Jebidiah's Change B. 02

Welcome back gentle reader

Every D&D campaign I've played in always had its own flare of how the DM interpreted the rules. One of the campaigns I ran had a couple DMs playing in it, and at times the rule debates would get heated. Usually over the dumbest things. Like the volume of a fireball. A 20 foot radius sphere equates to 33 ten cubic foot sections on a map--if you're underground. It was fun screwing with the party by determining where that spread actually went. Above ground was a different matter. I've heard arguments for it being contained to a 20 foot sphere, that the caster can determine how it spreads, that structures within the sphere counted as part of the volume, etc. Many debates over beers sometimes involving thrown dice. I always subscribed to the theory of fluid dynamics, where the fire would spread out in the path of least resistance. In a crowded area above ground, like a forest or jungle, that means it mostly goes along already cleared volumes of space--and up.

On a side note, a funny thing happened. I swap between devices as I write and on one laptop I discovered it was auto-correcting Shirley's name to Shirely. If you noticed, it wasn't intentional. One last tidbit. I used to draw a lot, but that was decades ago and I fell out of practice, so I fed sections of my books to an image generator and tweaked the descriptions until I got close to what I envisioned the characters to be. I also realized I never fully described Kelek so I have to retcon Book 1 a little. The generator thought she was an elf. Anyways, I have more information on it in my bio.

Standard disclaimer, multiply ages by roughly two to get equivalent Earth ages. Everyone is a consenting adult.

-- Somewhen, Somewhere --

Bora and Avellar watched the events unfold on the material plane with trepidation. These were events set into motion by their hands. There was no fate or destiny. What happened in the world was outside of anyone's control and, though the Divine often poked and prodded, attempting to control the outcome of important events was an exercise in futility.

Mortals would always have free will, even if some magics allowed temporary dampening of it. That alone ensured the Divine would never exert the full control they desired. Instead, they relied on influence--whispering through priests' sermons, manipulating desires of power-hungry mortals, or crafting prophecies for diviners, vague enough to fulfill themselves in multiple ways.

In the end, they might as well have left it to Udite's dice. Too many times, the mortals had frustrated the Divines' desires, often leaving mayhem and devastation in their path, amplified by the Divine intrusion. Sometimes their well-laid plans, decades in the making, came undone at the hands of an unwitting servant--or worse, some mindless twist of fate.

All the Divine went about their existence frustrated by the limitations, ignoring the implications--all except Darido. Darido had approached the two--and possibly Comlain as well--with a warning about the dangers their players posed. Dangers to the Divine themselves. He had gone on one of his rants about free will and symbols and enough other things that Bora had tuned him out, waiting for him to run out of steam as he always did.

Instead, he had stopped midway through, looked at her, and accused her of ignoring the dangers as she was ignoring his warning. She laughed, and he vanished, moving on to Avellar.

But a part of her was worried, a niggling doubt she could not shake, and when Avellar came to her later, she sensed the same in the other Divine. They felt secure in their power. Mortals might thwart their plans, but they had never posed a true threat to the Divines themselves. But Darido was persistent in his warning, trying to make them see what they were unwilling to, but his persistence was unsettling. Neither of them liked the taste of vulnerability. Instead, they did what the Divine always did--plotted on their next moves using their mortal playthings. Yet, when they checked on the players, they were surprised at what they found.

"Do you think those belong to Lashan?"

Avellar shook her head, "No, those are Magard's and their captives are the elves I spoke of before. Your House is there to rescue them."

"They are woefully outnumbered."

"Can you do anything with your champion and player?"

Bora leveled a hard glare at Avellar, her voice sharp and firm. "The work Jebidiah did to fix your meddling held my champion together, but it was a crude patch. She is mine, yet I cannot touch her. Two influences are at war within her, and while he managed to separate them, they need to be merged and stabilized."

Avellar wilted under her gaze. "I'm truly sorry, I would do something if I could."

Bora grimaced. "I think you did enough. Be that as it may, it changes nothing. Her identity has splintered. I can do nothing with her. Mila, however, works best if left to her own devices. Iztar might have ideas but I do not want to draw her into our circle. I can't trust any of the Dark, too much is at stake."

