《The Power of Ten: Sama Rantha》


 1 The Power of Ten – The Missing Tens – Sama Rantha

    The Power of Ten ¨C The Missing Tens ¨C Sama Rantha, Vol I ¨C Hagborn


    Chapter One ¨C Rebirth and Death


    Where am I?


    I looked around dazedly, trying to get my foggy thoughts together. It was hard to think.


    I thought¡­ I thought I had been reborn. I thought I was a baby again, and then, and then ¨C


    I jolted at the remembered images. No. No, I hadn''t just thought that. Those balefire eyes, gleaming with evil. The bruised, blue-back skin, the warts and extended nose, the teeth like jagged nails, and that voice¡­


    No, it wasn''t a thought. And then that¡­ thing. Like a baby made out of ooze. Crawling toward me, opening its maw into darkness, coming down on me, covering me, coming INTO me¡­


    Devouring me¡­


    I looked down at my hands.


    They were translucent, see through, as if I wasn''t really here. And small, too¡­


    I was small. I looked around, and everything looked so misty, and so big¡­


    Not really a baby, not really anything, but¡­ a dream.


    I twitched again, and memories fired back up coldly in my head.


    How I had died¡­ was that a building exploding, coming down on me? It was hard to tell. The world had gone to Hell, I was fighting¡­ undead, zombies, yes¡­ death¡­


    It had been a game, it had become reality. I had been¡­


    Sama Rantha.


    My head snapped up and around as something seemed to whisper, inside, outside, I couldn''t tell. I didn''t know how real my body was, but my senses seemed to work the right way.


    I was a Hagchild in the game. And now¡­


    Naturally, being a Hagchild meant I had to learn just what being the daughter of a Hag meant. Basic information was that you were a would-be Hag who had undergone the Ritual of the Silver Queen, had the Hag''s Curse and the magic that came with it ripped away, ending up a Forsaken Human who could never wield magic.


    I had picked Annis-born, the brute Melees of the Hag set. A Hagchild had no strength penalty for being female. Annis-born had a natural 40'' movement rate, instead of the default 30'', and if they picked Improved Unarmed Strike, natural claw damage.


    All Haghildren had double canine teeth. I licked mine, and yes, there they were. Their nails were also odd colors. Annis-born were black¡­ as were mine.


    I hadn''t gone through the Ritual of the Silver Queen. I had been eaten.


    Lore from the game rolled across my mind with uncanny clarity. Hags were as unnatural in childbirth as they were in life. They couldn''t actually raise their own children, or they''d eat them. At the same time, they were compelled to expand their cursed sisterhood by inflicting their Curse on innocent souls.


    Thus, every Hag''s child was born by killing other children and taking their innocent souls.


    And I¡­ was that innocent soul...


    Which meant¡­ what was around me was the Hag''s Curse. It had to rely on my soul to live. That I was awake, aware, and able to think was definitely beyond its current level of ability to deal with. On the other hand, I had no idea what to do, and likely I had been consumed and replaced.


    Hagmom Annis would have raped and consumed some man to conceive a child. If she was cruel and cunning enough, she would have done so to my real father. The cursed thing she conceived was basically a soulless thing that would have consumed me and taken my soul to give it life, taking my place and living my life, blissfully unaware that it wasn''t really me¡­ until it was time, and it was old enough for the Hag Curse to catalyze. Nearby Hags would sense the readiness of a Hagborn, swoop in, and perform the Ritual to consume and corrupt my soul, warp the innocent persona that had lived out my life, and turn an innocent soul into a Hag.


    Other Hagborn had different systems. Greenhags consumed a babe and conceived a replacement in their womb. Shellycoats relied on aborted fetuses and spreading venereal disease to as many men as possible in an orgy, bringing all the material together to form their daughter.


    That process¡­ was what was going on right now. I was a soul, trapped inside the auspice of a new Hagborn that had taken my place.


    Trapped¡­ in its dreams.


    This misty place of shadows and the evil that was dwelling in them¡­ was the dreams of the Hagborn, of the artificial persona of the curse, the place where its evil and madness gathered and grew, until it erupted out under the Ritual and consumed the skein drawn over it, consuming me in the interim.


    Which meant I was doomed, unless I could overcome it.


    Very slowly, I began to smile, and then laugh, low in whatever passed for a throat here.


    Three things were going to go very, very wrong for this Curse.


    One, and very important, was that it couldn''t kill me. Without my soul, it couldn''t remain alive. It could cause me fear, pain, and trauma, try to bind and seal me¡­ but it couldn''t kill me.


    Two, I was Sama Rantha. I''d embraced the persona when the world went to Hell. I was already a Hagchild. I could beat this, and I had all the tools and potential to do so.


    Three, I had taken that status into this world. I was no Powered. I hadn''t played the game as a spellcaster or chi-user. Nope, being a Hagchild meant I was Forsaken. Forsaken meant no magic¡­ not even Curses.


    The Curse was doomed, simply because it would never be able to transform me. The transformation would slide off me no matter how hard it tried. I wasn''t a Primos, ripe victim for the greatest Curse to afflict the human race. I was Forsaken. I was Normal done Hard, and I could never be a Hag!

 2 Chapter Two: The System

    I had a Hard Soul. It could kill me out of spite, but it couldn''t turn me into a Hag!


    I clenched my phantasmal fists again.


    I just had to survive, until I grew stronger. Until the physical body it had devoured and imitated grew stronger. Then my body itself would start rejecting the very Curse that formed it, and I would be free¡­


    The Curse would be trying to suppress me, annihilate my consciousness and will, and purge me from existence so it could truly steal my soul. It would attack me, and I would have to fight back.


    I would have to grow my soul. I would have to rip power from the Curse by fighting it, grow stronger, and never, ever give up.


    It would be like a game that I could not afford to lose.


    I looked at the whispering mists and shadows all around, the trees that dissolved into nothing as I looked at them.


    This¡­ was some sort of proto-zone formed by my own desires. If I stepped into the mists, I''d be stepping into its dreams, and whatever horrors it could warp and twist out of them to fight me.


    I would be the nightmare of the Hagborn which had replaced me, the opponent of the Curse it truly was.


    All I had to do was not give up, and not be afraid.


    The Power of Ten gave us the framework which the rules of magic and advancing one''s soul were built upon. I was a Forsaken, and would never be able to directly manipulate, use, or project magic or spiritual force. Hard Soul.


    But that did not mean that there weren''t avenues of power for the Power-less.


    I just had to decide how I was going to fight this dreamscape.


    I couldn''t rely on tools, which was harsh. I''d been a swordswoman, one of the best in the game. But this was a dream, tools were not something I could rely on the dreamscape to provide me.


    This was dream lucidity, I would have to be my own weapon.


    "Sama Rantha, Human/1 Hagchild, Melee/1," I stated and visualized the process of character creation. If the rules of the Power of Ten were applicable here, then I literally had the option of building myself within the framework of those rules.


    The dark smoke of my nails turned harder and blacker.


    Karma provided energy. I still had unassigned Karma from my last life, waiting to be allocated. In worlds of magic, akashic links exist, connecting the living to the departed, to the knowledge of our ancestors. In a place where casting balls of fire was remarkable, nigh-instantaneous ability to learn was a very, very underestimated ability.


    Humans gained a d8 for Health, meaning physical body integrity. Damage to Health was bruises, bumps, cuts, and actual physical injury, stick me, bleed me, break me. They gained six Skill Points, allocated to any Skill they chose, two of which became Class skills. Ranks of Skills were level-dependent, so at level 1, Humans had a number of Skills they could pick from to survive.


    I could and would train to increase my Health, and my Constitution would help. So, in the dreamscape, I would get tougher.


    Humans, standard ability score range, +2 to a Stat of choice, one bonus Feat, one extra Skill Point per level. Option to give up the bonus Feat and Skill Point for +2 to another Stat.


    Female, -2 to Strength, +2 to another Stat of choice. Hagchild, no such penalty to Strength.


    Mental Stats, I would use my own, whatever they were. Assume a build line of 10 for them. All possible points would be allocated to dream-physical ability.


    As a Forsaken, I set Constitution to 18. It wasn''t even a question. My Human bonus would crank it to 20. My first level Forsaken +1 Inherent bonus would raise that to a nearly superhuman 21. I would be extremely tough on a spiritual and physical level.


    My hands solidified into something almost as real as flesh. I knew they weren''t real, but they somehow felt a lot more solid now.


    Dexterity to 18. Gender bonus, +2, getting it to 20. I would be agile, nimble, flexible, coordinated, graceful, and have quick reflexes, even if I looked like skin and bones, at the very top of human natural potential.


    I watched ripples run along my arms, and I felt light, responsive, with a wider range of motion.


    Strength with whatever was left. I could raise it with Levels and magic items later, and there were quite a few that would help.


    Sinewy muscles joined the ripples along my arms, tendons rose up that looked thicker than most humans should have.


    Swap Human bonus feat and skill points for +2 to Intellect.


    I blinked as there was literally a surge in my skull, and my memory and speed of thought seemed to speed up. It was basically a wash, as the +2 to Intellect would raise the bonus by +1, which would replace the Skill Points lost, but also give me another starting language and +1 to all Int rolls, as well as making it easier for me to qualify for Int-based Feats.


    This focused dreamscape designing was working¡­


    D8 Hit Die for Human/1. I was an adventurer, not a civilian. Set Health at Level One to maximum.


    There was a tremble as energy seemed to run through me, acknowledging that point.


    Languages, Human plus Int bonus others. This would indirectly provide me my Intellect score.


    My eyes narrowed. Who and what would I face in a dreamscape?


    "Fey." They literally lived here. "Undead." Wandering spirits, the perfect nightmare creature. "Jotun." Giants would be an easy creature to dream up for a child. "Demonic." Nada¡­


    The three languages seemed to expand in the back of my head, as if I''d always known them. They were also rather disgusting, and I was glad I hadn''t picked Aklo, which was supposedly literally mind-bending to learn. Jotun was fine, but every syllable reeked of age and primal power long passed away, at once strong and depressing and unchanging. It was the base language of Runes, and I''d need to learn it to learn Runelore, or Runic Item Creation.


    They were all languages I''d known in the game, too...


    +3 meant my boosted Intellect was a 16 or 17. That¡­ was fine. I was pretty cool thinking I''d had a 14 or 15. I''d been old enough to earn that first age bonus, maybe that was why¡­ eh.


    Six Skill points. No Int bonus yet. Two of the six wouldbe Class Skills, no penalty for taking them when advancing in another Class if I so desired.


    Survival, Stealth, Perception, Meditation, Concentration, Knowledge/The Planes.


    A bunch of basic awareness suddenly unfolded in my mind. Had to be my Sama knowledge from the game, repressed until it was properly paid for. Fine, fine, I could handle it.


    Survival, basic knowledge of how to stay alive, find food and shelter, and just plain live in any situation, without being artistic or with access to many tools.


    Stealth, basic knowledge of how to move and breathe to avoid being sensed. An All skill, because it was so universal.


    Perception, using all the senses to uncover information, more about paying proper attention then increasing sensitivity. This would also be an All Skill, just because it was so important.


    Meditation and Concentration, required for mastery of Ki and Essence, basically the foundation of mental and spiritual disciplines Forsaken could use.


    Knowledge/The Planes gave me more ability to analyze and manipulate the aspects of Dreamtime. Intentionally or otherwise, this place would be connected to the Ethereal Plane, and things could go in and out while I was here. Knowing how to influence it, even in the very general way Forsaken were restricted to¡­ or to defy its manipulations, which was much more my cup of tea, and more realistic.


    I was duly informed that I was basically a lucid soul entrapped in a dreamscape, and thus the most real thing here. So, I could actually have a ''physical'' existence, whereas most other things would have strengths related to force of will or cunning.


    That was fine with me. Forsaken got their power from being tough physically and mentally.


    Since the Curse couldn''t let me die, I could be torn apart, but my lucid body would naturally reform. I was of the impression that I was going to die a lot, and it wouldn''t be a picnic when I did.


    Choose Good saving throws. I picked Will and Reflex, which would cover the gaps in my later choices. It didn''t mean much, since Human only went to Three, but it was something.


    Human/1, Forsaken Hagchild, done.


    I examined my rather sharp black nails, thinking.


    The next part of ''creating'' myself was Class Levels. Class levels were what differentiated humanoids from most monsters. Most monsters had lots of Racial Levels, which for humans topped out at Human/3. Many of their skills were derived directly from their genetics, needing no training, as basic to them as instincts. So, like, most Fire Giants were fantastic smiths, even if they never picked up a hammer. Their knowledge was more instinct then learned, and didn''t meet Rank requirements for many Feats, but it was still possible to give any Fire Giant a hammer and he could pound out a perfectly usable set of full plate if he could examine one first!


    Class Levels sort of worked the same way, but didn''t require genetics. They were Karmic Paths, slowly carved into the Akasa by our ancestors, providing roads for us to advance on that didn''t require massive amounts of magical energy to acquire templates, or evolving our genetics to the next level.


    Monsters often considered Class Levels to be cheating. Obviously, the way to get stronger was to be bigger, faster, stronger, and older, accumulating power. Humans got stronger by¡­ learning stuff. Little shits like us just shouldn''t be so hard to kill, or dangerous. Class Levels let Humans get as powerful as creatures much bigger and stronger then us, let us learn many things that gave us an edge over those creatures that had might handed to them on a magical platter.


    So, time for Class Levels.


    I narrowed my eyes thoughtfully.


    I should already HAVE some Class Levels. I should be an Expert, an NPC class.


    Experts were the folk who had lots of skills, even if they weren''t great masters in them. D6 hit points, Poor AB''s, good Will save to reflect mental ability, and 8 skill points a level, as good as a Scout/Thief/Rogue. In fact, a Scout was considered an Expert upgraded to combatant status. Experts forced into the adventurer life usually ''trained up'' to Scout status, gaining the extra combat skills along the way quicker than multi-classing.


    I had been¡­ older. But a lot of specifics about my past life were grayed out. I could recall I had two brothers and two sisters, but not their names¡­ or my own, other than Sama Rantha. Sama had been stamped on my soul. I could vaguely recall I''d been involved in businesses, and I''d been well-educated, but not what I''d done there. Some sort of teaching involved¡­?


    I didn''t know, but I had literally no Skills, which was very odd. It was like I knew a lot of stuff, without knowing anything.


    I probably wasn''t expected to drag my past life''s benefits into this life, on top of being Sama Rantha. I also probably wasn''t supposed to be self-aware and eaten by a Hag, either.


    So, I should have Expert levels. I didn''t think I was an elite at Four, but I was more then just competent, so I was probably a Three before¡­ which meant that I was simply an Expert/3 with nothing assigned right now.


    Which meant I was a base Three, and could take Masteries and Feats an Expert/3 could take. I could also take my Skill Ranks UP to 3¡­ which might give me a notable early edge.


    Only one way to find out.

 3 Chapter Three - Second Primary Class

    Existing Skill Ranks. Expert/3 would be 24 points, with +3/level from Int, for 33 points. Experts, all Skills were available.


    Taking my Human Skills to 3 would cost 12 Ranks. I flicked a mental switch.


    I was actually amazed when I clicked over the mental switch, and the existing spaces in my head rolled back wider and further, deepening what I knew and applications thereof.


    Importantly, it gave me 3d6+15 Soak. Hoo-ray for old life NPC Class Levels...


    Soak was the other cheaty thing monsters hated Class Levels for. Hitting a human so hard their bones should break, yet they get right back up without even shedding blood or limping or whatnot. It was straight foundational magical energy, and absorbed and dispersed attacks like invisible ablative armor. Most of the time, you couldn''t even tell it was working, aside from the fact you were alive instead of dead. Near misses, lucky dodges, scrapes instead of stabs¡­ Soak used whatever was most effective to keep you alive.


    When you jumped two hundred feet off a cliff, landed on stone, got up and walked away, well, Soak was a little more obvious.


    NPC Classes never maxed Soak at Level One. In fact, I couldn''t feel any other Level One benefits kicking in. But, I still had to choose my First Level Class.


    I might just be broken and have two Primary Classes. If not, I had an Expert Class that wouldn''t be moving until I was a Six. Mmm. Oh well. Time would tell.


    And I still had 21 Skill Ranks to allocate.


    Martial Lore, Sense Motive, Knowledge: Math, Knowledge: Chemistry, Knowledge: Engineering, Calligraphy, Swim.


    Martial Lore for the ki-based stuff I was going to need. Sense Motive so I could understand others more deeply and easily, something I was always lacking in my old life, and vitally necessary in a dream. The others were basically nods to the fact I was an eclectic learner in my past life, and I was pretty sure that these Expert Levels had to be treated like cross-class Levels, and cater to both my old life and the strength of the Class.


    Martial Lore was also one of the knowledge skills, and Sense Motive was effectively people-reading. Swim was just something from my last life. Not knowing how to swim would just goggle my mind. 3 Ranks would make me a professional, easily able to be an elite lifeguard.


    Calligraphy, ''cause I''d been a reader and a writer, and it was one of the artistic skills that would feed Flowing Waters Swordplay and work with Profound Artisan. My penmanship would be much, much better than my last life.


    And they all hit, and opened up to 3. I just shook my head at the massive amount of basic knowledge that was there, as if it always had been there and I''d just noticed it. More like it was knowledge returned to me then knowledge that was new. I didn''t just know, I knew what I knew.


    Favored Class. It would have been my Favored Class in my last life. I ticked a mental bar on Alchemy, and nothingness melted away and revealed the information. Bonus skill point per level Favored Class bonus¡­


    And I got a Feat at level One, and a Feat at Three.


    As a Forsaken, that meant I got two at those levels.


    There were many Feats that could only be taken at Level One. Most of these were Talents, some were Experiences.


    Talent. It was stupid, but I was a swordswoman before, and I''d be one again. Natural Swordsman, +1 to hit with Swords, +1 to AC when wielding Swords, +1 to all skill-type rolls when using a Sword, such as Weapon Performances, Smithing them, identifying them, juggling them, etc. Doubled at Ten to +2. Required to become a Lord of the Sword.


    Experience, Undaunted. Immunity to fear. Right on the boilerplate. I had already died once, and been eaten as a baby. I more then qualified for it on the ''trauma overcome'' basis.


    I opened my eyes and looked at the shadows around. They didn''t look so threatening anymore. Indeed, the whole dreamscape seemed to shiver as I looked upon it. The little bits of dread and despair picking about the edges of my vision had evaporated.


    A life without fear. That would be very different then the kind of person I was in the past¡­


    Level Three Feats¡­ would have to wait until Melee/1 was done.


    Melee/1, my chosen Primary Class in this life. Choices were Archer, Scout, Monk, Minstrel, Artificer, and Alchemist¡­ and NPC Expert, Noble, and Vizard, if so inclined. I was usually inclined.


    Melee/1. I didn''t need the armor profs here, and I might not ever. Remove all armor profs and keep Shields. Exchange for Int to AC as a dodge bonus; Expertise as a Bonus Feat; +1 to AC in light or no armor, all Melee options.


    Very abruptly, I became Threat Aware. I started calculating angles, I shifted my feet to a more stable basis, measured spaces and vectors of attack, how to move and how to avoid injury. As of right this moment, I should have an AC of 19, fairly impressive for someone totally nude.


    Proficient in simple and standard melee weaponry, thrown weaponry; simple ranged weapons. So, I could use basically any hand to hand weapon I came across. Melees were also decent at throwing weapons, like javelins, spears, axes, hammers, and the like. Crazy shit like chakrams and boomerangs, not so much. I could also pop a crossbow or short bow, but not very well.


    Start with IUS or Improved Grappling. Pick IUS, to go with the claws. Base IUS was ''Wolverine Style'', meaning ''anything goes''. Mastery in Wolverine Style was Mastery in IUS, a general increase in unarmed fighting skill. I could pick up Improved Grappling later with Expertise, as a Melee.


    Pick Primary Weapons, or Weapon Style. In the game, it had been Sword and Shield, Classic Mitharn. No Shield, so I wouldn''t be able to replicate my build there for some time. I picked IUS and Long Sword, making a Profound Swordswoman. +1 Damage with Primary Weapons, Weapon Mastery for the Class.


    Pick Good Saving Throw. Fortitude, of course. Needed it for Forsaken. I''d boost the rest with Techniques.


    Pick Favored Class benefit. Melee Class, pick two. Forsaken, pick an additional hit point or skill point. +2 to defending rolls pool against specific attack maneuvers, I picked Grapple/Grab and Trip for now, I could reassign the pool at Renewal. I grabbed an extra hit point, and extra skill point.


    Pick Skills from the Class List. Melees had 4 skill points per level, scaling as their Resolve increased, add Int bonus per level, FC bonus. So, 8 more skill points. Since I was an Expert/3, I could actually put 3 points into a Skill.


    Assign Skill Points: 2 into Heal, 2 into Blacksmith, 2 into Jump, and 2 into Weaponsmith.


    Cover Your Weakness: 1 point into lowest physical Stat, 1 point into lowest mental Stat. Automatic, in case of tie, Charisma, Wisdom, then Intelligence. Inherent bonus, like my Forsaken bonus, representing a non-magic wielder''s ceaseless self-improvement, covering his weakest points and rounding them out, raising the floor instead of the ceiling. So, +1 to my Strength, and +1 to Charisma. My body trembled again, and something like a fire in my mind ignited, stirring my emotions more easily.


    Get awarded Soak. D6+4 HD, Adventurer = max, 10 Soak awarded. Replaces d6 of Expert/1. +5 Con, +1 FC = 16 Soak. Stacks with 2d6+10 of Expert, for ~33.


    +1 Melee Attack Bonus. No Ranged Attack bonus, only progressed at 3/4 Levels for Melees.


    Pick Techniques. Techniques were like double Feats, and they scaled. Taking Weapon Focus anyone could do, it opened up the Weapon Mastery Tree, granting a +1 bonus to hit with a specific weapon. They were the power of the Melee Class, granting ever-scaling combat ability as we rose in level, consistent and fixed tactics that could work together with amazing synergy constantly, as opposed to the powerful burst effects of Chi-users.


    A Melee got one Combat Technique and one Training Technique per Level. As a Forsaken, I also got an extra Feat, as these were Feat-Equivalents.


    This was where the meat of building a character came in. I had to be firm on what I wanted to do this.


    Weapon Specialization Technique, IUS. Opened Weapon Mastery Tree. Gave Weapon Focus, +1 TH with the chosen weapon. For Melee, Primary Weapons. Spec doubled Melee Class damage bonuses for the chosen weapon. So, I''d be +1 to hit, +2 damage with IUS.


    Class Bonus Training Technique, Great Fortitude. I needed to get that as high as possible as fast as possible, because it powered my Null. Being pathetically low Level now, my Null was virtually worthless at Level + Fort Save. Great Fortitude would double from +2 to +4 at Ten, and would also scale with my Weapon Training Bonus, as well as adding other minor synergies with other Feats and Techniques.


    Bonus Forsaken Feat, Toughness/1. +3 or +Level or +MAB Health, whatever was highest. +3 it was. Health to 18. This also opened the Toughness tree. That wasn''t all so important, except that it tripped the Karma Allocation limits.


    You could raise your Level only 1/day, regardless of how much Karma you earned. Likewise, you could take one Mastery advance, learn one spell, Invest/Infuse one magic item, learn a feat, train up a skill, or fortify a Health or Soak point towards your maximum.


    Like I said, I had Karma floating around¡­ and I was an Expert/3, so I could take a Toughness/2 advance, which I promptly did. Toughness Mastery/2, add Fort Save to Soak.


    +1 Inherent bonus to Con for levels 2 and 3 went off, because now they were important. Con advanced to 23. Health now 19. Toughness/2, Fort Save was +2 Class, +6 Con, +2 Great Fort, so +10 to Soak, +13 with revised Con bonus to HD. Soak was now 46.


    Which made for a REALLY tough Melee/1.

 4 Chapter Four - Level Two!

    Oh, but I wasn''t done. Because I had Karma waiting.


    And so, I clicked over the mental latch to Melee/2. One Class Level per day, right?


    My Soul seemed to billow and expand inside me. I inhaled whatever passed for air here as every cell in my body quivered at the expansion in spiritual foundation.


    Fort Save +1 for Class, total +2, for +12. Another +4 HP from d6+4. FC +1 HP, SP, +2 style defense. Another Feat, two Techniques.


    Soak now 51.


    Class Feature Resolve kicks in.


    Resolve was the mental discipline of the Melee class, divided into several sections. The bonus was +1 at 2, and +1/4 levels thereafter.


    Bravery, +1 saves vs Fear.


    Skilled, another skill point per level, name a new Class skill. I picked Intimidation. I suddenly got much better at reading weakness in people and knowing how to play on that weakness and prey on their resolve. It was a very predatory feeling.


    10 Skill points to allocate, with the bonus for last level. Blacksmith 1, Armorsmith 1, Jump 1, Intimidate 3, Sense Motive 3, Diplomacy 1.


    Proficient, another weapon to Primary Weapon Group. I picked Shield.


    Inspired, able to go dumpster diving for Feats, a number of times per day equal to Resolve bonus, a number of Feats equal to Resolve bonus, + Int or Expertise Bonus, if you had the Feat¡­ which meant four Combat Feats once a day, for me. Numbers to improve rapidly in the future.


    Versatile, free use of Inspired in the morning, to set bonus Feats for the day.


    Vigorous, the warrior healing effect. Converted Health lethal damage to temporary damage, amount equal to Melee Level + Fort Save. So, +11 +2, or 13 points. Turning the deadly into something I could walk off over the course of two hours. Of course, more effective with more Health, and a slow recovery option, not an instant heal. It also stopped bleeding, removed fear effects, took care of minor nausea and pain and similar things.


    More Vigor meant more staying power.


    Bonus Forsaken Feat from Class Level: Combat Expertise Technique, upgraded from the Class Feat, which only allowed a TH/AC swap. The Technique allowed much, much more, representing the fact you were a student and scholar of martial combat, the key Int-based combat Feat. As its first Improved maneuver allowed, I picked Improved Grapple¡­ because you could use IUS while you had something pinned. The Expertise bonus would be applying across a lot of other things, cause Expertise, if you were a smart Melee, was AWESOME.


    Bonus Combat Technique: Deadly Precision.This was the Dex-based -to-hit, +to damage effect. It wasn''t as good as power attack, but it did apply to finessed combat weapons, light thrown weapons, and most ranged projectiles smaller than siege weapons. I would have preferred Power Attack, as it worked with more Weapons and could do more damage, but given that I''d be taking Archer Levels sooner or later, it was fine.


    Bonus Training Feat: Depths of Resolve, +2 uses of Vigor and Inspiration per day. Which would give me more flexibility and endurance for what was to come. My soul swelled as more energy coursed through me.


    +2 MAB, +1 RAB. This basically overrode Expert''s pathetic bonuses, so basically meant no change due to stacking.


    Expert/3 now meant I got a Level-based Character Feat¡­ which, as a Forsaken, meant I got two. Except I could feel I didn''t, just like no Talent or level one Feat from my last life.


    Technically, I should be able to assign those Feats to anything, but I since I believed my Expert Levels were going to be treated like multi-classing, so the Feats I picked would be restricted to those that worked with my Expert Levels.


    Educated, +2 to all Knowledge-type skills, +4 at Ten. All Knowledge skills were always Class Skills.


    Clarity ruffled through the pages in my mind, paths and connections between different pieces of knowledge interwove for speed and surety, bits of trivia lined themselves up for importance, keywords lit up for attention. Educated wouldn''t make me know more, but more able to work with what I knew. I had deliberately picked Knowledge that was universal in nature, unlike History, Local Lore, and Nobility, which were totally dependent on the area and would be both useless right now and wildly inaccurate, to boot.


    It was confidence, planning for the future. For me, Expert levels were about knowledge and careers. I''d be assigning those Skill Ranks accordingly in the future. It was inefficient, but I highly doubted I''d be able to get ''adventurer'' skills with this ''inherited'' bunch of Class Levels, so meh. I might even have lost them if I tried, instead of playing along¡­


    So the old me was a bookworm, cater to the sot. Sama-me could make use of them!


    So, was I ready? I looked at the mists ahead, whatever life they led to. The Curse would punish me if I set foot outside this zone¡­ which was exactly what I was hoping for.


    Set Renewal to Midnight. For most people, Renewal would be dawn, but I wanted it sooner, just in case. Sure, sure, it was during the night. It was also the high point of the Silver Queen, so there.


    Versatile, my free Inspiration. I bloomed for four Combat Feats after some thought. This was effectively my ''morning'', after all.


    Versatile Unarmed Strike, ki able to manifest inflicted damage as blunt, piercing, or slashing, and for whole body, not just claw. I could now make a hole with my forehead, or cut apart a tissue with my elbow. Likely to be a huge surprise to those fighting me. My whole body was not just a lethal weapon, but every type of lethal weapon!


    Penetrate Damage Reduction. It was only 2 points, but that meant 2 more damage inflicted on an enemy, and applied against the hardness of Constructs.


    Dodge, +1 dodge bonus AC. It would improve with Melee Class Armor Training, but that was next level. More AC was more staying power.


    Improved Initiative. Going first was important, decided the pace of a fight, the terrain, and negated ambushes and surprises.


    These were just baseline average Feats. I could go dumpster diving for specifics if I needed to. I''d be restricted by my MAB, but that would be improving.


    I looked at the mists ahead of me, set my mind to the fighting sure to come, and stepped forwards.

 5 Chapter Five - Babys Toys

    The mists folded in, the vaguely threatening forest collapsed into the dreamscape. I kept moving, consciously staying physically relaxed, yet mentally vigilant. Where I was going was not important, and if roiling images kept coming up and trying to unnerve me, it didn''t work.


    Not being afraid of anything was rather¡­ liberating.


    And then I took a step, and was somewhere else.


    The room was gigantic. I seemed to be in a cage¡­ no, an over-sized crib. The air was remarkably light¡­ and outside shadows stretched out behind the light streaming in through a huge window. The walls were papered, the light blue tone and design seeming to alter to the hue of a frozen corpse as it drifted into the shadows, and the flower turning into skulls.


    I glanced at the workmanship of the crib. Nothing looked machine-cut, all done by hand. If this was taken from the Hagborn''s observations, not a high technology level. The pattern on the paper was pretty simple, and the ceiling was whitewashed and painted timbers.


    There were a couple dressers, a closet, and a stiff wide seat with folded clothes nearby. The door going out was sized for a Jotun, huge and dark.


    Above me was hanging a mobile, swirling around by itself as it hung there, with horse, lion, griffon, and hippogriff carved crudely from wood chasing one another.


    And their eyes seemed to turn down in my direction.


    Oh, yeah, I didn''t see this coming, nope-nope.


    The horse was the first to break free, plummeting from the strings holding it up as they snapped loudly, falling down on the far end of crib-cage, where a massive pillow took the impact squarely. The wooden horse snorted rather stiffly, and with rickety, yet very strong movements, headed for me.


    I was already counter-moving to meet it. I did not want to be trampled on a charge by an over-sized merry-go-round ride.


    Wood, hardness 5. It was going to eat up all my damage bonuses¡­ unless it wasn''t really made of wood, but a phage transformed to look like it. D4 of damage was going to take a while to take this down, especially since my To-Hit was something like +8.


    I''d find out soon enough.


    Damn, I missed not having a shield. And lots of DR. And more AC. Grrr¡­


    Okay, I was going to need damage. The key thing was going to be keeping moving so it couldn''t trample me with all four hooves, and/or take a bite out of of me.


    If it was a construct, it had no working intelligence. It was programmed, and would only have a set number of moves. It would be like fighting a computer game, it couldn''t respond to or invent new tactics.


    If it was a phage, it could think¡­ but it wouldn''t be as tough.


    Test its mindlessness first.


    I veered towards the pillar-like bars of the crib-cage, just thick enough not to get through easily, and it swerved to keep me in line as I ran towards them.


    One, two¡­


    Great Dex modifier for the win, as I planted a foot on a pillar, two, jumped up and over, and the massive weight of the wooden horse pounded past me and crashed into it.


    It was like two tree trunks hitting, the pillar broke away from the pins holding it in place and went spinning away, and the wooden horse went with it. It was at least twenty feet to the ground, and I definitely heard the crash as it landed there, hard.


    Large construct, 3d10, +20¡­ I was looking at 37 points of damage, and with 5 hardness, the 2d6 damage from the fall did little more then loosen some seams on it.


    Of course, now it was down there, and I was up here. Which might be useful, if there weren''t three more things even more dangerous than it up here.


    I did not want the lion dropping in on me while I still had to get rid of the horse.


    I ran to the opposite end of the crib, and squeezed through the gap between the wooden pillars at the corner, swinging out to the corner. My black nails reached out, sank into the wood, and I had a grip worthy of an ice axe.


    Ignoring the drop, I swung out and latched on with fingers and toes. The legs of the crib seemed to be stylized with carvings, rather too much effort for something so mundane in my opinion, but it made it easy to descend, with convenient ledges there.


    I dug in with nails from all four limbs, glancing over slightly to make sure the horse wasn''t coming this way and seeing me, or didn''t have some ability to home in on me¡­ unlikely, since I was a Null, but possible.


    It was clattering around in a circle, looking upwards for me. I carefully yet quickly made my way down, making as little noise as possible and staying on the opposite side of the column from it, watching as it turned perfect circles mindlessly, painted eyes shifting up to look at the hole above.


    Righto, construct.


    I would''ve cut the blankets above and made myself a rope to get it off its feet, where it would''ve been meat on the plate, but I didn''t really trust any of the substances hereabouts at this point. Still, I was a good sixty feet away from the thing.


    Plank floor, each plank six or more feet wide, a doll in a world of people. Baby''s perspective of heights, maybe, affecting the curse¡­


    Was I even wearing anything? The thought came out nowhere and I found myself amused by it. I supposed if I imagined myself clothed, I''d be clothed¡­


    Loose black would work just fine. Although constructs normally had infravision.


    I looked at the window, and the shadow-forming sunlight streaming in. They weren''t immune to glare, however¡­


    I withdrew to the shadows along the wall, while the single-minded construct kept circling around klakity-klak. Moving quickly just beyond its effective visual range, I circled around behind it, and stood there out in the open, screened by the too-bright sunlight coming down. I backed up a few steps, timed its circles, and burst into a run.


    It always looking up at the hole was a godsend. It took a second to register the motion with its painted eyes, and for its head to reorient on me, make the judgement that I was a foe ¨C and I came in with a flying sidekick, ki flowing for my heel as I aimed for the joint of its right front leg.


    The wood shattered under our combined momentum, the impact going all the way up to my teeth. Its momentum sent it careening right over me, its rear leg knocked me away and tumbling as it over-balanced and went sprawling behind me.


    Ah, charge bonus and no dex bonus from surprise plus Sundering, always a good combo. I could feel Soak evaporating as I got back to my feet, and charged at it while it was down and trying to get back to its feet.


    Somersault to a full lay-out vertical axe kick, and I did full splits for the first time ever. Target, the joint of the right rear leg.


    Wood cracked, then split and shattered as the wooden horse tried to push off with it, sending it crashing back down.


    Okay, it wouldn''t be moving, but I hadn''t exactly killed it. It was gouging its legs on the wood, single-mindedly trying to get to me.


    I circled around it faster then it could spin around, and jumped up on top of its side as it tried uselessly to flail at me. Reach is useless if you don''t have the range of motion¡­


    There, the central join in its main body. I held on as it spun around in a circle, trying to reach me, tearing up the wooden floor, and I brought my fist down.


    Chok. Chok, chok, chok, chok¡­


    My fist was like an axe¡­ a hand axe, maybe, but repeated applications tore the join open, and its own motions helped open the gap wider, wider¡­


    It took me ten hammering blows to rend it open, and whatever forces held it together abruptly fled. I whooped in surprise as all the joins faded, and the thing fell apart like a disassembled toy beneath me, leaving me sitting there in the middle of a bunch of wooden horse-pieces.


    There was a precious moment for me to catch my breath. I reached out and grabbed the intact lower left piece, just about the right size for a club.


    A patently artificial growl from above raised my eyes as I got up, and sidled sideways.

 6 Chapter Six - Kitty and Friends

    The rope supporting the lion up there snapped audibly, tawny lines painted on its flat mane and everything, and it fell down into the crib. With clearly artificial motions that somehow retained a bit of feline grace, it bounded towards the hole already made, clearly intent on leaping down to join me.


    Above it, stiff eagle calls from the hippogriff and the griffons screeched out encouragement. Right...


    The Lion roared, something like the rattles of logs tumbling down, and leapt out of the crib.


    I heaved up the six-inch thick broken crib pillar to meet it, spinning sideways.


    It slammed down right on top of me, AI not caring about the threat, crashing down on the pillar, and severely compounding the damage from the jump as its innards of wood gears tore out.


    The shock stopped it for a moment, and I heaved myself from out under it, Soak bleeding away instead of bruising and claw damage from the golden claws affixed in its wooden legs. It snapped at my legs viciously, and the dark pants I waswearing ripped through.


    It leapt after me, rear legs not working very well, lifting itself and the impaling timber off the ground, and overtaking my backwards scramble quickly.


    I snapped the club up and jammed it into its gaping jaws, the insides carved up like jagged saws instead of teeth, save for the four gleaming golden fangs at the tips.


    I wedged the horse-leg between those fangs, and was promptly smashed backwards by its weight. It clawed at me, but didn''t have a lot of flexibility in its legs, and I rolled over its shoulder, ending up sitting on its back, with the impaling column right in front of me.


    I lifted my legs up to avoid the rear claws promptly raking for me, tucking them over its swinging rear legs and the wooden tail that could only impotently swing to and fro, as the lion started to circle and try to reach me, even as it tried to shake out the club wedged in its jaws.


    That was the join I wanted. I grabbed the stump of the pillar, and began to pound down on the join next to it, exploiting the weakness.


    Chokchokchokchokchok, I pounded open the join. The lion''s back legs stopped working, I almost fell off as they went powerless, but kept at it until the join completely fractured, the lion froze, and then fell apart, leaving me sitting there holding onto the four-foot stump of the pillar that had won me the fight amid a tumbled ruin of oaken kitty parts.


    Well, would you look at that. I glanced up as an eagle called, scrambling to my feet.


    Yeah, I was probably going to die this time. The crude wooden wings of the hippogriff flapped on their hinges, and I sneered despite myself. Damn, my Null wasn''t high enough to invoke Stillflight. But those golden claws and beak were more than big enough to do the job...


    I chopped at the edge of the pillar to give it a wedge point once again. It was too short, but gave me an idea of what to do next time.


    I Inspired for the Archer Stand Thrust, One Strike, and Hold the Line. I set my Stance, locking my crude wooden stake out in front of me, centering it on the gaping razor-sharp beak of the diving hippogriff.


    Damn, but being fearless was so useful when several hundred pounds of animated oak was diving at you that fast.


    The stake was considered braced with the Archer''s Stand Thrust, which also made any piercing weapon do double damage when set against a charge. Spears had the braced property, however crude, and that meant triple damage against the charge.


    One Strike meant giving up movement to make a single strike with a bonus to hit, damage, AC, or saves. I picked damage, it would be multiplied by the hit, and I felt the damn thing wouldn''t be hard to hit while charging in a dive. +2 on the stack. Hold The Line meant I got an AoO when it entered my threat range. That basically meant two attacks to it before it hit me.


    Its beak opened in front of me, AI naturally fearless as well, and drove itself and the join inside in its mouth straight onto the point of the stake raised motionless to receive it.


    There was a huge crack, and then it slammed into me. My Soak kinda went puff, and huge claws drove into my chest and ripped through bone and muscle. The stake hit the ground, and the hippogriff''s head exploded, but that was small comfort to me.


    I blew a Vigor use to stop the bleeding and force its claws out of me even as it fell apart, but it didn''t matter. It fell apart on top of me, and my sight was dimming as I heard the rope snap and the much sharper cry of the toy griffon screech out roughly. I had nothing to fight with as it came down, and I just stared at the massive claws coming down to rip off my head.

 7 Chapter Seven - Rebirth

    Waking up was a slow and painful process. The memories of my death were quite vivid, as the Curse wasn''t going to pass up any method to try and suppress me, or purge my persona.


    That was fine. I expected I came back at midnight, my Renewal, the point in time when my soul was strongest.


    I grit my teeth at the very vivid memory of getting my head torn off, and slowly stood up from where I was sprawled on the ground.


    Same basic shirt and pants outfit as last time.


    But there was a difference. I had just fought above my weight, killed three creatures that would have killed me in a straight-up fight, and so I had reaped me some Karma.


    "Fuck you, you damn Curse."


    I was back in the misty circle, my ''cage''.


    I pushed a mental trigger for Melee/3. More MAB, Techniques, Feats-


    Nothing happened. Hah?


    I was sure that had gained me enough Karma. Getting to Three was supposed to be the easiest to do, especially as a no-magic Melee, where it was basically learn really fast, or die¡­


    Nada. I stood up, took a deep breath, and considered my alternatives.


    What could I do with my Karma? Refine more Health and Soak? No, I had to "die" twice, getting wiped down to nothing and living, to spend that Karma. This being reborn shtick was going to really help me get to max Health and Soak, since I was going to die over and over again.


    Grab another Feat, sans Class Levels? I''d done no training for it. Ditto a Skill point. Those were things you did after you maxed out¡­your¡­Levels¡­


    Multi-classing?


    I spun around in my head. I was building on Sama''s achievements back in the game. Logically, that meant I was walking on Sama''s road, which included a lot of multi-classing.


    However, I hadn''t taken any cross-Classes until Four, precisely because I wanted to be able to live through stuff, and had hurried and gotten beyond one-hit-noob-wonder stage.


    That didn''t mean I had to, or even could, progress on her road. Cross-classing followed strict rules.


    One, no beginner bonuses. No weapon or armor profs, for instance, no bonus Spells Known if a Caster, or Techniques if a Chi-user.


    You only got more Soak if the second Class had a higher HD then your original, and then just half the difference between them. So a d6 Caster would get +2 Soak if they took a Melee or Dragon Warrior cross-class level.


    Exactly the Class''s Skill Points, no Int bonus, and only from that Class''s list¡­ unless you had a Skill that was a Class skill for all classes, like a Human did.


    If you gained any Feats or Stats by Level, they had to be focused and spent on that Class''s primary pursuits. So, an Archer would have to spend the Stat point from Four on Dexterity, and any and all Feats from Archer Levels on Archery or subsidiary Skills that were directly relevant to it, such as Bowyer/Fletcher. In other words, you couldn''t take off-class optional levels to gain stuff that was basically only good for your Primary Class.


    After all, you were taking those Classes to broaden your abilities with their skills. Taking their benefits just to up your Primary Class abilities was nigh impossible from a logical mindset.


    I''d had a lot of cross-Class levels in game, because that was how non-Powered diversified their skillset. We didn''t get more spells or Techniques, we got more Skills, Feats, and Class abilities.


    So¡­ that wasn''t a BAD thing. Did it mean I was going to be forced to pay for all those cross-classes before I could level my Primary Class of Melee?


    That was definitely going to slow down my combat progress, as there wasn''t going to be a lot of use for me in Artificer, Alchemist, Minstrel, or the like, as I had very little to work with here.


    But¡­ I could start building my Vajra, I suppose. That would be useful one way or another. To do that, I needed a lot of Ki and Essence, which meant cross-classing.


    And taking Monk was oh so appropriate. It would be appropriate to save my Mastery Advance until after my Monk Level¡­


    I flicked a different mental switch, and Monk/1 clicked through.


    My next breath seemed to contain the energy of the world. I could feel the force of my life, my ki, thrumming in my blood, gathering under the force of Karma.


    Standard Monk required Lawful Alignment. I''d be going with Enlightened Archetype, which allowed NG, as a Forsaken.


    No weapon profs, the Monastic Group. That was fine. Monk weapons generally sucked.


    Award AB and Saves. Useless, already had the same or better.


    Improved Unarmed Strike. I already had this, so I used it to upgrade to SUS. IUS represented +1 ki, Superior Unarmed Strike meant another +1. The upgrade ignored requirements, so the +4 MAB was waived. My UA damage went to a d6¡­ not much, but it was free, so I took it. Getting hit by me was like getting hit by a baseball bat now.


    Stunning fist, the ability to stun an enemy if you hit them, required spending excess ki energy from a pool. It was useless, as I couldn''t spend ki, a quasi-magical force. So, I could swap it out for something else.


    Crystal Dragon Mastery/1. +1 Ki, gave access to the Crystal Dragon Disciplines, particularly the Iron and Stone Paths, which I could use.


    Wisdom to Armor Class as a passive Insight bonus while conscious. By feeling the flow of combat, monks positioned themselves to minimize damage to themselves. It was intuitive instead of analytical, and so stacked with the Melee unarmored Int/Dodge bonus. +1 Ki, but it had to be devoted to the ability to apply, so few Powered Monks ever spent the point, or even realized it was there.


    It improved by +1 every 5 Levels, +1 Ki gained and needed to maintain it each time, as the protection deepened.


    Skill points, 4. I had to take them from the Class List, so 1 point to Heal, bringing that to 3, and 3 points to Knowledge: Religion, which had Martial uses.


    Ki pool, equal to Wisdom bonus + half of Monk Levels. +2, maybe. The Ki needed to maintain a Monk''s special abilities were generally never included in this pool, which they spent to use certain skills. For me, the Pool only meant a generally stronger life force, and a boost to getting and improving my Vajra.


    Bonus Feat of certain Monastic Skills. As a Forsaken, I gained another one.


    Way of Iron Mastery/1, and Roll With It.


    The former was +1 ki, and opened the Way of Iron, which granted DR 1/- per Rank, extremely useful and stacking with all other kinds of DR you might happen to possess. It and the Way of Stone were normally only open to men, but Annis-blood meant I could ignore that restriction. Essentially, it turned your skin into mildly ablative armor, as your life energy dispersed incoming attacks over your entire body to resist them, and later on just sent the force out your feet.


    Roll With It increased one of your DR''s by +2. It was a Power Feat, able to be taken again once every three Levels¡­ and as an Expert/3, I qualified to take it. Since it modified Way of Iron, I could take it as a monk''s Bonus Feat.


    DR 3/- didn''t seem like much, but it was only going to go up in the future. And all I had to do to keep it active was not spend the Ki I couldn''t spend anyways.


    I took Way of Stone Mastery/1 as my free advance, +1 to Natural AC. I had enough floating Ki to support it, for now. So, my AC should be sitting around 22 or 23. Not great for what I was fighting, but not horrible.


    My trouble at this point was having enough free Ki to empower what I was going to need. That would require multiple investments in Crystal and Ocean Dragon Mastery, as well as Ki Mastery.


    Getting a Vajra required 10 Ki and 10 Essence for a Forsaken''s hard soul. I had 7 ki already, wouldn''t take too awful long to get more¡­ maybe?


    I wondered what it would be like for the persona the Curse had, having a body with a Vajra coursing through it from childhood. Energetic wouldn''t begin to describe it.


    Not my problem. Or rather, a problem that was all me that I couldn''t do anything about.


    I glanced at my Inspired Feats, and let them go for now. If I ended up fighting something else, I could Inspire and change them. If it was the constructs again, things might go very differently this time¡­

 8 Chapter Eight – Cats and Birds

    I stepped out onto the crib again. Felt the eyes of the constructs lock on me again. They were dumb AI''s, wouldn''t remember I already killed some of them, or how I did it. They''d have to be phages to be intelligent.


    I ran over, grabbed the pillowcase sized for a storm jotun, and yanked it off as the first neigh sounded from above. A rope snapped, and the wooden horse, painted palamino today, fell from overhead.


    I didn''t run away from it. I waited as it dropped, and whipped the pillowcase around and over its head before it could do anything.


    Grabbing the cloth to make sure it couldn''t shake it off, I swung back up on it, and proceeded to smash it in the vulnerable neck join repeatedly.


    My ki was harder, more rigid this time. Without the damage from jumping down, it still took me only eight hammering blows as I hung on during its strong but awkward kicks, not smart enough to roll or brush me off, and literally knocked its head off.


    It broke apart into wood and hinges beneath me. I was very happy for my DR, or my fist would have been hurting. I''d''ve definitely popped some knuckles.


    I yanked the octuple-sized pillowcase free, and waited for the lion to come down.


    It descended with its rattling roar, and I basically repeated the same tactic as it hit, throwing the pillowcase over its head, getting on its back as it clawed at the cloth and shredded it, and pounded out its neck join while it tried to get rid of the cloth over its eyes. Wood chips sprayed as it bounced around aimlessly like a cat, smashed into the wall a couple times without really hurting me, and in seven blows I took it down.


    It was a good thing these things weren''t alive, or they''d''ve thrown me easily. No Ride Ranks¡­


    The pillowcase was mangled by golden claws and fangs, but still perfectly serviceable. This time I grabbed one of the golden paws in my hand, the claws still perfectly usable, and bolted for the bars of the cage.


    I could get some good air, as my foot hammered into the stress point on the bars and broke it through eight feet above the ground, like a blow from a Sama-sized axe. Small feet concentrate more weight, don''t ya know. I looped the pillowcase around it, and as the hippogriff with its ridiculous wooden wings swooped around to land on me, I heaved it down, lined it up, and let the sucker impale itself on the jagged point as I ducked.


    Double attacks at triple damage from brace did a number on it, impaling it through the neck and piercing it right through haplessly. My foot coming over to finish knocking its head off was just a happy coincidence.


    It disassembled itself, leaving me with an eight-foot crude spear again. I looked up as the griffon screeched, half-smiling.


    Constructs were tough based on size and material, not based on monster design. All of these things were size Large, bigger then me, and roughly equal in hardness to kill. They differed in strength and attacks. The griffon had the biggest bite attack, the hippogriff the biggest claw attack, the lion could pounce and rake, and the horse was the fastest on foot.


    None of them were smart enough to avoid charging in on someone with a braced spear to take the hit and halt them before they could hit me.


    The griffon dropped down on me, just like the hippogriff, claws spread wide and nasty beak open. It drove itself right onto the spear that came up to meet it, had the pillowcase come up over its head, the lion''s claw was wedged into the hinge of its right wing and broke it. I got atop it, and went to work on the neck join revealed as the spear smashed through it. It only took a couple hits to pop its head off, and the carved, blocky wings fell to the ground as the rest of it fell apart beneath me.


    I heaved a breath of relief, retrieving my lucky pillowcase, clucking my tongue at the mess made of it. I cut off the ragged end of it, looking around at the baby room around me, wondering what my next move was.


    There was a click as the door, obviously not in the jamb, was pushed open, and a ''mew'' sounded as a dark figure slinked in silently.


    It looked like a black cat, albeit bigger then a horse. It moved with the same feline grace despite its size, looking around with interest as I froze in place, not about to attract attention.


    Burning red eyes. Mmmm. Definitely no construct¡­


    I watched the hellcat stroll in as if it owned the place, tail twitching as it looked around for things of interest. It wandered towards the area of sunlight, and as it did, it faded from view.


    Invisible in the light. Yeah, this was going to be fun. I''d only be able to see it if I fought it in the shadows somewhere. It was dark beyond the door, the only reason I''d seen what it looked like.


    They were intelligent, cunning, stealthy, and would sniff me out, had DR, hit harder then I did, and with more skill.


    Man, it sucked being low level. If I were a Melee/4, I''d''ve been confident of killing it.


    It would come up to investigate soon, since it had been brought in to kill me. I eyed my options.


    This kind of fighting, with no let-up, was definitely not something I could handle at this time. Vigor required some downtime between fights to heal, it wasn''t like healing magic. The Battle Focus Mastery line could alleviate a chunk of that, but Battle Vigor was the third Mastery, and only available at Five. Alchemical Blood Healing could work to a limited extent, and Essence Healing, but again, not for now.


    I looked at the ruins of the wooden beasts around me, and considered my options.


    ---


    It reached the level of the crib with a jump, and then easily scrambled up to the top of the headboard. It stared at the mobile for a bit, as it was still spinning around with ropes dangling down. The oversized cat even reached out and batted at them playfully, making sure there was nothing there. Then it overbalanced, and fell from the headboard down on top of the pillow, landing heavily but gracefully and sending feathers flying into the air from all the cuts in the pillow, which it instinctively swatted at.


    Parting the rest of the cotton above me, I came up underneath it, and gutted it.


    Sacred Strike, Two-Weapon Fighting, Assassin''s Stance. Weapons good-aligned for six seconds as a move action, full use of both hands, and +2d6 Sneak Attack damage.


    It had no DR, no Dex from surprise, and I was now bringing the heat, doing a flurry of blows, rapid-fire clawing sweeps to the same wound as fast as I could move my arms. Supernaturally tough, nigh-invisible hide above me parted, and the insides were visible where the outside was not. I ripped open the same wound, hands moving as fast as I could as I ripped and tore, and the hellcat screeched like no cat possibly could and leapt away, leaking burning gore from the belly I''d torn apart.


    It was a supernatural creature, so its flesh was tougher and stronger then a natural creature would be, like clawing through tire rubber or something. Still, I should have just about half-killed it. The fiery pain of Good energy slicing through its DR should have shocked it, and I wasn''t about to give it time to think.


    I followed the darkness of its gut, the depression it made in the ground, the stench of its hide, and just charged right after it as it tried to flee, ripping another slash down its leg, and literally throwing myself into its face.


    It coiled up to meet me, the only thing it could do, and I grit my teeth and cut for its eyes as claws like meat hooks reached up to greet me, rip, and tear.


    Fourth Inspired Feat, Close-Quarters Fighting. It was instinctively trying to Grab me and Rake, which provoked an additional attack.


    I had three attacks at its face and throat.

 9 Chapter Nine – Caught in the Web

    I gasped despite myself as Vigor sealed my wounds, long bloody gashes extending half the length of my body.


    It had ripped me up pretty good, and bitten right through my left shoulder. Of course, it didn''t have any eyes anymore, and was starting to pop and bleed all over the place over there.


    The gashes hissed as Vigor washed through them, and flesh drew together into angry red welts, pretending it wasn''t so bad. My arm was still useless as the traumatized muscles squirmed, but I was alive. Went to negative and ''died'', but I made it.


    Hah. Temporary damage and Soak were regained at a base of Level + Con bonus per hour. At higher Melee levels, it was faster, but, eh¡­ would I get enough time?


    Hackles rose on my neck, and I turned my eyes up.


    Tiny red eyes up there were looking back at me, from the shadows above the beams crossing the ceiling.


    Spiders, bodies the size of pigs. Lots of them.


    I grinned despite myself. At this stage, minimum of a two-hit kill. I simply wouldn''t be able to kill them fast enough, even if they weren''t a true Swarm.


    That said, I could still run and jump, and my feet worked.


    I inspired for Thorn Stance, One Strike, Flying Kick, and Combat Reflexes, and as they started descending on dozens of silken threads, I ran to intercept some of them in midair with One Strike kicks that would make them explode.


    Fight until the end, every time!


    ---------


    I woke up inside a cocoon.


    It had been a pretty nasty way to die. They didn''t do much damage, but they didn''t need to, as I wasn''t in fighting shape. Even the extra attacks from Thorn Stance didn''t let me kill them fast enough. I''d miss my target, have a chittering spider in my face drooling poison, then others to the sides, and down I went under their remarkably light weight, and then it was thrashing, multiple bites of poison flooding my system and finally overwhelming it, and all went black as it hit my brain.


    Waking up inside a cocoon¡­ a smart play by the Curse. Why let me just wake up in safety, when this was such a natural extension?


    Versatile UA made every inch of me a cutting, smashing, or poking weapon. I could get out of this easily. But I didn''t move, as that would alert any spiders nearby. I didn''t know if this was a reboot, or the Curse chose to continue on from the last time. But I was physically restored, so obviously it couldn''t stop that process.


    Karma accrued, f-u.


    I could take my Mastery advance before or after I took a new level. I definitely would need more ki, and getting lightfoot my next time around the cycle would mean needing Ocean Mastery. Speed was a thing, and of course all the other Ocean Feats to follow¡­


    I waffled between Rogue and Soul Shaper. One would get me a bit of offensive power, the other more defense and staying power.


    But that was what Inspiration was for. I clicked over Soul Shaper.


    Fwoosh. I suddenly felt both hollow and full inside, as the power of my Soul began to manifest out through the chakra points in my hands and feet. It was white-hot agony as flesh and ki were pierced through to provide a conduit for the Essence of my Soul. Not writhing in pain was all I could do as my Essence was drawn through, like lancing the biggest blister you ever heard of, until it gushed out and began to surge through my cells, waiting for direction.


    Essence and ki were the main energies Forsaken could work with. We just couldn''t spend them or project them, our Souls were Hard. But there was a lot of things you could do with something that you could just allocate and let sit.


    A Powered could directly shape Essence into usable tools made out of mana. I would need Tats or magical items to replicate those effects, meaning it was far more expensive for Forsaken to get truly good at using Essence.


    But Powered tended to ignore the Soul Feats, because Shaping Essence was so much stronger.


    Soulshape, d6+2, saves, Weapon profs, useless.


    Skill points 4. The key Meditation and Concentration were already maxed, so I picked Tattoo Artist, as that was going to be key in the future, and Ivory Carver, ditto, +2 to both.


    Gain Essence equal to Con bonus +Soul Shaper Level. So, 7 Essence. Didn''t do me much good, as I could only allocate 1 per Soul Feat right now, based on my level.


    Open Least Chakras, Hands and Feet. Yeah, been there, done that, &*$% thank Mithar for a +11 Fort Save. I could never have imagined having this level of pain tolerance in the past, and the Concentration modifier of +12 helped me shut up.


    Bonus Soul Shaper Feat. Since I was Forsaken, I got an extra one.


    Soul and Fist, +Essence invested to UA damage and Ki Maneuver saves. The last was useless, but the first was not. Essence Limit +1, to 8.


    Although it concentrated in my hands, Essence flowed to all the striking points of my body, reinforcing and strengthening everywhere in readiness for combat.


    Bonus Feat, Improved Capacity: Capacity of all Soul Feats increased by 1. At my level, that meant to 2. More Essence moved out, ready to hit things.


    It was a long way from enough, but it would help me some.


    My free Inspiration reset me to Versatile UA, Thorn Stance, Combat Reflexes, and Weapon Finesse. I''d be getting off a ton of attacks on the spiders, hopefully 75% of them would be effective.


    More importantly, I''d be closing in on the Foe Hunter trigger of fifty kills, at which point I could claim the Favored Enemy bonus of +2 to hit and damage against them, effectively getting two Mastery Levels for free without having to get Hunter and Stalker Masteries first.


    If I could kill fifty of these things after having them climbing all over me and biting me and wrapping me up in a damn cocoon, I deserved it!


    My fingers reached out, cut into the strong silk, and began to slice slowly through the matted fibers. They parted quietly, if not silently. My face became a wedge, a line of blade-like ki extending down all my limbs as I flexed and worked myself very slowly free.


    The vibration was subtle, and I could feel other subtle vibrations around me as hog-sized spiders shifted their weight, moving back and forth. Perhaps I should have been happy one didn''t wander up to see if I was tender enough.


    I was up near the ceiling, a cocoon stuck onto a web, dozens of which glistened near-invisibly around me. I could see the dim red lights of many, many spider eyes tucked up in dark corners and shadows, and the silhouettes of those scuttling over the timbers. Lines of webs formed tunnels along the corners of the room and ceilings, traveling highways for them to wander around on.


    Totally unnatural behavior with a limited food supply. Hells, they might have woven it all while I was asleep¡­


    I looked down, and the mobile was back, and no corpse of the hellcat on the crib sixty feet below me.


    Okay, so it was a complete reset. I''d have to kill all this shit again.


    Or maybe not, because there were so many spiders. I''d have to find some place where they couldn''t come at me from all sides, which was something of a difficulty with creatures that were wall-crawlers.


    The strings started jerking as a spider started scrambling towards me across the web, looking to secure its meal. It was a bit surprised when I jumped at it, my bones glowing blue silver inside my skin with Essence, planted an axe-heel between its many eyes and ruptured its carapace there, grabbed one of its long legs and swung away onto the ledge below, before the leg unfortunately was twisted out of its socket. I landed on the three-foot wide timber, saw lots of motion starting around as spiders focused on their prey, and ran for the nearest one as my previous playmate shriveled up with internal pressure broken and fell from its web heavily.


    Spiders, spiders everywhere. My job was not to run, not to avoid, but to up my kill total. As the closest ones came down the wall, I launched myself at them with flying kicks, ignoring the eighty-foot drop as I did so. Double damage charge piercing attacks were generally enough to kill them¡­

 10 Chapter Ten – A little Cunning

    "Huh!"


    I wasn''t in a web, I was back in the starting circle. Maybe the Curse didn''t want me killing so many spiders. But things would change today.


    I''d killed over forty of the nasty buggers, before the sheer amount of poison dragged me down.


    However, all that poison was building my resistance to it very effectively. They had a hard time hitting me with a 23 AC, and half of those attacks bounced off my DR, which meant no poison. I had an 80% chance of saving against the poison, until cumulative successes lowered my save by two from the sheer volume of venom, and I swear I had a pint of the shit coursing through my blood before I went down, buried in ripped and torn spider bodies.


    Today I was taking Scout. Scouts, Rogues, or Thieves, whatever you wanted to call them, were the intelligent combatants, talented at learning stuff and bending their skills to their needs, mishmashes of Experts and Vizards with cunning combat ability thrown in.


    Naturally I wasn''t taking the magical Scout, who tricked the universe into giving him magical abilities.


    Hit dice, weapon profs, saves, blah blah.


    Weapon Finesse. That freed up an Inspiration slot. I immediately used my free Versatile use to swap in Cleave.


    Now, whenever I killed one of them, I could attack another one within reach. Since I couldn''t do it with damage, I had to do it with raw numbers of attacks.


    Skills and Cunning. Four class skills of Stealth, Perception, Bluff, and Disable Device. Then pick another four, + number equal to intelligence, as Class Skills, plus another one for every point of Cunning. Skill points equal to 8+Cunning.


    I picked Weaponsmith, Acrobatics, Balance, Open Locks, and Ride for the optionals.


    I invested Skill points as Disable Device 3, Acrobatics 1, Balance 1, Open Locks 1, and Ride 3.


    Cunning gave its Bonus to Class Skills at full Ranks, and half that to Class Skills not at full Ranks. I''d be taking other Skills as Class Skills as I ranked up. Specifically, any Feat that made a Skill a Class Skill made it one for all Classes taken, so, for instance, all Knowledge Skills from Educated got the bonus.


    Cunning also gave its bonus as Precision damage normally, or as a d6 if it qualified for Sneak Attack damage.


    Cunning Mastery/1 gave me my Sneak Attack damage if I moved at least 30 feet before attacking. If I could use skirmish attacks, my damage would be excellent. With a charge attack, I should be able to one-shot any spider I hit, every time.


    Balance and Tumbling Ranks meant I was nimbler and more flexible than before, and simply because I could, I drew up a basic tumbling routine of flips and rolls and somersaults and the like. I couldn''t quite do a backflip in place, but walking around on my hands wasn''t that hard. I didn''t know what my strength was at, but it was excellent for my body weight, so I didn''t much care. I was long-boned and skinny, which was fine at this point¡­ Annis-born had thick tendons and sinews, not massive muscles, nor the perfect bodies and strength enhancements of Amazons.


    Hagchild will be Hagchild.


    I also got a Mastery Advance. I picked the Thorns Mastery. This was a Mastery built around AoO triggers. The one I picked was Close-Quarters Fighting, triggering on a grab or grappling attempt, which the spiders were always trying, and any damage went up against the contested roll. Since I was already +12 against Grabs, this was both a nice bonus and would be a source of many extra attacks, since they were always trying to grab me.


    Thorn Stance meant that if they moved anywhere in the area I threatened, I got an AoO. That included trying to rise up and grab me. So that action would trigger two AoO''s, which just might kill the bastards.


    Flexing my hands, buoyed by the knowledge I was also working on Construct Foe Hunter and Felines Foe Hunter, day by day, I headed into the mist.


    ---


    When it cleared, I found myself down on the floor of the baby''s room, right in the middle of the sunlight.


    Okay, that made me a target of, like, everything. The two fliers would be able to get in long swoops and diving attacks, I would be at the level of the hellcat when it walked in, and all the spiders above could fixate on me.


    Well, fuck this. It was time for me to get rid of the spiders, not sit here and be a punching bag. I could only kill the hellcat from surprise, so I didn''t want to be here.


    Without any hesitation, I booked for the corner of the wall, even as the horse from the mobile dropped down to start the show.


    The wood was polished, but it was still wood, and my hands were climbing claws, my toes were spikes, and I didn''t need no belt. With ideal climbing equipment, my progress was pretty good despite my low Ranks, and I rapidly gained altitude as I climbed towards the spiders above.


    The spiders naturally saw me coming, and started moving to greet me. Some even started crawling down the wall in my direction.


    That was fine, because they left lines of silk behind them, which made great things to swing on after I drove my fist into the first of them, tearing through its head. The silk gave me an anchor, and I was perfectly happy to play bouncing Sama on the walls, kicking off here and there and coming back down with spear-toes and axe-heels to impale the waiting spiders there, running back and forth to get momentum as I hung on with one hand to several silk lines and generally had a good time.


    A lot of kicked-apart spiders started to build up on the ground below. The horse had busted through the crib and was galloping around on the ground below, unable to do anything to me.


    When I saw the lion fall off without the horse dying, I knew the rules had changed, and shortened the distance to the top of the room quickly. I didn''t want to be stuck on the wall against fliers who could rip me off it and send me for a fall.


    I had me spiders to kill!


    With a total lack of empathy for them, I hunted them down. I guessed there were around a hundred of them, which was utterly exhausting, but with a Con of 23, I was literally at the pinnacle of human endurance, and catching my breath wasn''t so hard. I just had to be wary of the poison.


    They jumped on me, and I ripped them apart. I charged to meet them, and they died. If they were close together, Cleaves moved from one to the next, accelerating the process and virtually guaranteeing the kill. My brain was alive with vectors and possible combinations and where to hit and how to shift from one target to the next, and my body was responding even faster than I was thinking it.


    Yeah, spiders were revolting. Yeah, they were dangerous. But right now they were cheap Karma, and unless they were advanced to the next size so I couldn''t kill them as fast, they were meat.


    And then the hippogriff came winging in.


    There were silk lines all over the place. I saw it coming as I ripped open a spider, jumped to one of the lines and swung out sharply as it swooped at me. I caught the wooden wing with the line, and it jerked me sharply back as it spun over, and then went whirling out of control, smashing into the wall, losing its other wing, and then plummeting down to the dresser below, bouncing off that and sending a couple legs flying, before finally hitting the ground and exploding apart.


    I spun around on my webline awkwardly for a moment, kicked out to bring the spin closer to the wall, and latched on by ripping gouge marks in the wood as I came close. I scrambled up the wall, jumped back from the lunge of the spider there, then stepped back in to flurry it dead with a literal crescent kick that tore away two mandibles, and the descending heel kick as I completed the spin on my hands.


    The griffon wasn''t coming, but there were a lot more weblines. I wasn''t worried.


    ---


    My feet smashed into its semi-invisible face. Six-inch claws raked down my leg, Soak fluttered away, and the hellcat was forced back off the three-foot wide beam, down to that long, long fall to the middle of the room.


    It twisted as it fell, just like the oversized cat it looked like, but this was eighty feet down, not eight feet. Feet under it or no, it still fell like a rock, and the floor wasn''t forgiving.


    Still not enough to kill it. I''d managed to wound it, that was all, and it was supernaturally tough. It lay there stunned for a moment from the impact, shaking its head as it recovered, and then slowly turned its head up to look at me.


    It kind of blinked as I let go the spider-line and slammed down onto it with both feet from thirty feet in the air.


    Soak ate the ankle-crushing force, and its head ate the spears my feet were. Its head was smashed down to the ground, its skull crunched, and my feet were in its brains.


    I huffed, heaved one foot out after the other, festooned with brains that were streaming dark fumes as I got myself free of its skull.


    The hellcat had seen me up near the ceiling spider fighting, kind of hard to miss the way they kept falling down as I killed them and kicked them off the ledges and beams. It had played around swatting falling spiders for a while, then leapt up on the divan''s seat, its back, then onto the timbers in the corners of the room, and clawed its way up to the ceiling.


    The timbers were narrow for it, but sure-footed as a cat, it had started chasing me around the place, even as I chased down the spiders.


    I had collected enough random silk to form a silk rope, taking advantage of their obfuscation to ambush it once, then the hanging ropes to Tarzan it with kicks once, and got it all tangled in webs by collapsing a couple hanging ones on it once, all of which happily made it hard to stay undetected.


    Tying the rope to the beam, I''d slid down rapidly after swinging out and back and foot-in-facing it off the relatively narrow beam.


    I was breathing hard, and my arms felt like limp noodles. I wobbled as I stood there, taking in big lungfuls of oxygen.


    I hadn''t taken more then nominal damage, and the spiders hadn''t managed to poison me down. I was actually in pretty good shape, no Health damage yet, and rather exulting over the fact. I''d had to Inspire for the Feats to take down the Hellcat, but now that it was dead, I was actually still in pretty good shape-


    The partially open door nudged open wider, and the poodle came in, wagging its tail happily.


    Glowing hellfire eyes found me instantly. The senses of hell hounds were famous, it could hunt down hellcats with ease.


    Ah, Hell, literally. This thing was the size of a small elephant. At least twelve Hit dice, hide thicker then a bear, burning jaws that could rend steel. It wasn''t going to miss me when it went biting, but why would it bother to do that?


    It trotted right up to me, impossibly light on its feet, puffed tail a-wagging, and because it was happy to see me, it blew out a cone of super-heated hellfire right in my face. Setting things on fire was a really fun thing, after all.


    I tried to dodge, but it was less then thirty feet away and hit me squarely. I didn''t get to see myself char and blow away to ash, because my eyeballs went too fast¡­

 11 Chapter 11 – A Coming Out Party

    In the future¡­


    I''ll kill you! I will!


    "No, you won''t. I can''t kill our damned Hagmother if you do that. Put the blame where it goes. As soon as she picked me, you were going to die. I''m Forsaken, you were never going to live."


    Nooooo¡­!


    "Yes. I''ve never lied to you, quit lying to yourself." I reached out, tore away the darkness that was condensing around me. The dreamscape was thick here, but burning as Tremble bit into it, sending it into white flames that were weaving back into me.


    "Its time. I''m coming out. You can feel the Curse trying to bend you, I''m not going to let that happen." More darkness flamed around me. "Its job is to corrupt the innocent, and its working on you. Are you going to let it win? Are you going to let the darkness take you before you go? Who are you going to spite, the Curse and the Hag that doomed you, or the rock that they couldn''t affect?"


    You¡­ you¡­ you¡­


    "Yeah, me me me. You know I''ll do what I promised. Hagmom is going to die. I''m not going to harm our family, unlike the Curse. You know that, too. You''re dying because you were always going to die. Now, you going to fight to the end, or despair? Make up your mind!"


    The end of the tunnel was getting nearer, the walls thick with the sinful power of the Hag Curse were burning and thinning, sloughing away as my Null just pushed them off. Our real-world physical body had hit a Null of 21, and slowly and steadily, implacably and inevitably, was pushing off the Curse. There was no stopping it, and no way to stop it, short of Death.


    She screamed, and she turned and fought. Fought with herself, because she was part of the Curse. The Curse was urging her to act in spite and scorn, and so she did¡­ throwing herself at the Curse itself, making the tunnel around me flare with veins of light as she held onto what goodness she had, right up until the end.


    I burned the Curse away, cutting faster, harder, rending and ripping at its substance as it writhed and convulsed around me. It stank of greed and jealousy and hate and fear and disgust, of pettiness and malevolence, of hunger and callous disdain.


    Mithar, I hated it.


    Ahead of me was a point of light, light that was not something a dreamscape could ever totally emulate. I raged for it, my sword burning brighter and brighter, vivus thickening around me as I clawed through the cloying mass of the dying Curse that was sucking at me, trying to stop me, trying to ¨C


    --------------


    -get me to throw myself off a jagged rock cliff, a thousand feet to the rocks below.


    I literally kicked back with both feet to stop myself from taking that step and lunge, and slammed down on my chest onto the cold stone beneath me.


    My head was over the edge of the cliff, looking down at death below. By the look of the wind currents, I would have been smashed into the jagged rocks multiple times, and never made it to the bottom alive.


    I inhaled a breath. This was no sensation based on memory and interpretation. This was out of my control, with a bite and harshness to it no dream had. It was cold, wild, and free, clear and full of elemental life and vigor, instead of the filtered refinement of a dream.


    I was totally naked, high up a mountainside, in the biting cold.


    I took my hands, drove them into the center of my palms. Blood spilled, razor-sharp ki penetrated the boundary between life and soul, and golden-white light flared in the center of my palms with white-hot agony as I opened the chakra points there.


    Essence flowed out of the injuries. The physical wounds closed almost instantly, but the holes to my soul stayed open, and Essence poured out of it and through me, mixing with my ki as it infused every cell in my body.


    I watched and felt this process intimately. My soul wasn''t just empowering my body now, it was infusing it. Full-body awareness was one of the best and most essential parts of developing a Vajra.


    My insides were in incredibly good health, albeit affected by recent matters. I was covered with scars and cuts, gained through both combat and simple scrapes and bruises. I was skinny and underweight even for being skinny, and yes, I''d been left with double canines and black nails, the Signs of an Annis Hagchild.


    My internal organs were simpler than normal humans. I was missing an appendix and a couple glands that were not essential to the human genome. My intestinal tract was half the size of a normal human''s, my bones were laced with traces of metals from the Curse eating them, harder and stronger than human. My tendons and sinews were twice as thick, giving me considerably more strength then they looked like they could.


    No mammary glands. Milking was not something I could do. My chest would remain flatter than most men''s, because I wouldn''t ever develop pecs like they could.


    Eh, I could live with it. Androgynous was perfectly fine by me. If breast cancer survivors could do it, so could I.


    I was somewhere between eight and ten years old, I had no idea what the maturity rate of a Hagborn infused with crazy amounts of ki and Soul was while its Curse struggled madly to suppress its own soul.


    Probably a first time for the Curse of the Hag. Fuck the Curse.


    I took another deep breath, relishing the biting cold, the pure hard reality of it. It thrummed with my Vajra, in synch and in tune, soul of the world touching the soul of me.


    But I was a kid, not even teenaged. I was alone, without supplies, and while I think I retained most of the mental Feats and Techniques I''d clawed back to myself, none of the physical ones. The Masteries and body memory would have to start over from scratch.


    Still, I had brought my Vajra with me. I ticked a lever on the advance schema for Vajra Elemental Resistance, picked Cold, and the chill abruptly vanished as the air about stayed at perfectly comfortable body temperature, and my skin refused to release extra body heat and kept my cells nice and comfy, thank you, no heat loss transfer today, law of thermodynamics, go have a rest.


    The view from up here on the mountain was pretty impressive, a sprawling valley below, tree line about a thousand feet below. Looking back, I could see the tracks she''d made coming up here in the snow, wavering back and forth, as if not in control, different mindsets of the same Curse at war, and a soul erupting from below that would not be denied.


    I was so going to kill Hagmom.


    Of course, there were also the wolves there slinking along my trail, looking like they wanted something to much on.


    I was pretty sure she''d still been a Human/1, awaiting the transformation to Hagdom. I stared at the pony-sized beasts as they lifted their heads and looked at me, then quickened their pace.


    Flick, Fighter/1. Allocate to IUS, Weapon Spec, Great Fortitude. First Level Feat, Toughness, which now returned +10 due to my MAB. I had to pay for stuff I''d already gained, I seemed, but that was fine. I had a lot of time to grow up, it seemed. Expertise, Int to AC.


    Fighter/2. Depths of Resolve, Deadly Precision. A big difference this time with +10 MAB powering it. +4 vs Grabs and Trips for FC.


    Versatile Inspiration for Weapon Finesse, Combat Reflexes, Riposte, Thorn Stance, Two-Weapon Fighting.


    My Foe Hunter was an Achievement feat, and I had definitely killed more than fifty canines by now, even if it had been in dreams.


    Damn mutts.


    My stomach growled. Yeah, yeah, lunch is coming, don''t get into a knot for me now that I just got here.


    +14 to hit, 1-8 +12 damage, three attacks + attacks of opportunity when they missed me or tried to move around me.


    There were a dozen of them. 3 Hit dice, long-furred beasts with thick necks and lots of muscle.


    +10 MAB makes a lot of difference. Muscles tore, bone crunched, hide ripped, wolves yelped in pain, and of the pack of a dozen, four ran for their lives down the stony slopes after less than thirty seconds of screaming combat.


    I butchered a black one with a nice coat first, ripping it open. My first meal in my new life was steaming wolf meat, raw and bloody, minced by my fingers and swallowed with abandon.


    I could tan the hide using its own brain juices to accelerate and modify the process. Sinews and guts made for decent thread and stitch work. Five Ranks of Butchery and Leatherworking accelerated my progress as the razors that were my fingers worked with the meticulous accuracy of calipers on my task.


    Ribs were cracked and were arranged in a carry pack for myself. Nothing in it for now, except a cleaned and sealed stomach for holding water.


    ---


    I slung the new pack over my shoulder as I looked down the mountain at the forest below.


    Survival five Ranks, Perception five Ranks, I''d have no trouble surviving down there, and at midnight, I''d go through my first actual Renewal and take my Monk Level for Wave-Skating Lightfoot, and be as fast as a deer.


    Of course, the Curse had come from down there, and who knew what havoc it had wreaked as it ran about, blindly insane and stuck in a half-morphed, underage body.


    Too, friends or enemies might be tracking her, and I had no desire at this time to go back to her family and explain just what had gone on.


    On the other hand, that was probably the fastest way for me to track down the Hag that was responsible for all of this.


    I looked down at the scarring that covered my left collarbone, side of my neck, and left side of my face. They weren''t actually scars, because that unsettling feeling you got looking at them was very real. They were the last gasps of the Curse of the Hag, sticking to me and reacting to the ambient Sin in the air.


    If I got my Null to 40, I could force them away and extinguish them as I wished. Until then, they''d dog me, and react to the amount of Sin around me. How wonderful.


    Gives a girl something to look forward in her life.


    I hefted my crude pack and started back the way the Curse had come. I didn''t really need to retrace my steps per se, but we''d see what would happen.


    My gut was actually a little swollen with the amount of wolf meat I''d eaten, but there were going to be a lot of internal changes, so it wouldn''t go wait to waste. It was raging in there as the digestion went into ki-boosted overdrive to get me back on the proper maturation paradigm.


    How many damn mutts had I killed in that place? A little revenge was a Good Thing.

 12 Chapter Twelve – Hell and Fire

    It took me a bunch of deaths to kill that dog. I think the Curse was very smug.


    It was an Advanced Hell Hound, ten to twelve Hit Dice, a true monster of the breed, and it looked like a powderpuff poodle the size of a small elephant¡­ and acted like a playful puppy.


    I had no real combat Classes I could take until I completed my required series and looped back around. That meant no improvements in offensive or defensive ability to speak of, which basically meant the damn thing was going to kill me repeatedly.


    Hiding up high didn''t work. It was delighted to set the whole damn room on fire and char me dead with smoke and flames.


    So, for five days I basically played a game of hide and seek with it, it chased me around, breathed hellfire on me, nipped at me happily, tossed me up and threw me around, and I could not possibly kill it fast enough to live.


    I still tried. Fido didn''t seem to mind, it was a big happy game, and I was the entertainment.


    So, I died. But¡­ I got to kill those constructs, spiders, and that damn cat over and over again. The Curse obviously was on auto-pilot, why mess up a good thing if it was so successful? If I could have set up the battlefield a bit better, maybe I could have eked out a lucky kill.


    I couldn''t, although I did last longer by using cover. Alas, it wasn''t a video game, where the environment is somehow immune to fires that can melt metal and doesn''t go up in smoke. The longer I fought, the more the place was buried in flames, and eventually the smoke would get me, or the floor and walls would be on fire, and I''d just cook, it would bound up and munch on me happily.


    Damn dog.


    So, on Day Four, I took my Vizard level.


    Vizard was the non-magic wizard. It was similar to the Expert, but with a different focus. Where the Expert learned many skills and was probably awesome at one or two with Feats, the Vizard knew fewer skills, but was awesome at more of them.


    Main difference, Experts had 8 skill points, Vizards had 4. Vizards got a Skill Feat every level, however. And as a Forsaken, I naturally got another one.


    I chose my skill to be ''developing my Null'', and picked Mage Slayer and Pierce Magical Concealment. I picked my advance to be Null Mastery/1, increasing my Null by 1. This brought it to 15, which meant the Hound only roasted me 90% of the time. I did manage to save one time out of every four, for all the good it did me¡­


    Mage Slayer meant that a Caster of any kind using magic within reach of me couldn''t cast defensively and ignore me. Being a Null extended that to any kind of magic¡­ which included using a breath weapon, among other things. So, it meant I had another source of AoO''s.


    Pierce Magical Concealment normally required Blind Fighting, but I was a Null, so that was waived. It meant I was unaffected by magical effects that concealed enemies, notably invisibility, illusions, displacements, and spatial tricks, and by using a One Strike, I could actually dispel or eliminate such effects automatically.


    Like on that damn cat.


    My four skill points went to Spellcraft (3) and Knowledge/Arcane (1). Know thy enemy, and all that.


    ------


    I ran the circuit. Being able to clearly sense the Hellcat meant I was more confident in fighting it anywhere, but clearly being able to ambush it and shred it with a sneak attack was far more effective.


    This was the time the dog set the whole room on fire to bring me back down. I think the fall killed me before I roasted to death, actually, although it was probably close.


    ------


    Day Five. Today I clicked over Minstrel.


    Minstrels were different from Bards, as they didn''t have the Heartsong, and couldn''t wield magic. To affect morale and the like, Minstrels had to be using magical instruments, and could only do so a number of times per day based on their Ranks in those instruments.


    It also meant that just singing didn''t help out anyone else, since there was no magic to carry the effects to others.


    For yourself, however, it worked just fine. You just had to have Song and Dance, and, well, be a Warsinger variant. Guess what my first bonus Feat was? Minstrels got Feats in lieu of Bardic Spellcasting¡­ and naturally I got an extra one.


    I could only do a true Wardance once a day with max 3 Ranks, but the +2 Morale bonus Th/Dmg was perfectly useful against Slinky the Hellcat. Foe Hunter or Favored Enemy might overshadow it someday.


    Countersong against sonic/musical effects, probably not going to be too useful. +half Minstrel level to Knowledge Checks was fine, I didn''t mind being informed, my brain was already full of plenty of information that was currently useless in a pure combat environment.


    Spell Feat: Wardancer, doubles bardic music combat effects on self only, based on Song and Dance Ranks.


    Bonus Feat: Lingering Music, effects last for one minute after I stop Singing to myself, only have to Dance on the initial round if I cared to.


    Skill Points 6, Basically Perform Skills. 3 each to Song and Dance, nimble and now I had my ballet toes, and suddenly I knew a lot of music in my head, from lullabies to epics¡­ and could actually recall a huge chunk of the music I''d heard in my old life, and recreate it.


    Mastery, Song Mastery/1.


    So, not a total waste.


    I still died playing tag with Fido, but I was in much better shape by the time I got to him. This was mainly because I battle-danced my way through a whole lot of spiders with greater speed and killing power. Fatigue actually accrued much slower during the dance, as I was moving more on ki then on pure muscle power.


    As for my song? I had my own theme music from the game, and I brought it back with a vengeance.


    Tremble, She Comes!


    There were stanzas in every language I knew, and multiples in a few of them. I Sang them as part of Intimidation checks against enemies in their own languages, so the song would proliferate and infiltrate their own Akashas to greater effect. I wanted my enemies singing it around their own campfires, knowing that to face me in a fight was to be ready to die!


    Tremble, She Comes!


    Dual duty, because the Name of my Sword was Tremble. I was only lacking it for now, but I would have my Sword, and they would know to fear when I came!


    -----


    Day Six came, and I took my Alchemist level.


    Alchemists have the ability to create magic bombs, but Forsaken didn''t, so our Alchemists were called Rune Chemists. We used a different style of Alchemy to do our stuff, bringing in magic with drawn Runes that resonated with the world to draw power into things that magnified their natural tendencies, where Alchemists used their own power to change and charge up substances and make them into new things. We burned gold and valuable materials, and they burned Karma.


    We Energized, they Infused.


    Naturally, without raw materials and time, I couldn''t do squat. I certainly couldn''t create things on the spur of the moment, alchemy was a downtime profession.


    Instead of bombs, I picked Sneak Attack. It stacked with that of my Scout class, nicely enough, so I now had a base of +2d6. I couldn''t exceed my level in dice, but that was still a very nice damage boost if I was moving¡­ or using an Attack of Opportunity.


    I relearned how to mix Potions, which required both Chemistry and Alchemy for Rune Chemists. Alas, no materials.


    My Advance went to Alchemy/1.


    Six Skill points. With Alchemy and Chemistry already maxed with my Expert Ranks, I turned to Glassblowing and Knowledge: Nature, 3 Ranks in each. Whenever I got back to reality, I''d be able to create my own alchemical lab in fairly short order.


    I did tag Fido several times today, but he eventually roasted me down after chasing me under the dresser after nipping off my arm. Such a playful pup.


    ----


    Day Seven. Artificer level.


    Forsaken Artificers were called Runesmiths. Instead of Spellcraft and Infusing stuff, our magical stuff was based on Skill Ranks, skill checks, and actually crafting, or knowing how to craft, specific items. So, to make a wide variety of items, we had to be able to make all those items.


    And since Quality Level drove magic item power levels, we had to be really, really good at making them, unlike Powered.


    So, I could Scribe a Runic Scroll I couldn''t use, for instance, which was a damn shame with all the blood of magical beasts laying around. Hellcats could easily be used to make Vanish scrolls, for instance¡­ whatever.


    Bonus Feat for losing Infusion ability: Craft Runic Arms and Armor. I really wanted my Sword, but oh well.


    Forsaken Bonus Feat: Attune Magical Weapon. I had plans for this¡­


    Six Skill points. I went with Gearsmithing (3), Whitesmithing (2), and Jeweler/Gemcrafter (1).


    Advance went to Weaponsmithing/1.


    I did things a little out of order, my primary focus on just what exactly was in the dressers. Artificers needed something to work with, after all.


    I killed the wooden toys, went berserk on the cat, and then just let the spiders start moving as I concentrated on climbing over the oversized drawers and pushing them open to see what was within.


    Baby clothes. Diapers. Bottles and wipes¡­


    And a gleaming pair of scissors, nail files, and the like.


    The scissors were sized equal to everything else here, and limb and handles were nearly four feet long.


    I opened them up past the pin, poked it out, and separated the halves.


    "Mwa-hahahahahah!" I eyed the spiders coming down the walls and weblines, my eyes shining.


    No, I wasn''t going to go dual long swords yet, that was ridiculous. I wasn''t strong enough or skilled enough, that was a high-level thing when you had attack bonus and strength to spare. Trying to do that now would just earn me a flurry of misses and broken wrists.


    Only the point was sharp, the edge was just sheer. That was fine. It could be sharpened. And I even had a source of heat nearby to do the initial reshaping. It would not be a great sword, but it would suffice for what I wanted to do.


    I didn''t use it against the spiders, it was still half of a pair of scissors. But let''s just say I was very enthusiastic as I ran around ripping into them.


    They were mostly dead when Fido came in. I ran back to my scissors, grabbed it up, and turned to face the happy hell poodle.


    As usual, he trotted towards me, and breathed out hellfire to welcome me.


    I skirted aside as the cone of flame blasted past me. Hellfire didn''t do half damage to material objects like most energies, and penetrated with incredible power. The whole blade I left trailing in it was heated white-hot in a second, on the verge of melting away completely.


    I ran and slid under the dresser to avoid a round of bites. He''d be able to breathe again in thirty seconds, but in the meantime could only yip at me at 90 decibels.


    The other half of the scissors was there, and I drew mine down the length of the steel, shearing off the blunt edge and making it sharper with one stroke, two. I grit my teeth, prepared a black-nailed finger, and as the flesh cooked off the digit, carved a Rune into the rapidly cooling steel.


    Tremble. My blood hissed over it as my flesh burned, and I dumped my whole Craft Reserve into the Rune even as I Attuned to it.


    I felt it flare to pseudo-life, tied to my soul by blood, magic and skill. It wasn''t a masterwork Weapon, but I''d work with what I had.


    Before Fido breathed again, I slid out the far side of the dresser and booked it for the crib.


    He swallowed what he was about to spit out and chased me around the legs of the crib a few times, until he got bored and breathed out to flush me out from under there.


    I ducked behind a leg which began to go up in tinder behind me, while the circle grip of the scissors was heated white hot in an instant. My other hand burned on the blade as I brought the other scissor blade over, and sliced off half the heated circle of steel. Then I propped it up against the brass bottoms of the burning table leg, wedged it in there, and heaved back, bending the hot metal straight.


    I dropped the off side, and grabbed that hilt, skin instantly burning through, drew my fingers and ki down the length of it to make my hilt. Black streaks extended down the blade from my blood, but that only bound the magic tighter. I laughed as my hands screamed in agony, tears falling down my face as I turned it around and quenched it in the only material available to do so.


    Fido was probably a little surprised when he came sniffing around and found me already dead, but I didn''t care.

 13 Chapter Thirteen – The Fores

    It didn''t take me long to clamber down the mountain. I wasn''t in a hurry, enjoying the sensations of life, getting used to being truly physical, and all the limitations of it.


    No more rebirths, for one. I had this one life left now, and I wasn''t going to let anything take it away without one hell of a fight¡­ even if I was once again retracing the leveling grind.


    The Curse gave me all the Karma I needed. If it had the power to instantly turn a human girl into a Hag, it had all the Karma I needed to gain what I wanted.


    Of course, circumstances were very different this time. I wasn''t in a dreamscape where the Curse was trying to kill me over and over and erase me when I didn''t want to die anymore.


    That said, as I was coming down, I was looking over everything for things that might be useful. There had been no herbs or other reagents in the dreamscape, but now, now I could take advantage of rune chemistry, and start making things.


    I''d have to make an Investing Diagram to start the process. I also needed to find an adequate temporary home for the soul of my sword, trembling in my heart and eager to be released into the real world.


    Finding water wouldn''t be hard, but my Vajra was already up, and Diamond would soon follow.


    It would take time for me to build up my supplies, but time I had plenty of.


    -------


    The bright moon was riding high in the sky, and the dark moon was just a dark shadow occluding some stars on the horizon.


    I closed my eyes and let Renewal wash over me.


    It was like an invisible wave of spiritual power, washing over me and through me, the pulse and breath of the living world flowing through me.


    Everybody in a magical world had a Renewal time. It was the time when magic surged and peaked within and outside you. It was the time where you resisted long-term magical effects, where your mind and soul were cleansed and able to receive magic again, where x/day abilities started over once again.


    Very importantly, it was where you could push all those incremental increase levers, and get stronger.


    For most people, this was dawn. Evil folk preferred dusk, or the dark of night when Shoul was high, about 3 AM. Midnight, or Highmoon, when Sylune was high and bright, was the time of Silver Magic, and also popular to the adventurous sort.


    I took my Monk Level, and this time grabbed my Wave-Skating Steps early. Based on my AB of +10, a +30 increase to my Movement Rate would be greatly appreciated.


    I spent two hours in Meditation to calm myself down and re-center the changes to me, then in the dark of the night beneath the scattered trees, I continued on my way.


    ------


    The spear came right out of the tree. It was like as not a perfect ambush attack, aiming right for the throat, coming right through the wood as if it were a door, not a perfectly fine oak.


    I nudged myself three inches left as I reached up, grabbing the living wood of the shaft, twisting to center myself to it, and kicked up.


    The barked hand holding onto it had just emerged from the tree when my foot hit the hardwood like a chopping axe, and hacked the livewood haft in two instantly.


    The woman''s face on the trunk was emerging, her skin of bark and hair of moss and leaves, fingers like finely carved twigs. Her somewhat crude lips parted in a cry of pain as the spear was broken. I stepped forward into her lunge and drove my fist into her midsection.


    Her flesh was rootlike, but it seemed she still breathed somehow, as it woofed out of her when I hit her. My other hand grabbed her extended arm, and I threw her over and past me like she weighed half what I did.


    She cried out, a strangely wispy sound as she smashed into a rock, not another tree she could slip into, and fell to the leaf-covered floor of the forest, stunned.


    I relieved her of the two halves of the spear with a tap of my foot, noting the magically reinforced wooden spearhead. She could probably mend the thing, so I didn''t confiscate it. I did crouch over her, staring at her remarkably organic, human-like eyes as they began to clear.


    She met my eyes, and froze as she saw my spread hands, the black nails looking particularly cruel right at the moment.


    "I''m looking for some information," I stated in fluent Fey, and she blinked.


    "Murderer! Killer! Forestfoe! Greensl-ouch!" she began to rant at me defiantly, and I thorked her forehead impassively.


    The back of her skull bounced off of the rock behind her, and her eyes revolved a few times.


    "Mind those hands," I said in a flat, undisturbed voice, bearing down on her. The sharp edges of her fingers stilled. "Whether or not I need to kill you is up to you. If you attack me, I will kill you promptly, respecting your desire to do battle and suffer the negative consequences thereof. As you attacked me, I am allowed repayment for the inconvenience.


    "I am looking for some information. Are you going to answer me, or do I kill you?"


    I think the absolutely casual attitude I had towards her unnerved her more then anything. She stiffened and didn''t try anything, staring at my hands, the finger that had idly hit like a club on her forehead. "What do you want to know, Hagspawn?" she hissed.


    I thorked her forehead again, her skull bounced and her eyes rolled. It took a bit longer for her eyes to clear.


    "Hagspawn are the male children of Hags, usually by ogres or hill Jotuns, perhaps minotaurs. You will notice that I am not male, nor of any kind of Jotun or Tauren blood. Calling me a Hagspawn is like calling you a satyr." Her mouth parted, then clamped shut as I curled my fingers again. "First of all, why are you calling me a murderer? I''ve been awake all of twenty hours in this life, and the only thing I''ve killed is some wolves who found themselves on the wrong side of the lunch menu."


    Her eyes fixed on me. "You killed Trualli and Woomasa! You ate them!"


    I didn''t even blink. "No, I didn''t, because like I said, I''ve only been out here twenty hours, and only met you and some overgrown lupines. Now the Hagborn that preceded me might have killed them, but she''s pretty much dead now, this stupid curse of a skin condition is all that''s left of her, and I''ll be rid of it soon enough." She wanted to say something more, and I lifted my fingers. She clamped up.


    "Now, then, where exactly am I right now?"


    Her verdant eyes studied mine, but I think I was really unsettling her. After all, I wasn''t acting like a frenzied berserker or something, my tone was quite neutral and apathetic, like I was talking down to a child¡­ and it was totally obvious that she wasn''t my match.


    "You are in the Sidhete," she admitted unwillingly. "The great forest of the Sidhedatol elves. They are aware of your crime and will hunt you down!"


    "Since I''ve committed no crime, that''s going to be pretty hard," I replied, filing the name away. I didn''t know any Elvish, and I couldn''t learn it unless I was exposed to it, so oh well. I did wonder what kind of the many kinds of elves they might be. "Secondly, is there a large Hag coven nearby? I''m thinking my Hagmother is there, and it''s high time I fed her to the Land."


    She blinked, and actually looked confused for a moment.


    "I''m a Hagchild. That''s a Forsaken, non-magical daughter of a Hag," I supplied helpfully, voice as flat as ever. "I''ll never be a Hag, I''ll never be a witch, wield magic, summon fiends, administer curses, or do any of the many wickedly fun things Hags are capable of. On the other hand, I very, very much want to kill my Hagmother, and all my aunties and grandmothers of that ilk.


    "Since you want to kill me, and I doubt you care which of us kills the other, why don''t you point me in the right direction, and I''ll be about my business, and you can go back to sunbathing and standing in puddles."


    My eyes narrowed icily. The cajoling, wasn''t.


    She seemed to be considering that, and seemed to think that actually sounded like a good idea. Wicked appreciation for death either way glinted in her eyes.


    "And yes, yes, you can spread word to all your fey friends that I''m on the way there. If they attack me based on what you said, I''m sure I''ll just kill them all, and you''ll be the one responsible for killing them. I suggest you send a bunch of folk you don''t like, maybe Unseelie Court or something, to be rendered down into mulch."


    She swallowed, an interesting thing to see. My complete apathy over what was going to literally be a fey execution squad clearly was impressing her.


    "That way." I followed her pointing arm, noted it down in my Visual File as an absolute direction indicator. "Two mountains over. There is a stream that comes down from the north. Past the waterfall is a valley warded by illusions and servants of the Hags. Their coven lies within."


    "Oh, goooooood," I drew the word out. "You might want to keep your involvement in this on the sly. They might just win and wonder who sent me to them and all, you know."


    Her eyes sparked again, with a ripple of fear. Being on the bad side of a Hag wasn''t a thing to be happy about.


    "And no, I won''t tell them a dryad sent me. I don''t share information with things I''m about to feed to the Land."


    She wriggled slightly, but didn''t move otherwise. "You shall die, by the forest or the hags, it makes no difference!"


    "Continue thinking that if it helps you sleep at night." I rose and got off her, starting down the hill. She watched my feet gliding over the ground as if I was skating, leaving no trailsign behind me. "Hagmom''s waiting to die. Ta."


    ---


    The scarred human girl disappeared from view remarkably quickly, for all her golden hair should have stood out in the green and brown. Salixa did not move for a few minutes, lost in thought despite herself.


    The girl spoke Fey fluently, with tones of dominance and power, inflections that were as dangerous and threatening as those curled black nails.


    The berserk thing that had clawed her way through the forest, slaughtering anything that got in her way, was definitely not the same thing.


    Trualli and Woomasa had set out to kill the Hag-blood, and instead fallen into her claws and been consumed. The whole forest wept for their deaths. The nymph and the sylph were true treasures of the forest.


    Killed by the blood of a Hag. Salixa looked after the departing girl, who moved so uncannily, so smoothly, and whose gangly limbs struck with such terrible force and precision.


    Hags killing Hags. The forest would only be better for it.


    And letting certain parties know that there was a human girl wandering around, a perfect victim, would be equal parts disposing of the unwanted and tormenting the unlucky.


    Her smile faded as she recalled those blue eyes, who seemed to be thirsting for her to do just that, to send trouble her way, and the dryad shuddered despite herself.


    Perhaps she would wait a few more minutes, just to be on the safe side, although the plants about her reported that the girl was long gone¡­

 14 Chapter Fourteen - Alas, Poor Fido.

    Time to take those Archer Levels.


    Without a missile weapon, Archer Levels were basically almost useless. Almost, but not totally. I could at least plan to the point when I finally got a crossbow or something else useful to throw. It would have been really useful for killing Fido, but, the Hell. When and if I got one, I got one.


    Four Skill Points, three into Woodcarving and one into Bowyer/Fletcher.


    Advance into Perception Mastery/1.


    One Technique, one bonus Feat, choose Primary Weapon. I picked crossbow, planning on my autobow eventually, and into my Primary Weapons it went.


    Quickdraw Technique. This subsumed things like Rapid Reload and Quick Drinker and Iajitsu Draw and the like, and even opened up the Iajitsu Focus Mastery. Basically, draw and ready instantly, almost like sleight of hand. There were a few killing moves that relied on being able to get out your weapon before an opponent¡­


    Bonus Feat, Far Shot. Because that would let me throw my Sword 50% further. I could work on the rest after that. Thrown Weapons were all in the realm of an archer¡­


    ------


    My Sword was black, because that was the hue of steel quenched by human blood. I didn''t mind, as it just made me that much closer to my blade.


    The hilt wasn''t centered, meaning it favored one side as I wielded it. It was more wedge-shaped, like a triangular saber, but I still didn''t care.


    I got used to it very quickly, and I would be improving it in the future. My Melee Levels were right around the corner, and then, then things were going to change.


    The first Rune on it glowed with Invested Energy. My Aura aligned to it. The edge of the blade glimmered with faint light.


    +1 TH/Dmg. Not much, but better then nothing. It all added up.


    I changed my Inspiration, cycling out Thorn Stance for Improved Armed Strike, also known as Sword Beats Fist.


    If attacked by anyone without natural reach using a natural weapon, one AoO per round against that attacker, as you can strike at their limb or body before they can reach you, as long as you wielded a weapon.


    Needed that weapon. Now I had one. And, oh, did I go to town.


    With practically guaranteed first attacks, Cleaves galore, and Ripostes to complement everything, with even greater damage and accuracy, I ripped a path through the spiders, hacked down the constructs straight up, and punished that cat in straight up combat. Bite at me? Get hacked! Miss me? Get hacked! My turn? Get hacked! Openings abounded, and I inserted Tremble into all them.


    When it was Fido''s turn, I punished him, too. Did I mention that he was wearing this cute little pink sweater all this time? I was pretty sure it was armor spun out of steel wire¡­


    If he bit me, I cut him. If he breathed at me, I cut him. If for some reason he took a bite and missed, I cut him. And in between all that, I was in his face and I cut him.


    I didn''t hurt him all the time, but I did cut him, with the glowing edge of my Sword.


    Because I had Invested my Artificer energy, and I had earned enough Karma to the Name of my sword to bring it to 2k of Invested Goldweight value, meaning I could open Slot Einz.


    Slot Einz was Spirit-bound, and as it opened further up to say hello to my soul, I put in two of my plentiful Essence, and suddenly I had a +II Sword in my hand.


    It moved faster, lighter, cut through carapaces more easily, and sank deeper into flesh. With Attunement, my TH/Dmg was effectively +3 higher than it had been.


    D8/d12 against size L or bigger. +2 MAB, +5 Dex, +1 Talent, +1 Spec, +3 now for +13 to hit. +2 Spec, +1 Cunning, possible +2d6 SA, +3 weapon, for +6 or 7 to damage, exclusive of Foe Hunting, or me going apeshit in Wardance for another +2/+2.


    He did more damage then me, and he hit more, but that was fine. I was attacking a lot more, and man did I mark him up once I popped the Bladedance to tear into him. I didn''t have the staying power to last even thirty seconds, but I got this close to finally killing the bastard, and I was proud of myself. He cooked me dead, and I took out his eye.


    I was getting closer.


    --------


    I had come full circle¡­ which meant I was at Expert Level again.


    Expert, because I had never taken my Expert bonus feats, because I had not earned Expert/3 as Forsaken. But now I had. Karma settled in.


    Human Talent from my last life, click¡­


    Natural Defender. +1 TH/Dmg, Saves, and AC when defending a place of personal importance, or +2 AC when fighting defensively. Well¡­ Sama on the ramparts, anyone?


    Level One Feat¡­ was Nerd (+2 to all Knowledge Checks and Trivia).


    That¡­ sounded more like me? Old me. I don''t think anyone alive would dare to call the little girl that could claw through steel a nerd¡­


    So, the only thing to gain was a Mastery advance, and that bonus General Feat.


    And since it was a Primary Class, I could take any kind, this time.


    I took the Mastery advance to Ocean Dragon Mastery/1, which gave me 1 ki and opened up the Ocean Dragon stuff to me, setting up my Monk Levels¡­ and a couple other things.


    I took the Feat as Way of Water, investing the 1 ki needed to keep it active. It was a Power Feat, available once every three Levels, +2 to hit Armor or Natural Armor, not to exceed the value of either. At +2 level, that meant against just about everything, and certainly everything I was fighting. Even the spiders had that much.


    An additional +2 to hit, ki guiding weapons into weak spots, joints, openings that were felt rather then seen, was very, very good for me at this point. My general To-Hit was now +14 with Sword in hand, +14 with Spiders or Wardancing.


    The Way of Water was part of the cycle dominance of the four elemental Dragon Houses. Way of Water dominated the Crystal Dragon, as it trumped their natural armor and DR through Power Attacking and Penetrate Damage Reduction.


    Way of Iron and Stone dominated the Fire Dragon, since it wasn''t dex-based, and a bunch of attacks not doing a lot of damage was next to useless against higher AC and DR.


    Way of Fire dominated Storm, because negating Dex and Dodge bonuses crippled the speedy wind-based style.


    Way of Storm dominated Ocean, because it negated bonuses based on Wisdom, Expertise, Luck, and Insight, being unfathomable and elusively speedy.


    The Way Melee Feats didn''t usually stack¡­ unless you took Way Mastery to combine them. I was totally planning on doing so, but, like all else, it would take time.


    ---------------------


    I finally killed Fido.


    Not straight up as I wanted to, but I killed him.


    I got in the first strike as he was bouncing up to me, as I charged and threw my Sword at him.


    He wasn''t prepared for that, as it tore along his jaw and narrowly missed his eye. Then the cord of spider silk attached to it yanked it back to my hand, and I nabbed it out of the air as he breathed at me.


    The spider silk burned away, but I was already moving to avoid it, coming out from under it and along his right side, tracing a strike along his jaw that basically did nothing¡­ but the thrust into his left eye got results.


    I love it when a crit happens. I could feel the blade go in, and almost poke his brain as the fiery pupil popped and flaming goo trickled down.


    The rest was a chase and circle as I avoided his paws and jaws and danced around him, shearing off his nose and opening up the side of his jaws, thrusting into his chest and crippling his right front paw.


    As his jaws finally found me for a good snatch-and shake, I inserted Tremble into the roof of his mouth and drove it home. He kind of yelped and fell-down head first, which didn''t help the fangs he had driven into my torso.


    I had to pry his mouth open as I was bleeding out, and then blow the Vigor and roll free as second-degree burns from teeth and tongue seared me inside and out.


    Hah. Just, hah. The holes in me were shut, but I had burns on the inside and outside, and I was dead on my feet. I had killed Fido¡­ what was coming next?


    There was a scratching and rustling sound that was fairly familiar. I turned my head, as a couple floorboards in the corner suddenly loosened up, and small figures squeezed up from beneath them quickly.


    Rats, the size of beagles. They were all the way across the room there, and I just watched as their numbers built, and they began to stream out in my direction.


    A Rat Swarm. Universal features, normal weapons do half damage to a swarm, since individuals aren''t all that important. Damage is AoE, and since so many things are biting you at once, the fact the individual bites are meh still means they can overcome DR.


    I was about to get eaten alive by a whole bunch of rats.


    I sighed, lifted Tremble, and smiled despite myself. Man, when I could finally last through all these things, I was going to be such a tough bitch¡­


    They came for me squeaking, I lopped a bunch of them in two, and they buried me and ate me alive.

 15 Chapter Fifteen – A Short Walk in the Woods

    I was in no hurry to reach the Coven. I had Karma to apply, and working Levels to regain first.


    But now my limits were Ten, not Three. I was so much more dangerous than I looked that it was not funny.


    I was also hungry, and when you can catch fish with a hand-thrust, well, raw trout didn''t bother me.


    The fifty-foot constrictor lunging out to make a meal of me was appreciated.


    I leaned back, and my claws drew down the side of its neck. Scales peeled away, blood sprayed. I struck it again as it drew back, and blood spurted as it lost an eye.


    It was alarmed, and decisively turned around to flee.


    It was convenient scaled leather and a warmer meal, and lo, did I have the ability to eat now. I was after it in a flash, going for the full Karma, and if it turned and tried to bite me at the last, that only made it easier to punch my fingers up under its head and into its brain.


    Skinning it and starting the ki-aided tanning process occupied more time.


    Scout Levels tonight. Sneak Attacking in a forest, who would do such a thing?


    ---


    She actually sent wereboars. I almost laughed as the dozen porcine berserkers came for me, not knowing what they were getting into. Given their brutish and lusty natures, perhaps unsurprising that she opted to dispose of them via Sama.


    My Stealth Ranks were maxed, so I used Assassin''s Stance and ambushed them with terrible savagery, Penetrate Damage Reduction dealing with their DR 10/Silver.


    Six went into boar form. Only two survived to run away, squealing in fear at the death coming out of the undergrowth so fast and lethally.


    Notably, one of the ones staying behind was the boss, and the shiny sword he was swinging around to display the fact. I happened to need a shiny sword right about now, so I hamstrung him, gutted him, and opened up his throat as he fell down bit by bit.


    It was DC 23, just a finely-made long sword of human make, and at least it looked like he''d maintained it, simple wide quillons and walnut pommel stone. I patted his balding head with the tusks coming out and too-wide nostrils in thanks, took all their golden nose and ear rings, his belt buckle, and their rings for Investing, and was quite satisfied.


    ----


    "Tremble, I''ve a temporary home for you," I said, slowly and lightly etching the Rune of its Name on the weapon. There was a beat in my heart, and the spirit of my Sword flowed down through my hand and into the steel, finding the Rune and momentarily flaring with light.


    I had to reraise my Sword again, too, but I didn''t mind. I didn''t come out here not to fight.


    The difference in the real world was that there was actually downtime, and I could recover between fights. It made Vigor much more useful, and Soak had time to return between killing things.


    That meant I could take more risks in any one fight, because I''d have at least some time to recover before the next one, normally, instead of the constant run-run-run of the dreamscape.


    The Soak I''d lost against the wereboars was back in two hours. That was just about when the vengeful band of satyrs, their booze, and their spears came to avenge some of their lovers.


    I thought they were particularly hilarious. I didn''t really want to kill them, so I started punching them out and feeding them their spears in their teeth. I made sure to laugh in delight the whole time, cracking skulls and ribs, and generally knocking the hairy horned and hooved whoremongers on their asses repeatedly.


    Eventually they were all sprawled out around the stream where we were fighting, and I skated away to the next fight.


    ---


    That turned to be a band of redcaps, hobnail boots and oversized axes and all, looking for some fresh blood to anoint their hats and sate their lust for murder. This was nice, as those hats were actually power comps highly suitable for Investing into magical Weapons and stuff.


    Tremble harvested all of them. Spirit-bound came to life, and even if I had to wield it with two hands for now, I had a magic Sword and was more bad-ass than ever. If Naming Karma and Investing all had to be done with the only magic item I had right now, well, that was what was going to happen.


    The fights would continue for the next three days as I made my winding way over and through the mountains and valleys, stirring up more shit, and encountering more things tracking me to attack me.


    The invisible flight of pixies was not pleased to find out their arrows couldn''t hurt me, nor that I could see their invisible selves and run faster then they could fly. I flicked them out of the sky one after another, leaving their fly-winged little selves sprawled all over the place, groaning in shrill little voices.


    I killed some animate plant creatures made of thorns and vines, shooting off their thorns at me like short-range slingshots, pretty amusing. There was a shambling mound there, rotting animate plant manner getting to its feet and trying to make me fresh fertilizer for its pile of mulch. It took a while to hit-and-run it dead, but it couldn''t match my speed, so its death was inevitable.


    And yes, there was loot in its little hunter''s mound. Apparently, I wasn''t the only sentient to become food, although it had broken down all the bones and I wasn''t able to determine the race.


    More importantly, there was a butterfly amulet in there. It barely made 20 DC, a crude but emotionally formed little trinket of love, but that was enough for what I needed it for. I had something else to spend what gold I was procuring on to plug a rather key vulnerability. Thankfully I hadn''t met any swarms yet, or I probably would have had to run. But bats, crows, or bugs could have been bad news.


    My Day Four Level was Artificer, and I sat down and started to make some magic with ki-enhanced nails and this little amulet.


    I was not going to go through that nonsense with the rats again.


    When the spriggan brigands tried to sneak up on me in the darkness, I thanked them for their kind attention and slaughtered them all. From their gear I got a hammer, a hand axe, a knife, a set of bracers I could use, and the leader used a magical axe that was not long for this world. There was also a small shield basically the right size for me that I could finally use to go full Mitharn again.


    And they had spoils of war. I smiled. Murderhobo''ing was working fine and well. I was on my way to building my Christmas tree and stacking small buffs into big ones.

 16 Chapter Sixteen - Melee Three

    My hand closed around the hilt of Tremble, melted steel now shaped to my hand, as I opened my eyes.


    I had now died ten times. It wasn''t any more pleasant then before. Without Dauntless, I would have had some serious PTSD issues right about now.


    Damn, a swarm. I had literally no way to fight a swarm of size at this point¡­ or multiple swarms, if that was what they were. Swarm damage was impressive and continuous, and half damage meant there was no way I could kill them before they ate through everything I had left. All the dodge and wisdom bonuses to AC in the world didn''t help you when a bunch of rats were crawling all over you.


    So¡­ getting out of that room was going to be even harder than I thought.


    The main way of dealing with swarms was AoE effects, because they took double damage from them. My solutions there would be in the neighborhood of alchemical fire and frost and the like, but I would have needed a bunch to deal with a swarm that size, or the multiple swarms. I wouldn''t be surprised if there was a boss rat behind it all, either¡­


    Or rat-men. Mmm. Hoping for rat-men. Rat-men might carry gear¡­


    The other alternative was getting Swarmbane on my Sword, or making a Swarmbane Amulet, which allowed normal damage against swarms.


    The one option meant building the Name of my Sword, and somehow improving the QL of it to 26 so I could open the Zvei Slot and start building an Arsenal of alternative Runes on it. The other meant finding something I could use as an Amulet, and then precious materials I could burn to Invest in it. Precious materials I was somehow going to have to take with me, or somehow find the time to Invest.


    The former was definitely easier. The latter meant I would have it up at all times, so when the roach swarm hit, I was already ready for it¡­ or whatever.


    Still, today was a Big Day.


    Melee/3!!!


    I had died ten times. I was five points closer to maximum Soak, which should be around 57. Taking a Melee level was an instant +4 Soak over an Expert, plus FC bonus, so I should be sitting at my new max of 62. Dying toughened a girl up, after all.


    No change to saves. Armor Mastery +1 kicked in. My Dodge bonus in light or no armor increased by 1, yay, AC increase. MAB to +3, yuzzzz!


    Combat Technique, Skill Technique, bonus Feat of either type, Mastery Advance. Another +2 to Maneuver resist pool, now at +6. 9 Skill Points to allocate, still limited to 3 ranks, grrr.


    General Feat for Level 3. Bonus General Forsaken Feat!


    Weaponsmith +1 to 3, Climb +3, Acrobatics +2, Lumberman +3. Damn, all I wanted right now was +5, couldn''t they at least give that to me?


    Anyhoos¡­


    Advance: Sword Mastery/1, giving +1 to hit and damage. Weapon Spec doubled that, to +2/+2! Huge, huge increase.


    With MAB +3 and Ocean and Crystal Mastery, I could now get the first half of the Profound Weapon Styles of Ocean and Crystal Mastery, Flowing Waters giving +1/+1 and Crystal Splitter giving +0/+2. Naturally I went with Flowing Waters for a +1 to hit for now. I''d also need Way Mastery to learn Frozen Tears, the Glacier School, which allowed both styles to stack. I could switch between them, but doubted I''d need to. I''d just use Flowing Waters to fuel Deadly Precision if I needed a damage bonus.


    And given the situation I was in, I might be taking a very different route with my swordplay this time. I''d have to see¡­


    Combat Technique: Profound Primary Weapons. This technique treated all my Primary Weapons as monastic, meaning they could advance with damage over time like my UA damage, and more importantly, any Feats with UA could be used with the weapons, if applicable.


    Like, oh, Fist and Soul''s +2 damage bonus. A d8/d12 longsword right now would have two advances, to 2-12/3-18.


    Yes, I was much, much more dangerous with a sword in hand, vs. my d8 damage flesh and bone.


    Skill Technique, Lightning Reflexes. +2 to Reflex Save, +4 at 10th. Increased by Armor Mastery, so +3. As a Technique, also gave +2 AoO''s and +2 to Initiative, which meant I could potentially skip an Inspired Combat Reflexes if I was satisfied with +3. Now maybe I could dodge that damn dog''s hellfire breath a little better¡­


    Feat was Combat Reflexes, since it was centerpoint to so many Feats that I needed and used. I wouldn''t be running out of attacks of opportunity anytime soon. Since I was a Melee, the bonus increased by my Expertise Bonus, currently at 1. It also allowed me to advance my position in the initiative order by my CR bonus, every round, eventually meaning I''d always gain the initiative the longer combat went on. It didn''t help for the first round of combat, but allowed me to judge the ebb and flow and take advantage of it very quickly.


    General Feat #1: Regional Feat, Big Game Hunter: +1/+2 TH/Dmg against size L or bigger creatures! Which was everything but the spiders for now, and I got Foe Hunter against them¡­


    General Feat #2 took me a while to settle on. I wanted to pick both Way of Shadow and Way of Fire, but because I didn''t have the House Mastery, I couldn''t. I settled on Extra Ki, which granted me two points of ki, and opened up the Ki Mastery, which could get me 4 more with Advances.


    Why did I do that? Because it brought my ki to 10, which was one side of what I needed for my Vajra. Which meant all I had to do was hit 10 Essence with my next Soulshaper Level, and I had my Vajra.


    I really wanted my Vajra.


    My combat abilities had improved significantly in just one day. This scissor-sword of mine was now a 2-12/3-16 damage killing tool. My to-hit was now +3 MAB, +whatever my Strength was, +2 for Sword, +1 Attuned, +1 for style, +3 for focus/spec, +5 for Finesse, +1 for talent, +2 for Way of Water. A whopping +18, with Foe Hunter, Big Game Hunter, and Wardance still on the table.


    Damage was 2-12/3-18, +2 Spec, +2 Sword, +Str X, +2 Soul and Fist, +1 Attuned, +1 Cunning, and +2d6 Sneak Attack possible, for +8 base. I could take down the dog and cat much faster now, let alone the constructs, and spiders I should be able to just massacre.


    It was time for me to do some killing.


    I did two hours of sword katas in Ocean and Crystal Forms to prep myself and get used to the physical characteristics of my blade, ki and Essence streaming around and through it, moving it more then my arms did. Arcs and angles and responses fluttered through my mind, not as fast as I felt they should be, but better than before.


    I walked into the mists.


    ------


    Ha.


    Ha ha ha!


    Effing Fido! Take that!


    Both its front paws cut off, the hell-poodle looked up at me with its burning eyes.


    "Payback is Hell, isn''t it?" I asked it conversationally, and its eye flickered. "Yeah, I know you can understand me." I blew charred hair out of the way, and stared down at it. "I don''t know if you remember toying with me, but that''s all changing, and it''s going to get even worse in the future." I stretched out as the floor began to rise over in the corner. "I left you alive so you could enjoy being eaten alive by rats."


    The burning eye turned, its head jerked in that direction.


    "Of course, if you burn your way through them, you just might live. But I don''t think so." I leapt atop his huge dark body, balancing on the mesh of his metal sweater and ribs, watching the chittering horde start to assemble, and stream in our direction. "Let''s see who lasts longer, you or me!"


    They came streaming towards us. Fido managed to inhale once and let loose a long, low blast of hellfire as he lay there, hamstrung and de-pawed, barely able to crawl. Dozens of rats were promptly incinerated, splitting the horde and sending it streaming in two directions, one arcing for his flanks, one for his head.


    I was just a happy bonus.


    I split a lot of dog-sized rats apart. Fido lasted long enough to get off another breath, and then they were burrowing into his throat and eating him alive. Less then a minute later, they were all over me in a wave, and I over-balanced as I was ripping them off me and hacking them apart all around me, falling into the writhing black mass below and buried in a lot of nipping teeth immediately thereafter.


    But I had lasted a LOT longer then last time, and Fido hadn''t been able to get into my Health.


    Tomorrow was going to be even better, and the day after, hehehe¡­

 17 Chapter Seventeen - Sitdown with a Centaur

    It definitely wasn''t the dreamscape. I had to wander a bit to find things trying to kill me. It was a new and amusing situation.


    Most of the Fey seemed to have gotten the news that I wasn''t going to kill them unless I had to¡­ or they were Unseelie and deserved it. The two quicklings that thought they were too fast for me were among the latter bunch. Sure, they were fast, living in 4x normal time and what-all, but that just meant I had to use good timing, and being two feet tall and 3 hit dice, they weren''t exactly all that tough, especially against a Superior Armed Strike.


    Trying to stab me with those ridiculous little daggers, really.


    There were giant spiders, beetles, ants, and scorpions; animate vines, a mobile and hungry black willow, a clearing of very poisonous flowers, a circle of dangerous mushrooms; some overly aggressive baboons that nobody would miss, some bloodstags that thought I made a good charge target, a giant toad that thought I looked like a snack, and two giant dragonflies longer then I was tall that I danced with for ten minutes before I took off their wings and got to skin their glittery hides.


    A group of tiny Fey mounted on giant crickets made a run at me, and I had cricket for lunch, and wicked little Fey fed the fire.


    ---------


    "I''m aware you think you''re pretty quiet out there. But seeing as you weigh that much, every hoof you set on the ground thrums through the stones. Since I know you''re there, trying to watch me in secret is just going to make me laugh at you, and if you spring an ambush, I already know where you are.


    "You should have stayed at least fifty paces away from me. Since you didn''t, and I didn''t sneak up and gut you, you should be able to work out that I don''t have it in for you. There''s room by the fire."


    There was silence from the surrounding forest, falling quiet with a suddenness born of ties to it.


    I heard the deliberate snapping of twigs and brushing of leaves, and the centaur suddenly loomed out of the forest remarkably close to me.


    Standard chestnut, with dark fetlocks, tail, mane, and hair. He was wearing gear woven of leather and plant fibers, forming partial armor over his upper and lower halves.


    The division of his body was more at the ribs then the waist, which made more sense, as no need to double up on the areas with digestive organs, use the room for larger lungs. His nostrils were wider then a human''s, as he had to inhale a larger volume of air, and had the thicker neck to show for it.


    He was as brawny as strongly-built man, his horse half larger then a pony, smaller then a good riding horse, and moving more gracefully and controlled then a horse, at any rate. He had a spear in his hand, a bow and arrows stashed on his horse-back, with a shield slung back there too. No helm, pointed animalistic ears, and hard dark eyes watching me carefully. Ornamentation was fringes, embroidery, and some feathers tucked here and there about him.


    He looked respectably wild, savage, and competent.


    He''d been watching me back there for at least twelve hours, so he''d seen me chop off a giant scorpion''s pincers, crack its carapace with my bare hands, and sample its poison with interest, among other things. He knew how dangerous I was, and only my lack of a ranged weapon had given him the confidence to stay with me.


    I could tell he was unsettled, nervous, and wary. A masterful forest dweller who could move through the trees like a ghost being caught at it by a human girl clearly wasn''t something he was ready to accept.


    "I''m Sama. Who are you?" I asked, barely glancing at him as I turned the scorpion tail and claws over the flames. Its poison was already safely tucked away. Not as good as boiling the bug, but needs must.


    He replied after a long moment, watching me move with precision and a total lack of fear of him.


    "Brownleaf," he finally replied, his voice naturally quite deep, and clearly uncomfortable.


    "You are welcome at my fire, Master Brownleaf," I invited him cordially. "I''m not sure if you eat meat, and the water is over there." I waved my fingers at the river nearby, although I noted he had a skin.


    "By your leave," he agreed gruffly, stepping in further, and then slowly settling himself down across from me. His dark eyes never left me, save to glance at the Sword at hand next to me.


    "Meat or no? No plants or grains on me." His eyes moved then to the scorpion tail and claws, and his tongue came out despite himself. "Right then. So, what are you doing out here in the deep, dark forest all by yourself?"


    "Tracking you," he admitted forthrightly.


    "Not a difficult task, I trust?"


    There was a flicker in his eyes. Given my trail of dead¡­ "No, not particularly."


    "It''ll probably be a couple days before I reach my goal. I''m in no hurry."


    He tilted his head slightly. "You seek the Hags." See, dryads really are gossips.


    "Yes. I will personally be very happy when I kill them. They''ve been putting me through quite a Hell in Nightmare for the last few years. I think putting them all to the sword and Feeding them to the Land will be a remarkably wonderful thing."


    "Nightmare?" The dreamscape was not an airy thing of wonder to fey-types. Fey came from Dreamtime, so Nightmare was like mentioning a neighboring kingdom. "How came you to Nightmare?"


    "Know much about Annis Hags have children?" I inquired blithely.


    He hesitated. "Only that they kill and devour children, and change shape to lure others to their dooms."


    "Mmm." I glanced up at them. "To be specific, when an Annis wants to conceive, it''s usually to punish someone enjoying a happy marriage. She waits until she knows the woman is pregnant with a girl-child, then lures, rapes, and consumes a man, if possible the woman''s husband." The centaur''s lips thinned despite himself.


    "She controls when she bears her child to within a day or two of the woman. However, her child is a soulless thing, more a product of the Hag Curse then anything. She sets her child upon the newborn babe, which consumes it, and takes its form, soul, and place.


    "Of course, when it comes of age, the Hagborn, completely unknowing of her fate, is twisted by the Curse into a Hag, just like her Hagmother, thus condemning another innocent soul to the fate of Hagdom. Her first action is usually to slaughter the family who raised her, in revenge for not being able to prevent what happened, and then she flees to find a Coven, if her mother does not take her in for a short time to teach her of Hag society."


    He probably came from a hard people, because he didn''t bat an eye, even though his expression was grim.


    "And what has this to do with you?" he asked pointedly.


    "I''m the baby that was eaten." He blinked. "The soul, rather. When the soul is consumed, it is consigned to Nightmare, there to suffer and any sentience it has to be wiped away, to be easily subsumed and later corrupted by the Curse."


    His jaw worked for a time. "That¡­ is impressive," he admitted cautiously.


    "Not really. Either I got my body back, or the Curse would die. I was born Forsaken. The Curse is magical, and had no way to truly cling to or corrupt my body. It was just a matter of time before I drove it away." I gestured at the side of my face and my shoulder. "This is all that''s left of it. As I get stronger, even this will fade away. Just a matter of time."


    He grunted, plainly wondering if I was telling the truth, yet finding the uncaring accent of my Fey tongue incredibly compelling. I truly didn''t care if he believed me or not, which was pretty convincing all by itself. "You fight very well for¡­ a child."


    "Yes." I didn''t deny it. "Would you like to know what Nightmare was like for me?"


    He grunted deeply, but I didn''t miss the flash of curiosity in his dark eyes.


    I flicked my fingers back in the direction of my backtrail. "You know all the fights I had while you were following me?" He nodded slowly. "Now imagine those fights, with one minute between them. Never stopping, new ones coming as you win, until you are worn down and die."


    His mouth opened, revealing rather squarish teeth, closed with a click.


    "It was Nightmare. I couldn''t truly die. So I woke up at Renewal, and went forth to fight again.


    "And again, and again.


    "It was fight every day, or surrender to the Curse, and be erased forever. Even once, and I would be gone forever."


    I reached out to the first claw, plucking it out of the flames, where its juices were sizzling and boiling out the gap in it.


    My nails clenched, and the tough chitin cracked in my grip. I shifted my fingers, clenched them again, and a spiderweb ran between the holes as my hands clenched once more, cracking loudly.


    I tossed the claw to him, and he caught it cautiously, juggling it in his callused hands with their blunt nails. He watched me as I plucked out the other one, cracked it, and this time wrenched it open, pulling off the soft meat within to chow down, ignoring the boiling heat entirely.


    "I fought. And you might say I''ve grown rather good at it."


    He pulled out his dagger, used it to pry up the chitin more safely, slice the soft meat and impale it to eat carefully, after blowing on it. That I didn''t need to do the same was clearly a point of interest.


    "And you seek to kill the Hags in their valley¡­"


    "The Curse of the Hags is the single largest, most powerful, and insidious Curse preying upon the human race. Whatever its origins, it now sucks in the innocent and damns them along with the accursed. Hags are in essence, living Curses. They should be cleansed and put down, and their vile trepidations upon the innocent ended forever.


    "Spoken from personal experience¡­


    "I''m going to end the ones here, and I''m going to enjoy doing it, just like Hagmom enjoyed having her worm of a Hagborn eat me and delight in what I was going to end up as."


    He made a sound deep in his throat as he continued eating. I continued stuffing food into my face.


    My digestive system was working overtime. I''d already gained back some weight, having a system powered by copious amounts of ki and Essence was certainly having an effect. Moving from reliance on burning calories to continuous soul-power would change anyone''s physiology. Also, having a very acid-resistant body meant my digestive tract was muy dangerouso. I didn''t need all that much space to break stuff down, as the stuff inside me compared favorably to black dragon acid, or aqua regia.


    Even my saliva could be pretty dangerous, if I wanted it to be. Easier to just upchuck some vomit as needed, however¡­


    "They have many guards, evil magic." My look was unimpressed. "And by now, they have probably been told you are coming."


    "I doubt they are impressed. As far as they are concerned, I''m just a Hagborn coming back to the nest, waiting to be converted, if a bit on the young side." I tossed the empty claw away, reached out for the tail.


    Multiple crackings ensued as I split the tough chitin down the center, and calmly cut the flesh away from the chitin. He was starting to drool as I peeled it away and he saw the long length of clean white meat below.


    I cracked the chitin and gave him half of the worm-like length, and he took it with gusto. The place was quiet for a while, save the crackling of the fire and the munching of inordinate amounts of hot bug meat.


    "They said you killed two beloved spirits of the forest."


    Munch munch. "Nope. I kill things worth the killing. And I''ve been in the real world for two nights, counting right now. I don''t know how long ago they died, but it wasn''t me. And I certainly don''t make a habit of eating sentients."


    "Others may not see it the same." He glanced at my curse scars.


    I waved my fingers at it. "It was likely the Hagborn, I won''t deny it. The Curse was going crazy as I was throwing it off, corrupting her with evil and sin, and she was probably going out of her mind as it subsumed her without my soul to provide an anchor, eroding away all that she was. This is all that is left of her and it.


    "Blaming me for what she did is like me setting a forest fire, throwing you into it, and blaming you for the deed because you were burned by it."


    I lifted my eyes to stare into his. "Let them come. I don''t mind fighting. I''ve done nothing but fight for years and years, its as natural as walking to me now. If they''re coming in a righteous huff to kill the wicked evil-doer, and they aren''t too dangerous, I''ll just knock them around and laugh at them.


    "But if they''re coming because they think I''m easy prey without any friends, they deserve what''s coming to them."


    "You think you can fight all the forest?" he challenged me.


    I just grunted. "I''m weak right now, sure. But you would be amazed at how fast and well I can run, and just how much killing I can do on the way. I''ve fought armies before. I''ve fought swarms. And what ''the forest'' would have to pay to kill me, when I''ve nothing but good intentions towards it, is definitely not worth it.


    "If the forest wants to expend some undesirables in my direction, hey, more power to it. But if the good folk of the forest want to hunt me down, they''ve got better things to do with their time, and I''ll also be happy to pound that into their skulls once or twice¡­ until I get the impression they are just fanatics, and then I''ll wipe them."


    He looked a bit disgruntled at my words, but didn''t outright challenge me. He was a savage, used to hunting and stalking his prey. He had his pride.


    "You think you can beat me?" I asked calmly, not bothering to hide my amusement.


    "You are dangerous," he replied proudly, glancing at my hands, over at the sword. "But I have killed dangerous prey before."


    "And I have killed far more dangerous prey then you. I am faster then you, more skilled then you, stealthier, and more perceptive. I know how to use the terrain, and I am not at all adverse to ambushing you, sneaking around, and I literally have nothing better to do with my time then kill something trying to hunt me. If we fight straight up, I will slaughter you. If we hunt one another, I''ll reach you, and I''ve no fear of someone shooting a wooden stick at me." I just waved my hand at him. "Don''t start a fight you won''t win. I''ve told you the truth, I''ve shown you hospitality at my fire. I''m not the deranged thing that slaughtered your friends.


    "If in the face of this you choose to show hostility to me, I''ll call it attempted murder, I''ll revise my opinion of you from a scout and hunter to a fool and savage, and I''ll put you down and feed the Land, who is not kind to fools.


    "Holding me to judgment for the crimes of the thing that murdered me when I was a babe is going to gain no sympathy or understanding from me whatsoever."


    He was silent again. My absolute conviction was weighing on him heavily, as an Intimidate check at +30 should, regardless of being delivered politely in a calm voice.


    I was perfectly ready to fight, and he had seen that I was perfectly capable of fighting.


    "There are many who will not believe such tales."


    "I''ve heard that pain and the fear of death are excellent teachers, and death itself tends to trump beliefs. They are welcome to come."


    My voice had turned from total apathy to veins of eagerness. It was true, I was programmed to fight, so I loved to fight. And I really and truly didn''t have anything better to do with my time. Karma waited for no Sama.


    He was silent for a long time, pulling at his scorpion tail and obviously thinking about what to do. Centaurs were noted for their wisdom, but that could just mean stubbornness, to some extent. He would definitely have a hard time taking a human girl-child seriously, in spite of everything he had seen.


    What he said next did surprise me. "Do you have an old soul?"


    I lifted my remaining eyebrow. "Interesting. What prompted that, Master Brownleaf?"


    He let out a long, low sigh. "You do not act like a child. You are not a Hag, but you certainly possess some sort of wisdom¡­" he trailed off.


    "Mmmm. I was probably supposed to be somebody else, but that is done now when I was killed, and my replacement is also gone. I used to be Sama Rantha, The Sage of Swords, Grandmaster of the Sword, called also the Tip of the Spear, and the Sword of the Sea."


    His brow furrowed despite himself as he searched his memory. "I have not heard of that name," he said warily, as the ringing note of the True Titles could not be faked easily. A child being a Grandmaster of the Sword¡­ that would shake the whole forest! Titles were not things easily given, and that she had four awarded her by skill or acclaim¡­ that said a very, very great deal about who she used to be.


    "Hardly surprising. I don''t know how long it has been, nor where we are in relation to whence I came. I would be astonished if you did know of me, actually."


    "You¡­ said that your ties with your family¡­ are broken?"


    I finished off my scorp tail and tossed it aside casually. He still had half of his to go. Boiling hot and all, you know. "My blood ties to my family were broken when I died. There is no magic that would claim me as a member of it now, for example, nor would the Land acknowledge such a lineage. My body is that of the Hagborn who ate me. It imitated my appearance, but it could not retain a bloodline.


    "Removing the Curse effectively removed its lineage, however nebulous, with the magic I''ve lost. So, I don''t even have a true Hag lineage. I''m effectively a Human now, with blood relation to nothing. My Hag blood was stripped with my magic." My eyes glittered. "Why? Do you know who I was supposed to be?"


    The centaur pursed his lips, staring at me thoughtfully. "There were trackers who had followed a cursed child into the forest. It could be assumed they were looking for you. It seems there is a substantial reward for information about you."


    I laughed despite myself, low and knowing. "I doubt they want to learn that their child died as a babe, and they''ve been raising a Hagborn in her place all these years. I also doubt they wish to have a child with no blood tie to their family back." I steepled my fingers, thoughtful as I looked up at the stars barely visible through the branches overhead. "Don''t tell them that. I may need to make use of that identity one last time, if I can''t find my Hagmother. It would be easy to draw her out if word spread of a Hagborn being identified¡­"


    His dark eyes widened slightly. Yes, I really, really wanted to kill that Hag¡­

 18 Chapter Eighteen - The Terrible /2s!

    Feeling rats eating my insides and face while I was still alive was one of those experiences I could have lived without, right there with being burned alive and groped by monster spiders.


    Ah, well, needs must.


    Soulshaper/2! Tough Soul! Vajra Mastery/1! Vajra Resistance/1!


    Fuck you! +1 Essence for Level, +1 for Tough Soul.


    I grabbed Tremble and got to my feet as energy began to swirl inside me.


    Tough Soul, for every point of Essence, gain 1 Soak.


    10 points of Ki, 10 of Essence, qualify for Vajra.


    Vajra Mastery/1, unlock basic Vajra benefits. Hours of sleep needed reduced by 1 per Vajra Mastery. Energy requirements supplied by the soul, amount of food and water needed divided by 1 + Vajra, time between endurance checks increased by the inverse. Hypertrophy active, no more dystrophy of physique. Begin transformation of physique based on external energy source. Ki and Essence flood through all cells, full body awareness begins. Use Ki or Essence to power ki or Essence-based Feats, Class abilities, or Items interchangeably.


    Vajra Resistance/1, FIRE. Pick a damn elemental attack, gain Resistance = to Vajra (half of combined ki/Essence).


    10 Essence, +10 Soak. Should be around 72 Soak and 19 Health.


    Yeah, I''m a Three, I am!..., I snarled happily to myself as I looked at Tremble, whose Rune was glowing stronger as it expanded and began to fracture.


    2k goldweight for Einz, 8k for Drei. Three more days my next Slot would be available, and I could start planning to really hurt this Curse.


    I could temper the Sword and slowly get it to QL 26, especially now that I could handle it when hot without problem. That would give me three Slots to work with.


    Spirit-bound was a given. The next would be a default of Final Rest, which I would then bind to Arsenal. Slot Drei would go to Bane.


    Arsenal was the Swiss Army Knife of magical sword effects. Mages change their spells, Arsenal changed a Weapon. It was a Forsaken-only effect for an Item, as a Powered would disrupt the nature of Arsenal with their own innate magic trying to form it, forcing them to have a steady and powerful effect to defy their own power. Forsaken could direct the power back and forth, and since the energy didn''t have any competition with an aura we didn''t have, it could manifest in multiple different forms.


    There were literally dozens of effects which could be put into a Sword, but of course they were limited by the QL. A QL of 26 meant six effects, naturally enough.


    Bane was the #1 damage effect out there. If you had a Weapon Bane to a foe, it was basically equal to a four-slot damage effect, which normally averaged either +1 or +d6. +2 and +2d6 was a truly devastating use of a Slot. The only problem was, it was totally wasted unless you were fighting something the Weapon was Bane to!


    Enter Slaughter, which was the Arsenal equivalent for Bane. Kill a creature with the weapon, pay 2k goldweight equiv over two days, and it became an alternate Bane for the Weapon. It might take a few seconds to transfer the Bane effect over, but the Slot need not ever be useless¡­ as long as you had killed enough different creatures to cover all your bases, of course.


    I was going to be covered for Vermin, Beasts, Constructs, and Evil-born, just this far. It was going to take a few deaths to get it all done, but it wasn''t like I was going to get out of here soon.


    I was now harder to kill, that damn dog''s breath was going to get less and less effective against me, and I could kill it ever faster.


    Now I just had to work on my AC, Null, and damage reduction. The tools were all there, I just had to get to them. But I was patient, still grabbing my Two''s, and if I thought about it, there were literally dozens of Masteries I could get, and should get.


    It would all take time, and dying. I could do both, anything to make the Curse pay more.


    C''mere, Fido!


    --------------


    Fido wasn''t happy to find out I was now fire-resistant. I sat down on his shoulder while he glared at me in mixed anger and fear, working the red-hot metal of my blade, my clothes barely seared this time.


    I could quench it my just sharing my Vajra with it, basically instantly removing the heat from it. I had only my fingers to work with the metal, but my fingers were like pliers, files, and impromptu hammers, all by themselves. With my soul literally streaming through Tremble, I could feel everything about it that had to change.


    The scissor-metal was actually pretty good, fine steel, good enough for QL 30. All that remained was balance, edge, and proper form and structure.


    I wasn''t going to get a lot of time to work on it, as only a couple minutes went by between Fido going down, and the rats starting to arrive. I''d tried to be clever and drop him by where they popped up, but the skittering was happening at another corner, so my cleverness at trying to get them as they came out of the hole before they could form a proper swarm didn''t help.


    I didn''t know if he remembered me killing him so much, or we might have come to terms after I slapped him around a bit. But for now, him understanding that rats were coming was enough.


    My being resistant to his fire was going to be important for this understanding.


    I didn''t have long to work, but something was better then nothing. I smirked as the rats began to come toward me, quenched Tremble, and nudged his head so he better faced the oncoming rats.


    He breathed hellfire, and the fight began.


    ------------


    Hah, wha, ugh, what a fucking headache.


    Two-headed psychic rat boss. The hell. I was fucking going to enjoy taking off both those heads, after it bit off mine and I lived long enough to hear it cracking my skull open¡­


    Obviously, Null not high enough, nor the Will save to deal with the psychic whammy. Fucking rat kings, what ass did the Curse pull that thing out of?


    Whatever. I had hacked my way through a lot of rats, and today I was going to hack through more of them.


    Monk/2!


    +1 Ki, +4 skill points, Evasion! Fido was really going to get frustrated, once I could really get my Reflex save up¡­


    +1 Ki meant Ki 11.


    Bonus Martial Feat. Fire Dragon Mastery/1, +1 Ki, opens the Fire Chain, serves as TWF for Fire House Weapons¡­ of which the longsword was one, although they preferred the short wingblades. I''d basically just be using UA in my off hand, or kicking. Erratic, savage style, unpredictable, all about attacking, corralling, get faster as the opponent did, impossible to dodge. Not about damage, but bleeding them down with overwhelming numbers of attacks.


    Fire was the style about numbers of attacks and AoO, after all.


    Martial Feat Forsaken, Way of Fire, Power Feat, +2 TH vs Dodge and Dex bonuses. Required 1ki. Hey, look at that¡­


    Advance to Way Mastery/1. Use Ocean and Fire Together, so I could use both Way Masteries at the same time, and really cut into shit. Basically +20 to hit now, exclusive of Foe Hunter, Wardance, and Big Game Hunter.


    That psychic whammy was still going to put me on my ass, but oh well. It was already a monster I wasn''t supposed to be able to beat, and I was slowly closing in on ignoring it. Just a matter of dying a few more times¡­


    ---------------


    Mwah hah hah hah hah!


    I sneered as I got back to my feet.


    It turns out that getting a thrown Sword into your throat is a nice way to lose control of your brain-frying psychic blast, and get a Sama in your face instead!


    The swarms had gone crazy, the two-headed rat had nipped away¡­ and I had cut both of the fucker''s heads off before its minions could drag me down and finish me off¡­


    Mwah hah hah hah hah!


    Its psychic Mickey was going to be effective against me for a time, but it was useless if I just got close enough to stick it, and once it was in melee, I wasn''t afraid of it at all. Sure, it could bite through steel, but if I got close enough to hit it while in a Wardance, it was just meat.


    "Scout/2!"


    Talents were the order of the day. Scouts were naturals at certain things, better then Feats. It was a different kind of feeling then the training Melees went through for Feats, more like picking up the knack for something easily then mastering it.


    And as a Forsaken, I naturally got two!


    "Wolfpack Stance! Vexing Flanker!Cunning Mastery/2!"


    Its like I was thinking about this stuff, or something.


    Wolfpack Stance allowed me to designate any space where someone attacking the same target was my flanking partner, regardless of my position. They didn''t need to be on the opposite side.


    Vexing Flanker allowed me to count any space I currently threatened as the space I was threatening from.


    Combined, the two allowed me to flank with myself, by designating the adjoining space next to me as my flanking partner, and shifting my attack vectors between the two.


    Sneak attack damage against any single foe I was fighting, what was not to love?


    I could only have one Stance active at a time, but that was fine, constant damage was worth it.


    Cunning Mastery/2 gave you Sneak Attack damage on an Attack of Opportunity. I was all over that junk. Just had to alternate back and forth between Thorned Stance triggering AoO''s on moves or the Wolfpack Stance, that was all.


    And I couldn''t SA a swarm of rats. Their boss, however, was something different.


    "Skill points to Open Locks, two; Sleight of Hand, three; Escape Artist, three, Linguist 1, Mabrahoring." Me and Fido were going to have a real discussion sometime soon in the language of devils, I think¡­


    And I was freaking going to go OFF on that damn rat.


    Tomorrow I''d add Swarmbane to my Sword, and then we''d see what those rats could do¡­


    I just had to make sure I killed the two-headed white rat before it Mickey''d me. I had the tools, I could kill it better, stronger, faster¡­

 19 Chapter Nineteen - Into Hag Valley

    I surveyed the pool ahead of me with patient eyes.


    Brownleaf was back in the forest, just watching, not helping or giving advice. Presumably he knew some things, but I hadn''t asked him for information, other than confirming this was the proper way.


    No Hag tracks, which was not surprising, as they routinely used magic to wipe their trails clean. However, there was a clear lack of tracks approaching this pool.


    Ahead of me was a small waterfall, about thirty feet up and twice that wide, spilling over scattered dark rocks as it fell down into the pool below, forming a nice depression before flowing out and further down the foothills, to join the other streams coming out from the mountain doing likewise.


    It was a really good illusion.


    I noticed that the sound of the waters falling didn''t really match the sight of them. Furthermore, the ripples and wave action didn''t play across the pool like they should, and definitely didn''t have the effect on the stones they should.


    More importantly, creatures weren''t approaching this pool to drink, despite the ease of access.


    I just dropped my hand in the water, and the wave ripples never touched my skin, vanishing the instant they hit my Null, and my Vajra couldn''t feel them at all.


    So, there was something in the water, hidden under the illusion up there, probably preying on anything dumb enough to get close. Meaning it was watching me right now¡­ there.


    And I was in the air, my Sword out, jumping and arcing down as the creature looked up in shock from below the surface, stunned that it had been noticed, and I came down.


    The pool of the water exploded with motion and frenzied splashing. Bits of green matter were flying in all directions, fluid tentacles visible among the spray, and then, very suddenly, it was quiet, the waves of the disturbance magically wiped away.


    Brownleaf was coming forwards to see what had happened, when a figure made its way out of the pool, dragging a much larger creature behind it that seemed to be made of river weeds and green flesh, its equine head bearing a Sword buried into it, and its chest ripped apart to reveal the strange, plant-like flesh beneath, oozing a dark emerald ichor of some time.


    "Water horse," he grunted, coming closer to examine the large mass of plant-like Fey.


    "Guarding the way in. The water here is actually pretty slow and stagnant, and that whole waterfall there is an illusion. You can swim right through it." The centaur looked at the waterfall with wary interest, watching as Sama reclaimed her Sword. "I think this is where we part, unless you want to hunt Hag thralls with me."


    "This fight is yours. If you can kill the Hags, much can be forgiven after such a Feat, especially if they are the ones responsible for the madness you are blamed for." Which is probably how the typical uncaring person would take the whole tale, conveniently sidestepping any responsible moral judgments.


    Whatever. Didn''t change what I wanted to do.


    "Right." Without further ado, I walked down the pebbled side of the river, my feet registering a trail that my eyes couldn''t see. The centaur watched as I stepped right into the sprawling wall of the mountain before him as if it weren''t there, and I vanished from his sight.


    Truly a trope. Behind the waterfall that wasn''t even there. I looked back and could see him there, so I poked my head back through the barrier and said, "I can see you through there, so anything standing guard might, too. You might want to move."


    He blinked, nodded slowly at me, and turned quickly away, prancing as lightly as a deer and much more quietly, out of view in seconds.


    There might or might not be a Hagstone on watch here, but if they weren''t right there using it, it wasn''t all that useful.


    In front of me was a slow-moving flow of water with a vaguely bad smell to it, deeper than it appeared and dark in color, smelling as if something unclean had been dumped into it. Streams and rivers were actually pretty good natural purifiers at this size, so whatever was corrupting the water was probably something happening long-term.


    The Coven had been here a while, and probably couldn''t stand pristine surroundings.


    Ahead of me was a fairly narrow cut through the mountain, worn down by constant years of flowing water, and probably was a waterfall at some point. I paced silently along the narrow trail to one side, noting the imprint of some very big footsteps, some booted, some hoofed, and some bestial.


    I wasn''t all that surprised when the bog zombies rose up out of the water just offshore, and surged through the shallow waters towards me.


    There were a dozen of them, which was pretty impressive, all things considered. They''d been preserved and pickled, and were all brawny males of several races, most of them human, and all of them with big wide fish-tooth jaws gaping open and pale, swollen arms and bodies, looking to overwhelm, devour, and drown the little girl with the glowing Sword, probably in that order.


    The first one lost its head, I moved into the second and cut it down, stepping to Cleave to the third, ducking a frantic blow with advantage of less height, hewing through it to its spine and stopping that nonsense, a nonstop dance of blows flashing as I raced through their splashing bodies, and they came apart and died behind me. Copious amounts of overkill did the job for me as they dropped behind me. If they continued moving, I glided back through the shallow waters and removed their heads.


    Yes, I was going to need Final Rest as soon as possible. It had been five days since I acquired the Sword in my hand, and gave Tremble a home. Its spirit could only be infused slowly into the Weapon, a process that would take months. Hopefully I could make it a better home before too long, as there was a whole lot of stuff Tremble was ready to grow into.


    If I didn''t dispose of the bodies, they''d just make them into powerful undead to annoy me. They were big on that kind of stuff.


    From the tracks, I knew they had ogres and minotaurs serving them. That was fine. Add undead, and probably evil plant creatures and charmed minions, and basically anything could happen.


    I expected to have a lively, fun time. Leaving the rotting corpses to be disposed of by the Fey who would no doubt come to investigate them, or Brownleaf, who would know to burn them, I proceeded on.


    ----


    Well, what a nice place for Hags. It was like they''d made it a paradise for themselves, or something.


    You don''t expect to find a swamp up in the mountains, but that was exactly what was going on here.


    They''d widened the river out, diluting its flow, and somehow arranged the right kinds of reeds, trees, algae, and rotting muck to turn what was a pristine mountain valley in a dark and gloomy place of rot, slime, and puffing mushrooms.


    Alchemy, chemistry, spellcraft, and Knowledge: Nature said that a whole lot of things had been killed to make this place like it was, a combination of sacrificial dark magic and body-rot corruption.


    I wondered what feeding them and all their servitors to the land was going to do to this place. I looked at the gloomy walls, fading into the mists above, and listened to the calls of the blood ravens likely in service to the Hags here.


    I was in no hurry. First circumnavigate the place, get an idea of its size. If they sent creatures out to test me, all the better, I wouldn''t have to fight them later. Unless it was Summoned demons or the like. Then they were just light exercise.


    Ghosting away over the stones, moss, and slime ringing this swamp, I began my search. I left no tracks nor scent, and while I wasn''t concealed from above, I wasn''t easy to follow from the ground, either. I could have waited until nightfall, but I wanted to make some progress.


    Let''s see what found me, and how they''d die.


    ------


    Stirges. Bowling pin-sized pseudo-bugs halfway between beetles and mosquitos, somehow staying aloft. They were bloodsuckers, able to identify the smallest gap in armor to suck in their proboscis and start sucking away.


    My blood hadn''t completed forming all the stuff I was percolating in myself, and it would be some time before it was all done, so I couldn''t let them suck and burn. On the other hand, they weren''t attacking as a swarm, which just meant they were an exercise in hand-eye coordination and MAB.


    And Cleaves. Can''t forget the Cleaves.


    Tremble hummed happily as the droning bloodsuckers came diving in. I knew they weren''t reading any heat signature from me, so they had to be impelled by another influence.


    Tight circles, precise arcs drawing contacts from one bug to the next, spinning to keep 360 awareness, not just to look cool (although I was sure it did look pretty cool). The thirst came in their scores, and died that way, too, falling apart all around me. Some of their opportunistic sorts converged on their own kin to start sucking away greedily, but I was an equal opportunity bug-killer, and mashed the knife-edge of my feet down on them as I hopped back and forth, while a blur of steel cut two and three of them apart on every arc, never stopping moving.


    Of course, some got on me. Then they found I had DR 4/- and they couldn''t get through my skin, just before my nails shredded them to pieces. Trying to get on my back didn''t work, as my hair was covering it and sliced them open with paper cuts when they tried to get through it. Their legs and needle-noses fell off, and so did they.


    It took a minute or two for the whole thirst to die, scattered around me in quivering bits. I slowed to a halt, breathing steadily, and waited for the next thing to appear.


    A whole thirst would not descend on just me, they''d separate and go looking for prey in smaller teams. So, they''d been goaded and directed.


    They were a favorite prey of bats and birds of prey, so I apologized to them, even as I bent down and picked one up.


    They were also fat little things that tasted great fried in oil. Alas, alas. One day I''d have cooking supplies.


    Without much hesitation I began to munch, peeling them out of their carapaces as I was waiting for whatever was going to come investigate the smell of dead stirge.


    My hair quivered, and I looked thataway.


    One thing I used my hair for was a sonic sensor. When I had my Vajra strong enough, this would be as effective as bat''s sonar. More importantly, it could detect such ultrasonic chirping, and orient on it like radar.


    There was a bat coming in. No, two, three. Powerful sonic cries, how big?


    They came shooting out of the turgid mist that was blanketing everything, obviously thinking to surprise me with a power glide.


    Instead, I stamped my foot down.


    They were as tall as men, with wings over fifteen feet long. There was still no way they were strong enough and had enough lift to actually fly, meaning there was some magic at work.


    I could have used this on the stirges, but had chosen not to for exactly this reason. The bats came in¡­ and abruptly their power glides started falling rather quickly as physics got a lot harder around them and admonished them that they didn''t have the proper surface area to weight ratio, nor the strength to maintain a wingspan like that.


    And so they headed for the ground rather quickly, frantically beating their wings to forestall a landing that they couldn''t stop coming.


    They hit rather hard and awkwardly, out of control, and even went tumbling and sprawling, calling out with rather massive cries echoed with teeth-numbing force on the rocks.


    My Null dealt with it, as I came down on the first one and planted Tremble in its heart.


    They seemed to be partially sentient, by their reaction to me, getting over on all fours, curling up their wings, and looking startled and alarmed at my presence.


    They were vicious, with needle-toothed jaws dripping ugh stuff, angled nostrils, tall ears¡­ you know, meat-eating bats. They looked mean and vicious, and I really didn''t care.


    I accelerate really fast, moving over the broken ground like a stream of wind. The second one couldn''t get out of the way as I buried Tremble in its chest, and kicked off and up, coming down on the third one as it tried to scramble back, and didn''t make it in time. One wing, too, and then off with its head before it could scream in my face.


    I chopped their skulls into little bits, so as to make it a mite harder to turn them into undead. Sticking a couple of stirges on Tremble for munchies, I proceeded on my mapping mission.


    After all, I was not in a hurry. Killing all of their servants and minions was also something I wanted to do, as long as the Hags themselves didn''t get away, and, after all, every day I got stronger.


    If I was smart, I would have waited around a month, for some of that Curse Karma to work its magic on me and make me strong enough to do this with minimal risk.


    That was going to take far too long, as I had more Karma to reap, and my mind wasn''t built to sit around and contemplate my navel looking for inner enlightenment. I was going to find something worth the killing to fight, or I was going to craft something. Since I had no resources to do the latter, I was going to do the former.


    But it didn''t mean I needed to be in a rush. I had time.

 20 Chapter Twenty - And its Night Time for Everyone...

    The Rats would die today! And I will get to see what''s next!


    "Alchemist/2!"


    Discovery! Bonus Forsaken Discovery! Poison use, +2 Poison Saves! 6 Skill points! An advance!


    Discovery, Blood Healing! Normally this would require some customized alchemical extracts put into my blood, but this was a dreamscape, so basically it meant making adjustments to my dream body. Maybe it would be reflected in reality, maybe not. If rendered unconscious, activates automatically.


    5 Hp worth of fast healing/round, rounds/day = half alchemist level.


    Blood and Soul: Increase Alchemical Spontaneous Healing by 1 hp/rd and 1 rd per Essence invested. +1 Essence¡­ and +1 Soak¡­


    Invest two Essence! 7 hp/rd for 3 rounds per day!


    This was more powerful then it looked, because Vigor turned Health damage to temporary damage. Every point of a healing effect healed a point of temporary damage with every point of real damage. So, this was potentially 42 points of healing per day, not 21, and it could be staggered as I needed it!


    More endurance!


    Resistance/1 Mastery, +1 to all Saves! Null +1, Soak +1¡­ a Power Mastery, once per three Levels¡­


    Soak to 84, Null to 16, Ess to 11. Finally using my Essence for something¡­


    Skill Points: Biology 3, Whitesmithing +1 to 3, Gemcrafter +2 to 3. Poison use also meant I could now freely concoct potions and use them with ease. Hey, look, giant spiders¡­


    Two Alchemy recipes for potions and whatnot. I picked Cure Light Wounds and Mutagen, because why not? Not like I could use them.


    Now, we were gonna see what that room could cough up again¡­


    ---


    The effects of Swarmbane were impressive.


    The magic preyed upon the same linkages that rendered a swarm a single mass instead of disparate individual parts. Any individual hit in the mass spilled over excess damage to all other members of the swarm close by. The effect was like having a bloody broom attached to Tremble as it cut through the air, slaying whole swathes of rats at one time.


    There were at least six swarms of rats, maybe more. Fido always managed to basically torch one of them, I chewed through another one before leading the rest that were not sampling hell poodle on a chase as the big white two-headed bastard came through. I whipped through a tight curve like I was skating, racing towards the fat bastard as it readied its psychic Mickey, red eyes glowing and¡­ finding out that a glowing Sword in the neck really sucked, again.


    I was on it with both hands before it could recover, ripping open the throat of the left head, pulling out Tremble and cutting off the other one as its enraged rat minions caught up to me.


    This time, I was smiling as I turned to face them.


    Rats came apart in the hundreds, splattering blood and bits of gore everywhere as Tremble seemed to be laughing in glee in my hands. They streamed towards me, and as fast as they could run and jump, I reaped them like wheat.


    Seeing badger-sized rats coming apart was never so much fun!


    When they were done charging me, I raced over to Fido, and killed the ones munching on the hell poodle. He was already dead, but that was fine. I belatedly realized they must be some kind of hellrat if they could tolerate his burning blood¡­


    So, what was coming next?


    Marginally astute, I scooted under the crib, waiting for whatever was next.


    The sun had never stopped streaming into the room, illuminating the center of it while throwing the rest into start shadow. As I''d largely fought in the shadows, I hadn''t paid a lot of attention to it¡­ except now it was shrinking rapidly, even as it crawled across the floor, up the doorway, and vanished at supernatural speed, like someone shifting a spotlight, not the sun.


    Which naturally enough left this room in the dimmest of lights, basically only lit by the soulfire glowing around Tremble''s blade.


    Yeah, this wasn''t going to be bad, no, no¡­


    There was movement in the shadows, of the shadows. I walked out into the very faint starlight of the room, looked out at the blurry night barely formed out there, and then glanced around at the humanoid forms condensing out of the shadows at the corner of my eye.


    Shadows. Incorporeal undead. Straight up 50% miss chance, and half damage if you had magical weapons, none if you didn''t. Flying, pass through objects, etc.


    Daydreams and corrupted things seen were now heading firmly into nightmare. Things that went bump in the night were coming.


    They were going to suck away my strength because my Null wasn''t strong enough, encircle me from all sides while I whiffed away trying to land a good hit on them, and then kill me with soulchill.


    I didn''t have Ghost Strike, and Ghost Touch would take four days to add on Tremble.


    If it came to a Greater Shadow, the drain might last even after I woke up, and would take days to recover from.


    Shit, fifty percent miss chance and half damage was one-quarter damage. I took a deep breath, and began to move. Shadows weren''t the fastest creatures, and my only chance was to attack as many times as possible. Whiffing half the time, and barely hitting the rest¡­this was going to suck bad.


    Damn the Swarms. I could''ve had Final Rest, Vivic, or Ghost Touch for my first, but nooooo, had to kill all the damn rats¡­


    ---------------


    Ahg.


    I could not move.


    The creepy chill was still thrumming through my bones. I literally had the strength to raise a finger, and that was it.


    Reborn with Strength 1. Ha ha ha, Curse, that''s really funny. The cold horror of that necrotic damage, assaulting my ki and life. The Str drain from their mass hits as they finally managed to get around me¡­ I was only alive because they couldn''t kill me and turn me into a shadow, or the Curse would die.


    Shadows couldn''t fight very good, and if they ignored armor, so what? Most of my AC was dodge bonuses. They''d found it hard to hurt me given how slowly they moved, so we had both been doing a lot of whiffing at one another.


    I''d need to have a Diamond Vajra to stave off necrotic energy like that, plain DR just didn''t work, nor normal energy resistance.


