Montresor 18 Year 888 (New Imperial Calendar) part 3

The name escapes me at the moment but there’s a book the premise of which is that some shifty alchemist comes up with a formula that can turn people invisible for long periods of time.  Wizards and such can turn people invisible obviously, but it’s only for a short time and also then you have to deal with a wizard – and who wants that?  The alchemist injects his serum into a squad (or whatever) of soldiers so they can invisibly murder the enemy.  But the serum is bad for you man.  After the first few times most of the soldiers start getting all twisted in the brainpan and eventually they go totally crazy.  There’s one guy though who’s able to keep his shit together and while all his squadmates (or whatever) go mad he keeps going on missions of invisible slaughter.  Eventually they learn that that guy is dying because even though he’s able to maintain his sanity the juice is eating away all his organs.  But he keeps doing it because otherwise it was “all for nothing”.

The book is renowned in certain circles for a couple of reasons.  One is that the author just made the book about the Kingdom – they didn’t invent a new place and make it exactly like the Kingdom like most people do, they just called it the Kingdom.  The second reason is that people of a certain ilk regard it as an ultimate expression of the pointlessness of armed conflict and of the exploitation of the working class by the ruling class while at the same time being held up by others as a perfect example of a citizen doing his duty to the bitter end and honor and glory and all that.  And thirdly some other people love this book because it allows them to argue endlessly if the main guy really was crazy because he kept going on the missions – and if that made him the craziest of all. 

At the time I first read it I thought it was fine.  It seemed to me like one of those books that people like because of the idea more than the execution of the idea.  I don’t think it’s a great book, but invisible soldiers are way cool so people pretend like it’s some monumental work of art.  Now that I’ve actually spent a decent amount of time invisible I retroactively find this work annoying because a squad of invisible people?  That doesn’t work.  You know because they’re invisible.  I had that issue all the time when Martialla and I were trying to do stuff invisibly.  Even if you attempy something as simple as “hey let’s both turn invisible and attack those people by that tree” you end up both showing up at different times or you bump into each other or some other damn thing.  A whole squad of people?  No way in Hells that works.  It would only work if you were invisible but could see other invisible people, or if you had telepathy or something maybe. 

Not only that but in the book the soldiers were invisible for days or weeks at a time and there’s a bunch of chapters were they’re having conversations with each other during those times.  I didn’t notice it at the time, but now I realize that the writer was talking about their body language and facial expression and so forth during the invisible conversations.  Which makes no damn sense.  I bet if I asked the author about it he’d say “oh it’s a metaphor” or some other chickenshit thing like that.  Writers are the worst. 

“Ela what does this have to do with anything?”

Nothing really.  I just often think about that book whenever I’m around a bunch of soldiers. 

My tattoos were glowing on account of the people coming out of the river. Lliterally walking out of the water, not like all the other people that were on boats.  They were obese fellows with grey-white eel-like skin.  You know how the flesh of an eel looks like it’s pudding or something?  It’s not like fish scales or like skin or anything proper, it looks like if you touched it your hand would sink into it.  And also like you would never want your hand to sink into whatever it was.  They appeared to have no genitals but they may have been hidden behind their pendulous flabby belly that swayed like holiday dessert in a bowl.  They for sure didn’t have ears, nor eyelids – and they really needed eyelids because they had eyeballs the size of my fist.  Actually no, not my fist seeing as how dainty and wonderful my fists are, more like the gnarly first of a bulky longshoreman.  Their necks were like a mass of skin flaps like one of those weird wrinkly dogs you see sometimes, only with skin.  Maybe those are gills of some kind?  I would wager that other people who saw them would say they were “fish-men”.  They looked nothing like fish.  They looked like abominations.

What the Hells is going on in Ulpine?  First they have horned women crewing their ships and now they have these walking nightmares working for them as well?  I feel like the Kingdom propagandists are really missing their mark.  Instead of talking about how Ulpine violated the Treay of Cole Loch by collecting taxes in the Northern Marches three times a year instead of two times a year how about we focus on how they’re monster-lovers?  You know what people don’t care about?  The taxation of noblemen in border lands.  You know what they do tend to get riled up about?  Monsters eating their faces. 