In silence, the two watched as the goblinkind army--bolstered by more than the standard goblin races--moved toward the handful of Valor forces. They scanned desperately for an edge, some way to intervene--until Bora let out a small gasp of surprise.

"What is it?" Avellar asked, her tone filled with hope.

Bora's face grew a twisted smile. "Life shall prevail." Her consciousness reached out to what she had spotted. A nudge of power, instilling purpose--commanding.

"Yes, this will do."

-- Chapter 7: Evergrow Woods --

-- Sixth Tenday of Juntaen 813 AGR --

It's only too many weapons if they're pointing in the wrong direction.

- Tayler

"What in the Divines is going on?" Dana was shouting at Idril, who looked panicked.

Jebidiah tried to stop everything from spiraling into chaos. "EVERYONE TO YOUR POSITIONS!" After shouting his command, he almost chuckled--it wasn't like he had assigned any positions, but people moved. He rushed to where Dana was still verbally assaulting Idril.

"Dana, we have to move! Idril, do you think this will change how they handle the children?"

Idril was caught in the crossfire--Dana was still berating her and Holone while Jebidiah fought for attention. He lost his temper and snapped at Dana. "Dee! We have time enough to bitch about this later. We have to act now, not figure out what went wrong! I need you to

move

!"

Dana stopped her tirade and blinked, staring at Jebidiah like she had just noticed his presence. She shuddered, nodded quickly, glared at Idril then left in a huff.

As she passed Jebidiah, she paused by his side and spoke without looking at him. "We'll speak of this later,

husband

."

He sighed, knowing he would pay a price when everything was over. He focused back on Idril, who still had a panicked look but at least looked to have lost her paralysis. "Idril, can you grab the children in whatever is happening ahead of us? I fear whatever is going on might hurt them."

Holone spoke urgently in her ear. She gave a small shake, the panic subsiding. She nodded once. "We shall see." She pivoted to Holone, spoke tersely, and he leapt straight in the air to disappear in the branches above. The motion was so fast and sudden that to Jebidiah, it was as if he had just vanished. It reminded him of Kelek.

"I wish I had Stern." He turned, scanning for Sift but did not find her. Idril tugged at his sleeve, drawing his attention back to her.

"You handle disruption well, Duke Valor. But what of your plans?"

A compliment was the last thing he had expected to hear, but her question echoed his own thoughts. The sounds of battle to the west had increased, intermixed with odd cries and growls, sounds he was unfamiliar with.

"We need to know what is happening. We can't..."

Another elf--this time a woman--dropped from the branches, hissing at him before turning to Idril and speaking rapidly in Elvish. Jebidiah was distracted by blood trailing down her side and legs, thick drops splattering onto the trail.

Idril turned back to Jebidiah even as the elf continued to speak. "A pride of coeurls have attacked. Such a thing is unheard of, but it can work in our favor. Several goblins and kobolds already lie dead." She stopped speaking, allowing the elf to finish her update. "The center of their line, with the heaviest fighters, are moving towards us now. We have minutes."

He nodded, ignoring the feeling of dread pooling in his stomach. "Stick to the plan."

He wheeled around and charged for the western-most opening his armswomen had created in the undergrowth, moving in around thirty feet to where the other waited, crouched in the vegetation. All he could see was Michelle and Dana behind her, but only because of Dana's height. He turned and watched the trail through the opening, barely visible through the remaining branches and vines. He pulled the threads of magic he required, tensing as they waited, the feeling of impending doom gnawing at him.

His feelings must have seeped into the bonds, the worry of the others echoed back, creating a feedback loop of negativity. He felt Crystal at the edge of his thoughts, her worry stronger than the others. He felt nothing from Kelek or Greta.

This is going to work. This is going to work. This is going to--

"Ah, Your Grace, we might need some more reassurance."

He glanced back at Michelle, confused.

"Muttering '

this is going to work

' won't set the other's mind at ease."

He began to explain he didn't mean to speak it out loud when a crashing sound on the trail drew his attention. Large bodies were rushing by, flashes of red, green, brown, and yellow, their booted feet thundering on the trail as they ran. There and gone in a flash, they moved past the opening before he could make sense of what he was seeing. The elves were easier to discern. Hobbled as they were, they moved slowly enough for him to recognize them as elves. As soon as they passed, he knew there wasn't much time left.