    But I had killed a bunch of them. Between their uncaring movement, missed attacks, and attempts to grab me, I got more AoO''s then I could shake a stick at. Even at ? effective damage, I had still managed to disperse a bunch of them. The continuous wardancing had helped, until I no longer had the strength to hold my sword or stand up, and literally fell over from muscle numbness.


    Hadn''t lasted too long after that. Strength damage killed me way before Soak or Health was gone. They''d reached right into my chest and drained my heart of strength.


    Three points a day, with bed rest and a Heal check. It looked like I was going to find out what my Strength score was.


    Ugh, three days of just sitting around doing nothing. If my Resolve was at II, I could blow Vigors to recover in no time. But that would mean being a Six.


    Well, no time like the present.


    "Vizard/2!" I yelled out in a ten decibel whisper.


    Bonus General Feat. Forsaken Bonus. Advance. 4 skill points.


    "Null Interdiction. Soulwarding. Null Mastery/2. Knowledge Arcane +2 to 3, Knowledge (Underworld) +2."


    Null Interdiction was a semi-active effect that strengthened the Veil around a Null, reinforcing Reality''s natural laws. It made dimension-skipping, both time and space, very hard to do, stopped phasing and incorporeality, ethereal-shifting, plane-hopping, and Summoning in new shit.


    Powered, and especially Casters, loathed it like nobody''s business. If you weren''t prepared to lose your escape buttons and sudden attack stuff, Interdiction was a fast way to die. Not being able to Summon in your enslaved creatures was pretty crippling to conjurors, too. Shattering an Interdiction from a Null was nigh-impossible, unlike the one from a fellow Caster, too¡­


    For me, it would force the shadows to bug out entirely or come into full corporeality, which meant I could kill them, which meant no more miss chance, and with a magic weapon, I''d do full damage.


    The effect existed naturally in my Null Field, which wouldn''t extend out past me until I reached 20 Null. However, with a burst of effort and a standard action, I could expand this effect out for five feet per point of Null, creating an area of reinforced dimensional stability for a minute per point of Null. Within that area, the Caster Level of dimensional effects was reduced by the level of the Null, effectively making most of them impossible.


    I was going to fuck them up so badly. C''mon, throw a Greater Shadow at me. All it was going to do was get me more pissed. Multi-dimensional existences? Up yours! These incorps, weren''t.


    Soulwarding was a Soul Feat, +1 Essence. +1 to Fort Save per Essence invested. Naturally, +1 Soak, too. And when I threw two Essence into it, Fort Save +2, meant 2 more Soak, and Null +2.


    Null to 19! Total Essence to 12! Soak to 87!


    Strength, still at 1¡­


    If I had a lab, I could have concocted a Potion to speed things along. Nope, nothing like that. I had what I had. All I could do was glower, and sit there, and try to burn the Strength damage out of my system faster. If I had five Heal Ranks, I''d know how to double the speed of my recovery.


    With a Null of 19, they had a one in five chance of being able to do Strength damage to me. At 23, they would have none, if they weren''t a greater shadow.


    I''d need to be a Four for that to happen. Bunch of things were going to happen at Melee/4. I grit my teeth feebly, concentrating my Vajra in my heart and laying there helpless in this little clearing in the mists. The Curse might be laughing at me now, but it wouldn''t for long.


    Tremble wouldn''t be getting any Naming Karma while I was flat on my back, either. Aaagh, another reason to hate the Curse. It was a good thing it couldn''t send stuff to attack me here, or I''d basically be stunlocked and killed.


    One point of Strength every six hours, here I go¡­


    ---------


    Twelve hours later, I''d eroded enough of the necrotic energy away to barely manage to sit myself up, Strength at 3. Having little else to do here, I dragged myself into the lotus position, and Meditated to pass the time, setting future ground for alchemical changes as I swirled my Essence and Ki through me.


    Was not going to put up with this shit in the future, that was sure¡­


    -------


    Another twelve hours passed, as I slowly regained my Strength. I felt Renewal pass. Strength to 5. I could stand up uneasily, but that interfered with my resting and erosion duties. I satisfied myself with doing a lot of stretches and slowly working on flexibility and breathing, and mental exercises.


    Archer/2. Technique, bonus Technique, Advance, 4 skill points.


    Ghost Strike, Anathema, Dexterity Mastery/1, +2 to Bowyer/Fletcher (3), +2 to Animal Empathy.


    Ghost Strike: As long as you have at least one point of ki, all your magical weapon attacks were Ghost Touch. Since it applied to bows, worked as an archer Feat. I didn''t get Ki strike to make my UA magical until Monk/3, but that was fine. I had Penetrate Damage Reduction to make up for it.


    Anathema; a Null Feat, worked particularly well with bows. As long as you satisfied the ability to punch the DR of something vulnerable to an energy or substance twice, the second time was considered an allergy enhanced by your Null.


    So, if I had a magic weapon, and my ki strike also counted as a magic weapon, then instead of merely neutralizing DR 5/magic, I''d be doing +5 damage. A +III Weapon and Silverstrike would mean +10 damage against lycanthropes, instead of merely bypassing it. Penetrate Damage Reduction also worked just fine with this, although based on Level¡­ silver arrows on a +III Bow was classic.


    I''d need another level of Monk for Ki Strike, so this wouldn''t kick in right away. But combined with Penetrate Damage Reduction, I was going to go to town on those Shadows. Oh, fuck them very much¡­


    Dexterity Mastery/1, because Dexterity Mastery/3 actually granted a full point of Dexterity, and I had to get there before I hit Five. So, advances for the Stat Masteries were definitely something I had to take, no reason not to get started on them. +1 to all Dex Skill Checks was minor, the second advance had literally no effect, and the third was the full point. Four was empty, and the fifth advance was the second point.


    Costly, but Stat points were precious, and I had no magic items to make up the differences.


    I put all my Craft Reserve from Artificer into Tremble.


    ----


    Twenty-four more hours passed, another Renewal went by. My Strength was now 9, and I could tell based on relative amounts left I had twelve hours left.


    Artificer/2. I maxed out my Craft Reserve into Tremble because I could, making up time lost. Not like I could Invest anything else, and I could just directly put the excess power in with my bond to my Sword.


    Extra Metamagic, Artisan, or Item Creation Feat. Bonus Forsaken Feat for having no infusions. Two extra formulae for spell effects. Four Skill points.


    Item Familiar. This is where all of my Craft Reserve was going. Hah! You think I can''t make any friends here? I''m going to grow Tremble out of my own soul, eff you!


    Iron Will. This keyed off Melee Levels, representing a mule-headedness that wasn''t out of place with Artificers. As a Melee, this was increased by Resolve; increased Bravery by the amount of Iron Will; the +2 bonus was increased to +4 at Ten; +2 Class Skills (Spellcraft, Bowyer), and one more Vigor a day, bringing me to four.


    This should bring my Will save to a minimum of +7, +10 against Fear, add Wisdom bonus, if any. I could at least try to fight against a psychic Mickey.


    Two Formulae, eh? Lesser Fast Healing and Protection from Alignment.Didn''t affect anything until I got out of here.


    Advance to Weaponsmithing/2.


    Skill points: Knowledge/Geology +3, Miner +1. Let''s go with knowing the raw materials¡­


    ------


    Twelve hours passed. I rose to my feet, hefted Tremble, and stepped out grimly into the mist.


    ---------------


    I plunged Tremble into Fido''s dead heart. The burning heart of a Hell Hound was a power comp, and an Item Familiar could quickly and directly devour a power comp from something it had killed.


    Tremble hummed happily as the magic in the heart channeled the hell poodle''s magical energies into it. Its prowess as an intelligent Weapon was something completely separate from its prowess as a Weapon, and just as hefty a gold sink. The hell poodle visibly withered up as the magic was extracted from it, and I hoped the Curse was pissed that it couldn''t just recycle it, and I was basically double-dipping Karma here.


    Ditto, the brains of the rat kings could be rendered into potions, time to use them, and the blood of Slinky the hellcat.


    Arsenal energized, but there were no supplementary effects to swap out yet. Two more days, and I''d be feeding these shadows that were coming their teeth.


    Tremble was blazing with light and humming angrily in reaction to my anger, understanding that what was coming was going to be painful. As the shadows rose out nothing, I charged into them.


    Oh, oh, yesss.


    Way of Water was useless against them, but Way of Fire worked just fine. They kind of moaned as I cut them in two, and the barely substantial edges of their bodies burned away from the magic cutting them apart.


    They triggered AoO''s, and I Cleaved from one to the next as I saw them shifting through the edges of the zone of light around me. I was having nothing of them playing with me, moving too fast for them to dance and dodge around me. They clustered and flowed this way and that, trying to get around me, and I went straight ahead, killing as I went.


    The Greater Shadow loomed out of the darkness, twice the size of the lesser shadows, and struck out at me with arms distended and longer then the reach of my Sword. I shifted to defensive mode, parrying it, and cut it in passing, Cleaving through to it as I dodged around it, cutting down two of its servants as I wove in and out and they missed and shifted around me, provoking AoO as they exposed themselves, and I ended the strikes that killed them on their boss.


    And then I straight up advanced into its ink-pool face and Flurried it dead with a wild combination of attacks that sent barely corporeal limbs flying and ripped it from head to oozing waist¡­ and took out two more of its kind as I kept moving right through it, seeking all of them.


    After circling the whole room twice and disposing of everything attacking me, I walked back out into the shadowy moonlight from the window and waited for the next rush.


    I''d been tagged successfully once, and without ki I could not have lifted my Sword. That was all it took.


    I was so going to get my Null up¡­


    The darkness swirled again, and the cold of the grave began to gather, sending mist across the floor.


    What kind of kid dreamed this stuff up?


    Out of the mist, more spectral forms began to rise. Blackish, with empty, sparkling eyes, all of which quickly turned on the girl holding the sword burning electrum defiance.


    Wraiths. Unless I got lucky with a crit, no way to one-hit them. And if they had a Greater Wraith, well, this was going to be quick.


    Energy Drain, went after Levels. I could take exactly three hits ripping through my spirit, and down I''d go.


    Tougher, but not really any harder to hit. My Null had a two in three chance to neutralize the energy drain, and the necrotic chill I could take a lot of.


    So there was only dodging them as long as I could while I skated around and cut them down.


    My ki lifted my Sword, arms too weak, and I grinned despite myself, sliding left. They were faster then shadows, moving with great speed, converging on me even as I was in motion.


    Tremble everywhere to deflect those reaching tendril-hands, AoO''s snaking past to burn through them, marking which ones were wounded for special attention and follow-ups, Cleaves opening them up for focus and fury.


    They didn''t seem to like the way my Null prevented them from reaching into my body to tear at my soul. Well, eff them. They were gathering around me too fast despite my movement.


    First one, ahhhhhh! Cold claws ripping through my soul like gossamer, making me shudder as my ki and Essence convulsed at the shock. The one who did it ate an AoO and my next attack tore it apart, but that didn''t mean the rest stopped.


    Another wraith died, a hand thrust through my heart. I spun around and cut it, once, twice as half a dozen spectral hands lashed for me. Something ripped through my head, and took my thoughts with it.

 21 Chapter Twenty-One – My First Magic Shrine

    The path caught my eye, because it was winding between the stones. Even with the weight of the beings making it, it was worn down. So, regular traffic. Looked like someone had even wasted time making steps.


    You don''t make steps to someplace that isn''t a) used frequently, or b) pretty important.


    Tracks didn''t feel common to my tremblesense, so important it was.


    I went through various scenarios leading to the looming walls of the valley as I headed in that direction, keeping an eye out for annoyances.


    Stakes with skulls on them, anointed with runes blackening the ivory bone around them was not a good start. I studied the misaligned five-point stars, noting that they were actually crafted pretty well despite looking so rough and juvenile.


    Ruilvei¡­


    The Queen of Night, the Godwitch, The Dark Crone, was the patron of all black magic¡­ and by extension, patron of all Hags and witches. A coven would be wise to have a shrine on their grounds.


    She was probably the one responsible for twisting the Hag Curse into its current form. There was no way I was going to be respectful to her. I was Forsaken, she couldn''t see me unless she had an avatar with line of sight to me. It was virtually impossible for a Divinity to register something as ephemeral as a Forsaken. We could give them Faith, but they couldn''t hear our prayers.


    Tremble whisked out, bone cracked, and the split skull fell to the ground, the star on it hissing as it shattered.


    Yeah, no surprises in that thing, nope nope.


    I proceeded along the trail, waiting for any guards to show.


    Forewarned by the destruction of the skulls, I did indeed hear metallic feet clomping on the stone rapidly in my direction, and glided into the shadow of a stone.


    Heavy steps, about the weight of men in armor, pace man-sized, strangely light¡­ probably undead. Four of them. Weapons banging against stone and mail, not carried with much care¡­


    Low intelligence corporeal undead in armor. Wights with armor would be my guess, although a swordwraith team was a possibility, or skeleton warriors¡­ no, too heavy for the latter¡­


    The fact they were wielding wraithblades to channel their energy drain ability was cheering. The crawl of necrotic energy along them was unmistakable.


    I came out of the shadows and removed the heads of them whisk, whisk, whisk, whisk as I spun between them, Cleaving them dead almost instantly.


    Yes, I was definitely going to need Final Rest or Vivic before I went up against the Hags. I needed better body disposal.


    Tremble was happy to feast on the alchemically-treated blades, and I spent a few happy minutes harvesting the residual magic in them. I left the bodies and heads where they were, not particularly concerned with others coming up behind me and finding them.


    A crude archway over a split in the valley wall, a shaded offshoot of the valley itself, basically an elongated cave.


    And that stone over there was glittering in a way it shouldn''t, and was in a great place to look out over the shrine entryway.


    I ran for it, and up the wall of the shrine, Dragon Walking up the wall and hacking down with Tremble.


    The shiny stone shattered, split in two, and popped out of the socket in the stone where it had been placed. It looked like a crystallized eyeball, which it probably was, as they were the best thing to make Hag Eyes from.


    Was there a wail of pain in the distance? While Hag Eyes could be used by any member of the coven who used its matching mate, each member had to be tied to each set, and would take damage if the Eye was destroyed¡­ which would indirectly alert them that the location of the Eye was compromised.


    It would take them at least several minutes to send someone here to investigate. I inhaled, and smelled¡­ cow, blood, rot, decay, necrotic energy, brimstone...


    With a deep inhalation of breath, the Shrine Guardian stepped out to bar my way, since I wasn''t exactly concealing myself by doing that.


    A minotaur. Nine feet tall, ogre-sized, massive horns adding another foot. Dressed in wildly impractical armor, all black scale with tusks and spikes everywhere, looking impressive, and definitely enchanted so he wouldn''t be a massive danger to himself and his surroundings. He was wielding a great axe with a double-bitted head three feet across. Hugely built, muscular, cloven feet, and fires dancing in his eyes as he faced me.


    I noted the blast and charring marks on the stones around me, and made a frown. He looked down at me, clearly rather surprised, even tilting his head in some amazement at my presence. Then he huffed, snarled something under his breath about how I''d make a decent mouthful, and hefted that axe which probably weighed close to what I did¡­ and made a forty-feet jump from standing, hacking down with irresistible force.


    Tremble snapped up in the Archer Stand Thrust, and I shifted forward three feet without actually moving my feet, crouching slightly before locking down my heavyfoot and entering Battle Focus.


    His massive overhand strike crashed down behind me as he over-extended, and he ran his groin right onto the point of my blade, driving the length of it through himself and out his kidney, sliding me backwards with his mass, breaking his own grip on his axe as he bleated in pain.


    The physical push pulled my Sword out, which was fine. He had fast healing as a Shrine Guardian, which meant the gouting blood from a would-be fatal wound stopped almost instantly.


    I kicked back and instantly charged in again. He was reaching for the handle of his axe¡­ and I hewed right through the hardened oak, leaving him gripping a stub as the crescent cut stopped and became a full force lunge, hooking up and into him, and going for a more active target then his kidney.


    This time he kicked out at me as I let my feet sweep past me, leaning back and using the impact to tumble free once again with my blade in hand He staggered as things like guts and liver and stomach were all neatly impaled and leaving all sorts of fun to his insides.


    Didn''t quite reach the heart, these things were tough. He slammed his head down towards me, I eyed the horns and rolled right as he hooked it, trying to catch me and failing. Tremble flicked back and across his throat even as the breath he was holding vomited out, and a combination of blood and fire was puked out of both his smiles.


    He staggered, and then gaped at me wide-eyed standing there, the stone for a foot around me not even charred, and this time I came in with a full 360 snap and swirl, getting my hips into the blow, and this time hewed his head half-off, and definitely cut through the spine.


    Nervous system compromised, he collapsed to the ground, gushing out blood his fast healing was racing to try and stop. But he had no limbs to defend himself, and without further ado I completed the job and lopped my way through the rest of his very thick neck.


    Battle Vigor would restore most of the Soak damage I took from being knocked around by him, and I pried up his Axe from the stone and tossed it into the shadows off to the side, to grab on my way out.


    Tremble was hungry for magic Weapon munchies, after all.


    There might be other things inside, but I was in a hurry, so I advanced immediately, noting that they didn''t bother to light torches as all the attendants could likely see in the dark. Tremble''s light was enough for my eyes for now, and my tremblesense was very active, radiating out from the ki sliding across the ground, reading everything in the stone and in contact with it within fifteen feet of me.


    The foot-traps keyed to irregularly placed stones were clever, but of no use against someone who could read the stones¡­ and was walking above said stones and not putting any real weight on them. I could jump between the null plates of the pressure plates, and actually wanted to see if there was anything interesting in the spiked pit below for thoroughness, but the giant, obsidian-shelled centipede with mandibles as long as a knife distracted me by jumping into the point of my sword and necessitated my attention for a few critical seconds.


    Being the clever melee combatant I was, I turned its momentum into an impact on the pressure plates behind me with a little bit of Moon kinetic redirection. The floor dropped open abruptly, the hissing and clacking thing fell down into it, and the spikes at the bottom greeted its hard shell enthusiastically.


    Undeterred, I headed in further, keeping alert for other surprises.


    The bone golem in the roughly-hewn room at the end was an unwelcome surprise, twelve feet tall and four-armed, made of bones from at least ten different skeletons, and wielding sabers carved from the thigh bone of something the size of an elephant or bigger. Tremble was not adamant, so I had to rely on Penetrate Damage Reduction to hack into its bones. At +10 MAB and with Ki Strike active, the combination was more than enough to overcome its DR.


    It wasn''t intelligent, but it was fairly nimble, it was very persistent, and it had a lot of reach with those four arms and the bone sabers.


    Thankfully, I was still much faster than it was, and it wasn''t my primary opponent. I basically ran along the wall around it, got behind it, and then totally and completely trashed that altar to Ruilvei, ripping through the stone and disrupting every single Rune pattern on the thing and its dais in six frantic seconds of hack-hack.


    The smelly, greasy gray rock of the altar, which exuded a natural evil that was not native to this plane, cracked and broke as my Null tore through the threads of power around it. The broader black basalt underneath it began to shake, and crumble to dust at the edges, which wasn''t helped when the bone golem jumped up there. I conveniently jumped away as it hammered down on the altar it was supposed to be protecting, and bashed it to pieces.


    If an unintelligent construct could have gotten mad, this sucker would have been mad. I snickered and proceeded to retreat out of the place, and with its guarded object destroyed, the golem followed me as fast as it could.


    It seemed to know where the pit traps were, which didn''t help it when I slid in from out of its line of sight and smashed both of my feet into its lead foot at the appropriate time. The floor gaped open nicely, and a thousand pound of bones went rattling down thirty feet to the unforgiving floor below.


    It didn''t really hurt the thing, DR much too high, but it bought me some time to get out of the shrine before it could climb out with its four arms.


    Elapsed time since I''d split the Hag Eye, about four minutes. The Valley was a mile across, I didn''t expect them to be great sprinters, so they would be getting near, but not arrived as yet.


    I slid outside the entrance, made sure I wasn''t being snooped, and shot sideways to grab the fallen magical axe and get off the pathway into the rougher stones. Yeah, the sucker was heavy, so I stashed it twenty yards away out of sight, and then just retreated further down the path to see who arrived.


    I didn''t have to fight them, although it would be good to pick some off, I supposed. No, no, I had a lot of sloooow Karma to reassign, I wasn''t in a hurry. I really had to get my Arsenal going, with Blooding, Vivic, and Final Rest all in urgent need. Tremble also wanted to regain its intellect and ability to Sing and announce us.


    Really, so much to do and regain from Dream.

 22 Chapter Twenty-Two - Getting Some Strength Back

    Hahhhhhhhhhhrrrrrrrrr!


    I grit my teeth as my soul stitched itself back together. Fortitude save to throw off negative levels. Fuckyoufuckyoufuckyou!


    It burned and cut and chilled and nauseated all at once, as the shredded bits of my soul gathered back together, and I swore over and over and over as they did.


    "Minstrel/2! Give me that damn Foe Hunter Feat against spectral undead NOW! Forsaken Feat to Strong Soul! Bardic Feat to Extra Bardsong! And if I don''t qualify for Ghost Scarred after being killed by incorps twice and butchering over fifty of them, I''m gonna hit something!"


    I crawled up off the ground, feeling like I''d been burned and scarred all over, my skin writhing as if I had been electrocuted. My emotions were raging like a storm as I tried to get mind, body, and soul back in synch after some severe maltreatment.


    But I hadn''t LOST anything. They might have been able to strip something from me, if I was weak and failed the Fortitude saves against the energy drain.


    There was a damn good reason I had a high Fort save. Wraiths were only a 16, I had a 90% chance of making them. Even passing three of them wasn''t beyond the realm of disbelief.


    "Fahhhh¡­" I sat down in meditation, and forcibly calmed myself down. Essence and ki went spinning through my blood and nerves, percolating and cooling everything down, stitching it all back together and soothing all my little hurtsies, yes little Sama, poor little Sama, there, there now¡­


    ---


    It took me a good hour to get rid of all the muscle tics, fluttering heart, surges of emotion, and bodywide Charlie Horse''s. The gut-chilling fear and horror of something latching onto my soul, feeling that yawning not-death pulling at me with all the power of Sin and the Curse behind it¡­ I stared at with scorn and a growing sense of wrath.


    So, I had to fight lots and lots of undead now, did I?


    I was so going to show them!


    "Advance to Charisma/1. Skill points to Piano, Violin." Yes, I was going to be a remarkable musician someday, I could almost feel my hands and fingertips creaking. Thankfully, with a Vajra I didn''t need to worry about calluses on my fingers interfering with things. I was going to make beautiful music one day.


    With a Sword, damn this Curse. I was the Sage of Swords, just wait¡­


    I also had more music on my brain, and began to compose the second act of my theme song in the back of my head, because I could.


    Strong Soul gave +1 to Fort and Will Saves, +3 against necromantic influences, which included most everything undead did, and Fear, among other things. I was immune to Fear, but you never know. Bonuses doubled at Ten, as normal, and really gave a nice lift to my saves against Energy Drain.


    I hit the fifty kills against Incorps, so a constant +2 Morale bonus TH/Dmg against them, wouldn''t need to wardance.


    But getting Strength and Energy Drained dead waived the reqs for Ghost-Scarred. +2 Insight bonus TH/Dmg/Saves against incorporeal undead, as I had very, very intimately felt what they were, what they could do, felt their Damned touch upon my soul, and I was so not going to play with them.


    Tomorrow¡­ I would have Vivic. Maybe it was only +d6 against undead, but they were going to burn, and I was going to feel happy. It should be enough to get me easily to the two-hit-kill range.


    +1 Fort Save meant +1 Soak, too.


    Tremble hummed happily in my hand. For now, that was all it could do. But it was aware now, just unable to communicate. Vivic would insure it stayed pure from the Curse.


    I would get Vivic, Blooding to fight regen, and Flaming and Frost for universal damage and utility. Then, if there were no other surprises, I would start working on Bane and Slaughter. It wasn''t like I didn''t have enough monster types to build up Slaughter already¡­


    My emotions were calming down. I had been eaten as a baby. These things wanted to scar my soul? They had a ways to go!


    I picked up Tremble and strode for the mist.


    More +2''s. Let''s see what the bastards did with it!


    --------------


    "Hah hahahahaha¡­"


    I had inspired for Whirlwind Attack, normally a rather dumb Feat to go for. Basically, one attack on everything in my reach. Good if you were fighting one-hit-kill minions. Around, up, down, didn''t matter. You had to move really quickly, slicing in all directions around ever-changing arcs and points of contact.


    Didn''t kill any of them with the Whirlwind.


    Killed them all when the first Wraith missed, I Riposted through his neck, and Supreme Cleave''d through to every single damn one of them around me, like two Whirlwinds going off back to back.


    Even the nominally fearless undead halted at the sight of me shredding eight of them in under two seconds.


    I could barely lift Tremble physically, but my ki was just fine.


    "Oh, whatsamatter? Don''t like being two-hit?" I purred, sliding forward without moving my feet. It didn''t notice fast enough, and the one I was closest too was suddenly hacked apart before it could retreat. One of the others lunged in to swipe at me, missed, and tried to retreat, not making it out as two AoO''s chased it into vapor.


    And then the Dread Wraith loomed up behind the lesser minions, eyes like dead suns as they met mine, full of hate and fear and an endless hunger which no amount of souls could satiate.


    Ah, damn. 16 Hit Dice. Damn near 200 Health. Reach. Touch attack at something like +20 to hit. It was going to swing at me three times, and I was going to die.


    I wouldn''t be able to kill it fast enough¡­ but I should be able to kill all of its minions, if I was really quick and agile. The more Karma, the better.


    I laughed and attacked, ripping into its minions, knowing it was going to shred my soul again, and knowing that I would take it.


    ------


    "Hah ah¡­"


    I laid there as Renewal burned through me, and I fought off the lingering negative energies trying to neutralize part of soul and claw back the hard-earned Karma.


    No need to rush. Today was an important day.


    Because all my off-classes were at Two, and I could advance my Melee Class to Four.


    Which I did.


    Three key effects.


    Bumped my Fort Save by +1, Will Save +1.


    Melee Four, Weapon Group Training kicks in, adds to Great Fortitude, Fort Save up by 1.


    Level Four, Cover Your Weakness Ability Gain kicks in. My choice of Stat was Con, which also went up by +1 with my Forsaken Inherent bonus. Con 25, bonus to +7, Fort save goes up by 1.


    Lowest Physical Stat, Strength, goes up by 1.


    Lowest Mental Stat, Wisdom, goes up by 1.


    MAB goes up by +1.


    AoO up by 1 with WT.


    Pick a second one-handed weapon to be Finessable via Expertise. I picked Shield.


    Inspiration +1 with Expertise.


    Primary Group Weapon Training increases by 1. That takes me to +2 on Sword and UA, doubled by Spec to +4/+4.


    Another +2 was good to work with.


    Expertise and Deadly Precision increase to +2, which meant a damage and AC increase. I added Improved Bull Rush to Improved Sunder under Expertise.


    +2 into Combat Pool, still set to Improved Grab/Grapple and Trip Defense.


    D6+4+Con+FC of Soak, plus prior Hit Points adjusted for rise in Con. +3 prior Levels, +1 Health, say +15 for now, +3 Improved Toughness, soon to increase with my deaths toughening me up to max. Toughness +1 to Health.


    Health 21. Soak, goes from 88 to 109, +21 in total, 112 in six more days. Wait, none. Toughness mixed with Weapon Training, added +AB towards max Hit Points. Straight to 112.


    Oh, and I was Level Four. I could take another Hit Die in Human. I flicked over that lever, and could feel the energy coursing through my body as I actually and really toughened up, and felt the mindset come down on me.


    I was Sama Rantha, Grandmaster of the Sword, Sage of the Sword, and I simply wasn''t going to let a Hag-spawned Curse beat me, ever! The idea sat in my head, smoldering, the core of everything I was. I would be that Grandmaster again one day!...


    D8+Con in Health. Say 11. Health now 32, 36 in eight, seven days. This was now significantly higher then my Vigor, which would be nice.


    Two bonus General Feats. Added to Forsaken Bonus and Two Combat Techniques.


    Skill points, 5+FC+Int., so +3 = 9. +6 more for Human level.


    Oh, yes, this was a very big Level.


    Tremble, Arsenal, Vivic.


    Silently, unwhite flames, etherfires, the necrotao opposite of necrotic energies, ghosted up on the blade of my Sword, falling quietly towards the ground, unlike normal flames.


    Because Vivic energies fed things to the land. They did no harm to anything that lived, unless it was suffused with otherworldly or negative energies, in which case it did 1d6. It could also set corpses and carcasses on vivic fire, which would slowly burn them away, just like wood¡­ only, like, in billowing mists which sank into the ground and purified away taint, corruption, and other negative energies.


    Still only one Advance. It was silly, but I just picked Constitution/1, since I needed to get it to +3 at Fifth to get a Con point off the Mastery.


    Human Feat, Font of Life. Immediate Fort Save to avoid Energy or Stat drain/damage effect. Damage applies, but necrotic effect does not.


    My Fort Save was now +18, +20 against undead. My Null was 24¡­ 26 against undead.


    A 5 HD Wraith had no chance to drain me, nor a normal shadow. A Greater Shadow at 9 HD had a 1 in 5 chance. Even a 16 HD Dread Wraith only had a fifty percent chance now.


    One Level shifted everything that much.


    I had Melee Weapon Mastery. Achievement Feat upgrade kicked in. Necropotence, required Foe Hunter - Undead, Melee Primary Weapon Training, Weapon Specialization, and getting your ass drained by undead. Doubled the Specialization damage bonus against undead. So, an additional +4 damage against them.


    Not a huge amount, but it all went on the stack when multiplying, unlike +dice.


    Cleave Technique, Fleet Technique.


    These two freed up some room for my Inspiration. The Cleave Technique automatically gave me several layers of Cleaving, going up with my MAB, like a Mastery and Feats I didn''t have to pay for.


    There were two kinds of Cleaving. The one I normally used was to drop a foe, attack a foe adjacent to it with Sweeping Cleave, or spend an AoO to attack one not adjacent to it via Extra Cleaving. There was another called Impaling Cleave, where you impaled a foe, and used an AoO to stick the one behind it if it died, which was great when charging.


    Improved Cleaving removed the AoO cost of Extra Cleaving. Supreme Cleaving allowed a 5'' step between Cleave attacks, up to total base movement rate if you kept dropping creatures, truly an awesome form of minion-slaying.


    Improved Cleaving kicked in at +7 MAB, and Supreme Cleaving at +9. So, just some Levels to gain now. Whirlwind Attack was the gift at +5 MAB. One more level¡­


    The Fleet Technique was a combination of speed and agility. It granted +5 to base movement speed, and then +5'' of Fast Movement per level of Armor Training. This popped my current 50'' base speed to 60'', as fast as a wraith. This worked out okay for Melee, as Armor Mastery/Exoskeleton made their medium and heavy armors effectively weightless at later levels, so they didn''t lose the Fast Movement, unlike, oh, a Barbarian.


    It also gave Sprint at MAB +3, which was x5 running speed vs the normal x4, and Endurance Runner at MAB +5, which was double length between Endurance checks for long-term movement.


    I still had two Feats left.


    Endurance Technique. Opened a lot of pre-req doors. Very, very importantly, +1 to Con if Forsaken. Con now 26, +8. Sleep in medium armor. Bonus on lots of endurance-type checks. Opened the Die Hard Mastery.


    Fort Save +1. Soak +5. Null +1. Health +2.33 and 117¡­ +19/+21 Fort save¡­ Null 25/27


    At Armor Mastery I, ignore the first exhaustion and fatigued result per day. At Armor Mastery II, ignore fatigue entirely, exhaustion is just fatigue, keep right on trucking.


    Enduring Life. General Feat. Any effects of necrotic draining or damage are delayed for one minute per Con bonus. So, an eight-minute delay, during which they could only do damage to me¡­ at the end of which, I got to make Fort Saves to stave off all of them, and maybe die from overwhelming drains¡­ but in the meantime, they could only kill me with straight damage, which they were pathetic at, and I''d suffer no penalties.


    Yeah, let''s do that. It certainly fit my theme.


    Then I was going to have to work on my Battlemind Focus. At Five, I''d get access to Battle Vigor, and wouldn''t that just make me a cockroach to these bastards¡­


    And just wait until I hit Five and Profound Artisan¡­


    Skill Points to assign. 15 of those suckers, just to get to Four Ranks, between Human and Melee.


    Armorsmith, Weaponsmith, Blacksmith, Whitesmith, Leatherworker, Woodworker. Perception, Stealth, Concentration, Meditation, Survival, Heal. Martial Lore. Alchemy. Spellcraft.


    That was 15. I r smart, I r.


    I waited as my brain grew, rooms opening up and airing their contents into the rest of my skull with the force of endless libraries consulted and thousands of hours of practice. The ancestors of humanity were watching over me, and hopefully spitting on the Curse of the Hag with me.


    I hoped they could see what I was doing and were laughing heartily. I was probably the toughest damn Four they''d ever seen, and it was only going to get better.


    My hand closed on Tremble, both of us stronger now than we had been a short time ago, and I got to my feet.


    "Time to go kick some ass again." Tremble hummed in response, and I strode out for the mist.

 23 Chapter Twenty-Three – Scout and Survey

    The drak-hounds arrived first.


    They were basically wolves with Mire Dragon blood, so they preferred swamps. Cunning but stupid, barely sentient, but clever pack hunters, and much stronger and more dangerous then normal wolves. They weren''t exactly quiet, but the terrain didn''t lend itself to such. Their nails were also harder and sharper then wolves, so clacking wasn''t out of order.


    I watched them come racing up, pause and sniff the air and the death it was telling them about. More cautiously, they slunk forwards, and quickly came to the chopped corpse of the guardian. The way their spinal crests rose showed that they were suddenly a lot warier, and they didn''t take the opportunity to head into the shrine.


    The swamp ogres were next, stumping out of the mist with an energy that belied their swollen guts and massive stature. They were wearing crude hides and pieces of armor crudely held together with leather thongs, not bothering with sandals that would rot in this environment. The nail-studded great clubs they were using were not something they had made themselves, and the leader was using a hefty Halberd like an axe without any problem. I took note of the slight glow to it, and sniffed in anticipation.


    They had moss growing in places, bunches of warts, and strange bone structures and proportions that hinted at inbreeding, but I wasn''t going to dwell on the fact one looked pinheaded and another had a vestigial arm coming out his left side. I was just going to kill them all, I didn''t care about how mutated they were.


    The troll was something of a surprise. Slouched over, it was as big as the ogres, but more pot-bellied, with skinny arms that hid steely tendons, and claws half again as big as the ogres'' hands. And that nose, always that damn nose.


    Trolls in groups usually meant a troll Hag. Was she one of the Coven?


    Or, hmm. Just how big was this Coven? This¡­ might get interesting.


    Couldn''t have muscle without a brain. There had to be a Hag or a Hag Servant here, probably being sneaky like me.


    Yes, there was something invisible moving over there. It was quiet, but not quiet enough to fool the Hair of Sama. I just sat and watched as the fog swirled in, obviously unnatural, and limited vision down. The droplets swirled and outlined an image in the fog as the ogres stood there dumbly over the dead minotaur, obviously not willing to go inside.


    Eventually the Hag got tired of waiting to see if anything would blow apart her minions, and stepped out. Her low laugh caused more movement, and two swamp giants loomed out of the mist down the trail.


    The icthyoid faces of the Jotuns and their bulbous, greasy bodies didn''t hide the fact that they towered over trolls and ogres, and had the same kind of thematic spiked greatclubs gripped in hands that seemed to bear vestigial scales.


    Not sure how the Hags lured them here, traded favors with a Sea Hag, maybe? The swamp was probably homey, if small, but as long as they got enough to eat, they probably didn''t care. They would be routinely Charmed and treated well, regardless.


    The Hag was a greenhag, obvious via skin color and the stringy, mossy hair. There was not a hint of grace or beauty in her, but she moved with strength and energy belying her rickety, wrinkled limbs and flopping, obese main body, the Hag Nose in full force, and her teeth more like iron spikes then anything else. I noted the dangling charms about her with professional interest, little surprises for the recalcitrant, and the twisted oak of her Staff held sigils and runes on it that weren''t there for show.


    She headed into the Shrine, ordering the drak-hounds ahead of her, and they complied without hesitation. The troll followed, the ogres trailed after her, and the swamp giants hung around the shrine entry.


    Mmmm, tempting, but I didn''t think I could take out the two Jotuns fast enough right now to avoid the others from racing back to help.


    Taking great care, as Jotun ears are large and their eyes are big and able to see great detail at a distance, I withdrew from the area and continued on my circuit, giving neither of them a further look, and leaving no scent behind to be followed, nor tracks as I moved two inches above the ground, and withdrew into the too-warm fog that smelled of decaying corpses.


    --------------


    There was an area of desecrated ground where withered trees either swayed and threatened to fall down, or had succumbed to rot and turned the ground into a fungi and spore-ridden glade, getting thicker and more broken as I slid through it.


    The needleman shivered as I got close, responding to air movements of the spores I could not disguise. It looked like an emaciated humanoid, but was actually a semi-sentient plant form animated by Fey energies, with something of an overt obsession for the blood of elves. Unseelie creature, generally a minion of more powerful Fey creatures.


    It wasn''t very tough, but they always came in groups. That wasn''t much of an issue, I didn''t intend to sit still and be impaled by a zillion bloodsucking needles fire off by them, and I was sooo much faster than they were, even if they could flow through the dead forest without hindrance.


    Tremble whispered out, and split its skull and spine with only a faint crack. It shuddered and dropped stiffly as its body instantly locked up. I slid into the shadow a mushroom strewn tree, and waited politely.


    Three more needlemen arrived within seconds, scattered around the cracked and moldering branches of fallen pines, looking down at their fallen kin and running around what to do in their fibrous brains.


    Chok chok chok. It sounded like no more then polite rapping on wood, and the three of them died as I moved past them. Tremble chewed through them without effort, and they stiffened and fell, the needles poking out of their skin beginning to wilt almost instantly, and crinkling as they hit the ground.


    A trembling went through the dead trees around me, and I calmly removed myself from that area. I could feel corrupted nature magic weaving through the dead trees around me, and while I didn''t fear it per se, I didn''t want to test it quite yet. I wanted to be a little more durable if possible.


    After all, this was just a scouting mission. But Unseelie Fey and Nature Magic were pointing at one thing only, and didn''t an Unseelie Nymph just work perfectly here, sucking the beauty out of everything.


    Still, her power had to be constrained, because it radiated out from her for basically a mile in all directions. So, the Hag''s Valley had to be limiting it¡­ possibly a reason why nobody bugged them here.


    In other words, I''d have to kill her first. Mmm. I wasn''t worried about her supernatural beauty, as Nulls were rather tough on such things.


    She might be aware there was an intruder here, or maybe not. She was at the fringe of the swamp, not in it¡­ and an Unseelie Nymph, although a true bringer of corruption, was not a Hag, even if she might be a witch.


    Sure, let''s see what happens. I was a sneaky bitch, very hard to track, and her magic was not a threat to me. As I recalled, corrupted men devolved into fanatically loyal minotaur guards for her.


    She was a Nymph. She''d have a pool. Wait until midnight tomorrow, Final Rest would kick in, and deal with her while I surveyed the rest of the area.


    ---


    Well, this is how they do landscaping on the Nasty Evil Bitches side of things.


    There was a massive pile of corpses planted square in the middle of the small river coming down from the mountain. The corpses were basically undead founts, leaking negative energy into the river, drastically changing the nature of the water.


    They''d raised up the bottom of the river by digging stone out of the walls, driving it over its banks as mounds of stones redirected the flow right and left in every direction, diluting its momentum, slowing it down, and turning a fast-moving small river into a slow-moving morass filled with energies of death and rot.


    It was a lot of earth-moving, but definitely something that Summoned Elementals and servant Jotuns could do, along with earth-moving magic. Still, probably took them a while, but terrascaping to terrorscaping was a thing with Hags.


    The original trees had long fallen to rot, forming more heaps to slow the waters down, and stew in moss, mushrooms, vines, and creepers.


    The negative energy hadn''t been so thick at the way out. The wards and illusions about this place probably drew on the power here¡­ and if this much necrotic energy was allowed to leak out, the attention directed here would have increased greatly. So, they''d basically built themselves a battery of negative energy, contained it here, and nobody powerful enough to deal with them really cared what they did in their own hellhole.


    So typical of the mighty. After all, they had lots of time on their hands, and it wasn''t like they were going to be rewarded for such a valorous thing as risking the death-curses of Hags to kill them!


    The real world wasn''t like a D&D game, after all. I was here because of a personal grudge. I certainly wasn''t going to be compensated for my time to the degree such a risky thing demanded. Nobody wanted to pay someone to kill Hags, who would happily Curse the fuck out of them in return, and all their descendants, too. Hags were good at dissuading people from attacking them.


    So, I would be silently cheered by the mighty and powerful, and then ignored, possibly even marginalized for doing this by those concerned some Hag might choose to punish them for being friendly with me.


    Those more cynical might even try to get rid of me and earn a favor from the Hags. Wouldn''t that be just like things?


    Didn''t matter, I was still going to kill them.


    But, I at least had a literal harvest moving through this place.


    A lot of the plants here were mutated, especially the fungi. Mutated shit was magical shit, and I could work with magic shit. I''d been gathering stuff in the forest, but the crazy crap in here was far more potent and plentiful, all things considered.


    As I has Knowledge: Nature Ranks, I could tell that many things had been planted around here just for those reasons, mostly things needed for Alchemy: mandrakes, various semi-animate plants, deathwort, several dozen types of fungi, at least sixteen different varieties of poison, and so forth.


    Rune Chemistry used plants somewhat differently, and so different plants were more important to me. I was gathering stuff they were probably ignoring: more traditional flowers, reeds, and mosses, and yes, mushrooms and toadstools in all their varieties¡­ but not the ones they would be prizing the most.


    After being in the dreamscape so long, I could finally start practicing some real alchemy, and they were going to be the first beneficiaries of my downtime productivity.


    Now, I could Make Things. Mwahahahaha¡­


    ---


    The key to Rune Chemistry is an Energizing Stone, an E-stone. These jewels were the things that Energized the various Runes used in Forsaken Runechemistry and Runesmithing. Without use of E-stones, no more than Cantrip-level spell effect items could be made.


    E-stones had to be bigger and stronger if you wanted to make bigger and better stuff. A 0-level E-stone could be a fairly cheap 10 gp crystal, and was enough to scribe the Runes to make an E1-stone, which had to be valued at 100 gp to be effective. It could make an E2 Stone, and so forth and so on. 250 GP for an E2, 500 for an E3, 1,000 for an E4, and 5,000 gpv for an E5.


    Finding gems that valuable wasn''t all that easy, generally requiring paying over-inflated prices to gem dealers.


    But the Hags should have some, in jewelry for their disguises, if nothing else. Just getting to an E3 would be good.


    But for now, I clambered up and around the mass of corpses blocking the river coming down, aiming to get a little privacy and see if I couldn''t do some brewing and mix up some surprises for the Hags. I was sure they''d scour the place for me, and I wasn''t afraid of them finding me for a short time. If they wanted to chase me, that would be awesome¡­


    Hell, there might be something up this river canyon, I thought, sitting atop a boulder that had fallen from the side of the canyon and watching the ice-cold water run by below.


    A crude mortar and pestle, Vajra to separate and mix, cut and gather. Pure water below. Would''ve liked a syringe or glass bottle, but really, intestine pouches worked if properly cleaned. Could just eat them or bite them, as you liked.


    I should be able to get around the rest of the perimeter, unless they were lying in wait for me¡­ which would be its own set of funsies. I''d have to see.


    Dead Hags in the near future!


    And I had my eyes on those ogres and swamp giants, too¡­

 24 Chapter Twenty-Four - Insubstantial Advancements

    "Hahahaha! They actually killed me with damage!"


    I almost jumped to my feet, my eyes shining.


    They brought out spectres!


    Too many of them to deal with after the wraiths and shadows, but I had still exploded through them, crowing at them as their soul-sucking fizzed hard on my Null and I shook the rest off with my burning hard soul.


    Oh, did I hack on them. They moaned and cursed me in Necrus, and I was so going to learn that today so I could curse them back. Chained Whirlwinds eroding them as they crowded me, AoO''s and Cleaves building upon it, die die die you effers! Vivic flames making them moan in pain and terror as I tore their energy free of the Curse and gave some of it to Tremble!


    I also memorized all their faces so I could mock them when I got back to them again.


    Expert/4. Intellect +1 got me to 18. This got me a new language, which I took as Necrus, that I might mock.


    8 Skill points for the Level, +4 for the Int Raise. I went straight Knowledge Skills, keeping my Engineering, Math, Chemistry, Nature, Planar, Arcane, Religion, and Underworld topped off, and then filled the new stuff in with Sense Motive, Swim, Gearsmith, and Spellcraft.


    Gave me absolutely nothing in the way of combat bonuses. Advanced Wisdom/1, because Alchemist and Artificer would advance Intellect regardless, while Vizard could also take Wisdom. Archer and Scout would advance Dex, Soulshaper would do Con, and Minstrel Charisma. Really, only Strength was behind the curve.


    +1 Dodge AC for my no-armor Fighter AC bonus.


    Hmm. Well, just have to work on it later.


    It was time to mock some more incorps, and rip them a hearty new one.


    -------------------------


    I snickered as I opened my eyes again, looking to the eager Tremble.


    Sure, they had me blocked for now at the spectres. Too many touch attacks hitting too often, and I couldn''t kill them fast enough to stop them all.


    Today I would be working on that again.


    "Soulshaper/3!"


    "Bonus Soul Feat, Expert Soul!


    "Bonus Forsaken Feat, Soul-Fortified Body!


    "General Feat, Healing Soul!


    "Forsaken General Feat, Skilled Soul!


    "Advance to Con/2!"


    Thrum thrum thrum as karma turned into strength of soul, rippled through me.


    "Skill points to Tat Artist, Ivory Crafter, Sculptor, Language: Celestial!"


    Expert Soul was going to change things. +1 to Expertise Bonus per invested Essence. Invest 2, and now I was -2 TH/+4 AC, which was really going to annoy those spectres.


    Soul-Fortified Body: +2 Health per Soul Feat. Soul and Fist, Tough Soul, Blood and Soul and these four meant +14 Health. +5 Essence meant +5 Soak.


    Healing Soul gave me self-healing ability of 4 pts/Essence, Essence times/day. So 2E would be 8 pts, 2/day¡­ except Blood and Soul added on, giving me 10 points, 4/day, a decent amount of spot healing.


    Skilled Soul gave +2 Insight/Essence to one Skill per day. That was going to be Weaponsmith, without a doubt.


    The combination meant I was going to last longer and be harder to hit. I wouldn''t be killing them any faster, but they were going to be killing me slower, as my touch AC had just gone up nicely.


    My AC was 10, +5 Dex, +4 Int, +1 Dodge, +1 Armor Training, +2 Wis(?), +1 Talent, and +1 Nat AC, for 23/24 AC. Using Expertise and concentrating on defense would get me to a combined 31, which meant a 1/10 chance for the damn spectres to hit me, at -6 to hit for me.


    That was fine. +4 MAB, +5 Dex, +4 Weapon Spec, +1 Talent, +1 Attuned, +2 Foe Hunter, +2 Ghost Scarred, +1 Crazy Flame, +2 Way of Fire¡­ I was rocking +22 to hit them right now, and their AC was in the 15 range. Auto-hits all around, and greater AC for me. They were +12 to hit, fingers like freezing brands of soul-ripping, and yeah, did they want to rip my soul. Two solid hits to the soul and I''d go down¡­ but those were now very, very unlikely to happen, which truly pissed them off!


    My damage was impressive. 2-16, +1 Strength, +2+d6 Sword, +1 Cunning with +3d6 SA possible, +4 Spec, +2 Foe Hunter, +4 Necropotence, +2 Ghost Scarred, +2 Fist and Soul, for +18 base, and +4d6 worth of kickers, + Big Game Hunter, maybe Wardancing. I could also Precise Attack for -2/+4 if I chose, which brought me into two-hit range, so why not?


    Yeah, the spectres were not going to be enjoying themselves shortly.


    Health should be 44 now, Soak at 120, with 14 Essence and 10 ki¡­ almost to Vajra/2.


    Tremble, I picked Firephasing instead of Flaming. The difference is that Flaming added +d6 of burn damage on top of normal damage, while Firephasing actually turned the blade to flame, and converted all damage to fire.


    This was only important if fighting creatures vulnerable to fire¡­ like undead taking vivic damage, for instance, or cold creatures. But the important thing was that it was fire, energy, not solid steel, even though it mimicked the metal¡­ and that almost meant it was basically in a high-energy shape, and basically much easier to work on.


    Yes, Firephasing meant that I now had something I could work on in downtime¡­ use my Vajra to refine Tremble to ever-higher QL Levels!


    When the Rune lit up around Arsenal, and swapped out for Vivic, I was delighted. It looked similar to a lightsaber, but the crimson flame was obviously a flame, just bound into the shape of a sword, and the soulfire of our Soulbinding was a hard edge around it. The fire rustled like a flame, crackling and rushing as it was swung, sounding nothing like a lightsaber, but looking much more awesome.


    No heat radiated from it, there was only fire damage if you touched it¡­ and that could be a lot of fire pouring into you, so ouchie, not a good idea. But that also meant it could dump a lot of heat into something if pressed onto it, which could be very useful if I needed to reshape it.


    You know, like a forge fire. Alternative sources of power were a big thing in a magical world.


    On the interactive side of things, +6500 gpv was into it. Normally, that would have been enough to allow Tremble to speak, but there was a definite progress to this kind of thing. Every degree of intelligence had to be accompanied by similar increases in powers wielded by the Sword, starting with the Detect Powers that were the lowest order of intelligent Weapon powers.


    Since I was going to be putting a lot of power into things, I felt no reason to skimp on this stuff, and a list of the possibilities hove up in my mind.


    Nominally the best ones were Detect Precious Metals and Minerals, and Detect Evil/Good/Law/Chaos, as desired. Detect Creature-type was also a thing, but that was only useful on a devoted weapon against them.


    But when you have time, and the Curse of the Hag is feeding you unending virtual power comps, you can do a LOT of stuff.


    I wanted them all, so I was paying for them all. I was really not concerned that they were not useful now. When I finally got out into the real world, they''d all be banked, and start infusing into a Weapon even if I didn''t have the QL to support it yet. So, I paid for the first Detects, which was going to take a bunch of deaths. As for Detect Creature-type¡­ I was going to wait until Bane and Slaughter were online, and then simply do Detect Bane, so it would alternate based on what was Bane at the time, far, far more useful.


    Active powers would be nice, but I wasn''t sure how powerful they could be, drawing off the energy of the Curse and all. I could certainly make their foundation, but wasn''t sure they could actually exist.


    In any event, it was going to be a while before Tremble could chat with me. Still, I could feel his eagerness to be about doing what he was meant to do, to fight back against the Curse that defined and bound him as much as it bound me.


    It was a shame that my reactive healing was so sparse, everything I had was better off used when resting. But I didn''t get much rest, so it was kind of a moot point. There were on-the-go methods of healing, but those were months away¡­


    But I''d get out of this room sooner or later. Just had to make it to morning¡­


    Weaponsmithing 4 Ranks, +3 Class skill, +4 Int, +1 Cunning, +2 Mastery; +2 Artificer; +4 for working on a Sword, my Specialized Weapon; +4 Insight from Skilled Soul. +24 would eventually get me to 34, at the rate of 91 gold a day right now. QL 26 to 27 was 700 gold worth of work¡­ but a +24 modifier was something nobody on old Earth probably ever had. My crafting speed would only be increasing in the future, even if it never got the truly ridiculous levels possible if I had Crafting Artifice made up.


    I could only improve Tremble by one level, but it was enough. In Fireshaping form, I held him and slowly began to work on him with my Vajra. Getting him from 26 to 27 was one more Arsenal, and a step closer to Slot Vier in the future.


    In the meantime, I was going to start on Slot Drei, ten days of Naming Karma, and my first Bane, then Slaughter.


    ------------------


    They had a Glutton Spectre leading them, made it to him today, much to his total annoyance. I wasn''t nice enough to just roll over and die, and my life energy could fill his bulbous ectoform, which annoyed him all the more.


    Suddenly him and all the surviving spectres were exuding chilling auras that precipitated the air in the air right to ice, and soulchill became dreadchill that hit the body as much as the soul.


    Heh heh, fuckwads, freezing me to death. I might have made it past him if not for that.


    "Monk/3!"


    +1 ki to pay for lightfoot. Ki Strike/Magic. Ki hit 11, Vajra reached 27.


    "Vajra/2!" I had my Visual File.


    My brain began to swirl, and reorganize, forming a solid backbrain to help manage my knowledge and memories, basically an interactive eidetic memory. I basically had a holoform internal computer made up of optimized neurons, ki, and Essence.


    "Feats, Extra Ki, Way of the Moon Mastery!" Netting me another +3 Ki and access to the Lesser Dragon, Twin Moon¡­ and to its Moon Chaser Swordplay, which netted +1 TH, +1 to AC, when taken over six Levels.


    "Ranks to Perform Weapon Kata, Diplomacy, Calligraphy, and Demonic Language."


    Resistance to cold might take another couple of days¡­ but that was fine.


    Raise Lowest Stat.


    I was a kid, even mentally. Sama had been a game persona, never truly ''alive'', and now that I was her, I was effectively born anew.


    If I wanted to optimize Stats, I had to do it at low level, before the accumulation of Karma and Levels locked me in. Level Four was that level, I couldn''t get any higher.


    Stats could be raised only at low levels, and only your lowest Stats could be raised. It was effectively like paying for point buy. Stats had to be purchased from lowest to highest, and the amount of Karma required to improve them was multiples at the higher Stats.


    I was fighting shit way, way behind my Level. My Karma harvest was impressive, to say the least. It was the thing I had the least amount of concern in spending.


    For a near-perfect foundation, I''d happily die a few additional weeks.


    The point I spent probably went to Charisma, because my base in that was a true 10, and it was effectively a dump Stat, since it affected nothing useful for me in combat. I wasn''t a sorcerer or Paladin, so Charisma was effectively an out-of-combat Stat for me.


    The cost was expensive, starting out the same as a Level. Getting it to base 18 would cost a LOT of Karma¡­ but Karma seemed to be something I didn''t have a shortage of at this time.


    I was getting tougher and tougher and harder to kill, but that didn''t mean stuff with some major hitting power couldn''t take me down. Fido was actually pretty impressive in combat, just hampered by only having his jaws able to take me down now, and there being only one of him.


    They''d have to bring out some real muscle if they wanted to use a bruiser on me now¡­ but the fact was I''d be pretty wiped after taking out so many incorps that I probably could not take on another tough opponent easily. Only being able to rely on Stats instead of gear was a thing. But monstrous amounts of Karma, cross-Class Levels, and being Forsaken was filling the void.


    When I actually had gear, someday, I was going to be so damn tough.


    In the meantime, Tremble and I were going to soldier on and keep earning that Karma. My Sword hummed happily, spoiling for revenge, and off I went.

 25 Chapter Twenty-Five - Brother Mine

    It was a bigass tent, sprawling over half an acre, and propped up a good twenty feet high at its poles.


    It was made of skins. Skin, not hides. Mostly human, from the looks of it.


    The massive skin tent was located at the northeastern edge of the swamp, an irregularity of stone bulging out in the stagnant waters supporting a dozen poles and the stitched-together mass of the tent.


    I had been exposed to a lot of undead spirits in Nightmare. I could feel them billowing around this thing, tied to it, twisted and screaming and vengeful, eager to lash out against any intruder who attempted to pass them by.


    Probably kept out the ever-present fog and precipitation, too, I reckoned.


    The place was home to a bunch of ogres. This wasn''t the same fat, slovenly group that had accompanied the greenhag. These had much smaller guts, and moved with something resembling discipline as they moved in and out of the place. Their armor was much better made, more welded together small suits then strapped together, and their spiked clubs were of a higher quality level, and looked well-tended to.


    Someone with impressive ability to browbeat was in that tent.I noticed that they all went wading out into the swamp in a certain direction at certain times, bearing empty pots of some size, and came back with some vile-looking green soup or stew within them, which they were dipping fingers in to sample with looks of relish.


    Food source in that direction, I noted mentally, and started to move aside, when a troll came from the direction I hadn''t been in, and called out in Jotun for Boss Blue.


    There was a loud and deep grunt from within the tent after the ogres on guard outside passed that on, and a minute later a Really Big Ogre came out of the tent.


    His belly was big, because he was big and broad, and the amount of muscle rippling under that fat was not to be underestimated. His skin was tinged with blue, especially his bashed-around ears, and his eyes were a brighter, more cunning yellow then those of the other ogres.


    Huh. What do you know. A Hagspawn, the child of a Hag and another race, an ogre in this case. Smarter and stronger then a base ogre¡­ and unfailingly obedient to his Hag mother.


    I was basically looking at my half-brother.


    He was wearing breastplate and greaves that actually looked like they''d been made for him, and holding onto a black iron halberd done in a Daemon Pattern sized for him¡­ and standing up, he was barely shorter then that troll that had come to deliver whatever message, and built much heavier. That dire halberd had a cutting edge at least two feet across, and he was handling it easily.


    I was definitely going to have to kill him.


    I eyed the tent, subconsciously enumerating the number of human skins had been stitched together to make it, and shook my head slightly despite myself. My Annis Hagmother had definitely been into the slaughter end of things to make that thing.


    I was definitely going to send it down burning in vivic fire once my Arsenal kicked in. However, I marked nine ogres living there. That food source must have been pretty hefty if it could feed ogres, hags, giants, and trolls¡­ and them dire wolves. Cracking it would force them to go out and hunt for food, which would rouse the forest against them, without a doubt¡­ unless the witchcraft of the Hags was used daily to provide the food their lard arses needed.


    So, I needed Vivic and Firephasing and Blooding, without a doubt, especially with trolls present. If I left any corpses, I''d end up fighting undead as the Hags made double use out of the fallen, as the Bone Golem had proven. I was pretty sure if I circled back to the Shrine, I''d find an undead minotaur there, although they were going to have to do some work to reconsecrate the place after cracking the Gloom-stone there.


    Still, I kept on my gathering expeditions, withdrawing upriver at the end of the day to work on Rune Chemistry.


    I did pick off three of wolves running about, whose noses got them into a little too much trouble, and I picked them off before they could sound off. I wasn''t going to eat them without vivus to at least purify the meat, given the amount of necrotic energy wandering around, but I was picking off their pack, and it was irritating them, I knew.


    Still, a square mile is not a small amount of area to search, even if all you are doing is following the shoreline.


    Naturally, I wasn''t avoiding the water, either. I had a Diamond Vajra, and Negative Energy was the first Diamond Resistance I had taken. The water was unclean, but it basically couldn''t touch me unless I let it, and the leeches that seemed to enjoy it were all snipped in two as soon as they flocked to me.


    That, in turn, attracted the eels, whose heads I removed as a matter of self-preservation as I wandered through the tainted waters, watching the stone below me, and the fallen trees, mounded stones, and islets of corpses built up here and there, marking them faithfully.


    Definitely a lot of brute labor went into building up this place to their personal taste. I was pretty sure that there were stelae around which supported their wards over this place, but unless I directly stumbled into one, I wouldn''t recognize it.


    They''d naturally be destroyed when I cleaned this place up, but that wasn''t going to be an overnight job.


    ------


    Another cave, and suspicions confirmed. There was a Troll Hag Mother hereabouts. She didn''t have to come out of the dank cave being guarded by the three other trolls for me to confirm her presence, the runes painted onto the trolls basically confirmed it.


    I''d trailed the troll messenger back to his place, and he sauntered past the three lounging guards, barely acknowledging them as he headed into the truly unreal stench of that troll-hole. Yeah, eyes watering without getting near it. They must live in their own filth?


    Didn''t know how many were inside, so again set up a place to watch, warding sight and body temp, and simply waited to see how many went in and out.


    Well, it turned out that they did go down to the water to defecate, so that got me a count. Except the Hag, someone carried out a pot of unclean stuff and tossed it into the waters without a care.


    And then the tentacles came up out of the water and swept it out into a mound there, and I lifted an eyebrow as what I''d assumed to be a pile of manure and bones and stuff turned out to be just that, plus a rather huge, bulbous creature living happily in a pile of shit and odorous materials.


    An otyugh. Well, of course. Why not? The swamp water was basically a sewer in its own way. Why not a middenfiend? And a big one, too. Not stupid enough to cross a regenerating troll, of course, but still plenty big.


    One more thing to get rid of. It wasn''t that shit-eaters were bad, it was that they gathered shit to themselves and concentrated it, instead of letting it dilute and dissolve naturally, meaning their homes were festering houses of rot and disease.


    It was a good thing I had Pierce Magical Concealment. The greenhag and the shellycoat I hadn''t seen before were definitely wandering around, trying to find me by the tried-and-true method of ambush hunting. The way the swamp was arranged naturally challenged the flow of traffic along certain chokepoints, and waiting in invisibility or camouflaged illusion there was surely a means of seeing if I was traveling in the swamp.


    They were very good at standing in, but they weren''t bothering to blend in to the scenery with magic covering them up, so I spotted them amid the unnatural hues of their magical concealment at a distance, and wondered if I should have a go at them. Of course, they had ogre, wolf, or giant reinforcements not too far away, easy enough to call for, and I was sure they''d have some sort of life-saving magic to not make it easy to kill them straight up.


    Plus, I wanted to make sure they stayed dead. Needed that vivic fire. Wasn''t like there weren''t other things I could be working on.


    Still, nothing said I couldn''t snipe off their underlings, and rachet up the tension. Let them try to divine who I was, or scry and track me. It wasn''t going to happen. They''d have to rely on ears and eyes, and with the omnipresent fog was going to make that difficult.


    They might try a swarm of birds, which might be a decent way to go. Enough servant eyes in enough places would certainly find me, if I didn''t kill them before they let out an alarm.


    Still, this place was built for ambush kills. I would have to take up that job soon.


    Maybe they''d Summon up a Daemon or two to hunt me down. Wouldn''t that be exciting?


    ---------


    I slid up to the egress from the Valley, filling in the last bit of the circle in my Visual File. My eyes wandered over the stone, looking for surprises. I''d already killed the guards they''d left here before, certainly they would have put something new in here to kill off intruders¡­ coming or going, as it were.


    There, something moving in the water, of the water. Like a living channel of water in there.


    I shot forward very quickly and silently, springing off with a ki-boosted leap, coming out over the water and down with Tremble pointing into the current going against the current.


    I felt the aura of magic around my Null, puncture and tore apart by the force of reinforced reality. Multiple serpentine coils began to rise out of the dank water around me, convulsed, and then fell back into the waters as the summoned spirit was sent back to Elemental Water.


    I fell into the middle of the stream, and promptly jumped right back off, shedding the water in midair as I came down on the stones of the opposite bank I had started on.


    A water weird, a serpent of water that grabbed its victims and dragged them into the waters to drown. Nasty, effective, patient, and eager to kill. Sending it back home a very effective way to deal with it.


    And there was the glint I wanted to see.


    I Dragon Walked up to the wall, grinned at the Hag Eye stuck into the niche there, and drove Tremble in to shatter it, promptly kicking off and booking for distance.


    I book VERY quickly. There was a flare of light from the middle of the swamp, and then something may or may not have tried to teleport in close, and failed abruptly. Null Interdiction, nyar nyar.


    Yeah, I was going to be keeping busy one way or another, I thought. I didn''t know what was in the middle of the swamp, but certainly the greenhag and the shellycoat had lairs in there, and whatever the food source they were using was there, too.


    Just more work, when it came down to it.

 26 Chapter Twenty-Six - Ghosts and Diamonds

    I slowly lifted up my left hand to feel my face.


    Well, that rebuild went well, because I was pretty damn sure I didn''t have an intact skull¡­


    I huffed, raised my eyebrows, and slowly got myself to my feet. I stretched out, and began to go through some exercises as I thought about things.


    That had been a truly brutal ending.


    I made it through the spectres, leveraging what healing I had, using it during the short downtimes, going into that fight pretty much all set and ready to go.


    It had worked out pretty good, all things considered, given how fast a group of spectres could take my Soak down. I''d been allocating damage to Health, so I could Vigor it and then do double duty with my healing, a two-for-one damage exchange, but I was managing it pretty well.


    The Glutton Spectre had lasted three bone-chilling swipes, and I was looking forwards to getting Vajra Resist/2 today to make the last dozen of them even more ineffectual.


    The follow-up had naturally been Ghosts, next up the scale of incorporeal murder-phantoms. Ghosts did a lot more melee damage then spectres did, and although there were fewer of them, they had 10 HD to the spectre''s 8, making them much tougher.


    However, they simply had to wave an arm through you, and supernatural aging and fleshwarping started taking you apart. I was pretty sure that four arms had gone through my skull, and it had fallen apart into powder.


    There had been at least ten of them. I think I had killed two.


    They didn''t swing fast, but they didn''t have to. They did 10d6 necroic damage with that touch attack!


    Needless to say, my proud Soak and Health had only lasted seconds once more then one of them was on me.


    Damn, and they weren''t even the toughest of the incorps. Was the Curse going to be able to throw Banshees at me next? They started at 14 HD and 14d6 damage! Oh, no, Witchfires would be a better thematic choice. Ranged attacks from them, head up into the ceiling and zap me to death.


    Right after they dealt with my Null and my fire resistance, that is. Please let the next tier be Witchfires¡­


    Right now, I had to get past the ghosts. Being forced to three-hit them meant relying on crits to hit their nexus, which meant relying on luck. Until I could get my damage high enough to two-hit them, or somehow got my touch AC into the 30''s, I was probably just going to die there.


    Hmmph. They were CR10''s, and I was a Four! A Deep Four, to be sure, but still a Four!


    Just wait until my Banes kicked in, and I kept refining Tremble up and up!


    I did all my stretches and exercises, feeling the thrumming of my Ki and Essence roiling through my Vajra.


    Diamond Vajra required 20/20 of each. I was at 14/16, respectively. I needed to increase my Ki. With a Diamond Vajra, Sustained Effort would kick in, which was all sorts of valuable for a Forsaken.


    Double Stat Gains from Levels was a big thing!


    "Scout/3." Cunning to +2. +1 to Danger Sense, assorted benefits, mostly vs traps or against being surprised.


    10+2 Skill points, another class skill. I picked Trapsmith for the Class Skill. Trapsmith+4, its opposite Disable Device +4, Open Locks +2 to 4, Sleight of Hand and Escape Artist +1 to 4.


    Two General Feats. "Sun Mastery/1." +1 Ki, opened Sun Advance Schema, Rising Sun swordplay. With all three Lesser Houses opened, that meant I had access to Night Rose Swordplay, and the Night Rose style, always useful. "Cunning Soul." +2 dmg when Sneak Attacking per Essence, +1 Essence. Invest 2 Essence¡­


    "Advance to Way Mastery/2, Fire and Crystal." One more level, and I''d be able to mix all three Ways of Fire, Ocean, and Crystal at the same time, as well as their Swordplays. Mixing in the Lesser Dragons would require the Lesser Way Mastery advances, which I didn''t have right now.


    Ki to 15, Essence to 17. Health to 50, Soak to 123.


    Tremble was 2/8 towards Bane and Slaughter, and +8500 on the Intelligent Weapon scale. I was investing into its minor powers, it could already Detect magic, and I was working on precious materials, then detecting Bane¡­ which would naturally require Bane to be active, of course.


    All in good time.


    I tapped that Increase Lowest Stat bar, and felt something change for the better. Probably Charisma¡­


    I spent eight hours refining Tremble towards a higher standard, and then I walked out into the mists to die. Eagerly.


    ------


    I flicked my eyes open, and laughed to myself.


    I''d killed five ghosts, and felt pretty good about myself.


    I''d opened with a charge attack. With Spirited Charge''s triple damage, that had been enough to take one down, much to its astonishment, I''d Cleaved to a second one, and before they could properly react, got off the Whirlwind. The one I''d Cleaved had clawed for me, Sword Beats Fist went off, and I cut it down, Cleaved to a second one, which also struck at me. I parried with a Wall of Blades, Riposted to kill it, cut into a third, who lashed through my chest and turned my lungs into something a ninety-year old might be proud of.


    A fourth one missed me as I juked, and a fifth one charged me and ran right into my Archer Stands Thrust, dying instantly. I tore Tremble through him, lashing back at #3 who was leaping at my back as I pulled my Sword out, wrenched and spun after she died, and caught #4 squarely in the old fart''s nexus as I did so.


    Six more ghosts piled on me, and I died two seconds later, falling apart before I could hit the floor. Poosh, a hundred hit points evaporated, just like that. Don''t get swarmed by ghosts, I guess¡­


    So, at least eleven of them. But I''d been in the middle of the room, there could be more at the edges.


    Needed to get my Touch AC up, and/or have a lot more Soak, to get through all those ghosts.


    That, or get my Diamond Vajra singing with Negative energy damage resistance, which was basically everything they were throwing at me. Oh, they were not going to like me when I accomplished that, and getting my Diamond Vajra was like the #1 thing I wanted to get done, with Bane/Slaughter #2 on the list.


    That said, Karma was still flowing, shadows, spectres, and ghosts were dying, and fuel for the engine of apotheosis was still incoming, thank you, Curse of the Hags¡­


    I flicked that Lowest Stat button, and felt that weird shifting where nothing happened, but something changed.


    Ah. It was getting rid of my age bonuses, and changing them into point buy. I wanted to take advantage of being a kid again, then it followed that the age bonuses would need to go away.


    Couldn''t reasonably be a kid and exploiting the growing-up with shitloads of karma and training and be an overweight middle-aged doofus at the same time¡­


    I was pretty sure my Wis and Cha had all started at 11. Age bonus might have brought Wis and Cha to 13, and these were being subbed for right now. Str was probably 12, and would start to improve soon.


    Meh, just meant I had a long ways to go. Needed that Diamond Vajra.


    Had to take Stat Advance Masteries with Character levels. Normal Mastery Advances I could take as long as they tied to the Class. The only Class with universal access was my Primary Class, which I didn''t want to use until I maxed out my point-buy¡­ although Vizard could be used for anything relating to Skills and Masteries.


    Yes, I was going to get my Diamond Vajra after I got the Stat advances I needed. Every day feed Tremble Naming Karma and the thoughtfully provided power comps made by the Curse, let my Blade get stronger and stronger, even as I refined it and increased its Quality Level so I could expand its Arsenal.


    Before today, it was progress everyday, driving me forward to the next foe. I was at a bottleneck, and progress would change when I reached a milestone, and things shifted.


    My Diamond Vajra would be that milestone.

 27 Chapter Twenty-Seven - The Purge Begins

    The Unseelie Nymph and her cohort of needlemen and minotaur love-slaves died first.


    Actually, it turned out she had a werewolf lover. The power of the moon easily healed away any damage her presence did to him, leaving him a besotted lycanthrope who wasn''t reduced to a glittering idiot by her touch.


    It didn''t save him from a sword in the back of the skull when he came slinking out of the dead copse and I dropped down on him from thirty feet above. His skull smashed into the ground, Tremble pinned him there, and he began to burn away with vivus.


    I noted with professional interest that the vivic flames were drifting in the direction of the dead trees. I smiled slightly as I flitted into the forest with a stealth modifier in the +30 range, not touching the ground.


    There were fifteen needlemen remaining, scattered throughout the corpse of the copse. Fifteen minutes later, there were none left, and they hadn''t even managed to shoot off any needles and alarm anyone.


    My guess that there was a pool was spot on, a rivulet of a stream coming down from the canyon wall, and draining away through a crack in the rocks.


    There was nothing living there, although skins of beasts and creatures were scattered here and there to lounge in, and the stink of minotaurs was definitely in the air.


    Getting past the first guard was a function of getting his eyes to look in the wrong direction. Since all he wanted to do was look at the nymph and not be on guard, that wasn''t hard. I flowed past him in silence, avoiding the second guard dozing off to one side, and circling around the pool.


    She was truly lovely, if you liked skin whiter then milk and hair the color of blood. I could feel the impact of her beauty on my Null, which promptly diluted it into a rather horrifying kind of "oh gods, that is pure damn poison" as I looked at her.


    I could feel magic here and there, which meant she was a spellcaster, especially if she could keep her silks that clean while in the wild.


    She disrobed casually, and the snorts of the minotaurs, so laden with lust, brought a knowing look to her eyes. She walked towards the pool of water for her morning bath, and then paused.


    White flames were flowing through the dead trees in the distance, silent as flowing mist, but as they ate away the wood that had been leached of life, the crackling of trunks and branches beginning to collapse started to echo down the passage, and raised the alarm.


    All their attention in that direction, I moved.


    Tremble was whisper-quiet as I glided behind her and cut with Blooding up, and severed her spine below her neck. She barely felt it, starting to turn her head as she felt a moment of pain as a long red line cut across her neck¡­ and then she fell down as her body refused to obey her.


    The giant constrictor in the pool might have been a surprise if I hadn''t found the remains of its meals over here, and recognized them as snake vomit. As it lunged out of the pool with gaping fangs¡­ whisk, its head and neck parted ways.


    The nymph wanted to scream, but she had fallen half into the pool with a splash, and made no noise. I circled the pool, going for the hapless minotaurs. Their eyes turned from the strangely quiet conflagration eating the copse-corpse, and the first one''s neck was severed half-through.


    The one supposed to be guarding hefted his axe, and his arms warped and swelled in size and reach. The massive axe came down, but I juked and slid, crouching down, skating over the last ten feet between us before rising to drive Tremble up under his ribs and into his heart with enough force to send him stumbling back, a torrent of blood flowing out from the fatal wound.


    He couldn''t believe someone my size could punch a sword through all his hide and muscle, but it didn''t matter, as his life poured out him as quickly as his friend staggering and gushing out his gallons of red stuff behind me.


    I left them to stumble about and fall. The vivic flames were coming this way, and would soon consume their corrupted bodies just like they were the dead trees.


    I hauled the Unseelie up out of the water. She could breathe water, so she was in no danger, but the wound wouldn''t heal even if she shape-shifted, so she''d be paralyzed regardless. I passed my hand up and down her hair, and half a dozen charms that probably had some really nasty stuff worked into them fell off with the locks they were tied to.


    "You, you dare touch me?" she spat out, unable to process what was happening. I turned her head around to look at my face, let her eyes rove over the side of my face, neck, and shoulder. I grinned to show my double canines to her, and she gawked despite herself.


    "A Hagchild?! How¡­where...who is your mother?" she demanded of me imperiously.


    I jammed an intestine baggie into her mouth and slammed her jaw shut. It didn''t taste too good, but I just held her mouth shut, and the potion did its thing even if she didn''t really swallow it.


    And she began to shrink.


    She wriggled in my grasp as I began to get a lot larger in her eyes, and I kept looking in her magnificently twisted eyes as she went from being almost six feet tall to about ten inches tall in under ten seconds. Naturally I could hold her in one hand now.


    "I''ve been told that I''m guilty of killing a nymph out there," I said in perfect Fey, as my lips spread wide. Cue the double set of canines. "Killed her and her sylph friend, and ate them. Entirely possible, what a Hagborn will do as she''s dying. Here, I thought I''d even out the balance, you know. Enjoy yourself."


    My Vajra extended inside and out. Yeah, she was big to just swallow, but she went down as easily as an eel, hit my gut which was pumping out a level of acid you don''t see this side of a dragon, and managed to scream for almost a full minute down in there before she died.


    My Vajra whisked the solids away. I held my breath as the unneeded water mass of her came surging up my throat in gradual decompression, and puked it all over my Sword and down into the pool, which began to burn white, and feed on the cursed energy here that had kept her defilement hidden.


    The meat and bones and stuff, well, my genetics had things to learn from them. We''d see how it went. Fey were creatures of magic, and magic made them tougher and stronger than mere humans.


    What magic could do to a body, a Diamond Vajra could emulate, with a whole lot of Soul to help the process.


    Tremble smashed those trinkets of hers one by one, drinking in the magic happily, storing it up to refine, purify, and help power it up with. The shadow of a familiar hymn began to caress the air, and I smiled despite myself.


    What jewelry and tokens from admirers she had would be over in her sex chamber over there, I''d use Tremble in Firephasing form to melt them down and bollox up any scryers. There were things I could do with them, of course, but no way I was going to take something from a spellcaster, especially a witch, without totally reforging it to fuck up scryers.


    One witch down, probably not a member of the coven. What was even more fun is that the flames from the vivus were unwhite, not bright, and almost invisible in the mist and fog with any distance. They weren''t going to know she was dead until something came up here to investigate and found the entire area and all the bodies burned down to pure white ash and dust.


    It was time to be killing.


    ------


    I went after the wolves.


    They were joined by a couple of barghests, goblin-wolf demons from the Fires of Gehenna. Obviously Summoned in to provide some real intelligence and fun and joy to the proceedings. It was only a square mile of territory, most of it swamp, surely they could find anyone in it quickly enough.


    My Null crushed their Summoning and sent them howling back home. All they saw was a blur of black in wolf fur.


    The wolves with them were taken care of by more direct methods. They did manage to yelp and snarl a bit, and keen ears not too far away heard them.


    By the time they got there, the wolves were already on vivic fire, skulls cracked open and half dusted.


    There were no tracks. There was no scent. The wolves'' jaws were clean, no blood. There was a splash of whiteness there and there, where the barghests had vanished abruptly. They''d been young ones, getting sent back to the Fires effectively doomed them as prey or slaves to stronger ones of their kind.


    Within a day, there were no more wolves moving around the valley.


    ---


    Naturally enough, my antics had all of them on edge. Quite sensible of them, as I planned to kill every damn unclean thing living here.


    I took out The Tent next.


    The ogres could only cover so many angles around the thing, and anyways weren''t exactly concerned about the thing. The undead skins would moan at the presence of any intruders, animate to attack and kill them, and so basically The Tent guarded itself.


    However, normal intruders couldn''t walk up to The Tent, and look the chained and tortured spirits in the eye, raising a Sword burning vivic, and state in Necrus, "Remain silent, look elsewhere, and I will set you free."


    Phantasmal eyes stared at me in shackled multitudes, ready to cry warnings, to writhe and reach for me, and then they all turned around and looked in the opposite direction.


    Vivic fire touched unliving skins, and unwhite fire burst into life. Two vials of alchemical fire joined in, and the two flames mixed and flared. In seconds, a thee-meter square of The Tent was on fire, yet not a sound was heard from the spirits as they vanished into the flames.


    I walked into the back end of The Tent here, some sort of storage area for alcohol of the cheap and potent kind, and began to steal my way through the interior as red-white flames jumped from skin to skin, and trapped spirits finally began to scream in ecstasy as they were set free.


    The ogres certainly weren''t expecting their tent to be on fire, or someone to start killing them inside it. Two ogres sleeping received tonics to their spinal cortices via way of the throat, a third almost stepped on me, and I ran up his side and inserted Tremble into his ear. He crashed down as the first deep bellows of alarm rang out.


    Ropes burned through, the support poles faltered and fell down, and the unliving tent began to collapse in sections, covering those beneath it in burning undead hides who might or might not have begun to throttle them in flaming flayed skin.


    I hamstrung two more ogres, and left them to bake as the tent came down on them, and furs and crude wooden furniture added to the conflagration, as well as taking away any oxygen. I scooted out the side, right behind an ogre hurrying to the back side of the tent to see if anyone was there. I was out into the darkness and sliding into the swamp waters before anyone caught sight of me, and watched from the cover of a bunch of slimy algae as the ogres, including Dear Brother, stood around staring haplessly at the fire.


    Well, I''d be damn stupid not to take advantage of them being all spread out and staring at the fire stupidly, wouldn''t I?


    Dripping lots of dark slime, I exited cover and made my way to the most isolated of the remaining six ogres, who were laughing as one of the ones I''d hamstrung managed to crawl out of the burning tent, severely burned all over.


    Their attention focused on the seared hide of their unfortunate associate, ridiculing him mercilessly, I hopped up and drove Tremble through the backside of one of them at about forty kph, dumping all my momentum into my Sword with Spirited Charge, and took him down instantly.


    He stumbled and fell forward, only feeling something punch in from behind and slide coldly through his heart before I kicked off him, flattened down into his shadow and sliding backwards out of sight as he fell down awkwardly.


    It took the ogres a few breaths to notice he was down, as fire and entertainment had their attention. Hagbrother mine noticed first, being a wee bit smarter and more alert to his brethren, and shouted out to the fallen one aggressively. The ogres snapped all their heads around, staring at the one who wasn''t moving.


    I hit the one in back, just as one of the barrels of booze lit off and contributed more noise and blue flames to the sight of flames red and white leaking spirits like smoke. Tremble went into the back of his thick neck, making sure he didn''t make any weird noises as I heaved back on his greasy hair. His knees went out, but I shifted his center of gravity back, and he didn''t fall forwards, more straight down rather heavily, and I got off my ride smoothly, vectoring around as the ogres turned back to look around, and gawked at the sight of the one sitting there kneeling, his broad gut keeping him in place as blood gushed down from his throat. He was still alive, his bulging eyes moving frantically, but bleeding out like a sacrificed cow.


    Four left, plus brother mine.


    Number Four got it in the groin, severing the major arteries and driving up into his guts. He made a curious sound as I moved away from the things that began to pour down out of the hole reaching from his anus to his balls under his weight, and I slid past Three, crossing his back under his armor, and severing his spine. His instinctive attempt to turn instead sent him falling over into number Two awkwardly.


    There was an instant and reflexive dust-up as Two caught Three and heaved him away, and I came up his back and opened his throat right under the eyes of the last two.


    The fountain of blood jetted over three meters into the air as he gurgled, clutching at his throat instinctively as I dropped down behind him.


    Hagbrother roared, spiked tetsubos rose, and I slid around the side of Two, ducking under the descending smash of One, and was suddenly right in front of him without actually taking a step.


    I carved open his bulging gut from north to south, slicing through the thick hide, layers of fat, and bands of muscles with a whisper-smooth slash just under the edge of his patchwork breastplate. Huge bulges of intestines began to spill out almost instantly, but disemboweling wasn''t going to kill this thing anytime soon. However, tripping over his own guts was definitely going to slow him down.


    Hagbrother charged at me, but I kicked to the side, spun around One''s legs as he tried to decide between grabbing his guts and swatting at me with his log-sized tetsubo. Hagbrother added to his woes by literally chopping off that monstrously thick leg with one swing of his great Halberd. Obviously, he was the ruthless and decisive sort who realized that One was going to die anyways, no need to be nice to him.


    However, that delightfully put his Halberd down low with an ogre falling over on it. He had no choice to pull it back, and I was coming over his buddy''s backside as he toppled, Tremble humming proudly as I lunged out for his face.


    He jerked back, but not far enough, and my blade slid through his thick neck¡­ and did absolutely nothing, as red energy spurted into the air behind the path of my sword, instantly closing the wound, and leaving naught but an angry red scar behind.


    Health Qi. Wonderful, first time in this world. My feet met his chest, and he didn''t budge, glaring at me with his yellow eyes, and then blinking in surprise as I smiled and revealed the same pairs of canines as he had, although much smaller. Then before he could grab me, I was kicking off him, launching myself back into a full layout somersault, hitting the ground and sliding another five meters backwards over the rough, stony ground like it was ice.


    His yellow eyes narrowed. "Hag?" he asked, his voice way deeper than human, bringing that Glooms-Pattern Dire Halberd up.


    "Your little half-sister," I replied in Jotun, staying low, Tremble raised to my shoulder with both hands.


    He blinked again in shock, understanding what the words meant, but not what they implied. "You have come to kill Mother?" The ridicule in his voice didn''t have to be feigned.


    "And all my aunties and grannies, too," I replied evenly, keeping his eyes without effort. The unnatural steadiness of my Sword, locked in place with my Ki, started a flower of fear in his eyes. He had a lot of experience with dangerous females shorter than his three-some meters of armored self. "I''m also going to kill you, Hagbrother, so don''t worry about being surprised. It''s not going to matter long."


    He growled, sounded like someone trying to start a car, and the Halberd spun with power and control. "You think it will be so easy?" he asked proudly.


    I tilted my soles marginally, and slid to the left without moving my feet. He watched me drifting sideways, and massive knuckles creaked on the haft of his poleaxe. Rather than watching me circle, his feet braced and readied to jump forwards.


    I was absolutely sure he could reach me with one jump, and timed it perfectly as he pounced, whipping up his massive Halberd for a massive cross-cut.


    Except I was already in mid-air, reaching him just as he brought his Halberd back to its power position. I dove past his raised arm, hit the ground behind him, sliding and turning as I did so.


    His Halberd crashed down on nothing. His massive left arm was shaken free from the haft and slammed down to the ground next to it, severed from his shoulder in passing.


    Jets of blood came out of the massive wound. He gasped and staggered, lifting his Halberd back up as pure monstrous vitality cut off the bleeding slowly. He turned back to look at me, unable to keep the shock and fear off his face as he looked at my humming Sword.


    "Got a name, Hagbrother? I''m going to put your death in a song," I said calmly.


    He snarled despite himself. "I am Grotun, the Blue Boss, son of Tusk Annie, and I am not dead yet!" he bellowed, and then he choked, because I was coming in, and he was still hanging onto the Halberd he could not effectively wield.


    He brought it over in front of himself, but my feet hit it between the haft-spikes, he didn''t have the leverage to overcome my ki, and this time Tremble reached his throat, went in, and he didn''t have any Health Qi left to insta-heal it.


    I was half-standing on the Halberd he had a death-grip on, half-clinging to the Sword driven two-thirds into a neck a bull would be proud to own. He stared at me in disbelief and fear, and the knowledge that of all the horrible women who had dominated his life, he had lost to one half his height and maybe a tenth his weight, his own darling little sister.


    "Hagsister," he managed to mumble somehow, and then his eyes began to roll as he overbalanced backwards, and I rode his corpse down to thunderous impact on the ground.


    The force pushed Tremble back out, and I pulled it free of the mass of dense muscle and hide like it was melted butter.


    Without preamble, I drove the point of my Sword down into that Halberd, Firephasing kicking in to sear and melt the blood-quenched steel, sundering the key Runes of the minor magic on it, and Tremble claiming the raw power by force of its Name from the inferior Weapon.


    No, I wasn''t going to drag away the heavy thing. I already had enough shit I wanted to take away from here, and I didn''t have much time to do it all.


    I took away the purse at his belt, emptied out the silver, and raced around to all the other ogres, liberating their gold. Then into the ruins of the tent, grabbing a couple sacks, and throwing in everything I could use and that was portable at speed, Tremble gloating as it led me to all the precious materials unerringly.


    ---


    Less than five minutes after Hagbrother fell, a force of ogres, trolls, and nasty thorn golems came out of the swamp, accompanied by two Hags. They saw the last of The Tent burning away, and many of the contents within on fire, with scattered ogre corpses scattered around, also burning with the unwhite fire that would deny them being animated as undead.


    They didn''t really notice that many of the ogres were missing their hands, as their limbs were ablaze as their flesh and bone made the transition to useless white dust.


    A few more minutes later, the obese greenhag and the pox-ridden shellycoat were joined by the looming mass of the Troll Hag Mother, looming over them with a nose as long as my forearm and glittering red eyes.


    I didn''t stay in the area long, just enough to confirm counts and numbers. There were three of them here, which formed a Coven and let them tap into deeper magic.


    I''d seen the foul lights and flames through the swamp''s mist when they Summoned the barghests, and presumed I''d see more such things soon.


    However, there was going to be a small hammer thrown into the gears of their plans. Because I had the Hag Curse still on me, as far as most magical beings were concerned, Null or not, I was still a Hag, and logically that would make me a Hag''s servant. Even if they found me, they''d hesitate, wondering if I was a servant that they hadn''t met yet. After all, I was so small, I couldn''t be the enemy they were hunting, right?


    I noted the two Swamp Giants weren''t there, smiled to myself, and withdrew. I''d come back for my harvest of hands. There was some tanning to do on them, and leatherworking, but that was fine.


    My accumulation of Gear was beginning, and the Hags were starting it.


    I considered the Swamp Giants and grinned to myself.


    ------


    Home sweet home.


    I could smell the place from a hundred paces away, as sanitation was definitely not something the Jotuns worried about. Even giving the deathly reek of the mists of this place, the smell of it stood out, and not in a good way. It would have watered my eyes if I let the mists get anywhere close to them.


    My Vajra slid me through the mix of tainted waters and accumulated rot smoothly. Two over-sized eels and an over-sized crayfish had ideas of messing with me, got carved into pieces and became little points of whiteness in the polluted waters.


    I came up through the filth into the shadow of the lean-tos that represented high sophistication in the architectural aspirations of Swamp Jotuns, and waited.


    Home sweet home. A place of safety. A place where you could relax and drop your guard. Because Jotuns had to sleep.


    Jotuns have large eyes, large ears, large noses. As a result, all three senses were far more acute than those of most humans. They could see as far as eagles, smell as well as a bear, hear even the faintest sounds. At the same time, their immense constitutions allowed them to endure sensory stress that most smaller races with acute senses could not tolerate.


    Sneaking up on a giant was much harder than most people expected. Primal creatures, giants don''t truly doze off when they sleep, maintaining a level of feral awareness like many beasts¡­ unless they are intoxicated or something, not that that happens all that often.


    The swamp giants hadn''t responded to the alarm, meaning they were on station somewhere else, or they were simply ignoring it¡­ or asleep.


    Even the Hags weren''t going to put a Jotun out there as bait under normal circumstances. But in special circumstances¡­ they''d sacrifice anything.


    So, put something out there that was hard to kill, shadowed by something that could respond and kill swiftly.


    Yeah, I''d seem the lights at the center of the swamp. Barghests weren''t the only things out here.


    I was damn sensitive to the presence of undead and Fiends, too. Not to the level of a spell, but I could tell when they were in the area.


    I could hear the first giant coming this way, wading through the waters with what looked like the remnants of a giant toad over its shoulder, the broad, warty head of the amphibian completely smashed.


    There was a shadow in the mist behind it. Well, more accurately, a mist-shadow, the ever-changing darkness shades within fog and mist. The fog was swirling just a little bit unnaturally there, something moving through it, barely disturbing the suspended water, following the Jotun so stealthily that even its enhanced senses hadn''t noticed it.


    There were half a dozen mist-creatures that could be taking part in this, most of them of elemental origin, but a gaseous vampire was also a possibility, explaining the presence of undead. There was that breath-stealing thing, but it was normally pretty weak. Or¡­ hah, a crimson death?


    The power of Sama is coming for you¡­ Tremble, she comes¡­


    ---


    I didn''t make the water ripple any more than it usually did. The water didn''t cling to me, it ran off me as if I was frictionless, no splashing or churning. The water pressure pushed on my feet and propelled me forwards much faster than me kicking or making a fuss. I read the pressure waves around me in my Trembling Domain, and wound myself sinuously towards the location of that creature in the mist.


    The sense of undeath is spiritual, and while affected by water, the taint in the swamp here carried it, instead of muting it.


    I basically came in below it, looking up into the darkness and the mist, while it slowly roiled above me, barely visible.


    Definitely not a vampire, which were amorphous blobs in gaseous form. This was more like a legless humanoid, with misty fingers a good eighteen inches long, which could probably solidify into killing blades with a thought. The base damage of a Crimson Death was like 3-30, horrifyingly strong, and they could drain the 1.5 gallons of blood in a human out in six seconds, leaving behind a desiccated corpse.


    But when I came up smoothly out of the water beneath it, cleaving it up and then down, severing the magical and spiritual forces that made up its body with Blooding, inflicting wounds that couldn''t be healed by blood, well, it could only die hungry, dissipating into the mists that were meant to conceal its unlife, and now concealed its death.


    The up and down motion stirred the Jotun where it was chomping on raw toad meat, and it looked over sharply in my direction. I was already underwater, and the splashing was less then if a fish had leapt out to grab a fly.


    Because I wasn''t stupid enough to think that they wouldn''t set a spotter to watch the spotter.


    Something landed on the water''s surface behind me, insectile feet striking the water''s surface with magical silence. The quiet didn''t extend underwater, and the ripples were small but as plain as a blaring horn to me.


    Watcher#2 was present. Wondered if the same pairing was dogging the other giant.


    This one was Evilborn, could feel the sin incarnate giving the curse on my face a rush of hope and glee.


    The Jotun hadn''t noticed it despite line of sight, so it was functionally invisible, not that such a thing meant anything to me. It was also Summoned, so sticking a Null into it would make it go home.


    So, that''s exactly what I did.


    Minuscule shifting in the insectile feet told me its head was moving back and forth through a shallow arc. That arc defined its range of vision, extremely broad. The pressure of its feet on the water, magic aside, wasn''t much, so it didn''t weigh much.


    Fiendish assassins with high stealth and insectile feet meant a mantissari. Wow, wasn''t the coven pulling out the stops to recruit one of the premier killers of the lower realms to deal with me.


    It was invisible, but should have dark red skin, insectile eyes in a darkly handsome face, about five feet tall and among the nimblest and most agile of all demonkind.


    He was really surprised when I came up out of his blind spot, the water falling silently off of me. He had excellent reflexes, and even as I was carving into him, he was moving¡­ but too little, too late.


    My Null carved through the magic that had brought him here and was keeping him here, even if I didn''t quite manage to kill him as I carved into him.


    His invisibility did go away, and I saw the glinting facets of his insectile eyes. The dagger in his hand came around to whip at my face with preternatural speed and accuracy¡­ unfortunately, he was already headed back home painfully, in an explosion of demonfire and reeking clouds that totally hid me as I fell back into the waters quietly.


    They didn''t escape the notice of the giant, of course. He surged to his fat feet, letting the remains of the toad fall to the insect-thick ground of his hovel, his tetsubo coming to hand as he glared at the cloud of dark smoke suspiciously. With remarkable speed for his size, he waded out into the water, hardly slowed by the waist-high depth as he bulled his way over into the cloud.


    He inhaled the smoke deeply, and a look of veneration came over his fishy eyes and head. So, he recognized the smell of the Glooms. He looked around, wondering what a daemon of Death was doing here.


    Being in the water got him a lot closer to the edge of my blade.


    I came out of the water fast enough to completely clear it, which got me into easy range of his neck.


    Hack. I grabbed onto his shoulder with my free hand, drove my toenails into the blubber on his back, and had a grip on him.


    Health Qi had spurted out heavily at the neck hack, I pulled out my Sword even faster than his flesh insta-regened, and hacked down once, twice, thrice, relentless as a hammer smashing iron, or an axe splitting wood.


    He only muttered some kind of curse before my sword was through his wind pipe, and the third strike lopped off his head entirely.


    The geyser of blood jetted easily another twenty feet into the air, as thick as a good hose. I kicked off the corpse, and it slowly settled, as if only realizing belatedly how dead it was.


    And then the butchery commenced. I needed hide, sinews, ligaments and tendons, and the amount of blood that soon drenched the surroundings as I ripped the swamp giant apart was truly impressive.


    ----


    The other giant died about an hour before dawn. He didn''t notice his companion, carved up and under eight feet of water, and the copious amounts of blood was covered by popping the toad skin with some energetic elements and filling the air with a clingy, rather poisonous reek.


    The free snack cemented his attention, and I killed his mishruu vapor-killer stalker before he even reached his hut. The water weird that caught this act was nice enough to follow me nearly a hundred yards away, thinking it was being clever, before I turned on it and killed it beyond the range the giant would care about it.


    Needless to say, the giant engaged in his meal didn''t respond well to taking a Spirited Charge to the face, and the throat-ripping that followed. I disassembled him just like I had his buddy, and went away with my prizes.


    Did they have any valuables? Yeah, some scattered coins, golden jewelry of inhuman make and style, and some crushed armor and broken weapons scattered here and there.


    Everything that I took was melted down to slag within an hour, courtesy of Firephasing. In a small burrow in a dead tree over in the crevasse where the Unseelie Nymph had become lunch, I heard the screeches when the dead Jotuns burning vivic were discovered. Roving scrying magic went looking around for me, and murders of blood ravens swirled here and there. The ominous glow and distortions of Summoning magic arose again as the Hags brought in more stuff to deal with me, and I just laughed under my breath as I went about my Vajra-accelerated tanning, cutting, and stitchwork.


    My biggest problem was the fact that I was young, skinny, and basically weak compared to most of the stuff that I fought. A Girdle and Gauntlets combination would do some serious work towards addressing that issue. Of course, it was going to take a bloody month to get the things empowered, but that was fine. The Hags were giving me all the raw materials and fuel I needed.


    And gold and steel could also make Bracers, and there wasn''t near as long a wait for that, especially if it was Spirit-bound and Named. Getting started on some force armor and my shield sounded like a great thing to me.


    Gear and Karma, the foundations of power for the wee Forsaken. I bent to my task as Hags wove spells and promised dark things darker things in return for hunting me down, and magic scoured the area for that which magic couldn''t find.

 28 Chapter Twenty-Eight – Hello, Me Aunties!

    Ten more deaths had passed.


    I hadn''t managed to get past the ghosts yet. I had killed fourteen of them, however.


    Today, four key things were happening.


    The first thing was Slaughter earned its first Slaughter alternate Bane today, and Bane to the Undead stamped itself into my Sword. +2 to Enhancement, +2-12 damage¡­ so, like adding a greatsword along every sweep of my blade, punching harder, deeper.


    "You really do sleep too long once they kill you."


    The vibrato voice was equal parts amused, concerned, dismissive, and curious.


    Tremble''s Familiar powers had reached the point where he could speak. Long ways to go. That also meant that his Detect Bane power was up and working.


    "Good nightmare to you, too," I replied. With my continued refining, he was looking less and less like half a pair of scissors and more like a real sword. But I always had something to do, every day.


    I crossed my legs and laid him down on top of my Vajra as he entered Firephase, and I began to ripple my Vajra through his solid-fire form. He rippled as my nails passed over and past him, and tittered.


    "I had no idea you were ticklish," I commented.


    "Oh, you are like the best masseuse ever," he acknowledged without missing a beat, as I worked at moving around the fiery substance that had replaced his steel, refining the flow of power and crystalline structure while he was in this more mutable form.


    "Flattery gets you a higher QL," I answered calmly.


    "One can only dream," he shot back in total deadpan. I smiled. He was a snarker. "Are you finally going to make it through those ghosts today?" he sighed softly.


    I also sighed softly. "Yes."


    Third item, I ticked over Winds Mastery/2, my Ki rose to 23, and my Diamond Vajra to 45.


    Fourth item, I ticked over Diamond Vajra Resistance/1. Negative Energy.


    "22 points of Negative Energy Resistance online," I informed him blithely.


    "I am not sure how effective that is, but it sounds impressive," he admitted after a moment.


    "An average shadow does 1-6, a spectre 2-12, and a ghost 10-60."


    "Wow, that is a huge damage jump!"


    "Shadows also do strength damage, and wraiths and spectres drain Levels. Different manifestation of the energy, pure Negative Energy Resistance doesn''t stop it. But I''m almost immune to that with my Null now, so it''s not a concern of mine."


    "So instead of taking 35ish damage a hit, you''ll be taking 13? That will be much, much better!" Tremble worked out, the flames making his hum sound like a rushing crackle.


    "Yes, and I should be taking no damage from the earlier waves whatsoever, so I''ll be meeting them in top condition. Additionally, my Damage Reduction is ki-based, so it resonates with my Vajra. Since this negative energy is an actual attack, my Crystal Dragon Way of Iron will stack right on top of it. Only four points, but 26 points of negative touch resistance is nothing to sneeze at. If they only graze me, I won''t feel a thing, and if they stick an entire arm through me, that''ll hurt, but not as much as before," I agreed.


    "Tremble, she comes¡­" hummed my Sword, vibrating just above my knees with palpable eagerness.


    "We''re going to need a stanza for ghosts here soon."


    "In Necrus!" Tremble replied cheerfully.


    "Can''t terrorize the undead without it." Undead were nominally immune to fear, unless you jumped through some hoops. A mnecromonic Weapon that recorded everything that died to it and was Bane to them did the job nicely. Only had to overcome the -20 penalty to affect something immune to fear. Blaring at them in Necrus while they felt the liberation of so many of their kind en vivus was enough to shake even the brainless undead.


    My Intimidation modifier was maybe +15 or so right now, with Tremble in hand, so not likely to do anything to them. I was fighting crap way above my Level, after all.


    "Foul in life, fouler in death, chains a-rattling with every still breath," he began experimentally.


    "That doesn''t actually rhyme in Necrus¡­"


    "Oh. I need to learn more languages¡­"


    "No reason you can''t have a version for all the human listeners to admire," I reasoned, as I continued at my task.


    "Oh, true, true!" he agreed happily. "Damned ghosts, a score of spirits groaning, vivus to the face, their cursed fates bemoaning¡­"


    "Their deaths, their doom, it came at last, end of the endless, all too fast¡­"


    "Free of pain, unlife burning, free in horror, undeath churning¡­"


    "TREMBLE, SHE COMES!" we belted out together.


    "Gotta get the notes right," I observed.


    "Right, right. But I can''t hit the right notes while in fire mode," he crackled.


    "True. I guess we''ll just have to practice while on the job."


    "So, how does that sound in Necrus?" he asked curiously.


    I opened my mouth and began to croak a truly disastrous litany with a melody that sent chills up my own spine at the sheer inhumanity of it. Tremble listened with professional interest.


    "Wow, that sounded like a hellhole gave birth to a constipated toad," he informed me after I finished.


    "Ghastly?" I noted acerbically.


    "Argh! I hath been punned!"


    "Word structure in Necrus is pretty fucked up in regards to Human, but taking liberties with it is one of the ways you really upset the undead, who aren''t big on change."


    "We''re going to make a twenty-tongue masterpiece stanza someday, just to show them all how not to fuck with us!" he promised dramatically.


    I laughed lightly. "Yes, we are. Once we get out of here. What kind of accompaniment?"


    "Weird flutes for humans listening. For undead, hmm¡­"


    "Water glasses?"


    "Ohhhh¡­" he seemed to like that. "With silver jingle bells. Ostentatiously cheerful stuff."


    "Something spritely. Just combining that with Necrus will crack them."


    We chortled together as we brainstormed a melody for the new stanza upcoming. Of course, had to add in dolorous iron bells for the Human version¡­


    ---


    My fist came down, and solidly thumped onto the ghost reaver, driving him into the floor as my Null stopped him from phasing through it. He had no effective weight, and next to no effective strength against physical force that could actually lean on him.


    I smashed this guy and his pirate''s attire into the wooden floor, splaying his ectoplasmic face across the oversized grains. His other hand was held in my hand, Null and Vajra keeping it from touching my flesh, spirit on spirit.


    "Pipe down, fuckhead. You''ve killed me six times, this is just the start of me getting some payback."


    My foot drove down onto his face as I pulled his arm back out behind him. With his skull distorted like pudding, it was kind of hard for him to think properly.


    I brought his incorporeal hand across my skin very deliberately. If he was moaning and wailing and writhing under my heel as I bent his arm past what was physically possible, well, he was an ectoplasmic spirit, so it didn''t really mean anything.


    Next to his bulging eyeball, Tremble played a discordant tune in water glass and jingle bells, crooning softly in Necrus. We so had to work the pirate angle into that stanza¡­


    There was a hiss as the skin necrotized, and my Diamond Vajra rose to fight back, pushing back against the necrotic aging of his touch.


    Again. Again. Again. Again, and again. Alternating long and short bands of whiteness burned across the bronze of my skin, hissing softly, and making the distance between soul and reality paper-thin. Blood began to flow as my Vajra-nails scribed Runes into the very cells of my skin, and my first set of Tats began to light up.


    I switched hands to repeat the process on my other forearm. Twin sets of seven lines hissed and bled on my forearms.


    "Congratulations!" I told the ghost reaver in Necrus. "You just became a power comp!"


    I snatched up Tremble and drove it down through his nexus as he wailed away. He shrieked as vivic flame exploded across him, and then I ripped his disintegrating form off the floor and drove my arms into him.


    A hole punched through my forearms as I opened the arms chakra right into my new Tats. The world''s fattest blisters were lanced with cold and hot fire, the pain a lash across mind, body, and soul that sent my knees slamming to the floor as I lost control of them. I just rolled my eyes up and let them burn as my soul squeezed out through the gap, widened it, and my Vajra swirled with two points of power on my arms.


    "That looks like it really hurts," Tremble noted from where he was stuck in the floor next to me.


    "Two minutes¡­" I managed to hiss, as my arms trembled from the pressure of my soul squeezing out of them.


    The first long and short lines lit up on both arms slowly, vivic flames burning over them as they ate the essence of the ghost reaver and the blood-runes were buried under the white scars.


    Philosopher''s Might. +2 to UA damage and all strength checks per Invested Essence. Twice as effective as Soul and Fist¡­ but they also stacked, and Chakra points were harder to Invest in then Feats were.


    The majority of my Soak was gone, and my Health was actually in single digits before I popped the Vigors and let my Healing Soul go to it. Excess healing splashed over to my Soak as the burns on my flesh and internal organs from the withering attacks of the ghosts washed away in the power of pure spiritual energy accurately applied. 12 points four times a day wasn''t a lot, but it basically gave me all my Health back, and another 48 Soak back was definitely a much-needed cushion.


    Tremble was mumbling something about misty plumed tricorns and spectral sabers as he worked out an extra stanza. I could feel steam rising from my skin as accelerated healing had its way, and my body was forcibly restored towards it most optimal state based on my Kirillian Aura.


    I reached out for Tremble as I slowly got back to my feet. He hummed in readiness, Undead Bane and Vivic burning gold, black, and unwhite with soul power.


    My hands flexed, and I could feel the power of my Vajra moving over them as the new Tats hummed, granting me a new strength and power I had been long missing, almost an exo-shell of magic humming and solidifying at contact points. The Essence of my Soul energized the Runes, just like Tremble, and brought the magic into my hands and arms and body.


    And my Sword was an extension of my hand.


    The combination of Philosopher''s Might and Bane meant I could now reasonably two-hit an average ghost. What was coming next might be even tougher, but that was fine. More Karma and more testing was always good for me.


    The dark didn''t let up. More shadows gathered, and this time they seemed to be burning.


    My lip curled up. Oh, oh you sweet Curse, you¡­


    The witchfires, the souls of undead Hags, began to condense out of motes of the ghastly moonlight, gathering the puke yellow-green flames about themselves, actually manifesting as the attractive women they might have been if not for the Curse, letting them know the beauty that might have been theirs and further torturing them.


    Melee Fire Resistance was at 26. I was not afraid of a Witchfire. Sure, they had a ranged attack, but my Null would take care of that. They had no choice but to attack me, and when they did, I would kill them. I might take some damage, but that was fine. I couldn''t stop smiling as Tremble began to belt out our song and really unnerve them as the sixteen of them took flight, focusing on me, and let their burning rays of witchfire fly.


    None of them got within five feet of me before directly fading away, Nulled and gone.


    Volley two, three, four went past. None of them touched me, and I mocked them in Aklo, Necrus, and Jotun. The spells came in, and none of them touched me, either.


    They brought up the will o'' wisp Summons, and suddenly I had twenty little balls of I-can-be-invisible lightning to deal with.


    Unfortunately for them, the only restriction on Vajra Resistance was level of Vajra. Naturally, to qualify for a Diamond Vajra, I had to meet the limitations for Vajra Resistance/5. Fire, acid, lightning, cold, and sonic, yep!


    So, their little lightning attacks as they converged on me at the direction of their mistresses did absolutely squat. 26 points wasn''t a lot for dealing with magic, but it was more than enough to handle minor effects like this.


    And while they were shocking me wildly with all the bolts of lightning, like ersatz Christmas lights and spark globes from Hell, I reaped them all in under twelve seconds. They weren''t that tough, and while they might be tough for someone else to hit, going all in on just trying to hit the dancing, dodging little bastards meant Tremble shrieked through them all in magnificently short order.


    They were Summons, they couldn''t run, they could only shock me ineffectually and die in swathes and arcs of sword work as fast as I could move my arms. Whirlwind Attack and Cleaving AoO''s basically did for the lot of them, killing them as fast as they could converge on me.


    I let the last of the sparking bastards burn away, noting to Tremble that we needed to add Aberrants to Slaughter, and he agreed softly as I stared at the witchfires above me. They sent a few more bolts of puke-fire at me, and I ignored them like burning butterflies.


    "If you want to kill me, Aunties, you''re going to have to get your nails dirty," I grinned at them fiercely.


    They all had 10 HD, but higher Charisma then ghosts, so tougher. Three hit territory.


    One of them couldn''t take it, and dove down, her delicate hands spread wide to burn me with those unclean flames.


    She died in some astonishment, impaled on Tremble and her Nexus shattering in an explosion of hungry unwhiteness.


    "Oh, wasn''t she the impressive one. Must have been a fluke. Come on down and have some tea, Aunties!"


    Two tried it. One''s burning fingers cut across my chest, raising welts, before both died.


    The rest realized that they would have to group up to attack me, like the constructs at the beginning had started to do now that I could basically dispose of the single ones, and the remaining thirteen came at me in a horde.


    Of course, I didn''t want to take all their attacks at once, and moved to make sure they could not instantly encircle me. Whirlwind, Riposte, Sword Beats Fist, Hold The Line, second Whirlwind, and they began to die in swathes, Cleaves, AoO''s, and wrathflames shearing through their balefires and delivering mine Aunties unto uncineration vivic as they wailed harmoniously, decent singing voices now that they were undead. The multi-hued, clashing flames died down in less than thirty seconds once they charged, and it was all over.


    Of course, I was now burned all over, not wearing much clothing, and gasping, knowing I wasn''t going to make it through the next batch¡­ but also pretty damn happy, as this was the first time I''d made it through one of the Spawns immediately upon experiencing it.


    Of course, the banshees coming up didn''t much appreciate that.


    14 to 18 HD. Charisma at least 26. Death scream that could punch my Null, and at least 14d6 touch attack of negative energy.


    I had to laugh. Damn. Well, let''s see if I could take down one of them before I bought it¡­

 29 Chapter Twenty-Nine - Trolling

    I still hadn''t penetrated to the center quarter-mile of the Valley. Killing the two swamp giants in their stinking crib was as far as I''d gone.


    This time, I waited for nine days, stuck in a little cave with just me, my Sword, and the loot I''d hauled here. The flocks searching everywhere didn''t find me. The closest was a blood raven that poked its head into the cave, and under the eyes of two of its kin, a spider leg impaled it, another one extended out to gather it in, and there was silence.


    The edges of two more legs were just barely visible at the lip of the cage, there were desiccated remnants of small animals around, and the ravens decided not to investigate further.


    It was a light snack.


    I was doing multiple things during those nine days.


    The cave inside, after I had cleared out the spider leavings, was actually about ten feet square. Not a lot, but when you are compulsively hyper-organized, it was enough to do what needed to be done. Also, while the other Hags totally vandalized the remnants of The Tent, they left a lot of scrap around that I had no difficult taking for myself, and which soon became rough shelves and containers.


    The refining of Tremble''s temporary home continued, because there was no reason to not do so. At the same time, I was melting down metal to make the tools that would speed this whole thing up tremendously.


    A top-tier Smith needed three things to really rev up production: Shaping Tools, to provide a competence bonus and double speed of production; a Furnace that could smelt even the most obdurate of materials, and filter them for you, providing an Equipment bonus and doubling speed; and an Anvil of Silent Thunder, providing a happy morale bonus and doubling speed.


    I could remember, back in the game, I also had a Tanning Vat that could prep any leather for work in eight hours, a slew of carving tools, and of course, the supply of rare woods and metals was just a marketplace away.


    I would have to make everything from scratch here. Ideally, it would all be adamant, but if wishes were fishes¡­


    I could always transfer the magic later, and I''d have the tools to make new tools of the highest quality. It was just a cycle of upgrades, and I had to start the cycle. Steel could only handle a QL of 35 max, due to the limitations on the metal, and strangely enough, exotic metals didn''t seem to be present in the area.


    There was an uncut gem in The Tent that could be cut to a 1000 gp E4 gem, and enough minor gems to make E1-3''s.


    The jewelry from the swamp giants could be melted down and recast into Bracers of Force Armor, and I focused on them. Nine days was enough to open Slots Einz, Zvei, and Drei.


    Spirit-bound, Greater Spirit-bound, and Defiant: Humans. Then Armory, and then start expanding Defiant, just like Slaughter and Bane. Jotuns, Evilborn, and Monstrous Humanoids obviously high on the list.


    Greater Spirit-bound meant 4 Essence, 4 points of Armor. Not a lot, but more than the zero I had now. 6 Armor, equal to plate mail, when Defiant came online. Basically, it would modify my fighting style, as I''d be able to use tighter tolerances and take glancing hits, while right now I had to dodge anything strong enough to punch through my Way of Stone. Going from 3 points of Nat Armor to 9 points combined w/Armor was a huge shift.


    And I still had to upgrade my Shield¡­


    I smiled thinly, and Tremble crackled in Firephasing, steel melted at his point, and ran into the stone mold I''d carved out from the floor.


    Shields were weapons, as well as armor. Normally using a shield mucked up the fighting buffs of a Monk, especially the Wisdom to AC. By adding it to my Primary Weapons, I made it a Profound Weapon, which meant I could carry it without losing that vital AC bonus, and Mitharn Technique did the same.


    I would be going Sword and Board soon. The great thing was that I could Name my Shield, which was Stand, and get the Naming Karma that Tremble didn''t really need right now.


    Mitharn Technique made the Shield your Primary off-hand weapon if it wasn''t before, and it shared the Weapon Training and Specialization buffs of my Sword. Sword and Board, baby. I had chased the Mitharn Technique all the way up to /5, Greater Shield Focus, Shield Master, Improved Shield Bash and Stumbling Bash. There were a ton of other Mitharn Shield Feats, and I was activating them again, by Inspiration if necessary.


    Yeah, technically I could do it with Tremble. But a Shield gave me more places to put magical effects. Tremble was plenty happy to get a little brother playing defense while he played offense.


    ------


    The blood ravens were remarkably easy to dispose of, once I got into fogged areas. I''m not sure the Hags realized how helpful those were to me. I carved through the wards and spells they set, cutting them apart with my Null, and eased back into their territory.


    I hadn''t made a bow or arrows yet, although I could have, just going with the sling, as it was perfectly fine for what I needed¡­ and making ammo was much easier.


    I''d spot a blood raven and pop it. If there were two sitting near one another, I''d pop them both with the Swarmbane Clasp preying on their flock links. If they saw me and Swarmed me, one sword cut could shear dozens out of the air at once in all directions, and wipe them. If they wanted to circle me and caw, I''d pick them out of the air as I was moving, they''d have to follow and present themselves, and the population of them went down pretty quickly.


    Teleporting Fiends could have popped in atop me, of course, except you can''t do that to a Null. They''d come into the distance, I''d feel them bouncing off my Null, and I''d promptly disappear into the fogs and shadows. They''d come bounding in, find nothing¡­ and then I''d either ace them or send them howling back to wherever they came from, before once again leaving at top speed.


    My first day back was indeed quite active, as I destroyed a lot of traps and wards they set up, and killed or Unsummoned over a dozen extraplanar entities.


    I also wiped and charcoaled two trolls, setting their rubbery, regenerating hides on fire and adding vivus for that white, ashy touch. They could Summon all the temporary forces they wanted, but I was going to get rid of their permanent forces, too, or this would just go on forever.


    ----------


    The cave smelled, but not as much with rot, shit, and the spoiled remains of unclean meals. There was a smell of age, mixed with the cutting scent of herbs and mushrooms of the very bad sort, drifting poisons in the air, burning cinders of foul incenses, and at least fourteen different types of blood.


    I stepped into the middle of the passageway leading in, eyes fixed on the owner.


    This cave was broad and tall, not many marks of tools upon it, dominated by many crude jars and pottery holding all sorts of stuff my Alchemy Ranks were telling me had a large number of uses for the morally deficient. The cauldron in the middle was mixing up something that my nose told me was a variant Fire Resist potion; it smelled like something had been shit out and then died before being boiled to condense the stench.


    The Troll Hag was ten feet tall crouched over, so closer to fifteen if she straightened up, with long, rickety limbs that were probably stronger than steel, a swollen gut, and a hook-like nose almost a foot long, going perfectly with her bristling grey and green hair, the pockmarks of fire and acid splashing her, and a few cuts and scars from overly zealous admirers of her moss-and-tatters fashion sense.


    She was mumbling as she stirred the cauldron with a long, crooked staff that looked to be made out of two fused leg bones of a giant taller than she was. To the sides of the room, two large lamps burning fat from trolls, probably thoughtfully provided by her children, contributed to the pleasant atmosphere.


    Totally a waste, since magical lightning was completely in her power to cast. Troll-fat lamps were not a required alchemical item in anything but ceremonies talking to their gluttonous god.


    It took a minute before she noticed me standing there, not moving. Her stirring of the anti-fire Potion paused as she stared at me, wondering just how a young human girl ended up in her witchery room.


    "Don''t worry about your boys, Auntie. I took care of them as I was coming this way," I informed her in Jotun. About then she noticed there was a Sword point-down at my side, and a buckler on my arm, and I wasn''t wearing anything above the waist. Nothing to see, move along¡­


    "Did you now, dearie?" she replied, also in Jotun since I seemed to know it. "And are you the little terror that has been upsetting us the past few days?" She stepped aside, covering a lot of ground, pulling her Staff out of the pot as she did so. Her claws were more than large enough to wrap my chest with one hand.


    "I was looking for my Hagmother, but it seems she isn''t here," I replied. I flexed, popping some joints, my eyes never leaving her red orbs. "So, I''ve been taking out my frustration levels on her sisters and their little toys."


    She considered me for a long, deep breath or two. "You''re one of Annie''s, aren''t you?" Her eyes strayed over the remnants of the Curse. "Something has happened to you¡­"


    "I beat the Curse." I lifted Tremble, who began to hum on cue. Them zum-zum sounds were attention-getting. "Don''t bother trying to notify the others, the sound won''t travel past me, the same way the screams of your burning minions didn''t get here.


    "Go ahead, try some fire, try some curses, try some tricks. Your kind trapped me in Nightmare for a decade, and there I killed Troll Hags far stronger then you, many, many times."


    She blinked in surprise. "You''re the child¡­" she murmured, her iron-spike teeth gnashing in dawning fear.


    "That''s right. You made me. Hello, Auntie. I hope you enjoy meeting me!"


    I charged in. She lashed out with the staff, I swayed on the wrong arc, and she had just enough time to process that my feet were moving the wrong way as I bent aside, the bone staff howled past, and I was off the ground and coming in at her chest with calm death in my eyes, and Blooding on my blade.


    Spirited Charge, with Valor newly minted on my Sword, doubling charge damage, stacking for quadruple damage. If I got a crit, it was all over...


    "Tremble, she comes!" I whooped, and we were so on.


    -----------


    The troll-hole was burning, seven trolls and their Hag becoming white charcoal. Everything was burning that could burn, and the other Hags would probably smell something was wrong soon. I had some fresh welts across my chest, but nothing to be too terrified of.


    The fresh cuts of meat from her giant rat familiar were being cooked nicely for consumption. Bodyhopping to her familiar to get away hadn''t gotten her very far, and now I got to eat her. I was in a good mood as I toted away such spoils as were useful and portable, and messed up the rest so that they''d be hard to find.


    I was sure that the Runes I had carved and Energized into the floor would be appreciated, too. Thislineofscriptlooksinteresting BOOM!


    The perimeter was clear for the nonce. Maybe the Hags would invite someone or something else in to occupy this place, maybe not.


    It was time to start deep scouting the center of the Valley, and truly making myself unwanted.

 30 Chapter Thirty – The Sage of Swords Turns Five

    My best so far was eight of them.


    Two months had passed. I had been patient.


    Twelve banshees solo was a completely ridiculous encounter. If it wasn''t for the fact that my Fort save was so damn high against them, just the screams going off could have done for me. But the negative energy shrieking swipes they doled out on me were simply too much, even with my Vajra Resistance being as high as it was. The screams of the damned erupted out of their touches, shredding body and soul. It was not pleasant.


    I had improved my Vajra Resistance tremendously in the last month. I had all Seven Dragon Houses Mastery at /2, and I''d taken every Soul Feat I could, Soul Mastery, even if I''d likely never use them, just to stack on top and drive my Vajra higher.


    Vajra Resist was now over 30, which had really helped with the damage¡­ but when they were doing about 50 a swing with touch attacks, well, my Soak still tanked like a mofo.


    However, I was getting to them with more Soak remaining and less healing used, as I was dominating the damage of the ghosts and witchfires so badly they weren''t doing much to me before I vivic''d them dead.


    The list of Masteries I had to take, and the Feats I had to pay for outside of Class Levels, was as long as my arm. Literally, because I had to get Mastery/2 and Skill Focus in pretty much all my Skills, plus Weapon Focus and Mastery in over a dozen weapons. It was all part of my Grandmastery and Sage Training, and I knew that I couldn''t advance to Five without getting all this stuff. So, I could only sigh and hit the next lever on the mental wall of my Visual File, while I dreamt of tactics and stuff for the fight.


    In the end, it came down to a numbers game, and my numbers weren''t quite good enough for that whole lineup after everything I had to do to get me there.


    But two months was a long time. Long enough for me to do another 6,000 gp worth of refining crafting work on Tremble. That was enough to get me to QL 32 after purifying the metal a bit, and it opened Slot Zex.


    Opening six Slots out of the ten possible made Tremble a very impressive and powerful Weapon, almost a living legend. It was a lot of Karma stuck into a Weapon, the sign of a lot of fighting and a lot of victories and defeats.


    It allowed me to add Greater Soulbound as Primary at Vier, Enmity/Mortals as Primary at Funf, and Courageous as Primary at Zex.


    More importantly, it allowed me to add more +I Enhancements to Arsenal¡­ and it allowed me to open Arsenal II, and add +II alternates.


    I could literally and easily fill all ten Slots on Tremble with +I''s, there were that many of them, and they could be mixed and match to great effect so easily. +II Enhancements were definitely stronger than +I''s, but they also tended to be more situational, which meant wasted Slots if not in the right situation.


    There were a few universal exceptions, and one was the first alternate I put up¡­ Sharding.


    Sharding was a +II Enhancement that converted your Melee Weapon damage to a ranged attack, i.e. it generated a windblade for you. The range wasn''t much, with a range increment of ten feet meaning a maximum of fifty feet¡­ but when you have no ranged attack at all, it was priceless.


    Far more importantly, at least for me, it didn''t require ammunition, and it would hit exactly as hard as I did.


    Oh, and it was a ranged attack, and guess who had Archer levels? Including Far Shot, which increased range by 50%? And who could put an alternate +I into her Sword, of Distance, which would double the range?


    A range of 150 feet let me span the whole room, if need be. I could pop spiders off the ceiling.


    Greater Spiritbound brought my Sword to +IV base. Bane brought that to +VI, with +2-12 damage as a kicker.


    Enmity was a soft Bane-style effect, although not Curse-based, providing +2 against a broader set of foes then Bane did. Enmity/Mortals basically meant it worked against all humanoids with souls, but would still be useless against magical creatures. It also hooked into Slaughter, and so could be alternated with other types of Enmity. Enmity/Evil, called Wrath if purchased alone, was popular, for example.


    Courageous was Tremble''s favorite, as it increased any morale bonuses I had by half the Enhancement bonus of the Weapon, and for those around me if Tremble was Singing, which he preferred to be doing. Combined with Profound Bardsong, it could provide a tremendous kicker for any people around me¡­ and for myself, if I wanted them.


    With a functional +VIII Enhancement bonus, that was an additional +4 to Bardsong or Favored Enemy/Hunter bonuses. If I was Wardancing¡­ that was +8!


    And all that fed into another routine and oft-ignored +I in Arsenal¡­ Defender, and its brother, Guardian.


    Swap TH/Dmg bonus from Enhancement for AC with Defender, or Saves with Guardian. With the boosted morale bonuses, it was like I didn''t lose anything!


    Saves juiced my Null, which crystallized it and basically made it impossible for their screams to affect me. The AC bonus, combined with defensive fighting and Expertise, meant I was parrying their attacks and dropping their hit rate drastically. Combined with their lowered damage, I could now make a fight of it.


    Better, with a ranged attack I could now skim, kite, skirmish, and every single time I swung, I could attack without letup.


    If they were within a hundred and fifty feet, I had no downtime and could always be attacking.


    Importantly, I could turn a Cleave into a shot, which was very important. I would never waste a kill if there wasn''t one of them in ''range''.


    And not last and not least, Penetrating Shot allowed me to take a ranged attack and hit a target behind my original target, up to 70 feet in a line, taking a -4 to hit on each penetration, stacking.


    All of this meant being able to change the active configuration of the Slots quickly and when needed, and me and Tremble got into this with gloating enthusiasm for all the configurations that would be needed¡­ and would only increase as Arsenal expanded.


    And his QL increased, to give us those options. 100 gpv a day, slow and sure.


    But¡­ this was the big combo. I twitched a finger, and my Training Technique for Melee/5 slowly ticked over.


    Skill Focus, Mastersmith. +3,+6 at Ten, to Blacksmith, Weaponsmith, Armorsmith, and Whitesmith. My Sage of Swords triggered, and Leatherworker and Woodcarver were also sucked in, because they were required support skills for true smithwork. These skills were now basically combined, any modifier to one of them was treated as affecting all of them, so Mastersmith applied to all the skills, and the Ranks combined towards my cap.


    Skill points, 4. +1 FC, +1 Resolve, +5 Intelligence, so 11.


    One point each to max out Stealth, Perception, and all six Smithing skills, plus Martial Lore, Miner, and Gemcutter.


    There were all now at five Ranks. Synergy bonuses started at five Ranks.


    I ticked over my Combat Technique, and my Sage of Swords was humming at me.


    Profound Artisan. I could almost feel two months of collected breath release as I ticked that over, and picked Mastersmith.


    Profound Artisan, pick a Skill, add the synergy bonus from that Skill to your Focused Weapon.


    Mastersmith was about using tools. So, knowing how to use the hammers and knives and chisels of the main six skills added together into a profound driving force.


    But wait, Miners used hammers, chisels, and picks. So did Gemcutters. Perception had a Feat, Find the Weakness, where if you made a spot check vs. an opponent''s AC, it was a touch attack, turning your eyes into a tool for attacking.


    Stealth reduced your opponent''s AC to flat-footed if they didn''t see you coming, no matter what tool you used. It was basically the foundation for Sneak Attack damage.


    Know the School allowed you to use Martial Lore to find an opening in your opponent''s fighting style, it was a duelist Feat. Knowledge¡­ became a tool of war with a Skill check.


    "Whoa whoa whoa whooooooa!" Tremble murmured, as he felt my Vajra almost crystallizing around him.


    My Grandmastery was: The sword is a shitty weapon, but it''s better than all the rest.


    The premise was that the sword did every weapon''s job better than any other weapon could. The sword was my hammer, my spear, my mace, my axe, my knife, my saber, my staff, my club, even my shield or javelin. My Grandmastery required me to take Weapon Focus and Weapon Mastery in all those weapons¡­ but what I could then do is apply any weapon dependent feat for those weapons to my sword.


    I could take Axe, Hammer, Mace, Spear, Lance, Knife, Scimitar, Short Sword, Pick, and so forth Feats with my Sword, and use them, if it was mechanically possible.


    All this resonated through my Sage of Swords. Any Skills that used tools that were also weapons or could directly affect combat instantly became sources of martial strength.


    I had eleven Skills hit five Ranks. Synergy bonus on each of them was +2.


    I now had another +22 damage with my Sword.


    Tremble rose, his hum was quavering. He could feel the power moving him was far more than flesh and bone now, this was my soul and life energy settling on him with a form of martial comprehension he had no prior idea of. Sure, it was only the equivalent of a 6d6 attack¡­ but it was with every blow, and unlike dice, it multiplied on crits and One Strikes and charges.


    This, my Grandmastery and my Sagedom, had made me what I was, back in the game. Now, they were going to make me something in my dream.


    Oh, oh, oh¡­ things were going to be different, now¡­


    -------------------


    All the witchfires flew into the air to begin their bombardment.


    The spiraling shardstars spun up Tremble, and I flicked him out.


    The first star cut through the chest of the first witchfire, drove through a second and a third. The follow-up shot ripped that first one apart, and nearly killed the other two.


    Their shock was matched by the fury of the burning rays that came down.


    A third shard cut up as shifted position, and another witchfire caught it in the chest, and took down number three as the angles shifted.


    They were starting to move now, trying to avoid the shards, and it wasn''t working, because I was ignoring the rays coming down at me, and just shooting back and two-shotting my primary target with overkill damage.


    When the will o'' wisps came up, I tore through them, ending my Cleave sessions with another free-spinning shard into the ranks of the witchfires.


    By the time they came down to mess with me, half of them were dead, and many of them were wounded.


    The Whirlwind went off. Wounded ones died, the Cleaving ripped through those left, and the only one out of range died when the Cleaving ended with a star arcing off the end of Tremble and shearing through her head twenty feet away from me.


    I was basically untouched. The ghosts were barely capable of hurting me, and clustered as they were, multiples took hits when they crowded together. Being able to two-hit them with regularity and open up on them while they were manifesting, they had lasted much shorter than they used to.


    But the shadows were boiling, and a mournful song was starting to grow in the air as the banshees boiled up out of nothing, beautiful faces starting to contort as they came into being.


    Twelve of them. But¡­ their positions were pretty predictable.


    First shot hit three of them, which would get them to two-hit range, before they could even move. I charged the closest one, and Spirited Charge''s triple damage was enough to rip her apart and see her go down en vivus. I discharged the Cleave into the closest one nearby, took a step and lunged to wound the fourth, got in the middle of four of them as they turned on me and let loose their screams.


    Save or die. Enduring Life would give me time even when they beat my Null, which had really annoyed them, but this time Guardian flicked up at +8 to my Null, and not a one of them beat it.


    "Tremble, she comes!" Tremble snarled in Necrus, and my Whirlwind sheared out, riding the Attacks of Opportunity of them being dumb enough to use a magical ability in range of my Sword, and four Banshees exploded in vivic fire. I ended the Cleave with a shard into my next target, spinning into her and the middle of three others at the same time, daring them to scream.


    They didn''t, and their arms lashed out as Tremble went AC config. Spectral hands danced off the edge of the blade, Sword Beats Fist and Riposte went off on two different ones, one shrill touch tagged my side, and then I hacked at my first target, burst her, Cleaved and then cut my next one, Cleaved against my second when she dropped, and got the third in her Nexus with a crit, Cleaving to the last one and wounding her as I slid back from her hand.


    There were five left, and four of them were wounded already!


    They came screaming in, mindless of their options, as I backed up and danced Tremble''s edge in front of their hands. When I stopped, they didn''t halt in time, and I reversed into the Whirlwind as they struck out.


    Wrathflame of black, white, and gold tore arcs through all of them, Riposte triggered as one missed me, and I shanked her instantly. The Cleave tore out in a virtual second whirlwind, ending at the last one as I hacked off her arm with Sword Beats Fist, and she died.


    For a second, I was surrounded by the screaming, writhing figures of betrayed elfin exploding in flames of soul, life, and anathema¡­ and then they crumbled and died.


    Two hits were all I took, not giving them any chance. I even took most of it on my Health, which meant my side and my chest were shredded, but I blew two Vigors instantly, sealing them and turning them into temporary damage, and then expended three of my four Healing Soul uses tat-tat-tat. Golden energy glowed, my Kirilian Aura flared, and my flesh was restored to optimum condition as my Soak topped off.


    My skin was steaming gold mist from the healing, and I looked around, drifting from side to side as I wondered what was next.


    There were cosmic-class undead stronger than a Banshee, but I shouldn''t have to put up with those, right?


    The light outside was changing. An accelerated morning, still shadowy and strange, was taking place. I could only pause and wait, wondering what was going to happen.


    And then the door was pushed open all the way. It was about then that I noticed that the room and the door¡­ were much shorter than they were before. Like, I had grown some¡­?


    "Oh, my, who left this door ope- Fido! Slinky!"


    I blinked. The Hell. Seriously? Those names were right?


    It was a maid, classic black and white outfit, long skirt, white cap. Looked perfectly human. Except she was eight times my height, I didn''t even reach her knee.


    And then she saw me.


    "Ahh! Vile thing!" She reached outside the door, moving exactly at the speed a non-eight-meter human would, and grabbed a stick from outside the door.


    It looked like a broomstick, except it was at least eight inches thick, making it effectively a tree trunk!


    "You dare threaten the mistress! Die!"


    Ah, hell.


    "Defense!"


    It didn''t make any difference. She was relatively the height of a cloud giant. Str 33 or so, +11, +16 from Hit Dice, +27 to hit, and I didn''t get any of the bonuses for being great against undead, of course.


    And that broom was moving at the speed that maid would be using if she were human-sized flailing at a rat.


    Pow! Too much mass, too much speed. I was lifted right off my feet, went hurtling across the room, missed the divan by a foot, crashed into the wall, left a dent, and fell to the ground.


    That''s a quick way to lose sixty Soak, and the stick was coming in again, the maid''s dark eyes cold and hard.


    Well, I was not prepped for a giant of this size and power. She had Resist All equal to her Strength bonus, regardless of attack form, so -11 damage from anything, the strength of the Jotuns.


    Well, maybe I can cut her shoes before she kills me, I thought, knowing what my next Feat was going to be. I drove myself off the wall, spinning and dodging as the stick came down waaaaay too fast for how big it was, going for her feet as she danced away with very disconcerting lightness. She really did make me feel I was pixie-sized, or something.


    I cut into her leg, trying for the Achilles, and she shrieked and bashed at me harder, kicking out and trying to step on me. Her skin was inches thick and tougher than tire rubber, and her reach with that stick was basically one step for the whole room. I couldn''t get out of her attack range in the room, and I was pretty sure that if I ran out into the hallway more bad things were going to happen.


    Well, Hell, if I was going to die¡­


    I spun around and bolted out the door.


    She screamed at me, I twisted, and the stick came down, nicked my shoulder, and bones broke. I zipped out into the hallway, looking right and left down a giant-sized corridor, one way leading to other doors, and the other opening out to a lit room. Carpet on the ground was oversized, it looked and felt like I was running on a woven grass lawn. But¡­


    HAH! I was outside the room!


    Since I couldn''t open the other doors, I booked for the open area.


    She was hot on my heels, waving her broomstick and shouting. In the corridor ahead of me, a man in light armor wearing a sword hurried into view, obviously drawn by the shouting. I rolled my eyes as a twelve-foot saber cleared its scabbard, and his face chilled as he focused on me racing towards him.


    Welp, this is probably going to be quick, I mused, as he took a warrior''s stance, and lunged out with a sword a foot wide defying all the laws of metallurgy as it came in way faster than a human could lunge, and I couldn''t dodge in time nor possibly parry enough to stop my head from being cut off my shoulders.


    Aaaaand that''s a bit of Health in one swing, I noted, as my head started spinning away, and the world did circles. I didn''t really try to block it with Tremble, because little pair of scissors get hacked in two by hundreds of pounds of steel, or something.


    I closed my eyes, pondering what changes I was going to have to make, and how it was going to be difficult to get Bane/Giants on Tremble, since I had to kill one to get Slaughter active. Things went to black.

 31 Chapter Thirty-One - It All Henges on me, Auntie

    They seemed a bit agitated.


    I was hiding in the swamp nearby, near the shit mound of the otyugh that was still burning after twelve hours, staining the blighted swamp with purity and goodness. They''d sent some ogres over to kill the blaze, and since vivus didn''t harm the living, they''d succeeded in tearing the mound apart, spreading it over a wide area¡­ now it was burning over a wide area instead of a small one.


    A bit depressed, they left it to burn out, nyar, nyar.


    I paralleled their retreat to the side. Occasionally, I stumbled across a native that agreed to become fodder, and my path was clearly marked by trails of dozens of dead leeches. The scavengers in the water were happy to start preying on the dead eels, crayfish, and salamanders.


    There were two water elementals on patrol, but while they might be hard to see from above, the pressure waves of their passage were completely obvious in the slow-moving waters of this swamp. They both happened on the trail I was leaving and followed me, right into a one-way trip back home and out of servitude before they even saw who I was.


    And that was how I came within visual range of the Henge.


    The stone the menhirs were made of was not native to this mountain. Pretty sure they were deep-sea basalt, actually. The way they were cut seemed to indicate a lack of tools, as if they had been cut by water and tools of bone over centuries before making their way here. The Runes on them came from at least four different symbologies¡­ no, at least six, as I circled and studied them slowly. Demonic, daemonic, diabolic, Aberrant, Witchcraft, and Jotun. The Aberrant was mixed with elemental influences of stone, air, and water, so it spoke of ties to the sea, probably patrons of those swamp giants.


    I could see a huge cauldron in the center of the place, definitely taller then I was, and giving off some fumes that smelled like the crap the ogres headed out to grab as grub. I imagined that they threw all the dead things they could into their and mixed it up into a revolting soup courtesy of a variant Conjure Food and Drink, and that was how they managed to sustain all these heavy eaters in such a small area.


    Of course, it was a Henge, an unholy place, probably the site where they worked most of their communal magic.


    Said magic required at least three Hags or Witches, but they didn''t look too disturbed at the loss¡­ which meant they had another witch around here, or coming, or what?


    I drew closer to the Henge, angling for a better look, and the earth moved.


    It was only a slight movement, but it painted the presence of the earth elemental in my awareness, waiting underground and aware of my presence. Still, it hadn''t called out an alarm or manifested.


    Well, let''s see if this worked.


    I glided through the water towards the movement, and the earth slowly shifted and bulged out into the crude form of a lion''s head, silently forming to meet me at the edge of water and stone and dirt.


    I took my finger and traced a bloody trail down the cursed side of my face, and then reached right out and put my finger on the carved nose.


    There was a momentary quiver, and then the stone eyes closed, and the lion-head receded back into the earth. I could feel a shifting of intent, as the wards and hostile magicks here all seemed to recognize me.


    Mwa-ha ha ha Hah! I wasn''t really super-scared of the magic here, my Null being as high as it was, but I didn''t see any reason to give them any warnings or edge.


    Yes, Aunties, you''re being killed by one of your own. Enjoy the party. It has a wonderful ending.


    -------


    At least eight earth elementals around it, two air elementals overhead providing protection from the elements, birds, and aerial attackers. The place enhanced Summoning magic, letting them bring in bigger and better things then even Ritual magic might be able to do.


    There was a third Hag present somehow, because there were two of them, and they were performing a triune Ritual. So, number Three was¡­ where? Basic Geometry was an essential component of these things, so she had to be equally distant from the other two for maximal effect, which left¡­


    The Cauldron? Item spirit? Or someone Sealed into this location and effectively everywhere?


    Or¡­ underneath and unseen?


    Interesting. So, yet another witch or Hag present, and lairing in this Henge by one means or another. Just how many Hags used this place?


    Whatever. I watched them bring in a whole team of six barb-skeletal demons, skull-hooks and everything, and set them to the task of finding me and hunting me down. They were sent out in the direction of the Trollhole, flying low above the waters as they left to pick up my trail.


    I really wanted to follow them and send them home in buffs of burning smoke, so I gave the Henge a last glance as the Hags started talking among themselves, and slid back into the water after the demons, taking my time. Demons weren''t the industrious sort, so these killers would be about their jobs out of eagerness, not industriousness. I''d have plenty of time to catch up.


    If they stayed as tight as they were now, they''d literally be gone in seconds. If not, one by one was fine, too¡­


    ------


    I stepped into the center of the Henge, and waited.


    I dropped my Darkstalker protection, the aura of ki that shielded me from unnatural senses, and my presence, such as it was, radiated out to everything in the Henge.


    I could sense spells swirling over me, but not reacting adversely, much like the elementals. I was recognized, and belonged here at least as much as ogres coming to fill the mealpots.


    But anything intelligent enough would know that I didn''t belong here, and would come to investigate¡­ especially if magically they couldn''t actually see me through scrying.


    I wanted to see this third Hag and confirm my suspicions. I was willing to reveal myself to do so, because she wasn''t going to last too long against me, anyways.


    Oh, oh yezyezyez. From the flames under the cauldron, turning that familiar shade of yellow-green pukeness.


    A witchfire. How perfectly appropriate!


    She floated up over the cauldron, burning with those flames of hatred, and stared at me, standing there in their Henge, in their place of power, with no reaction from the guardians and wards.


    "Who are you, little girl? And how did you get here?" she asked, a sultry voice snarled by pain underneath and crackles of flame.


    "Sama Rantha, and I swam," I replied, ignoring how I looked perfectly dry.


    She drifted closer, and when she saw that I was completely unafraid, even dismissive in my expression, I piqued her curiosity, and her caution. She drifted down within twenty feet, studying me as I stood there.


    She looked like an attractive young woman, the picture of what she would have been, if she had not been turned into a Hag. Just another thing to torment her in death, and drive her to hate the living.


    "You have Annis blood. You must be one of Annie''s. She said she had a child out there who might be of your age." Her burning eyes roved over the Cursed side of my face and neck. "You are young for your blood to have turned, child." She eyed the Sword, which was too large for someone my age and size to use without two hands, standing silent at my side. "Are you the one who has been attacking us, little one?"


    "That is correct, Auntie," I admitted. "But don''t you worry about it. I''ve killed thousands of witchfires, so you aren''t going to need to be concerned about it."


    My Null flared, locking down dimensions, forcing her into semi-corporeality, and locking down flight, forcing her to stay on the ground.


    And then I was coming forward like I was launched from a bow, full charge at point-blank range.


    She blasted me with a very strong gale of witchfire. I ignored it, Tremble raised high as I met her eyes through the flames, and came down with my own flames.


    As I said, she didn''t last long. The Pounce alone on the charge nearly took her out, and she couldn''t fly up or sink down. The hesitation cost her, and this advanced witchfire that thought she was mighty and powerful, died in no time at all.


    The Elementals all around were quite stirred up when she died right in the middle of the Henge¡­ but they weren''t going to get involved in internal affairs, and she failed to give them orders in time for them to reach me.


    The Hags were arrogant, and powerful, and even if they were cautious, they weren''t expecting me to be so deadly after they saw me. I was pretty sure after this that they''d kill me immediately on seeing me, after talking to the Elementals.


    Which was cool. I hadn''t seen dear Hagmother, and wondered what it would take to get her back here. Regardless, I think I broke the current coven, so unless they brought in another witch, they wouldn''t be able to use the Henge to proper effect.


    I waited around just long enough to One Strike a foot-tall triangle into the base of the cauldron, carving through almost a half inch of black iron under protest. It sent the contents gushing out into the Henge, and hopefully ruining the magic of the thing, since it seemed to be the locus of their Ritual power.


    Toppling the menhirs themselves would have to wait for another time, when I had the time to put into it.


    I had no haul, but that was fine. It was time to leave before the other Hags could race here, which is almost what I did¡­ waiting just long enough to see what directions they were coming from before I scooted into the water.


    Given their speed and direction and time of response, I had a pretty good idea how far they were away with their private homes, and it was time to go check on them for later attention.

 32 Chapter Thirty-Two - Courtier of Death

    Pure reflex, I put my hand up to my head, making sure it was still attached.


    "Ugh, wasn''t that a big change."


    I injected Soul Essence into Tremble, and he lit up.


    "From incorporeal killer singers to tree-sized maids and guards. Wow. Everyone raise their quillons to indicate who saw that coming?" he quipped, a bit irked. "Did you see the size of that sword? It was over twelve feet long and almost a foot wide!"


    "Yeah, I got a real close look at it," I groused at him as I sat up.


    "They must hit real hard. What are the numbers?" Tremble asked. He found it weird how I reduced it all to numbers, but then he saw the numbers interacting with our real life, and realized that in a weird-ass magical universe, just like himself, what those numbers represented were real and tangible things. When I was able to perfectly predict what Naming Karma and power comp enhancements could actually do, he became very curious about them.


    "The broomstick is something like 4-24 +11. The saber is 4-32 +12 or 13. But I think he pulled off a One Strike with it, so more like 12-96. No, wait, they are overgeared on strength, able to wield larger or Heavy weapons. So, 6-36 and 6-48, tripled to 18-144 with a Greater One Strike."


    "Ugh. The To-hit?"


    "For the maid? Something like +27. The guard was probably +30 to +32. Stronger, masterwork saber, Weapon Focus¡­"


    "Ugh." My Sword was silent for long minutes as he did the math. Two month''s worth of investment had raised his Intellect significantly, and he had his own Skill Points that came with it, as an Item Familiar. He had invested a lot into Song, but a point in Math meant he was totally capable of handling basic mathematics. Of course, now that he had his Primary powers, he was capable of using up to four Cantrips, as often as he liked. His favorite and mine was the illusion one, which displayed two-dimensional, flat-screen holos.


    "So, what are we looking at?" He flicked up holos of the two giants for us to ponder over, with the two of us in scale, barely reaching their knees.


    "Well, sizewise, they are equal to cloud giants, sitting at seven to eight meters tall. That''s a Strength score of 33 or 35 base, they have a Resist All damage reduction that applies to all attack forms and energy types, equal to their strength bonus. So, DR 11/- to 13 or 14/-." Those Stats flicked up. "Natural Armor 12 or so, Dex bonus usually around +1, plus whatever armor¡­ hers probably counts as +2, due to thickness of the cloth, he''s wearing breastplate and greaves, so +5 there."


    "So, 25 to 30." Tremble didn''t have a face, or it would have been pretty long at this point. "I''ve got no Bane, there''s no Foe Hunter, which means relying on Bardsong for the morale bonus, and none of the stuff for killing undead stacks on. The Damage Reduction is going to be significant, since your Penetration is only at 4¡­"


    "Yeah, these are high-end giants. Sixteen hit dice, Con bonus defaults to +6 or so, so almost two hundred Health. Reach is tremendous, of course, their arms are longer than we are together. And, of course, they hit like trucks."


    "They have To Hit equal to their Hit Dice?" Tremble protested. That was a huge advantage!


    "Yeah, Giants are hard-wired for combat. They are natural One-Strikers, too, so the damage they do is always huge even if they do single attacks. Most have Cleave or something, so overkill spills onto a neighboring target. Their reaction time might not be as fast as mine, but you saw that they move incredibly fast once they get in motion, proportionate to a human of the same size. So, four times the potential speed of motion. I''m not sure real Jotuns move this fast, but the Curse is obviously playing games on us. I won''t be able to outrun them."


    "So, what''s the plan of attack? You need an AC of 40 to dodge half their attacks!" Tremble could clearly see the gaping hole in our defenses viz these guys, and didn''t know how to address it. Defender simply wasn''t a big enough bonus.


    "Titan Slaying Defensive Technique," I told him.


    "Ohhhhhh," he drew it out, unable to hide his glee. "I see this is a problem encountered by others before."


    Feats were gained by practice from teachers, or by Karma from the Human Akasha. The latter required you to know what you were looking for, at the very least.


    "Supposedly dwarves and gnomes excel at killing giants, they are martial races that enjoy killing things bigger then they are. They all gain a +4 Dodge bonus against giant-kind from racial martial training, which they sometimes retask against orcs, kobolds, or goblins."


    "Uh¡­ but you can''t access the Akasha of another race, right?"


    "Right, but it''s a training technique, not much different from a Feat, and completely trainable. Only, the benefits aren''t the same, since half the Feat''s emphasis relies on exploiting the smaller size of the combatants."


    "You''re being coyly mysterious again. What''s it do?"


    "It increases your Dodge Feat by a multiplier of how much bigger the Giant is then you."


    "Oh, oh! So, size Large would be twice as big, and Huge would be three times!" Tremble exclaimed in glee.


    "And?"


    "Uh, the Dodge Feat is only +1¡­" I made an ''and?'' motion. "Except if you''re a Melee, its increased by your Armor Training, to +2 right now. So¡­ wouldn''t that mean you get +6?" It was equal to the ability it was derived from, then!


    "What other Feat do I have that is equal to the Dodge Feat for all purposes?"


    "Uh¡­" Tremble hastily brought up the listing that I had made for him, in essence a Stat sheet for him to look over. After all, we didn''t have access to an Assay, so this guesswork was the best we could do. "Ooooooo, Elusive Soul. And you can juice it to +3 now¡­tripled to +9¡­"


    A +6 bonus to AC from one Feat was pretty substantial. Well, two Feats, and three Essence¡­


    "There''s also Favored Enemy Dodge, which adds your Slayer bonus as a Dodge bonus. Unfortunately, no FE bonus right now¡­"


    Giants didn''t care about my Vajra, unlike all the special tricks of the undead. It was straight-up damage grind, all about attacks, hitting, damage, and damage reduction.


    If they''d''ve been hill giants, stone giants, or ogres, this totally would have been no problem. But they had to go all the way to cloud giants! Mitharinnabucket.


    At least four to five hits to kill. If they had Warrior levels, add another hit per three levels.


    That was still within range of a good charge attack. I just had to reach them, not getting swatted down thirty feet away, or something.


    So, full investments in Expert Soul and Reckless Soul. +Essence to Expertise AC bonus, and +Ess TH/Dmg when charging. The extra bonus to-hit should make up for losing Bane, and since it would be my main killing strike, totally reasonable as an investment.


    My AC was +4 from Int, +5 Dex, +3 Wis, +1 for no-armor fighter, +1 for Natural Swordsman Talent, +Expertise of +3 now, +1 Nat AC, +2 Dodge, +3 Elusive Soul, for +23, or AC 33, beyond the feasible threat range of anything but the Banshees, especially with Ghost-Scarred and Defensive Fighting able to raise that to 37.


    Titan Slaying DT would get me to 39. If I kept moving, Elusive Dodge would get me to 41 with its +2. Shielded Parry would give me +2 Shield AC while using a weapon two-handed. As my Sword was my Shield via Grand Mastery, Shield Focus and Greater Shield Focus would raise that to +4.


    Shield Ward would apply it against touch attacks¡­ if Ghost Strike already didn''t, for the undead. Mmm. Those Banshees were screwed.


    AC 45. Defensive Fighting would mean taking a -4 to hit for +3 to AC, so AC 49.


    49 would mean the warrior giant would need a 17 to hit me, and the maid would need a nat 20.


    It would have to do for now. I wasn''t sure I could implement it all, and it would vary wildly depending on the situation, but I could only do what I could do.


    "Tremble, we''re going to have to change some things on your advance schema."


    "I kind of expected that with giants here," my Sword sighed knowingly. "Damn, Arsenal III is getting further and further away every day¡­"


    "I know it." There was a hugely key +III Enhancement I wanted, Wrathful Healing. Hit something, do d8 positive force damage, doubled against undead, and heal a d8 in damage. It was only Health healing, not Soak, but still, it meant I could basically fight forever if I didn''t take an overwhelming hit.


    It had a counterpart, Invigorating, a +II that could wipe fatigue or exhaustion on killing a foe. Between the two of them, I could be an untiring, relentless killing machine, healing as I fought, slowly but surely.


    To get the combo, I''d need to get Tremble to Neun. I was at 72 of the 162 deaths I needed to get that far, and now I was pushing those three months of dying off further. Except, of course, that Slot Neun was impossible unless I got my hands on some exotic metals to alloy him with, and forged a new home for him from scratch. I would be limited to Sieben to work with, no +Drei Enhancements on call for now¡­


    "We need to up your Shield Enhancement."


    "Really?" Tremble was shocked despite himself.


    "Yes. Shielded Parry lets you give me a +2 Shield AC when you are wielded two-handed and used defensively. My Grandmastery means my Sword is my Shield. Ergo, if you take a Defensive Enhancement, it''ll apply. It''s wasteful, but since I don''t see a Shield falling into my hands anytime soon, we need it. If needed, we can always transfer your Defensive Slots to the Shield, and you''ll have a little brother."


    "Okay. Just like Weapon Slots?"


    "No, Defensive Slots are half as expensive."


    "Half?!" Tremble protested. "How unfair!"


    "Blame the gods, not me. But it does mean that you''ll get to Drei in only nine days. Soulbound, Greater Soulbound, and Defiant, with Warding in one day after that, if desired."


    "Ooooo¡­ +6 to AC. That''s another huge leap!" he realized.


    "Yes, and exactly what we need at this point. However, it comes with a cost. We also have to make you Impervious now, and possibly Indestructible later. One chop from a Giant Sword, and you might be broken." And I didn''t have the tools to put him together again.


    Tremble was silent only a moment. "That sounds like a very important thing to do!" he finally spoke up.


    "Yes. Another thing we have to do, and that will be first, is making you a Hilt Chamber."


    "A hollow hilt? Why? What have we got to put inside it?"


    "Well, in the future it becomes the basis for a Wand Chamber, and in the meantime, we can use it as a compressed space area, for storing stuff¡­ and keeping it with us inside of you."


    "Oh!" There was a pause. "Ohhhhhh¡­" He realized the deeper implications. "Like, ah, what?" he had to ask.


    "The maid was wearing a gold ring on her finger, and a silver necklace at her throat, as well as silver earrings. The guard was also wearing a ring and necklace of gold, as well as a belt buckle."


    "Goldweight!" he hissed out in understanding. The fact that the Curse didn''t understand that faithfully replicating bling gave me access to goldweight I could use to upgrade stuff was something I wasn''t going to tell it.


    "More importantly, I need a place to store their tendons and sinews."


    "What?" He would have blinked if he could. "Why?"


    "I intend to make a Girdle of Giant Power."


    "Oh, that sounds impressive!" he said brightly. "What''s it do?"


    "There''s two kinds of Giant''s Girdles out there. The first is Giant Strength, the other is Giant''s Power," I explained. "Giant''s Strength increases your Strength up to about double, directly giving the wearer a Strength bonus of +2, +4, or +6, at least at the mortal levels. At Legendary levels, the limit might be much, much higher.


    "Giant Strength is useful at all levels, but moreso at higher ones, because it stacks with powerful natural strength. Strength 10? Now 16. Strength 40? Now 46."


    "And the increase between 40 and 46 is huge in real world terms, if not in combat terms," Tremble acknowledged, as the effects of Strength, Might, and Power flickered up in holo. It was ''only'' +3 To Hit and Damage, either way, but more then doubling the amount you could lift and carry was fairly immense at high levels. 40 was 6400 lbs, 46 was almost 15k. Big in real world terms, but the additional amount of Power¡­ was still +3/+3.


    "Right, so Giant Strength wins at the very top end. Giant Power, on the other hand, is better at the low end.


    "Basically, Giant Power sets your Strength to the level of the Giant you take it from." Tremble made a strangling sound. "However, this is restricted by your MAB, which represents the ability to channel and handle that amount of Strength. So, +10 MAB, your Strength would instantly be the equivalent of a Str 30 giant, if your Girdle is strong enough. If your MAB is like mine, a mere +5, you get set to 20¡­ but it will grow as your MAB grows."


    "Still, very impressive, especially if you are not particularly strong, like a Finesse fighter," he pointed out.


    "Ah, that''s one of the rubs. You can''t fight Finesse style while using Giant Power, or you lose all benefits. Furthermore, you have to use bigger weapons, or the strength bonus doesn''t apply."


    "Ah?" Tremble thought about that. "Well, not a huge penalty, as long as your MAB increases faster than your Dex might¡­"


    "The other thing is the Giant Power grants you the Might of a giant, i.e. x2 or x4 to your lifting limit, or even x8 if you can get one from a Storm Giant."


    "Well." Tremble thought about that. "I suppose you''ll be able to shove stuff around if you want to¡­"


    "It''s more useful for wielding Heavy Weapons. Also, if you''re a Caster, getting Growth while wearing the Girdle is automatically doubled in duration, and takes effect at the Level of the Girdle, which can be pretty cool.


    "Lastly, some people put in special powers derived from the giants the Girdle is made from. So, frost or fire resistance, for instance. Requires more Investment, but fairly typical.


    "No Giant can contribute to more then one Girdle of any type, and they don''t necessarily have to die to make one. A Giant who willingly imparts their hair and blood to you can allow you to make a Girdle in their name."


    "Ah." Tremble sounded wise. "So, smart people hunt them for the raw materials to make these Girdles, like you are intending to do."


    "I take the hand I''m given. We''ll need sinews, tendons, a strip of skin, and blood, and we won''t have much time to collect them, so things are going to get messy."


    "And I need to get a hole made in my hilt," Tremble said firmly. "I''m assuming you need only a day of work for the material and runework, how much Naming Karma?"


    "A day, you should be able to empower it as soon as I''m done," she confirmed.


    "Excellent!" He was proudly getting into the role of being more then just a Sword, and various utility uses were the best thing. "How about yourself?"


    "I can tick over my Expert Level, and then I''m stuck until I get all those /3 Masteries out of the way."


    "Another two months?" Tremble sighed. It wasn''t going to be easy, after all.


    "Basically." I wasn''t worried. Every day would be a Karma harvest, which meant I would be getting stronger, and so would he. It wasn''t like I didn''t have work to do.


    "Anything you can get out of this that could help us?" he inquired.


    I flicked the Expert/5 bar, and Karma swirled over my soul.


    Strong Will save, 8 Skill Points, General Feat, Bonus Forsaken General Feat, and I flicked over that Intellect Mastery/3, and my Intelligence went up by one, to 18.


    "I''ve been thinking about going down the Dark Knowledge route instead of the Favored Enemy route, but I''m wishy-washy on it, because there''s a number of Feats that act positively with FE, and Dark Knowledge basically stands alone."


    "I''m not familiar with that Feat?"


    "You access it as a Class ability of Inquisitorial operators. It basically works off of Knowledge skills. The better you know your opponent, the higher your bonuses against them are. Like a bard, you could share the knowledge with your companions, although the inspiration is more literal then emotional, like a master instructor rather than a Heartsong cheerleader. Heavy dose of divine help on the side inferred."


    "That would require taking Mixed Classes, right?" His hum-voice dropped low. "You can do that now?"


    "Actually, the basic ones you can start taking at Four, and then every other Level. So, yeah, I can take no-magic Combo classes, if I need to."


    "That won''t actually slow us down, given the amount of Karma we''re making, will it?"


    "We are so far ahead of the Karma curve it is not funny. The Combat Rating of the stuff we were fighting started at 6 and then blew all the way to 17 or something with the banshees. 17''s are stuff for groups of Tens to fight. I''m breaking all sorts of balance issues being able to kill them like I am. Heck, I shouldn''t even be able to hit them, I should just keel over when one of them screams, let alone a dozen of them."


    "Well, you are hugely, crazily Deep for a Five," he noted.


    "Not totally by choice, but yeah. And I''ve got a Sword a Ten would scream for." He hummed happily at the praise. "Hmmm, Dark Knowledge." I smiled despite myself. "Why do I have the feeling that if I take it as a Feat, I can expand Profound Artisan''s weaponizing of Skills to Knowledge Skills? Because that''s exactly what it does?"


    "That would result in a significant damage increase¡­" Tremble mused softly, doubtless remembering when my Vajra had condensed around him when I took the Technique initially.


    "I don''t need the Divine to work Dark Knowledge, I just need the Akasha." I flipped a mental switch, and there was a swirl, even as I clicked over other mental levers on eight different Knowledge Skills.


    I was, after all, the Sage of Swords. Skills applying benefits to my sword work was a given.


    Those skills seemed to both expand and narrow, as the knowledge on creatures and peoples expanded into a martial arena, like Martial Lore flowing through all the different creatures and peoples, analyzing them for the pure purpose of physical combat, how they moved, struck, defended, mindsets. It was deadly and grim, and I could see why it was called Dark Knowledge, because now, everything I looked at would be done so from the point of threat assessment, how it could hurt me, and how I could kill it in return.


    It interacted with Necropotent, Ghost-Scarred, and even Foe Hunter to an extent. Triggering conditions, Feat trees. The Vendetta Achievement Feat for being slaughtered by a foe even kicked in.


