Jeyshann’s Alpha Strike: Launch

[Jim Roberts]

[Feb 4 mid AM – The Godcarvers]

> An hour later, with a few last looks of regret, everyone helped each
> other one final time for this outing into their clothing, and soon
> after they were checked out and rolling in a summoned four wheeler for
> their rendez-vous with first Jeyshann and Songbird at the Teleport
> Tower, and then the day’s later events leading up to the final
> confrontation with the EHPK.

Once again, the signature white and black banded Tunnel of Finfin’s
Dimension Folding opened up at the improvised telepad in the Godcarver
winter camp, and again the elf and a number of ladies emerged, all
walking hand in hand in hand. This time, the elf’s passengers were all
three Pussycats, Tramma, and of course his apprentice and lover Mithi,
carried in his arms. Also among the demihuman chain, looking rather
bemused, was Cat Priestess Jeyshann. Two other priestesses were awaiting
the travellers.

“Good morning,” Alaelia called out perkily. “At least, from your
expressions, I am inferring that it was a good morning…?” Her query was
more than simply friendly curiosity; known only to a few was a specific
medical motive behind the question.

“It was!” Josie enthused, while the rest of the travellers nodded their
firm agreement.

“Though it rather seems the Captain,” Erin observed dryly, “is looking
like something the Pussycats dragged in.” The young Belmakian’s words
were indeed true; it was evident that Finfin was looking a bit
bedraggled, and more than a bit dazed.

“Something like that,” Tramma replied. “You see,” she began helpfully,
but Erin raised a hand.

“Please don’t tell me things me tender and innocent ears ought not ta be
hearin’,” the young Belmakian pretended to scold, but the light in her
eyes suggested that she was sharing Alaelia’s delight that the voyagers
had most apparently had a fine time. “Were ye able ta find the magical
parts ye need for yer Stage Magic kit?”

“Some,” Val answered happily. “We found quite a few good spare parts for
a lot of my gear. Others will be harder to find, but in at least one
case, I was able to purchase a newer replacement.”

“Good on ye,” Erin replied sincerely before turning her attention back
to Finfin. “Now, Captain, it looks like ye well and truly need a full
rest before retoolin’ yer Arcane spells fer tonight’s dustup.”

“I… would not disagree,” Finfin allowed.

The Belmakian clerk nodded, and referred to her final “clean” copy of
her planning notes. “But first, d’ye have them spells prepared that ye
intend to cast *before* retoolin’?”

“‘E does,” Mithi reassured Erin. “Oi made sure ov that.”

“Good,” Erin repeated. “Then ye’d best be on it. The sooner ye get these
early magics cast, the sooner ye can get some shuteye an’ be ready fer
tonight.”

“It is indeed a plan,” the elf agreed. And soon afterwards, was curled
up comfortably in the private nook found in the Extradimensional Space
behind a Rope Trick. And for once, sleep really WAS high on the agenda.

* - * - *

That evening, everyone gathered together for one last, sombre planning
session. But nothing had materially changed; absent a sign from the Sky
King in an up and coming Commune ceremony, the plan remained to launch a
devastating and fast hit & fade against the Social Justice Engineer high
priest, hopefully blasting the kobold into oblivion at the height of its
profane undead raising ceremony. And then, thanks to a newly obtained
magical spell of Finfin’s, performing a quick Getaway in even less time
than a classic Teleportation.

And Ben’s Commune ceremony revealed no plan changing divinations. Belmak
did indeed approve of the overall plan, as well as the specific twist
for the Abbot to Scry their intended landing location *before* arrival
to avoid landing on part of the congregation. The Sky King was similarly
supportive of the Expedition continuing their Peacemongering efforts
once they found themselves clear of the Waterworks, reassuring those who
were concerned that higher priority tasks for the force they had
assembled might be needed more urgently elsewhere. Likewise, He seemed
to smile upon the plan to continue improving relations with the
Bladesmasher Coalition among the Plains tribes, much as they were doing
now with the Godcarvers and had been doing for some time with other
members of the “stick in the mud” coalition.