Several cries rang out in the forest, drowning out the heavy footfalls and grunting of the children's guards.

He unleashed

Fireball

. An immediate sound of implosion made him flinch, but it was off to his left. His spell shot forward before detonating on the trail. Screams and shouts of pain rose from the trail as, sword in hand, he rushed forward into the maelstrom.

It was like stepping into another world. One second he was cocooned in lush vegetation, the scent of nature overpowering everything else, the next the world was on fire, wood crackled, flames roared, and the smell of woodsmoke and burnt meat filled his nostrils. He did his best to ignore the flames around him, but the smoke that stung his eyes was unavoidable. He stepped onto the trail, suppressing his urge to unleash an adrenaline fueled battle cry--then tripped. His foot caught on something heavy, twisting him as he fell onto his back, his sword nearly slipping from his grasp.

It was embarrassing, but it probably saved his life--a sword slashed through the air where his head had been moments before.

Michelle was silent as she met the blade's backswing with her own. Dana flashed past--not quiet at all--as she screamed while slashing at something he couldn't see.

He struggled to right himself. His left foot was trapped, pain lancing up his leg. He kicked against the body he had tripped over with his right foot, trying to free himself. Panic nearly set in as he struggled, unable to gain purchase, his fear blocking his ability to focus.

He stopped struggling, attempting to take a breath and calm himself. He tried to examine where his foot was trapped. The body he was stuck on wasn't an orc, goblin, nor kobold. It was large, larger than himself, covered in singed reddish brown tufts of fur. Its head was a blackened ball of charred meat, and it reeked.

Michelle grunted, drawing his attention. She held a hand to her side, blood seeping through her fingers as she staggered back from an orc. He caught a flash of Mila as she interposed herself into the fight.

A sharp yank wrenched his foot, fresh pain lancing up his leg. He swung his sword instinctively--only to stop just short of slicing into Corporal Holland's head, who had bent down to help. Just as his foot popped free, the corporal was flung to the side and a massive weight crashed onto his chest, bearing him down as it knocked the wind from his lungs.

Blackness filled his vision, broken only by two glowing green slits--feline eyes locked onto his. A maw opened, blood-streaked white razors gleaming. Its putrid breath rolled over him in a deep rumbling growl--and then it vanished, yet its weight still crushed him. His chest exploded in pain as claws shredded through his armor, the invisible beast using him as a springboard before leaping into the smoke.

Corporal Holland was sprawled to his side, stunned, ignoring the battle raging around them.

"Uther's swinging balls, what the fuck was that?" Holland's usual sultry tone had vanished in pure disbelief.

Jebidiah struggled to his feet, wincing as pain flared in his ankle and chest. He tested both gingerly, trying to get his bearings. Broken ribs--maybe even his ankle.

Michelle leaned against a tree, clutching her side as she fended off an orc with her free arm. Mila and Meredith battled another orc alongside one of the creatures he had tripped over--tall, reddish brown-furred, with a dog-like head.

To his left, Dana fought another of the dog creatures, an orc sprawled lifeless at her feet. Nearby an armswoman struggled against another orc--then, in a flash of steel, she was cut down before Jebidiah could react. Before he considered what to do, his hands pulled threads, and darts of magic lashed out at the orc, dropping it.

Despite the reprieve, it still left Dana exposed and another of the dog warriors replaced the orc. Before turning on Dana, it made a yipping sound as it jammed its spear through the downed armswoman, ensuring her death. Jebidiah began to hobble over to help when Sift's bronze body collided with the dog, knocking it off its feet.

Before he could blink, Sift was in front of him. "Sir, we must evacuate. The elves have moved south."

He nodded, his brain trying to catch up. A few more strands of magic and he amplified his voice.

"FALL BACK! FALL BACK NOW!"

They made an orderly retreat, as orderly as was possible, making for their original path. A scream preceded an elven warrior, now mostly a bloody mass, that flew past them, nearly knocking Jebidiah over.

"Your Grace," a voice cried out, the urgency in the woman's voice driven by fear. "You need to move!"

He looked for the source of the command, finding Corporal Holland, who began physically pushing him to go.

