Jeyshann’s Alpha Strike: Strike

[Jim Roberts]

[Feb 5 just past midnight -- EHPK HQ]

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

A lot of work had gone into forming the night’s plan. The old adage was
that if it was a success, it would have several authors, and there
certainly were a number of candidates. Cat Priestess Jeyshann had set
the overall direction, and Captain Finfinfin had used his experience in
small unit magical assault to transform the Great Medicine Woman’s broad
picture into a specific plan, and the scope would have been impossible
to realize without both Galdis Laurelin’s scouting, and then Sister
Erin’s meticulous note taking to turn it into a reality. And as if that
had not been enough, Abbot Kenobi’s specific Planned Assault Divine
prayer had titled the Plan’s odds even more in favour of the Social
Justice Engineers’ enemies.

But there was another truism about Plans that Captain Finfinfin knew as
well as anyone, and better than most. Their Plan was about to come into
contact with The Enemy, and the result of that contact was a foregone
conclusion.

Perhaps.

But at least in the first few moments of the Strike Team’s arrival, the
Plan looked like it might actually have a chance of survival after all.
With maybe no worse than a few mild contusions. Certainly, the moment of
their magical arrival went as well as could be hoped. The Abbot’s
distance scrying had shown them a spot that would be unlikely to be
occupied by kobold celebrants of the evening’s Dark Ceremony. The team
materialized unmolested near one side of a crude temple in a spot free
from parishioners.

It did not take an advanced student of religious themes to recognize
that the Spirits venerated in this particular place of worship were
about as far from Benign as one could imagine. Lurid ornaments depicting
all manner of profane acts dotted the low ceilinged wooden temple. In
the center was an even more abominable, blood soaked altar about which
dozens of kobolds swayed and chanted in unison.

Standing before the altar, flanked by both black candles and a number of
kobold acolytes – or possibly altar-kobolds – was a single distinctive
figure matching Jeyshann’s and Laurelin’s description of the Evil High
Priest Kobold. Though even without those descriptions, the lurid
headdress and the skull necklace would have been suggestive that this
was their evening’s target. And the curvy dagger held in one scaly hand
and the obsidian cup pouring out what was very likely more blood in the
other all but confirmed the EHPK’s identity.

And the invisibility spells covering the warm blooded arrivals helped
keep the newcomers from being noticed. At first.

Here, however, was the first sign of any Plan’s mortality when in
contact with the Enemy. Kobolds were not, by and large, creatures with
particularly keen vision. So the invisibility most certainly did *help*
– but not, perhaps, as much as first hoped. First the kobolds nearest
the teleportation started to sniff, and then more and more as the
warmbloods’ scent spread through the building.

“Uh oh…” one kobold lamented, sensing what was about to come.

The alarm spread as all of the Raiders except for Balzac began to chant,
preparing to unleash variations of either Arcane or Divine destruction
upon the EHPK and any kobold unfortunate enough to be nearby. And the
DwarfLord was readying his brand new coachbow.

Now, it was another kobold’s turn to articulate what was about to
happen. “Kobold thinks it’s a TRAP!” one wailed, seeing the future
perhaps just that much clearer than its companions.

Several around the altar had a more practical response, and started
chanting their own counter battery fire in the general direction of the
warmbloods’ scent. Considerable effort had gone into helping the Warm
Blood Raiders act first, and they did indeed get the drop on *most* of
the kobolds. Most. But a few of the scaly creatures were fast enough on
the magical draw to get some counterspells in *first*, and the Kenobi
Expedition’s corner of the temple exploded to the rain of some
fireballs, Acid Arrows, and various lurid and oily curses.

All of which bounced and skittered harmlessly away, turned aside by a
protective effect of Abbot Kenobi’s Greater Angelic Aspect.

The EHPK behind his altar, however, had no such protection, and the
unholy ritual he was directing became Ground Zero for a cascade of a
blinding Bolt of Glory, a searing Flame Strike, the concussive blast of
one of Balzac’s Candles of Blasting, and Laquendi’s Fireball. Howls of
lamentation were cut short as a conical blast of caustic corrosives
swept over the target area, cutting short more than one wail of “Waaah!
Kobold DEAD!”