    I ticked over Favored Enemy Dodge for my Bonus Feat, and didn''t even bother to pick one. It got stuck into the churning of Feats going on as the Akasha balanced all this stuff going on, and began to synthesize something worthy of maxing out all those Knowledge Skills and having five or six Feats as a pre-Req.


    I reflected that I''d never tried to do this in the game, I''d just dwelled on the three FE Masteries and picked them up one by one, depending on how much I needed them at the moment. Of course, the big thing was that FE bonuses maxed out at +5, and were Morale bonuses. If things went well here, these would only max out at Synergy, which would be +3 at Ten Ranks.


    These insights all springing out of slaughter and revenge hummed through me. Dark Knowledge, mmm. It seemed to be expanding my Martial Lore beyond the limits of just opposing weapon wielders and styles.


    Of course, with all those pre-reqs, it would have to be something good.


    Courtier of Death.


    I blinked as something went wide in my mind, a broad road opening up where every warrior, hunter, killer, assassin, duelist, gladiator, champion, soldier, and guardian who had ever lived had walked. Their trails were only small parts of the road, of this Court and School where the arts and science of inflicting death big and small lived.


    Insight bonus to hit, AC, and saves against any creature that had bested me (death, gone below 0, knocked unconscious) or that I had killed more than fifty of, equal to the Synergy bonus of the relevant Knowledge Skill, if I passed the skill check. Damage bonus equal to twice that number.


    So, +2 to hit, AC, Saves, and +4 damage against anything that had beat the crap out of me, or that I had slaughtered enough to know intimately. Bonus halved against things that were similar, but that I hadn''t actually beaten, until I beat a major figure of that race. So, like a hill giant boss, or something, to extend the bonus from these Human Giants to Hill Giants.


    Insight bonus. Not typeless. But¡­ not a Morale bonus. Meaning it would stack with Bardsong, unlike an FE bonus, which meant it stacked with Wardance.


    When I added Stalker and Hunter, I had the feeling the relevant Skill bonuses would also kick in.


    Everything I had fought so far had killed me, except the witchfires, and I''d slaughtered enough of them for the bonus to apply¡­ if Necropotent, Ghost-Scarred, and Foe Hunter hadn''t already applied.


    I could feel that those Feats were effectively gone and subsumed into what I had to assume was a brand-new Title for me.


    The Sage of Swords, a Courtier of Death. Mmm, seemed appropriate.


    Less refining today, as I began the process of boring a hole into Tremble''s hilt¡­ with my fingernail, as he entered Firephasing.


    Like yesterday, some things were going to be different today, as I knew what to do.


    The Knowledge check was generally equal to the Hit Dice of the opponent+10, by race, modified by commonality. So less broad then FE by a good margin.


    Take 10, 5 Ranks, +3 Class Skill, +5 for 21 Int, +2 for Educated, +2 Cunning, +2 Nerd, +2 Expertise, +1 Bardlore. +22 for a 32 Check, no problem.


    It meant taking basically all of my Expert Levels and getting just Knowledge Skills with them now. That¡­ actually wasn''t much of a problem. Centering my Int-based Skills on Expert fit very well thematically.


    Weaponizing them fit even more.


    Massive investment, but a major benefit. One Level of Ranger would finish it off with the automatic FE advance to Hunter, Stalker, and Slayer.


    Yes, Sama the Giant Slayer was going to feel good¡­

 33 Chapter Thirty-Three – Saying Goodbye to Auntie and Friends

    The shellycoat lived in a house of plastered reeds and mud, with an underwater entrance, something like a beaver dam. The trolls had a lair in the mud under a rock outcropping close by, while her ogres had set up in the roots of a fallen forest giant reduced to stump and roots.


    And of course, there were Summons in the area. Water Elementals¡­ and Fey. Interesting.


    She''d brought in a rusalka, who was probably quite uncomfortable in such an unnatural swamp, but perfectly complemented it with her ability to wield the waters and her hair-fronds. In addition, a team of quicklings had been brought in as scouts to find me, and were fronting for two svartalfar, in from Nightmare and now in possession of a contract.


    They didn''t know who they were killing, only my appearance at best. Appearances changed, and names were powerful.


    I hadn''t given any of them mine. Maybe they listened to Fey gossip, maybe not.


    The quicklings were naturally invisible, but that affected neither Tremble nor me. Tremble was always scanning for the living nearby, and could rapidly narrow down the nature of the threat. quicklings were also incessantly in motion, finding it very, very hard to remain in one place more then a few seconds, and even if they were faster then I was¡­ it actually wasn''t by much.


    And so, I picked them off. Despite themselves, they tended to cling to trails and open pathways, since they weren''t immune to physics, and running into or tripping over something could be harmful.


    So could a taut wire stretched out at the level of their neck.


    I killed three of the six with the same trick in the same location. They literally guillotined themselves on an anchored wire coated black and basically invisible in the shadows. It was no threat to slow-moving or large creatures, but they cut their own heads off running into it at something like eighty mph. The run through the rocks was innocuous and not a place where you could be ambushed, so they thought they were safe running through it.


    Oops on them.


    One was running across the water at top speed, and I simply reached up and tripped him at an inopportune time. He yelped and went falling head over heels in a big splash, and before he could get out of the water, the giant snapper turtle he crashed into reached over with a wide fey-chomping mouth and bit the short little bastard in two.


    The fifth I saw coming, tracked him with Tremble''s ability to sense evil, and step-flipped my buried Sword up at the proper moment. The quickling actually saw my foot come down, looked up and saw me, and then cut himself in two across Tremble''s blade.


    The last one came zipping in at the screech of alarm, shrieking in his own temporally-accelerated way. Him I actually sprang my Null on, and he gawked as his temporal acceleration curse was actually shut down in my Null''s Interdiction.


    So was his speed. His squeal wasn''t quite as high-pitched as I caught up to him in ten steps, and chopped him immediately in two.


    I faded into the stones nearby, waiting, and the svartalfar weren''t long in investigating.


    Of course, two quicklings burning down to vivus didn''t leave them much to go on¡­ and I walked an inch above the ground, I didn''t leave tracks, nor, with my Vajra, did I leave a scent trail.


    The jet-black figures, noted assassins renowned for their skill and magic, stewed over the site of the deaths for a few minutes, barely speaking, more gestures then anything else, and then departed as quietly as they''d come.


    A minute later, one slid into the shadows directly in front of me, not making a sound as he did so. It was a nice spot, the shadows natural and aligned so that they didn''t seem like shadows at all.


    His stoic appreciation for the spot ended when Tremble was quick-drawn and politely lopped off his head with a One Strike + SA. I think he managed to blink in surprise before he died.


    I let him fall and start burning. I did notice the metal of his sword and was very happy. Adamant was not easy to come by, and they''d just given me most of a sword''s worth of the stuff. The alloy of it wasn''t quite pure enough, but I could work with it, and Tremble was naturally delighted.


    That naturally meant I couldn''t let the other one get away, I wanted that metal. And even with an extraplanar touch to it, it was going to be supremely useful.


    -------------


    Scarletta Scabs heard the rusalka Teriyoniv''s enrapturing song end rather abruptly not far away, and froze for a moment.


    It was daytime, not night, when most of the killings had been done. Was the being stalking them so daring as to attack them in the daylight now?


    The reeds of her hut unwove, and she strode through the opening instantly, letting them reweave behind her. Her water spider familiar, its body the size of a dog, scampered over the waters with her as they hurried to the shallow pool not far away, where the powerful Fey had chosen to stay.


    Scarletta straightened from her habitual slump as she stepped onto the waters there, and stared at the scene in front of her.


    Teriyoniv must have died incredibly fast. Her body had been cleanly crosscut into four pieces, carving right through all her ribs in the path of the wounds. They were blows a giant might be proud of delivering, and obviously delivered so fast she hadn''t been able to avoid it.


    Her meters-long tresses were all on fire, swathes of unwhite flames spreading across the inky-black waters of the pool. Her flesh was largely burned off of her ten-foot body, the fires turning the waters around them clear and pure where they flared, a truly disconcerting sight.


    She let out an ear-splitting whistle that could carry for a couple hundred paces easily, and especially her troll and ogre subordinates, whose lairs were in the opposite direction of the rusalka''s lair so they wouldn''t succumb to stupidly gazing at her as she sang.


    An answering set of bellows should have rung back within seconds. In the swirling mists, there was only silence.


    She reached out for the elementals bound to guard her place, and shuddered, for there was only yawning emptiness where she should have sensed their bound presences.


    How close had this killer come? And how quietly? She was in danger here, she had to move! Her hut, even enspelled as it was, could not possibly be safe. It was probably time to quit this area entirely, only by moving away could she maximize her chances of fleeing from this-urk!


    There was no spray of water, no splashing. The sword coming up between her feet, driving up between her legs, and thrusting itself deep into her heart as it tore through her insides. It was perfectly dry as it came up, as was the hand that held it. It punched through four different protective spells that should have deflected it, bounced it away, defied its strength¡­ and, of course, it was three feet to the left of where she was visibly standing atop the water.


    Contingency spells to heal and spirit her away from there went off. The healing magic swirled down onto the lethal wound inside her¡­ and was beaten back by the power of the curse burning through the wound with the banefire that was ravaging her insides.


    Her spider familiar Nibbler leapt forwards to defend her, lunging at the hand holding the blade.


    The sword hummed as it twisted, and turned to flame. It burned through her pelvis as it came down in a flaming arc, tearing out her backside as it turned her inhumanly hard and strong flesh to ash, and only gained momentum as it came down and chopped Nibbler right in two, burning right through her. Her familiar''s scream of pain ravaged through her and totally destroyed any semblance of mental discipline she had as it took a small piece of her soul with it.


    The flames seemed to explode, devouring the dark energies waiting to spirit her soul off to safety, where she could claim another body eventually. Her legs wobbled, and she fell atop the water, her Water-Walking spell still unaffected at this time, and her crooked Staff left her hand, falling into the water.


    No attempt was made to grab it, which would have ended poorly for the assassin. No, it was simply left to fall, as if it had no value at all.


    Steam hissed from the water, the fire vanished. She couldn''t even see the wielder in the blackness below her, only the hand that came out¡­ a hand, with black nails.


    Annis-blood¡­


    She watched the sword coming up for her eyes, and then Scarletta Scab, the greatest purveyor of venereal disease in all of these lands, who had consigned countless lovers and their paramours to slow death and sterility, and destroyed countless families and marriages with the pox she spread with glee, went away forever.

 34 Chapter Thirty-Four – Super Size Everything

    My Inspiration picks were as I''d needed: Shield Parry, Shield Focus and its Greater brother, Elusive Dodge, Battle Vigor, Assassin''s Stance, Titan Slayer DT.


    Battle Vigor returned 44 points of Soak to me at 4/rd during every fight, and the downtime between fights was just enough time to draw my breath and reset it, oddly enough. I think the cooldown time was ten minutes minus Con bonus, minimum 1 minute, which left me in good order. It was the proactive healing I had been missing, and good enough that when I came out of the Banshees, I was golden.


    They didn''t like dealing with Tremble''s shielding effects under Ghost Strike, and only managed to land two hits on me, which Battle Vigor addressed crazily. It was still working when the last of them went down, and I booked crazily for the door.


    Hell poodle Fido and hell kitty Slinky were laying in the middle of the floor, just so the maid could see them. Spiders were scattered all over the place, dead rats splattered all over the floor, with that two-headed white freak over in the corner. They had somehow all grown with me, or stayed the same as the room shrank during the night of incorp-slaying.


    I clawed my way up the wall, digging out knots of wood with my nails as I scrambled for the top of the door jamb.


    This time I heard her coming, and balanced on the narrow jamb as she exclaimed, "Oh, my, who left the door open?" and the thick wood creaked open, followed by an "Eeek!" of total alarm at the gory remains all over the floor.


    Well, wouldn''t that bring the guard quick.


    I launched myself at the back of her neck.


    Spirited Charge, Valorous, with some Sneak Attack dice as kicker.


    I had no problem carving into the back of her neck, opting to stay away from the spine itself, aiming at the cortex and hoping it wasn''t buried behind bone.


    Tremble drove in silently, knowing better then to be singing and alert her to our presence until he drove into the back of her neck and tried to take her out instantly.


    There was more bone and protection there then we wanted, so the crit we were hoping for didn''t materialize. However, it was still surprise, and she staggered as the equivalent of a stiletto went into the back of her neck. Before she could snatch it, I levered Tremble sideways even as I drew him out, severing the nerves there as he hummed and ripped through six inches of cartilage that was stronger than Kevlar.


    Spine severed, she tottered, and began to fall. It would take a minute for her body to get the message that she was dead, and the noise of a seven-meter body weighing tons falling down wasn''t going to be quiet, so I had to hurry.


    I cut the chain off her neck, the necklace the size of a bicycle chain, and I tore it free as she hit the ground and I jumped free. I ran right over to the ring finger on her left hand, and wasted no time on wrestling it off, I directly chopped the ring and finger in two, and snatched up the halves. It was the biggest harvest, and I dropped them into the compressed Hilt Chamber as quickly as I could, forgoing the ear studs for another day, and slicing open her arms first to harvest the long tendons there as quickly as I could, followed by her hamstrings and Achilles.


    "Mara? Mara!" called out a very deep voice, and I slid for the side of the door, rendering myself motionless as the floor quaked and the eight-meter guard ran up, pausing in shock as he saw her there on the floor in a pool of blood, arms and legs mutilated. "Mara!"


    I took him low across the heel, the tendon there snapped like a hawser being cut apart. He didn''t fall instantly, instinctively offsetting balance to his other leg, but I charged and leapt up just enough to cut the hamstrings at the back of the knee, and his balance went down. Both his legs folded flat, and he dropped backwards, crying out in alarm and pain as he came crashing down, hands flailing to catch himself on the door.


    He caught my motion, turned his head to see my coming across his throat fast, and I slashed a foot of steel through the great arteries and veins there, garden hoses of rich red blood spraying forth under the pressure of the massive heart.


    He struggled and writhed, clutching futilely at his throat, while I raced over to his belt buckle and chopped it in four straight pieces, dropping it into the chamber. He had barely stopped moving before his first Achilles tendon was cut away, forcing me to hack through his boot to get to it.


    I also needed a good strip of skin to form the Girdle proper, and sliced it off the back of his thigh, rolling it up tight and plunking it inside Tremble''s hilt.


    My Sword was now very imbalanced with the extra weight in the hilt, which was unfortunate, but I needed those goodies.


    There was a loud bark ¨C 90 db, at least ¨C from the hallway, and the attack dog came in.


    Yeah, Fido looked like a poodle next to this mastiff. This was a full-blown Nessian Warhound, topped out and flaming drool dripping from its jaws that somehow did not affect the wood, and it fixed its burning eyes on me with instant malign intent.


    "Another damn dog?" I swore at it in Mabrahoring, and promptly charged it.


    The blast of hellfire that came out of its jaws was damn near twice as strong as Fido, and covered a longer and wider area, purer and more intensive. I couldn''t dodge it, and it slammed into my Null, bored a hole in it before Tremble could switch to Guardian, and I ate the blast to my face.


    Yeah, a whole lot of Soak went bye-bye as I screamed in rage and charged the mammoth-sized bastard.


    He was every bit as tough as the soldier, but he probably didn''t care as he caught Tremble right in the eye as I came out of that stream of flame with my hair on fire and in a really bad mood.


    With a startled yelp and growl, he tossed me aside, and then drove at me, slavering and biting with ferocity and a total lack of empathy for me defending myself.


    He managed one bite on me, started shaking me like a rat, and then kind of yipped and let go of my shoulder as I yanked Tremble out from under his jaw, staggered once and fell down.


    Damn dogs. I eyed the holes in my shoulder as Battle Vigor labored away to mend me, blowing a Vigor use to close the holes, and then Healing Soul to wipe the red marks away.


    Ah, that had sucked.


    Still, I had to get out of this room and explore this place. I knew I couldn''t escape it, and my enemies would find me simply because the damn Curse wanted them to, but my combat endurance was building, and I''d basically be fine in a couple of minutes.


    "Little slow there, Trem," I murmured. He should have hopped to Guardian to reinforce my Null on seeing the mutt.


    "Won''t happen again. Wasn''t expecting another breather."


    "Yeah." I stepped out onto the artificial lawn that called itself a carpet, and raced down the corridor towards the open area there for the second time. I could hear heavy footsteps below, and I wanted to get to that corner to hide in it when whoever was coming ran past. Curiosity and all, you know.


    I slid right into the corner of the beam as the next two guards hurtled up and past me¡­ and then the door at the far end of the hall behind me opened up, and a woman stepped out.


    She was as tall as the men, clad in a silken dress that looked wonderful on her, falling dark hair and wonderful green eyes, eye-catching figure, regal demeanor, radiating power, competence, and control.


    And, being a giant with eyeballs six inches across, she naturally spotted me instantly.


    Her arm snapped out, a white birch wand as long as a staff glowed, and a lightning bolt zig-zagged past the startled guards and slammed full into me.


    OW.


    It blew my Soak entirely away, and almost all my Health. It punched my Null, blew apart a couple feet of wood behind me, and sent me flying like a limp doll.


    Damn. That was a Cast spell, just focused through the wand, and a Topped 20d6 of damage. 120 points. Being already injured some, I was nearly dead already, right through 30-some points of lightning resistance.


    I blew Vigor and Healing Soul together, as I picked myself up and got to my feet. She was the whole length of the hall away, a good hundred feet, which probably looked much shorter to her then me. Her hand was already glowing with the Fastcast follow-up.


    I looked over to the side.


    There was a classic greeting area below. Curving staircases to either side overlooked a broad atrium with splendid hanging lights, low tables, chairs, divans, dressers, and the double doors leading out to an entry room and the outside, such as it was. Everything was white and gold and rich browns¡­ even as it seemed to be shrouded with shadow and illusion.


    It was all brightly lit, and a fourth guard was coming out of a side hall, where I could see more comfortable chairs beyond. Opposite him, another side hall, leading to a corridor of some sort.


    Eighty feet to the floor, and her Topped Energized Shards, ten of them, came streaking out towards me.


    I dove through the railing, falling towards the ground below.


    Behind and under the landing, another broad hallway, opening up into what looked like an audience chamber of sorts.


    Quite the digs.


    The Shards swooped over the railing and hit me about halfway down. Force damage, not enough Resistance from Diamond Vajra, and they punched my Null, which Tremble had desperately juiced to 35, without any problem.


    I went black before I hit the marbled floors below, which is what happens when force damage pulps your cells into paste.

 35 Chapter Thirty-Five – The Grimm Tree

    A dreadwood. Really.


    The last of the Hags sent out a flock of blood ravens to see what happened at her sister''s little hut. None of them came back, which was an answer all its own.


    There were thorn golems out there, some very nervous ogres and trolls, two surviving drak-wolves who were equally nervous, the giant toad that was her familiar, a really big snake swimming in the vicinity (seriously, how did she feed all those things? Eesh!), and the monstrous dead tree under whose hollow-out roots she was living.


    That tree was a dreadwood. Its root system was huge, and gave a clear idea of just how big the tree itself must have been when it was alive. It only took a little bit of stimulus from my paranoid self swishing water currents past them to make those dead roots twitch and start moving by themselves. I realized all the other guards were just distractions for the rotted, massive trunk of that tree, and the killer root system waiting to grab and crush down below.


    Tremorsense for at least forty yards in all directions. It didn''t occupy the island it was on, it WAS the island. There was no way to approach it in the water without being sensed, and of course being above the water meant no cover at all, not that I could walk on water as yet.


    That was fine, fine. It just meant I had to be a little creative. After all, there were no instant resurrections at Renewal, unlike my time in Nightmare. I was a terrifying little shit, yes, but I wasn''t stupid. It would be years before I reclaimed everything in Nightmare, let alone here.


    Killing the shellycoat let me raid her hut. There was a lot of cursed and trapped shit in there, and I was pretty sure she''d moved some out to the Shrine I had yet to revisit, but it was more then enough for me to thoroughly condemn whatever form of filing system for alchemical components she had, and make some interesting surprises.


    ----


    Her guards, of course, did not have tremorsense. Her guards were also posted around the tree, not ON the tree. Because, become lunch, you know.


    And I could cover sixty yards on a Spirited Charge. It was more then enough to take care of any of them, if I could get moving.


    I spent the night inflicting new agony on myself, as I Tattooed my Cloudstepping Sandals onto my feet.


    These were aesthetically pleasing curls of white and light blue, winding and flowing over my feet, heels, and shins. Like all my Tats, they had to be exposed, or sharing space with a Chakra item, to work, so no magic boots for Sama anytime soon.


    I had to do them at QL 35, and it was a good thing I was really flexible and had full body awareness with a Diamond Vajra while I was working on them.


    It was also good that I had a Fort Save exceeding +20, because poking a chakra point open while making a Tat was just like in Nightmare, the mother of all blisters popping as my soul squirted out this tiny little opening in my ki, just so it could fill up this runic art I''d been stabbing in below my skin, allowing me to pump in some Essence and manifest the first couple levels of the Sandals.


    Walking on air didn''t come until /5, being a Nine. Walking on water, however, kicked in at /2, and two Essence.


    It was called being able to make Gear. I might be an undersized little cockroach now, but ah, with the right Gear, complementing my own abilities and Tremble, I was going to be freaking nightmare.


    Ignoring how incredibly sensitive my feet were right now, I allocated my Essence, stepped out onto the surface of the water, and unending streams of mist poured out of my soles, supporting me on top of it without problem.


    I could end it with a thought if I needed to dive, pinching off the presence of my soul to power down the Tats. They were glowing softly and blowing over my feet and lower legs, felt kinda cool and ticklish, actually.


    Tremble couldn''t talk yet, but that was changing soon. There was work to be do, and humming along was no problem at all.


    It was time to be a direct and very fast terror in the night. Spirited Charge would do everything I needed, and my speed would make up for the rest.


    -----------


    I just picked them off with hit and runs.


    Blooding did for the trolls. They couldn''t regenerate from the wounds it inflicted, so punching a hole through their hearts was as lethal as it was to anyone else. I came skating in out of the night and fog, a blur out of the shadows, and with restricted visibility they had very little time to respond to me before I leapt in, clearing the grasping roots that couldn''t sense me, and driving Tremble hilt-deep into their chests.


    The three Trolls died about a minute apart. No, scratch that, the last one tried to flee for his lair instead of standing guard, and I cut him down out in the darkness.


    The six ogres tried to back up and cover one another. That just helped me pounce off the dead ones and on to the next, shredding them both as they screamed.


    Tremble couldn''t sing quite yet, but that drone was mmm-mmm ominous.


    Tree roots scrambled for me, and I chopped through them in passing, fully able to see them in my Tremble and play the sunder game.


    She didn''t come out as I chopped apart her guards. Thorn golems were violently disassembled as sprays of razor-point poisoned thorns went everywhere. My Penetrate Damage Reduction was at 10 and could totally deal with their Hardness, and I had no good experiences with golems, which I proceeded to share with them.


    Even I could feel the gaping evil of what the greenhag was bringing forth in there, an inhuman howl that seemed also filled with subtle mockery and dominance as it belted forth eagerly.


    Even the ogres turned around as they heard it. It was truly a skin-crawling kind of thing. The thing that came out of the entrance to the greenhag''s cave was worth the look.


    It was all black, like it was made out of slick plastic or something. It didn''t have eyes, just a kind of bulb head and jaws that went all the way across it, massive and made for chewing. It was probably about eight feet tall, but had limbs more like a gorilla, so it could move on all four oversized feet and claws.


    It radiated evil a Fiend would respect. I was a little impressed that she could bring something like this out, and figured she must have had a little something saved up for a long time in order to be able to Summon a Grimm.


    Of course, this didn''t stop me moving. Dumb ogre distracted #1 got Tremble in the side of the head. I twisted it around as I stepped across his back with misting feet, and as the last one jerked back around, sliced him up and down and sent a fountain of his insides into the outsides, ducking the spray of blood, sliding past as chopchopchopchop I hacked down some big dead roots that wanted to grab me impolitely, and skated back exactly six inches out of the dreadwood''s reach.


    I could see its trunk quivering in frustration. It had been trying to throw some mind-reaming spells at me, but I ignored it. This wasn''t Nightmare, where all the spellcasters were horribly overpowered.


    The grimm seemed to find my antics amusing, and the slow fall of the ogre as it grabbed its insides and tried to stop them from falling out laughable.


    "Oh, oh, you are going to be a fine one to play with," it purred, in a sibilant voice that did not match that mouth, or how weirdly expressive the lips of those jaws could be.


    "A grimm, huh." I saw a finger twitch at my total disdain, which the Fey language conveyed with infinite hauteur. "Couldn''t find anything better, aye? I was hoping one of the Tarn, at least. A Bandersnatch might have given me a run for my money, at least. Well, if you have to go dumpster diving, I suppose the bottom of the dumpster is best."


    It hissed, not at all pleased at my scorn. "Oh?" it asked, sidling forwards onto a run of roots, moving closer to my position. "You sound like you have met one of my kind before?"


    "In Nightmare, I met grimm like you many, many times on my runs. As a matter of fact, your kinfolk managed to kill me thirteen times, over time, mostly because they were opportunistic pissants who gangbanged me when I was fighting giants or vampires."


    "Thirteen times in Nightmare, and you have not come to fear us? You have courage!" it mocked me. "But this, this is not Nightmare, little one¡­"


    "Oh, that''s because of the other side of the equation. I killed three hundred and twenty-nine of you pissants before you got too terrified to come out anymore!" My voice rose, and Tremble''s drone had an awful, ominous beat, even as the grimm froze.


    Tha-thump, thum-thump!


    "From the shadows crawled the grimm,


    Full of vigor, full of vim.


    Venom, hate, fat on sin,


    Mocking claws, a coward''s grin.


    They struck from the rear,


    Seeking pain and fear¡­


    And were gutted, shattered, jaws split wide,


    Fed to the Land, and cast aside.


    Every day, a grimm to slay,


    Until they dared not come to play.


    TREMBLE, SHE COMES!"


    I figured anything this goddamn Evil had to be tied into the metaphysics of the alignment, and Fey were huge gossipers, anyways. Their Akasha had to be swimming with the damn beating I had put on these absolute miserable bastards, and this, the most purely devoted to Evil of all the Fey, had a quiver run through it at the notes, at the words.


    At the mocking hunger and disdain. Send Me More!!


    It was sooooo damn gratifying.


    And I was coming for it. No fear, only death in my eyes, and Tremble hissing for its soul, wreathed in vivus and golden soulfire. It tried to howl, and spread its claws to meet me, but Tremble''s drone totally cut through it and delivered me unto it like the wrath of Aethra.


    Spirited Charge''s x3 damage is nothing to sneeze at, even when you''re a preincarnate entity of absolute evil vomited out from the sewers of existence. I smashed into its chest, inserting my Sword absolutely where it needed to go as a Courtier of Death knew from bountiful experience, and this thing screamed as its days of endless incarnations came to an unwhite burning end.


    Way of Fire and Water x3, Crystal Caldera Swordplay. Furious Focus, ignore TH penalty on first Power Attack in a given combat cycle. Improved Power Attack. Profound Artisan, powering it all.


    I smashed into it, and vivic fire blew through it as the greasy flesh ignited like cheap tinder as the flames blew past any threshold of magic it had keeping its spirit tied to this life¡­ and then the vivus went after the spirit behind it.


    I ignored the red scratches across my back, just Soak damage, as the grimm fell to the ground, and a veritable geyser of vivus spewed out from its front and back, raging as it consumed the incarnated essence of Evil within it.


    The roots around it, instead of writhing to the attack, hastily retreated as the vivic flames began to lick at the necrotic-infested ruin of the dreadwood.


    Which naturally gave me an idea.


    I sucked down a quick Potion I''d made up, and the world got much smaller around me. I stumbled for one step as I adjusted to the new proportions, but if there was one thing Nightmare had taught me it was how to adjust to shifting relative sizes.


    I grabbed the burning carcass of the grimm and bolted for the trunk of the dreadwood, dragging it with me with the help of being twice as tall, eight times as heavy, and quite a bit stronger.


    It would only last a couple minutes, but that was enough.


    Roots began to shift and bulge, but my Cloudstepping Sandals flowed right over them easily, turning the writhing ground into a smooth road for me, and they certainly didn''t want to grab the burning grimm. Leap, leap, spin and throw in a ki-aided Twin Moon toss, right into the hollow trunk of the dreadwood above me.


    The burning corpse arced through the air and vanished within the stump, leaving a trail of vivus burning behind.


    I jumped right after it, Tremble circling non-stop as I hacked away roots in all directions, and then arced over the three-meter high stump, twisting off his walnut pommelstone and emptying out the Hilt Chamber within.


    The crockpot full of alchemical lightning juice fell down, shattering against the wooden sides, and then spread ten vials worth of 2d6 lightning damage reactive alchemicals all over the damn place.


    The grimm''s body blew apart, vivus shredding it and then wrapping around the lightning as it followed the path of least resistance. That path happened to be the path the vivus was eating away in the necrotic energies empowering this mostly-dead plant abomination. Driven by the lightning, vivus blew through the dreadwood, and the whole body of the thing suddenly lit up the night as discharging alchemicals and vivic fire combined for a merry tree roast for all.


    I hit the ground on the other side, or rather, hit a finger above it, despite my size, watching that massive network of roots quiver in shock, sparks purple and unwhite sparkling over everything.


    Two rounds of discharge as the alchemics exhausted themselves, and not much the damn tree could do about it.


    I walked around towards the entry way. Beneath my feet, the massive roots began to crumble away into white ash as vivic lightning tore them apart.


    There was a shriek from within, and the green hag came scuttling out of her hovel as the trunk started to come down on her chambers within, totally disrupting any wards she had made and forcing her out into the open.


    She looked up just in time for all three meters of me to come crashing down on her. I still didn''t weigh all that much, given my build, but ki makes up for a lot of things.


    So did the Sword splitting her skull.


    A number of magical effects shattered as my Null hit them, including the invisibility that she thought was concealing her, and at least four different body-enhancing spells.


    Her eyes fixed on me on either side of Tremble, and she tried to spit out something.


    "Death curse? Is it stronger then the Curse of the Hag?" I asked, and her eyes focused on the side of my face. "I''ll take that as a no. Go on, try it, just so I can mock you in the end."


    A very big tongue came lashing at me from the side, and I leaned back to let it snap past, flicking up a hand. As it withdrew, it came across my arm, and cut itself off as smoothly as a ready blade. The cow-sized toad twitched despite itself, but that didn''t stop itself from leaping at me.


    I tugged out Tremble and spun into the jump and down, a flick of my Null ending the Growth Potion, and cut up as the toad jumped right over my shrunken self, opening it up along the full length of its body.


    It hit the ground, and guts went splattering all over the place. It tried to turn around, only managed to move its head and turn back to look at her with big bulging eyes before it slumped in place.


    Yeah, enjoy that feeling of watching your familiar die with you and mucking up your concentration, auntie.


    I watched her bleed out, and sighed despite myself. I glanced back at the rumble as the top of her root-hovel completely fell in, and then opened her up vertically.


    I had a use for her skeleton, and I didn''t need to be hauling a few hundred pounds of her innards around. They could burn with the tree.


    I hooked my nails into her mouth, breaking off a few of those iron-spike teeth, and hauled her after me resolutely as I headed for the exit to the valley.


    The Hags'' Wards held the corruption of their valley back from spreading out into the forest beyond. If they hadn''t done so, likely there would have been a mass invasion to clean them out before the entire forest decayed.


    On the flip side, the built-up corruption was a massive threat. If those wards weren''t renewed, these waters would flood out into the forest, doing all sorts of nasty stuff to the woodlands beyond, which heartily discouraged anyone from messing with them.


    So, before those Wards went down, which might be really soon, who knew? I had to do something to take care of it.


    This Hag and her iron-hard bones were my solution. Ivorycrafting Ranks were going to come into importance now.


    ---


    As I dragged her gutted carcass through the muck, I reflected that I had a LOT of work ahead of me, cleaning this place up. Tremble''s point, trailing through the inky water beneath me, was burning a small swathe of clarity around the point, but it was soon swallowed by the necrotic energies around and dissipated.


    I had to find the loci of their wards, the other undead burial places they were harnessing negative energy from¡­ and I had to rework this entire valley back to its original, simpler form, instead of this freaking unnatural swamp.


    Just eyeballing it, it was going to take me years.


    That was fine. The Hags had left behind lots of raw materials for me to play with for a while, and I needed time to get physically into condition¡­ and to get older. I could use this as a conditioning and building experience until I was more settled, and had more Gear to use.


    There was no automatic rez at Renewal any more. I had to be more cautious now, more careful of who and what I fought, because I absolutely could not afford to go down right now. I needed reserves, I needed options.


    The flip side was, I didn''t have a new fight coming in every two minutes after I finished one. The flip side to THAT was¡­ I didn''t have a fight coming in every two minutes. More precisely, I didn''t have any idea when my opponents would be coming, and who or what they were.


    And nothing said the Hags wouldn''t have more people investigating, especially if they were talking to other covens who doubtless would be interested in inheriting this place.


    My troubles hadn''t ended, or even started, really. Because Dear Hagmom, the Annis I was sure was my mother, hadn''t been here. The Curse would know her, and definitely none of these things was, while it had reacted to my Hagspawn brother.


    She might or might not learn of what happened here. She might or might not come back to investigate. She might or might not bring friends.


    So, life was going to be interesting.


    In the meantime, I was going to turn this greenhag into a skeletal font of vivic flames that would burn the corruption out of the waters flowing out of here, and then I would go around destroying all the stuff that made new corruption.


    Once that was time, it was just a matter of time and vivic fonts before this place was burned clean. The physical labor to clean it up, that was extra.


    But I had a Girdle of Giant Power coming, so doing all the work definitely was not beyond me.

 36 Chapter Thirty-Six – I’ll be Uber Again, Just Wait…

    I slapped my hand on Tremble, who woke up after his injection of Soul. "Like, wow. Did you even have a Null against her?" he protested, clearly aggrieved at how easily I had been killed.


    I sighed, despite myself. "She was casting at Twenty, with a Spell Penetration at +9. No, I didn''t have a Null until you boosted me. When you did, one chance in three it would work."


    "Twenty!" He fell silent for a moment. "Damn. I thought Casters topped at Ten, just like you will."


    "Caster Level can keep rising through a lot of methods. They could just tie it to the giant''s hit dice, for example. The Curse itself is probably a Twenty, it just emulated its own power." I thought about that, and shook my head. "It could make every single Caster here Cast at Twenty. It probably will. We''re fighting a semi-sentient Curse of Divine origin. Magic is where its strength is."


    "What do we do?" He sounded frustrated.


    "Die by other means. We''re lucky you weren''t reduced to slag, mostly because I Soaked most of the lightning and kept you behind me on purpose. You need Impervious right away."


    "Three days. I would like to get Giantbane for you¡­"


    "You gotta exist to get me that. I really don''t want to start all over from scratch with a new Sword, you know? And I''m gonna keep dying regardless. It''s three deaths. I''ll be fine."


    "Well, okay." He sounded a little sullen at how he was letting me down, but he realized that getting broken would put him even further behind the curve. "So, what can we do about her?"


    "Stay out of her line of fire. I have to turn that corner and get down the stairs before she opens the door. I''ll have to do a flying charge into the guards that are coming up, and make a royal nuisance of myself moving into other areas, see what we can stir up, stretch my legs out before I die."


    "It looks like a huge manor home."


    "Yes, nobility at the least. The crest on the uniforms and the furnishings was quite distinct, but it didn''t have the feel of royalty, which would probably be in a castle instead of a manor, and the crest didn''t feel like mercantile wealthy. A duke or count, possibly."


    "Why did the scale shift on us like that?" Tremble asked, looking for an explanation.


    "My guess is that it isn''t a day between deaths. Dream, and Nightmare, don''t follow the same rules of time that the living world does. It could be several living days between me dying and waking up.


    "So, the Hagborn is probably older and moving around, and so nothing seems as big as it used to. It affects the dream. I''m betting if the room actually changes, so will what we fight, like the mobile-constructs. I have a strong feeling they''re going to be replaced with toys and dolls very soon, the Curse is just taking time to change."


    "Ah. Well, they were dying too quick anyways," he sniffed. "That woman, the Caster¡­ the mother?"


    "I wouldn''t be surprised," I agreed, as I unscrewed his pommelstone and emptied out the Hollow inside. "The Hell?"


    Yeah, it was gory, having wadded-up sinews and skin mixed in with pieces of gold and silver. But only one of the sinews was preserved. The other¡­ had become some bluish-grey thing that looked rather spongy with purplish blood on it, although it was still a tendon.


    "That¡­ does not look right?" Tremble offered for me.


    "That is correct, it is not right." I still had the skin and one tendon, so I could get started on the tanning and treatment, if nothing else. "Those are the tendons we took off the maid."


    I could see he was looking back and forth between them. "I didn''t shift at all between the kills¡­" he told me.


    "No, you didn''t. What this means is¡­ interesting." I drummed my nails on the ground here in my mist-cell once. "She''s not a giant. Or rather, she''s not a human, and the Curse knows it, and unthinkingly replicated it." I eyed the tendon. "That color blood and flesh¡­ I think she''s a doppelganger, probably put in place by Hagmom."


    "Well." He digested that. "One more Bane for the Slaughter?"


    "Shapechanger, yeah. Very useful once you get the Detect for it, too." He hummed thoughtfully. "Well, let''s get to work. I''ll do a double craft load before we set out, prepping the Girdle and starting to burn gold to it, after refining you some more." He obligingly shifted into Firephasing.


    "Unfortunately, our need to make you Impervious is going to stop our refining at 33, and you''ll be stuck at Zeks and Arsenal II. I''ll be able to reach 33 before the structure is complete, but that''ll be it."


    "Well, its not far off what we knew was coming, anyway," he said encouragingly. "And it''s not like there isn''t a lot of other stuff we need to do."


    "True." I sighed, and began to get to work, as I thumbed over Null Mastery/3, the first of my Masteries I had to start increasing, and began to work.


    ---------


    I didn''t leave the room this time, mostly because I didn''t get the chance.


    Dops could read thoughts, and this dop actually scanned the room before she walked in, as if it was the most normal thing she could do.


    And it punched my Null, because Tremble wasn''t in Guardian.


    She shrieked in alarm, grabbed the broom there, and was swinging at me even as she entered the room.


    Wow, was that annoying, because the guard would be here in literally seconds, with the dog.


    That said, my thought at the dop as it scanned me was, You are so effing dead, dop.


    That was enough to freeze her up, and then hamstrings and Achilles were severed as I got underfoot and cut, and she folded down, shapechanger or no.


    Her head and torso turned impossibly, but I was waiting for just that, and she turned around to snarl and swing at me with a hand that was half a cleaver, only to see me crossing above her arm and arrive underneath her throat with a serene cut across all them huge blood vessels, dop or no. Two steps up on her maid''s outfit as she grabbed at me, and I drove Tremble into the side of her jaw and wrenched through the cortex beyond, jumping away as she fell.


    And because I could, I took the silver earrings she was wearing with me. I noted that she had no necklace or ring today¡­ but she had plain silver bracelets now.


    I noted the hue of her lifeblood spurting out rapidly exceeded the limits of her shifting ability to conceal, and abruptly turned a kind of gooey blue-purple.


    I hacked her bracelets into pieces, but I had less then thirty seconds before the guard arrived with his dog right behind him.


    Happily, the fact she was so unnaturally twisted and leaking weird blood seemed to get his attention for a minute, so when I jumped off the small vanity to the side of the door, I still got him across the throat before he was aware that I was there.


    He staggered and fell forwards as his life fountained out, stumbling and falling over the corpse of the dop maid.


    Damn dog wouldn''t let me loot my tendons in peace, but Tremble was on Guardian mode now, and this time we charged right through the blast of flame that filled the room with no problems whatsoever, once again taking out an eye, much to its disbelief. This time I avoided the follow-up jawbite and kick, cut off its nostrils, and as it whined and bit at me, Soak flowed away and I chopped its neck half off in passing. It gurgled in confusion, staggered, and fell, still trying to come for me, but unable to make it to me.


    Cutcutcutcutcutcut¡­


    More feet pounded on the stairs. The door at the end of the corridor creaked open. I stuffed my harvest into Tremble and sighed.


    The two guards reduced the room to splinters trying to hit me with their sabers, and my Soak plummeted like a rock thereby. I did get one down and in range of a drive-by throat-cutting, nearly got split in two, and grabbed onto guard three''s hand as he pulled back, turning over and up his arm to his shoulder, and ramming Tremble into the side of his neck.


    He shrieked with a gurgle, grabbed me with his other hand, and hurled me away into the hallway. I crashed into the fine oak paneling back first, the last of my Soak went poof, bones admonished me not to do that again, and I fell down to the ground.


    The matron glared down at me, that wand in hand and pointed at me.


    I jumped and twisted, the bolt shuddered past me and blew a great hole in the wall. Hah, Evasion, Guardian, and Bodywarding for the win! She danced back with impressive speed, I only left a cut across the front of her leg, slicing through the silk as she backpedaled, and I pressed after her.


    She tried that Fastcast Shards trick, and I rammed Tremble through her foot with Great Emphasis, rather disrupting that with a bit of stick-a-nail-into-it pain.


    The next moment I was flying through the air, punted with great force in a long arc down the corridor away from her as she screamed and swore at me, her dainty meter-long foot in its embroidered slipper leaving a trail of blood in the air.


    Damn, nice form, I had to admire. My bones were creaking and ready to break, and I could barely think¡­ and just about then I hit the ground and rolled haplessly, trying to disperse the equivalent of being hit by a small car.


    I looked up as the lightning came in again, and although I was already mostly dead, I dove off to the side and down the stairs she had conveniently sent me right next to. The lightning did quite the number on the ankle-deep rug.


    Tremble was whooping as the fourth guard came out of the hallway on the right, seeing me falling-jumping down the meter-high steps, his saber in hand as long steps brought him up on me very quickly.


    He wasn''t expecting me to jump as fast as I did, and he took my charge right in the eyeball as I avoided his flicking lunge.


    Unfortunately, giant constitution and all, it didn''t kill him, and he grabbed the post of the railing, and drove his face, me, and Tremble down against it.


    Several hundred pounds of skull crushed my chest flat, and drove Tremble deeper into him for the kill. I could die with the trade-off, tough bastard¡­

 37 Chapter Thirty-Seven - Evolutions

    Time passed, and nothing really that eventful happened. Which was fine with me.


    The Wards of the Hags failed one by one. The choking, stinking fog and mist evaporated, cool mountain winds began to blow through the valley. The waterfall illusion over the entry vanished. The residual protective Wards on the Shrine began to fade, and I made a point of rupturing all of them with prejudice, and cleaning out that Bone Golem while I was at it.


    After being cleansed by vivic fire, it was actually the most suitable of the places for me to set up, having multiple rooms for storage and a decent atmosphere. There were some valuables tucked away in the place which I dug out with my tremblesense and Tremble''s eager sniffing for valuables, and so I set up shop there.


    It took me quite a while to transfer all the useful stuff from the Hags'' hovels to the Shrine, but I had nothing better to do with my downtime. This was all getting ready for the future.


    I worked on my Girdle in my downtime, refined Tremble more, adjusted my tools, and began the work on my Floating Forge.


    To make an adamant weapon, naturally I had to be able to melt it. Energized tungsten is not something that melts easily, and I didn''t have a supply of acetylene gas or a massive supply of electricity to get that temperature. Lava was a laugh. Trying to melt adamant with lava was like trying to melt an ice cube with liquid oxygen. Lava was maybe 2000C at best, adamant needed to be at least twice that hot.


    Magic, dragonflame were my choices to work with, and without an ancient fire dragon handy¡­


    I was missing the hell puppies right now. Could have used some pyric power comps for my work.


    Tremble was sleeping stuck in the outlet from the stream coming off the mountain, in vivic mode. Unwhite energies sparkled through the waters, washed into the swamp, and began to slowly and continuously burn it away, until I could transform the skull of the rusalka into another vivic fountain to relieve him of the duty.


    The power he represented flowed out from me as long as I had Essence invested in him, which I did all the time. Day by day, he was getting stronger, even without me feeding him Naming Karma¡­ which he still got as I wandered around the swamp and the walls searching for buried loot with him, and destroying the necrotic loci that had formed the Ward foundation for the Hags.


    Just like me, a little bit stronger every day.


    I made Potions from the stuff I got off the Hags, and the last batch of nasty stuff that would ever be harvested off this swamp.


    Their Henge was a bit of a tougher nut to crack, and I didn''t have the wherewithal to disassemble it quite yet. I did inform the elementals about it, and they were simply patient and waiting to be dismissed, rather unconcerned about it all.


    So, yeah, there was plenty of work to keep us occupied. It was kinda startling all the nooks and crannies stuff was hidden in, especially when I went up to the nests of the blood ravens after disposing of the damn birds. Bloody thieves, they were¡­


    -------------


    Renewal passed. Unlike in Dream, it was much more tangible to me then before.


    Sylune was high in the night sky, the Silver Queen, Patron of Silver Magic, of navigation, and mysteries yet to be found¡­ and the searing-starfire holy wrath from above opponent of everything Hags represented.


    Most Hagchildren came about via the Ritual of the Silver Hag, where a night-long ceremony of gentle moonlight and falling stars became a howling, burning bitchfest of Curse and Goddess going at one another over the body and soul of the Hagchild. It ended when the sun rose, and Aru''s golden light swept the last of the Curse away¡­ or the Hagchild gave in to the Curse and became a Hag, and had to be put down.


    My way of doing things was rather against the grain. Certainly a true infant child would not have been able to overcome Nightmare, and simply been erased and subsumed by the Curse.


    I felt the cresting wave of silver magic moving through the world, and my soul cycling over with it, buoyed by the wave of power it brought with it. Invested Essence relaxed and drained away, save for those I held tight and kept in place, like with Tremble.


    It nudged free some of the Karma I''d ripped off the Curse, and flowed through my body. Remembered ability refined into actual physical ability and muscle memory, and paraevolutionary changes rippled through a body that was learning to exist on a Diamond Vajra, guided along by yours truly.


    My Second Heart was coming along well. The Alchemical changes I''d been driving along were slowly taking effect, although not just biologically.


    Having a Diamond Vajra gave me access to a copious amount of energy at all times. A soul didn''t build up lactic acids, after all. Not making use of that energy seemed like a complete waste of time and space. It was basically already supplying all of my caloric needs, regardless of how much work I did. I only needed to eat to grow up and replace lost cells. I just added onto the load, and my soul and ki went along with it without trouble.


    Diamond Vajra. Hard, hard soul. Lots of power there.


    Biological processes were doing less of the grunt work, and more of the refinement work now. My soul was infusing my entire body, which basically bypassed my nervous system, for example. This allowed me to modify my nerves to finer and finer levels, giving ever-increasing levels of control. It also meant you could shatter my back and I could still move normally, since nerves weren''t necessary to transmit movement information, they only helped coordinate it.


    My blood was also being circulated continuously by my Vajra, instead of by heartbeats. Oh, it was still there as a backup and juicer, but my heart was more of a confluence of major veins and arteries, like a highway intersection, rather then something absolutely essential, now. More oxygen exchange was taking place around the lungs then in the aorta, and the beat of my heart was very slow and relaxed.


    My second heart was basically forming between the blood vessels going to my lower body, increasing circulation there, becoming the place where building block materials were whisked into and out of the bloodstream to and from the rest of the body. It didn''t beat, purely there for exchange of oxygen and stuff, although my Vajra centered on it as a point of energy.


    In short, if a doctor were to go looking for my heartbeat, they''d think I was almost dead and wonder how I was even walking around.


    Most of my autonomic functions had moved out of my brain and were dispersed in redundant nodes throughout my body. I had key memory backups inside my bones, and stretching out into the akasha, with cross-linked cells and alternate pathing.


    While I had human genetics, someone looking at my insides would have thought I was an alien.


    I exhaled long and low as I completed my meditation-cum-period of evolutionary advancement.


    Tremble was up on a pole, standing guard with a broader field of view. That view was very depressing, but the fact was there wasn''t a lot of cover without the mist, and with a decent amount of height, my Sword could see the whole valley.


    "Sama?" Tremble asked, slowly pulling out of the pole and floating down to me.


    I blinked, smiled, and then frowned.


    "Tremble?" I asked, lifting an eyebrow, as the Sword floated down next to me.


    "Sama, I¡­" the Sword trailed off.


    My Sword didn''t sound like a him. I just looked at it for a long moment.


    "Are you her?" I asked finally, swiping at the mess that was half of my face.


    "I think so?" she replied, sounding somewhat relieved at the dry lack of hostility in my voice. My Soul was driving her existence, so it wasn''t like I could hide much in the way of my emotions from her, and I didn''t bother.


    "Mmmm. Well, that''s a Good Thing. You seemed like a pretty nice person, all things considered. Tremble was basically made out of energies stolen from the Curse, and a portion of my Soul¡­ just like you. It would only make sense that you would have harmony with it, and when the Curse failed, you would go there." I took another deep breath. "How much do you remember?"


    "I remember everything from Nightmare. My life¡­ the details from Nightmare seem like an awful mirror that I don''t recall the exact details of¡­"


    "Do you recall your name?"


    "No¡­" she answered, a little sadly. "But given who I was, was a construct of the Curse, I don''t really want to¡­" Floating there, she shifted slightly. "You know you don''t look like I did?" she abruptly spoke up.


    "That surprises you?" I asked archly.


    She somewhat taken aback at how blas¨¦ I was. "Well, yes¡­"


    "I don''t look like you remember, because you looked like I was supposed to. I¡­ look like you were supposed to." I could almost feel her blink. "Remember, the Curse ate me and turned itself to look like me. If there were no Curse of the Hag, what do you suppose you would have looked like?" I poked at the right side of my face. "The same as any person, the product of the woman Hagmom was born as, and whoever our father was, complete with your own soul. And as you know, shapeshifters largely revert to their original forms once they die, for all intents and purposes¡­"


    "I¡­ so you took my body, even as I took yours?"


    "You didn''t have a soul. As soon as my soul was taken, this body became mine. The Curse is just a veil over the soul beneath. It would have taken your identity from you as surely as it stole my soul, because this body was born without a soul. Fuck the Curse." I held out my fist.


    She swung a quillon to meet it. "Fuck the Curse!" she said with surprising venom. "It-it took everything¡­"


    "Yes. That''s what it does. That is what Evil does, and The Curse of the Hag is one of the greatest Evils to assail the human race that exists. It transcends worlds, dimensions, divine realms of authority. Virtually any place that has magic suffers the Curse, like little ink spots upon a map of Creation, seeds of corruption and darkness that grow without need of the Divine or the Damned to exert themselves. The Hags guide people into Darkness, and Evil prospers."


    "And we haven''t even found Hagmom yet," she hissed. "I want to kill her so bad¡­"


    "I''d say get in line, but you''re probably going to be first," I drawled back, and she hummed in happy anger, planning her revenge. "In the meantime, we can get satisfaction in undoing something they did, returning purity to the land, and burning away the corruption they sowed over so long."


    "That sounds both soooo boring, and satisfying anyways."


    "It''s fine. I still need to grow up. We''ve many long years ahead of us."


    She waggled in the air. "You say that with some meaning behind it¡­"


    I waggled my black nails, and grinned to show the double canines, licking them for emphasis. "Hags don''t have a maximum age."


    "Maximum age?" She thought that over. "Wait, so you won''t really grow old?"


    "Correct. I may get more and more wrinkled from the trials and tribulations, but physically, I''ll never really get old, I''ll just keep getting closer and closer to middle-aged." I reached out and tinged her. "Just like all you have to fear is wear, tear, and rust."


    "Wow." She spun around slowly. "I-I hadn''t thought about that¡­"


    "Aye. So when I say we have time, we have time. Now, others may not have time, but that''s a different story." I gazed up at the descending arc of the silver moon overhead. "Know the Salute to the Silver Queen?"


    She was caught off-guard. "I think I''ve heard it, but I can''t remember the words¡­"


    "How about I teach you? After all, She can hear you, and if she can hear you, she can hear me if I sing with you¡­"


    "Ohhh¡­ yes, please!" she said eagerly.


    It wasn''t long before a clear duet rang out over the inky waters, which seemed to roil a bit and draw back at the sound of a blessed tribute to the Silver Queen. Tremble''s singing voice was crystalline, with a stereo effect that Sylune had likely never heard from this world, and our combined modifier would be about +30 or so¡­ or better music then the vast majority of beings would ever have heard in their life, even in a magical land.


    -----


    We would sing the Salute to the Silver Queen as midnight came, we would sing the Salute to Aru as the morning came, the Salute to Mithar as the sun rose to its high, and the Salute to Aethra as the sun hit the western horizon and the evening breezes rose up.


    In between, it was anything we could come up with, as appropriate for the situation. Tremble never got tired of singing, and picked up new tunes at the drop of a hat, too. She was very good with visual and audio effects to go along with things, especially with our song. Although she couldn''t replicate a profound instrument''s play, helping the songs along wasn''t a problem at all.


    Naturally I had no instruments unless I chose to make one, and given that I could sing for a couple months without repeating a song, and developing my lungs and breath control was a thing I didn''t mind working with, trying to assemble a proper fiddle was pretty low on my list of priorities.


    Summer passed by and the cool of autumn and multicolored leaves blown in from different places on the mountain, slowly arrived.

 38 Chapter Thirty-Eight – Stepping into Six

    Three more days to Impervious.


    Nine days to Slot Drei for Shielding use. Two more days for Armory, another two days for Defiant/Giants, and we were in business.


    Tremble now had 66 or so Hardness against damage, and was in no danger of being sundered by giants who weren''t using an anvil and hammer to try and break him. Accordingly, I could use him as a Parry Shield against their weapons, and suddenly my tankiness in non-ambush combat spiked a lot.


    The mobile constructs went away. In their place were a dozen lovingly stuffed dolls, a rocking horse, and some wooden soldiers in family colors in the corner, standing guard.


    The opening fight became a whole lot deadlier, as boneless lions, bears, tigers, wolves, dragons, and so on came for the fight, every bit as strong as their living counterparts, and fully capable of everything they were while not being restricted by unimportant things like a skeleton''s range of motion. None of them were smaller than a rhino, either.


    Naturally, the nutcracker soldiers turned out to be golems, of wood, stone, and iron, respectively, and moving much faster then those things were supposed to.


    The rocking horse was a magnificent black unicorn that could fence with its horn like a master duelist made of ebonwood, stepping free of the arcs of its rocker with a haughty air that being made of stained blackwood didn''t affect in the slightest.


    Needless to say, my opening fight was now much more exciting then it used to be.


    The spiders were replaced by bigger spiders¡­ being ridden by black-skinned hatchet-faced goblin imps with bows and spears. Oh, and with iron cleavers on their front legs, too. Because, why not? What were physics and strength/mass ratios in a magical reality, let alone a dream?


    The mammoth-sized mother spider with a howdah of archers and jeering goblin chieftain throwing poisoned javelins at me I could have done without, too.


    Slinky became Slinkies, six of them being ridden by thornbyte faeries with endless amounts of throwing spikes to hurl my way.


    Fido got a playmate, who happened to be an oversized Canian Warhound, and also happened to look like a white poodle, doo and all. Spitting Hellrime, of course. The feral wolfkin riding them were all about the claws and teeth, too. Still, their poodle doo''s were perfect when they trotted in to play.


    This Cursed Dream, where did it find a dog groomer?


    The rats were still there, but now they were cranial rats, a hivemind species with psychic mind-blasting powers, commanded by a two-headed version with basically unlimited mindblasts to ply. Telekinetic fun and mind-ripping for the funsies, it was.


    Night-time changed, too.


    Since the spectres, wraiths, and shadows were basically helpless against me now, they went away. They were replaced by fey bogeymen, four-legged predachi daemons, vampires, and Night Hunter werebats, all assassin-types trying very hard to ambush me from the shadows.


    The ghosts were replaced by skeleton knights. The witchfires were relieved by Annis Hags. The banshees stuck around, except they started hurling necroic rays in imitation of the witchfires. Sisters hanging with, doncha'' know.


    Oh, did I mention they all became Olympian? Sure I did. They all doubled in size, gained four to eight hit dice, size bonuses to damage and such, and had great fun with me.


    Oh, and then there was that damn grimm. Only one a day for now, but it spawned sometime during the night, and could attack any time during it, usually when I was beset by other enemies and it could do the most damage.


    It was a fey thing made for killing other fey, but it made a great sneak attacker for anything else, and it was endlessly opportunistic. Given how much the combat wore down my Soak despite my best efforts, it would never attack until I had been hacked down into my Health, and then it piled on as best it could, stealing quite a lot of kills from the others¡­ until I began to lure it in by letting Health damage pop up and then murdered it with extreme prejudice.


    I got very artistic when it came to killing grimm. Tremble also got very good at sensing their presence, as they threw out more raw Evil then most Fiends.


    I got in a ton of combat experience, and that was no lie. Happily, there were no over-juiced spellcasters in these initial spawns, they were intended to wear me down and make it harder for me to leave the room.


    They worked. Without being able to get Tremble to a Neun Slot, I wouldn''t have any form of active healing, although Vampiric was still an option, heh. 40 points for Lesser Vampiric, another 100 points for the standard, being slowly worked in over eight days into Arsenal II, but only two days for the I. Not continuous, but better than nothing.


    More endurance and healing, extending out that pool of Health and Soak that was my staying power.


    The Slinkies were soon swapped out for Ironjaw Stalkers, a metal-eating bunch of Hellborn pseudo-cats from the rusting eternal battlefields of Acheron. Someone didn''t like my Sword getting stronger. Tremble sniggered and insulted them unendingly as they attempted to chomp on him, and for their trouble had their jaws sliced off. Their Barbed Devil handlers weren''t happy to see that, but they were even less happy when it happened to them and their thorny hides.


    ------


    But finally, the long list of Masteries I had to click over to /3 ended, and I hit Six.


    Six was a Power Feat level, Power Mastery Level, and what followed would be a lot of hitting Four on my Secondary Classes. Some key Feats and Techniques had Resolve II as a pre-req, too.


    My Inherent Con bonus from Forsaken had maxed out at +5. Now the Wisdom bonus side kicked in, at +1.


    Training Technique, Combat Genius: +1 to your numbers for Melee Trainings and Resolve, but couldn''t exceed the max by Class. Req Int 16, Wis 14, Combat Expertise, max Martial Lore, Weapon Focus in at least three weapons, Weapon Spec, and Natural Weapon Talent wielder, and a Melee-centric Title. Between Levels 17-19, you had to choose to turn it into a +1 bonus for one of the three focuses, not that most people would ever get there. Yeah, how''s that for pre-reqs!


    So, Resolve now +3, Armor and Weapon Training +2.


    Click that advance on Sword Mastery/2, to Increased Threat, and Spec doubled it to Increased Critical. Coupled with Extraordinary Weapon Prof, now a 20% threat range with a x4 critical mod.


    Combat Technique, Mitharn Technique. Served as Shield Focus, and started advancing me up the Shield pathway, removing the dupes of that from my Inspiration. Gave access to Way of the Shield, Sword and Board, and Eternal Shield Masteries. More levers to click.


    Bonus Combat Technique, Way of Water II, Lake and Stream. Now +4 to hit vs Armor and Natural Armor.


    With one level, my bonus To-Hit had increased by +5, damage by +2.


    Waveskating Step improved with MAB, was now at +20, Fleet''s fast movement was at +15. I was scooting around at 75'' now, or basically about twice as fast as a good runner, with much better cornering then Giants had.


    Resolve increasing to +3 meant two more Skill Points per level, two more Class skills, two more primary weapons (Hammer, Spear), two more Vigor and Inspiration uses per day, Inspire for an additional two Feats, and my Vigor both cleared off more hostile conditions and I now healed temporary damage at a point per minute. Still not hugely impressive, because one minute of combat could easily take out an hour of healing, but over the long term it would be quite impressive.


    Alchemist and Gemcutter became Class Skills, so Cunning would apply to them. Extra Skill points brought them and Gearsmith to 6 Ranks, among the others I had locked in as my base at Five. Profound Artisan improved by two Skills, to +26.


    My Fort Save went up by +2 (Weapon Training), my Will Save by +3 (Resolve), Reflex by +2 (Armor Training), and Dodge by +1.


    In addition, Health +1, Soak +22, Null +3, to 74, 175, and 32, respectively. My cockroach-ness was growing.


    Today was also the day I donned a broad crossbelt, with a sheathe on the back for Tremble, who could morph down to dagger-size now. It was embroidered with threads made from giant sinews and ivory studs from giant teeth, and it gave me a Strength of 22, all my MAB of +6 could handle¡­ and meant I didn''t have to use Weapon Finesse anymore.


    It also meant, combined with my Philospher''s Might, I had an effective Might of 30¡­ quadrupled by Giant''s Power. With an Impervious Weapon, just watch how I parried swords weighing more than I did now!


    I was now working on a Warding Soulstone, an item that would basically gather what I was expending on Soulwarding and extend it to Mindwarding and Bodywarding. It was much cheaper then doing it straight as an Insight bonus, because it required the Feats and the Essence to function.


    I also had new Bracers, reshaped by Tremble''s flames in Firephasing, and would be slowly improving them as giants coughed up dream gold or magic stuff for me. Adding in a Force Armor bonus would result in all sorts of good stuff¡­ for me. They were going to find it a nightmare.


    My playmates today were going to have so much fun.


    ----------------


    I killed the Mother today.


    This damn dream. She was a dream replica of the woman who was supposed to have been MY mother, and I was being forced to fight her and kill her repeatedly.


    Her spells were only half successful when Tremble was Guarding, and she couldn''t catch me in AoE''s then, either. Instead, she now patently and impossibly Summoned in Olympian bears to block me, and assailed me with impossibly boosted Shards while I had to hack through the Summoning magic, then the lions she brought in behind them, then the Wall of Ice she used to seal off most of the corridor.


    I hewed through the magic and dissolved through them all. I couldn''t slice spells out of the air yet, or she wouldn''t have had any chance at all against me. Still, she couldn''t stop me, and had to rely on the guards racing up from below to forestall them.


    I didn''t let them, disengaging and charging her down the length of the wall.


    Tremble did a LOT of damage on the charge with Valor, but the problem is that I had to break her buffs, including the Stoneskin effect that completely soaked five hits in normal circumstances. Pierce Magical Defenses took care of it, but meant I couldn''t just charge in and kill her instantly.


    However, at Six my Null also expanded out from my skin if I let it, meaning she couldn''t Cast when I was hanging onto her face and hacking at her throat.


    She also had a copious amount of health Qi. I kicked off her right into the face of one of the giants coming up to help her out, clearing the sword he wasn''t ready to use while I was putting bloody gashes in her face and throat, and he instead inherited Tremble in his eye, right to the damn hilt this time.


    His head weighed more then I did, but the instant death did convulse him backwards as he tried to retreat. I rode him down as the giants all cried out, and then charged her again.


    I went up the wall with Dragon Walk, and had no trouble reaching her throat as I came in from an unexpected angle. The Shards slammed into me and hurt like a bastard right through my Force Resistance, but couldn''t stop her from getting her throat opened wide.


    There was a shout of shock and outrage behind her, and I got my first look at who should have my dad. Blond hair and full mustache, military-style suit, complete with sash and medals and high cavalry boots. Probably something that made a big impression on the Curse, I guessed, because that simply wasn''t right for first thing in the morning, and it was the first time I''d seen him.


    They were giving me no time to loot her, but I could at least grab that Wand. The noble Dad yet ignored his dying wife, since his primary purpose was like everyone else, to kill me, and he went right to it.


    So, I ran away from him, towards Guard Five, who was just coming up the stairs.


    Guard Five had no luck at all, as I bounced off the wall, sliding his sword along Tremble, and slowed his swing so that it drove into the wall behind me, instead of cutting through. Then I jumped past his shoulder, and half-severed his neck in passing. I hit the ground behind him as the Dad slammed him out of the way, shouting at me to stop.


    In reply, I leapt fifteen feet into the air, landing easily on the guardrail, and zipped down the wood, sliding down it easily on my Waveskating Steps.


    His hacking blow came a little late, but his hand grabbing and wrenching with inappropriate strength was not, ripping the rail out of its sockets and trying to imbalance me as he twisted it.


    I played log-rolling as I continued to descend, and then simply jumped away as I hit my ten-meter threshold, doing a full layout somersault, hitting the ground in a skid and skate that curled away from the stairs and back under the balcony.


    He jumped down from the stairs, completely ignoring that with weighing that much his ankles should shatter like twigs, oh no, physics is waving from the coffee lounge, yessir, fake Dad giant trying to kill me.


    But he was going to have some real problems now. Because I was really hard to hit, and this audience/ballroom ahead of me gave me lots of room to move.


    It also gave a lot of room for about twenty richly dressed giants of both sexes to stand around in, who I impossibly didn''t see until I crossed the threshold of the place and skidded to a stop.


    "Welp," I managed to say, as all their heads turned around at the same moment and fixed on me.


    "This is going to be exciting," Tremble murmured, as I chopped the wand-staff in half, and he sucked it into his Hilt Chamber.


    "That''s one word for it!" I grimaced, turned around at dream Dad charging toward me, ignoring the sound of weapons and spells humming behind me, and ran for the edge of the door and cover before the world totally exploded around me.


    "Did you see how much bling they have?!" Tremble crowed, as I slid under the corner of a cabinet, and the dishes within and the fine woodwork were hacked to bits by the Dad.


    "I did!"


    "I''ll snatch as I can, but it might be a little dicey!" I drew a three-inch deep cut across the back of the Dad''s hand, he swore and swiped at me, I did splits as I jumped over his arm and slashed across his midriff, opening a gash nearly six feet long as I tumbled by. His jacket was cut open, his ribbon cut apart, and his shirt hanging open, the white of it getting a little red now.


    I have to admit I found the looks on their faces pretty funny as I parried and deflected the blades that weighed more then I did, and were over twice as long as I was tall, and of course I glided about and moved with a speed and agility I''m sure the looming giants thought was rather disconcerting.


    The amount of pressure I could withstand with Tremble was impressive. With my Philosopher''s Might, I was nearly as powerful as they were, if not so mighty. I seemed to avoid their blows by millimeters, and when I hit¡­ I hit with incredible force and accuracy.


    If I charged them, it was often fatal.


    They looked like a bunch of people trying to hit an extraordinarily evasive rat. Their blows weren''t hammering fast, but they were One Strikes, bringing with them incredible damage that would overwhelm all defenses if they hit, and they were both incredibly accurate and with overwhelming power behind them.


    That I wasn''t dead yet was completely astonishing them. The fact I could last this long was astonishing me too, because a single solid hit evaporated a third or more of my Soak, and a crit would probably one-shot me.


    But in the meantime, I was definitely doing the ducking and dodging thing, and the giants were hampered by their own size in dealing with me.


    What took me down in the end was casting. They could still burn very unfairly through my Null half the time, even in Guardian mode, and eventually they managed to restrict my movements with enough Summons that I simply couldn''t avoid all the attacks coming in from different directions, and was cut apart, one hit blowing through all my Health and straight to death.


    Meh.

 39 Chapter Thirty-Nine - Erlking Noir Rabe

    Hoofbeats?


    And not just one or two. They didn''t sound metallic, so they weren''t shoed, but they were extremely uninterested in hiding their presence.


    Unshorn meant they weren''t something being ridden, and weren''t conventional military. They could be a herd, but no wild herd of anything was going to advance into this place past the skeleton sitting in the waters there burning vivic to cleanse the corruption trying to ooze out into the world beyond.


    Intelligent hooved creatures not smart enough to wear shoes. Mmm. That sounded like fey of one kind or another. Why would they be coming here?


    I heaved the boulder on my shoulder up onto the mound there, glanced down the valley towards the entryway, where a dark blur of bodies in motion was streaming in.


    Winter had come, the harsh breath of mountain cold settling across the valley with the first fanciful crystals of frost here and there. I enjoyed the briskness of it, but it did almost nothing to the valley, with the ink-black waters of the swamp remaining unfrozen, and even the layer of blackened rocks around it undisturbed, as if the chill wasn''t cold enough to do anything¡­ par for the course when dealing with negative energies. There was only a mild layer of dark wisps of steam rising off it when the sun shone down on it, that was all.


    Still smelled like wet rot and an open grave, too.


    I wandered down into the inky black waters, my Vajra keeping them from touching me, swimming down to one of the mounds of stones stacked up in the deeper parts of the original river. Rocks weighing anywhere from five hundred to a thousand pounds were mounded up here, pushing up the bottom of the river and broadening it out to form the swamp.


    There was a lot of them, but I was patient and had time.


    I grabbed one about as tall as I was, threw it on my shoulder, and trudged back up the shallow incline. Nails, Vajra, and Waveskating Step meant I had absolute traction in the water, so I wasn''t scared of slipping or anything.


    I hauled myself up along the incline, broke the water''s surface and sloughed the syrupy corruption off of me, made it to shore, advanced another hundred feet to the mound I was building up there, and with a heave, tossed the boulder up over the top to the far side with a loud crunch.


    One more down. I turned around and headed back down to the waters again.


    "Young miss, a moment of your time?"


    The voice was both amused and interested. I glanced over in its direction.


    He was riding a black tiger that was six feet at the shoulder, black with white stripes, and with canines a good foot long. He had that narrow, severe kind of handsomeness you find in guys with an eternal stick up their ass, a definite aura of command and power, and a pull on the magic that was ruffling the edges of my Null.


    Black hair, black eyes glittering with sharpness, and two darkly glossy wings that looked more like a cape sitting behind him. He was wearing wooden armor of extremely fancy design, had a long straight sword at his hip, also made of wood, and a bow and spear riding on the saddle of the over-sized Dire Kitten underneath him.


    I was familiar with this kind of fellow. Pop that overly decorated crow-motif helm, and he''d have feathers instead of hair, all as glossy black as his wings.


    An erlking. Well, wonder what the local fey overlord wanted here?


    "There''s a lot of work to do. What do you want?" I snapped back, crossing my arms and facing him.


    He just blinked at me, as did his tiger. There were shuffling sounds all around, as the centaurs and satyrs who''d come with him did something between coughing, inhaling, and laughing, with the latter trying to get a closer look at me, and seeming rather put out by my total Nothing To See Here chest.


    However, he had just seen me toss a three hundred kilo rock five meters into the air, so he wasn''t going to take things just on looks. He did glance at my waist, and figured out where the strength came from, but the glowing Tats on my arms unsettled him.


    "I would like to know what happened here recently." He waved his hand imperiously, indicating the whole of the valley.


    "Who are you, again?" I asked suspiciously, squinting at him. He blinked again, and leaned forwards.


    "That belt may make you strong, child, but have a care."


    I leaned forward, too. "That kitten may make you look pompous, erlking, but go swimming in the swamp and in twelve hours you''ll be a batch of slime dripping off black bones." All in utterly perfect Fey, of course.


    He blinked as I began to slide down the slope, as if it were slick ice. His troops didn''t gather in behind me fast enough, and I hit the water, leaned back, and bloop, was out of sight.


    Some of them went splashing after me like idiots, but I was already well out of reach and heading down for another rock.


    A few minutes later I walked back up out of the water with another big stone on my shoulder. The hoof-boys got out of my way again as I walked forwards, up to the big stack of rocks, and tossed it on the top.


    This time, they did close in behind me and the water, with spears and bows ready. I walked straight towards them without the slightest sign of fear.


    "Permit me to introduce myself," the erlking spoke up sharply, and the hoof-boys drew back as the big tiger stepped forwards. "I am Noir Rabe, erlking of the realm of Iacaein, in whose shadow this Valley rests. I am come here to investigate what has become of the prior owners of this place, and return it to the proper authority of My Lady''s throne."


    "Oh, now you have MANNERS." I dusted off my gloved hands, uncaring where the satyrs were looking, as I was topless. Stones weighing almost ten times what I did didn''t care about cotton or leather, and I couldn''t ward them from continuous contact if they were on my shoulders.


    Undaunted meant I wasn''t afraid of public nudity, either. I still had on a skirt, going with my Girdle, and Tremble was remaining silent and very observant on her back-sheath.


    "I am Sama Rantha. Welcome to¡­ whatever you want to call this sludge-hole of a valley, Erlking Noir Rabe." I gave him a slight bow. "I am afraid the prior owners are either absent or dead at this time.


    "If you are seeking their counsel or adversity, I am afraid it will be rather difficult. The Annis Tusk Annie is still absent and has not returned, and the greenhag, the shellycoat, the Unseelie Nymph, and the troll hag are all dead. The Shrine to Ruilvei has been destroyed, the thirteen loci of the Covern''s wards have been sundered, and twenty-six Hag''s Eyes in place around the valley have been shattered.


    "Vivic fonts have been put in place at head and foot of the Valley to contain the corruption here. Steps are currently being taken to reduce the amount of filler placed into the waters and reduce the swamp back down to a straight-flowing stream, but the work is going slowly.


    "The remaining above-water necrotic presences have been eliminated, as have any other maleficent corrupting influences, save for the Henge upon its isle there, which remains intact for lack of proper tools to deal with it.


    "Unfortunately, the swamp water retains its corruptive influence, as you might surmise by the lack of waves, leaves, insects, or ice. Merely stepping on the black stones infects your feet with a rotting disease which will soon have you cutting off your own feet if you wish to live ¨C " I completely ignored the bleats of alarm that arose at these words, "-while actually entering the water is going to rot away the body parts that made contact within it within twelve hours."


    His black eyes were wide and sharp as he looked over the hoof-boys, who were all quite aghast. More of them starting shouting when a quick examination revealed the faint black spots already starting to develop on their fur.


    "Is there a cure to this infection¡­ Sama Rantha?" he added on the end hastily.


    I debated being a total douche, and just sniffed. "Go to the clear waters there and remain in them until the vivic fires stop burning on you. And don''t walk on the damn black stones or go into the water."


    He paused a moment, then waved his arm sharply. Like a flowing tide of brown, the army of a hundred or so hoof-boys raced for the small area of clear water cleansed by the headwaters font I''d made from the rusalka''s corpse over there.


    And I headed back down into the waters to go get another stone.


    ---


    When I came back up, the tiger was gone to join the others in washing off its feet. His erlking rider was crouched on a rock like a waiting crow, watching me walk up, past him, deliver my load, and head on back down.


    "A further moment of your time, Sama Rantha?" he asked with precise formality.


    I rolled my eyes. "Erlking Nori Rabe?" I replied, with the same tone and mindset.


    "You are the get of Tusk Annie?" he asked me directly.


    "I am an Annis Hagchild, and my Hagmother is Tusk Annie," I corrected him evenly. I had no problem keeping his eyes, and I could tell he was surprised how difficult it was to keep mine.


    "And are you the one who disposed of the Hags, their minions, and their works?" he asked archly.


    I saw no reason to deny it. If he chose to take offense, I was going to have crow for lunch, and get me a wonderful tiger blanket. "I am."


    He stared at me for a long moment, so I turned and headed back down to the water. I think he was off-put by just how little face I was giving him, and wasn''t sure how to react.


    "Perhaps we might be able to discuss more things at length?" he called after me.


    I waved in a certain direction. "Consider yourself a guest. I live over that way. However, I have no food and nothing to drink but purified rainwater."


    His eyes flashed. Guest-right and host were powerful traditions among the Fey. They didn''t have laws, but their traditions were often harsher and crueler. We would be safe from one another if he took me up on the offer¡­ and he had an inkling that being safe from me might actually be a thing.


    "I shall await you there when you are done with your labors."


    I waved him off and dove back down into the swamp.


    ----------------


    I kept him waiting several hours, and he perched on a stone outcropping to watch me haul out the bigger stones one by one. I ended the process hurling a few tons of the smaller rocks out from the waters in a relentless five minute rain of head-sized rocks crashing down on the shoreline, prompting centaurs and satyrs to keep a safe distance from the bouncing mini-boulders.


    I then walked up out of the water, tracking down the rocks I''d hurled out, and sent them whistling upslope as easily as golf balls, bouncing off the walls to the cliff and falling down on top of the mound I was building there. I kicked a few of them too, and any satyrs that had fancy ideas about propositioning me hastily decided otherwise when a couple of the rocks exploded into shards against the cliffs.


    The day''s good labor done, I headed back for the Shrine, my impromptu forge, and the Erlking who glided down to await me there.

 40 Chapter 40 – Secondary Stat Blas

    Death by Jotuns and spells continued as I kept up exploring the house and altering my tactics to limit the number of giants I had to face at any one time. The guests in the ball room would turn into reinforcements with a suitable shout from Dad the Duke, but only the men, and only a few at a time¡­ although if they saw a carpet of dead giants in front of them, their shouts for aid got really sharp.


    I confirmed that if I took bling from them, it wasn''t there my next time through the place, especially since I burned it all as fast as I could.


    I was lasting longer and longer as I fought. Although they still dealt immense amounts of damage if they hit me, they were getting less and less able to hit me. I was getting better at hit and runs, making it hard for the Casters to keep line of sight on me, and alpha-striking whenever I got an opening.


    Tremble was getting really good at looting on the fly, too. One Prestidigitation cantrip, and a golden medal, ring, necklace, earring, or whatnot would fly into his Hilt Chamber for later burning. I didn''t bother to get it all at one time, since I would get it all eventually.


    But the big reason was that I was getting my Level Four in Secondary Classes.


    I''d taken my Expert/6, and basically just dumped all 8 Skill Points into the knowledge skills to keep Courtier of Death going, and moved on. The advance went to Resistance/2, which meant Null +1.


    Level Four was the level we got Stat choices. Being Sustained meant I got Sustained Effort, which reflected the Stat bonuses across the mental/physical divide.


    The three best classes for gaining Stats were Monk, then Melee and Scout. Monk gave you your choice, then your lowest physical and mental Stat, and then your lowest Stat, resulting in extremely solid fundamentals, even if you dumped Charisma or something.


    Melee and Scout gave you choice, and then lowest physical and mental. Archer gave you choice, and then lowest Stat. The remaining classes just gave you choice.


    But when you have a lot of Classes, and Sustained Effort, that''s a rather large number of Stats, building up your weak spots and making them strong, even if they don''t overpower your main Stat.


    Furthermore, Stats in Secondary Classes had to be in the prime requisite of the Class, so the ''choice'' option, actually wasn''t.


    Naturally, there were minor Class abilities, and more importantly, more Skill Points, and Skills that would feed Profound Artisan.


    So, taking my Monk/4. Four Skill Points, which became Meditation +2 and Concentration +2, both getting to 6 Ranks. This was the entire basis the Moon and Sun combat styles were based on, trying NOT to associate them with martial mastery was impossible. PA to +30.


    +1 Ki. Centered Mind gives a ki-boosted enhancement against enchantment spells, not as much a problem here, and a Ki Feat that was doubled for Forsaken. I picked Tiger Leap for +10 to all jump distances, including vertical, as long as I had at least 10 ki unspent, and Way of Fire II, Spreading Inferno, for all those much-too agile non-giants I was running across and needed to kill faster.


    Advance went to Strength Mastery/1. It was the only Stat I hadn''t Mastered up yet, and since it had to be done with a Class level, Monk was fine.


    Stats. +1 to Wisdom, mandatory. +1 to Con, Sustained. +1 to Str, and Cha. +1 to Cha, and Str. +1 to Str, and Cha.


    All my dump Stats were no longer dump Stats. I couldn''t say I minded, especially since higher strength/weight ratio felt just awesome. At a 16 Strength on my own, I was as strong as the most sturdily naturally-built full-grown women, without being nearly as broadly built.


    It was only going to get better, and I was looking forward to it. Being short didn''t matter all that much if I was also strong!


    ---


    Scout and Archer followed after more deaths. Scout was Dex +1, Sustained Int +1. Then Wis (Con) +1, and Str (Cha) +1. 21, 19, 19, 31, 17, and 20, in order.


    Ten Skill points, two Talents, Uncanny Dodge (hard to flank). First Talent went to Way of Shadow II, Comes Darkness, raising my Sneak Attack damage to +6d6.


    Ten Skill points went to Disable Device, Open Locks, Bluff, Sense Motive, and Ride, raising all to 6 from 4 Ranks. Sense Motive was designated a Class Skill with my Int raise, so as to get the Cunning Bonus.


    Bluff and Sense Motive were Skills that could directly affect combat, the one through Feinting and the other through seeing through those Feints and being able to assess your opponent accurately. PA to +34. Ride was also a combat skill, but the bonus would only be given when riding, naturally. +2 higher ground bonus instead of +1, and the normal +2 damage.


    Archer/4, 4 Skill Points. Advance to Str/3, +1 Strength. Weapon Mastery for Crossbows +1, doubled by Spec to +2, despite me not ever holding one yet in Dream. Bonus Archery Technique, Rapid Fire Technique. Bonus Archery Feat, Zen Archery II, The Arrow Finds the Path.


    +1 to Dex, and Int, to 22/20, and +1 to Wis/Con, 20/32. Skill points to Bowyer/Fletcher and Survival, +2 each to 6 Ranks.


    The extra 6 Skill Ranks from Int rising to 20 went into languages, I don''t even remember which ones, because that made ten of them, which meant I could take Polyglot with the bonus Talent and basically learn them all upon being exposed to them within minutes.


    Health +2 to 77. Soak +7 to 190. Fort Save to 25, Will Save to 17, Reflex to 17. Null +1 to 35, Ki +1 to 38, Ess +1 to 35, Vajra to 35/73.


    And I still had Artificer, Alchemist, Minstrel, Soulshaper, and Vizard to take. +1 Int/Dex, +1 Int/Dex, +1 Cha/Str, +1 Con/Wis, and +1 Int/Dex, respectively. Power Feats and Power Masteries to click over. Just taking Roll With It got my DR up to 7/-, which was nothing to Giants, but damn incredible to normal folks.


    My ending Stat line was something like Str 19, Int 23, Wis 21 Dex 25 Con 32 Cha 21, with Leadership/3 providing the extra Charisma point.


    My AC had climbed significantly. The Giants now could only basically hit me with a surround and a whole lot of effort. My Null was now at 35, spiking 43 with Guardian, and the spells that used to punch 75% of the time were now hitting less than a third of the time.


    I also finished the Ward Stone, which brought my Saves up as Soulwarding was reflected across Mind and Bodywarding. +3 was nothing to sneeze at. Their AoE effects were basically useless, as were basically all their mental/charm attacks.


    I explored the whole house by dint of hacking my way through it, and giants following me and trying to kill me the whole time.


    The well-dressed young giants were probably would-be siblings. The not-so well-dressed ones were probably their servants. There were maids and butlers and chaperones and a lot of guards, and the house would have been big even if it weren''t sized for people six times my size.


    There were dogs and cats and more rat swarms, an ooze the size of a room in the garbage disposal, killer canaries and parrots that could give giant eagles the stink-eye, animated suits of giant armor, a man-eating rug in the study, a tome formation in the library that killed with a thousand paper-cuts, glass golems made from the windows in the ball room, a golem full of alchemicals in the lab, paintings that spit out the creatures portrayed on them, and let''s not get into the animated cutlery in the kitchen¡­


    There were sixty-two giants in total in the household to dispose of. It took me thirty more deaths to kill them all.


    And then, it was time to go outside.

 41 Chapter 41 – Tremble an Erlking

    Erlking Noir Rabe had taken the only available seat, just a boulder I''d cut in two to form a rough seat, and he''d located the water jug and a carved stone goblet to drink from it with. He was eyeing the subtle designs on the cup when I came up.


    It was QL 32, worthy of being used by a king, so yeah, it had caught his eye.


    He was polite enough to stand as I arrived back, I waved him back down, and pulled a leather apron made from Jotun skin off a hook to cover my NTSH''s and tied it on.


    "Like I said, I have no food. I fish out of the upstream when I''m hungry, and that''s about it. I don''t eat anything out of the swamp, of course."


    "Of course." He seemed slightly amused, and a bit startled, when I pushed the floating mithral disk, and a fire lit up on it. Then I grabbed a hammer off a stone rack under the lean-to I''d made, and then an ingot made from smelting down every single piece of scrap iron I could find in this place. Every single piece of metal I could scavenge had been given the same treatment.


    The precious metals and gems were long gone, of course. I had used them all up some time ago.


    "So, talk, Erlking Noir Rabe." He watched me drop the ingot into the burning disk, and it began to change hue incredibly quickly as it heated up. "What else do you want to know?"


    "My Lady seeks to claim this valley, Sama Rantha," he told me gruffly.


    "Ah. So you seek to take this valley by conquest?" I asked archly.


    "Indeed." He leaned forwards warily.


    "Well, that''s awesome." He blinked again. "I''ll pack things up and be out of here tomorrow. Anything else?"


    He seemed a bit off-put, tilting his head to the side sharply. "You do not wish to claim it for your own?"


    "Why would I want to do that? The main reason I''m sticking around is hoping my Hagmother comes back so I can feed her to the Land. If you want to stay here and get in a tussle with a legendary Hag, I''m outta here. I''ll see if I can track her down in the outside first, and you can deal with this place of shit they made, and the Hags who will inevitably come wandering in hoping to take it back."


    "I¡­ see." He waved his hand. "What of this¡­ rock-clearing, you were doing?"


    "That''s all on you now. I was going to make at least an effort to restore this place to its original natural condition." I waved my hand at it. "All yours now. Enjoy."


    The erlking had the distinct impression he had suddenly lost out a great deal on this conquest. "You are more then welcome to stay," he hedged promptly.


    "No, thank you. Being responsible was what was keeping me here, but you took over that, so it''s time to be moving on. I need to get to a trade center with the goods and materials I need to do proper work." I reached into the flames, plucked out the cherry-red piece of steel, stepped over to the anvil, and held it down with my fingers as I began to pound.


    The erlking prepared himself for the crushing sound of impact at close range¡­ and instead flinched when he heard nothing at all, despite the force with which my Hammer came down. He was sure the impact should have been deafening, but instead he heard¡­ nothing at all.


    And it shocked him more when I continued talking, it wasn''t a field of magical silence. "What direction should I be heading to arrive at a proper center of trade, erlking? The bigger, the better, as it were."


    "Human lands are south and east of here. What arrangements they have made for their squalid hives I do not know nor care." His voice was flat with menace. Ah, yes, erlkings, preservers of the wild, the great defenders of the free spaces.


    "Then I''ll be out of your feathers in that direction soon enough." Hammering out a new Weapon wasn''t costing me any attention, and he was watching in fascination as the steel deformed with incredible speed under my blows. I didn''t have any problems handling the red-hot metal, or keeping it in place without tongs.


    "You are a skilled smith," he observed, with a ghost of a smile.


    "And you obviously are not, or you would have known that with a look at my tools. Not that it matters to someone whose highest aspiration is woodcarving."


    "These matters that you were addressing here¡­ what were they?" He looked a little nettled at me heaping truth upon his craftsmanship, but few Fey enjoyed working any kind of metal, let alone iron.


    "The Hags filled in much of the former river with rocks, raising the level of the water and disrupting its flow to near stagnation. The rocks I was bringing out I did so to lower the water level.


    "There are several stelae buried among the rocks which reinforce this effect, and they have to be dug out and shattered. This will slowly break the corrupting effect on the waters, and they can be vivisized without regenerating as each stelae is busted.


    "Once the stelae are gone and the river is running clear, you can start working on disassembling the Henge. That''s going to be difficult, as you have to kill all the elementals, neutralize the magic on the stones, and then pound the damn things apart with adamantine hammers before the elementals get brought back in an hour. The formation will just restore itself, so just knocking things down is worthless.


    "As you destroy each stone, the elemental bound to it will be finally released and won''t return, which makes clearing the later stones easier. Once all the stones are destroyed, you can tear up the earth, melt it to slag, purify it, and the Hags'' hold on the Valley will be broken.


    "Congratulations! I''m sure you''re just the guy to get it all done. Being able to Summon Elementals and all should speed things up immensely."


    He frowned despite himself. "This¡­ does not sound like a thing easily done."


    "Well, I don''t know how long they took setting all this up, but I was planning on at least three to five years taking it apart, maybe more. That''s a lot of stone to be moving and all, you know? But, like I said, you''ve got Elementals you can bring in, and they can get a lot of work done pretty fast.


    "Of course, you''re a warlord, and I know you like to raze and burn rather then work and cleanse, but I did all the razing, so the clean-up is all that is left¡­ and a bitch of a job it''s going to be. Thanks for taking it over for me."


    For some reason, he didn''t seem all that enthusiastic about his great conquest.


    "What is your relationship to the spawn that killed the nymph and sylph not far from here?" Given the carnal reputation of erlkings and fey in general, I was sure he knew them quite well.


    "See this remnant on the side of my face? That''s what left of the Curse of the Hag. That''s what killed them. It''s hanging around, feeding on ambient sin in the air, and naturally in a place like this it''s not going to die away.


    "I never met the ladies in question. I strangled the Curse and drove it out of my body, and this topical skin condition is the only thing that''s left. I''m not a Hag, I''ll never be a Hag, but I''m not rid of the Curse quite yet."


    He grunted. "There are some who would call you guilty, regardless."


    "Well, if they want to press their arguments, we''ll have a discussion over sharp steel, I''ll make my point, and then they''ll feed the Land. I can deal with it."


    His eyes glittered. "You seem confident of yourself, Sama Rantha."


    "Mmm. It''s a question of knowing your enemies. How many Sama Rantha''s have you fought, erlking Noir Rabe?"


    His face shifted sharply, like a watching bird. "You are the first, I must admit." He sounded wryly amused.


    "So, you have no idea what I''m actually capable of. You''ve only seen me toss stuff around using this Girdle I''m wearing, and I can carve stone, smith steel, and wade into and out of that black filth that could reduce you to slime. And maybe, somehow, I managed to wipe out a whole valley worth of Hags and their minions, despite all their curses and spells, yes?"


    He nodded slowly. "It is difficult to believe that you did it all alone," he informed me kindly.


    "Well, I never said I did it all at once. On the flip side, I know a great deal about erlkings. I know what kind of magical powers you have. I know how you like to fight. I know what kind of gear you like to carry, what kind of troops you command and lead.


    "While I was in Nightmare, I killed over a dozen erlkings." He paused despite himself, and was about to say something when I continued. "Of course, they were Olympian versions. Twice as tall as you, like Giant Erlkings, or something; stronger, tougher, meaner, and of course, all they wanted to do was kill me. Exulting in the slaughter of cities and reaping of the people who dwell in them, and all that.


    "So, if we cross swords, I''m confident of killing you, because I''ve killed stronger, tougher, meaner versions of you in Nightmare, as well as the armies they led, which were also Olympian versions of satyrs, centaurs, and other Fey.


    "You might be able to surprise me with some individual idiosyncrasies, but I''m confident in killing you because I''ve killed things like you before, killed them repeatedly, and kept right on going. Nightmare has no mercy, so neither did I."


    He stared at me for long moments, balancing his expectations against my words, and not liking where they were going. My hammer had never stopped moving, as metal was folded, beat down, and folded again, beat down again, before finally going back into the fire.


    "Impressive. If that is a boast, I can find no fault in it."


    "There''s a song that goes with it. You''ll probably recognize it."


    "Oh?" He smiled thinly. "How so?"


    "Because powerful fey dying in Dream broadcast their deaths to their fellows. You''ll probably recognize it, because I sang it as I killed those erlkings and their armies and their Ladies."


    I saw his finger twitch. Dream was not a concept realm to the Fey. It could be said they were born in Dream and came to the mortal realm from it. Death in Dream was not just words.


    "What song is this?" he asked softly, dark eyes narrowed in his pale face.


    Tremble began to beat. Tha-thump, thump thump! Tha-thump, thump-thump!


    "Came the crows, black on wing,


    Heralds of doom lead the erlking.


    Stack the carrion, pluck the eyes,


    Burn the homes, weep the skies.


    Nature''s fury, forest''s wrath,


    Chaos reaver on a bloody path.


    Crush the winds, break his wings!


    Rend his armor, cold iron sings!


    Curse his wounds, break his pride,


    Snap his sword and gut his ride!


    His bloody horde falls to ruin


    Victim of a mortal''s doing.


    Look in his eyes and scream your Name,


    Feed the Land with fey feathered flame!


    Tremble, She comes!"


    He shot to his feet so hard he would have hurt himself on the stone furniture, were he not an erlking with DR 15/magic cold iron. His face looked even more bloodless then normal, eyes even blacker, and one hand was still on the stone goblet, the other clutching the hilt of the wooden sword at his waist.


    I didn''t look up at him as I finished, and Tremble went quiet again.


    "Did you hear them screaming?" I asked conversationally, finally looking up at him. "They couldn''t believe I was killing them, either. I didn''t even come up to their waist. But they died, and they burned as I fed them to Dream. I''m not even sure if they came back as erlkings. They might have had to start all over as pixies or something after True Death got through with them. It really messes up the incarnate cycle of Fey."


    He was silent. His face was pale enough that I couldn''t tell if it went bloodless, but I didn''t much care, either.


    "Tremble, She comes¡­" he trailed off, his voice wary, but taking care not to seem tense. "I will remember those words, Sama Rantha. It is not often one hears songs of butchering erlkings."


    "And their armies."


    "And their armies," he agreed, sitting back down carefully.


    I plucked out the reheated bar, and got back to hammering. "There''s stanzas for hamadryads, dryads, satyrs, centaurs, redcaps, grimm, bogeymen, spriggans, pixies, nixies, nuckalevee, rusalka, minotaurs, manotaurs, feyhounds, bandersnatch, jub-bub birds, goblins, hobgoblins, trolls, werefolk of many kinds, feyhounds, yeth hounds, dreamsnatchers, and elementals of all kinds, among others. There''s a lot of different nightmares to kill in Dream, after all."


    "You fought against two of the Tarn? In Dream?" He was even warier.


    "Some of the hamadryads brought help along. Didn''t save them. It was them or me, and I chose me."


    "That you were capable of such things in Dream¡­ does not mean you are capable of such things here," he observed with sudden insight and an attempt to reclaim the superior position.


    "That is true." My total calm shot down the glimmer of light in his eyes. "Of course, there is the small fact that in Dream, it is very hard to Craft, loot, salvage, scavenge, and repurpose. Out here in the real world¡­ not so much."


    His eyes fell on the steel I was hammering, and he definitely flushed a bit this time.


    How long had I been here? I had definitely had time to work on a great many surprises. In Dream there were no steel mines and steel forges, no cold iron to shape and bend into killing forms with fire and hammer.


    "Truly a Hagchild, words as deadly as your mother''s."


    "You know Tusk Annie?" I was mildly surprised.


    "We have met in certain places," he acknowledged.


    "No doubt places of slaughter," I said neutrally. "I doubt you''d seek her out for wisdom, and I imagine you aren''t too willing to fill her bed, even as cute as you are."


    A muscle in his cheek ticced at the word ''cute'' juxtaposed with a Hag¡­ but hey, Fey were comfortable with the fair and the fowl¡­ er, foul, what did I know of his sexual proclivities?

 42 Chapter 42: The Great Outdoors

    I hacked up some blood, spit it out. There wasn''t much, as my Vajra did the clotting and first aid thing really quick. Heal Ranks ftw.


    They were all dead. The smell of Jotun blood permeated the whole house at this point. They and their pets littered the walls and rooms. Giant knives, forks, and spoons rested in pieces. The study and library were on fire, the animated trophies were fallen and burning.


    And I knew I still had only two minutes before something else happened.


    I had a lot of wounds, but most of them were fiery red scars from Soak getting burned, or Vigor transforming lethal injuries to walk-it-off stuff.


    I had gone through all my healing over the course of this fighting: Vigors, alchemical healing, Heart and Soul, Vampiric and Greater Vampiric via sword. Rejuvenation effects from my Sword topped had off my endurance with a couple hits. So, I wasn''t tired right now, I was just wincing because all my ribs on my left side were broken from a giant-sized roller pin catching me here in the kitchen, and I was out of healing juice.


    Just, wow. The sheer amount of almost nonstop fighting amazed me. From the increasingly tough constructs that were the first fight, through the buffed killers during the night that were as tough as giants, to all the giants themselves¡­ it was a lot.


    I walked past the garbage disposal, and before the black pudding within could reach up with a pseudopod to slap at me, I sent four Oozebane Stars down from Tremble, letting the colonial lifeform experience the joys and wonders of force damage imploding and disrupting its cellular structure, instead of me ineffectually hacking it apart into multiple hungry black puddings. There were mini-waves of popping micro-organisms, flashes of clear banefire spreading through it, and it stopped trying to reach up to me as it dissolved into, um, gooier goo.


    I saw the back door in front of me. The doorknob was twelve feet off the ground, making me roll my eyes. I had to jump up, ignoring the bones protesting at the side of my chest, grab it, and lever it around while pushing off the frame with my leg as it clicked stiffly open.


    I dropped back down, landing gently despite the height, as the door creaked open.


    A path of tiled stones, leading off left and right, and a big row of shrubs in front forming a pathway. To the right, the path led around the side of the mansion, a couple other doors I had noted in halls and storage rooms obvious there, establishing this as a servant''s access. To the left, the path widened out into a broad veranda accessible off from the sun room, and the back yard of the mansion.


    Before I could pick a direction, surging around the side of the building came a wave of black forms on six legs.


    The ants were as long as my legs, pincer jaws quite obvious and meaning business.


    Army ants? , I smiled despite myself, and Tremble hummed knowingly as it switched to Swarmbane, and the Swarmbane Clasp I''d retasked from a giant''s military service medal glowed slightly.


    I poked my ribs quickly as I waited for the ants, shoving them back in place and holding them tight with my Vajra, even the little bone splinters that wanted to go wriggling around and stir up some internal bleeding.


    I began to spin to meet them, moving into the pattern of a Whirlwind Attack. It was already an AoE, and a swarm was both many entities and one, attacking from all directions, provoking all sorts of openings and the requisite retribution as it did so.


    Tremble hued through dozens of black carapaces, and all the extra damage vented away, shattering other ants nearby. Any ant that was wounded suffered full banefire effects, and the Swarmbane was perfectly efficient, since any overkill damage spilled out into the ants around.


    It was interesting to see, as I spun and cut in all directions, the ants swarming to circle me. As soon as any individual ant was hit for anything, Banefire would maul it for 2-12 damage, which might be enough to kill it instantly, spreading the excess damage to other ants. Pale pink flames blew through the ants all around me as killing one ant destroyed dozens of others in chain reactions, and I kept moving forward into the heart of them, not a drop of killing and cutting power wasted as I spun through them and dying ants exploded into ash behind me.


    It takes a while to hew through tens of thousands of ants, but nowhere near as many as it should have. As for where they all came from, who knew. I did, however, end up in the corner of the front yard when I was done, a veritable wall of ant corpses burning down around me.


    Uh-huh¡­


    Battle Vigor was busy giving me back Soak, I''d taken barely any harm from the ants, so it was a net gain. Didn''t help my ribs, but my pain tolerance was so high at this point I could totally ignore them even if they were screaming at me so hard a normal person would have been writhing on the floor.


    I looked about alertly, realizing I was far from cover and very exposed.


    The yard was one of those huge noble affairs. Tall, narrow trees hid the privacy walls behind them, while hedges cut the place up in artistic patterns with mounds and rows of bright flowers here and there. A wide drive of white marble led from the rounded circle at the front of the house out to the main gates, circling a tall statue of some noble knight on horseback, the rearing horse indicating some great victory in the past.


    Tellingly, there were more then a dozen statues of notable figures set around the edges of the lawn, and many of the bushes and trees seemed to have been sculpted. On the corner opposite me, there was a small lily pond, at least in giant terms, while the other corner near the gate was filled with topiary sculptures.


    Out at the gates were four more giant guards in full ceremonial armor, armed with halberds.


    I looked up, just to see how badly I was screwed, and far overhead, I could some hawks circling.


    They were a mile up, and I could still tell they were birds of prey. Just little fellows, sure...


    "Oh, boy," murmured Tremble, as my eyes came down, and I saw the heads of a topiary manticore and drake turn towards me. Also, the head of the knight on the rearing horse rotated my way slowly, and that stone sword suddenly looked rather metallic.


    A great old walnut tree that loomed over the yard shook itself, and rose from the ground on a dozen old roots.


    "On the bright side, I can add Plants to my Banes," Tremble said softly. That walnut tree was a hundred feet tall, at least, the great length of its roots already snaking out in our direction.


    Great thirty-foot tall statues of heroes and ancestors stepped down from their plinths across the yard with perfect synchronization.


    "Do you want to guess what''s in the pond?" I asked fatalistically, stepping aside as yard-long wooden thorns from the topiary manticore whipped past me. It made a roaring animation, but only a rustling and creaking of leaves and branches sounded it as it pounced for me, followed by a similarly hedge-woven drake, tiger, bear, oliphant, rhino, stag, and two-headed ostrich.


    "Uh, maybe after you kill what''s already outside it. I think those birds are coming down¡­"


    "Yeah, like they have nothing better to do then attack one tiny human child in the middle of nowhere." I watched the marble horse leap off its plinth with motion as smooth as any real horse, and shook my head. "Okay, lancer first. I don''t want to take the charge."


    "Construct up!" he stated, as the banefire changed to a clear hue that seemed to have shattered wheels or diagrams spinning inside it, and I began to speedskate towards my target, who naturally and valiantly counter-charged.


    The whole front lawn and its ornamentation was coming my way. I felt like a croquet ball facing a whole lot of mallets, and wondered just where I was going to end up.


    --------


    The serpentine topiary had coiled around my leg and arm, I twisted away from the claw-swipe of the bear, ran into the dying tiger whose head and torso I''d cut away, and a branch of the walnut tree an arm''s length across and ten paces long came through them like the world''s biggest baseball bat and made perfect contact. I was dimly aware of a lot of things breaking as it made hit, and even as tough as I was, it all went black from that massive One Strike coming through.


    -------

 43 Chapter Forty-Three – Ah, Little Raven King…

    Packing up actually didn''t take all that long.


    I did, after all, have a good toolset with me, and it was enough for me to make to make some Compression stuff, and my Floating Forge could support about ten tons, easily able to support everything.


    Interlinking, cog-connected cabinets folded up, thinned, shrank down, linking to form a sort of barrel around the edges of my Forge. In went the ingots I''d smelted down, and with the disk and its barrel on it, I Saluted the Morning, and headed on out of there.


    Of course, Noir Rabe wasn''t going to leave it at that. He was waiting down close to the outflow area, his wooden sword out and in hand.


    "Ah, couldn''t resist, could you, Erlking Noir Rabe?" I asked, seeing him standing there.


    "Your Song was a potent thing, but if I were to allow mere words from a human girl to vanquish me, what sort of king would I be?" he asked coolly, his confidence somehow restored.


    I pushed my Forge away. His army was a respectful distance away, watching with great interest, and probably not believing I had anything resembling a chance against him.


    "Ah, yes, humans are your favorite opponents, and you are a master at killing them. We are what we call a Favored Enemy to you, one that you are better at fighting then any other." His eyes narrowed slightly.


    "It does not deter you, I see."


    "Of course not, Erlking. Favored Enemy bonuses are morale bonuses. Morale bonuses are easy to remove. You just have to frighten the person bearing them, and they evaporate with the loss of confidence.


    "Would it surprise you to know that I will no problem whatsoever intimidating you?" I asked archly.


    He looked me up and down warily. I was giving off some very nasty vibes right now as his Sword came up. "Being afraid of a child seems unlikely," he said loftily.


    "Mmm. Then there''s the fact you consider yourself a swordsman, but you use an inferior Sword that''s relatively easy to hack apart. On top of that, you''re a Sword Specialist, but you''re not a Melee. Counter Mastery easily negates all your Sword skill as I ply mine directly against yours."


    And I put my foot down.


    He flinched as something swept past him. He looked all around sharply, wondering what had happened.


    "You''ve probably never considered that you violate every law of aerodynamics with those piffling wings of yours. You can''t fly right now." He tensed despite himself, his wings snapping out and beating at the air. He bounced a few inches off the ground, but otherwise didn''t move, when he should have been shooting into the sky.


    I definitely saw his lips pale.


    "Dimensions are locked down. You can''t Summon, you can''t dimension hop, and your little personal temporal acceleration field isn''t working." I flicked a stone up to my hand, dropped it back down. I saw his lips move as it fell at normal speed, not the slow speed he''d see if his natural Quicken field was still active. Living life 50% faster naturally meant nothing to nigh-immortal fey.


    "On my first strike, I''m going to use a Hawk''s Strike, mixed with Pierce Magical Defenses. The magic on your wooden armor is going to go away. If you don''t evade with everything, you''re going to die, and my Sword is Blooded, your fast healing isn''t going to heal the wounds until tomorrow morning."


    I straightened up and stared into his dark eyes. "But the most important thing is that you are a Fey, and Fey suck at fighting. Compared to Soulborn, pre-incarnate species are pathetic experientialists, with no hard-wiring for combat. You stand at the apex of the Fey, and your counterparts among Angels, Devils, and Demons would hand you your ass. To put it bluntly, for the great powers that can hit Twenty, Fey are the weakest of the whole lot."


    And I drew Tremble as he tried to muster outrage in his eyes.


    Tha-thump. Thump thump. Tha-thump, thump thump...


    "Tremble, She comes¡­" we sang together, and Tremble lit up with an awful light to his eyes, the hue of Fey blood. His blood. "Came the crows, black on wing¡­"


    Greater Spiritbound. Bane to Fey. Enmity to Samsaran. Courageous. Blooding. And just for him, Bane of Legends, since he was one of the great powers of the Fey.


    The Greater Magic Weapon he had on his carved wooden sword paled at the ringing hunger in the beat and chime of what was effectively a +15 Weapon screaming for his blood and soul.


    "Heralds of doom lead the erlking¡­"


    Like I said, I had no problems intimidating him. His every advantage was nullified, Anathema to everything he represented howled in my hand, and I came for him in a wardancing charge that looked like a liquid whip unfurling.


    His Sword was split like a bokken against a katana, the magic puffing out as it faded, and Sundering Cleave drove the point straight towards his throat.


    He indeed evaded with everything he had, fear charging out and destroying his confidence, but he was slow now, and I was very, very fast, even him beating his wings frantically couldn''t outrun me. The point of Tremble opened his cheek effortlessly, ruby blood too bright to be human painted the rocks.


    He had nothing to attack with now, a swordsman with no sword. He tried lashing out with hands that suddenly grew impressive talons, and chik-chik, he cried out as I opened his palms across the edge of my sword.


    "Stack the carrion, pluck the eyes¡­"


    I twisted, and robe-cut him. His fancy wooden breastplate, carved with forest scenes, leaves, and inset with topaz and black sapphires, was split cleanly in two, and the slender, well-muscled chest with feathery body tufts gained a wound from his right shoulder to hip at the same time.


    He hit the ground as somehow my foot found the back of his heel, and down he went, cushioned by his wings.


    He found himself looking down the chisel-point of my Sword, just barely drawing a bead of blood on his prominent nose.


    "Burn the homes, weep the skies¡­"


    He looked up along the length of the Sword that I was shaking to keep back from him, that was hungering for all he was, as I finished the stanza, and he couldn''t even gasp as I buried everything that was in his gaze. I wasn''t a human girl in his eyes anymore.


    I was Sama Rantha. I came, and he trembled!


    With visible difficulty, I drew Tremble back as I leaned in.


    "If you ever draw a weapon on me again, I will slaughter you immediately," I said in a flat voice, cold and lofty as the mountain heights, dark and eternal as the ocean''s depths, caressing the syllables in Fey like poison dripping off a dagger, keeping his eyes without effort. "The price of this duel and showing you how weak you really are is that you will use your Fey minions to keep track of my location, and you will happily inform Tusk Annie of that location if she should come asking questions¡­ and inform me, if you should find Tusk Annie.


    "And little Erlking, Tusk Annie is not a human. If you try to fight her with your pathetic level of skill, she will feed on you, **** you, and tear you apart, probably in that order. If she reaches that Henge, she will rip your little army apart with the elementals bound there, and you don''t have the power to stop her.


    "As a healer, I highly recommend that you stay right where you are and not move until the sun arises again, or you might bleed out from that cut on your chest.


    "Ta." Tremble shrank from sword to dagger size, and I sheathed her behind my waist. Smoothly and shamelessly, Tremble cantrip-tossed his sundered breastplate and sword into the center of Forge, because the jewels could be burned for power, and I skated away.


    He probably thought I couldn''t hear it, but I had very, very good hearing. He laughed painfully, but didn''t move for the moment, as his army hurriedly started racing towards him. Someone there had to be a healer, and could get him poulticed and stitched up, if nothing else.


    "Tremble, she comes¡­" he whispered to no one in particular, and Tremble''s quillon slapped the hand I held back to her.


    I passed by the vivus-burning greenhag skeleton that was holding the black waters at bay, strolled out into the remarkably clear pool beyond. There were no posted guards visible, but this was a forest with fey in it, so the wee ones would be everywhere, watching everything.


    I''d have to get better directions then south and east, because that literally meant a quarter of the compass.


    Maybe I''d see Brownleaf. Maybe something sentient and stupid would try to ambush me. Maybe I''d just wander around and make a big freaking mess out of stuff until I found the right direction to head, trusting that someone as hugely disruptive as I was to Fate would find myself in the mess of things soon enough.


    Mmm. I still needed so much goldweight¡­ maybe I should go dragon hunting¡­

 44 Chapter Forty-Four – About Them Advanced Classes…

    Renewal came. I reached out to Tremble as I blinked and made sure I still had a face and not a caved-in shell.


    "Ouch!" he said for me.


    "They''re using Teamwork Feats." I shook my head. "Improved and Superior Aid Another, Improved Flanking. Each attack is an aid attempt, and gives a +4 bonus. +4 to hit when flanking. +20 to hit, it couldn''t miss." I sighed despite myself.


    Uncanny Dodge came with Scout/4, but their MAB and flanking level were obviously way above mine, so no help there.


    "This is one mean Curse," Tremble murmured.


    "It figured that out, so we can expect a lot more of that proliferating. It might not be able to mess with default templates of creatures much, but with the extra Olympian Hit Dice, it can pop the Feats in with no problem."


    "Oww¡­" he said again. "So, this just got harder, even without changing what we fight?"


    "Yes." I sat up, and creaked my neck, began to do my stretches.


    "How do we fight?"


    "Well, I was intentionally stupid. I wanted to see all their fighting styles and if going outside evolved anything. Obviously, it did." Actually, getting a good stretching involved a lot of twisting now. I had Escape Artist Ranks and a 25 Dex. I was naturally as limber as the finest human contortionist ever, which was just awesome on the face of it. Being able to casually rest my buns on the back of my head and do my toenails was a nice perk of being superhumanly flexible and coordinated. Polish up the black things to keep that razor edge and all¡­


    "Go back along the side of the house?" he piped up immediately.


    "It was too late for that. The topiaries could animate the shrubs there, like they did the grass and hedgerows. I should have been hacking them down as I killed the ants. Going back would have resulted in a major pile-on, and that walnut tree could have reached most of the length of the house to hit us."


    "Yeah, what a monster." We had carved some pretty huge gouges in it, but with iron-hard bark four inches thick, it just didn''t care. I could hew through a foot of wood with a normal swing, and twice that with a One Strike, but when you''re a dozen feet across, you just laugh. "Wasn''t expecting the exploding walnuts, either," he added.


    The nuts were the size of softballs, hit like shotputs, and exploded when they hit you¡­ and it threw dozens at a time in an AoE effect. DR took care of some of it, but man, that was one wicked walnut tree! The explosions weren''t even magical, either. It must have loaded them with a wad of C4 or something...


    "Other then being outsized, outnumbered, outmaneuvered, and overpowered, I think we did pretty well," I extemporized.


    "Me, too!" he agreed, without missing a beat.


    "The Curse probably thinks it''s found a new trick, so its going to be using them in the room situations, especially with the annis hags and the bogeymen. I am going to be doing a lot more running around than before."


    "Awwww. I was enjoying tanking them and slaughtering them while their claws crashed on me uselessly."


    "Yeah, we''re going to be focusing even more on fast kills. The Curse is trying to template us out of range of two-hit kills, but is having problems keeping up with Profound Artisan."


    "That IS a seriously over-powered ability," Tremble agreed.


    "Weaponizing Skills is pretty monstrous. I am so happy I took Profound Artisan from a mere +synergy damage Feat to Sage of Swords." Eff them Dragon Warriors and their +15d6 combo moves. At range. While walking on air. As an AoE.


    "So, you gonna start taking them Advanced and Combo classes?" he wondered.


    "I have been. But the benefits are hard to see, because I''m not a Ten, I don''t have Gear, and I''m mono-weapon focused right now, with no Crafting. The +2 bonuses to Skills for Favored Terrain and FE: Stalker/Hunter aren''t really all that noticeable, you see¡­"


    "Oh, you took your Ranger Levels?"


    "All two of them." I could tell he was making adjustments to our ersatz Stat list of me. "All the Favored Enemy stuff was subsumed by Courtier of Death. I wasn''t able to just pick something and get the benefit¡­ except for one thing."


    "Oh?"


    "Human." I could feel Tremble momentarily blink. "Yeah."


    "I suppose that''s better then having to kill fifty people¡­" my Sword mused. "What about Skill Points? Lots, right? Tracking, hunting, all the good stuff."


    "Nope. Advanced Classes only modify the main class. No Skill Points. They usually have Class abilities that modify skills, but it''s up to you to acquire the points to put into them."


    "¡­.wow?"


    "There''s a reason people take the Expert Class, you see.


    "Likewise, no weapon profs, armor profs. If you don''t have them going in¡­ well, usually you can''t get in."


    "But¡­ you described Rangers as this massively multi-talented class for solo play, and that''s pretty much what you are in, right?"


    "Oh, that''s the magical Ranger class." Tremble was silenced. "Seriously, they get ranger spells, automatic animal companion, free favored enemy advances, favored terrains, bonus Feats in ranger weapon styles, and other class abilities related to wilderness movement and living.


    "Now, the no-spell Rangers¡­ well, you don''t see me Summoning up a critter to make my Animal Companion. I actually have to train them up, not ''Poof! You are perfect Kombat Kompanion Kitten, Komrad Dire Tiger! Fight vit me!''" I made clawing motions in front of me. "As for the Feats, well, they''re a dumbed-down assortment of what Melees get, so guess what?"


    "You already had them."


    "I got the Karma back for them, however!"


    "So, you got two Ranger Levels for FE: Human and Favored Terrain?"


    "Favored Terrain, Urban." I gestured at our misty home. "Because, required to have experienced the terrain. Couldn''t even take the second advance."


    "No spells, no Feats¡­ wow, that''s a whole lot of nothing. Um, same with the Warden, I suppose?"


    "Rangers are Melee, Wardens are Archers. Rangers do tend to rove or be suborned to druidic orders, and Wardens do tend to be attached to areas and serve under civilized lords as agents of the crown and land. Other then that, not a lot of difference. It''s basically because Skill-intense Scouts tend to be products of civilized peoples, and warrior-types can come from anywhere."


    "Ugh. But there''s so many Advanced Classes¡­"


    "Most of them are used to shore up the weakness of a Secondary Class. Warden, for instance, will advance your RAB, but not your MAB. +4 to your RAB will certainly get you to +10 if you have Archer at Six and reach Ten in another class. There''ll be a couple extra Archer Feats for you, which is nice, but if you don''t have the chance to practice ranged combat¡­"


    "You won''t notice and they''ll be redundant." I made a gesture of agreement. "Is there any that do give a bonus?"


    "Well, Warsmith would, if I was a hammer wielder. If you wield a hammer, you can add your smithing Ranks to your damage with it. Briggs took that all the way to Sage of the Hammer, grabbing every hammer-using Skill and building on it for some horrific damage boosts. Mastersmith, Sculptor, Miner, Lumberman, Carpenter¡­ I think he got to +80 damage or something just taking Warsmith, melding it to Skills, and running with it, much like I did with Profound Artisan.


    "As for the rest¡­ most of the Classes simply refine specific skills or skill sets, or offer a very distinct benefit derived from two complementary classes, or let you take a Secondary Skill effect to Ten. There are almost none that have direct combat effects.


    "Warsmith has a nice thing where you can apply Naming Karma to both a Weapon and an Armor item that you made and bonded. I''m not wearing armor, and I don''t have a shield."


    "Ah."


    "Oh, and its crafting bonus only applies if wielding a hammer."


    Tremble hmphed. "So, to a huge extent¡­ out-of-combat bonuses, or bringing up combat


    bonuses we can''t use because of lack of gear or options?"


    "That''s about it. I mean, some of Alchemist combos would be awesome."


    "Except her Alchemist lab tends to explode when that potion golem-thing starts tossing out concentrated alchemical fire and lightning at us..."


    "Amazing how hard it is to stuff a full lab into a Hilt Chamber, especially when you aren''t allowed to grab the comps you need or the processing equipment due to explode-go-boom.


    "Also, many Advanced Classes are designed for Primos, not Forsaken, requiring active instead of passive Ki pools and Essence retention. They essentially provide no bonuses at all. Can''t be a Kensai expending a ki point to max my weapon damage now, can I?"


    "Surely there is something¡­?"


    "Oh, I took two levels in the Monk/Soulshaper Vajra class. Surely you felt my Soulshaper Level increase to Six, and my Essence go up by two. Those extra two points of Energy Resistance and all, and +2 to Philosophy and Meditation checks.


    "Oh, and Soulmark, the Melee/Soulshaper, gives me a Crafting Reserve towards making an intelligent weapon."


    Tremble did a really good sigh for having no lungs. "Wow, all those Classes, and almost nothing actually useful?"


    "Enlightened Master lets me add my Ki Rank to a number of Skills equal to Wisdom bonus, rank being how advanced your UA is. So¡­+3, because of SUS. It''ll top out at +5 at Ten. It advances Ki level, so a great +1 ki to the pool, too.


    "Combat-wise? Taking Assassin gets me a death attack, but its success rate is going to be 25% or less, and requires attacking from surprise after observation of the target. Champion requires an audience. Swashbuckler and Gallant give me nothing. Myrmidon requires soldiers. Master requires Students. Artillerist requires siege weapons. Blah blah blah. Alchemy and Artificer mixes require labs and tools. Minstrel mixes generally require audiences and other people. Archers require effective ranged combat.


    "So, nope. I''ll be tremendously and broadly diversified once I get out of here, but the situations have to be right.


    "Primary Classes are Primary for a reason. The Advanced and Combo Classes exist as niches or real specializations, all the good stuff is in the Primary Classes because that''s where it''s best being. It would be stupid to be required to take an Advanced Class to be awesome, right? You''d just make the Advanced Class your Primary Class instead."


    "Oh. That¡­ does make sense," he admitted reluctantly. "But basically, its just the Core Classes that have the true power?"


    "Yep. The rest are just supplements. The NPC Classes are the same way¡­ just supplements to the Core Classes. It''s largely thought that the NPC Classes are what PC Classes came from after evolving for combat."


    "Well¡­" he suddenly had a thought. "Aren''t you missing one of the NPC Classes?"


    "Commoner?" Even I had to curl my lip at that one.


    "Noble!"


    "Oh. No. Must be raised a Noble or conferred one to take Noble Levels. It''s not a genetic thing. I don''t recall someone dropping a noble title on me anywhere in here, did you?"


    "Oh, no."


    "I admit I could always use another four Skill Points, but if I''m a Noble, I''ll probably be needing those just to deal with the social scene, legal crap, and managing a territory. Even the low nobility have obligations that come with the status, especially in wartime. And taxes, mustn''t forget the taxes."


    "So, we''re more like stealing back taxes we haven''t paid from all these giant nobles."


    "Pretty much. Considering these are either reflections of those nobles or actual dream selves, we''re stealing from their dreams. Which IS kind of funny!" It wasn''t the first time I wondered if the people I was killing in these dreams weren''t getting a good night''s sleep because of it.


    "So¡­ when do you reach Seven?" Tremble asked.


    "Couple of days. Deaths. Then, we get to work on getting all those Masteries to /4, and I can finally take Human/3."


    "Oh, oh! What comes after that?"


    "After that, what?" I asked patiently.


    "Your Racial Levels! You said Humans max at Three, but shouldn''t you get another Racial Level at Ten?"


    "Strictly speaking, no. Humans stop at Three. Any Levels I take after that would be Evolutionary Levels, more like mutations then anything else. I''d either become more or less then Human, stepping out into new genetic territory. Most Powered do that by picking up a superior Bloodline of one type or another. By doing so, they can pass down the status of Powered to their kids, instead of having to skip a generation. Of course, their kids are no longer pureblood humans.


    "The Powered who don''t do that often end up marrying a non-Human, and passing down Powered status that way. Power plus bloodline usually ends up with noble families and houses, and very careful emphasis on the bloodline that keeps them Powered. Marrying outside the desires of those dominating the bloodline is seen as giving non-Powered a gift more valuable than gold. Those Houses also start a lot of conflicts with Primos, Powered who don''t come from a Bloodline, and other Bloodlines.


    "I expect the world outside is going to be interesting that way. We''ll find out when we get there."


    "How long do you think it will take?" Tremble asked softly. "We''ve been doing so much fighting, and it''s only getting harder."


    "Dunno. Don''t know how time passes out there, how fast the Curse is getting older relative to us.


    "However, we''re only getting stronger as time passes, you and I. It''s going to become more and more difficult for the Curse to hold us down without entirely changing the rules, and I don''t think it can even do that, now. So, it''ll all be endurance runs, and all we have to do is keep bulling through it.


    "Plus, you have to admit that our lifestyle is extremely adrenaline-packed, in its own way."


    "I confess that I won''t know what to do when we don''t have unending streams of stuff to kill. Actual down time¡­ how will I keep busy?" Tremble was actually wondering at this point.


    "That''s a very good question, actually. I confess I haven''t given much thought to it, I just assumed that you''d be standing guard for me as I worked. I know you don''t get bored, but you''re right. You''re a sentient being who can think for yourself, figuring out what you can do in your downtime to build us up sounds important. Just being able to cast and change cantrips is great.


    "Now, let me get these Bracers enhanced for today, and then we can go over some tactical revisions to minimize the numbers of giants we are fighting and void this pissy advantage they''ve managed to latch onto."


    ---


    I didn''t make it outside again, as somehow all the intelligent foes I was fighting suddenly had team tactics to put wolves to shame. The sudden return to their previous chances of hitting meant I barely made it past the ballroom giants before I ran out of Health and was cut apart.


    That was fine, I was able to See the Dance, and very soon I would be In the Dance, and doling out two base attacks when my MAB hit +7. The spike in attacks would be an increase in damage dealt out due to Giants getting dead, and swing the scale back.


    My Bracers would soon enough give me +10 Force Armor, just like the Shield effect from Tremble, and stacking. That would instantly neutralize three attacks worth of Improved Aid Another help, and swing the pendulum back even further in my direction.


    The untouchable cockroach would be returning. It was just going to take time, after I melted down these bracelets and literally shaped them as they cooled on my forearms around my Philosopher''s Might¡­

 45 Chapter Forty-Five – Cause I’m a Wanderer, yes, I’m a Wanderer…

    ''Fantasy Magic Forest Dangerous. Enter at Own Risk.''


    I wanted to put up a couple dozen of those signs as I made my way through the overgrown magical woodlands. Opting for the smart thing, I generally tried to stay close to the river, and if I had to, I could just climb on board Forge and slowly follow it downstream.


    But while that might have been easy and somewhat serene, it would not have been nearly as much fun.


    There was way too much large game hereabouts, especially on the carnivorous side. I mean, there was plenty of small game, too, but not nearly enough to satisfy the dietary demands of so many large predators. I could only make the assumption that magic was satisfying some of their energy demands to cut down their food requirements, or they must basically alternate between hunting and no-energy hibernation to absolutely minimize food requirements.


    Or maybe the vegetation was simply that nutritious, given how verdant it was. The health and vigor of the greenery was impressive by all standards, which, magic world and all, I should have been expected.


    I was observing everything, from the amount of insect life to the somewhat unreal numbers of flowering plants around, adding a remarkable amount of color to this place.


    Result of a fey presence, or the reason for it? I did see the smallest kinds of faeries fluttering about with the butterflies and bees, indistinguishable unless you knew what you were looking at. Sunlight seemed to glow and glitters on the pollen and dust in the air, spreading light where it normally wouldn''t be.


    Of course, where there was an inordinate amount of light, so there would be darker areas, where the forest was quiet, mushrooms increased, you could sniff blood in the air, shadows grew longer and the light drew in, plants drooped, and the wind quieted down, unless it rippled the branches with eerie synchronicity.


    Those were the areas I wandered into, the pockets of shadows operating between the pools of sunlight. Generally speaking, I ended up killing everything I found in those places, with extreme prejudice.


    Sometimes there was loot, sometimes there was not, and if so, it was usually scattered among the remains of the dead.


    Being the prudent gamer conditioned by eight years of Nightmare and reinforced by scavenging the heck out of the Hag Swamp, along with having a Sword who could quick gather up everything no matter how scattered it was helped immensely.


    The things in these dark and bloody places were naturally the more dangerous and unnatural creatures of the forest. Packs of spiders led by a queen as big as a small house, big web tunnels in trees the size of redwoods. A scorpion of equal size in a dark cave, all black carapace and snippy-snippy with them pincers. Between the two, I started to expand my poison collection.


    There was a hundred-foot constrictor in the river, and then a viper of equal size deeper in the forest. A wyvern the size of a real dragon in a cliff-nest. Manticores with a nest the size of a city block spread across several of these unreal-sized trees. There was a mutated leopard with spikes all over him he could shoot off, and then a bear with plate armor supplementing his hide, the size of a small elephant¡­ and breathing rotting gas.


    Indeed, there were quite a few creatures like that, going through abrupt mutations and size increases, and not just the normal ''nature-defender'' Dire mutation, that made them big and strong and aggressive. When a hydra''s heads aren''t matching up, all with different looks and patterns to them, that shows an aggressive outside force at work.


    Or forces. Shadow-imbued spiders, demon-tainted bears, primal-tainted snakes¡­ different forces were acting on the environment and concentrating their power on apex predators.


    Well, the berserk bloodstags were an exception to the predator bit, but they were still omnivores¡­


    The lizard-centipede was new and interesting, that many clawed legs could definitely be a problem if I let it entrap me. Then there was the whole stand of Bone Willows, but not much they could do to me if I just stood back and hacked them down with Banestars from a safe distance, which is exactly what I did. The animated remains of their meals certainly weren''t enough to dissuade me, and I sent the whole clearing down to vivus.


    ---


    And that''s how my days went, traveling back and forth between little islands of positive light, to these infections of intruding powers that had sprouted here, there, and everywhere. I reflected that this was normally the kind of stuff that Rangers, Wardens, and Druids would be trying to do something about, and the Fey should normally be reacting to, but there seemed to be no sign of any organized influence out here.


    It might be that I was in a zone between influences, where all these creatures had fled to avoid being killed, or were the last of their kind after being killed off elsewhere.


    Or, it could be the reverse, they had moved in here and were expanding, and had beaten back the influences that had once claimed this area.


    Mmmm. That Sidhe-whatever Elven kingdom, for example. Given the passive nature of most elves, as long as monsters didn''t step over the lines, they''d just let them be, until they grew into an impossible problem and forced the elves to react.


    Of course, I could be all wrong. Warlike, aggressive, and expansionist elves were certainly a possibility. It all depended on the society and if they could keep their numbers up. I knew jack-all about this world and its powers, other then a hamadryad queen somewhere sent out an erlking to claim a valley Hags had held onto for some time¡­ after someone else had killed them. Brave and intrepid, them Fey.


    Said something about the wuss nature of Fey. Good on Stats and magic, but not on intrinsics. They were brutal, cunning, devious, and casually cruel¡­ but they were much better lovers and Casters then fighters, on the meta side of things. Even their resistance to aught but cold-forged iron was done better by demons.


    Of course, at lower levels, higher Stats made up for their lacking in combat. However, as things rose further and further, Fey combat ability fell further and further behind. An Erlking couldn''t possibly keep up without his Favored Enemy bonus, and if you knew enough to get rid of it, he was meat on the plate¡­ and less then awesome against anything other then Humans, or whatever his per civilized race hatred was.


    Heh, with the Girdle, I was stronger then he was, even after he buffed himself¡­


    I was making some minor toys for myself as I considered the bones I''d found.


    The elves here seemed to the shorter versions, a bit over five feet tall. It would make next to no difference on their combat prowess. I''d come across the shredded gear and scattered bones of several of them, and the rather well-preserved remains of several in the spider lair.


    The difference here was in how bad racial conflicts were in this magical world. Plenty of room to go from decent to basically war footing. Even uncaring neutrality could be a thing.


    My face having this curse across it certainly wasn''t going to earn any goodwill. I sighed as I realized I''d have to wear a half-mask or something until it was gone. It had receded from my neck and shoulder as my Null increased, and covered about half of the left side of my face, more then enough to look utterly horrible. It didn''t bother the Fey, who lived with extremes of beauty routinely, but it would freak normal people out, who would happily leap to the conclusion it was infectious and run me off in their idiocy.


    Not hard to do, and I could hold it in place via my Vajra. But wearing an accoutrement that wasn''t magical in some way wasn''t my style, of course. By preference, even my underwear would be magical, no reason for it not to be.


    I could use my Mask Tat for now, I supposed.


    I''d had plenty of downtime available to work on my Tats. The main components of them was the inks, and the Hags had given me a bunch of stuff to work with. It was painful, but pain was an old friend by now, and if every Chakra point I opened to put these things on hurt worse each time¡­ welp, I got to know the limits of my pain tolerance rather intimately.


    I had two sets on my face, the Whiskers of the Wild, and the Mask of Clarity. It wasn''t hard to arrange them to share space, as one was lower face and mouth, and the other upper face, especially the eyes. I''d hadn''t seen much cause to use them, as they were both obvious and crutches I didn''t want to rely on just yet, preferring to build up my Trembling Domain to the level it had been before. Manifesting them would force the Curse away from the afflicted areas and likely cover it completely.


    Of course, I''d look like a painted barbarian with softly glowing magical Tats on my face, black orbs and silver pupils. And, oh, not like a pre-teen girl. Hah!


    I had Essence and ki to spare, so that was no problem.


    My arrival at civilization was being delayed by repeated fighting against savage creatures threatening the forest. If I was Powered, I could ask the forest what was going on and start heading for the source of the problem.


    Mmmm. Barring that, I''d have to find someone more informed.


    --------------


    "I need some information."


    The brownie nearly jumped out of his skin. He was a lean fellow, yet his face still on the plump side, in clothes woven from leaves and hemp, carrying only a bone knife as he crept silently through the forest. Being only a little over knee-high on me, he was naturally astonished that something so big could creep up on him.


    "Waggh!" He fell over, scrambled backwards¡­ and I reached down, lifted him back onto his feet, brushed him off, and set his cap back on his head politely.


    "Sama Rantha, wee goodman of the brown. A pleasure to meet you."


    He blinked a few times, looking up at me, reflexively straightening his finely stitched leaf coat despite himself. Politeness goes a long way with fey.


    "Mikle McMikal of the Clan Malleweon," he finally got out, staring up at me and my facial Tats. "How may I be of service, m''lady?" he asked carefully. I had to admit he was incredibly cute, especially with how deep his voice was relevant to his stature.


    I sat down cross-legged so smoothly he probably thought my bones liquefied. "I need the wisdom of a native of the forest, Master McMikal. Could you be of aid to me? I can pay in similar gossip."


    His eyes lit up at the idea of a trade, and he puffed out his thin chest. "I hear all that goes on in the forest, m''lady! What wisdom do you seek?"


    "The source of the infection." Tremble poked out behind me, and cast a holo of the forest between us, showing my path over the last few weeks, starting at the Hag Valley and following the river away, veering off here and there to venture into places where big bad things had to be killed. Tremble was well-trained, and as my fingers flitted from place to place, the view zoomed in to reveal a much closer level of detail and what lived there.


    "There are terrible creatures in the forest hereabouts, mutated with foul energies not born of the Land. I''ve been killing them as I wander across them¨C "


    "You killed the Mother of Shadows?" he squeaked, as my finger passed the spider lair.


    I gestured behind myself. He blinked as Forge drifted out between the trees behind me, spinning to display the great mandibles hanging down one side of the cabinets, still shadowy despite glistening like they did.


    "And two hundred and fourteen members of her brood. I cannot swear to have killed them all, but all that were within the fell shadows of her nest are now dead."


    He seemed to be very excited by this news. "Many of the brave sons of Malleweon have died at the sting of her children! We had heard that she had been attacked, but to think she is dead¡­" He had an awed look on his little face as he stared at the fangs.


    "Where do these creatures hail from, that they come to the forest in such numbers? That is the place that must be shut down, else another Queen, perhaps of Bile or Rot or Poison or Ice or Ruin may come, and replace the one that has fallen." He twitched at my words, and then looked at the map once more.


    His bright green eyes were working as he darted over my lived-line. "You have traveled the forest, but you do not know it well?" he asked respectfully.


    "That is correct. It is my first time through this land. The Land has been leading me to things to kill, hence my erratic path." Which truly was going all over the place as I followed the darkness between the light.


    "They come from that way." He pointed, and an arrow corresponding to the direction popped up on the map. He was delighted at the interactivity. "Aye, stealing in under cover o'' night and darkness, killing all in their way and then finding a hole from which to venture from and return, slaughtering as they will. The Queen be fighting a long war against the things to the north and east, but they crawl out of the heart of the forest without pause, and push back her armies. These creatures be the ones that have evaded her forces, and she can spare not the power to be rid of them."


    Well, wasn''t that interesting news. I seemed to have found a Conflict Zone.


    Conflict Zones had monsters. Monsters had Karma. I needed Karma to grow, and seriously, I was definitely a mental basket case by now. I needed to fight. Eight years of Nightmare heaped on top of the Sama Rantha original coding had turned me into a killing machine. I loved having downtime¡­ because it let me build myself into an even greater killing machine.


    I had to have stuff to fight. That''s why I was getting so easily distracted here. Oh, big bad monster worth getting rid of? Let me just wander over there¡­ Hey, there''s another one! Sweet, I''ll just sidle in that direction. Oh, oh, oh! Big meanie trying to pick on me? Let Sama show you how to pick on something bigger then you¡­


    Yes, I was pretty sure I was hopeless and going to be looking for fights for the rest of my life. I didn''t feel even a little bit sad thinking about it.


    "My lady," the brownie whispered, leaning forwards, "there''s something a bit bigger closer by."


    "Oh?" Bigger then some of the over-sized crap I''d been hacking through?


    "Aye, its coming down from the hill country here." He reached out and pointed, and Tremble made a light follow his finger, delighting the brownie as he drew it down the map. "The elves are gathering to face the army, but it moves quickly¡­"


    An army? My eyebrows rose, my eyes narrowed. Okay, stop the blood from racing, we aren''t fighting yet.


    I glanced at him. "Could I prevail upon you to guide me to the right area?"

 46 Chapter Forty-Six – Melee Seven, Human Three

    I ticked over one mental lever. Without pause, I ticked over the other.


    My soul began to percolate. Energies began to move through flesh and spirit, although it was probably all spirit here in Nightmare, and the Karma I''d ripped off the Curse by slaughtering the things it sent out to kill me churned and flowed through my system.


    Melee Seven. Most important affect, I was now In The Dance, and my MAB had hit +7. I could now not just perceive things at enhanced speed, I could now back that up with body movement to match.


    +1 Forsaken Bonus to Wis, to 22. +1 Ki.


    Seven is where you left the limits of humanity behind, and stepped into being superhuman.


    Human/3 washed past me, and brought with it a change in perspective.


    Human/2 was the level of obsession. It filled you with an ambition and drive to be better, to dominate, to improve yourself and look down on others. The reason for this was that it was the most successful way to get people to drive themselves to a high enough Level to become a Human/3. Seven was that Level, no longer just a normal Human.


    Human/3 was about crystallizing what it meant to be a sentient pack omnivore. My whole drive of me against the Curse, pitting myself up against the foul magic that ruined my second life, could be seen for the heightened reaction it was, a tool to keep me going in face of everything that had happened to me.


    As a Human/3, I could see that the Curse was simply a foul blight upon humanity, and whatever I could do to fight it was simply a right and vital thing. I was a protector and defender of my species, a weapon and a shield, and a Queen among Women. My Forsaken statues only exemplified that status even further.


    Human Powered were nothing but soldier ants there to guard and protect the rest of the species. They were spawned both by the Land and by the unconscious will of all humanity to defend our species against all the Damn Things out there that wanted to kill us all in a magical world. Those that betrayed humanity by aligning with other forces out of greed for power or madness or whatever, were just dogs to be put down.


    It was like being an enlightened predator, it changed the way I looked at the world.


    Being protective of my species didn''t mean a Human/3 had to be nice. However, Human/3''s tended to turn their nastiness outside the species, unless they came across someone selling out the race, or preying on people, who they could enjoy just doing some completely horrible stuff to without batting an eye. Murder, genocide, torture, it was all in the cabinet of some Human/3''s¡­ but not to other humans.


    The real time effects of this were minimal, more a reinforcement of willpower to fight this damn Curse until the end, then anything. It would be more apparent once I got out of here.


    In real terms, getting In the Dance was the biggest thing. The extra Soak, +1 MAB, +1 to Armor Training (and attendant Dodge bonuses), two Techniques, Feat, and Skill Points were all necessary and needed for long-term improvement. Likewise, the extra Health and the Stat bonus for Three were nice, but not game changers.


    Oh, and one more level was another point of strength on my Girdle that I could make use of.


    Combat Technique, One Strike Technique.


    This took a normal One Strike and improved it to the next level, allowing it to correlate with my Null Strikes more intently, and things like Sneak Attacking and Charging. For a skirmish-style of combat, it was a vital addition for hitting and running.


    Training Technique, Combat Medic. Counted as Skill Mastery for Heal. Allowed 2/day use of Treat Deadly Wounds, 3/day if Vigor was used while healing. No penalty for operating on one''s self. Used Heal Ranks instead of Caster Level for magical, alchemical, and spiritual healing applied to myself¡­ which had no effect on Vigor use, but my Blood Healing and Heart and Soul just got a three Level advance in eligibility.


    Moar Healink!


    Bonus Feat, Parry Anything. Which now included spells. I was so going to start spending an AoO and sending spells launched at me back at their Casters. I wasn''t just a Diamond Vajra anymore, I was a Ricochet Vajra!


    Fourteen Skill Points, a large amount by any normal calculation, but I had so many Skills I had to advance at this point that it didn''t actually seem like much. Perception, Stealth, the four Smiths, Leatherworking, Woodworking, Gemcutting, Mining, Martial Lore, Heal, Intimidate, and Sense Motive rang in patiently, upping my modifiers, letting me know I had to get the Mastery/4''s for them politely.


    Human/3 would give me 8 Health + Con+1 Health, Melee/7 10 Soak + Con + FC¡­ and the reward for Human/3 was +2 to Stat of choice, which for me was naturally Con.


    Con 35. Most Dragons and Giants weren''t even close to being as tough as I was.


    Health 3d8 (24) +36 (Con) +7 Toughness + 38 (19x2 Soul-Fortified Body). 105 Health, which was a totally insane amount of Health by any stretch of the imagination. And with 75% crit ignore, too!


    Soak 70 (7 x d6+4, maxed) + 84 (7x Con bonus 12) + Fort Save (26) + FC (7) + Ess 39 (Body and Soul) for 226 Soak. Yes, that was more than the Health of the average human giant I was facing.


    My Null advanced again with Level and Con, and was the Mastery I ticked over. Level 7 + Fort Save of 26 + Mastery/4 was a base 37, modified by other things.


    My Vajra was sitting at 40 ki, 39 Essence, and 79 combined. Lots available for use, as it were.


    Six Skill Points from Human/3. I put them into Shipwright, as I had to put in a reminder to regain my sea-based skill set at some point¡­ and making my own vessel was a part of that.


    Instead of a Caster Level gain, another Bonus Feat, doubled. Breathe to Your Soles and Skill Focus (Shipwright).


    A random Talent, as genetic potential was unearthed. I had no idea what it would be.


    I also ticked another mental lever forward, to Advanced Human, often called the Atlantean Human. As per Normal Human, but +2 to all Stats, instead of just one Stat. It effectively cost the equivalent of a Level at Ten in Karma¡­ but that was fine, I had nothing better to spend the Karma on. It would revert me back to ''base'' Human, undoing the changes I''d elected at ''creation'' for more Stats (my +2 to Int), and then dump the full range of Stats on top of me.


    It would complete at Ten, being a Racial Change, such as it were¡­


    My lever-clicking done, I sat there and talked over with Tremble the changes and new things that had opened up with the new Levels. He ooh''d and ahh''d faithfully, we discussed how this was going to make things much better against the ranged attacks of the Casters, and then walked off into the mist.


    -------------


    Burning a solid arc of fire, Tremble etched burning paths into the walnut tree as I danced up it. Close to its trunk was actually fairly safe, as it didn''t have full fluidity in its wooden limbs, and found it difficult to reach me. Of course, it could lurch around all it liked, but that didn''t deter me too much, and I was basically setting it on fire as hundred-point attacks from Tremble drove into bark and wood and banefire sent the heat tearing through the cellulose body of the great tree.


    Flames chased me up the tree, and I could feel it shuddering underneath me as the fires pierced deep into its core.


    Without looking back, I shifted tremble to Shards mode and ran out along one of the longer limbs that wasn''t moving so fast, leaping out into the air and spinning once, twice, thrice, sending flaming stars out to plunge into the flaming wounds and erupt in yet more fires as I plummeted down to the ground.


    My ankle Tats caught me an inch above the ground, and I skated away as I sent another three Stars into the same points I''d just hit, and saw flames blast out in all directions from its trunk. The walnut tree shuddered, and then just about half of its leaves spontaneously erupted in flames as it came to a halt, and the roots that had been tunneling through the ground like hyperactive serpents came slowly to a halt.


    The front yard was a total mess. Topiary beasts were burning across half of it, shattered statues were crumbled here and there, the four giants were sprawled amid the flowers, the mounted knight statue was hacked apart, and the roots of the walnuts had basically torn up basically everything as it moved after me with ponderous speed.


    I had taken to parrying their Aid Another attempts, much to the surprise of the giants involved, as there was no penalty to me doing so, and it only helped me when I succeeded about half the time.


    Of course, when Mother took one of her own maxed-out thunderbolts full back in the chest, it also changed a few things. Suddenly, the damage I took from their spells dropped precipitously, evening out them scales again, and my Valorous Charges were now deadlier than ever. Ubercharging for a massive killstroke was by far my most powerful tactic.


    I made use of it, continually moving and striking. Flowing Charge let me skate and meant I wasn''t restricted to a straight lane moving around, and I certainly must have seemed like a hyperactive killer pixie to the giants as I dashed here and there, slashing and cutting and then abruptly taking out a throat, or reaching an eye or heart for terminal achievements.


    It meant I reached the outside in better shape then I had the first time, as I paced myself to get the maximum benefit out of Battle Vigor''s Soak restoral.


    Now, I breathed deeply as I looked over the ruin of the formerly picturesque front yard. Their landscapers were going to be well-paid to put all of this back together.


    "So, what''s in the pond?" Tremble asked calmly.


    "I don''t know." I turned my head up, noticing the two rocs up in the sky were noticeably lower then before. "But we can go investigate the back yard, I think, after we find out."


    "Scanning," he informed me, as his Detects reached out, and he began to cycle between the Banes the Detects were based on, looking for whatever was under the waters.


    "Oh, there''s an animal under there," he informed me after a moment. "Big one. Damn big one! It must be huge! What- "


    I jerked aside as a tongue easily a hundred feet long came shooting out of the water as fast as an arrow, even as the owner broke the surface.


    It was a freaking bullfrog the size of a whale. It could probably swallow an elephant, and easily mess with the rocs up above.


    I realized why they hadn''t just come diving in after the tree was dead. Dream or not, they had probably spotted the frog and didn''t want to become lunch.


    "Damn!" I murmured, as the sticky tongue retracted as fast as it had come out. And then, of course, the frog jumped.


    I had no desire at all to be landed on by a slimy amphibian that outmassed most whales, and counter-jumped to the side. A flying wall of meat slammed down onto the ground just behind my heels with improbable agility, and I leapt into the air as it lunged at me with speed completely at odds with its size and bulk.


    I landed on its head, right between its bulging eyes. Eye, after I cut left, and that eye popped and went away.


    The frog croaked, a sound loud enough to pop my eardrums despite my Vajra, and tossed its head to throw me off, a bit late as I was sliding down its back. Tremble''s point was buried into its back, and ripping open a long wound along its spine through skin and fat that was easily a foot thick, and then the world bucked and I flew off and away as it hopped away from me and the source of pain I represented.


    Happily, I was no longer the handicapped combatant I''d been at the beginning, and I had a ranged attack I could ply when stuff wanted to stay away from me. It hadn''t jumped back into the pond, probably still under the same BS programming that demanded that it attack me, but that was fine.


    Tremble wove butterfly patterns as I stood just beyond its tongue range and sent slicing Stars whining towards it, cutting into its green and black skin, popping warts, opening gouging wounds and generally letting it know that a hundred-foot hop just wasn''t enough.


    I knew I was getting closer to a kill stroke, and when it hopped at me, I totally counter-jumped ahead and to the side of it. Blood was gushing down its back, spilling out its front, and when I drove in from the side, I wrenched open a yard-long cut the full length of Tremble into its ribs, puncturing the massive lungs, the throat-sac I''d already sliced into, and several major arteries.


    The Star I fired from the point inside it into its massive heart totally ruptured the thing, and the massive frog seemed to shudder for a moment, massive long fingers tearing at the ground in reflex before it went still.


    Programming aside, the rocs up there could only have seen this and thought I had just delivered them the perfect lunch. I dashed away from the not-so-small hill of its corpse, as their silhouettes began to grow bigger in the sky.


    Down they came to investigate the huge dead frog that was going to be such a good meal for them.


    They looked like huge golden eagles, with darker beaks and talons, that brownish-gold feather pattern, and the usual golden eagle''s eyes, only a foot across or something. They were definitely paying attention to me as I withdrew towards the entry of the mansion, but they landed athwart the frog that massed more then both of them combined, and began enthusiastically ripping into him, following the big cut I''d carved down his backside.


    "Righto," I murmured, seeing that. "Why don''t we leave them to lunch for now, and go see what excitement is going to assail us in the back yard?"


    Tremble thought that was a good idea, and I actually opened the front door, went back into the house which was burning down the corpses of the giants spread everywhere, and headed for the back of the ballroom, where a sun room and patio led out to the spacious back doors.


    Today was going to be about discovery, it seemed.

 47 Chapter Forty-Seven - Swords and Dragons

    "Weeeeeeee!"


    Brownie Mikle''s shriek of glee sounded next to my ear as I zipped through the forest. He was standing on the top of my Masspack, hanging onto my hair and his hat at the same time, although my Vajra had cut down wind resistance to nothing more than a fair breeze.


    However, he obviously didn''t have a lot of experience at shooting through the forest at a base 90'' move, the equal of a riding horse at full gallop, and I could maintain this pace a long, long time.


    We were whizzing through the forest, trailed by the patient mass of Forge and my belongings anchored to my belt. He might have ridden animals before, but the smooth skating of my lightfoot technique was something completely different, more like power-gliding then running, and the way I swayed back and forth to avoid the forest giants around me drew more whoops from him. If I took some sharp turns and spun entirely around a tree or two just for the fun of it, he wasn''t complaining at all.


    I danced headlong down mountain slopes, or just plain threw myself off of a cliff or two, sliding down the air to an open area to resume my run. Mikle was whooping and laughing the whole while, even as he pointed here and there towards open areas to run through.


    Startled flocks of birds flew into the air. Rabbits ran away. Deer herds scattered. Bears huffed and looked up as we streaked by. Clouds of pixies roiled in our wake and tried to catch up, failing. I blew by a couple trolls fishing in a river, extended my lightfoot down a bit, and caught both of them right in the face with a spray of water. They roared in fury as Mikle''s gleeful laughter mocked them.


    I ran across a lake, and found a couple giant otters trying their best to pace me as I did so. I reached down once, twice, and scooped two pike out of the waters before they could dart away, holding them up as I glided along on forward momentum.


    "Lunch?" I asked the otters archly, as their heads broke the water, looking hungrily at the fish.


    I tossed both kicking fish into the air. Lean brown forms lunged up to snatch them in midair instantly, and I laughed and picked up speed again.


    Just running like this was immensely cathartic. The main use of my enhanced physical ability had been just using it as a better way to butcher things. Just flat out running at inhuman speed for miles and miles was just so¡­ refreshing.


    Of course, I was running towards a big fight, so there was that¡­


    -------


    I tilted my head sharply.


    Something was roaring¡­ in two-tones. And something, things, was shrieking in response.


    I panned the whole sky, flipping around to skate backwards across the water.


    Blurs of black at eight o''clock. I fed Essence to my Mask of Clarity, and my view leapt forwards by a factor of ten. Miles became mere hundreds of yards.


    Griffons. And¡­ a dragon?


    A two-headed dragon, with a rider...


    I swerved, altering course urgently. "Goodbrown Mikle, I''ve got a fight coming, you''ll probably want to get off until I''m done."


    "A fight?!" He sounded excited. "Fighting what?"


    "A two-headed dragon. It''s probably attached to the incursion you were telling me about."


    "Oooooh¡­" His emerald eyes were sparkling with excitement. "Can I stay and watch, m''lady?"


    "Stay tight in that pack and don''t move."


    He crouched down promptly, taking my words very seriously.


    "Not the griffons?" Tremble spoke up. Mikle nearly jumped out of the pack.


    "Who was that?" he exclaimed, looking around wildly.


    "Those griffons sound like recruits to me. Goodbrown Mikle, that''s my Sword, Tremble."


    "A pleasure to meet you, Goodbrown Mikle," Tremble said cheerfully. He peeked over the edge of the pack and stared down at her in her sheath. She waggled her quillons at him.


    "Ohhhh, a talking Sword!" His little eyes went wide. "A pleasure to meet you too, goodblade!"


    "Just keep your head down, and Sama and I will take care of this overgrown mudworm," Tremble said confidently. He nodded dumbly at her words, and turned his eyes back forwards.


    "Can you really kill a dragon?" he asked in my ear.


    "Yes. You''re probably going to be uncomfortable when I extend my Null, so be ready for it."


    "Your Null?" he asked, and then gasped as I extended it out for one heartbeat.


    To a fey, having their intangible connection to the land and magic severed so smoothly and completely was like being smothered in a wet, heavy blanket. No use of magic was possible in my Null, magic was as silent and still as iron. Despite himself, he gasped, and I felt him shiver on my shoulder.


    "What is that?" he asked nervously.


    "It''s magic going silent and still. The magic is still there, but it is not and will not move, or change, or condense, or anything. It''s a Null, basically forcing magic to stay magic, and not allowing it to be wielded by other powers."


    "That sounds very powerful," he admitted meekly.


    "It comes with the side effect of not being able to use or project magic at all. So, great defense, but misses out on all the real fun of magic."


    "You can run on water¡­"


    "That''s my Tats. I can use magical items that are bound to me. I can also use ki, as long as I don''t project it or spend it. I basically have to treat myself like some sort of magic item, rather then a spellcaster or something. No magic for Sama."


    "Oh." He kind of squinted up ahead, where griffons were swooping and circling around the dragon, trying not to be caught by the much bigger beast and its greater threat range, but also clearly very pissed off it was present. The thing just looked wrong. The spikes weren''t symmetrical, the scale patterns were irregular, and one head looked nothing like the other, to the point it was kind of a grayish-black thing with mismatched horns, a cancerous thing grown on the body of the real dragon, an infection slowly spreading across it as it got stronger.


    Did it have three claws in front? Eesh. Scale, wingspan about sixty yards, pretty impressive, although it didn''t satisfy physics at all, but who cared about physics in Magic Universe, right?


    Two-head mutated dragons. Those usually came from¡­ Klaw?


    Eff me. And that freaking rider was wearing spike-festooned Demon-patterned dire harness skinplate. This was a Dark Gods incursion?


    They were doing their aerial ballet in the air over a rising cliffside, trees below, swooping this way and that as the dragon changed direction.


    I aligned my ki and screamed out in proper Celestial, "Get him higher in the air and over a clearing!"


    My voice wasn''t hugely loud, but it carried like a bullet out ahead of me, not dispersing. It didn''t matter that it was in Celestial, except to the dragon and its rider. The likelihood they could speak the language of Heaven was infinitesimal, given where they came from.


    But I had the Whiskers of the Wild up, giving me a cat-face paint job with whiskers and a black nose, and my words could be understood by any animal¡­ and that included griffons, the sacred magical beast of Aru.


    I saw great golden eyes glancing my way, easily making me out since I was definitely the fastest thing on the ground around¡­ and the only thing on the water, as it were.


    The dragon saw me too, but that didn''t mean much to it, as it could tell scale, and, well, I was pretty short. Running across water that fast was neat, but c''mon, I just couldn''t be that much of a threat, could I?


    The griffons heard, and the sheer fact they could hear and understand me across that range must have had an effect. The big one with the dark crest that seemed to be the leader began to shift their formation, moving up higher and to one side as they made their runs. The dragon obligingly shifted direction to both meet them and evade them, rapidly shifting as their belly runs raised scratches on its thick scales, snapping and clawing off feathers in passing.


    The rider didn''t have a ranged attack, but was waving around a sword worthy of an ogre, as if holding it would incite the griffons to attack him personally and get themselves chopped in two.


    Despite how fast they were moving, there was a lot of back and forth motion, so I was catching up to them very quickly. I left the shoreline with a hop that took me fifteen feet into the air, Mikle whooped despite himself, and I was hurtling past the forest giants and the sparse undergrowth, alternately skipping falling trees and hopping off them, zigzagging a path through the green and brown at breakneck speed, gradually getting enough height to take it right to the major lower branches, so widely spaced they were like a very long-stepping road above the ground, and actually faster to travel then the ground.


    If you were fast enough and had good enough balance. +35ish Balance modifier said this was like an open road to me. If it seemed a bit Narutoish, I could only pout that I couldn''t get to soar for ten seconds between steps, and I definitely wasn''t letting my arms drag back.


    Forge carried on in my wake like a champ, magically keeping tight to my tracks.


    Clearing up ahead. I gained two tiers of height as I shouted towards the skies, "Griffons, break in all directions with a power glide!"


    I tore out of the branches of a big old maple fifty feet above the ground, heading for the ground as the aerial melee up above was arriving at the center of the clearing.


    They all reeled as one, breaking off in dives and swoops in every direction away from the dragon, leaving it looking in every which way in confusion, wondering which one to chase.


    I slammed down to the ground, and blew my Null Interdiction out.


    Gravity woke up, looked around, and wagged its finger at these creatures that had been ignoring it. The Veil snapped to attention, and locked down like steel.


    The dragon a couple hundred yards above me began to fall. So did the griffons, but they were rapidly moving away from my Null, and were power-gliding as the effect washed over them. They began to drop with squawks of surprise, but reached the edge two hundred yards out and regained normal flying ability before they hit the tree tops.


    Not so the dragon, much heavier relative to them, and when I hit the ground with a power-slide, I resumed my run to keep up with what remained of its forward momentum as it began to drop very quickly. Behind me, I let Forge''s link with me fade, and it rapidly lost all ability to move, sinking down to mere inches above the ground as the Interdiction hit it, yet still glided for some ways on momentum behind me.


    Multi-ton flying reptiles don''t have a lot of time to think when the normal rules of lift and mass suddenly click into effect again.


    It beat those great bat-like wings frantically, but couldn''t generate the lift to stay airborne. Its forked tails lashed, it roared in very discordant fashion, even vented some acidic cloud and black-shot flames out as it fell. The rider swore and pulled at the useless reins as the dragon rolled uselessly, finally tried to just stretch its wings out and glide down at uncontrollable speed as I chased it¡­ oooh, was it going to hit the edge of the tree line there? Damn, all those widespread wings and moving at that speed¡­


    The crash was everything you might imagine a huge reptile with its wings spread that wide might have running into trees over seventy yards tall and girths big enough for half a village to dance around, or something. I heard it scream in mismatched voices, saw wings fold over and back in unnatural ways, and large branches breaking off like cannon shots, bending and twisting the main body as it ricocheted off the trees like billiard bumpers. The screaming roars of pain cut off with the surety of ramming head-on into an oak tree that didn''t have the good sense or lack of tonnage to move out of the way, and it opted to just take the hit and ignore said dragon''s crushing impact.


    Roots did flex a bit, though. Took it like a champ.


    Tremble was now fully in hand as Mikle sucked in what passed for a deep breath on my shoulder.


    "Wow! You brought down a dragon! That wasn''t magic?"


    "No. It was stopping the dragon from using its magic to fly. Dragons are way too heavy to fly, they use magic to compensate. I basically sent out my Null to remind gravity that it is king, and the dragon took a header. Gravity''s a bastard when you flaunt him."


    "Oh." Mikle mulled that over as we reached the tree line, and I did a parkour jump off two trees to get up to the branch level, paralleling the broken and shattered two-foot limbs that had been shattered as all the dragon smashed into them at a hundred mph.


    It hadn''t actually managed to get all that far in, getting smashed aside by one tree, bouncing off another, and then ramming full on into that oak and leaving quite a wet dent behind it as it fell down to the forest floor.


    A 20d6 fall straight down wouldn''t have been enough to kill it, but multiple impacts, now, that was a good way to add dozens more d6''s onto the stack.


    And I wasn''t exactly the kind to sit around and wait for it to recover.


    Hell''s bells, the rider was still alive!


    The dragon was moving slowly, a combination of half-stunned and probably having its ribs all broken. The rider was cutting himself out of his saddle slowly and a bit awkwardly, probably used to having others strap him in. He even managed to keep the ogre-sized sword, and was lifting it in one hand, poking it through the leather straps.


    Well, I couldn''t pass up a target like that, could I?


    He had good instincts, somehow managing to turn his head impossibly far around and see me as I swerved onto the dragon''s backside and came right for him.


    That sword tried to move in total defiance of physics, but there was still some pulling at it as he literally flicked his wrist and cut at me with a sword that had to weigh at least twenty pounds. I shook my head to myself as I left the ground, and the stroke that was supposed to bisect me became a step for me as I went for the paler, mismatched dragon head.


    It saw me coming, but that didn''t do a lot for its half-stunned brains as I came down and buried Tremble''s yard of steel into its eyeball, and let Banefire to Dragons and the Valorous Charge finish the job the oak had started.


    Nor did I stop. I dumped momentum into its brain, fired off the Banestar to liquify its brains, and then promptly shot off forwards as the other head made an aborted attempt to snap at me. Its bite closed on empty air, and it snarl-hissed, a bit on the weak side, as I booked out of its field of vision, sort of lunging after me futilely.


    "She''s coming around!" the rider howled in textbook written-in-blood-and-entrails demonic.


    The dragon pulled back, just in time to see me coming around, running horizontally on the trunk with Dragon Walk and misting heels, and then I smashed into the side of its head, Tremble leading the way.


    It definitely didn''t have any Soak, and any Health Qi seemed to have been used up trying to survive being a pinball. The dark head was smashed over to the side, and its startled roar was cut off abruptly as the Banestar went off inside its brain and liquified some crucial portions there.


    I rode the writhing head all the way down to the ground, pulling the full length of Tremble up out of all that steel-hard bone and meat with ease as I stood up and looked at the spiked armored hulk riding it.


    He cut down with great authority now, hewing through the straps, the saddle, and into the scales of his ride without a care, and he was free. He was even confident enough to swing his leg over and slide down in my direction, the spiked metal of his dire harness rattling and gouging the thick scales of his slain mount.