I have no idea why he did it since we were getting out of there anyway, but one of the villagers ran at the creatures as they slowly and inexorably came out of the river and impaled it with a spear.  The creature didn’t seem to care in the least.  Or maybe it cared a little big since it ripped the guy’s head off like a farmer does with chicken, but it didn’t seem to cause it any pain or damage. 

Although as it turned out we were not getting out of there.  We ran through the village only to find the bellringer and the shouter coming back our way with about a score of other people.  The fleet must have landed some men further down the river and they doubletimed it up to block the path to the north.  Not wanting to get caught between them and the eel-monsters coming out of the river I made the command decision to head north.  My reasoning was that even though the bridge to the north was their target none of the Ulpine ships had made it past the village so I figured that was our best bet.  But there were soldiers blocking that route as well.  There was no time to head back to the south, we were trapped.  We took cover in the sturdiest building in Peacevast – a stone storehouse of some kind that we kidded ourselves into thinking would be able to stand up to a magically exploding ballista bolt.

I was looking for a good opportunity to take on the form of an Ulpine soldier and slip away while the rest of the group prepared for a last stand.  I’ve never been one for last stands myself, it’s just not my style.  But the attack never came.  We huddled amongst sacks of moldy grain while the village was flattened building by building.  Every forty seconds or so another mighty boom and a building was gone.  Once our shelter was the last thing left though the artillery stopped.  Soldiers surrounded us at a safe distance but there was no charge. 

After a while a small woman (not a Halfling, she was just short) came forward out of the line of soldiers.  She had on those baggy pants sailors seem to like but over that was a rich red check patterned garment that would have looked great on me except for the fact that it would have barely come down to the middle of my back.  Her hair was ridiculously coiffed for a battlefield and she was chewing on an apple.  I wanted to shoot it out of her face just because it was such an obvious move to show how casual and unconcerned she was.  I detest that kind of playacting. 

She tossed the apple core away with calculated nonchalance, for a small woman her voice was strong and clear “Who’s in command here?”

I stayed well back but tossed my voice out to her “Master Sergeant Hala Tankelthorn at your service.”

She smiled indulgently “I wasn’t aware that the Kingdom was enlightened enough to allow women serving in the ranks of their renowned military.”

“It’s a recent change, we’ve got a queen running the place now you know so women are being afforded more opportunity.  It’s terrible, as you well know it’s woman’s duty to stay at home and be the primary care giver because the Gods created us to bear children.  And yet here I am fighting and dying like a man.  I mean I have a sword in my hand instead of a knitting needle – what is even happening?”

She shook her head sadly “What is the world coming to?”

“It’s tragic is what it is.  Hey what’s the deal with those guys that came out of the river?”

“You know of it is in wartime, alliance are made with all sorts.  Strange bedfellows and all that.”

“You get into bed with those things?”

“Figure of speech.  I’m here to talk about the terms of your surrender.”

“I’d love to hear them.”

“Surrender now or we’ll kill you.”

“Well that’s simple enough.  I give you credit for not trying to fancy things up.” 

Montresor 18 Year 888 (New Imperial Calendar) part 2

The “fun” thing about battle fury is when it ends.  One moment I’m jumping around swinging my sword like man and then all of a sudden I was thinking to myself “why am I running onto this ship instead of hiding back on shore shooting with my crossbow?”  It’s great.  One of the sailors (are they still sailors on a river?  I guess the boat did have a sail.  What do you call people that work on a sail-less vessel?  Seamen?  But what if they’re not on the sea?  Or men?) came at me with a hook (not like a hook for a hand a tool of some kind) but I managed to grab her by the horn-antlers and knock her off balance.  Also I stabbed her through the stomach.  I should have said something like “nice rack!” but a guy with a sword (I think they’re called cutlasses when you’re on a ship – which is not good since I’m a lass and I don’t like being cut) was coming at me and he looked pretty pissed.

I managed to parry his first stroke but then I was reminded that fencing isn’t really my thing.  I’m more comfortable stabbing people in the back.  Preferably while they’re asleep.  Also it would be good if someone else was doing the stabbing while I was watching from a safe distance and drinking champagne with orange-flavored triple sec liqueur and cranberry juice.  He backed me up with his swinging cutlass (if you know what I mean) whereupon I tripped over some kind of nautical thing that had ropes tied to it.  Did he do that on purpose?  That’s some pretty crafty fighting using the environment to his advantage like that.  As he loomed over me I used my Stole and a few bars of The Farewell Aria of The Red King Bajazet to fill his face with jagged shards – pretty sure one of them went in his eye.  I could have done without seeing that. 

