Frost Campaign: Gideon & Brea

Setting aside recent history, there had been only three times in Brea Seldan’s military career when she had truly feared for her life. The first was when she had discovered a Zhentarim spy with a wickedly detailed pair of poisoned blades, and she had been forced to sacrifice her favorite horse in trampling him down before she took a cut that could have been deadly.

The second time was when she had led a small skirmishing band against a raging elemental creature from the south, and she feared its lashing sands and tempestuous winds as it cut down her first two ranks of soldiers.

The last time she had truly felt fear was when she saw a great green dragon fly overhead; it had strayed southeast of the forest of wyrms, but by some miracle of Tymora, the great lady of luck, her small company hadn’t been noticed even as it roared in their direction.

Brea was confident in her skills, confident in her decisions of when and where and who to fight, and there was little to fear in the paths that she chose toward a long series of easy victories.

But that was setting aside recent history.

Brea could not deny that she had felt real fear more times in the last two weeks than she had in her two years worth of previous skirmishes. It seemed no small coincidence that she had hired Gideon only two weeks ago.

“Get back in the line, idiot! You are going to get yourself killed!” The raging elf, spinning around his heavily reinforced scythe with a roar, had stepped too far from their band and had abandoned his shield and spear. He had just left the security of the slow-moving phalanx, kicking his way into the fray of massing kobolds with his heavy leather boots. The small, red-scaled creatures were brandishing simple spears and short blades, but there were enough of them to provide a threat to a smaller force like Brea’s.

“If he opens our lines then we could be in serious trouble,” her second in command told her. Gideon was making broad swings and exposing himself to the spears and short swords carried by the kobolds. Worse than that, he was wading back and forth between the line of tower shields that the front-liners were supposed to be using, and pushing his way into the kobold masses. If he wasn’t careful, he would create a gap that would let the small foes in past the band’s initial defensive formation, which could well be disastrous for the rest of Brea’s band..

“You jest not, Leion. Force them out and close the ranks!” Brea shouted out at her small band as she nocked an arrow and fired. The shaft flew truly, the strength of the arrow knocking a small reptilian creature off its feet and back into the crowd of its companions. “Gideon is on his own! There are too many of these damned little beasts to risk them pushing through our defenses.”

Captain Seldan’s company was a very carefully tuned machine that maneuvered and moved only by her command. Fourteen of its fifteen members were disciplined men that had always taken their work with the deadly seriousness that set them apart as soldiers, and not merely gold-chasing adventurers. Brea had been careful to arrange assignments that she knew were within their talent, picking off small clusters of lesser monsters that would bring them enough bounty to supply their small band with food, shelter, and equipment. That was enough for Brea, it was enough for Brea’s commanders, and it was enough for Brea’s soldiers.

The orders that they’d been handed this time sent them on a simple killing raid. Several large groups of kobolds, small draconic humanoids, had put themselves together and started making raids into the villages that were too close to the cities. They’d been commanded to chase the tribes back into the Far Hills where they had come from and to harry them enough to convince the skittish creatures that that was where they belonged.

There had, however, been far more of the little draconic ratlings than Brea had anticipated, especially with the group they were engaging today. She guessed that they had been inspired by the Orcish hordes that had flooded the far north, but they were only kobolds, and had neither the discipline nor the equipment to put a dent in her shield-wall.

Unless, that is, Gideon opened the door and let them in. The sun elf, for a sun elf he was no matter how coarse an appearance he gave, would rather wade knee-deep in his enemies and spin his awkward scythe than he would participate in the tried and true tactics that made Brea’s company so successful in the rocky hills below the Sunset Mountains. Brea merely shook her head and ignored him as she scanned the battle below her. Apart from that setback, things were going decently. Her band seemed to suffer few injuries and no casualties, as the raging bands of wild kobolds threw themselves against the tight ring of fighters and broke like the tide on the rocks of the shore.

A crystalline tinkling sound and a gentle tug at Brea’s left ear alerted her immediately, and she knocked an arrow to her heavy bow, aimed, and released as quickly as she could spot her target. The shaft flew to the top of a nearby rock, where a kobold was just finishing his sorcerous spellcasting. The soft tickling sensation told Brea that it would have been a lightning spell, and probably aimed at her, but her arrow interrupted the spell as it buried itself in the thing’s shoulder. Taking no risks, Brea put two more arrows into it before it hit the ground.

“Forward three paces!” She shouted, and her order was repeated by Leion, the centaur that stood at her side. His brazen voice boomed out over the sound of battle so that there was no confusion among the band as to what they were to be doing. “Gideon! Fall to the side and out of the way!” The centaur repeated the command, and Gideon almost seemed to notice as he continually cleared the space around himself.