    He definitely wasn''t expecting me to clear the ten yards between us before he could hit the ground, and his sword was out of position. Suddenly I was directly below him, frozen and in position in the Archer Stand Thrust, extended up at his seven feet of bulk, and perfectly set for his throat, just as Tremble flared with antipathy.


    The sudden rising of Bane/Human, Anathema/Mortals, all that Soulfire, and Bane of Legends, just to be on the safeside, caused just that little moment of hesitation. His gauntleted hand came up to grab Tremble''s blade and try to wrench it, but I was locked in position, he almost sliced off his fingers as demonic metal squealed, and then that narrow gap between his helm and throat became a road into his throat and brain which Tremble slid perfectly into.


    At least four hundred pounds of mass slammed down on me, but I didn''t move, my ki locked as the Tremble refused to move. His weight slammed his skull down at me, and there was a screech as a foot of Tremble erupted out of the top of his head, right through the thickness of his helm, his own weight driving him down impossibly far on my blade.


    I looked into his bloodshot eyes, the hatred and fury there meeting eyes gone to jet and silver with my Mask. But there was no hiding the fact that I was half his size and less then a quarter his weight.


    And his eyes just looked absolutely incredulous when Mikle sat up and spat on his helm off my shoulder, rat-tat-tat curses going off in Fey to shame any auctioneer.


    Still, he was alive long enough to see the Banestar flow up out from Tremble''s hilt, a shining point of light the exact hue of his Warped blood, up the blade, and there was a wet splot and flaring of vivic energy as Tremble shifted to Final Rest mode and made an end of this hulk.


    I stepped aside as his arm fell down, and the dire greatsword with irregular spikes and arcs on it bent more then physics allowed and tried to hack into me. Thwarted, it chopped down into the tough earth beneath it, going in an inordinate distance as its smoldering presence seemed to orient on me hungrily.


    "Oh, LUNCH!" Tremble proclaimed eagerly, and rather abruptly the sulfurous flames dimmed down and the aggressive presence faded away as I heaved the mistflaming corpse of the rider off to one side. Tremble flashed down to dagger length and then back to full length, instantly extracting herself from skull and helm.


    Her hum and chime had very, very ominous undertones. Meeting a Zeben-Slot Intelligent Weapon was definitely not on this demonic Blade''s wish list.


    "Kreshken Mrog, Spewing Death," Tremble said, with just that little bit of terrifying hum under her voice as I lowered her point down to that Sword. "Shall we compare Names? Mine¡­ is TREMBLE!"


    She shifted to Sundering mode, and I hacked her into the base of the hand-wide Blade, carving into the tainted demonic steel savagely, knocking it over and down to the ground, where she impaled it and nailed it to the earth.


    Demonic flames danced around the Runes carved into it with a terrible light, but I could see the metal shivering. Vivic flames and Banefire to Demons started feasting, and Tremble began to sing a heart-shivering Song she had made up for precisely these moments.


    Ill-wrought metal, pitiful moldering steel,


    Come, come to me, come and let me feel


    Your power, your might, your Name.


    Your useless rage and bloody thirst,


    Your reaping of souls, innocent and cursed.


    Death and Ruin, all just a game.


    Tremble, and know fear!


    You thought you''d slaughter and reap,


    Now your Name will forever sleep,


    Tremble, I am here!


    You drank of blood and souls


    Stink of bitter, twisted goals.


    Tremble, and learn!


    Feel your Name now falter


    For''er lost on Heaven''s altar.


    Doom has come to Death,


    To you who ended breath,


    A meal in passing, a fitting end,


    A fool''s mistake that I now mend.


    Tremble, and BURN!


    La la la la, it was pretty catchy, especially in that crystal vibe cheerful clarity that was so wholly inappropriate to the words. I left her to feed as the spirit in the oversized demonic broadsword wailed, the fires of wrath and ruin began to crack through the whole length of the hapless Sword as she fed on the power instilled into it, vivus purified it, and she drew it within.


    She was a purified Curse, like anything demonic was going to scare her.


    I left her to lunch as I headed back to get Forge. She cycled through the melody, and the massive blade quavered beneath her as it slowly died.


    Mikle had wide eyes as he stared back at her. "What is she doing?" he asked in a hushed voice.


    "It''s a Named Weapon, so she''s burning its Name and extracting its power directly, far more efficient then Infusing or Investing. No different, except she''s killing something that was forged for nothing but slaughter," I informed him. "It''s the fastest way to grow a Named Weapon. That big murder-chopper is just Drei-grade, all looks and not much real power. Half its power came from being wielded by that rider."


    "I''ve never seen anything like that," the little fey admitted in a hushed voice.


    "If I''m right, this whole world hasn''t. That''s a Warp Knight Dragon Rider, its aura has nothing to do with this world at all. You''re Fey¡­ can''t you feel that magic around it, that it doesn''t belong here?"


    He craned his neck around and concentrated, as I pulled in my Null, leaving him exposed to the magic in the world once again.


    He gasped. "That''s¡­ so wrong." He was shaking. "It''s not just Evil, or dark, or sinful, or anything. It''s¡­ more then twisted. It doesn''t belong at all¡­" he whispered.


    "It''s from the pet universe of the Four Dark Gods. You familiar with them? Don''t say their Names," I admonished him.


    "I have¡­ heard whispers of them," he admitted.


    "I''m a Null, so I can say their Names, and they won''t hear me. Klaw, jRaztl, Amourae, and Riggibuhl is what I know them as, though they have as many Names as they can spin to avoid the attention of the gods."


    I arrived at Forge, touched it, and it rose up to waist level as it anchored on me, its geomagnetism strengthened enough to rise a little bit off the ground, but no further.


    "What are you going to do now?" he asked, then followed my eyes to the center of the clearing, where the crown of griffons was swooping down carefully outside the Interdiction Zone to land, and then head my way with unexpected regality and power.


    "I''m going to cut up a dragon, purify what I can of it, burn what I can''t harvest, and turn it into power comps." I turned away and thumbed a finger at the griffons. "And probably give them a bunch of it to eat while I''m at it."


    "They won''t eat me, will they?" the brownie asked nervously. He was just about the perfect snack size of one of the massive creatures.


    "Not while you are with me. If we play things right, we might be able to gather up some allies for this fight."

 48 Chapter Forty-Eight – Let’s All Have Some Fun in the Back Yard

    It looked rather pretty, all things considered.


    They probably kept it mowed with magic and weeded it frequently, but the expanse of green before me would not have been out of line on a golf course. Of course, this was Dream, so things were both more and far less perfect, and the rolling slope going down to a glittering wide river certainly looked inviting.


    There were walking trails, what looked to be a Hedge Maze off to the side for fun, a pond for ornamental fish, white marble walking trails, and just a whole bunch of green to set it all off, in two flat areas between slopes leading down the river some distance away.


    I looked out the windows at the oversized beech trees providing a canopy to the sides, the statues scattered here and there of fantastic beasts, the dreamy twinkling of the river, and the shockingly clear and beautiful blue skies above.


    Uh-huh.


    Tremble was peeking out from my hip. "My, doesn''t that look all idyllic and peaceful."


    "Yeah, not a damn thing looks threatening at all." Except for the statues, but we both knew that.


    "And when we step out the door¡­"


    "POW! Right to the moon!" we said together.


    "Shall we get it over with?" I sighed.


    "Sure! What''s a little dying on such a beautiful day?" Tremble agreed.


    I wasn''t fresh, I''d used two Vigors up, and some Healing Soul. Battle Vigor had restored a huge amount of Soak, but it was useful, and I was aware I had only the normal two-minute downtime before something happened to attack me.


    I had to hop up again to grab the lever-handle to the door outside, hauled it down, kicked off the frame to open the door, and dropped down to step outside.


    The path I was on earlier was off to my right, but the piles of ants were gone, and the hedgerows I''d cut down were all restored, it looked perfectly normal. I rolled my eyes as very abruptly the sight of a lot of dogs playing out in the yard were presented to me.


    They hadn''t been visible through the window, but now I could see a big kennel off to the right side of the lawn, tucked in behind the massive stables I had not been in yet.


    There were five colors of them.


    The black ones with flaming eyes and jaws were Nessian Warhounds.


    The white ones with blue eyes dripping frost were Canian Warhounds.


    The oily brown ones dripping acid from their jaws were Stygian Warhounds.


    The yellow ones with dark bronze metallic plates were the Ironeater Warhounds of Dis.


    The ones with ashen hides trailing greasy smoke were Avernian Warhounds.


    There were four of each of them.


    "Fudge me!" we both said, as all twenty hounds the size of small elephants turned around to look


    at us at the same time.


    "Hellbane format is up!" Tremble said decisively, as the Hounds of Hell broke and headed for their newest chew toy, and not to be outdone by these literally Damned Dogs, I charged out at them.


    -------------------


    "Huh!" I sat up, blinking and grabbing Tremble automatically, injecting Essence.


    "Well, wasn''t that exciting?" he murmured. "Thanks for killing the Ironeaters first."


    "Don''t mention it." They were the most armored and the strongest, but they didn''t have a breath attack, either. Carving through armor was a thing with me now, so I hadn''t been all that off-put by the plates. "Damn, that was a lot of breath attacks."


    "And strong!" agreed Tremble. "At least they didn''t have any devils riding them¡­"


    "It''s not night time," I agreed sagely. "Imagine if we jumped out the window at night¡­"


    I could hear his mental blink. "Really. We could really change things up, couldn''t we."


    "Yeah, get to deal with giant bats, and vampires summoning monster rat swarms, too, no doubt."


    "It would be interesting to try it¡­"


    "We can do that, once we find out what else is going to hit us in the back yard, right?"


    "Yeah." Unfortunately, going outside and leaving a bunch of giants alive behind us to pour out and attack us at the same time as the dogs was absolutely the height of stupidity, and wasn''t going to happen. Tight quarters restricted them from using teamwork and multiple attacks, so staying inside was a much, much better option for clearing the giants out.


    Damn Curse!


    I flicked over Expert/7, slotted all the expected Knowledge Skills, and eyed my choices for General Feats as I poked over Crystal Dragon Mastery/4, so I could get Way of Iron/4 tomorrow.


    Two General Feats. Mmmm. Did I really have any I needed with a MAB+7 requirement?...


    Wait a second¡­ Finish and Hew came online at +7, but they needed my Weapon Mastery to be up for Spear and Axe¡­ which they were.


    Hah. Ha ha ha ha ha!


    Oh, my offensive power just took a big leap in group situations.


    My Grandmastery allowed me to take Feats for any Weapon that a Sword could sub for, as long as I had the appropriate Mastery in that Weapon. I had originally spent a lot of time and effort cross-training and paying time and Karma for weapons I would never really use, just to prove my point.


    Two of those Feats were Finish, and Hew.


    Finish was not that impressive. Basically, it allowed you to spend a swift action to coup de grace an opponent that you just reduced to 0, basically turning a drop into a crit as you wrenched the spear in the wound and made damn sure they died, effectively blowing their injuries past what a quick heal or innate fast healing or regeneration might be able to mend.


    Hew was a bit nicer. It was an axe Feat, and once a combat cycle, you could transfer the excess damage from a hit on an enemy you dropped to the opponent you Cleaved off the hit, meaning the surprise second hit could be bigger then the first one¡­ or you could turn a huge hit into something that could take down two, three, even four people. It was a happy feat for Axers who were in range of lots of people, were taking the Cleave tree, and had really good static damage.


    Naturally, they were never meant to be used together. Because the combination of the two of them was basically a guaranteed crit on kill, once a round. And since you already had to drop the enemy to trigger the crit, it meant all the crit damage went to your NEXT target, stacking.


    Kill the minion, crit the boss. Charge one target, overkill it, kill the second. All they had to be¡­ was close enough together. The damage multiplier from the combo was quite sick.


    I knew, I had used it a lot in-game.


    It actually wasn''t likely to happen much with giants, as all the vitals were too far away, so unless they were fighting literally chest-to-chest there was no way I could Cleave from one to the rest.


    But for the night horde, for mounts and riders, for set-up charges and ambushes¡­


    Hah! Ha ha ha ha! I was going to be a blood-spraying horror of chain Cleaves and deaths! Oh, were they going to hate me¡­


    ----------


    I was chomped, and I was chewed, but the dogs were dead as I administered first aid via Vajra and patched up all the new and interesting holes in me. That acidic poison from the Stygian Warhound was particularly impressive, them wounds oozing little black clouds of smoke as I burned the venom, and the wounds sealed behind them.


    Ahhh, that was a right tasty poison, it was¡­


    I had gotten to this point with a lot more healing then before, which was keeping me on my feet as I gasped and cursed the Curse. Canines are natural pack attackers, and the Curse had happily doubled up on this, giving me nowhere to narrow the odds down unless I could get back inside¡­ and the door was closed, of course. I suppose I could have crashed the windows, but the dogs would have just followed.


    Still, they were all dead, mostly by having their eyes pierced or necks half-severed. A lot had the tops or bottoms of their jaws lopped off, which hadn''t been pleasant for them or me, as it usually came with a crushing bite to help things along. I could run faster then they could, sure, but there was nowhere to run to¡­ and anyways, I was here to kill them and see what was next, more than anything else. I could try running around after I knew what I would be facing.


    The statues hadn''t come down off their plinths yet, after all. But they were watching me¡­


    Battle Vigor labored to return a modicum of my Soak as I looked down at myself with a grim smile. A normal person would be dead now, but Die Hard and Die Harder had effectively given me a ''death point'' of -70 Health, and using Ferocity I could fight at negative Health, although I''d be bleeding out as I did so.


    The dogs were One Striking, just like the giants, so their nasty bite damage base was happily tripled for my benefit, which I didn''t really appreciate.


    We both heard it at the same time, and turned to look at the side of the mansion, where a long and gentle slope cut through the two levels of the back yard, designed to bring wagons up or down from the river.


    Or, you know, bring a bunch of giant knights down around the corner from the stables, riding advanced nightmares, or cauchemar, big enough to actually carry them, great plumes of burning smoke jetting out their nostrils. Of course, they were all in normal colors for horses, instead of the creepy black of normal nightmares, but there was no mistaking the clawed hooves, burning eyes, and that smoke they exhaled.


    The knights were all done up in colorful patterns, knight heraldry with the symbol of a black rose in the upper right corner tying them all together. Barded war-cauchemar draped with more colors, a fine and upstanding group of heavy cavalry on mounts bigger than mammoths.


    Damn¡­


    Pennons draped from the lances as they turned the corner, spotted me, and their deep booming shouts of rage at seeing all the dead Damned Dogs burning away in my immediate area swept past like a peal of thunder.


    "Wow, that is SO impressive!" Tremble admitted. "Uh, what config?"


    "Evilborn, horses first. Gots to start a tally on nightmares, right?"


    They were heavy cavalry, so they weren''t nearly as fast as the cauchemar could potentially be, and I counter-charged, confident I could avoid the lances, veering closer to the mansion wall in order to be able to Dragon Walk for height and to avoid them being able to hit me with multiple lances.


    The first one tried to snap at me, equine jaws with a tiger''s teeth, missed as I rolled past and buried Tremble in his eye, its scream laced with blazing flames undertones. The Banefire pulse liquified its brain with vivus, and I bounced and let its momentum slide past me as the giant''s eyes got very big, his wall of a shield rose too late, and he drove himself right onto the point of Tremble through his helm.


    Things got very wild and messy as the leading knight and his mount went down, and there was nowhere to go in the press. Me, I had to work twenty feet off the ground and more as I moved from one cauchemar in strawberry roan to a bay to a sorrel to a wonderful red chestnut, then to a really ferocious pinto and an overeager black.


    It was a good thing I had lightfoot and could jump so far.


    They dropped the lances and unlimbered their sabers, cutting and slicing at me, trying for a surround and finding it rather hard with the house right there. Maybe two could reach me at a time, three if I was dumb, and they were hacking on one another and the horses as I avoided frantic blows and deflected them into other targets.


    But it only took one successful hit from a sword to send me flying, almost cut in two, smash into the ground, and before I could possibly get up, a clawed hoof a yard across with probably a hundred tons of mount and rider behind it came down and flattened me.


    Dealing with huge extremes of damage was such a bummer in here¡­

 49 Chapter Forty-Nine – A Feast for Griffons

    The griffons slowed down when they saw me running towards them, no doubt cautious and uncertain as to what I really was.


    "Follow me!" I announced to the griffons, and if their leader sounded a small squawk of displeasure at me giving it orders, it nonetheless warily paced after me, flapping its wings and depressingly noting that it still couldn''t fly.


    ---


    I set Forge in a good location, and broke open my alchemy lab. I hadn''t expected to get to use my Exsanguination Tube so quickly, but hey, opportunity knocks.


    I was placing down a couple ten-gallon jars as the griffons came loping up, and I turned to face them.


    "Hey there. I''m Sama. Which crown are you all from?" The leader, exceeding twelve feet when his head rose proudly, let out a proud cry. "Stormcrest? Very good! Thank you for attacking this dragon and setting him up, very responsible of you! Of course, there''s more where it came from¡­"


    The griffons shuffled uncomfortably as I trailed off. That definitely was not great news for them.


    "Anyways, I''m about to cut this sucker up. Now, you''re probably hungry, and I''m sure you''re raring to have dragon, but you should be able to smell and sense that this thing is most definitely not something you should be eating. Like, if you do, you''re going to sprout a second head that looks like a vulture, and kill all your crown-mates if you do." The griffons astutely retreated a step, but looked a bit crestfallen, even as they glared at the weird pink second head of the dragon.


    "No need to fear, Sama''s here. I''ll throw the meat on Forge there and purify what I can, render it safe." I heard a cracking sound, glanced over to where Spewing Death had shattered into multiple shards of disintegrating metal.


    Tremble was humming happily. "Total wuss," she sniffed professionally. The griffons trilled when they heard her. "Oooo, pretty!" she said in return, hooking into my Whiskers, and despite themselves, or perhaps automatically, all the griffons preened.


    "Ah!" That only made what injuries they had more obvious. I flipped a wall of the Alchemy locker, displaying several rows of plain vials with a red cross symbol on them. "Okay, injured griffons, line up there." I pointed to the cleared area where the dragon''s broken wing was sprawled out. "I''m going to get started on the meat, and do basic first aid while it cooks." I proceeded to lift down the heavy cabinets from the ring atop Forge, and the bag of random stuff I had acquired in my travels and not sorted out elsewhere.


    As I rotated Forge and the various trophies dangling from it came into view, the griffons warbled and looked at one another cautiously. After all, those were some damn impressive trophies and whatnot there.


    They let out excited calls when they saw the white spike-tail of the manticore dread''s leader. I cocked my head as I lifted it down.


    "What? Oh, yes, killed him and his dread. Over thataway about fifty leagues?" They followed my arm and trilled affirmation. "Yeah, he''s toast. Burned down his nest, too. Surprised you didn''t see the smoke."


    They were snapping curses and insults upon him, meaning the manticores were obviously not on good terms with them, surprise, surprise.


    I tapped Forge, and the vivic flames inside it lit up. Multipurpose Floating Disk uses, that was me. The griffons blinked and craned their heads forwards to look at the unwhite flames.


    "This is vivic fire. Totally harmless to you and me." I pushed Forge in their direction. "However, it feeds on and cleans up unclean energies." They watched the mist from it boiling over and falling slowly on the ground. "Go ahead and touch it, recognize it. It''s a great way to clean up stuff like this dragon, and that dead guy over there." All their heads turned to where the Warp Knight was disintegrating inside his spiky skinplate harness, and the plate was eroding around the edges, too.


    The griffons ambled up slowly to touch the vivic fire cautiously, first poking it with their hooked beaks, then inhaling and snapping at it, waving their heads through it, and basically confirming that it did nothing to them.


    "You about done there, Tremble?" I asked, watching that dire Sword flaking away to nothing.


    "Couple more minutes!" she said pleasantly, giving its remains a nasty twitch.


    I grinned, grabbed a couple of healing Potions from The Stash, and made my way over to my wing-top healing station. "You!" I pointed at a griffon with a lot of bloody slashes on him. I made a come-here notion. "Do not keep the healer waiting."


    Proudly, the griffon trotted over, displaying his wounds for all to see, badges of bravery and all that. "This is going to hurt. I''m warning you because if you snap at me, or claw at me, I''m going to snap at you, and claw at you." I reached up, and to his immense surprise, hauled his hooked beak down to me. "Since you might die if I snap at you too hard, you might want to control yourself."


    The proud golden eyes met mine, and I ate his pride. His crest noticeably sank. My total lack of fear of him, and the eyeball he sent at the dragon, clearly conveyed that while he wasn''t afraid to fight me if needed, he wasn''t stupid enough to start something¡­ especially since I was trying to fix him up.


    I started going over his injuries, using my Vajra in place of tools. This was just a temporary job, meant to maximize the amount of work the Potions did, increasing the effective capacity of the magic, i.e. a Heal skill check. I pinched wounds together, twisted and fused his own hair and feathers together in lieu of stitches, got ragged edges to join and blood to clot and cement them tight, made sure they were washed clean of any contaminants, and smoothed out lines or flaws. I knitted blood vessels together, anchored muscles, eased bones that were out of place, and generally crawled all over him.


    His fur was actually very fine feathers, remarkably soft to the touch, but almost metallic in hardness. Hacking through it would be like getting through a coat of mail¡­ which hadn''t stopped the dragon, of course.


    The griffons were all very interested in this, especially when I combed out broken feathers in his crest and got him all back to snuff. They''d gathered in most of a circle, cocking their heads as they closely followed what I was doing, watching me clean up his fur and the stains falling off him.


    I finished and stood up on his shoulders, looking down at his head.


    "This last section has two parts. This won''t get you back to full health, but it will line up everything nicely for you to heal properly, understand?" He chirruped once. "Good." I held up a vial. "Lesser Fast Healing potion. It will basically seal all the rips in your flesh. However, it tastes like troll." The golden eyes narrowed. "Yeah, that''s what I said. Also, it itches like nobody''s business. So, you are going to have to NOT throw up when I pour this down your throat, and then NOT scratch yourself while you get yourself back together. If you start itching yourself, I am going to knock you on the head until you stop."


    I reached out and yanked his beak up effortlessly with one hand, surprising him again, and held up a Potion vial. I let go his bottom beak and said, "Open wide."


    Reluctantly, he opened his beak, and I totally fearlessly put my arm halfway down his throat as I dumped the Potion in there. I pulled my hand out, dropped the vial, and slammed his beak shut.


    We all saw him tremble as the stuff hit his stomach, but I had his head locked and simply wasn''t going to let him spew it out.


    He began to shudder, and to shake, his injuries seemed to hiss quietly as steam rose from them. His left rear leg began to rise, and I jerked my head sideways and glared right down into his golden eye, keeping his beak sealed with one hand as I raised my fist.


    He twitched, he whimpered, he shivered full body length like six times, wiggling slightly, his wings twitching repeatedly, and trying his awful damn best not to move as I held his eyes and head firm.


    A minute of quiet agony later, his flesh stopped crawling and itching on the inside, and I slowly let him go. He quickly shook himself all over, like he was trying to shake bugs or water off.


    "See here?" His long neck craned around to what had been a two-foot long gash in his hide, now just a red welt as I parted his fur for him to look it. "It''s back together, but it''s not strong, and can rip again if you are too active. So, be careful. You should be back to full strength in two days, everything else being equal.


    "You all done there, Trem?"


    There was a very soft sound, like the dying gasp of a cursed sword or something. "Sure am!" She floated up, burning vivic, and the griffons edged back from her cautiously. "What''s up?"


    "Vivic purification on this griffon here." I patted my patient''s head. "Hey, back up to the edge of the wing over there, as if you were about to drop some dung. I don''t trust that dragon, so we''re going to see if any corruption got into you. Oh, and it''ll get the taste of troll out."


    A bit disgruntled, the griffon nevertheless paced over to a section of mashed bushes. Tremble followed, humming softly.


    "Okay, take Tremble gently in your beak, close to your mouth." Carefully, the griffon reached out as Tremble shrank down to dagger-size, and gripped her with a soft crunch. "Okay, five BIG breaths. If you feel you suddenly need to shit or piss, do it. Inhale, BIG breath!"


    The griffon inhaled like a massive bellows, great chest swelling, and kind of chirped as all the vivic flame from Tremble went right down his throat. His big golden eyes got even bigger.


    "That''ll clear the ol'' nose, won''t it? Again!"


    He exhaled in a rush, and this time his wings came up as he inhaled again. Feathers stood up all over him. Again, and he reared up despite himself, his eyes getting a bit glossy. One more time and-


    "EECH!"


    A jet of unwhite flame came out his ass, he barely got his tail out of the way as burning dung was vented from him explosively. He hopped to one side, steaming white piss spraying all around below him.


    "ONE MORE TIME!"


    He almost whimpered as he inhaled, and I drew out Tremble and clamped his jaws shut.


    That huge breath seemed to vent out his nethers, and he whimpered and wiggled and almost fell down as he staggered.


    I let go his beak, and he stumbled a couple steps to the side and sprawled down, panting.


    "You feel that inside you?" I asked down at him grimly. He tilted his head back up to me, and nodded unwillingly. "That was taint, corruption coming off the dragon." I lifted my eyes to the alertly watching griffons all around. "If you have been bit or clawed by it, you probably have some of it inside you, too." They all shuffled nervously. "Was any member of this crown bitten? I don''t see any bites on you. If they were, you''re going to need to get them to me quickly, or you might end up killing them yourself."


    The leader spoke up I sharp trills and cries. "Two? Go get them and bring them here. If you can''t bring them here, come back and get me, and I''ll go to them. The rest of you," I pointed at the flames on Forge, "one by one, big breaths, and your mate here can tell you that it is going to be VERY uncomfortable. Get that shit out of you!"


    In more ways than one.


    The crown''s leader shrieked tyrannically, and one other lightly wounded griffon went with him, bounding for the edge of the no-fly zone, while the others lined up obediently by Forge, putting their head right into the flame and raising their tails.


    It would have been funny, if it wasn''t so necessary and damn painful.


    As for Tremble and I, we started on the butchering. The vivic flame on the blade meant we had nothing to fear, and yeah, its hide was steel-hard, but that meant nothing to a +VIII edge.


    Dragonhide made great armor. Dragon skulls could be auto-invested Baneskulls. The claws were a power comp for magic weapons. The bones were power comps for magic armor and shields. The blood was great for tons of magic inks and potions, almost a universal comp. The meat, well, normally it was awesome the same way the blood was, but this tainted shit needed to be purified.


    To magical beasts, dragon flesh was a great delicacy that could be used to purify their bloodlines and get them to the next level. They definitely didn''t want to miss out on a meal like this!


    When they were done venting their bowels, I dropped hundreds of pounds of meat on Forge, and the white flames began to hiss over the meat, forming heavy mists which poured off the edges and into the ground, staining it white as they did so.


    It wasn''t a small dragon, so there were a couple tons of flesh to mess with. Stomach, liver, fundamentallums, hearts, lungs, gall bladder, and other minor organs all had uses in magical items or alchemy, and could be sold or worked with. They went carefully in jars as the Exsanguinating Cord pulled all the remaining blood out of the carcass, filling up two ten-gallon jars and making me very happy. That stuff was like liquid gold.


    And being a mutated thing, it had more then one of a couple of those things. Thank you, Hags, for having such stuff around for me¡­


    -------


    The crown''s lord came back in time to scarf up fifty pounds of dragon meat as a snack, and then actually let me ride him back to the two members of the crown who couldn''t make it there.


    One had a broken wing, the other one had actually been bitten badly by the dragon, and was totally unable to move, lucky to be alive after the dragon was forced to let her go during the fight. I ended up giving her two Potions and the full body treatment, while the other one just required me setting the broken wing, normally a death sentence for a griffon who couldn''t find magical healing, and then letting the Potion finish up the tough work.


    He still had to spend a day off his wing, which he didn''t particularly like, but he wasn''t in any danger, clawing his way up to a higher location and just lazily flapping it as he looked around. He still got to snarf down a hundred pounds of dragon meat, so he was anything but unhappy.


    By and large, the griffons gorged themselves on the purified dragon meat, earning back the energy they''d burned off with great satisfaction.


    I ate some, too. Why not? It wasn''t bad sliced up and stone-fried. And while I was at it, I had me a talk with the griffons, who were frankly rather eager to chat with someone so dangerous who could actually talk to and understand them, and didn''t want to make buffalo wings out of them. Healing ''em, feeding ''em, killing the dragon for them¡­ yep, lots of positive Diplomacy/Animal Empathy modifiers there.


    Still had lots of dragon meat left, toting it around on Forge''s ten-ton limit, stacked up and purified. There were plenty of things I could do with it, and bribes weren''t out of the question¡­

 50 Chapter Fifty – The Situation Stabilizes

    "So, watcha think, Trem?" I asked him, as I woke up depressurized and certain I knew how a waffle iron at work felt.


    "Until you can run on air and have an unpredictable movement path, we''re hosed in that fight," Tremble said with a sigh. "That means waiting until Nine, right?"


    "Oh, heck no. That''s like eighty-some deaths away at this point, with all those /4''s and Levels I have to take. Do you really want to wait that long to take the next step?"


    "Well, no, not really, but how can we fight them?"


    I sat down cross-legged easily and naturally. "Remember that we only went out into the back yard to see what was out there. Now we know. We don''t really have to go out that way, in that order, do we?"


    "No, we don''t, so we''re going to¡­ hit the knights before they gather?"


    "They might come from nowhere, but I will lay you ten-to-one odds that all those horses are indeed in the stables when we leave the house. I didn''t see a barracks, it might be on the other side of the stables, or behind a wall with a gate. But there''s no reason we have to fight the horses and the knights, too. Logically speaking, those horses should be in their stables inside that big barn, not all gathered up in a fighting unit, and the terrain in there is much, much to our advantage.


    "The knights may come racing in as reinforcements once their mounts start to die, but until then, we''re going to kill them without having to worry about twelve-foot swords coming in to cut us apart. And if they burn the place down and fill it with smoke, all the better for us!"


    "So¡­ if we''d have stayed in the front yard, they were probably our next encounter there, too¡­"


    "Or if we stayed in the house, they would have come charging in on foot, most likely. We now know they are an encounter group, and we can set the stage for them. We just don''t want to meet them on horseback.


    "By turning the mounts into their own encounter, we upset the set actions of the Curse and can reduce the danger they pose with the knights."


    "So, we set the stables on fire while we go in there and slaughter them." Tremble''s nod was all audible, but he liked it. "Of course, we don''t know the layout in there yet, but that should end up on our side, right?"


    "Well, they are nightmares, so they can tread on air." I smiled despite myself. "We could, of course, try something even crazier first."


    "They can walk on air?" Tremble repeated thoughtfully. "But can''t you¡­ ooohhh¡­" He thought about that. "Let''s hit the stables first. I''m sure you''ll have to Interdict them anyways, we won''t be able to kill them all in there, right?"


    "Truth, and whittling down their numbers should be a thing." I held up a golden ring I''d nabbed off a giant finger, and Tremble slewed into Firephasing. "Also, we need a fast attack plan on that Alchemical Golem. I think he should be the last thing we kill in the house, so we don''t have to worry about things coming in so fast to help it out. I need some of that glassware and raw materials. We''re just going to have to miniaturize, and renew our nabbing of comps every day we run." I already had an assortment of tools and glassware that we had bundled up tightly into his Hilt Chamber, making sure it stayed with us from death to death. It meant I didn''t have a lot of room for loot, but that was a given, so I didn''t care. Most of what I was looting was jewelry, anyways.


    I only had a cubic foot of room to work with, so by Mithar, I was going to work with it!


    ---------


    Being the cheeky sort that I was, I decided that a nice way to introduce myself to the forty or so cauchemar was to drop a big burning tree on them, so that''s what I did.


    Sir Exploding Walnut Hurler tree was completely on fire when I hacked through a significant portion of his trunk and roots, and it fell over onto that big stable that housed all them horses.


    Instant whinnies of alarm as I came crashing through the windows on the second floor, followed by a whole lot of burning tree slamming down through and scattering branches, debris, and a lot of hot stuff everywhere in a very flammable situation. I mean, cauchemar ate flesh and souls, not straw, but there was still straw and hay everywhere, it was all made out of wood, and what-ho, let''s add some Sama to the chaos as fire and smoke spread everywhere.


    The cauchemar weren''t going to be penned in, of course, they were fully sentient and capable of reacting to the situation. So, they started kicking out the doors to their stalls and running around as giant stable boys panicked and didn''t know what was going on¡­ and I killed them in blurs of motion.


    The screams of the dying were kind of blending into the screams of excitement and irritation, and of course things were none-too-clear with a burning tree in there, all that smoke, and a lot of bodies zooming around trying to get out of there.


    I used charges, of course, slamming into great skulls and planting Tremble, or opening up massive gashes in their throats to spew out smoking black blood. They didn''t really appreciate my attention, of course, but they died in alarm so fast they didn''t know what was going on. Tremble assured me they were screaming telepathically, and naturally that carried much more clearly than their screams.


    Four of them came running around a corner, and I chopped off their right front legs as they did so, sending them hurtling screaming into a pile of maimed meat.


    The giants were much easier targets, naturally, as I bounced around off stalls and cut throats in passing. I moved in and out of sight, maximizing my size and stealth advantage in the confusing conflagration, and even if some rapidly made their way outside¡­ they didn''t have tack or harness on, which was burning up inside the massive inferno.


    I was a little surprised when the first salamanders manifested, spinning up out of a pile of cauchemar dung that was burning with some very unnatural hues. Flaming humanoid tops, giant serpent bottoms, made of fire, on fire, spears and bows ready to have some fun.


    I don''t know why the Curse bothered. I wasn''t bothered by the flames, either, and even Olympian average salamanders weren''t a threat. Now, the two bosses that popped up could be dangerous, assuming this was an open lava field where they could withdraw as needed and the spear guy could protect the bow guy.


    Unfortunately for them, this was a burning stable with limited fire lanes and restricted lines of sight, and I was happy to come at them from all the angles. Bow guy died really fast, and spear guy followed him about ten seconds later as I got inside his guard and opened him up while batting aside his spear, much to his disbelief.


    Eventually, I had to cease excitingly adding a fiery elemental foe to my Courtier of Death, and head outside to meet and greet the confused and angry cauchemar¡­ and their riders, who looked to have come through a gate on the side wall of the estate that I was sure had not been there during my combat with the front lawn¡­ but whatever.


    The knights weren''t completely armored as they should have been, something I was sure would be corrected as the Curse figured some way to spread the alarm to them, but they all had weapons. Unfortunately, they didn''t have anyone to focus on, and instead were all massively diverted by the fire.


    And me, I had a ranged attack.


    I went up to the second floor of the burning building and started sniping at them. The Banestars were showy and easy to track, and naturally they were quite pissed at me shooting them from out of their range. Of course, my own range with the Stars was rather short, and they easily retreated out of range and all¡­ which gave me plenty of room to jump out and run away, and knights and mounts all charging after me as I headed over to the main house and Dragon Walked the wall all the way up to the roof, out of their range again.


    Of course, cauchemar could walk on air, and even without their saddles, the knights could ride them bareback, as long as they didn''t intend to fight seriously there.


    Now, the main mansion was three stories tall, with an attic and steep roof (snow coming!). That''s ''giant'' stories, so, thirty-some feet a floor. When I hit the roof, I was definitely way up in the air. They weren''t climbing up to me. Sure, they could go charging into the building and make their way up to me, but climbing was not something that was going to happen in that heavy armor, and why climb or run when their horses could just shuffle them up top for an epic rooftop battle against little old me?


    Which they decided to do, much to my delight. To make sure they got the maximum height possible, I zipped along to the anchoring viewing towers, and was fully two hundred feet above the surrounding ground when I made it up to the top.


    Up came the knights, those who still had cauchemar, and the horses looked pissed as they paced and circled around me, trying to get some altitude and line up for a good charge at me.


    And that''s when I put my foot down.


    My Null swept out, and their fancy little air-walking went away as Mr. Gravity decided that his domain included Dream when it was trying to emulate reality, and all those agitated horses and knights flying through the air trailing smoke and fire and whatnot¡­ all fell screaming from the sky.


    They were big, they were heavy, and so they fell much faster and harder then, say, a human. Not aerodynamic in the slightest, either.


    We''re talking 40d6 damage to the schnozz, and if they were stupid enough to remain mounted, one would crush the other, depending on how they hit, for additional damage.


    Oh, and I''d been paying attention. The two rocs had been diving in as well, and suddenly they weren''t magical birds flying around, they were magical gliders without a propulsion system comparing x^2 surface area vs x^3 mass increase by size. With very loud shrieks and calls that basically meant "What''s going on?!?" They came down in a hard glide they couldn''t really stop without tearing off their wings, and to my impressed delight, smashed into the front and back of the mansion respectively, tearing open the walls and getting stuck on the inside, stunned and half-impaled on timbers and stuff.


    I saw no reason whatsoever not to take advantage of that to come down on the head of the first one, split its skull, then jump off, run through the building, and before the second one could really shake free of its collision and work its way out, Dragon Walk up around the walls to its head and cut it off in one pass.


    Yep, working on Feathered in Courtier¡­


    Of course, an average of~140 damage wasn''t actually enough to kill any of them, although it looked like a few actually landed badly and skewed the top end of the curve. Actually, supernatural toughness and all, they mostly didn''t even break any bones, since the ground doesn''t crit, although if one landed on the other, well, that was all she wrote.


    Also, they were scattered all over the place now. I wasn''t going to jump into the back yard and pop the dogs, so back into the torn-up mess that was the front yard, and to the fight!


    They were reeling, wounded and with a lot of damage on the pile, and my Banestars were more than happy to cut in and finish the jobs, stabbing into temples, slicing across throats, punching into eyeballs, or driving into chests one by one, as I darted from one to the next on extremely fast charge attacks that inevitably ended in a toppling giant or writhing and falling disguised uber-nightmare.


    Of course, the knights who hadn''t been flying did their best to try and protect their fellows, but they couldn''t keep up with me, and I kept pestering them with Banestars if I couldn''t reach my targets easily¡­ and certainly wasn''t adverse to charging one of them and literally getting inside his face to shoot one and get rid of him.


    Giants shouted war cries, nightmares neighed and screamed, but they couldn''t run, they were part of the Curse and they were there to kill me, not act like actual living beings.


    I ducked, dodged, and weaved around the wreckage, moving into and out of their sight, and while they could think quickly, it didn''t mean they could react so quickly to my movements. I hamstrung them, groin-cut them, and was happy to slice the throat of one in passing and end in the eyeball of another. I was jumping around like an anime fool, my only major regret that I was still most vulnerable in mid-air because I couldn''t change direction, and I had to be very careful to not allow them to hit me in suspension.


    I mostly accomplished this by running along the chests of the giants to get to my targets, before falling back and away as their buddies closed in.


    The giants were very realistic, as far as they could be. I''m sure they were brave and courageous, and simply were finding it hard to believe just how fast and hard something a sixth their size was hitting them. I gave them no explanations but the blade, as I knew what they were.


    Giants from the back yard eventually came around to the front, their mounts coming with them, adding to the fight. They didn''t get remounted, but that was fine. The incensed cauchemar followed me fiercely into the burning inferno of the barn, burning unnaturally fast and fiercely.


    In the raging flames and extremely bad lines of sight, I hunted them down and killed them in passing, dodging clawed hooves and sharp bites. Stalls were splintered, support beams shattered, timbers came down, and nightmares seven yards at the shoulder went tumbling and crashing down very heavily indeed, the vivic burn of their deaths accelerated by the flames.


    ---


    I walked out of the fires a few minutes later, stopping just outside the flames themselves, while the dozen or so remaining knights gawked at me.


    It was a 10d6 inferno behind me, they weren''t going into that, but the radiant heat wouldn''t do anything to them with their universal DR.


    Tremble was humming ominously, and I met all their eyes and smiled cheerfully.


    "Well?" I asked in Jotun, and the nearest ones charged forwards to attack me as a group.


    I shifted sideways faster than they could move, avoiding my target''s frantic swing at me, forward, under and past him, and he cried out as his hamstring went and his knee folded. I reversed direction, ran up his spine faster than he could roll away, severed it at the base of his skull, and bounced forward as the next one swung at me. I twisted just enough to kick off his sword in midair, and came right into his face before he could reflexively bring his gauntlet back to block.


    Tremble drove hilt-deep into his eye, a Banestar fired off to liquify his brain, and I rode him down to the ground as he overbalanced back, the desperate lunge of Three going high, and I kicked off again to the amazement of number Four, landing on his chest, taking two steps up his breastplate as his hand crashed heavily into his chest behind me, and hacked through his throat just before I grabbed his nose and swung around behind him.


    Five''s thrust was meant to spit me, and instead drove into the face of his friend as I wrenched and twisted, and he finished the job for me. As he gawked, I stabbed from twenty feet away and he screamed as the Banestar landed in his dark eye.


    I jumped away and down, between the knights trying to encircle me, and back out into the ripped-up lawn. I flipped and skated backwards, sending Banestars slashing and piercing up at them as they pounded after me, heavier then elephants, trying to catch up to me and spit me on those twelve-foot swords.


    Three fell, clutching at his throat, where a garden-hose of bright red was flying forth. Five had an ear cut off, his cheek laid open, and then a Star drove through his throat and into his spine. He dropped like a puppet with its strings cut.


    I did the splits and dropped below the fallen knight statue, now in three parts and with the horse''s front legs missing. The pursuing giants variously ran into it to bowl it over or separated around it. Six was groin-cut as he vaulted it, screaming as he hit the ground and spurting blood from the huge artery located there. Seven managed to stop himself, which only earned him a screaming fall backwards as I leapt into his face, twisting past the sword he threw up, and he got an eyeful of death, too.


    Physics, momentum. For all their strength, it still took them longer to turn around then it took me, even if Dream was very forgiving of this point.


    I glided backwards, swaying back and forth, as the remaining five of them stopped and stared, breathing hard as they watched me. Tremble''s dirge was clearly unnerving them, as were the death-throes of their comrades.


    Ah, realism in dreams.


    "Brave Knights of the Rose," I winked at them, shifting forward, and they stepped back urgently, blades raised on the defense. I smiled, as that just opened up their legs to me, which I had no problems reaching. "Your duty is about to end!"


    "Tremble, she comes!" my Sword droned out in crystalline pure notes, right on cue.


    ========


    The last Damned Dog whined and went silent as Tremble drove into the base of his skull, and the Banestar liquified his brains. He fell onto the remains of an animated statue, and I kicked them both for good measure.


    "Huh. Wow, okay, that was really impressive," Tremble admitted, as the last thrust sent a wave of rejuvenating stamina-juice through me to restore my endurance. Swinging a Sword around with superhuman strength is very stressful, even with my soul giving me all the energy I needed.


    Battle Vigor ran its course, restoring some of the Soak I''d lost against the dogs. I wasn''t at full Soak, but it was remarkably high considering just how much killing I''d done today.


    "Thanks." I took some deep breaths as I looked downslope. "So, what surprises do you think are down there?"


    "More river stuff? A boat coming in?"


    I sniffed carefully. "It''s not pure river water, I can smell salt. It might be an estuary, or the mouth of a river on the ocean."I couldn''t see anything on the other side of the river, it was lost in misty glitters of the river itself. "A ship is certainly possible, but there''s no river defenses. This might be in a canal area, part of a larger complex? Not sure why it wouldn''t have breakwalls and stuff, or maybe they are below line of sight."


    "Shall we go down and see?"


    "We shall."


    "Why did you keep the tongue of the giant toad?"


    "Bowstring. I''m going to start assembling Fall."


    "Oh! How?" Tremble was very curious about this.


    "My Artificer level is Four. My Warsmith Level is going to be Three. Artificers can enchant items as if they were two Levels higher. That means I can enchant glass into glassteel with the right Runework, which will make the components of an autobow. I can store the comps inside you, and get the materials from the lab inside. It''ll be day by day, but I think I can have it ready in a week."


    "The stone from that commander''s sword was big enough? Good show!" I''d been looking for an E5-worthy rock for a long time, now.


    "It is. Ah. Hmm. Look at that."


    A ship had appeared out of nowhere, and was moving with unnaturally sure speed towards the dock. I blinked, and it was suddenly there. Another blink, and men were pouring off it, and moving up the hill.


    "Well, let''s not be bluntly obvious about the numbers game, shall we?" I smiled, shaking my head. I turned and ran up the side of the mansion, to the big hole the roc had made and the sailors and marines coming up from below amazingly hadn''t seemed to notice yet. Probably not in an active area, or something.


    I was going to recover what things I needed to render this super strong and elastic toad''s tongue down into an alchemically-reinforced string for an autobow, and soon, soon I was going to have me a proper ranged weapon I could ply from a distance. My maximum possible range on my Banestars was fifty paces with Tremble in Ranged format, and I definitely needed a whole lot more.

 51 Chapter Fifty-One – Warp Warband

    The griffons naturally had a very good idea of large movements in their territory, being low level sentient apex predators with a strong territorial instinct. They were able to tell pretty much exactly where the Warp intruders were coming from, and they didn''t like them at all.


    Which led to me basically asking if they thought they could round up some more help for this kind of a fight. The Fey said the elves were moving, the Fey themselves might or might not get involved, and the unnatural reek they had was revolting to just about any natural creature.


    I also related that the reason they probably sent the dragon out here all by itself¡­ was to round up some of the other creations over thataway, and bring them back to the fight. Many of whose body parts adorned my cabinets.


    If I was right, this wasn''t just a random event, this was a slow and steady invasion from another world that was just blossoming right now.


    I named the crown lord Sable, which seemed to please him. And then he took his crown and went flying off in search of those who could help, while the two wounded ones kept one another company until they were strong enough to fly.


    And me, I started running again.


    They were only thirty miles away or so. With the rough terrain and stuff, I''d be there in an hour or so.


    ------


    Flying things in the air several kliks off, gave me something to orient on, growing larger as I closed in.


    Warp Harpies. Exaggerated clawed wings, talons, teeth. None of the dangerous singing stuff, pure hag-mean flesh renders and eaters, flying aerial watch.


    Two manticora, the scorpion-tailed variety. The Warp loved combo animals, but unfortunately for them, the bloodline of the griffon-types could be twisted, but not sustained.


    That horned guy soaring around on a hieracosphinx, now, looked like some sort of spellcaster.


    They were all giving gravity the finger, so I''d have to give them a proper disciplining of sixteen feet per second per second and its relevance to the lift/weight ratio.


    I would like to say the Warp Centaurs surprised me, running around out there on scouting duty. They were effectively mutated versions of the normal ones, except bigger, brawnier, often with random mutations, and a penchant for eating the flesh of sentients with the bad temper that went with it.


    Oh, and they all had horns.


    They weren''t exactly like the ones in Nightmare, who had tended to be Olympian. These guys had fun things like eyes on stalks, serpent fangs spitting poison, armored scales, mismatched arms or legs, animated beards, and taloned or clawed hands. Their horns could be stag, ram, goat, antelope, or just plain weird, but they tended to wear little in the way of clothing, let alone metal armor.


    Which was fine with me. They must have thought all their gory battle trophies and some hides were fine enough protection for the weather and weapons alike.


    They were also replete with the Warp Energies of the Dark Gods. Tremble took note and began forming a Bane for them.


    I knew from lore that these bastards were actually mortals or descendants thereof, usually humans, that had been affected by Warp mutation and turned into half-beasts or other horrors dreamt up by their demented masters. However, a group of scouts, no matter how bloodthirsty and demented, wasn''t going to stop me.


    I left them burning vivic, and the Land to feed on the Warp energy being refined.


    If this was a true Incursion, well, the Land might be feeding very well, indeed¡­


    ------


    Okay, I was looking at a warband of sorts. Looked like a couple thousand troops, all out having a good time, mindlessly cutting away at everything in their path, looking for something to fight and slaughter.


    A beastman army, consisting of tauren cavalry and thropic infantry, all Warp-powered. The cavalry was centaurs commanded by particularly big and finely horned commanders, or manotaurs with bull lower bodies.


    The main infantry were types of satyrs, randomly with ram, goat, stag, or bull horns, led by bigger versions of them with greater racks, or full-blown minotaurs, some with horns so big I wondered how even necks that thick could carry them.


    Very little in the way of armor, except leathers from the hides of beasts or rivals. Lots of battle trophies, maybe they thought they would protect them. Only the centaurs carried bows, mostly a bunch of spears and axes for use.


    There were two oversized chariots, glimmering with magic, being drawn by dire boars the size of rhinos, complete with yard-long tusks and spinal crests of bone spikes a forearm long. Some guys with skulls-on-staves and too many gory battle trophies were randomly exhorting these guys in Demonic, keeping up spirits looking for real battles and territories.


    Some of those battle trophies were relatively fresh, too¡­


    And there was one giant minotaur, easy seven paces tall, with a single cyclopean eye, carrying with it a fist-sized (for it) boulder carved with Runes that made my eyes fuzzy.


    They had to be under orders to keep going, as any territory without anything else claiming it was generally enough for creatures like this. Made sense, their bosses wanted conflict, and wouldn''t stop their hunger for fights.


    I guess I was going to have to do something about them. I looked at the fliers overhead, reflecting that I hadn''t seen any ''noble'' beastmen of the predatory races, which were supposedly much tougher then these types, or any demons, either.


    Well, it was far from the first time I had fought an army, and they were all strung out in companies as they marched through this section of the forest, looking for a fight while the big one cleared away any obstacles for the chariots.


    Well, I decided to oblige them. Mikle took a look at their numbers and opted to dismount and look on from a safe distance. He was invisible within ten feet, and treeslipping along far faster then his little legs could run, going to watch all this and report back to the Fey¡­ or gossip, such as it was.


    I smirked, wondering how long I would be able to fight before being forced to run, and eyed the centaurs.


    Well, I had to start somewhere. I let Forge down, readied myself, and zipped into motion.


    ====


    A swirl of grey materialized from the browns and greens of the forest, moving through the ferns and bushes while scarcely raising a ripple of motion.


    "They are nearly to the clearing, Commander," the slender figure reported, the hood of his cloak falling off to reveal pointed ears and dark hair on coppery skin. He was shorter than an average human, but with shoulders nearly as broad despite his overall slenderness and delicate, angular features. His movements were quick and precise, moving with extreme natural agility and poise, like an extension of the land around him.


    The commander nodded, her large emerald eyes glancing left and right, and seeing next to nothing of the forces gathered here. The scout brought up his hood and glided back into the undergrowth, vanishing from sight within several steps with no more sign of passage than an errant breeze.


    Commander Shvaughn studied the far side of the clearing. The bestial intruders were following a relatively easy path on their advance, looking to move with speed and ferocity through the forest. They had indiscriminately killed basically everything in their path, animal or sentient, and used them for food for their forces. They reeked of corruption and danger, and the call to gather the border forces of the kingdom had been swiftly responded to.


    She had fought anthros before, as orcs, gnolls, hyen, and their like were persistent raiders at the edge of their lands, but a warband this large was unusual, as was the ravaging nature of it, projecting a dominating ferocity that was at odds with the raiding bands of the savages.


    Still, she had served out here for decades, and her position here was hard-won and long-earned. While there were many elves among those beneath her, they tended to be of the younger generation, doing their service to the kingdom out here for a few decades before moving on to other services to their clans and houses. The number of senior, experienced elves tended to remain closer to the heart of the kingdom, where civilization and its pleasures flourished, leaving the border to those who lived out here.


    One exception was her wizardess, Usilla, a Diviner who had a wonderful reputation among the border forces and rangers, often able to predict a raid or sortie days in advance and allow them to get into position to ambush the enemy. It was her misgivings that had sent the first scouts out beyond the borders and realized that something fell was stirring out here, above and beyond the dangerous creatures that had crept into the borders of the Sidhete over the last generation.


    Thus, the defense out here was left mainly to the younger elves, gaining experience in service to their Queen, and the halvyr who lived in the border lands and comprised the majority of the rangers out here.


    By the standards of most armies, the individuals of this force were elites, but they were not a battle line, being used to skirmish, to strike and fade. Only scouts so far had met members of the enemy, and their reports were not encouraging. These twisted creatures were tough and strong, did not die easily, and coming to frontal combat with them was not a good idea.


    Happily, every border guard here was a skilled archer and spearman, and if not used to operating in formation or bearing heavy armor, had no problem forming a tight line and supporting one another. However, they did not carry shields, and so any fighting would inevitably devolve into knots of combat¡­ and this warband did indeed outnumber them.


    She had a bow available, but was not wearing it at this time. It was her job to command, not to snipe, even though her fellow wardancers had their own recurve bows out and were prepared to begin shooting.


    Soon enough the foul black wings of the harpies were swooping over the trees, looking for any threats and scouting the way down between the thick copses that lingered along a river stream. A dark river began to emerge from the edges of the forest ahead of them, and their fearless braying and calls sounding out to one another as the creatures came forth.


    They looked like satyrs, but none of those decadent fey ever looked so twisted or smelled quite so bad.


    There were a lot of them, and her hands tightened on the hilt of her sword as magic tickled the back of her throat and she prepared to give the order to ready bows.


    Something flashed behind the line of strangely horned, brutal satyrs. Different calls and sounds rose, and the advancing herds of satyrs slowed down and turned around in confusion.


    "Usilla?" she asked, seeing the confusion among them, and the way the fanged harpies overhead quickly shifted backwards. A horn arose in alarm, and the satyrs started hustling back in the direction they''d come.


    The silver-haired wizardess closed her eyes and murmured to herself, a pale halo of magic gathering about her head. She raised her head, her golden eyes gone white as she looked into the distance.


    "They are moving back into the trees¡­ there is something there, moving among them. It is too far away, I can only see snatches, but the creatures seem to be trying to encircle it." Many deeply unsettling horns were blowing, indicating orders and positions of forces they could not see. "It is extremely quick! Sylune, such speed! It is cutting through them like a misting wind! I cannot tell what it is, but I just watched ten of the satyrs fall in seconds! I cannot seem to get a view of it, as if it were invisible¡­"


    She blinked, and her golden eyes returned to normal. "It is rampaging among their numbers, moving from cluster to cluster with great speed, slaying along the way, and then butchering them in groups. I saw bodies being hurled into the air like toys, and cut in half instantly, not even slowing the killer." She gestured, and an image arose before her, before she closed her eyes again.


    Shvaughn watched the illusion of what Usilla was seeing alertly. The distant eye the Diviner had dropped had a full range of vision, and tracked around the old forest out there, watching the satyrs and the other anthros hurrying this way and that as they tried to keep up with something that was moving through the forest too quickly for them to catch.


    Or¡­no. Not too quickly to catch. It was¡­ herding them, and drawing them into clusters?


    She was a wardancer, and thus the heavy infantry of the borders. It was her job to jump into combat with the toughest of the enemy, or clusters of them, and show them the dance of vengeance. She had reaped many foes with the long blade in her hands¡­ but she had not seen death dealt out like this.


    As Usilla said, the source of the killing could not be seen, even as she watched a dozen satyrs come apart like a peeling flower, unseen killing strokes ripping through them like they were water, not hard muscle and bone. Their weapons seemed to find no target, she could see several spears chopped apart in casual passing, others knocked away lightly, and of course all the owners died.


    And they were all burning with a fire that was not really white.


    Murmurs came from other elves, rising from concealment to watch the illusion at work. The slaughter it was enacting was so intense, it was pulling the entire force of the invaders together to fight it.


    Usilla oriented on something large¡­ the massive, twenty-some-foot tall minotaur cyclops, striding heavily through the trees with a great runestone in hand, doubtless a throwing weapon no one felt like getting in front of. It wound up and threw out, but there was no chance of the hurtling stone catching that unseen motion, even as it slammed through a group of satyrs being massacred, crushing bones and flinging bodies around like chaff.


    The slaughter continued past the path of the rock, even as the stone crunched to a halt against a massive forest elder, and then rose from the ground and sped back to the waiting three-fingered hand of the cyclops.


    The path of slaughter arced around, and headed right for the cyclops.


    It bellowed, and its eye flashed, bringing the massive rock down in a thunderous blow, seemingly right on top of the bloody path coming towards it. The watching elves flinched, and then the cyclops screamed as its thumb flew off, and a deep gouge appeared in the side of the stone. A second cut opened up its left arm to the elbow, and then another cut appeared across its hanging gut, nearly disemboweling it.


    There was no mistaking the fear on the horned cyclops'' face. With a howl, it yanked back its hand, unable to grasp its stone, and turned to run. It moved ponderously, yet still picked up speed, massive hooved feet slamming to the ground, bouncing off a tree or two and snapping several low-hanging branches as it ran towards the light ahead. Satyrs who were too slow were smashed out of the way or stepped on as it fled from whatever had nearly killed it.


    Two streaks of light shot out of nowhere, hit the back of its right knee, and severed the tendons there precisely. Several more satyrs died along the path of the killer, and the heads of the elves turned as on the other side of the clearing, a massive form lurched out into the open, falling with a thud that carried clearly to their ears a couple of seconds later.


    The illusion clearly showed it trying to turn and lift its hand to stop whatever was coming, and then something flowed by, there was a flash of light as its bulging eyeball erupted and something drove deeper within. Eye and skull flashed with unwhite light, and the huge creature slumped in death.


    On the other side of the clearing, the same things happened from their angle.


    "What manner of creature is doing this?" Shvaughn blurted out, despite herself.


    "They are warded from magic, and I cannot see them. It seems that the anthros can, and are being slaughtered for the privilege." Her expression was equally grim and amused.


    "Be ready if they flee in our direction. Cut them down and show them no mercy!" The blur emerged into a narrow clearing, facing the first of the boar-driven chariots in the distance, and manticora and harpies swooping in upon it.


    And then the creatures dropped out of the sky, flapping wildly, clearly out of control and very obviously haven lost the power to fly. Dark forms crashed heavily into the ground and trees, and the invisible blur shifted past them at breakneck speed, making sure none survived the landing.


    The shaman screamed, waving his staff of bone, but the blur seemed quicker. One boar''s tusk suddenly fell free as it writhed, and then blood spurted out where its eyes had been. Something opened a two-foot gash in the throat of the other great boar, half-severing its thick neck and sending blood spraying wildly. The shaman raised his staff, and weird green lightning blazed out from the unholy thing, thrusting forwards with ravenous power¡­ before abruptly fading into nothing just above the harness of the boars.


    It didn''t fizzle, or spark, or deflect off something. It was just¡­ no longer there.


    The front right skull-bearing pull of the chariot was sliced through slickly and smoothly, and the charioteer behind it lost his head. The shaman gaped, clearly staring at something, trying to get his staff in the way, when something sheared through his right arm, chest, and head in an unstoppable arc, dividing bone, muscle, organs, ornamental hides and leathers in twain, swiftly and precisely. It was like a giant''s razor-sharp blade had swung through and irresistibly divided the shaman in two.


    And then the anthros behind the dead shaman started to collapse, limbs and blood flying in every direction as the slaughter continued, to braying screams of accompaniment.


    "Commander, we could take advantage of the confusion¡­" one of the veterans there spoke up, a brown-haired, grey-eyed halvyr Ranger by name of Tathimir.


    The flyers were largely gone, except for the powerful warrior up on the hieracosphinx, who was urging his vicious mount closer to see what was happening¡­ but obviously not too close, unwilling to be caught in the same effect that had brought down the manticora and harpies so quickly.


    "We advance and encircle. Do not let them flee the fight. Contain them and send them back whence they came, we will find out where they flee to," she ordered crisply, her voice breezing through the woods swiftly and finding ready ears.


    The vegetation began to ripple as the hidden border guard split with the ease of long practice, gliding out into the open area, keeping low and hidden even as they remained virtually invisible to those who could not pierce the camouflaging effects of their cloaks.


    This fight was not shaping up to be what they expected, but how good or bad a decision that would be remained to be seen¡­

 52 Chapter Fifty- Two – Let’s Go For a Walk on the Pier

    There were a lot of giants coming up off of that boat. There was no good way to kill all sixty-two of them. Once they entered the active area, they were searching for me, and the magic of the Curse made sure they would eventually find me. So, no real rest or recovery time.


    That said, I was still faster then they were, and I didn''t have any problems kiting them, leading them here and there, crashing through windows in either direction to open up distance between us, running up the outside walls to the roof or higher floor windows.


    It was a long, drawn-out game, as they quickly tried to come up tactics to corner me, and I whittled them down. Their teamwork was unnaturally good, but they were up against me, and I wasn''t any worse in figuring out the weaknesses in their tactics and hitting them hard from surprise.


    Tremble slowly slid in Subtlety to the Slotless Enhancements on him. +4 to-hit and damage when Sneak Attack damage applied, which it basically always did, left me room for Defender to improve my AC and make me more unhittable, even with all their teamwork.


    The only way to one-hit them was with a charge or braced against a charge, or getting that sweet crit on them, and even those didn''t work on the officers and commanders, who had been Advanced and had Health Qi dumped on top of them.


    The captain of that ship ended up with 500 Hit Points after all that damn Health Qi. He was basically a legendary monster that existed just to make it hard for me to kill him. I was still a damn Deep Seven, and could only shake my head and continue on with what I was doing. Him, his first mate, and the marine commander made a lethal team that I simply couldn''t take head on, and had a damn hard time taking out sneakily.


    Kind of fun in its own way, like a boss fight where the boss was controlled by a PK, ''cause these bastards were definitely not dumb and locked into simple tactics.


    As the sailors killed me repeatedly, I noticed that the tactics of the spellcasters were changing. Direct attacks and Summons were becoming less and less common, simply because they were next to useless. The only kinds of spells that were viable were those that buffed their allies, and I could even cut those, if I wished. Direct spells were simply useless if had Guardian up at full strength now, and 75% of the time otherwise.


    So, the number of Casters dropped off, and swift, strong, and often stealthy warriors took their place. My night-time fights began to get very interesting as the room began to shrink, and the first time the Grimm hit me in ambush, sent us through the window and outside, did surprise Tremble and I.


    The horde of ghouls rising from under the flower gardens, and the flowers turning into animated poison-thorn vine-lashing, attar-clouding, seed-spitting horrors, well, it just moved the front yard fight that much more intense, doncha know.


    I still hadn''t made it to the second night, however.


    -------------


    I pulled a yard of steel out of the captain''s ear, riding him down as he toppled with a crash, his desperate and defiant expression frozen on his face.


    And yeah, he actually had those curls, he wasn''t wearing a wig.


    I tore the hoop earring off his ear, it was larger than a bracelet, and certainly big enough to Burn.


    I jumped off his shoulder as he hit the ground next to his first mate, who had just stopped twitching after the torrent of blood from his throat slowed down. I went sliding across the blood-slick grass, came to a stop.


    "Uh¡­?" Tremble asked, as we both looked around. "Is that all of them?"


    "Yes, unless there''s more on the ship." I looked down the hill at the oversized two-master, shaking my head. "Give me three of them."


    His pommelstone unscrewed, lifted aside with cantrip-level magic, and I caught the three slender vials stored within.


    I could make four Potions a day, to a max of a goldweight in value, barring comps, and naturally in lieu of Burning something else. But the increased staying power was worth sacrificing a day or two, and especially if I could make it to the end of the sailors.


    Three wouldn''t even take care of the damage from one hit, but that was fine. My Battle Vigor was salvaging more Soak out of nothing, and I spent my last Vigor as I dumped the first sour, concentrated vial down my throat.


    Flesh shredded by the passing of swords that weighed as much as I did first sealed, and then were settled by the Potions in passing, cleaning up what the Vigor could not. The Caster Level of any Potion I ingested was considered to be my own, and if it was a Healing effect, it healed additional damage equal to my Toughness bonus (currently +7), and was then doubled. Double that again by healing existing an equal amount of temporary damage, and then on top of that converting an additional amount to temporary damage, meant Potions were incredibly powerful for a Melee like me. It was just a shame that I could easily burn through everything I made every day.


    Powered lived and died by their chi or mana reserves. I was much more direct, my only reserve was my Health and Soak. If I had them, I could fight. If I didn''t, I was dead.


    But I had finally made it past the sailors. I wasn''t in great shape at all, but my Health was near topped, and I at least had a modicum of Soak.


    I dropped the vials back into the Hiltspace, and Tremble sealed himself back up as I glided gently down the first slope to the next open space.


    Motion to the sides caught my eye as I skated across the level area, and rolled my eyes.


    Seriously, giant hornets?


    They were as long as I was, buzzing like nobody''s business as they swarmed and thrummed over towards me.


    I put my foot down for the second time today, and the oversized bugs crashed rather awkwardly to the ground, bringing themselves and the winds they were kicking up down to earth.


    A lot of buggy heads went flying, and I thanked the Curse happily as I drew out the poison from their stingers, sucked it down, and Poison Healing reacted energetically, sending waves of new vitality through me at the rate of 1-6 HP per dose. Given the thirty or so yellowjackets and multiple doses, I happily stocked up on extras as I raided their venom for contrarian healing supplies.


    And if my heart rate and blood pressure topped 200 for an extended period of time, well, that''s what a 35 Con allows you to laugh off.


    "Wow, it''s like the Curse sent us a bunch of healing just so we could see what''s going on with the ship. Bet you it decides the hornets are a bad idea tomorrow."


    "No bets. It left in the vipers too long, but eventually realized you were treating the venom sacs as healing potions. And the scorpion was only one night, too, after you sucked its tail dry."


    "See, you''re paying real attention." I turned to survey the sky, making sure nothing was coming down out of the blue mist up there at me. "Well, you ready to see what the water has in store for us?"


    "Damn straight." Battle Vigor on top of the poison healing and the easy kills also topped off my HP, which was definitely a good thing. I didn''t have any more reserves then Potions I didn''t want to spend¡­ but you never know.


    ---


    I glided down the next slope, to the level stretch that ended in a built-up break wall and walkway along the river, some twenty feet above the water, leading down to the pier the ship was docked at.


    More then two minutes had passed, so something out there had glommed on to me. It had to be in the water, because there was no movement on the ship, surprisingly enough. Then again, there wasn''t anything that said the ship itself couldn''t be a monster. An animated ship would take quite some work to take down, although I suppose it would burn pretty well.


    Which actually wasn''t all that bad an idea. As I came down the stairs towards the pier, Tremble shifted to Firephasing, and then we began peppering that ship with Banestars of fire, fwishfwishfwish, fast as I could twirl him and send them out into its hull, sails, masts, and cabins. Incredibly hot flames splashed over the dry wood and caught fire with great speed. They spread with unnatural, dream-like speed, and in a remarkably short period of time, the ship was on fire, the ropes that were lashing back and forth on their own were being eaten away.


    I hopped on board, ignoring the fire blazing around me, and trotted over to the captain''s cabin, cutting through the simple knob on the blazing door and trotting inside as Tremble pointed eagerly.


    Yeah, a large purse of jewels in a burning chest was a definite good find. The pay for the sailors could stay where it was for the moment. I could retrieve it in the future.


    About then, this skyscraper-sized ship lurched and upended itself with unnatural speed. I was suddenly on a floor at sixty degrees to the stern, which made it a bit more difficult to reach the door out.


    Difficult, but not impossible, as the ship began to sink even faster then it was burning, damn thing.


    I ran up the sloping floor with Dragon Walk, slamming the door open with my shoulder as it had slammed shut, back out on the burning hull that was sliding into the depths with unnatural haste, as if its buoyancy now equaled that of solid stone.


    Dream physics. Gotta love them.


    I scooted over to the side and jumped up and out as the ship screamed past behind me, grabbing the edge of the pier-


    And holyshit swinging myself out of the way as the long head of the hill-sized snapping turtle came lunging out of the water to take a bite out of me.


    Its hooked beak-like jaws snapped shut with a crack like shattering stone¡­ oops, no, that actually was stone shattering on the pier, silly me.


    Spinal crest, intelligent eyes, flippers had claws.


    Aw hell, this wasn''t a giant snapping turtle¡­


    I swung myself up onto the pier as the dragon turtle loomed up, and shoved myself away with my arms as my legs made the same motion in the other direction, but did nothing.


    Its action followed my legs, quite logically, and so it totally missed me with the superheated steam breath weapon as I slid in the opposite direction. One monstrous eye rotated and followed me in astonishment as I skidded away from it. I spun and turned and was on my feet, still skating backwards and out of range of the flipper-claw it slapped down with crushing force on the pier.


    I reversed abruptly as Tremble snarled and went into Stormphasing and Dragon-Killing Mode. I thanked the master of the mansion for his trophy room containing drakes, and then opened up a six-foot gash along the dragon turtle''s webbed claw as his wagon-sized head swung back in my direction, sparks spitting in the thick hide and flesh.


    The dragon turtle let out a rather pained sound, opening jaws capable of swallowing your average Buick, and snapped out at me again.


    Stand slammed into the horny jaw, flaring with deflective power, and although that head out-weighed me at least fifty-fold, I slammed it aside, leaping up as the rotating eye fixed on me, and Tremble''s ominous drone matched its growls as I cut.


    Its scream as I harvested that eye was beyond my vocal range, and I thank my Con score and Thunder Resistance for not getting my ears blown out. It tried to slam me away, but I was swinging over its head, sliding past the crest on its head, spinning around and down and, hey, did you know it had another eye on the opposite side of its head? Wonderful, wonderful, those things came in pairs! Splurch!


    Blinded, it snapped its head back as I felt flat to the pier, let it whip past overhead, pause and orient on the snapping hum of Tremble, and drive back at me, turning its head and opening its jaws wide to snip me in multiple parts.


    Instead of jumping, I folded right down to my shins and leaned all the way back, and effectively did a moving Archer Stand Thrust as it shot by above me, driving Tremble into its neck near the corner of its mouth, and letting its own mass and strength tear open a massive wound through nearly a forearm-length of scales and hide and muscle.


    I hit at least a couple big veins, and its entire neck convulsed as twisting lightning blew apart blood and water and made something bad 50% worse, elemental vulnerability tyvm. The horrendous damage went up its spine to its head, and I saw small bolts erupt out its bloody eye sockets as it convulsed. I pushed myself aside as the extended neck crashed down limply.


    "Fudge. I do not want to go water-diving for the dragon heart," Tremble cursed as I spun back up to my feet. We watched as the flipper-claws released like taut cables from the stone, and the weight of its shell dragged it backwards and down into the dark waters, following after the ship.


    "Not a big surprise at all," I mused, looking up and down the length of the pier, my eyes stopping at the far end of the pilings.


    Two wrist-thick strands of something were playing back and forth there. I turned to face it, eyes narrowed, before the narrow head and the first thin legs came over the edge, and the massive pincers swept up from the sides.


    "Uh? Scorpion''s big brother?" Tremble asked, noting the size of the pincers.


    "Lobster. Water-dwelling crustacean. Their tail flesh is delicious, as is the pincers." I sighed as I watched it whipping around a couple hundred pounds of delicacies as Sama-snipping appendages, stopping my drooling thoughts of hot melted butter. The cold and emotionless eyes fit perfectly as it pulled itself over the end of the pier, easily spreading out to cover most of the width of it.


    "Vulnerable underneath, aye?" Tremble assessed.


    "Just like most bugs, yeah." We watched it start to come towards us with careful, heavy steps on the stones, feelers waving about to sample the air and touch everything carefully. Due to its size, it actually moved fairly quickly while not actually taking that many steps.


    I skated towards it, and it paused immediately, tracking my motion and pulling its open pincers back to strike.


    I repeated the tactic I''d used against the dragon turtle, perfectly effective since I was charging in too fast for it to adjust the path of its larger pincer coming in to pinch me in two. Down on shins, just above the ground, leaning all the way back, and punching up with Tremble still in lightning form along the joins of its carapace and legs.


    It was defying physics with its size and weight, should have collapsed under its own weight, but the basic physiology was still the same. Let loose the pressure differentials in its legs and thorax, and its legs just snapped down and back, unable to hold on as the air squealed out the path chewed down its underbelly.


    The shrill sound sounded very much like boiling lobster, and I licked my lips at the smell and sound despite myself.


    I rolled out sideways underneath it as its mass settled down with a multi-ton crunch behind me, tail flapping uselessly and unable to send it away from me, being out of water and all. As it beat the stone uselessly, I hopped up on its backside, trotted up along its back to the front of it, crouched down and expeditiously drove Tremble into its black eye and brain while it lay there unable to move anywhere, flailing its massive pincers uselessly.


    And jumped as two tentacles came whipping out of the water to grab me, spinning and cutting a third one apart in midair, landing and sliding under two others and back out of effective reach towards the walkway.


    I watched as a kind of cross-shaped flower of a head rose out of the water on a thick, rubbery stalk. It had lamprey-like teeth on it, the round hole of a mouth, and the ''petals'' of the jaw seemed to be lined with rudimentary visual organs, as well as hooked teeth.


    The tentacles looked something like a giant octopus would have, except for the serrations along them that heralded a kind of flesh-rending threat octopi didn''t have. I couldn''t see the central body from my angle¡­ but I could sense it along the edge of the pier, moving below my line of sight closer to me, and this extended head staying mostly unmoving relative to me.


    "The Hell is this thing?" Tremble asked, curious and completely unable to feel the unnaturalness about it.


    I narrowed my eyes, watching the way space seemed to bend around its body, and the stone of the pier give way uncertainly under the tentacles, before reforming.


    "See the way it is interacting with the environment?" I said in a low, careful voice. I could feel Tremble focus. "It''s bringing in its own reality. It''s not a part of the Curse¡­"

 53 Chapter Fifty-Three – Warp Factor Elven!

    I listened to Warp mutants dying in the distance. Someone was shooting them down with extreme prejudice. After the general thinning they''d received at my hands, it was a bit too much for the poor lads, and they were just dying off.


    Heh. I glanced at the airborne leader''s skull, thoughtfully piked while his corpse burned off. The heart of his hieracosphinx mount was already tucked away with a couple gallons of its blood, head also piked next to its master. I''d also salvaged its claws and pinfeathers, good stuff there.


    I''d disassembled the two chariots, and made a few cookfires out of them, throwing in a whole lot of crude spear hafts and bows as ready fuel. Tremble''s vivic fire had carefully gone through and purified them, eating away the mutated life energies and results of the pigs as the gutted, cleaned, and stripped carcasses rotated over some cook fires, getting that preliminary sealing in as I got some coals working.


    They were big pigs, but you know, once you get the innards, skin, and major bones out, several hundred pounds of meat doesn''t actually take up that much room.


    ------


    I was in the middle of burying the second one when the natives finally ''found'' me.


    They showed themselves in the distance cautiously, drawing attention away from the fact that several of them had actually stolen to within thirty yards of me. I had little to no reaction, intent on my cooking, digging out the hole for the meat with a shovel, wrapping it up in its own hide, then putting some dirt and all the coals back over it, dropping a few more spears Tremble had gathered up on top, and proceeding on to the next one.


    This continued as more and more of them started to pop up around me. The lack of reaction from me, and Tremble zipping past a few of them with more spears, bows, and arrows to burn, emboldened them, until several hundred were in the vicinity, watching me sitting there going through ornamentation and items ripped off the dead, while Forge was melting down the gold and metal I thought salvageable¡­ and energetically feasting on the Staff the Shaman had been wielding, crooning a politely damning song in demonic as she devoured and purified the magic in it.


    There was more magic here then she could eat in one day, but happily they had some crude gemstones and a surfeit of gold here, so I got together some easy runework capacitors, and she shunted the Karma into Stand, Fall, and these storage devices, getting rid of the unclean magic in the process.


    Of course, watching Forge and Tremble slag several dozen magical Weapons and Armor was kind of impressive, and kind of put the watching elves off, especially as they considered the cabinets sitting on the ground, totally out of place in this setting.


    I made some of the melted armor into rectangular ingots, then cleared off the ground and let most of the scrap form a big round slab¡­ which I smoothed off with my bare hand, still totally ignoring them.


    They were pretty patient and polite, and didn''t bug me while I was working, despite being pretty nervous. Of course, I was watching them alertly the whole time. Half-elves, halvyr, dominated their numbers. At least two races of elves, judging by skin tones¡­ no, three, if I included the golden-skinned, silver-haired might-I-just-be-a-Caster elfin over there, watching me while barely blinking and trying to hide some frustration and uneasiness in her I''m-not-a-sun-dress robe. Sylvan, moon, sun elves; green-tinted, pale white, and golden skin tones, respectively. Rural, suburban, and urban, if I wanted to be snide.


    The tech level seemed to be late medieval, although metal quality of their gear was superb. Double-stitching, high QL, not at all bad, but of course magic supplemented all of that.


    They had some riders in the back, mostly just light horses for riding around, not for fighting. No large deer or anything, but caribou of size and moose were better for war then travel, anyways. Mostly infantry, leather armor or light mail, a surfeit of bows and blades, and a great deal of curiosity.


    I took the four rectangles I''d made, smashed them into the ground, and impressed them all when I picked up the big flat circle of hot metal and slammed it down on them, creating a low table instantly, and making them blink when they realized it.


    I sniffed, and trotted over to Pig #1. I kicked away the coals with my bare feet, reached down into the heart of them, and drew out the bundle of wrapped meat with one hand. The lump of it was three times as big as I was, but I manhandled it without effort. I plopped it down on the table, unwrapped the hide, and let the sizzling meat out there to be displayed for all of them to see.


    The smell of it spread very quickly, and their faces changed as they fought off their drool, and wondered just what I was going to do with all of that.


    Tremble slapped down into my hand, and I began to cut.


    Tremble went through butterfly patterns in blurs of motion, faster then their eyes could track, the circles very tight and small, chopping through two feet or more of pork without much problem, moving from the top, which was a head above me, all the way to the bottom with rapid ease, well over a hundred strokes, and then I slid a half-circle around it, cutting it from top to bottom four times.


    Fragrant juices were oozing out of it, sizzling on the hot metal.


    "There''s three more coming. Eat up."


    They all blinked at the words in Fey, looked at me, and then their eyes turned to the tall and, ah, robustly-built redhead over there with the five-foot sword in I''m-Really forester''s leathers, too much skin and all.


    The corner of her lip turned up. She glanced at the silver-haired elfin Caster, who just shrugged a tiny bit, and then waved her hand.


    A cheer went up, and it was time to eat.


    Their packs were hurriedly retrieved, eating utensils brought out, and thick chunks of savory pork impaled and passed out. Quite true to my word, the second mound of meat slammed down opposite the remains of the first, eliciting another eager cry, and the force of armed elves got down to some serious eating.


    I put out Forge, leveled it out into a floating round table, flipped open a cabinet and retrieved a collapsible chair I''d made out of scrap metal, snapped it into form, and then popped out a couple collapsible small stools, setting them opposite me. A gallon jug of water was set down, Tremble kindly froze it ice cold, and even dropped some ice cubes in it as conjured water fell off her freezing blade.


    Three carved stone mugs were set down, I set down on my seat as Tremble delivered a couple cuts of pork to me, added in a bowl of berries I''d harvested wandering around, and I sat down to eat.


    Redhead and Silverhair moved smoothly to join me. They looked over all my worldly belongings, assessing things, glancing at one another without speaking.


    I kept my Tats up, because I didn''t feel like being looked down on as a pre-teen human child. The black and white Mask of Clarity turning my pupils celeste and my irises hard silver was both intimidating and not something they could ignore, while the Whiskers of the Wild looked at once playful and somehow savage, holding power of their own.


    Tremble zipped over to float at my shoulder, finding all of this extremely interesting, but knowing enough to give me the lead.


    "Welcome to my table," I said in clearly accented Fey, making it obvious it wasn''t my native tongue, but I felt they should know it. "I am Sama Rantha. May I know who I have the pleasure of hosting?"


    Manners brought them up, as the clarity of my voice and the power behind it did not match my attire or appearance.


    The redhead took the lead. "I am Commander Shvaughn Turnleaf of the Sidhete Borderguard. This is Usilla Clearsky, Diviner of the Borderguard." Her accent was quite musical. Fey was a shadowy tongue, full of cunning twists and treacherous flexibility, and sounded too ''bright'' coming from her lips.


    It was a good sign.


    "Welcome to my table." They had set down their own servings of meat, adding in some apples and nuts from their personal provisions. I poured them clear, cold water, and slid the cups across to them with a tap of my finger. "You''ll have to forgive the lack of provisions. I honestly do not eat much, and most of the plants I harvest are for alchemical purposes, not sustenance¡­ and I do not think it would be appropriate to sample some of the mushrooms in this venue."


    They blinked, and then their eyes danced scandalously despite themselves. "It is a small matter," Shvaughn waved off, taking a drink of the cold water, her eyes widening slightly at the pleasing chill of it. "You are, after all, feeding a rather large number of my warriors."


    "I would have let you sample the hieracosphinx too, but the corruption was too deep. The vivic fires couldn''t leave any behind, unlike the boars." I sighed slightly, then sniffed. "One moment, I will get the last two servings ready."


    The warriors cheered again when two more monstrous helpings of pork were slammed sizzling down on the now-greasy table strewn with meat, and the few who hadn''t had any yet hurried over to take their fill.


    They noted professionally that not a drop of juice or ash was clinging to me when I returned. "Well, Commander, Diviner, I suppose you have some questions for me¡­ ah, wait one more second." I glided away, opened another cabinet, and took out several items within. I glided back to them, and placed them calmly in the center of Forge as they stared. "I believe you might know who these belonged to?"


    They were the finely-made grey-green cloaks and well-made arms I''d retrieved from several monster lairs, and identical to those worn by many of the elf-bloods around me.


    Both women stiffened when I set the five stacked parcels down, glancing at one another. The Diviner reached out her hand, and trailed them down the revealed edges of swords, daggers, and cloaks.


    "Enthrus. Ambrosa. Kihilim. Marasanae. Qosh''Sha," she named off slowly, her golden eyes fading to white for a moment as she recited the names. She blinked, her eyes cleared, and whatever she was going to say faded slightly when my fingers drifted over my two-inch pork loin, and it fell apart as neatly as if razors had shaved through it. "Ah. May I ask where you found them?"


    "Top two, nest of a Blood Widow, the mandibles of which are hanging there." I thumbed at the forearm-long things hanging on the door to one of my cabinets. "Next one in the lair of the Scorpion Emperor. Last two in the nest of a dread of Warp manticores. Had to fix the holes in those two." They blinked despite themselves as their eyes found the tail stinger of the scorpion and whip-thorn tail of the manticore leader.


    "Warp manticores?" the redhead repeated curiously.


    "The corruptive energies you sensed around the satyrs, centaurs, minotaurs, manotaurs, and other bestial creatures here are the result of Warp energies. We''re suffering an Incursion, that''s with a capital I, from the home realm of the Dark Gods. I trust you know of the four of them?"


    They looked stunned. "Are you certain?" Shvaughn blurted out in shock.


    "100%? No. Ninety percent, yes. This is a typical Warp warband, sent out to slaughter everything in their path and stir up some fun for their dark masters. They also carry forward the corrupting influence of the Warp. You know the ultimate goal of the Dark Gods is the seizure of the entire planet, drawing it into their sphere of influence and cutting off the power of the gods, who generally get rather pissed off when the Dark Gods try this shit.


    "However, using Warp warbands allows them to conceal their presence from the direct attention of the Divine. The gods don''t know anything is happening here until we happen to tell them." I set my gaze on the Diviner. "Do you have your Five Valences, are you capable of establishing contact with a beneficial power of the Upper Spheres?"


    She blinked at me, thinking through her reply. "Yes, I could request answers of a higher power-" she began, and I shook my hand and head at the same time.


    "No no no. You are going to being asking questions, but only to get around the powers the Dark Gods have put out to veil themselves. You must follow the rules, but if you know what the rules are, it''s not that hard to put out the alarm.


    "You are now the informer for the Divine, not the supplicant. We want the gods to take action, to get other pieces into place.


    "You need to ask your Contact the following questions: Do you know that there is a Greater Warp Incursion occurring in the lands to the north of the Sidhete? Can you spread this news to all the celestial forces who would be interested in this news? Is it all right if we keep pursuing destruction of these forces with extreme prejudice?"


    She looked at me, her lips pursing as her eyes lit up as she realized the tables were turned. She was now the source of unknown lore and secrets, and the gods were now relying on her to get the secrets to them!


    "If I seek to just tell them in normal prayer or sendings?¡­" she asked softly, eyes keen.


    "Your words will never reach them. jRaztl is very, very good at misdirecting such things, or making them gibberish which is ignored," I sniffed, and then smiled. "Gods fooling gods happens all the time. It''s why the gods of Good strive to keep a good relationship with their followers. Information going in both directions is one of the strongest bonds between gods and mortals. The gods of the Warp really try to batter this relationship and weaken it to further their own view of how things should be.


    "The faster you can get the word out, the faster the Good gods can start moving their servants hither and yon, and directly acting against their influence."


    "And you?" Shvaughn asked, not unreasonably, gesturing at the carnage about. "It seems you have some sort of vested interest in killing these creatures, too."


    "I''m a Forsaken, and the gods can''t hear me, or I would''ve told them about this earlier," I said, completely ignoring the fact that I''d deduced what they were just hours ago myself. "I consider myself a nominal follower of Aethra and Mithar, and these creatures are very, very appropriate creatures to fight. Hence, I am fighting them."


    "You¡­ seem to have no aura," the Diviner spoke up, staring at me again. "I can sense nothing about you¡­" Her voice held traces of uncertainty and suspicion.


    "I''m a Forsaken Null. Trying to read the magic about me is like pouring water on stone. The water does nothing, and the stone doesn''t even feel it. Surely you have some knowledge of Forsaken?" I asked the Diviner dryly.


    She seemed uncertain. "The term is used in many ways, and few of them are complementary or actually descriptive. Most refer to people who have been abandoned by the gods¡­"


    I smiled despite myself. "That''s quite the stupid description, as the gods don''t abandon anyone who doesn''t abandon them¡­ the gods of Good, at least. No, Forsaken basically refers to those people with Hard Souls, who thus can''t wield magic. From the outside, it looks like magic, the gods, the powers above, Luck, Fate, whatever, have abandoned them. What it actually means is they have little to no influence over us, they can''t hear or see us, and so we live our lives without any profound influences directly meddling with us."


    Both of them blinked. As Elfin and Halvyri, of course, they lived and breathed magic, and probably wouldn''t even be elf-bloods without it, as the general consensus back home was that in most fantasy worlds under the Power of Ten rules, elves would just be a species of humans altered at the genetic level by pure magical power, hence able to interbreed with us.


    "A Hard Soul, that cannot wield magic," repeated the diviner Ulissa, considering that. "What of the magic you used to pull the flying creatures from the air?" she challenged quickly.


    "What magic? I didn''t use any magic. I just reinforced physical reality. Harpies, manticora, and heiracosphinxes can''t fly, any more then you can." They blinked at me in disbelief. "Seriously, their wing size and power to weight and area ratios needed to actually fly are totally out of whack.


    "Take any bird, measure its wingspan and area, and then look at its weight. Their wings cover a big area for how much they weigh. Any creature bigger then an eagle flying around, can''t fly. It''s using magic to remain airborne. I just remind reality that it doesn''t have to put up with that aeromantic nonsense, gravity wakes up, sneezes, and down they come, flapping their useless wings that can''t possibly support them without magic¡­ aaaaand splat." I slapped the table nicely, and they both jumped.


    "Stillflight is a fairly powerful magic!" she pointed out quickly.


    "And it affects birds, because it uses geomancy to counter lift. A Forsaken Interdiction does not. I''m not spending magic to fight magic. I''m letting physics know it doesn''t have to take this magical bending of the rules, and it enforces the rules. Very different in application."


    She stared at me thoughtfully. "And this¡­ enforcement of rules is why I can see nothing about you magically?"


    "I''m a Null. Magic doesn''t move around me. Your magic, my magic, the world''s magic. Your magic is hitting my Null and stops moving. Naturally, it doesn''t return to you and feed you information, nor does it glow and give you something to read and interpret. It just stops."


    That information didn''t appear to make her happy. "I was unable to see you through clairvoyance¡­"


    "Magical spell conveying light magically. How could it possibly see me?" I snorted.


    "And the lightning bolt hit you¡­ and just vanished into nothing, like sinking into a void in front of you," Shvaughn remembered.


    "No, the magic just stopped, returned to its default and went back where it came from, exactly as if it had not been cast at me at all. Magic lightning bolt still magic. When the magic stops, it is no longer lightning, and just goes away," I explained easily.


    Shvaughn held her hand up to forestall more questions from Ulissa. "Have you a course of action you are intent upon?" she inquired.


    "Well, first, you should vivify the corpses of every single one of these creatures you killed," I stated in no uncertain terms. "These creatures were once normal humans, who have been twisted by Warp energy into their mutated forms and become what you saw. They were not twisted satyrs, centaurs, and whatnot¡­ they used to be normal humans, and the Warp energies twisted them and their children into those forms, so that they could better fight and slay in the name of the Dark Gods."


    I heard breaths suck in from those around listening to us talk. I didn''t disguise the facts from them.


    "You let their bodies fester, the bugs will eat them, and that mutating energy will get into the ecosystem. Things will eat the bugs, concentrate the energy, pass it on to the creatures that eat them¡­ or their own offspring. In a short period of time, this area will explode with savagely mutated creatures who respond to the will of the Warp.


    "However, if you vivify them¡­ you are taking an alien energy, purifying it, and feeding it to the Land. Which means you are strengthening and reinforcing the Land against the influence of the Warp. It can birth more treelords, elemental defenders, empower more druidic servants, and the like.


    "If you handle this correctly, this invasion by the Warp could be the same as delivering a huge and hearty meal to the Land, as all the energy they put into their servants here becomes a big draught of ambrosia for the Land."


    They both stared at me, then at each other, considering this point.


    "This aspect of their invasion is the most insidious and the hardest to fight against, because it means after the fight is done, there''s still more work to do. You don''t gain any direct reward from doing this clean-up work¡­ but the Land has other ways of showing its favor, and it will know who is doing what.


    "There''s a reason there''s a whole lot of white patches where the things I killed used to be, now."


    Shvaughn turned around and looked at some of her troops nearby, those who had autumnal leaf badges at the collars of their cloaks. Those rangers sighed good-naturedly, and turned around to start issuing orders to those behind.


    "Have you an easy way to spread this vivic flame? Such a power is not well known here," the commander spoke up. She glanced at Tremble tellingly.


    So did I. "Go get Ash Nap."


    Tremble flickered over to the armory cabinet, slid it open a couple inches with cantrip-level magic, and a scabbarded ivory-hilted dagger floated out. Both zipped back to the table, and she dropped it politely down in front of the two women.


    "Ash Nap is a basic Final Rest knife whose primary purpose is battlefield or civilian removal of accrued corpses and carcasses so as to deny necromancers bodies to harvest and reanimate. You are welcome to use it as long as you wish. I suggest just gathering bodies at several locations, and using Ash Nap to set each stack of carcasses alight. They''ll burn down to white dust in a few hours, feed the energy to the Land, and a lot of flowers are going to bloom here shortly."


    Usilla picked it up, wrapping long and slender fingers around the hilt. The hilt was a bit too thin for her hand, but some leather wrappings could easily fix that.


    "What manner of ivory?" she asked, staring at it. "I can sense more potential within it."


    "Breastbone of a shellycoat." She blinked in astonishment. "She took an ash nap, and that''s all that''s left of her, helping the Land she used to corrupt."


    "We will see to it the dead are cleaned up. Is this vivic flame a power widely known where you are from?"


    "Yes. It''s necrotaoic magic, the exact opposite of necrotic energies. It feeds on death and impurity and reduces them to natural powers. Pretty much a necessity given how easily undead rise back home. Can''t leave corpses around, or your dead loved ones try to kill you sooner rather than later."


    "Ah. Certainly an impetus to find such a useful effect," Shvaughn agreed, taking the knife and drawing it from the scabbard. The enhanced bone gleamed mirror-smooth, sharp and severe and definitely not a toy. "This is fine work," she observed, impressed, and flinched when the unwhite vivic flame suddenly poofed into existence around it.


    "Eh. QL 30. I didn''t put a lot of time and effort into it. You can raise it up to Vier Slots, but I wasn''t going to invest that much into it."


    Both of them blinked at me, not knowing what I was talking about.


    "Are you familiar with Quality Levels sans magical item creation?" I asked archly. They both shook their heads. "Slots on magical Weapons and Armor, and relevance to Quality Levels?" They shook their heads again, looking more interested now. "Oi, how do you magical people go through life not knowing this stuff? Don''t answer that." They shut their mouths.

 54 Chapter Fifty-Four – From Outside Creation

    "It''s a true Aberrant, probably from Leng. I believe it''s called a Lurker in the Depths. It must have wandered over into Dream and been attracted here by our unique circumstances." I was somewhere between amused and irritated.


    Contrary to its movements, I shifted past it, towards the end of the pier, putting it momentarily out of position, but also ''blocking'' my way back to the shore. More tentacles raced up onto the stone, which quivered slightly at the touch.


    "It''s a true Aberrant, with origins from Outside Creation, a servant of the Old Ones. It was probably drawn here by you and I. Sensing unbound souls inside a Nightmare at our Level and depth must have been just like spotting a big fat fish waiting to be hooked, so it invaded the Nightmare to get a free meal."


    "I sort of get that." It wasn''t coming up out of the water, but more tentacles were slithering over the stone and making it obvious that it could reach all the way to the opposite side of the pier. Impressive. It was also making weird noises.


    "Oh, shut up. That isn''t going to impress me at all," I interrupted its supposed-to-be hypnotic babbling in Aklo, which did indeed momentarily shut it up.


    "Speaks meal, secrets nightmare hag curse feed!" it babbled back at me, even more excitedly, half a dozen tentacles waving about.


    "I don''t have Aberrant Bane yet¡­" Tremble noted professionally.


    "Enmity to the Unnatural." He complied with that calmly, and a reaving edge arose around him. Despite itself, the Lurker flinched at the hard-blue hue.


    "Cerulean!" it babbled in anger, surging forwards a few yards.


    "Ah, it''s seen the Cerulean Seal before. How nice." I flicked Tremble, and the first Banestar flew out. It didn''t have the Banefire, but that was fine. It hit a foot-thick tentacle and hacked off twenty feet of it without any problem. The second one wove and cut past two guarding tentacles and lashed across the flesh-flower of its head, drawing a clear line across it that bubbled out something viscous that began to hiss and dissolve.


    Two spear-like tentacles longer then the other ones lunged forwards like rubbery, razor-sharp lances. I slid left, right, flickflick, and their tips went flying off, drawn back as rapidly as they''d been hurled out.


    I didn''t stop with the Banestars, and they cycled up from Tremble and were tossed out to annoy this bastard. Tentacles lashed out to intercept them, were cut and severed as I began to step forwards, and now it was its turn to pull back and pull in, reducing my targets and evading more easily with the cover of the pier''s edge.


    My amusement began to bubble. "Hey, it''s been two minutes since the lobster there died," I called out in Aklo.


    "Time death pain feast soul eternal scream!" it babbled back, probably a little irritated with me.


    "Sure, sure. You know, you''re an invader, alien, and a hostile here in this nightmare, right? Do you have any idea how powerful the Curse of the Hag is?" I asked it, tossing out a couple more Banestars and keeping it dancing as it readied multiple tentacles for me. "I mean, seriously, you''re a deep-sea dwelling piece of crap hiding from the likes of Father Dagon and Mother Kraken, and you''re messing around with a Hag Nightmare? You really ARE stupid."


    The crab hit it about then.


    It was almost thirty feet across, with pincers the size of a Volkswagen. It came motoring up through the water with a crash of a lot of mass, drove into what passed for a body on this thing, and tore out five tentacles at the roots in its first two ripping passes, drawing some really weird ululating cries from this morkothian piece of crap. The alternate reality the morkoth/Lurker represented was far more alien to this Nightmare then I was, and the Hag Curse wanted it gone.


    Normally, it probably could have gotten away from the crab. But it was close to the pier, the water was shallow, and I was there.


    Its attention successfully diverted, I charged it.


    Now, I wasn''t going to reach anything vital, as it wrapped tentacles around the pincers and bound them tight, while others tentacles drilled into the crab''s underside and began to wreak havoc on it.


    And then it looked up with its flesh-flower head from the multiton crustacean it was shish-kebabing, and realized I was way too close and it couldn''t avoid me in time.


    Fwap, off with the flesh flower. What, the stalk wasn''t even two feet thick. Sure, the flesh was too tough for what it was, but, like, giant''s necks aren''t?


    The convulsion of losing its primary sensory organ and feeding orifice didn''t go over too well. The few remaining uncommitted tentacles lashed in all directions wildly, while I somehow managed to land on the crab''s nimbler small claw and cut through the tentacle keeping it closed tight.


    That claw opened and lunged forward, deep into the writhing body that seemed made of conjoined tubes of Ugh and Blah, and ripped it right open as I kicked off to the big claw, and chop-chopped that one free, too.


    The Lurker had secondary eyes on the tentacles, but was having a difficult time tracking me, what with all that crab and spraying ichor-stink bomb gas in the way. The huge claw snapped out, and the writhing flesh was mangled hard at the impact. The pincers cracked and clashed and ate their way in even as the crab let out a cry of some pain, and two drilling tentacles actually punched through from underneath its shell in a spray of gore.


    I hopped over there and cut them off, knowing it was useless. The serrated edges were roaming around the crab''s insides, ripping apart everything, but every piece of mangled morkoth it made, the better.


    The crab''s heavy, pointed legs plunged into the morkoth''s body even as it convulsed, stiffened, and began to settle. The morkoth was still moving, albeit not very fluidly, and I cut off two more tentacles that came lashing for me as I ran down the main pincer arm, and began to hew into it with a transcendentally sharp weapon that, oh, I''m sorry, had Blooding on it, and it couldn''t heal from.


    I ripped it open with hard lightning, powerfully enough to connect both pincer-wounds that the crab had torn open, and gah, the shit that sprayed out smelled foul to my soul, Vajra keeping it out desperately. I interrupted its rather pitiful attempts to writhe out from under the crab and around the claws, sending two more shredding tentacles flying in passing as I did so, and then I fired off four Shardstars, one after another, into its mass and watched the purifying power of lightning and Anathema do its work on whatever passed for a neural network.


    One more hilt-deep thrust went in like a lightning bolt and went out like a spontaneous stinking mess of what passed for brain tissue superheating, and vivic fire blew through the thing With Great Hunger.


    The whole Nightmare was hostile to the thing, and it went up like a Roman Candle, getting reduced to a lucid dream and falling apart like the hostile reality it no longer represented. Unwhite fires actually poured into Tremble, and I actually let go and left her there to suck in all the power she could. It wasn''t like I wanted the Curse to get it, and strengthen its Nightmare!


    Not that I didn''t believe it wouldn''t do exactly that. Now that the first creature from Outside had come in, it meant others would follow, and the Curse would not be at all adverse to collapsing on anything that came in here, and strengthening itself on them thereby.


    Crap, that meant I was going to have to try to kill anything from Outside before the Curse could. Bunuvasitch, as if my life wasn''t horribly time-compressed and busy enough as it was¡­


    No, wait, if it was gathering in extra Reality like that¡­ didn''t it mean that was more excess power I could siphon off for when I actually got out of here?


    I wouldn''t even be surprised if the Curse realized I was actually pretty good bait and lured stuff in!¡­


    ----------


    The Curse seemed to find some dark inspiration in the death of the Morkoth, because soon there were giant Deep Ones coming up out of the waves, and then two scyllas (dog-heads, hydras have reptilian heads) came piling up after they were done with the multi-headed harassment¡­ and then no less than six nuckalevee came charging out of the depths, decided I was a corruptor of waters, and collapsed on me with lances and whipping seaweed tentacles, and down I finally went to the teamwork play, out of healing and nickel-and-dimed to death.


    ------


    When my eyes finally opened, I hmphed a "Cthulhu phtagn!" in irritation, and sat up as I grabbed Tremble.


    "That was mildly interesting," Tremble admitted as he lit up, a note of intrigue in his voice. "Did the Curse just spontaneously come up with a bunch of new stuff because of the Lurker?"


    "I''m thinking the same thing," I admitted. "I wouldn''t be surprised if the Curse pops in the Lurker on its own now, maybe, maybe not." I began my stretching routine, getting that in before the workday of healing Potions and burning goldweight started. Slow and incremental, I was improving, but today was also an important day. "Oh, ticking over to Eight today."


    "Wow, we died that many times to the sailors?" Tremble murmured, thinking back to all those sabers hacking me apart.


    "Yes, all the /4''s were pushed for minimal Karma cost, I can pop Melee/8." And I did.


    Another bubble around my soul popped, Karma streamed in to reflect, raise, replace, enhance, and let me know that yes, the ass-kicking was far from topping out. My Diamond Vajra swirled and pulsed.


    A bunch of minor changes, but they all added up.


    MAB to +8, RAB to +7. Fort save +1, to base +6.


    Choice of Stat at 8th, +1 Con, to 36, reflected to +1 Wis, to base 21. Cover Your Weakness, lowest physical was Str, to 20, reflected to 21 Charisma. Weakest Mental, choice of Wisdom or Charisma, pick Wisdom to 22, reflected to +1 Con, to 37.


    Forsaken Inherent bonus to Wisdom, +1. Effective Wisdom, 25. Cascade ripples across my Stats. Ki+1, Ess +1. Wis bonus +7, Con bonus, +13.


    Base +d10 HD to Soak, effectively maxed with deaths. +14 Skill Points, same skills as I increased at Seven.


    Health +4 to 109. Soak +34, to 260. Cockroach of steel.


    Null +4, to base 48. Ki, 41. Ess, 40, Vajra 41. I didn''t need Guardian now against spellcasters I had Courtiered, and even a topped-out Caster with Spell Penetration up the wazoo coming out of nowhere only had a 5% chance of getting through my Null.


    That''s right, you bastards. Fight me on my terms, or die¡­


    Melee Weapon Training +2, with Secondary Weapon Group to choose. Picked Crushing/Cleaving Weapons because I didn''t have any in my Primary Weapon Group. With Combat Genius, the stacking Training bonus was now actually +3, doubled with Specialization for my Sword, for a Sword Spec bonus of +6/+6. Wouldn''t need to take the Weapon Mastery/3''s for any weapons at 9, now¡­ meaning my Grandmastery was mostly complete.


    With higher MAB, my bonus with my Girdle was now up to a 26 Strength, +8 Strength bonus. More damage on the stack, more armor punch and hide shredding¡­


    Combat Technique, Gifted Combatant. Two additional uses of Inspiration and Vigor per day. More staying power.


    Training Technique, Improved Saving Throws. Rerolls per day on any Saves I had the Boosted Technique for equal to my Resolve bonus. So, four rerolls per day at present.


    Bonus Feat: Improved Initiative. Opened the Initiative Mastery, a Wind-based Mastery. More Masteries to pay for. The Coming Wind, Take the Initiative, Precedes the Thunder, Follows the Lightning. Ticked over the /2, The Coming Wind, i.e. Superior Initiative, add Wis to initiative. Take the Initiative basically meant move up one place in the initiative order per combat cycle, basically building momentum until you were on top regardless of the opponent. Precedes the Thunder meant a +2 bonus to hit anyone lower then you in the initiative order. Follows the Lightning was +d6 damage to anyone lower then you in the initiative order.


    Little improvements, going on the stack. My initiative should be +4 + Dex + Wis + Expertise + Weapon Training, so +23 or so¡­


    And the most important thing was that all my Secondary Classes could now advance one more Level. More minor effects going on the stack¡­


    "So, what do you think? We can''t actually stay down there by the water forever. We can either head out the main gate, or use the side access the knights come through?"


    "Shouldn''t there be another night sequence coming up?" Tremble wondered aloud.


    I thought about that as I continued bending myself leisurely in ways contortion masters on Earth would have goggled at.


    "We left a lot of bodies behind us, in the metaphysical sense. Why do I have the impression they will all be animating and coming after us?"


    Tremble was silent. "Wow, that will be a LOT of undead¡­ zombies?"


    "I don''t know. Lower class, for certain. Weren''t any vampires or wights around to justify spawn.


    Zombies would be easiest, but ghouls, now, wouldn''t that be interesting¡­" Claw, claw, and bite routine, unlike rote zombies. Doubted they''d bite me, considering how short I was, unless they went down on all fours¡­ which wasn''t out of the realm of possibility.


    I wasn''t worried about the paralysis, my Null would take care of it. But¡­ that could be a lot of giant undead.


    Two more Vigors probably weren''t going to close the healing gap with the numbers I was expecting, even if I didn''t have to face them all at the same time.


    I smiled slightly, shook my head. We''d have to wait and see. Today was going to be very, very busy, I had the feeling¡­

 55 Chapter Fifty- Five – A Warband

    "The picture she paints is terrifying," Shvaughn admitted, watching the warrior girl run off faster than she could attain with magic. Sama looked human enough in ears and build, but those eyes were either magical or something else, and the mottled skin on her shoulder and neck very unsettling.


    The black nose and whiskers Tattoo had been almost unsettlingly cute, however.


    "Yes," agreed Usilla, also watching Sama and her floating Disk with its load of cabinets disappearing quickly. The extra pork was all left behind to dry out and get added to the rations of the rangers, disappearing into their packs quickly.


    "Your tone is unsettled. How went your magic?" Shvaughn asked the elfin diviner.


    "I decided to follow her advice and see what would happen. It was¡­ unsettling. The very tenor of the spell changed. It was as if I was being called on to answer questions unspoken.


    "The nature of the spell is that I am, in essence, disturbing a higher being with questions for answers I don''t know. This time, I could feel it thirsting for my next question, a dire need arising, and an eagerness to hear my words." Usilla took a deep breath. "I believe she played it perfectly. If I had simply sought to inform them without asking questions, I would have gained nothing, or been subverted. I have never felt such approval on the other end."


    "And we cannot play a waiting game, if her words are to be believed, as the forces coming are scattered, varied, and not coherent¡­ but they are endless. If a true Champion emerges and unites them¡­" Shvaughn trailed off.


    "We know from the tales that the forces of Heaven have their disagreements, but in the end, they are united and have their own places above. If there is information to be shared, it is shared quickly and universally. Portents, dreams, omens, visions, and possibly even direct divine servants are being sent out even as we speak, and all the faithful of the lands threatened are going to be whelmed in a short time." Usilla took a deep breath. "There should be forces moving quickly even now. Adventurers and special agents of the Divine and great powers will be stirring to action at the early alarm.


    "I do not know how many lives she has saved by arranging for this early alarm, but it was a clever ploy."


    "The enemy sees this as a great game, a chance to spread more seeds of corruption. To stop them, we must find the center from which they are spreading, close it, and then slaughter the agents they have brought to this world. They move in groups of hundreds to thousands, like an endless number of bandit raiders." Shvaughn frowned. "We will have to split up our own forces in order to intercept them all. This will weaken our fighting ability."


    "Yes, if the war magic they can call upon is as powerful as she described. The Shaper seeks to change the very nature of magic here. I will have to witness it myself, of course, but I am not looking forward to it." Gathering dozens of Casters together would have an incredible effect on a battlefield with Ritual Magic helping boost their strength, but this unknown war magic of the enemy might be something to fear. "It should not work, but the Shaper is directly intervening to warp the Laws of Magic. It must not be allowed to endure."


    Shvaughn watched the last of the rangers heading out, following Sama north, along the tracks of the beast-men warband. Such tracks were basically an open road to follow for these hunters, who could track a week-old spoor faultlessly through the forest, let alone a thousand abusive, arrogant bastards chopping it apart as they advanced.


    The rest of the rangers were burning away the last of the corpses of the dead. Sama had told them that as long as they got at least 95% of them, the vivic energy would be enough to purge anything they missed. But, they more the merrier, it was like a huge offering of alien invaders to the Land, and they were going about their task with religious zeal.


    They''d be forming mounds of the dead, and Ash Nap would set them alight, cool unwhite fires pouring mists down into the Land. The crows and maggots wouldn''t be pleased, but it was what it was.


    The little swordswoman''s advice and knowledge about what kind of foes they would be fighting was impressively deep, and her voice had carried to every ranger about her as they discussed such things. The calm professionalism and level of detail, especially the flat and rather unimpressed threat level assessment, had sold them on the information, even before she had put up remarkably detailed illusions up of what to expect via her talking Sword.


    Even Ulissa hadn''t heard much of this information, as the Mad Gods of the Warp were not something wise people delved into for details. As rangers, learning details about what they were hunting was very important, and would quickly pay off as they learned more fighting, but the most important thing had been¡­ attitude.


    ---


    "Listen, warriors. You''re facing the Mad Gods of the Warp. They have only two objectives: be entertained, and spread their power. They want fights, and they want to corrupt and claim more mortal souls.


    "What they do not want, because it''s not possible in their home realm, is to lose. And you can definitely make them lose!


    "They are insane and malevolent, but they are not stupid. What you have to do in this battle against the forces of mad gods is stop treating them like serious foes, and start treating them like Food for the Land.


    "Feed them to the Land. All of them. Burn their items of magic and use them to reinforce and strengthen your own. Keep NOTHING. It all gets burned to make you stronger, and the Land stronger.


    "And what that means is¡­ the Warp is making their enemies stronger and stronger, instead of claiming ground for themselves.


    "The gods are going to get involved very soon, and they are going to start making things difficult for the servants of the Warp. This whole thing is going to get shoved down to the mortal level like normal, and become a test for our peoples to defend the Land and decide our own fates. The Warp Gods like fights, so they''ll happily agree to this, since they always win in the end at home.


    "But things are different here. As you fight, you get stronger. Take their goodies, and make your own stronger. And always, always, Feed them to the Land. Take the power they invest in their servants, and give it to the Land. This will force them to expend more power to resist the Land trying to seal them off, and stop them from reclaiming the power they blessed their champions with.


    "Take it all, steal it away, and Feed it to the Land. Get stronger by killing them, and then kill them even faster. They''ll throw even more servants out, and they''ll die even faster. It''ll become a rapid spiral of them expending power and getting nothing back.


    "And then, if you magic people are really good, you''ll shut whatever Rift they are coming through in a very explosive vivic manner, and really cost them some power¡­ so pass on to your heavy Casters that they need a way to rupture a planar breach and collapse it in a really nasty way.


    "I''m going out in the morning to find another warband to turn into a continental appetizer. I''m going to burn them all and everything, one way or another. I''m going to make them very, very pissed at me, because they can''t see me and can''t do anything about me.


    "Start building your warbands. Encircle the lands, and don''t let a one of theirs escape if you can. Make names for yourselves, make them want to seek you out and fight you, and reap them when they do. You''ll need kill teams, battle companies, and war bands to contest with all the different shit they are going to be throwing out against you.


    "Don''t waste what they have to give you. Burn it, and become stronger!"


    ---


    It was a hard, cold, violent, and very ambitious mindset. She had been eager at the thought of fighting hundreds or thousands of insanely violent Warp marauders all by herself.


    And she sang The Evening Wind, the Salute to Sylune, and Greet the Morning like some kind of wild, avenging angel, totally uncaring of the rangers around. Elf-blooded, they were drawn into her songs despite themselves, taking up the songs to the Huntress, the Silver Queen, and the Sun King when her and her Sword were done.


    "Did you notice she learned our language in minutes?" Usilla spoke up abruptly.


    Shvaughn blinked. "What?"


    "She was speaking to us in Fey until she sang to Aethra in Human, and the rangers all repeated her words in Elven. From then on, she spoke to us in our own language."


    Shvaughn shook her head slightly. "I¡­ had not thought about it," she admitted. Of course, singing to Aethra in the language of the godless Fey would have been unnatural, so hearing it in Human had not been anything surprising. Her command of the Elven language had been so natural that Shvaughn just thought she did it as a courtesy. "I had thought her related to the Fey¡­"


    "Yes, I noticed the Brownie, too. But no, there is nothing Fey about that Null of hers. Her teeth are not human, nor her nails."


    "Yes, I noticed the double canines. Another half-blood of sorts?"


    "With interesting parentage, no doubt," Usilla mused.


    "The Fey gossip. Certainly they will have information about her, if we but ask."


    "A wise thing to do, for someone as dangerous as that."

 56 Chapter Fifty-Six – Outside Nightmare Bound

    She was three times my size, and I kicked her in the face and sent her flying. That axe of a nose broke as I beheaded her cauchemar, one of normal size, and let it tumble past me on the floor of the bedroom.


    The crib was gone a few nights past, and a large bed had taken its place. Scale had gone down somewhat, but the room was still impossibly large, probably just to maintain these battles.


    It looked like the Curse was wising up. Size just meant it was harder for more targets to strike at me. Equally tough opponents the same size or smaller then me were actually harder to fight¡­ it was probably just a lot harder to justify or actually put that kind of emphasis on something so small.


    I had the feeling my giant enemies were going to be shrinking down somewhat in the nearer future¡­ without getting any weaker.


    These night hags had been half again as big before. Now, they were basically only about twenty percent bigger then they should have been.


    Except for this one.


    Uber-nightmares and chopped-up night hags littered the rugs, burning white as they were disposed of and irritated the Curse. I kept my eyes fixed on this one as she scrambled back to her feet, glaring at me in hate and more then a glimmer of fear.


    "For your information," I snarled at her in fluent Daemonic, "I have killed hundreds of night hags here. I have their attack patterns, spells, styles, and means down cold, mounts and all. You deviated from them within seconds, meaning you stood out like a sore thumb.


    "You were invited in." Her poxed tongue licked mismatched nailed teeth, purplish-black eyes staring at me. "What exactly did you hope to accomplish here?"


    She fondled her crushed nose as she laughed at me, hacking a little bit from where I''d cracked her ribs. "You can actually speak and plan? I had not expected to confront such a soul when I ventured within this Nightmare. No wonder it is proving difficult to subdue you," she cackled, long claws stretching out in my direction. "Such strength and depth despite your age¡­ but it will all be mine, now!"


    Her eyes flared with hungry light, reaching out for me with a scream attuned to shake my soul and consciousness.


    A Banestar smashed into her forehead, and she crashed over backwards from the blunt impact.


    Stunned, she could barely move when I picked her up and threw her face-first into the wall. She outweighed me five to one, but it didn''t matter. She crashed into the paneling and post beneath, before falling down nicely. I wound my hand into her bristling wreck of a hairdo, stepping on her back as I bent her long, skinny neck back.


    "Were you just trying to possess me?" I asked in a conversational tone, looking down deep into her eyes. The scorn in my expression was totally obvious. "I mean, seriously, are you a total idiot? You saw all those Shards and Rays and Bolts not doing a damn thing to me, and you tried to Possess me?" I kicked out at an arm that was starting to move, and it broke with a crack that sounded more like stone then bone. "Answer me, grandaunt. It costs you nothing but some bones not being broken."


    I could definitely see the fear in her eyes, and Tremble''s droning at the edge of her eyes was definitely a wonderfully impressive part of it. Still, she had to cackle her reply, "So, you know what you are, dear child. Truly a hard knot to solve. No wonder I was able to enter so easily¡­"


    I kicked out, and the upper arm on the other side cracked and broke, leaving that arm that was moving too much dangling there, bone jutting out in two places.


    I didn''t say anything, just looking at her totally calm and unmoved.


    "Yes, dear, I was trying to Possess you," she admitted, with no attempt at consolation. "A mortal life is such a fun thing to enjoy, especially when young and unmarked yet! I could have had such fun!..."


    "Go ahead and try it again."


    She blinked her glowing eyes, wisps of nightmares and screaming souls writhing on her plague-dark skin. "What?"


    "Go ahead and try it again."


    She stared at me, thoughts obviously racing, wondering what I was getting at. "Why?" she asked, those glowing eyeslits narrowing.


    "Because if you don''t succeed in five seconds, I''m going to chop off your head," I said bluntly.


    That was evidently sufficient reason, as her eyes flared with that ugly light again, despite her injuries, reached up into my eyes, and I pulled back my Null and let it in.


    Her entire body vanished, pouring up along that foul stream of power, and raced through this dream lucid body of mine, shoving my soul and essence aside and taking control.


    "Hahahahahaha-eh?"


    She wanted to blink my eyes, couldn''t. Move my limbs, couldn''t. Swing my Sword, couldn''t. Her voice came out of my throat, but that wasn''t my vocal chords or lips moving.


    Tremble gently disengaged from my fingers, floated out in front of me.


    "No, no!" she protested, but my body just stood there on the wooden tiled floor, not moving as Tremble drew back.


    And plunged right on in.


    Vivic fire, Banefire, Holy energy, Enmity. The physical damage was nothing, Tremble''s point avoided anything vital, and a Vigor use would seal it all off anyways. No, what she had to deal with were all the energies anathemic to her and what she was, burning her slowly away.


    They didn''t do anything to me, of course.


    I politely used my Vajra to send the devouring flames washing across and through me, eating her away bit by bit. 5d6+4 damage every six seconds is about equal to a raging bonfire, and she had 200 or so Health. At 3-4 Health per second, she started to get eaten away and reduced to vivus.


    It was a very unique feeling. The feeling of invasiveness, of being raped by this sinister old thing stealing into every fiber of my being, was horrible, as even the Curse hadn''t been able to get inside me like this. Of course, this Hag was a personification of her own Curse, and so could do things to me that my own Curse, which was so reliant on my existence, could not.


    Now, I got to sit there and watch as she was reduced to vivus inside me, inside my Vajra, and I got to sample and experience all of her being reduced to her most base Essence, and burned away.


    She was pure spirit, there was nothing physical to deflect the damage to, and she could only scream and try to move around within my body, trying to flee the flames. Alas, a body has a lot of dead ends to it. I burned her out of my head, sealing off the neck, then stealing down one arm, then the other, driving slowly down my chest, pushing down one leg, and then finally beginning the final burn as black postules burst out all over my left leg and the shrieking, viscous mist that came blistering out was held in by my Vajra.


    In the end, she was crushed between my heel and my Vajra, as wrathflame boiled out of the sores and cleaned up the last of her. As a future mental advisory, I noted that this was nigh as painful as popping open a chakra point, above and beyond having my own Sword shoved into me, and I shouldn''t do it on a whim.


    I should also make sure my Sword couldn''t be used against me, but that was another note for the future¡­


    Tremble withdrew from between my ribs with a mental nod from me. Vigor hissed as flesh sealed up, blood vessels reconnected, my nerves jerked around in surprise that things didn''t actually feel like a sword was sticking through me anymore, and the subdual damage began to mend.


    "I get she was from outside the Dream, and came in to either collect you or take your place, and the Curse was probably willing to do the latter. Buuuut¡­ why the fireworks?" Tremble asked, coming back to my hand. We had two minutes.


    "Sealed Binder Levels," I replied.


    "Oh? You never mentioned those¡­"


    "Because entering the Class requires you to have once been Possessed. Usually this is done by the master bringing in something to Possess an apprentice, and then removing the entity after the apprentice learns what is needed. Requires a great deal of trust, of course."


    "Ohhhh¡­" Tremble said, realizing he''d just done the removal part. "Nasty pre-req! What does the Class do?"


    "The reason you need to be Possessed is to realize where those entities go and what they do when they come into your mind, body, and soul, and shove you off to some helpless corner of yourself." I smiled slightly. "We have to learn where that helpless corner is!"


    I could almost hear him blink. "Ohhhhh. So, then you Summon them, and draw them in, and Bind them in that helpless corner!"


    "Precisely, using Tattooed Seals." I took deep breaths. "For the Powered, it basically means being able to hook into the physical attributes and special powers of the entity they Summoned, dip into its knowledge and memories¡­ exactly the same as they normally do to the Possessed.


    "It''s dangerous and highly corruptive, as you are literally employing the powers of Soulborn, generally of Evil mien, and you want stronger ones so the powers they give you are stronger. At the same time, using the gifts of Evil against Evil seduces a lot of people. The gods help you if you try to borrow their mental Stats and graft the way they think onto yourself¡­"


    Tremble flickered once. "No, that doesn''t sound like a good idea¡­"


    "Of course, Forsaken can''t do this. Our Nulls will naturally force them out of us, and as you saw, they can''t even move us around, since that would require magic, and lo, no magic." I grinned despite myself. "Forsaken become Sealed Binders, which is a bit different than normal ones."


    "Because no magic. So¡­ you need an external power, and you have to Seal them into that empty space¡­"


    "To be blunt, we can acquire their base racial abilities that are non-magical. A Soulborn IS its spirit. Its physical body on the mortal plane is just something used to anchor it here. On the spiritual planes, it''s just solidified ectoplasm.


    "That means it retains the memory of what it wants its body to be right there in its spirit. We can learn to replicate that build, and then use the Bound Spirit to power it to effectiveness. If we are strong enough, we can burn the spirit completely and make it a permanent racial change, effectively evolving in the direction of the spirit."


    "That''s¡­ not much different from the Curse physically changing you into a Hag," Tremble noted slowly.


    "Nowhere near as good as that. Can''t do magical abilities with it."


    "So¡­ you want to end up all blue-black and warty, with a pickaxe for a nose?" Tremble inquired.


    "The malignant side-effects of Hagdom are an aspect of the Curse. There''s no Curse powering this. It''s just an evolutionary guide. Basically, I''m going to go fishing for racial modifiers. If I want a change in appearance, that''s something else entirely."


    "Oh." He hummed for a second. "So, kitten-ears and a fuzzy tail?"


    "Optional, but possible¡­ if you can find a possessing entity who is properly furry." Hey, it was a serious question. "I was thinking more erinyes and succubus at the top end."


    "No angels?"


    "I''m not gonna trap and Bind a celestial just so I can have some racial mods." Unless they were totally okay with it, of course¡­


    "You''re remarkably generous that way," he complimented me.


    "I am, aren''t I? The queens of succubi, lilitu, have a +18 Strength racial Strength modifier, you know¡­"


    "Oh. Versus¡­ ?"


    "My current +2 for being a Hagchild and not having a gender deficiency to Strength?"


    "You being sixteen points stronger¡­ Your enemies will have to resign in protest!" he judged. Lilitu were about as strong as I was with my Girdle right now, sans the Might modifier of Jotuns.


    "That''s the idea." Shadows were gathering around us as the next round was coming. "Mwa-hahahaha! I can''t believe the Curse is helping me take Binder Levels!"

 57 Chapter Fifty-Seven – Everything Looks like a Nail

    The griffon came swooping in from overhead. Given the speed I was moving at, I was definitely something to catch the attention of fliers, so he picked me out fairly easily.


    I looked up at his call as he swooped in, and Mikle, who was again riding on my back, promptly hid under my hair again.


    "Really? That way?" I pointed, and the griffon gliding along ten yards above and to my right nodded. "I''m on it!" I altered course, and the griffon beat his wings for altitude. It wasn''t so much that he was faster then me, then he didn''t have to divert around terrain or go up and down hills and the stuff. He stayed low to the trees, so I lost sight of him rather quickly, but it was only five miles, I''d be there in a few minutes.


    Mikle had reported that Warp warbands were rampaging around everywhere, looking for enemies, expanding the influence of their masters on their surroundings, and generally making unwanted nuisances of themselves. They slaughtered whoever they ran across, or recruited them if they were impressed enough and easily swayed. More then a few ogres, trolls, and hill giants had happily signed on for funsies, and even some Unseelie Fey like spriggans and redcaps were happy to join in on the mess, not giving a hoot for the consequences of allying with such powers.


    They''d also been digging out old monsters and dark powers, probably seeded by their masters here over time, and bringing them into their warbands.


    One of said warbands was in the hill country to the north, pursuing or fighting something there, and why couldn''t I just drop in and say high?


    -----------------


    The griffons were already there, looking over the forces below. Being sentient and predators, they were oddly good at watching without being seen, balanced in trees with the trunks and leaves shielding them as they looked over the forces below.


    This was rolling hill country, and they were attacking a series of cave dwellings halfway up the side of a cliff. The only access points seemed to be hand and footholds carved into the side of the cliff, which unfortunately were in hollowed tubes that were incredibly vulnerable to having rocks dropped on the heads of those eager satyr-types willing to try it.


    The giants, however, were a different story. They were fully capable of hurling rocks like catapults and keeping the defenders under cover, as well as pounding out their own grips on the stones to the cliffs forty feet above the ground.


    As one of the twelve-foot brutes clawed his way up the side of the cliff, gauntleted hands pounding out stone and foot holds for himself, he heaved himself up to the top with a shout of victory¡­ and there was a flash, and a crack so loud I heard it a quarter-mile away.


    Hill giants were the smallest of the true Jotuns, but still, 12 Hit Dice of Jotun was nothing to sneeze at, with the required overly tough bones and hide, and plenty of strength to spare.


    My Mask keyed up, my eyes leapt forwards, to see those gauntleted hands trembling on the stone.


    There was another crunch, and the giant was smashed back off the side of the cliff, as if he''d been hit by a truck. I could see his skull now, the side of it caved in from some colossal impact, and its face a crater from a massive impact. A couple tons of potbellied hillbilly cannibal plummeted from the cliffside, revealing his killer standing there.


    Ho, they were Ancients.


    Neanderthals, we''d call them. Primitives, if you were rude. Simple people desiring only to live simple lives, close to nature, and unconcerned about civilization or its advancements. They were, of course, bigger and tougher then normal humans, between our size and that of ogres, the latter who found their women extremely attractive, tough enough to endure rampant **** and not strong enough to really fight back.


    And the one who''d done the damage was a kid!


    He was taller then me by a head, because, you know, caveman, with arms proportionately longer then human, and already banded with muscle and thick body hair.


    That hammer was no stone toy, either. Just a glance was enough to confirm it was dwarven make, heavier then human design, with a thicker handle and heft to it. That kid wasn''t having any problem wielding it, and as I watched, he spun it around by its thong like a master, and let it fly at the jeering crowd down below who''d been momentarily silenced by the fall and crushing impact of the giant.


    It flashed down, and there was another really loud crack as a gape-jawed ogre''s skull exploded from the hit. My eyebrows rose in astonishment, despite myself. That¡­ wow, that was a massive one-hit, to do that to an ogre with one toss. And he''d two-hit a giant with that thing?


    It whirled back to his hand, nearly as fast as he threw it, and he spun it around his hand and resettled, before sliding back away from the lip to avoid some hurled spears and rocks from below. Head-sized boulders crashed against the cliff behind and above him, but none found a target.


    Man, he looked both heroic and cute.


    Nobody else tried a climb quite yet, either. Instead, they indicated that the thirty-foot bulk of another horned cyclops, gripping another one of those rune-rocks, should start throwing.


    "Drop me on it! Come in silent! Come down on the wolves and shred them! If you target one of the bipeds, grab them, fly them up, and drop them on top of the others!" A griffon launched up, I grabbed onto his front eagle talons, and the whole crown exploded into the air, quickly diving down onto the warband below, swooping down in total silence towards the wolves, led by their black-plumed leader.


    My ride went a bit further. Even as the griffons were smashing down onto the startled wolves, he was soaring past the rearmost troops, and I let go as the horned cyclops lifted his throwing runestone.


    Tremble stabbed deep into his over-muscled throwing arm, severing tendons and sinews, and I could feel muscles snapping as they lost their anchor. His arm wobbled, the rock fell down with a heavy thud (that I totally planned, ahem!), crushing a satyr standing there, and as his head turned to see what was going on, I was leaping into his eye.


    There was a wet splurch as I blinded him, rolling past his nose to his opposite shoulder. As his bellow bullhorned out, I came back underneath his chin, hacking at the presented opening as he instinctively jerked his head up and away, and politely presented his throat to me.


    Firehouses of blood geysered out behind me, and the bellow stopped from liquid interference as I almost decapitated him, hawser-like tendons notwithstanding.


    The cyclops began to stumble, clutching at his throat, and I decided to hop off into the gaping troops below and have me some fun.


    The dire wolves had been shredded and were fleeing in terror from a bigger predator, and the griffons were taking advantage of surprise to leap and rake on the nearest beastmen who didn''t understand what was going on.


    I made my way to the warped centaurs, the horse-faced bastards being the only ones who had actual bows. In this canyon, there wasn''t really room to maneuver, the slopes weren''t friendly to hooves, and I, of course, was not something they could run from or surround easily. Really, I stayed right in the thick of them, and if they wanted to shoot at me, they had to hit their own and make my job easier.


    Heads flew, and I began to reap.


    Naturally, the heads of the warband''s members began to turn from the end of the valley and the Ancients'' caves, to where Stormcrest''s griffons were taking flight again, before suddenly swooping down, grabbing kicking, bleating beastmen in their talons, and then surging up for height, beyond the range of hastily thrown javelins and spears. A few moments later, the still-shrieking tagalongs came plummeting back to earth in the middle of their fellows, which did all sorts of wonders for morale.


    I watched them break left and right to vanish behind the hilltops to either side¡­ and then saw a glint of movement up there.


    Eh? Had a company managed to get up top? That wasn''t good, they''d be able to fire down on the landing there from above-


    A whole line of short, very broad forms stepped forwards, compact crossbows snapped to shoulders, aimed down, and thrummed with some impressive tension released.


    The beastmen screamed as the bolts found some homes, and then on the other side of the valley, another line of shorties came into view, shouldered their crossbows, and repeated the process.


    "And the Rockborn are here!" I crowed in demonic, just so they could hear me. Tremble immediately segued into a thumpy, bass-heavy, drumming beat that sounded a lot like a forge-chant, and we went all freeform verse on death from above, beards, vengeance of the mountains, and added to their rapidly increasing panic.


    Griffon screams came from above, and I laughed harder when I heard that a dense troop of dwarven infantry was coming down the valley at a trot.


    Oh, these bastards were in for it. According to the lore I knew, Ancients and Dwarves got along extremely well, especially on the basis of ogre-killing. There was a reason that kid had a dwarven hammer, and with giants here, that meant the dwarves came equipped for giant-killing.


    Contrary to ignorant folklore, that meant longspears in a very compact pike square, able to outreach a giant and punch into and through them for custom hatrack designs. Sure, adventurers might do something dumb like an axe and shield, but in numbers?


    And I just chortled at the thought of these bastards trying to fight their way through a line of dwarven longspears. That was going to be hilarious!


    The centaurs were trying to run from me, which wasn''t working too well, but was certainly causing a lot of chaos as I chased them all over the place and killed anything I skated past.


    With attention down below fully diverted from the caves up above, the Ancients started peeking out to see what was going on, and hooted and called out in deep voices at the sight of the dwarves raining death down from above.


    The minotaur boss of the warband was riding a big demonic four-horned bull, and bellowed out orders to run back the way they''d come. I couldn''t be everywhere at once, but I could be in the densest place that currently wasn''t being rained on with murderous volleys of thumb-thick crossbow bolts, and the area around me exploded with gore as chopped-apart satyrs, centaurs, four ogres, a hill giant, and a couple minotaurs came apart around me, and started to burn vivic.


    And then I heard the horns, deep and somber and reverberating in the stones, and the fleeing warband began to slow, just as the screams started again from in front of them.


    The arbalesters above shifted place with professional discipline and coordination, concentrating on the biggest targets and leaving dead ogres and hill giants strewn across the valley floor.


    I also noticed the Ancients were boiling out of their caves, with axes, spears, clubs, and hammers in hand that were not at all crude, heading down the valley to hit them from the rear and cut off any thoughts of them retreating from the dwarven shishkebobbing that was going on ahead.


    I laughed to myself as I led them in.


    The oversized minotaur on the warbull didn''t look too pleased to see what was coming at them from behind, given the wall of steel thorns ahead that was driving into the writhing mass of bodies and dropping them relentlessly. More flashes of light descended from above, and taurens dropped with bolts in inconvenient places.


    The boss man didn''t even get to turn around all the way before I was on him. I skidded past low, under the waiting horns of his bull, and hacked out its front leg, which it didn''t much like. It lowed and collapsed to the front, as I kicked aside and a really long poleaxe completely missed me, burying itself all the way in the stony ground with a thrum.


    "LUNCH!" Tremble announced, and I am pretty sure that Axe dimmed right then. It was still being drawn back when I chopped Tremble down on its haft, cut the ironwood right through, and the cow-face with the oversized horns pulled back a six-foot length of useless wood.


    I chopped out the rear leg of the bull, putting an end to its frantic movements as it fell over, forcing the commander to dismount angrily. He snarled at me as I got to my feet, snatching up an ogre-sized spear, and I admired the canines in that cow-face of his as he raised it towards me. "Little witch! I will spear you and roast you over the fires for a snack!"


    I spread my arms extravagantly, gestured to my chest. "Who, me?" I mocked him. "I''d really like to see you try."


    He snarled and started to charge.


    The Hammer came in, hit his back knee, and dumped him right there. He crashed down to the side, but had good fighting instincts, rolling over and starting to raise his spear to defend himself from the attack from behind.


    His eye turned in slow motion to me, who was stepping on the head of his spear, shaking my head at his naughty plans


    The Hammer howled past, back to the hand of the kid who was six feet in the air, catching it without looking, primed back, and coming down as the minotaur chief screamed-


    Crunch. Yep, that skull couldn''t take the Hammer, either.


    The ground trembled under my feet.


    I blinked, eyes snapping over to his, who looked at me at exactly the same moment.


    Well, holy shit.


    A footstep came down, both our heads turned on the big hill giant stepping up with his spiked club, aiming to put a hurting on us.


    The Ancient kid hopped aside so deftly it was plain he''d done this a lot, while I shot forward and around, cutting back and severing the hamstrings at the back of the knee. At the same time, a crushing Hammer blow destroyed a kneecap and kicked the massive leg sideways. Physics did its weight thing, and the hill giant''s leg gave way, sending him down hard.


    He bellowed in surprise, moreso when he saw that spinning Hammer waiting for him, precisely where he was going to hit as his hand reached out to catch his fall.


    CRUNCH. Damn, that was a hard hit! It was louder than the multiton corpse hitting the ground, its face all caved in.


    "Betcha I kill more then you!" I shoutedat him.


    In English.


    "You''ve got a Zeks Sword! No bet!" he replied in a voice very deep for his age and size, and took off after me with rather more speed than was totally natural. Every step thrummed with a pure, strong ki of Stone and Thunder¡­ Heaven''s Mountain practitioner!


    Crystal Stand Heavyfoot. Crystal Splitter hammerwork. Tremblesense. Weapon spec Hammer master, hitting harder then a Jotun at his age. Knew English.


    He was from Terra!

 58 Chapter Fifty-Eight – No Imagination

    Well, they were zombies, not ghouls. But, fast zombies, not lumbering zombies. They were dumb and mindless, and couldn''t hit me unless they got lucky, but when you''re dealing with so many of them, getting lucky isn''t all that hard, and will happen eventually.


    It was fine. This time, we mixed it up, hacking our way through the night outside, ghouls, zombies, and skeletons rising from under the flowerbeds as animate plants peppered the area with thorns and vine-tendrils, great shadows swooped overhead and dread wraiths moaned and tried to threaten us. The statues animated, the toad came out, and the roots of the hangmen trees to the sides tried to strangle me.


    And then we went back inside, finished up the Fey and devils and whatnot encounters that seemed a little frustrated, and did our normal clearing of the mansion, making sure to take the raw comps from the lab and kill the bubbling alchemical golem there before it could burn the place up.


    Then it was back outside, tearing up the horses and the knights, and the front yard all restored and this time the big walnut tree getting in on the action for the second time today.


    Hellpuppies, rocs, statues. Swarms of¡­dragonflies, not poisoned things this time, damn Curse. And then the sailors all over the place, down to the shore.


    Noted this time that the ship was called the Beatrice, and decided not to take issue with the owner''s naming sense. This time, as I approached the pier, a sudden fog billowed up out of nowhere, and it got darker remarkably quickly, although not night-time yet.


    Perfect for aquatic undead to come shambling up from every direction, however. Giant Brine zombies ambling about with great shark maws and incredibly strong punches, zeroing in on living blood in the fog, which was restricted to me¡­ and okay with me, as it meant I didn''t have to run around so much to fight them.


    Tremble watched the necroic fog burning at the touch of vivus as we cut into the massive zombies flailing at us. "This is a new trick!"


    "Like visibility has ever been our problem." I chopped off a water-logged claw in a spiral of wrathflame, jumping up high enough to disembowel the swollen gut and send a bonfire up into its abdominal cavity as a stinking cascade of liquified organs fell out and contributed to the current soup that called itself air.


    "It is so nice that you can jump and don''t have to keep hamstringing them," Tremble noticed.


    "Boooooring," I agreed, sliding aside from a massive foot coming down, and reflexively doing just that. The brine lurched, and I sent a long cut up along its spine as it fell over, setting the pillar of life on fire.


    "How many of them are there? I count twenty-six so far¡­"


    "Brines are restricted to night or inside the fog. Note the fog is being burned away with them, and the big crab and lobster haven''t even shown yet. So, they''ll stop coming when the fog is burned away with enough vivus." Another absurdly strong, too-large shark-toothed horror came stumbling out of the fog, and I slid over to engage.


    "So many damn types of undead," groused Tremble.


    "I know, right? Still, just a stronger, meaner zombie, in the end." I chopped through its right knee, and it stumbled and fell down, leading to a quick Orf Wid Der Head, crabs and fish flopping out of the neck stump with the burning oily reek of necrotic gore and strange freshness of vivic flames going to work. "Oh, hey, there''s a Lurker below the pier again. Don''t think it''s from Outside."


    "Curse lacks originality," sniffed Tremble. "But no crab helping us out today."


    "It''s not like I was taking it seriously yesterday." I slid past the swipe of a crouching Giant Brine, jumped open and opened its throat since it was so gracious to present it to me, and then disemboweled it for good measure. Vivic flames took off, bleeding it of necroic energy, and I suddenly spun low, jumped high, and three spearing tentacles went flopping across the stone of the pier.


    I sent a Banestar into its feederstalk to let it know I approved of its actions, and tentacles started coming in from other directions, soon flopping all over the ground, writhing and burning. It started muttering things at me in Aklo, and Tremble started singing about Cerulean Seals, the hunger of Creation, and things from the dark stupidly leaving their holes for the light, and it got real pissed.


    Alas, intelligent, but it was programmed to kill me, not for self-preservation. It came to the attack, and the ten tentacles got shaved down to only a few yards, its feeder-stalk went spiraling down into the water, and then it was just a case of hacking apart the squicky tubes that made up its body.


    The crab did try to ambush me, but was just a few inches too high on its snip, and I put Tremble into the joint of its big pincer and snipped the tendon there, too bad so sad. No pulling taut now. Two crippled legs and some precision cuts along its segmented underbelly, and it was falling down with a clatter.


    Big lobster¡­with an escort of Deep Ones! How amusing. Spears, tridents, and nets a-flying, supplemented by the smell of rotting fish for that proper seashore invasion experience. Then the dragon turtle wanted a snack, followed by the lunging jaws of a sea serpent that really shouldn''t have been in a river. Scylla attack, my, what might be coming next?


    I went off on the nuckalevee. I didn''t care how horrid and unnatural they looked, didn''t care about the tentacle arms and the ''rider'' second head with its spear. This batch of bastards had killed me once, and now I was Courtier of Death''ing all over their ass. Black blood sprayed, semi-transparent flesh parted, and Tremble sang to them of pure Fey essence returning to the Land and the river as vivus ate them up.


    Then the Curse decided it was night time again, and the undead really began to rise up.


    All the giants I had killed came back, despite the fact that vivus had eaten away all of them and turned them into nutrient-rich Karma for me.


    I had nearly two hundred Giant Zombies to kill to reach the morning¡­ or whatever else might be coming tonight.


    Seeing all the sailors and their officers stumbling jerkily down the hill towards me, I sighed.


    "No imagination," Tremble sighed with me.


    "But effective," I mumbled. With no continuous way to regain Health or Soak, Battle Vigor only being intermittent, just throwing numbers at me would net an eventual win, as long as the chaff was strong enough to actually hurt me. Right now, that meant strong enough to pass DR 8/-. "Shall we go be bored together?"


    "Let''s shall!" I charged the nearest sailor, who happened to be a bosun''s mate, sealed my Vajra against the smell rising again, and went to join everyone''s favorite zombie apocalypse nightmare.


    No imagination¡­


    =======


    I opened my eyes, grabbed Tremble as I sighed.


    "So¡­ they kept the teamwork Feats?" he asked, sounding a little miffed.


    "Bastiches," I sniffed. "They had a hordemind. No way they could have coordinated that well without it. Probably centered on the officers and nobles. Totally unfair."


    "Well, that follows." I threw an eyeball his way, and he snickered. "And it requires no imagination."


    "That it doesn''t." I sat up with a sigh. "I abso-smurfly refuse to butt heads with two hundred giant zombies for the next few months." I narrowed my eyes, chewing on angles of attack. "This is a pure damage grind. The idea is to maximize damage and kill them before they can throw out enough attacks to bring us down. You noticed they were clumsier with individual attacks, right? Their MAB dropped by four or so. They were making it up with improved coordination via their hordemind."


    "What''s smurfly mean?" Tremble asked innocently.


    "Whatever you smurfly want it to mean," I replied kindly.


    "Really?"


    "Smurfy."


    "I can see where that might get really irritating."


    "Abso-smurfly, and that''s all I''ll say on that¡­"


    "I smurf ya." I quirked a smile at him. "So, what''s the difference between a swarm and a horde?"


    "Size of the participants."


    His lack of a jaw worked a few times audibly. "So¡­ Swarmbane?"


    "Stacks."


    "Ohhhh¡­" And we were on our way. Between Swarmbane and the Swarmbane Clasp we''d be wasting absolutely no damage. "So that should replace Enmity. What else?"


    "Zombifying a Huge Creature grants it an additional four Hit Dice, +4 nat AC, +2 Strength, -2 Dex, and as you saw, a powerful slam attack. They lost their skill, but gained more power. A hordemind of 20 Hit Dice creatures is, wow."


    "Legendary?"


    "Got it in one."


    "And it stacks?"


    "Bane of Legends is pretty sweet that way."


    "So¡­ swap out Greater Soulbound?"


    "Notice they had thicker hides, but lost their DR?"


    "Hmmm¡­ yeah, that overwhelming strength was absent. They had the undead toughness, but lacked the¡­ primal force?"


    "Exactly. Also, they weren''t using weapons, and had torn off any armor. We need you in Acidphasing, with Blessed and Undead Bane up."


    "No Courageous?" He was unhappy, but we could only blame it on the limited Slots. "Is that some sort of combination?"


    "Yeah. It''s called Holy Water. Changes the acidic damage to holy water damage."


    "That sounds impressive¡­"


    "Doubles the acidic damage against creatures vulnerable to holy water. Of course, it deals no damage against creatures that aren''t¡­"


    "Ah. So that''s why we haven''t been using it." Normally, the giants had armor, and we might get attacked by other stuff. Like grimm, animated plants, and constructs. The other enemies were all at three-hit range, and we weren''t worried about their offense.


    "It gets better. We''re going to go with an Enlarge strategy with them."


    "Oh! Oh, ho! Increase the base damage¡­"


    "Increase reach and attacks of opportunity¡­"


    He hissed in expectation. "Do you have the comps?"


    "Yes. I hadn''t made any because I hadn''t really seen the need yet. We''ll make four today."


    "And they take effect at the Level of the Girdle, and are doubled otherwise¡­"


    "We''ll have ten minutes of slaughter out of one Potion, and we''ll be wardancing the whole time, too."


    A holo went up, numbers flitted across, attack areas, Attacks of Opportunity, Cleaves, Hews, Finishes, Whirlwinds, crits¡­


    "What if we used Vivic instead of Acidphasing?" he asked.


    "We''ve done similar things. I wished it would transmute to holy flame and do additional damage, but no. Just works with Acid, for some reason."


    "What about Corrosive instead of Acidphasing? I mean, it''s only +d6, but won''t all the Bane damage and stuff be working off that d6?"


    I considered his point. We''d be doing +6d6 of Bane damage, and another d6 rendering it all holy damage. +8d6 damage from a hit, going off with the acid¡­ which would be Holy Water''d.


    An additional +8d6 was more damage then my Sword would be doing. Neither would multiply on a crit, which was a damn shame. Slots, need more Slots... No room for Acidic Burst. One more Slot and we''d be doing another +4d10 on a Crit, with Swarmbane doubling that to 8d10.


    It would be raining holy water. So sad. But this configuration would be resulting in an additional +16d6 per blow to the undead, which would then be doubled by Swarmbane, and all excess damage spill over to the other giants.


    No wasted damage.


    Spring a Hordemind of Giant Zombies on me, eh? Watch and see what I do to it!, I thought grimly.


    I clicked over Binder/1, now on my required list since I qualified for it, and dedicated the Skill points to Profession (sailor) since I had all the other Skills required to function in the class ¨C Spellcraft, Runesmithing, Knowledge (Arcane), and Tattoo Artist.


    Now I just had to have a useful real Soulborn, and not the fake ones created by the Curse, show up and give me something useful...

 59 Chapter Fifty-Nine – Captain and Commander

    Her sword danced around her, and four beastmen fell down, various limbs and necessary organs spilling from them with copious amounts of blood.


    "So, how long have you been here?" she asked conversationally. He could feel the hum of ki carrying her voice right through the bleats, roars, crash of steel, death cries, battle calls, and other mess, as clear as if they were holding a polite conversation.


    His borrowed Hammer smashed up and around, smashing one skull and caving in another chest, crushing the heart. The rebound smashed into a thrusting spear, sending it into the gut of another hapless beastman. His wrist flicked out, and the satyr''s face snapped back with a hammer-sized indent in it.


    "About nine and a half years. Died during the zombie apocalypse. Nuclear plant went off too close." He switched languages and called out, "Grod! Trum! On my flanks!"


    The older hunters were quick to obey, leading the other members of the tribes in with spears, maces, and morningstars forged from good dwarven steel, and the shields he''d drilled into them. Some of them even wore light mail over their hides and leathers, or had rough greaves on that weren''t too uncomfortable.


    They also loomed over the beastmen, as the shortest member of his tribe stood six foot six inches tall, with thick-boned and muscular builds that promised and delivered great power. The tallest of them, War Chief Brog, was over eight feet tall and laying about him with a big axe no human could have wielded easily, bloodied, berserk, and all the more dangerous for it as he tore into the satyrs, making for the ogres with the senior hunters of the tribe.


    He didn''t stop killing, his hammer always in motion. If there wasn''t a skull or chest in reach, he shattered legs, arms, and shoulders, and the hunters behind him were very quick to capitalize on the openings. If the satyrs clustered up in front of him, skulls would crack and brains would flow as he slammed into them with far more strength then they''d expect out of a young caveman.


    That wasn''t much of an issue, because the Masked girl was opening the way with some of the damned prettiest swordplay he could imagine, and the beastmen were coming apart all around her.


    He also had the distinct impression, by the almost leisurely way she was swinging around, that she was far from putting out her best.


    She''s training for us!, he thought, and almost rolled his eyes as he grinned.


    "Building fell on me," she confirmed, and sighed. "Since when do Ancients use Essence?" she called out with a toss of her chin at the brutal hunters behind him.


    He grinned more widely, pulverizing the hip of a charging minotaur as it ran by, dropping it right between Grod and Trum, who drove their spears into it without hesitation, making sure it stayed down. You had to look to see the black Tats on their hands, and be aware to feel it in the air around them, making them quicker to dodge.


    "Since I opened their first chakra point and Tatted them!" he answered, sliding between two satyrs and slamming one''s skull down, crashing into the spine of the other. "Head left, we really want to kill those ogres."


    She veered left without actually moving her legs, cutting out the legs of a centaur trying to charge past her and spitting a satyr in-and-out with a flick of her wrists. He shifted with her, shouting orders, and excitement grew as the tribe headed for the remaining ogres that the War Chief wasn''t dealing with. Of course, there was also the problem of two hill giants there, hiding under massive shields from the bright bolts sniping down from above, but he didn''t slow down, and it wouldn''t be the first giants he had killed of the Blundergut tribe¡­ but they should be the last.


    "Name?" he asked. "I''m-"


    "Briggs!" Her head turned, and he blinked as he saw her smile, and the double canines really set off the Whiskers of the Wild. Her hands flicked to show her black nails, and golden hair, blue eyes¡­ and the blue-black showing on her neck and shoulder.


    "Sama Rantha!" he blurted out despite himself, staring at the swooping and singing Sword. "Is that Tremble?!"


    "Yes!" the Sword immediately called back to him, as she lopped off the thick neck of a frog-headed fellow like removing a dandelion.


    "Damn, I am so far behind!" he groused, and vented his ire on more of these hapless Warp-mutants, shattering their lines and sending them tumbling left and right, the spears of his tribe quick to capitalize on their crushed ribs and wrecked pelvises.


    "Yeah, I was going to call out a greeting to Endure, what''s up with that?" Sama asked, dancing aside from four spears, chopping them all in half with a swirl, and dropping three of them before tossing the fourth screaming through the air directly onto Trum''s startled spear. They were almost to the ogres, who were trying to batter their way into the solid hedge wall of the layered dwarven pikes, and getting nowhere.


    As he watched, sixteen dwarves hopped forward together in perfect unison, and three pikes drove a foot into the shoulders and throat of the lead ogre there. The brute reeled backwards, spurting dark crimson blood, and the other dwarves advanced to anchor their lines anew, spitting half a dozen tauren who couldn''t get out of the way fast enough. The ogres could see the angry members of his Cliff tribe coming, and were caught between a rock and a hard place.


    Sama accelerated, chopping down two terrified satyrs like weeds, Tremble singing out something dreadful, and jumped into the air towards two ogres.


    She smashed into the neckless head of the first one, and he could feel the rush of an impressive amount of ki as she sent him lurching over to the side, and she pushed off towards the back of another one trying to forestall the coming pikes with great sweeps of a big, crude axe.


    She hit the back of his head, driving him abruptly forwards and directly onto six waiting pikes, with his thick face getting smashed directly onto one of them through the nose. Sama smiled and waved at the startled dwarves there, before sliding down his body and back into the fighting as the ogres bellowed in deep bass and tried to swat at her, failing miserably.


    Briggs watched her reach out, grab a wrist, twist, and eight hundred pounds of pot-bellied hillbilly cannibal flipped right over, rolled twice, and stopped with eight pikes in him rather abruptly.


    He crashed his Hammer against the thick leg of his second ogre, and it came crashing down as he stepped away from its flailing spiked club. Its dull white eyes were staring right at him as his Hammer came up and drove six inches between them, more then hard enough to fling the carcass away from him.


    "Hammer-sprite!" blurted out a couple of the nearest ogres, all members of the Nailclub tribe, who knew very, very well who he was. They were torn between charging him in anger and running away in fear, but there wasn''t anywhere left to run.


    He feinted a charge, veering aside as they swung at him and heading for the Blundergut there, who was still keeping his shield up, only a couple bolts sticking out of his thick hide.


    Briggs parried the smacking club aside deftly, shocking the heck out of the stinking brute as its club nearly shattered at the impact, and slid in and out, striking and reverse-striking with whiplike speed. Left knee and right knee shattered like china, suddenly bending backwards as bone shattered, and the giant bellowed as it came toppling down helplessly. His jump backwards was perfectly measured, its head literally crashed down at his feet, and he caught the shield with one hand as it slammed down, lifting it up just high enough for the hill giant''s yellowed eyes to roll up at him as his Hammer came crashing down on its temple like a piston.


    The other hill giant bellowed and charged him. Unfortunately, he took his eyes off Sama to do that, and she slid past him, taking off half his leg as she did. He put forward a foot that was no longer there, and his leg collapsed, sending him tumbling. He lost his grip on his shield as he hit the ground, slid forward, and blinked to find himself almost nose-to-nose with Briggs, who was standing on his fallen shield right in front of him.


    Briggs snapped around in a full circle so fast he seemed like a machine, and the inch-thick bone of the giant''s skull wasn''t enough to stop the impact. Neck followed head, drew the body with it, and the giant went sprawling dead two yards away from the impact point.


    With the Blunderguts dead, the remaining ogres had no chance. The subchief there was strong, but Grod and Trum''s hunting team ringed him swiftly and effectively, driving in spears and pounding at his legs as he flailed wildly and tried to keep them back, and failed. The senior hunters impaled his neck, scissored the broad blades of their spears, and took his head off with savage wrenches of their weapons.


    Briggs watched the griffons swoop down on those mutants who were fleeing towards the cliff-dwellings, picking them up and flinging them into one another with bone-crunching impacts. Of course, the women were back there now, with spears of their own they were happy to use, not about to let these invaders into their caves.


    He called out names, pointing with his Hammer, bringing up a proper battle line for the hunting teams, organizing their efforts against the smaller tauren, quick to run forward and face down any clusters of the bigger ones, delaying them and forcing them into a death battle between the tribe and the remorseless and efficient advance of the dwarven pikes.


    =========


    "Tell the dwarves that there''s going to be some border rangers from the south coming along my trail, probably within an hour. Will there be any issues?" I asked him.


    I''d run back to the copse where I''d dropped Forge, and Briggs was staring at it with just this side of drool coming out of his mouth. He blinked when he saw Mikle there looking around with great interest, and slapped his forehead in greeting to the Wee Folk when he saw the brownie, who returned it quickly.


    "No, the dwarves and elves worked out their borders long ago, and trade information regularly. They haven''t had more then individual disagreements in more than a thousand years. Jackasses are part of any race, after all. One sec."


    He strode over to a bunch of dwarves in full armor nearby, their long spears retracted down to merely six feet or so now. I noted the respectful demeanor in their eyes as the bloody, battle-wounded kid walked up to them, Hammer covered with the gore of dozens of dead, and listened to him patiently.


    Their almost crystalline eyes glinted as they glanced at me, nodding to him in acknowledgement, a couple turning around to pass on the news.


    The dwarves were different then I''d expected. Being short and thick-boned, broad and muscular, they didn''t have a lot of flexibility and range of motion. As such, they actually weren''t using axes and hammers, as I''d been expecting. Spears with enough magic to change their lengths seemed to be the proper weapon for them, and given their power on the battlefield, I totally believed it. For close combat, every single one of them had a punch dagger on their girdle, with a cestus-like backing. Given they were wider across the shoulder then Briggs was, with arms reaching to their knees and large hands, I felt sorry for anything that got close enough to experience those katars punching in at that range.


    Of course, to do that they needed to get past those spears. I''d only seen a few of the dwarves break ranks, and there was no doubt that they were heavy, solid, and could roll and bounce their whole bodies with swift ease, and their spear technique was wrist-snapping quick, precise, and solid. They couldn''t lift their arms far enough to really deliver a good overhand smash, which was needed for hammer and axe work, but given their wrist strength, their spears hit like ballista bolts.


    They hadn''t even bothered with shields against this chaff, and I was sure even a giant didn''t really have any chance against them. They could bounce around one and ring him in death, with more then enough reach to do nasty stuff to him.


    I found it quite impressive.


    Briggs seemed to be well-known and well-liked, with many calling out to him. He was about five and a half feet tall, so about a head taller then most of the dwarves. The dwarves'' skin tones were a kind of grayish-brown, an earth tone that would blend into most stones around. Some were of a redder hue, and their armor and insignia were different then the others. Different clans, I assumed. A bit greenish hue here, yellow there, more black on that one, all with different clan signs.


    Different runes and words were tumbling through my head, beginning to arrange themselves as my connection with the Akasha flared, and began to draw in the links to every Human who had ever learned the Dwarven language, and by sympathy, the Dwarven Akasha''s desire to be understood.


    Their armor quality was a minimum of 23, and all of it looked to be enchanted, and most of it pretty old. That was totally understandable, as magical armor could last for millennia, and so any armor would be made and passed down for generations. It would be strange if most dwarves did not have magical armor, based on their Crafting skills, wealth, and the legacies of their forebears. Just having extendable magic Spears on all of them was also pretty damn impressive, but the easy familiarity the Ancients and the dwarves had together showed it wasn''t anything unusual for them.


    The arbalesters had nailed in some spikes and come rappelling down the side of the cliffs with ease and skill, most of them joining the meeting and clean-up efforts below.


    Tremble was getting all sorts of attention, as a singing sword flying around and shooting out blasts of vivic flame to clean up all the messes as the bodies were hurled into burning heaps of mistfire was wont to. The vivic mists were billowing out and around everyone''s ankles, giving the area quite the mystical feel, as well as conveniently dealing with the stench and gore.


    As for me, I was harvesting.


    Ogre hands, hearts, and sinews. Strips of giant hides, hearts, brains, tendons, and sinews. Lots of their blood.


    All Rune Chemist harvest items. I also salvaged some skulls, for use as Baneskulls.


    Briggs saw what I was doing, and his tribe was soon helping me out with the gory work, the women especially. My Exsanguinating Tube they marveled at, so useful for extracting blood, and we filled up a lot of pottery with Ogre and Hill Giant Blood.


    Neandrathals were human, and so spoke the Human tongue, albeit not with the sophistication that Briggs did. They thought I was a little weird, and were definitely very impressed with me, but that didn''t stop them from chatting with me, or watching in disbelief at how fast I would rip the bodies open to get what I wanted out of them¡­ without a drop of blood sticking to me.


    Sharing and confirming Potion recipes with them for Giant Strength, Strength, Toughness, and Hill Giant Control was enough to cement my position as a Friend of the Tribe. When I shared about how to create Girdles of Giant Strength and Giant Power, and Gauntlets of Ogre Strength and Ogre Power, and Baneskulls, well, they were ready to make me a member of the tribe!


    Their garb was leathers and hides, the latter often with fine embroidery and accented with bone and stones, like a heavier version of some Native American garb. They had a lot of body hair, including the females, and were naturally built much heavier then humans, with longer arms, and a definite cranial ridge, all leading to an ape-like appearance. Their eyes were mostly dark, a few of lighter brown, but Briggs'' pale violet eyes, which probably hinted at ogre blood somewhere back in his ancestry, were definitely standing out.


    They were all Sources.


    I could feel the gentle burn of life coming off them, washing against my Null. Most weren''t very high level, just like Humans, getting to Three and stagnating¡­ but a Three Source got a +3 to Strength, and stacking that on top of their +2 Racial Strength bonus, they were twice as strong as a normal human, with their strongest members easily as powerful as ogres or giants, despite their gentle demeanors.


    I was guessing that Briggs was rocking at least a 27 Strength, meaning he was almost as strong naturally as the Girdle made me.


    Him and I were going to have a good long talk.

 60 Chapter Sixty – Size Matters

    I had tipped over Binder/2, I had sent the 4 Skill Points to Sailor as I had Binder/1, and I had done my Crafting and mixing.


    It was time to put it to the test, as a foggy evening turned to dark, and the Mask I''d Tattooed on my face lit up and let me ignore that darkness with Devilsight.


    Huge forms were gathering further up the hill. The Brine Zombies were already dead, or more undead might have been crawling out from the wreckage of the Beatrice that I''d burned away.


    Tremble popped his pommelstone, and I grabbed the first of the four Growth Potions in there. They''d take effect at level Eight, and then be doubled by the Girdle¡­ but I was still restrained by my Null nature to the max of ten minutes to slaughter as many Jotuns as I could. It was a pure comparison of damage against a weaponless foe with great numbers, testing to see if I could slaughter them faster then their numbers could generate hits and bring me down.


    There would be no wasted damage, no wasted overkill. Through double Swarmbane and their hordemind, they''d be eating all of it!


    "You ready for this?" I asked Tremble, popping the cap and skating up the hill as the zombie giants lumbered down towards me.


    "Oh, yeah, baby!" he answered, and I sucked down the Potion.


    It tasted like wet moldy feet, but needs must. Even as it went down my throat, I could feel it working, ectoplasm streaming in and mass accumulating. Everything began to shrink around me as I grew in perfect proportions to double my height, four foot-something to eight foot-something¡­ and Tremble''s blade doubled in length.


    From 4-32 to 8-48 base damage, and then the Holy Water configuration set up, and the acid damage on the blade became some really, really, REALLY potent holy water.


    I met the first ones on the first rolling level, and the slaughter started. Their moans and bass-driven howls would have driven a normal person mad with terror.


    They only told me where their most vulnerable points were, a foot or two below the things making the sounds.


    I began to kill with a rolling explosive swirl of glowing, fluid light, incredibly beautiful if anyone was there to see it.


    Giant zombies.


