to maintain. Not to mention a sometimes needed
precaution for sites that *did* actually enforce that convention.

“Hope there’s still a dinosaur or two waitin’ fer me,” Braunhilde
enthused. “It’s been, what, a whole DAY since I’ve sunk me axe inta
something deserving.”

“As of this morning,” Finfin warned, “I had not been notified about any
dinosaurs. And in the several hours since, it is not impossible that
Galdis Laurelin became bored and sorted the entire situation herself.”
Braunhilde’s enthusiasm visibly faded.

“Ya don’t *really* fink so, do ya?” Mithi asked.

“Well, no, in truth I do not,” Finfin conceded. Glancing at the
Battlerager, he quickly deduced that he did not want any part of
disappointing Braunhilde, and he added, “Nor have I been advised of any
*lack* of dinosaurs.” Braune’s ears perked up; the possibility of
Tramma’s predicted climatic Boss Battle, complete with Boss Creatures,
had not been ruled out.

Taking a final count of the intended passengers, Finfin held out his
arms for his apprentice. By carrying the young lass, there would be
enough passenger slots for the remaining travellers. Braunhilde,
however, quite enthusiastically scooped Balzac off of his feet.

“All set!” the Battlerager observed happily. Finfin glanced around,
confirming that each passenger was touching at least one other, and
where needed, two. For the final time that day, he began to chant.
Moments later, the signature black and white ringed Tunnel mouth opened,
and the elf led the way in… and beyond.

To step out a moment later at the memorized spot out at the Godcarver
winter camp many hundreds of miles away.

They were clearly expected, and various calls of welcome echoed over the
camp as Ben waved his team over towards the section of the expanded camp
where the Kenobi Expedition were settled. Khuzdar Balzac and his
girlfriend Braunhilde would need some accommodation before the evening
grew much later.

However, waiting for them at their corner of the camp was High Priestess
– or “Great Medicine Woman”, to use the local term – Jeyshann, leader of
her personal Cat Mob army. She was standing with Laurelin, both of them
looking rather mud-spattered and bedraggled as they glared toward those
returning from their visit back to the settlements.

Any concerns that anyone might have had from listening to Alaelia’s
prediction about the Cat Priestess’ mood were confirmed. At least
partially. The Great Medicine Woman was *not*, as it turned out, in a
hissing and spitting rage. Her mood was, in fact, even worse.

“Ahhhh,” the Cat Priestess mused, her voice sultry as her eyes flashed.
“You are back. Finally. After having the good graces to no doubt
browbeat poor Tramma into Messaging me that you would be late. No doubt
there were *compelling* reasons of state that needed to be completed.
And of course, coffee and infernally sweet pastries to be swilled.”

“Great Medicine Woman,” Ben began, but Jeyshann whirled on him, holding
up one single rather sharp looking finger. “Do. NOT. Interrupt.” she spat.

A moment later, she turned, regaining her original ice calm demeanor,
but those with any familiarity at all with cats could practically see a
tail slashing in vexation.

“No matter,” she resumed her coldly silken delivery. “I understand
priorities. Some things ARE more important than my OWN people – and
yours – struggling against the mud and traps, keeping the kobolds busy
looking to their borders while fellow Medicine Woman Laurelin and I had
free rein to scout the *interior* of the Waterworks, and learn exactly
where and when the next hellish ceremony will occur. One that WE will
interrupt.”

Her eyes boring into first Ben, then Finfin, and even Balzac in turn,
she grated, “So, three simple commands for the simple menfolk. Sit down.
Shut up. And listen.” Ever so sweetly, she added, “Can you menfolk do
that for me?” Behind her, Laurelin solemnly held a finger to her lips in
a not-so-subtle suggestion that perhaps the ‘menfolk’ might want to heed
that request.

“As you wish, Great Medicine Woman Jeyshann.” The Abbot intoned. With
that, Ben gave a proper bow to Jeyshann and sat down.

When she was convinced she had their attention, the Cat Priestess
continued, “It is really quite simple. To aid the Foreman and convince
him of our good will, we do not simply need to *kill* the Enemy. In
fact, the Foreman was quite clear; we are to avoid wholescale carnage.
So we will do more than *just* kill the lead kobold dead raiser. We will
*defeat* him, destroying him utterly and completely, harnessing that
power that you people toss around so blithely.”