A second tinkling sensation on her earlobe told her that another spell was being cast to her right, behind the space where Gideon was fighting. The warmth told her it was a fire spell, and she again lifted her bow to fire. The arrow, this time, was caught in midair by Gideon’s back-swinging scythe, and never reached the short kobold who was doing the casting.

“Fireball!” Brea called, and braced herself against her horse. Her soldiers immediately went underneath their heavy shields, protecting themselves as much as they could from the inevitable magic assault. With the warning, of her earring, Brea was alert enough to see the small bead of magical fire missile toward her, and she watched as Leon stepped forward and caught the blow of the magic against his own heavy wooden shield.

The explosive sound was deafening, and she closed her eyes against the flash of light, but the blast of heat was enough to knock her horse off of its feet.

Brea came to her senses and she realized that her horse was dead beneath her. Leion’s upper body was on the ground next to her, his eyes closed and his shoulders convulsing. Brea struggled to retain consciousness through the pain of her burns, and the sounds of battle were badly muffled by her own impaired hearing. The blasted little ratling may have left me deafened. She thought.

“Firu, Return the blast!” Brea mouthed the order, but could barely hear her own voice as she pulled herself toward Leion. She fumbled for a flask on her belt and forced the contents into his mouth. It took only a moment before the centaur opened his eyes with a start and awkwardly righted himself, casting off the remains of his wooden shield.

“I am in need of a mount, good friend,” she mouthed again, climbing onto his horse-like back. “I need to see to command.” The warm pull—no sound this time—of her earring told her that Firu was returning the attack on the kobold sorcerer. A pillar of whirling fire, coalescing in the sky and striking just behind where Gideon was still struggling, confirmed her order.

Leion had bowed his head in a silent prayer before he reached back with his left hand and touched Brea’s knee. The sounds of the hillside battle returned to her as the healing energy coursed through her veins. She could feel the burns dull in pain. “Thank you, old friend.

“Thank Silvanus,” he said back to her as he reached to deliver another healing spell upon the fallen form of one of her second-line spearmen. “And don’t get used to riding back there, good one, or we may both lose his favor,” he added quietly.

Brea had regained her position and hearing just in time to see the end of the short and dirty fight. The rocky hillside was cleared of standing enemies, and it only took a glance to check the results of the skirmish. Two of her soldiers had been withdrawn, neither with lethal injuries, and the rest of them had gotten out relatively unscathed apart from the fireball. Thanks to her warning, most of the soldiers had weathered it well enough.

The Riders of the Red Cloak, (though Brea’s contingent was usually on foot,) looked much the same after the battle as they had when they started. They were stalwart soldiers, ready for the victory that their diligence had earned them. “Well done men!” Brea called out. “Well done one and all, except for you.” She pointed to Gideon, who was trembling with a multitude of deep injuries and staggering back toward the main group, prying off pieces of his leather armor to get at the cuts that had been inflicted underneath.

“Eh?” He said.

“You have thirty heartbeats to explain your actions.” She said.

“I’m probably bleeding to death, would you mind if your half-horse here gave me some healing before I pass out?” Gideon responded groggily.

“The father of oaks may not permit you to be healed, brash one, if you speak so of his loyal servants.” Leion answered him.

“Ah well, then.” Gideon’s knees buckled and he sat heavily. “It was a good enough fight. Not a bad way to go.”

“Heal him, Leion,” Brea said shortly. “I don’t want to have to report any casualties when we return.”

“As you desire, good one.” Leion nodded slowly, and reached forward, bowing his muscular neck in prayer and resting his left hand on Gideon’s shoulder. Gideon shuddered and stood bolt upright, roaring in pain. He reached back and grasped his shoulder, prying out the remains of a broken dagger as the wound closed itself.

“You’ve been given healing,” Brea said curtly. “Now explain yourself. It is nothing but a miracle that you didn’t die today.”

“Well, I fight better in the open, right?” Gideon said. “I got tired of waiting behind a shield to poke at kobolds with a long stick, so I stepped out where I could get to
them. Nothing wrong with that, is there?”

“You put at risk the lives of the rest of the company by breaking lines and creating a hole in our defenses. You disobeyed orders multiple times, and you very nearly died for your insubordination.”

“And I killed a good number of kobolds.” Gideon grinned at her, before stretching and walking away. “You can thank me when you finish the body count.”

Brea just watched him rejoin the small crowd of soldiers.

“He is elven, of the golden race, but has not the manner of his kin,” Leion said.

“I found him outside a rough tavern when I went to Iraebor two weeks ago.” Brea explained. “He’s got the skin of a sun elf, but he was fist-fighting with a dwarf and two human thugs.”