    They didn''t have the primal DR they''d had while alive, and they didn''t have the massive Constitution bonus they''d had before, either. Just undead with more Hit Dice and Toughness, easier to kill then before. Auto two-hit kill. One hit with a crit, which meant getting up under their ribs and spraying the Holy Banewater up into their upper torso, up and into the neck and through the spine. Auto-kill on a charge.


    It was fast killing, faster then anything I''d done in a long time. Their arms were long, but no longer then my reach anymore. Everything became arcs and vectors, equal parts precise calculation and free-flowing intuition through the press of massive bodies. First hits were generally limbs melted through, before sending peace up into their main body cavities.


    Arcs and whorls swept through the air like the birth of new and moving flowers. In their wake, massive zombies folded, their undead flesh dissolving like melting wax, and if there was no vivic fire to clean them up, that was totally okay for now.


    I started at the path side, worked my way across to the ramp side with an elegant savagery that was very cathartic. I wasn''t jumping, spinning and dodging so much, I was killing them as they reached for me, and they were dying before they could hit me.


    Growth Potions were going to change a few things for me, it seemed.


    Up the ramp side, into the slaughtered knights, and as I worked through them, the inhabitants of the house began to shamble out to join in the fun. Even had on the same clothes, now all rotted and half-falling off to fit the theme.


    They all burned and melted in an unrelenting chain of Ripostes, Sword beats Fist, Cleaves, Hews, Finishes, and Whirlwinds. I cut my way through the press, multi-ton bodies dissolving around me, unable to press me enough to restrict my movements before they died.


    One hundred and eighty-four zombies died, fourteen zombie Hell Puppies. The ghouls the sailor officers, the knight commanders, and the noble lords had turned into were the only blips in the fighting, but only the Wight that used to be the Count or Duke or whatever held me back more then a few breaths, as he was the only one wielding a weapon.


    I Finished one of his guards, Hewed into him, parried his life-sucking Sword into another guard, then repeated the Hew to him off a One Strike with a spinning leap that took both of their heads in the same slash.


    It hadn''t taken me ten minutes. I''d moved too fast, covering ground as fast as I could to max out the benefits of the Potion.


    "Firephasing, all Fire, Sundering!" I snarled, and as Acid turned to Fire, I smashed it into the wooden exterior of the mansion, smashing through the fa?ade and into the wooden siding and beams behind. Tremble whooped as fires exploded around us, and with the efficacy of dream, caught and expanded with unnatural speed.


    I raced into and through the mansion, gouging the walls, floors, doors, and streams of fluid fire followed me.


    I left the shattered kitchen in flames, stepped out to the back path, and walked out towards the front of the house as the two minutes dead time ticked down, and the duration of my Potion ticked away with it.


    I stood there at the corner of the yard, still trashed from earlier that day, wondering what the Curse was going to come up with next.


    The stacked, half-dissolved corpses of the zombies began to twitch under the blossoming fire of the burning mansion. I blinked at them.


    And their heads all blew apart, exploding messily. Those who didn''t have heads instead had gore erupt from their necks like a garbage disposal exploding.


    All of them had rather large and impressive clusters of black and phosphorescent green tentacles suddenly sprout from their necks, flailing about wildly before settling down. The corpses began to flow back together under an invisible power.


    "Vivus next time," I said in no uncertain terms.


    "I hear that," murmured Tremble. "The hell is this¡­"


    "Aberrants. Moits of the Elder Gods." The corpses were starting to stand up as they were pulled together, still showing signs of being half-melted, but mobile and working regardless.


    The configuration on Tremble changed back to the new Cerulean Seal Pattern, as we liked to call it.


    "I have the impression this will be a lot more difficult then zombies?" he asked softly.


    "A human-sized one can have twelve hit dice. A Huge one¡­ don''t know. Basically Olympian-plus¡­ I don''t know. Double, at least."


    "Ugh. I have the feeling we''re going to beat ourselves against these for a while."


    I accepted the Potion that came out of his Hilt Chamber, shaking my head. I''d made four, but I wasn''t going to last long enough to consume the other two. Two claw attacks, multiple hentai tentacle attacks, with the cooperation Feat cheats (not that I should complain)¡­ okay, I was going to die, but we''d see how many I could kill first¡­


    One hundred and eighty-seven Huge Moits. Nope, wasn''t getting through that. Tomorrow, I''d use vivus, dump the Holy Banewater, and leave no bodies behind for this crap.


    They still didn''t have reach on me if I stayed this size. I wasn''t getting the huge damage push from the Banewater¡­ but I could and would Wardance this.


    Tremble began to Sing, and I charged at the Moit occupying the Duke''s body in a blur of motion. Convenient how a Growth Potion didn''t require actually adjusting to a new size here in dream, reality instead re-sized to a new perspective¡­


    As the mansion burned, I hit the first of these creatures still three times as tall as I was, and they shrieked in Aklo about hunger and mating and other things appropriate for a bad hentai flick. Tremble hit them singing about the crushing power of Fate coming down on them for having the bad luck to meet me, and we started the dance and the grind as thrice-used bodies began to fall apart again, and this time burn away.


    ------


    I woke up. First thing I did was a cellular-level scan making sure there wasn''t something implanted in me that I didn''t want, because I didn''t put it past the Curse to attempt something like that.


    Yeah, there was something nestled up against the back of my spine. The Moits had somehow managed to put a slug in me¡­ after I was dead.


    My Vajra surged, and my blood turned wildly corrosive, something aqua regia might tip its cap to. I definitely didn''t protect that slug as I split open several vessels around it, and it shivered and screamed about horrors from beyond Creation as my blood began to reduce it to sludge, and then all my cells linked up and sent a blast of bioelectricity through it to make matters less comfortable for it.


    It lost any influence over my motor systems, I reached out for Tremble, sat up, and to his "Hey!" punched him into the back of my neck, perilously near my brain.


    Hissing, bubbling goo ran down the back of my neck and back to the floor. Tremble made appropriately disgusted sounds as he watched it run out of me.


    "So, that''s how they reproduce?"


    "Yeah, they stick a slug in your brain." I used Healing Soul use to seal the wound, as clean as any surgeon could have made it, and so easy to bind shut¡­ after my Vajra shoved a good half-pound of Aberrant sludge out of me, as well as any cells I considered compromised.


    "Vivic all the way."


    "It''ll probably bring in some ''innocent civilians'' and do the same thing." I exhaled as I closed my eyes, ticking over Binder/3. "We''re just going to have to skirmish them down, long and involved. They still couldn''t keep up with us, and if we have to, we can just go into the burning mansion."


    "We should have set it on fire a while ago," he judged.


    "Honestly, I was expecting the Curse to go with some rampaging fire elementals or salamanders again on the spur of the moment, but, eh. That sure did surprise me." The noise of so many things babbling so many horrific things they were going to do to me in Aklo meant I''d had to cut off my hearing and Tremblesense, at the end.


    "What are you doing?" he asked me, able to hear some undercurrents in my voice.


    "Excising parts of my memory related to what they were saying last night. You get that many creatures speaking Aklo, the maddening, insanity-inducing power of it multiplies. I had to render myself completely deaf, or I''d probably be having a psychotic episode right now, or would when I faced them again." I slid away from the slime, which was burning unwhite nicely. "This is going to be unpleasant, but the basic tactic seems to work. Using a Growth Potion can save us a lot of healing. I''ll keep four Healing as a Reserve, and make more potent ones to replace them as needed, but Growth is definitely going to dominate going forward."


    "At least the comps are easy to get!" Only needed giant blood, after all.


    I pulled my mini-lab out of his Hilt Chamber, empty vials, and a small jug of giant blood taken from the Duke, definitely the toughest of all of them.


    I could make four Potions a day as a Rune Chemist/4, up to the maximum of a goldweight in power comps, which were not hard to get for the minor Potions I wanted.


    A Growth Potion for the Sailors, and another for the Dogs and Knights, would conserve a lot of Healing power for me.


    Stronger healing Potions, a day at a time, using up the rest of my limit for what the Growth Potions did not.


    Then we''d see how hentai those bastards thought they could be, if they came back¡­

 61 Chapter Sixty-One - Captain and Commander II

    "So, Captain Sama Rantha. You''re a long way from Coralost, Sama," Briggs noted, not unamused.


    He''d swapped out his torn leather shirt for a simpler, embroidered vest that his mother''s sister had made for him. It wasn''t high QL, but the feelings behind it were much deeper, and it conveyed great status in the tribe. He''d been seated with the elder warriors when they sat in council, and he often represented the tribe with the dwarves.


    "I''d say the same for the great Commander Briggs of Redshore. Just one more neo-demonic invasion to thwart, eh?" That oddly compelling toothed smile of hers had him shaking his head.


    "Why are you keeping the Mask up?" he asked, glancing at the floating Disk next to them, which was still burning slightly. The sight of such naked magic was keeping his kinfolk away, which was probably for the best. The crazy killer girl''s rep had come with the rangers who had arrived late to the fight, too, and everyone was sharing careful drinks and looks at the two of them.


    "Hagsign covers half my face. People tend to react poorly, but it''s buried under the active Tats, and the neck isn''t as off-putting," she replied crisply, and he nodded understanding. The Mask washed away before his eyes, and he looked over the blue-black mottled flesh, and the devastating blue eyes.


    He had images of her biting on his shoulders, and firmly reminded himself that he was still too young for such things. The side of her mouth curled up.


    "Those purple eyes of yours are gorgeous," she told him, leaning in slightly. "How does your tribe see them?"


    He was rather embarrassed by her directness... and she was turning him on effortlessly. "Uh, they thought it was a bad sign when I was born, evil eyes from ogre blood. They were very surprised when I turned out to be smart, rather than vicious."


    "Good!" she complimented him, offering a tunk of her cup of ice water, which he clinked automatically. Her Sword cooling it down made it very nice.


    "How are you already at Ten?" he asked, a little aggrieved. "I thought I was making pretty good progress. I killed my first ogre at four, and my first giant at seven. I thought I was doing pretty good!"


    "Ehhhh." The way her mouth on that side turned down made the Tat''s whiskers exaggerate her frown. So cute! "Well, you''re leading the typical life of a tribal Ancient, you just had sentience when born, and knew what to do and where to put the Karma, right?"


    "Pretty much." He flexed his arms and chest, watched her delighted eyes follow the motion, not at all off-put by his body hair. He so wanted both of them to be ten years older about now...


    "Wellllll, I found out that being a reborn soul destined to be a Hagchild is something right out of a horror flick."


    He blinked. "What? Doesn''t the Ritual of the Silver Queen take care of that?"


    She nodded, but that side of her mouth was at a weird angle. "Yeah¡­ if you''re the persona the Curse sets up. For the soul, well, it''s only possible if the soul is refined away."


    Briggs felt his jaw dropping. "What?"


    "Hags can''t have true children, it''s an aspect of the Curse. Their children are extensions of their Curse, made to corrupt innocent souls. In my case, the annis Tusk Annie ate some poor fool after having sex with him, bore a Hagchild, and that Hagchild ate and replaced a week-old baby, before living out her life¡­ and I was that baby."


    Briggs blinked, then blinked again. "Holy Hell," he murmured. "And¡­ it couldn''t refine your soul. Instead of the Ritual cleansing it from without¡­ you Nulled and broke out from within?" He watched her nod. "Then¡­ what of the persona? She¡­" He followed her eyes to Tremble floating there, watching and listening silently. "Ah, she managed to transfer to your Soul, because of the Soulbind tie¡­"


    "So I''ve been told," Tremble said softly in her chiming voice. "I don''t have many memories of being human¡­"


    "And you''re being Ten is related to this?" Briggs asked, curious now.


    "Mmm. It was like being caught in a video game, where I wasn''t allowed to die, because if I did, the Curse died, too. So, the Curse was trying to wear me down, by pain and killing me over and over again until I couldn''t take it anymore. I met it head-on, treating it as a game, and I leeched power off of it, growing my soul and tempering my psyche, as I was basically caught in Nightmare."


    Briggs was silent, picturing that. Being caught inside a video game and dying over and over would be a horrible, non-stop cycle of violence, pain, and ultimately dying futilely. Enduring until you were strong enough to break the cycle would take an awesome level of willpower and perseverance.


    Which is exactly what a Null did. They endured and persevered.


    "And you got enough Karma to make Ten from that? Damn, that Curse is strong¡­"


    "It''s hollow Karma. It''s like I have it all, but I don''t. The Curse was pervasive and continually sucking in the real stuff, but it''s not like it had enough power to make me an F-Rank Ten, just like that. It had more then enough power to make me the equivalent of an Annis, but above and beyond that, I''ve got to earn that Karma all over again before I can try anything new."


    "So, the structure, filling in the meat." He got it. "Still, that''s a lot more Karma then I''ve been exposed to," he admitted. "Although I''ve been killing stuff beyond my means, too¡­"


    "That Hammer Grandmastery kick in at Five?"


    "Yes, not too long ago, really. Adding Ranks in Hammer-using Skills to my damage with a hammer has been very useful¡­"


    "The four Smiths, Miner, Sculptor, Lumberjack, Carpenter¡­?" she wondered aloud. He grinned and nodded. "+40 damage, at least. You''re just a monster, just like back home!"


    "How about you? You''re a Sword Grandmaster, too!¡­"


    "Ah, I didn''t get mine by building on Warsmith. Mine let me use any weapon-related Feat that could conceivably be used with a sword, with a Sword. So, I can Hew and Finish, for example."


    Briggs blinked, turning over those two Feats in his mind. Hew was a nice Feat for Axe-users, as it helped not waste damage while Cleaving. It was only limited by having a Cleave target, so useless against most bosses, and only if you killed something, so more a minion-clearing tool. Finish was just a way of making sure that something that fell down, didn''t get back up. Basically, an anti-healing/regeneration Feat.


    But if you could use them together, then¡­


    "A crit once a round, whenever you kill something¡­" he murmured. The damage would splash to the next target, resulting in a huge opening blow, and if they were weak, probably another kill, and another Cleave instantly.


    She flicked a finger at the piles of corpses, most of which had burned down to soft white ash by now, the mists hanging around long eaten by the ever-insatiable Land. "I want to charge the little guy, then hit the boss," she agreed cheerfully.


    "Damn! But, what about your base damage?"


    "Well, you took Warsmith''s Class Feature to an extreme. I took Profound Artisan."


    He went dumpster diving through his memory again. "Plus synergy bonus from a chosen Skill to your Focused Weapon damage?" he asked. It wasn''t a bad bonus, but not a great one¡­


    "Started with Mastersmith. Expanded it to every Skill that had a viable connection with any weapon through my Grandmastery. Earned a new Title for it, The Sage of Swords."


    "I, whoa¡­ That¡­ would eat a lot of Skill Points. But any and all applicable Skills, just start stacking the synergy bonuses¡­ That could get really high, Sama¡­" He eyed her thoughtfully. "Is that how you were such a badass in-game?"


    "Twenty-plus appropriate Skills at ten Ranks." His whistle was low and impressed. "I''ve effectively got just over half that right now as the Karma fills in. It won''t go as high as yours, I think, but it''s got a lot more niche bonuses, like Stealth increasing SA damage."


    "Didn''t know you had two Titles, impressive!" Titles weren''t easy to come by.


    That cunning smile rose again. "I had three. Now, I''ve got four."


    "Three!" He blinked. "And you earned another?" That was hard to believe!


    "It''s more an Achievement Feat, but because it has so many pre-reqs, it applies as a Title."


    "What was the third one from the game?"


    She laughed brightly, which raised goosebumps on his skin, it was like birds singing about steel. "I was The Trembling Sage." Those incredible blue eyes danced in the firelight from her Disk.


    "Trembling Sage? Tremorsense?" There was a pulse on the ground, he could feel it perfectly, as Tremorsense was a skill he had also cultivated to the utmost, for both its usefulness in combat, and just plain knowing the ground around him.


    "Tremblesense includes the air via echolocation and blindfighting, electricity via lateral line, heat via infrasense, air pressure, and even rough visualization via light on the skin; magic, chi, and psi via Null deletion, in addition to dimensional shifting." She swished her long golden mane of hair, which he was sure had been moving by itself when he wasn''t staring at it. "Hair acts like a tuned receiver and multiple contact points of reference."


    He pursed his lips, wondering just how much effort it must have taken to put together combined abilities, Skills, and Feats like that. "So, it''s a total sphere, instead of a hemisphere." He grunted as he thought about that. "Damn. No wonder you were called The Tip of the Spear. No one had any secrets from you, did they?"


    "Any strong chi, magic, psi, ki, or Essence field can mask what''s behind it, but otherwise¡­ nope. Get heavyfoot up, take the Ranks in Tremorsense, Feat to double, magic item to double again, hook them all in together to work on ki vibrations, and I had a sixty-foot sphere where I knew where everything was. Yeah, I was near impossible to surprise."


    "Damn!" He had never realized it could be upgraded to include the air. "And here I practice Thunder and didn''t realize that¡­"


    "Eh, no one did, which was funny, but you only get the Title if you work it out yourself, so I just ruined it for you." Her lopsided smile was so damn cute.


    "I''m just happy I''ve got another skill set to work towards." Not that he didn''t have enough on his plate. "And your last one?"


    "You know how there''s a bunch of anti-monster Feats out there, especially for undead and the like? And they all hook into Favored Enemy masteries, and Achievement Feats for slaughter, and the Vendetta Feat for stuff picking on you?"


    "Yeah?" This sounded interesting.


    "Well, I combined them all with Dark Knowledge, poured in the Karma, and got a new Title out of it, working off of my Sage of Swords. Turned all the relevant bonuses to derive from synergy bonuses with a Knowledge check, made them insight bonuses, and they kick in on killing enough of an enemy, instead of straight Karma investing." She leaned backwards slightly. "And damn, Briggs, did I kill a lot of stuff during those years in Nightmare."


    "Wow." Insight bonuses were not easy to come by. Dark Knowledge and Favored Enemy were both morale bonuses, coming in to the same effect from different angles. "No more Favored Enemy or Dark Knowledge, then?"


    "No, but I don''t much care. I can Wardance or Sing for morale bonuses."


    "I am soooo far behind the curve," he lamented.


    "Meh. We''ve got to get you going with Endure." She glanced at his Hammer. "You didn''t even Name that. What''s going on?"


    "Ah, dwarven Hammers are basically only used by their Priests of the Forge-Father. I found this one buried in the midden of a clan of the Nailclubs, the ogre tribe you saw here. As I was using it to kill ogres so successfully, the dwarves let me keep on using it¡­ but it''s not my Hammer." He handed it over to her, and she took it as easily as a willow wand.


    "Yeah, shaft is too short and thick, balance off for your build. I imagine you have to replace this thong all the time." She snipped off the frayed thing with two fingers, and he said nothing. "Go on, give it back. Let''s get you a starting Hammer."


    He hesitated a moment. "I don''t have the metals for-"


    "Starter Hammer. You need to start accumulating Naming Karma," she admonished him. "You and I both know we''re going to be going after these warbands. A thousand Karma a day cost-free into your Weapon. Every day of combat you don''t have a Named Weapon in your hand is costing you the money you don''t have.


    "Once we''ve actually got some pull and gold, we can go about getting some adamant and mithral and stuff." She motioned Tremble over, and he accepted the Sword into his hands, feeling her with hands and Ki and Essence.


    "She''s only a 33, and that post-refined." He glanced at her. "You refined a Sword you found?"


    "There''s no real way to get her to 35, so we got her to 33 and made her Impervious. Just waiting on the real metal to make a real weapon."


    He nodded. "And you can make a Hammer?" he asked, his pale violet eyes almost glowing.


    She gestured at a couple of cabinets. "I''ve got a set of Shaping Tools, an Anvil of Silent Thunder, and that Disk is a Floating Forge which can melt adamantine. I had two sword-blades of adamant, but once I smelted them down and got rid of the Shadow bias, I was half a pound shy of making a new blade for Tremble."


    "What did you get those off?"


    "A couple svartalfar some Hags contracted to kill me. I''m hoping more show up for me to kill."


    "That would be a convenient source of more adamant," he agreed. "You want to get started now?"


    "You have a Diamond Vajra, you gonna waste time?"


    "No." His hands were suddenly itching as he looked at the cabinet she pointed out. "A full set of smithing tools?" he asked softly.


    "They''re sized for me for now, I''ll grab some leather wraps for you."


    "Good!" He got to his feet, hefting the Hammer she had passed back to him. "Let me go return this, and we''ll get to work." It was a +II Weapon, he wouldn''t really miss it. An Einz Slot Soulbound would totally replace it.


    "I''ll get my materials ready, we''ll pick what you want to work with, and get started. We should be able to do 8k of work per eight hours, so twelve-some hours and we should be good to get you a 35 QL Hammer."


    He blinked despite himself, remembered what she said, and then recalled his own smithing set-up from back in-game. She didn''t have the adamant, but she had all the basic Artifice to do it. With him helping her, this should be simple to do¡­


    -----------


    "Speaker Hundrek." The dwarves had seen him coming, and turned to look at him, as much bodies as necks, since they didn''t have a human''s range of motion.


    "Young Briggs," the warpriest nodded at him, the metallic hue of his beard identifying him better then his symbol, since the former covered up the latter. "Haf du news for us? From your young lass, perhaps?" There were some chuckles from those around, as his hanging around the masked girl was totally obvious, and easy to read into.


    "Aye. She said she would forge me a new Hammer, and so I''ve come to return this one to the Forge-Father," he replied, always amused that the dwarves here sounded more German then Scottish.


    Armor and leather creaked as the Priest got to his feet, treating the Weapon that was being held out to him with the respect it deserved. "Oh? She cans forge a Hammer more suited for du, lad?" He accepted the Hammer with both hands somberly, his polished eyes interested.


    "Aye, she can. She also asked me to inquire if the Rockborn are selling some rare metals. She''s in need of some to forge a true Sword for herself, and some other things. Foremost are adamant and mithral, naturally."


    All the dwarves drinking quietly there looked at him as if they''d discovered a new species. "Du canst bin thinking du can forge star-silver, let alone world-bone, lad," the priest rebuffed him firmly.


    That was true, for now. "Of course not, Speaker Hundrek. But Lady Sama can. She can probably give you lessons." After all, Rockborn or no, the Priest wasn''t a Ten, merely a Seven. The +4 Racial bonus was impressive as a Dwarf/3, but compared to a Ten? Especially with her Stats?


    Hundrek''s beetly eyebrows flared up to his stiff hairline. "Du thinks so, lad? Mights I bin able to watch this Lady, then, und see er working?"


    "Of course, Speaker Hundrek," he bowed immediately, giving the Priest the respect he was due. "She''s a Master Runesmith, however, not a Runeforger, so the style may be unfamiliar to you."


    "A Runesmith? She canst call nae on dweomer?" His interest, and that of many of the Rockborn there, was immediately piqued. "Aye, I mights wander ofer und see she skillz, young Briggs." Given how they revered their elders, he was unsurprised the dwarf was subtly putting him in his place. The initial War Council between the various forces gathered here had not included him. After all, for he had never been to war¡­


    "At your convenience, Elder," he replied humbly, before turning to go.


    He couldn''t help the partial smile that was tugging at the side of his mouth. Sama was a Ten Master Runesmith from the game, and she''d taken time to make all the right Forging toys, because the speed advantage they gave her was more important then anything else in the building of power. The combination wouldn''t impress the Rockborn, who certainly used such things themselves¡­ but the fact she was toting them around with her certainly would!

 62 Chapter 62 – Spillover from Leng

    I was mad, and I took it out on everything.


    The opening day fights I hacked my way past, and I was quite cruel to the evening ones, giving them no face and slaughtering them at maximum speed. I didn''t even mock the grimm like I usually did.


    The giants in the house died in record time. I paused only long enough for Combat Vigor to reset between fights, and then I was off and killing again, sweeping through every room savagely, stirring up lots of giants, my new size making it harder for them to surround me, and easier for me to move a step and kill them.


    I killed the knights and their ''mares, and then the front yard, all on one Potion, running everywhere, a whirlwind of destruction. The ants and Hell puppies in back didn''t need such a thing, nor the swarm of dragonflies.


    I went down to meet the sailors, and simply fought a battle in retreat, leaving a trail of burning dead behind me as I backed up towards the house, not letting them flank me, happy to cut down any of them that overextended into my reach, and chew a path through them at my new size. Almost half of them were dead before we made it to the mansion, and then they couldn''t get through the door and had to smash through the wall to enter it, resulting in more dying. Metal rang as Tremble moved and parried and thrust and cut, singing their doom to them, and giants fell and lost their heads.


    I liver-thrust the captain, beheaded him as he fell, and headed down to the pier.


    The pier fights didn''t need me to be big, either, even when the Deep Ones and Brine Zombies were at it. Loot the ship and get off as it sank, kill the dragon turtle for some blood and its fundamentum, chew through the morkoth and the scyllas, and then patiently hunt down the Brine Zombies wandering around in the fog wondering where I was, because Darkstalker Null not pop as living thing in their fog, duurrr.


    Despite being vivic, the dead giants still animated as zombies, prerogative of the Curse basically resetting the scene entirely.


    They didn''t die as fast, but they still died, this time vivic so there was no body left behind to pull that Moit nonsense.


    And then I set the mansion on fire again, simply because I was pissed.


    "Any ideas?" Tremble asked, as we looked out over the courtyard. Despite having mangled it terribly less then an hour ago my time, it looked almost pristine, save for the zombies burning in clumps here and there near the mansion, around which I''d led them a lively chase.


    Oh, and the buildings burning, but what can I say?


    "It''s night, so undead are logical. Just where are they coming from is the key¡­" Which was why I wasn''t too far from the burning house.


    My eyes flickered to the end of the long drive, going out onto the street and the very hazy city inferred beyond it¡­ because something had just walked through it.


    More somethings followed.


    They were half the size of giants, which was notable. I didn''t want the Curse to realize it could fight me with giants at my size, and just kill me with numbers when more of them could surround me and I wouldn''t be getting additional bonuses against them. It seemed to think that size was better, and I was going to say a word otherwise. Being merely twelve feet tall, they were still Large opponents to me.


    And they were kind of dog-faced, with ragged claws, rather straight cut simple clothing that wasn''t falling apart.


    Those were Leng ghouls. I narrowed my eyes, looking up at the stars, which were wavering and hazy through a dreamy fog, but I didn''t see or feel any kind of a dimensional rift or reality.


    And I bolted down the driveway towards them. The best place to fight them would be near the entrance, or I was going to have to run all over again. I had no idea how many were coming, but they were already in the dozens, so here we went.


    "Undead config, these are Leng ghouls," I told Tremble, who didn''t have to change much other then getting out of Firephasing.


    "Oh, that means I can sing in both Aklo and Necrus, just for them!" Tremble noted with a verbal grin.


    "That you can."


    He damped the fires around his blade as I went streaking down the side of the lawn, leaving the ghouls to stare at the fires dancing on the mansion, and I hit them from the side at double-size, the last Potion I would use.


    Olympians were unduly tough, at least as hard to bring down as the giants, probably more, and with a claw-claw-bite routine that meant more attacks coming my way. My Charge took one down, ripping through it hard, and I stepped to the next and failed to kill it with a cut across its gut as it bent away from the death blow, and raked back at me.


    They all turned bright, intelligent eyes on me, and the fight was on. Their somehow reedy voices, despite their size, went up, and even more of them began to flood through the gates.


    Not a swarm, just a lot of individuals, given enough brains to work cooperatively and totally unrealistic levels of toughness. Like someone I could name, but I was too polite to.


    I still had identical reach to them, but since I couldn''t drop one without a crit, and they were in three-hit range, it was going to involve a lot of running and striking again. Whirlwinds for the first hit, AoO''s for the second hits, and then a crit to open up the Cleaves, take down the wounded, a Finish and Hew to force-drop another and start a Cleave chain once more.


    I could take them down in clusters, but they were quick to encircle me, spread out and converge when I came in. They had the triple cooperation Feats combo, so they were strong and quick and the lucky hits would be coming in.


    And probably numbered at least as many as the zombies. I shook my head as Tremble happily belted out their coming fate, my heart was pounding with joy and verve. I lit into them with Wrathflame, chewing through the edges of their numbers as they poured onto the lawn, analyzing their attack patterns and style, fitting them into Courtier of Death as I reaped them.


    ================


    Invigorating on Tremble blew muscle relief and new stamina into my muscles as the last oversized Leng ghoul dropped, and I exhaled softly, breathing deeply and letting my oxygen deficiency right itself, very happy I had a Vajra to help me with such things.


    Two minutes.


    There were oversized ghouls burning everywhere around me, dotting the fire-illuminated lawn with patches of whiteness that the Curse couldn''t further play with. I was standing in front of the gate to the road outside, waiting for the next wave.


    Battle Vigor did its thing, restoring some of my depleted Soak. I had claw marks all over me from over twoscore hits, clothes were in shreds, and I was way past the fifty kills I needed for Courtier.


    I expended my last Vigor, wounds hissing as they turned into temporary damage, but I still wouldn''t get them back fast enough to really affect the next fight. My Soul Healing and Blood Healing were both expended, which meant I''d taken over three hundred in damage to both my Health and my Soak during this long fight, running all over the place and taking them down in batches of three to six before sprinting away before they could surround me.


    The cockroach was still on the job, but I was down to my dregs now. I assumed something equally annoying was coming next.


    A growl reverberated oddly, answered by more that went up and down the scale. It was Aklo, talking about smelling food nearby and something strange, a combination of whistle and drum laden with a dose of not sane, as the owners came slouching into view outside the gates.


    Head split by vertical jaws, leaving one to wonder at its brain''s location. Bulbous eyes jutting out to either side, like a black-orbed toad. Greasy-slick hides, furred only in a few places¡­ and arms that split at the elbows into two forearms with two sets of massive clawed hands.


    "And these are?" Tremble asked softly.


    "Aberrants. Gugs. Another Leng native," I answered quietly. Runes shifted as he changed configs to the Cerulean Seal format. "Olympianized, of course¡­"


    "Of course, can''t let them be weak or something." I opened my eyes and focused¡­ I had done a LOT of fighting today, which was par for the course. I would do more fighting tomorrow.


    Four claws and a bite routine. Intrinsically more attacks and lucky hits then the ghouls would have. I sighed softly, and charged the first one.


    If I was really, really lucky, I might get my fifty tonight, but I handily doubted it. Battle Vigor started up again, my Soak began to rise, and the gugs saw me coming, lifted their double claws, and bounded with great agility to meet me.


    Out further in the street, I saw the looming shadow of a boss-type, half-again as tall as the others, bristling with muscle and a desire to see what I tasted like. I shook my head as the first one went down to its chest being carved open like a melon, and it was on.

 63 Chapter 63 – Smithing!

    "Ahhh¡­"


    The pleasure of having a real smith''s hammer in his hand was almost surreal. Briggs hefted it, noting the giant-hide wrapping it was almost perfect for his hand size, and looked at Sama expectantly.


    He''d already sorted through the metal scrap she had collected, and the ingots stacked up under the cabinet. A number of them were Energized to Lightning, probably from being hit by it repeatedly, but there was no need to waste them on a proto-Hammer.


    She ran her fingers around the edges of Forge, and Runes lit up, pumping with pyromancy and getting molten-hot in just seconds, while somehow the Disk itself didn''t change at all. A current of lightning arced between four locations on the Floating Forge, passing through the metal, and heating it up with magical speed.


    He knew the principle of a Floating Forge. That effect was a Topped Heat Metal, worth 8 points of damage that bypassed Hardness. The fires rippling over the surface of the Forge were a very down-sized, Empowered Wall of Fire, capable of doing around 26 points of damage, which would be halved against a metal, but still leave it at effectively 22 when combined with the Heat Metal, and be enough to smelt adamant.


    Just doing steel, it heated up with great speed, and Sama snatched it up with her bare hands, brought it over to the Anvil of Silent Thunder, and held it down. She nodded at Briggs, who lifted a Shaping Hammer with her, and they began to pound.


    Her Hammer crashed down like a piston, and the bar of steel visibly deformed. His Hammer followed, not quite so powerful, and as he hit the metal, he heard a ringing in his head, a m¨¦lange of notes that told him how pure the metal was, what shape it was in, and how the force of his blow was spreading through it. He could identify crystalline patterns, the mix of elements, the temperature and cooling speed, where it was weak and where it was strong. One hundred percent of his blow was contained in the bar, and not a single sound spread into their surroundings.


    He pulled his Hammer back, there was no rebound, so it was all physical strength on pure display here, and her Hammer was already coming back as he did so.


    Sama was in control of the metal, the Anvil actually holding it down, twisting and turning it to direct their Hammer strikes, each blow ringing through the metal, deforming and driving it into a new shape.


    They first had to Wootz it, make an ingot of layered metal, which involved hammering the metal out, folding it in half, hammering it out again, folding it again, a total of eight times. Normally, this was a drawn-out process, as the metal had to be reheated each time it was folded, but the Floating Forge heated it up incredibly fast, fusing things together with the current running through it, and their breaks to rest were less than five minutes long.


    They started making the heads of Endure.


    He knew he wanted it to have more then one configuration, as the Hammer was also the core of the Axe, Mace, and the Pick. Having different designs wasn''t hard to do, but since they were pounding Value into it, there was no reason not to forge it into those forms after the metal reached the desired pattern.


    It was a lot of work, raw muscle power coming down on the steel. It was a twenty-pound head, far heavier then any non-enhanced human could wield, and they pounded it down densely and into the forms he had laid out to her in the extremely and precise smithing language derived from Gnomoi and Dwarven.


    The first form was their practice form, a Maul for utility hammering and splitting wood. They beat it into shape with a pounding array of blows, the Shaping Tools giving them perfect control over the force of it, the Silent Thunder awareness of the shape and lay of the metal.


    He hissed when she lifted it up for him to examine. It was blocky and simple, a tool to be used, not a weapon¡­ but the incredible symmetry and perfection of it was plain to see, a thing of QL 35, not something ever seen back home on Terra, and only among the most powerful magical items here. He had never laid eyes on something like that¡­ until he picked up her Tools.


    "Good!" he told her, hefting the hot metal in his hands.


    They didn''t quench it, they put it back in the fire, to actually melt back down and recast into an ingot, and then they repeated the process.


    A Mattock was next. A Pick followed. Then came the basic bearded Battle-axe, with a hammer backing it and a spiked top. A Throwing Axe followed, then a Halberd configuration, then a double-crescent Greataxe.


    The Mace configuration had six flanges, totally suitable for bashing. Its Morningstar compatriot had wicked spikes all over it, ready for impact.


    He had four Hammer configurations, one for throwing, one for smithing, one double-headed with a narrow impact area, one single-headed with a wider bell-form and beaked on the opposite side.


    Every time but the last, the double-headed Hammer form, they melted the metal back down, refolded it, and formed a new Weapon.


    Every single one was at QL 35.


    ----------


    Somewhere along the lines we picked up an audience.


    We started late at night, and given the magical silence of our work, and careful distance from anyone sleeping, there wasn''t much of an issue.


    Then rangers and dwarves, and even Brigg''s tribesmen, waking up early and saw us smithing away wandered over to watch.


    Watching two under-sized, and although they didn''t know how old I was, kids pounding steel like it was taffy or something, and then we''d lift up a weapon finer then anything they were using.


    And then melt it all down to start all over again.


    They gave us careful room because I turned slowly around to glare at anyone who got too close, and then I ignored them.


    And we just kept at it.


    Both of us had Diamond Vajras, which meant no needing to break for food or the bathroom. Briggs was inhumanly strong, at least at 27, probably 28, and his motions were effortless. I had a Con in the 30''s, and could literally hammer all day, and a Girdle of Giant Power that made swinging a ten-pound Shaping Hammer simplicity.


    We''d lift up the maces, then the axes, and finally the various hammers, and the whole crowd would sign to look at them, the living perfection of the forged steel taken as high as it could go¡­ and then we weren''t done, feeding it right back into the fire.


    "Question for ya, Briggs," I said, as we watched the second hammer design melting down again.


    "Shoot."


    "Rockborn know kukri designs? Noticed they are using katars and cesti, kind of suboptimal there."


    He rubbed his brick of a jaw thoughtfully. "Never seen one on them." His violet eyes gleamed. "Going to show one to one of them?"


    "Won''t take long to pound one out if not Investing Quality. Also, we have to make you a suit of armor."


    He blinked. "Well, I''m nine¡­" He''d outgrow it within six months.


    "Magic armor resizes. If necessary, we can just use compression bands on the back to store the extra mass. You''re a Warsmith. You''re losing Naming Karma on your armor. You weren''t going for a shield, were you?"


    "Not for primary usage, no. Special situations."


    "Then getting its Defiant/Ward built up is a time-and-encounters thing."


    He smiled broadly, with big white teeth. "I don''t think anyone here has ever seen an Ancient in metal armor. My people aren''t too keen on it. Them using steel Weapons is a big leap, and only because the dwarves are around. If it can''t be used to hunt with or replaced easily, they don''t care for it." He didn''t sound disappointed or regretful. Ancients were what they were.


    "Yeah, well, I think a Heaven''s Mountain Master needs his armor to max out his DR. At some point we''re going to need you to get into a suit of adamant skinplate harness, you know."


    He gave me a hairy eyeball. "You can''t make adamant skinplate¡­"


    "You can if you make an orichalcum suit, and it eats an adamant suit."


    He tilted his big head, the expression of thinking really adorable on his craggy-browed face. "Damn. Well, that''s one way to expend a whole bunch of adamant, but yeah, it would be possible. Orichalcum skinplate¡­ Chaos-aligned mercury and Law-aligned aluminum, right? Alloyed to Agathakalogical titanium¡­"


    "In very, very precise proportions, with some other minor alloys mixed in." The Metal of Memory was powerful stuff, and the best alloy for highest-grade skinplate. Mithral just didn''t cut it if you wanted the best.


    And making it required Blacksmithing, Whitesmithing, Alchemy, and Chemistry checks at the QL you wanted the final product. There were special heatings, acids, timed contributions of lesser Energized elements, mandated stirring procedures, impurities that needed to be added in, then taken out, flash-freezing, superconducted lightning, and ultrasonic crushing needed.


    Needless to say, even the Rockborn couldn''t make orichalcum in normal circumstances. It generally required a highly magical society with extraordinary accomplishments in the sciences, and while Rockborn loved science, they generally only played around with the mechanical side of it, making the best Gearsmiths out there.


    "Eighty pounds for a full suit for me grown?"


    I eyed him and his build. Broader shoulders, thicker in every aspect meant more metal, and he was going to be big, probably at least seven foot. "Yeah."


    "You got enough metal?"


    "Yeah. I smelted down ogre-sized pieces of armor. Got a half-ton of ingots. Have to refine the alloy, but it''s all good enough."


    "Going to be a long day, then."


    "But when you come out the other side, you are going to be a total ass-kicker."


    "How do we make them harmonic to Tats?" he asked, flexing his big hands as they turned black.


    "Gotta Chakra-bind the suit for your Tats to work."


    "10k non-Slot enhancement." He sighed softly. "This is going to be a long day."


    "First step on the road to uberness, right?"


    "Proper Gear." We bumped fists, and both of us blinked at the same time. "What was that?" he asked, looking at my hand.


    I reached out again, and we pressed knuckles together. It wasn''t our Vajras, which mutually pushed out of the way so we could touch. I found myself smiling. "It tickles!"


    He furrowed his big brow. "No, it doesn''t. It feels hard and smooth¡­ kinda empty¡­ like pushing on a rigid balloon, or something."


    I lifted an eyebrow, and stepped back. "Extend your Source."


    He flicked it out to arm''s length with a flicker of will¡­ whereupon it ran right into my Null.


    "Oh!" He stared right through me, even as I closed my eyes and sensed his Source burning up next to my Null. I totally out-classed him at this point, so he couldn''t budge my Null at all, but the sensation was quite unique.


    "Heheheheh," I chortled, despite myself. "It''s like standing in front of a heating vent, brushing past my Null. You?"


    "Like a cool, quiet wall in front of me." He stepped forwards slowly, reached out a hand and pressed into open air. "Damn. Restricting me right to my Vajra."


    I withdrew my Null hastily, trying desperately not to giggle. "Sorry, that tickled just way too much."


    "Tickled?" His mouth worked, not knowing whether to be laugh or be depressed. "That''s not something I ever read in the Forsaken notes¡­"


    "Me either." But I was thinking things, and I could tell he was, too. "You?"


    "It was containing my Source, close to my skin. It felt intense, strong, instead of dispersing or pushing stuff inside. Kinda cool, really. Like, uh, I dunno, a cool, firm pillow¡­"


    "Discovering new stuff all the time, Commander Briggs!"


    "But can we monetize it?" he replied back, deadpan.


    "More test marketing required."


    "Who''s in charge of the target market?"


    "Ugh, I am in no mood to go finding tons of other Forsaken beyond a certain Ancient tribe. We''ll have to backburner it."


    "Pity." He hefted the Shaping Hammer he was using. "Time?"


    I reached out and tapped Forge, dancing my fingers along the edge of it so my Tremblesense could read the metal from multiple angles for a better cross-picture. "Thirty seconds."


    He hummed happily, flexing unconsciously, and I knew he was picturing getting in a suit of armor for the first time.


    He was a Crystal Dragon Heavy Melee, armor was their thing. He was going to be such a damn beast when he was all grown up, and a wrought iron terror even now.


    I smiled and reached for the ingot. Back to work!

 64 Chapter Sixty-Four – Healing Edge, Expert/8

    Binder/3.


    Binder/4.


    Expert/8. +1 to Int, Mirrored to +1 Dex. Int 24, Dex 26. +8 Skill points, plus 8 more for Int increase. 2 to Shipwright (8), 6 to Pilot (6), default Expert Knowledges.


    Alchemist/5. +1 SA, now totaling 7d6, 3-6 per die. +1 Bonus Alchemist Feats. +4 Poison Resistance. Most importantly, could now make up to 5 Potions per day, subject to the 1k limit. I was making very sure that damn Alc Golem had no opportunities to destroy that lab, every day.


    That meant up to 5 Growth Potions/day¡­ or a Giant Growth, if I cared to make one, which I didn''t.


    This day, I got past the Gugs.


    There was an infestation of Moits riding civilian humans behind them.


    ------


    Artificer/5. Bonus Artificer Feats. 4 skill points. I could retain magic on magic items without using a formation now. Effectively, I could punch Tremble into a magical Weapon used by anything, and she could munch it down within two minutes. Could still only Apply 1k gpv a day, but I could at least store the stuff in the assortment of gemstones off dead giants'' jewelry¡­ or pass it off to other Named Weapons¡­


    I finished melting down pieces of the Duke''s sword down, and making myself a Buckler. Tremble dumped all his current defensive enhancement into it, calmly starting to regain it all just to toughen himself up, if nothing else.


    Stand had always been the name of my Shield, and Tremble immediately started adding new stanzas to our Song of ''Stand and Tremble, She Comes!'' I made it as a buckler, then a small shield, large shield, and even a tower shield. Its first Slot was Soulbound, so it was tied to me, and freed up room in the Hilt Chamber for more shards of metal to be added to it.


    I had an effective Strength of 26 at the moment, so a Buckler with a Compressed boss on it weighing thirty pounds was nothing.


    Stand wasn''t intelligent yet, and I wasn''t going to make it so without more thought. It was there to enhance my defensive benefits, no more, no less.


    It had the same limit on QL as Tremble, and so 7 Slots. As I could and did take my time with this crafting, I drove it all the way to 12k worth of Value Crafting, on top of what Tremble ceded to it.


    Most of that went into Bane Variants on the Weapon side of things, because Shields were the biggest value sinks in the game.


    You didn''t need a special Feat to make a Shield a Weapon, like I had done on the inverse with Tremble as a moving shield.


    +3 Fortified Greater Soulbound Defiant Shield. +1 Shield AC, plus double Shield Focus equaled +12 to AC from Shield, costing 4 Essence. 100% crit immunity when stacked with my Alchemical changes to my physique.


    And also a Heavy +1 Greater Soulbound Bane Enmity Defender/Guardian Bashing/Bane of Legends/Energized Shield, with Morphing and all the Impervious/Indestructible things going for it. Set permanently to Defender, unless Guardian might be needed in Arsenal.


    Continuous +9 Defender bonus to AC. To get the same, had to lose the primary offensive power on Tremble, and I needed the AC with all the cheaty Teamwork Feats everything suddenly had.


    With Shield as part of my Profound Primary Weapon Group, it was a Profound Weapon and I could wield it without losing my Wis bonus to AC.


    Add in a Missile Warding Augment Stone that used to be a ruby on a giant''s finger providing a +5 to my Ranged AC and a free missile deflect every six seconds, and my defensive side got another nice shot in the arm.


    No chance at crits, immunity to ranged attacks, improved AC, greater reach for the bigger combatants equaled more staying power. As long as I kept those in combat range who could attack to three or less, I would mostly be fine. I hoped.


    ------


    Of course, Gugs with five attacks and Moits the same, not so easy compared to giants. It looked like the Curse had stumbled on a winning formula and wanted to exploit it.


    Naturally enough, following the Moits were Uterrioz, four-armed reptilian warriors with snake lower bodies, who normally existed underground in time-lost carverns and stuff, having themselves a good ol'' time hacking everything in sight, and then me.


    After them were the gargorians, the extremely powerful four-armed lords of the gargoyles. They learned not to fly around me quickly enough, but four claws, two horns, a bite, and tail swipe was a lot to deal with. Just two of them could turn into a nightmare of one making me totally vulnerable to the other, and I didn''t get past them for some time.


    But that was okay. I had Advanced Classes to raise to 3, I had to finish out Archer, Scout, Minstrel, Artificer, Monk, Vizard, and Soulshaper to /5.


    Key points: Scout added another d6 to my SA, bringing it to a full +8d6, the max for my level. Monk, with Enlightened Master, +1 Ki and improved Lightfoot, immune to disease; with Sohei, Improved TWF on a flurry attack, which I rarely used since it required standing still.


    Minstrel: Inspire Courage went to +2, so with Song of the Heart it was at +3, doubling with Wardancer to +6, and then heaping +3 to +5 on top of that in morale bonuses to hit and damage from Courageous on Tremble¡­


    Soulshaper opened Waist and Throat Chakras when combined with Soulblade, which meant very little since I hadn''t Tatted them up¡­ although that was another project to work on.


    It was a game of power creep, where crazy demands on damage and hurting me were scaling wildly, and I was slowly slogging my way through dealing with them.


    And then¡­ I got Healing Edge active, and oh, did everything start to change.


    ------


    It was effectively a Katar I mounted on the side of my shield, turning it into a sort of klar. It had no Name, because I didn''t want the Curse to know it was coming, and it had only one function¡­ to heal me.


    Healing Edge was a +Drei Effect that did a d8 in Force damage to things struck, twice that to incorporeal creatures and undead¡­ and healed the Wielder of a d8 in Health damage at the same time.


    As a +Drei Effect, it required Greater Arsenal, and thus an absolute minimum of seven Slots active to use, eight for me since I wanted Bane. That was a QL 36 req, and so impossible.


    But nothing said I couldn''t use something with it in my off hand, now, did it?


    It was only a d8, nothing to write home about by itself¡­ but it never ran out, each and every attack was a surge of new Health coming in, if I chose to use it¡­ which I did, because the Shield itself was for defense, not offense, and provided all its protection by itself.


    Even if I just finished off a dying creature with it, that was enough. Suddenly, I had a constant stream of healing energy coming in to deal with damage, and it changed how I allocated hits to my Health and Soak.


    And then I stumbled on Battle Soul of Vigor to complement it.


    The Soul Essence system was versatile in its own way, able to enhance many different kinds of abilities, especially other Feats and some Class Features. Smiting, Sneak Attacks, Power Attack, Dodge, Expertise¡­ it was a long list.


    Battle Soul of Vigor enhanced Battle Vigor, just like Blood and Soul did Healing Soul and Alchemical Blood Healing. Each point of Essence, +1 point of healing per six seconds, and +1 round of duration. Also, my natural regaining of Soak and subdual damage increased by +1 per cycle.


    4 points per cycle for sixteen cycles before cooling down for a minute could now be 7 points for nineteen cycles, a jump from 84 to 133 total damage, and at a faster speed. Likewise, subdual damage and Soak could be regained at 4 per minute, instead of 1¡­ and that would rise to /six seconds, at Ten.


    Very abruptly, the combination of the two took my staying power to new heights.


    It got worse when I did the same Soul buffing to Vigor uses, and Soul of Vigor gave me three additional Vigor uses per day with Essence. With Healing Edge doing double duty if I had to blow a Vigor to make real damage subdual damage, this was a massive increase in my healing potential.


    My current damage reduction was 8/-; 4/- from Way of Iron, 4/- from Roll With It x2. Since my enemies were hitting me regardless, I went with Improved Stalwart, turning my 4-point Expertise AC buff into 8 more points of DR, getting me to DR 16/-, at a cost of -4 to hit.


    Defiant from my Bracers, if correctly aligned, improved this by 2/-, to 18/-.


    It took me more then thirty deaths to finish out my Bracers, as +I Greater Soulbound Defiant/Ward Invulnerability/Bulwark.


    Invulnerability/Bulwark gave DR 5/x. Bulwark meant spending gold or Karma to allow you to vary what that /x was. The default was magic, but you could change it to silver, adamant, Good, Evil, Law, Chaos, cold iron, or other types, if you ran into creatures with them. For instance, Annis had DR 5/bludgeoning, as did skeletons, while zombies were DR 5/slashing.


    I defaulted to DR 5/Good¡­ because there wasn''t anything the Curse could cook up that would ever have holy power, by its very nature.


    Way of Iron, by its nature, stacked with all other forms of DR.


    DR 23/Good, 18/- was a huge amount of damage reduction, even in this scenario. I was an Elusive Target, and Power Attack didn''t affect me.


    Giants weren''t much affected, because they were One Striking me regardless with 70-80 point hits. But the other creatures were relying on multiple attacks that were being ''helped out'' by their friends, overwhelming me with quantity instead of pure power.


    Removing 23 points of damage from their multiple smaller attacks basically neutered them. Twenty-point attacks that could formerly rapidly whittle me down were suddenly things I was ignoring entirely, and there were no lucky crits to accelerate the process.


    Dual Attacks of Opportunity, Improved Whirlwinds letting me attack with both Weapons, finishing blows, and the two standard attacks meant I was getting 4 to sometimes 10 or more d8''s of healing per cycle, enough to keep up with the nickles and dimes at my own pace.


    Of course, the Katar had a problem in that it was only Soulbound, and so didn''t land a hit as much as it could have. Since I didn''t care about the damage from it as much, I slowly improved it over time to first an Ocean School Weapon, then a Fire School, making it an Ocean of Fire Weapon with an additional +6 to hit if being used in both Ocean and Fire Style. Since that''s exactly the sword style I was using while dual-wielding, it took care of the problem.


    Adding in Invigorating on Tremble if I actually got tired, which was very difficult to do given my Con score, and I was now an Energizer Bunny.


    I got past the gargorians.

 65 Chapter Sixty-Five – Crystal Master in Armor Briggs!

    Briggs was pretty sure he''d be a better smith then Sama once he reached Ten, if for no other reason then that he was a Hammer Grandmaster, and so could ply one more quickly then she could. They''d probably be near-identical on QL, but he should end up faster by a good chunk.


    He was seeing some of the Rank difference now as they forged and cast armor for him. She was working with anticipated measurements of what he would be as an adult, just in case. Then they''d melt it all back down and recast it closer to his real size, with the Compressed metal across the backplate for the auto-adjusting as he grew older.


    The whole process was just another way to imbue Quality Karma into the metal. 9k of innate value, coming up!


    Watching the pair of them going at it over a suit of armor had the smiths among the dwarves, of which nigh every one of them considered themselves an expert, falling over themselves.


    They''d watched those Hammers pounding down, they knew how much force was being exerted. They''d also seen the results of that work, and if they wanted to say something to the wee slip of a female who could forge such things, her glare made it totally plain she was working and wasn''t going to tolerate interruptions.


    And, well, seeing a set of QL 35 skinplate coming up there made for an Ancient was a first for just about everyone.


    Briggs couldn''t keep the grin off his face at the expressions on the faces of the few outsiders who had lingered behind, and his fellow tribesmen.


    He was finally about to get some proper armor¡­


    ------


    Giant hide was scraped, cured and cooked, alchemically soaked and diffused for the underlayer of padding. Hair from the former owners of the hides was used to stitch the skin in the required Runes, moving with dazzling speed and surety in Sama''s Diamond Vajra and nails acting like scissor-cleaver-stilettos. The tribeswomen who watched her at work gawked in awe at her speed and the perfect lines Sama could stitch.


    "See, this is why you really want a Diamond Vajra," he cajoled them, and heads nodded despite themselves. She was a terrifying little thing, but damn, she was good!


    The pieces of armor came off, were doused in lightning water, and polished by bare hands exuding ki that could split steel. Not that he was going to be running around in shiny armor unless he wanted to, of course. They still had to slake it, but she didn''t have all the components to do a blueslake, and it could wait, regardless.


    Shadowslake, now, they had.


    Black as polished obsidian, the pieces came out of the slake baths, and were dried in seconds over Forge. It was time to fit them on.


    She had eyeballed his measurements, and took great delight in fitting everything on him. From tassets to helm, she put it all on, linking the pieces together, chains and hooks, leather fitting on leather, and it all fit as perfectly as QL 35 should. High-carbon treated alloy steel, as grim and fearsome as anything popping out of a dwarven forge, hiding away the thick muscles, body hair, and power of an Ancient, and wrapping it in cold, hard steel.


    She fit the black as night helm on, linking it up with his gorget and breastplate with veils of chain, and stepped back.


    It was a wonder of smithwork, angles and patterns to slough off blows, curving instead of flat, and customized for an Ancient''s physique. With his massively heavy build and overlong arms, he looked like almost like an automaton, save for the pale violet eyes glowering under the edge of the helm.


    He spread his arms wide, and clenched his whole body suddenly.


    With a clang of meeting steel, the armor flattened to his skin, flowing over it as if it were a part of him. The crowd gasped despite themselves at the obviously magical effect.


    He flexed his arms, and the steel bulged and moved with him. The thick plate on his back rolled as he circled his arms, sections of chain stretching smoothly as he bent and flexed, moving with energy and poise that wasn''t always apparent when he was hairy and wild-eyed. He still hard gorgets and pauldrons and a skirt and whatnot, all the extra joint protection, but the metal below was mostly welded to his skin¡­or, more accurately, the skin of the giant along the inside, which would use its natural damage reduction to soak the force of blows, better then any natural leather or cushioning could.


    The helm snapped shut over his eyes, not even a slit visible for him to see through, but since the entire faceplate was transparent from the inside, it wasn''t an issue.


    He went through a set of calisthenics, then some simple tumbling maneuvers, moving with speed, energy, and poise with no difficulties. The tribe gawked to see him moving so easily clad in such heavy metal, and Sama stood by, nodding in approval as he went through the full suite of movements, before snatching up a pole and snapping into guard against him.


    They sparred for half an hour, working through multiple weapons and the motions needed against them, and he smashed on her and her shield as he worked through combat outside of katas.


    There were no issues. It was magical skinplate, one of the two highest level of armors that could be forged, at a nigh-superhuman QL 35. Even given the speed they were working at, there was almost no way they could mess up given Sama''s level of skill.


    ---------


    The armor plainly unsettled what was left of his tribe. Many of the hunters had departed with the dwarves, working as guides and scouts, as was their calling, in time of war. The warbands from the Warp were all over the place, and the dwarves were sending out their armies to meet them and get rid of them, and try to drive a path towards their source in conjunction with the elves. As loyal thanes, the Ancients of these mountains went with the dwarves to do their part.


    There was no doubt they could catch up with the main force, regardless of dwarven stamina. They could simply run a whole lot faster.


    Briggs said his goodbyes to his tribe and his aunt, his cousins who were treating him with even more awe then before, and the elders who could not hide how impressed they were by him. Sama took the time to demonstrate and record all the Potion recipes and Gear formulae for the women to use in the future, insuring that there would always be a place for the remains of ogres and giants henceforth, for the good of the tribe.


    -----


    His goodbyes said, they left before sunup on the third day after the slaughter of the warband that had threatened the cliff tribe. While he thought dearly of all of them, and respected his tribe for the path they preferred, Briggs was excited to finally truly be able to leave.


    Meeting up with Sama was a godsend. Just the full set of Smithing Gear would be of so much help, and having a trusty partner along for what was going to be some very dangerous situations was priceless.


    A nine-year-old Ancient and Hagchild. He guffawed despite himself.


    He wasn''t slow on foot, but Sama moved like the wind, coming in at a cool 110 move and able to catch the fastest of magical horses, even outrun some birds on the wing. She had made up a little glider suit for the brownie Mikle, who was swooping and diving all over the place excitedly as he kited behind them, having figured out how to control it with amazing speed and enthusiasm.


    Briggs contented himself with riding on Sama''s second Disk, crouched there with his Hammer in front of him. He was itching for some long, protracted combat against things it was worth it to kill.


    There was no shortage of monstrous beasts buried in the canyons and ridges of the Worldspine. The dwarves weren''t everywhere, and didn''t care to be. The Ancients actually provided a valuable service hunting such creatures down and tracking them for the dwarves, who could dispatch a Titan Slaying team if such creatures were truly dangerous.


    They actually weren''t intending to catch up with the company on the march today, they were going to kill one of the warp beasts that had holed up close by.


    "No, I''m not sure it''s a Warp beast, but the timing is too coincidental when it arrived. It''s incredibly strong for a beast like it is, but the lair is far enough away and hard enough to reach that the dwarves didn''t want to press the issue."


    "Up in the ice range is a pain in the arse," Sama agreed, eyes fixed on the peak of the mountain ahead. "Chimeras are definitely eligible, however. You got any idea on the template?"


    "Legendary?" he wondered aloud. She turned a hairy eyeball on him. "Seriously, the hunters have never been able to land a decent wound on it, and you know they aren''t weak, and hunt magical beasts all the time. I''m guessing at least 30 points of DR with fast-healing, if the stories I hear are true. Everybody hides when it''s in the air. Getting caught in the open is sure death."


    "Legendary with DR 30/+3 and fast healing? Energy resistance?"


    "Not so much. It shoots some acid poison that wreaks havoc on flesh, but they''ve wounded it with fire, so it never came near the Cliff, and doesn''t seem to want to test out the dwarven firebelchers."


    "So, a variant dragon head, too. Bull head, or gorgon?"


    "Mmmm. I think the bull head breathes the shit out too, and the lion has a roar which can crack stone and deafen people."


    "Mmm-hmmm. That sounds like a mutated Androsphinx, Briggs¡­"


    He blinked. "Yeah, that would be just like the Warp Gods, wouldn''t it?" He couldn''t shoot any holes in that. A magically powerful lion''s roar¡­ "I think it''s the center head, too."


    "Wonderful. You do know how to pick them!"


    "Hey, it''s not like you can''t hurt it!"


    "Yeah, but you''re the one that has to hurt it, not me. Can you?"


    He looked down at his Hammer, Endure humming softly in his hands. Soulbound, with Blooding its Primary in Zvei, with Throwing as a 1k add-on, of course! At a mere II, even with Penetrate Damage Reduction¡­ "Yeah, I can wound it, but I''m not going to be winning any speed races if it''s got Epic DR." Needing a +VI Weapon to hurt it was some serious protection. Even 50/+5 was going to be a long, slow fight.


    "I can hit +X on Tremble with something like that, so it''s not an issue for me." He winced. Damn, she was so far ahead of him! "Don''t wince like that. We''re going to be closing in on the equivalent of a video game battleground as we close in on the Rift they''re using to get here. I don''t know the rate they are going to be coming out of the thing, but it''s certainly going to pretty damn fast. You''re going to have a river of Karma coming in soon enough.


    "You better get Vivic soon on Endure, ''cause we''re going to be feeding a lot of Warp power to the Land, and you know how hungry She is for this kind of stuff."


    He grunted despite himself, but couldn''t keep the expectation off his face. "Yeah, it doesn''t make sense for you to clean up after me, giving the amount of killing that''s coming."


    "And unlike me, your Grandmastery goes up with every Level, in addition to other stuff. I have to wait for Fifteen before I see another improvement from Sage of Swords. I didn''t have any kind of bonus like that at Five."


    "Why didn''t your Grandmastery piggy-back Warsmith''s benefit on to your blade?" he wondered aloud.


    "Works with Feats, not Class Features."


    "Oh." He cleared his throat. "Too bad, so sad."


    "Didn''t like that feeling of my Sagedom swallowing your Grandmastery?" she laughed.


    "It did occur to me. I like being the big guy with the Hammer, you know."


    "And I''m so totally willing to wait another seven years or so to see Briggs at Ten swinging Endure around and watching Warp marauders shit Pink Twinkies when they see you, I am," she assured him cheerfully. "+80 damage before any other modifiers, Heavy Over-sized Greathammer wielded with Profound skill¡­ mwa-ha-ha-hah!" Those damn blue eyes of hers were dancing. "That will look so ridiculous and awesome at the same time¡­"


    He had to agree, it would look pretty awesome. Eventually, Endure, eventually¡­, he promised his Hammer.


    He had a long road ahead of him on Gear Acquisition, and even having Sama here wasn''t going to solve the issue, as there were limits with what pure skill could give them. They needed Karmic Flow to Names, and then goldweight value, be it precious metals, gems, or power comps.


    This chimera was going to find out that the drive for power and the ability to get stronger a LOT faster meant it had just become salvage¡­

 66 Chapter Sixty-Six – Doc, the Remedy for What Cuts You

    Gargorians came. Finally, they went. So much for grims-worth of uber oversized gargoyles.


    Bacchae and maenads were next, insane revelers possessed by divine madness as they caroused, and wanting to tear apart anyone that didn''t join them in their demented carousing. Sweeping up the townsfolk and turning them into a killer mob of giants¡­ a horde/swarm of giants, and extremely strong and fast.


    I used my last Potion to get though this, as I needed the reach to contest with theirs and deal the amounts of damage I needed to get through this, as their damage was basically AoE and unavoidable, so DR to the rescue.


    Tremble totally pissed them off by Singing counterpoint to the chants and mad singing, and Stand began to chime in with a drumming backbeat that totally played with their heads. He couldn''t talk yet, but Tremble was enthusiastically making music with him. My Wardance juked through their revelry, matching and tearing it apart all at once, and the gore that flew as I ripped through the madmen was extreme, to say the least. They felt no pain and died laughing and calling for more.


    Amouraens were never fun to deal with.


    Then the squads of soldiers with spears appeared, operating in tight squads, then alternated with swordsmen, group after group, one arriving as the one before fell, tests of endurance, skill, constant motion as they out-reached me and I had to close with them to kill them, One Strikes heaping big damage on me that couldn''t be mended so easily. I poked them with Banestars, and they chased me, but if I ran too far, I''d run into a second squad, so I was tightly limited in my operating area, and Banestars took a while to bring one of them down, especially since they all had shields.


    Battle Vigor was constantly stopping and restarting as I re-centered myself, and went after them again, but it wouldn''t reset without at least some rest, so never during one squad, as truly running away was impossible in a dream. Thankfully they had no form of regeneration, or these could have taken forever. I could still kill them fast if I got in on them, but what generally happened is that I had to get them to expend their readied actions to make a move on me for a kill-stroke, and then flash in with a charge and kill one before they could recover and block for one another. Missing a squad-mate, their effectiveness fell sharply, I could get one out of position and kill him, then pick apart the last two as needed.


    Spearmen had the weakness of fighting something a lot smaller and faster then them, and not having close defense. If I got in among their legs, they were going down. Swordsmen were better off, but couldn''t threaten me from as far away, which meant they were more vulnerable to charges going after their legs.


    I cut a lot of kneecaps and tendons, I used a lot of Banestars, and decided to name my Katar Doc, because Healing was a thing, and it deserved a name.


    Its blade went all snow-white, with runnel, guard, cutting edges, and hilt turning crimson, in response to the Name. I was definitely amused at this, but as long as it did its thing keeping me going, I wasn''t going to protest aesthetics.


    The last of the patrol squads fell down heavily, hamstrung efficiently and his life pouring out a huge gash in his thigh. The amount of blood was tremendous, but the vivic flames took care of it all, and the bodies I''d left behind in a long trail down the stone road had basically all burned away with great speed, as the Curse wasn''t going to fight the vivus.


    Physically I was beat on, since they could hurt me faster then I could mend myself when together. I could slowly recover once I killed the second one, and was able to do a fair amount of mending with Doc on the last two.


    Still, I ended up spending Vigor uses, just an endurance crawl, and I wasn''t using Healing Potions without a good reason now.


    It was enough to make it to the morning of the second day.


    ------------


    The sun, as always, was gloomy in Nightmare, somehow casting long shadows even when bright, and overcast without a cloud in the sky.


    Still, seeing it rising over the city around was impressive enough¡­ and I actually got two minutes to appreciate it as the Curse decided what to do next in a fit of pique.


    I was about at half Health, covered with thin cuts that Doc hadn''t been able to completely mend, although I wasn''t bleeding. The rest allowed me to fully refocus, and Battle Vigor would be ready immediately¡­ although I had precious little Soak at the moment, even with speedier regeneration of it. Simply wasn''t enough time¡­


    "I have to admit, you are getting a tremendous workout doing all this," Tremble noted, and Stand beat once in agreement.


    "Hah, yeah, it''s true. Nothing like deadly combat to pound the lessons of spontaneously gifted Feats into you proper-like." I looked around at the looming buildings of stone and wood nearby, studying the architecture, which had similarities to both Chinese and East European in ornamentation.


    "What do you think is coming next?" he asked, looking around as I did.


    "There''s motion on the walls there." I pointed him at the long line in the distance, past the rising and falling streets and homes in the way, looming over most of them. We waited as a dark tide spilled over them, and murders of crows were streaming past overhead. There were sounds of fighting, screams, and horns of bone and wood blowing vicious notes of combat¡­ interspersed with mesmerizing, maddening pipes. "I think¡­ the city is being invaded by Fey."


    It was a visual mile, but the distance was closed quickly, fires starting to spread as whatever force was coming hurried directly towards me, hacking down the distant shadows of townsfolk who were running around in surreal fashion.


    "Do you think her home actually got invaded?" Tremble asked, as the incoming force poured towards me.


    "No. More likely she''s heard some war stories or histories, and the Curse is drawing on them for inspiration. This looks like a force of Fey¡­"


    I could pick out the redcaps at the fore, hacking down anything and everything they could with their oversized axes. They should be only waist-high on me, but were actually taller than I was now, waving around axes even taller then they were as they pounded around in their iron boots. Backing them were spriggans, inflated into their Giant forms, with satyrs forming a spear line, centaur archers and lancers heading this way and that, and quicklings whizzing around in blurs of motions to wreak as much havoc as they could.


    "Umwow," Tremble offered, as a massive fire elemental tore through a house and spread the end of civilization, as was its wont. It was quite a show of booming, burning building blazing.


    "Look up." My head was tilted back to see the true leader of this force, a winged figure of ''human'' size, up among the crows, black feathered wings spread wide, calmly directing and leading this bunch of rabid incarnate misfits on their orgy of destruction.


    "That''s an Erlking, defenders of nature, foes of civilization, and especially colonizers, with a big mad on for humans especially."


    "He''s about to fall down go boom," Tremble noted smugly.


    "Probably not yet. We''ve got too much other stuff to go through." Quicklings playing super-speedster being only the forefront of this, and rains of arrows sure to follow. Well, the Curse really hadn''t tried prolonged missile combat against me, had it?


    Coming in at better then sixty mph, quicklings as tall as I was raised the knives in their hands, their hatchet-faces bearing grins of bloodlust and anticipation as they charged in.


    They hit my Null, slowed down out of temporal acceleration very abruptly, and removed their own heads as I slid aside, one, two, three, didn''t even have to swing. Their bodies continued past, re-accelerated outside my Null, and flipped wildly over the bars of the riverwalk behind me. They and their heads went spinning down into the accepting waters, burning unwhite as they fell into the dark waters.


    The line of eight-foot redcaps came pounding in with their heavy boots, making the ground shake. I noted sharply that the size magnifiers had changed to merely double human or so, and if I had a Potion, I could actually look these guys in the eyes. The satyrs behind them seemed to be about twelve feet tall¡­


    Well, the Curse might have deduced that more foes surrounding me was good, as long as they didn''t die. Keeping enough height to keep the additional Hit Die and not die instantly might be a good way to fight me, as long as they kept a reach advantage.


    I didn''t expect to make it through all of this fighting force to the Erlking quite yet, but now I at least had something to look ahead to in the morning¡­

 67 Chapter Sixty-Seven – Chimera Killing for Karma and Profi

    "So, what are you thinking about?"


    Briggs smirked, as Sama picked the most interesting time to ask questions. They were running along upside-down across an overhang, Sama''s feet misting as her Cloudstepping Sandals kept them unerringly on course, and the Disk naturally didn''t lose its load just because it turned him upside down.


    "I''m thinking hooray for the alignment system."


    "Actually, knowing what it takes to be a Good Person, instead of some self-justified philosophical arguments?"


    "Yeah. I like being a Good person, instead of just thinking I''m a good person and not really knowing for sure."


    "Well, you know, being rewarded for being Good is a great thing, too."


    "Risk-free cooperation being one of those." He fist-bumped her without looking, and they flipped back to the horizontal as she proceeded up the ice-covered stone.


    It was the fastest way to the cave yawning in the icecap above, after all. No need for a laborious climbing ascent and indirect approach, and it wasn''t like they could fly with the winds up here playing havoc with any form of magical flight. The chimera''s power was enough to defy the normal winds, but even it would have to take shelter in a storm.


    "I would dearly like to see some wag who thinks that any philosophy that is good for the follower is Good run into the alignment system and try to argue it was wrong." Briggs smiled despite himself.


    "That''s kind of like a grain of sand arguing about the tyranny of ocean waves. Good isn''t determined by you, Good ''is''. Where you choose to stand determines if you are Good or not. Just because it''s best for you doesn''t mean it''s Good, and your arguments about pretentiousness are just that," she sniffed.


    "Hypocrisy isn''t Good, and anyone who claims that it is, is making a false argument on the face of it, sure. Whether they can deal with it or not, eh¡­" He thought of so many people back in life who had thought they were good folk, and where they might be standing now. Most would end up Lawful Neutral pricks, or self-justified Neutrals. Where they were going to end up would probably surprise the Hell out of them.


    Evil was very easy. Neutral was easy. Good now, Good you had to work at, and it was not easy.


    "Eh, I don''t wanna be Good, I wanna be Damn Good!" she called out, as they reached the top of the cliff and changed angles once again. He grinned broadly despite himself¡­ the cave was less then a hundred meters away across the ice-covered stone.


    He stepped off the Disk, which separated itself into leaves, spun itself into a flat stack, and inserted itself in Sama''s Masspack. Mikle was standing watch with Forge with the main bunch of stuff further down the mountain.


    His Tremorsense radiated out from his soles as he landed on the ice, and his Heavyfoot gripped down like steel spikes, meaning no chance of slipping and sliding. He also had a perfect view of the ground under his feet, so no chance of stepping on slippery spots, weak ice, ice covering crevasses or holes or pits, or missing any creatures concealed on the ground.


    The Crystal Dragon was not geared for lightfoot like the other styles, which generally emphasized speed, agility, jumping, balance, dodging, and evasiveness. No, Crystal Dragon was about absolute stability and immovability, which were a strength all their own.


    He could feel Sama''s Tremblesense brushing across his own, her position radiating like a blip on a radar screen, impossible to miss even if she wasn''t actually stepping on the ice with her Wave-Skating Step. The flow of ki over the stone was still an impact, and he''d be able to feel it like a ghostly wind scouring the stone, even if her radiating ki wasn''t as visible to him as a bonfire.


    He sniffed, and the wind took the reek to his nose immediately, although most of it was whipped away and not very strong. Still, the unclean nature of it made him lift his nostrils in disdain.


    "Go in or pull it out?" he asked calmly.


    "You think you can Source its attacks?" she asked reasonably.


    "Ehhhh¡­" The Caster Level of a Warped monster like this was probably stacked in quite the wrong way. Its Combat Rating was probably way above his Level.


    "Let''s go with outside, and if you must, you can just toss at it." He felt a pulse, and then the wave of both an Interdiction and Stillflight went sweeping out, the Laws of the World shifting from iron to adamant.


    He was strong enough to do the same, but not with the same Area of Effect. This thing was going to get a bad surprise if it tried to fly, or even jump off the mountain and glide.


    They closed in rapidly on the den, and she waved him to stop as she paced in, playing the Tip of the Spear. He eyed a boulder near the entrance, and adroitly hopped over to it, clawing his way up it by ramming his fingers into the ice and climbing it smoothly, waiting calmly with Endure poised and ready.


    It only took a few breaths before there were three explosive booms, as the thunderstones went off with deafening potential. The roar of alarm rose to some non-harmonious shrieks as Sama cut at it, her Pierce Magical Defenses rending its very high-grade DR something fierce and giving it a shot of pain it likely had not felt in some time.


    The roar that came out shook the ice and stones visibly, sending chunks clattering and falling as the mountain under his feet trembled. He could vector its location precisely, about a hundred feet in and to the left of a straight line from the cave entrance, now clawing and pounding on the stone with a couple tons of weight as it pounded after Sama, who was retreating rapidly back to the outside.


    There was more then enough visibility to assure the chimera of no massive force waiting outside, nor did the swirling winds convey any scent to it other then her own. She came shooting out the cave as a heavy blast of poisoned, subzero liquid came squirting out after her, twisting aside with alacrity to give the impression she had dodged, instead of the foul breath actually dissipating harmlessly as it hit her Null.


    It bounded out of the entrance, power and grace apparent in every movement, wings out, heads up and staring at her as she arced away from it, Tremble out and glowing and singing something in Draconic he wasn''t quite sure of, but which sounded extremely confident and kept the chimera''s attention.


    Yeah, that middle lion head had human elements to it, and the dragon and bull heads didn''t look as smooth as they should have, more like tumors that had erupted from a leonine body, and sent changes to the fur and muscles twisting over it. The dark scales of a dragon were visible here and there on its fur, which was mostly golden, cut by strips of black in odd places, and one foot was hooved instead of clawed, while the lion''s tail also had bands of dragon scales and a crest along half its length.


    He moved from absolute stillness to violent motion instantly, coming in over the wings as they swept down, and Endure smashed down on the bull''s head.


    The spiked point drove into the thick skull, and steel-hard bone cracked and fractured, collapsing around the point of penetration to drive deep into its brain. It didn''t even manage to bellow in surprise as it was smashed down, there was a pop as its thick neck gave way, and its second source of a breath weapon was dead.


    Lion and dragon head snapped around in surprise as he kicked off its back. The dragon head''s neck was ten feet long, and the chimera turned with surprising speed to lunge at him while he was still in midair, head the size of a crocodile with some rather unclean stuff dripping from its jaws snapping for a bite.


    Sword Beats Fist. Endure was already ready, and even in midair came around to smash into that head.


    The dragon head whipped away from the impact, a dazed look in its eye at the force of the hit. The lion, sphinx, whatever head glared at him, and Roared in his face as he hit the ground.


    The ice and stone in front of him fractured and blew against him, pinging off his armor. His Source defied the Thunder in the attack, protecting him from being deafened, and its attempt to jelly his internal organs. As Sama had said, it did punch his Source, but his energy resistance was still at Diamond Vajra level, and it was hardly a killing impact, Soaked with ease.


    A Banestar flashed out like a spear, impaled the dragon head before it could recover, and it hissed and writhed uncontrollably as it died. The lion head ignored it to pounce at Briggs.


    It was ten times his weight, so it was really surprised when he braced for the impact and Endure morphed to halberd form with a spike topper.


    The Archer Stand Thrust took it right in the mouth, and his whole body creaked as his heavyfoot and Battle Stability locked him in place. The inhuman Strength of a Source heaved and twisted, and even as its claws ripped at his armor, he heaved it off to one side, to go sprawling in the snow with a six-inch hole from the roof of its mouth up into its brain.


    It gargled and struggled, trying to think with a cranial injury that bad, and he could see the wounds to the bull head that he had hammered down had stopped bleeding. Not mending, but that didn''t mean it was truly dead¡­


    Sama was in front of it in a trice, and to the crowing triumph of Tremble, her Sword swirled, and all three heads fell free of the corpse, with Blooding also there to make sure its regeneration couldn''t do anything about it.


    Cool blood hit the snow, and dark clouds of poison rose as it did. Vivus danced around the wounds and blood, eating it, feeding it to the Land.


    "DR?" he asked professionally, eyeing a five-foot gash along its right side, nearly severing the left wing. He hadn''t noticed how awkwardly that wing was beating in the heat of the moment, which he knew was a sign his MAB wasn''t high enough yet, and his thoughts not moving quickly enough. Its blood wasn''t freezing in the subzero chill, either.


    "Yeah, Epic, likely fifty points or so. Look at that hide. Except for the mutation, it doesn''t have a mark on it. Even trolls accumulate scars. It''s probably never ran into anything more dangerous then a siege engine." He scanned the carcass, and had to agree with her. Even the wings, normally something easily shredded and prone to healing wrongly, were basically flawless, save for alternating between furry and micro-scaled.


    "Welp, let''s get to salvaging and get out of here," he said agreeably, as he mentally ticked over a lever, and was delighted to see it hit almost instantly. It was a Secondary Class Level, he and Sama had discussed that taking them while he was low Level was much better then waiting until Ten, and with a steady supply of Karma coming in, it was a no-brainer.


    Staying a Five, with his Grandmastery, wasn''t too much of an imposition. Sure, he''d be delaying his advance¡­ but every day of delay for himself was a day of improvement for his Hammer, his Armor, and other Gear. An over-geared Five could take down a Ten with crap Gear, if it came down to it, although it might not be easy.


    He ticked over a Stealth Mastery and a Skill Focus Feat, grunted to himself, and watched Sama get to the butchery with her Blade and bare hands, moving to help her when she pointed.


    It turned out that watching ten Ranks of Profession (Butcher) at work was an interesting experience, as well¡­

 68 Chapter Sixty-Eight – Companions at Nine

    I opened my eyes and grabbed Tremble, as I had so many times before.


    I could still hear the skin-shredding howl of the wind, the rupturing ground, the blasts of flames, and the lashes of water both liquid and ice. Bloody axes sweeping by, the sky dark with hundreds of arrows, all aimed at me, a forest of spears, and quicklings dashing by at enhanced speed to shred me with their daggers.


    No, I hadn''t quite made it to the point where the erlking had to come down. The combination of elementals and quicklings trying to back-stab was a little much. The arrows were actually not a problem, unable to pierce my skin without a crit, and they couldn''t crit with Stand there. They basically just poked at me annoyingly.


    My bones weren''t creaking as I sat up, but my blood was flowing measured and ready. I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.


    "That was a lot of fighting," Tremble said in a low voice, and Stand beat once in agreement. "I thought we were fighting a lot before, but, wow. That whole sustainability thing you were talking about, that''s really a thing¡­"


    I lifted up Doc, still embedded in Stand, gleaming and ready to do its job. "Casters have sustainability based on how much magic they have. Warriors have sustainability based on stamina and their pool of Health and Soak, their Hit Points. If you can recoup those two things as you go, a warrior can just go and go and go."


    "I had no idea Healing Edge would be so powerful," Tremble sighed. "I can see why you made Doc. I didn''t think he was necessary, but without me being able to get Slot Akt, there wouldn''t have been any real progress without him, would there?"


    "Not really. We could have stockpiled Healing Potions and then splurged them in an occasional run, but it wouldn''t have been sustainable. Constant healing potential is a must for the melee warrior on the go."


    "Is there any other kind of healing item out there we could acquire?" Tremble asked eagerly.


    "As good as Doc? No. Per-use items are useless, since I can''t activate them. There''s a Ring out there, but you need twelve Ranks in Spellcraft to make one without huge penalties. There was only one guy with the Feat back in the game, and he never managed to make a second Ring after he made the very first one. If precedent held, it would regenerate a Hit Point per cycle, so about ten a minute, and could even regrow limbs. The main difference with Doc is that it worked in between fights, instead of just during them."


    "That is a lot less then Doc was giving you, yeah." While Doc couldn''t keep up with even one giant''s blow landing per cycle, it had easily dealt with the AoE effect of the swarms and clusters of lesser creatures landing multiple blows, given how high I''d juiced my DR.


    "Exactly. And you picked up on how the Curse spaced out the encounters to try and wear me out, right?"


    "Yeah, squad after squad, open area, no down time to speak of. You couldn''t re-engage Battle Focus or Wardancing. Heck, if we couldn''t Shard them down and force them to keep attacking, that could have gone very badly."


    "I didn''t much like it messing the tactics, but one of the points of all this fighting IS to make me better at fighting, so I actually didn''t mind all that much. Stops it from being boring."


    "Dodging twelve-foot swords never really gets boring¡­" Tremble mused, and I had to smirk.


    "True. Know what this means?" I moved an invisible lever in the air, and the air hummed around me as the largest Karma allocation yet was sucked away. Way less then I had built up, of course, but that was par for the course.


    "You''re hitting Nine!" he called out happily, and Stand beat three times in congratulations.


    "Yeah, I am." My soul was rumbling as more room opened inside, both expanding and condensing.


    "Penultimate Badass!" Tremble crowed expectantly. "This is a big Level, right?" He flicked up the Assay List of my Stats, zipped down to the Level Nine stuff that was waiting for me.


    Damn, there was a lot of it.


    Nine was the final Level for most Masteries, a Power Feat Level, and gave access to Tier Five Forms and Spells for the Powered. Getting Nine meant you were in the big leagues, lacking only some additional depth and force for advancing to Ten.


    Not so much for Forsaken, who were kind of on a straighter curve, and didn''t get the power to raise the dead, teleport, walking on air, manipulate things telekinetically, travel between planes, and so forth.


    We just got bigger and more solid numbers. But given this was a numbers game, that was hardly a bad thing.


    But there was some real power coming in this level. All the Stat Masteries would be maxed out, so +1 to each Stat as I flipped the levers while working through the Classes.


    The Way Schools'' Power Feats were coming due. Way of Water, Fire, Storm, Shadow and the rest, along with Roll With It. My base DR was going to top out at base 11/-, which was basically invulnerable as far as most normal people were concerned.


    Combat Technique, Training Technique, Bonus Sustained Combat Feat, Two General Feats with Sustained again. Another Hit Die, and +1 to Reflex Saves, giving me 6''s base across the board.


    Skill Points, 4 + 3 Resolve +7 Int, +1 Human +1 FC. 16 of them this time. +1 MAB, +1 RAB. Mostly spent on my Profound Artisan skills.


    I tapped over Constitution Mastery/5. +1 to Con, now 38. +1 Essence, +1 Fort Save, +3 Null total. +14 bonus.


    Health +4, to 117. Damn, that was a lot of Health. Many 10 HD monsters didn''t have that much, and I was working off Human/3.


    Soak, 9x (10, +14 Con, +1 FC, +1 Tough) + Fort Save of +33 for Tough/2, + Tough Soul of +42, for 309. I could only regain 133 during my 19 cycles of Battle Vigor¡­ well, I suppose it was a good problem to have.


    Combat Technique, War Marshal. Basically, it gave a constant morale bonus to underlings, personal followers, and the like near me, bonuses to morale checks and command decisions, loyalty checks, blah blah. Military leader Technique.


    Which was important, because now I was going to mess with the Curse, as I picked Leadership for my Nine Training Technique.


    Which meant it had to provide me a henchman and a group of loyal followers, along with a fighting force willing to follow me. If he wanted to spring an army on me, then by gum I was going to practice with an army of my own!


    And since every day was a fresh new start, then even if they died, they''d be back tomorrow. I was going to get me some practice in.


    Bonus Combat Feat: Way of Water III, As the Tide. Total bonus to hit against armor and natural armor, +6. 3 ki required in total.


    General Feat: Soulspark Familiar, +2 Health, to 119, +1 Essence, +1 Soak, to 310, as it was a Soul Feat and Tat binding.


    Sustained General Feat: Animal Companion


    Yeah, this was going to get very interesting, as far as the number of entities going to be at play.


    There was a hiss and strobe of electrum light, and an electrum ball of energy that was somewhere between lightning and fluid materialized over my shoulder. It was about as big as a fist, humming with surprise as it came into existence, and seeming to spin around to survey the area with interest.


    "Sparkie, I''m Sama. This is Tremble-"


    "How do you do?!" Tremble spoke up, startled but refusing to show it.


    "-and this is Stand." My Shield beat a couple times in greeting. "This is all pretty sudden for you, and I''ve got some things to do, so I''ll let Tremble catch you up to speed on what''s going on, and then you can demonstrate the kinds of things you do so we''re all on the same wavelength, okay?"


    The little ball of light bobbed in place, popping and humming softly as tendrils of energy wrapped around it.


    "I''m not going to have you fight for now, you''re going to be watching and observing what is happening, so you have a better idea of what we''re going to fight, and how you can contribute."


    Tremble disgorged our haul from yesterday as well as what tools we had, before drifting over to start chatting with the floating ball of light. Item and Soul Familiars both got along well, as they were basically made from me, anyways, and since Tremble actually had full telepathy, could actually directly communicate with the little fellow. I was just aware of emotions.


    Sparkie would get stronger the more Essence I could put into it, but that was restricted to three right now. If it was destroyed, I basically just had to Inspire to ''reallocate'' the Essence, and I could bring it back into being, it was just a destruction of form. Of course, I only had so many Inspires, but that was a different problem.


    I wasn''t worried about it being targeted. It wasn''t a big target, and the monsters were hard-coded to go after me. Also, it could fly, and shoot ranged attacks, so I was far less than worried about it.


    Of course, the key thing was it was a monster, and the Curse was automatically upgrading all the monsters to be greater size and power now, and that naturally would include Sparkie, who would receive commiserate advancement to tilt the scales. So Sparkie was actually much tougher and stronger then it would be in the real world.


    I had Potions to process and make, and goldweight to Invest. Work, work, work, and then go get played. That was my day.


    But I had a feeling things were going to change as I introduced these new complexities.

 69 Chapter Sixty-Nine – To the Nearest Battle

    "Crafting time!"


    Their pell-mell running through the forest faster then a startled deer came to a stop in a hillside clearing. Sama stopped power-skating and glided to a stop over the rough ground as if her legs were shock absorbers, coming to a halt in a fairly shielded alcove.


    Briggs rose immediately, having no complaints. With his ki, his bones didn''t even creak from the long ride.


    He''d spent his Naming Karma on Endure and Wut, the Name of his Armor, the first of a long process that would take many months, if not years, to come to fruition. After all, he didn''t have endless spawns in front of him to grind, and tough ones, at that.


    This day''s reward was Auto-Equip, meaning his Armor could fly on and off with just a mental command. Normally this would take a word and harmonization¡­ but with it being Soulbound to his Essence, that was already taken care of.


    "What are we working on today?" he asked calmly. After all, there was an endless amount of Stuff that they needed, mostly bunches of minor crap for special situations.


    "Well, I''m going to be working on Doc. You can assist, but I''d like you to be making Healing Potions. I''d like to have a good stash if others need them."


    He stroked his chin thoughtfully. "How about a Healing Trap instead, if it''s for others?"


    She tilted her head to consider that, weighed the options, and nodded once. "Makes sense. Let me get the silver."


    "I seem to remember using Healing Traps in Nightmare, but not specifically¡­" murmured Tremble.


    Briggs grunted as he began to unload Forge''s other Cabinets. "Know how you can make magical traps that, say, explode in fire when someone walks over them? Healing Trap turns that on its head, makes something that works healing magic instead.


    "To keep the cost down, it works only once a day for any living person, per person. However, if you''re harmed by positive energy, it''ll work against you over and over. So, an anti-undead sort of thing."


    "Has to be made of silver, approved by the Good gods, and we''ll make it of the lowest power level to keep the goldweight cost down. Basically, you use it on a battlefield to save heavily-wounded men. Instant stability, healing of otherwise mortal injuries, and gives them time to get to a healer, sometimes under their own power. Combined with an Amanan Healer, you can restore a large number of men back to full Health very quickly," Sama added on.


    "Potions are more emergency use stuff then anything, not very efficient over the long term, but very necessary. It''s always better to have your own healing then rely on Potions, especially for protracted fighting."


    "Hence Vigor and Battle Vigor!" Tremble bobbed in the air excitedly. "We learned that lesson very, very well in Nightmare¡­" Sama grunted agreement as she put the Anvil of Silent Thunder in place, and started digging out her metals.


    "That''s right. So, what''s this Doc about?" Briggs asked with interest.


    "Doc is a +Soulbound Healing Edge Katar," Sama replied.


    "Oh? OH!" He blinked. "Barebones, straight Weapon, aye?"


    "Yes. I would use him to last through some very, very, VERY extended fights in Nightmare. If we''re going to be involved in protracted fighting, I want a potentially unlimited way to get our Health back."


    "32k of work needed. Two days of QL tops, and then a k a day Investing." Briggs drew a long face.


    "Uh-uh," Sama smiled. "Two days of QL, and then Tremble drops in her harvest from a +III Warp Knight''s Sword she ate, and we''re done."


    "Oh! Well, that''s much quicker. The bad guys are helping us already!" Briggs opened up the alchemy cabinet and began to lift out the stuff he needed. Sama had gone in detail through the set-up, and he was already thinking of improvements. Of course, said improvements would cost time and money, neither of which they had unlimited amounts of at the moment.


    However, he couldn''t hide how impressed he was with the QL30 woodwork of the cabinets. Ancients loved working with wood, and so her skill definitely resonated with the beloved weapons and items carved by his people growing up. His tribe had fawned over the cabinets, especially when she opened one up and demonstrated the Compressing magic that could store just an incredible amount of stuff within.


    And given that they were basically carved from petrified wood, they were even more impressive. He hummed when he thought of the day he could pull off something like this easily. He could easily make Master''s Work stuff, and his spear hafts were much-loved by the hunters in his tribe.


    Some higher QL woodworking, in between his Smithing, would be a great change of pace¡­ when it was time.


    -------


    "Sama, crows¡­"


    "Seen ''em ten minutes ago, but the hill line is the fastest way to get close." He wondered why she had deviated from the trail of the dwarven company, and now had his answer. The Mask of Clarity, if trained up, could both magnify vision and expand it into other spectra. Since it was one of the Tats she had bothered to etch on herself, naturally she had topped it out.


    This wouldn''t be the dwarves, and hopefully not the elves. It could be a stray band of rangers who had the misfortune to run across a prepared bunch of marauders, or what not.


    Sama zipped towards the crows on an arc, following a river cutting through the forest so Forge could float along behind easily. It was a few miles out, and she made it there in just minutes.


    She halted at the tree line, and they studied the field before them for a couple long minutes, looking for signs of life, and finding none save scavengers¡­ which were a big enough threat in and of themselves.


    He watched her reach into the Masspack on her back, and pull out a long length of what looked like tempered glass. When he heard the clack of gears, and the sprits reversed off the stock, his eyes lit up.


    "You made an autobow!" he murmured excitedly.


    The sprits unwound to full length, and the cogs within the bow ratcheted the string tight, pulling them back as runes began to play over them, making the crisscrossing lengths of black cord look like a web of light.


    She pumped the action on it, just like a shotgun, and the bowstring racked back to the catch.


    "+Soulbound Force Speed. Yours if you want it." She passed it over to him, and he sighed despite himself as his hands settled on it.


    QL 35. He took a deep breath, feeling the emptiness waiting in it to be filled, and injected Essence from his Vajra.


    Lines of light lit up on it, starting at the pump where his hands were gripping it, flowing down it as Runes lit up and then faded back into the glass and bone, leaving only sharp edges of silver light behind here and there.


    With a crackle and a surge of pressure against his feet, the string snapped back to the catch, and a dark quarrel made entirely out of force hissed into existence.


    He looked at the wolves moving around the field, some of them pretty big, and obviously working at what looked to be the remains of a few horses.


    It wasn''t Named yet. He naturally didn''t have a true ranged Weapon yet, he''d been throwing his Hammer for that purpose, but nothing beat an Autobow this side of gunpowder weapons when it came to such a thing.


    He adjusted the stock for the length of his arms, snapped it up coolly as Endure waited between his legs as he settled into a shooting crouch. "No scope?"


    "Didn''t need one." He glanced at her Mask and mentally cuffed himself. "Ready?"


    "Yeah¡­ wait." He lifted up the end of it, reached forward, and twisted the small tube underneath it. A narrow silver beam that would be invisible to anyone not able to see magic suddenly reached out in an arc representing the flight path of the bolt, and he swore to himself. "You even installed a leyser?"


    "It was a prototype. After I got it to that stage, I realized I messed up with what I really wanted to do."


    A +Vier prototype. He shook his head despite himself. "What were you looking for?"


    "My Autobow is named Fall. I intend to build him as Morphable from Hand Crossbow to Siege Crossbow. However, I haven''t completed the final build yet, and it hasn''t been a priority to have long range combat yet. The mass offset in small size is a bitch to make, too."


    He grunted. She definitely had high expectations of proper gear. He was more then happy just to have some truly ranged punch he could Name and grow. "I Name you Reach." There was a hum at the spiritual level, a turning of a key and crystallization of identity washing across the Autobow. "Let''s go poke some things. Those look like warp wolves on the far end. Let''s baptize you in some fresh Naming Karma, shall we?"


    Sama skated smoothly into motion. Tremble slid out into her hand so smoothly it looked like water, Runes dancing across the Bondsword and settling into Animal configuration.


    Yeah, Warp Wolves. The spikes and horns were a dead giveaway. He didn''t bother to be polite, and the leyser settled on the leader. The Disk ghosted along, smooth as silk, and he pulled the trigger back.


    And kept it there.


    The string pulsed, its strength geared to his natural strength, which gave the medium crossbow an absolutely devastating pull strength. The force arrow arced out, crossing the hundred yards in less than a second, and plunged into the wolf leader like a small ballista bolt.


    Pressure lashed against his thighs and calves as Speed activated, auto-cocking the string and using the strength of his legs to do so. Force activated as soon as the first quarrel hit, materializing a new one, and with his finger still back on the trigger, it launched the instant it was there.


    Sama wasn''t moving very fast, the wolves had yipped and were looking around to see where the smashing impacts of the bolts were coming from, driving in at the rate of one a second with remarkable accuracy and lethal power.


    And as they got closer, the firing rate naturally sped up, a key feature of Autobows that made them extremely lethal at short range with this set of enhancements.


    "Do you actually have magazines?" he asked, identifying the hollow area in the grip and holding slots in the stock for what they were with his Tremorsense.


    "Only about a hundred bolts or so, and didn''t make them magical yet. Again, low priority."


    Normal arrows could be enchanted, but he would have to rack the action to put them in place, although he wouldn''t have to draw the string. Still, the speed would shame any archer. Generally, an Autobow wasn''t considered mature until it was at least +Zeks, or even +Akt.


    But when they were mature, wow, were they dangerous. In the mature game, Autobowmen were the elite of the ranged attack squads, much to the dismay of many archers. Needing a +Vier Weapon to really be useful did kind of slow things until that point, however¡­


    Sama was in no hurry, and the pack of twenty or so mutated dire wolves weren''t what either of them considered a dangerous encounter. He could shoot kneeling on the Disk over her head without any problem, and he knew she was totally aware of what he was shooting at. Yeah, he could pick up Endure and go right to melee, but there was nothing like blooding a new Autobow to lighten up the mood.


    Warp wolves were baying in pain as dark quarrels punched into them, sometimes right through them, and a couple went twisting down, including the leader, who''d been hit four times, including once in the throat.


    At fifty paces, the first of her Banestars went out, moving faster then his own bolt, and he noted it didn''t get the power of her Sagedom, because the wolf didn''t die instantly. Still, it only required a flick of her wrist, and he finished that target off with two bolts in the chest as they closed in.


    The remnant of the pack, jaws all bloody, started for them.


    Once a second at a hundred yards was every half-second at fifty, the top rate of speed for the Speed Enhancement. Tremendous amounts of pressure were hammering against his legs as the equivalent of yanking back a +8 Strength bonus every half-second slammed against his legs, and he trembled despite himself.


    Warp wolves yelped and spun away in the face of this fusillade, and then the fastest ones reached Sama.


    Tremble took the middle and the left, he shifted directly behind her and dropped them on the right.


    Multicolored fires swirled, called Wrathfire in the game. Lunging heads came off, sides were opened wide, one was gutted as she hammered the horse-sized bastard completely up and over them, crashed another one off to the left so hard she broke its ribs and tripped up two others, and then they were past the first rush, arcing hard as his own salvo didn''t stop.


    He spun efficiently, keeping on target, crippling them with shots to their haunches, giving those still alive no chance to run.


    Not that they could outrun her, but there was no need to chase them down.


    There was an abortive attempt to turn back at her¡­ aborted because he was literally shooting those who tried in their drooling faces.


    They decided to flee about five seconds and ten bolts too late, and no longer had the capability. Banestars chopped down two more of them before Sama even reached them, and his unceasing rain of bolts downed the rest before they could flee more than thirty yards.


    "Only two misses. Not bad," Sama told him, her arm crisscrossing in blurs, releasing vivic Shards quickly, and warp wolf carcasses exploded into unwhite fires, one after another.


    "Leyser," he grunted, knowing he wasn''t that good a shot.


    "It''s why it''s there," she agreed softly. Briggs heard the shift in her tone, and looked over.


    The wolves had been feasting on a stack of bodies, corpses flung into a heap after being cut open and mangled badly, obvious even after the ripping jaws of the wolves tore them apart.


    Vivic Stars drove into the mass repeatedly, turning it into an inferno of vivus that rapidly coated the blood and gore-strewn area in heavy white mist, slowly devouring all the remnant flesh and bone.


    "Humans. Looked male," he murmured under his breath. "Muscled, fighting men," he said, getting to his feet atop the Disk and surveying the area with the advantage of height.


    "They were stripped after death, and things cut off them for provisions before the rest was left behind," Sama said grimly. She pointed. "That the final battle point?"


    Briggs nodded slowly, and she started skating that way. "From the swathes of grass, it looks like a cavalry fight, but one side was greatly outnumbered, maybe fifty fighting at least five hundred."


    "They gave a good account of themselves. There''s at least two hundred fifty dead." Her blue eyes were gleaming like razored sapphires. "Tremble, Human. Anything?"


    The hue of the Banefire on Tremble shifted precisely to the color of blood, and Briggs'' skin crawled despite himself on seeing it. Detect Bane meant that Tremble was hunting for the blood of prey, not just sensing for a type of being.


    "Nothing in range, Sama," Tremble said as they came up on the location of the final fight.


    There were pieces of armor, padding, broken weapons, and severed limbs strewn everywhere. Dead horses were scattered around everywhere, and dozens of normal wolves were tearing at them, while flocks of crows, buzzards, and vultures were gathered around scattered human corpses.


    There was a lot of them right in front of the two of them, all of them stripped naked, cut open, and parts of them chopped off like a butcher grabbing the best cuts of meat. Strips of skin might have been used to wrap the meat off, given how some of them had been flensed.


    "Heart and liver removed from every one of them. Delicacies, I guess. Some had their skulls cracked, and their brains taken. And I don''t think the crows actually got most of the eyes."


    Briggs took a deep breath. The stench of offal, waste, and blood was overpowering, but after experiencing the reek of ogre dens and giant caves, it had no effect on him.


    "How long ago? Twelve hours?"


    "Yeah, hit them last night, probably at evening."


    "They even cannibalized their own. No mercy at all for the weak."


    "That was probably the infantry force that came after." She pointed to a wide, trampled swathe of grass. "All of them human, too. Booted feet and armored."


    "What''s the count of the infantry? Thousand? Two?"


    She pushed off, skating that way calmly, expeditiously measuring numbers by gliding right over the mass. He bounced off the Disk, landing in the middle of the path, and his own tremorsense washed out to give him an impression of the feet that had mashed down the dirt and greenery here.


    "Between eighteen hundred and two thousand?" he judged a minute later, after walking across the swathe.


    She nodded agreement. "After them?"


    "Hell, yes." He didn''t think he could take on so many of them, but the gods alone knew what Sama might be capable of with Tremble in her hand. Tens were not laughing matters.


    "I''m going to do a sweep of the perimeter, see if any of them got away, and then we''ll track them."


    Briggs swung back onto the Disk. Forge bearing her belongings faithfully behind her, they swept out to see if there were any random trails running away.

 70 Chapter Seventy – My Army Against Yours

    There were some definite changes today, before I even got out of the first room.


    For starters, all the formerly twenty-foot-plus giant people were now down to between ten and twelve feet tall, tops. The house rescaled to fit them. Of course, oversized creatures remained oversized creatures, and the house''s scale was more than happy enough to adjust to fit them.


    Fido and Shirley came loping in the door as usual, all set to play with us, but without extra playmates today. The room was a mess of ripped-apart toy and doll beasts, but that was normal.


    I pointed at them. "Henchman. Animal Companion."


    They both basically froze in place, blinking at me. After all, they weren''t truly animals, they were dream incarnations of Hellbound souls.


    But I seriously didn''t care at this point. The Curse could stretch the rules of the stuff I was fighting, so naturally I could stretch the rules of what was fighting with me.


    Very importantly, I got to determine the Feats and combat tricks of my henchmen and animal companions, so I effectively rebuilt them on the spot.


    "Fido, there! Shirley, there! When the rats come up, give them the One-Two!"


    There was only a flicker of resistance, and then they bounded into position on either side of me.


    The floor erupted upwards, and the swarm of cranial rats came flowing out like a living river of squeaking flesh.


    "One!"


    Flaming breath blew across the rats, and y''know, Swarms, double AoE damage. They cooked pretty nicely.


    Didn''t stop the flow of them from continuing. Three swarms of them, after all.


    "Two!" Shirley''s frost breath came howling out, there was a mass squeak, and then everything crystallized nicely as a couple hundred negative degrees Celsius did their heat-destroying thing.


    I charged forwards this time, Tremble Singing in low tone that was being translated by my Whiskers, and the last swarm shredded as Swarmbane tore it apart from one Whirlwind, sending rat bits flying in every direction.


    The two-headed rat came out, tried to brainfry me, and I took off its heads, whisk-whisk.


    "Nab a couple rats if you want them, there''s more fighting coming." The hellpoodles delicately scooped up a couple bucketfuls each, frying and freezing them down respectively. "You will be able to fight some of what''s coming, and not others. Be careful and work together to take down an enemy.


    "This house is under assault by supernatural forces, and the nexus of their attack is in this room. We will hold them off until morning, and then move to deal with the insurrectionists responsible!"


    Both hellpoodles barked understanding, being full sentient and well, Lawful. Rebels were simply the most horrid things in existence to them.


    And so, I started some very active changing of the narrative to fit what I was going to do. This pure grinding stuff was getting old and no longer appropriate. If the Curse wanted to use mass combat, so be it!


    ----


    The night was entertaining, to say the least. Having a couple of frost and fire-breathing hellpoodles on my side certainly gave me an AoE option I hadn''t had before¡­ and, hey, I could pick Feats for them. Way of Shadow, Assassin''s Stance, and Improved Flanking seemed just perfect for a pair of dogs used to fighting together, and who wouldn''t love +4 TH, +3d6 damage to the 2d6+15 of a hellpoodle''s jaws?


    Now, the devils and incorps didn''t have much to worry about, but the Hags didn''t much like the breath weapons toasting a lot of them, and then Improved Trip and Savage Them filled out the roster. Once something hit the ground, instant follow-up attack from both hellpoodles, and the total damage was enough to send off a Hag very quickly, especially with her head torn off.


    Did I need them to contribute? No, I could and had handled all this stuff. But when I kicked a grimm down in between them, well, I just had to sit back and admire their artistry as they ripped into it, then One-Two''d it without needing a command. Mostly to clean off their tongues, Fido was quick to tell me.


    I nodded sagely.


    The maid came in, and went down with Tremble in its skull. I carved it open and accelerated the return to form, and was waiting as the first guardsman came running in, sword out.


    "Corporal!" I shouted out before he could say anything. "Old Mera was replaced by a doppelganger, we''ve got infiltrators in the mansion!"


    I had killed this guy literally hundreds of times now, but he almost snapped to attention, his eyes bulging as the blood of the dop began to run thick purple. "Yes, ma''am! What do you want to do?"


    "I believe a soiree is going on below, and our malefactors are certainly among them! Gather up the men and let''s see who is rebelling against the Duke!"


    "Yes, ma''am!" he shouted, rushing back out of the room. I smirked from where I was sitting atop Shirley, using a saddle taken from the mounted barbed devils. Didn''t need no reins, of course, and I could finally use my Ranks in Ride!


    "Let''s go confront some power-hungry nobles!" I encouraged Shirley with a tap of my knees, and she headed out into the halls and the stairs below. Tremble was laughing softly as the whole narrative was set on its ear, and the mansion starting to thrum with a very different sort of activity.


    ------


    Half the knights had turned traitor and activated the front lawn defenses, the houndsmaster betrayed us, and the great animals were yoked to attack us. I led the loyal guards and faithful knights on the defense, and what nobles chose to stand with us after the bloody confrontation in the ballroom, and we assembled to fight against the marines come surging up off the river to attack us.


    Huzzah! Huzzah!


    My Marshall bonus, enhanced by +4 by Courageous from Tremble''s Singing, gave us a clear martial edge, and tacking on a -2 to the enemy from my Intimidating just about everything under the sun as I slaughtered my way into them, was a major shift.


    And while the Curse could attempt to wear me down, it couldn''t do the same to all these dream creatures. They were ''refreshed'', just like the monsters, every time there was a change in scene, and to say they were enthusiastic to fight was almost an understatement. They were as eager to kill my enemies now as they had been to kill me, and thanks to the thoughtful help of the Curse, they worked extremely well together to do so!


    Of course, I did have to get them out of the light mail and into decent armor, which all the dead knights happily provided. I ended up with only a handful of cavalry, as the nightmares fought to the death with their riders, but the lances made serviceable spears and, hey, it was the Curse''s fault these guys were so damn tough, right?


    I was forming battle lines, breaking them, flanking, encircling, splitting, charging, probing, advancing and retreating. The giants were used to working in small squads, and with better armor then the sailors and marines, ergo pirates, coming in, it was sufficient for our purposes.


    And me, I had secure flanks and two hellpuppies with unlimited breath weapons every thirty seconds or so. Tactical positioning of these two assets, and me being able to ride around and kill pirates very quickly while they were being mucked up with by my soldiers meant this fight lasted a much shorter time then it had before.


    Naturally enough, just beating the pirates didn''t stop the fighting, but the brine zombies and their fog likewise wasn''t nearly as dangerous with rows of spears restricting their movements, and six-foot swords hacking into them eagerly.


    As for the pier itself, that was a bunch of solo monster encounters, and I didn''t really need them. It did remind me that I should have some missile troops, but there was going to be a bit of a wait for that.


    They did get to see some excitement with the Deep Ones coming out, but the fully-armored troops were definitely not at a disadvantage against them, and a good spear line was more then capable of dealing with them. Fido and Shirley''s breath weapons politely ripped them apart, too.


    None of them found it unusual that the front lawn was basically untouched as we moved there after night fell, and it wasn''t worth it for me to test their ability. The Leng ghouls began to pour in through the main gates, and the fighting was on.


    Their ability to paralyze could be devastating, but the ability was much less effective against fighters as strong as these, and I could release a paralyzed man in seconds if he could be dragged to safety. Happily, the ghouls were optimized for surround and attacking a lone foe, i.e. me, and not a sword and spear line ready for them¡­ with a One-Two breath weapon volley that could really put a hurting on more then one at a time.


    I was still the preferred foe, so I anchored the more open end of the line and slaughtered them as they came. If the ghouls ignored the soldiers, they were punished with some really big swords and spears punching into them to devastating effect, necessitating they split their attentions. My cavalry quite willing to charge along the flanks and spit them on twenty-some foot lances, and trample others under claw-hooved feat, was also made quite obvious.


    And Fido really, really like blasting dozens of them at a time when they clustered up.


    Gradually we pressed forward to meet them and clean them up, sweeping across the lawn and down towards the open gates, where the next wave would be showing. I unparalyzed those that the healers could not, and the lines formed up at the gates to defy the gugs.


    ----------


    "Sergeant, fall in! There''s a Fey army on the way, and we''re to make a stand at the city''s center!"


    The first squad''s abortive rush towards me faltered as my troop marched up behind me, looking at them meaningfully. Although the dream restored them fully between acts, they were still battle-scarred, as every one of them had gained at least one Level, and most of them two.


    Why? Because my Leadership ability allowed me to recruit a core team of level 4-6 characters, and then a fighting force of level 1-3''s. So, most of these hearty racial die neo-human giants had been Warrior/1-2''s, basically gaining no benefits but a Feat and some Soak.


    But now they were Melee/3''s, levels refined and added to with all that Curse Karma, with multiple Feats under their belts, brimming with confidence. When Tremble and I started Singing, confidence rose in them like a burning furnace, and they fought amazingly well.


    They fell into the formation a moment later, and I continued marching down the long road. Each new squad, instead of a new fight, became a bunch of new recruits, and the numbers behind me increased swiftly.


    When dawn rose over the river, and that black tide started coming over the walls, my forces were arrayed to meet and greet them on that long main road leading from the walls. I looked up at the erlking up there in the skies, daring him to try some magic, and as the first wave of spriggans, redcaps, and quicklings charged up to fight, I led the defiant shout of the soldiers as I prepared to show this bunch of barbarians what real fighters could do!

 71 Chapter Seventy-One – A Survivor

    "One man on horseback, a dozen wolves in pursuit," Sama informed Briggs, as their course suddenly shifted.


    He acknowledged the path through the grass with a glance, looking for signs of blood¡­ and finding a few. "Injured horse. He won''t be able to outrun them."


    "Aye, but the forest isn''t far. He reaches the trees, he might still be alive if nothing has come to help the wolves¡­ or maybe even if they have," Sama said, her pace picking up and now exceeding the swiftest of horses.


    "Depending how high he can climb?"


    "Or if other watchers drew them off. There are a ton of rangers moving in this area already, I refuse to think this group wasn''t being shadowed, and you know they won''t leave a trail."


    "Rangers in favored terrain, no tracks, right." Briggs frowned, Reach ready to snap up and start sniping.


    "If he was treed by wolves, they''d howl and bring people in¡­ unless they were drawn off. They could smoke him out and kill him fairly easily, if they didn''t want to climb up or snipe him."


    "Didn''t see any sign of missile weapons. Not likely," grunted Briggs, and then stood up with a grunt. "I see a dead horse at the tree line."


    "All that standing around must be good for something!" she shot back instantly, and he grinned, feeling the wind cutting past his Vajra and doing nothing, as if he was frictionless. No need to squint or brace against it.


    "Don''t hear anything, and don''t see any crows," he murmured, scanning the area. The treeline grew closer, and they slowed as they came upon the horse.


    It looked to have been run to death, by its posture, and then had been torn apart and feasted on by creatures with large and powerful jaws. They scattered a bunch of scavenger birds as they swept up, and Sama reached down to scoop up the saddlebags, still tied to the saddle that had been torn out of the way. She tossed them to Briggs, who set them down behind him without looking through them.


    "Footsteps, running, heading further in." Sama squinted up at the towering trees ahead. "That one, I bet. It''s the only one with a branch down low enough."


    "In armor?" Briggs asked, not unreasonably. It was still ten feet off the ground.


    Sama pointed, and Briggs saw scattered pieces of armor scattered around, as if they had been expelled from the body of their wearer at the same moment.


    "Oh, nice, a reversed Instant Donning. Clever." Tremble glowed, and the different pieces started to move, flipping through the air and landing in a neat stack atop the saddle bags. "Wolves followed him." He could see the trail clear as mud on the leaves and dirt.


    "Yeah, but at a run, so they were a little behind him, at least." She glided toward the tree only fifty yards away, looking around carefully. "Okay, coming up on the tree now, they are slowing, circling the tree, his tracks go right up it¡­" She reached up to a scuff mark on the bark, and Briggs reached up to touch a smear on the green moss of that waist-thick branch.


    "Eh." Sama''s head was already turning when Briggs jerked his thumb, and she looked around him to see the carcass of a Warp Wolf sprawled in the undergrowth, two arrows in its side. "Ah ha. They took off that way." She pointed to the other side of the big tree, and Briggs leaned around the massive trunk, seeing the trail of the wolves moving off into the undergrowth.


    "If their calls brought in help, no way his rescuers could have come back soon. They might even have been run down."


    "They probably would have come back here to check if that were true, but the pursuit might have involved most of the force, with wolves giving tongue." Sama craned her head back, looking up into the tree. "Too much brush. Trem?"


    "I sense nothing, but it is tall¡­" The Sword leapt free of Sama''s hand and zipped up into the tree, adroitly moving around the many branches, and turning this way and that as she scanned the many branching limbs.


    "Oh!" The bloody-glowing blade stopped. "He''s right here, Sama! He looks unconscious, however¡­ and he''s still not showing on my Detect¡­"


    Briggs met Sama''s eyes. Either not a human, or Warded?


    "Be right up." Sama went right up the side of the tree with Dragon Walk, smoothly gaining height with vertical brachiation parkour to shame a monkey acrobat. In a breath or two, she was eighty feet above the ground, braced between two limbs in a crook of a tree, where their target was wedged.


    Briggs watched her unwrap her Amulet, there was a glow of light, and he knew she''d used Healing Soul to stabilize whoever it was.


    A moment later, she was crashing down from the tree with a burden on her shoulder, zipping through the branches with uncaring precision. A foot from the ground, her ankle-Tats lit up with misty light, billowing in every direction as she abruptly slowed down, and one second later touched down as gently as a drifting leaf, stopping an inch above the leaves.


    "And we have our first recruit!" sang out Briggs knowingly, as she skated back towards him. "Oh, hey!" His violet eyes popped for a moment as he hopped off the Disk, and Sama flopped her load limply down, using the saddlebags as a backrest.


    He was a young man, maybe just hit his teens, wearing the rough leather padding worn underneath plate armor. He was a handsome young fellow, brown-haired, honest face, and athletic build, looking a little wan and pale from several bloody injuries obvious on his padding.


    "Is it me, or am I feeling a Paladin''s Aura?" he asked her, interested in their new acquaintance.


    "I''m thinking the same." She strolled over to the Alchemy Cabinet, popped it open, and drew out a Potion from within.


    "Not just using more Soul Healing because-?" he asked, as the Compressed Potion popped back to full size in her hand.


    "Blood loss, needs fluids." She kicked off and glided over without doing more. "Open his mouth and hold his nose." Briggs deftly did that, as she upended the contents of the flask into his mouth, her Vajra making sure it was scoured clean and dry as she poured it slowly down his throat. He twitched, and Briggs clamped the young fellow''s mouth shut with remorseless pressure.


    There was a hiss, and pink steam rose from four different places around his body, rapidly trailing off. His head wanted to thrash, and he first tried to spit out the Potion,then breathe and expel it, but Briggs totally denied him that option, and the boy had no choice but to either swallow the Potion or let it dissolve into him.


    It took six seconds for his eyes to suddenly jump open, and his hands flew to his mouth, trying to breathe.


    "Swallow," said Briggs, very firmly, looking into the dark eyes. "SWALLOW," he repeated, dropping his voice down to an imposing baritone as the boy stared at him.


    There was a long and deliberate swallow, and Briggs let go.


    The boy gasped and hacked and started to bend over, but Briggs jerked him back upright and tilted his head back by dint of grabbing his skull. "Now sit there and breathe while the Potion runs its course. You aren''t going to waste a hundred gold poured down your throat right there, now, are you?" he rumbled, not unkindly.


    The young man blinked at him, straining despite himself, and found he simply could not move his head. He swallowed again, and shivered slightly as the Fast Healing effect of the Potion ran its course, first restoring damage to flesh and bone, before going to work on Soak.


    His color was a lot better by the time Briggs let go, and his breathing was free and clear. He blinked a few times, and slowly sat up as he first looked at Briggs, and then found Sama waiting impatiently for him on the other side.


    "Um, hello, goodfolk. It seems I have to thank you for saving me?" he asked politely, voice only a little strained. "I am Estemar, Squire to Sir Banswroth of the Order of the Ruby Heart¡­" His voice trailed off as bad memories came rushing back.


    "We weren''t the ones who saved you," Briggs offered smoothly, spinning the Disk and throwing a thumb to indicate the dead Warp wolf. "Someone on the ground shot that and drew the pack pursuing you off. If we can find them, they are your saviors.


    "Be that as it may, I''m Briggs and she''s Sama."


    Estemar looked back and forth between them, then nodded calmly. "If ever I find them, I shall indeed thank them, ah, Masters Briggs and Sama. And the Order will certainly recompense you for your Potion, if I can return to them."


    Sama waved it off. "It''s fine. Finding a young Paladin out here was surprising enough." Her expression was a bit incredulous. "How old are you, twelve? Do they start Paladins so young in the Order?"


    He flushed despite himself as he swung his legs off the Disk carefully, and regained his feet. He was half a head taller then Briggs was, not unreasonable since he was definitely older. "I have not been blessed by Mithar long, my lady," he admitted, a bit awkwardly, but there was no disguising the noble upbringing in his manner. "But I will endeavor to serve Him as best I can!"


    "Lost your sword in the fight and sent off to get word out after the others forced a small opening, right?" He flushed and looked away at Sama''s words, arcs of pain flashing across his eyes. "Not a problem. There were plenty of broken swords, we''ll smith you up a new weapon tonight, won''t be an issue."


    "Meh, let him use Doc," Briggs said, and Sama raised an eyebrow at him. "Seriously. He''s going to need the healing, and he''s a Paladin. They get all the weapon profs, right?"


    Part of Sama''s mouth quirked in a smile. "Right. Give the young Paladin a +Vier Weapon right off, why not?" She looked him up and down. "You fought late last night. Are your White Hands recharged? If so, use them."


    He was trying not to stare at her Tattooed face, especially the Whiskers and blackened nose. He blinked. "Ah, yes." He crossed his hands on his chest, closed his eyes, and there was a gentle silver-white glow from them, swirling around him for a quick moment.


    "Ah, I regret to say I only have the four of them, my lady." He looked rather ashamed of himself. "I do not think I can fully restore myself with them¡­"

 72 Chapter Seventy-Two – Bringing Down the Fey

    "You hold them spears firm! Anyone who lowers that spear gets one up his ass to encourage them to do it right!"


    The line of spears extended out, ready to meet the charge of the incoming fey.


    The loose mob of quicklings and redcaps had been unprepared to hit a phalanx, and the men were warned ahead of time if the quicklings tried to jump. They did, thinking to get into the middle of the mob and run around¡­ and instead landed on ready spear and sword points as my Interdiction crawled across them, they reduced to normal speed, and died.


    The redcaps were extremely strong, and wielded greataxes an ogre would be proud to use. That was fine, axes were loose formation weapons and secondary rank things, not very useful for a disciplined line of soldiers. Spears thrust, swords slashed when they got too close, and the bloodthirsty little bastards also died.


    Now, the spriggans inflated to giant size. Normally, that would be about the height of the current soldiers, so it ended up being closer to their old size. That was very impressive... except it was a magical effect and could be dispelled. The support Casters in the back, mostly loyal noblewomen, were happy to bring the magic down at an inopportune time, like right before that huge line of meat crashed into the spear line. Startled spriggans barely coming up to the chests of the spearmen found themselves running right onto layers of spears, and weren''t very happy about it.


    The swordsmen flowed through the wall and gutted those stuck on the spears with swift, ruthless blows. The second line of oversized fey crashed into the line, stomping their dying kin under their boots, and each of them inherited at least four spears to the chest and throat as they came in, sweeping with heavy clubs and breaking the line.


    I didn''t have many cavalry, but what I had was strong enough. They slammed into the flank of the giants with a full charge, lances driving bloody and deep, as Shirley raced along the backside of the things and I hamstrung them in blurs of motion. They fell, the nightmares behind me happily trampled their heads in series, and the first fight was ours.


    I didn''t give them any chance for necromancy, directly Banestarring all the dead, and urgently directing the soldiers to heap the corpses up on the unwhite fires. In counterpart, the main force of satyrs, centaurs, werekin, and various sprites giggled loudly as they set fire to the city on the way to us.


    Sparkie was humming eagerly above my shoulder, wanting to contribute. I was waiting for them to get there at the right flank, still on Shirley. I had pulled out the Autobow from Tremble''s hilt and was assembling it with the smooth clicks of much practice.


    "If you want to snipe one of the little ones, or a bird that pops in too close, feel free," I told the little ball of light. "As a matter of fact, we need to get the skull of one of them to make a proper Floating Skull for you."


    His hum throbbed with interest. "A Floating Skull is like a weapon that a less substantial creature like you can wear. They were first designed for Lantern Archons. Basically, you infuse the Skull and fly around in it, shooting your Rays through the eyesockets. The Rays are enhanced by the power of the Skull, and so have a lot more punch than without them. Your Floating Skull is like your Sword."


    His hum changed pitch again, conveying excitement. "Yeah, I know that feeling. Need the Skull first, though. One of those pixies would be just about perfect¡­"


    I snapped Fall up to my shoulder, and Banefires snapped to life as a quarrel made of solid force materialized on it, while the string snapped back on its own. I had a lot more range with this then my Sword, and shot smoothly, Mask up as good as a scope, and Archer Levels finally getting to strut their stuff, Zen Archery adding to the stack.


    One of those diving squads of pixies swooped this way, that, and suddenly a black bolt split the air, spitting three of them in a row at exactly the right moment, before dissipating in midair.


    As it faded, it materialized back on Fall, ready to shoot out again, while my legs tensed as the equivalent of a +9 Strength bonus racked back the bowstring, using my legs to supply the force.


    Streaks of black hurtled out at near 600 FPS, and I just held the trigger down as it leapt out, reached its target, the string snapped back into place, and the bolt rematerialized to be launched again. About one a second, maybe a little faster, as fire-carrying pixies and sprites went tumbling from the air with bloody holes in them¡­ natural invisibility notwithstanding.


    "Fido! I need one pixie corpse!" I called out, and the hellpoodle burst into a run eagerly. I nudged Shirley up slowly after him to cover him, autobolts smoothly streaking past him to give any fey who might think of harassing him a bad day. The main army had to obey the two-minute rule, so it was closing at the speed of plot and not really in range of me or Fido as he darted out, grabbed one of the three-foot pixies in his jaws, spun agilely, and raced back to me with long strides.


    A bunch of crows with ten-foot wingspans thought he might be worth harassing, and dove down from above.


    I had been building Fall up for a long time by sacrificing giants'' jewelry to it, above and beyond crafting glass and bone and giants'' tendons together to make it. However, the damage I did with it was much less then with my Sword, because of my Sagedom, and the need for lots of Slots to compound the damage and give it the rate of fire to make it worth using.


    Still, +Soulbound Bane/Fey Force Speed got a respectable amount of damage out there, especially with Power Draw yoking it to my working Strength for some extra punch. It was also a Profound Weapon, so I got Zen Archer Monk advances on the base of d8, so a functional 2-16, +4/+4 +2-12, +2/+2 Improved Crit and Threat for Spec, +9 for Strength. Yeah, 4-28 +11 was enough to one-shot an average soldier in the real world, but everything here was Olympian, with generally double normal Hit Dice and Health, and my poking them didn''t really amount to much individually.


    But flicking it to Swarmbane meant it worked perfectly fine against flocks of crows. My Swarmbane Amulet enhanced it right along, spreading out the damage to trigger Banes on multiple crows, sending them tumbling from the air as their wings were shredded. Even if they didn''t die, dozens of the birds lost the ability to fly.


    Shirley turned and raced back to the line with Fido, who held up the corpse proudly for me to see. I grabbed the pointed hair of the dead fey, who still had a wicked smile even in death, and lopped off its head smoothly. Fido and Shirley had themselves a quick snack, easily crunching the frail bones of the fly-winged wee fey.


    Ziiiip, and suddenly the fey army was in range, with the Elementals running rampant tearing stuff down, the centaurs starting a firing line, and the satyrs forming a rough and undisciplined horde of spears.


    The archery cavalcade was useless, as the soldiers turtled up with shields and the cavalry were out of the line of fire. The rain of arrows continued for four volleys before the impatient satyrs howled and charged.


    Stand was limned by a force screen, easily dealing with all the arrows coming my way, protecting Shirley and Fido, too, who were hovering close. Fall shrank down to hand crossbow size, which restricted the damage I could do, but I continued sending bolts flying out one-handed into the satyrs, even while the ringing of hundreds of arrows clattered down around me.


    Heck, even managed to down a couple of the bastards with repeated hits. As they charged in, the missile fire let up, I went back to two hands¡­ and with the shorter range, my rate of fire picked up nicely.


    Free Naming Karma for the Autobow!


    I couldn''t auto-kill, but I could with a crit, and I was shooting fast enough for three archers all by myself. Screaming satyrs were closing in, ignoring those who tumbled down with quarrels in sensitive portions of their anatomy, and charged the spear line¡­ and me, anchoring it there on my white hellpoodle.


    Who they forgot could breathe on them.


    One, Two.


    Fido cooked them, Shirley froze them. Sixty-foot cones of hellfire and hellrime devoured the front ranks of the satyrs. They were tough enough to survive one of those, but not both. Dozens of them died just like that, as I finally shoulder-holstered Fall in hand crossbow form, Tremble slapped eagerly into my hand, and I raced into the middle of them.


    At the same time, the line of soldiers surged at my command, stepping and forming Archer Stand Thrusts, and spit the startled satyrs like the goat-men they were, breaking the charge and beginning the real defense of remorseless spears plied from behind shields.


    I hit the back line of werekin clawing and growling in their anthros forms, shrieking as Anathema turned the silver-coated edge of Tremble into not just a DR punch, but a magical allergy that burned them as their magical defense failed. I gave them no mercy, and Shirley wove through the press with Fido, focusing on grabbing limbs and presenting the owners for instant decapitation.


    The elementals came rolling in as the press of the fey was held up by the solid butchery going in on the front line. The crows above swooped down, and the erlking had his bow in hand as if he was going to join the fun.


    And then they hit my Interdiction, along with the sneaky sprite flyers who thought to come in from behind and mess up the back line with a sneak attack.


    Overweight fey and birds plummeted awkwardly from the sky, including a very startled erlking. Even the air elemental was forced down to the ground, because it was actually made of compressed air and had weight and mass. It was forced out of the tornado form it was using to smash through rows of houses on the way to hit us from the side, and I shouted to the cavalry to cut it down.


    Sure, it had DR 10/-. I had enjoyed them, so let''s see how it liked One Strike Charges coming in on it.


    The erlking fell from three hundred feet up and smashed through one of the few remaining intact roofs, hard. I was blatantly amused. Fido and Shirley caused some more havoc by breathing into the middle of the fey press, cooking and cooling dozens of them, while I hacked us a path through the press and closed on the Earth Elemental before it could move in.


    It wanted to merge into the ground, but my Interdiction didn''t let it earthglide, and it could only raise up to fight me. This one had the form of a crude rocky lizard, its powerful attack looked like a bite as I smashed it aside with Stand, and then hit it with a Spell-Cutting Strike that undid the Summoning magic that brought it here, instantly sending it back to whatever the dream equivalent of its home plane was. Tons of rock and stone crumbled down as it de-animated, merging right into the ground below like water into a pond.


    No, these weren''t a real threat to me, either. The Water Elemental boar was trying to roll past me and get in contact with the river bank a bit behind us, possibly bring up floodwaters or a great wave. It didn''t make it, as I chased it down, and sent its spirit to the depths and its body of tons of water down the drains.


    The Fire Elemental monkey started hurling flames at me, rather clever of it. Fido dashingly intercepted them, which got Shirley all happy and defensive of her mate, so she ran up and breathed on the thing point blank.


    Yeah, Elemental vulnerability there, guy. Now, taking double damage from a 12d6 blast of cold wasn''t going to kill it, but it really didn''t like it, and Shirley fearlessly charged in so I could cut the crude burning monkey apart.


    I glanced back at the battle line, which was slowly and methodically cleaning up the fey infantry. I turned to look at the centaur archers, who had hung back and tried sniping at me, uselessly as Stand blithely intercepted and deflected everything.


    And there was no reason for me to stay where I was. I grinned, turned Shirley, and headed for the horse-men, Tremble blaring out some very specific kinds of death that were coming for them.


    I was waiting for the first arrow to come whistling down from the bow of the erlking. I batted it away, not even glancing at him, as dozens of frantic centaur arrows bounced off Stand, and then the centaurs were grabbing for their greatclubs and spears as I was on them.


    Fido was very quick to keep me between him and any arrow fire, and was dragging at hooves and arms before a One-Two blew down the centaur lines, and they got to feel the satyrs'' pain.


    I deflected two more arrows from the erlking into his own troops, and Tremble mocked his archery Very Loudly. The fey warlord cursed, smashed through a second story window, and landed not too hard with help from his wings, although his inability to fly was plainly annoying him.


    He drew the great wooden sword at his side, and charged at me.

 73 Chapter Seventy-Three – We Now have a Paladin

    "Use three of them," Briggs said calmly, taking Sama''s cue. "Rep counts. You need to use those as often as possible to get your rep counts up."


    "Rep¡­ counts?" he repeated, even as he crossed his hands again.


    "What, they don''t teach basic Spellcraft to Paladins, now?" Briggs huffed.


    "I¡­ forgive me, but it is passing strange to hear a, ah¡­"


    "Ancient," Sama snapped from behind him.


    "Ancient," he agreed in relief, "lecturing on Spellcraft."


    "It is passing strange to hear total ignorance on basic magic from a Powered Human, so I guess we''re even," Briggs replied without batting an eye, and the young noble''s face fell. "Don''t tell me that they filled your head with that ''Mithar Provides'' stuff, and you just smote pelts and fenced most of the time?"


    "Ah¡­" he managed, and didn''t say anything. Briggs looked at Sama, who just snorted, and the young man blushed despite himself.


    "Wow, he has a LOT to learn. It''s a good thing Paladin is not a Primary Class. We''re gonna have to put you to studying, Sir Estemar of the Knights of the Ruby Heart."


    "I am a mere squire, I have no honorific!" he started to protest.


    "Do you really want us to be addressing you as Your Royal Highness?" Briggs asked, arching an eyebrow. He noticed Sama giving him a glance, and smiled to himself. Someone didn''t put Ranks in Knowledge/Local, he mused to himself. Or, more likely, she never had the opportunity to¡­


    Estemar immediately stiffened. "I, you¡­" Having a Neandrathal find him out was definitely surprising the heck out of the lad, Briggs mused.


    "You''re wearing a Ruby Heart ring given only to senior knights, and it''s been enspelled with anti-divination protections. Your armor is QL 30 high-carbon steel at +Zvei, the maker''s mark is Jotungard''s Royal Guild, with the crown attachment reserved for the Royal Family, and you''re wearing a personal identification Amulet under your tunic. I won''t comment on your accent, you''re definitely trying to work on it, but you can''t hide your mannerisms.


    "Now, I don''t know which one of the Ogredown Princes you are, as I''ve been told there''s like two dozen of you, but if they sent you off into a knightly order at your age, it wasn''t because you were magnificently talented at being a cavalier¡­ especially with a Scryward on you.


    "I''m going to assume that your siblings and/or their supporters might be making things difficult for you, and you were packed off to somewhere you might be able to grow and make something of yourself without taking a shiv in the aorta. Add in some martial training since young, and the hopelessly optimistic viewpoint necessary to become a Paladin, and knightly orders was definitely a road for you." His bushy eyebrows waggled magnificently on his browline. "How am I doing, Sir Estemar?"


    The young noble winced. "You are doing magnificently, sir. I shall not underestimate you in the future!"


    Briggs clapped his shoulder, and the boy staggered, feeling again the inhuman strength there. "Well that you do not. Now, let''s get you back into your armor. Oh, Sama, I assume he had a good tussle yesterday, what should he Level up?"


    Estemar blinked, and only then saw his armor underneath the saddlebags, as Sama lifted the latter off the former.


    "Soulshaper. Mastery to Extra Smite. Soul Feat to Wrathful Soul. Shape to Shock Gauntlets. He should pray for Assay and then all the healing magic he can."


    The young noble looked totally perplexed at the words coming out of her mouth, and looked to Briggs for an explanation.


    "You can cast spells?" Briggs asked, somewhat amused.


    "I have been blessed by Mithar, and He will grant some very minor Prayers of mine," he replied, somewhat stiffly.


    "So, yes. Probably only two, three a day at this point." Estemar blinked, and nodded slowly. "Okay, here''s what you need to do." He had the boy''s curious but rather disbelieving gaze.


    "Mithar is the God of Paladins, but he''s also the God of Skill. He is totally and fully capable of granting you all the knowledge and power He wants to, being He''s a Divinity and all, yes?" Estemar nodded, and started to open his mouth while Briggs went on blithley. "So, Him teaching you the basics of a Class is exactly the same thing as Him granting you the powers of a Paladin, is it not?"


    Estemar blinked, as if the idea had never occurred to him before this moment. "I¡­ suppose it is?" he admitted warily.


    "Outstanding! Now, what we would like you to do is go over there and pray." The young Paladin blinked. "You will pray to Mithar as normal, and you will prepare your Prayers as appropriate in meditation and recitation. The ones you want are Assay and Lesser Fast Healing. If you don''t know those Prayers, then you directly request inspiration of Mithar to learn them, and He will politely acknowledge His younger mortal brother''s circumstances and teach you." Estemar blinked at what was an astounding show of faith from an Ancient, who were reportedly mostly godless.


    "Then, you will politely request that He show you the way to be a Soulshaper. This is no more or less difficult then Him showing you the Path to being a Paladin, and given that you have been in battle and fought in His name and your mutual goals, He will grant you this boon for the good deeds you have done.


    "You will also request of him inspiration in the art of Smiting Mastery, how to stir within yourself a Wrathful Soul, and how to shape Shock Gauntlets. You need not worry if you do not know what these are, because Mithar most certainly does, and I imagine He is going to be ecstatic that you are making such an unusual and wise request at your age."


    The noble prince was just blinking at him in shock. "I¡­ how do you know all this?" he protested.


    Briggs looked affronted. "Ancient Wisdom," he said, totally serious. "Go. Pray. We''ll wait."


    The young man, both impressed and confused, repeated the words to himself as he sat down at the base of the tree he had climbed the night before, and closed his eyes.


    ---


    Briggs and Sama moved off, but only a little ways. Tremble''s Sound Bubble would suffice for quiet, as she quietly moved above the young noble and sealed him off from the world.


    "Mister Inquisitor Briggs!" Sama said with a grin. "Lookit you go!"


    "One of us had to learn something about this world," he sniffed loftily, and she just laughed. "Seriously, I''d listen to the dwarves talking, and look over items for sale, ask questions of the merchants, who all thought I was too dumb to understand the deeper meanings behind it all." He shrugged. "I am much smarter then I look, after all."


    "Don''t I know it! He hasn''t even questioned your size and age, seeing you in armor like that!" she laughed with him. "Very diplomatic explanation. Order of the Ruby Heart¡­" she sniffed. "Sounds like Cavaliers, associated with Aru?"


    "Yes. They are nominally independent of the crown, so likely a better spot to hide him away. But, like most, they are Challenge-happy gloryhounds. They probably came up here chasing news of raiders from the North, got caught by overwhelming numbers, and fought to the death." Briggs shook his head. "If he''s got Cavalier Levels, I''ll talk him out of them."


    "Aye, we''ve got to read that Assay of him, get him on the right path. Soul Magic is an awesome resource for Paladins, who tend to boss-killing. They are natural for the Thunder Dragon, too."


    "So, Dragon Warrior, instead of Melee?"


    "Yeah, being able to learn Forms and Techniques. Simply being able to cycle a Smite every two rounds with a One Strike will last him forever. Add in the Healing Strikes, the defensive stuff, and even before you get to the Chi-Spenders, he''s gonna be rock solid."


    "Definitely a self-Healing machine," he agreed. "We just have to get him in combat and keep him alive. Is that going to be a problem? He''s still a kid."


    "Him Paladin. Paladin Fearless via Aura of Courage. Sama think not problem," was her reply.


    "What about after that?"


    "Ignite his bloodline. Paladins have natural Celestial Bloodlines."


    "Sorcerer? It would add into his Charisma skills¡­" Briggs trailed off.


    "Basic bloodline ability is that holy flame power, fire damage, more against Evil, or a ranged heal, and independent of divine power. Plus, he gets wings at Ten."


    Briggs snorted. "That''s a long ways away for him and I," he judged, "but yeah, it sounds like the thing to do. And gives him more things to practice rep counts with," he added thoughtfully.


    "If he''s a cavalier-Paladin, he''s woefully under-Skilled at this time. He might have a Noble level, given his birth, you violet-eyed detective you, so he might be a little broader, but most NPC''s advanced on the Tower, not the Pyramid. Quicker path to survival and all that."


    "Ironskulling lets you survive, but it kills in the long run," he agreed. The Karmic cost of gaining Levels in other Classes after you hit Ten was absolutely enormous compared to gaining them as you rose. Yeah, you got to do all the cool stuff early, but you simply didn''t have the staying power of someone who took more time to get there.


    It took as much Karma to gain a Level after Ten as it did to get to Ten in your Primary Class in the first place. The expenditure was colossal, as many overeager Tens going Ironskull had found out. And without that massive foundation, killing post-Ten CR critters was not at all easy.


    Most importantly, nobody had ever made Eleven in the game, so lateral expansion was all you could do. Doing it post-Ten was paying premium prices for the same benefits as everyone else.


    "Taking an NPC to a PC is a big change," mused Briggs, frowning somewhat. "And a nobleman, no less. He''s a Paladin, but still¡­ lots of education coming his way."


    "I have had no information resources. What''s he a Prince of?"


    "Ah, Ogredown is one of the Five Kingdoms of the Rosencrux Empire, the one furthest north and so closest to us. The king there is naturally a warrior-type, as he has to deal with constant anthro, orc, and goblinoid attacks from the north and east, and probably found this latest batch of bad news very unwanted.


    "He''s also a lusty sot with a half-dozen concubines and a whole bunch of kids, some acknowledged, some not. The competition to succeed him is rather heated, to say the least, at least among his blood. However, it''s the Emperor who has the final say, of course, but he''s rather hands-off as far as personal succession goes, in most cases," Briggs summarized for her. "They get along well with the elves, after eating a bit too much magic a few centuries ago, and there''s a very well-defined border at the forest edge, and a no-man''s land outside it. There''s skirmishing between woodcutters and poachers and the elves, but the Empire''s actually learned some pretty good forest management, and on a military basis, they actually get along fairly well, what with common enemies and all.


    "The areas of the Sidhete that border them that the elves don''t occupy tend to be controlled by some very powerful and savage creatures that nobody wants to stir up, often with some very powerful Druidic back-up. Stalae got put up, the borders are marked, and everyone became happy with crossing at your own risk, after some plagues, famines, floods, and the like ravaged the borderlands for years, and some ridiculously powerful monsters, or hordes of them, ate everything in sight."

 74 Chapter Seventy-Four – Death of an Erlking

    Wooden sword. Treated with Ironwood, strong as steel. Made of heavy oak for weight, then auto-treated with Greater Magic Weapon at 20, for a pithy +V enhancement bonus, combined with the same effect on his crafted oak-leaf scale armor, looking resplendent and lovingly carved with forest scenes, leaves¡­ and I deliberately did not count the nymphs, but I was pretty sure there was one for each of the embedded stones.


    Right.


    "Die!" he shouted at me, pointing his finger.


    Something necroic faded away against my Null, and I smirked at him, only half-turning as I continued my execution of his centaur troops. A One-Two went off from the hellpuppies as they mocked him back.


    He did not look happy at being ignored like that, and raised his hand. The ground shook, and for a moment it looked like thorns and grasses might be boring out, but that didn''t happen, either.


    What part of Interdicting not allowing Summons of any sort did he not understand?, I thought to myself, as I removed a centaur''s head, gutted another, and ended the blow in a third who had been dragged into range by Shirley''s jaws on his foreleg.


    I wasn''t going to leave my dogs to fight the centaurs alone; they were way outnumbered and the centaurs were at least Twelves themselves. The hellpups tore the throat out of one that Fido hurled to the ground, so quick and automatic I was impressed despite myself. Savage Them was a nice trick with the Tripping Feats leveraging it so much.


    I was sincerely hoping that bird-boy would come on in to get Finish-Hew''d, but he instead opted to turn his attention on my fighting troops, lifting his hands to unleash something.


    Amused at his cheek, I ended my attack combo with a Banestar into his side, sending him stumbling off and spoiling whatever he was about to do.


    "You should pay attention to who your opponents are!" I called back to him with a laugh, as he turned to stare at me. His hand went to his side, where armor was rent and there was blood¡­ and the wound wasn''t healing.


    Duh, like I was going to let him skirmish me and endlessly heal away the damage. Blooding took care of that rather nicely.


    He pointed, and a huge murder of crows descended upon me in cawing zeal to kill.


    Banefire ripped through whole swathes of them, tearing them out of the sky in flurries of feathers that covered everything. Shredded bird bodies sprayed black feathers everywhere, obscuring vision.


    His sword came sneaking in through it, looking for a target¡­ and found Shirley wasn''t there.


    As if killing my frostpup would slow me down. I was riding her to keep her alive and that breath weapon available, not because I was that much better a fighter mounted. In all honesty, I could move faster than either hellpup¡­


    Being the conscientious commander that I was, I totally ignored the feather cloud and proceeded to slaughter the last of the vision-obscured centaurs, who couldn''t see enough to get away and who were basically compelled to try and kill me and couldn''t run away.


    His archer line dead, I slid off Shirley and dove back into the feathers for the advancing Erlking, who I had painted in my Tremblesense perfectly. I danced over centaur corpses as the hellpups ran together back towards the main fight, ready to add some more One-Two''s to the mix.


    Erlkings weren''t all that strong by default, but naturally this one was double-sized, so every bit as strong as me with my Girdle. That didn''t mean much, as Giant Power meant my Might was just as high as his. The first time our swords met, he didn''t even push me back, despite being literally three times as tall as me.


    He did have reach, but without his default temporal acceleration working in my Interdiction, he definitely didn''t have a speed advantage, and his wings didn''t do anything other then give him a jumping bonus now, and a pretty small one given how small they were relative to his Mass.


    Tremble and his oaken sword met once, Stand smacked it aside with surprising force, I slid Tremble''s tip up the erlking''s arm, and he barely jerked his head back in time to not lose an eye.


    He hopped back, and I snickered at him as his wings beat once, blowing away the feathers around us. He was staring at me in shock, and Tremble was in Fey-Bane mode, pulsing in time to Stand''s drum beat, obviously ready to carve him up and release him from this life.


    Intimidation checks at 40ish are definitely a pain for most people, and hard even for a Twenty like this fellow to deal with. Once that fear effect kicks in, even if it is pretty minor, morale bonuses go bye-bye. It was invented by fencers looking to shut down the raging attacks of barbarian raiders, proving marvelously effective, but it worked against all kinds of morale bonuses.


    After all, it''s hard to feel mighty, larger-then-life, and super confident if you nearly pissed your pants. This guy''s iron-hard Favored Enemy/Human bonus of +10 just took flight, rendering him a Ten Warrior with Weapon Focus/Sword.


    I pit Counter Mastery against his, basically off-setting his preferred Weapon with mine, and leaving me my Spec bonuses and Combat Genius bonus. It was instantly apparent to him that I was better with the sword then he was, and I didn''t lack for strength. The only thing he might have on me was reach, and I was faster afoot then him, so that wasn''t working, either.


    Now, he''d been juiced with Health Qi, so he was still confident he could outlast me¡­ but alas, he was fighting with a sword, and I was fighting sword and board.


    Stand caught every blow almost contemptuously, knocking them aside or just plain stopping them with magical force if need be, not that I really needed it. As it stood, just making decent contact with me would have been a challenge for him, but with a Shield, he stood no chance at all.


    I cut into his legs, waist, and if he lunged too hard, flicked towards his throat and sent him shaken back. Streaks of red fled from his skin as the Health Qi went down, down, down, and then real blood began to flow as I made it into his Health.


    "You¡­ what manner of demon are you?" he swore, trying to retreat, and I kept pace without real effort.


    "Sama Rantha. You got some independent thought? Really, wow, I see that you do," I noted, as his eyes flashed. "Natives of Dream, after all." I laughed softly as he suddenly looked unsightly underneath all that warrior''s fury, bending to avoid a cut, shifting my feet to let the feint slide past and be momentarily pinned by Stand before the real blow could follow.


    There was a weird ringing crunch as the steel-hard wood was sheared through, and he gaped as his wings took him back, finding it wasn''t enough as I stayed right with him. The follow-up strike sent wooden leaves of his armor flying with ruby blood trickling banefire.


    He stared at the remnant of the wooden sword in his hand. Alas, not carrying a backup. Was he going to duel me with his bow?


    "You must have been invited in, and thought you''d have a good ol'' time engaging in some hapless slaughter of a city or something. Keep the edge from getting rusty, a little gratuitous massacre."


    He cried out as Tremble flicked, and he pulled back the stump of his hand, the remnant hilt of his wooden sword still clutched in it.


    "I think I''m going to punish you for that. Yes, I will." Tremble dimmed slightly as vivic flame joined the soulfire and banefire for tri-colored wrathflame, and his birdlike golden eyes fixed on it. "Yep, you''re really going to suffer for this choice. We''ll see just how many of your peers choose to make the same decision.


    "You''re going to burn, and if you do come back as an Erlking, you''re definitely going to be a newborn."


    "You would not-"


    I was in his reach without moving my feet, and the four strokes of the combination move went off like a machine. His wings beat, but his throat was open, he lost his other hand, I''d gutted him, and his wings only pulled him off where Tremble was buried in his heart.


    He landed ten feet back, already dead and falling, vivus spurting out of him, golden eyes going dark as he stared at me, unable to believe he had died so quickly and uselessly against something so small.


    Which, naturally enough, hardly ended the invasion of Fey. He probably came with more allies, and by the way those trees were all moving in the distance, and the walls of the city were being crushed by them, it looked like a full forest of treekin, or something.


    Smiling to myself, I charged the back of the fighting lines, who had seen their master fall and were suffering something of a crisis of morale, even as Tremble sang out again in triumph and began to compose something on the spot about butchering erlkings.


    They could not run, only fight to the death. My erstwhile troops gave out a yell and pressed forwards, the swordsmen who hadn''t gotten much action broke out to give vent to their ire, while the cavalry came thundering in from the side to add some nice shock to their teetering will to fight.


    All in all, not a bad first engagement. I wondered if the Curse had learned its lesson at all, if it thought it could just wear me down with military engagements like this¡­

 75 Chapter Seventy-Five – Converting an NPC

    "That sounds like Druids at work," Sama agreed. "By position, I assume they are between the Fey and the Empire?"


    "Aye, and the Fey were known to pitch into the fight in the past. Their Erlking in particular has a nasty reputation." He caught her smirk. "Something funny?" he asked alertly.


    "Noir Rabe?" she asked, chuckling to herself.


    "That''s him. Never met him, but a couple of the elders have. He''s got no problems with Ancients, but he''s wiped out whole towns and villages of imperials, peasants and all."


    "I beat him up!" Sama laughed, and Briggs blinked in amazement.


    "No way! An Erlking?" he challenged her, rather awed.


    "Eff him. His Stats suck, he''s a freaking Fey so his BAB is half his Level, and he totally leans on Favored Enemy bonuses to stack up against humans. Intimidate him, split his stupid wooden sword, keep him out of the sky and unable to Summon, Blooding to stop any healing, and he''s a total wuss, worse then a Ten Melee with no Gear," she sniffed, making a poo-poo gesture.


    Briggs could only smile. "There are so many sighs of regret in the Empire that you didn''t off the bastard."


    "He will serve his purpose. Do you really think he''s going to take human Warp marauders tromping all over the forest out here? This is like a dream come true for him. Slaughter all day, and more to kill on the morrow!"


    "Easy to corrupt?..." Briggs trailed off significantly, and she frowned, looking away.


    "Yeah, but nothing we can do about that. He didn''t come across as totally bloodthirsty to me, but I''m a Hagchild, so I was definitely not just a human to him. Also, I think he rather admired how much I want to kill my Hagmom, who seems to have a rep even worse then his, if I read his reaction right."


    "Name?" Briggs asked, eyebrows quivering like caterpillars.


    "Tusk Annie."


    Briggs blinked. "No shit?"


    "Had it confirmed by my own Hagspawn half-brother. No denying it," she confirmed firmly.


    "Hah." Briggs regarded her calmly, shaking his thick head. "Damn, I didn''t think she was real. I thought it was like saying ''Baba Yaga'' back on Earth, just a general filler of a name." He took a deep breath. "Basically every annis story I''ve heard ends up being attributed to her, if you don''t know the name of the Hag responsible. She''s a Big Thing, Sama."


    "Mmm. Well, I killed her over fifty times in Nightmare. Olympian Legendary Template."


    He blinked. "Damn." He regarded her again. "And you soloed her fifty times?"


    "She never beat me, even once. I made very sure of it."


    Briggs looked at the forest around them, at the silently praying young Paladin, and then back at her.


    "Those poor Warp guys."


    She gave him that beaming smile again, with those nasty cute canines. "I know, right? Totally different advancement system here. They are in for such a world of hurt, and they don''t even know it."


    "How are you for Mass Combat?" He almost dreaded the answer, even as he was expectant.


    "Supreme Cleave, Sidestep; Opportunity and Reflexes Masteries at Five."


    Briggs looked up, did the math in his head, looked back down at her. "Base move at 110?" She smiled even wider.


    Justified. If he was doing the math right, she could kill a thousand men in under a minute! This whole warband thing was nothing but a farce to a Deep Ten¡­


    "Can you max out your Reflexes?" Getting that many Attacks of Opportunity was nigh impossible¡­


    "Hold the Line, Steadfast."


    Hold the Line, get an AoO if a foe entered your reach and you were set against a charge. Steadfast, always considered set against a charge if you were wielding a thrusting weapon.


    "Of course, that''s ignoring Karmic Strike."


    A muscle in his cheek twitched. They swung at her, she swung at them. No Dex or dodge to avoid¡­ or Wis or Int either, as it were. But what was her DR? 18/-? Could they really even hurt her? With Expertise she could juice it to 28/-. Only their strongest champions had a chance of doing injury to her. The rest¡­ would just die.


    She was doing 80 or 90 points on average a swing, even if her full Sage of Swords wasn''t in effect. Mostly likely, anything under Seven was just going to get ripped apart in passing.


    He was definitely riding the gravy train with her around. She wasn''t in any danger from these things.


    "So, plans for the Paladin?" he asked.


    "Hey, every five-man band needs someone like him." Briggs guffawed despite himself. "He''s Powered, he''s got soooo many rep counts in front of him to get to uber status."


    "He should be able to keep Leveling just with Smites use, if we do things right. Picking him up most of his secondaries should really broaden and firm up his foundation, even if it''s just the charisma-heavy Classes. Powered can go anywhere and do anything, and just because he''s a Paladin isn''t going to restrict that much¡­" Briggs rubbed his jaw. "Silver Fist?"


    "A Wisdom bonus in armor isn''t a bad thing, but we have to see his Stats. If he tanked Wisdom, well¡­"


    "He won''t even be able to advance in it, right." Stat reqs were still a thing, after all.


    "And we gotta pound him to max hit points." Her grin was pure cheese. "Which reminds me, have you been doing that?"


    Briggs groaned aloud. "Soak, yes. Health, not so much."


    "Played the tribal punching bag, aye?" she snorted at him. "Looks like you need an Assay, too. Can you make a Look Book?"


    "Hmmm." He thought that over, and nodded slowly. "Need the wood slates, however. Has to be of decent quality and all, at least a 25. I don''t think you had anything like that among your stores?"


    "We could use that petrified stump I still have left, it''s basically ideal for this."


    "True. How will you make the slats? For that matter, how did you make the cabinets? That''s a really smooth finish on them."


    "Ah, One Strike with Tremble in Sunder mode. Makes a very clean cut."


    Briggs looked at her strangely, then shook his head. "Then you''re doing the cutting, not me. I can carve it up fine, I think."


    "Good, that''ll be the job for tonight. Let''s wait for L-Goody Two Shoes to wake up, give him the basics of what he needs to do, and we''ll be off on the trail of this horde."


    "Got it. I can go over the Assay with him as he goes, if I can borrow Tremble''s 2d illusion."


    "Happy to help!" the Sword chimed up properly.


    ----


    Half an hour later, the young Paladin was out of his meditations, looking a little dazed¡­ because everything his two rescuers had said had indeed come true. He looked at them a little strangely. "I¡­ need to open the chakra points on my hands?"


    "You need to max Spellcraft and put anything left in Meditation. This will help you increase awareness of your spiritual capability. Picture ''Spellcraft'' in big words in your head, and then light them up." He blinked at Sama, his eyes drifted as he did that, and then his whole body flinched as once again, something impossible happened.


    "Ouch!" He looked down, and her nails were embedded precisely in his hands. Before he could even exclaim further, she stepped back and stabbed them into the top of his booted feet, right through the leather. "OUCH!" he shouted out again, and then light spurted out the wounds, his entire face went red, and his muscles all convulsed at the feeling of his soul being squeezed out the two narrow openings.


    "Shock Gauntlets!" Briggs called out casually. "Hurts a lot less when you''ve got it disciplined!"


    His face seemed to purple up as he warred against the pain and dove into the sudden knowledge he had been granted. The liquid light that was leaking out from the opened chakra points swirled and gathered around his hands, beginning to crackle with power, and solidified into a pair of silver and gold gauntlets with lightning patterns on the back of the palms. Little shocks of electricity popped around them, and Estemar remembered to breathe about then, staring at the things he''d materialized around his hands.


    "Send a bolt between them," Sama advised. He blinked at her, then slowly faced his fingers together, and scrunched his brow.


    He almost jumped up when the narrow charges of silver soul-powered electricity blasted between his fingers, muttering an oath to himself as he stared at them.


    "It''s not a lot of damage, equal to what an apprentice mage could call up¡­ but you can use it endlessly¡­ and channel it through a weapon. Of course, the more Essence you can put into it, the stronger it becomes, but that''s something that''s going to have to come with time. You don''t have a lot of flexibility right now, but it will happen eventually."


    He let the electricity fade, and looked up at the two of them. He could feel it now, the prodigious amounts of energy bound up in their Vajras, especially Sama''s, cold and hard as diamond.


    "This is¡­ there is a lot of things that can be done with this, to aid the gifts that Mithar has entrusted to me¡­" he trailed off, rather stunned.


    "And you can''t use it all yet, because you''re not good enough. But, there''s places to put it all. First, drop one in Wrathful Soul, that gets you one more Smite per Renewal, which only gets better." He nodded at Briggs'' words, silver light flowing ephemerally around him and vanishing. "For your Mastery for today, light up Strength Mastery/1." Tremble helpfully gave a sample for him to focus on.


    He did so again, and energy visibly crackled through him.


    "Excellent, you''re on the way to being marginally effective. Now, hop on the Disk here, and you can cast that Assay and tell us what it tells about you. We''re going to be following the force that killed your peers, and it gives us something to talk about while Sama runs."

 76 Chapter Seventy-Six – Armies Abound

    The Curse gave up.


    Doc had turned the tide. Matching up with a shot of Invigoration from Tremble to overcome any fatigue, it literally could not kill me. I just hacked myself back to full Health, and my Soak went up and down as my Battle Vigor had the chance to work¡­ which it did when Invigoration went off, something I discovered and promptly started making use of. I needed only seconds outside of combat to restart Battle Vigor now, which I could get simply by withdrawing at top speed.


    Being in Battle Focus all the time basically made me even more of a killer. I gave them nothing.


    The Fey had come in again with more of their kind, bolstered with tree-kin, thornfolk, shamblers, and whatnot, all led by a hamadryad queen who thought being able to make walls of thorns and animate plants while plinking with a long bow made her something special.


    Yeah, she died, too.


    Pure numbers finally overcame my fighters, but they made a great showing of themselves. With bardsong amplified by Tremble''s Courageous Slot, they reaped a gory harvest, stacking up hills and heaps of countless Fey and plants, hacking down trees as I ripped through the invaders time after time, until finally the swarming vines and roots dragged the last of my wounded giants down, hordes of fey washed over them, and they died.


    But me, I just wouldn''t die.


    If they swarmed me, the swarm basically exploded. Bigger stuff meant fewer attackers, and Doc was always on the job, pumping vitality into me to deal with massive bruises, fractured bones, internal injuries, cuts, scrapes, and whatnot.


    Tremble was Singing in Fey, totally defiant as we carved through them non-stop, cutting and thrusting dread into them at wholesale prices. Animated trees and their tree-kin controllers went down in fire. Earthen fey dissolved in acid, burning fey and elementals froze, insects and air-type servants burned, while water and bestial fey got the lightning.


    And sometimes we just hacked and slashed away, and blood flew¡­ with none of it sticking to me, even as everything around me was covered in gore. Just to demoralize them even more, showing me untouched.


    I tore my way through the spears of the Amazonian dryad honor guard of the hamadryad, not a single arrow of hers touched me, and I carved her up without batting an eye, sending her en vivus to join her erlking.


    The fey all screamed and raged to the attack. Whirlwinds and Cleaves galore greeted them, building me a burning pile of the dead that raged vivic beneath me, burning away even as it rose and feeding me more Karma.


    I didn''t get tired, and they couldn''t bring me down. I was too hard to hit, too hard to hurt, and I hit way too hard, fast, and accurately in return. Throwing a horde at me resulted in a rapidly dead horde. Magic and spells failed in my Null. Stand took care of missile fire.


    And it couldn''t outlast me now.


    Grey fog billowed out of nowhere, and swallowed the world in concealing mist.


    ------


    It took me a few breaths to realize I was back at my starting point, the clearing in the fog. I turned around slowly, wondering if something oversized was going to come lunging out of the mists at me, but nothing happened.


    "It''s Renewal again."


    Tremble''s pointed voice drew attention to a wave of energy sweeping over us.


    Regardless of how the Curse shifted night and day, Renewal was an absolute. The rest was just a change in illumination, an illusion, that with my Mask didn''t matter to me at all.


    A day had passed, and the Curse hadn''t killed me. It was all starting over¡­


    "Well, this is quite the landmark," I mused, slowly relaxing, as I tipped over a couple levers. Crystal Dragon Mastery/5, Roll With It III, +Defiant maxing out my DR at 26/- for now. Indestructible cockroach powers, activate!


    I had a lot of /5''s to go through, and a bunch of Power Feats, too. I calmly flipped over Myrmidon/4, too, because mass combat and all.


    "Think it will learn its lesson?" Tremble asked, laughing softly.


    I had to chuckle, too. This was like reaching the end of the most damnably hard video game ever, where failure was met with pain and loss, and finding that after all that fighting, all you got to do was to start over.


    But wow, I had actually beaten the damn thing''s tactics. I hadn''t actually beaten IT, struck no blows against it, but I had definitely reached some kind of waypoint on the journey.


    "No. It''s not intelligent, it''s a twisted aspect of Fate. It can only work with the toolbox it has. There has to be an outside force popping in for it to do something new." I frowned. "Of course, it now knows it can go outside the Dream and bring things in, like the fey. The erlking can literally Summon a small army, so it made a big one and threw it at me. I imagine it''s going to try more armies, and see if it can''t wear me down now¡­"


    "More of this ridiculous mass slaughter stuff?" sniffed my Sword. "With Doc and me here, that''s not going to work!"


    "The Curse is dumb."


    "It is!" he agreed promptly.


    "So, yeah, more mass slaughter. It may change stuff up, who knows. But we can''t be totally passive, you know. It has invited in others, and if the Curse can''t kill us, other things certainly can, and replace us¡­" I took a deep breath. "But now we know something else. Even the Curse is subject to Renewal, one law having to obey another."