“A hit and fade,” Finfin suggested, which was perhaps not the wisest
action he might have chosen.

Predictably, the Cat Priestess whirled on him, lightly placing a sharp
pointed claw on his nose. She stared at the elven officer for several
moments before snarling, “Just because I cannot find a *reason* to be
annoyed with you does not mean that I cannot be,” she warned. “If YOU
know of a reason I should be annoyed with you, do please remind me. But
yes, a hit and fade.”

After a brief nod towards Laurelin who had been watching these
proceedings, the Cat Priestess resumed her lecture to the assembled
company. “Laurelin here has memorized teleport coordinates right within
range of where the infernal ceremony will be, and she has convinced me
that collectively, all of us working together can summon sufficient
potent Arcane and Divine magics to *obliterate* this wretched kobold in
a single salvo of spells. So that is what we will do, *eradicating* this
miserable kobold and any of his acolytes unfortunate enough to be
standing right next to him in a SINGLE blast.”

Only now did she look at Finfin with anything other than ire. “And then,
as pretty boy here says,” she added, “we fade. We vanish in a twinkling,
making it clear that had we *wished*, we could have remained and
continued to rain the Wrath of Heaven upon them all. And *also*, IF we
so wish, we could return and repeat the demonstration any time or place
we choose.”

Once again, her focus narrowed on the elf. “So *you*, pretty boy,” the
Cat Priestess grated, “plan on summoning those Protective Magics
Laurelin tells me you wield, and if you can, add in a boom on arrival.
You *can* wield boom magics, can you not?”

“I can,” Finfin confirmed.

“Good. See that you do.” Next, she turned to the Abbot. “And you,
Reverend Raincloud, have something ready far more effective than simply
making it rain. Bring the full might of the Thunderbird to bear. Open
the skies. Call down the Divine sheets of lightning. Thunder. Fire.
Brimstone. Bring it; ALL of it. Along with anything else that’ll impress
the locals.”

Ben slowly stood up, squaring his shoulders. Smiling, he replied, “Great
Medicine Woman Jeyshann, I will bring the wrath of St. Mikhail and the
Storm of the Thunderbird. WOE TO OUR ENEMY!” The Abbot smiled at
Jeyshann gave a small bow and set back down.

Next in line was Balzac. “DwarfLord Balzac,” Jeyshann purred. “How
*nice* of you to rejoin us mere ignorant savages after abandoning us
weeks ago just when your expedition was just starting to uncover
things.” Resolutely, she held up a hand – interrupting her would need to
be accompanied by no little amount of violence. “But I understand these
issues. Cats have Crazy Hour, the Rock Brethren apparently have
something for… what was it? Ah, yes. Goats. Far be it for *me* to judge.”

Nodding to both the DwarfLord and the elven officer, the Cat Priestess
stated, “Your job is quite simple. Meat Shield. In the brief time that
we will be in that vile temple, discourage any of the vile servants
within reach to so much as touch us. Discourage them *terminally*, you
and the elf both. Got it?”

To Laurelin, Jeyshann added in a far calmer voice, “Great Medicine
Woman? Yours will be the travel magics, so *you* pick who else comes
along on this expedition. But it should not be for the faint of heart.
Travel magics *can* fail, so it has to be someone well able to help us
fight our way clear, just in case we have to exit the hard way.
*Through* them.”

“We have not just coordinates,” Laurelin told the others quietly.
“Jeyshann used her divine magics to map out the entire temple in
detail.” She waved a roll of papers in her hand.

“There will be some worryingly powerful kobolds in there,” Jeyshann
hissed. “But so far as we can tell the protective spells we have used to
keep them unaware have held, and they think this is just the Godscarver
scouts yet again probing their defenses.”

“From what we’ve managed to overhear,” Laurelin told them seriously.
“The kobold evil high priest will be holding one of his periodic rituals
to animate the kobolds they worked to death three nights from now.”

Jeyshann bared her lips in a frighteningly predatory smile. “Shall we be
ready to express our disapproval in a most emphatic manner?”

Before anyone could answer, Laurelin snapped her fingers. The mud stains
and other manifestations of all their misadventures scouting the kobolds
began sloughing off the two women. “Glad to be done with that,” the
elven priestess commented.

“It was a dirty job,” Jeyshann agreed brightly. “But it had to be done.”