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The Power Of Ten: Sama Rantha
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Chapter 204 : Errant fought twice more out there, earning himself some battlespoils, and facing off
He'd nearly split Errant open at one point, but then found out that Wrath pretty much went right through non-Energized armor, and his insides were reduced to ash. Errant than split the head of the big scaled dog with the anti-magic collar the b.a.s.t.a.r.d was riding on before it could rip Darkbolt apart, and the two of them sat there and healed together slowly as they watched the rest of the fight roll on around them.
"You need to take you some Racial or Melee Levels, Darkbolt." He chucked the beaten and gnawed griffon's jaw, and the big fellow could only chirp in agreement. That had been one nasty Axe...
Sama was out exploring Yle Tyorm... although exploration probably wasn't the correct word for what they were doing there. A shattered temporal s.p.a.ce a couple blocks wide was ending up a mile or more across, and just absolutely filled with dangerous stuff they didn't want streaming towards the berserkers and the North Wind... not that a whole lot of the stuff wasn't doing exactly that.
A hundred Ironblood and a few more Healers had been sent the first day. Then a company of elves and dwarves each arrived to reinforce them as nasty c.r.a.p continued to flow out of the inner city.
In real distance, the trio were maybe a half mile in. The amount of slaughter they were going through was unreal.
He really wanted to be there, but he knew his place wasn't there.
Hazé blew in on a magic wind next to him, but did no spellcasting. Like the previous day, the dwarves were handling everything, and her sudden intervention would have been a fine excuse to suddenly inject some demonic fun into everything.
She had already popped a Greater Sluggor earlier that day, serving with the knightly Orders during her turn on overwatch. The Void Brothers responding to the presence of demonkind didn't have a chance before all those Shardrays reached out together and obliterated the crawling ma.s.s of pustulence from a thousand feet away.
Everybody kind of looked at her differently now, imagine that.
"Need help?" she asked, watching the dwarves pincer and rapidly hedgerow lines of armored Warped humans who were finding it hard to get to real fisticuffs, and not liking being groin-cut, hamstrung, and gut-ripped by the gnomish infighters, who were really getting a hardline reputation for their brutally efficient close-quarters work.
Feist, of course, was just death on bare feet, totally outcla.s.sing anyone but a Champion... and as that Champion found out, if the girls were helping him, outcla.s.sed him, too. Between the distraction of Veis hanging off his antlered helm, Amber's Rapier inserting itself into some sensitive areas, and Verd impaling his oversized fanged horse to force the initial dismount, Feist's clean-up work had been pretty simple.
This group had brought along a couple wyverns, which had kept him and Darkbolt occupied for a few minutes, but the advantage of ranged attacks was not so easily overcome, and Wrath-enhanced speed and maneuverability on Darkbolt's side meant absolute advantage in the air. That fight hadn't come to much, and then he'd swept down to hack into some horrifically mutated, soul-lashed abominations whose ma.s.s was almost enough to breach the dwarven lines.
Purity had popped them into great stinking ma.s.ses of vivic fire, and then the Company Commander, his physics-ignoring Axe, and his improbable Armor had ridden over with the antic.i.p.ation of a good fight.
"You need some healing?" she asked, holding up a hand as she hovered next to him. He sighed.
"Four forty-point hits," he told her, shaking his head, and she whistled. "Yeah, I'm out of Soak. But the fight's done, so no. Let's head for the wounded." He tapped Darkbolt, whose limp was now gone, and the griffon paced quickly for the back of the dwarven lines, where figures in white were moving quickly from person to person, first saving lives, loading them on wagons or Disks, then healing them up further.
Hazé was, of course, the highest level of Healer on the field, with her Reserve capable of giving back ten Health per round, as only a healing spell in Valence V could achieve. It generally took her no more than two or three rounds per injured person to get them back to full Health and send them off to reclaim their Soak.
"You blew your Vigors that fast?" she asked, concerned.
"I could have sniped those abominations from a safe distance, I suppose, but they died much faster up close and personal, and I didn't want the dwarves sucking in the pestilence and corruption that long."
"Generous." But this was a battlefield, trading time for injuries. His Damage Reduction took care of a lot of minor injuries, to the extent that he could almost ignore most missile fire, but Darkbolt wasn't nearly at his level of innate defenses, as the griffon had quickly realized.
It was too true. Pets and mounts, even at the level of a griffon, simply weren't as tough as a Senior rider, especially a Deep Ten. His lack of armor meant his ability to avoid damage wasn't quite up to where he would want it yet, given that a Warped Champion could beat him down that much in personal combat, but that Champion would have dispatched Darkbolt in seconds if the griffon had been his target.
