Kellen Plays it Safe

Artillery had always been a problem, thought Kellen. It's heavy, it's unwieldy, and it can be dangerous to transport the ordinance. As a general rule, with artillery, it took three mechanics to maintain each unit, and to repair them during deadly-force engagements, not to mention the three-to-five person firing team. Spotters needed to know not only landmarks, but trigonometry, so special training was involved. Fire safety was always a problem, and the demand for 'specialized' ordinance brought with it an entire host of new and unusual problems. A stray arc of lightning from one ill-handled electrical payload had set off an entire pile of black powder barrels recently, for instance, and Kellen had lost four good people in the whole sad process. Only four, had been the rather terse reply to his T&L report. Only four!

Kellen pulled his cloak close around himself, and stalked silently into the snowy night. Between the cloak magically displacing his outline, and his boots silencing his footsteps, he slid in and out of the shadows of camp like a fox who knew it was the day of the big hunt. The ring he wore on his left hand allowed him to pass with no trace of having been there, even through snow. A boon he was counting on. Making his way to the river through the snowy night, he slipped into a little sailboat, that he fondly referred to as a 'Sunfish', which he had secreted within a large stand of rushes and cattails days ago. He poled his way through the tall water-grasses with only a telltale swish, and the flapping wings of a very perturbed duck, until he passed into the silence of the open river. He let the river's current take him for the first mile...

---

Gnomish Trebuchet

Seige forces in general, pondered Kellen, were a logistical nightmare. War, itself, was really a collossal waste of time, effort, and life; but seiges were calculated resource calamities. Trying to keep supply lines open, let alone running on any type of schedule, turns out to be insanely difficult. Fresh soldiers were needed on a rotation. R&R needed to be planned for and implemented. Food; always, always, always, food. Water was not always the most difficult thing to forage for, but it was heavy! Then, of course, there was sanitation for a literal army of camp-bound functional alcoholics. The stench could be overpowering, if the wind was blowing from the wrong direction. Kellen had had a special corp of chefs and their apprentices trained up for siegecraft. He figured it was an easy way to prevent scurvy, and keep the troops satisfied with their meals. Serving a host of enlisted soldiers was a tremendous challenge. Again, it always came back to food. Always, always, always with the food.

Kellen hoisted the small, triangular sail once he was well away from camp. He moved with a confidence and precision that told a tale of time on deck; his past come back to haunt him. He kept his youth in Duunatel quiet, and he did so for good reason. Not all of his friends had been considered 'upstanding', after all. He chuckled, low, at the thought of Dommick being considered a paragon of virtue. Cleating off the hawser, Kellen trimmed the sail. It was only a short little jaunt across the river; he would be there in no time...

Seiges brought with them a whole host of other problems. Literally! An army of support personal, livestock handlers, administrative assistants, wives and/or paramours, prostitutes, teamsters, blacksmiths, doctors, veterinarians...He had to cut his train of thought short. It was the type of thinking that had propelled him through the ranks, but it was apt to drive the poor man mad if he was not careful. As his mother would say, however, "there's an opening in any blockade". It had taken some time, but he had figured out the enemy's opening. Finally. 'Time enough for another one-thousand, three hundred and four deaths', he thought sadly. And who knows how many on the other side? Seiges were stupid.

Kellen stepped easily from shadow to shadow through the enemy's forward encampment, right up to the walls of the massive castle. Staging himself near the sally port, he drew the magical cloak tight around him and hid. Sure enough, right on schedule, a patrol of horsemen came thundering out of the small opening in the wall, and as the portcullis fell, an all but invisible Kellen rolled right underneath it and into another shadow on the inside of the wall. Taking a moment to get his bearings and allow his eyes to adjust to the lighting inside the castle, he took a left through a nearby doorway...

It was a real shame, the number of soldiers his superior officers were willing to waste. A fight always took place in the grey matter. Decisions always needed to be made. He understood the impulse to throw greater numbers of soldiers at a problem, of course he did, but in his humble opinion, it was immature warfare, and a waste of their most precious resource; soldiers. Here these fighters were, far from their homes, literally putting their lives on the line...their superior officers owed them a great debt of responsibility, in Kellen's eyes. Only four! He bristled once again at the response. Well, an opening had presented itself, and Kellen was taking it. He knew the rules well enough to know he was not technically breaking any rules or regulations on enemy engagement, but he was supposed to take his bodyguards everywhere he went. Kellen shook his head. Sometimes, the rules needed to be adjusted, a little. Or. so his father had always said. 'Just don't get caught'.

Kellen made his way softly to the royal suite. He felt no joy in the quiet death he brought that night. He did not feel excitement as his blade slid home time and time again; professional, precise strikes that killed silently. The children he let live, even though he knew he would someday pay for it. One of them would come for him, he was sure of it. Perhaps they were old enough to realize that what was happening was necessary, that their elders had been responsible for atrocities. But, Kellen doubted that very much. He made his way silently back to his little boat, slipping over the wall with the help of a knotted rope and a background climbing them...

Now, all he had to worry about were the logistics of transporting a whole-ass army back to their home barracks. He sighed. How was he going to feed all of these people on the road?