“So you helped remove him from his difficulties?” The centaur asked.

She shook her head. “He snuffed the other three like so many candles, by sheer brawn, speed, and nerve.”

“An interesting one.”

Indeed, Brea answered in her mind, in truth, Brea had admired Gideon’s tenacity and nerve, and although she normally wouldn’t have hired such a brash adventurer into her company, she had hoped that his rare heritage, given away by his bronze skin and golden hair, would provide him with the necessary discipline to learn trained fighting. On a deeper level, Brea had discovered a soft spot for any male that was muscular enough to not look like a human woman. Gideon wasn’t half-bad looking, for an elf.

“He’s interesting,” she nodded, “but he’s currently out of the job.” She removed her helm, which had been crafted to resemble an eagle’s headfeathers, and loosened her own brunette hair. It showed traces of red in the late afternoon light.

“With respect, good one, is it wise to cast off so useful an ally?” Leion asked her, but was interrupted by the approach of another.

“I’ve got the report, my lady!” A thin and fast-spoken voice piped in on Brea’s left, interrupting the soft-spoken centaur.

“And it is?” Brea turned to see the approach of a middle-aged gnome, who was hovering through the air with a humming noise. His metallic red cloak seemed to float around him as he approached, and he was reading the notes on a metal-bound book of parchment that he had folded open.

“This time there were fifty-six of the kobolds, of which only fifteen remained alive, if dangerously wounded. That’s just shy of four-to-one odds, in pure numbers. I stabilized the survivors and implanted them with the suggestion that they should return to their caves and forget about banding together again. This was the last group that we’ll have to deal with for a short while.”

Leion folded his arms across his massive chest and looked level-eyed at the Gnome adept. “You know, Firu, that father Silvanus would frown upon the imposing of one mind upon the will of another. The soul is a sacred realm and not meant for stealing.”

The smaller being’s response was given with a smile. “Yes, well then let him know that I tactfully disagree. There is a little difference between cutting them down in wholesale numbers and giving them a little push toward peace, and I favor peace. No response? Yes, that is what I thought. Well. Captain, you will be interested to know that more than half of the enemy casualties were at the hands of your new barbarian recruit. I don’t know how he managed it, but it is astounding.”

The gnome scratched his nose. “From a technical or tactical perspective, the scythe is an incompetent excuse for a weapon, but he was throwing it around and twirling it like a fairy with a baton. You’ll forgive the expression,” Firu bowed his head slightly toward the centaur, “but it was quite remarkable.”

“He broke formation, Firu, and today was not the first time,” Brea said simply. “He’s good and he’s tough, but he belongs with a group that’s exploring the catacombs, or hunting wyrmlings, or doing some other stupid and suicidal task. This is a military company, and we have the fewest casualties among all of the Riders of the Red Cloak. There’s a reason for that, and it has nothing to do with how well we can handle an awkward weapon.”

“And what about the troll on the northern patrol?” Firu argued.

“What about it? He called its attention, bringing the thing charging down toward our camp in the middle of the night. What if it hadn’t been alone?” That had been one of the nights where Brea had felt a great fear for herself and for her company. It had not been the only occasion.

“It was alone, and he kicked the thing around until we could bring fire enough to slay it.” Firu smiled.

“But he cut into it, and cut pieces off of it. If we hadn’t gotten there with the fire, we’d have had a whole new tribe of trolls to deal with before morning.”

“You’re the captain.” Firu grinned, and gave a quick salute. “The Kobolds gathered in the caves here in the Far Hills, and that’s where they are returning. There are no other large forces currently about, so we are probably safe to go back to Asbravn tomorrow and report. If you need me, I’ll be administering some of Gond’s healing magic to the ones who got hit by the thing’s fireball. Your father Silvanus is not the only one who believes in relieving the injured.” With that, he spun and hovered off, the humming magic of his flight spell carrying him along.

Leion watched the Gnome leave with a curious eye. Brea knew from previous conversations that the two were enigmatic to one another, their approaches to magic and to life had never been very compatible. Regardless, they both had the discipline to put their opinions to one side and set about a common goal. The centaur began to walk slowly away from Brea, moving to help the gnome with the healing magic. “Well fought, good one.” He gave a graceful gesture with his hand, which coming from him was as good as any formal salute.

Brea called after him. “Organize the men, we’ll march south for a bit to get away from the smell of blood, and we’ll set the evening’s camp. Tell the men to sleep well, for in the morning we march home.” There were a few cheers that Brea heard as Leion repeated the command.

She unstrung her bow and breathed a heavy but satisfied sigh. After more than a week of slaughtering and chasing kobolds, it was time to go home and report a successful expedition with zero casualties. “With or without Gideon, that was a good fight.”