She eyed the Collar floating on his Disk, and the Champion's Axe and helm. "Scalehound beats griffon?" she asked in interest. Darkbolt's feathers drooped slightly. "Don't worry. Invest the Karma, get bigger and tougher, and beat it down the next time."
Darkbolt's black crest rose in golden-eyed determination. That had truly been uncomfortable, being overpowered by the demonic scaled brute and its huge jaws. He chirped at Errant, who glanced his way.
"Melee Level. Primary Weapon, IUS/Natural Weapons. First Technique, Profound Natural Weapons. First Training Technique, Toughness. For a Melee, those are based off Melee Attack Bonus, and yours is already high as a Magical Beast. You will notice a very significant increase in the damage you deal out.
"Then take the second Melee Level, Weapon Spec in natural weapons, and Toughness Mastery/2. You'll be on your way to bada.s.sness quickly. After that, take the Advanced Template. Your crown's leader has that. It's why he's bigger and stronger than the rest of you. He's just a superior griffon."
Darkbolt called out excitedly. He could get that powerful? This was definitely the way he wanted to go!
"Aye, kill powerful enemies, get powerful. It's the way of the world." The griffon softly chirped agreement.
"You will be leaving for the capital today?" Hazé asked calmly.
"Aye," he said, patting Darkbolt. "Estemar has said he'd ride Darkbolt into battle, and help him advance. I'd like to take him into Zynozure, but I'm sure some mages would chop him up for his pinfeathers and blood, so there's no way." Darkbolt made an irritated screech, and both of the young humans nodded back at him. "Yeah, the Empire is not a nice place, especially the city. Even having me around probably wouldn't save you, too much greed in that place..."
"Do you know why you're being pulled back there? I don't mind 'porting there to pull people out, but staying there until the Day..."
"Heaven knows. But I'll have faith and trust that I should be there."
She was an Archtheurge of Sylune. She could only agree.
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Teleporting back to Zynozure after finis.h.i.+ng up helping with the healing was much easier, as he came right into the Temple of Sylune's Star Chamber, where a bevy of attractive women in white and black soon cl.u.s.tered around the barely-teenaged Archtheurge who'd brought him in and kindly shooed him out of the way as they got to talking about important business.
Smiling to himself, he quickly exited the lovely white building, built high enough to allow an excellent view of the Throned below, the s.h.i.+ps traversing it, and the expanse of the waters around it; the truest heart of the Empire, the source of its lifesblood.
There was probably something really bad going to come out of that lake, whose legendary depths were said to hold the tombs of ancient kings, and the burial s.h.i.+ps of emperors consigned to its depths. Errant sighed at the view, and headed for the Temple of Aru.
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The Order of the Ruby Heart was nominally a Templar Order attached to the Church of Aru and enjoyed its unstinting support. Finding out that the Grand Maester had been killed and suborned by a doppelganger had sparked a dangerous fire in the hearts of the priests of the G.o.d of the Sun and Light, igniting a wave of martial fire that was filtering into the clergy all over the Empire.
And then the Visions, Dreams, Messages, and Prophecies had started to quietly come in, with the kind of no-nonsense weight behind them that prodded them to start taking action. Word of the great fight up north, and of a new kingdom being founded there, a fight under the very walls of Yle Tyorm, made for a fantastic excuse to start taking action.
He wasn't involved in those movements, but he knew a great many of the acolytes and younger priests had quickly been dispatched to the north to get themselves blooded, guided by senior Priests who were quietly taking with them Relics and wealth of the faith, to preserve and to build anew.
As such, there were far fewer young men and women around, and they were quietly thinning out by the day. What were left were men and women in their later years, who'd grown into their power and their faith, and who had made the choice not to run.
The Sun was setting on the Rose of the Empire. More than once, he caught the elders of the Temple looking up and around, at this grand and brightly-lit edifice of light and hope, built by the faithful in adoration of their G.o.d and the bright future He held for them. The light from it could be seen clear to the horizon, a beacon to all coming to the Rose, even if that light faded away into the darkness eating at the roots of the city.
They would be the last witnesses to the fall of the Rose, and the Temple of the Sun's Promise, the heart of Aru in all the lands of the Empire, would fall with it.
But the Sun would still rise, and these old men and women would see that the coming darkness would know the price of bringing down The Light.
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Three sets of silver eyes turned to look at him, and one set of grey.
One was a young knight of the Order of the Golden Stag, who'd sought him out for training after a wandering Celestial had sponsored him to the Order of the s.h.i.+eld. The second was an acolyte of Flora, who was not Powered, and been offered a way to serve by a Harvest Angel, directed to come here before displaying her abilities. The third was a slender, hatchet-faced young fellow, his eyes burning with subdued outrage and rebellion, sponsored by an Ahren to the Order of the Song, and rather sulking that he had to wait on Errant's return at all, eager to be about confronting the evils of the city with his new power.