I poked him through the heart (you know with my sword) or at least somewhere close to the heart and he went down to the deck.  I looked him dead in the eye and said “I hope you already got paid for this voyage because the rent in the Hells is paid in advance!”  Now that’s a quip.  I need to make sure that I work on something really good for when I finally kill Duke Eaglevane.  What’s better than killing your most hated enemy? Sending them into the afterlife with your voice in their ears and the knowledge of your victory in their head, that’s what.

Another sailor came at me with her horns but I was able to sidestep and direct her over the side.  You’d think an able seawoman (riverwoman?) would know better than to run at someone with their head down like a goat on the deck of a ship.  An officer looking fellow started playing a fife which seems like a pretty silly thing to do in a fight but I assume that he was doing some kind of magic.  I advanced on him but another horned woman came forward to lash at me with a whip.  I’ve talked about the insanity of using a whip in combat before, they were a combat duo to beat a full house for sure – the fifist and the whip master. 

Despite my scorn the horned whipper managed to entangle my sword and send it flying into the river which is annoying because that thing was expensive.  I wonder how many valuable magic items are lying at the bottom of rivers after skirmishes like this.  Seems like you could make a pretty good living going around and gathering them all up with water breathing magic.  The fifist contributed concussive blast that knocked me back and over the side of the ship myself.  The question is – is the fife itself magic or did he just use it to cast a spell of his own?  Sadly we’ll never know.    

If you ever have someone cast a water walking spell on you here’s something to keep in mind – if you fall (or dive) into the water that’s like slamming into solid ground.  I was a little dazed tumbling over the side of the landing craft onto the hard, hard water but not so dazed that I wasn’t able to get out my crossbow and shoot the whip wielder in the face as she came over to look.  I clambered back on board where the fifist and the few other people still around all jumped off and started swimming towards another ship.  I’m generally not someone who gets hung up on fighting fair or honorable combat obviously, but there is something discomforting about shooting someone in the back of the head while they’re swimming away.  I still did it but I don’t feel great about it.

I hurled a blazing lantern from my Greatcoat onto that ship as well (why didn’t I do that from the start?) and then walked out onto the water to take stock of the situation.  The blazing fishing boats were drifting downstream towards the greater body of the Ulpine fleet but they weren’t doing much other than bottling up the river – the Ulpinese had smaller boats out in front pushing the fireships away with long poles or just extinguishing the fires.  The landing party had left dozens of bodies in the river, looks like they got mauled coming out of the water, but they had numbers on their side and were in the process of flanking the defenders and overwhelming them.  Grigori was in the mix fighting with a staff like a lunatic – must mean he’s out of magic.  There are a lot of reasons to disdain magic, foremost among them is its limited nature.  My crossbow never runs out of bolts. 

“Ela isn’t that because of magic?”

Shut up you!  As I dashed for the shore I saw a fucking shark tearing into one of the bodies in the river.  A shark!  In a river!  Nobody told me there was such a thing as river sharks!  And you know what else?  It was right at that fucking moment that the spell failed and I belly-flopped into the water.  You know, where the FUCKING sharks are!!!  As you know I’m not a very strong swimmer and having a longcoat on certainly doesn’t help – and you know what else doesn’t help?  Knowing that there’s a GODS DAMNED SHARK IN THE WATER!!!

Thankfully I was close to the bank anyway and I was able to clamber back into land quickly before any sharks murdered me.  I wanted to lay there for a moment to catch my wind, people underestimate the cardiovascular demands of fighting for even a couple minutes, but things were looking dire.  As they say no rest for the beautiful.  I called upon my Stole and blasted the backs of the marines with a quick sea shanty the name of which I forget – it’s about salt and sea and womanizing shame but I suppose they all are.  I would have liked to stay back and done some crossbowing but unfortunately I have to get pretty close for the Stole to do its thing so I waded into the melee with the Baron’s Cane.  Just in time to turn the tide like a big damn hero. 

The Ulpine marines tried to retreat to their boat only to find that their boat was gone and also was on fire.  With no other choice they looked like they were steeling themselves for a last stand on the riverbank but I used my voice amplification once again and told them they should swim for it – we were granting them safe passage.  Once they were in the water I start shooting at them, as did the dwarf after a moment and one of the villagers who had a hunting bow.  One of the other surviving villagers, whose hand was mangled and bloody, ran over and asked in horror what we were doing.