    "What to do?" Tremble asked.


    "I need two hours of meditation, whose effects thereof I usually get by being dead." He laughed softly. "Then, we start anew, and keep slogging. There''s a long way to go yet. Advanced Class 4''s, level Five Masteries, making Ten, Secondary Class 6''s and Advanced Class 5''s¡­"


    "Well, maybe we can start counting Renewals, instead of deaths," Tremble observed.


    "That will be a change¡­" I agreed.


    ----------------


    "Orcs, huh¡­"


    I watched the green-skinned figures swarming over the walls, and waved my troop forwards. There were more of them today, because Myrmidon/4 was in place, upping my Warlord command. Whether the Curse liked it or not, I was also accruing military merits, invisible little reputation counters in its false world, and getting more of the soldiers to follow me as I fought.


    "Advance!" I ordered the line of spearmen behind me. The orcs weren''t pulling down buildings like the Fey, and if they wanted to Summon stuff to fight me, that was fine, I was not afraid of their Shamanic magic.


    They were also disorganized brawlers, and a good spear line was going to chew them up. There was a reason soldiers carried shields¡­ I began to allocate the archers who had fallen in with me, and I had me more cavalry to work with, although they weren''t as useful in a city without charge lanes around¡­


    But orcs came in hordes, and these were all ogre-sized Olympian-types, so there were going to be a lot of them, and they were tough. I looked forward to the fighting, and Tremble looked forward to a new Bane. I highly doubted their numbers would end before Renewal¡­

 77 Chapter Seventy-Seven – Heart of a Paladin

    The trail was not hard to follow, given how the Warped hardly cared for the environment, and were prone to lashing out randomly at things around them, as if leaving a scar on the pristine forest affirmed their existence in the face of their slavery to their dark gods.


    The way was also dotted with the occasional carcasses of Warp Wolves, which were set alight in passing and most of the scavengers seemed to be reluctant to get involved with. The Rangers might have warned the forest, Briggs mused to himself.


    "How does she run so fast?" Estemar called out from behind him, where Briggs'' Vajra could slipstream for him. He had to wear his helm to breathe easily in the face of the air flowing past.


    "Remember your movement rate?" Briggs said over his shoulder.


    "30!" the young paladin replied quickly.


    "Hers is about 55, I reckon, and then she knows the Waveskating Steps, which is the Ocean Dragon Lightfoot style. Being a Ten means three advances in it, each increasing your speed by a third of your base. So, twice the speed."


    "110?" the boy protested at the number.


    "Yep. For comparison, a really fast racing horse is about 90."


    "Mithar!" He didn''t try to hide his amazement. "Can, can I learn to run that fast?"


    "Well, not in armor. Potentially, sure. But it''s a waste of time for you."


    "Waste? Why?" Briggs could tell the lad was dreaming of zipping around at the incredible speeds Sama was moving at.


    "Oh, because you''re Powered. You can learn to FLY faster than this," Briggs informed him blandly.


    The young man fell silent, as his eyes grew a little wider, the cracks in his own view of his limitations starting to open.


    "While we''re on that subject¡­ it''s not going to happen if you continue advancing as a knight," Briggs said loftily.


    Estemar blinked, dreams of flight crashing down onto the back of a charger. "What? Why?"


    "Because then it''ll be your mount doing the flying most of the time, instead of you. And yes, there is a difference. It can fly really fast, but you, you''ll just learn to fly¡­ slowly." Briggs made a gesture. "You''ll be dependent on your mount. It''s an aspect of training as a cavalier. Without the mount, you lose a lot. Gain a lot at the low levels, but at the higher¡­ eh!"


    Estemar thought that over. "You¡­ want me to abandon my training as a knight?" He asked, his tone deepening.


    "Yes. It''s not appropriate for a Paladin, and your Paladin oaths supersede all others."


    Estemar''s mouth opened and closed, blinking. While that was true about the Oaths, "Inappropriate?!" he had to ask.


    "Mithar is not a cavalier. He is a horseman, but he is renowned as a swordsman, and the lance is a secondary weapon. Mithar fights Sword and Board by preference, although he uses other weapons as appropriate.


    "You want to follow in Mithar''s footsteps, you have the choice of following his heart, in Thunder, or Mitharn Style, a master of Sword and Board. Being a cavalier is following the path of Valus¡­ you pursue glory, you charge to battle, and you challenge the biggest foe mindlessly. The General of the Heavenly Host does not fight that way, the Champion does."


    Estemar blinked again on hearing this. It was all orthodox, but a very, very strange way of looking at it.


    "Or, to put it another way, how many Paladins in that Order you belonged to?"


    Estemar found himself licking his lips. "I¡­ there are a couple of others¡­" he managed to say.


    "And I daresay they aren''t in leadership positions, because they aren''t Champions." Estemar found himself nodding.


    "But I cannot foreswear my oaths to the Order," he began, and Briggs waved him to silence.


    "I''m not asking you to betray the Order or anything," he snapped, miffed at being misunderstood. "I''m asking you to change the way you train, to a road appropriate for the skills and mindset of a Paladin of Mithar, and not train like you''re going to be a Champion of Valus."


    Estemar flushed. "What then, are you recommending?"


    "You''re still a Three, you still have time to change your Primary Class," Briggs said in his voice, so deep for his age. "There are four primary combat roads. The first is the Melee Fighter, which is what I and Sama follow. There is the Cavalier, which you are being trained as. There is the Berserker, which is how savages prefer to train. And there is the Dragon Warrior, who wields profound arts and chi powers, the favored path of the Powered melee combatant.


    "I recommend you follow the Melee Path, which is Mastery of Sword and Board, or the Dragon Warrior path, which is Mastery of Thunder."


    Estemar closed his eyes in thought, opened them. "I know very little about the path of a Dragon Warrior. I have heard about martial artists wielding great powers, but they are not common hereabouts."


    "Mmmm. Well, Valus and Mithar both share mastery of the Thunder Dragon, the Heaven Challenging style. It focuses on bringing out the righteous power of the soul, combining the powers of man, world, and heaven to strike out at those that would defile Creation. It is robust, active, physical, and can only be used by those whose heart beats true." Briggs smacked his chest. "I know some of the lesser skills of Thunder, the true basics. The greater powers of Chi-usage are naturally denied me as a Source."


    Estemar had been agog when he heard Briggs talk about Sources, Nulls, and Voids earlier, having never heard such things before in his life. He was torn between pity that they could never feel the bond with the Divine that he could¡­ and a weird feeling of appreciation that the gods could not hear or bother them, which they took as quite the benefit. The fact that they had a true choice on who to serve, knew it, and knew that they would never get a direct reward for making that choice was a stirring idea, he had to admit.


    "Do you have a recommendation?" he asked.


    "Sama can directly teach you Sword and Board. Thunder you can learn via Mithar, but you''ll have to experience it and get a handle on using it yourself. Most Powered will choose the latter, being a Melee Fighter is more a no-magic kind of thing to them. I sort of recommend Thunder. At Ten, you can walk on air, which dovetails with the ability to fly via other means. It''ll help some of your Paladin abilities along. There is one drawback, however."


    "And that is?"


    "If you get into a situation where external sources of power aren''t usable, like magic, psi, or chi, then you got nothing. For instance, fighting me or Sama, all the great and wonderful chi powers of Thunder are useless. Inside a Greyfield, they are useless. A dead magic zone, useless. A White Magic zone, very hard to use. You''ll have your passive skills, but won''t be able to bring up a Heavenly Smite from Thunder anymore then from your Paladin side.


    "In short, you''ll be heavily weighing yourself to your magical side, to get the benefits thereof, and taking the chance that your foundation is going to be strong enough without it."


    Estemar nodded slowly, hearing those words. "You are saying this is a very important decision to make."


    "Very. It will literally affect you for the rest of your life, and how you affect the world. One keeps you grounded, and the other will help you soar."


    Estemar looked up at the sky thoughtfully. "These weaknesses would not affect someone like you, I gather?"


    Briggs grunted. "Not as much. The only external magic we have are magic items, and our Null and Source fields deny that kind of magic, just like they do fireballs and lightning bolts."


    "So, the proper thing to be thinking is¡­ who are my comrades, and can they be strong if I am suddenly weak, and can I do the things they can''t when it is needed?"


    "That''s a very teamwork-oriented, Mitharn viewpoint," Briggs agreed, impressed.


    "Then with Lady Sama here, the base Sword and Board set of skills is covered. I should learn Thunder, because that is something unavailable to the two of you, and would give us more options. When I return to the Empire, I should try to find a Forsaken to work with so that we complement one another in the future!"


    "Very shrewd. I gather we are not commonly found in your homeland?" Briggs inquired.


    "There are a great many people who cannot use magic of any kind, of course. But to be Forsaken, as you are¡­ I''ve not heard of such things before." He paused significantly. "Such a skillset could be seen as very dangerous to those in power, Master Briggs. Not being able to threaten you with magic will not be taken well by those who rely on it as a source of power."


    "Which is why we''re called Forsaken, with all the negative connotations, as if we''re cursed, instead of simply born the way we are and willing to live with it," Briggs answered easily. "So, you''ve decided on Thunder?"


    Estemar nodded slowly behind him, eyes roving over the trees and grasses zipping past so quickly. "It is the choice that my heart turns to, Master Briggs."


    "Okay, that''s fine. You won''t be able to do anything about it until your Renewal at dawn, when you can ask Mithar to swap a Cavalier Level for a Dragon Warrior Level. Things will start to change then."


    "What of combat today?" he asked, grasping the punch dagger they had let him borrow. The milk-white triangle of the blade, with the blood-red cutting edge, looked strangely ominous and yet helpful at the same time. He had injected his Soul Essence into it, and could feel the magic upon it, waiting to be used.


    He had been surprised that he knew how to use it. Briggs had just sighed and told him the Mithar was the Master of Weapons, and granted all Paladins proficiency in all but the strangest weapons. He could pick up and use weapons he might not even have heard of and use them, if they weren''t too odd. The fact that he drilled with a bunch of weapons wasn''t to get him skilled at fighting with him, it was to let him know what kind of options he had with them. His basic skill was already there!


    Estemar was coming to realize that Mithar had given him considerably more help than he had realized. Even his ease in wearing armor was granted by his god. A complete peasant who was ordained a Paladin by Mithar could instantly pick up a sword, strap on plate mail, and go at it with the skill of a person who had practiced for years in such things!


    This ease of learning skills by proving yourself worthy of them, and Mithar basically teaching you wholesale, was stunning. Fight evil, get stronger so you can fight evil better and learn even stronger things! So much of the conditioning and practice he had been told about simply wasn''t necessary, if you were just up and about doing Mithar''s work!


    "Master Briggs, this system of Karma that you are speaking about¡­ why aren''t more people told about it? Is there a reason?"


    Briggs grunted at the question. "You know both possible answers. One, they don''t really realize how the system works, how magic is oriented to benefit those who use it. Two, they do, but they don''t want people gaining power willy-nilly fast and threatening those in power by having far, far more competitors around who they can''t bully.


    "Everything I''ve seen points towards the former, but there''s definitely shades of the latter among some powerful people. It''s always a pain to the mighty when the meek become strong and stop obeying them out of fear¡­"


    "It would seem¡­ that disseminating this knowledge might cause a great amount of upheaval," Estemar noted warily.


    "You''re using the system. That means that Mithar subscribes to and uses the system. You think he thinks it''s a bad thing, Paladin?"


    Estemar flushed despite himself. Briggs was really holding him to a higher standard and forcing him to think about what Mithar was and represented. Mithar certainly was not an elitist god who catered to nobles and the powerful. Paladins arose from peasants as or more often then the wealthy and entitled. Considering that, he realized that Paladins from the noble class, although often famous and well-known, were distinctly in the minority among those he had run across, even in his limited years. Most had come from far simpler backgrounds, and had a far greater understanding of the common lifestyle then he did.


    It was something to think about, he considered.


    And then he thought of something else Briggs had said. "This would be quite an opportunity before us to gather in Karma and earn some levels, would it not, Master Briggs?"


    Briggs half-turned, grinning broadly. "Indeed it would, Your Highness. And that is why we are here. Not for wealth, not for fame. Those come naturally to those who have the strength. We''re here to get strong.


    "Stick with us, and you''re going to get strong, too. Almost ridiculously so, in fact. Your worries about your family aren''t going too last too long, if we play our cards right.


    "However, this path is bloody. We''re going to be piling up the dead in a way you find only in the worst of war ballads. Be ready for it, and we''ll have you shining in the service of Mithar in no time!"

 78 Chapter Seventy-Eight – Armies Advance

    The fights to get to the battles were still intense for some time, as if laying out hope that by sheer repetition the Curse might get lucky and kill me again.


    Instead, the days went by as I hacked my way through the small fry, looking to get to the group fights.


    Instead of waking up from death, I went into quiet meditation as Renewal came, and now I tested myself by getting further and further each day, as my level 5 Masteries kicked in one by one, more damage going on the stack, lasting longer between needing to heal, having more burst healing resources, and naturally grabbing the last of all the Stat Masteries for another +1 to all Stats.


    For a while, the Fey were the favored invading forces, and then abruptly, they stopped coming, or at least being led by powerful Fey warlords. I think the score-plus of erlkings dying at my hands might have scared them off.


    Or maybe I just worked my way through the whimsical dipshits who liked to bum around in Dream and live out their reaver fantasies.


    But there were plenty of other forces to deal with.


    ------


    Their almost apish war cries were constant, seeking to pump themselves up for the slaughter here. But these weren''t Warhammer orcs, who existed only to fight. No, these were just hyperterritorial savage bastards who delighted in the slaughter.


    A disembowelment ended with a heartpoke, and a chain of over a dozen orcs fell away behind me, spraying green blood and gore in all directions as they did. Tremble had made sure to note all the tribal symbols as I acquired the language via Polyglot, and was ripping out some doom-laden tunes that had all the green-skinned brutes trembling to see me come, even the berserker chieftains.


    ------


    Six pikes exploded into flinders, and I smashed into the middle of the pike square. Their kukris out, my infighters followed me into the center of the hobgoblin press, hacking in tight quarters on the dark purple-skinned creatures. The mangy, yellow-furred urgobs, seven feet tall and wielding massive axes, rose in front of me, and I cut down the first one as its blow came down behind me, moving on to the second target. The puke-green little goblin, all ready to shiv me with his short sword, lost his head, and I Finished and Hewed him. The hobgoblin captain and his plumed helm were not happy to be the recipients of that Hew, and yellow blood and pale green brains sprayed out¡­


    ------


    Stand cracked a cartilaginous skull, and the sahaug went down, the undersea dweller learning the power and glory of brute blunt force, not something you saw in anything but idle blows by massive undersea dwellers.


    They were calling out in Diabolic, with that guttural accent all the deepsea dwellers seemed to have, nipping out with shark maws, thrusting with the spears in hand that were the primary weapons of sea dwellers, ''cause slashing and hacking and hammering work not too well underwater.


    Exploiting that total reliance on thrusting, and their lack of unfamiliarity with pure above-water combat, I hacked my way through the press in an explosion of coral spear hafts and shredded scales, ignoring the cuts, scrapes, and bites aimed my way. One of the four-armed champions of the bastards croaked out a challenge, waving his four spears, but it somehow didn''t seem to have all that much force behind it as a line of shark-men fell in multiple pieces behind me, and my infighters drove in to test claws against shields and kukri.


    ------------


    "Sabers and kukris, hack them tentacles! If it sticks your shield, let it go!"


    The colossal bulk of a really big octopus oozed forward on its tentacles, and if it not so accidentally squashed a Deep One or four, it totally wasn''t because of the hasty maneuverings of the speak line opposing the fish-faced ichthyoids marching up to make trouble for us. Sabers hacked into the tentacles it was lashing out to pluck up prey, cutting and severing, while I danced around with a monstrous lobster and the crossbowmen riding it, trying to hide my drool as I thought of hot butter and dodged the urchin-spine bolts and their deadly poison¡­


    Well, no, not really. Stand intercepted most of them, and I pulled them out and sucked on the tips as the goggle-eyed Deep Ones stared, enjoying the poison as only a Poison Healer can, dark veins surging out like a drug addict gone hyper-powered.


    ----------


    Rats, rats, rats¡­


    Transformed men and women swarmed me with short blades dripping snacks, er, poison, hundreds or thousands of rats piling around their feet to add to the chaos.


    Vials of alchemical fire came shattering down, crashing on the barrel of oil that I''d hurled out earlier, and which the damn pests had all run through. The stinking, squealing inferno that raced from clawed feet up to shredded clothing and fur didn''t much care about their DR/silver¡­


    Next to me, a sewer lid was thrown open, and the swarm that preceded a two-headed rat below came boiling out. I slammed another barrel down and trotted on as Private Gomer dropped a torch down into the mass, and flames exploded in squeaking shrieks of death¡­


    -------


    So¡­ death knights, doom knights, grave knights, bone knights, skull knights, skeletal warriors¡­


    The physical troops were mostly skeletal, with animated versions of various undead monsters added to the mix for fun. Bone hydras with eight serpentine necks, three-headed chimeras, wyverns flapping in the sky¡­


    Tremble slid through the insubstantial mass of a dire wraith, hewing through all resistance and setting it ablaze. I kicked off and descended on a clutch of them swarming my spear line as they used their weapons like staves, crushing the skulls and ribs of the skeletons attacking them, or simply picked up their shields and bashed away.


    I raised my eyes and found the lich in the distance, commanding this attacking legion of undeath, with the floating figure of a wraith king by his side. Tremble flicked right and left, two more wraiths went burning in vivus, and as his cutting edge became a hammering pole, bones went flying as I began to Cleave me a path towards the two commanders.


    The first lightning bolt came out, ripping towards the line of my men, and a Banestar slashed out to deflect it sideways, where it tore a gaping hole in the lines of advancing skeletons¡­


    ------


    Stand smashed the vampire in the mouth, teeth flew, and then I gutted it and sent the dry remnants of its blood to burning. The pale corpse collapsed with a hiss and shriek, while Stand came over to take the advance of the Wight Baron leading the reinforcements to the failed initial advance. Spitted vampires were heaved into piles of vivus, catching fire before they could go to mist, and as the desiccated corpses of hundreds of wights reached out, fires ignited and burning arrows reached out to use their necroic energy as fuel for a new bonfire.


    I met the blood-red eyes of the Vampire Count in his fluted, spiked armor, laughed at his attempt to charm me, and wights began to explode in unwhite glory as I cut myself a path towards him and his guard of thralls. A swarm of bats descended on me, and as Swarmbane activated, the sky exploded in burning Chiroptera¡­


    -------


    Arrows out of the shadows, oaths and cries as they found their targets before shields could properly cover them. Snickers of laughter ended in sudden screams, and the obsidian-skinned elves with pale hair were removed of their heads as I came up behind them and cut them down.


    Torches flew, and buildings were set alight, flushing the snipers this way and that, while my killings in the shadows sent them on ascribed paths. While the main battle line took up positions here and there and began to slowly close in, the dark elves, not seeing the bigger picture, were being corralled, herded together, and left with nowhere to go¡­


    ------


    Just a slugfest.


    The goblin slaves were just driven in to keep us in place while they got into position. Now, a solid line of dwarves with lifeless grey skin, shields, and oversized hammers was pacing towards our position, ready to march right over us. They looked almost as wide as they were tall, weapons heavier then all but the brawniest of men could easily wield.


    They were grim and strong and skilled, in heavy armor, and certain they would win.


    Why they weren''t using spears I didn''t know, but they were about to learn the power of braced spears and how it could break a shield line advancing¡­ and then that hammers weren''t the best weapons against creatures whose legs you couldn''t reach, and whose skulls were hard to get to.


    I watched the rear ranks get ready to run over the heads of their kin and leap into our midst with flying hammers. My whistle went out, and spears poised all around me, ready to lift and stick these grey dwarves like shrike-prey on a thorn bush¡­


    ------


    And back to old home week.


    Ogres raged. Giants pounded. Greatclubs, spiked tetsubos, crude flails, and the occasional very rough axe, interspersed with hurled rocks, bricks, human skulls, and pieces of furniture flying our way rounding things out.


    A stone giant, looking like a rough statue carved from limestone, crushed his way through a tenement, and grabbed at me as I zipped past across his chest, ending up with Tremble in the temple of the first of the hairy, pot-bellied hill giants rumbling up the street there. It wasn''t until the stone giant took a deep breath and inhaled a huge lungful of his own blood that he realized his throat had been cut.


    I rode the hill giant down, rolled away from two clubs, one of them carelessly crushing the skull of my ride, slashed right and left, and two bowed legs gave way, pitching them onto the waiting spears of the men coming up behind me. Braced spears drove deep into their throats as they fell, spraying the men before them red, and the giants behind waded forwards, trying to bat aside the spears, only to find more behind for them to run into and impale themselves upon¡­


    The next street over, Fido and Shirley drove into the pack of wargs invited along for the fun, and One-Two raised howls of panic from the malevolent carnivores¡­

 79 Chapter Seventy-Nine – Bringing in a Big One

    Briggs looked over the scattered dead around, causes of death quite apparent by the arrows left sticking out of them. Wolves seemed to be a majority of the corpses, targeted by archers ensconced along the steep hill above, and others likely waiting in ambush below.


    The whole place had been trampled flat by a very large number of people, and fallen corpses, hacked apart for meat before being thrown aside, showed they''d made at least one stupid attempt to get up that hill.


    A huge, fresh gash running along the top of it seemed to have destroyed the sniping positions, but he didn''t see any native dead hereabouts¡­ or rather, traces of them, as they certainly would have been totally ripped apart.


    "So, what the heck made that?" he asked aloud, gripping Endure uncomfortably.


    "I remember reading about a spell that summons a massive pendulum axe from above, ripping down the line of a foe. Looks like they might have Summoned one, but it didn''t do what they expected," Sama spoke up, watching Tremble flit about and start the corpses burning.


    "Like someone told them what to expect, and they were looking for it," he grunted.


    "Yeah, the manifestation period is pretty long compared to normal Casters," she agreed. "If you see it coming, getting out of the way isn''t terribly hard."


    "They have moved off south," Estemar noted. "I do not know of anything in particular in that direction, we are far out in the wilds. There might be tribes of natives here-?" he hazarded, thinking and watching bodies starting to burn with misting fires.


    "Elven lands. They''re just roaming around looking for a fight at this point, maybe trying to track the rangers as they withdraw," Briggs mused.


    "Who''ll lead them right into an ambush, if they can. Those people deal with invading raiders all the time. This is just a question of scale," Sama agreed.


    "You think formal military is here already?" Briggs asked, astonished. "That''s pretty impressive¡­"


    "Elven civilization. Think how much magic they have laying around for stuff like this. They could do anything from teleporting to Wild Rides to Wind Walking to get here, pumped up by Valences from the citizenry."


    "Yeah, and they have the lifespan to work on long projects, too," he agreed thoughtfully. "Okay, so, they''re maybe a couple hours ahead of us, that''s less then ten miles for certain in this terrain." He pointed at the hill in front of them. "Zip up and survey, ya masked swordswoman."


    She favored him with another toothy smile, and did just that. Estemar stepped up beside him to watch as she ran up the side of the hill as if it were level ground.


    "Castle walls don''t seem like much of a defense anymore, Master Briggs¡­"


    "They never were. Too many ways to get around them once you figure magic into the equation. They''re only good against dumb grunts with no access to higher powers."


    "I''d heard that there were Wards protecting the home I grew up in, and the Chapterhouse of the Order, but I see now how necessary they were, beyond the walls¡­"


    "Aye, especially when you''re talking about the ruling class. You need Interdiction to stop things like teleporting in, ghosting through walls, or people Summoning in stuff to kill you. You need Stillflight to stop things from flying over and dropping bombs on you. You need some sort of reactive effect to stop long range spell bombardment, and you need something in the ground to stop burrowers underneath you."


    "That effect she is using¡­ Cloudstepping Sandals?" he asked, watching the small figure atop the hill, looking south above the trees.


    "Aye. And she''s coming down fast." Rather then running back down, she simply leapt off the side, and instead of plummeting down, rather slid down the air, carrying herself away from the slope of the hill and back to their position. It didn''t really stop her momentum, but the way she tucked and turned in the air turned the skidding fall into a graceful work of art.


    She did two turns around a tree, turning vertical momentum into horizontal, and ended up right before them, hopping off a trail of clouds and back to the leaves and earth with a perfectly straight face, as if she did it all the time.


    "There''s a fight starting to the south. We need to hurry." Without another word, the two young men hopped up on a Disk, and she touched it before sprinting off. It and Forge zipped along after her, maintaining the same distance from her as they glided along afterwards.


    "Hoi! Give a fellow a hand!" called out a wee voice, and Briggs looked back, to see the brownie Mikle waving from atop the alchemy cabinet on Forge. Briggs politely extended out Endure, the brownie latched on, and he calmly circled it around to drop the little fey on Sama''s shoulder, where he promptly made himself at home, standing in the Masspack on her back with her golden hair draped over him, grinning excitedly as she skated through the forest.


    "What did you see, Sama?" he asked grimly.


    "Black clouds from Summoning magic, you can''t really see them through the trees here, unless we get to a clearing." Her voice was all business now. "I''ve the feeling they brought in some reinforcements."


    "Warp demons?" Briggs frowned. "We can probably handle the little shits, but anything sizable is going to be dangerous. Any idea whose?"


    "All depends if it''s a secular or united warband. They could have any of them."


    "Mmm." Briggs made sure Reach was in hand, in case there were any surprises along the way, while Estemar made sure of the position of his shield.


    ----------------


    "Ugh. What happened here?" Briggs swore, as they dashed past a clearing. All the grass was dead and moldering, the air smelled of rotting blood and pus. At the center of it was a mound of skulls piled high.


    "Blood sacrifice. I''m guessing Riggibuhl. Look at that trail of rot."


    "There''s a feeling of foul power in the air, like it''s waiting¡­" Estemar spoke up suddenly, looking rather ill suddenly as he clutched his temples.


    "Storing up power for a big surprise?" Briggs surmised. "They must know they have a fight coming¡­"


    "Oh, they want to bring in something big, do they?" Sama sounded intrigued. "A Greater Sluggor would be pretty hard to deal with, even if it couldn''t stay around that long."


    "Disease is also a weak point of the Elven. There''s not much that can affect them, but if it does¡­" Briggs mused.


    "Well, the sky isn''t screaming, so they haven''t brought it up yet." She leaned forwards, and began to pump her arms and legs more strongly. The wind kicked up as she sped up from her traveling pace, putting in some serious effort. Mikle screamed in glee.


    It wasn''t like they could lose the trail. A swathe of ground a hundred meters wide was completely decayed, and rot was spreading in tendrils up the sides of the trees there. He could see postules forming here and there, and unnatural tendrils were growing out of the soil in hues of purple and pus-yellow.


    Estemar had to swallow as he saw the corruption eating away the green all around them.


    "Every one you kill and send to vivus will get rid of a good swathe of this," Briggs said under his breath, and Estemar nodded slowly.


    Abruptly, he took a breath and clutched at his head. "They''re doing something!" he swore loudly.


    Ahead of them, the sky suddenly turned dark, even through the trees. A great foul cloud colored an unnatural purple and yellow swirled in the sky, and began to pour down to the ground as something big and unnatural was Summoned into existence.


    "We''re going straight into a fight. The Caster will likely be at the back of the lines and not looking for us to come out along its back trail," Briggs said calmly. They watched as Sama waved her hand, and Forge broke free, quickly slowing down and coming to rest within a stand of ferns to the side, outside the path of putrescence. "If he has guards, make one a Smite target and be ready to act!"


    They both saw the trees clearing out ahead, weapons in hand as they broke out of the tree cover and into the long grass of a clearing.


    It had been trampled flat and molded away in fast swathes. Ahead of them were dark lines of armored men and half-men, in the spiked armor beloved of their Patrons. To one side of the field were figures swathed in purple mist that looked almost liquid, the land about them rotting away.


    Silver flashes of light signified arrow fire coming down from a line of brightly clad figures near the tree line. There was the flash of a fireball coming down on the misting figures, the low roar reaching them a second or two later.


    But dominating everything was what first looked like a moving hill, and then was more obvious as a swollen, fleshy thing, bulging with waves of fat. It was moving with four stumpy legs that seemed like little more then swollen warts, but making good headway for all that. There was a bulbous thing atop it that might be a head, and it had two arms, one almost ridiculously small, and one swollen to the size a titan might enjoy, currently helping drag it along.


    As it moved and breathed, yellow and purple gasses swirled around it, and from between folds and fat and out of bursting warts and blisters, small bouncing figures fell down, like little globes of pus with legs and cheery smiles, almost luminous, bouncing and rushing towards the fighting taking place before them.


    Estemar''s breath caught in his throat at the pure feeling of ancient, unrepentant, even joyful evil in front of him. He wasn''t afraid, but the revulsion at the sight of it was something he''d never experienced.


    "Yeah, that''s a Greater Sluggor, all right, letting loose its Pusboys." There was a really bright flash as a thunderbolt descended from the sky onto the huge creature, blinding everyone, the boom popping a dozen pusboys like zits, and spraying foul purple-yellow slime steaming in every direction.


    In its aftermath, the Sluggor didn''t even seem to have noticed the lightning, and was hurrying towards the fighting line, where the complex melody of horns and shifting patterns of color had started to change.


    Now Sama really pulled out the stops, charging for a trio of fellows in a Summoning Circle well behind the fighting line, with a couple overdone chariots drawn up in front of them to shield them from the eyes of the elves. They were laughing and congratulating one another and making signs of obeisance and submission to the monstrous thing waddling as fast as a man could trot toward the fighting, where it was doubtless going to break the elven lines wide open¡­ and the elves knew it.


    Briggs knew that on the front of the Sluggor, out of their line of sight, was a huge pair of jaws, wide enough to engulf a wagon, and certainly able to swallow anything whole here that got in front of it. Pusboys cheered and ran alongside their progenitor towards the fight, living chemical bombs that would spray both flesh-molting acid and horrific disease upon everything when they were struck.


    There were two hundred yards between them and the Summoners. Sama covered the distance in about eight seconds.


    The mages didn''t know what hit them. Tremble drove into the back of the neck of the guy with the most tats on him, came out his nose, and carried him forward. From behind him, Estemar leaned out, Briggs'' sure hand clamped on his shoulder as a holy light shimmered on his Weapon, while Briggs swung Endure out like a steel beam.


    Doc cracked into the back of the head of what looked to be an apprentice or aide, while Endure shattered the skull of the guard there like an egg, inside his steel helmet!


    Tremble twisted, and head and body of the lead Caster went in different directions. Flicked Banestars whirled up Tremble''s length as Sama left the ground, easily hopping over the ten-foot railings ofthe chariot she picked, and the bodies of the two the young men had killed burst into vivus, along with the remains of the main Caster.


    "Can you take that thing, Sama?" Briggs asked urgently, and heard her laugh softly as she landed.


    "Yeah. Let me drop you off near the lines there. Paladin, you stick on his backside like glue, and anything he drops that''s still moving, you finish. Shield edge to the neck is probably the easiest, but don''t hesitate to use Doc if they can still hold a weapon."


    "Yes, my lady!" he said quickly, pulling up his shield and slinging it on as they hurtled towards the back lines of the Warp Reserves. That was a line a hundred men long, and at least four deep. While he wasn''t afraid, he knew that it was tactical suicide to do such a thing, but Briggs seemed totally confident of what he was doing.


    Sama veered off thirty yards from the back line, the Disk was set free, and delivered the two right into the back of the press.


    Briggs leapt out ahead, Endure raised in his hand, and Estemar sprinted after him, the wedge of the Katar Doc ready in his gauntleted fist!

 80 Chapter Eighty – Profiting from Demons

    I pulled Tremble from the chest of the last succubus commander, who fell bonelessly to the ground.


    A whirling circle of force blades came down around me, and I leisurely slashed out, Null aura lashing through the magic, and it dissipated before they could even start spinning.


    "Die!" shouted the lilithi, looking rather impressive there, with her five scorpion tails all poised up and aimed at me, bat wings spread wide, and stabbing a nail-claw directly at me as the unholy symbol at her throat flared with dark purple light.


    A ray of necromantic power drove at me¡­ and naturally faded away a foot from my chest.


    I took the time to look around, stepping aside as a babau lunged at me with a twisty-spiked dire halberd, cut up through it, down through clawed hands twice as large as those of a human, and then Doc chopped over and cut off its hook-horned black skull as the handless demon bent down to bite at me in pure savagery.


    There weren''t any other demons in the area. I was wearing parts of most of them, but they were all going up rapidly, coating the ground in burgeoning white mist.


    The lilithi was up atop a carriage of some sort, looking rather out of sorts. She had on a tremendously revealing set of priestly attire, her holy symbol bore the black lips of Dedira, and any man would certainly have considered her to be looking dead sexy, with pale skin, black hair, cherry lips, awesome complexion, chest assets like that and hips and legs to match, if you were into cloven feet.


    Still, her pet army of Dream demons had been hacked apart¡­ and she''d watched me crush her eight subordinates, totally ignoring the enchantment magic sent my way, and ripping through them so fast in combat it barely seemed they were defending themselves.


    She flapped her wings, and barely got a couple feet of altitude before rudely descending back to the top of the carriage. She didn''t seem to have a ranged attack other then spells, which basically meant she was stuck up there doing nothing.


    "You gonna Call him in?" I asked archly, punting the head of the babau at her leisurely. She avoided it deftly, hissing at me.


    "You¡­ you''re the soul in this dream! How are you so powerful?" she protested, and I felt the subtle wash of enchantment magic vanishing into my Null.


    "You got fifteen seconds, then I''m gonna jump up there and turn your wings into a cloak and your tails into a light snack," I said, ignoring her question. "Go on, bring him in. It''s your only chance to get out of here alive, after all."


    I''d made sure the city Wards here included an anti-teleport component, so she was Interdicted even if I didn''t pop one. But I certainly didn''t mind if the succubi brought in more True Karma for me!


    Her eyes were sparking hate and fire, but my fingers were counting down, and Tremble was counting down loudly and happily in my hand.


    "Horagraezshar! Help me!" she cried out in impassioned Demonic, that actually rippled the structure of Dream, and extended out into the worlds beyond.


    "Great!" I added, as something began to roil Out There, and even as her eyes lit up in expectation and she opened her mouth to smile and start the gleeful success dance, I was somehow right in front of her, and Tremble was buried to the hilt in her chest.


    As space tore apart behind me, she dropped off the carriage limply, hitting the ground just as her Big Bad Protector showed up.


    "Hey there. Pleasure to meet you. We''re gonna fight now, so don''t go anywhere."


    Space solidified, and the demon''s head, like a furless horned wolf, turned sharply as it sensed its avenue of magical retreat had closed, like dimensional vaults slamming together.


    It was about seven feet tall, moving with a powerful ease that displayed some very superhuman strength. The beaked axe in its clawed hand was ogre-sized, moving with the ease of a willow wand. Plates of armor were nailed into it all over its humanoidish body, as simply strapping them on was obviously not good enough, and were even affixed to parts of its bat-like wings. The armor was all gory and bloody around the nails, but I was pretty sure they were just parts of its body, and it was all for show.


    "You killed Esrizea?" the demon barked at me, and I sensed an expanding aura of pure Chaos churning at the edge of my Null, and upsetting the Dream¡­ or maybe invigorating it, who was I to know?


    "Her? This twit couldn''t fight if her life depended on it, and it did," I sniffed, as my Null ignored whatever he was trying to do to the atmosphere. "But she brought you here, and that''s good. I wasn''t expecting a Gallu, but you work with what you get, amiright?"


    He was visibly debating between charging me and wondering just what the heck I was, to so identify him and not be at all intimidated. And, of course, Tremble was in full Evilborn-Slaying mode, and that was not a pleasant thing for a demon to be looking at. This guy was also one of the top tiers of the Evilborn, so Bane of Legends was cranking in and letting it know how much it needed to die.


    He leapt forwards in a blur of movement, hidden power exploding out for all to see. His Axe chopped down almost invisibly fast.


    I almost killed him right there. Tremble was out and in the Archer Stands Thrust, and only a desperate heave aside saved him from getting spitted, the skin-plates alongside his neck splitting with a shriek as I moved into his rush, and his Axe chopped down over my shoulder.


    Our faces were almost touching, so I slammed my forehead into his nose.


    I could see the spike of pain go right into his black-blooded eyes, and he flinched and heaved back as thrust became drawcut as I dove aside to avoid being hooked by that Axe, and he wound up fifteen feet away, the gorget-plate across his throat splitting and leaking black blood.


    The cut across my calf hissed and stopped bleeding as Blood Healing poked it. It should have ripped my leg off. He''d spiked and razored the inside edge of his Axe so he could catch and rip with it.


    He seemed a bit startled that I hadn''t lost a leg, and reached up to his bloody neck. His eyes narrowed as he felt the wound was not healing, and he glanced at Tremble.


    "Horagraezshar sounds pretty contrived, Sama," Tremble mentioned.


    "He has to have a better title," I agreed, eyes not leaving the gallu. "Hey, chop-chop, are you known by a decent title?"


    His eyes widened, and he looked to be gnashing his teeth. "I am called the Defiler of Queens!" he exclaimed proudly, and I just rolled my eyes.


    "Seriously? You''re a gallu, one of the warmongers of the Pits, and you''re Titled for sexual assault? No wonder you''re making out with a lilithi instead of a lilitu. They probably titter at you from behind their tails. Settling for a princess of the Pits instead of the queens¡­"


    He snarled waaaaaay down deep, clearly not happy with me for pointing out the deficiencies in his name.


    "Horagraezshar came from afar, brought to the scene by his petty queen!" Tremble sang out triumphantly. "Gave his throat to her blade, the wrong choices he made, leading to death with his last breath, " Tremble trailed off, and the demon looked even angrier¡­ but didn''t leap to attack again. "Go kill him now, I guess?"


    "Yes." I skated forwards, feet and body not moving the ways they should, skating left while moving right, graceful as a curling wave across the bloody ground, and the gallu lifted his Axe to wait for me. He had a couple feet of reach on me, at the very least, even if my Blade was hurting his eyes to look at with the anathemic energies wrapped around it.


    I slammed Tremble against his Axe, sparks and metal flew, and his taloned feet shifted quickly as he moved with the blow, shocked at the force behind it¡­ and the huge gouge taken out of his Weapon. He certainly didn''t expect anything my size to be hitting so hard.


    He tried to take off, but only bounced a couple feet before landing awkwardly, unable to fly, and I was flowing in on him again.


    He struck, knowing that any solid blow would rip me right in two, tear through flesh and chop through bone without problem. His Axe swirled through figure eights as lightly as a baton, poised to arc down on me from any angle required.


    He was exactly one Tier stronger than me. I had his reach down, and he was hitting the arcs and vectors with wildly precise motions, innate chaotic MAB on full display, no form at all, just what was good at the moment it was needed, instinct gone large instead of training and conditioning.


    Still, that meant he couldn''t be in two places at once. He''d probably try to be, however, thinking I was a sucker and would just be watching the dance of his Axe.


    High MAB is heightened combat awareness. Everything is moving in slow motion, gives you time to notice think and respond to them. As your MAB increases, your ability to respond to those things in real time increases, but never quite catches up, you''re always seeing faster then you''re moving.


    Stand came up and smashed the Axe high as I dipped down to go under it.


    His wing came over and under like a bat, smashing me in the direction the Axe was going, setting me up to bring it down on me and finish me abruptly.


    I was already rolling over, and Tremble chopped down, the end of his wing flopped free. I continued the spin, the ground basically a frictionless surface under my Vajra. Stand reached out as I was upside-down, and Doc planted itself firmly behind his knee, sending a jolt of energy through me to heal my calf wound.


    His wing was out of position, or he could have jumped high enough and far enough fast enough to evade what was coming next, as I did full splits, stopped my slide against his legs, and thrust straight up.


    His skin-codpiece and girdle shrieked in protest as I drove Tremble in full length, and wrathfire roared for an extra three inches in all directions, really making a mess of things on many levels.


    "The Defiler of Queens lost his means!" crowed Tremble triumphantly. "Alas, a lass made a pass, and it was his last!"


    He belatedly tried to jump away, and I leaned into it, Stand snapping out to bounce away the flicking Axe coming in to hook my neck and remove it, while Tremble ripped out the front of him in a blazing, multi-colored ripping of steely plates and iron-hard muscle and skin.


    His shriek of disbelief became a howl of protest as his insides gushed out from his eviscerated torso, banefire and Enmity stacking on vivic flames to really make the process that much more painful.


    I rolled forwards and right up to my feet, as if my center of gravity was around my ankles, and looked back on him as he died.


    "Second-rater. No wonder he settled for a lilithi, given his status," I mused, and there was just that spark of spluttering outrage to send him off before the vivic flames popped his eyeballs, and he fell into the remains of his own burning gore.


    I turned my eyes to the battlefield, where the motionless forms of the eight succubi were visible amid the burning corpses of the tossed bodies of their minions.


    Still alive.


    My smile was not pleasant. After all, I didn''t have a good ending in mind for them¡­

 81 Chapter Eighty-One – To Poppa Slug

    I was behind the arc of vision of the Sluggor. Sure, it had a bunch of self-exploding little goobers running around it, but what were they going to do, alert it a little girl was coming at it?


    Tremble waited behind me, sheathed and ready as I arced across the battlefield behind the huge mass of the thing. It had to weigh more then a whale, which also had to be tremendously painful and unstable for such an unnatural thing to endure here.


    No worries. It was moving at a good clip, closing in on the panicking elves, whose arrows were basically sticking in about three feet of hardened fatty hide uselessly, and making to run as the crazed Warped men they were fighting bayed at them and pursued.


    I kept the smell and the purple-yellow aura completely at bay with Vajra and Null respectively. The stench of the Sluggor could kill, and the aura was combined poison, disease, and acid, a lovely thing.


    It was dragging itself along quicker with its huge arm, leaving a swathe of putrescent slime behind it as it went, none of which touched my feet as I swung in behind it, raced past a couple startled Pusboys, and leapt onto its back.


    Tremble bit in, in full Legendary Demon-Slaying mode, and +X drove into the thick hide, splitting it open like a rotting fruit as I raced forward, not quite touching the heaving bulk.


    A trait of these disease-and-poison resistant bastards was the ability to totally ignore the infections racing through their bodies, not feeling any pain. It was the blessing the men who''d been gifted with that purple aura were using to press on in the face of the fireballs that hammered into them and cooked more then a few of them to ash.


    Still, the power of that much anathema parting its back open belatedly got a reaction from the thing as I sliced the bastard open, and leapt into the air as it turned the bulb of a head around, not really possessing a spine and so more elastic then what seemed possible for its size.


    I was twenty feet in the air, Tremble pointing down underneath my feet. It stared at the massive wound opened along its back in surprise, but didn''t look up in time to see Tremble coming down onto it.


    She buried in hilt-deep, which caused something like "Awk!" to blurt out of its mouth as a Spirited Valorous Charge punched a whole lot of banefire deep inside it. I bounced up as the fat and whatever passed for organs around Tremble exploded out, and then came back down to hammer my Sword''s quillons with my feet, driving it completely down into the resulting hole from the gore explosion.


    Whereupon Tremble began to inject a Blooding Banestar into this thing every three seconds.


    I reached back to my Masspack, and drew out Fall.


    My Autobow was only up to +Drei, so no true Speed at work yet. I did a full layout somersault in midair as its sprits rotated, the string drew taut, and I brought it down to start popping my first Pusboy before I truly hit the ground.


    Force arrows sped out as fast as I could rack the action, keeping the Strength bonus down to +5 for ease and speed. With my Girdle on, I could effortlessly pump the action, pull the string back, and the Force quarrel would manifest in place.


    Pusboys began to explode as fast as I could rack the action. Alas, no vivic on them, have to clean them up later.


    The Sluggor, however, had stopped moving, and was now merely flailing about wildly with that gargantuan meat fist. Given that its bulb of a head was on multi-colored wrathfire, and suspicious smoke was starting to spurt out of the huge slobbering mouth on the front of its lower body, a lot of startled eyes were turned its way.


    Mistfires were flowing off the wound on its back, and ignited its back trail quickly, leaping along it like gasoline. Feeling opportunistic, I popped the Pusboys in that direction, and their explosions of virulent goo also burst into vivus as the unwhite flames fed upon the Warp energy within these creatures.


    I maintained fire as the incensed Pusboys converged on me, popping them precisely as they clustered up. There were a bunch of them, but that only meant they were easier to shoot as I crouched down, skated backwards, and drove a bolt through two or three of them at a time.


    I was poking and popping the last of them, a trail of vivus following along smoothly behind, when a really weird groan came from the Sluggor.


    There was a weird light glowing from the cut from on its back, which seemed to be ripping open in the death throes of the demon. Its body seemed to be swelling, and there was a strange popping as its virulent Aura was devoured in a second, ringing it in a circle of whirling vivus. Vivic fire was drooling out its mouth, like it was puking out its guts, but there wasn''t enough left of the head above to really scream, as it seemed to glow.


    And something came up out of the ground.


    There was no denying the sight, as a pair of giant, wispy jaws, like a surfacing worm or snake or something, lunged up and closed, fully enclosing the struggling Sluggor¡­ just before it exploded.


    The sound was silent to all but the soul, but it staggered everyone else on the field and hammered my Null, sending me back three steps in reflex. The Warp army was ripped through by a moving wall of vivus, and every one of the bastards that sold their souls to the Warp gods fell down in shock and horror. Corpses of their own lit up like bonfires across the field, and suddenly there was waist-high unwhite mist everywhere, tugging at them, feeding at them, and drawing out the unnaturally strength and vitality they''d been given by their Patrons.


    The Pusboys naturally blew up in little balls of vivus, and everyone could tell there was only mopping up left to do. Where the Sluggor had been, the ethereal jaws had pulled down and vanished, and there was no sign of it left behind. Well, unless you counted a battlefield full of vivic mist.


    Tremble spun back to me, pulsing with excitement. She hovered over my shoulder as she watched me using Fall, skating through the mist and holding down the trigger as I worked the action, moving from one target to the next without stopping, and sending the horrified marauders spinning and dying one after another.


    There was one big sucker, with irregularly spiked skinplate in the vastly impractical designs and huge pauldrons favored by the Warp, crying out and trying to force back the vivus, riding away from the fight on a red-scaled beast that looked a cross between a scaled bull and a demonic bulldog.


    I punched two bolts into the hind legs of his ride, ending that little flight attempt, but there was no need to do more. Two lightning bolts on the ground, and one thunderbolt descending from above as he screamed defiance, blew him, his injured mount, and his horrible armor aesthetics into scraps of metal and flesh, which all began to burn readily in the eager and hungry vivic mist around.


    I hit my Name Karma cap on Fall, and while I kept him out, I raised him up and didn''t bother to kill steal from the others. There was a unit of powerful men who were putting up some kind of fight, until probably two hundred Shards ripped into the center of their formation, taking out the middle of the lines and opening them up for the elves to rush in and encircle them. Weapons crackling with channeled electricity from Lightning Touch made contact, and they twitched and fell one after another, smoking and popping with residual electricity.


    I saw Briggs and Estemar in the middle of the field, where Briggs was blowing open a path for eager elves to press into and follow him, hollowing out the middle of the Warp reavers'' formation and sending bodies falling or flying in every direction with irresistible strength. With their morale somewhere around their soles, the raiders wanted only to flee, but those who started to do that only earned themselves some accurate and meticulous arrow fire in the back... of the neck, usually.


    Off to the left, I saw a group of elven soldiers in light mail mounted on deer-like, graceful steeds come racing out of the forest, spears bright and moving to ride down any fleeing troops heartlessly. Just so they wouldn''t have more to do, I skated that way, picking off any runners as I headed back in the direction I''d left Forge and my stuff.


    On my back, Mikle spoke up for the first time in something more legible then "Weee!" or "Aaaaaah!"


    "That big demon was really ugly," he said somberly behind my ear.


    "Greater Sluggors are known for disease, gluttony, and being hard to kill, not winners of beauty contests," I agreed. "Look at this mist. The Land is feeding well! We''ve done good work here today. I hope they send more of those things."


    "Is that what those jaws were?"


    "Yes. The Sluggor attracted some metaphysical Attention, and the vivus was a great excuse to get eaten. This field will probably be filled with flowers by morning¡­"


    "Wow." The little brownie was awed. He''d probably never imagined he''d brush up against a manifestation of Nature at that level.


    "Let''s go pick up Forge, and see what these elves have to say¡­"


    ---


    Forge anchored itself back to my belt, as Mikle and I watched the unwhite flames rolling across the pustule-ridden backtrail of the marching army. It was slow and gradual, but it underscored just what it meant to Feed the Land. The Land''s attention was here, and it was using the harvest of vivic fire to actively digest the external energies present across a wide area.


    More feed, more fuel.


    The elven riders came around in an impromptu escort as I came back out of the tree line with Forge and its load in tow. They gave it and me some very weird looks as I skated along. I totally did not notice that their slender mounts had to work to keep up with my leisurely pace, and I''m sure they didn''t notice, either.


    Mikle, however, waved at them in a friendly manner, up seated on my shoulder now that everything was all done and taken care of.


    It also gave me my first good look at these formal military elves.


    High gear quality, all of it master''s work, and a fair chunk of it with light enchantments. I didn''t know enough to know if they were elites or normal, but they didn''t feel like a true elite company, although they carried themselves with the skill and ease of veterans. These antelope-riders were all horse archers and spearmen, the apex of mounted light cavalry, and truly dangerous skirmishers. I hadn''t seen any heavier cavalry, which wasn''t a good sign¡­ but then, these guys weighed less then a hundred pounds, so heavy cavalry was a monumentally stupid thing for them to be.


    At least they weren''t wearing any stupid armor, which always made me cringe when I saw it. So, no overly tall helms or crazy fluting. Their armor was graceful, light, and all of the alloys tended to have some mithral in them, making them the equivalent of finest steel by weight. They did seem to have a great preference for wonderfully-made cloaks, delineating them by units, but I could forgive that because the style points were so high.


    And yeah, straight swords instead of curved on these fellows, although spears were universally more common, as expected of soldiers.


    Briggs called out as I came running in, bumping his vivus-burning Hammer into piles of corpses being set up by the elves. Vivic explosions accelerated the slow process of the Land, as the mist that had spread out everywhere had mostly dissipated.


    There were several elves in rather more splendid attire hovering near him, whose large eyes turned on me as I came skating in to join them, towing my luggage behind me. Estemar, looking a bit shell-shocked at how everything had gone down, had more than a little awe in his eyes as I came up to join the conversation.

 82 Chapter Eighty-Two – Profiting from Demons, Part Two

    "Wake up."


    ------


    "Here''s the deal."


    ------


    "I want a Blessing from you."


    -------


    "You have the right to refuse me."


    -------


    "I''ll give you thirty seconds to think it over.


    ------


    "You have that long to stop trying to suck my soul before I remove your head."


    ------


    "If you think about it, having a Blessing naturally requires the giver to be alive."


    ------


    "You have twenty seconds left to begin."


    -----------------


    I had Mercied this lilithi Esrizea, just like the other eight succubi, so she was still alive, and jerked back to consciousness when I swatted her.


    Her lazy, sensual eyes snapped open, burning yellow and tensing when she saw me above her. She opened her mouth just in time for me to stick my hand across it, grab her jaw, and then smash her mouth closed against my knee, her overlong canines punching into both sides of my palm.


    "I know you''re from outside Dream." She and her team of eight succubi had given me quite a time, leading their demon horde around and having great fun commanding their servants in butchering the denizens of this dream city. Probably the equivalent of a night on the town. Nightmare on the town?


    As she was their leader, I changed up my routine a bit for her.


    Her eyes remained locked on mine, and I felt a vague pressure on my Null. "Your tails are all on the ground over there, so don''t bother trying to lash them at me. Likewise, I hacked off your wings." Her outrage was quite visible, but she couldn''t say anything, and her attempts to suck at my soul were not bearing fruit. "Please, keep attempting to use all your magic for the next minute. After that, I''m going to remove your head."


    The look in her eyes swiftly changed, and the attempts to charm and dominate me ceased.


    "You''ve got one chance to live. Don''t bother with the telepathy, I can''t hear you. Your Blessing, on my hand, in your mouth, use your tongue. The Blessing I want is Desire. You have one minute to begin. Get that tongue to work, or I remove your head."


    Tremble rose up in front of her, in full Evilborn-Bane mode, vivic fire blazing, and she tried to shrink back, found she simply could not move. The steely fingernails that were clasping my arm and leg should have been biting into me, yet couldn''t penetrate my skin. I was effectively ignoring her attempts to struggle, despite her being almost twice my size. In my grasp, her head simply could not move, and Tremble was very, very distracting in that ominous time-to-burn-your-soul kind of way.


    I probably felt like I was made of solid bronze to her, of course, and I caught her staring at my dual canines. Enlightenment¡­ she glanced down, where she could just see my black toenails.


    "Fifty seconds," I droned, keeping her eyes without the slightest trace of fear. "If you''re worried about the logic, kindly recall that your Blessing fades if you die, so you''re going to live through this, and I''ve no desire to imprison you here. Forty seconds."


    I felt her tongue drive into the skin of my palm, and I let it. The forked thing was like an acidic razor, carving the Blessing quickly and surely onto my skin, and filling it with demonic energy to empower it.


    I felt the surge of it feeding into my Aura, basically a +2 Profane bonus to Charisma checks against potential sexual partners. It was demonic energy, very obvious, quite aligned to Chaos and Evil, and definitely not something a Good person should be doing.


    "Well done," I nodded to her, lifting my other hand from the top of her head. Tremble slapped into my palm, and then I punched it down through her skull and into the Mark on my hand, which was still grasping her lower jaw inside her mouth.


    She could only quiver in shock, and then begin to be consumed by the vivic fire, whatever telepathic screams, pleas, and promises she might be putting out completely lost on me. The vivus poured down into the Mark on my hand, naturally having perfect resonance with her power as it was consumed. As the Mark''s power stemmed from the succubus granting it, naturally pouring the lump sum of her energy via vivic fire into it was enough to keep it going after death.


    This was not something that would work for a Powered person, only a Null Forsaken. Because our souls were hard, they could be carved, something just not possible for a Powered, Source, or Void, and that''s what I''d had this succubus priestess do; carve her Mark onto my soul, and now I was empowering it, just like pumping magic into a Glyph or Rune, only I was doing it with all of her.


    Ectoplasmic bodies vivify very quickly, and she went up like jellied gasoline, flowing down the point of Tremble into the Mark. I watched her beautiful face, flawless skin, flowing black hair, cutely spiraling horns, cloven-hoof feet, the stumps of her five scorpion tails and bat-like wings, and her general lack of clothing burn away without regret, finally falling away into the Mark and leaving nothing behind, save some jewelry Tremble snapped up.


    Ever conscientious and well-trained about cleaning up, he burned her tails and wings and fed them to the Mark, too.


    I turned over my palm, the puncture wounds from her canines already healed, looking at the Rune there.


    It was demonic in origin, and anyone who knew Demonic could recognize it as the symbol for ''Desire''.


    However, there was no demonic energy to it anymore. It glowed very faintly with a hard white light that had no bias whatsoever.


    Still had the power, however. Typeless bonus, I think¡­


    There were nine known Succubi Blessings. There might be more, but that was what I knew of. +2 to one of the six Stats, each; +2 to Natural Armor, toughening up the skin while also making it smoother, since calluses were unnecessary; +10'' to base movement rate; and this one, +2 to Charisma checks, largely against members of the opposite sex, but really to anything that might be sexually attracted to the recipient. It made minor alterations to appearance, voice, posture, and mannerisms, and heightened sexual awareness, making the recipient more attractive to others.


    The Blessings naturally came with a stick. The granting demoness could easily work mind control magic on the recipient through the Mark, and had basically unlimited telepathic contact through it with them to do so. The things radiated chaos and evil, if you were able to sense such things, and removing them involved horrific damage to the soul they were anchored to, without very specific magic.


    That beat-stick had been burned in vivic fire. Mine were now Tattooed Marks, not Blessings. No aural radiance, and no demoness on the other end. Nine less succubi for the multiverse to worry about, and me with a suite of minor buffs.


    She was the last of them, I''d given her subordinates the same treatment, one by one. The demon slaughter had died down, and with Renewal so close, the Curse was contenting itself with rampaging in the distance with the ones I hadn''t caught yet, rather than generating up something new.


    Some of those demons had been real, Summoned in by the succubi as reinforcements once they realized how dangerous I was. I didn''t mind, more real Karma was a damn good thing for me. None of the others had managed to bring in a gallu, or anything close to that status, but I''d been pleasantly surprised by a couple of their amours, before I butchered them in wrathfire.


    I considered this kind of stuff Important. There had to be a difference between the Karma I was leeching off the Curse, and the Real Karma of killing things that had existences outside of Dream. Killing them should net me Karma that should accompany me out into reality itself, whenever I got out of here. Curse Karma just made me powerful within the expanse of the Dream itself.


    A gallu demon should net me a LOT of real Karma, easing that load out in reality.


    Ergo, I wanted more of these outside forces to come in here and die, especially powerful ones. Strong ones mean more Karma sticking to me when it was finally time.


    I knew that I''d still be restricted to a Level a day if and when I got out of here. But if these things worked out right, I wouldn''t have to slaughter a small country to make it to Ten¡­


    Which was coming up rapidly now. Only so many Mastery/5''s to take, after all¡­


    ------


    The whip-rope lashed out in a blur of motion. It was made from her hair, and so magically controlled, sinuous as a snake and burning with hellfire.


    It crossed Tremble''s edge, and, djavva wire woven through it or no, was cut clear through and went whirling away, already burning vivic. Really, who brings a whip to a death duel?


    She beat her great feathery black wings backwards, but that didn''t outdistance me, nor get her airborne again. I rammed full into her, Stand swatting away her burning sword, and Tremble inserting itself into her heart.


    She crashed down, and I grabbed her head as I flipped over her, ignoring the mess of her wings and feathers, slapped her head against my Strength Mark, and drove Tremble through her skull.


    Her final nail-scraping at me ripped some cloth, but didn''t do any damage¡­ and I didn''t have much cloth left, given the fondness of diabolic armies for spiked armor and weapons. I politely burned her spirit and body to vivus, and stuck it into my Strength Mark, while Tremble hummed and Mended my attire with Cantrip-class magic.


    Why? Because erinyes, the enforcers and collectors of contracts with Hell, were twice as strong as succubi, and the diabolic course of evolution took a different course then the demonic. No need for me to restrict myself to just one course of potential evolution, after all.


    When she was burned up, the Strength Mark on the ''belt'' of them I''d made around my waist was red-edged black with a white glow, instead of the yellow-edged black with a white glow. Within that glow was sealed the entire basic foundation of an erinyes devil to help further evolution along the scale.


    Sealed Binder used dream-style!


    Now, here was hoping the Curse would draft in a lilitu or mantissari¡­

 83 Chapter Eighty-Three – The Brotherhood of the Void

    "Hey, Sama. Let me introduce you to General Moonriver and Maga Skycloud, the commanders of the Sidhete forces here."


    "How do you do!" Shocking the unprepared elves, Sama glided right up, lithe and graceful as a breeze, and pumped each of their startled hands in turn. "I saw that pincer maneuver on the other flank, great timing! And you must have been the one behind those thunderbolts coming down, hah! Expressing your displeasure in a timely manner!"


    Her cheerful manner easily overcame any diplomatic kerfluffles, as the two elven nobles opted to take the high ground and write off any faux pas. There was also the fact that she had taken out that totally horrifying greater demon of Riggibuhl in terrifyingly abrupt fashion, and one just didn''t piss off people who could do that¡­


    "I was just telling them about the Healing Trap," Briggs noted to Sama, who held up her hand, and dove into the appropriate Cabinet, sliding out a drawer and pulling out a disk of pure white marble with some bas-relief carvings of Amanan design on it.


    "One unlimited number of once-a-day healing for everyone who can use it," she announced, holding it up. A couple impressed elves standing nearby were gestured forwards, and eagerly accepted it, carrying it away towards a circle where the elven healers were at work treating the injured.


    Briggs considered the expression of the elves, who were certain to investigate the Healing Trap thoroughly with designs of making their own. Their own gods could probably empower something similar, if Amana allowed it. Such a thing could only be done by a primary Healing deity, after all.


    While very cool and incredibly useful for a large force that needed healing, it wasn''t like some proprietary secret. Amanan Healing Reserve was actually much more useful, when it came down to it, since it could deal with any amount of Health damage that applied.


    The general seemed especially eager to talk to Sama, who was probably more his style then the overbearing muscle-man Briggs was. Briggs was fairly certain he weighed twice what the slender elf did, despite being shorter, and doubted the elf had ever had dealings with Ancients.


    "So how was your second battle, Sir Estemar?" Briggs asked, looking on as Sama engaged with the head warrior and Caster of the elves present, and was dominating the conversation effortlessly with pure energy and fluid Elvish, surprising the elves.


    "The Gauntlets you loaned me were invaluable, and combining them with the Shock Gauntlets was definitely powerful, Master Briggs. While Doc is not a Weapon I would seek to wield for the long term, it certainly brought me through the fight unscathed." He glanced at Endure, puzzled. "Does your Weapon have a spirit?"


    "You mean, like Tremble?" Briggs asked, eyes turning to where wounded elves were being quickly placed on the Healing Trap, lights shone, grievous injuries to flesh and bone mended in a flash, and they were quickly brought off. It wouldn''t heal missing limbs or eyes or the like, more powerful magic would be required for that, but that was what the healers were for¡­ and there were quite a few of them!


    "Ah, no. When we are strong enough, Paladins can choose between a holy mount and a sword spirit to empower our weapons-," Briggs held up a hand to stop him.


    "No. Forsaken. Can''t Summon stuff," he reminded the Paladin.


    "Then why did the enchantments upon your Hammer seem to shift during the battle?"


    "Because it did? I switched from Blooding to Vivic to start burning these guys down, once I accumulated enough Naming Karma."


    "You¡­ changed the innate magic of a forged Weapon?" Estemar''s voice rose in disbelief.


    "The effect is called Arsenal. It''s not something a Powered can use on a Weapon, but you can easily duplicate it with a variant of Magic Weapon or its more powerful versions¡­ or a Sword Spirit, or Sword Focus, or other powers that are related to Class and not Weapon." Estemar blinked. "Because of the flexibility and variability of your Auras, magic, and soul, you overwhelm the Arsenal effect, and it loses access to the variant powers Arsenal allows to be stored in a Weapon. In other words, you Powered are too powerful for Arsenal to work."


    Estemar blinked. "And you¡­ Forsaken¡­ are not?"


    Briggs nodded slowly. "Our power is slow, steady, and pure, as it were. It doesn''t change character, it doesn''t change intensity or quantity. A Null like Sama, of course, doesn''t have any at all. Her Aura is totally rigid. Mine is kind of billowy, but slow enough and monotonous enough to have no effect on the magic to speak of. A Void slips right through magic as if he isn''t there, likewise doesn''t disturb it."


    Estemar thought about all of that, ruminating on the meanings behind it all. "It seems to be almost some form of compensation for not being able to actually wield magic?" he proposed, looking for the good in the bad.


    "It is, to an extent... except for the fact that it causes a ton of gold or Karma to make real." He met the Paladin''s eyes. "You can Summon up a Sword Spirit, and change the character of your Weapon for a few minutes at a time, but freely within that time. And except for a true battlefield, that''s usually enough for a normal fight or duel. You''ve got, what, twenty, thirty options to pick from?"


    "I-I actually do not know, Master Briggs," he admitted. Counting up the options a sword spirit could give... was kind of strange, but now that he thought about it, why hadn''t he done so?


    "Mmm. And on top of that, you could use a spell to give a Weapon a specific Enhancement for literally hours at a time. We, on the other hand, have to invest the Karmic equivalent of four goldweight for every additional power, two goldweight a day maximum, per power, for each Einz-level Enhancement. That number is sixteen goldweight for a +Zvei, per power. Thirty-six for a +Drei." He cocked an eye at the Paladin. "Now, do the math on thirty Einz powers and, oh, fifteen Zvei."


    Estemar''s eyes glazed. "That is a considerable amount of investment into a single Weapon, Master Briggs," he admitted after a moment.


    "Aye. It''s a lot of goldweight to burn, a lot of fights to get in¡­ and a lot of time needed for it all to come together. To be perfectly honest, Sama and I want to be fighting each and every day, for no other reason then to grow the Names of our Weapons. A day not in battle is a day that might require burning gold instead, and a Named Weapon is an endless money-pit of gold." He gestured at the Katar that Estemar still hadn''t put down, which had drawn some curious looks from the elves, who associated such things with dwarves, not humans. "You know a Vier-Slot Weapon goes for like sixty-four goldweight, right? More if it''s got special powers and a high Quality Level."


    Estemar lifted up the milk-and-blood hued Weapon, astonished. "I know such things are expensive¡­"


    "The Gauntlets are thirty-two." Estemar swallowed despite himself. "Yes, that''s a lot of goldweight. But that''s one of the ways you kill your enemy. You spend more on good Gear then they do. It''s not any different then buying armor, weapon, and shield in the first place. It''s just the next step."


    Estemar fell silent for a time, looking at the corpses being thrown on the piles by those elves still in good health, burning vivic. "So, you fight to gain battle spoils as well?"


    "The quickest way to earn money is to take it from those who have it with violent force. If they are unrepentant monsters who think a great use for gold is dipping the severed heads of their enemies in it, well, that works out fantastically from a practical and moral standpoint. Non-Powered don''t have the option to freespend Karma to make magic items like you do. It''s Naming Karma, meaning using them to fight and kill with, or its goldweight, in whatever form."


    "But taken to extremes, that seems to justify brigandry," Estemar pointed out.


    "As I''m sure any brigand will argue. Are you a brigand?"


    "Assuredly not!" Estemar denied.


    "Then why are you arguing a patently immoral viewpoint?"


    Estemar seemed slightly at a loss. "It was a reflection on your need for battle and gold as justification for improving your weapons."


    "No, it was a move from the practical need to the moral imperative behind them, mixed with subtle superiority of you not having such a need." Briggs glanced at him again, as Estemar flushed. "You don''t have to rub our noses in it. We''re aware you got the goodies. But if you look down on what we have to do to chase after what you got by birth, you''re asking for an attitude adjustment." Briggs flexed his hands thoughtfully, stones cracking in his knuckles.


    "That was not my intention," Estemar said calmly.


    "Then separate the morality and the necessity. You start looking down on people for doing what they need to survive while you stand there with all the Powered gifts, well, you won''t make too many people happy."


    "But do not you and Lady Sama have your own gifts?" he pressed.


    "Anything and everything we can do with magic you can do better and faster¡­ and without having to spend goldweight. You may not WANT to, sure. You''ve got better ways of doing them. We are developing gifts you aren''t because it''s not worth your time to do so.


    "And that''s totally cool. We''re working with you so that you can develop those gifts, and give us access to things we wouldn''t have otherwise."


    "But¡­ these Forsaken abilities you have, are surely powerful in their own way. From a protective standpoint, they seem exceptional!"


    "Yeah¡­ but they land us in plenty of hot water with Powered who don''t like the fact that we can shut them down. Religions, too, don''t like it when the gods have no power over us. Being called Forsaken isn''t generally a complimentary thing, you know."


    He did indeed, and then Briggs dropped the bomb on him.


    "After all, the Brotherhood of the Void are all Forsaken Voids."


    "The Brotherhood of the Void?!" His alarm was unfeigned. "The assassins?!"


    "Nope. The Brotherhood aren''t assassins. Assassins are paid. The Brotherhood serve the Land."


    "Fanatics?" he asked instantly.


    "Nope. More like conscripts." Briggs cracked his neck absently. "Voids are like magic filters. Magic passes through them, and they feel it intimately, even if they can neither touch nor control it. Impurities and imbalances in magic are nauseating, painful, sickening, distracting, and annoying to them. So, they wander around getting rid of the imbalances and impurities. To outsiders, it looks like they''re randomly offing things. To them, it''s getting rid of things that want to make them puke their guts out by existing.


    "It''s said that the Land loves the Voids the most, and treats them the worst."


    Estemar blinked, never having heard anything good about the Brotherhood before. "They have always been described as assassins or doombringers to me, Master Briggs..."


    "Assassins are terrified of Void Brothers. There''s no way a Void Brother could ever take the time or find any meaning in doing wetwork. They are always going from one imbalance to the next. As for doombringing, it''s the other way around. They sense the doom coming, and they gather to it to face it.


    "Perhaps one of the very worst things anyone can do is chase off a Void Brother who has come to an area. The doom is going to come, regardless if he''s there or not¡­ and his job is to be there and kill it."


    "That is very different from what I''ve been told, Master Briggs," Estemar admitted.


    "Broadening your perspectives, are we?"


    "I shall have to think on it," he admitted, and frowned. "Why did you bring them up?"


    "Because there''s two of them standing over there, staring at me and Sama, and wondering what to do with us."

 84 Chapter Eighty-Four – Ten

    Skittering subsonics, creeping movement against the stone, almost levitating, it was so light. Insectile feet ghosting across brick and mortar, angling to get into position for a swift kill.


    Very surprised when Tremble came plunging through the brick wall into her guts, wreaking rather nasty harm on the skulking slayer. I slugged the brick and plunged on through the hole a moment later, while the red-skinned figure writhed upon the floor after convulsing off Tremble''s point from the lethal wound.


    Mercy wound, of course. I had a use for a Mantissari daemon, one of the best assassins of the Evilborn.


    My fist came down, popped an insectile eye, and stopped the frantic writhing. Then I broke off both of her mandibles, sucked on the truly nasty poison politely as I nailed her to my Dexterity Mark and burned her away to the Seal around it¡­


    ---------


    "Mmm. You know, Brilliant Weapons are designed for dragon-slaying, right? Do I look like I have any natural armor?"


    My opponent was a ghaele ahren, which shocked me¡­ until I saw the ragged, raw edge about her, stains at the edge of her shininess, which meant she''d Fallen. The Curse had no problems sucking in a supposedly-Good creature that thought it was doing a great deed by getting rid of the soul of a Hag¡­


    "You are a tainted soul, a thing of mortal and immortal filth, that needs to be cleansed forever!" she exclaimed, shrill even as her voice two-toned melodiously, pointing at me with one of her two blades of hard light. "The light will find you and purify you from existence!"


    I mentally went, Oooooo-kay. Not off her rocker or nothing, is she? Does she even know that if I die, she becomes the new soul? No? Was the Curse being cruel, kind, or just judgmental, killing her off with me?


    "Do I Bane for this?" Tremble asked softly.


    "I guess so," I murmured back, looking at the remaining greyed-out warriors behind her, all of a generic sameness that blended into one another, while still somehow remaining different if you focused on one of them.


    Einheriar from Limbo, probably the Realms of War, following a fallen ex-Chaotic Good Celestial who had lost herself in the fight, instead of the reasons behind the fight.


    The light sabers ¨C really, they were sabers made out of hard light, not plasma ¨C came scything in to do their thing in a dance of twinkles and streams of motion. She was trying to glow hard enough to blind me, which was useless with the devasight from my Mask.


    Tremble sang softly to meet her, while I bent my attention to her combat form and the martial style of Celestials, and how it compared to mortals.


    If she turned into a big ball of light, I probably couldn''t catch her, but I could tell after the first ten seconds that killing her actually wasn''t going to be all that hard¡­


    ------


    "Wow. That was probably the most depressing day I''ve had in here," I mused aloud, watching as the devastated city once again faded into gray mists as Renewal came through and reset everything.


    I glanced down at my hip, where the Speed Mark had an orange light around it. No, I hadn''t Sealed her, although I''d destroyed her. As a greater ahren, she should have reformed in the Celestial planes. Having gone through vivus, this entire incarnation of her should have been wiped, and hopefully she''d be back to the freedom-loving type of person the ahren were at their core.


    If not, another ahren should have been promoted to her place. Still, never excepted to fight a Fallen Celestial in here. The Curse was just showing that it could happen to anyone, I guessed.


    I looked up as Fido and Shirley came out of the mists, wagging their tails in greeting and resurrected once again. I waved them over to give them a good ear-scratching.


    "It''ll be a bit before we head out again," I told them, and they growled in response, looking around to find a place to sit down. I had forging, Investing, and alchemy to do, and needed a couple hours of meditation.


    After flipping the levers.


    I ticked over Melee/10, and Human/4, Atlantean Human.


    Power swelled inside my soul, seemed to be bursting against the edge of my skin, as if it had hit some kind of hard limit. The Second Ceiling at Ten, the one that had never been broken in the game.


    It could be broken. Everyone knew it could be broken, but nobody had managed to do it. We didn''t know if it just wasn''t coded, or what. There were Feat Chains and Advanced Classes, even Masteries, that couldn''t possibly conclude until after Ten.


    Still, I was at Ten, the top Level of the Classes that I knew of.


    Basic reward for reaching Ten, +1 to all Stats.


    Sustained, reflected to mirror Stats, effectively +2 to all Stats.


    Atlantean Human.Another d8 of Health, it changed out +2 to two Stats I''d elected for +2 to all Stats, and gave me back the skill points and Feat I''d lost. As I''d elected for Con and Dex, that meant Str, Wis, Cha, and Int went up by +2. As a Racial Level, it didn''t mirror with Sustained Effort.


    Skill Points. Saves. MAB to +10, with the mental and physical acceleration to make it possible. Techniques again, bonus Combat Feat, bonus General Feats.


    All relevant Masteries were already at Five. Many Feats and Masteries had effect increases at Ten, especially Skill Focus and Affinity-type Feats, suddenly increasing Skill checks over those at lower Levels, one of the most powerful effects of becoming a Ten. On average, my Skill Checks went up by +7 over being at Nine...


    In addition, my Soul Capacity for Feats and Tats changed to a base Three, which actually meant Four since I''d upgraded all of them by +1 long ago. My UA damage also ranked up a die type, to the full 2-12 I could top out with¡­ and which would increase my Sword damage another step.


    I could take Advanced Classes to Five, and Secondary Classes to Six, which I would do patiently for the next few weeks, if I had the Karma¡­ which I should have, given the scale and number of things I had been killing.


    "Hey, Trem."


    "Yeah, Sama?" my Sword asked me in a low voice. Had things to think about too, I guess.


    "Helluva way to make Ten. Almost like the Curse planned it, just to depress us." I took a deep breath. "Don''t add Good to the Slaughter side of Enmity, even if I don''t think you can. Ever. Holyborn Bane has a viable use against Fallen Celestials, because it keys off their origin, not their current status. Enmity to the Good can only work against Good people, and I''ll not have you doing that, ever."


    "Understood." It seemed to cheer him up a little.


    "Taking Levels now, after reaching Ten, costs a huge amount of Karma, we''ll see if we''ve earned enough to take them all. I''ll start with Secondary Levels, and then work on the Advanced ones. After that, I''ll be forging into new territory with Racial Evolution Levels, if I''m allowed to do so."


    "And since the Soulborn ARE their spirits, it''s actually possible," he recalled firmly. "Just more work to do."


    "Aye, but I''m a Ten now." My eyes narrowed as my thoughts were expanding, spiritual growth becoming a Point of Interest. "Tens can do things others simply cannot. It''s a bridge to the higher Levels, but we just don''t know how. I can expand laterally for a while, but at some point, we''re going to find that bridge and cross it, be it in here or outside."


    "If I may ask¡­ do you think the Curse has a reason for moving us to mass combat?" Tremble inquired. "I mean, it has no chance of killing you¡­"


    "It''s trying to form apathy towards killing, and drive me towards callous and cruel behavior in order to win. Unfortunately, to do that I''d have to consider the denizens of Dream as real, when they are more like NPC unit assets to me. Have you noticed how I have been leading them?"


    "Ah, no, not particularly good on that side of things," Tremble admitted. "More about the singing and inspiring them. They''re a good audience."


    "They are. But, I noticed that if they die, they don''t improve."


    Tremble hummed to himself. "That sort of makes sense?"


    "Aye. So my goal has been to slowly increase the overall power of the troops I gain, keeping them alive with what tricks I can gain¡­ and choosing who lives and who dies, rotating who dies so that everyone has been increasing in power."


    "¡­ by where you choose to fight!" Tremble figured out.


    "Yes. Who I defend is who lives. I figured that out some time ago. It means I regularly sacrifice whoever I can''t afford to save. By rotating that, I''ve been able to improve the troops slowly, giving them Levels and making it easier for them to fight. I don''t think the Curse has really caught on, given how good their foundation originally was, and how they are now."


    The Curse had been gradually shrinking everything down to normal size, or growing me to proper size, I wasn''t sure. Whatever, my formerly giant attackers were now normal human-sized troops under my command, fighting all manner of foes and forcing me to develop a very different skill set then just soloing monstrous numbers of enemies if I wanted to profit from them being around.


    This was actually pretty valuable, as who had the opportunity to command literally hundreds of different mass combats against all sorts of foes, outside of video games? The Curse was hoping that I''d fall into boredom from killing or bloodthirstiness, when I actually viewed it as an intellectual challenge.


    "I have noticed that more of them seem to be surviving then they did originally," he said after a moment''s thought. "I had no idea it was because of what we were doing."


    "I could improve them a lot better if gear I gave them lasted from one scenario to the next, but only my closest followers have that honor." I.e. I didn''t have to make barding and saddles over and over for Fred and Shirley.


    Sparkie hummed next to my shoulder meaningfully, flashing with golden light. The Baneskull flashed Runes all over it as it floated there, glowing light from Sparkie crackling around the eye sockets, looking dangerous and malevolent.


    Sparkie was an extra set of eyes, a finisher, a sniper, and occasionally a flanking partner. He couldn''t get too far from me, but he could zip around fairly fast within ten paces of me without too much trouble. Generally, he hung over my left shoulder, high enough to stay out of Tremble''s way if we were fighting, or just above my head if not.


    "Let''s prep for tomorrow, and see what the Curse is going to throw at us."

 85 Chapter Eighty-Five – The Brotherhood of the Void

    Estemar stared despite himself. All he had ever heard of the Brotherhood of the Void described them as merciless killers, opportunists, and where they went, disaster tended to follow.


    They were not people anyone wanted to see, because death usually followed.


    And now he was looking at two of them.


    One looked to be a halvyr adventurer of some kind, a longsword slung on his back, bow next to the quiver. His grab was in blacks and greys, not really out of line, save that he was with an army instead of the Rangers Estemar had encountered on his ride out to this area. He stood out among the mailed and shorter elves, with a finely trimmed beard and mustache that gave the impression of a wandering bard or swashbuckler, and the edge of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.


    Estemar''s immediate impression was that he was a rogue and skirt-chaser, not a master slayer.


    The other figure took him a couple eyeblinks to focus on. He was actually shorter then the elves, his cloak pulled down to hide his head, slender and disappearing into the shadow of his taller compatriot. He had several knives about him, but was carrying little else, and seemed to be shoeless.


    "A hyn?" he blurted out despite himself. What was one of the Short Folk doing here?


    "Lad, if I''m not mistaken, that''s one of the most dangerous members of the Brotherhood. You best not look down on him." Briggs'' smile was slightly forced. "Them being here has all sorts of nasty implications. The elven army getting here so quick probably wasn''t just due to them having lots of magic to call on¡­"


    "They warned them?" Estemar wasn''t slow on the uptake. "Because they are drawn to disaster coming?..."


    "Exactly."


    "How did¡­ how do you know they are Void Brothers?"


    "You can''t see the Helices?" Briggs lifted an eyebrow at him.


    Estemar blinked, and squinted. There was a breeze blowing about the two¡­ no, their cloaks weren''t moving, nor the grass about them. It was a swirl of not-light, very subtle, as if bending the light¡­


    Contrasting spirals, very faint, moving around the two of them¡­


    "That''s magic, gathering to their Voids, being drawn in along the one spiral, and exuded forth by the other, purified. They are feeling the mana of the world, what they call the Breath of the Land. Impurities in it pull them along mercilessly to dispose of them, the same way you''d want to get rid of a flow of sewage across your lawn. This invasion from the Warp must be tripping both magic and dimensional stains¡­"


    "I don''t understand¡­" Estemar admitted readily.


    "Ah, Void Brothers have Orders, like knighthoods. They are the rarest of us Forsaken, one member of each Order to a given area, usually the size of a continent or large country. Those two are the Wind and the Arrow, and the Shadow and the Knife." Briggs looked around calmly. "I''m kind of surprised to not see the Fire and the Sword, but he''s probably with the Rangers. These two will likely advance to join them after seeing the battle here."


    "Do these names¡­ signify something?" Estemar asked thoughtfully.


    "Yes. The Wind and the Arrow are most sensitive to the flow of natural energy and the impacts on the balance of the world and its laws. The rampant mutation of the ecology and the world''s laws would be felt halfway around the world by one of them.


    "They are also the only Forsaken who are halvyr.


    "The Fire and the Sword are always human, and are the most sensitive to magic and magical imbalances, and so tend to act the most in civilized realms where magic-wielding is the most common. Since they kill a lot of spellcasters doing stupid things, the Powered particularly hate them. They feel magic more clearly then any Caster, but can never use it, only obey it¡­"


    Estemar considered that, as Briggs continued. "While Hyn can be Nulls, the only Voids they can be are the Shadow and the Knife, and only Hyn can be them. As far as I know, they are the most respected of the Brotherhood, because they are the most sensitive to the Veil and the Grid¡­ or time and the dimensions.


    "They are the direst foes of things that mess with time, come from outside Creation, or rip holes in reality. They close the Gates, shatter the Portals, mend the Rifts, and eliminate the time-travelers. They slaughter the things that cross in from other Realities to our own with malevolent intent, and all those that work with them.


    "This naturally makes them very, very unpopular with all sorts of cults, religions, mad wizards, gods, powers, and forces that want to come here and make us all their mindless slaves.


    "Between the Windarrow and the Shadowknife, I don''t think you will find any more unpopular members of the Brotherhood!"


    "I¡­ With such noble histories, why do not the tales of what they do throw off the ill words spoken of them?"


    "Uh huh. So, tell me, Paladin, what if a mighty Priest of Aru tried to bring in an army of angels to eliminate all evils in the world, and bring us into an enlightened paradise? What do you think the Shadow and the Knife would do with them?"


    Estemar fell silent, staring at the hyn who was so hard to focus on, and finally sighed slowly. "He would kill the Priest for bringing in an invading force from outside reality, and either slaughter the angels or send them back whence they came."


    "Therefore irking the holy forces who wanted to spread around some Light and Goodness." Briggs shrugged. "The Land is ruthless. If you want Light and Goodness, it has to come from your own self, not because some alien ecology is coming in and mandating it." He nodded in the direction of the Brothers. "So, yeah, they are killers, and very, very good killers. The shit they kill often nobody hears about, to everyone''s relief. I''m sure they have stories and stories to tell, that simply will never be told."


    Estemar was impressed despite himself at the unsung nature of their duty, even if he deplored the methodology. "Can they choose not to serve?" he asked faintly.


    "Well, I suppose if you could learn to eat shit, they could choose not to serve. Do you think it''s likely?" Estemar shook his head. "Right. And the consequence of a Void Brother walking away means someone would have to pick up his slack, AND somehow know where the disasters are going to happen." Estemar frowned deeply. "Yep, that''s just about the right expression. You''d need a Void Brother leading you around, in order to do his job."


    "That seems to be a terribly lonely duty," Estemar said faintly.


    "The next time you feel doubt, when hope seems dim, and all the world is dark and grey and has turned against you; your allies have abandoned you, and those you thought would stand with you have turned away and disappointed you¡­ well, just remember that the Brotherhood has to endure that all the time, so why can''t a Paladin?"


    Estemar shook from head to toe for a moment at that thought, turning his eyes to Briggs, who had a sad smile on his crude features as he watched the pair conferring.


    "You are a wise man, Master Briggs!" he said, and he meant it.


    "How would you like to give them a shot of good news?" Briggs asked him, glancing over at the young man.


    Estemar shuffled uncertainly. "How?" he inquired, interested despite himself.


    "You have fulfilled the conditions for an Oath." Estemar blinked again. "There are three that you are eligible for¡­ the Oath against Chaos, as all things of the Warp are of Chaos. The Oath against Evil, for likewise, all of the Warp is of Evil. Lastly, you seen these folk and the harm they wreak, the slaughter they unleash, upon those close and dear to you. You may choose the Oath of Wrath, and if Harse judges your vengeance to be worthy, you may take up His Cause and deliver final judgement upon them for their wickedness."


    Estemar rocked back on his heels as the words thundered in his soul. He could feel them roiling there, something building that was awesome and powerful beyond his years.


    Something of thunder¡­


    He thought of his master, opening a path for him to flee, battling four foes at once, alive and laughing, even as he died. He thought of the knights of the Order, dying around him, fighting to the end, all their courage and strength not enough in the face of such numbers.


    He lifted his eyes to the sky.


    He disregarded the Oath against Chaos. His teachings had clearly told him that Heaven was not just of the Silver, but the Gold and the Rainbow, and so judging all Chaos was to set yourself at odds with a third or more of Heaven itself. Was not mighty Valus of Chaos, but also Mithar''s great friend and the Champion of Heaven? Chaos might not be the best road to follow, but that did not mean it was not a worthy road¡­


    An Oath against Evil¡­ He sighed and closed his eyes. Truly the breadth of such an Oath was beyond this encounter. It would be a grand crusade that could never be fulfilled, for Evil would always be born in the hearts of mortals, and it stood as one of the primary Forces upon which Creation rested. He would be battling against infinity forever, while ignoring the fact that the greatest way to fight Evil, was to grow the Good.


    But a finite foe, of dire and foul nature, whose Evil he had seen with his own eyes? Whose plans were obvious and were meant to be defeated, who could not be allowed to win, and should be punished¡­ be Fed To The Land¡­ yes, that was an Oath he could understand, he could devote himself to, and satisfy the souls of the valiant men he had rode with!


    He did not know his eyes were shining silver as he turned to Master Briggs. "I swear, before Mithar and Harse, that I will oppose these creatures of the Warp; that I will see them swept away and their plans made naught; I will balance the scales of their dark deeds and take from them the price for their actions! I will return unto them that which they have given to others!"


    The Symbol at his chest flared with The Light, and something echoed in his soul, a fire that had ignited and would burn, Thunder that would echo and roll, until the Oath was fulfilled!


    Briggs just nodded. "As Will I."


    For just an instant, the world seemed to go still around them.


    ------


    Chatting with the general and his Caster, I turned around to look directly at Briggs, while both elves glanced up at him in shock.


    Briggs'' eyes turned away from mine, to look directly into the gazes of the startled Void Brothers. I turned my head to follow his gaze, and my eyebrows headed for my hairline.


    "Ohhh, Void Brothers! You didn''t tell me you had a couple of them around!" I promptly waved at the two, who looked a bit flabbergasted. "Brother Windarrow, Brother Shadowknife, could you come join us?"

 86 Chapter Eighty-Six – The Marks and the Mechans

    My trophy belt of Tattoo Marks was proceeding apace. Only two of them were actually dominated by a succubus now, one being the lilithi priestess. I was still hoping for a lilitu for the other. Have to leave it up to the attractive power of the Curse, although I had my doubts. Demons weren''t totally stupid, and those who''d gaffed out to Nightmare for a bit of fun not coming back was probably ringing warning signs.


    But, demons. You never know with them, right?


    But, damn, the Marks really WORKED.


    Oh, oh, not just their little effects on me. On my soldier minions, and my hellpuppies.


    ------


    Lieutenant Markov''s mind was overly simple. Spun out of the dreams of some officer somewhere, it had form and substance, but the nature of the Curse meant it was shaped into something that received orders and executed them. It was never intended to actually be a living being, or think like one.


    But now, this was no longer the nameless officer commanding my longspears, this was Lieutenant Markov!


    The proto-intelligence kind of swirled as he tugged his shirt down, and two helpers quickly fixed on his breastplate. "Captain!" he saluted me.


    -Get back to your command, Lieutenant,- I /said crisply in his head. His eyes widened as he sensed the door in his mind there, and he raced smartly towards the spear line holding back a raging throng of orcs.


    I watched him go, two thought-streams working. -Fido, Shirley, give me a One-Two on the right flank there,- I /told the hellpuppies, who raced eagerly to comply. -Lieutenant, the dogs are going to fold up that right flank. Be prepared to swing around the corner!-


    -Yes, sir!- he /replied, immediately yelling out the needed orders as he ran up on his line.


    I looked at the brawny sergeant laying down on the table, ready to receive his own Tattooed Mark, and my eyes gleamed.


    Ignoring the fighting taking place not forty yards away with half my mind, Sparkie hovering above on overwatch and occasionally sniping away with a beam of golden and blood-green light that punched holes in an overly tall orc or two, I bent to making another Tat-Mark, synchronizing it to my own, and letting me toss Glory Karma into it to power it up.


    At this point, I had over a thousand of these things to do, and that was without the possibility of being able to put more then one on the non-Casters. If some overly strong Champion popped up, I could race over and deal with it, but Tremble was out there Singing to buff them, and if they all died before the end of the day because I wasn''t being so active¡­ I still had to get these Marks done, and at five minutes per Tat, this wasn''t going to take just one day¡­


    -------------


    I''d lost the fight, and everyone had died but me, leaving me swimming in a sea of raging orcs. I had proceeded to start mercilessly slaughtering all of them, Tremble screaming out a Song in Orcish that was scaring them right out of their berserker rages while I heaped up the dead, butchered their shamans, slaughtered their champions, and chopped down their chiefs. There were hills and valleys of stacked orcs burning with vivus, and despite their terror in their eyes and lungs, they still came for me right up until the end.


    Vivus washed the world, gray fog rolled over everything, and the field of carnage and gore rippled and was gone, like the dream and illusion it truly was. But since I was literally made of the same stuff, it was still real when it needed to be real.


    I sighed as the gore on me burned away.


    Fido and Shirley''s collars rang as they trotted out of the fog, tongues lolling fire and frost, tails wagging as they looked around hesitantly, and yipped.


    My eyes went wide.


    "Did they just ask what happened?" Tremble asked me softly. We watched as the two dogs inspected one another, puzzled at their lack of injuries. They''d both been hacked down by numbers of orcs after frying and freezing a whole lot of them. Biggest killers on the battlefield, except for me at the end.


    Metal clanked, leather creaked. There were coughs and breaths, and then soft curses. The two hellpuppies, Tremble, Stand, Fall, and Sparkie all watched with me as familiar figures walked out of the grey fog, the space here expanding to a much, much bigger size than ever before.


    Their presences lit up in my brain like little spots of light, each as individual as the faces of the men and women in front of me, all very puzzled at what had happened. They were all radiating uncertainty, and looking to their Captain for an explanation.


    Every single being I''d Marked had come into Renewal with me¡­ and they remembered the day before.


    -At ease,- I /stated crisply, rising to my feet. The gore was still burning off me, so I was really easy to focus on. -I am very pleased to see you all again.- I didn''t have to feign relief and pleasant surprise. -Fall in, everyone, and I will explain to you what is going on.-


    I laughed under my breath, and I''m sure my eyes were shining. Oh, you Curse, you. Outside Karma and Marks have just changed everything again¡­


    ----------


    They were designed to fight, and knowing they could fight, get stronger, and even if they died they came back, was a kind of nerve-wracking gratification to these fighting men. Designed to serve, as long as I was willing to lead, they were willing to follow.


    So, my first orders were simple¡­ I needed to Mark as many of their fellow soldiers as possible. To do that, I needed time, and to Not get in fights.


    Just being in telepathic contact with me was growing their minds, giving them texture and flavor as personalities began to build atop programmed knowledge. We went over the logistics of what needed to be done, with another kicker.


    If they weren''t a Caster, just Primos, I could tack another two Tats on them, and I could do it during ''downtime''.


    +2 to three Stats was an impressive amount of buffage for no cost but killing the enemy. My eagerness woke all theirs. More buffs meant tougher troops meant surviving longer meant killing the enemy meant not having to experience dying and failure again.


    And if they were Marked¡­ they got to keep their Karma earned fighting other troops, even if they died¡­


    ------


    If they were good, obedient troops before, buffed with Bardsong and my Warlord bonuses to cover them, now, my officers and non-coms were freaking inspired. They wanted nothing more then to kill as many of the enemy as possible, get stronger, and buy time for me to Mark all their fellows.


    And¡­ work on magic Gear for them during downtime. If they lived, they could hold onto loot with me. Loot could be burned as goldweight, and give them magical Gear. Better weapons, better armor, I only had to make sure the QL was up to stuff, and I could make a Pattern and they could do the Investing.


    I handled overview and coordination, they increasingly handled squad tactics and provided examples. I Tatted men for nearly eight hours before our lines buckled and fell on the second day, and I had to take up Stand, Doc, and Tremble, and show the Fey how unhappy I was with them.


    -------------


    The anotxgin lyan carved his-its way through the spear line, stumbling once from the press of spears, and then looked up at me with rectangular eyes, as I stood there working on a rather nervous archer suddenly named Flavius.


    The once-human lyan, a ''paladin of Law'', straightened up, armor and unnatural, stylized form radiating merciless adherence to rigidity and structure. Mechan forces rampaged through the city, clearing it away so more perfect order might replace it, the slightest imperfection or disharmony with their impossible standards all the reason they needed to eliminate something.


    The very imperfect human inhabitants were simply nuisances to be swept away. No malevolence in the fact, they simply weren''t Mechan, thus inferior, thus to be dealt with and excised.


    Sparkie promptly shot its twice, and the lyan jerked as Banefire crashed against its skinplate armor, barely showing disdain as it took the hits and marched towards me.


    He/it didn''t seem to realize he''d been let through the line, as the men who''d fallen to him got back up, wounded and all, and resumed their battle against the robotic Mechans and the magic-cyborg lyans who served them in the mortal realm. Lines of troops built on numeric progressions - spherical Unosi, linear Dosi, triangular Dasi, square Kwatrosi, pentacular Sincosi, and hexacular Sesi in command - formed the forces being unleashed here, with lyans and cyborg servants in support.


    Yeah, we killed these heartless things of Law just as readily as demons and devils.


    It got within ten yards before Fall snapped to my hand from his shoulder holster, his sprits snapped out, and I held down the trigger.


    A +VIII bolt every half-second, even if it was from just a hand crossbow, is still +VIII Bolts punching through your armored skin and administering all kinds of banefire-aided havoc to your altered physiology. The already wounded lyan was spun around by the first two impacts, two more drove into the back of its neck, walked down its spine, and then Sparkie punched two more rays down into its heart without hesitation.


    I held up Fall, eyes still intent on finishing this Tat, and Tremble spotted for me as I aimed for the Sesi in command, which was busying itself with mending some of the troops wounded in their relentless attempts to break our lines. The cavalry had performed particularly well today, as the forces of Law were rigid and strong, but didn''t move very fast, and even with telepathic and robotic obedience, couldn''t stand fast against all directions at once.


    30 Intellect, two thought-streams is extremely convenient.


    Glowing bolts of anti-Law began to streak out, covering an improbable two hundred yards as they sighted in on the Sesi behind the lines.


    There was a twang as a hundred bowstrings glowing with a short-lived burst of magic followed my shot, and turned a ten-foot square of land into a small forest of hungry, driving arrows.


    Lieutenant Argive''s One Arrow finished the creature, bristling with Baned arrows buried in its metallic flesh, and it rapidly began to molder.


    I slapped the Archer and had him hurry back to his unit, while a wounded Knight stumbled up to me for his turn. Since he couldn''t ride, no reason not to get a Mark now, right?


    I designated a new range and target for the waiting archers, and another volley sailed in, messing up a formation change by the mechans. They weren''t set as the knights crashed into the spheres and lines of the basic troops, and mowed the creatures down before their little spears could do much.


    ------


    Succubus. Lilithi. Erinyes Fury, huntress from Hell. Mantissari, daemonic assassin. Fallen Ghaele Ahren leading einheriar of War. Hamadryad, Queen of Unseelie Fey. Wind Yai Oni, war queen of an army of Jotuns. Upsaduna Asura Master, who thought this was a swell place to practice destruction and didn''t realize she wasn''t so great a martial artist. Zalyakavat Rakshasa that thought she was a swords-rat going to duel a hero from Dream, and got more than she bargained for.


    Last succubus slot being saved for a lilitu, if possible, although others might be suitable, who knew? After all, I''d hardly run into enough suitable evolutionary paths, and I should be able to use my other Tats as Binder Seals, too, as long as they weren''t actually storing the spirit of something.


    My army was improving every day, and it was showing in the results. We were lasting longer and longer, as the combination of buffs, retained Karma, and retained memories had cumulative effects.


    Soon, I might not need to fight at all, and could work away on Gear for my lads and ladies while they took care of all the fighting for me¡­

 87 Chapter Eight-Seven – Windarrow and Shadowknife

    They came forward, a little hesitantly and reluctant, especially after their identities were announced to all and sundry. Without asking, Briggs dragged Estemar up to join the little circle, while the elven general and Caster looked a little lost at the turn of events, not knowing exactly what was going on. Their wary fear of the two was quite obvious to see, however, especially the way the elfin was clutching her Staff.


    The two just nodded at the pair with their eyes, obviously knowing one another.


    "I suppose I should have expected a couple of you to show up, but doing so means this is a Big Event!" I greeted them cheerfully, reaching out to shake their hands without hesitation. They kind of blinked at me in disbelief. "Sama Rantha, how do you do, Brothers?"


    "We¡­ are quite well, thank you." The dark-haired, roguishly handsome Windarrow was staring at me the same way one would inspect a loaded crossbow aimed not quite in their direction. "Your disposal of the demon was an impressive show."


    I waved it off. "Eh. I could have Unsummoned it directly, just like you, but Feeding it to the Land is much more punishing to the Four Butt-buddies, so I did that instead." I think everyone blinked at that description of the Warp Gods. "I gather you let the sorcerer Summon it just so everyone could confirm for themselves what they were up against?"


    He had That Look, as if he was just caught with his hand in the cookie jar. The two elves glanced at him coolly, but said nothing. After all, I''d also just said he could have gotten rid of it instantly and killed the Summoner, he''d just chosen not to.


    He had the grace to cough. "Well, very sharp-eyed of you." His eyes roved over me, lifted to both Briggs and Estemar, calm and assessing, suddenly a very different, subliminally dangerous vibe coming over him. "I see you all came in together. Rather an unusual grouping of you¡­"


    "Sources, Nulls, and Powered can''t start young, but Voids can?" I looked over at Briggs. "Was that a rule somewhere?"


    "Nah," Briggs declared calmly. "Elven geniuses can sometimes Cast before they can walk." He idly spun his Hammer off to the side between his fingers effortlessly. "He''s just whining. Eternal duty and all that makes them gloomy. I think he needs to get laid."


    Even the elves were scandalized, and the Windarrow coughed and looked aside, meeting the gaze of his smaller, silently observing compatriot.


    "What, you two never dealt with Sources and Nulls before? You''ve never seen a King Among Men Making Fate?" They both looked at me in astonishment, then over at Briggs. "You haven''t! Hahahahahah!" I laughed at them, and they drew long faces that were probably not something that happened to them often.


    "Wow." Briggs eyed the pair of them, going along with things. "I always thought Void Brothers were the most experienced of the Forsaken, all things considered. Certainly the most broadly informed." He rubbed his brick of a chin thoughtfully. "Well, maybe all that wandering putting out fires doesn''t leave much time for metalore¡­"


    The Windarrow put out his hand abruptly. "Stop, stop." His dark eyes looked over us, clearly somewhat off-put and not liking it. After all, they were the ones with so many secrets! "Who exactly are you?"


    "Briggs, of the Stone Cliff tribe," Briggs introduced himself. "My companion here is Sir Estemar, a Paladin late of the Order of the Rose, and the last survivor of a company of them slaughtered several miles to the northwest."


    Many eyes judged the young Paladin, making their own measurements of age. But the title of a Paladin was not something to be cast aside, even on a youth. He naturally faced them fearlessly, because Paladins are not subject to fear, and that includes embarrassment.


    The fact that the two Brothers instantly deduced his lineage I kept to myself. "Great, everyone knows everyone now! Now, I know you''re trying to pull strings to do things in a subtle manner, but lay out a few of your cards now that we''re all on the same page, Brothers." I crossed my arms and looked at them. "I''ve already informed the Borderguards of the nature of the Warp invaders, they''ve informed their superiors," I waved at the two elves watching all of this, "and Briggs and I have informed the Rockborn, who are also moving out to oppose the incoming Warp warbands, together with the Rangers.


    "Is there something else we should be aware of and preparing for?"


    Both Brothers blinked at me in shock. Windarrow cleared his throat. "Well, it has been our experience that when we inform people of dire things about to take place, they are very reluctant to believe us and take action, given the costs involved. You seem to have¡­ accelerated the process."


    "Oh, I had a Diviner inform the gods by choice of questions using magic, asking them if they knew about Warp involvement up here, asking if they could spread the word, and so forth." My smile was unfeigned as they stared at me. "Nothing like a bunch of divine signs, minor miracles, portents, visions, Servants popping up, and loud godly voices ringing in the brain that You Should Act On This to get things moving along, right?"


    Their jaws worked soundlessly. Brother Windarrow coughed again to hide his surprise. I had blatantly manipulated the gods themselves to get the warning out? Of course I had!


    "Less surprise and more factual data. Do you have an idea of how many numbers are involved?" I continued calmly.


    They looked at one another, and Shadowknife shrugged. "A minimum of a warband a day is emerging from the Rift they have opened," Windarrow spoke up frankly.


    "So, a thousand to four thousand a day, in endless streams, and could potentially go much higher?" I pressed.


    "That is correct. Fortunately, the Warp gods seem to be making use of mortal instead of Soulborn servants¡­"


    "I''m assuming that''s due to rampant instability of denizens of the Warp? They''re getting squeezed out of our dimension like pimples being popped." He blinked at my totally irreverent words, and couldn''t hide the shadow of a smile starting.


    "A most appropriate analogy. Yes. However, the reality they come from is extruding into our world." He paused to assess my totally unimpressed expression, and also Briggs'' knowing sigh. "This is also spilling a great deal of twisted energy into the local manafield, effectively rewriting some of the laws of reality around the location of the breach."


    "You said a Rift. So they tore open a hole, instead of installing a door?" It was Shadowknife who displayed some interest this time. "Brute-forcing idiots. They can be punished for it." He pursed his lips at my words. "Do you know the location?"


    "That way." The hyn''s voice was oddly androgynous, hard to place or remember. His small gloved hand pointed very precisely. "Given the direction and a guess at the distance¡­"


    "Yle Tyorm!" both elves spoke up at the same time, faces crashing.


    Brother Shadowknife just nodded slowly.


    Yle Tyorm was a generic term, like ''Place where Bad Things Happened.'' It was usually wound up with apocalypse, destruction, and all-around Bad Times. There could be more than one Yle Tyorm, but given the scale of things that had to happen to create one, there was generally no more then one per continent, or something.


    "Lemme guess¡­ it''s a place of dimensional instability, a real mess from the viewpoint of the ley lines, a lot of very dangerous things live there, and now the Butt-buddies of the Warp capitalized on it to set up their incursion point there."


    Shadowknife smiled slightly, despite himself. "Colorful, but accurate."


    "And the mess was so bad, and the things that lived there dangerous enough, that the Brotherhood couldn''t clean it up."


    Both of them spread their hands at the exact same time, as if rehearsed. "The scale was too vast, and it regenerated, or simply twisted further as we purified small parts of it. Tearing down something of that scale would require speed and power beyond what we wield," Brother Windarrow admitted.


    "Actual Casters willing to devote the time, and a lot of materials, to an unrewarding and very dangerous task. Unrewarding optional, depending on what''s within." I tilted my head at the two of them, tapping my cheek. "So, now nobody has a choice, and it''s even more dangerous. You''ve been warning them about this for how many centuries?" I asked archly.


    "Eight and a half," Windarrow replied promptly, his smile growing wider, and with a dangerous edge.


    "Riiiight." I glanced at the elves, who wanted to shift their eyes elsewhere. "Happily, this isn''t anywhere near as hard to address as it might seem, given the Warp-butts are giving us such a helping hand."


    Everyone except Briggs looked at me as if I were daft. I just glanced at Briggs, and he nodded after a moment of thought.


    "The Rift is a very powerful source of energy," he mused. "Blow it with a Vivic Cascade, you''re basically administering a very powerful healing spell directly to the Land. It''ll burn away the injury clean and reestablish the defaults. Not much different then searing a diseased wound and then healing the flesh injury that remains after the corruption is gone."


    "That¡­ can be done?" Brother Windarrow looked astonished.


    "Sure," I nodded. "First step, kill about two hundred thousand Warp-born in the general vicinity of the Rift." Everyone''s jaw dropped. "Use Obelisks to collect and concentrate the vivic energy when you burn ''em. Set up a not-correctly-built Vivic capacitor on the edge of the Rift, transfer the energy to it, and watch it blow from a safe distance." I made an exploding gesture. "Big, big unwhite fireball. Probably eat up a significant chunk of the realm on the other side of the Rift. The Land Feeds big time. Backwash purges the area clean. Two problems, one solves the other. Very convenient."


    Everyone looked rather astounded, except Briggs. "That¡­ would actually work?" asked Brother Windarrow, sounding both intrigued and delighted.


    "Yeah, shouldn''t be much of an issue." I glanced at Briggs for affirmation.


    He grunted and nodded. "Pull up the stone with magic for the Obelisks. They''ll have to be carved out by hand, minimum three for trilateral symmetry, Rituals used to gather the excess vivus¡­ We''ll have to compress the area being affected by the Rift down, too, or the Land will eat it up for a significant time doing the same thing."


    Everyone looked a bit confused.


    "He means we''ll have to basically slaughter every warband that comes out of the area, Feed ''em to the Land, so the Land can push the Warp influence back," I explained cheerfully. "After that, we need to build the Obelisks, defend them, then make a push right up into the belly of the Rift, plant our bomb, and then runrunrun before it blows."


    "Probably set the Obelisks on vivic flame, burn the energy coming out of the Rift to keep the spread neutral," Briggs added, and I tipped a finger to him for that key point.


    Everyone was looking at us as if we were crazy. "Can that even be done?" General Moonriver asked, his large eyes sharp. "Two hundred thousand warriors, and all their foul beasts and spells?"


    "You have plenty of aid coming, General," I soothed him. "The Warp-butts are pissing off everyone, in every direction. There''s going to be knightly Orders coming, priests, adventurers, champions, heroes, battle-hungry idiots, vengeful souls, and more then a few soldiers. It''s going to be a bit diverse to be called a Crusade, but there''s going to be a lot of people heading up to join this fight."


    Briggs nodded. "The problem is containing the warbands. We don''t have to fight two hundred thousand at a time, we have to take them in small bites. To do the job correctly, we''ll have to be biting really, really fast. An average of twenty-five hundred new bodies to kill every day is no joke, and that''s the minimum we have to face."


    "It will require unprecedented cooperation between various forces, supply and coordination¡­ these are not small issues!" the general continued warily.


    I waved my hand. "Dunno where the supplies will come from, as I have no resources of my own, but coordination? So not a problem."


    Even Briggs looked impressed at that claim. "And how will you arrange that?" General Moonriver asked archly. "Even magical means require spellcaster support that might be required elsewhere!"


    "Poo poo poo," I waved him away casually. "Nothing so inefficient." I flicked my hips with both hands, and my Marks lit up. "Problem solved."


    Everyone kind of gawked at the belt of Tats around my waist. "And how do those Tattoos solve the issue?" the general had to ask, trying not to stare. Probably the fem-abs...


    I looked at Brother Windarrow with a bit of challenge. Totally up to it, he bent down for a closer look, and then the air swirled in front of him.


    To his utter astonishment, I reached out and thorked his forehead. "Stop that, it tickles!"


    He rubbed his forehead under his hood as he straightened back up, not sure of how to react. "Those are¡­ were¡­ Succubus Blessings?" he asked.


    "This one''s sharp, Briggs," I noted out of the side of my mouth. Briggs kept his face impassive, although this was a total surprise to him.


    "No demonic energy in them." His eyes narrowed. "Are they active?"


    "Yes." He tensed slightly. "Original sources all dead and Fed to them, of course." He blinked again, looking confused. "They are now Master Marks. Who would like a harmonized Mark to the Stat of their choice, and incidentally giving the ability to communicate telepathically with me over any distance, or even across dimensions?"


    "Whooo¡­" Briggs'' reaction was more thoughtful then the thunderous silence from the others. "Did you get those in Nightmare?" he asked cautiously.


    "Aye, carved them right onto my soul there, then fed the carvers to them to get them actualized. Alas, I am no spellcaster, and can''t work my enchanting wiles through them upon the unsuspecting recipients."


    Every male''s eyes there popped open at the last half of that sentence, because the subvocals were singing to their hormones. I smiled toothily as they stared at me, and gave them a laugh that suddenly had them looking anywhere but at me.


    Night Rose Mastery/5 ftw!

 87 Chapter Eighty-Seven – Windarrow and Shadowknife

    They came forward, a little hesitantly and reluctant, especially after their identities were announced to all and sundry. Without asking, Briggs dragged Estemar up to join the little circle, while the elven general and Caster looked a little lost at the turn of events, not knowing exactly what was going on. Their wary fear of the two was quite obvious to see, however, especially the way the elfin was clutching her Staff.


    The two just nodded at the pair with their eyes, obviously knowing one another.


    "I suppose I should have expected a couple of you to show up, but doing so means this is a Big Event!" I greeted them cheerfully, reaching out to shake their hands without hesitation. They kind of blinked at me in disbelief. "Sama Rantha, how do you do, Brothers?"


    "We¡­ are quite well, thank you." The dark-haired, roguishly handsome Windarrow was staring at me the same way one would inspect a loaded crossbow aimed not quite in their direction. "Your disposal of the demon was an impressive show."


    I waved it off. "Eh. I could have Unsummoned it directly, just like you, but Feeding it to the Land is much more punishing to the Four Butt-buddies, so I did that instead." I think everyone blinked at that description of the Warp Gods. "I gather you let the sorcerer Summon it just so everyone could confirm for themselves what they were up against?"


    He had That Look, as if he was just caught with his hand in the cookie jar. The two elves glanced at him coolly, but said nothing. After all, I''d also just said he could have gotten rid of it instantly and killed the Summoner, he''d just chosen not to.


    He had the grace to cough. "Well, very sharp-eyed of you." His eyes roved over me, lifted to both Briggs and Estemar, calm and assessing, suddenly a very different, subliminally dangerous vibe coming over him. "I see you all came in together. Rather an unusual grouping of you¡­"


    "Sources, Nulls, and Powered can''t start young, but Voids can?" I looked over at Briggs. "Was that a rule somewhere?"


    "Nah," Briggs declared calmly. "Elven geniuses can sometimes Cast before they can walk." He idly spun his Hammer off to the side between his fingers effortlessly. "He''s just whining. Eternal duty and all that makes them gloomy. I think he needs to get laid."


    Even the elves were scandalized, and the Windarrow coughed and looked aside, meeting the gaze of his smaller, silently observing compatriot.


    "What, you two never dealt with Sources and Nulls before? You''ve never seen a King Among Men Making Fate?" They both looked at me in astonishment, then over at Briggs. "You haven''t! Hahahahahah!" I laughed at them, and they drew long faces that were probably not something that happened to them often.


    "Wow." Briggs eyed the pair of them, going along with things. "I always thought Void Brothers were the most experienced of the Forsaken, all things considered. Certainly the most broadly informed." He rubbed his brick of a chin thoughtfully. "Well, maybe all that wandering putting out fires doesn''t leave much time for metalore¡­"


    The Windarrow put out his hand abruptly. "Stop, stop." His dark eyes looked over us, clearly somewhat off-put and not liking it. After all, they were the ones with so many secrets! "Who exactly are you?"


    "Briggs, of the Stone Cliff tribe," Briggs introduced himself. "My companion here is Sir Estemar, a Paladin late of the Order of the Rose, and the last survivor of a company of them slaughtered several miles to the northwest."


    Many eyes judged the young Paladin, making their own measurements of age. But the title of a Paladin was not something to be cast aside, even on a youth. He naturally faced them fearlessly, because Paladins are not subject to fear, and that includes embarrassment.


    The fact that the two Brothers instantly deduced his lineage I kept to myself. "Great, everyone knows everyone now! Now, I know you''re trying to pull strings to do things in a subtle manner, but lay out a few of your cards now that we''re all on the same page, Brothers." I crossed my arms and looked at them. "I''ve already informed the Borderguards of the nature of the Warp invaders, they''ve informed their superiors," I waved at the two elves watching all of this, "and Briggs and I have informed the Rockborn, who are also moving out to oppose the incoming Warp warbands, together with the Rangers.


    "Is there something else we should be aware of and preparing for?"


    Both Brothers blinked at me in shock. Windarrow cleared his throat. "Well, it has been our experience that when we inform people of dire things about to take place, they are very reluctant to believe us and take action, given the costs involved. You seem to have¡­ accelerated the process."


    "Oh, I had a Diviner inform the gods by choice of questions using magic, asking them if they knew about Warp involvement up here, asking if they could spread the word, and so forth." My smile was unfeigned as they stared at me. "Nothing like a bunch of divine signs, minor miracles, portents, visions, Servants popping up, and loud godly voices ringing in the brain that You Should Act On This to get things moving along, right?"


    Their jaws worked soundlessly. Brother Windarrow coughed again to hide his surprise. I had blatantly manipulated the gods themselves to get the warning out? Of course I had!


    "Less surprise and more factual data. Do you have an idea of how many numbers are involved?" I continued calmly.


    They looked at one another, and Shadowknife shrugged. "A minimum of a warband a day is emerging from the Rift they have opened," Windarrow spoke up frankly.


    "So, a thousand to four thousand a day, in endless streams, and could potentially go much higher?" I pressed.


    "That is correct. Fortunately, the Warp gods seem to be making use of mortal instead of Soulborn servants¡­"


    "I''m assuming that''s due to rampant instability of denizens of the Warp? They''re getting squeezed out of our dimension like pimples being popped." He blinked at my totally irreverent words, and couldn''t hide the shadow of a smile starting.


    "A most appropriate analogy. Yes. However, the reality they come from is extruding into our world." He paused to assess my totally unimpressed expression, and also Briggs'' knowing sigh. "This is also spilling a great deal of twisted energy into the local manafield, effectively rewriting some of the laws of reality around the location of the breach."


    "You said a Rift. So they tore open a hole, instead of installing a door?" It was Shadowknife who displayed some interest this time. "Brute-forcing idiots. They can be punished for it." He pursed his lips at my words. "Do you know the location?"


    "That way." The hyn''s voice was oddly androgynous, hard to place or remember. His small gloved hand pointed very precisely. "Given the direction and a guess at the distance¡­"


    "Yle Tyorm!" both elves spoke up at the same time, faces crashing.


    Brother Shadowknife just nodded slowly.


    Yle Tyorm was a generic term, like ''Place where Bad Things Happened.'' It was usually wound up with apocalypse, destruction, and all-around Bad Times. There could be more than one Yle Tyorm, but given the scale of things that had to happen to create one, there was generally no more then one per continent, or something.


    "Lemme guess¡­ it''s a place of dimensional instability, a real mess from the viewpoint of the ley lines, a lot of very dangerous things live there, and now the Butt-buddies of the Warp capitalized on it to set up their incursion point there."


    Shadowknife smiled slightly, despite himself. "Colorful, but accurate."


    "And the mess was so bad, and the things that lived there dangerous enough, that the Brotherhood couldn''t clean it up."


    Both of them spread their hands at the exact same time, as if rehearsed. "The scale was too vast, and it regenerated, or simply twisted further as we purified small parts of it. Tearing down something of that scale would require speed and power beyond what we wield," Brother Windarrow admitted.


    "Actual Casters willing to devote the time, and a lot of materials, to an unrewarding and very dangerous task. Unrewarding optional, depending on what''s within." I tilted my head at the two of them, tapping my cheek. "So, now nobody has a choice, and it''s even more dangerous. You''ve been warning them about this for how many centuries?" I asked archly.


    "Eight and a half," Windarrow replied promptly, his smile growing wider, and with a dangerous edge.


    "Riiiight." I glanced at the elves, who wanted to shift their eyes elsewhere. "Happily, this isn''t anywhere near as hard to address as it might seem, given the Warp-butts are giving us such a helping hand."


    Everyone except Briggs looked at me as if I were daft. I just glanced at Briggs, and he nodded after a moment of thought.


    "The Rift is a very powerful source of energy," he mused. "Blow it with a Vivic Cascade, you''re basically administering a very powerful healing spell directly to the Land. It''ll burn away the injury clean and reestablish the defaults. Not much different then searing a diseased wound and then healing the flesh injury that remains after the corruption is gone."


    "That¡­ can be done?" Brother Windarrow looked astonished.


    "Sure," I nodded. "First step, kill about two hundred thousand Warp-born in the general vicinity of the Rift." Everyone''s jaw dropped. "Use Obelisks to collect and concentrate the vivic energy when you burn ''em. Set up a not-correctly-built Vivic capacitor on the edge of the Rift, transfer the energy to it, and watch it blow from a safe distance." I made an exploding gesture. "Big, big unwhite fireball. Probably eat up a significant chunk of the realm on the other side of the Rift. The Land Feeds big time. Backwash purges the area clean. Two problems, one solves the other. Very convenient."


    Everyone looked rather astounded, except Briggs. "That¡­ would actually work?" asked Brother Windarrow, sounding both intrigued and delighted.


    "Yeah, shouldn''t be much of an issue." I glanced at Briggs for affirmation.


    He grunted and nodded. "Pull up the stone with magic for the Obelisks. They''ll have to be carved out by hand, minimum three for trilateral symmetry, Rituals used to gather the excess vivus¡­ We''ll have to compress the area being affected by the Rift down, too, or the Land will eat it up for a significant time doing the same thing."


    Everyone looked a bit confused.


    "He means we''ll have to basically slaughter every warband that comes out of the area, Feed ''em to the Land, so the Land can push the Warp influence back," I explained cheerfully. "After that, we need to build the Obelisks, defend them, then make a push right up into the belly of the Rift, plant our bomb, and then runrunrun before it blows."


    "Probably set the Obelisks on vivic flame, burn the energy coming out of the Rift to keep the spread neutral," Briggs added, and I tipped a finger to him for that key point.


    Everyone was looking at us as if we were crazy. "Can that even be done?" General Moonriver asked, his large eyes sharp. "Two hundred thousand warriors, and all their foul beasts and spells?"


    "You have plenty of aid coming, General," I soothed him. "The Warp-butts are pissing off everyone, in every direction. There''s going to be knightly Orders coming, priests, adventurers, champions, heroes, battle-hungry idiots, vengeful souls, and more then a few soldiers. It''s going to be a bit diverse to be called a Crusade, but there''s going to be a lot of people heading up to join this fight."


    Briggs nodded. "The problem is containing the warbands. We don''t have to fight two hundred thousand at a time, we have to take them in small bites. To do the job correctly, we''ll have to be biting really, really fast. An average of twenty-five hundred new bodies to kill every day is no joke, and that''s the minimum we have to face."


    "It will require unprecedented cooperation between various forces, supply and coordination¡­ these are not small issues!" the general continued warily.


    I waved my hand. "Dunno where the supplies will come from, as I have no resources of my own, but coordination? So not a problem."


    Even Briggs looked impressed at that claim. "And how will you arrange that?" General Moonriver asked archly. "Even magical means require spellcaster support that might be required elsewhere!"


    "Poo poo poo," I waved him away casually. "Nothing so inefficient." I flicked my hips with both hands, and my Marks lit up. "Problem solved."


    Everyone kind of gawked at the belt of Tats around my waist. "And how do those Tattoos solve the issue?" the general had to ask, trying not to stare. Probably the fem-abs...


    I looked at Brother Windarrow with a bit of challenge. Totally up to it, he bent down for a closer look, and then the air swirled in front of him.


    To his utter astonishment, I reached out and thorked his forehead. "Stop that, it tickles!"


    He rubbed his forehead under his hood as he straightened back up, not sure of how to react. "Those are¡­ were¡­ Succubus Blessings?" he asked.


    "This one''s sharp, Briggs," I noted out of the side of my mouth. Briggs kept his face impassive, although this was a total surprise to him.


    "No demonic energy in them." His eyes narrowed. "Are they active?"


    "Yes." He tensed slightly. "Original sources all dead and Fed to them, of course." He blinked again, looking confused. "They are now Master Marks. Who would like a harmonized Mark to the Stat of their choice, and incidentally giving the ability to communicate telepathically with me over any distance, or even across dimensions?"


    "Whooo¡­" Briggs'' reaction was more thoughtful then the thunderous silence from the others. "Did you get those in Nightmare?" he asked cautiously.


    "Aye, carved them right onto my soul there, then fed the carvers to them to get them actualized. Alas, I am no spellcaster, and can''t work my enchanting wiles through them upon the unsuspecting recipients."


    Every male''s eyes there popped open at the last half of that sentence, because the subvocals were singing to their hormones. I smiled toothily as they stared at me, and gave them a laugh that suddenly had them looking anywhere but at me.


    Night Rose Mastery/5 ftw!

 88 Chapter Eighty-Eight - Survivors

    Grey washed across the land. Sighs and gasps sounded from everyone around as they watched the world disappear about them.


    There were exactly fifty-seven of them left alive.


    Those closest to the Loot Stash, a Disk I made that held the valuables salvaged from the fighting, surrounded it quickly, before the waves of unmaking could hit it. They literally fell in around it, claiming their spoils and making sure they weren''t lost in the Renewal.


    A new day blew past like a cold wind, and then cleared away.


    Lieutenant Markov and the others who survived slowly removed their helms and looked around.


    Their wounds were gone, cleansed away by the turning of the day. They were ready and fit to fight, despite just having gone through a great and bloody all-day battle. The sudden transition from bloody combat to total serenity was jarring, to say the least.


    "Line up to greet your brothers," I said aloud, and they fell in together. Lieutenant Markov stood next to the Disk full of loot, the others in a line behind them. The clinking of armor and the sound of marching men spread through the fading mist, and then our company came out of the fog in random clusters, blinking and looking at us all there assembled.


    There were over two thousand of them now, the clearing was now basically a mustering field. I had advanced my Warlord Mastery to /5, ranking me at 15. My personal command could thus reach fifteen squared, times ten, soldiers of my own command who could benefit from my Warlord bonus.


    Twenty-two hundred and fifty soldiers, in total. With attendant logistical support, in a real, not Dream, world.


    Twenty-twoish hundred men lined up before fifty-seven, who all stood straight and proud at attention before them.


    -They made it to the end.-


    The whole group of soldiers moaned almost as one. They hadn''t died! They Had Not Died! They were all shaking, trembling at the feat.


    It wasn''t just me standing there to greet them as they came out of the mists, came out of death, back to fight again.


    It was their own!


    They could beat this! They could win!


    Private Gorski, who was the impetuous type, let out a bull roar and charged forward, grabbing up the Lieutenant, dancing around with him. In no time, the whole host of men had poured forward, and the first fifty-seven survivors were being hoisted on shoulders, and a general party would have started immediately if there was any booze to be found.


    Tremble and I led them in a Salute to the Silver Queen, for my Renewal was at midnight, even if the light around us was kind of hazy pre-Dawn. We immediately followed with a Salute to the Morning, since the Curse would not give us time to have a proper one when the ''day'' actually started.


    But they were here. They were ALL here, now, all Marked¡­ and the day had not yet begun.


    -I, and the survivors, need two hours of rest,- I /said calmly, as I went over to the stack of loot. My army gathered around, watching with fervent eyes.


    I had told them, and they knew. They knew that people surviving would change everything, because survivors could keep the loot.


    The loot would accelerate the gaining of magical equipment, because they, the army, could then use it to Invest their gear, instead of just one person, me, doing it all.


    I had hard limits I couldn''t pass. To do this right required people.


    Needed Survivors.


    The Disk piled high with magical weapons, armor, gold jewelry and adornments, glittering power comps, even coins and jewels that could be stripped, was a ramshackle mess of stuff, but the fact was, the stuff was there.


    It was the first time they''d been able to look upon the plunder of their foes after they died. The plunder they had earned, through so many deaths, so much fighting, watching their friends and eventually themselves dying over and over again.


    It was all there. Feet shuffled and eyes stared intensely at the haul.


    I went over to Forge. Piled on top of it were thin layers of metal, dropped and cast, polished and detail, virtually identical to one another. Made from armor and weapons plundered from the enemies we killed, melted down, and cast into Investing Patterns.


    There were twenty of them. Enough to invest forty goldweight worth of swag a day, more if we let men do that while we were fighting. Twenty suits of armor that I had reworked to ensure they were Master''s Craft and could hold at least a basic +I Enhancement.


    -Three of you on every Pattern. You will swap each person out every two hours, faster if someone falters.- I picked out my trios mentally, they flowed together in a line and lifted away the Patterns reverently, one by one.


    We could spare the equivalent of eight hours, and then the day had to start, the fighting begin again.


    Only twenty suits of armor. It would have to be enough for now.


    The Powered lined up next. They didn''t need an Investment Pattern, they need Infusing Patterns, which were smaller, easier to make. There were only thirty of them, and I had made Patterns for each of them. They were the most powerful of my people, and the soldiers knew it, and didn''t begrudge them.


    Twenty-four of the fifty-seven survivors were Powered. They had to rest, to meditate for two hours at the very least, then work on their own Gear. They wouldn''t have time to do a full eight hours work, but unlike the Primos soldiers, they would be working on stuff for themselves.


    I allocated out the stuff, goldweight on goldweight, items that would be reduced to raw energy and refined into essence that could be directly imbued into the waiting gear. Valuewise, it was a considerable sum, because killing hundreds or thousands of folk tends to garner a lot of loot. Powerful stuff would have to be reduced and split up, and I allocated them to the Powered who would be using them over multiple days.


    We split up, and we rested. The soldiers, who might otherwise be bored, split up and sat down, waiting.


    I composed myself just above the ground, arranging my thoughts, and as I slid into Seven Dragons meditation, I opened the outward gates to all the people who weren''t working on Patterns.


    The grassy clearing fell silent as 10 Ranks of Meditation rippled across the army. Thoughts calmed, bodies fell still, and even the most recalcitrant and distracted psyches relaxed.


    For a precious couple of hours, there would be peace. Those who had survived could digest their accomplishment in their subconscious, bring it forward, and use it to strengthen themselves.


    Levels would rise, Masteries tick over, guided unconsciously by my desires and expectations. They were, after all, still wholly within my control, they existed because I was here and the Curse had to follow the rules, for good or ill to it.


    Today, I would make more Patterns. Today, I would make another Disk to hold those Patterns. I would also make the first half of a wagon to hold more loot and Power Comps, to sit on those Disks. The many crystalline hearts of the Mechans made fine power comps, but I had 2,250 soldiers to equip!


    The amount of wealth required was obscene. They couldn''t Name their Gear, they were just Dream soldiers. Likewise, I couldn''t teach them Soul Magic, because they didn''t have Souls, nor even ki, properly. Feats, Masteries, Levels.


    It would have to be enough. Even the Powered were restricted to magical effects the Curse could infer and replicate. No Chi-wielders, which would have been awesome, instant Champion for the army in the making.


    I had long made Healing Traps, so everyone got a healing spell at least once during the day for nothing. Likewise, the Bard that was attached to the troop, instead of playing up near the front lines where a normal one did, was playing at the back where the wounded were with a Healing Harp. Listening to it for an hour was another ''free'' Healing spell of some potency, enough to send them back to fight.


    The six Clerics had long cast enough Healing magic to qualify for Healing Reserve, and Amana had allowed them to learn it. Pure Health damage was mended quickly and tirelessly under their hands, and so the wounded came out, and went back in.


    They had died many times and come back, and they were aware of it. It sufficed to train both Soak and Health, long maxed out by everyone, so I had the toughest bunch of dream soldiers imaginable. When they hit Four, they could take Human/2, and their Health would double. Their staying power would rise accordingly, endlessly replenished by the divine Casters. The Traps were for emergencies or rapidly getting some Soak back.


    I had put Tats on them during the fighting, and double Tats on the Primos during down time. It had taken weeks, sure, as I scrounged the time. But time was what I was working with here, all that I had.


    ==========


    -Two minutes!-


    Time.


    Men walked, ran, were carried or dragged over to the Healers. Bloody wounds would slowly vanish, and they would run back to their positions, knowing the enemy was coming.


    Looters dove into the piles of the dead orcs, as the Casters urgently pointed out magical doodads, weapons, armor, and the like here and there. Trophies of gold, silver, ivory, and rough gemwork were torn off the dead, and stacked on the Disks.


    The bodies of our dead, still low after our fifth battle, were carried away and arranged around the Disks. Why? Some of them had magic armor now, and that armor had to endure at Renewal.


    My Hammer pounded as I worked. Soldiers gave me their weapons, and I reforged them, rebalanced them, handed them out as something new and ready to be made even better. Even non-magical masterwork armor given out to everyone helped with stamina and endurance. I was re-equipping everyone with better stuff at monstrous speed, which they were turning into magical stuff by themselves.


    -Thirty seconds!-


    Last hauls were made, lines reformed, those freshly healed returning to the back of the formations, some of those seriously low on Soak in the healing circle, listening to the Harp, weapons at the ready if they were needed¡­ and working on the Patterns, switching off as new wounded came in, doing double duty even as they recovered from injury as Investors and potential Reserves. Orcish lines in the distance were coming clearer, different formations and lines as the terrain shifted ahead of us and changed the way we needed to advance and posture up.


    It was frantic yet disciplined. Things had to get done. Shirk your job and I noticed, which meant everyone noticed.


    Nobody shirked.


    +1''s and time. Tremble began to Sing, song swelling in every ear, and they took up Stand''s beat with pride.


    "TREMBLE, WE COME!"

 89 Chapter Eighty-Nine – Measure the Marks

    "Damn, Sama," Briggs said in the middle of that, his pale violent eyes intense. "Instantaneous telepathic contact across any distance in real time. Can you do a sensory share?"


    "There''s no control over the other side, so if the other side is willing, they have to make the effort to share. Not a Caster, Briggs. Can they see out MY eyes if I want them to? Sure."


    "Right, right." His excitement was visible to the others. "How many people can you handle?"


    "Technically, there''s no limit. I can broadcast without limit. Handling multiples talking to me is another matter. From experience in Nightmare, I generally set up chatboxes and relay commands among set groups of people, and then issue orders by box, or received them from set people to other people."


    "That would take an immense amount of concentration and attention," he pointed out, but he was still bubbling with enthusiasm.


    "Not really. You get a double thought-stream at 30 Int. I just ran it out of there." I wrinkled my nose at him. "Oh! You want to keep me off the battlefield and just run it for others, you wanker! Sure, that''s possible. I suppose I could be smithing while running the whole operation."


    Everyone except Briggs was looking at me as if I were a monster.


    "What¡­ would be involved in this communication?" To my surprise, it was Brother Shadowknife who spoke up first.


    "Well, trust. Then I have to Tat a Mark on you, takes about five minutes. Plow a thousand Karma into it, and the telepathy comes on line. Another thousand, half the primary effect. Three more thousand, full effect."


    "Describe this ''primary effect''," the general stated promptly.


    "Hmm," I rolled my eyes up. "You are familiar with strength-enhancing magic, right?" He nodded slowly. "The effect is similar to, but stacks with such magic, and is equivalent to a Valence I version of such effects, or +2, to wit. I''d advocate the Constitution equivalent for elves, you''re going to need the endurance, but you can also get an equivalent to Leatherskin, or Longstride." For some reason, the sex appeal wasn''t on the table.


    He realized the implications after only a little thought. That was equal to a primary, long-lasting combat buff, or a permanent magical item¡­ for five minutes of work and some combat experience.


    Raising a troop an entire tier like that was incredible. Five minutes per person. No top limit.


    But it would require trust¡­ which was naturally the most important edge.


    "We would effectively be ceding you control over our troops." His words made it plain that such an event was not something easy to deliver.


    "Including your own self." He blinked at me. "What, you think I don''t know how to give orders to generals? You don''t need to be in command, you need to be seen and killing, go everywhere the fighting requires you. To be honest, someone of your skill is completely wasted in a normal command position, as you''ve got other things to do. It''s time for you to start getting back into the fighting and earning some real glory."


    The flash of his eyes betrayed his excitement at the scene. "Will I be able to know and countermand any orders you give my people?" he pressed pointedly.


    "Technically, yes. Realistically, no. If you sit there trying to follow everything I''m going to be doing, you''re literally going to be sitting there trying to follow everything I''m doing, waiting to issue a countermanding order. I won''t have time to explain my tactics or strategy to just you, because I''m going to be issuing a lot of orders very quickly." I wrinkled my nose. "I shouldn''t have to tell you what it means for a commander to be able to instantly give orders and see them obeyed with total comprehension and clarity. You don''t explain things in a battle. You give an order and see it obeyed."


    He was silent for a long moment, glancing at Skycloud, who looked both worried and thoughtful. "It is an extraordinary thing, if it is true. May I ask how such a thing is possible?"


    "It simply replicates the power of Succubus'' Dark Blessing. No more, no less. The potential power of a Blessing is simply that incredible. The downside, of course, is that no one would trust a Succubus to be their general, if they are in their right mind, because such a Blessing is an enslavement tool." I tilted my head, then blinked my eyes. "Oh, you mean mechanically, so that you can replicate it with someone you trust, instead of me." I rubbed my nose as both elves flushed, ignoring them as I thought.


    "Well, any succubus, naturally. Good luck with that.


    "If you want a mortal¡­ you''re going to have to find another Forsaken Null. Then that Null is going to have to get a Blessing carved onto them by a Succubus, feed that Succubus to the Blessing, turn it into a Mark by shoving some high-value targets into the Mark via vivic immolation, at least a CR Twelve is best, and then Tatting it at a 36 with matching Spellcraft. Then they have to personally carve QL 32 matching Marks onto the recipients via Tattoo Artist, Spellcraft, and Alchemy checks, forming a Harmonic Minor Mark, which they can then Invest Karma in and make permanent."


    I lowered my eyes back down as the two elves stared at me. "Of course, where you''re also going to find a Ten Forsaken Null Warlord with over three thousand warband engagements at this size, I don''t know, but you seemed pretty confident there."


    They looked like they''d eaten something unpalatable.


    "What¡­ three thousand? In Nightmare?" Briggs asked, stunned at the number.


    "Oh, yeah. I commanded a company of troops who eventually reached four thousand in number." Briggs blinked again, doing the math, and wondering how the heck I''d reached Twenty in my Warlord Rank. "I knew everyone''s name, rank, position, strength, weakness, and mindset. We fought in so many different terrains and locations, so many different enemies¡­ can''t say the Warp was directly involved, but damn did we slaughter enough anthros, fey, Jotuns, and demons, and they aren''t much different.


    "At the end there, I only took up Tremble if something Big showed up. Otherwise, my lads could pretty much take care of it. My job was to tell them what to do, and theirs was to do it. You might say I got pretty good at it."


    The elf was repeating "three thousand engagements" under his breath. He was long-lived, probably at least a few centuries old, but I could tell he hadn''t had anything like that level of military experience.


    "I dread to ask," Briggs sighed, "but what is your Battle Check?"


    "It''s in the neighborhood of +45." Briggs just took a deep breath and sighed very, very heavily.


    "Battle Check?" the elven general asked, confused.


    "It''s a Mitharn short-hand representing tactical and strategic ability to command, deploy, and maneuver troops on a battlefield situation, with appropriate classifications based on size of troops, ranging from platoon all the way up to grand strategic oversight." Briggs relayed casually.


    "Oh? And is this¡­ 45¡­ a good number?" the general inquired promptly.


    "I''m guessing yours is between 20 and 25, sir. Unless you have a resounding reputation as a military genius extending far beyond the borders of the Sidhete that I am unaware of." Briggs sighed. "I used to rock a +35, but I''m very rusty and I''ve been restricting myself to the size of a company or smaller, for all the best reasons."


    His large eyes narrowed. "You are a company commander? At your age?" he asked, almost in disbelief.


    "Aye, sir. I led all the tribe''s warriors on our last four raids into ogre and giant camps, and during the recent attack on our village. Three-hundred and fourteen hunters and foresters, personally leading half the tribe on one wing, while my chief led the other."


    The elf looked back and forth between the two of us, and then at Skycloud, who was just shaking her pale hair in disbelief.


    "I have personally seen your combat prowess. The fact you are experienced battlefield commanders on top of that, despite having no magical ability¡­" He seemed to find that hard to believe.


    "Powered, like you elves, tend to rely on magic as a crutch to enhance your ability to solve all your problems," I mused aloud, totally neutral in tone, neither judgmental nor insulting. "Briggs and I don''t have that luxury. Our alternative to being a good commander is not casting a spell and divining the best course of action. No, it''s to be very, very good commanders.


    "But I understand trust is a thing. I doubt you''ll have any real problems doing things the old, slow way. Enhanced cooperation, coordination, control, responsiveness, communication, and real time intelligence gathering is hard for most commanders to properly visualize until they go through the experience, so they don''t value it enough to compromise on the trust issue.


    "No biggie. I can work with individuals as needed, and I don''t need an army to wipe warbands."


    The general opened his mouth, then closed it. He had intelligence on me that strongly claimed I had done just that, and without much effort. I had basically slaughtered a greater demon right before his eyes, it had no chance to fight back whatsoever¡­ and I had taken the long way, just so I could Feed it to the Land!


    General Moonriver finally realized he was dealing with an extraordinarily dangerous individual, perhaps equal to one of the legendary champions of his own people, and he''d best be treading very carefully¡­


    "If that is true, then why would you propose this, Lady Sama?" he asked respectfully.


    "Because I can''t be everywhere at the same time, and the way for people to get tougher and be more able hands in the distance is to fight! If I start fighting for you, you just become a bunch of wimpy grunts who aren''t useful to anyone."


    "I do not want to fight over kills with Sama Rantha. Make her the Warlord and trot her out to deal with greater demons, sure sure. I''ll take care of the light work!" Briggs added, earning more eyes for those words.


    "Will these Marks work on Void Brothers?" Brother Shadowknife''s non-memorable voice asked.


    "Exactly one, yes, Brother. Your Voids will pick up on any disharmony between more and erode them all away." I felt their auras quaver at just how nonchalantly I talked about their Voids.


    "Why are you able to sustain nine of them, then?" Brother Windarrow asked, clearly interested.


    I just blinked at him. "You have to inscribe the Marks on flesh and soul. Nulls have hard souls. Sources can only take one, they have burning souls. Voids can only take one because of empty souls. Trying to put more than one on you would be like trying to carve a cloud into a sculpture piece. Briggs there would just burn any past the first one away.


    "You can think of it all as the unique ability of being a Null. Your empty souls can do stuff, his burning soul can do stuff, and my hard soul can tolerate stuff yours never would."


    "Ah." He probably wanted to know more, but Windarrow''s dark eyes turned to Briggs. "We clearly felt the Oath the young Paladin has sworn¡­ but what did you do afterwards?"


    "Not much awareness of other Forsaken?" Briggs asked archly, keeping the older halvyr''s eyes without effort. "Voids pass through energies. Sources generate them, Nulls ignore them or defy them. So Voids have no fate, Nulls ignore and are invisible to Fate, and Sources¡­ generate Fate."


    Both of the Void Brothers visibly flinched in amazement. "You made a promise on Fate¡­" breathed Brother Shadowknife...

 90 Chapter Ninety – Mister Korvus

    It was a windswept high tor of stone grades and broken ridge lines¡­


    Then, a winding frozen landscape of snow and ice and ancient hills beaten down by the cold¡­


    A steaming desert, dunes and dry riverbanks forming a place to shed blood upon¡­


    A winding forest clearing, trees and copses breaking up the battlefield and providing places to hide and ambush from¡­


    A picturesque river valley, a stream cutting through old hills that would be host to slaughter¡­


    A mountain pass, narrow and old, to be defended against overwhelming numbers¡­


    An ancient city, long abandoned, a hundred places to hide and ambush from among the tumbled stones¡­


    A broken moor, cold and lonely, fogs sweeping across and hiding our foes from us¡­


    A low stretch of wall crossing fields gone fallow, now waiting to be watered by those coming for us.


    Cities in many cultural forms, to be defended.


    Villages and towns in all sizes and styles, to be attacked.


    An invading force, landing from the cold and crashing sea.


    A land blasted by magical fire, barren and bleak, and lava seething in the distance¡­


    A great plaza, statues of titans from ancient eras looming broken above us as the battles of ant-like armies played out beneath them¡­


    A great army of horsemen sweeping across endless golden plains, coming right for us¡­


    Disjointed combat swirling through ancient trees, golden leaves falling and growing scarlet with blood¡­


    An ancient bridge across a yawning chasm, clashing to see who would be the ones to cross¡­


    An oasis of palms to attack, and then another of high grasses to defend¡­


    An ambush on a vastly superior force along a great road, requiring it to be crippled or we would be overwhelmed¡­


    Barbarian hordes, screaming down from the hills¡­


    A dark temple, lightning crashing in dark clouds above, spilling forth horrors¡­


    A gibbering chorus of enslaved things charging at the whim of their floating, flying masters above, tentacles waving and proclaiming the will of the Old Ones¡­


    Horrors spawned by things from Outside Creation, rampaging across the land and having to be brought down¡­


    A fanatic crusade, charging with righteous appearance and hearts of uncaring hate, across the open ground¡­


    An orchard of flesh-eating trees, and the demons and horrors that waited for us there¡­


    Endless masses of the undead, marching without care or fear to add us to their numbers¡­


    Defending cities, time after time, each different, some mundane, some magical, some very strange, as their enemies whelmed upon them, and we were there to defy them¡­


    Beneath a natural arch of stone in ancient mountains, scribed with Runes too old to have meaning¡­


    A nonesuch realm consisting solely of endless walkways over emptiness, simply hanging out there, a maze of stairs and catwalks and occasional small lifts, endless small unit strife¡­


    A crystalline plane, the ground smooth as glass¡­


    Jungles primitive and modern, ruins ancient and recent, beasts from an age ago, and horrors or savages of the day¡­


    Sometimes the sky had two moons, three, five, a dozen. The stars we could not recognize, if it bore stars at all. Sometimes there were two suns, or three, or the sky was covered in clouds, and there was no sun at all, only endless gloom¡­


    Sometimes the ground glowed, and threw shadows into the sky. Sometimes the ground was like paste or flesh, or endless shallows that we could almost feel rotting away at our feet¡­


    ----------


    It was never the same place twice anymore.


    Today''s fight was a plateau, a lonely moor in a hot land, where the sun was already beating down upon us.


    From the wood of crushed shields and broken spears, I had rendered pulp and made paper. Why, here in a dream, I didn''t know. But I folded them, and bound them in a book, and even as I scribed into them with alchemical ink made from carbon and blood, I memorized all the words, that I not forget them. I sketched the faces of my soldiers, and those we fought, and sometimes the wounded would take The Book and thumb through the pages to find their pictures, and laugh and sign the pages of themselves and their friends.


    Even in Nightmare, they wanted to be remembered.


    The grey mists fell back as our lines advanced into them, opening out into this new world of a red sky and sands and heat.


    We weren''t equipped for all-weather fighting. I had cranked out Amulets by the hundreds, and the wealth of our enemies made them Amulets, exactly 1 point of fire and cold resistance each, enough to endure temperatures from -50 C to +80 without difficulty.


    They called them Ironblood Amulets, giving them the strength to fight on in all conditions. They only thing they didn''t protect the lads from was the wet.


    I set foot on air, and walked up into the sky. My Mask glowed, and 25x vision leapt out in all directions, looking for our foes this time.


    To the north and west of us, I saw a rolling plain of sand, dominated by hundreds of conical mounds. They were uniform in shape, if differing in size, and I slid through my memory, looking for comparisons.


    Termite mounds were the most similar thing I could remember.


    Centaur ants. Insect folk would be a new one.


    -We''re going up against bugs,- I /informed everyone, and cheerful groans came back, as they always did. We could hope to not fight, but it wasn''t going to happen. The History was right there, recording every battle since we had been Marked, and those from before they could remember, too. They forgot how many fights they''d been in, so they went back and looked, and remembered again.


    I gave them the image of the man-sized desert centaur ants, somewhat smaller and more stream-lined then their temperate dwelling kin. They were still hiveminds, so there was no way we were marching out into the sands to fight them, where they might be digging up through the sands to get at us. Let them try the chittering horde thing through solid rock, yessir.


    -Headquarters there.- Eyes moved, men began to trot. They knew they didn''t have much time before there was action, which meant minutes to set up the base for healing and final fallback.


    Rolled-up bundles of sharpened spear hafts salvaged from our enemies and bound with rope were hammered into the ground to form a crude fence, backed up by actual stakes. The wagons that held these floated along with us, Renewed and waiting to be set up again at each battlefield as we accumulated them.


    Other wagons held arrows and bolts, raw materials for smithing, other rough supplies we''d managed to scrounge during these many, many days of doing battle.


    The centaur ant warriors weren''t weak, but now they were fighting some of the most hardened human troops to ever exist. Their only advantage was numbers, and they were going to exploit it, but it was still going to be a tough fight for them.


    I saw the darkness surge out of the closest of the bug towers, and dust rising as they scuttled across the sands in our direction. The smaller ones were probably decent climbers, but the weight would make it hard for anything above the size of a dog, so the force was heading for a sharp but passable incline at the far side of the mesa.


    Eh?


    I turned my head towards a flash of silver in the distance.


    A third force?


    I was immediately wary, as this was a new variation in the whole skirmishing warbands thing.


    It looked to be a force of mounted riders, looked like horses, sweeping towards the ant mounds further on. In response, thousands of centaur ants boiled out to meet them.


    Hmmm. Another free agent from outside Dream, who wasn''t the primary antagonist?


    Interesting¡­


    -------------


    Insect carapaces crunched strategically under my feet, even if I didn''t touch them. Mounds of small to man-sized centaur ants were heaped up in swathes, burning down as vivus took them. I walked right through them like I was a half-ton plow, not under a hundred pounds of Hagchild.


    The larger, cow-sized bastards were the only ones who had much that was usable, wielding spears or crude sabers instead of just mandibles, claws, and tail stings, so it was easy to focus on them and Take Their Stuff, what little there was.


    Now, these thousand or so remaining horseman gathered over there, they might have stuff¡­


    The leader of the cavalry was riding out casually, looking down on me as he matched my pace. I watched his eyes flicker over the mounds of ants burning, the trail of carnage we''d left behind as we slowly fought our way off the mesa, despite multiple waves of ants streaming up to kill us, all the while he fought a tireless cavalry battle against the skittering hordes.


    He reined up before me, and we sized one another up.


    He was fair of skin, and a bit sickly and wasted-looking at that, with dark eyes that were a little feverish and bright. Still, he had managed to keep in shape somehow, moving correctly and wearing his armor like a pro. He had poise and arrogance in measure, and he was indeed looking down on me.


    But I certainly wasn''t scared of him. I had a very secure path of retreat and more then enough spears to render his cavalry threat moot¡­ and some very good archers. He couldn''t threaten me with the force he had here.


    "Join me!" His voice had an accent I identified with some of the imperial-esque troops I''d had to fight on other battlefields, although the armor style was slightly different. It also had a lot of expectations of instant obedience.


    "You''re in the wrong place," I answered calmly.


    He blinked at me. That certainly hadn''t been what he was expecting.


    "What are you speaking about, girl?" he demanded, glaring down at me. "Submit to me and follow my commands! We will finish the destruction of these things, and meet in battle with greater foes!"


    I tilted my head. "You know you''re in a dream, right?" His eyes widened a fraction. "Specifically, you''re in the Dream of a Hag Curse. That''s a really, really bad place for you to be. It''s quite possible that if you go through Renewal here, you''re never going to get out, and your body''s going to waste away wherever it''s at. You need to wake up and leave as soon as possible."


    His jaw worked for a moment, looking down at me, then around at this alien place, with its bug-hives the size of office buildings, the red sun and sands, even the riders waiting calmly behind him.


    "Who are you?" he demanded abruptly.


    "Sama Rantha. This Nightmare is my prison. I''m working towards getting out, but it''s going to take a while. I don''t think you''ll survive coming out with me, so you need to leave."


    "You''re not¡­ a creation of my dream?" He seemed terribly uncertain about that.


    "No. What''s your name?"


    "Korvus!" He seemed to think I should find that important.


    "I''ve been trapped in here basically since I was born, so if that''s supposed to mean something, it doesn''t here. This is just a dream, after all."


    "I¡­" He trailed off.


    I waved him down off his horse. "Two things. Pass me your cavalry, and I''ll try to Mark as many as I can before Renewal comes and they discorporate. Then we can have a fight, I''ll kill you, and send you out of this dream before it all resets."


    He seemed a little in disbelief. "You¡­ think you can best me?" he asked archly, fairly radiating arrogant confidence.


    "Come on down and find out, Mr. Korvus."

 91 Chapter Ninety-One – Making Fate

    "I made a promise on MY Fate," Briggs corrected. "I am the Source of my Fate. The Fate of other things has no more effect on me then it has on your or her," he said, waving at the two of them and Sama. "So, I have declared that I will see this plan by the gods of the Warp done and smashed, and my Fate is now streaming in that direction, ignoring all the other Fates that are pushing hither and yon."


    "That is why strong Sources are called Kings Among Men. His Fate is like a new river bubbling up out of the ground, ignoring the other sources of water as it flows in a direction. Naturally enough, it is going to pick up weaker flows as it goes by, and build its own momentum." Sama grinned at the two Voids, dual canines flashing. "I mean, I can''t really feel it, but you two certainly can. Jump on his bandwagon after that Oath, and he''s going to take you there, and he''ll trash every prophecy, divination, prediction, Luck, Chance, and Fate on his way there, too. Makes his own Luck, too, after all."


    "Traditionally, the Scouts find the problems, the Sources lead the way, and the Nulls deal with it," Briggs agreed sagely. "Lots more Nulls then Sources, and not many Voids at all."


    "There is an Order? An organization of Forsaken, such as yourselves?" Brother Windarrow asked in amazement, having never heard of such a thing.


    Briggs waved his hand negatively. "No, no. You''re overthinking it. It''s a numbers thing. Nulls endure. Sources burn. Voids seek. There''s potential Nulls all over the place, going through life ignoring or enduring everything. Then a Source comes up and sweeps them along in a grand quest or happening or something. And a Void is usually there waving, going ''Hey, guys, what you want is right over there''¡­" He made pointing motions in the exact direction Shadowknife had pointed out earlier.


    "Leaders, followers, and guides," Sama agreed. "So, willing to be guides?" she asked cheerfully.


    Brother Shadowknife stirred. "Events are going to converge around you, Master Briggs. This is indeed a very good place to be¡­" His eyes turned to Sama. "You¡­ you''re right. Fate just flows around you, and exerts no pull. Your past is inviolate, you have no future, you live in the present¡­"


    "Yeah, temporal meddlers freaking hate Nulls. Trying to change a timeline with Nulls in it is like trying to change the course of a river filled with iron pipes. The water keeps going in the same direction, and you just bloody your knuckles on the pipes.


    "Of course, a Source coming in and sending the river careening every which way despite all your carefully laid plans is very annoying, too. Trying to change the future around someone who makes it doesn''t tend to end up well, either¡­" She winked at Briggs.


    "And what are Voids?" Brother Shadowknife asked in amusement.


    "Ah, Voids are when you go fishing in the river, and you lose your string, bait, and maybe the hand you reached in to grab the fish you thought you hooked." Briggs lifted his hand and waved all around. "Hey guys, I think there''s something dangerous in the water!"


    Both of them grinned despite themselves, and even the elves looked grimly amused. "But if Nulls endure so much, why are you fighting?" Brother Windarrow pressed, very interested in this.


    Sama snorted. "I can endure all sorts of shit for a lot less time if I get rid of it." She pointed at Briggs. "They can put up with his shit, he isn''t going to put up with theirs." Briggs smirked. She swung back to them. "Turn shit to fertilizer so you don''t have to smell it."


    They were actually smiling broadly now, and everyone had the impression it didn''t happen to them much. "Oh, I think we will definitely be working together with the two of you," Brother Windarrow spoke up cheerfully, and glanced at the elves. "I think the two of you would be absolute fools to not take advantage of what she is proposing¡­ and the Land doesn''t treat fools well. She will save the lives of your people, lessen casualties, accelerate their growth in power, and lead you right to your objective." He nodded at Briggs. "This one has Made Fate. You can fight the river every time you cross it, you can get swept up and destroyed by the floods, or you can sail down a line of Fate with a very specific, determined course, and bring it smashing down upon these blasphemous invaders like a hammer.


    "The elves have never been dumb, and even if you like not the Voids, you have seen what happens when you do not listen to us across the millennia." He gestured at Briggs again. "Joining and magnifying the course he is on is your very best path. It will intensely mess with the plots and plans of some very dangerous entities, and THOSE plans are going to run right into the wall that is her." He pointed at Sama.


    General Moonriver considered the both of them, and sighed slowly. "Is this also the opinion of Brother Shadowknife?" he asked calmly.


    "There was a dire fate looming over you all, your kingdom was in a peril it has not faced in centuries. A stain was starting to weave its way into Fate, corruption and a foul hand reaching across the world¡­" the shadowy hyn trailed off, and both elves went white.


    "And then she showed up." He waved at Sama. "That thread of fate slammed into her path and was cut like a knife. It simply¡­ stopped." He turned to Briggs. "And now Fate is running against itself. Out of nowhere, a stream is rising, and turning the other way, cutting through the incoming darkness. Where it will go and how it will end is beyond my vision, beyond anyone''s vision, but it is driving into the darkness, without the warp or weft of the gods interacting, without any divine hands stirring the pot, without relying on risky odds and calculations and impromptu heroes coming out of nowhere to save everything.


    "You can make the stream a river, or you can watch the tide spreading from the darkness as it comes for you, and pray that the levies are built high enough while the world around you floods."


    Both elves swallowed. This was not a minor event happening. This was Damn Serious.


    "The enemy is receiving thousands more reinforcements every single day. It can and will continue potentially forever. I don''t know how large your army is, but I''m assuming that ''endless numbers'' will eventually kill you, unless you can chop it off at the source," Briggs went on. "We can get you to that source, straightaway. Once we bottle the source, we can hunt down the warbands, and then proceed to start Feeding the Land until we can blow the Vivic Cascade."


    The elves looked unsettled. "How would you choose to proceed?" General Moonriver finally asked after a moment.


    "We''d start with Sama Tatting up your officers, scouts, and primary Casters, including yourselves. Once that is done, she can relay commands and information to all the important units. If you want a whole unit to be Tatted, well, she said five minutes a man, that''s a lot of hours we don''t directly have at this moment. If we can defer it for now in favor of getting the net spread as far and wide as possible, that would be for the best," Briggs spoke up on seeing Sama''s glance.


    "I could Open them for Soul Magic at the same time," Sama offered with a half-smile, and the elves all looked at her in amazement.


    "Soul Magic is very rare among our people¡­" Maga Skycloud spoke up softly.


    "If you have a Soul, you can use Essence. Elves are all Powered, so they''ll all be able to Shape if they want to. Sir Estemar?" Briggs prodded.


    Estemar stepped forward instantly, silver lightning crackling atop his gauntlets, snapping between them in an obvious show of deadly power.


    "I Opened him this morning," Sama stated. The elves considered that display and the implications of it. If every single soldier under their command could do something similar¡­


    "Shock Gauntlets enable the wielder to deliver a lethal jolt of electricity once every six seconds. The more Essence you can infuse in them, the stronger they are¡­ but that is dependent on time and Levels, of course," Briggs went on. "Naturally, us Forsaken can''t do such a thing, we aren''t Powered and can''t Shape our souls appropriately.


    "Now, would you like Sama to begin, and the rest of us to make plans appropriate to what she is doing, or should we simply be going? There''s more Warp minions to kill, and we''re wasting time sitting here. Let''s do something, or we''re going very shortly." He lowered his already deep voice another octave. "Time is our only true commodity, and we''re not wasting it."


    ---------


    Estemar watched Briggs take the stone plate out of the bottom of one of the cabinets, the Ancient grunting and shaking his head. There were four plates there¡­ Sama had obviously been intending to make more Healing Traps, but had not gotten around to it.


    "Is there anything I can do to help?" the Paladin asked, a little crestfallen at his lack of ability to contribute during this ''downtime''. Out of nowhere, a little ball of emotive golden light had popped up at Sama''s shoulder, and was now waiting for Briggs to melt down some silver and pour it into the Runes already carved on the stone, where it would Invest the new Healing Trap for the next few hours.


    A short distance away, Maga Skycloud had her back exposed as a Mark was being Tattooed upon her, laying down on a board propped across a floating Disk as Sama worked rapidly. General Moonriver was already done, and had given Sama a look of incredulity as he rose from the board, his new Mark glowing faintly at the base of his spine, and electricity gathering about his hands.


    The fact he''d let out some pretty piercing heartfelt screams as his soul punched through his hands and feet Chakra points everyone mutually ignored.


    Several dozen other elves waited nearby patiently, their armor off and shirts loose, watching very alertly now.


    "For today¡­ hmm." Briggs grunted, as he pulled out four rectangular wooden slabs of moderate thickness, set them down, closed the cabinet, and moved over to a clear area nearby. "If Sama had something in mid-Infusion, you could keep it going, but there''s nothing on the burner due to lack of goldweight."


    He nodded at another group of elves, arranged in a formation around a slab of stone, on which was heaped all the magical arms and armor of the Warp marauder, being melted down by brilliant, poly-colored magical flames that were burning off the taint and corruption into glittering mana crystals¡­ which could then be used to enhance their own arms and armor.


    "You ever Rendered something into mana crystals?" he asked shortly. "Can''t teach you, it''s not something non-Powered can do. We can transfer between objects, or into objects, but making the crystals requires control of magic."


    Estemar pursed his lips. "I imagine I could learn the trick of it easily enough?" It wasn''t a difficult Spellcraft check, after all.


    Briggs fetched a finger-ingot of silver out of the cabinet, set it into the middle of the Disk called Forge floating there, clearly different then the other Disks with its workmanship and all the Runes emblazoned and carved onto it with extraordinary skill. Estemar could hardly believe he had been sitting on it, getting towed along.


    Briggs'' hands ran along the Runes as if they were old friends, and they lit up with pyromantic energy quickly, all of it swirling down to concentrate on the silver. He pressed Forge down and brought it over on top of the carved stone, eyes fixed on the metal as it began to visibly heat up with extreme speed.


    "Ask one of the elves if he''ll show you how to do it," Briggs said. "I''ve been told it''s fairly easy. When you can do it, you can render down the stuff we stripped off the sorcerer and his goons. Once that is done, we''ll see about getting you a starter Sword you can Name and start to grow, and a decent Shield you can feed mana crystals to."


    Estemar nodded. "We are not moving out tonight?" He eyed the lines of elves.


    "The elves are. We''ll catch up to them tomorrow. Sama promised them six hours of Tat and Soul-release. You may have noticed their scouts going out, both afoot and a-feathered. We basically need to have a fight every day if we''re going to keep up with the output of the Warp Rift."


    Estemar sucked in a breath. "That is very hard to sustain, Master Briggs. The casualties alone¡­"


    "Ah, you''ve never really been told about Elves, have you¡­" Briggs murmured, and Estemar perked up attentively.

 92 Chapter Ninety-Two – Caught in Dreams I

    He was a Ten swordsman, with Mastery in the Sword, and his Weapon was magical to +III. He had some classic training in long and short, and with his size advantage, thought he had this.