The last was a young woman, who had been sent to the followers of Aethra the Rider many years ago by a certain Archtheurge of Sylune, and had taken the path of an Amazon, which was a variant, special path of Warlock.
He'd been training the Heavenbound when the news had broken, and left them to their devices temporarily while he headed north.
The eyes that met him showed no fear, and that was good.
"I have returned from the North, and the fight there," he told the four of them plainly, sitting down on a bench across from them. "I will ask you this straight-forwardly, and tell you the truth. If you choose to go to the North, I can take you there. If you do this, you will gain Levels quickly, if you remember what I told you about.
"If you choose to remain in the city, gaining Levels will be less steady, and more dangerous. The foes we seek here are not right out in the open, and will tend to vary between very weak and incredibly dangerous.
"I would have dearly loved to have the years needed to make you truly strong with the Angel Weight discipline. But we do not have that time, so we must seek strength the more direct way.
"So tell me now, my Brothers and Sisters... what do you want to do?"
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Addendum: Amazons
This is a self-invented 'Cla.s.s' inspired by DC Comics' Amazons, the sisters of Wonder Woman.
Amazons are considered a Warlock Cla.s.s, because they empowered by divine energy and an Oath to serve the G.o.ddesses who empower them. Like Warlocks, there is a hard limit of five hundred Amazons per G.o.ddess per World (and it reduces the number of Warlocks they might sponsor), meaning their numbers are strictly limited. They are only found among humans.
Amazons take twice the Karma to progress in their Primary Cla.s.s. This is a.n.a.logous to the Karma a normal Warlock would have to pay to advance their Warlock Masteries.
Amazons are turned into genetically perfect humans once they take their Oath. They have base 18 in all Stats, no randomness at all, but can still pick their first level bonus, which is usually to Strength. That means that a starting Amazon starts at 21 Strength, as strong as an ogre, and stronger than any man is naturally, or four average men!
This transformation alone means there is no shortage of would-be Amazons, as even the ugliest and weakest woman will instantly become tall, beautiful, and very strong! Indeed, the G.o.ddesses seem to prefer such applicants, as they know best what it means to be weak and ugly in a world dominated by men...
For every Primary Level an Amazon gains, they gain a +1 bonus to Strength, and half that bonus to Con and Dex (i.e. +1 per two Levels). The rule of the DC Comic Amazons is that they vary in strength from five to ten times the strength of the naturally strongest men (Str 20). Five to ten times that puts them at a strength score of 31 to 36 at that top end, which is possible without any magical Strength enhancements at all for any and every Amazon!
Thus, without ANY magical help, Amazons rapidly become stronger than any man, and even Powered tend to have to resort to extreme buffing to equal what they gain without effort.
Amazons can gain a Vajra, but Soul Magic and Ki are not traditional avenues of strength among them, and will be shunned by most Amazons instinctively, i.e. they have no desire to investigate them. Those with Human Levels, on the other hand...
Amazons are physically near-identical, with no more then a quarter-inch difference in body shape between them, i.e. they can all wear one another's clothes. They are all right-handed, ambidextrous, have the same dominant eye, step forward with the same foot, and otherwise exhibit Cadence, able to move and interact with one another in perfect trust and harmony, like an elite squad of marching troops or dancers, all without effort. Seeing a few hundred warrior woman sprinting at you in perfect lockstep has unnerved more than a few armies...
Amazons are restricted to traditional Amazon garb and gear, meaning unarmed combat, spear, knife, long and short swords, slings, bows, and glaives, s.h.i.+elds, and light to medium armor. Given the choice between a bow and an automatic rifle, they'll grab the bow every time. They can USE just about any weapon well, but they will ditch things like maces and hammers and axes at the first opportunity, even if they are magical. Likewise, they will ride a horse before a motorcycle, but if no trained horse is available, will make do.
Amazons have no other magical ability, it's all used for their Stat buffs and 'perfect state', although, like Primos, they can still use magical items (they are not Forsaken). Thus, they advance almost always as a Melee combatant, with Levels in Archer and Scout taken secondary. The fact they are genius-level combatants with extreme cunning and strong personalities means that they end up looking down on normal human combatants who don't have nearly the same Stat lines as they do, and tend to rapidly a.s.sume leaders.h.i.+p positions among male-dominated warriors, often to the men's displeasure.
They tend to not take kindly to receiving orders from men who have not proven their superiority, which is quite the tall order.