“We’re killing those guys who came to murder you and your entire family.  What did you think we were doing?”

Regrouping, a good half of the villagers had been killed, but the dwarfs and the two casters were still alive and kicking although much worse the wear.  I saw the witch attending the wounded and healing them with her magic.  I turned to Grigori.

“Since when can witches heal people?”

“That’s one of the main abilities of witches.  The role of witches is smoothing out life’s little aches and pains and helping people with their day to day lives.  They’re like wizards for the common people.”

“Since when?  All I ever see witches do is turn people into pig-monsters and build weird huts in trees that look like screaming faces.”

“I think that you’re thinking of hags rather than witches.”

Before I could respond I was interrupted by a building behind me exploding – knocking me face-first into the dirt and showering the backs of my legs and ass with debris and splinters.  Which for the record I don’t care for.  When I managed to sit up, I saw the culprit – another ship had swung into position by the shore with a couple of ballista on the deck.  I didn’t know they had ballista bolts that would make buildings blow apart like they were filled with smoke power but I guess I do now.  I am confident beyond all reasonable doubt that the purpose of this fleet is to destroy the bridge to the north – they’ve probably been burning the boats of any village they come across along the way just as a matter of practicality.   And just for fun too most likely, military people being what they are.  But by standing up to them a little bit it probably pissed off the commodore or admiral or whoever’s in charge of a river force enough that he ordered the place smashed to the ground.  It’s a real bastard of a choice – let the soldiers fuck you up and hope that they’ll have some mercy or fight back and know that then they’re going to really fuck you up.

I staggered to my feet and waved the others forward “Time to go gents.”

The dwarf with the crazy eyebrows frowned at me “What’s wrong with your skin?”

I looked down and saw my tattoos glowing brilliantly, shining through my clothes as they like to do “Are you shitting me?!”

Montresor 18 Year 888 (New Imperial Calendar) part 1

Moments after my anti-climactic triumph over the forces of evil and chaos Grigori and I were back in the camp as if we had never left.  No comment was made by the woman who’s name I misheard, she merely dished up some slop from a kettle for Grigori .  I went to sleep on one of the bedrolls she had gotten from somewhere.  I assume she used witch powers.  It’s probably an accursed bedroll of heart piercing or something, witches being the way they are.  As I was drifting off I heard the two of them going at it hard – I was too lazy to peek over at what they were doing but they certainly were enthusiastic about it whatever it was.  When a wizard and a witch have a baby is that were warlocks come from?  If a war mage is watching is the baby a hexblade then?  And where do blood hunters come from?  Maybe I don’t want to know. 

In the morning we returned to Peacevast, although I’m not sure why Grigori and whatshername didn’t split since returning to the village where you were imprisoned doesn’t seem like a great idea to me.  My plan was to get a few supplies and then continue on my way to Graltontown.  But we all know how my plans go.  Everyone seemed peaceful in Peacevast, we walked right into town without taking notice right away or what was going on. 

What was going on was that on the river a score or so of fishing boats were on fire and listing this way and that.  You’d think that kind of thing would attract attention right away but it took me a moment before I noticed the flaming ships.  They appeared to be unmanned and drifting, although who knows if that’s because the crews were dead or if they were cut free and set aflame from the dock.  There were a couple early rising fisherman dead on the docks, riddled with arrows.  One of them had a Gods damned ballista bolt through him – looked like a kebab.   

Once my attention was firmly fixed on the river I noticed the not on fire boats.  I’m no boat expert (boatwright?) but I would guess that they were Ulpine boats, mostly because the people on them were Ulpinese.  I would further label these people as “raiders” rather than soldiers because of their lack of uniforms, although it’s a pretty thin distinction probably.  Once the axe is in your face it doesn’t matter much what the person who put it there was wearing.  At first a thought some of them were wearing helmets with crazy horns on them but after a moment I realized that those were just people that had horns growing out if their heads.  And by people I mean women, the horned ones were all female.   