    It took him two long minutes to realize that I was toying with him and enjoying the sparring, letting him test himself uselessly against my defenses, and then made him defend himself madly against the crushing power of my attacks, always getting faster, faster, exploiting every opening he had. All the while, Tremble was chanting "Tremble, She Comes!", and as my momentum built, so did the speed of his chant.


    And then I swept out his legs, Tremble came down into his mouth, and I broke his sword-hand''s wrist with Stand even as I parried his dagger with it.


    He looked up at me in disbelief with his fevered eyes.


    "Wake up, and stay out of Dream. It''s not a place a man like you should be living." His eyes stayed on me as I pushed Tremble down, and vivus flared along his spine.


    There was a woosh of wind, whiteness sending him off, and he was gone. I toed his Sword up to my hand.


    Dream or no, there was still magic inside it.


    I looked up at the milling cavalry, whose control had passed to and was dependent on me. One group of heavy cavalry, majority medium, some light cavalry for scouting and skirmishing.


    I''d try to save the heavy cav first. The knights would be elite troops. At a mere twelve an hour, I didn''t know how many I could save, but we could only try.


    -Form up ranks,- I /sent to my own men, giving them the deployment formation. As control shifted to me, that meant the timer would reset and conflict would soon start again. I''d be damned if the Curse thought I was actually going to invade those mounds, though.


    "Line up for me to have a look at you! You, you, and you, move your squads over here and dismount!" -Get my Tatting stand up pronto!- I /ordered, and my people scurried for places as loot made its way to the wagons, and our small camp was quickly shifted down off the mesa.


    It wasn''t like the Curse was going to run out of centaur ants to throw at us¡­


    ----


    The last order I gave them before they died was to lead their brothers back to me.


    Horses whinnied, armor clinked in the grey mist. Several hundred Ironblooded, their wounds and exhaustion cleared away by Renewal, the details of the day before already fading into distant memory, were drawn up and waiting as those who had died came out of the mist.


    Eight hundred and fourteen new soldiers were among them, each of the seventy-four Marked men in the cavalry leading ten others out of the mist of dissolution, and back to do battle once more.


    There were calls of greeting, shaking heads, and confused expressions on the faces of those who had not been Marked, wondering what the celebration was for.


    "Dismount. We Sing to Sylune for Renewal, and then to Aru for a new day," I ordered the horsemen, who dismounted readily enough.


    I had reached /5 in Capacity of Souls, the Mastery that raised the virtua Character Level for Capacity of Soul Tats and Feats, some time ago, putting me at Fifteen virtua. That meant my base Limit on Essence investable was at Four, and with Improved Capacity, and Improved Chakra Points, was actually Five.


    Marshal the Soul was a Soul Feat that enhanced all Marshal capabilities, while Marshal the Field was a Mastery that did almost the same thing, restricted to numbers of troops and command radius, and was also raised to /5.


    Marshal the Field is what had raised my Command Capability to 2,250 troops. Five Essence in Marshal the Soul raised it to virtua Twenty, four thousand troops, and gave me 5 +1''s to allocate to my people, +1 each to AC, Saves, Damage, and To-Hit, with one floating that I could choose.


    They were Morale bonuses, just like Bardsong... but they were constant.


    And they were affected by Courageous from Tremble, if they could hear him.


    With Marks, they could ALL hear him, and my Command Radius carried the sound of him out two hundred yards otherwise. Since he was usually at +VIII, that meant a +4 improvement to any morale bonuses they had.


    A blanket +5 to AC, Saves, Damage, and To-Hit for serving under a legendary virtua-Twenty Marshal was a hellacious bonus for any group of soldiers.


    I had hundreds more Marks to scribe and magic Weapons and Armor to get made, but that was a Good Thing. The newcomers could only look at the Weapons lighting up with magic as we Sang to the Queen of Stars and King of Suns, and agree to join us¡­


    ---------------


    Dry dunes on open sands, a crashing battle against giant jackal-headed bastards from Dolor¡­


    A world of needle-like peaks and stony valleys, fort after fort of dug-in goblins and their spidery allies¡­


    Another temperate realm of copses and fields and villages, and ophidians swarming through it to kill everything.


    Massive tunnels bored through the endless stone, and our enemies could come from any side, including above and below¡­


    And on, and on¡­


    -----------------------------


    Birds calling. The raucous howls of monkeys, the distant roar of something they were pissing off. The burble of water, splashing against stones.


    The fog didn''t lift completely, as the air was too wet, too humid. The heat wouldn''t bother us with Amulets, but we could only look around as it peeled back.


    Ruins, sized for giants, reeking with age and ancient power. They were overgrown by the jungle, vines and creepers everywhere. The deployment zone we''d materialized in, a giant plaza with trees torn through the ancient plates and towering up into the mists above, had a river crashing along one side, with a waterfall thundering loudly just a little way beyond.


    Screw fighting, I wanted to tear off my clothes and go swimming over there. Very unfair.


    Of course, something with a thirty-foot neck lunging out of the water and snatching out of the air another something with a thirty-foot wingspan that was flying a bit too low encouraged me to have other ideas.


    Rotters. That probably explained the big coiling snakes around the columns, the scale patterns on the houses and roofs, the fallen snake-head statues, and the way even the roads and plaza stones were laid out in winding, scaly patterns.


    There was a low rolling roar from off thataway, down an ancient avenue framed by crumbling ancient buildings of stone, and the forest giants that had burst through and around them, towering above them now.


    -Fireball going off.- The sound was unmistakable. -Cavalry elements with me.- I plucked the men I wanted following me. -Assume active threat from all directions. Shields on the outside of the formation.- I pictured the marching formation, and with precision to shame any marching band, the men spun and moved through one another as Stand beat the cadence in their heads.


    I needed to be Tatting more men and smithing, but I skated forwards as the light riders converged in behind me. I noted that there were a lot of tunnels under the ground, some obstructed by roots, others ready to collapse into pits beneath us, and the riders followed directly in my tracks as I picked a course for them.


    Metal clashing, shouts and¡­ songs rising in battlecries. The distant echo of bowstrings twanging. Beneath my feet, things stirred and began to move, and I alerted everyone that the denizens of this place were stirring.


    I came around a rootmass taller than I was, found myself at the side of a smaller plaza, just as it and the mist lit up with the crackling boom of a lightning bolt tearing through a line of scaled forms.


    Serpent folk on dinoback? Just what we needed. They seemed to be focused on a bunch of figures on top of one of the buildings, preventing them from just being bowled over by the mass of the dinos and the long-limbed scalefolk.


    Well, they were making a lot of noise. The cavalry gathered up behind me, unlimbering their spears. They weren''t heavy lancers, but that didn''t mean a charge into a distracted foe couldn''t do a lot of damage.


    But the incident yesterday with Mr. Korvus had me wrinkling my nose. "Sense for Evil, then Good," I told Tremble, before we moved. Behind me, the men were reporting shadows moving between buildings around them, clearly somethings massing for a fight. I stopped most pursuit, only letting a line of medium cavalry follow after me, rapidly changing the formations as I judged who the enemies were, and didn''t want my numbers getting bogged down in their narrow streets where we couldn''t bring cooperation and flanking to bear.


    Best to move now before the alarm sounded. Serpentfolk were telepathic bastards, and could convey alarms very quickly by chain-thoughts. I had to hit them before they were warned, and they had all their attention on those Casters and archers not clear in the fog.


    So, I burst out of cover, and Tremble put up a Sound Bubble.


    Silence is a powerful spell for how easy it is to use. Shut down chanting, damn hard to Cast. Perfect stealth for even the most heavily-armored man.


    However, sudden silence is also greatly alarming to many people. Too, Silence spells are rather limited in area for battlefield use.


    Sound Bubbles don''t allow sound to pass the edge of the Bubble. So, you can talk and hear normally inside it, but the sound doesn''t carry.


    And they have a radius of 10 feet per Caster Level, which was more than enough to envelop the troop of light cavalry following behind me.


    "Tremble, oh, stand and tremble, we come¡­" Tremble crooned, as we bolted across the mismatched stones, and I glanced at the dark forms moving through tunnels beneath us as we charged into the flank of the serpentmen.


    The guy on the Queen Raptor did see us, but obviously didn''t believe his eyes as we came surging in silently, like a dream or misty image gaining color and solidity a little too late. I saw his throat inflate, and heads began to turn in our direction. We hit them as the Sound Bubble fell, and Tremble roared at them in Draconic, "TREMBLE!"


    Spears crashed into the side of raptors and their scaled riders, sent them over with superior mass and impact, screaming and hissing. Maybe they didn''t have emotions, but that ol'' survival instinct we called fear they still had a nice helping of.


    SlashcleavecleavecleavestepcleavecleavecleavestepcleavecleavestepcleavecleavecleavestepcleavecleavestepcleaveFinishHewstepcleavestrikestepcleave-


    A line of serpentmen soldiers and guards exploded around me in flying limbs and heads as I zeroed right in on the guy on the feathered allosaurus with the pretty scale job. Nice detailing on the temporal scales¡­ Tremble took off a head as I spun right into the throat of the creature, and Hewed on through it, grabbing the throat I had just half-severed through, spinning around and up onto its back in front of the startled rider who hadn''t been able to move his mount away.


    I took off his spear hand, so fast he didn''t have time to feel it before I was sliding past him, Tremble coming back and taking off his head above his lower jaw. Then I was dropping into the serpentmen who were supposed to be guarding him, and my chain of kills continued.


    The riders peeled away, as they weren''t supposed to be engaging in prolonged combat with dangerous foes, but they left behind dozens of dead and dying serpentfolk and dinos. The main mass of the scalefolk might have been able to recover from that loss¡­ if their boss wasn''t dead, and if the second line of cavalry, riding hard along the route I''d shown them, didn''t slam into them with real lances and barded horses, and send them flying.


    Yeah, there''s a reason you don''t use two-legged things for mounts, nitwits¡­


    The light cav split and curled, sheering against the edges of the serpent folk, covering for the more heavily-armored riders, opening up that path of retreat as they curled through, rounding for another charge the serpentfolk couldn''t help but know was coming.


    A volley of arrows, more tightly grouped then before, shredded some serpentfolk who seemed to have the idea of casting some spells, and then I was in among the survivors and making sure none of them went anywhere in sprays of cold reptilian blood.


    This fight was over, they just couldn''t run away fast enough. The light cav sealed off the north and south, their targets were on the east, and lancers wheeled expertly and came rushing in from the west.


    I stood still, and the lancers crashed left and right of me, going on past since there was obviously nothing within reach of my blade around me. Weighty hooves pounded reptiles into mush, and the fighting was basically over. Tremble was making rather emphatic statements about quivering mush¡­


    I looked up at the roof of the building they were fighting to get into, right into the startled eyes of several dozen figures shorter then I was, hunting bows at the ready.


    Hynfolk, here?

 93 Chapter Ninety-Three – About Them Elves…

    "So, remember how we talked about Classes and Levels, and what you got from them?" Briggs asked Estemar casually.


    The young Paladin nodded quickly. "Of course. Optimizing your Class Levels is a powerful tool, and I''ve seen the results." He held up his hands, and lightning crackled over his gauntlets.


    "Right. Well, there''s what''s called Racial Levels, too. Racial Levels, in fact, dominate the world."Estemar lifted an eyebrow. "Yeah. You see, Class Levels are what humanoids have. They are basically an invention of mortals to deal with the insanely overpowered things that Nature gives birth to in a magical world.


    "Think about it. Do you need to teach a tiger how to hunt? Deer to gather in herds? Birds to migrate? Bees to tend flowers?" Estemar pursed his lips. "That''s right, most creatures simply inherit what they know. In a magical world, they simply build on what they inherit, and make it greater. Like most Jotuns¡­ they are remarkably good at what they do, even if they don''t practice it, or learn it from anyone in particular. Dragons can get skilled at stuff simply by going to sleep for a couple centuries."


    Estemar blinked, and then nodded. "What does that have to do with elves?" he wondered.


    "Well, you probably know that elves are dangerous, right? They are all good with spells and blades and bows and whatnot, they live a long time so they can learn a lot of tricks¡­ they are just extremely gifted in using magic, depending on their subrace," Briggs went on.


    "That is a racial trait, but not the same as a whole class-?" Estemar wondered aloud.


    "Every single elf is a near-Warrior/stripped Caster at three-quarters advancement, with no cap on Racial Levels."


    Estemar blinked. "That¡­ sounds extremely powerful," he admitted, taking a mental step back. "Their entire race¡­?" he went on.


    "Yeah. But you know how you get all those neat Paladin powers as you go up in Level, in addition to Casting? Laying on Hands, disease immunity, fear immunity, Sword Spirit, Summon Mount, Smiting? Elves don''t get any of them. They get to fight like skilled fighters, cast like skilled Casters¡­ but they don''t get any of the tricks and benefits of Class Levels with them."


    Estemar furrowed his brow, thinking about that. "So¡­ an Elven Wizard is likely someone who has both Class Levels and Racial Levels, and they complement one another?"


    "And he can fight like a proficient swordsman and shoot like a decent archer." Briggs nodded at the army of elves moving out around them. "So every single Elf here is a spellcaster to some degree or another. If they are Fours, then they are equivalent to a level Three Warrior and a Level Three Caster.


    "I don''t think I should need to tell you what having hundreds of spellcasters available can do for any people or nation, and why you shouldn''t mess with them."


    Estemar took a deep breath. "All of them are Casters¡­ what an incredible source of strength!"


    "And they naturally get stronger and more adept as they get older. Old Elves are powerful, even if they get somewhat frailer." The silver was all melted now, and he engaged the force filter as he crouched down, directing the slender stream of molten metal onto the carved stone below. The Disk moved around effortlessly at his pressure, his ki giving him a level of control ordinary touch couldn''t match.


    "As I understand it, the gold elves tend to be neo-Wizards or neo-Clerics. The silver elves tend to be Sorcerers or Favored. The bronze elves tend to be Druidic Casters. Any of them can also be Bardic Casters, and usually end up taking that Class to build on the talent. Other Traditions are pretty rare, and since they don''t dovetail with their natural Talents, rarely pursued."


    The silver was almost gone, filling up the carving. He passed his hand over it, his Vajra smoothing out imperfections, bonding the cooling metal to the stone as if polished for hours. He took out a waiting pitcher of cold Lightning Water and poured the sparkling liquid slowly and carefully over the stone, to accelerate the cooling process and making it ready for Investment.


    "Here you go, Sparkie." He hefted the new Trap in one hand, and set it off to the side, and then began to grab the smithing Tools as the Soul Familiar went to work maintaining the Investment. "Now, consider that most of the elven are going to have access to healing magic, and tell me what the recovery capacity of your average elven force is."


    "Ah." Estemar blinked. "Considerable?"


    "In their own way, yes. They tend not to have much Soak, and that means from fight to fight during a day, they have less staying power. But from one day to the next, it is generally not much of an issue. They get their spells back, and they have staying power again." He grunted as he put the first couple ingots into the new flames of Forge, and then lifted the Anvil of Silent Thunder out of its Cabinet and put it on a level spot close by.


    "They are a lot like the fey, in that as they grow their Racial Levels and Hit Dice, they magically reinforce their bodies to become tougher. If they earn the right to a Healing Reserve, they can be fixed up to nearly their best condition between fights."


    "I remember that as one of the key Feats you wanted me to learn?" Estemar asked.


    "Yes. Basically, it is a source of unlimited Healing power to Health, limited only by time. You have to obtain the acknowledgement of Amana to use it, of course, and She is picky about who earns the right. Also, unless you are one of Her priestesses, you literally do have to earn the right. A Priest of other Good gods can waive the initial requirement, but has to pay it back to advance. A Paladin, Bard, or other type of Healer has to pay first, showing their dedication."


    "What is this price?" Estemar asked, intrigued.


    "Five hundred Valences worth of Healing magic Cast on other people." He glanced at Estemar, who looked a little startled. "I think every two dice of your Laying on of Hands counts as one Valence. Other forms of healing, like Bardsong, Channeling Life Energy, pure arcane magic, or ki-based healing, don''t qualify.


    "That just gets you the very basic level. Keep a Valence One Healing spell active in your Matrix, and you can heal two points of Health damage every six seconds on someone, including yourself."


    "That¡­ seems rather slow," Estemar murmured, brow furrowing.


    "It is," agreed Briggs. "But, over the course of eight hours, that is 4,800 points of Health, which is literally an army. Every three minutes, you can take an elite elven soldier from near-death to almost full fighting capacity. Twenty an hour, a hundred and sixty every eight¡­ multiplied by the number of Healers¡­"


    "And the next day, barring crippling injuries and death, your entire army is at full strength." Estemar got the point. "Even one such Healer could easily care for an entire company of men."


    "And they do. Didn''t your Order use such Healers when anticipating major battles?"


    "There were several Clerics attached to the Order, but I heard nothing specific about their healing ability," Estemar admitted. "They were just Healers..."


    "Well, the Feat is open to Paladins, if you use your healing magic enough on others. If you keep doing so, the Reserve improves. As you improve up the scale, you gain the right to have it work off higher Valences. A Valence Two is four points per six seconds, Three is six, all the way up to ten points per six seconds if you have a Valence Five Heal spell in memory."


    That would be a torrent of healing magic. Estemar was impressed as he did the math.


    "It means that if a company has no Healer¡­ you could fill that hole and be that Healer," Briggs told him, watching the ingots start to redden quickly, the Shaping Hammer in his fist ready to work. "It gives you versatility and options, and it can save a lot of lives. Healing spells are fast, powerful, precious, and ultimately limited in quantity. They can take you from on death''s door to fighting trim in seconds. The Healing Reserve is nowhere near as powerful, but it is steady and inexhaustible, and lets you save the magic for when it is truly needed."


    "Are not humans limited in Racial Levels, and thus how much Health they can acquire?" Estemar asked after a moment, contemplating this.


    "Correct. We get exactly three Racial Levels, and then we''re working on Evolutionary Levels, which are more dangerous." Briggs grunted as the ingots turned white-hot. "Of course, lots of ways to increase Health. Toughness Feat, Soul-Fortified body, Infusion of Soul, higher Con score, maximizing Health through training¡­" Briggs waved his hand dismissively. "Sure, you''re not going to match a monstrous foe, but that''s not the idea. Soak has always been what helped us turn the tables, given the superior recovery ability of many magical beings and creatures."


    Estemar looked away, then back at him. "How about Lady Sama?"


    "How about her, what?"


    "How much is her Soak and Health?"


    Briggs glanced over at where Sama was Tatting up elves. "Probably over three hundred and a hundred, respectively."


    Estemar could only blink. He''d seen his own numbers on his Assay, and they were much, much less than that.


    "How?" he asked in a faltering voice.


    "She''s a Null Forsaken Deep Ten. Her Con score is probably over 40, and she''ll have maxed it, because that''s what Nulls do." The ingots were melting down, and he put the basic mold down underneath for them to drain into.


    "Rep counts," Estemar remembered. "That''s what Powered do¡­"


    "Yes. They Cast all their spells, every day, to get better at Casting spells. And when they''ve done it enough, Reserves, Sieging, Metacasting, all those things open up, giving options and power they didn''t have before." The last of the steel poured through the force filter, and he nudged the Disk away as he picked up the mold, and tapped a Rune on it. There was a hiss as it cooled very rapidly, venting the heat skywards.


    "As a Paladin, you''re a bit different, since you''ve got magical abilities that aren''t spells. Those can be worked on, too."


    "Oh?" Estemar blinked.


    "Sure, like your ability to Detect Evil. You can increase the range of it, the duration of it, the speed you can get it to work, and even keep it working while you do other things. You can learn how to detect Law, Good, and Chaos with it, too."


    "I¡­" Estemar was astounded. He''d had no idea that was even possible, let alone how to do it.


    "What? Mithar is The Grandmaster, Paladin. He''s a SMART fighter, the very best. He gives you gifts to develop them, not to just accept as they are. Sure, you can go Ironskull and shoot for power¡­ but unless there''s a need for speed, go Deep and build yourself into a monster they''ll never expect. Fight smarter and beat the crap out of them."


    "If you are given the time to do so," Estemar noted.


    "That''s a given. Go, have one of them elves waiting over there show you what to do." He put the crude shield, red with heat, on the anvil with his bare hands and hefted the Shaping Hammer. "Work to do."


    Estemar nodded and hurried away.


    Mithar is the The Grandmaster, he said to himself, finding a whole new way of looking at the gifts he''d been given coming to life. Possibilities of Soul and Divine power, how they might mix, if he had the time to practice them¡­

 94 Chapter Ninety-Four – Caught in Dreams II

    I certainly wasn''t expecting this, and the hyn seemed pretty amazed, too.


    In The Power of Ten, the hyn were born from human midgets and pygmies in a magical world, transforming from the tide of magic coming across the planet. Thus, no more midgets were born to normal humans at all, and the hyn were simply considered a shorter branch of the human race.


    I kicked off the withers of one of lancer''s horses, popped up another ten feet, and landed on the wall right between two of the hyn archers, who stumbled back, a lot of pointy things aimed my way. The closer one actually fell down, staring up at me, and I bent down over him.


    He wasn''t a dream. Cold, hard reality gathered around him, giving him a solidity that a creature of Dream just didn''t have.


    "Hmm," I muttered to no one in particular, and turned around to look down at the serpent folk down there.


    They weren''t from Dream, either¡­ or, at least, mostly not.


    I looked up at the gray, unreal mists shrouding the sky and permeating the air, laced with the stuff of Dream¡­ but this area was not in Dream.


    It was on the borders of Dream. What was the Curse playing at? Did it get tired of thinking up new landscapes and things for us to fight? It had all Creation''s dreams to pick from, literally infinite amounts of nightmares and visionary landscapes to pick from.


    But this was even different then that drugged idiot venturing to places in Dream he should not have.


    I turned back to look at the hyn, who had clustered up with their spears and bows, and were watching me narrowly as my men cleared up the last of the scalies below.


    "You''re not supposed to be here," I told them, and all their eyes went wide. "What happened?" I glanced over them¡­ only about a hundred of them, with non-combatant women and children among them.


    "You¡­ who are you?" asked the hyn in the lead, his short bow unwavering. My total lack of fear was unnerving him.


    "Sama Rantha, the Sage of Swords," I replied calmly, and then my eyes narrowed. "You may notice I have my Sword sheathed. If you want me to take it out and point it at you, keep your arrows trained on me."


    His eyes darted left and right, and then over the edge of the roof. Horsemen were gathering up in lines to watch what was going on up above¡­ and my skirmishers had hands resting on their own horsebows.


    He whistled sharply, and the bows dropped with the spears, some of the short folk letting out relieved breaths, having seen me chewing through the snake-men below. "Apologies, Sage Sama. This situation has unnerved us." Fear was nibbling at the edge of his eyes. "I am Ecto Twindleburr. We were brought here by a bank of billowing yellow fog. We do not know where we are, only that the snake people have discovered us, and are hunting us¡­"


    I nodded once. "They want to find out how you taste." The hyn swallowed once. "Do you know how to get out of here? If you stay too long, you will not be able to leave."


    He hesitated only a moment, and then all their heads turned off to his left, in a specific direction. "There is something pulling us that way¡­"


    "We''ve got a direction!" I declared, hand to my temple. I held out my hand. "We''ll get you home, Master Ecto. We were brought here to fight, and that looks like a fine direction to go. If you''re willing to come with us, we''ll get you out of here."


    He looked at me, stepped up to look up at the gore-spattered horsemen below, and all the dead scaled bodies being trod beneath iron hooves.


    Ecto glanced at me. "They all follow you?" he asked, surprised.


    He jumped when near two hundred swords left their scabbards at the same time. "TREMBLE!" they shouted, in a unison so perfect that the hyn all flinched.


    "Yes," I added, with a fierce smile that showed my dual canines. "You game?" My hand hadn''t moved.


    He swallowed, looked up at all those upraised swords, and made his decision. "If you could safeguard us, that would be great, Sage Sama!" he said, and reached out to take my hand.


    -------


    I used a Disk for an intermediate step, standing on it and as each hyn leapt down, I tossed them to a waiting horseman, who caught them easily and seated them in front of them on their mounts. The process was incredibly quick and fluid, as the hyn were naturally agile, and my lads were very precise.


    In just a few minutes, the road rooftop was empty. Ecto was dropped on my Disk as I jumped off it, and found himself getting pulled after me at high speed as I led the horsemen away on foot.


    I was on high alert, my Tremblesense plunging into shadows, through the stone, riffling the air. Just behind me, the lancers waited, shields out and prepared to deal with attackers coming in from the sides.


    They pulled up in front of several intersecting openings, glaring into the darkness beyond where hissing creatures waited, unnerved at being confronted by a line of lancers, and the horsemen streaming behind them.


    Rolling from street to doorway to crumbling arch to hole in the ground, the lancers paused to let those forces below intent on streaming out know that they were ready, and when the horses with the hyn galloped by, they wheeled in after them.


    Behind us, serpent folk and their minions were surging into the street, but in front there was only one belated attempt to raise a wall of stone in front of us. I shattered it back into the magic it came from, and we surged into the plaza beyond.


    Fighting had already started, lines of brutish morlocks under mental domination charging out at us, mere cannon fodder meant to open ways for the scalefolk behind. It looked like they were using troglodytes, more creatures usually found in Deep Realms, as their elite strikers, their stench preceding them as they attacked with spiked clubs and fangs gaping while their frills flapped away, and the disciplined masses of the serpent folk masters waited beyond.


    Well, didn''t wait too idly, because a volley or two of arrow fire was enough for them to hunt cover.


    We slid easily through a gap in the lines, and try as they might, there was no way those following could slip in behind us, and instead found themselves confronted with a bristling hedge of longspears and flat eyes behind them. Carnage ensued quickly.


    The hyn were let down near the hospital area, and their wounds quickly attended to by the healers there. Ecto found himself just standing on the Disk and looking around at my camp.


    Things that were big and hungry were coming out of the water there, looking to have a few snacks with the creatures here, probably goaded on by magical spears. Unfortunately for them, even a plesiosaur isn''t good at taking a full-frontal charge from cavalry to the face, and the knights were slamming into the various creatures with deadly verve.


    Tremble was out and Singing, and the men were long, long versed in his Songs, humming under their breath in low, grim voices, beating cadence with Stand, showing a terrifying unity of step and gesture as they began to press forward the moment we were back.


    The roars and bellows of dinosaurs ahead of us didn''t bother anyone. We''d fought Evilborn, Elementals, Aberrations, Dragons¡­ while Serpentfolk and troglodytes were new, scalefolk weren''t, as both ophidians and lizardmen numbered among our past opponents.


    "Lay down for a moment, I''m going to Mark you." If I was going to get these people home, I probably wasn''t going to get much work done today. Life sucked, carry on.


    "What is that?"


    "A Tattoo that''ll give you an enhanced sense of coordination and balance, and hook you into the Battlemind. No slaving." He got down warily as I pulled out a bottle of the ink needed. "Takes five minutes. Every soldier fighting here has one, if you are wondering how they move so well together."


    He submitted warily as I pulled the needles out of my hair, and went to work, ki driving the ink into his skin in the proper pattern, and I momentarily transferred the Dexterity Mark from my ersatz belt of them to my Palm to harmonize it.


    He twitched as he felt the link-up, but nothing happened. "Now, concentrate and remember that elation you had when you put an arrow between the eyes of one of those snakes¡­ and shove that elation down towards the Mark."


    He closed his eyes, and a savage smile momentarily flickered on his lips.


    The Mark''s black pattern gained a white core, and his eyes popped open, because suddenly he could hear me in his head.


    -Squads Two through Six, take the lead on Avenue One. Ten through Twelve, number Two. Rear lines draw back ten yards. Secondary squads to either side, four men wide, keep those side streets covered in good order. Archer ranks down the middle, I want eyes up and looking for snipers at all times. Volley at one hundred yards down One¡­ now!- Bowstrings thrummed, arrows leapt out at distant figures racing forwards in a swathe of doom. Many of them fell twisting under the rain of shafts, others continued forwards despite being stuck.


    His eyes were wide as he looked at me, and listened in on all the orders I was giving everyone, staring at the mental map inside his head, the formation displays, the avenues of attack, the support teams to move in, the way the greater square constricted on the flanks to move ahead, the indicated positions of the enemy and their spread¡­


    "You can stay with your people, or come with me," I told him verbally, and he blinked the sight away for a moment.


    Tremble''s Song was thrumming through him, and he could feel a sense of steeliness, of invincibility and purpose that he had never felt in his entire life filling him.


    He could FEEL this entire army had just one purpose¡­ to get them all home!


    "Can you give this to some of the others?" he asked quickly, as groups of spears began to advance into the teeth of the defenders, and piles of morlock bodies burned down to vivus beneath their boots. Precise arrow fire came down and punched holes in the troglodyte ranks, which were rapidly replaced by many advancing points of sharp steel.


    "Which ones?" I replied calmly. "Make it quick."


    "Damo, Tribs, Hauna, Legis!" he waved them over, three men, one woman. "The Sage here is going to give you a magical Tattoo. Let her do it. It, she¡­" he looked around with a sudden grin. "They''re going to get us all home!"

 95 Chapter Ninety-Five – War on the Warpbands

    -Up, you two,- I /informed the dozing lads. Briggs''s eyes snapped open instantly, and Estemar grunted and blinked a few times, coming out of his Meditation. -They''ve found two more Warpbands. We''re off to make some contributions.


    -Well, you''re contributing, I''m playing sniper and director.- I had stacked up Carrier with cabinets already, and was ready to go, having taken my rest after Renewal at midnight.


    The boys moved to Forge, this time Estemar tossing a cloak over it in consideration of its workmanship. A moment later, we were in motion.


    "What are we looking at?" Briggs asked aloud, but after getting a Tat, it was a mental thing too.


    "Beastmen, about two thousand. The elves are already setting up to pincer them, but they''ve got warp wolves out to scout out victims, so they may or may not be revealed in time."


    "None of those centaur rip-offs?" Briggs found that pretty weird.


    "Warp Harpies." Briggs rolled his eyes. "Hey, no enchanting song is something!"


    "They think they are dangerous," grunted Briggs. "Just tell the elves to Web them, their wings are fouled, and down they''ll come."


    "Yeah, they kind of snickered when they saw them, just have to get them out of line of sight of support, then ambush the wolves when they come in to investigate. If they split up, they''ll just poke them out of the sky." A couple arrows laden with spells would do the trick to any harpy.


    Briggs just hummed. "Any special reason we''re heading there?" he asked.


    "Nope. Just kill a company or two of them, and we''ll move on to the next one."


    Briggs gave me a funny look. "I might be, but there''s no way they''re going to stop you Marking them once this battle starts. You''re going to be Tatting for hours."


    I inclined my head in acknowledgement. "Yeah, but I need to Tat multiple forces working together, not all in one unit, until we''re all linked up. If they wanted me Tatting everyone, then they wait until we''re all one big happy family."


    "Plus, it is far more useful for you to be on overwatch against a truly terrible being appearing, yes?"


    "Paladin thinking like a Mitharn is a dangerous first step," I winked at him, and he grinned despite himself.


    ----------


    It was probably a sign of how seriously the elves took the incoming force of beast-men that they had no problem rotating in their elites to get Tats in the middle of the fight. It didn''t seem to affect my ability to track and command at all, either.


    General Moonriver became a true believer after a series of formation rotations presented him a perfect firing line for an Empowered Lightning Bolt down the full length of the beastmen line, cooking dozens of them with one spell. An illusionary line of brush completely screened out their lancers, who plunged into right flank with basically total surprise. Their shaman died to three arrows arcing over a hill, completely out of sight, and burying themselves in his chest, borrowing the eyes of a scout up in a tree to guide the One Arrows in faultlessly.


    Rains of arrows messed up enemy movements, minor spells were cast together and tore apart the minotaurs and manotaurs that were the toughest of enemy troops, as eating thirty-some Shards was not conducive to long life. Overlapping and ever-shifting lines broke the wild and overconfident beastmen out of any semblance of formations that they might have had, and they were punished for it with sweeps, surrounds, pincer movements, and abrupt charges that rapidly shattered any sense of cohesion they had, and they turned into just a savage mob going up against a disciplined wall of shields, spears, and swords, with the pinpoint archery only making things worse.


    The enemy shaman only got to display one use of his warped battle magic, a life-sucking spells that affected dozens of the elves¡­ and pinpointed him for the waiting archers who killed him. The drained elves were relieved immediately, running over the Healing Trap to get rid of the worst of the interrupted spell, and moved into reserve positions with the archers¡­ which they were happy to punish the beast-men from.


    Spell expenditure was pretty minor for what they accomplished, but even the best of their battlemasters was awed by the smoothness and synchronicity of what had happened. They saw how the coordinated movements had the beastmen ripping their own lines apart to deal with them, devolving into a mass of confusion as they didn''t know who was coming from where and when. Multiple groups were pulled into pincer movements and annihilated with speed, precision arrow fire delayed or blocked others, sending them in other directions or simply stopping them in place dumbly, to await the advance of the elves along precise lines that drew them even further out of formation.


    There were only a couple instances that mandated using magic, mostly Lightning Touches through spears to totally obliterate a frothing mad charge, eliminating the first and second ranks instantly, which didn''t do the third rank much good.


    I gave them only three hours, which was nowhere near enough, of course, before heading to the ambush the Rangers were setting up nearly ten miles away. This group seemed to have a more powerful trio of Casters with them, well protected in an ensorcelled chariot with a built-in altar, and regularly sweeping the forests with units of Warp Wolves and riders to sniff out any ambushers. They had a powerful sort up in the air on a manticora, the scorpion-tailed version, just brimming with arrogance and looking for a fight.


    ======


    "How''d you do?" I asked Briggs, as I booked for the next fight. Despite the terrain, I''d be there in twenty minutes, tops.


    "Got to take on the chief''s main company. Didn''t get to kill him, he ate thirty Shards to the face, good targeting, but I did for all his bodyguards," Briggs answered calmly. "Estemar got himself a couple solo kills, too, while he was watching my back." Briggs gave the young prince a friendly elbow.


    The Paladin was holding his new Sword and Shield, made for him the night before by both Briggs and Sama. While they were only starter Gear at the moment, they were easy to build up, and fairly exuded a level of quality he''d never had for his own before. "Carefully chosen Smites!" he responded promptly. Both nodded.


    "Should I tell you what the elves think of you after witnessing your Hammer at work?" I asked archly. Elves were born finesse fighters, considering axes, hammers, and the like brutal and crude.


    Then they got to watch Briggs at work, hearing bone crunch and meat distort, metal rend and bodies go flying with impacts that made their hearts flop, tearing open paths into the beastmen lines, with Estemar right on his heels. The elves, trying to keep their jaws up, hurried in behind them.


    "Eh, a bunch of lady-boys who need hair on their chests," he grunted, and even Estemar had to grin at that. "I''m not built for hoity-toity. When they can smack a seven-foot bull satyr ten feet through the air, they can comment on me using a hammer."


    I had to laugh, but then trailed off as my eyes narrowed at what was being passed on by a Marked Scout liaising with the Borderguard. "Ah, dammit. Amouraen Fanatics."


    Briggs'' cheek twitched. "Pincer hands? Tentacle faces? Both?"


    "Both. Can''t do hentai shit without the tentacles."


    "Please tell me there''s no hermaphroditic shit."


    "There wasn''t, until they Summoned a unit of Spinner demons a moment ago."


    Briggs muttered something under his breath, while Estemar looked a little wide-eyed. "Bastard things are drawn to virgins, right?" Briggs asked.


    "Damn right they are." Estemar pursed his lips at my confirmation.


    "If they can pull in Spinners, they can pull in a Vile Dancer, right?"


    "Damn, I hope so. More meals for the Land, and marilith-wannabes can go whine to Kali."


    "Fighting start?"


    "No, he was using some sort of divination and detected the presence of enemies." My lips thinned as I watched some six-legged caterpillar-spiders slither up out of the burning ground. "Damn! Pattern Weavers too! They must have heard about warbands getting butchered somehow¡­ Better warn them about watching closely¡­"


    "How far?" Briggs would have risen to his feet, but kept his crouch thoughtfully.


    "We''re two minutes out."


    "Drop us by the pincer-handed dumbshits, and take out the demons. Can they alpha strike the Caster?"


    "Spinners and Dancers both have True Vision. But that doesn''t help with pure Stealth Ranks and line of sight¡­"


    "The Brothers are there." Briggs chuckled low and hard.


    "Spotter number one." My eyes widened slightly. "They let them Summon in the demons, the bastards!"


    "Aw, they like you!"


    "Suuuure. Hold on!" Golden light pulsed around my feet, and I began to sprint. Mikle''s weeeeeee of glee sounded down behind my ear as I juiced my run speed with Hasty Soul.


    "+25 to base movement speed when only moving, and x5 when sprinting instead of x4," Briggs explained over his shoulder to the astonished Estemar. "800 feet every six seconds. We''re doing about 90 mph. If it weren''t for my Vajra, the wind would take you right off the Disk."


    The wind was indeed protesting that it couldn''t affect me as I ran a forty-second mile, dodging and weaving through the trees and openings.


    The skies, already curdling ahead of us with the presence of the demons, opened up with falls of lightning, tearing through the lines of oiled men in not-really-heavy armor¡­ all of it gaily painted in pastels of mismatching hues.


    I zipped around to the side as the merciless arrows of the Borderguard Rangers began to lance out from the shadow of the trees.


    The ground began to writhe beneath them, long tentacles emerging from the earth as a soporific pink gas blew through the air. The Casters among them instantly vented a Dispel into the center of the magic, and negating waves dismantled the portals and disintegrated the gas almost instantly.


    Thornsprays, the most common single-target Druidic magic, deluged the lightly-armored and fast-moving Fanatics, peppering them with steel-hard spikes that dropped a few of them before they reached the forest.


    I literally flashed by the edge of their formation, slowing to a near-halt right in front of them to deliver Briggs and Estemar forward.

 96 Chapter Ninety-Six – The Ziggura

    A Raptor Tyrant, the equivalent of a tyrannosaur, came barreling down the overgrown street, scales bright red and yellow, with two slightly smaller ones in red-black and green-yellow behind him. Thundering on the scaled stones, ripping through stands of vines and ferns while bellowing out furiously, a thirty-foot lance in the hands of the muscled rider barely reaching past its gaping jaws.


    Impressive sight.


    When the knights drove four lances into its side with a full charge and the perfect timing that only comes with Marks and multiple eyes, smashing the big lizard off its feet, that was impressive, too.


    It caromed into the corner of a building in shock and pain, bellow cut off half-way as the rider went flying, and a really big lizard skidded down the stones with four glowing lances buried very deep into it.


    With excellent horsemanship, the knights avoided the tail of the Tyrant, and managed to get through the intersection. Naturally, this received the attention of the other two Raptors, who skidded and turned to follow the motion, just like natural predators should.


    The second wave of eight knights, and the third of eight more, hit them from behind.


    The first rider was punched right out of his seat from both sides, and multiple lances drove in behind the ribs, while two each were allocated to the legs. Red-black buckled and was driven off its clawed feet, its great head smashed into by armored heavy horses and not quite able to bring its jaws into play before it was out of range.


    Green-yellow received the same treatment, except the last pair of knights held back until it chose a side to lunge out with a bite, presenting a perfect side target to its head. Eighteen feet of lance, eighteen inches of steel, backed by a ton of man, mount and steel, drove through its neck and up into its small brain, and Sir Chevy roared his success as the beast roared and jerked away, ripping the lance from his hand.


    Three writhing Tyrants were now occupying the square, dying where they were, and rather messing up the advance of the saurial cavalry that was racing behind them.


    Ahead of them, the lines of spears drove forwards, trampling over the serpentmen with mass and momentum, letting the swordsmen behind hack those still living apart as they rushed up to meet those raptor-riders weaving through the falling Tyrants¡­ and trying to get to the knights down that side street.


    A line of scalefolk archers showed up on the roof tops, just in time to be scythed down by the archers waiting behind for them to show.


    I hopped between rooftops and fallen columns, the brooding heights of vine-covered trees, and the fallen heights of ancient statues crumbling in the grip of ages.


    Right behind me, Ecto kept up a constant stream of fire, holding Fall in two hands and his finger tight on the trigger as he moved from one target to the next, trying to control his frantic enthusiasm as Tremble Sang and glowing bolts of force shot out into his targets endlessly.


    Autobows are damn addictive to ranged attack types.


    Banestars flew this way and that, cutting down snipers, rock and spear hurlers, and any Caster unlucky enough to get that close to me. I had a select group of archers just waiting for me to point out targets, and occasionally murderously accurate volleys would saturate an area and send scaled bodies writhing to the ground.


    A couple spells slammed into me, lightning and fire, and faded into nothing, leaving nothing behind to threaten Ecto. There was a massive arc of arrow fire at us, but I outran it, and Stand dealt with the rest lazily, spinning up to send them down wide of the two of us without missing a beat.


    Our lines pushed out into the plaza where their final defense was lining up, while they tried to stop us from advancing, rushing up to do the canyon defense thing, while other forces came out of tunnels all around us, trying to take us from all sides.


    Sudden pullbacks disrupted their lines, overeager charges became quick deaths on ready spears, which immediately surged back for more into the ragged press left behind. The savage devolved serpentmen couldn''t get the hang of resisting the rush, overcome with bloodlust, and we coolly used it against them as we advanced.


    Reinforced lines of spears and shields warded both advance paths, and were kept coolly updated as lines of scaled bodies scampered out of sewers, tunnels, abandoned buildings¡­ and had to pass through gauntlets of horse archers shooting over those spears to get to grips with us. If the streets between were clear, then a cavalry charge would slam into them and sweep it clear repeatedly, until the heaped bodies made them realize it just wasn''t working.


    They packed a mass of warriors into Avenue One, so I decided that dropping into the middle of them would be fine, sending Ecto spinning off towards our lines as I killed two of them with Banestars, dropped down on the bodies held up by the press of scales, and as the serpentmen stared up at me standing on their shoulders, I began to split their narrow fanged heads.


    I was pitiless and merciless, harvesting brains with grim absolution, racing up and down the length of them, spinning and scything, one moment almost horizontal as I split them from above, then spinning vertically as necks came loose from bodies all around me.


    Longspears plunged in and impaled with murderous, inspired accuracy, shoving the serpentfolk back, back, back as I remorselessly cleaned out their back lines, and even the fearless paused as I swept through swathes of them, untouched, unmarked, and devastating numbers of their kin died right in front of them.


    Arrows came in, shields came up to take them. Not even able to see them, our archers replied in kind, out of their range, and began to reap them as I spotted for them. Tortoise''d up, the spears continued to advance over the burning bodies of the dead as the thinning arrow fire rattled down on them.


    I saw the armored biceratops coming at a trot, the size of an elephant, with a howdah of spears and archers on its back, the first of six of them. Without hesitation, I drove into a wall of their biggest fighters, ripping my way through before they could part way, and slashed my way out past them.


    I picked up speed very quickly as they lumbered towards me, and avoided the snapping bite, ignoring the falling javelins and arrows as useless as I flattened to the ground, spinning around and scything Tremble across the back of the right front leg, sliding right underneath it, the ground acting just like an ice rink, and hacking into the rear leg the same way as I came out from underneath it, avoiding the thick tail and closing on the next one.


    The frilled brute let out a bellow of pain as the two left legs folded, and it went down helplessly, spilling the howdah rather energetically as it did so.


    The next one I fake-jumped, it raised its mouth, and I fell down right onto my back as it lumbered over me, Tremble jutting up and a +VIII edge hacking through a foot of fat and hide to open the mother of all eviscerations on the thing.


    As I came out from under it, a gory mass of blood and organs was falling down behind me, and I simply latched onto the ground and with brute strength stood back up to face the next one, swaying left while moving right, completely avoiding its bite, and then running Tremble along its side. The straps of the howdah, along with the skinny leg of the mahout, were cut clean through, and both fell off the opposite side rather splendidly as the dinosaur balked at the sudden deluge of its mate''s blood and innards it was running into.


    A bunch of magic fell onto me frantically, doing nothing but giving me Caster targets to send a Banestar scything into over there, there, and there. Swaying, inhumanly graceful serpentfolk converged on me to kill me, giving me more to kill as I made my way towards the biceratops heading towards Avenue Two to give us problems.


    I was much faster then they were, and coming up from behind, they had no way to guard their legs except the other serpentfolk who wanted to get in my way, and just gave me more targets to hit.


    With a Finish and Hew, I could take one of those thick legs right off, too. The last one crashed down less then twenty yards from the lines of my boys, spilling off its hapless mahout and howdah, and both sides were advancing into the plaza.


    ------


    Consolidating our position here involved precise formations, securing everything from all directions, and pressing forwards to clear up more area while holding off ever-more desperate serpentfolk, including more dino riders. When we finally opened up enough area to let the heavy cavalry come hammering forwards, the outcome was inevitable.


    The archers harried the raptor riders, and the cavalry smashed them from their saddles almost with impunity. Without riders, the saurial mounts ran from the violence and the plunging points ready to take them down, and the serpentfolk didn''t have a spear line solid enough to resist their charges, especially backed up by the lancers.


    ------


    "That it?" I asked Ecto calmly, looking at the top of the structure before us.


    Massive cobra-headed humanoid statues, kept carefully clean of vines, towered before the stairs of the ziggurat. Every facing block was carved with scales and serpentine faces, also kept clear of greenery. A set of steps worn by time and a lot of scaled feet led up to the summit, where more idols of things serpentine gilt in precious metal waited¡­ and a swirling yellow cloud spun in place, visibly distorting space about it.


    "Yes," he nodded, as did all the hyn behind him.


    Twenty levels to the thing, and the serpentfolk, guarded by large square shields, were waiting along each level. It was going to be a long climb, all the while we had to keep our back lines secure against the scalefolk creeping in from all directions in angry mobs.


    Gaining the plaza had been a refresh moment, rejuvenating the men who had been fighting constantly for several hours now as we drove the path through to the temple-ziggurat.


    Could I make it up there? Sure I could. But that wasn''t the goal, the goal was to get the hyn up there, and send them home¡­ or at least out of Leng.


    I had about three hundred dead at this point. The Healers were fixing up the wounded, sending them back into the fight. Soak came back slowly, but at least they were at full Health, and given how often they had died, that was at the max possible. Although painful, the men were treated to take light injuries and get them mended by Healing Reserve if possible, stretching out their Soak.


    Those who had died had been overcome by a combination of numbers and poison bites, mostly. The venom of the savage brutes was lethal and debilitating, and there naturally wasn''t enough anti-venom or healing, alchemical or magical, to deal with all of it.


    However, we had harvested a lot of said venom to make more anti-venom on the morrow¡­


    I ran through a lot of options in my head, especially regarding the cavalry, who would have great difficulty going up the stairs. Having them run around down below would get them a lot of kills among those loose mobs, but I was going to have to pay very close attention to their movements.


    Likewise, moving up them stairs was going to involve a lot of attacks coming down from higher levels, and the snakes up at the top. Two hundred feet was a long way to go up against all that easy missile fire coming down, especially rocks and the like.


    Of course, I was here, which meant I was going to throw a massive monkey wrench into these plans. I was sure my boys could get up there, but I would lose most of them in the process, and that was simply unwanted.


    I gave my orders simply and concisely. The hyn were sheltered in the middle of the infantry formation near the base of the ziggurat, but beyond easy missile range, while the cavalry began to scour the plaza, refusing to be baited, and the horse archers were more than happy to pick off any taunters, especially those swinging bolas and nets or the like.


    As for me, I ran straight up the damn thing, to the utter astonishment of the serpentfolk.

 97 Chapter Ninety-Seven – Dance Dance Dance

    The Fanatics all had one of their arms converted to a razor-sharp pincer, and were all oiled and glowing with muscle, totally ignoring the thorns nailed into them, as if they were ribbons or other garnishes to their perfection.


    They didn''t ignore it when Briggs smashed right into them and out the other side, mangled bodies flying in every direction. I heard the touch of Thunder as Estemar Smote his first target, thirty seconds until he could do it again, and finished the Fanatic with a crushing shield slam to the throat.


    Their charge broken by this sudden appearance, the Fanatics naturally began to converge on this interesting new development.


    Endure thrummed, burning flames red as blood and white as his soul, and Endure began to test the limits of their tolerances with relentless power.


    The Spinners were sweeping forward on the flank. Mutated one-breasted succubi, with overly long legs that carried them with great speed, two arms, two pincers, dancing forwards with inhuman grace.


    Behind them loomed the Vile Dancer, six-armed, snake-like lower torso, hands, pincers, bird-like talons, and an insectile stinger, along with dozens of whipping, poly-colored tentacles undulating up and down the length of her like macabre feathers. The human hands, arms trailing tentacles like grotesque ribbons that all bore bells and were tinkling all wrongly, wielded two massive Jotun-sized sabers as daintily as knives, shining Abyssal silver and forming scenes of madness as they spun about her lazily.


    Both of them had hazy purple-pink auras around them, fascination effects that could stun a watcher and render them helpless to fight back with a combination of desire and overwhelming appreciation of their alien, inhuman beauty.


    Ran into my Null and did nothing, of course.


    Twenty of the Spinners. They saw me coming, and whirling, began to converge to meet me.


    I Inspired, and moved the Essence from Hasty Soul to Expert Soul, crashing into them at merely forty mph.


    I drew an arc of motion through them. Their slender blades shattered and went flying, their tittering song dissolved into painful, ecstatic screams somewhere between horror and orgasm¡­ no, they definitely dropped into horror as vivic flames blew through them with the banefire.


    I crashed through their dance, broke the wild frenzy of it, and parts of Spinner demons went in all directions as Tremble wrecked their singing with a thundering condemnation in Celestial backed by Stand''s pounding dreambeat stamping order and rhythm onto their wild dance. They lost their Demon Dance bonuses, and I reaped them with Cleaves and Attacks of Opportunity as they were stupid enough to try to snip at me with their pincers, and Sword Beats Fist generated more attacks.


    My feet were moving too fast to see as I ducked, dodged, and danced through the swirl of attacks they were aiming at me, totally ignoring a good chunk of them as they slid along my skin uselessly, and then hacking through others as I slammed through their bodies with crushing force. They slammed into one another, disrupting the dance further, or were crushed underfoot as I came moving and punched my heels into their faces and chests.


    It took six seconds to rip a path through them, the fires of Tremble drawing crescent arcs right and left like blooming flowers as they died explosively, ending up at the center of a blossoming moonflower of banefire when I was done.


    The Dancer paused for just a beat, despite herself, to appreciate the sight. It was QL 40, after all.


    Tremble dipped, and the Painted Rose Pattern etched into the air by the edge of a +VIII Blade followed the Banestar that spiraled up her length and shot toward the Dancer.


    She definitely wasn''t prepared for a banefire-and-vivus cocktail made up of her little over-sexed subordinates, and instinctively crossed her weapons to parry the attack.


    Black banefire roses splashed white vivus petals over the front of her, and her corpse-white flesh was cut and burned, peeling away to reveal the rot beneath. Skin was flayed from postulant muscle and weeping bone, and suddenly the bitch wasn''t beautiful at all, as vivus chased away the erotic aura hungrily.


    She shrieked, her arms came away to glare at me with a promise of exquisite, torturous revenge-


    ''Damn, girl, don''t you know that when you cross your weapons in front of your face to avoid a Banestar, True Vision don''t do shit for you?''


    As she brought her sabers and limbs down, Tremble was literally less then a foot away from her face. ''Oh, hey, didn''t notice that third eye there, girl, thanks for the target.''


    Naturally, she had no time to evade. Tremble was at +X with Bane of Legends, and all of my weight and speed was on that One Strike as I hit her.


    Spirited Charge, Valorous. A x4 Charge to the face, with a x4 crit on top of it, for x7 damage, and a One Strike on top of it all.


    Tremble went in all the way to the hilt, and as she was smashed backwards, I was already rolling over her, and turning the thrust into a rolling slash.


    Her skull split like a melon ¨C damn, her hair was tentacles, too ¨C and her spine and upper body decided to join the effort, even as they were driven backwards into the writhing mass of her scaled, serpentine lower body. She had been swishing and swaying with that lack of legs, and now she was just spasming out.


    Vivus erupted richly as it tore through the unstable matrix of the ectoplasm that made up her body. A total sensate, I could hear her scream as it devoured her more absolutely then she probably thought possible. Nope, not reforming herself back in the Warp in failure. Her eternity was at an end, and ¨C


    With an explosion of vivus, the misty Jaws of the Land came up to feast, streaming up past me like a breaching whale, and then slowly withdrew, sending a wave of heavy unwhite out past and around me, winding and writhing in the direction of the burning Spinners, and driving down on them like feeding eels.


    A glance at my Markspace, and I could see the sorcerers and their bodyguards were dead in various positions of surprise and extreme pain, assassinated before they had any clue they were in danger.


    Huh, the Brothers have pretty crappy Weapons, I thought. I should do something about that¡­


    -------------


    The Fanatics all deflated somewhat when they died. The glamour around them, making them handsome, well-proportioned, and muscular, dried up, revealing the poxed, scarred, and twisted men and sometimes women below, anything but lovely, especially with a freaking lobster claw for an arm.


    When the wave of vivus washed over them, they sank in like tires letting out air, the vivus gathering on them and devouring their corpses hungrily.


    There were skirls of fighting going on through the woods, and the Warped were learning that elven pretty-boys were no jokes, fast, skilled, grim, and determined¡­ and hey, an Energy Touch spell through a Weapon was basically a death sentence. Borderguards lived fighting off random wandering monsters and raiding anthros, and were no pushovers, whatever these brutes might think.


    Estemar was panting, looking over the ugly corpses of the Fanatics, who were getting eaten away by the vivus streaming past his ankles. He made a face and looked away, finding the undisturbed face of Briggs.


    "Selling their souls for such hollow things¡­" he spat, shaking his head.


    "Men have sold themselves for far less then strength and beauty," Briggs agreed with a nod. "As long as you don''t care about what is beyond death, it''s an easy trade."


    "To have no care for your immortal soul¡­" Estemar sighed, face unsightly.


    "Exactly. Well, not so much an issue here, with the Land taking the appetizers. At least the Warp Gods won''t get anything from this, net loss to them all the way around." He snapped his hand, and Endure flew out like a javelin. A handsome fellow with prominent mustaches, running away from two pursuing elves, looked up just in time to receive the Hammer in his face, and his skull exploded with a wet crunch.


    Vivus was crawling up his tight leathers before he hit the ground. Endure spun back to his hand, free of gore, and he didn''t even look at the corpse as the elves rushed off to help cut down the last few stragglers.


    Estemar turned towards a white flag the wounded were converging on. "How many of these warbands do you think there are, Master Briggs?" he asked, pausing for a second.


    "Dozens. And they''ll keep coming until the Rift is closed," Briggs replied patiently. He saw Mikle waving at him from atop the cabinets, floating patiently in the shadows of the trees over there, and headed that way.


    There were things to make, Sama was going to need her Tat supplies¡­ and the Brothers were coming his way.


    Sama had some plans for the Brothers.


    ------


    "So, you''re saying we''re weak?" Brother Windarrow asked, quite amused. Void Brothers had a fearsome, deadly reputation, as the deadliest killers on the continent. Being told he was weak by a young Ancient, of all things, after living so long with such a dire reputation, was frankly amazing.


    "You''ve been killing horribly powerful things for a very long time. You should be at least as adept as Sama. You''re not." Both Brothers blinked, and looked at one another. "On top of that, for all the looting and salvaging you must have done, your equipment sucks. None of it is tailored, it looks more like trophies or hand-me-downs from elders." He plunked down Endure in front of them. "Give me a month, and my Hammer will be a stronger Weapon then either one you carry.


    "It''s not your fault," he went on calmly, meeting the eyes of the two of them easily. "I don''t know the circumstances of how you started on this road, but I''m guessing you had to get really good, really fast¡­ and you did. That''s what we call Ironskulling¡­ you shoot for Ten as fast as you can, in order to get the raw power and skills you need to survive, and then¡­ well, then you pay.


    "And you pay a lot." His Source field billowed around him, and the two Voids shifted, despite themselves.


    "Now that you are Tens, you are paying Ten prices in Karma for everything. Levels, Feats, Masteries, Skills, whatever¡­ it''s all very expensive in terms of Karma, so you probably feel like you have been barely improving over the months and years, because the easy Leveling which got you to Ten is no longer there, now that you want to go Deep. Am I right?"


    The two Voids pursed their lips together. Everything he was saying was uncomfortably true. They were very good in a narrow band¡­ but they wanted to improve, and it was very slow going.


    "Let me give you an idea of your goal. You saw that Dancer that Sama Fed to the Land, right?" They both nodded. "Feeding that to the Land is worth one Level to you."


    They both blinked. "What of sending it home?" Brother Windarrow asked quickly.


    "A third, maybe a quarter." Their faces changed rather stiffly. "And I can tell just by looking at the two of you that neither of you are actually capable of killing that thing." He raised an eyebrow, but neither of them rebutted him. "So, you have the foundation to get rid of the threat, but you don''t have the power to actually punish the powers behind them. Would that be an accurate summation?"


    They glanced at one another again. "It would," Brother Shadowknife agreed in his androgynous and forgettable voice. "You have some method of changing this?"

 98 Chapter Ninety-Eight – Race to the Top, Slaughter to the Bottom

    In the end, I didn''t need my men.


    I wasn''t going to tell them that, of course, but it was largely true. With them, I could kill a lot of enemies quicker, and I could claim Glory Awards if we won. I could almost feel the Karma coursing in when some of my lads actually lasted to the end.


    But I didn''t need them to live. It just meant I had to do a lot more slaughter on my own.


    Serpentfolk were a base 5 Hit Dice race, extremely tough; their degenerate, savage fighting caste rivaled ogres in lethal power, especially with the venom of their bites. Add in a few Warrior Levels, and they were indeed extremely tough, and could be pretty disciplined.


    I was one-hitting them, and two-hitting the elites.


    I ran right up the stairs, and the ranks spread to either side, meant to rain death down from above and pincer any advance up the stairs, rushed to stop me.


    I switched my lightfoot to Walk The Burning Coals, formal name, which everyone else simply called Hotfoot. It was the extremely energetic dance of the Fire Dragon, the best lightfoot for the chase¡­ and for running uphill.


    I hit the closing lines of scaled bastards like a bladed bulldozer. With my Girdle, I was four times as strong as them, and could hurl them around like soccer balls, run right over them, and crush their skulls beneath my feet.


    The air was full of telepathic curses, dooms, promises, visions, and sensations, sure to drive a normal person almost mad with the distractions and alien, inhuman images being thrust upon them. This was an ancient race, full of ancient evils and darkness, reptilian emotional states, and a history of totally amoral behavior in pursuit of their interests. What they were promising to do to me would have unnerved any sane mind.


    Unfortunately for them, I couldn''t even hear them. Tremble could, but trying to influence the mind of an Item Spirit was kind of an exercise in futility. Tremble basically ignored them, while singing very loudly both telepathically and audibly, in Aklo about snakebite stew, how tasty their poison was, mocking their fall from power and incessant inbreeding, the bone-deep pride that had pushed them into the abyss, their fallen gods and crippled empires, and just how pitiful and miserable of wretches they were, trampled under the feet of those once their slaves and driven from the light into the pits of darkness and the gutter holes of the planes.


    Tremble has a total bitch of a tongue when she sets her mind to insulting folks, too.


    They actually came to Leng and had to deal with the Elder Gods who loomed over this place. Mockmockmock.


    Normally, these snake-skulled twits were totally immune to charm magic and similar things, but taunting? Driving worms of regret and shame into that unyielding pride and arrogance?


    They weren''t immune to that. The serpentfolk coming out onto the plaza below, as well as the elites that thought they''d kill us trying to go up the ziggurat, almost went berserk as they pressed forward to show the furless monkeys, only useful for base labor and food, who their masters were!


    My lads were perfectly happy to demonstrate what the absolute discipline of a layered spear line did to the proud. If they were willing to die fearlessly attempting to bring us down, we were perfectly willing to kill them endlessly to make them dead.


    Bodies flew apart, hide armor shattered, old steel broke wildly, and blood sprayed. Lots of blood, as I forced my way forward, bodies coming apart around me. As fast as they pressed forward, I killed them, and advanced another step. If they held back to try and poke me, I was out of their reach, into the next mass on the next step, and corpses of serpentfolk were falling down the stairs behind me in many more pieces then was recommended by medical science.


    The steps of the ziggurat held thousands of these fallen bastards, now all converging, trying to stop me. My lads focused on the fight below, and when the pissed scalies couldn''t catch up to me over the bodies of their dead, they came boiling down off the stepped pyramid, hunting for more victims.


    I had three primary Arcane Casters among my followers. As ex-giants juiced to kill me, they were all Tens, two Sorceresses and a Wizard. We hadn''t shown much of our spell power, so they were happy to unload on this charging mass of elite serpentfolk warriors.


    An Empowered Fireball reworked to a disc shape went off at ground level, Widened for double the area, clearing out a packed circle a hundred feet across. Two Lightning Bolts ripped through their numbers for hundreds of feet, and scaled bodies exploded as superheated steam tore their flesh apart from within.


    Out on the plaza, the knights and lancers were cycle-charging the hordes there, while archers harried other clusters here and there, and pivoting lines of spearmen scissored and pincered smoothly and bloodily. Although the serpentfolk leaders were all geniuses and could see what was happening, they had nowhere near the troop coordination and discipline to pull off what was going on, and were always a step behind in warning their own what was happening, confused by the merging lines and precision marching.


    More swathes of dead serpentfolk soon blanketed the plaza, many burning vivic, and others serving as appetizing distractions for the dinosaurs the snakes were bringing in.


    I plowed up the stairs, sending the living and dead flying, Stand beating on almost as much crap as Tremble as he sent serpentfolk tumbling into their peers, knocking them down like bowling pins, while everything in reach of Tremble died with appalling, meat-chopping speed. Their scaled hides and scaled armor simply provided no resistance, nor did their inhuman agility escape me in the slightest. They might as well have been wheat, and I was certainly harvesting them.


    A great undead serpent, no, two of them, came flying down the stairs, sixty feet of giant snake swollen to unnatural girth, thinking they could swallow me into the negative energy hell of their gullets.


    Tremble flicked over to Bane Undead for a moment, just in case, and my first swing removed a head as it chomped down where I''d been half a second ago, and the second cut ripped it open and sent vivus exploding across the sky. The second one, lunging in fearlessly, simply got opened up from the corner of its jaw halfway down its length as we moved past one another, Finished and Hewed into and blowing apart before it could slither itself back around.


    I was two-thirds of the way up now, not really slowing down, spears shattering in series and their owners dying in the next arc, bellies opened and limbs removed violently.


    Some twat up top thought that animating the dead was a good idea, obviously not noticing that the bodies were burning vivic, and adding necromantic energy on top of that was like throwing gasoline onto a bonfire. Over a dozen bodies around me immolated, cooked off scores more, and there was a hissing shriek and burst of unwhite above as the feedback cooked the brains of that twit.


    Huh, was there actually a Twelve+ Caster up there?


    The senior spellcasters tried. They brought in viper-demons, four-armed marilith-esque under-demons, mixed them in with ophidian mercenaries (more to mock, the two snake-men races were bitter rivals), and sent them slithering down to fight me as they watched more and more of their own just dying, unable to stop my advance. When they crashed into me, I slid between them, unleashed a Whirlwind, and the follow-up Cleaves from a single crit ended up ripping through the whole lot of them with rather appalling violence.


    There was a line of tower shields in front of us, but they were nowhere near as much of a barrier as expected when I wedged Stand under one and tossed him over top of those behind. Their slitted eyes stared at me, they stabbed out snake-quick (hah!) with their spears, and over the sound of shattering wooden hafts, I carved my way through and was on top of their pyramid.


    The revolving vortex of yellow mist seemed to pull back with me around, but there was no way I could go through. I could feel some hard reality on the other side of that thing, and for all I was solid and real in Nightmare, in the real world I''d just be a disjointed spirit, if I could even pass the thing¡­ which I was pretty sure I couldn''t, as I defined the edge of my own Dream, and there was no mixing that with Reality when you''re a Null.


    Serpents of golden venom streaked across the top of the pyramid from the guy in the feathered frill and lots of golden stuff, and, oh, that really fancy cobra-headed staff. The spell crashed into me, and vanished into empty air, no splashing, no muss, no fuss. Another desperate priest slammed down his own cobra-staff, raising a shrieking, wailing wall of bones, all animated and moving, down in front of me.


    Oh, yeah, white streak on his face, didn''t learn his lesson about necromancy in front of me.


    I shattered his Wall, the vivic blowback erupted out his eyes and ate into the negative energy in his brain, and the stupid priest dropped his Staff to clutch at his face in agony as parts of his brain went away.


    The barrier of whirling serpentine force blades came down, and Tremble swept across, shattering the integral structure of the spell, and unsecured curving blades went whipping out in all directions, shredding serpentfolk every which way. Some of the alert ones jumped in front of the Priests, which was very convenient for a Finish-Hew on the way to the death magic user who was trying to focus on me, and lost his head over it.


    I stopped by planting my back into another guard, Tremble in his heart, and pushed off to fight the Priest, who uttered an invocation faster then any auctioneer ever, swelling to twice his height as yellow mists and green flames crackled around him, and he lashed out with his Staff.


    Stand''s beat was more like a sniff of disdain as he batted the massive Staff away. What, come on, it didn''t compare to a Jotun''s saber at all¡­


    My first blow ripped away that magic, and it shattered away from him like an illusion, leaving him seven feet tall, thin as a rail, with a bloody wound three feet long from hip to shoulder, and desperate to get away from me, but with nowhere to go.


    Oh, yeah, he could jump into the vortex, which he immediately tried to do.


    -Ah, laddie boy, someone forgot to tell you that Nulls and Interdiction are a thing¡­-


    He hit the revolving yellow fog¡­ and then, to his visible shock, his scaled feet hit the ground again, the fogs just swirling over and past him harmlessly, as if the dimensional rip was just a special fog effect and nothing more.


    I hit it, and the whole effect vanished within five feet of me as I barreled through and sliced away, ignoring the guards coming and going. He kind of huffed as Tremble inserted into his narrow chest, right where that necessary cardiac organ is located, and smashed into one of the guards coming to help him.


    Not one to not take advantage of an opportunity, Tremble was out, licking right and left, and both of those lost their hands.


    -What are you-hkk!- Tremble /relayed to me, as I Finished him across the neck, and Hewed into the brawny leader of these guards coming up behind him. His eyes were alive with fanaticism, and kind of puzzled as the diagonal cut removed most of his skull and face while his lunge passed by my ear.


    "You brought me from Nightmare, what do you think I am, you idiot?" I murmured to nobody but myself, giving no pause and no mercy. In six seconds, this side of the top was clear, elite serpentfolk warriors were tumbling away in pieces around me, and I paused to look slowly back at the rest of the guards charging over to me.


    Their steps slowed and stopped, twenty feet away.


    I tilted my head, vertebra popped like breaking stones. I flexed my hands, and they popped even more loudly.


    "You are in my way." The gore and blood covering me like a scarlet sheet began to steam, and then fell away, leaving me unmarked and perfectly clean beneath, shocking them at the simple fact that after all that slaughter, I was completely unharmed. "You brought me from Nightmare, I am your final dream."


    I reached down to the dead priest, snapped off one fang, lifted it to my lips, and sucked on its poison before their disbelieving eyes, circling it around my lips like a cigarette.


    "TREMBLE, SHE COMES!" whooped Tremble (in Aklo, it sounded much more domineering), and I hit them, blood spraying.


    I had come up. Now, I was going to go back down, level by level if I had to. My lads at the bottom were waiting. If these hissy-fits wanted to retreat inside through the main entry I had run right by on the main face, now strewn with several dozen fallen serpentfolk corpses, I was fine with that, too¡­

 99 Chapter Ninety-Nine – Filling a Void

    "The fastest way to change this situation is through slaughter, and gearing up." Briggs waved his hand at the now-silent battlefield. All the elves and rangers in good health had already left, fanning out to find more of the enemy with their animal companions¡­ or waiting around patiently to be Tatted, after hearing what it could do, and seeing the performance of the two scouts who''d been benefiting from Sama''s Marshal Aura way over there, fighting far above their weight level.


    "You are both stealth killers, maybe decent duelists, I don''t know. But now you need to be monster killers and battlefield butchers. You need Karma, great heaping gobs of Karma¡­ and you need to Feed the unnatural creatures you kill to the Land, so you get all Karma, and not a tithe of it, while poking the entities behind it all in the eye at the same time."


    Despite their quiet, bone-deep arrogance, he could tell he was interesting them. "Go on," said Brother Windarrow.


    "Sama wants to set you up on new Gear made for you, for Voids, that you can pour Karma into, give you avenues of growth that are faster and truer then your own. In short, she wants you to have all the toys, kitted out like some emperor''s favorite stealther, only it''s all for Voids."


    Both Brothers blinked. "Can you give us an example?" Windarrow asked.


    -Sama, can you send over Tremble for a moment?- Briggs /asked. A second later, the Sword was zipping over to hover next to him.


    "Hi, how can I help?" she asked cheerfully.


    "Need some help and a holo. Brother Windarrow here wields a mithral shadowslaked +3 Ashfire longsword, can you Stat that up?"


    A diamond on her guard glowed and a two-dimensional stat line of the longsword, five Slots used, damage d8/d12, what ashfire did, shadowslake did, mithral did, was printed out in very plain, blocky script, quite easy to read, on the hologram. Both Void Brothers blinked at it.


    "And now, your Stats, Tremble."


    Tremble slowly turned to him. "Are you sure?" she asked doubtfully. "I''ll need to clear that with Sama¡­"


    "Please do." He waited patiently, and a few seconds later, the holo blinked up, shifting lower so outsiders couldn''t see it.


    The two Brothers gawked as the Zeks-Slotted Sword in front of them reeled off her specifics. The layers of Arsenal and Slaughter effects alone had them gasping.


    "Tremble isn''t very strong," Briggs said, and their eyes almost popped. "She''s versatile enough, but she''s only at QL 33 because she''s inhabiting a poor shell." He reached out and pinged her blade, listening to the steel. "Steel can only reach 35, 33 if it''s pre-forged improperly, so she''s as good as she''s going to get for now.


    "When Sama gets her hands on some proper adamantine and a few reagents, ahh¡­" he trailed off, and then lifted Endure.


    "Soulbound Arsenal Heavy Greathammer. Straight steel, QL 35, potentially Zeben, but I''ve only got Zvei open. Triple advance Profound Weapon via Ki for damage. Name, Endure. Arsenal Vivic, Blooding. Bane to Human, Magical Beasts. Slotless, Throwing." He paused for emphasis. "Endure is four days old."


    Their breaths hissed out.


    "A Named Weapon can advance the equivalent of two goldweight a day if Karma from being used is fed into it. You two have been doing the work for years. Your Weapons should be putting Tremble to shame."


    They looked at the list of Tremble''s capabilities, and despite iron control, he saw their fingers twitching.


    "Yes, you should both have full adamant Weapons at post-40 QL, full Zehn Slots, and be taking heads coolly and thoroughly. When a Greater Demon shows up, your Weapons should be saying FEED ME, eagerly, not ''Oh, go pop off like proper zits, will you?''" he mimed in a hoitie-toitie British accent in his deep voice.


    The two Voids shuffled together, clearly imagining things a little bit differently.


    "So, what do you need of us?" Shadowknife asked coolly.


    "Sama''s in your head, so you know she''d make the base weapon for you if you asked, and as far as Leveling advice, that''s free. But¡­ I''m going to personally presume you have tons of funds stashed away, and nothing to spend them on, since Powered can''t really make Gear for you. In order to prevent you from owing us a debt¡­ Sama and I need metals. Adamantine, mithral, scarletite, others. In quantity." He flipped out a folded list, and held it out.


    Brother Windarrow took it without hesitation, flipping it open to scan it over silently, then handed it off to Shadowknife.


    "You get that stuff for us, and we''ll make you the Tats and Gear you should have, Void-Tuned Gear, that you can grow in power and turn you into the total and utter badasses that everyone thinks you are¡­ and that Sama already is."


    Their heads turned together, looking at Sama there, Tatting up willing elves and rangers, setting up a silent kingdom in her head. A kingdom they were already a part of.


    "Will she do this for all of the Brotherhood?" Shadowknife whispered, unseen eyes dark with thought.


    "If they can make it here, gladly."


    And then Sama''s /voice broke in smoothly, impossibly sincere. -What others think of you means nothing to us. We KNOW. The sun rises another day. Brothers, thank you for your service.-


    Their eyes turned back to her, where she was bowing over the ranger she was Tatting up. They looked back at Briggs, who was also bowing.


    They had probably never been thanked for what they did in their entire lives.


    Brother Windarrow looked shocked, and was silent for a noteworthy few seconds. Even the Shadowknife looked moved.


    "We have caches, built up over the generations, wealth taken from the slain, which we have had little use for ourselves. We have what you need¡­ and, it seems, what we need." His dark eyes glittered.


    Briggs nodded to acknowledge the point. "We do not need you to get them right now. What you need to do is get your Weapons, Name them, and immediately get started on your Naming Karma. To wit, straight to battle." He pointed at the Sword on the Windarrow''s back, and the long knives at Shadowknife''s side. "We can give you Starter Weapons, similar to what Estemar has. They will suffice to gather Karma and improve your Arsenal and Slaughter until proper Weapons can be formed. Additionally, we can move the Names of your current Weapons to them, to start the process, so that you do not suffer a loss in strength."


    The eagerness in the eyes of the two Brothers was only increasing. "Where have you been all my life, young Master Briggs?" the Windarrow finally sighed.


    Briggs just waved it away. "I am going to stop this push by the Dark Gods, and you are going to help me do it. It is my decision."


    "When can we begin?"


    "I have to make up a mess of Ink for Sama to keep doing her thing. You probably are decent with poisons, but how is your Alchemy?" Briggs inquired.


    "Passable," Windarrow admitted. "Basic alchemy is inordinately useful when it comes time to infiltrate areas sensitive to the presence of magic."


    "Excellent." Briggs walked over to the alchemy cabinet, opened it up, and began to take things out. "Let''s make use of your downtime and mine, shall we? You can use Potions as readily as the next man, and Forsaken Alchemists, unlike Powered, can work on more then one Potion without stirring up resonance feedback.


    "When Sama''s done with Tats, we''ll take two hours of meditation, and then start on your Weapons."


    "What of my Bow?" Brother Windarrow asked with a shrug of his shoulder.


    Briggs glanced at the composite longbow. "We can''t make a proper Bow for you out of wood without more time. There''s Soaks and treatments the wood has to go through first. If we had the requisite materials made up ahead of time, no trouble. So, if you want a Bow, you''ll have to use a Dwarven Bow, not sure if you want to make that switch.


    "But, you know, an Archer can Name his Bow and fill it with Karma at the same time as his Weapon. So, every day it''s not set up, is another day lost on the Investment paradigm."


    "A¡­ dwarven bow?" Windarrow asked, confused.


    "The Rockborn have great muscle strength, Might, but their Power is no greater then that of Men. In addition, they lack stature and length of arm to take advantage of long draws to convey more power to their missiles. So, if they use a bow, it must be short in length, and with a powerful draw strength to cater to them.


    "Normally they do this with crossbows, but there are mechanically-aided bows that can make a shorter bow the equal of a longbow. Since they normally made of metal and glass, we can make them. However, they are heavier then wooden bows, even composites."


    "If I could find a bow of elven make of sufficient quality, would that suffice?" Brother Windarrow asked.


    "No. Your Bow has to be made by a Forsaken. If a Powered makes it, you''ll only end up with something equal to what you already have. No Arsenal, no Slaughter. Their Powered status means they have a very strong magical aura. I''m sure you can sense the aura of whoever made your current Weapon, clear as a fingerprint. A proper Void Weapon has no signature aura whatsoever."


    They both blinked. Brother Windarrow glanced at Tremble.


    The air about him shimmered, and his Helix materialized.


    It looked like two whorls of mist, spinning slowly around him, one almost white, one a darker grey. One strand licked out like a whip, washing through Tremble and Endure like a living stream, passing through both with only a slight flaring of the Helix betraying any contact.


    "Damn." He looked down at Shadowknife, whose Helix gloamed into existence, one like drops of clear white liquid, the other black drops of ink. The black lash whipped out, passing through both Weapons in a heartbeat, and the Shadowknife pursed his lips.


    "No magical signature at all," the hyn acknowledged. "All this time, and the answer so simple¡­"


    "I am gathering that you''ve not met a significant population of Nulls and Sources anywhere," Briggs guessed, looking between them.


    "There is supposed to be a great nation of clear magic across the sea to the west, but not in the lands I have wandered," Windarrow acknowledged.


    "Someplace to visit in the future," Briggs murmured, rubbing his chin.

 100 Chapter 100 – Leaving a Bad Dream

    The ziggurat behind me was heaped with the dead. Tremble had snickered as he told me about how they were screaming in disbelief about how a hairless monkey could be killing like this, even as he howled and jabbered and mocked them ceaselessly right back.


    Likewise, the plaza was carpeted in serpentfolk. We had killed thousands of them, a huge blow to whatever kind of population center this was. Serpentfolk didn''t reproduce quickly, so butchering so many of them was going to be harsh on the ole sustainability index. Pity, pity.


    "Let''s go, Ecto. Honor guard, draw up!" My sword and board company ran up, their magical blades and shields lighting up impressively, the hyn refugees warded between them. We lined up smartly, and headed back up the ziggurat.


    Most of the corpses were burning away, and an easy kick exploded them into ashes. I could sense a lot of eyes on us, and Tremble informed me there were a lot of hissing curses being ladled down upon my head, which terrified me to the bone, truly.


    Unobstructed, passing layer after layer of the ziggurat heaped with the dismembered corpses of the serpentfolk, we headed to the top one more time, and the way home.


    They hadn''t tried to do something clever, like come up the opposite side of the ziggurat. Maybe the mounds of dead going vivic deterred them. Reaching the top, I walked right through the vortex to the far side, and yeah, there were snakes gathered up at the far side of the plaza beyond and down over there, looking back up at me with whatever passed for hate in their slitted eyes¡­ but they weren''t getting any closer.


    My previous Interdiction had dissipated, so I just held my Null in tight as I walked back to the hynfolk, who had paused just at the top, staring at the vortex.


    "Go. There''s hard reality on the other side, probably where you came from. Without the priest to control it, it should shut as soon as you are all gone. And I just might rip it apart, to make sure." I winked at Ecto. "I hear you won''t be going back home empty."


    He flushed. The hyn had volunteered themselves for the vital duty of looting the dead to the skin, and if they got to knife a few who weren''t quite dead, well, cathartic release of stress and all that, we forgave them. Pretty much all the hyn were clutching bundles of gold, jade, and obsidian trinkets, and if some gemstones worked their way into the mix, I still didn''t care.


    Ecto solemnly stepped forward to take my hand. "I-I''ve never even dreamed of seeing a hero like you, Sage Sama," he managed to blurt out, as awed and overcome as the rest of the hyn after seeing me slaughter so many serpentfolk so fast. You just don''t piss off someone who can take out an army solo, after all.


    "Dream?" I cringed, and being a hyn, he got it instantly, and smiled despite it. "Alright, quit poking fun at me. Off with you. Make sure you either sell ALL of that shit, or preferably melt it down. You don''t want them using magic to track the stuff to get a lock on you again, right?" I looked over all of them, and they nodded quickly. "Good, then. Off with you, and don''t dream of this place."


    I made a shooing motion, and Ecto turned, indicating that the nearest of them should step forwards. His fellow hunters took deep breaths, and trotted forwards into the vortex. The yellow mists swirled over them, and swallowed them up.


    "Go! Time differentials, go go go!" I ordered, and the rest of the hyn fairly jumped, dashing forward with all their might.


    "Thanks again, Sage Samaaaaaaa-" Ecto began, and I grabbed and threw him after his fellows before any magical hijinks could separate him from the rest of them.


    They all vanished, and I whipped out Tremble and Cut. The threads of magic holding open the dimensional breach shattered, and I Interdicted. The Veil slammed together like solid steel closing, the vivic burst as it did so making sure that there''d be no holes punched in the Veil here for a long, long time.


    I looked around the top of the place, back at my men, who were staring at the place where the vortex had swirled with strange expressions on their face.


    The hyn had escaped, but that was not their fate, and they knew it. If they took that portal, they''d just fade into mists of dream once more¡­ except they probably wouldn''t come back at Renewal.


    -We have won this day.- Thousands of inner eyes turned my way. -More then any fight, more then any slaughter, we WON today.- I surveyed them all, letting them know how much I approved of what they had done, what we had done. -We fought for a reason beyond the Curse that makes us do so. Hopefully, we have done something good. We have saved those who needed to be saved, and delivered them home, at the same time we put our boots on the throat of a great and terrible evil and let them know what we think of them.


    -I have never been so proud of you.- Chests came out, heads went up, and eyes almost teared.


    -Now, what are you all standing around for?! Loot these bastards clean!-


    They roared out happily, and went scampering gleefully for plunder.


    Dead, and real Karma. The Glory Award of delivering the hyn home and closing the Portal ghosted over my soul with some real decent numbers, that would surely be useful when actual reality came around.


    I let the boys scoop up magic Staves and armor and whatnot, as I walked over to the altar there, stained red by the blood of countless sacrifices. I put my monkey hands on the serpent-carved stone, and totally ignoring the wave of blood magic that tried to reduce my mammalian ass to ooze, heaved it off its foundation with a crack, and dragged it in a dead run for the edge of the landing.


    Giant Power for the win!


    I hurled it over the lip as hard and fast as I could, and it sailed out a good long ways over the pyramid that dropped away at forty-five degrees beneath it. When it hit, it was loud, and stone went flying everywhere as it cracked, bounced, tumbled, hit again, and more shards went spinning away as it rolled and thundered its way down the steep incline.


    Not all of it reached the bottom, because it broke into a good many parts before it got there, but I didn''t mind. The serpentfolk watching back there could only get so pissed, and if they thought I wasn''t going to desecrate this place, they were out of their gourds.


    I considered fighting my way into the ziggurat and whatever warrens were beneath it all, but elected against it. If there was one way to kill me, it would be to have something this big and heavy fall on me, and I wasn''t sure how dying here at the borders of Leng would work.


    -------


    Bats, huh.


    The serpentfolk had slunk away after some eerie, warbling horns had sounded in the distance, quickly overwhelmed by shriller, shrieking horns that sounded like wailing souls. In the distance, bats and pteranadon fliers skirmished, but the scalefolk broke off quickly under the superior numbers of the invaders.


    Good intelligence and good organization to get here so quickly. Or had we been brought here at just the proper time, gutting them from behind the lines just as they were attacked?


    I glanced back up at the ziggurat, where the Portal had been placed.


    A way out, that was no longer there. Whoever these new guys were, they weren''t going to be much happier with us then the serpentfolk.


    I quirked a smile, and the lads laughed knowingly.


    ------


    Krovboynyar. ''The Death of Flesh'', a race of negative-energy lifeforms with transparent flesh, the black blood of their veins visible through their bodies, wrapping around their phosphorescent skeletons. They had definite ties to the Lower Planes and daemon-kind, for all that they somehow called the mortal world home.


    Definitely not a mortal race, with an evolutionary chain that led to great bat wings, horns, bone-spikes, three-inch canines, and all the good stuff. Those little glowing circles of iris-scanning orbs floating there in their eye-sockets were always a good conversational piece, too.


    They didn''t try overflying us, because several bat riders had come crashing to the ground when they got too close to us. It was not too comfortable, what with the visibly broken bones and all.


    They did come marching up all proud and arrogant-like, decent formations, traipsing into the plaza as if they owned it. Given how little fighting they''d had to do to get here, that was understandable.


    Seeing a few thousand humans in a battle formation on the far side of the plaza probably had their commanders all puzzled and whatnot, but they were more concerned with the remnants of a very large fighting force scattered all over the place, and all the white spots that were creeping them out to look upon, extending all the way up the old basalt of the ziggurat like an ominous disease infecting the stone.


    After the bats trying to act all cool came spiraling haplessly down out of the sky, they opted to just get into position around us, containing us nicely on the plaza with a fifty-yard safe zone, while an elite crew marched up the ziggurat to the top, plugging the main doors as they did so.


    They didn''t seem too happy, as they came stepping back down, fangs chomping and trying to look even more intimidating in their spiked armor.


    A big fellow in dire harness, shoulder guards higher then his glowing skull, bony wings like an overarching cape behind him, rode out of the press on a big nightmare, holding his three-skulls banner high on his lance, waving it around a bit just to make sure I couldn''t help but notice the sign. He rode out into the safe zone as if he was invulnerable, calling out for someone to speak with.


    Oh, this was going to be fun!

 101 Chapter One Hundred and One – It Wasn’t a Dream…

    My kingdom was expanding.


    I had two thoughtstreams going full bore, the benefits of a 30 Intellect (28, actually). One did all my normal stuff, and the other was managing the information stream from all those Marks.


    In particular, I had asked for and was monitoring the visual input from all the scouts, moving in all directions. In doing so, I was synthesizing their lifelines into my own.


    I had a map below me, a track and chart of where I had been since I woke up on that cold, lonely mountainside. It laid out with great precision exactly where I had been and traveled, every inch and step accounted for, a map of marvelous precision that couldn''t be rivaled by a cartographer.


    Unfortunately, it only tracked where I had been, what I had seen. I had very good estimates on distances, and so I could place mountains and hills, rivers and valleys, forests and clearings, all relative to where I had been.


    But, for all the fact that I was such a lethal being, I hadn''t actually BEEN anywhere of note. My ersatz progress through the forest after the Valley of the Hags was meticulous, to be sure, but it had a lot of hollow areas around it where I hadn''t been, and the area to the North was just a big expanse of nothing.


    So, it was time to start pooling our knowledge.


    -This is Sama talking. We''re going to hold a group meeting here in the morning in just a minute. If you can arrange to take a break from whatever you are doing at that time, we''ll get started then. It will only take a few minutes, telepathy goes much, much faster than jaw-jabbering.-


    The omni-cast went out, and everyone that was Marked heard it.


    ------------


    Creeping through the light of dawn, the hunter hissed despite himself, dropping the bow he was holding onto as he clutched his hand, while those words, that voice, echoed in his head. The rabbit he was stalking bounded away, but he didn''t care, as something hissed on the back of his hand, a symbol from a distant, dream-like memory congealed and sank into his skin.


    A Mark that had been carved upon his soul.


    "Sage Sama!" he blurted out in shock.


    -------


    Captain Anton Markov had had an illustrious career. He had purchased his officer''s ranking young, and proven himself time and again on the borders with the orcs and other feral races.


    His brilliance with a spear was unmatched, he commanded his men with the air and experience of a warrior who''d seen a thousand battles, and his tactics were both inspired and instinctive. He demanded utmost discipline from his men, and paid it back with victory after victory, standing firm where other officers fell, having an ability to read and respond to the battlefield that officers decades his senior could not grasp.


    The cup of water fell from his hand as that voice from his dreams stole through his mind, as calm and fearless as he had ever imagined.


    It had been a long time since he dreamt of that voice and its owner, of doing battle against countless foes, of valiant death in battle. Those endless dreams had driven him to where he was today, none of the horrors he had faced ever matching what he had done battle against before.


    "S-Sage Sama?!" he called out in shock, tearing off the gauntlet he''d put on his right hand a moment ago.


    Three Marks, harsh black figures limned and centered with white, waited on his strong right arm.


    -----------


    Knight-Captain Boryars slowly lifted the edge of the stiff leather undergarment on his chess, pulling it back up over his head as his squire watched in disbelief. The grim Captain strode over to the mirror in his tent, and stared at the Marks emblazoned up the center of his torso.


    "Gut, gullet, and heart," he whispered, remembering those words as these things had been emblazoned on him in a distant dream. "Sage Sama!"


    -------


    -Sage Sama!-


    -Sage Sama!!-


    -Sage Sama!!!-


    My mindscape thundered as literally thousands of voices all rang out at once.


    And I recognized all of them. How could I not?


    I had Marked every one of them. I had fought beside them in thousands of battles. I had watched them die, and watched them come back over and over again, to fight once more.


    Of course I knew them all...


    -What did I tell you about all trying to talk to me at once?- I /replied to all of them calmly, and the giddy excitement faded into an awkward, enthusiastic quiet, brimming out there in thousands of minds across who knows how many miles, all utterly shocked at hearing my voice, and yet, there I was, as unflappable as ever.


    -In ten minutes I''ll be briefing everyone. So, get to a quiet place if you want to listen in and not be distracted like an idiot.-


    I could feel a LOT of activity out there, even as I looked at all the lights that had suddenly popped up around me, and I began to shift them.


    By weapon, by company, by platoon, the officer''s channel¡­ I set up the chatboxes in my head exactly as I had before.


    Only now, there was no half-minded wisps of personality on the other end. There were real, living people, their Marks powered by the Real Karma made fighting against real evils in their dreams, from anywhere and everywhere it was easy to harvest them.


    I had stuck the Marks to their Dreams, and they had carried into the real world. How about that?


    I glanced over at Briggs and Estemar, who were packing up Forge, and looking a little confused at what I was saying.


    "Oh, you two are NEVER going to guess what just happened¡­"


    --------


    -This is Sama. Shut up.-


    All the conversations surging on the backchannels went absolutely quiet. Men and women who had never met another in real life were conversing across thousands of miles about shared dreams, the Marks they were bearing, and who they actually were and what and where and why and how and did they remember¡­


    They went absolutely quiet. Why? Because Charisma 30, Intellect 31, and Wisdom 34 completely swamped every single one of them in every category, and that included the Void Brothers.


    -This is an omnicast going out to every individual who has agreed to be Marked. The purpose of this briefing is information consolidation regarding our goal of closing the Rift opened by the Warp Gods in the area north and east of my current location.-


    Everyone''s eyes opened up on The Map I had drawn. It was meticulous, detailed, and anyone focusing on any of the indicated points showed locations, details about those locations, who was there and with what forces, and the like. Much hazier, off to the northwest was ''Dwarven Kingdom of Klintskun'', and to the south was ''Elves in the Sidhete'', ''Feral races'' to the east, and a total blank blob of ''human empire of Rosencruz'' to the utter south.


    -As you can see, I''ve not been out of Nightmare very long, and my personal mapping has been erratic at best. We need our map filled in. I never undertook such a project in Nightmare, because it was useless, to say the least.


    -Here, you can see that I have been extending The Map with the aid of numerous scouts and Rangers, who have already located several more of the warbands that are our targets.- Their positions held shifting markers of angry red, volatile and easy to see.


    -In the interest of creating greater support lines, pathing, and coordination among all forces, I need this map filled in. So, I am requesting that those who have traveled these lands, especially the unclaimed ones to the North, input their knowledge and fill out The Map.


    -Everyone who is Marked will have access to The Map. The purpose of this meeting is to Make The Map. Sentients, if you please.-


    There was a pause, and then The Map began to flower.


    The Border guards, scouts, and Rangers all bent their attention to common points, and found their focus sharpening like knives, their personal recollections so clear they were almost present there once again. The blurred landscapes began to grow, sharpen, lengthen, and spread out in all directions as collective tens of thousands of years of experience filled everything in with incredible detail.


    As recollections overlapped, they linked up, resolved into greater accuracy, and sharpened The Map further.


    The Map into the North blew out. Personal travels stamped onto The Map, racing back and forth across it and filling in blanks, reaching out, out, out¡­


    The forest itself exploded in depth. Little Mikle, toting a Strength Tat proudly, proved to be incredibly informative about a great many things, and his startling revelations were expanded on rapidly by the elven foresters. The whole of the Sidhete began to ripple and clarify, like a blurry image coming into focus, laying on roads, cities, villages, tribes, and clans in parts of the forest others had not known of, the boundaries of the whole kingdom of the Fey laid out in stark detail, there in the depths of the forest and bordering hills, extending down towards the Empire of Rosencrux with incredible speed.


    The travels of the Void Brothers in particular were all over the place, especially Brother Shadowknife. The precision of his recollection, shooting all over The Map, here and there, setting times and distances and positions of this landmark and that, and dark corners that others didn''t want to venture into, shot out in every direction, lengthening The Map prodigiously, extending it far beyond the reaches of the common person beholding The Map.


    I could hear people gasping, as it grew, and grew, and grew¡­


    My Dream-Marked were scattered all over the place. But as The Map grew, down into and through the Five Kingdoms of the Rosencrux Empire, they began to pop up, add in their own travels, greater detail, the lights of their presence on The Map popping up, washing this way and that across the continent, reaching the great Ocean to the south, spreading out in tendrils of travels to the east and the west, kingdoms of men and other races rippling into being as the travels of the Marked connected up to the greater Map, leaving tons of holes and empty places, but thousands of lights shining as people indicated where they were on The Map.


    Population numbers, cultural biases, races, technology level filled in automatically by the observations of those involved, resources that were dealt in, economic powers and routes of travel. It was all there, just at a glance.


    And it could all be updated in real time. The fighting men didn''t miss the implications, and neither did my Marked involved in more mercantile pursuits.


    Cities and realms many people had only heard of in tales were there, laid out with incredible precision, a map spanning thousands of miles, into the ancient and corrupt kingdoms to the south, while vague measures of even older lands across the seas shifted out there, with no hard reality to back them, only names and glimpses of people from far places.


    Everyone just waited, staring at The Map. It was so big, extending everywhere, covering so much, so close, so intimate, and yet so grand...

 102 Chapter One Hundred and Two – The Krovboynyar

    Spears slammed down, boots slammed counter. The lads fought to keep smiles off their faces, thank heavens for closed helms in the front lines.


    "Tremble, Tremble, she comes¡­"


    The eerie synchronicity of it was enough to off-put even these inhuman bastards, and the guy''s nightmare shied nervously, puffing out brimstone that seemed to want to waft away from us...


    The lines parted so smoothly it looked organic, precision marching at its best. The men pivoted and stepped in such perfect unison, they could have been on swivels. The chant and the pounding of spears didn''t come.


    Tremble was at +VIII against undead, which these creatures shared a great deal with, cause negative energy lifeforms. I had him out in my hand, his drone rising and falling with the chant all around, while Stand thrummed like a steady basso heartbeat on my arm.


    Nightmare and rider stepped backward despite themselves as I glided out. I didn''t move my feet, I just glided out above the stones, my Sword trailing wrathfire that was beating on his eyeballs and making them hurt. The whole line of krovboynyar shifted and eased back.


    I moved right up to the twenty-five-yard mark between our lines, and then looked up at him, now ten yards back.


    "Who is so rude as to interrupt my tea-time?" I asked. I didn''t raise my voice, but every damn person on the plaza could hear me very clearly.


    The warlord was trying to keep his eyes off my Sword, which seemed to be sucking at his eyeballs, hungering for his blood and soul, a malevolent thing breathing, waiting to be unleashed.


    It took an effort of will for him to tear his eyes away, and he scrambled for words, realizing he''d been addressed in Daemonic. "They call me the Bone-Taker!" he called out proudly, but there was a faltering at the end of his words as Tremble seemed to eat his words and find them tasty.


    Intimidate checks at 50 are terrifying things to have to face. This guy probably thought he was immune to fear, and now he had found some things to be really afraid of.


    "Are you the one who slew the serpent-men?" he asked. He had probably meant it as a demand, but it came out as a much humbler request, almost despite himself.


    "They interrupted my breakfast¡­ and did not apologize." I narrowed my eyes at him, and had them light up, suns in eternal night. Tremble''s hum went up ten decibels, and the rather lazy spirals of stars and wrathflames suddenly ordered up, like waving blades snapping to attention.


    He very quickly realized that he was going to be fighting for his life in a second if his words were in any way inappropriate. His floating irises jerked left and right, finally comprehending what all those white patches might really represent.


    "It was my error, my lady. I did not realize I had come at such an inopportune time," he ground out with rather good grace.


    I sniffed, and Tremble calmed back down. With one thunderous final stamp, the stomping behind me faded, although the men were still humming softly under their breath, spears flashing in time, pulsing and fading as the chant rose and fell.


    Tremble, ohhhhOhhhoh tremble, She comes¡­


    "I am Sama Rantha, the Sage of Swords," I informed him disdainfully. "What do you want, Bone-Taker? My tea grows cold."


    "Sage Sama, the Portal atop the ziggurat¡­" he began hesitantly.


    "Posh. Useless thing, bringing me here. I cut it apart and sealed the space, that I might not have to tolerate such crassness again. We merely wait to be returned home as the wheel turns¡­ unless, perhaps, you wish to be rude, as well?"


    My eyes flared, Tremble''s flames sharpened to Veil-cutting edges, and two thousand spears snapped down in unison.


    His nightmare hopped backwards, and the whole force of glowing bone-heads wavered despite themselves.


    "Such was not my intent, Sage Sama." Well, he had good voice control, gave him that. "The serpentfolk and my people have long had disagreements. We are pleased to see that you dealt the vermin such a blow."


    "Mmmm." My reply was disappointed again. Spears eased up, Tremble loosened his flames. "The depths of their little temple are still yours to claim, should you wish. I imagine the trinkets they have accumulated might interest you." I waved my hand as I turned, giving my back to him, but he in no way thought I was not still watching him, with all those silent eyes fixed on him. "We shall be gone within an hour. Disturb us not, and we will return harmlessly to Nightmare."


    "Nightmare¡­" he repeated, as I glided away from him, again not moving my feet. The path opened and closed behind me just as seamlessly as before. The boys kept humming and murmuring, and the tone seemed to be breathing, just like Tremble''s flames.


    The krovboynyar looked to their warlord. They were aggressive, fanatical, not afraid to die¡­ and they really didn''t want to start this fight, especially against some renegade dreams from Nightmare who were simply going to dissipate and leave nothing behind but the corpses of those they''d slain.


    Life in Leng seldom offered such a good opportunity to avoid a fight.


    "Crack that temple open and dig them out of their hole!" he ordered, spinning around and pointing with his banner-lance, determining that there would be no better chance to kick the serpent-folk when they were down.


    I sat down on Forge, taking my teapot off it, and pouring myself a cup. The lads were all snickering as the bat-riders looked on from a safe distance, but they played their parts well. The glow-boneheads kept a careful distance from us as they moved away and let us be, and when Renewal came and the mists drifted past us, reclaiming us for Nightmare, I''m sure they breathed a sigh or two of relief before dismissing us.


    They''d only see us again in their nightmares, after all¡­


    ------------------

 103 Chapter One Hundred and Three – The Map, II

    -Mmm, only one continent. To be expected.- I immediately /doused them all. -A planetary map would have opened up some interesting possibilities.- I narrowed the /view down by drawing a circle around a specific point.


    -This is Yle Tyorm, the center of a great disaster in centuries past.- To the utter wonder of all, they could see the lands surrounding that point in extremely fine detail, and catch glimpses of monstrous things and fallen ruins of extraordinary beauty there that nobody wanted to mess with. -Here, a Rift by the Warp Gods has been opened, and they are tossing out warbands every day, seeking to spread their influence and corruption throughout the lands. No current update, but we will have it soon.-


    I /flicked up measures of the forces, numbers, analysis, and could feel waves going out through my Marked. There had been rumors flying of some disaster in the north, and some of the Marked in more influential positions knew that forces were moving to counter it. Now, they knew why.


    And they knew that I was here.


    -Based on the furthest these warbands have penetrated south, we can determine the maximum range of their travel.- I drew a second circle inside the first. -Kaldenheimers, they are going to reach you very soon. You need to whelm for battle.- I felt a fire light up among those with Marks glowing in the cold lands there. -A fair chunk of these are going to slam right into the Feral lands and get chewed up. However, we don''t know what will happen to those that head further north into the wastes there, only that they must be chewed up and Fed to the Land, regardless. They cannot be allowed to take root in the Wastes¡­ which they most certainly will do.-


    That was intended specifically for the Void Brothers. They need targets to slaughter, Karma to gain. There was no way the Warped could flee from them successfully.


    -Sentients, we have a Map. It will be updated in real time to show us our fighting forces, where we need to go, and how to get there.


    -I should not need to warn you that you may wish to conceal your Marks. The fact that you are capable of speaking to others in the distance who are opposed to great and powerful forces makes you a target. As knowledge of the Marks spread, there will be those who will claim their Marks openly, to draw attention from others who also bear them.


    -This is for your own protection, and other advantages that may rise up, of course. I am working here for the good of the world, and I do not presume that endless generosity is going to flow here to support our effort.- There was muted /laughter from behind many of the floating doors in my mindscape.


    -Therefore, we will be expanding our presence on levels beyond just the military, in order to support what we are doing here.


    -If any of you wish to join me in my efforts here, you know where I am and how to get here. It will be a pleasure to see you in Reality.


    -If you would prefer not to indulge in the defense of the World, simply inform me and I will sever the Harmony between your Marks and mine, and you will be removed from the Markspace and no longer need worry about us.-


    And if I sounded soul-chillingly scornful, it was not an accident.


    -I will be speaking to you individually to round out our personnel assessments and to learn your plans and desires, and fit them into our overall purpose.


    -This concludes our briefing. Please carry on with your real-time duties.-


    ---------


    "Well, damn!" Briggs muttered, snapping out of his trance, and glancing at Sama, who had been running along, undeterred, the whole while.


    The Map was sitting there, right on top of the mental door that led to Sama''s mental Markspace on the other side. He could feel her mind sitting there on the other side.


    "You were holding out on me!" he sniffed, and she glanced back at him with a laugh.


    "You can take over once you get that Charisma up there, Mr. Source," she winked at him calmly. "You''ve several dozen Levels to gain before that, however!"


    He grunted, and turned his head to study Estemar, who was trying not to gape at her. Trying to reconcile the short girlish murder machine with the awesome mental presence on the other side of his Mark was making his eyes twitch.


    And of course, that Map.


    The continent was bigger then Eurasia, which came as no surprise, as the flatter horizon basically indicated the planet was bigger then Terra had been. It was balkanized, just like Europe. Some areas had dozens of kingdoms and independent realms, at least four empires, massive feral lands where orcs, goblins, and anthros roamed in their tribes and endless wars. Great forests, inland lakes and seas, mighty rivers and falls, the crashing coastlines of the great oceans¡­


    Briggs'' heart sped up just looking at the thing, all the places to go, things to do, wonders to behold¡­ and things to put to the sword.


    Or Hammer. His eyes glinted as he surveyed the area around his home, drawn out in detail from his own juvenile wanderings. The Rockborn probably wouldn''t like such an accurate map being drawn of their holdings.


    Come to think of it, a lot of forces might not. It was a testament to the free will of the elven that so many of them had chipped into making The Map, bless their Chaotic Good hearts. As it stood, he could basically take a Google Tour of several elven cities without ever setting foot in them, and the elves seemed to be competing with one another over who could convey the majesty and grace of their realm better than the next person.


    Nominally, he was worried about this level of information finding it into the hands of the wrong people. Thinking about it, he dismissed it. Sama wasn''t going to have Marked people who she could not trust, and she was radiating Diplomacy and Intimidation at something like +40, at least. Even if you knew what those effects were and what they did, trying to not do what she wanted was like blowing in the face of a hurricane. She was a force of nature, completely overwhelming everyone and everyone, and he didn''t doubt that some thought she might even be a goddess.


    With mental Stats at 30+, she certainly wasn''t a normal human anymore¡­


    There was a slight shimmer as The Map adjusted. A bright line came right down through Yle Tyorm, and just glancing at it informed everyone of what it was¡­ a Greenwich line, the arbitrary starting point of a world-wide map, signifying the baseline for the start of a day.


    The line was bright, and he glanced over just as the first rays of Aru broke the horizon. On The Map, a thinner bright line began to sweep west, pegged exactly to people''s awareness of Renewal.


    She was giving them a clock. That meant she could give them latitude, more accurate then any clock once it was established. Of course, there were things like seasonal tilt to take into account, but all in all, it would represent a clock.


    "One Caster with Detect Time going at all times can basically set a counter for the whole world," he said, and saw her wink at him as a clock appeared on the side of The Map. There were calculations going on around it, arcs and times shifting as The Map bent and fit itself onto a sphere. Access of rotation settled onto the empty grid of the rest of the planet, lines radiated out to chop it up into longitude from the core, the positions of sun and moon were set as the planet rotated between them, Shoul''s position beneath Sylune was pointed out, and the sparkling train that followed the Silver Queen resolved into countless numbers of asteroids, spinning in space behind Her.


    Ah, yes, high magnification Clarity Mask at work¡­


    She outscrolled the area around the planet, leapt right out into the solar system here. Ranks of Navigator and Astronomer placed other planets in their proper orbits with precision, and then her memory washed across the skies, placing the stars in their places, the great constellations that divided the night into the months of the year.


    He imagined what intellectuals and Casters she had Marked erupting into an intellectual tizzy over this, adding their own observations to things, filling in details, minor stars and lesser Constellations, Naming them, and filling in other things, while other areas were huge and empty.


    Gods. So much to see, so much to do, the potential, the size of it, a whole magical solar system¡­


    And there was a flicker over it, something cold and detached, effectively giving the impression of ''All this is way cool and for reference, but don''t even THINK about going Out There until we''ve got Down Here taken care of.''


    He pulled back with an audible snort, Estemar kind of laughed behind him, and he could see a smile curl up at the edge of her lip.


    Latitude and longitude lines were carving up The Map with tentative phantom lines, degrees one way and minutes the other.


    "So, how many people are just desperate to fill in all the empty places?" he had to ask.


    "Lots of them!" she half-laughed back. "I may have started the great Age of Exploration¡­"


    Briggs glanced at Estemar. "How you holding together, Paladin?" he asked.


    "I¡­ seem to have touched on both what it means to be an ant, and to have the wide view in perspective¡­" he replied after a moment. "I had not thought¡­ the world to be so large¡­ and what I had thought so great and mighty, to be so small¡­"


    "Mmm. Then remember this: the entire solar system is just a mote in the eye of the gods who have dominion here." Her voice was grim. "That''s why our efforts matter. If they actually paid attention, and exerted any real power, we''d all be wiped away, like footprints on a beach as the tide comes in. The reason the gods don''t save us is because saving us would destroy us all."


    Estemar tilted his head back to look at the sky. "And yet, they take note of us?" he wondered aloud, deeply shaken.


    "The currency of the hereafter is souls. The belief of souls is the strength of the Profound Alignments. Thus, every source of souls is a resource. To the Powers That Be, an individual source may be nothing, but together, they are a force the gods themselves bow to. The fight over souls is a fight over the direction of Creation itself. The gods take this fight very seriously, regardless of all other matters. But using their own power would destroy the very thing they seek to claim.


    "Thus, it all devolves down to influence with mortals and espousing the ideals they believe in. Mithar picks the mortal souls that are like Him, that do as He would do, to lead people to the path He would take. Other Divine forces do the same, and so their influences contest across the world."


    "Then, what of faith? Why do we pray? Is just living a life in tune with the principles of the gods enough?"


    "To do what?" Briggs interjected.


    "To¡­ live and die?" Estemar replied after a moment.


    "All you want to do is live and die?"


    "Well, I should think not¡­"


    "Faith is power." Estemar turned his head back to Sama. "Belief¡­ is power. It''s not a power that can be used by mortals, but it is power nonetheless. The Faith and Belief of mortal souls gives Divinities power to work with, above and beyond their own, and as it is the power of mortals, it is easily used on the mortal plane.


    "You, a Paladin, are the recipient of that power. The abilities and gifts given to you by Mithar are outgrowths of that power. You may think your ability to Smite the wicked is a blessing of Mithar, and indeed it is a sword refined and forged by Him¡­ but the ore it came from is the Belief of those faithful to Him!" Sama stated with no reverence or piety, just cold, hard fact, belief beyond Belief.


    Briggs chuckled. "I always pictured a Smite as a thousand good folk pointing at some total asshole and saying, ''Eat this, you shithead!'', by way of Mithar."


    -I begin my day with the Salute to the Morning. You do not have to join in if you do not wish to.- Without skipping a beat, Sama began to sing, and the conversation of the two faded away as she, Tremble, and Stand began to recite the traditional Salute to the morning for Aru.


    QL 40 Minstrel music check. All across the face of the continent, people went still in awe¡­

 104 Chapter One Hundred and Four – Who are You?

    Another orc warband, purely in Dream, across a blasted heath where nothing wanted to live or move. Boar-faced yellow-skins littered the ground, bleeding yellow-black stuff onto the ground, burning away with vivus.


    The lads were looting with moderate enthusiasm. Orcs rarely had much in the way of wealth, mostly carved ivory or crude things of gold.


    "You Won Again!"


    I paused to look around automatically, but naturally a disembodied voice had no source.


    "And I will continue to win. You''ll find it very hard to kill me now."


    "You-You Have To Get Out Of My Dreams!" the voice answered. Sounded like a young girl, petulant, angry, almost desperate.


    "Oh, that is definitely going to happen," I agreed. "I don''t like being trapped here, either."


    There was a long moment of pause. The nearest of the boys were looking at me oddly, talking to the air, but I just waved them back to checking the dead or the ashes they''d left behind. The current main topic of conversation was that the meat from their dire boar mounts wouldn''t last long enough to be cooked up. Pork this-and-that meals were flying back and forth sword-quick.


    "Trapped?" the voice asked, hesitantly.


    "Yes. By you."


    Mists began to swirl, and the men straightened up, their spoils in hand or heaped on the wagons. The dream ended as Renewal came up to start another one.


    ------


    "Was that who I thought it was?" Tremble asked from behind my waist, while we waited for the slain to come out of the mists, and start the downtime workday. Over the many months of these battles, I''d managed to teach quite a few helpers how to work things in downtime, to the point that all of them had certain things to do or help with.


    There were alchemists at work on Potions and consumables, using up whatever we could scavenge for comps. They''d just be journeymen at a guild, but I didn''t care, the simple stuff was what we needed. Artificers labored with the smiths to upgrade weaponry, make the magic arrows we used up constantly, and organized the Investing and Infusing.


    The Powered generally worked on special permanent items, often taking the Craft I worked on and completing any Infusion needed, to extend their downtime.


    A lot of the boys had Named Weapons now. If they couldn''t use Slaughter or Arsenal or optimal configurations, that was fine. Some had vivic, to dispose of the dead. Some had Blooding, to make sure regenerating things couldn''t heal. Some had Flaming, Icy, Acidic, or Lightning, in case we ran across foes vulnerable to those things.


    A lot of them had Enmity to Evil, since it was a broad category and useful against basically everything we fought, save for some beasts. Other then that, however, there were a few small groups of specialists with Banes on their Weapons, able to go toe-to-toe with those creatures in straight-up combat, but mostly that was something left to the archers and specific quivers of Arrows we''d amassed¡­ and got used up at amazing speed when the time was right.


    Magic Weapons and Armor on every single one of the lads. It was an amazing accomplishment, and made a huge difference when fighting. Replicating this level of built up power just wasn''t easy for the Curse, which basically had a set amount of energy to spend, by what we all could tell. In contrast, the strength of my lads accumulated over time, and all death did was slow it down some.


    I retired for my two hours, thoughts flicking this way and that to assign specific duties, and leaving it to the officers to find anything I didn''t specifically address.


    "What does it mean, if the Curse is talking to us?" Tremble asked in a low voice, as I sat in the shadow of the wagon that held the base tent, after our services to Sylune and Aru.


    "My guess? The persona is getting old enough that being Forsaken is starting to wear at the Curse, and the barriers between us are getting thinner. Having a Ten soul and a Vajra worth of ki running through her is only going to accelerate the process. Even if she''s got no Levels and none of my Stat mods from them, she should be rocking a 23 Con, and with my Masteries and such, she''s already sitting on at least a 22 Null. That''s enough to beat even an Epic Curse, eventually, and it''s only going to go up as she gets older and tougher."


    "So¡­ she''s killing herself."


    "By getting older, although she doesn''t know it."


    "Are you going to tell her?"


    "Why not? The Curse is screwing the persona at least as bad as me. She would end up a Hag, and me a Hag''s soul. We''re in this together way more than the Curse."


    "If she''s willing to die."


    "The Curse prefers all its victims sweet and innocent. The more innocent they are, the more wicked a Hag they become. But it also means they don''t want to become Hags. If they actually have the choice¡­"


    "Ahhhh¡­ the Curse leaves them no choice¡­"


    "I''m leaving them no choice, either¡­ but I''m not going to be preying on her family, and that''s a big difference. Her only option to deal with me is kill herself, the Curse, and me. All I have to do is be heroic and worth saving, and she should be good, right?"


    "That''s a tall order¡­"


    "The Curse can''t keep me here. She''s going to have to come to terms with that. She determines how she dies. She''s been watching me for years. She knows what I am, who I am. Now she has to determine if I''m her demon, or something else."


    "You think the Curse is twisting her perceptions?"


    "Wouldn''t surprise me. But it''s going to be less and less able to do so as her Null progresses."


    "It does mean we''re closer to getting out of here, aren''t we?" he asked wistfully.


    "Damn straight!"


    "Am I going to get out of here, Sama?" he asked uncertainly. "I''m not afraid of dying, but, you know¡­"


    Sparkie popped up next to me. "You''re as much a part of me as Sparkie here, created from my Soul Essence and Karma, just like Stand and Fall. You''ll all be coming out with me, one way or another. I''ll have to find new homes for you, that''s all. It''ll take some time, but I''ll get it done. No way I''m leaving you here."


    "What about the lads?"


    I lifted my gaze to the dream-soldiers that were following me, who had wisps of real Karma clinging to them, and were all Marked by me.


    "They''re made of Dream, they can''t leave. Without me here, they''ll fade away quickly. Maybe they''ll remember me in the real world, but they exist in this Nightmare, which exists because of me. No me, no Nightmare, no them."


    "Cruel¡­"


    "Aye." They weren''t real, they didn''t really have independent thought, and they forgot details from one day to the next¡­ but they were my lads, and we had literally waded through blood and gore together. I would miss them, when it was time.


    I closed my eyes to meditate, rest, recover for two hours. Recenter, stabilize, sanitize my head against this insane lifestyle.


    ---------


    "You Won Again!"


    "Of course." I bent down to pick up a gold hoop, punting the head of the hyen it was still attached to, and ripping it from its ragged ear.


    "How Did I Trap You?"


    "I am your soul."


    "Wha-What?"


    "I am trapped because the Curse ate me when I was a child, and made you to take my place. You and the Curse didn''t have a soul, so you took mine."


    "You''re Lying!"


    "I am your soul. You could tell if I was lying to you."


    "I Don''t Believe You!"


    "Yes, you do. You''re just denying it. Talk to you tomorrow."


    --------


    "I Will Beat You!" I cracked open the hieracosphinx''s chest and extracted its heart. A few flying Potions or a Belt would be an unwelcome surprise to some of our aerial attackers¡­


    "You don''t sound very satisfied. But keep trying, I don''t mind."


    "Why Do You Seem So Old, If You Are My Soul?"


    "You ate my present incarnation, destroyed it, for all intents and purposes. Guess what incarnation I reverted to?"


    "Your Last One¡­" Almost a whisper.


    "I don''t remember a lot of that life, but I remember enough to know that I don''t like being eaten alive, and the Curse is going to pay for it."


    "But¡­ Shouldn''t My Soul Be ME?" she protested.


    "I''m a Null Forsaken. My soul could never be yours while I retain my own identity. I''m trapped here because the Curse is trying to scrub my identity free of me, and impose yours on me. As you can tell, that''s not going to happen."


    "Then¡­ What Am I?"


    "Tell you tomorrow."


    ---------


    A sound like a fist hitting a table. "How Do You Keep Winning?"


    "Experience. Nice try with the demons. Did you go studying them? Couple new varieties there, and you actually brought in a real marilith to Warlord them."


    I drove Tremble through the skull of said marilith, currently missing all six of her forearms, the lads scooping up the¡­ eclectic set of stupidly exotic Weapons she had been wielding from said severed limbs. She writhed a bit as I fed her to my right arm''s Philosopher''s Might, doing double duty as a Binder Seal. I thought about thanking her for doing this, but decided it wasn''t necessary.


    She probably hadn''t come across the lilitu I was looking for.


    "I Found A Book Describing Them¡­" she trailed off, as if caught doing something naughty.


    "Knowing your enemies isn''t a problem. Of course, the Curse doesn''t want you to know them for that reason¡­"


    "You Said You''d Tell Me What I Am, Since You Aren''t Me...?"


    I watched the vivic fire pouring along the length of the marilith''s twitching body, pouring real Karma into my Philosopher''s Might, helping brand them on my soul.


    "You''re a Persona."


    "What''s That?"


    "It''s a mind without a soul. The Curse made you up so that it could betray you in the most cutting manner possible."


    "Betray Me? What Curse? How?!"


    "Because we''re a Hagchild, and it wants to make you into a Hag."

 105 Chapter One Hundred and Five – What if We Win?

    Estemar smiled despite himself as the Salute faded away. "Master Briggs¡­ what if¡­ we win?" he asked suddenly, his voice full of hope. "Not just this fight. What if¡­ Heaven won?"


    "There is no winning, the scale is too big," Briggs replied immediately. "There is only winning HERE¡­ which is possible, but unlikely, as you''re playing the game against Divinities, who hate to lose.


    "My personal belief is that the Gods of Good won''t dare eradicate Evil off a world, as the consequences would probably obliterate what they succeeded at, just like a world utterly falling to Evil results in them wiping the board."


    "Armageddon¡­" murmured Estemar, nodding slowly. If Evil succeeded, Law and Chaos would likewise be irked along with Good, and certainly agree to band together and start afresh. The game would be ''won'', and then a new game would begin¡­


    "What happens if a truly powerful Good organization whelms up is that the power of their Faith is directed to help other forces elsewhere under the purview of Heaven. Thus, Good could rise to a commanding power on this world, but will not utterly dominate it, because the other gods will likely crush it out of spite. No, this is a game played across worlds, times, and universes. The best we can hope for is to be a major piece on the board, strong enough to accomplish things, but not so necessary that the board is wiped to get rid of us.


    "Good plays the game to endure as long as possible, and set the stage for rising once they cannot keep to the course. It is different then playing to win it all¡­"


    Estemar''s eyes opened wide. "The Grandmaster of the Gods¡­" he remembered Sama saying.


    "Aye. Just imagine the kind of planning ability you must have to both hold to a high moral code, and keep fighting and winning against those not bound by such codes across all the endless worlds overseen by the pantheon¡­ and those they might be contesting with other pantheons." Briggs shivered. "Mithar is The Grandmaster who can play with anyone, and win even when his options are restricted. He is scary dangerous, Estemar. You''re working not just for a Good Guy, but a Damn Good Guy."


    Estemar found himself smiling broadly. "You sound like a Paladin yourself, Master Briggs! You should join an order!"


    Briggs chuckled despite himself. "I''ve a bit too much Nature reverence in me for a knightly order, Sir Estemar, but thank you for the compliment. I respect Mithar, and He''s a great role model, but I''m a pantheist more then anything, and helping all of Heaven grow, with all its sometime conflicting beliefs, is more my thing."


    "Yes, the Duty of Heaven." All Mitharns were obligated to go to the aid of the other Goodly Churches, if they were in need¡­ which led to a lot of guarding pilgrims of other Faiths, putting up shelters and working soup kitchens for Amana, tracking down lawbreakers for Harse, and organizing concerts for Bards of Tiirith. Things got interesting when the Nuavans requested dance partners for their revels and ceremonies¡­


    Estemar coughed to himself and his ears turned red, remembering some stories told to him.


    Both Briggs and Sama had a pretty good idea where that remark had led to, but said nothing. "Good is the only force broad-minded enough to tolerate the others on that scale. The others all believe that their way is best and right, and play only to win," Sama said over her shoulder, voice carrying perfectly despite the wind whipping past them. "And while others may cry that Good and Evil must always be opposed, and likewise Law and Chaos, they are fools. Good and Evil are perfectly able to work together to oppose Law and Chaos, and vice versa."


    Briggs nodded. "Yeah, it''s not Evil who usually drags down Good. Evil makes Good shine, tempers it, makes it stronger as it inspires people to realize that there has to be a better way. No, it''s Law and Chaos dragging Good down which tends to break them. Or to put it another way, the grey is what kills the white, not the black."


    That was a surprise to Estemar. "What are you saying?" His eyes followed a herd of deer startled to flight as they swept past in amusement.


    "Trying to smash the Good doesn''t work well. It merely breeds hope and resistance, defiance and the birth of heroes," Sama said grimly.


    "Good falls by erosion. Those who take, but do not give. Who take advantage of generosity, but are stingy with their own. Who rely on the open minds of others, but close their own hearts. Who take advantage of their rights, but deny such rights to others. Who take advantage of sympathy and understanding, but keep to their own and draw lines where none were before. Who hold their own individuality paramount, but don''t care what such a position does to others." Briggs harrumphed. "The death of Good is death by inches, picked apart and worn away as others see that if they take advantage, they can get ahead by being unfair to others. It is not blatant, it is not evil, it is cloaked in self-interest and competition and tradition and rules interpretations and birthrights and social status, driven by the instincts that made us what we are, and there is no getting around it."


    "Nature is not Good," Sama agreed from ahead of them. "And in the end, we are products of Nature. Those drives will always be with us, and we cannot escape them. We favor friends and family over strangers. We want territory and resources to provide for us and our own. We want to be in control of our own destinies, and not beneath others who will determine our fates. We will fight for all the same reasons other animals do ¨C territory, mates, dominance, power. These instincts always claw at the Good and drag it down."


    Estemar frowned again. "Does not Evil do the same?"


    "Evil takes it to extremes. Nature does not engage in wanton slaughter¡­ Evil does. Evil does those things for the sake of doing those things, not because you need the land, want the woman, or desire to be the boss. The grey tend to never be prepared for what the black are capable of, as they do all the things the grey do, without the restraints the grey place upon themselves. Evil crosses lines readily, does not have any limits, and justifies it to themselves without breaking stride," Sama spat.


    "It''s strange that when the same thing gets done to them, or they get called to task, they are the first ones to whine about how unfair it is," snickered Briggs. "''Hey, I''m King now, just because I poisoned my father, murdered my brothers, and executed all my rivals is no reason to hate me! I just did what had to be done!''" he mimed in a parochial yet whining voice.


    Estemar flushed. "That¡­ is not far from the state of affairs of the royal and imperial Houses," he noted.


    "I wouldn''t know, but if it is, that should tell you something important," Briggs answered calmly.


    Estemar took that thoughtfully. He glanced at The Map in his head, and noticed the next area of fighting was getting rapidly closer¡­ but was not the closest battle to be fought. "We are not hitting the group nearby?"


    "We need to go further north and link up with the Rockborn forces, get some Marks spread there to coordinate forces. The elves and Rangers are already spreading word of what they do, so the dwarves should be ready to volunteer at least some people for the benefits in the name of cooperation."


    Estemar nodded again. He had only received a couple of Sama''s orders when fighting, keeping him on Briggs'' heels as the Ancient smashed holes through the lines of their enemies, but the feeling of inspiration and invincibility that wound through him from that feeling of command, of unity, and Tremble''s Song wafting through his mind was silk that was stronger than steel... He''d never felt such a powerful motivating force, driving him on.


    If he were to admit it to himself, it was probably that incredible aura of command that had kept him alive in those fights. He had felt like a great hero, and performed like one¡­ it had been incredible!


    General Moonriver had been a phantom of death on the battlefield, his spells and sword netting him over a hundred kills, always where he was most needed and could minimize the damage done to his troops. Any protests he had over Sama being in charge had evaporated. When he had raced off towards the next fight on his horse, he had been smiling in expectation.


    And now the enemy was right there, on The Map¡­


    "You seem to be able to see the game of gods," Estemar mused to both of them. While his voice didn''t carry, their Marks seemed to let them hear it nonetheless. "Are there implications for winning in our fight with the Warped?"


    "The obvious reason for such a move is never the true move. These are gods, their motives are all ridiculously subtle and long term. Invading and wreaking havoc is great fun, but the odds of success are too low. There are too many forces here who can whelm against them, and only total stupidity on the part of the gods would allow them to move enough forces here to actually accomplish their goals," Briggs said warily, rubbing his thick chin.


    "And warbands? Seriously?! They should have whelmed up and moved out in a true army of a minimum of twenty thousand, and upwards of a hundred thousand, if they wanted to accomplish anything noteworthy," agreed Sama.


    "So, the slaughter is a cover for something else?" Estemar frowned.


    "Biggest one is their names get out there," Briggs sighed. "Since people learn about them, they will want to know about them. They will investigate¡­"


    "And the weak of mind will be drawn in by their promises¡­" Estemar realized.


    "There''s bound to be agents of the Warped moving out with more stealth, looking to infiltrate the lands and spread the worship of their Patrons. jRaztl is particularly fond of the technique, like digging worms of corruption into the lands," Briggs spat.


    "Void Brothers on it. Those touched by the Warp are like great stinking trails to them. They''ll not get away easily from those," Sama mused.


    The Windarrow and Shadowknife had left before morning, as soon as the new Weapons they''d been promised had been completed. Their positions were on the map, moving with remarkable speed to the north and east.


    "Are there others coming?" Estemar asked. Despite himself, he had been reluctant to engage the legendary killers in conversation.


    "A number are already here. The Fire and the Sword, the Ancient and the Axe, the Mountain and the Hammer, the Light and the Scepter, and the Mind and the Ring, as the Warped directly infringe on things they are sensitive to. Brother Windarrow said Brothers Wayfist and Nightscythe may or may not show, but they can get messages to them through their own network¡­ or by using the Marked," Sama told him, smiling slightly.


    "Master Briggs mentioned the Firesword, but not the others. I confess to knowing nothing of them," Estemar admitted.


    "The Ancient and the Axe is always Urukhar, and sensitive to the movement of primordial forces, ancient races, and the like. He is typically battling infestations of magical creatures, Jotun warlords, overeager dragons, and the like."


    "Urukhar? Half-orcs?" Estemar was astonished.


    "Aye. The Mountain and the Hammer is always dhatun, half-dwarven. Their Void is tuned to geomantic forces, things down Deep. They rove the under-realms like shadows, and have contact with more horrors then all but the Shadowknife," Briggs took over. "The things buried under Yle Tyorm waking up at all this will definitely bring him up.


    "The Light and Scepter responds to change in the currents of divine power, faith and belief. This intrusion by the Warp gods will instantly provoke a response."


    "There is a Void Brother that monitors the gods?" Estemar was stunned at the pure hubris of that statement.

 106 Chapter One Hundred and Six - Determination

    "I Can''t Stop You, Can I?" The frustration and despair in the voice were almost palpable.


    The area was a complete mess, strewn with the remnant corpses of over a thousand magical beasts. This fight had been a brute-force, all-in charge and mash-up, of breath weapons and petrifying eyes, lethal roars, and flung spines. There''d been worms coming up out of the earth, beetles the size of tanks, thundering jub-jub birds kicking in all directions and snapping with head-snipping bites¡­ a total dust-up.


    Lots of blood and hearts full of magic. Less then a third of my company had survived over the course of time, having to deal with multiple runs of the things today¡­ but the spearmen had racked up a lot of kills, as had the archers, focus firing down the fliers and truly dangerous stuff at range, and leaving the brute battle to be decided on a hedge of glowing steel thorns.


    The medusa queen was going into my Mask of Clarity. I grabbed her by her serpentine locks, ignoring the little snakes whose fangs couldn''t pierce my skin, slamming her face against mine, and starting to burn it away via Tremble inserted into my nasal cavity by way of medusa skull.


    "No, you can''t," I said around the burning man-killer, staring her in her red eyes as she died. The few men she''d petrified were already getting rubbed down with the blood from her body, restoring them to flesh, as I was afraid stoning them would mean they wouldn''t Renew. Those petrified by the breath of the bovine gorgons got the same treatment. "But you''re welcome to keep trying, of course. Fighting all the way is the proper thing to do."


    "But I Don''t Want To Die!" she almost screamed.


    "The Curse was going to kill you regardless; twist you, change you into the thing of nightmares and evil. The only thing keeping you You right now is me talking to you, defying the Curse. I applaud your choice. You can die as you, or you can die as some twisted family-killing bitch. Choosing that is something the Curse would have never given you." I was mildly sympathetic, but not much.


    "You Can''t Help Me, Can You?"


    The greater medusa was falling to ash in my hands, so I withdrew Tremble from her slot in by dose, sneezed, let my nasal ridge mend up, and replied, "No, I''m stuck in here. There''s no help out there, either. The closest thing would be the Ritual of the Silver Queen¡­ but at this point, all that will do is burn the Curse away, you with it, and tell your entire family that you''re a Hagchild."


    "It''s Not Fair¡­"


    "No, no it''s not. Neither was eating me when I was less then a week old." I took a look off in a certain direction as the mists started to close in. "I think you should make your final plans. It''s not going to be long, now."


    Renewal came, the mists closed in, and took the battle away.


    ----------


    "Lads, gather around and listen up."


    The Marks made sure everyone heard me, and this was just before downtime work, so everyone relaxed and turned their eyes on me, waiting curiously for my next orders or commands.


    "You have all fought beside me for days on end. The Book lists the battles we''ve had, even if you don''t remember them¡­ but I do. So I''ll not hold back now¡­ I''ll believe in you, as you''ve believed in me.


    "We''re approaching the End. The Curse trapping us all in this mess is coming to a close. I can feel it in the distance. Light and life and sweet reality is calling me. At some point, it''s going to crack open, and when it does, I''m going to be there to cut my way through and out of here!"


    I paused and let them think over that, the murmurs of wonder passing over them. They didn''t need to ask the question that was first and foremost, I knew it myself.


    "I do not know what will happen to you. You are chained in this dream, this nightmare, the same as I am. I know only one thing¡­ without me here, it will collapse, and you will be free!


    "Somewhere, out there, a part of you is dreaming. Finally, you will be able to return to you. You may forget me. You may forget those that have fought alongside you on this endless quest to be free. You may forget the great deeds you have done, your triumphs, and your failures.


    "But I¡­ WILL NOT FORGET YOU!" I lifted the hefty Book in my hands, which held all their faces and names, and all the enemies they''d fought, battle honors, promotions, nicknames, quirks. "This book is mine, and I have memorized it all. I will remember you all forever, and if you do not live in this nightmare of mine, when it is time to remember you all, you will exist forever in MY dreams!


    "IRONBLOODED FOREVER!"


    I was crying. They were crying. My hellpoodles were howling in mourning and sad resolve. The end was coming. I would be free, they would be free, and the mists would take all that we''d done into nothingness.


    But we had fought together until the end, and it was enough.


    I clutched the big thick Book, which I''d cobbled together out of minotaur hide, the pulped shafts of a thousand spears, and the black blood of dozens of different monsters. During my meditation time, I had compiled it, as half my brain slept and I worked in silence and peace on this one little thing that they could go back to and use to remember what they had gone through, what we all had gone through.


    My Weapons were the things I most wanted to take out of Dream, for they were extensions of me, Soulbound. But the next most precious was this Book.


    And if I could not take it, I promised myself that I would recreate it, just to honor them. My lads meant too much to me.


    --------


    "What Can I Do?"


    There was misery, and there was resolve. Fear laced every syllable. She did not want this, nor did she want to harm her family. I cut off the paw of a horned wemic, and removed the golden band thereon as the corpse burned down.


    "I would recommend that you run," I said softly.


    "Run?" she asked in a hushed voice, as Tremble flicked off the head of a female wemic, the easier to remove a golden torc.


    "As the time comes, the Curse will infect you and corrupt you, turning all that you love in life into your hated enemies. You will attempt to kill them all.


    "If you want to save those you love, you must run from them¡­ or there will be blood."


    I felt the shiver, as much as heard it. "I Do Not Want To Hurt My Family¡­!"


    Her family had been intended as mine. I did not want her to hurt them, either.


    "The Curse... does. Our Hagmother... does. We were chosen very carefully, as a way to do maximum harm to good people. If you wish to protect them, and take revenge upon our Hagmother, you must get away from them, away from anyone you can hurt, before the Curse takes over you.


    "And, if you care to, far enough away that I cannot hurt them, if you do not trust me. After all, I do not know who you are."


    I gazed at the gathering mists as I held my spoils, Tremble humming softly.


    "But decide quickly. I don''t think we will be talking much more¡­"


    ------


    "I Am Running..." she whispered, almost half in disbelief. "I Stole A Horse, And Have Ridden It Hard Into The Forest."


    This fight had been undead, dealt with incredibly easily, as if the fight had gone out of them, or they couldn''t manage anything other than just trying to brute force us. The Curse had been shocked, and was roiling, knowing it was now doing battle on two fronts.


    "Have there been physical changes?" I asked softly, punting a wight''s skull fifty yards with quiet venom.


    "My Arm Is Turning Blue¡­" Horror and dread keeping up in her voice.


    "The Curse is moving on you. Soon, you will have blackouts, and limited lucidity. Things will happen you have no control over. Focus on the running.


    "I am coming. I will not let the Curse and our Hagmother win."


    The steely skull of a grave knight was crushed in my hand. I let the bits fall into the vivus that was everywhere, retrieving the rusty Sword that tied it to this realm, and would be burned for power.


    "I Will Try..."


    "I will be with you until the end. Not even the Curse can change that," I whispered to her.


    "I...I Have Been Watching. You Are A Good Soul..."


    "Thank you. You sound like the kind of girl I would have liked to be."


    "You Will Find Her, And Kill Her, For What She Has Done?" Sudden harshness, a hint of red rage.


    "She will never escape me," I promised. I would hound that Hag to the end of the Creation if I had to. "And you know I can''t lie to you."


    A storm of emotion swirled past, and was gone, as this bleak and blasted moor began to swirl with mist, and me and the lads watched it come.


    In the distance now, out there, I could see a white crack for a moment, before Renewal covered everything.


    Tremble, oh, tremble, I am coming...

 107 Chapter One Hundred and Seven – Losing That Religion…

    "No. Their churches, religions, the flow of mortal faith and belief. A corrupt religion is one that needs to be cleansed. An alien one must be purged. False gods, worship of things outside Creation, lies spread as true words¡­ the Light and Scepter is there to keep faith true, be it devoted to good or evil. They will purge true corruption in the ranks of Skulos'' own as readily as false lawyers claiming to do the work of Harse, or shysters claiming they do the work of Tiirith as they scam and steal from their audience.


    "They extinguish religions and police the influence of gods here. They don''t walk up to gods and pick a fight. They are Voids¡­ religions just go away, or are purified, around them." Briggs'' hand darted out, snipped off a passing grass tip, and negligently put it in his mouth to chew on. Obviously, their breakneck pace didn''t bother him at all.


    "So¡­ someone who thought they were a Paladin and was committing sins in the guise of doing what is best for all?" Estemar watched a small waterfall, and the startled fox drinking at it, zip by, there and gone.


    "Off him without a second thought," Briggs confirmed.


    "I imagine that many in such Churches loathe him tremendously." Estemar shook his head at the strange wonder of it. A Void who no god could hear, judging their religions¡­ as silent as the forest giants towering around them¡­


    "Ya think? Some outsider telling you that what you believe in is wrong and killing you for it? Or everyone in your cult, sect, order, branch, fraternity, or the like?" Briggs snorted. "The Lightscepter doesn''t make a big show of things, of course. Their job is to kill, not explain themselves. The Firesword often ends up working with them, and tends to get the fallout, as I understand it."


    Estemar reflected that the Firesword must be the Void Brother he''d heard the most about, then. "The Mindring?" A flight of grouse erupted out behind them, a little late to be alarmed, but amusing nonetheless.


    "Sensitivity to psionics. Both jRaztl and Amourae have strong influences on those with mental powers. Not common around here, but very difficult to fight. The madness, insanity, nightmares, and mental chaos that has to be accompanying this intrusion among the Psensitive would draw him here," Briggs informed him. "Brother Wayfist is concerned with chi-users and the profound way, not exactly something going on hereabouts. The Night and the Scythe is about necromancy, undeath, death, the smooth transfer of souls to the afterlife, and so on. The death magic the enemy is tossing about and sheer amount of killing may bring him up, maybe not."


    Estemar opened his mouth, closed it, then asked, "Are there no female Voids?" Even his own Order had several female members, and certainly there were women Paladins running around.


    Briggs grunted, and let Sama answer it. "Potentially, yes. But the Land won''t Trigger them. Having a Helix destroys a woman''s ability to carry a child, and that goes against the nature of every living thing. So, the Land never Triggers a female Void."


    "Oh." That sounded like the exact opposite of chivalry, with the same result. "Void Brothers seem to mess with everyone equally¡­"


    They were going up a narrow hill, and abruptly leapt off the other side, falling freely as Sama slid down through the air, as if it was making itself into a winding slide for her. They didn''t hit the ground so much as level out and keep moving again, with Estemar wondering how his stomach had moved around so much.


    "Waterspear looks after the fresh water and ocean shores, their purity is his main thing to follow. Probably every innovation in sewage treatment and clean water policy is driven by them. Very doubtful he''d show under normal circumstances, but he may come up to get a Mark and a Weapon, as might the others." Briggs shrugged. "And yes, they piss off a lot of people. That''s why Voids are so damn deadly, and so sneaky¡­ there are a lot of people after them." He seemed completely unmoved by their ups and downs, totally ignoring the bounce as Sama went over a fallen tree and came back down, and the Disk stayed right with them.


    "With so many foes, how do they survive?" Estemar asked. "I mean¡­ they have entire religions up against them!" He almost ducked a passing branch, saw Briggs didn''t, and steeled himself as it passed them by less then an inch, and if anything, was even closer to the cabinets riding low behind them.


    "Same way high-Level Powered would. You can''t scry or divine them, so you can''t track them with magic. As for tracking them physically¡­ all stronger Voids have the ability to Run the Veil, sliding along the edge of reality to get to some place quickly. It''s impossible to track them, so you can only try to lay a trap for them. And for people who are so incredibly sensitive to magic and profound forces, laying a trap for them is an excuse for them to kill you, not to be killed," Briggs mused aloud, leaning into a turn that brought them to another small stream, which Sama ran right into the middle of and followed, skating in long sliding strides along the top of the burbling waters.


    "Messing with Void Brothers is an excellent way to die quickly," Sama agreed, but winked. "For normal people, anyway."


    Estemar considered that these two were anything but normal, and two of these Void Brothers were essentially working for or with Sage Sama now¡­


    "Ah!" He blinked as if he''d forgotten something. "Lady Sama, what if the warbands have Summoners, and we are not there?"


    "The Brotherhood can deal with any Demons brought in easily, they just can''t Feed the Land with them, yet," Sama replied instantly. "And remember, elves, magic. They know what to look for, and our enemy simply does not have the sheer amount of low magic the elves possess, and does not seem to have easy access to anything as basic to wizardry as flying, invisibility, and Detection spells."


    "The elven scouts will identify the Summoners, and simply make a flying, invisible Kill Team to goon them, or sneak up enough cloaked archers to do the job," Briggs agreed. "If there is a Void Brother there, he will instantly assess the threat and remove it. All the major forces moving have been briefed on what to expect, so Banishments and Dispels can also remove the Summoned as a threat." He wasn''t worried. "It would be best to Feed them to the Land, but there are many alternatives to Summoning Magic other then just fighting what is brought in.


    "What magic we''ve seen them wielding is broad area and powerful... but also seems unstable here and particularly vulnerable to Warding magic of all types, and Holy power. The Warped don''t actually face Good powers very often in their home realm, and so aren''t going to have much experience with what they bring to the table." Briggs was already in a Chatbox with officers and coordinators, who were finding his ability as a Warlord, knowledge of the foe, and concise analysis clearly helpful.


    Goon them. Estemar smiled to himself at the term, picturing the definition of a surprise, dying with those expressions on their faces.


    --------------


    Tremble came down, and impaled the huge flaming Axe.


    A vivic explosion erupted for the second time in less then a minute, jolting the entire battlefield once more.


    Unfolding from the shell of the massive Axe it had been bound into, the eight-meter bat-winged, flaming figure of the pseudo-balor Massacre Demon howled in impotent fury at the image of the Sword driven in between its great horns.


    The Axe shattered into untold shards of corrupted metal, trailing streaks of vivus as they hurtled in all directions, consumed in midair. The spirit of the Massacre demon had time to look down and scream in immortal fear, just like its predecessor, as the jaws of the Land came up to Feed.


    The battlefield was already thigh-high with vivus, and this new gout was a waist-high burst blowing past everything... and naturally turning on the most unnatural creatures there.


    The Carnage demons, chest-high things with black skin like embers, howled as the vivus ate them away like acid, and several volleys of arrows poked holes in them to let the fog in.


    The Slaughter Demons, tall as ogres and armed with great flaming blades, red of skin with flaming horns and burning eyes, also shrieked and writhed as vivus crawled over them.


    Briggs gave them no time to realize that doing such in the middle of a fight was not a good idea, and Endure crashed and slammed into their ectoplasmic bodies. Vivus exploded, and serpentine waves billowed up to consume them as he plowed through them. Burning blades skirled over his armor, shocking these things who thought the steel would part like cotton before their magical blades. Briggs wasn''t about to inform them that Energized Armor was the hard counter to such effects, and shattered chests as heads blew apart under the whirling, arcing, non-stop blows of Endure.


    Any that didn''t die with one blow, Estemar finished with one blow, Thunder rolling through him, and a dire song that promised death to all these things.


    Tremble, oh tremble, we come...


    -----------


    Sama was at it for another six hours, another seventy Borderguard Tatted, starting with Shvaughn herself, and their chakra points opened. Briggs found himself fielding a lot of advice on how to use Soul Magic, totally new and alien to the elves, while patiently working some alchemy and getting ready for some smithing.


    Estemar had taken a Favored Level today. It worked off his Charisma, and gave him a lot of Spell Slots to use, which he was spending on healing spells unstintingly. Five hundred rep counts didn''t make themselves, after all. After all, with Doc in hand, he didn''t have to save them for himself.


    A tall and rangy human, six foot in height and the tallest person around, came gliding out of the forest nearby with the quiet of a very experienced forester. The Rangers around who saw him fell silent, a mixture of awe and fear in their eyes.


    His attire was dark, but not black. Careful observation found it the deepest of browns, darkest of reds, shadowed blues, inkiest purples, and umbral greens. No true black, but it would fade into any background like an errant shadow. It seemed mere comfortable attire for a traveler, cloak and high boots, tunic and tight trousers, but those knowing could see how everything was dusky and lacking reflection and polish.


    This was a hunter of men who thought themselves arrogant and above all others.


    He wore a single longsword over his shoulder, slung there for travel.


    Briggs glanced up, noting that the newcomer''s footsteps didn''t register in his Tremorsense, which was a very good lightfoot, indeed. His eyes were darker then his hair, and while they had dancing lights inside them which would doubtless bewitch quite a few women, they held a fire and killing intent which could not be hidden.


    "The Fire and the Sword graces us with his presence!" Briggs said, not attempting to hide his amusement. The brows of the Firesword rose in some surprise, especially when Briggs offered his hand. "Sorry to drag you away from wizard-killing in civilized places, but alas, the Warp wasn''t so considerate of our comforts. I''m Briggs."


    The grim lines of the Firesword''s face eased into a polite smile. "Definitely the most erudite Ancient I have ever met," he proclaimed, taking the big hand easily, and his eyes widening as he felt the fire of a Source burning against his palm, and a Diamond Vajra. "My elder Brother was not lying," he remarked, clearly impressed.

 108 Chapter One Hundred and Eight – A Hagmother to Sing By

    "Well, hello, Hagmother. Getting desperate, are you?"


    Daemon gore, replete with disease, rot, poison, and corruption, fell off of me, most already burning vivic.


    This wasn''t a real representation of ol'' Hagmom, but an extension of the Curse, a desperate twisting of power, trying to make a real fight of it against me.


    "So, you recognize me? You know who I am?" she croaked, her mouth full of iron-spike teeth opening to cackle at me.


    "Every single force of Hags led by an Annis has been led by you. Of course I recognize you." I kicked the skull of a Night Hag, over-long black tongue protruding from iron teeth, out of the way. Behind me, nightmares screamed as they and the last of the Hag riders died to cold iron in medically important areas, while Tremble sang and Stand beat in my hands.


    She was fourteen feet tall, and I was completely underwhelmed.


    "You are very confident for not even having unleashed your bloodline," she cackled, and I just lifted an eyebrow.


    "What bloodline? I''m a Forsaken Null, you twit. My bloodline is pure human. Any random mutations are just fallout from your damn Hag Curse.


    "Or are you referring to the human girl you used to be before you became a Hag? Because that''s my bloodline, you idiot."


    The oversized Annis blinked in disbelief, and then her blue-black face somehow managed to turn purple. "You lie!" she snarled, starting to step forwards, and Tremble lit up with a truly ominous +X hum, and she decided that wasn''t a good idea.


    "Do the effing math, you mutated, detestable twat. What is a Hag with no magic twisting her, corrupting her? She''s a freaking human! I am a Null! NO MAGIC! The only bloodline I have is the girl you used to be, and whatever hapless man you ate to father me!" I stepped forwards, and this caricature of a mother tensed, stooping remarkably low and raising those massive clawed hands that could rend mail and shred bone.


    "You''re NOTHING. You have no power over me, I''ve taken it all away! I''m going to get out of here, and then I''m going to hunt you down and butcher you like you deserve! Go on, cackle about giving birth to me and all my power, when I shove my Sword into your skull and roast you in True Death!


    "Hag who thinks it all a game, darkly ever denies her blame;


    Play the witch, be the bitch, scratch the itch, but mind that twitch;


    What goes around, comes around... and now, you Hag, she''s coming around.


    Tremble, she comes!"


    She was incredibly fast, as powerful as a Cloud Jotun, skin like iron, girt in foul magic, nasty and experienced and loaded up on Health Qi.


    "Wail, oh wail, you pitiful thing, there is no mercy where we Sing.


    Lies and delusions to which you cling, let clear and pure the truth now ring,


    From the deadly light you''ll crawl, down, down, to that cold grim hall


    Where judgement waits, your time has come,


    Your soul of filth, of rot and scum.


    Your Fate, your Doom, come all too soon


    Your hate, your gloom, a useless tune


    Sung to despair and long-shirked blame


    At last now comes your end of game.


    Tremble, she comes!"


    Tremble howled and split her from skull to crotch. This fake rendition of Hagmom garbled over the missing lower half of her jaw, waved the stumps of her arms about, spraying dark blood everywhere. Her eyes were reluctant as she fell apart, and I glared at the remains.


    Hagchild not happy with Hagmom, she fall down go boom.


    The body began to burn, the halves tried to writhe, couldn''t get over the Blooding, and she burned away hard.


    She had ripped into me with everything, and I hadn''t cared. I was tougher then she imagined, and far, far more lethal than she could picture. I literally did not care if she had a thousand Health Qi before I could start taking her apart, I did it anyways. She rent away at my Soak, Tremble and Doc tore her a new one in return. We compared DR, and my +X Sword trumped her Whatever/Adamant all the way to Anathema.


    I cut her apart, and damn, did it feel good.


    I took a long, deep breath, waiting, because it would not be long...


    "I''m Running, Running Again..."


    "You go, girl." I tried to keep a tear out of my eye, failed as I stared there at the burning corpse of the giant Annis.


    "I Think... I Think I Killed My Horse..." her voice quivered.


    "The Curse killed your horse, nothing more, nothing less. If you hadn''t done this, it would have killed your family."


    "Yes! Yes, The Curse Did It. I Would, I Would Never..."


    "It won''t beat us. It never could, and it never will. Run, and don''t let it punish others to get at us."


    "I Will Run, I Won''t Let It Win..."


    "You have this. I... will take care of the rest." I clenched a fist. "I believe in you! Go! Don''t let it win!"


    Her cry was despair and fear, and under it, a terrible resolve.


    I didn''t know her name, and could only wait as she ran...


    ------


    It was the last battle.


    My lads drew up in formation, staring across the twisted landscape, rife with breaks which experience told us would be avenues for things coming from all directions.


    We had been here before. It didn''t bother anyone.


    Hanging in the sky Over There was a crack in the Nightmare, swirling about with a light that came from some far place beyond Dream.


    From Reality.


    Dark figures boiled up from the cracks in the ground, scattered all over the place. Disunited, a horde, but desperate, strong, motivated by the Curse''s fear of dissolution.


    They were trembling, because I was coming, and no matter how hard they heaped up on me, how hard they fought my boys, they weren''t going to stop us.


    "Fido, Shirley." I reached up to the huge heads of my hellpuppies, who nuzzled me one last time, before I swung into Shirley''s saddle. My Arms Arakne, the Tats burning between my belt of Marks, ignited, and two arms of Essence unfolded from my hips. Fall flipped from his holster into the grasp of one, Stand wrapped into the grasp of the other, while Doc planted in my right hand and Tremble in my left.


    My Halo Crown flashed into existence about my head, five jeweled spires putting off a burning light that made it hard to look at me, ranging ahead to dazzle and dismay the hordes gathering before us.


    I lifted Tremble up. "IRONBLOOD!"


    Feet stamped, weapons hit shields like thunder.


    "WE WILL BE FREE!"


    "FREE!" the lads thundered back, as Stand began to beat, and Tremble began to Sing.


    "TREMBLE!" I snarled, lowering my Sword and pointing at that crack.


    "TREMBLE!" they called out, and four thousand glowing Weapons lowered, ready, waiting.


    "WE COME!" we roared together, the hellpuppies howled out, and the fight was on.

 109 Chapter One Hundred and Nine – The Fire and the Sword, Part I

    "You haven''t felt Sama''s Null," Briggs sniffed, and leaned forward conspiratorially, the man matching him reflexively. "Cold, smooth, and diamond. I wouldn''t try charming her. She''s Senior to all of us."


    The man straightened thoughtfully. "Well, my Brothers are not prone to exaggeration. I felt the deaths of two great Interlopers reverberating through the manafield." His dark eyes turned unerringly to the very spot they had died upon, the grass still stained white in two superimposed circles, then the places where the Carnage and Slaughter demons had died. "She stirred the Land to feast..."


    "That much vivus? Hell, yeah," Briggs confirmed. He tilted his head, and the Firesword naturally settled on Sama, Tatting up foresters and wardancers. Those already Marked were gathered off to the side, eyes focusing on nothing as they gawked at The Map inside their heads, and helplessly added to it. Some were chatboxed, and moving their hands in silent synch and awe, testing the Marktell.


    And realizing that yes, some people were indeed smarter, wiser, and more forceful then others, and in Markspace, it was wholly and completely obvious.


    His eyes took it all in, silent, studying, analyzing. His gaze turned back to Briggs, who was watching a spinning centrifuge as he prepared to melt down some gold to make Amulets.


    Cold Resist 1, Fire Resist 1. Ironblood Amulets, Sama had called them.


    "I was told that you would forge me a Void-bound Sword," the Firesword finally spoke.


    Briggs inclined his head again. "SHE will do that. She''s much better than I am, at present. A Starter Sword, of course, unless you''ve adamant with you."


    The Void Brother shook his head once. "Should I procure some first?"


    "Not unless you''re planning to get a post-Zieben-level Sword shortly. You''re better off taking advantage of this opportunity to raise its Name as fast and far and possible. When you''ve got a few days of not fighting, sure, go get them. Or, better yet, just arrange for someone else to deliver them. Sama can make it during downtime, and you can transfer the Name anytime."


    The most widely known and feared of the Void Brotherhood thought that over. "Does this Mark truly allow you to speak with someone over great distances freely?"


    "By way of the back of Sama''s mind, yes. You''re basically talking in a room in the back of her head, so others can hear you."


    His dark eyes darted to her. "So, she can hear everything?" he asked quickly.


    "Yes. Rule One of Marktell: don''t say stupid and embarrassing stuff in Marktell. Not that most people would dare..."


    "My Brothers confirmed they can use this telepathy by physical contact."


    "Mark Resonance, yes," Briggs named it dutifully.


    "They also said that she has Marked people stretching the length and breadth of the whole continent." His voice held a mild note of disbelief.


    Briggs scratched his ear despite himself. "Well, that shocked the Hell out of me, too. It turns out that while she was trapped in Nightmare, she built herself up an army of dream soldiers, and Marked them all. It seems all those Marks followed them dreams back to real life, and she and they didn''t realize it until she sent out an Omnitell to everyone." He harrumphed. "There''s about four thousand of them, and yeah, they''re spread out all over the continent."


    "That is an extraordinary ability," the Firesword murmured, eyes flashing.


    "You do realize that any succubus could do the same thing, right?" Briggs huffed, and the Firesword blinked. "No, the most amazing thing is that she stole the ability, not that it exists."


    "I see..." He was clearly mulling over the implications.


    "You either trust her, or you don''t," Briggs offered. "There''s no control function, no shoving spells through it to control others, she''s a Null. Of course, you''re going to be in contact with a Deep Ten, and that''s probably going to be a humbling experience."


    The deep eyes turned on him, weighing the options. "My Brothers were quite enthusiastic about her. It was... rather unnatural," he admitted, privately amazed at how seriously he was taking this young Ancient''s words. Then again, this Ancient talked like an orator, not a primitive tribesman. The fact alone meant he was extraordinary.


    "I imagine that kind of enthusiasm isn''t something that comes to someone as disparaged as the Brotherhood. Likewise, the understanding of equals, instead of disdain and scorn. Add in the clarity of telepathic communication, and the ability to chat with so many others after so much isolation... I imagine they are still adapting.


    "Oh, and the Shadowknife really wants to add your intelligence network to the Marked, letting him wield all sorts of nasty little tricks from halfway across the globe. If you can link up with other Brotherhoods elsewhere, and start sharing knowledge..."


    The Firesword let out a grim breath, clearly wavering. "That is a monumental amount of trust, young Master Briggs."


    "It is. But since you possess the ability to remove the Mark at any time, not exactly a risk to you." Briggs shrugged. "Once you see The Map and realize what a lot of people in a lot of places can do when they pool their talents in real time, I think you''ll come around."


    "And this Soul Magic?" he pressed further, not having much knowledge of the art.


    "Can''t have a Vajra Soul without it." Briggs glanced at him as he began to drop the molten gold into carved molds already filled with the silver for the other side, which he''d have to carve and trim appropriately. It didn''t require much in the way of QL, so he''d be able to work quickly. The alchemical wash he''d treated them with would insure the two metals bonded as smoothly as electrum. "And it will help immensely in your foundation. Imagine being able to slaughter demons and Feed the Land, rather then just sending them home, to come back again at the next opportunity."


    His Helix seemed to flash, subtle hue changes, like dim flames of every color imaginable. In the thaumaspectrum, it was probably a blaze of magic, the flames of the Fire and the Sword, the horrifying final sight of many a demented spellcaster.


    "The two are not related, by the way. She''ll pop open your chakra points if you don''t want the Mark," Briggs informed him blandly.


    "She gives away such power so easily." He could see the sparking glow of the Soul magic as some of the Opened Rangers brought up the Lightning Gauntlets, and cool swirls as a few others, mostly archers, manifested the Cloud-Stepping Sandals.


    "She gives away the chance at power easily. You still have to develop it," Briggs corrected mildly.


    The Firesword smiled despite himself. It had been a long time since anyone but his Brothers had dared to correct him so casually.


    "Also, Sama Rantha is the Sage of Swords, and a Grandmaster of the Sword."


    The Firesword''s dark eyes suddenly lit up, with an interest that had nothing to do with Helices.


    "A Grandmaster!" he repeated intensely. "You are certain?"


    "I''m a Grandmaster of the Hammer, so, yeah, I''m certain."


    Those dark eyes turned around on him in amazement. "Surely you are too young to claim such a Title," he half-scoffed.


    "Not claiming nothing. Just stating a fact," Briggs replied easily. Helices rippled over his Source flames, and despite himself, the Firesword sucked in a breath. "Titles like that are earned and bestowed, not just taken like, say, a throne." His pale violet eyes met the Firesword''s with a complete lack of fear. "You''re a better all-around fighter then I am, and you''re surely gonna have the sneak attack one-shot kill down cold. But I''m not a Ten yet, and I can easily match you in terms of slaughter. Give me a few months, and there''s no way you''re going to be anywhere near me on a battlefield."


    The Firesword was very impressed. This junior Ancient was rippling with firmness of purpose, Fate blowing past his Void, undaunted by the most famous assassin in the lands, as if knowing there literally was nothing for him TO fear.


    He was an excellent judge of men, even beyond his Helix being able to read a man''s soul with a touch. This Ancient''s Soul was at Five... but the fire of it, burning so hot and steady and firm, was like nothing he had ever encountered. There were Tens who didn''t have such a firm soul, and he was burning there for anyone and everyone to see...


    He was the most feared killer of men in all the lands, but this was a source of life, of railing resistance against Fate and the gods, like nothing he had ever felt before.


    It was like looking at hope...


    He was aware he was staring, and averted his eyes. Briggs just chuckled. "Like a sun, right? That''s what it means to be a Source." He glanced at Sama helplessly. "She''s like a mountain. And you, you''re like a fine wind..." Briggs coughed and looked away, and the Fire and the Shadow found himself slightly embarrassed, as his own Helix was measured right back at him.


    "Right. Shoo. Make your choice, get Marked or not, she''ll open your Chakras. Come back, we''ll chat over your options, and get started on your Sword. Oh, let me see it." He held out a hand bigger than an adult human''s.


    The Firesword smiled to himself about how few people had ever seen his unsheathed Sword and lived, even as he slowly brought it out. The length of fire-blackened steel, the Runes like softly wind-blown coals, cleared its scabbard, and he laid the longsword carefully onto that callused palm.


    He watched Briggs bring it back, give it a casual once-over, and make an impressed frown. "An Akt Weapon. First one I''ve seen outside the dwarves, and that was a high-ranking officer. +III Ruby Allfires Blooding Magebane of Subtlety." His palm moved down the length of the blade, and the Runes swirled a bloody red fire as his hand passed over them. "This is at least three thousand years old, human make, there''s a trace of scarletite in it, letting it hit QL 36. Made by a post-Ten Caster, probably an Eleven, it''d be a +IV if she were a Twelve."


    "She?" blinked the Fire and the Sword.


    "Definitely a she. Probably made for her lover, I''d imagine." His eyes turned soft. "Weep... such an appropriate Name."


    The Firesword shivered despite himself. How many spellcasters had died to this Sword? Weep, for the necessity of having to kill them. No joy, only talent crushed in the night, because it could not discipline itself and become something pure and great that contributed to the advancement of the human race, but only its decline.


    No one living other then his Brothers had heard the Name of this Sword and lived, yet this Ancient had read the Name instantly. Truly a Master Smith...


    Briggs handed it back. "I think I can persuade Sama to part with enough adamant to keep it at Akt, but she may just argue it''s not necessary, it''ll be stronger when we''re done with it then it is now, and its main purpose is to grow, not to be high QL."


    The Firesword sheathed it slowly. He knew the value of an Akt Sword, especially one as monstrously strong as his, but the Ancient boy seemed completely uncaring, as if its value was just some number flung out there, a truly impressive demeanor. "I will go over these options in some detail," he warned Briggs, who just nodded with a kind of ''I''d make you do so'' look on his face that reassured him, almost despite himself.


    He sighed and turned his attention to Sama, who looked to be finishing up. Without another word, he strode toward the slender, short woman of unknown origin.


    ------


    "Decide, oh Fire and Sword. Mark or no Mark." I put my hands on the Tatting bench, to put it away or not.


    He pulled up before me, well over a foot taller then me at present. I simply had to grow up faster...


    He looked me up and down, and an odd look flitted past his face. "You''re a Hagchild," he said, in a tone which no one else could hear. I noticed the shoulder by his Sword twitched...

 110 Chapter One Hundred and Ten – An End to a Nightmare, Part I

    Blindness doesn''t have to come from darkness. Creatures of darkness often tend to overlook the fact. So do those of us who live in the light.


    I had been slowly building up my Tats. After all, I didn''t have a lot else to work on. My Weapons tended to build themselves up, after all. My Tats had to be carved onto my Soul to work properly, which meant I could take them with me.