There are evil Amazons, sponsored by the dark G.o.ddesses, but they are not frequent in number, as the dark G.o.ddesses are more into witchcraft, poison, and intrigue, not fisticuffs. Such Amazons usually end up as temple guards or bodyguards to their priestesses, and have no influence. On the other side, there are whole nations led by the Amazons of Eryl the Storm Queen, and the various Good G.o.ddesses, led by Eryl's daughter Aethra, the Wind Rider. Amazons of Eryl are guided to gather together and form nations, and Amazons of the other G.o.ddesses usually sprout within those, guiding them away from pure martial s.e.xism and conquest to higher purposes.
While Eryl's Amazons are neutral and friendly to all other Amazons, the conflicts between the Good and Evil Amazons are vicious, b.l.o.o.d.y, and impossible to rectify. As the Good Amazons tend to be much easier to get along with, this usually results in the Evil Amazons forming their own nations and societies, which generally end as conquerors, pirates, and slavers, despised by all their neighbors, and tend to exacerbate gender conflicts on all sides. The fact that Eryllian Amazons are far from unwilling to also engage in gender-based conflicts certainly doesn't help matters, and even the Good Amazons look down on patriarchal systems.
Amazons are all six feet tall, beautiful, and can only reproduce with the approval of their G.o.ddess, i.e. their purpose is like that of a Warlock, to fight, not to be a mother. They can reproduce parthogenically, i.e. with other women (magic involved, of course!), but if they chose a man, the daughter will always follow the father's coloration, otherwise defaulting to olive-skinned, dark-haired, and dark-eyed.
Amazons will only bear daughters, and those daughters will have a flat Stat line of 15 in all attributes, Amazon-born. Amazon-born's own daughters will be normal humans. They only get the perfect Stat line if they swear the Oath, but unlike their mothers, Amazon-born can be Powered and gain Caster Levels, which means that the prominent Casters in an Amazon society are almost always the daughters of Amazons.
Amazons have their own three Racial Levels, which effectively fits them ever more firmly into the trope of being an Amazon, i.e. strong, devoted warriors of their G.o.ddess, feeling completely secure in their role as the best warriors in the world. They notably lack much of the flexibility and versatility of thought of Amazons with Human Levels, as well as slowly losing understanding and empathy with normal Humans.
Among themselves, True Amazons are Oathsworn Amazon-born who have taken the Amazon Racial Levels; Sworn Amazons are Amazon-born with Human Levels; and Sworn Sisters are normal Human women who have sworn the Oath and become Amazons. Sworn Sisters are usually much more common outside Amazon nations, serving their Faiths or G.o.ddesses directly, and their numbers are heavily biased towards the Good G.o.ddesses.
Amazon societies, while lead by numbers of extraordinarily intelligent women, are also hampered by the conservatism of their own Oathbound nature. Thus, innovation and advancement of Amazon society is almost always driven by the Amazon-born or the Sworn Sisters with Human Levels, who retain the versatility and adaptability of their origins, while the True Amazons end up serving as defenders and martial leaders of the nation.
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Amazon societies are always defined by the horse or the sea. They will be either great horsewomen, renowned for their horse archers, or masters of the sea, renowned for their s.h.i.+ps and naval warfare. An Amazon Empire will naturally be good at both. As the Patrons of Archery, Wind, and Storms are on their sides, this is quite natural.
Thus, most Amazon nations are island nations, or occupy great plains as formidable leaders of light to medium cavalry. Since Amazon nations are by writ backed by the G.o.ddesses they are sworn to, there is always a strong theocratic element to their society, which is always G.o.ddess-dominated. While Good Amazons will respect the male deities, the Neutral and Evil Amazons tend to ignore them or disparage them outright.
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Amazons have a natural dislike of Hags, who come from literally the whole opposite end of the Dangerous Woman spectrum, and this carries over to Hagchildren instinctively. It is not something that they cannot recognize and overcome, of course.
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There is an a.n.a.logue to the Amazons sponsored by certain male deities, whose role is more of s.h.i.+eld Maidens. They are called the Erhiar, also named the Valkyrie, Air Maidens, and so forth among other cultures. Valus is their primary sponsor. They have a rivalry with Amazons, but tend to serve singly instead of in groups, going from battle to battle to fight alongside heroes, instead of being the heroes.
Because their a.s.sistance is often the difference between life and death, they are often called The Choosers of the Slain, i.e. they prevent heroes from being killed. Their role is more to inspire heroes to come forth, rather than BE the heroes themselves. In times of peace, they serve as G.o.d-approved messengers, trusted scouts, and inspire the warriors of the realms towards martial readiness in antic.i.p.ation of the battles that will come.
Warriors of Valus and Mithar will follow an Erhiar without batting an eye, a.s.sured of entrance to the Halls of Glory if they fall in the battle to come.
As they watch over the souls of the faithful and guide them to valorous lives, Erhiar absolutely loathe undead, necromancers, and those who would profane the right of souls to proceed to their final reward.