They weren’t minotaurs or anything like that, they were just women with horns.  Or antlers maybe.  Somewhere in between horns and antlers.  The horned women appeared to mostly be doing boat stuff (something with ropes?) while the “normal” Ulpiners were attending the boat arson and killing with bows.  Once I took in the scene I saw that there were a lot of Ulpine boats – and some really big ones, although they were further down the river to the south.    I guess this means Fort Obrinth must have been destroyed, or captured maybe, I don’t see how else they could have gotten their ships up the river.   

I heard someone in the village yelling “to arms! To arms!” and bunch of people ran out to see what the hubub was.  That was not a good idea, there was a boat hanging out by the docks packed with bowmen who unleashed a volley of arrows on those eager listeners that cut them down like wheat (why is it always wheat?  Why not sorghum or corn?  Is wheat especially easy to harvest?).  I saw a gape-faced man ringing a handbell and shouting that the village was under attack.  I knocked the bell out of his hand and gave him a good kick for emphasis. 

“Shut up you idiot!  You see all those archers?”  I jerked my head at Grigori and his lady friend “You two, make with the magic, get rid of those bowmen.”  I gave them a shove “Go damn it!”  I grabbed the bell-ringer by the coat “You, find that guy yelling and shut him up!”  As they ran off I strode into the middle of the village enhancing my voice to titanic proportions.  “People of Peacevast your village is under attack, stay indoors until further notice.  If you have weapons now is the time.” 

A few arrows fell around me but were thwarted by my Greatcoat and various other protective charms.  I dashed to the building where I had seen the dwarf witch hunters and nearly got a crossbow bolt to the face was I kicked the door open to reveal the shooter standing guard while the one with the crazy eyebrows was buckling on his fancy armor.  They looked a little too rattled for professional murders if you ask me.  They should be used to this kind of thing.  Makes me wonder about their credentials. 

“Watch where you’re shooting that fucking thing!  You two get down the docks and start killing anyone who comes ashore.”  I could tell they were going to waste time saying something stupid so I grabbed a piece of the armor and hurled it out the door.  I cranked up vocal amplification so much it literally shook the walls of their borrowed hut. “NOW GODS DAMN IT!  I won’t ask again!” 

I ran from building to building giving orders – anyone with a weapon move under cover and get down to the riverbank.  Stay behind the dwarfs and support them, protect the spellcasters.  Anyone with a boat come with me, everyone else gather on the northeast side of the village and once you’re all together run for your fucking lives.  Stay together, head north and then cut over to find the road – head for Ardinit.  Stay together.  Don’t get separated, in other words, stay together.

With the fisherman trialing me like ducklings we took cover at a building closest to the water.  I saw that either the witch or the wizard had summoned a wall of wind that was turning aside the arrows of the attackers.  In response another boat was heading for the riverbank packed with marines.  I think that’s what they call guys with axes on a boat.  The two dwarfs and a handful of villagers were standing by to receive them.  I told the fisherman the plan – whatever boats were left set them on fire and get the out in the water.  Sadly but predictably they balked. 

“Are you kidding me?  Sorry buddy but you’re not going to be fishing on that craft ever again, it’s as good as wrecked already.  Burning your boats was a fine idea by these dirty Ulpinese dogs, but whoever turned them loose is a moron – they’re blocking their own fleet from advancing.  They can’t get close because those floating deathtraps might set their own ships on fire.  You ever hear of a fireship?  That’s what we’re doing here.  Get all of those boats out there in the river and on fire and do it now!” 

I grabbed a burning lanterns from my Greatcoat (magic you know) and hurled it into one of the bigger fishing vessels.  It went up like a . . . like a . . . something that burns easily.  This seemed to spur them to action finally.  Although for one of them that action was to try and coldcock me.  I clobbered him with the Baron’s Cane and was tempted to throw him into the burning scow as well but I decided there wasn’t time.  Also I probably wouldn’t have been able to shift him.  That strength belt I had was unsightly but I will admit that it was nice being as strong as a sort of strong man.  However, as they say, style over function.  I took out my crossbow partially to make sure my orders were followed and partially to start firing at the boarding party heading for the shore. 

Once all boats were burning and floating free I directed the fisherman to join their families and flee for their bloody lives.  I took a drink from my flask for magic fighting spirit (and just spirits) and got out my Belt-Sword as I dashed over to where the enemy was pointed to land.  They certainly were a spirited bunch, looked like they couldn’t wait to jump off that skiff and start the ruckus.  There were maybe a dozen and a half men standing behind the dwarves in the general area of Grigori and the woman who’s name I should learn with a ragbag of weapons looking not very excited.  I spun my sword about in a jaunty manner that I think I saw in a play one time, I doubt anyone does that in a real battle. 