"We'll cover the retreat! Just go, Your Grace!" Even as she spoke, she fended off a new attack.

He struggled as Sift began to pull him along.

Dana moved past him, throwing herself into the cut in the vegetation, quickly followed by Mila, Greta, Tenner, and their Firsts, except Michelle who stayed by his side. It left the three armswomen fending off their attackers.

"GO!" Holland screamed, dodging a spear.

One armswoman bellowed, "WE ARE THE SHIELD!" The others roared in unison--

their voices defiant as Sift dragged Jebidiah forward. He fought against her grip--until Sift's next words hit him like a blade to the gut. "Sir, let their sacrifice mean something."

Sift's words stunned him--they were spoken with unmistakable emotion--allowing her to propel him forward unopposed, half carrying him as she hurried along their path. He could still hear the women chanting their mantra, dwindling one by one, until the last voice was cut off.

"Do you require assistance, corporal?"

He couldn't make out the answer but Sift momentarily stopped and turned.

Michelle was panting heavily, blood streaming down her side, face pale. She grimaced and said something else Jebidiah couldn't make out.

"My apologies to you both. This will not be pleasant."

He opened his mouth to protest--but Sift hoisted him into the air with ease, slinging him over her shoulder like a sack of grain. Agony tore through him, his broken ribs burning with each breath. He couldn't even scream--only a ragged, gasping groan escaped him.

With terrifying ease, Sift repeated the motion, hoisting Michelle onto her other shoulder without breaking stride. Then they were off.

Jebidiah and Michelle dangled over Sift's shoulders, their heads lolling toward the rear, blind to their direction. At a slower pace, she might have kept steady--but as she tore through the undergrowth, all they could do was brace against the relentless pounding of her unyielding metal frame. Each footfall sent hammering pain through Jebidiah's ribs, driving nails into his chest and side, stealing what little breath he had left. With his feet being in front of Sift, it was only a matter of time before his injured ankle hit something solid. The pain swallowed him whole. His vision dimmed, washed to grey--then vanished into nothing.

Jebidiah woke to a world of pain. It consumed him, white dots flickering in the darkness behind his closed eyes. Voices murmured--muffled, distant. He lay against something hard, the pressure in his head pounding in rhythm with his heartbeat. He cracked open an eye to find Michelle inches from his face, her pallor a sickly white. Most of her face was hidden behind her arm, just as his arm hung before him. Hung... his head was down. Sift!

He fought the pain to get his arms to push himself upright, but Sift's unrelenting strength held his legs in place. Her voice rose, no longer muffled.

"Sir, I apologize for the discomfort, but you must endure for a few more minutes. We are near the company but I have encountered a dilemma."

She slightly turned so he was able to see Idril, Holone, and another elven warrior half buried in the vegetation. Idril was injured, and by his estimation her wounds were serious.

He tried to focus and speak to Holone, but breathing was difficult. His voice was reduced to raspy, disjointed words. "Can you... get her... to safety?"

"Please, sir, they cannot speak your language. I will handle this."

Sift spoke back and forth to Holone for a few more moments before moving again.

"I will deposit you with the main force then return for them. I cannot delay much, our pursuers are not far. The gnolls are adept trackers."

His only reply was a pained groan.

True to her word, it only took a few more minutes before Sift broke into the glade they had looked over what seemed like days ago but it had only been a few hours. He prayed to the Divine that there had been enough time for the others to prepare.

Jebidiah was impressed with the discipline in his forces. He caught startled glances as Sift carried him past the first line, but no one called out or moved to give away their position. Finally, Sift stopped and as gently as she could, set him on the ground against a tree. She laid Michelle beside him, still unconscious, and was gone in a flash of bronze, retreating back along their path.

He found himself immediately surrounded by people. All tersely whispering, some in anger, most in concern, as he was poked and prodded by corpswomen and his wives. The other Firsts picked up Michelle and carried her further away from the coming fight.

"Was there anyone else following?" Tenner held his face in her palm, tears streaming down her own.

He grimaced in more pain as someone undid the straps of his boot. He shook his head instead of answering, breathing still hurt too much. He nearly screamed as someone pulled his boot off, his vision moving toward grey again as his lightheadedness threatened to overcome him. He managed to keep his cry of pain down to a muffled groan.