The Sky King was less enthusiastic about the notion that the evening’s
raid would somehow by itself help the menace the Waterworks posed for
their Godcarver neighbours, which was neither discouraging nor
surprising. The raid was a tool to be able to continue ongoing
negotiations with the Foreman, that mysterious leader of the kobold
faction opposed to the Social Justice Engineers and their undead powered
terraforming, and not a solution by itself.

And Belmak was positively dismissive of the notion of wholescale
slaughter of the Waterworks denizens, reminding Ben that “Violence is
the last refuge of the incompetent”. The Sky King was similarly emphatic
in rejecting the notion that Blackswallow’s activities back in the
Gelmir Vale were detrimental to the leadership’s interests.

The results were somewhat inconclusive about whether the Expedition
should be pushing to establish allied teleport coordinates, opening
negotiations with the Bruins Confederation, or whether there were any
near-term threats to either of our advanced outposts at the Ferry and
the Briar Patch which the leadership needed to exert more effort to
learn about.

Curiously, the Sky King’s answer to the first of a series of questions
intended to perform a binary search to identify the capabilities of
their opponents gave an answer that confounded this avenue of inquiry.
When asked if they could expect fewer than five “Big Baddies”, a term
previously defined, rather than a simple “yes/no” answer, the reply was
a sardonic, “You gonna talk, or fish?”

The answer left several perplexed, but Ben wisely took the hint, and
moved on to an entirely different topic, pulling into some backup
questions prepared for exactly this sort of eventuality. Questions about
whether there were personal reasons that the Abbot should be trying to
get people to leave Lord Erik alone about finding a wife and producing
some heirs, and whether securing the land route to Brandon and Yeltanar
received fairly positive affirmatives. Other questions about whether it
should be a priority to continue the recruitment of more settlers from
Brandon and open new lines of communication & trade by exploring the
river route to Lauremirdor & Kamyrie were met with a more neutral reply
– “Up to you”.

The most ominous answer of all, however, was to the question about
whether to push for a tribal coalition to stomp some giants living in
the foothills to the east of the Plains – rather than a simple binary
answer, the reply was a chilling “You have no time”.

Nobody was quite sure what to make of that grim forecast, but that would
have to be a problem for another day. Tonight the goal was to make
Belmak’s approved plan for the Alpha Strike a reality. The first stage
was a fine Hero’s Feast dinner, courtesy of Abbot Kenobi, feeding the
handful of people conducting the raid, their key supporters, and of
course, the honoured members of the Godcarver leadership. Several toasts
to their success were exchanged, though those about to put their lives
on the line were avoiding any overly strong brew… much to Braunhilde’s
disgust. The Battlerager’s sole consolation and hope was that the Away
Team would teleport back from the Waterworks… while being pursued by
legions of kobolds and their Boss level dinosaurs, all hot to avenge
their hopefully-squicked high priest. She would be ready and waiting.

Only after the Feast and a subsequent evening Mass began the carefully
coordinated countdown where each spellcaster crafted layer upon layer of
defensive magics upon the strike team. Sister Erin, as was her usual,
was organizing everything as she met the away team before they began
their last minute spell preparations.

“Now, remember everyone,” the young Belmakian called out. “Tonight’s
little jaunt is a Raid, and as such, has special rules.” Carefully, she
consulted a book few had ever seen before. “Firstly, ye can take up ta
*twelve* people, instead o’the usual six. Secondly, no hirelings…” She
paused in her litany of these rules, a frown on her face as she quickly
flipped ahead. “Now wherever did this rubbish even come from?” she
growled. “Clearly, I’ve some work ta do ta clean up the books.”

Tossing the offending tome back into her satchel, she instead produced
her detailed timeline of what needed to be cast, and when. Carefully,
Sister Erin called out the cadence, with each caster referring to their
own individually prepared list.

Then, just at the stroke of midnight, Laurelin chanted her Teleportation
spell, and the Strike Team vanished.