In the middle of the spellcasters unleashing their Alpha Strike, Finfin
once again heard the Abbot chanting in sonorous Liturgical Quenya. Aided
by his Tongue’s spell, this time the elf could understand the Holy Man’s
speech; the climax of his chant sounded very much like

Mikhail loves me
but he...
can't stand YOU

That point was most unequivocally demonstrated by a massive 60 foot long
sword plunging through the low ceiling, transfixing whatever was left of
the EHPK, the shockwave of the impact scattering whatever parboiled,
flashed, and base washed remains might have been left of the acolytes in
all directions.

Consternation reigned among those lucky enough to have been outside of
the blast radius. Several screamed and ran directly away from the
conflagration, at least one yelling, “Run AWAY! Shrine on fire again!”.
This perhaps suggested that the event that had overtaken them was
perhaps not as unique as the Planners had expected. Others, however,
seemed rather more fatalistic about the upset. Not to mention,
disgruntled, and at least one kobold could be heard lamenting to
another, “Yuck! Kobold moving to home that less on fire.”

Only a charred, blasted and caustically seared crater remained where
once the EHPK held sway. But probably the most visible indication of the
Telar’s disdain for the kobold priest was the sixty foot tall sword that
*still* quivered ominously, stuck into the ground, the symbol of St.
Mikhail etched into the crossguard now easily visible in the temple’s
new moon roof an obvious sign of contempt for the evil high priest and
his workings.

Ideally, Finfin would have wanted to have seen the body to be able to
confirm that they had completed the job. But that would have required
controlling the battlefield, triggering the wholescale slaughter that
they had been Divinely Advised to avoid. Not to mention needing some
sophisticated forensics, starting with a dustpan and a broom to collect
samples.

None of which were an option, so Finfin had to go by his best
estimation. And that had been that all of the spells had been well on
target, a task considerably eased by Jeyshann’s magics that sharply
tilted luck in their favour. Complete certainty was not an option;
second best was observation backed by experience, and those both
suggested that the EHPK was no longer among the living. Nor was there
enough left to walk the earth as a zombie that the priest had so dearly
loved. In Finfin’s best estimation, this was an ex-EHPK.

So the goal achieved as best as it was possible to determine, Finfin
triggered the Getaway a mere second or two after the last body fragments
ceased their bouncing, and an instant later the Alpha Strike team were
back at the Godcarver winter camp.

Unseen behind them, the second ragged volley from the kobolds who had
survived the onslaught of magic had far more effect than the first.
Fireballs boomed, arrows flew, and this time they detonated properly. Of
course, this time there was no hostile target still present to absorb
their fury. Some kobolds who had survived the sudden and unexpected
volley of magic fell to friendly fire. A few more spasms of panicked
fire took out some of the more distant forces responding to the calamity.

By the time any of the other leaders of the Social Justice Engineers
arrived to try to restore order, a full scale frenzy of panic was in
full swing. It required a few minutes of extreme brutality to achieve
that goal, especially since every kobold who rushed to the devastated
temple could see that awful sword of the Sky King thrust accusingly
where their most unholy rites had been performed. None of this was
according to their plan, and even the mightiest of the remaining kobolds
gaped in consternation at the towering sign that the hated forces of
Good had finally taken notice of their operation.

“There better ways to say you no like kobold art,” growled one
indignantly, staring in dismay at the huge sword.

"Who WAS those masked tall people," one of the kobolds demanded,
looking over the wreckage.

"All I knows is they left dat," snarled another, pointing to the
towering sword.

"There go kobold neighborhood," predicted another gloomily.

Back at the Godcarver winter camp, Braunhilde looked skeptically at the
Raiders. They’d only been gone for a half dozen seconds, after all. “Did
ye forget something?” she asked.

Silent headshakes were the Battlerager’s answer. “Thanks Ben,” Laurelin
commented. “That was a lot of counter fire; anyone get a count of how
many spells they got off at us?”

“A handful?” Finfin answered with far less than his usual certainty.
“With many more to follow, which is why I opted for the quick Getaway.”
He then posed a question of his own. “Does anyone have a spare Commune
to see if we managed to finish the Top Baddie?”

“Never mind more prayin’,” Braunhilde interrupted. To her boyfriend, she
asked pointedly, “Balzie, did ye bring me a dinosaur?”

“I saw a dino sized sword, embedded where the EHPK was,” Laurelin
suggested mildly.

“Now we’re talking!” the Battlerager enthused. “So he’s a colossus sized
shapechanger, and you revealed his sword! Mebbe he’s even a… what would
ya call it? A DinoRider!” Braunhilde peered anxiously towards The
Waterworks. “So when d’ye think he’ll show?”

“Not quite,” Laurelin gently dissented.