Highbough 2.0 must emerge periodically from his studies to eat and drink. It is on one such study-break that he happens upon a group of his companions talking military strategy.
Tonneau wrote:"A diversion", agrees Gustave, striding up to join the group from wherever he has been (perhaps in the forest, looking at birds).
"Although I'll warrant some of our company would not hesitate to take on this army head on - Dieter - I think a more strategic approach would lend us greater hope of success."
He draws his blade and proceeds to mark what may be strategic points - but appear more as the scratchings of a wounded manticore - in the soil.
"As the Elves has offered us the means to strike at the foe where they are vulnerable, I suggest we take it. If we can there procure ourselves mounts and, perchance, some loot, while we gut them, all the better!", he says with a grin, stabbing his sword into a marked 'x' for effect.
"From there", he continues, sweeping a scar across the soil toward a mossy rock, "to Ket. And, as our enemy repositions to guard their bleeding belly - we move in; with sword or stealth as the situation permits."
He leaves his blade quivering in the dirt next to rock. "Quite straight forward really..."
"Strike at the foe where they are vulnerable! This one thinks with the mind of a hunter. You 'men' have always been keen military strategists; one of few talents in which the best of your kind rival even the Elves. Centuries has it been since I, Taurnorn, walked among such heroic company. Gustave, Dieter, Olaf." He nods a greeting to each in turn, if they happen to be gathered nearby. "Ulric, my partner in goblin incineration. Even you, Dorgan the Rock, and Josiane who has often been my voice of concience. And you---yes, you---I cannot wait to devise sorceries to turn you invisible, make you fly through the air, and breathe fire from
both mouths!"
The Grey Elf turns from the heroic-tier to the lower-level PCs, as if noticing them for the first time. "I see the righteous quest to free Ket has attracted new followers! Gather around these heroic Men and plan your attack." He draws his elegant (but non-magical) blade with a dramatic swoosh. "My sword is yours against the common foe!"
But the Ire Spear answers only to Highbough, he adds as a mental footnote.
"For now, I serve this party best by retiring to my chambers to study my spellbooks. Wen, will you walk with me a while? You must be more patient with the loremaster. He is an introvert soul; the arrival of all these inquisitive strangers has disturbed his routine. I plan to avoid him entirely, out of respect for his quietude. Your generation is always looking for shortcuts; a hundred thousand restless nights is only an apprenticeship on the path to become a
true master of lore."
He is about to say goodnight when a final thought occurs to him. "Wen, I have been contemplating the 'Alcazar 47' inscription. 'Alcazar' is the Infernal word for 'keep' or 'fastness,' and we can infer from the number that there were (or are, or will be) at least 46 other fortifications. My first conclusion was of a coordinated 47-pronged attack against our world, which is an impressive military feat that certainly our own people have never achieved. But then I wondered, what if the numbers refer not to coordinates in space, but
points in time." Highbough's voice lowers to a hush. "Or... what if these fortresses exist in
47 different worlds or dimensions?"
The Gholem Manual is calling to him, but he is also, for the first time in a long time, frightened to be alone.
"Wen, am I losing my mind? Such troubled thoughts! I was so naive to dream the waning centuries of my life would be spent in the joys of family and contemplation of the peaceful arts."
