Charity's Diary

Math and Aftermath.

Shamen. Abyss gate. Isla. Chaosites and Wizards. Oh, and I suppose Alfred.

These were the names and phrases that sped through my mind, between the pulses of pain in my headache. I suppose they would have to serve. My generals were going to lend me a pittance to help, and needed a bit of "persuading". What I got were 20 somewhat weary men. They were all probably going to die, but I had little choice; Benedict was facing insurmountable odds and needed help whatever it amounted to.

Cordelia was still u/s, and Allaghan was MIA and non-responsive to trump calls. Isla seemed glad to help and was probably more use in a fight than Alfred, but Fred ought to come along just to give him some practise at combat. He needed it!

During all this fuss, I contact Benedict and told him, we'd be there in about half an hour, as the Shamen needed the time to form the gate. Breaking contact, I finalised plans, and bothered Fred for the loan of another two of his abyssal demon gang; "Bill" and "Ted".

And so, not feeling entirely prepared we "gated" to Ygg. This perhaps was not the most direct route, as Benedict was about 10 minutes away from there. In hindsight, I suppose we would have had to find him anyhow, as he was unlikely to stay put for the intervening period, and I had no clue as to the change in time ratio between the two shadows!

Having failed to reach him through his trump, I located him through a scrying lens, and shadow walked us there. Fortunately, a little while later, I trumped him again and he answered. Things were not going well. He'd lost another "man" and chose the option to come through to our end. During the transference, I couldn't help but notice his mind was not quite up to the level of his martial prowess, if you get my meaning.

By and large he organised us into what I seriously expected (if he was as good as they said he was) was the most effective manner.

And so we waited for the enemy to arrive. Which they duly did.

There were an awful lot of them, but we hit them hard. They were small, and hurt easily.

Unfortunately this was just a taster. It got a lot worse from then on.

What didn't help was the interruption, by trump, of firstly Deirdre telling me that Allaghan was alive, and then, my attempt to bring him through, rudely interrupted by the enemy charging. All that had to wait until the battle had reached its conclusion.

War is hell, and I'm not overly fond of combat, so I'll gloss over the power words, death, napalm and decimation of our troops.

Ultimately, we didn't win.

Corwin did.

Bastard.

Somehow he'd heard of the battle, and intervened. Several hundred warriors charged through our, remnant of a squad, and decimated the enemy, through sheer brutality and speed.

It's not that I'm ungrateful...well I was at the time - I'd just sent Bill (or was it Ted) to the abyss to ask the Kraken for help in the form of the army I had arranged. Were they going to arrive, with nothing to kill? Had I unwittingly doomed Elysium in my desperation?

As it turned out, I hadn't. But I was pretty pissed off with him at the time.

So, with Ygg saved by what turned out to be our "delay tactic", I brought Allaghan through, who looked a right bloody state and fit for little but a good bath, I located Isla, who had scooted off to Ygg, having (literally) disappeared during the battle.

We left Benedict to chat with Corwin, and Trumped back to Elysium for a bit of R&R and to figure out when we should retrieve the book of Selheim, so irritatingly left behind at the Keep of the Four Winds.

Everything was pretty much as we left it; Allaghan went off to fit out another Gaus rifle to work at the Keep's shadow. Isla was preparing combat spells as well as a healing spell for Allaghan. Alfred was - surprisingly unscathed. A bloody miracle! Perhaps it isn't really him! Perhaps he's a spy? Or maybe he was just damned lucky? Fred was in less than a good mood, and suggested that I owe him two kinsmen, since they had died in my care. I don't seem to remember entering into a business arrangement with him, but until the enemy's forces were defeated, I (we) had need of him.

Benedict trumped in and I got lumbered into giving him the "Mandor" tour of the castle. He spent ages at the War office/HQ, so I suspected our chances improved somewhat and then it was time for dinner. I was beginning to get depressed again. My optimism was faltering. Perhaps this was a dream. Perhaps I was in one of those unreal worlds, where everything merely exists while you "expect" them to. Perhaps the spoon I was holding wasn't really there. I picked it up. "There is no spoon" I thought. I could have sworn it wobbled a bit.

Meanwhile, Benedict was loathe to talk about "work" until our stomachs were filled, which I suppose was a good idea.

I just hoped he hadn't just run out of good ideas.

I had.