“Cheer up lads!  This isn’t the Battle of Bloodmarch Hills, this is just a skirmish.   A little something t put some hair on your balls.  This isn’t the invasion, they’re just looking for a spot of fun on the way to the main event.  You just need to hold them off for a few minutes while your lovely wives and ruddy faced little bairns make for the hills.  You can do that can’t you?  I’d say you owe them at least that much as recompense for having such a sorry lot as you for their husbands and fathers.” 

A scattered laughter came up, largely forced but it will do.  The two dwarfs looked at me. I didn’t even see which once asked the question.

“Why are we doing this?” 

“We’re here, who else is going to do it?” I turned back in kind to the witch and the wizard “You two got any more tricks to pull out?” 

The two lovers clung to at each other and then nodded, whatshername looking back at me “We’ll do our part.” 

“Wonderful!  Lovely to hear it!  Looks like they’re just about here, how about we kill these fuckers eh?” 

There’s one advantage I’ve found being a woman on the battlefield.  If you’re not afraid that really stiffens the spines of a lot of men purely based on macho bullshit.  A man may or may not be able to ignore the judgement of his fellow men on cowardice and so forth, but they sure as Hells are not going to be outdone by a frail and fragile maiden.   

Now I’m not much a warrior was you folks well know, but one advantage that I normally have is that I keep my cool.   A lot of people lose their head once someone starts trying to stab them in the guts, which is the last thing you need.  Say what you want about old Ela, but once the hard words are over and it’s time to spill blood I normally keep a steady hand on the tiller.  Is it tiller or rudder?  Whatever you know what I mean.

But every now and then things go a different way.  I started pacing up and down the riverbank as the boarding party came closer.  They were near enough that I could clearly make out their faces but it seemed like it took them forever to actually get there.  Boats are slow and stupid if you ask me.  With the intensification of the cane and my own natural vocal talents I started cursing at the men in the boat, first generally then specifically.  Third from the left, your beard looks like the hairy ass of a goat.  Second row in the middle your mouth looks like a puckering asshole.  Oh you, first guy from the right, I’m definitely going to kill you and your secret sex lips first.  And so on. 

And as I was stomping around insulting them I was getting more and more worked up.  It started out as a show for the others, give them a little something to bend back the arms of fear from their throats, but after a little while I felt like a rock tumbling down an mountainside in an avalanche.  I was out of control.  I couldn’t wait for them to get to land, I wanted to get to scrapping right now!  I wanted my blade to taste blood.  All the frustrations of the last two years, and of my life maybe, were bubbling up and I couldn’t keep a lid on them.  Maybe I didn’t want to.   

No one knows better than me that heroics are unseemly.  Courageous fighters generally end up as courageous corpses.  There’s no credit given for being on the front lines, no one is keeping score, play it smart – this isn’t a duel of honor, it’s Gods damned war, you do whatever you have to do to stay alive and hurt the enemy.  Berserkers have their place on the battlefield, far away from me and the other reasonable people. 

But something had come over me, had taken a hold of me maybe.  Before they were ashore they started jumping into the water to wade after us.  I was going to go in after them, which is a very stupid thing to do, but one of the casters did something and suddenly I would walk on water.  Have you ever tried to fight someone while waist deep in water while the person you were trying to fight could walk on top of it like solid ground?  I wouldn’t recommend it.  I killed six men as easy as you like.  Well, the fifth one may have just lost an eye.  Not sure about that.  I definitely stabbed him in the head. 

There were probably four dozen men vomiting off that boat though so it hardly mattered, they flowed around me and onto shore.  Grigori summoned a quartet of hooting carnivorous apes who were led into the fray by his lady love herself, who had sprouted fur and fangs and claws.  Is she a werewolf or is that a witch thing?  I’ll ask later if I remember.  And if she’s still alive.  They joined the dwarf duo in hacking away at the attackers while the villagers smartly and cowardlyly stayed back and picked off the injured and the distracted.  

I ran into the boat they just came off of.  I don’t know is that was a stroke of brilliance or a very stupid thing to do.  I’ll have to ask a tactician next time I see one.  But in a situation like this do you need a navel tactician or a normal one?