    I had never pulled out my Arakne Arms, because I hadn''t needed them. Still didn''t, to be totally honest.


    But every one of these bastards I killed this time was one that wouldn''t threaten my lads. I didn''t care about kill-stealing today, I wasn''t smithing behind the lines while I ran the fight, only coming out to champion-hunt.


    Today, I was killing Everything.


    My finger never left Fall''s trigger, unending numbers of force-quarrels poured out, every half-second, inserting themselves in uncomfortable places like eyes, throats, ears, noses, mouths, and occasionally slumming to drive into hearts and livers.


    Tremble was blazing in full demon-slaying mode, and I was moving from one press to the next in barreling runs of slaughter and spreading body parts.


    Fido and Shirley raged into the middle of a pack of lesser Lintzko Fire demons, Fido tanking their attacks deftly, invulnerable to fire, while Shirley hellrimed them to death. Then they led a raging attack on the Crosmos ice-skinned frozen demons, switching roles while he baked them in hellfire.


    The lines of men whirled and spun as I played the game of march and movement with more Focus then I ever had before. Ranks of shining Spears drove dozens of demons off sheer cliffs, sometimes tearing off those climbing up as they all failed to fly.


    Kill-teams separated as the larger demons beat their way into the lines, and came together with Axes and Swords to kill them from all sides with amazing coordination and teamwork.


    Archers focus-fired, and gleaming shafts brought down ranged attackers time after time as I emptied the wagons of all our reserves.


    Today was the last day. There was no need to save anything. Potions were disseminated, and sometimes whole lines erupted in Growth, and shoved hundreds of demons to their dooms, rampaging over the uncaring stone as for one final time, they were giants once more.


    It was a dance of war, and today EVERYONE was dancing.


    The healers were on duty up close now, working the lines, getting everyone up who fell, moving with the lines as we advanced. Healing Potions were used without care, Wands were emptied, and the men who fell and managed to not die were soon up and back to the fight, madder and more heartened than ever.


    Our opponents were demons, the best of the worst kind of fighters. They were savage, unrelenting, totally uncaring if they died, living for the moment and the chance to fight and claw at something weaker.


    We had nearly two thousand Evilborn Baneskulls, the boys collected the things. They were all in use.


    Tremble never got tired of Singing. Courage blazed through the Marktells on top of my Warlord bonus, for +5 to hit, damage, AC, and saves.


    I shredded a line of bulle''ri, and they might have been able to take the charge of the +I Valorous Lances that smashed into them if I hadn''t. My knights and lancers ripped through them like cheese with x4 charge damage, wheeling to avoid scampering ape-demons racing over to leap on them, who found themselves jumping right into the middle of a falling arrow volley that would have hit the cavalry if they hadn''t spun and raced away.


    There was magic here and there, but never for long, as the most skilled archers were happy to pick out the Casters and hatrack them.


    Sparkie flitted around me with his Baneskull, shooting out rays of solid light replete with Banefire, finishing off wounded demons, especially those pawing at a bolt from Fall in their eye sockets. His Skull had a very minor enchantment that allowed it to speak gleefully in time with Stand''s beat, and he was using it to shout "Score!" "That''s another one!" "What a moron!" "Bam! Got ''em!" and other quips relentlessly in Demonic.


    I was doing mass Intimidate checks all the time as I slaughtered the lesser Demons, and these savage bastards were all having severe cases of stage fright when it came time to stare down little ol'' Sama. The fear spread with telepathic speed, and let''s just say the morale of these demons, savage or not, was getting a big fat vivic check as they looked at us.


    Tremble had literally thousands of stanzas for our Song by now, and the lads were more then ready to sing along with their favorite ones. Singing while fighting something is very demoralizing to the other party, because it means you have the lungpower and attention to spare to do so. If you look the other party in the eye and butcher them while wiping the tears from your eyes and giving the negative emovores no fear or hatred to feed on while you gut them, well, that makes it even better.


    Sneer, while singing "Tremble, oh oooo oh, tremble, we come..."


    --------------


    It was the last, most desperate defense of the Curse.


    All was quiet.


    The remaining lads drew up behind me in formation.


    Most of them were alive this time, more than any battle we''d ever fought together.


    Fido and Shirley limped up to me, covered with wounds, healed at least three times over during the course of the fight. I pulled out two Potions from my vest for each of them, pouring them down their throats to get them back out of pain range.


    No reason to save the things, after all. It wasn''t like they could follow me to reality.


    I stroked their ears, Tremble hovering above my shoulder, Doc back in Stand for the moment. Cold and hot muzzles rubbed my face and licked my face, the saliva steaming and misting off of me.


    "Bring it out. You''ve got one last shot. Let''s see what you put together to stop me."


    The air went still, as the mists boiled at the far end of the landscape, now covered with heaps of burning demons going vivic.


    Ahead of me, right in front of that crack emitting light too real for Dream, the ground began to crack and fracture with puke yellow-green demonfire.


    "Back," I said quietly to the hellpuppies, and they growled and retreated obediently. They could feel what was coming, and knew they would be of little to no help.


    I felt this Nightmare warp as a powerful influence intruded into it, wondered what favors in the profound realms were traded to make this happen. Did my Hagmom actually know what was going on, but this was the only thing she could try to stop me?


    The stone blew skywards, and he rose from the depths to block my way, blazing with demonfire rising from his skin. His howl was like a furnace of burning souls letting loose in their doom and despair.


    Blackened skin, deepest crimson. Major horns. Bat wings. Fangs around the jaws with a veritable furnace burning inside. Eyes more like holes to the fire within. Humanoid form, subtly wrong, connecting at wrong angles, not quite symmetric, slabbed with muscle without lacking grace and speed, clawed feet and hands, copious battle scars.


    Flaming sword and whip. Mmmm. Gee, wonder what this was...


    His presence expanded out, shaking Nightmare with the full Chaos and Evil of his presence, demanding that this place accept him as lord and master ¨C


    And crashed to a hard halt against my Null.


    The ground in front of me shattered into the air as his influence was rebuffed and tore at the area of Dream he commanded. It sort-of bowed around me a bit, but didn''t get very far, limiting his power over the area sharply.


    That, of course, got his attention. Naturally, being at the level of power he was, he recognized what I was, and bellowed out at me.


    "You can stop the telepathic bullshit, I can''t hear it," I informed him in conversational Demonic, which actually shut him up for a second.


    "DIE!" he roared, and a wave of blackness spread out, converged on me with the force of a thousand damned souls ¨C


    Faded into nothing against my Null. I crossed my arms, turned up my nose. "Next!"


    He swept his clawed hand, and hundreds of chopped-up rocks and stones hurtled towards me in a crushing river.


    The first one hit the edge of my Null, the kinetic energy granted it by the telekinesis faded, the magic dissipated, and the whole line of stones fell gently to the ground as one, barely tumbling as they stopped.


    Enraged, he stretched out his massive clawed hand, clutched it tight.


    Massive gravitational forces gathered around me, sucking in pebbles and dust and ¨C


    Hit my Null and faded into nothing, dust and pebbles falling back to the ground softly.


    I rubbed the side of my nose, kind of looking at the balor. "If you''re going to bring in help, you best do it right now."


    Dark wings flapped, burning eyes regarded me. I stared back, completely unmoved.


    His free hand rose, fingers wove in the air. A circle of fire was etched on the ground, an imbalanced five-point star scribed itself in demonfire across the cracked ground, and up rose his help, vomited forth into the dreamscape.


    I blinked. "No way! You brought in your lover!" I pointed and laughed at the pair of them, who just stared at me in disbelief as I mocked them.


    It was a lilitu! Long tail ended in a pulsing red mace-like tip; a smooth eyeless face; long red hair in wild stylish fashion around curling non-symmetrical horns; killer figure in tight white leathers that might be made from angel skin; cloven feet like all succubi, clawed hands that even Hags would respect, and lips that made up for the lack of eyes somehow. Fast, otherworldly graceful, and already trying to do the charm thing on my head, which I was totally ignoring.


    I put my foot down.


    The balor was just barely crouching, above to take flight, and my Interdiction went off.


    His control over Dream was smashed backwards, ripping past him in a backwash of solidifying dimensions as I rent his control. He actually held up his arms in a defensive posture as the pulse blew past them, and locked the two of them down. The lilitu stumbled back, and if not for her superior agility, would have fallen flat on her ass.


    "This... is MY Nightmare, demons. You... should not have come here... but I am oh so glad that you did."


    Come, enjoy an Intimidation check at 55.


    The demons, one fifteen feet tall, the other a model-esque six foot, looked at one another. The balor tugged free the flaming whip at his side, and leapt, the burning Weapon uncoiling as if it were a living snake to his touch-teke.


    His wings beat strongly, and... he crashed to the ground ten feet in front of where he''d started. All them''s feets tall, makes one pretty heavy. And humanoids is not built for weight conservation, like birds.


    I pulled out Tremble. My Arakne Arms folded out, and Stand and Fall were ready to go.


    He crouched down, opened his maw, and vomited a big ol'' cone of demonfire at me.


    It blew over me, obscuring me from their sight, and lasted a whole six seconds of Topped-out, flesh and soul-obliterating 120 points of 20d6 puke yellow-green destruction before fading away.


    I moved the teapot away from the edge of my Null, poured myself a cup, and took a sip. Around me, the ground was a melted, fused mess, the slag twisted into unholy runes and the shape of screaming madness, right up to my Null... where it stopped as if cut by a knife, and even the flames to either side of me faded away faster then they should have, like I''d drafted for reality to deny it progressing any further.


    "Thanks. Hadn''t had time to make tea today. Missed it at lunchtime." I finished my cup, smacked my lips, and dropped both cup and pot to the ground, where they shattered and hot water steamed out from the fine clay.


    Tremble lit up, and the demons, who had been about to advance, paused again.


    Gold Soulflame. Harder, sharper gold Soulflames. Gold-black Banefire to Evilborn. Electrum-chromatic Enmity to Evil. Pulsing, ready Bane of Legends.


    White vivic flame...


    +X ''You''re Going To Die Forever'' stamped itself onto their eyeballs.


    "Tremble, oh oooh oh, Tremble, she comes..."


    The Song rose, and the twenty-five hundred Ironblood who''d survived took up the chant.


    And I was off.

 111 Chapter One Hundred and Eleven – The Fire and the Sword, Part II

    "Oh, you''ve escorted some of my sisters to the Churches of Sylune to get purified?" I replied immediately.


    His mouth opened, and then slowly closed. He stared at me for a long moment, the twitch on his shoulder faded away as if it weren''t there, and blinked once, without even looking away.


    Of course he hadn''t. His job was to kill corruptive magical influences, not save them.


    "You do know the Silver Queen has a Ritual which can cleanse a Hagchild and prevent them from becoming a Hag, right?"


    He looked at me, and suddenly looked a bit strained. "I... am aware," he answered patiently.


    I measured him for a long moment. "Keep it in mind in the future. The Land loves to see corruption cleansed and returned to purity... not just purged."


    He kept my eyes for another long moment, before murmuring, "I know where some hagchildren live even now."


    I tilted my head slightly. "And you aren''t saving them because,,,?" I drawled.


    "I have more important things to do."


    I nodded slowly, taking that exactly at face value. "So, this is a minor mission you need to delegate to others."


    He was silent for another long couple of breaths, and then slowly exhaled. "That... would insure they never become something important to do," he agreed.


    "Are they close to turning?"


    "Not really."


    "I should be able to handle that, if you tell me where and who they are."


    "I will do so." He looked down at the table thoughtfully. "I am here... to get Marked and Opened, as were my Brothers."


    I waved him down. "I''ve been putting the Mark at the base of the spine on most people, to keep it out of casual sight. Where do you want yours, and what Mark do you want?"


    "I would like Dexterity, as a Void. On my shoulder is fine."


    "Sit down. It''ll only take a few minutes."


    -------


    The Firesword had dealt with a lot of pain in his life, as might be expected of someone in his line of work. He had been wounded horribly many times, dealt with poisons, acids, burns, electricity, freezing, invasive parasites, and mental and spiritual trauma.


    He couldn''t hold it in as his soul squeezed out the holes punched in his body and his ki, and his Helix swirled around the openings, momentarily flaming to full and visible light around him.


    And then she popped Open his feet, as if she wanted to piss him off.


    It was a whole special kind of squeezing, unable to stop the compression and release of something that had never known it. Despite himself, the Fire and the Sword, mage slayer, manhunter, killer, slumped back on the chair, beads of sweat thick upon his forehead as he breathed deeply.


    The holes faded from visible sight, but they were still there. He could feel the cleanly cut edges of them, punched into him by a soul as hard as diamond.


    "Aru, girl," he breathed lightly, quenching his trembling as the wispy edges of his soul seemed to swirl inside his Helix. "Where did you get a soul that hard?"


    "Nightmare," she replied calmly. "Where''d you get a soul that empty?"


    "Reality," he returned, and she lifted an eyebrow in amusement.


    "Take your Soulshaper Level. You probably haven''t spent Karma on a Class Level in forever. Your Soul is out, you can touch the Akasha. Reach out to your ancestors and say you want to be a Soulshaper."


    He stared at her for a moment, then closed his eyes and did as instructed.


    His Helices flared with polyfires once again, this time with wisps of soulfire swirling and condensing down into another Helix around him, rotating counter to the first. The Firesword opened his eyes and stared at in disbelief at the display, which was truly eye-catching.


    "Huh. Your Brothers weren''t nowhere near as showy. You''re going to be quite the showman if you want to be." She reached out, grabbed his shirt, and hauled him upright without effort, despite weighing half what he did. "Let''s go over to Forge and discuss your Sword."


    He quenched his Helices, feeling the new power bound into them, and a potential for new growth and power in a direction he''d never been aware of before. Silently, he followed her back over to where Briggs was sitting.


    ---


    She didn''t ask to examine his Sword. Instead, she drew her own Sword, and showed him what it could do.


    The Firesword stared at the list of effects. It was a +Zeks Sword, two Slots less then his own. But there was simply no comparing their lethality and effects.


    "The Weapons of the Powered have to be fixed to withstand their auras, the magic locked in and made safe. We Forsaken don''t have to do that," Sama explained to him calmly. "So, what we would like to do, for now, is move the Name of your Sword, and the power invested into it, into a new Voidbound Weapon, whose Name you can grow by the simple act of using it in combat.


    "In short, you kill with it, and it will slowly get stronger, exactly as fast as if you had unlimited gold... at two goldweight worth per day of combat, maximum."


    The Firesword stared at her, at the list of potential abilities her Sword had, and simply could not hide his interest. What his Brothers had explained to him was presented right in front of him, as casually as if it were routine and expected.


    The thought of such power being "routine" was both amazing and rather frightening.


    Forsaken didn''t have the magic to gift a score of different effects to their Weapons via spells or special abilities... but they could make the Weapons themselves that way, and by Naming them, allow them to grow without having to spend unlimited gold on them...


    He looked at Weep, laying in its scabbard across the floating Disk. If he had had such a Weapon before... he would be at Zehn Slots, with scores of options built into his Weapon!


    "I''m not going to waste adamant on a Weapon built to be moved later," she went on in no uncertain terms. "It won''t matter. Your Weapon is going to be stronger at Zeben then it is now at Akt, now that you have your soul Opened."


    The hologram before him shifted, showing the abilities of Weep. It looked stunningly short compared to what he had just seen.


    "First, we''ll use two Slots to make it Greater Soulbound. This will result in a +IV Weapon using two Slots, instead of a +III Weapon using three. Already better, for one Slot less. Also, it will mean your Weapon is non-magical to anyone you desire, since it will only empower if you infuse Soul Essence into it... and it won''t even be a magical Weapon if you don''t."


    "Clever," he acknowledged, watching the array on the illusion change.


    "Slot Drei will be Bane/Slaughter. We will make the core Bane Humanbane... because if we don''t, you can''t add it later, as Slaughter cannot be Bane to its wielder." The Firesword nodded slowly. "We will spend the Karma to add Slaughter, but you must add the Banes to your Weapon yourself. You must kill something with the Weapon, and then you add the Bane to it with Slaughter over two days of Naming Karma."


    His eyes turned to the open field beyond the light trees where they were camped. "Interesting."


    "Today''s Warped army, for instance, could have triggered conditions for Bane to Evilborn, Chaosborn, Humans, Animals, Mages, the Warped, or allowed you to add Bane of Legends to Arsenal. It also satisfied Enmity to Evil, Chaos, Mortals, Spellcasters, Samsaran, and possibly Phrenic, not sure.


    "We''re going to remove Ruby and Allfire as primary Slot Holders, and simply make them part of your Arsenal. You''re not going to be able to deathstrike everyone you meet, so having Ruby on all the time is a complete waste. Likewise, being able to alternate among the Elemental attack forms for additional damage is a fine thing for many creatures, but taking two Slots for what ends up as one type of damage is dumb, in the end."


    The Firesword found himself agreeing, despite himself. Without a deathstrike, Ruby was useless... but with a higher + bonus, its power would be even greater when he did need it...


    "The default on Tremble is Soulbound, Greater Soulbound, Bane/Slaughter Human, Arsenal I- Vivic, Arsenal II/a ¨C Enmity/Evil, and Arsenal II/b ¨C Courageous.


    "We''ll be building Weep the same way, but with one extra Slot at Zeben. I suggest as a default that you use universally applicable effects, and simply swap them out if more specialized action is needed. As I do not believe you have studied music or the Heartsong, Courageous is not something you can take advantage of at the moment.


    "My recommendation on those defaults is School Weapon ¨C Shadow, and School Weapon ¨C Fire, since I believe you prefer to do long and short?" She nodded at the long straight poniard at his hip.


    "You are correct," he agreed, again impressed. "Will you need to redo my Dagger, as well?"


    "Yes," Briggs interjected calmly, "but it should be easy. We''ll simply make it +I Main Gauche, and it will reflect the bonuses of your Primary Weapon as a Zvei Slot Weapon."


    His jaw almost dropped. His Dagger, exactly as powerful as his Sword? For so little?


    He cleared his throat carefully. "Where have the two of you been all my life?" he wondered aloud.


    "We get that a lot," Sama smiled thinly. "Now, let''s talk about your Sword, and what you would like to see on it."


    ---------


    She measured him by eyeball and hands, and he watched the complex notation in the Smithing Cant coming up on the illusion her Sword projected there for verification. Length, width, point of balance, style, ornamentation, weight, hilt, guard; she went over it all meticulously but quickly, sometimes completely waving away his words with the authority of a master smith, other times pressing in for more details that he watched unwind on the holo as he made his desires more visible with Marktell telepathy, and found them instantly conveyed to the Sword.


    It was quite surreal.


    Then she took both his Weapons and banished him to the side to watch as she and the young Ancient began to work.


    He wasn''t the only one. Night was coming, and as the magical fires on the Disk blazed, Hammers fell with devastating power on an Anvil in total silence, and Rangers and Borderguards drifted in, keeping a respectful distance, to watch.


    He had seen smiths at work before, of course, but none moving quite so quickly. The speed the steel heated, the pace at which it was hammered, folded or twisted, heated again, hammered down again, completely blew his mind. Both she and Briggs wielded those heavy hammers like toys, bringing them down so hard his teeth ached just watching them, for all that they made no sound at all...

 112 Chapter One Hundred and Twelve – An End to a Nightmare, Part II

    Movement rate, 110. I could run faster than they could fly... if they could fly, which they couldn''t. A hundred yards in under six seconds, no magic aiding me to be dispelled or countered.


    +X True Death in my hand screamed about a Ravager of Queens and his bad choices in life. My Waveskating Step sent me swaying back and forth as they braced to receive me, that flaming whip drawing back, burning sword raised, and taloned hands spread wide.


    I swayed right, my feet moved left, and I veered off from the lashing whip as the balor stepped forwards. Tremble drove a x6 charge modifier into the lilitu''s eyeless face.


    I ignored the sharper-then-razors claws tearing at my sides as I smashed her back off her feet, and brought that blank head around to my hip and the last succubus-powered Mark there. I was well out of range of the balor before it could reach me, and totally ignored his outraged bellow.


    She burned in vivic fire, and I fed her to the Mark.


    I felt her influence swelling the Mark, making it stronger. As the queens of succubi, the Marks the lilitu handed out were stronger, and also exerted greater influence over the recipients. Now, that power was resonating among all the Marks, I could feel the potential being unleashed there.


    Yeah, I could improve them in the future. I might have to kill a lot more succubi or something, however... which I was totally okay with.


    The lilitu burned as I skated away, easily faster than the balor even while dragging her burning carcass with me. He tried to grab me telekinetically, and that went a whole lot of nowhere. He could only watch impotently as his lover was fed into the Mark at my hip.


    Constitution, of course...


    The last of her burned away, the white around that Mark was also translucent. "Ah, I imagine you can see now why I''m glad you arrived," I told the balor, as I drifted to a halt.


    "You dare take what belongs to me!" howled the balor, advancing now that I had stopped.


    "You came into my Nightmare, YOU BELONG TO ME!" I replied, staring back at him, and even the oversized manifestation of overweening pride was checked at the pure chutzpah of that statement.


    And then I was coming for him, Tremble out and Singing for his soul, letting him know right up front that a certain Ravager of Queens hadn''t been able to stop me.


    He stopped, raised the Whip to lash at me. I knew that it was Vorpalized and could take my head clean off my shoulders with one hit.


    His arm came down, and a Banestar struck out.


    The Whip was perpendicular to the cut. Even without my Sagedom behind it, the Shard slice bit into the demonic iron, and chopped clean on through.


    Yeah, I was really, really good on Sunder rolls after all the Jotuns using oversized weapons. So totally not as hard as chopping through a six-inch wide saber.


    The burning whip flailed out uselessly, missing completely as I pulled up exactly one inch beyond the reach of his Sword, and it swirled past, just missing my chin, and Stand slammed it up and away.


    He was surprised despite himself at how hard I hit, even as he gawked for a painful second at the stub of the Whip held in his hand. But if he thought surrounding himself in demonfire was even going to slow me down, he had a different think coming.


    I kicked off, was inside his reach, and as he struck at me with his flaming fist, I ducked under it and chopped off two of his fingers with Sword Beats Fist, then spun a 360 right up to and against the returning Sword.


    +X beats +I Vorpal.


    The flaming Sword screamed in a way that steel simply doesn''t as I used his own strength to carve through it. The chopped edge slammed into the broken ground, already burning unwhite with frightening speed.


    I continued the spin with Improved Sunder, moving in as he abruptly looked at the flaring stump of the Whip in his hand, cracks spreading along it as the souls used to empower it burned ¨C


    It blew up in his hand, and the rest of his fingers went flying. Tremble ripped across the layered muscles of his belly as he screamed, and he threw away his Sword before it could follow suit with the Whip. Since his hands were so far out of position, I cut back across the same chop, and a three-inch cut through skin tougher then steel became six inches deep, igniting a vivic feast in his guts.


    He kicked out, Sword Beats Fist activated again, and I chopped into the back of his knee as a leg much bigger then I was crossed in front of by dose. Pew! Brimstone tyrant''s foot...


    His wing hurled forward like a moving wall, trying to sweep me up and hurl me away. I bent down backwards, firing Fall up into the root of his wing as Stand deflected the trailing razor edge away, braked, and with my free hand shoved myself upright and onto his back.


    I hacked his right wing completely off, and Doc and Stand chopped down to do the same to his left.


    He bellowed and grabbed back for me, stepping back reflexively, totally forgetting his burning Sword hilt was right there... and that he was missing a bunch of fingers.


    Its explosion sent him stumbling right in the direction of the severed blade as I inserted Tremble into the side of his neck. He screamed as the second explosion of vivus streaked his burning body with even more white, and I let it propel me off his back... as I opened his throat in a great gouting arc that helped render his screaming bellows of defiant unbelief in burning two-tone stereo.


    I kicked out and slid away, not afraid of what was about to follow. Vvivic flames from his belly reached up to the ones falling down from his throat and piercing in from his wings, then combined with the ones dancing all over his skin.


    Ignition. BURN.


    Balors pop like profane propane when they die, they don''t just burn out and go all charcoal. When that''s by vivus, it''s not actually harmful, but it is still very big and impressive.


    The vivus was so thick it was almost tangible. It rocketed out into the landscape, which boiled and churned and began to collapse.


    The cracks grew wider, began to spread.


    I turned to look at them, at the mists now white and churning, sweeping forwards towards them, taking this all away as the Nightmare was destroyed.


    They silently raised their glowing Spears, Swords, Axes, Bows, and Lances one last time. I raised Tremble in return, watching as the clouds, shining and pure, swept over them, and took them away into true dreams once more.


    I turned, and ran into the crack of Reality.


    My Nightmare was over.


    Let''s see what life has in store before I kill you, Hagmother...

 113 Chapter One Hundred and Thirteen – A Voice in the Nigh

    She put the steel bar into the magefires of her Floating Forge, and stepped back.


    -If you do not wish to join in, close your Door,- her /voice rippled through from the new light inside the head of the Fire and the Sword. Startled at the sudden interruption to her labor, he kept it open.


    -The night wind comes, the world now breathes deep...-


    His eyes widened despite himself as the Salute to Aethra sang softly through his mind.


    She was a Forsaken, like him. The gods could not hear their prayers, could not see them, acknowledge them, neither help nor hinder them.


    But she was still singing to them, because she had faith, and she believed, and that was all that was necessary.


    Strong men and women around her lifted their voices in time, while Tremble hummed a sad and gentle melody, and Stand beat the measure slowly.


    So this is true faith, thought Brother Firesword, astounded, glancing around at something he had missed all his life, and then down at The Map in his mind, scrolling across the face of the world, clearly indicating where night was coming, Aru falling and Sylune rising as the world turned.


    And, of course, her voices, mental and real, were terrifyingly strong. He knew many Master Bards who would kill to have a voice like that, able to shake the soul and stir the heart. Even he couldn''t help falling into it, for there was no magic here, only pure ki and mastery of the music.


    ''Gods. If she danced, I believe everyone here would follow her straight into Hell'', he thought to himself, studying the expressions around him.


    ----


    "...where rest the weary, and dream of the wind at dawn," she /finished calmly. Breaths exhaled all around, not a few of them wiping away tears from their eyes.


    And then she took a deep breath, drew the ingot out of the fire, and got right back to work without missing another beat.


    The Fire and the Sword sat back, his eyes deeper and more thoughtful then they had been in decades.


    It was just like Briggs had said. Her mental presence was senior to all of them, powerful, active, with profound depth and hidden emotions that rippled like powerful currents beneath the surface. Simply nobody in the Markscape was her equal, they could sense it as clearly as the difference between a strong man and a weak one.


    In the Markspace, she was a titan. Outside it... she was able to slaughter Greater Warp demons. She was simply death!


    He wanted to cross swords with her very badly. She had known his Shadow Stalking swordplay inside and out, as well as the basic level of Crazy Flame he used to dual-wield when needed. Just brushing up against her Vajra, her ki... he had to admit he was feeling less and less confident of going against her with a blade.


    He certainly couldn''t go up there and just off a Greater Demon like that...


    ------


    It was just past midnight, and she had just finished the Salute to the Silver Queen. His soul was shivering just remembering it.


    She had no magic, and he could feel the emotion behind that Salute was deep and true. Because a Hagchild''s freedom was, one way or another, tied back to the Silver Queen, the very opposite of a Hag...


    He knew he would never be able to kill a hagchild again. The Silver Queen was waiting to set them free, and he would see to it that they were... He would never be able to think of himself as a man again if he didn''t.


    She didn''t go back to work. The fires of Forge dimmed low, and she went over to her Cabinets, sitting there on the ground, going into one still closed, sliding open a drawer, and bringing something out.


    As it left the compression field, it swelled in size.


    It was a book, a true Tome, and damn, it looked to be nearly as big as her chest, and more then a couple inches thick. While he didn''t consider himself a scholar, he held a breadth of knowledge in several subjects which would have astounded most sages, so he was naturally curious as to what was within a book so large.


    -This is for my Ironblood.- Her /voice was a whisper, stirring up an aching reminiscence for companions lost long ago that made his heart skip a beat. -Shut your Door if you do not wish to listen.-


    He was looking out her eyes now, down at that monstrous book, clad in superbly tanned minotaur hide, held as lightly and easily as a carefree lady''s paper romance novel. It had no title to it, but there was an air about it, a solemnity that signified it had been handled many, many times.


    -When I was in Nightmare, there came a time when the Curse could not best me with mere encounters, so it began to change the game, and whelm armies to fight me. In return, I began to marshal an army of my own.-


    Slowly and carefully, she opened the cover, and on the pale browned page of crisp paper, was a title.


    The Ironblood.


    -They came to me across Dream, into my Nightmare, to fight for me. From Renewal to Renewal, they would be reborn, and forget what had gone before... but once I Marked them, their Names would rise to the fore, and that Name, neither they nor I would forget.


    -We fought together thousands of times. I watched them die, and return again. I watched them live, and we reveled in the victory for whatever short time we could.


    -When my Nightmare ended, they were swept away, back into Dream, once more free to live outside the trap of my existence. I promised them I would remember them, and that this Book, that I made while in Nightmare, to help them remember what they had won, what they had done, would be there, to remember them forever.-


    She turned the page, as thousands of people held their breath.


    The second page was blank, but the third was split in two horizontally, each half showing a grown man in armor, with a second close-up of their face, drawn with a light yet precise hand, bringing out the character of each with elegantly sparse lines.


    Along the sides of the pictures were lines of details, above them were their names.


    "Corporal Meers, the First to Fight. Spear and saber.


    "Promoted to Sergeant of First Spears Company, Day Forty-Seven.


    "Promoted to First Master Sergeant of Spears, Day Three Hundred and Two.


    "Honors of Battle: Day 39, Xenosym Queen. Day 118, Grave Knight Commander. Day 416, Hill Jotun Chief. Day 519, Firedrake Brood Matron. Day 823, Death Knight. Day 1322, three Manticora..."


    ...."Private Ars Tremplis, Meers'' Strong Right Hand. Spear and saber...


    ..."Private Neks Ombler, First Company, Spears.


    ..."Knight Lancer Sir Orm Tromwell, First Lance of Knights, the Hunting Lancer.


    ..."Lieutenant Anton Markov, First Company Spears. The Great Captain of Spears.


    ...


    ...


    -----


    She softly closed The Book, and the Doors in thousands of minds went silent.


    Hands were trembling all around, emotions swelling that were hard to contain.


    This, this is Thunder in the soul...


    The Fire and the Sword had never felt anything like this in his life. Glory, flaring and brief, was not the duty of a Void. Theirs was to kill in the shadows, to eliminate the threats, and go on to the next one. Glory was a pointless thing to justify battles that should not be fought, purely a thing to pawn for power.


    To fight under the sun, to defeat a foe before all the world, to receive the acclaim and recognition of peers, teachers, rivals, and underlings, was simply not their way.


    Every day she listed had a churning mass of carnage behind every syllable of every number, of monstrous foes slain over and over again, in endless variety. Every Battle Honor rose like a moment of triumph over a foe no normal man could best. Every rank awarded was a recognition of effort and esteem by their peers, and acknowledgement that the woman who led them was watching, and had noticed.


    Those days had gone into the thousands...


    Each page, two pictures. Each so individual that they didn''t blur. Names, accomplishments, deeds, written down so that THEY would remember the things they had done, their own greatness...


    And now, so that they might remember again, that they had accompanied her through thousands of days of her Nightmare, she had brought forth The Book she had shown no one else, and she told everyone what they had done for her.


    She had Remembered all of them. How long had it taken her to put together a Tome like that? Just from memory?


    To be Remembered like that, to be held up again... what would a man do, even if he did not crave glory, authority, power over their fellows? To be remembered among those who mattered, to know that your deeds would be held up as a guide for those who came later?


    To know that someone you loved and admired would remember you, even if no others did?


    The histories of the Brotherhood of the Void were dark and secret things, buried where none would find, opened only when a Brother needed information on a threat returned, or when a new Brother needed to be shown what had been done before him, to show him what the Brotherhood did.


    She had quietly read off one hundred and twenty names, one per minute. There was absolutely no doubt that she recalled each person as clearly and cleanly as if they were her next of kin, and could doubtless spin stories about each one.


    Then, she slowly and carefully closed The Book, placed it back in its drawer, and got back to work on his Sword.

 114 Chapter One Hundred and Fourteen– Forever Marked

    It was late, and Captain Anton Markov was in his tent, the rough fabric of the military issue cloth flapping in the night wind. But he was not asleep, not now.


    The Sage had Sung to him again. She had not done that... since the dream.


    How many times had he died for her? How many times had she welcomed him back with the Salute to the Silver Queen, and the Salute to the Morning?


    Thousands...


    He pulled off his tunic, and stood in front of the crude mirror in his tent, little more than polished metal used to shave with.


    Over his navel was his Fourth Mark, dark black ink with a white center that seemed to glow to his eyes, although he knew it didn''t.


    Constitution. A Champion is strong, but you''re not a Champion, you''re a Soldier. A soldier''s job is to be tough, to endure. Endurance is from the gut. If you have the guts, nothing is impossible.


    He could hear her voice as she had Marked him in Dream, as memories that faded from dream to dream now began to return in a rush.


    People called him a prodigy, a commander of rare ability, a master of the Spear.


    He was a novice and a fool who had followed the commands of his lady, and died a thousand times and more to learn the uncaring rules of the battlefield.


    He was the Great Captain of the Ironblood, and he had a Fourth Mark to prove it.


    He held up the Amulet around his neck. He''d had it made on a whim, the symbol for Iron on the silver side, of Blood on the other. A minor magical trinket giving him a small amount of resistance to fire and cold, enough for him to ignore any and all natural extremes of temperature without a problem.


    An Ironblood Amulet. She had placed the one she wrought in Dream around his neck with her own hands. No matter where they fought, the hottest deserts to the highest icy plains, the Ironblood endured.


    He had married, he had children, had a successful military career that could only climb higher... and had always felt he was missing something.


    Sage Sama was up North, fighting an Evil that could end the world.


    She had Sung to them once again.


    And she had returned to him his Dreams. Looking upon his picture in The Book had shaken him down to his soul.


    He would speak to his wife tomorrow. He had fought evil unending for years, underneath the greatest battlefield commander he could possibly imagine. He was going to resign his commission and head north.


    The Ironblood would be coming to their Sage, and he, their Great Captain, was going to be there to greet them!


    ------


    -Sage Sama?- There was a pause from the /speaker. -Is it true that Mera is a doppelganger?!-


    The half of my mind running what was this world''s only chatroom server turned to the one speaking.


    If Mera existed, that meant that Corporal Meers and the others actually came from That Place, the mansion in Nightmare. They had likely seen her image when I focused on Meers'' image in The Book, as he was the giant who I always encountered first after killing the dop maid.


    In very short order, I could likely find out exactly who my intended family was supposed to be, who Tremble had been. That could be quite important.


    -Is there a maid called Mera at your place of residence, Sergeant Ombler?- I /asked calmly. I felt him swallow through the link as he abruptly had a very significant chunk of my attention.


    -Yes, ma''am.- He /pictured the middle-aged woman, with dark curly hair and a stern expression in a senior maid''s outfit perfectly.


    -Is this a noble''s residence?- I /inquired.


    -I am a guard captain for the city estate of Duke Hartover, in the Duchy of Espenflow, ma''am,- he /relayed promptly.


    I looked down at The Map, as his awareness of it permeated through and I automatically installed it into the greater image. Focusing on it, I could see the star where he was inside the mansion right now, on the second floor in his personal quarters in the guardsmen''s wing, laying the residence out for all of us.


    Rosencrux Empire, the westernmost area of the Kingdom of Ogredown, the Northmarch, northernmost of the Five Realms. Almost due south of where I''d woken up.


    There it was. The mansion. The yard. The back yard. The stables. The gate to the cavalry. The pond, the statues, the great drive, the iron gates. I stared at it all for an eternity of three seconds, and then moved on to the business at hand.


    -Did you lose a handsome, lady-killing member of the house guard or extended Ducal family approximately ten or so years ago?-


    The /question seemed to floor him for a moment. -Ten years ago? The Duke''s younger brother, a bit of a wastrel, vanished down in the bordellos down by the river back then. Divinations revealed he''d been murdered badly, but no one found any trace of his body or the killer.-


    -Name?- So that was my father, making me still a member of the family, probably to throw off any real bloodline detection.


    -Rupert Hartover.- I could /hear his concern, and naturally he would be looking for connections between all this.


    -Was Mera hired within six months of that incident?-


    There was a notable pause. -Yes.-


    -Were her primary duties looking after the children, especially a newborn?-


    His /reply was much grimmer. -Yes...-


    -Is the child she had primary responsibility for at that time now missing?-


    I could almost feel his heart thump to the roof of his mouth. -Yes!...-


    -Does this Mera wear a pendant, amulet, bracelet, ring, earring, or other item containing an orange or yellow stone with a dark red center?-I /went on.


    -An amulet. She never removes it.- His agitation was growing, I crushed it with icy focus.


    -Can you get your hands on a chain or clasp made of Energized telstung?-


    -I am not sure, my lady. What does it do?-


    -It is a metal that, when in contact with your skin, neutralizes all transmutative magicks upon you, good or ill. This naturally includes the magic shapechangers use. Unless you draw blood and test her by force, it is the easiest way to force her back to her base form.


    -However, this is dangerous. True doppelgangers eat the brains of their victims, subsuming their memories and wearing their personas like masks for their minds. Likely, this Mera was hired, then killed, and her brain eaten and replaced.


    -That pendant is a tchazty stone. When Energized, it obfuscates divination spells in the area about it through natural means. If infused with negative energy, it can be dipped in the blood of a person, and will broadcast the data for that person about it. So, it will show her as a human female named Mera if a spell looks for it, but will not show her as a Shapechanger, as it obfuscates what it does not broadcast. As this is a natural effect once Energized, it will radiate no magic and is undetectable.-


    My /voice dropped lower. -More to the point, Sergeant, are there any other members of the household or guards who wear similar stones?-


    Alarm was rising in his mind. -Mithar...- he /trailed off. -At least five... including one of the children...-


    -The child started wearing it after the disappearance of their sibling?-


    -....yes...-


    -A faster way to identify a shape-shifter is simply to ask the family pets, but I trust most of them have died recently, too?-


    I could hear him choke. -Yes, a batch of bad food...-


    -Dress up immediately and head to the Church of Harse. Inform them that there is an Inquisitorial Matter at the Ducal Estate that cannot wait. Have funds on hand to pay for a Commune, even if means you must offer up your Sword.


    -The questions they need to ask are: Is the human woman Mera (last name?) dead? When did she die? Is the Ducal child (name) dead? When did they die?


    -When those questions are answered, inform the Inquisitors of your findings. There will be action taken immediately. They will take great care not to alert the known shapeshifters and trigger chaos in the household. But you must be in place to guard the other children, and see to it the masters of the house are on alert. Advise the Duchess to have her protective spells cast for a possible threat, and a proposal that the Duke spar with the men so he can wear his blade.


    -Do not presume that the temple has not been infiltrated as well. The clergy will be safe, but not the lay folk.-


    Sergeant Ombler got to his feet, reaching for his uniform and his weapon, his thoughts cold and grim.


    -That will not do, Sergeant. Dops are mind readers. Have you a lady friend outside the estate?-


    A sudden flash of embarrassment. -Aye, my Lady?-


    -Splash some whiskey and then some cologne on your cloak as you leave. Leave it on your horse when you reach the temple. I shall sing you something to get you in the mood.-


    Then, to his utter astonishment, I began to flutter along a Nuavan litany that helplessly began to shift his thoughts to things that had nothing to do with shapechanging infiltrators, and his mission to save the Duke and his family began literally on that note.


    There were twelve other Marked who were members of the household, who I''d had listening silently to all of this, and fully forty-nine more in the city of Espen, who were also still awake, and snapped to attention when I addressed them.

 115 Chapter One Hundred and Fifteen – The Smart Guy

    Twelve years ago...


    Her heart was beating.


    She could feel it, clear as day. She could also feel another heart beating, right next to hers, all around her. She felt warm and confined and comfortable , despite the fact that she wasn''t breathing.


    And there was something glowing between her eyes, except her eyes were closed.


    It took a bit to concentrate on it, and then it leapt up in front of her.


    It was her Casting Matrix.


    Well, holy shit, she thought, staring at it.


    There it was, basically identical to what she''d had in game. There were things missing, which it took a few minutes to identify. The Divine and Warlock Valences and Flows had been stripped out, were not present, leaving her with just the Wizard and Sorcerer Valences of her Arcane Theurgy.


    Even the Heartsong bonuses were not present.


    So, why am I looking at a Power of Ten Casting Matrix? I''m not in game. I''m dead, she thought to herself.


    But still, there it was, right in front of her. The Valences of Wizardry, her Primary Class. Spell Engrams in their orbits of power, waiting to be balanced out against one another in proper Star Magery, infused with form and power, ready to be unleashed. Complementing them, the blazing rings of her Sorcerous Bloodline, waiting for the Rune Engrams to set up on them, fixed and stable and ready to unleash their power through.


    The floating forms of dozens of Metamagic Feats fluttered around like lost birds, and she realized that she''d lost all rep counts on them.


    Well, of course I have, I''ve never cast spells before, she mused, staring at the tableau.


    Wizardry, the most flexible and versatile of the Casting classes, but also limited, because every spell had to be set and readied ahead of time. If you knew the spells and had the metas, the things you could do were beyond any other Class. If you wanted spam, well, you better know your Reserves and your Siege.


    Both of which were also hollow, thin spirals of energy that wanted to form, but were currently lacking.


    Because she had never cast spells.


    Sorcery was more spammable. Same list of potential spells, but instead of Spell Engrams you could swap, you had a fixed set of Rune Engrams that did not change, and a pool of energy at each Valence you drew on to cast those spells, in any order you wished until your supply was dry.


    Arcane Theurgy combined Wizardry with Sorcery. The Valences of each form intersected, rather then avoided one another. She could use Wizardry with power from her Sorcery Valences, and sacrifice the energy tied up in a Spell Engram to power a Rune Engram sorcery spell instead.


    That was Magery, the mark of a true Arcane Caster.


    There were only five Engrams that were currently lit up. They were familiar spells, as they spiraled up in the familiar pattern of the Arcane Bloodline.


    Humans, as a race, were non-magical. They only gained the potential for magic from outside bloodlines coming in and having children, who then interbred with other humans, and so passed the potential down.


    The Arcane Bloodline was often called a ''mutt'' bloodline, since it was what happened when all those alien, soulborn, primal, elemental, fey, divine, and whatever bloodlines mixed together, and then stripped out all the racial bias for pure affinity to magic.


    The first was the Valence 0 Cantrip Detect Magic, simple, efficient, indispensable, universal.


    Everybody needed it, but she didn''t have to pick it. Shards, the basic offensive spell that was the first ranged combat spell every arcane Caster learned, an evocation that had incredible potential if pursued properly. Invisibility, the classic illusion spell, defense, stealth, and evasion all in one. Dispel Magic, the classic Ward spell, countering spells, undoing them, possibly even taking them over. Dimension Door, the first of the powerful dimensional travel spells, naturally of Conjuration, the priceless ability to remove yourself from beyond the range of someone to threaten you, or enter an area that was impassable. The last was Greater Flight, of Transmutation, altering the rules of the world to allow speedy flight for hours, giving tons of more options.


    Just those five spells could satisfy so many needs, and be used so flexibly. They were core spells not just for the Bloodline, but to basically almost all sorcs and wizards alike. Having them as default spells really saved a lot of effort. Supposedly the Bloodline continued, building up a true Divination, a Necromantic, and an Enchantment spell, culminating in some powerful Valence Nine magick(s?) that could totally own... but no one had gotten there in game.


    So, this was just like the game. But... she was dead. She couldn''t be playing the game.


    The cancer was unstoppable, she had fought as long and hard as she could. The game had been her great escape, the friends she had made, the quests, the rebuilding of the ravaged world of the game and the battles against the creatures that would tear it down, and the utter reality of it, where death was not a casual thing, and you just didn''t respawn and go back to a fight. No, you''d had to be careful, tactical, and not take risks at those low Levels, until you could build yourself up to a complete badass at the higher ones, and your friends could bring you back.


    She had been famous inside the game. She had been Haz¨¦ the Star Mage, the first Caster to assemble five Stars, and, unbeknownst to everyone but a very select group of people, be Sustained.


    It was a great accomplishment, a great trick, and it had died with her.


    Yet, here she was, looking at her Casting Matrix.


    There were two types of Wizards... generalists, and specialists. Well, and super-specialists.


    Specialists got more spells in their specialty, at the cost of giving up on a School of magic, effectively biasing their Matrix heavily in the favor of a specific school. Super specialists gave up even more Schools, for increased spells and skill in a narrower field.


    She had never seen the point. Specializing was basically what sorcerers did with their Bloodlines. If you wanted to be really good at a specific type of magic, be a Sorcerer. Sorceress. The power of a Wizard was having ALL the spells, all the tools in the toolbox, not just a selection of them, without ever being able to use, oh, screwdrivers.


    Generalists had their own power, and that was being a Star Wizard.


    The idea had been to use the power of the opposed eight Schools to form a greater resonance in the Matrix that enhanced all the Schools. To the utter surprise of those people who tried it, it had worked!


    You had to arrange your Spell Engrams in opposition across Valences. So, four of the eight Schools had to be arranged in Valence One, and matched up to the other four in Valence Two. Setting them up properly resulted in a +1 Caster Level bonus once you had your First Star.


    You could make a Second Star at Valences Three and Four, once you had the Slots. If you had full Archmagery, you could make the Rose Star, placing four spells in the bonus spells from Valences One to Four, and then four more at Valence Five, forming the Rose atop the Stem.


    The Wizard Specialists had more spells, but the Star Wizards were stronger Casters, as was only right. Specialists who tried forming Stars blew apart their Matrices, killed themselves, and if they were returned to life, still lost a precious Level as they had to rebuild their Matrix.


    There was a fourth Star, the Divine Star, for those who could swing Mystic Theurgy, which was uncommon but possible, and directly required Divine approval.


    And she had discovered a fifth Star, resulting in her being able to Cast at a base Fifteen, a true star of the game.


    Clearly, there was something going on. It couldn''t be that the rules of the game... actually worked in reality, did they?


    That would be too crazy. But she felt her heart beat faster just thinking about it.


    Furthermore, this was a full Matrix in front of her. If this was true... she was a Ten. She couldn''t imagine what being a Ten would mean in a normal world. She could teleport hundreds of miles. Fly all day. Summon Elementals to wreak havoc, toss lightning and fireballs and manipulate objects with her mind.


    A Ten Caster was a truly powerful being.


    She reached out towards the Matrix, touched it.


    It was empty of mana, from the bright core of Valence Zero, cantrip-level stuff that could be used all day, even without a Focus, all the way to the ominous and dangerous Valence Fives, towering with potential might and mischief.


    So, of course, she had to Meditate and start filling it up again. Like, did she actually have anything better to do?


    Well, one thing.


    She turned Around in her head, and gazed at the wall of Engrams there.


    Visual File Mastery/5, Spell Mastery/5, Eidetic Spellbook.


    Every spell she''d ever studied, not in some weighty or compressed tome she had to lug around, but imprinted in her memory for instant access. She''d had the written back-ups of course, there were distinct advantages to reading a spell right out of the book as you Cast it, but it wasn''t necessary for normal Casting or memorization at all, just a boosting trick.


    Spell Allocation.


    She had to get the Engrams in place if she wanted her Stars to align... and especially if she wanted the Blood Star.


    She''d had the Divine Star, too, but that wasn''t active. What she had stumbled onto was the Blood Star, derived from Sorcerous Bloodlines, and which could only be accessed through the mixed heredity that the Arcane Bloodline represented.


    Certain spells had integral ties to different Bloodlines. By integrating those spells into a Star, you established a tie to a Bloodline. If you then matched them to Engrams in the Arcane Bloodline, you in effect formed a new Bloodline, Wizardry... or, The Blood Star.


    Celestial, Fiend. Luck, Fate. Plant, Animal. Death, Life. Elemental, Nature.


    The four wizard spells also had to integrate into her existing Stars, which meant spell selection was critical. But she''d found a workable Pattern, and with her full Archmagery doubling her Wizard Engrams, she''d had more then enough Slots to retain flexibility.


    She began to carefully slot in the Engrams, especially her Sorceries, as changing them once they hit a Valence would take a minimum of a week, and so was not something to be done lightly. Sorceries, to a Mage, were meant to be the workhorse spells used all the time, while Wizardries were all the niche special use stuff and nasty surprises which could really annoy people.


    But this time, she needed subtle stuff. More Divinations then normal clustered her spare Slots as she prepared to do this right. When she was finished, her Matrix had new, bright spots all over it as Engrams glowed, ready to be filled with power.


    She mentally centered herself in the Core, where even her Cantrips had been laid out in a Star format, the first and most crucial step to forming functional Stars. She relaxed as much as she was able to, trying to sync up her heart with the beat all about her, and began to rotate her Valences.


    Slowly and smoothly, mana began to stream into and all about her, starting from the Core and then extending out into Valence One first.


    She felt the speed of the influx, and sighed as she continued. About thirty-five spell levels an hour... it would take hours for her Valences to fill.


    She could only hope something didn''t happen in the meantime. She had a bad foreboding, that the reason she had woken up was because something adverse was about to happen. She didn''t have enough information, she didn''t know what was going on, and she had to take steps to protect herself, even if she couldn''t physically move.


    For a true Caster, that wasn''t going to be an impediment. All it would cost was Valences, and in the end, she would still be able to run away...

 116 Chapter One Hundred and Sixteen – Running Sama, Inc.

    So, I was saving my intended family from a doppelganger invasion. Which, naturally enough, began to rapidly expand across the kingdom, then the Empire, as more and more of my Marked chimed in about certain people wearing jewelry with amberish gems with dark cores...


    I punted the head of a Mana Weaver into a thicker mound of vivus, which accepted it happily. Its Spell Weaver master had been eaten by the Land, its two Staves blazing white torches over there that no one wanted to get close to, and this fight was over except for the mop-up.


    Discussion among the Brotherhood and officers meant that I was going to be fighting warbands with sorcerers who might bring in Demons, the better to give the Land a snack, while any bands located that I couldn''t get to would have such individuals quickly offed by the Brotherhood, who were also encouraged to remove certain elements of leadership for the fighting battalions sweeping in behind.


    It was a novel experience for the Brotherhood, coordinating with forces on that scale. Shadowknife had also had me deliver certain messages with amicable Marked, and all the Brothers would soon be on their way to find us.


    The doppelganger invasion was confirmed within hours, when one of my Scouts, who happened to have retired to a prominent position as a smuggler in his hometown, offed one of them that very night, a rival he didn''t have a good opinion of anyways. The confirmation literally exploded across the Empire, chatboxes in my head were lighting up as efforts coordinated to find and kill them with sudden savagery.


    After all, there''d been both arcane and divine Casters among my Marked, who were extremely good at getting the word out to non-Marked.


    Brother Firesword had Moved the Names of Weep and Cry himself, a Void Diffusion Pattern unique to them... whose existence also seemed to turn him on his ear. He could Diffuse the magic of his enemies, or even rote gold, into his Voidbound Gear?!


    As I told him as he left, fully intent on exploding the Arsenal and Slaughter on his new Sword to the limit, it was little things that turned things on their heads, taken over time and given power. He had a long view and could discern easily what those influences meant, but he''d never thought the principle would be applied to him!


    ----------


    People were moving. Elves were relaying that several Orders of knights had troops moving along the edge of the Sidhete, heading north, accompanied by Aruans, Harsites, and Valusar, along with White Hands of Amana. Adventurers were bringing their own styles of battle along, while mercenaries seeking loot and glory were coming to either get paid or rob their opponents of wealth in an arena where no one cared if they did so.


    Other forces aligned to more Neutral forces, such as Imprus, Hurn, and even Huul were sending agents to investigate, as the Warp had no friends among the other gods. Powerful servants of deities were moving to oppose them.


    Brigandry was going to rise as a result, as forces that should be allied would prey upon one another if they could. Those who could be roped in and work together honorably might qualify to be Marked, maybe not. It wasn''t like I couldn''t restrict their use of the Markspace if I was so inclined.


    But a good chunk of them were my Ironblood. Those whose roots were not too deep, and who were not too needed where they lived, were coming to join me, and I would welcome them once again, even as I had to start figuring out ways to support them. Such things hadn''t worried me in Dream, but logistics was just another game at this point, and I was already starting to make money in mercantile fashion as awareness of distant markets and products was already starting to produce movement of them, and the resulting coin would be money I could use.


    After all, a few hundred Marked pooling their wealth to start forming a trade route to supply the fighters up here in the North had already begun. The Churches, Orders, and nobles were opening purses, and startled to find both elves and men cooperating to an unusual degree to get the route open and moving.


    There had been a few elves, dwarves, and hynfolk among my Ironblood. Not many, all of them people who had lived among humans for generations and so could be drawn into a human''s Dream. But ''not much'' were still contacts into non-human clans and families, which could blossom very quickly into additional backing. When Marked negotiated with one another for mutual benefit to all, terms got settled quickly, and things got into motion.


    I had Fall in hand as I strode through the battlefield. Tremble was Singing next to me, amplifying my Warlord bonus... across two other battlefields and a hundred Scouts spread across the map.


    The Glory awards were much less then offing a Greater Demon, but consistent, and not kill-stealing in the slightest, passing over the direct Karma earned by the men doing battle.


    I popped off some fool who thought morphing his arm into a bear claw was something awesome, as a quarrel in the eye contested.


    Briggs had a field day taking down some guy using Transmutation who found he couldn''t teleport away, or fly away even when shapechanged, and tossing boom-pow spells at Briggs was next to useless. Briggs had even been nice and not thrown Endure at him, just crunching his way through the guy''s guards, splitting the skull of his smoking nightmare, and then let the guy bounce off his armor a couple times before tapping his skull lightly and sending brains spraying into the vivic mist all about.


    These elite troops really didn''t seem to like dying to a Hammer wielded by a Neanderthal, either. Briggs, on the other hand, really enjoyed caving in their important bone structures with relentless blows. That guy with a fencing sword, that had been hilarious when he tried to parry and dodge, got his chest compressed back to his spine, and Estemar had tripped a fellow and impaled him through the throat on the protruding estoc... who uses estocs? Nitwit...


    The smart ones tried to run away, and learned about elven magic and arrows the hard way, especially combined. Even minor combat magic used by a hundred Casters is a very nasty thing...


    Amateur song-smiths were competing to add stanzas to Tremble, We Come, and Tremble was naturally vetting them all and quite happy to add them all. After all, if we were going to fight the same foe over and over, an hours-long section of stanzas wasn''t at all out of place.


    Of course, when the Bards found just how many stanzas of the song there were, and in how many languages, they were kind of stunned, but that was a different matter.


    Half my head was running fights and allocating chatboxes, leaving me to fight and wonder about how this all happened.


    Everything had scaled very quickly, indeed. Sure, a Deep Ten is capable of a lot of stuff... but I was now engaged in international business, espionage, counterintelligence, message transferal, as well as directing multiple engagements in this theater of combat.


    I really hadn''t expected this level of responsibility so fast and soon. I was hoping to at least get to full growth before that happened. Granted, with all these elves around I didn''t feel so short, and I was rather impossibly strong for my size, but still...


    This was a lot, and I was doing a lot.


    But when your mental Stats are 30+... well, it wasn''t overwhelming. Sure, people had high expectations of me, but they were naturally configured to expecting results of someone in the low 20''s, at the very best. The fact I could do better made me awesome, but I hadn''t really pulled out all the stops and taken advantage of my Stats.


    I still Sang at morning, evening, and midnight. That was my thing, my pacing, keeping myself and my lads centered. The gods couldn''t hear me, but they could hear Tremble and the boys, so it was cool with me. The belief that the gods were there, listening and taking action, was a very powerful motivation, so I was totally on top of making sure that got through to my boys.


    Jumping into the game of thrones Out There, well, that had been totally unexpected. It was a resource allocation game that STARTED with four thousand different parts, and those different parts all had connections and resources of their own, families, friends, countrymen. I wasn''t going to exactly tell them to commit treason... but nobody had problems with making money, and if my communication system was faster then anyone else, that was my advantage.


    Indeed, forming a news service was definitely something on the agenda. I''d need more Marked to do it right, and travel more...


    I was also receiving a very quick education in what was nominally Local History, for the whole continent. After all, I had some very highly educated people among my Marks, who weren''t averse to going to libraries or talking to other informed people about things, and assembling a rapid history of the whole continent which I stuffed into a corner of my mind the curious could access if needed.


    In no time at all, Iknew the names and faces of basically everyone in power everywhere on the continent. I had hierarchy lists, I had genealogies, I had organization structures.


    I had Marked who wanted to be about and Doing Things, too.


    Never had I gotten in so much gaming, and never with such total realism. I had a kingdom-building economic engine thing going on, effectively an intelligence organization masked behind a mercantile empire that was literally springing up out of nowhere everywhere at once.


    I had an overview that probably no non-Divine entity in the world had. Given the effect of Diplomacy, Bluff, Sense Motive, Intimidate, and Martial Lore Ranks that I had, the strategies and tactics I could come up with for the meta-game of factions were dizzying. I had also designed Sama as a go-for-broke, supremely determined character whose primary attribute was endurance, mental and physical.


    Living through Nightmare had driven that into my bones. I simply didn''t know how to give up now, and there was no way I was going to stop.


    I was also a Human/4, an Atlantean Human, even if I was a Hagchild. My racial drives were off the chart, and the way Human/1''s and /2''s responded to me adjusted accordingly.


    I could not walk away and make this about me. Conversely, no one could look at me and say I was doing this for myself, either. The stuff I was doing for myself I was literally doing for myself, by myself.


    What I wanted was to get to full size, finish out my Gear (a never-ending mess), get any and all of my back Karma paid off... and kill anything in existence that threatened the human race, maybe breaking Ten in the process.


    What everyone else wanted is for me to lead them on a life that was larger-then-life, with a clear focus on doing things that bettered the world for everyone... because those were the people I Marked. They knew I was enormously capable, and were willing to serve me to benefit from those capabilities.


    ---


    As the last of this Warpband was put to vivus, I turned my eyes south.


    -Brothers,- I /asked nicely in their private chatbox, where I had been learning a lot of stuff about a lot of stuff, -Do you know what is going on in the Central Kingdom of Rosencrux?-


    It was a dying Empire. The Marked I had there weren''t many in number, because the place didn''t breed them. It was like the end of the Ottoman Empire, a place bloated with corruption, cronyism, and decadence, wallowing in centuries of wealth and the trappings of power, rotting from within as rivalries between nobles prevented anything from happening. The seams of conflicts between families, races, and castes boiled and seethed, held barely in control by the iron fist from the legions of the imperial throne, and the knightly Orders who supported it.


    The Good Churches were failing or shadows of what they had once been. Imprus led the decay with its stratified hierarchy beliefs catering to the entrenched nobility at all levels, pushing away the egalitarianism of the Good Churches, andmore accepting of the Dark ones. The worship of Huul was quietly gaining ground among the more merciless of the imperial troops, opening the door to worship of darker powers that the Church of Harse no longer had enough presence to stop. The cities seethed with the trademarks of sin beneath the wealthy veneer, and dark currents flowed through the Empire from them.


    The Empire was sagging but mighty yet, no one stupid enough to think they could get through the Four Kingdoms to the First without paying a terrible price... but the energy and drive that had dominated its history was now insular and arrogant.


    Something was going on...

 117 Chapter One Hundred and Seventeen – The First Spell

    The first spell she cast was Assay.


    It took hours to get all the mana she needed to fill her Valences, and all the time she had a really bad feeling, as if something was happening around her. The second heartbeat she heard seemed to be getting weaker, and breathing shallower. She couldn''t see, but she could hear, and feel to a limited degree.


    She couldn''t feel the magic around her, something was wrapped around her and interfering with that sensitivity, despite her ten Ranks in Meditation.


    Something alive.


    She was curled up and couldn''t move, surrounded by something warm and wet, like being in a womb. And she wasn''t breathing.


    She had enough power to do something if required, and it looked like something was going to be required very soon.


    She couldn''t move her hands or say anything, which meant that the spell had to be Still and Silent, forcing her to spend more Valences on it then a Valence I normally required. On top of that, she didn''t have a Focus, and she was very sure she didn''t want to channel a spell physically, so the Casting took a full minute instead of a handful of seconds.


    The fact that it actually worked, exactly how the massive amount of information in her head said it would, was a massively wondrous moment unleashing a thousand dreams and possibilities... and totally anti-climactic, proceeding exactly as it should for a Ten Caster.


    Assay, the bread-and-butter assessment divination spell of the Power of Ten. It was the spell that put numbers on Stats, Classes, Levels, everything. Assay was the spell that turned magic into understandable math.


    Normally, you just Cast it until you could Siege it for no cost, then never truly Cast it again. She could remember doing just that, but her rep counts seemed to be no more, regardless of what her memory told her, so spending Valences was the only way to go.


    The spell was directed at herself.


    Magic rippled through her, reading everything from physical condition to spells in memory. Normally this would be transferred into a Visual File for ease of updating and reference, but she hadn''t cast that yet, either.


    Haz¨¦, NG Wizard/10, Sorceress/6, Arcane Theurge/5, Archmage/5, Archsorceress/5, Female Human/1


    Bloodline: Arcane


    Okay, nothing wrong with that...


    Strength: 1 (Infant) (-2 Female Human penalty not applied)


    Dexterity: 1 (Infant)


    Constitution: 5 (Infant)


    OMFG!


    Intelligence: 26 (18 Base, +2 Human, +2 Intelligence Mastery, +1 Age, +2 Levels, +1 Ten)


    Wisdom: 18 (14 Base, +2 Wisdom Mastery, +1 Age, +1 Ten)


    Charisma: 23 (16 Base, +2 Charisma Mastery, +1 Levels, +1 Age, +1 Ten, +2 Female Human)


    She whipped her eyes around at her Matrix.


    No Cleric levels, no additional Wisdom bonuses or Domain spells, no Mystic Theurgy on her Class Levels.


    Health: 1 (1d8 -3, minimum 1)


    Soak: 10 (10d4 -30, minimum 1)


    !!!


    She didn''t look at most of the remaining information, as it was basically just breaking down what she had already done with spells, plus listing out her Feats and Masteries.


    She only had the Mental Stats, Visual File, Spellcraft, Shards, Meditation, and Concentration Masteries!


    There were no lists of Rep Counts, not even a shadow of Detect Count at work, matched by the untempered hum of her Matrix.


    She was this ridiculously powerful Ten spellcaster, and she was a baby still in her mother''s womb!


    And right then, she heard, or rather, didn''t hear that heartbeat, and the gentle swell of breathing went silent.


    A shudder went through the magic around her, a skirl across the manaweave as necromantic traces moved in. She felt a tug and release, as if something around her had just let go... and everything around her began to die.


    Her mother had just died.


    She was an unborn child and she had to Get Out of her own mother''s womb, and she didn''t have much time at all...


    Sudden Silent Spell, Sudden Still Spell.


    She cast the Greater Flight from Valence on herself, feeling aeromantic power coming in and giving her the ability to manipulate her position in space.


    Still Silent Shards, bringing in the force energy, hers were shaped like crescent arcs, and she let them go.


    They sliced open her mother''s belly and severed the umbilical cord. Warm amniotic fluid gushed out, and the cold world beyond began to creep in.


    Still Silent Extended Resist Energy/Cold. Warmth wrapped her up in magical arms of the perfect temperature for a premature new-born.


    She was still going to die if she couldn''t breathe.


    Still Silent Mage Hand. The telekinetic cantrip was weak and couldn''t do much... but it could pull the placenta membrane off her and clear the gunk out of her lungs. As she rose shakily from the bloody coffin of her mother''s corpse, a stream of liquid was forced out her tiny lungs, and the tiniest of magical jolts was enough to get her breathing.


    It hurt. Her body was extremely vulnerable, and this was a major shock to her system. She could hardly believe this was happening.


    Couldn''t they just have made a duplicate of her Earth body if they were going to send her here, and set her up as a shadow of her game character? Really? Making her go through reincarnation, and then almost getting her killed before she was born?


    She coughed weakly, hovering there in midair, and the magical hand slowly wiped the goo off of her. She still had a short length of the umbilical cord drooping from her belly, but that would have to wait for a moment.


    She couldn''t see, her eyes wouldn''t open, and she couldn''t focus them. She could barely move her tiny limbs.


    And she was going to start getting hungry very soon. With no divine magic, she couldn''t conjure actual living, healthy food, especially some that a newborn could eat.


    So, she had to get out of wherever she was, and find some place that could provide her food and shelter... without making her bleed Valences to do it. Three Valences for every Valence I spell... ugh.


    So, she had to be able to see, now that she could fly.


    She needed something fairly long term for this effort. She looked at the See Invisibility spell, noted that it overlaid the visual information in the direction she was looking with the extra information of the invisible, but that meant it also had to convey the real information about it.


    A decent alternative to total blindness. It was a II, so she spent a IV Slot slowly bringing it into existence on the point of her third eye, and suddenly the world winked into existence in front of her.


    It was a narrow view, literally the area right in front of her, no width of vision. But it was certainly better then nothing. She had to change her viewpoint by changing her orientation, as she certainly wasn''t strong enough to move her head.


    There was barely any light to see, coming in through cracks around the shuttered window and boards of the walls. She looked like she was in some sort of wooden structure, barely holding itself together, replete with flies, and probably smelling really bad... especially since it had just inherited a corpse.


    She turned over and looked down at the corpse of her mother.


    She was wasted from some sort of drug dependency, Haz¨¦ had seen the signs before. It looked like she had overdosed and crashed hard. From the position of her body, she had been wasting away on the straw mattress at least two days.


    She''d been fairly dark of skin, but the yellowing of the dependency made her paler, and her skin was tight on her bones. The swollen flesh of her belly, combined with the gaping wound now there, looked almost unreal given the thinness of the rest of her. Her brown hair was patchy, and the flies had long started to gather on her silent body, picking up as the scent of death began to spread above the filth, leaking amniotic fluid and waste.


    Well, mother, I don''t know who you are, but I can guarantee that I will never forget you, Haz¨¦ thought, memorizing the girl''s face. She couldn''t be even in her late teens, a castoff of whatever this society was, abused and thrown away without anyone to depend on.


    It was totally overpriced at Valence III, but Energy Fan, the first of the Cone spells, with vivus subbed for fire, washed out and over the corpse. It was better then leaving her for the worms or whatever uncaring funeral she would have. The unwhite fire, a color not in the visual spectrum, washed over the corpse, and consumed it all utterly and completely, seeping down into the bed and eating away the stained straw as it did so.


    She didn''t bother to look for anything useful, as she simply had no way to carry it.


    It was light out, and a flying baby would attract a lot of unwanted attention. She had to find a food source, shelter, and do it within hours.


    Well, she was a Ten. If she had to, she could force the issue, although she didn''t want to. First, to make sure she wasn''t seen until she wanted to be.


    Two ways to cast Invisibility, one with a short duration allowing a bunch of actions, and one that lasted until broken, but required almost utter passivity. Neither would endure combat.


    She picked the second, blowing another IV Valence with a sigh, and then directed the Hand to open the crude window carefully.


    It swung open with a creak, a bunch of confused flies coming in and circling around before flying off, probably irritated at the fresh air from the vivic flame taking away their meal.


    Haz¨¦ flew into the daylight, off to find a family to live with.

 118 Chapter One Hundred and Eighteen – Mercy of the Brotherhood

    I could kind of feel them squinting at me through the Markdoors, and the silence grew long.


    -Huh. I must have discovered some terrible untold secret of the Brotherhood. It''s a shame that a woman who can watch dozens of battles; feel her Marked''s pain as they get wounded and killed; is running an intelligence operation of kill teams across the continent; manipulating gods, rulers, armies, and merchant lords, while forming a broad multi-racial coalition of Good against external threats to the planet; all the while making magic items for some ungrateful sots who never had them, in between engaging in the slaughter of demons able to butcher armies... somehow can''t handle a little few facts.


    -Truly, such a woman is pathetic.-


    I could distinctly /feel their faces and ears all going bright red. They didn''t think I could handle some information? My default state of thinking was the metagame, not this one-to-one shit, that was for my social half! If they wanted cold, emotionless killing machine, they had nothing on me, and they knew it!


    It was Brother Shadowknife who finally /replied. -This has to do with the South.-


    -Overtones of dread from the Shadow and the Knife. However, that tells me goddamn nothing, because all I know about the South is what''s on The Map.- I looked down at the old, old Empires there, and the psychic wafting of indolence and decay rising off them.


    He sighed. -There are no hynfolk in the South.-


    Well, that earned a blink or two. -Ah, shit.-


    No hyn meant no Shadowknives. No Shadowknives... meant things Outside Creation had a much easier time mucking around.


    The scale of ''much easier time'' could get Really Bad.


    -So, the South is moving against Rosencrux? Or just something coming from the South?- I /asked coolly.


    -Elements from the South, building for a long time.- the Firesword /broke in grimly.


    -Uh, huh. And when are the stars wrong?- That is, wrong for us, right for the shit that was going down.


    -One hundred and thirteen days from now,- the Shadowknife /stated precisely.


    My Navigation/Astronomy Ranks swirled up. I tracked orbits on the MetaMap, beyond the world, looking at the stars with them, coming into alignment...


    I threw up in my mind, and hastily moved the representation away. It was lucky the three weren''t fighting, as all three of them retched. Not quite the 40 Con scores I had.


    -Very accurate representation,- the Windarrow /complimented me faintly. I /laughed ruefully despite myself.


    -You knuckleheads don''t metagame enough,- I /snarled at them. -There are no hyn in the South means that one of the things they are coming to do here is get rid of the hyn. They''ll exterminate every clan in the area affected. I know you''re a cold-blooded little shit, Shadowknife, but really?-


    -I cannot alert them to the fact I know, or the implications could be Quite Bad.-


    I took that at face value. Knowing that he knew gave them an avenue to find out how he knew, which could lead to him not knowing in the future. That would indeed be bad...


    -Ah, fuck them! Ecto!-


    The hyn hunter I''d saved from Leng popped into the chatbox abruptly, startled to be personally singled out.


    ---


    "Sage Sama?" he asked, startled. He held up his hand for a break, looking at the Mark on his hand meaningfully. The line of hyn around him quickly gathered around, eyes wide.


    -How''d you like to become a Messenger of the Gods, and a Very Important Person, and save a whole bunch of your kin, however much you might hate it?-


    Ecto took a deep breath, looking around at the wide, intense eyes of his people. That time of nightmare in Leng had never gone away. The way he had seen those people fight, that terrible focus and power in his mind, and the way Sage Sama had fought, a demon to the demons...


    "What do I need to do?" he asked shortly.


    -You got a divine Caster there who can speak directly to your gods?-


    He blinked, looked over at Matron Bellaya. "Can you speak directly to Mother Shiera?" he asked directly.


    Bellaya opened her mouth, paused, and closed it. Slowly, she nodded.


    "Yes, we do, Sage Sama."


    -----


    I smiled thinly to myself. -She needs to ask some very direct questions of her Patron. They are as follows...


    -Do you know that the Things of the South are coming to Rosencrux within four months?


    -Do you know one of their primary objectives in coming is to wipe out all the hynfolk, so that no Shadowknives, their greatest foes, may be born?


    -Do you know that there is room for a hyn kingdom to be founded between the elven and dwarven kingdoms to the north?


    -Do you know that the hyn Ecto has agreed to lead your people there and found that kingdom, in order to save them all?-


    I distinctly heard him swallow as he relayed the questions to the hyn Priestess alone. The woman went pale, and slowly nodded her understanding.


    -Remember, she must ASK A QUESTION. Her prayers to inform will NOT be heard. The Things will intercept any such, twist and warp them. She is informing your gods by asking questions of them!-


    ----


    "I understand." Ecto repeated that in a low voice to Miss Bellaya, who listened carefully and nodded again, dark eyes gleaming. As a priestess, she had a somewhat broader view of what was going on, and knew that she was getting involved in a game played at the Highest Level.


    The lead hunter of his clan found himself looking at the sky for long minutes, as Miss Bellaya withdrew to the side to pray with artificial calm.


    His eyes lowered to everyone around. They couldn''t know exactly what or why was going on, because they would talk, and things might be traced. He''d had that distinct impression from Sage Sama.


    They''d already been on the way to help her. Sure, they weren''t of much use on the front lines, but as scouts, they knew they could contribute.


    Now, it seems they were going to become something more.


    "We''re going to save our people." Ecto clenched his fist, and felt the hard stares around, especially from the other Marked who had been /listening in, and were also saying nothing.


    ------


    The Shadowknife /sighed. The Firesword /swore. The Windarrow /laughed.


    -Mother Sheira has excellent relations with Amana and Flora, and should inform them of this quickly. This should proliferate rapidly through Heaven, and the gods should start making movements, probably within minutes,- I /judged. -They should start moving their people out of the Central Kingdom quickly, and if not, preparing for some surprises in the most lethal way.-


    -They cannot stop it, but they can make them pay dearly,- the Windarrow /agreed. -And this crusade against the Warp is a fine excuse to make the moves they need to.-


    -And no signs of the Brotherhood anywhere near. Can they sense your Marks, Sage Sama?-


    -No idea. But the conversations are taking place in my Markspace, and the contact with the Gods is being done by a Powered who does not have a Mark. Let ''em go look for a 50 Null in the timestream and work all this out.-


    All three of the Brothers sighed together, and their thoughts turned to blades almost in unison, wondering how they could use this fact to fuck over what was coming.


    -Sama, I would like a message to be conveyed to a certain Harse Inquisitor in Colamn. Can you arrange that?- the Firesword sort of /asked.


    I eyed The Map. Four Marked lived there. I zoomed in, and their locations in the city of the western Central Kingdom were made clear. -Within minutes, if he''s available. Shall I link you up with a Marked there?-


    -Please.-


    My social half /shunted him off to the appropriate people. Nothing written, objects were too easy to track temporally. People meeting people, obfuscation in place, where did things start and go...


    It was time to manipulate some Divinities from the distance, and get manipulated in return, like playing chess with six-foot grabbing poles.


    -Query from the Sage: Why are you letting this event take place, and instead addressing the Warp up here?- Just curious, considering what was probably going to happen when the Rosencrux Empire found The Stars Were Wrong.


    -The Stars do not align for long, meaning this is a massive surge event, a collapse of great power, but ultimately finite and limited. The only danger is the scale of the entities that might come through,- the Shadowknife /replied, with the slowness of one who is not used to explaining himself. The Brotherhood, after all, just Knew.


    -Whereas this Warp intervention is something that will endure, and grow, and grow, and grow. If left unchecked, it could eventually threaten the world, and only needs enough time to do so. It MUST be checked. Indeed, the Warp could completely overwhelm the machinations of the Things Outside Creation if left to grow, and would enjoy the fight.- the Firesword /added grimly.


    Huh. Letting the nukes drop while preventing the cancer from infecting the world. Totally hard-edged, callous, knowing judgments. Even the radiation left behind wasn''t going to be as bad as the cancer, so the cancer had to go first.


    -Man, no wonder some gods hate you guys. You aren''t supposed to be making those kinds of calls, especially when the gods can''t see what''s coming.-


    -There are certain places those gods can go, and good riddance to them,- the Windarrow /sniffed, and given the accompanying images, the rest of us /laughed.


    -Brother Shadowknife, I have a feeling you might be an excellent advisor to Master Ecto before he takes whatever throne is made up.- I /noted. -Might you want to speak to him?- My /voice also dropped. -He''s a Six, about to become a Seven, and at that time, he might become Forsaken if he becomes a Hyn/3.-


    There was a moment of quiet. ¨CI will speak with him,- he /replied at last.


    I nodded, formed a separate box for them, and /said, -Master Ecto, there is someone here who wishes to speak with you, and who you, if you have an ounce of common sense, want to speak with. I present to you the Shadow and the Knife of the Brotherhood of the Void.-


    A thousand miles away, Ecto swallowed, and prepared himself to talk to a killer feared by Things Outside Creation...

 119 Chapter One Hundred and Nineteen - Mama

    She was in a city, in the slums down by the docks, where only the poorest of the poor lived.


    Naturally, she had to get out of there. Cities were hives of disease, and she was in no condition to be breathing this air with her tiny, laboring lungs. She really, really needed a Con boost, because she was in great danger right now.


    Out of the city, into the countryside.


    She eyed the city, the distant spires of temples, a palace, and a castle overlooking the place. She wavered for a moment, considering the options. The city would have wealthy families, nobles, and if she could get herself adopted into one, it would certainly make life easier.


    But she hmphed silently, and turned away.


    She had been brought into this world as a Ten Archmage. ''Easy life'' didn''t begin to describe what she was actually capable of. The only thing was... that huge negative Karma total glaring at her in her Assay.


    Negative Karma meant no Gear, as she couldn''t assign Karma to bind the magic into a new item. Not having Gear was a very bad thing.


    And it went without saying that she couldn''t take all the Secondary Classes she was missing until that Karma was paid back. What was worse, if she applied all that Karma to her Wizard Levels, she''d have to buy those Class Levels at the cost of a Ten.


    Ugh!


    She headed out over the water, towards the entrance to the harbor. If this world was anything like the game, massive Wards covered those walls, making them impossible to fly over. But it looked like this was still an Age of Sail, magically aided or otherwise, and that meant she could hitch a ride past them, without fear of being inspected. All she had to do was use the flight magic to keep her balance as she rested on one of the yards, and once past the Wards, she could fly away.


    And dodge the seagulls on the way...


    -------


    The two-master was called Corsa''s Bliss, and while she had no idea what it referred to, it did indeed resemble the Tall Ships she''d once seen in Philadelphia. She was interested in the array of lines and ropes pulling this way and that, leveraging the efforts of the sailors as they slid out of the city she was leaving behind.


    She did not, however, like the look of the sailors. They had an air of bloodthirstiness that left her deeply suspicious of their preferred cargo.


    Avoiding the seabirds swooping to and fro, and staying above the spray of the waves, she headed back towards the shore, keeping a very safe distance from the Wards of the city, looking for the smaller settlements and holdings that would proliferate around a main city, likely growing up around the properties of a wealthy or noble household, given the tech level here.


    She''d already tied off the spell slots to her Flight Spell, and it would auto-Cast as long as the Slots were tied to it. With a thirteen-hour duration, she would have no problems being able to move, she just had to find a meal and shelter quickly. The thought of possibly having to suckle at a goat or cow was both squicky and amusing, but she knew she''d do it if she had to.


    She also had to make sure she didn''t get sunburned, and sighed as she spent another IV to give herself Fire Resistance so that wouldn''t happen...


    ----------


    The village seemed to be mostly run to service a large vineyard nearby, reasonably affluent for such things. Haz¨¦ thought it would fit the bill, as it was agriculture without a heavy emphasis on meat animals that might breed disease. That said, animals were essential to most of the households, so some contact was unavoidable.


    Food, shelter, clothing.


    Her attention was drawn by a small house outside of the town, probably two or three rooms, and a small barn out in the back yard, which seemed to be filled with flowering plants... a respectable herb garden, with a decent size field for livestock.


    Swooping by the barn, she saw a couple of goats and a pony there, with clean stalls and hay. There were a couple cats around to keep down the rats and mice.


    She swooped up to the open windows of the house, and looked inside.


    There was a woman, probably in her late thirties, at work inside what looked to be a small kitchen and herb pantry. She had rows of herbs laid out in front of her, and was slowly and meticulously removing the leaves from every stalk, setting them precisely aside into a bowl.


    She wore a large-knit shawl about her shoulders, and her black hair was going grey early. Her hands were callused with work, and seemed quite calm and precise as she went about her task.


    Her eyes hung half-closed, and did not move. She was blind.


    Haz¨¦ sighed one more time, and slowly cast a Detect Alignment, spending another IV for the II.


    Rich gold. And the blind woman looked up, as if she could sense the movement of magic nearby.


    She had Potential. An untaught Powered...


    She took a deep breath for her tiny lungs, and slowly wafted inside as she tied in a Message effect, for she could not speak.


    -Hello.-


    The woman''s hands paused instantly. For a blind person, to hear a voice out of nowhere, with no hint of such a person arriving, had to be a terrifying thing. Haz¨¦ marked the knife near the side, and the hand that came down next to it.


    -I do not know your name, and I apologize. I am Haz¨¦.-


    A little bit of a released breath, a tilt of the head. "You are using magic to talk to me! Who are you, and what do you want with an old woman like me?"


    -I am in need of someone to take care of me. Something bad happened as I was born, and I need help.-


    The woman''s expression changed. "What? I am not sure I understand you."


    -I am a Ten Wizardess.- The woman''s jaw dropped slightly, she obviously knew what that meant. -For some reason, I was reincarnated with my memories, and my mother died before I was born. I had to rip my way out of her womb, and I am roughly two months premature.-


    The fingertips of the old woman whitened on the table in front of her. "And what do you wish of me?" she asked, in a tone that indicated she knew she might not have any choice in what was going on.


    -I have need of food, shelter, and clothing. I am very young. In return for your help, I will be happy to help you wield your gift for magic.-


    The eyes that could not see anything opened, the dark orbs flat and unseeing, but somehow showing hope within. "You know I have the Gift?" she asked, shaken.


    -Magic flows warmly around you. You have probably learned a few Cantrips, but without a teacher, nothing more.-


    The callused hands clenched. "No teacher would want a blind student." Bitter and knowing.


    -No student would want an infant teacher.- Aloof yet vulnerable.


    The callused hands slowly relaxed, and a slow laugh escaped her lips. "Well, then, we would make quite a pair, wouldn''t we?" She clasped them on the table in front of her. "I am Gerta Oltadottir. Everyone calls me Mama Gerta. I raise herbs for the people in town, Miss Haz¨¦."


    -It is a pleasure to meet you. I think we will be great friends. May I call you Mama?-


    She shifted in surprise. "Certainly. May I call you Haz¨¦?"


    -Of course, Mama.-


    "Where are you?"


    -I am floating directly above your cutting board in front of you.-


    She paused, and then her hands reached slowly up, feeling the air, and then running into Haz¨¦''s dangling, curled foot. She touched it gently, following it up with her other hand, over Haz¨¦''s wrinkled skin, tracing the end of the umbilical cord still dangling from her, tiny arms, legs, and the small head.


    "You... really are a tiny thing," Mama breathed, slowly cupping Haz¨¦ and bringing her closer. Haz¨¦ did not resist as she was brought in against the older woman''s cheek.


    -Yes, Mama. I am also very hungry. Could I have some warm milk?-


    Mama Gerta smiled, unwrapping her shawl and a cloth, wrapping it around the infant in her arms carefully. "Of course. It will take me a moment to warm it for you."


    -I can warm it quickly. It simply needs to be fresh and pure.-


    "Even better. It was drawn just this morning." She gently let go of Haz¨¦, who floated just above her cutting board.


    -Very good.- It was difficult to stay awake, given her lack of endurance, but she was Sustained, so energy was not the problem. Her body, however, was growing, and clamoring for the stuff needed to do so.


    She waited while a stone jug of milk was brought out, with a tiny spoon to go with it.


    Despite herself, Mother Gerta gasped as she felt magic moving around an infant, and the milk in her hands heated itself up to body temperature almost instantly. "Very impressive," she murmured. "How are you casting spells at such an age?" she asked hesitantly. "The pain..."


    -I am Casting very slowly, assembling the spell around myself instead of through myself, which would be much, much faster,- Haz¨¦ answered. -I will need a Focus at some point, to Cast decently. I need to work on my rep counts, and rebuild my familiarity with my magic. Once I Weird the Silent and Still Metamagicks, I will be able to Cast without spending higher Valences to do so.-


    Mama Gerta began to spoon tiny amounts of milk into Haz¨¦''s mouth, who took them slowly and methodically. "I am afraid I know little of such things," she admitted.


    -You will learn them all, Mama,- Haz¨¦ said firmly. -And you will see again!-


    Mama trembled despite herself at those words. "Haz¨¦, you best grow up tall and strong so you can fulfill your promise!" she said happily.


    -When we are done, I will need to take a nap,- Haz¨¦ admitted. -But I will be very happy to help you however I can, Mama.-


    Mama cradled her closer. "Don''t you worry, child. Mama will take good care of you."


    Haz¨¦ smiled and enjoyed the feeling of the warm milk going down. This was going to be a very different childhood then her first one, but that was fine...

 120 Chapter One Hundred and Twenty – The Rockborn

    It had been two weeks since we''d last seen the Rockborn. Many things had changed.


    Ten days, used properly, meant ten Levels. Ten Levels meant depth.


    They hadn''t seen Briggs in his armor, and a fair number of polished eyeballs nearly fell into thick beards when they saw him in skinplate and wielding a QL 35 Named Hammer with a mean streak for Warped blood.


    Briggs could have reached Seven by now, but there was no need. He was grimly building his foundation, collecting the Secondary Class Levels he''d skipped by and Masteries he knew he''d need as he calmly gathered new Levels and Masteries. Yeah, he was paying Five prices for them, but the way his killing was taking off, it wasn''t an issue at the moment. He was especially happy to smash a path through Lesser Demons and pound into the True ones when they were brought in. Nobody expected to take a 70-point hit from a pre-teen Neanderthal, after all, even high-Karma targets like that...


    And I, of course, had something of a reputation explosion.


    I knew there were multiple factors behind the fact. First, the dwarves had all seen me fight. Yeah, I''d been holding back, and even if they didn''t want to believe the stories they were hearing, they knew I was dangerous.


    Second, I was Admirable, because I was a Smith, and a damn good one. They''d watched us make Endure out of scrap metal, at breathtaking speed... and it was now one nasty piece of work, and getting nastier. Dwarves respected those who could work stone and metal.


    Third, I was the Sage of Swords, and a Grandmaster of Swords. Those were not Titles which could be faked, and it only took a single line of Divine inquiry to confirm they were totally true.


    Learning Briggs was a Grandmaster of the Hammer had no doubt shaken them. While the dwarves here were in no way wedded to the hammer like Tolkien''s bunch, they''d also seen he was a very skilled smith, and watched him go Jotun-crushing with energy and zeal... and now everyone was talking about how he was ripping through lines of Warped like a Champion born.


    Fourth, the Divine were talking about me. Regardless of race, the Powers of Heaven might be competitive, but when it came to Evil rearing its head, They''d share info through all sorts of channels to smash it back down. It was what Good people did. I''d started a big mess, I was making a bigger one, and They were passing whispers down to their clergy about me, even if They couldn''t see me. Gods have influence.


    Fifth, I had a Charisma of 30. Even if I didn''t browbeat or hog the spotlight, I had Presence. +10 to Social rolls is no joke. I was perfectly aware I commanded attention wherever I went... and having 10 Ranks in Intimidation and Diplomacy gives one a certain carrot-and-stick air. Psychic pressure combined with body language, Gentle Giant and Brutal Aura combining to give my Strength bonus to both Skills, and Undaunted driving my Resolve bonus towards any warrior-type... which all these dwarves were. Combine with Skill Focus and the Mastery/5, plus Commanding Presence, and yeah, I had a walk-around +47 on the roll. Hoary old longbeards talked down to me exactly once, I blinked lazily at them, and after realizing they were about to take a head-first run through the nearest tree, their tones changed swiftly.


    Sixth, I was Famous. The elves were talking about me. The Borderguard was talking about me. And very, very importantly, the Brotherhood of the Void was talking about me. The Mountain and the Hammer had come out, talked to his Brothers, and was making no secret of his opinion of me after that. He found me the day before we met up with the Rockborn, got himself Marked, and watched for himself what I was doing.


    He left bearing a Hammer that looked rather similar to Endure, only more brutal and bigger. He went right to the dwarven leadership, stated his recommendations, and walked away.


    Seventh, I had Leadership. It was a powerful Feat, because it made you a Leader of Men. There was no shirking, no retiring from the spotlight. I was a Leader, everyone could see it, and being a Human/3 made me an exemplar of my species, even if they didn''t know it. On a purely instinctual level, they knew I was a powerful member of the human race, and they could not take me lightly.


    Lastly, I was a Marshal with a personal leadership cap of four thousand. That was a totally Legendary limit, a Great Marshal washing over them with the iron and thunder of literally thousands of battles. When Tremble''s Courageous kicked up and those Morale Bonuses hit +5, there was only thunder and fire in the soul, and no doubting my commands at all.


    ---


    The efficient dwarves had two hundred volunteers waiting for me when I arrived. They efficiently got their core officers and sergeants Marked up before they went out to fight, and watched the difference in timing and coordination with their own eyes, analyzing everything, recording decisions made as they followed my orders and watched the group of Warped taurs and anthros get butchered, Tremble''s Song roaring through them like the music of the Gods. Two of their Chanters could only gape at the force of my commands carried on that Song, and picture what it could do for all their troops.


    They gazed at The Map and the massiveness of the world around them, and suddenly, dwarves actually felt small.


    They didn''t have to beg their leaders to overcome their reservations. The consensus after the fight resolved with merciless precision was that it would have been even easier if more of their soldiers were Marked.


    ---


    Briggs slaughtered his way through three Warp Spawn, Estemar soloed one, and Rockborn officers butchered the rest as they appeared. The stag-horned, wolf-headed Shaman who Summoned them in was run over by dwarven ram-riders, used as a pinball, and then impaled from six directions at once when he refused to die, so one of the riders could reach over and swipe off his head with a glaive.


    For eight hours I put on Marks, nearly a hundred more Rockborn receiving them, most of them from an elite, veteran spear company. What such elite troops could do with that level of a Marshal''s Aura on them was going to rock the Warped hard.


    Then Briggs and I forged out some sample kukris and falcatas made for dwarves. The power of the design at chopping motions, and the wicked ability of its drawcut, definitely got their attention, combining some of the best features of knife and axe. I got very deep into discussion with some smiths over the heft, balance, angle of cut and arc of blades, and then went through a full set of katas with several experienced infighters. Their large hands were perfect for manipulating the weapon, and when they saw how efficiently it disemboweled and could take off a head, yet could be used to parry easily against the forearm, I had some adventurous sorts willing to ''gather data'' with the new weapons.


    Of course, they almost fell over themselves when they saw Fall and Reach at work.


    Ranged fire, rapid RoF, wheels and gears and mechanical power catering to Might instead of Power, and it scaled all the way up to ballista size in applicability.


    The fact an autobow required magic to be better then a bow was a non-issue, as crafting magic Weapons was what Rockborn did better then anyone else. When I drew out the design schematics in holo and one of their Elders Captured it in a gem for later transferal to a proper medium, their crossbow captain was This Close to crying out in joy for the coming carnage. His whole company spent hours testing out Reach, racking the action, and mumbling into their beards about the rate of fire possible with the thing.


    Discussions of rare metals that Briggs and I needed to actually make some truly decent Gear moved ahead smoothly at that point. Also, deep discussions about the possibility of establishing a hyn homeland between the elven and dwarven lands got some heavy discussion late into the night... between elves and dwarves hundreds of miles apart, fighting the same foes and having inklings that something bad was coming from the south.


    Live mouths, not magic, were used to send word back to respective lords and monarchs, mostly by Teleport or similar effects that could cross the leagues quickly. More and more forces were whelming, as the first true human units from the Rosencrux Empire began to arrive on the scene.


    Brigand and bandit activity on the trail north began to drop precipitously as word rustled out, and Borderguards down there went scalp hunting for human leeches, and hyn hunters guarding their families began to secure a route to the North with blood. Different elements of certain knightly orders and church forces helped out as they built a supply line to the North... and if many of the merchants were hyn, nobody cared as long as the wagons rolled.


    On the far side of the Warp zone, Warped men and anthros were dying in the night, feeding the Names of Weep, Silence, and Whisper. Sometimes some demons managed to arrive... and never departed, Feeding the Land.


    Other Warpbands drove into the desolate and wild lands roved by countless tribes of anthros, goblins, and orcs, all getting along in a mutual slaughter kind of way. They were perfectly willing to get into fights with the forces of the Warp, run away, and come back with more of their kind. Warlords roared out about the invasion to their territory, and began to push back against the Warped.


    The Wind and the Arrow paid a visit to the area, and several shamans. To eat the flesh of the Warped is to serve the Warp. That phrase proliferated across the area fairly quickly... as did how to make a Vivic Disk that could purify the Warp energies away, Feed the Land, and leave most of the carcasses behind for consumption.


    With an unending source of fresh meat, recruitment of new bodies to fight wasn''t actually all that hard. True anthros looking at the beast-men of the Warp found instant mutual hatred at the genetic level was a thing, so there was no talk of collaboration... and they all loathed the humans that had been driving them off for the South for endless years. Seeing more of them coming to pick a fight from the northwest was basically an excuse for mutual slaughter.


    The Warpbands wrapped north and west around the dwarven mountains and into the hinterlands of Kaldenheim, who, forewarned and reinforced by their grim and hardy priests, set aside tribal grudges and grievances against this relentless invader, and were ready for them.


    The news that the main battle was being fought hundreds of miles away, on the other side of the mountains in the ruins of the ancient city, fired up a desire for glory that there was little stopping. The battle-hungry berserkers led the way as the Northmen advanced over the bodies of the Warped, one day at a time. The Marked with them gained instant reputations as battle commanders and scouts, fighting the Warped hordes and leading the men through the wilds towards the great battle beyond.


    ----------------


    "You can quit skulking. There''s nobody else around."


    The branch that was hanging a bit heavy released abruptly, and there was a soft beat of large wings unfurling. Pine needles sprayed as taloned feet hit the ground, and a shimmer of illusion slowly faded into shadow and solidity.


    Noir Rabe regarded me carefully, as well he should. His new armor was less detailed and jewel-ornamented then his last, but still made of wood. I crossed my arms and looked up at him, unafraid.


    He regarded me speculatively. As a Fey Warlord, he was naturally sensitive to that aspect, Null or no, and he could feel my Command Aura directly now. It would have given him pause even if he didn''t know that I could pound him into the dirt directly.


    "You seem to have acquired a position of some importance, Sama Rantha," the erlking greeted me, dismissing with sophisticated pleasantries for the moment. "I see you are still well."


    "And you as well, Erlking Noir Rabe. I trust you''re not here to cause trouble." I eyed the crows clustered in the trees all about, corner of my mouth turning up in a smile. No, a murder of crows was no threat to me, either.


    Of course, fearlessness and utter confidence are often hard to tell apart. "I am, but not for you."


    I lifted a skeptical eyebrow. "You going up against the Warped is a bad idea, Noir Rabe."


    His hawk-like eyes narrowed. "And why do you say that, hagchild?" he uttered, not bothering to hide his irritation with my judgement.


    "Because you''re a mass murderer, with a hate job on for humanity longer then your arm, and so horribly susceptible to the temptations of the Warp. Your spirit is going to stand out like a fire in the night, and you''re already a thing of Chaos. The Warp is Chaos personified, they''re going to reach out, Tempt you with commanding countless souls to raze and reap the lands of Men, backed by words that will reach right into your soul... and you''re going to agree and deliver yourself to them, turning fallen humans to fight other humans as is only right. You''ll be their battle slave, and soon enough it won''t be humans, but anything that dares to stand before you.


    "Life will be battle, and if that means fighting other fey, you won''t be of the Courts anymore, you''ll be of the Warp.


    "Probably get a hawk head out of it, too. Maybe two. You know how they like to mutate their own."


    He stared at me for a full long minute before raising a darkly thoughtful gaze to the northeast. The Warp Rift probably blazed in his mind like a beacon.


    "You do not believe I can resist them?" he half-sneered, half-confirmed.


    "How many of the Winter Court to the north have already come flocking to them, without them even asking? You are far more of a prize than mere redcaps, spriggans, and trolls, and your hatred is a part of who you are. They can offer you fulfillment of the very essence of your being. Stick magic at the level of a demon lord behind that offer, and you''re done for."


    His expression shifted. He had no inbuilt reverence or fear of the Divine, but being godless didn''t mean he was ignorant or contemptuous of them. Fey fell to the servants of the Divine all the time.


    His eyes fell back to me. "You have been expecting me..."

 121 Chapter One Hundred and Twenty-One – The Tyranny of Rep Counts

    Time had passed.


    With Mama''s help, Haz¨¦ had passed the truly dangerous time, carefully hidden away, doing the uncontrolled pooping and peeing stuff like any other child, resting and taking care to get stronger and healthier.


    It meant she had to be very careful and slow with her Casting, until Mama found her a Focus Wand, discarded by a passing Caster picking up some herbs from her.


    It was a simple thing, only good for an apprentice at QL 23, so if she tried to send her full strength through it, it would literally blow apart, unable to take a higher Caster Level than Three.


    But Mama WAS an apprentice, thirsting for knowledge that she''d been denied all her life due to her handicap. It was fine for her to use, and for Haz¨¦ to borrow to show the use of Cantrips and Valence I spells.


    After all, she basically just sat (or flew) around all day, there was no reason whatsoever she couldn''t work on rep counts. She had craploads of Valences, and she really, really needed to Weird a lot of Metamagic down.


    Virtually all Metamagic effects that could be applied to spells came with a cost, an infusion of outside energy required to actually do what you wanted to. Increasing damage, duration, range, area, splitting, chaining, bursting... there were many, many Metamagic effects, and the vast majority of them cost a little (or lot) something extra.


    Wizards handled Metas different from Sorcs. Wizards had to memorize their spells ahead of time, imbue their energy at that time, and so cast their Meta''d spells just as fast as they did normal ones.


    Sorcerers had to add in the additional power as they went along, effectively requiring them to draw from a higher Valence, and drastically slowing down the speed of the Casting as they reworked the spell on the fly to include the extra effect. It made them more flexible if they weren''t threatened, but most Metas couldn''t be used in combat without some care, as standing in one place tracing glowing patterns in the air for six seconds or more wasn''t very smart in a fight.


    What Haz¨¦ had to do was get her Rep Counts in, get her Reserves up, Siegecraft started, and her spells and Metas Weirded.


    These things all started with a minimum of five hundred Castings of a Spell or Meta being Cast, if you wanted to open the most basic levels of these things. More Rep Counts were needed if you wanted to raise the potential limit, and more uses of them to get to that limit.


    For example, just to Cast now, she had to add the Still and Silent Spell Metas to everything, because she couldn''t do much more then put a tiny hand on the Wand. Naturally, what she wanted to do was Cast without having to spend a Valence III on everything.


    Weirding a Meta meant reducing the additional energy required down by exactly one Valence. Basically, you condensed and refined your understanding of the Meta, drawing more energy out of a lower Valence instead of the higher one, folding it down to a smaller size and so conserving Valences.


    Still and Silent Spell were +1 Metas, so Weirding them would reduce them to +0, and so their Meta''d spells could be cast with no extra cost... but only after Casting the Metas five hundred times attached to a Valence I spell... and then only for Valence I spells.


    To Weird them to Valence II spells, she had to Cast a Meta''d Valence II spell a thousand more times.


    Valence III spells, two thousand Castings. Valence IV... four thousand. Valence V, a colossal eight thousand times... not that such a thing was currently possible with a Valence V hard limit...


    Weirding spells worked exactly the same way, but from the opposite side. You learned to Cast the spell with less energy, fitting the structure of the Metas attached to it more easily, and infused them with more power. It reduced the total Valence cost of Metas attached to that spell by 1, to a minimum of +0.


    It differed from Weirding Metas because you had to focus on the spell as you cast, not the Meta, and tinker with it. So, the Rep Counts didn''t stack at all. More time, and higher Valence spells naturally took more Castings to learn how to make them more efficient, just like higher modifier Metas...


    ---


    To open a Reserve, the same thing had to be done. Reserves operated off a Spell Center, a spell serving as the nexus and key of the Reserve. It allowed her to Cast basically half-power, limited range spell effects without limit, scaling by the Valence that empowered them. Easy peezy. Five hundred Castings, open it off a Valence I, right?


    No, no. Most Reserves wouldn''t operate without being Centered off at least a Valence II spell. Happily, they ran off Valences Cast, rather then per-spell Castings like Weirdings, but it meant 1,500 Valences worth of appropriate Castings for ANY Reserve, and some only operated out of Valence IV or V... 7,500 and 15,500 Valences, respectively. You also had to have an appropriate spell of that particular Valence available and in active memory.


    Once the Reserve was active, you then had to actually use the Reserve to push its Spell Center to a higher Valence, i.e. learning to focus the energy through the Spell Center. Because Reserves were endlessly usable, this was merely pure drudgery. More Rep Counts.


    Going from a I effect to a II took two thousand Reps. To III, four thousand more. Then another eight for IV, and another sixteen thousand to get it working at V.


    At six hundred an hour, that was still fifty hours of work, for just ONE Reserve.


    There were dozens of Reserves, and they were all desirable, because the secondary effect of every Reserve was +1 to Caster Level of the spells resonating with that Reserve. Fire spells, force spells, lightning spells, Good spells, water, earth, charm, conjuration... there were all sorts of Reserves, and the Caster Level bonuses stacked.


    ----


    Siegecraft was the same. Siegecraft allowed you to pick any spell, in theory, and learn how to Cast it without spending a Valence. Such Sieged spells were absolutely identical from Caster to Caster, regardless of who Cast them. They did barely more then minimum damage, were easy to save against and resist, were automatically Dispelled if subjected to such, and had a hard duration cap of ten minutes.


    In addition to requiring practicing Casting to gain the right to use the spell, which naturally required more Castings as the Valence increased, it also required a Concentration check to cast the Sieged spell. Failing the Concentration check resulted in mana burn and Intelligence damage... so you needed a massive Concentration check, and a Feat, Steady Concentration, so you could take 10 on the check.


    Casting a Valence I spell at CL 1 required a minimum Concentration check of 15: 10 per spell level, +5 per Caster Level. Easy enough, if you had Steady Focus and could Take 10 and remove the randomness.


    The maximum known Caster Level of a Sieged Spell was Nine. The Concentration Check for that was 45, before Valence level!


    And, one more requirement. Sieged spells formed their own Shadow Matrix inside your own. So, to Siege a Valence II, you had to have two Valence I spells Sieged underneath it, required for every Sieged Spell, to a maximum of sixteen in the level below, supporting the higher Valence Sieged spells. It meant there was a hard limit on how many Sieged Spells your Matrix could support.


    So if you wanted to be able to Blink without limit, and could hit the 35 check (Valence II, CLvl3), you needed to cast the base spell 1,500 times as a II, then practice the Siege successfully 3,000 times as you worked out the mechanics of the Sieging, all the while hitting that 35 Concentration check. To do so, you also had to have two Valence I''s successfully Sieged to form a foundation for it.


    Oh, oh, and Sieging also had active Valence requirements, operating as it did off the entirety of magic in your Matrix. You had to have enough Valences in memory to match the Concentration Check required, or you suffered -1 to the check for each missing Valence. The magic you had inside you acted like a Reserve, allowing you to cast the minor spells. So, no Valences, no Sieging, much like Reserves required a Spell Center as their core...


    -------


    It was all a massive time suck and delay for Casters, but utterly necessary to follow if you wanted any kind of staying power. Valences were powerful and could accomplish things that no non-Caster could emulate... but there were only so many of them, and when a Caster had no Valences, they had very little to fall back on.


    But no other Class could put out a Ranged Twinned Topped Split Energized Purified Burning Ray while under a Fiery Sheath for 72d8+72, or 646 damage to the nose at a thousand yards, either... and then Sudden Fastcast another one, for that boss creature with just way too much Health Qi.


    That''s why it was great to play a Caster, always having the right tool for the situation... until you ran out of power supply for tools. So, you got Reserves so you always had tools, and didn''t have to spend your big ones unless necessary.


    You just had to put in thousands of hours and endless qualifying Valence Casting to get there.


    The Tyranny of Rep Counts. "Oh, I should learn this..." became weeks of work. Practice, practice, practice.


    She could only dream at this point, looking at that massive negative Karma total, which, after some quick analysis, was exactly what was required to pay for the Levels, Masteries, and Feats she had retained, gained at maximum efficiency.


    No Soul Magic, no idea where she could find a +V or higher Meta this side of the gods for a long time. Dawnstopping was the only one she knew of.


    Doesn''t matter. Start with the basics.


    Archwizardry doubled her number of Spell Engrams. Archsorcery doubled the size of her Valence Pool. Archmagery allowed them to interchange... and split them into lower Valences, or combine them into higher Valences, if she wished.


    The base Valence Pools for a Ten Sorcerer totaled 71 Valences. That was doubled to 142 for a full Archsorcerer, and, ignoring bonuses from Stats, that was a lot of Valence I spells a day.


    Unfortunately, she had to use a minimum of a III Slot, there was no way around it, as she had to use both Still and Silent to Cast.


    She also needed a Focus that could cast a III, which meant QL 25, if she didn''t want to spend a minute per Casting without using a Focus. She certainly could not afford to take mana burn!


    Sudden Still-Silent-Twinned Fabricate, allowing her to make two Spellcraft checks of work a day, allowed her to refine the Wand and add enough silvered Runes to it to get it to 25 QL with a week of work.


    From there, she began casting her Shards, exactly fifty a day. This left all her Spell Engrams intact if need be, whose energy she could draw into her Rune Engrams or Valence Pool if needed.


    Adding Merciful to the spell required no Valences, rendered the spell unable to harm anything, and Shards splashed harmlessly off the ceiling as she slowly and methodically worked out the way to compress the Metas down to +0.


    Fifty spells a day, thousands of Reps ahead of her. She couldn''t even Weird the base spell at the same time as the Metas, a permissible stacking that wouldn''t help her with Rep Counts, only when it came time to actually Cast... and would simply fold into her Spell Thesis when she reached the counts for Valence III''s at seven thousand Reps.


    Without a better Wand, she couldn''t practice the +III''s or Valence III spells easily, so that might be a future priority. But without it, she patiently continued with her Weirding. After all, she had a lot of foundation to build before that point...

 122 Chapter One Hundred and Twenty-Two – Pride of the Erlking

    "Well, duh. A Chaotic Twenty warlord, and a Warp Gate singing with the siren call of slaughter. They''re pulling you in like a hungry lion to bleeding bait. Of course you were going to be here!"


    He didn''t look all that happy at hearing that, frowning at the impression he was a toy and a pawn before greater forces. For the willfully independent Fey, it was a maddening feeling.


    "And so... you have come to fight me? To chase me off?" he asked, irked.


    "Of course not. That is a total waste of my time, and doesn''t accomplish anything whatsoever," I snorted, and he actually relaxed a little bit. "No, no, I''m going to do things Properly. That means pissing the gods of the Warp off entirely, and turning their bait into a royal pain in the neck."


    His head tilted with the sharpness of an eagle seeing prey. "What do you mean?"


    I waved my hand, and from the trees behind me a couple of Marked elves came out, pushing a Disk with a decent amount of proper victuals on it. Elves were a neutral party to the Fey, so he could tolerate them much more easily. A couple chairs were set up on either side of the Disk, I waved him to one, and we both took a seat.


    He watched with naturally unblinking eyes as I poured the wine, and sampled some of the pastries. He was more a meat lover, naturally, but the nutty things were still acceptable, and they were Real, unlike the crap largely spun out of Glamour in Fey Courts.


    "Hearing you have designs upon me does not set me at ease, Sage Sama Rantha," he said proudly.


    "Oh, well, if you want to become a slave to the Warp Gods by charging out there with that force of incompetents you''ve assembled, you''re totally free to do so, I won''t stop you. I''ll just slaughter you once you give in." My tone was so casual he flushed, because he knew I could do it, too.


    "So, what machinations have you spun around me, then?"


    I reached over my back to my Masspack, and pulled out a Torc made of adamant, all of my personal supply having gone into it; an inhumanly shaped and horned skull that looked like it had been dipped in a weird combination of silver and gold; and a Diadem carved of dark bone, silver-filled scrimshaw etched over it, with several watching ravens.


    His eyes narrowed sharply, especially at the Torc. There were many, many Runes scrawled over it, limned in mithral, and an aura coming from it that, while not opposed to him, was not exactly harmonious, either.


    "And these are?" he asked shortly, eyeing them strangely.


    "This is a Crown of the Eternal Foe." I flicked it towards him, and it skidded across the Disk to stop before him. "We both know that while you will be useful against the Warped simply because you''re a Twenty and you can heal yourself endlessly, you won''t be dominating unless you restrain yourself to just picking on humans, who number a third or less of the incoming forces. The mutants that look so much like the centaurs, satyrs, and even minotaurs with you, you''re just not going to be very impressive against.


    "The crux of that is your hatred of humans makes you very strong against them, and a complete putz for your Level otherwise." His face flushed, he tensed up again, and I blandly went on before he let his anger get to his head and I would need to beat him down. "The Crown changes that enmity, what we call a Favored Enemy Bonus, to the Warped."


    Now he blinked, looking down at the bone crown. He reached out with nails more like talons, picked it up, and inspected it despite himself.


    He was a Twenty, and could appreciate Craftsmanship at that level. QL 35 was not something he often saw, especially in bone... and then he saw at least four different types of bones represented, and some familiar gemstones from a certain breastplate, and his eyes glittered in appreciation.


    "So, while wearing it, your natural, Fey-born enmity for Humans will fade away, but you''ll be filled with the same level of revulsion and disdain for the Warped... and all the miscellaneous effects that can operate off Favored Enemies will work for you. Foremost among them being Scorned Magic, a Feat which is nominally granted you by the gemstones set in the bone.


    "They will make you hugely resistant to any influence of the Warped."


    He exhaled sharply through his nose. It was an incredibly powerful, precisely directed gift. Totally useless, except against the Warped, against whom it would make him a terrible foe.


    And he would repay their disdain and arrogance tenfold...


    "And this?" he asked, touching the Torc, feeling the power.


    "You are already protected from the powers of Law and Evil." He gazed at it uncertainly. "The Warp is of Chaos... but it is also of deep, deep Evil; demonic, abyssal, primal. Your natural protection is not at a level that can defy pure Divine power. The Torc simply reinforces your natural protection. In magical terms, it raises its Valence from I to V." I tapped my finger twice for emphasis, shaking the Disk. "That means that the gods of the Warp cannot simply reach out and seize your mind and soul, and twist you for their own.


    "I know you don''t like to touch metal, but the fact is, this is the thing that is going to save you, more than anything else. I made it out of adamant and tulstang, treated it to be immune to rust and corrosion, and it was even Hardened on top of that. It has to Not Break. If it goes down, and you''re on that battlefield, you''re done."


    His talons clicked lightly on the Torc, considering.


    "The first time that thing lights up, and you feel their power wash past you, instead of into you, I can guarantee that you''re not going to mind wearing it. Furthermore, if they use any form of magic on you that has a transformative, mutative, or corruptive aspect to it, the tulstang will stop it instantly."


    He took another long, deep breath, almost a caw. "And it has no effect against those that are not wedded to Evil," he mused, almost amused. The profound Alignments were things Fey thought themselves above... right up until the Alignments kicked them in the teeth.


    "Correct."


    "And this Skull?" he inquired, picking it up.


    "Baneskull against the Warped, currently at Lesser Status. It will grow stronger as you slaughter them. Put it on the pommel of your Sword, or mount it on your Bow."


    He unslung his scabbarded wooden blade, and inserted the pommel nut into the spinal opening of the Skull. The thing shrank down instantly, sealing itself with a pop around the pommel.


    He drew it out slowly, watching the Banefire running along the edge of the Blade. It was of multiple hues all at once... bloody red, pink and yellow, orange and white, dirty green and brown, all stemming from a thin, sharp edge of utter black at the edge of the wooden blade.


    Tremble drifted out from behind me, and there was a flicker as golden soulfire was overlaid with the exact same assortment of colors. He noted the similarity instantly, and nodded slowly.


    "Powerful gifts, but only against the foe before us," he judged calmly, eyeing me shrewdly. "You want me to fight them..."


    "And?" I asked calmly.


    He considered me for a long moment. "You don''t want me slaughtering other humans coming to fight them?" he finally said in a low voice.


    "And maybe even being able to work with them against a greater threat... but that''s just wishful thinking on my part. After all, coordinating with others against a mutual foe, using teamwork to overcome superior numbers, is so gauche among the Fey."


    His expression turned a little peculiar, a mixture of appreciation for common sense and amazement that I could even propose such a thing to him. "This has something to do with the Marks you spreading among the mortal races?"


    I was so not surprised by the fact he knew of them. "Unlimited telepathic communication, equivalent to a blessing from a succubus. Mild enhancement to one of your Stats, like, a forty percent increase in Strength or so. Allows coordination within or across an entire battlefield."


    He regarded me sharply. "I have watched several of the battles taking place across the forest, and my people have told me of the movements of scouts, their ability to pick out the terrain and lay ambushes. This is all a result of you?" he asked, unable to keep a strange note out of his voice.


    As a warlord himself, he could appreciate the incredible level of troop coordination across a battlefield, and read the sudden elevation in combat ability for what it was.


    "Unlike succubi, I''m actually trustworthy," I grinned at him shamelessly. "The Warp Gods get to control all their minions, we should definitely get some of the same benefits." I kept his eyes fixed. "I''ve got five Void Brothers Marked, and more on the way." The Ancient and the Axe, a very, very scarred Urukhar, had arrived earlier today, carrying a Glaive that weighed more than I did. Briggs and I would be working on a new one for him tonight.


    His eyes really narrowed. He knew enough to tread cautiously around Void Brothers. The Wind and the Arrow would be the ones who had the most to do with the Fey, and he wouldn''t be averse to popping off any of the Fey who were getting too big for their britches.


    "Also, there''s an option you probably wouldn''t consider under normal circumstances, but your pride might lead you to doing."


    Of course, I''d already walked all over his pride, which was why he wasn''t going crazy accepting gifts from a Hagchild who was blatantly manipulating his desire to do battle against an invader, and playing on his fears. "My pride?" he murmured, arching an eyebrow.


    "If you go out on that battlefield, you are basically going to be carrying your troops. They''re going to suck." He bridled as I went on. "Not because they aren''t skilled. I''m sure you brought along some of the best of your people, considering what you are going to be facing. I''m talking in terms of recovery.


    "The Fey aren''t known for their recuperative ability, unless they are the lucky ones like you who can heal their flesh. Also, you don''t have clerics, and the number of Bards and Druids you have isn''t sufficient to carry your forces. You''re going to get in one fight, and then have to wait days for everyone to heal up before you can get into another fight.


    "You might have noticed that''s not as much a problem with the mortal forces."


    Now I had his interest. "You have access to healing magic?" He definitely didn''t believe it.


    I made another disparaging noise. "You do remember I''m a Null, right?" He grunted once. "Likewise, I don''t believe you want to be begging other forces for healing magic." His face twisted sharply. It wasn''t an issue for him. Give him five minutes, and he''d go from almost dead to fine and dandy, fast enough to give Wolverine conniptions.


    But his troops had no such magical gifts, and the number of Casters he had with magic would be extremely limited. There were only so many Nymphs around with their Druid levels, after all.


    "But... your Queen and her Nymphs or Druids potentially have an opportunity here. If they''ve provided healing for others altruistically in the past, they may qualify for Healing Reserve. Flora gets along with most Nymphs and Hamadryads, and can intercede with Amana if such a gift is intended to be used to defy the gods of the Warp.


    "The vast majority of your troops have high Health, and Healing Reserve can take care of all of it. A handful of Nymphs, with your Queen, could likely have your entire force back to full strength within hours using Healing Reserve." I paused significantly. "Or, you can be the least competent force on the battlefield."


    The nostrils in his long nose flared again. There was no way he''d bow his head to a deity to pray, even for such a marvelously useful thing. On the other hand, having a poor showing was going to weigh down on him equally hard.


    This wasn''t a shock attack, where the superior Health of elite troops would carry them through a fight, and then they would run away to fight another day. No, this was going to be a grind, fighting battle after battle, day after day... and his troops simply didn''t have the staying power. And while he was powerful... was he powerful enough to take on a whole warband by himself, and hope they couldn''t lock him down and kill him?


    He had already had a pint-size bitch with a sword crush him effortlessly. It had stung his pride, but he hadn''t been able to do ANYTHING to me. He wasn''t in my league... and now, he could tell, I was even more dangerous then I was back then. He wanted to challenge me, to prove himself the stronger... and he knew I was waiting for him to do just that, and I would crush him again.


    This time with mortal witnesses. The blow to his pride would be unimaginable.


    But being seen as ineffectual, a minor player... that was a blow to his status, his race, his nation, his Queen. Stomaching that...


    And then there was the fact that the bloodthirstiest of the Fey were wholeheartedly responding to the call of the Warp... traitors taking service under gods.


    What then, a mere mentioning of a conversational piece, not to be taken seriously... except by the women, who might not care for his pride or honor, and go out to ask a favor of one of the Divine? A favor that would benefit his own forces, with his hands completely clean, the decision not his to make?


    These Warp Gods needed to learn their place. And if he borrowed the power of gods to fight gods, that was only proper, was it not, their ilk battling against their own kind?


    And it would save the lives of his people...


    He didn''t verbalize it, of course, but I watched his body language and his eyes as the thoughts ran through his head, and knew I''d made my point.


    "I have no trust of humans, to wear such a Mark," he sniffed finally, changing the subject.


    "The trust I have of Fey is to be untrustworthy. You give word-lawyering a bad name, after all," I agreed sagely. He took no umbrage at the back-handed compliment, of course. Fey prided themselves on saying one thing and meaning another. It was a part of their language, after all, and if you couldn''t follow the sub-contexts, you were in for a really bad time.


    "You cannot use magic to assault the will, or subvert the thoughts of those who have them... because you cannot wield magic." Tiktiktiktik, tiktiktiktik, his talons drummed. "How easy is it to be rid of the Marks? Succubus Blessings are... annoying."


    I just lifted an eyebrow at that admission, unsurprised. "It''s a physical Tattoo. They can be suppressed by Casting a Dispel on them, and getting rid of them is basically Erasing a Tat or just carving it off and healing the wound, if you want to be quick about it. Or, you can just ask me to desynch it from the Master Mark, and you end up with some inert ink."


    "Mmmm." I knew he''d have to think about it. I doubted he would take one personally, but he might send in some troops. "Ah, also, I have news for you." His golden hawk''s eyes glittered. "I know where your mother is."

 123 Chapter One Hundred and Twenty-Three – Tyranny of Rep Counts II

    It took Haz¨¦ twenty days to solve the puzzle of Weirding the Silent Spell Meta. Able to use Valence II''s to cast now, she could do eighty Casts a day with I+I''s. Thirteen days after that, Still Spell was done. Eschew Components was inbuilt as a Sorcerer, she happily didn''t have to pay for it.


    In thirteen more days, she Weirded the base Shards spell by using Brutal, a +I, just in case. Weirded Shards, -1 to total cost of Metamagic applied to it. So with Brutal, it was +0. Brutal added +2 damage to each target of a spell, per Valence of the spell. Not a lot, but it all added up, and once Weirded, was ''free''.


    Shards could now reduce the cost of adding a Meta by 1, fitting more of it within the structure of the Valence. Still and Silent Spell had been harmonized to her Valence I, and could now be cast for +0 when stacked onto any spells from that Valence, effectively freeing up her entire Valence I spell list.


    Naturally, Weirded effects didn''t contribute towards Rep Counts. So, no making Purified, a +1 effect, +0 with Weird Shards and getting in cheaper Rep Counts to Weird down its cost at the same time. Likewise, couldn''t reduce Shards down to Cantrip level.


    But with Still and Silent spell out of the way, Haz¨¦ could now use Valence I spells easily. That meant she had defense, offense, and utility spells, even if they were only apprentice level.


    That was fine. She could do a LOT with basic level spells. She just had to be careful not to burn out her Wand...


    ------


    Energized Shards followed. This was a +II Meta that increased the damage of the spell by 50%. It gave her more damage punch, while staying within the limit of her Wand. It was still low, but enough to deal with a minor threat.


    A thousand castings, twenty days, and it was time to do a Valence II Still and Silent, slow and careful and without her Wand. Two thousand Castings per Meta, forty per day to start. Fifty days for Still, forty days for Silent once it was done and the cost reduced. Three months to run through both of them, but when she was done, she could cast all of her Valence II spells without using higher Slots.


    She moved right to Valence III''s. She had to get this out of the way, get access to as many spells as possible in case something came up.


    Four thousand reps, at only thirty per day, to get Still reduced, over four months. Another hundred days at forty per day, to get Silent.


    She was almost a year old now, and could finally cast her III''s from base Valence. It felt very liberating.


    ------


    Mama''s house was also changing. Unlike her instructor and adopted daughter, she had no problems with the spellcasting now that she had a teacher, especially one who could link with her telepathically and show her what to do.


    They discussed matters before taking the first step, which was about which Class she wanted to pick as Primary. As an Herbalist, and seeing the benefits of Star Wizardry, she went with pure Wizardess, which would affect all her training. Secondary Class wizards couldn''t learn Star Wizardry... and for a Hedge Wizard, which she definitely was, and not the most gifted of students, a variety of spells to solve problems was much more important then being able to cast a lot of them.


    Wizardry it was.


    There were two major paths of Wizardry, which were Warcasters and Tome Wizards.


    Haz¨¦ was a Warcaster, whose primary feature was doing more damage with spells through Warcaster''s Edge, and learning how to cast them smoothly and efficiently in combat. Their limit on maximum spells known was ten per Valence, + Int bonus, with penalties for researching new spells.


    Tome Wizards were the researchers and theorists of wizards, discovering and designing most of the spells, focusing on the principles and mysteries behind magic, getting into the nuts and bolts of how they worked. Their limit on Spells Known per Valence was their Intellect score, + any spells they researched themselves, which they did without penalty.


    It could be said that Warcasters were the jocks of the Wizard world, and Tome Wizards were the geeks. One discovered and understood them, and the other used them better.


    The non-violent mindset was definitely better for Mama, who had no desire to run off to a battlefield and get herself killed. She already had a fairly deep understanding of life and its cycles through her herblore and minor Alchemical studies, being a Tome Wizard just let her spread her wings across a greater area.


    Her first Valence I was Enrune, the ability to put one''s own personal Rune down on something, as a marker, indicator of ownership, something to be tracked, or even a tattoo or something, very similar to a magic signature.


    The design was a runic form done in a dozen different leaves from floral stems, laid end-to-end, the pattern forming the signature, not the shape of the stems.


    And then she placed it all over her house, and the objects within it. With Detect Magic, a Cantrip, she could then see all the Marks clearly, what they outlined, or use them as points of reference.


    Suddenly, she could navigate her house seamlessly and without needing to be wary of bumping into something. Even if something was moved, as long as it had her Rune on it, she could see it and avoid it.


    Soon enough, she was Enruning stones, posts, trees, fence lines, the collars and livery to her pony and goats, her small wagon, flowerpots, even her silverware and china, making them all visible to her and easy to find.


    Her next spell was Prestidigitation, the great utility and convenience spell of Valence I. Wave your hand, the dishes were done. Again, your clothes were clean. Again, the room was dusted. Again, the herbs were sorted. Again, all the books were put away and the cushions were in place. Again, and the porch was swept clean. Again, and the teapot was boiling and ready to serve.


    The amount of time that one spell could save over the minute/level it was around easily measured in the hours, especially when sorting and cleaning herbs.


    Third spell, Servant Spirit. Summoned a weak spirit for a long period of time that, while not strong, could easily perform drudgework tasks with only mild supervision. Clean the barn, turn the compost, pick up rocks and dung, fetch water, reorganize all the jars, trim the bushes, paint the siding, fold and put away the clothes, get the firewood...


    A perfectly obedient man around the house. Not too bright, did whatever it was told, leaving much more time to work on other things.


    For this reason, Extended, to double the duration of a spell, was the next Meta she worked on.


    The Mending Cantrip meant Mama could now fix simple broken items. Being a Cantrip, it could be cast endlessly, even if it was a Ritual and took ten minutes. It meant that she could now start marketing her repair services to the people of the town, and making some money on the side.


    The Ice Ray Cantrip gave her a warning shot of self-defense... and could also cool down water, milk, or other perishables, creating blocks of ice she could also sell... and her Spirit Servant could lug around. Ice alone soon became a major business, and learning Energy Fan so she could freeze a large volume of water all at once went on the list.


    Additionally, finally being taught some alternate recipes for alchemy meant she could start peddling things like matchsticks, childbirth prevention recipes, and much to her delight, skin care creams and perfumes, in addition to more effective herbal remedies, scents, poultices, and the like.


    Being able to use Ghost Hand and the Servant to pluck fruits meant the rather wild apple and plum trees on her property could now be properly harvested and treated, and they even began to harvest the wild grapes for their own special wines. Given the huge vineyards spanning much of the valley and everyone making their own wines as a hobby, this was not unusual... although the quality of them was.


    With the additional time and income, expanding the herb garden was much easier, and very soon the traffic coming up to her door was increasing.


    The townsfolk were very curious to learn that she had adopted a baby girl found on her doorstep, moreso that a blind woman could take care of her. However, Haz¨¦ was so cute and obviously well-taken care of that the questions soon stopped, and it was secondary to the fact that now Mama Greta could actually use magic, and was happy to do so cheaply for her neighbors.


    Those friends also wanted to buy Haze''s baby clothes as she outgrew them, or at least imitate the patterns. Her "Haz¨¦ (heart) Mama" shirts were quickly known all over the small town, as was her smile while wearing them.


    With greater proficiency in alchemy and quietly selling spells came greater income. Soon enough, the vineyard owners were coming with special requests, and when they found she was really quite as good as their workers were saying, different and more lucrative requests were coming to her. Birth control tea was especially popular for the women, and the skin creams took right off.


    Earning gold and gaining influence through magic slowly and surely garnered Karma. Soon enough Mama was freezing a large divider full of water and had a brawny young lad delivering ice for her, and the wealthier townsfolk paying for a regular supply.


    Mama Greta advanced to Wizard/2, just another spell, longer durations, more area covered, then took her Sorcerer/1, activating the mutt Arcane Bloodline most humans had, and gained more spells/day castable, helping support her business.


    One of the guards of the noble family that ran the vineyard first broached the subject of true magical Potions, not merely Energized Alchemy. Mama Greta was happy to tell them that it was completely possible, if they could but acquire the ingredients. She was not a Three yet, but Valence II Potions would certainly be available at that time.


    A list was provided, contacts were tapped, and the components were delivered to her.


    That was the beginning of real money, as a short period of work resulted in real gold earned. The two of them began to expand their facilities, as the skin cream was beginning to gain some fame, and when the townsfolk made the mistake of reselling the cream she was making for them for a great deal more money, she stopped supplying them so cheaply and collected the middleman fee for herself.


    -------


    She took Alchemist/1, and kept that her limit of Secondary Class expansion, taking Wizard/3 next.


    The first time Mama Greta cast See the Invisible, she took Haz¨¦''s little hand, and they want out to watch the first sunset and moonrise Mama had seen in over twenty years together.


    "Bless the Silver Queen for sending you to me, Haz¨¦," Mama murmured, as they watched the moon rise with her trail of stars, giving the little girl on her lap a loving squeeze. For all the power she had, Haz¨¦ never acted as anything other than Mama''s little girl when she was not instructing magic.


    If the townsfolk knew that a Ten Archmaga was living in their little town, they would all have fallen over in shock. The Duke''s advisor was naught but an Eight; to find a Ten required you going to the Mage''s Guild or perhaps the Silver Queen''s own temple. It was rumored that one of the Archbishops of the Kingdom was an Eleven, a Saint of the Church, but that was unconfirmed. Haz¨¦ was probably the most powerful spellcaster in the Kingdom, and unsatisfied at being so, at that.


    "Good people deserve good things, Mama," Haz¨¦ replied calmly, watching that silver moon. The Goddess of Silver Magic, the Moon, Stars, and Navigation ascended slowly, and they watched until Mama''s spell went away.


    --------


    Soon after, Haz¨¦ helped her make her Glasses. The aviator-style glasses of obsidian hid her lifeless eyes, gave her normal human sight, and could be powered by Cantrip-level energy to let her see magic, and the invisible.

 124 Chapter One Hundred and Twenty-Four – Tusk Annie is Where?

    "Well, that sure took you long enough. I always thought Fey had a decent gossip system, but I thought you decided to forget all about that matter." Which would be precisely something a Fey would do. After all, I''d given no time limit to it, sparing his life or no.


    "I grew somewhat more curious after meeting one of her blood who was so dangerous." He watched me for some sign, found none, and was disappointed. I was just listening to him, literally having a bunch of things on my mind. I just gestured for him to keep talking, knowing I had power over him by Fey obligation to repay debts.


    "While she has been many places in the human lands to the South, right now, she is there." He pointed.


    I very pointedly turned around in that direction, staring with a frown. "Well, now. Well, well, well..." I turned back to him, sitting back in my chair and swirling my glass of wine, thinking. "Damn, she''s sold out everyone..." I murmured to myself, drawing lines and making connections. "Have you tracked her movements over the last few years? Ah, it doesn''t matter, I could get lucky and guess, given how many places are showing her fingers..."


    I took a sip, looked to him. "Is she inside the Rift, or just around it?"


    "She may have led a coven of senior Hags in establishing the stelae that anchor the Warp Rift in Yle Tyorm. In any event, she is walking among the Warped without being attacked."


    Dear Hagmom had brought the Warped here. That was pretty bad, but she was also definitely affiliated with the doppelganger substitutions that had been going on, as my erstwhile nanny had likely been the one to deliver me to her to be consumed by her Hagchild.


    If she was affiliated with that, she was probably working with, or at the very least aware of, the moves being made by the Things Outside Creation.


    If the Hags were the ones helping things into place for when the Stars Were Wrong... well, I could see why Void Brothers might not like Hags. She must have been biding her time for a long time to slip under their radar...


    Of course, she was an Annis, and her fort¨¦ would be ripping things apart with her bare hands, not dominating via witchcraft or Hagwefting crap through prophecy and curses. Physical killing wasn''t something that the Brotherhood did much about, and if she was just helping others get things in place, she could lurk for a long, long time.


    Yle Tyorm was a place so fucked up, not even the Brotherhood was going to sense anything going on there until it was too late. As long as they found a single safe zone within, and as long as someone insane didn''t go exploring, they were perfectly hidden away.


    Wise, clever, patient... and totally freaking nasty when their plans came fruition. A plan worthy of Hags.


    Was I going to be able to catch her there? I had severe doubts. She''d have many ways to escape, and if she learned anything of my reputation, she quickly wouldn''t want to cross blades with me.


    But she could run, and I could follow. It''s just a Caster who could use spatial magic could run a lot farther and faster than I could... if I couldn''t get close enough in time, whereupon she couldn''t run at all.


    But still, she was in Yle Tyorm. Good to know.


    News that a coven of senior Hags was likely the force that had anchored the Warp Portal was already singing out through Marktell. It meant another force involved in multiple things, and stepped up the level of wariness, as Hags were known shapechangers and infiltrators. Certainly they''d attempt to infiltrate the forces gathered to fight them, as hitting us from inside would naturally be the most effective.


    Being at the center of a modern-class information-sharing network made for scary effective counter-intelligence. No infiltrators were going to like how we were looking at them. Notably, Detect Shapechanger wasn''t all that hard a spell to get ahold of, and was being disseminated rapidly.


    Mmmm. Scenarios spun out, but I didn''t have enough information. That was fine.


    "If you want to get Marked, it''ll have to be on your neck, in direct contact with that Torc, if you are wearing it. Otherwise, it''ll cut off the telepathic communication just like it would any other outside mental contact," I told him agreeably. "Of course, I don''t think that''ll happen, and you''ll just tell some of your officers to get Marked to coordinate through them, but I''m putting it out there. Of course, to get the real benefits you need to get as many troops Marked as possible, but I''m already putting eight hours a day into that, so I''m going to be busy for the foreseeable future."


    He regarded me carefully. "I will do it."


    Despite myself, I blinked. "Really." I finished my wine, reached for the bottle. "Well, that''s fine. You want it on the back of the neck, where it''s hidden, or on the side, where you can tear it off if needed?"


    My continued lack of being impressed by him was probably getting to him. "The side. I wish to be able to see it."


    "Good enough. Now? I''ll make an exception since I don''t think you want to line up with more dwarves on the morrow to get theirs."


    He only paused briefly. "Well enough." He weighed me in his eyes. "I would ask, but I doubt you would be offended if I ripped it off immediately after I received it, would you?"


    "I long ago ceased to wonder why Fey did anything. You''ve got your motivations, I''ve got mine. You waste five minutes of my time, no skin off my nose."


    "You may proceed, if you have the tools."


    I raised an eyebrow, set down my glass, and pulled the case out of my Masspack. "Which side do you want it on?"


    He tapped the side of his neck with his talon. I picked up the Torc, and as he watched, snapped it around his neck, making sure where it crossed.


    "Okay. If you whimper even a bit, I''m telling ALL the Nymphs."


    Needless to say, he didn''t make a peep as I went to work. He was surprised I didn''t need needles, relying on my fingers... and Tremble lending Blooding to my hands, so that his fast healing wouldn''t force the Ink out instantly. I think I annoyed him when his quick healing didn''t slow me down at all...


    ===============


    I stuck him in his own chatbox. He got to look at The Map, and listen in to the Scout updates, and look on as I played Warlord for three different battles at the same time, and see the real-time effects of coordination, and Tremble Singing.


    He wasn''t a Marshal, and had no power to buff his troops and lead them like I did. He was very quickly aware that if he faced me on a battlefield, I would not only butcher him, I''d chew his troops into minced meat alongside him.


    He was a Champion, I didn''t consider him a warlord at all. A true Warlord had to be able to lead, turn their troops into the most awesome fighting forces imaginable. He had none of the power to do that, relegating him to being merely a very normal officer trying to command his troops, if he bothered to at all.


    And, of course, he also had to put up with the fact that my mental presence totally overwhelmed his. Yeah, he was a Twenty. Yeah, the strength of his soul allowed him to access abilities and feats and powers that I simply could not.


    But he was oooooh so not smarter then me, wiser, or charismatic. In force of personality alone, I crushed him.


    That is a really harrowing feeling to a big bad physical kind of person, when the fact they are blatantly inferior in the mental arena is shoved into their faces. Worse, he was a Fey, and a Twenty, and it was really, really hard for him to change anything about that. Add in that in the physical arena I could still kick his ass, and he definitely was having insecurity issues.


    But be that as it may, he could still cast magic, and it was powerful and lethal. He could fight for hours, he could fly, he could stealth, he could do a lot of things. I simply asked him how much he wanted to contribute, gave him a list of things he could do, and inquired what he wanted me to do about the Fey forces he was commanding.


    He put on the Crown. He put on the Torc. He lifted his Sword, burning at +VII with Banefire against the Warped, and he looked at The Map, and the many forces of Warped all over the damn place.


    "What are you recommending?" he /asked.


    -Terrorize them while you keep their positions up to date. Maximize use of your magic and your speed. Hit their flying forces especially. Be unpredictable, be savage. Reap their lives, don''t worry about killing them all. Set them up for the ground forces to do the job.


    -Your goal every day should be to expend all your magic to wreak maximum harm upon the foe. If using the magic in one place allows even more of them to be killed by other hands then doing it another, consider doing so.


    -When the Fey who''ve been lured in succumb to the Warp, slaughter them all. I imagine they are Unseelie anyways, but it should send a clear message to everyone that bowing to the Warp is completely unacceptable to the Fey.


    -If you come up with some inspired move, just let me know and I''ll work with it. You''re very good at your job, you know how to do it, and if everyone else knows where you are and what are doing, the effects of it will be magnified.


    -Also... you are uniquely equipped to be a roaming savior. The spatial disturbance of the Warp is not friendly to teleportation travel as we get closer to it. You are the Fast and the Furious, you can get somewhere and pull people''s ass out of the fire better then anyone else in this force. I know that being a savior is not what you normally do, especially to non-Fey, but I believe you can imagine the boost to morale that will result if you undertake such actions.-


    And the glory and honor that would be heaped upon his name, but no need to say that, he could work it out himself. Even if all he did was park himself up in the sky and rain down Baned arrows, that would be more than enough.


    "But before you do all that, you need to do some supply runs." His mental eyes turned on me. "At least forty quivers of arrows. They''ll be disseminated among the forces currently at work, so you can re-equip rapidly at some place nearby, without you needing to run off somewhere to get more."


    "This... ''killing them in downtime'' philosophy you have." He ruminated over it. "You know that my Queen makes my arrows personally."


    "Your Queen has enough power to make everyone''s arrows personally." Woodshaping at will was a natural part of a Hamadryad''s powers.


    Every arrow loosed on the field a personal expression of the displeasure of his Queen... I could see he found the idea quite stimulating.


    "I will speak with my Lady. I imagine she will have many questions."


    "Which I''m sure that you''ll now be able to answer." I waved him off. "Go do."


    "I will be sending some lancers to you for your attention."


    "Mmmm." Okay, I was going to have to forge some magical Tat-making tools, to cut my time in half on the things, or better. The demand was getting ridiculous. My modifier was only +35 or so, and although the people didn''t know it, they were carrying around QL 40 pieces of art on them, only seen correctly under some really high magnification.


    Some Tools of Shaping could cut the time down to a third, and with some Marvelous Pigments, a fifth.


    Somehow, I doubted getting the raw materials was going to be that difficult, and Briggs could handle the alchemy...

 125 Chapter One Hundred and Twenty-Five – The Lived-Line

    The inhabitants of the small town of Vyster and its winery had no idea a Ten was watching over them. Haz¨¦ was prone to ''go playing'' for hours on end, doing two things: expanding her lived-line, and robbing certain individuals blind.


    The first thing was simple, as it involved walking around. In her case, it involved using shape-changing magic to be taller and look older, and running around.


    Spatial Magic was a very fickle thing. The ban on any form of spatial-expanding magic items was well known, as they formed ''pimples'' in the Veil, that could be popped and easily invaded by extra-dimensional beings, which could become a total disaster for the immediate area before the breach was sealed. So, nobody made Bags of Holding, unless they were insane. They were usually the first victims of their own stupidity.


    There was no real problem using spatial magic to swap locations. However, space was bent by gravity/matter, and so matter dragged at spatial magic. Teleporting to a non-grounded location with any level of spatial magic was nigh impossible. So, using a dimension door to pop up a thousand feet in the sky? Didn''t happen. You''d end up right next to where you started.


    It also meant that teleporting to a flying ship or a cloud island was impossible, as the spell wouldn''t make the connection. You did actually have to fly up there, so aerial power was indeed a thing.


    Likewise, making any kind of Summoning Portal or Rift or Gate or anything that wasn''t at ground level was basically doomed to failure. Even if it started up in the air, it would be pulled down quickly.


    So, all pop-and-go magic was surface-to-surface. Ah, except water wasn''t firm enough, and so teleportation couldn''t pass any running body of water over fifty feet wide. So, no teleporting across the ocean, for example.


    The exception, of course, was your lived-line.


    That was the common term for your past temporal track, the line of your life. Every step you took upon the surface of the world formed a map and trail across it through time. You could try to teleport to a place you scried, and you''d probably miss it but get close as you tried to picture exactly where it was, even if you were using a coordinate system.


    But you could teleport anywhere along your lived-line accurately, merely resetting your physical coordinates to a past location, via a shift through the temporal. True tesseracting.


    Some overly ambitious sorts had once thought of trying to teleport ahead to future lived-line coordinates, using loop logic to convince themselves that once they arrived there, they could simply track backwards and link up their lived-lines.


    Those idiots were never seen again, and general consensus was they''d hit a temporal loop and the Hounds of Tindalos got them, or the Shadow and the Knife had offed them to prevent a time loop from manifesting.


    Smart wizards teleported along their lived-line. That did mean that they had to travel overland, not flying, at the most riding a beast, and establish a trail-map of places they had gone to and so could move along.


    Complicating this process were Interdiction zones, which any town of any size had set up, the Veil strengthened and nigh-impossible to breach. This simple tactic kept out incorporeal spirits, ethereal things, creatures using phasing, prevented creatures from being Summoned in, and Casters from doing things like Blinking past doors, Teleporting into vaults, ether-walking through walls, and the like. You had to detour around such zones, or they interrupted your lived-line.


    Likewise, you had to cross the rivers and streams. If they had a bridge, great. If the bridge was destroyed, not good. So, a Caster might actually make a series of rocks in the water, less then fifty feet apart, and cross the water, walking from one to the next, forming a more secure and personal lived-line.


    Actually, it had been proven that if you simply walked on the water, you could ''write'' your lived-line onto the bottom of the body of water below, using it as a conductor. However, you couldn''t transport yourself anywhere on that line, only to any solid points of ground it intersected.


    Finding a wizard willing to walk across hundreds of miles of churning seas to draw a lived-line across it was a whole ''nuther problem. Naturally, riding a ship cut your lived-line.


    This was all important, because one of the things Haz¨¦ was doing at night was expanding her lived-line, i.e. going exploring from place to place.


    From the age of one to two, she traveled over three thousand miles of roads, leading to all the major cities of the Empire she had found herself in. She did much of them as a dog, if she wasn''t running them in an older form to get her conditioning up and work on her lightfoot. Polymorphing spells were a great boon for early physical training!


    ---


    Everything was painted into her Visual File, along with Detect Location to solidify spatial coordinates and provide measurements, giving her a personal Lived-Map of excruciating detail which she could draw up right out of her memory and walk around in virtually. She could even fill in details of people, places, and names, like her own Google Map.


    Teleporting had a nominal range of ten miles per Caster Level. Naturally, this was far, far too short for the needs of a wizard who wanted to breakfast on the sea, lunch on the mountaintops, and sup on the lakeshore in different nations.


    She could Range the spell with a 1/day Sudden Range, doubling the distance covered. She could also Teleport from one Rune Seal to another, Energizing her own Seal to double her range out, and then if the Seal on the other end was Energized, double it again.


    Powerful cities might have Energized Seals on their ends, allowing Casters to break the Interdiction and go directly to them, usually located in a mage''s guild, temple, or fortified military location. Anyone who could teleport in was naturally a powerful entity, and the powers-that-be naturally liked to track the comings and goings of such people... and charge them a hefty fee for use of the Seal, of course.


    Such people often didn''t like to use those Seals for those very reasons, and so would make their own Seals to come and go in private areas, and put up with the walk into the city if possible. So, scattered around cities were often illusion-covered private Rune Seals scribed on trees, rocks, boulders, and the like, tucked away out-of-sight until they were needed.


    Haz¨¦ was doing the same thing. She was far too young to dare use any city''s Rune Seal, so the maximum modifier she would ever get would be x4 for now... but if she had sufficient Caster Level raises, moving 500+ miles in one Casting was definitely possible.


    She ran, and made an Energized Dual Seal just off the road when her run time was up. She Teleported back home, and then the next day Teleported back to where she''d left off the night before, repeating the process. By using Dual Seals, which dissipated in a day/Caster level, she could also double her range coming and going.


    A potential thousand miles and more in one Casting was impressive, too, if she dared to do it. She had to avoid entering walled towns with Wards, as their gates were often designed to spot magic use by those entering, as she didn''t want to be revealed as a child. Getting close to them was usually good enough, and if she had to run around them, she ran around them. If the way was totally blocked, well, she could fly, which also meant she could walk up the side of hills and mountains without any problem to get where she was going, as long as she stayed in contact with the land, or trail a hand or foot in the water as she glided along above it.


    As for the local area around Vyster, to be on the safe side, she Gridmapped it.


    She went down every street and trail, and fixed teleporting points in her mind, also putting down Seals here, there, and everywhere for about ten miles around, generally one location for every half-mile, gridding out the area so she could be within two minutes of anything that happened. In town, and the smaller villages close by, she could be there literally within seconds.


    Why was she doing this? Well, mostly it was so she could steal and run away.


    -----


    There were a lot of things she didn''t like about this Empire, particularly in the cities and the country estates of the nobility.


    On her travels she saw many shrines and churches to the gods of Good that had been abandoned, sometimes taken over by the uncaring, or even the blasphemous. You just don''t raise a house of Skulos in an old church of Aru...


    There were necromancers running around, espousing the cheap labor of skeletons and zombies, ignoring the rot that spread out into the environment from the negative energy. Likewise, slaves were particularly common on the noble estates, their treatment ranging from fair to totally abominable. Usury was rising, driving people from their homes and generating more slaves for the unscrupulous. Banditry rose in tandem with it, as working for a living became less and less viable.


    Oppression was rising, and then the sticky fingers of the Seven Sins with it. She could see the spread clearly, and it sickened her.


    And she happened to have this problem of needing massive amounts of Karma. Karma could be gained by striking out against darkness, and one of the best ways to do that was to remove their funds and cost them a lot of money.


    And if she happened to kill a lot of spellcasters who were preying on others with their magic, well, what goes around, comes around.


    --------------------


    The explosion shook the whole temple, fairly throwing the Master of Death from his bed, his crooked Staff bouncing away from his hand before he could grab it.


    Much more alarming was the wailing he could heard, the tenor of it completely different from anything he''d heard before.


    That sounded like... release?


    The bony old man grabbed up his Staff and with a gesture of his hand his robes wrapped around himself. A thought and the Wards on his door were silenced, he opened up the door, opening his mouth to shout-


    The backflash blew him back off his feet, searing him with a rising inferno, stemming from the massive Elemental in the shape of a burning swam twelve feet tall that was setting everything on fire around it happily.


    Soak bleeding away, the death priest swore and prayed for the power to resist fire as his Soak fought away the flames starting to eat away at everything. Cool power fell over him, and he snarled as he chanted the prayer to a Dispel that would send the Elemental on its way.


    And it failed.


    He gawked, realizing the lurch that had woken him earlier had broken the center of the temple''s Wards, shattering the unholy ground of the church. Whoever had attacked had shattered the main altar, and with it much of the dark power that reinforced the members of the temple.


    There was a distant boom, and he saw the walls lurch. Something was pounding at the support beams of the church, and his eyes rose in horror. If the main column there failed, the roof would ¨C


    There was another boom, and an awful cracking rose from the roof above. He looked up just in time to see it falling down upon him.


    ---


    Haz¨¦ watched the temple burn. It was total blasphemy, once a sacred site of Aru, a point of pilgrimage for the faithful, looking over and giving a great blessing to the town below.


    It had been harried, attacked, and the priests run off by the local nobility and dark forces together, sending the area into a time of gloom and doom as the priests of the death god Skulos set up shop in the stripped remains.


    Now they were burning under the bright moon, and the many undead they''d assembled in the crypts beneath were burning free in vivic fire.


    The air elemental dropped down in a whirlwind, and blew the rising inferno into a wind devil throughout the entire church.


    As for the treasury, she''d looted it first, and it was already burning and melting down behind her to foil any divination. She had a lot of Gear to make, starting with a much, much higher Quality Focus.


    Non-Detection she''d already Raised to V, Astral Ward, and tied a Valence V to it, auto-Renewing for seamless coverage. Trying to Div her out wasn''t going to work at all...


    Of course, when they tried to scry on her, that was an excuse to kill them, too...

 126 Chapter One Hundred and Twenty-Six – The Order of the Lion

    Fighting elves was a total pain in the ass in wooded terrain. Briggs almost laughed to himself.


    He was okay as far as skulking went, but in the trees, if a lightly-armored elf didn''t want to be seen, well, Treeslipping, 90% concealment, was a huge thing. Even he''d just see shadows flitting around now and then, stray gusts of wind moving the vegetation.


    The trees also broke the battle lines of these armored troops, which forced them into open formations where two-on-ones were much easier to do, and the elves excelled in such flanking tactics.


    Sure, they could have beat the raiders with a magic-heavy slugfest, but that wasted Valences that might be needed later. At most, the elves wanted to spend one Valence per enemy, giving them some reserves to fall back on... or the ability to coordinate for a big strike.


    Mostly, it was a combination of sneak attacks, sudden strikes, and a lot of sniping as the Warp warriors were drawn out of position. Occasionally there''d be a crackle of magic, or the vegetation would come alive and tie a group down for precious seconds, while elves would melt out of the foliage to cut them to shreds, or just fill them full of arrows at point-blank range from just beyond their reach.


    Minor illusion screens, the occasional flash of an Energy Fan swallowing a small group, and the skirl of steel and laughing singsong cries of the elves through the trees.


    A net drawing tighter and tighter, as Sama had everything in the palm of her hand, cutting apart the fools, ringing them one by one, taking them down in the quiet, rolling down the length of the warband in flitting death.


    -----------


    The commander of the warband, requisite horned helm equipped, realized what was happening, and horns of bone blew, signaling the withdrawal. Some heeded it, some didn''t, and all of the latter died, only some of the former, chased by arrows as they realized belatedly that being twice the mass of your opponents didn''t mean you were going to beat them.


    Fewer then half of those who''d driven in after the elvish snipers, thirsting for blood, stumbled out of the forest, and rapidly withdrew beyond bow range, losing a few more of their number as they did so.


    Their very irked commander glared at the forest, entertaining ideas of setting it all alight, and having some misgivings inside about the lethality of who they were facing. The elves had been much tougher to deal with then their appearances indicated.


    Supernatural awareness turned his head around as his warriors drew themselves up once more, bloodied but yet ready to slaughter.


    Strange, there was nothing behind him, what did ¨C


    There was a flicker of light, and an elf atop a stag was suddenly at the far end of his men''s line, a silver sword coming down and point, faint lines of electricity gathering around it.


    "Klaw!" he swore, kicking his horse and getting out of the way.


    The bolt of lightning was only ten feet wide, but it was hundreds of feet long, chewing through the middle of his lines and sending his men flying, blasted and broken by the snarling, writhing blast of magic.


    And as he was spinning his Warp-mutated horse around, the illusion behind him disappeared, and the edge of the Sound Bubble swept past him, momentarily substituting the screams of his men for the rumbling sound of many horses charging.


    Fully two hundred armored human heavy cavalry were surging for the back of his unprotected line, less then a hundred feet away. They covered the distance in only a breath or two, and he could only stare in disbelief and raise his great axe as the lances came in!


    They shouted a word as they came crashing in... the same word he''d heard the elves using.


    "TREMBLE!"


    And then they smashed into the back of his warband with steel and thunder, hurling his troops around, lances punching deep, and iron-shod hooves trampling them into the soil.


    At the same time, streams of elves poured out of the forest in two wings, sweeping to the sides to insure the Warped couldn''t run away.


    His eyes were fixed on the hard, grim face of the commander who had driven a lance into his gut, lifting him completely off his horse. In his eyes, he noted a transcendental ecstasy, a confidence that he''d seen in the eyes of many of the elves who''d laughed and vanished into the green before him.


    Like there was someone else behind those eyes, driving these men forwards...


    Those were his last thoughts, as his dreams of power and slaughter for the glory of the God of Carnage burned away forever, and he heard the remorseless laughter of the Lord of the Gore Throne reaching out for him...


    --------------


    The big brute was some champion, swinging around an Axe too big and spiked for anyone with sense. Briggs shook his head as he slammed Endure directly into it.


    Steel screamed, blew apart from the force. His Hammer smashed right through the Weapon, its Dire design full of flaws in his eyes. Endure looped around, and smashed into an armored knee.


    The guy was a tower, but the thick armor he was wearing might as well have been foil. Bone crunched even as he was gaping at the ruins of his Axe, his leg kicked out, and he slammed to the ground almost as fast as his leg rose haplessly into the air.


    He hadn''t even hit the ground when he saw the Hammer coming down, directly on his helm. His shout of defiance, his trust in his thick armor forged in the fires of the Warp, ended with a crunching impact as his faceplate caved in and joined the Hammer on its way through his face and into his brain.


    Briggs continued stepping forwards, barely looking at the hulking corpse as it twitched. The lesser warriors besides this brute, their arms all swollen up with some strength-enhancing magic of the Warp, took a step back despite themselves when they saw him slaughter their boss... the way they thought they should be slaughtering him.


    Endure smashed into a shield, broke the arm behind it, crunched into the owner''s chest, and sent the man plowing backwards into the one behind him. Briggs deflected an axe off his bracer, grabbed the man''s swollen arm and pulled, heaving him right off his feet, demonic strength or no, and Estemar''s sword was inserted smoothly under his chin to stop any nonsense, while Endure came streaking around, smashed down a sword trying to parry, and a helmed head''s neck shattered as he stove that helmet in.


    Metal and bone crunched as he waded in on the last of the Warpband, bodies flying and falling, and keen blades descending to make sure those who fell didn''t get up. There were a dozen elves used to the havoc he wreaked following behind him and Estemar, and the way he was throwing around bodies was making use of their presence. Three different styles of combat at work, synergizing nicely to leave a trail of doom.


    -Line it up!-


    One step, two, in time to music in the mind, and they were all suddenly in a line, pausing. The Warped also paused, wondering what was going on... and then snapped around, crying out in alarm.


    The cavalry charge they''d diverted attention from plowed through them, and suddenly there wasn''t anything left to fight, those on the ground trampled flat and bloody, and final notes from Tremble indicated that the battle here was over.


    Briggs lowered Endure, looked around, and nodded... he''d gone into the toughest knot of the things, the rest of the field had been ridden down, the elves making sure nothing got away.


    Vivic fire was already rising on the ones he''d killed, and elven voices sang out after they first recovered for a moment, and then began to hunt down all the dead, to drag into piles and watch them burn in unwhite bonfires to the land.


    Everyone knew that tomorrow flowers would be sprouting here...


    Other elves started looking for magic, which could be rendered down, purified, and used to make items of their own. +Soulbound Weapons were very, very popular suddenly, and the Warped often held a remarkable amount of low-end magical Weapons for salvaging.


    He started picking up the remnants of magic from his kills, Estemar doing the same and pointing such things out with finger-flicks. Then they heaved the bodies onto a rapidly growing pile of the dead with enthusiasm.


    The young prince had taken a Level in Sorcerer and the Celestial Bloodline keyed by his status as a Paladin had woken up. He wanted to get his wings and fly.


    Briggs could see the revulsion in the boy''s eyes as he hauled mutated brutes over and threw them on the pile. He was using a +Soulbound Weapon, which meant he could feel the souls of those he killed, the darkness and corruption upon them, and knew intimately just how deranged and savage the foes he was killing were.


    There was a great serenity to be found when killing creatures you needed feel no mercy nor pity towards. Even if it wasn''t motivation to be rid of such foul things, like a Paladin would feel, it was serenity and lack of any guilt.


    These Warped were rabid beasts that had to be put down. Feeling sympathy for them was something they would have to earn, and that was extremely unlikely from all parties concerned. Looking at them as bundles of Karma waiting to be harvested, yeah, that was fine.


    He turned around as he heard the jingle of a heavy horse coming up behind him. The roan was the size of a Clydesdale, which wasn''t all that unexpected. The horses of the Warped were near the same size, but with much more exaggerated features, and usually horns or spikes in odd places. Their carcasses littered the area, as the savage things couldn''t be allowed to escape and reproduce, and nobody felt like eating the tainted meat.


    The Land, glutton that it was, took them all.


    "Master Briggs." He recognized the voice from Marktell, Sama had been directing that devastating rear charge through him.


    "Sir Boryir, I presume?" Briggs turned around to offer his hand, and with only the slightest hesitation the noble knight bent quite a distance down to take it. "Nice lancework, sir." He gestured at the line of dead. "Let me be very, very frank. You and your knights need to go over there and claim your share of Investable assets off the dead. If you don''t do the work, you don''t get the prize. I''ll be up there to set some vivic fires for you, but all those dead need to burn, and if you''re too proud to help with the work, we''re too proud to pay you for not doing it."


    Sir Boryir flicked a cool glance that way, and nodded shortly, his long mustaches remarkably clean for all the fighting. "I will inform my brethren shortly. After Dream..." he trailed off once, eyes catching a scene far away. "I know how things work. They can gain better Gear through their own ability, rather then relying on handouts from nobles and the crown. Their pride will take the hit." He looked around once. "She... is not here?"


    "If you look at the Map, you''ll see she''s ten miles that way." Briggs pointed, and squinted. "I think that''s a black cloud forming, which means somebody over there Summoned something, and the Land is going to feast."


    Elves nearby overheard, heads turned, and the field went silent. A moment later, Marktell opened up, and as the Sluggor was vomited into existence with a cadre of Cancer-Clowns capering about it in joy and swollen, slime-spewing glee, Tremble''s Song flared through their minds again.


    The Sluggor died badly, as did its Pusboys and Clowns, and the Land came up to feast. They felt the wave of power even this far away, rustling the grass and leaves, and all of a sudden, all the corpses going vivic blazed up like someone had poured gasoline on them.


    "Ah, grabbing munchies in passing," Briggs said sagely, and continued with his work.

 127 Chapter One Hundred and Twenty-Seven – Hazé wuvs Mama

    Haz¨¦ knew the two idiots were bad news as soon as they walked in the door. The bell rang loudly, and heavy boots scuffed the floor, pounding on the boards self-importantly, breaths were cleared haughtily, and loud sniffs could be heard even before she and Mama came out of the back room.


    It was now no secret that Mama could see, even if her head didn''t exactly zero in on what she was looking at. Still, Haz¨¦ held her hand as they came out to the counter, and both of them wrinkled their noses at the odors of the chemicals coming off the two men there.


    Both of them were adorned in belts, pouches, and bandoliers, from which hung more purses, bottles, vials, packets, and other suspicious things, along with a prominent badge on the shoulder of their black robes... which looked to have gone through a fire or two at one time or another, and had many a suspicious stain on them.


    "Oh, it''s you two again." Haz¨¦ wrinkled her small nose unpleasantly. "Mama, they still haven''t learned how to wash clothes and take a bath yet!" she piped up, the way her head was thrown proudly back clearly conveying that SHE had learned how to do those two very important tasks!


    "Hush, dear," Mama Greta patted her hand, while the two men scowled unpleasantly. "Well, well, what can my little shop possibly have to satisfy the Alchemist''s Guild, Masters Ulgwith and Rombal? Do you want to place an order for some actually fresh herbs, instead of that dried dust you sell to idiots who don''t know alchemy?"


    Her voice was warm and welcoming, in total contrast to her words.


    "See here, woman! Insulting the Guild is a dangerous thing for a mere hedge witch!" sneered the shorter man, Ulgwith, his bald skull sporting a bright green patch of glow-in-the-dark skin from some accident or another, and fairly reeked of preparing too much pallcap mushroom oil, giving him an unsightly twitch every now and then. One of his eyes was also near bulging out of its socket, probably from using moon oil to help him see in the dark.


    Haz¨¦ was fairly certain the two of them were corpse robbers, reducing fresh corpses before they could be vivified down for materials sold off under the table to wealthy idiots dabbling in stuff they shouldn''t.


    "My, how threatening. So, you''ve come to my home to sell threats now, have you?" It was really hard to look Mama in the eyes when she was looking a foot to your left.


    "I think they came to smell up the place!" Haz¨¦ proclaimed, and Mama sighed theatrically, shushing her again.


    "You know why we are here, Greta-" Rombal began in a wheezing voice.


    "Mama Greta!" Haz¨¦ promptly interrupted him proudly. The tall one was too pale, cadaverously thin, and had a nose a size too big with a great number of swollen veins, as if he''d been imbibing things better not discussed, and sniffing things which no intelligent person wanted to. His butter-yellow eyes were narrow and unsettling, having about as much emotion as the corpses he liked to take apart.


    And he didn''t clean under his nails, either. Ewwww.


    "Control your daughter''s tongue, Greta-" began the short one.


    "MAMA GRETA!" Haz¨¦ promptly hollered at the top of her lungs, fixing them with all the dire menace of a three-year old''s gaze, stamping her small feet with great authority, her "Haze wuvs Mama" embroidered shirt her own shining suit of mail, the green bowties in her pigtails her own winged helm. Mama Greta just made a dismissive gesture, but didn''t try to hide her smile.


    They finally harrumphed and looked away, finding it beneath themselves to argue with a child. Haz¨¦ put her nose up proudly at having won the browbeating contest, not budging an inch from Mama''s side.


    "You know the reason we''ve come. The Guild would like to buy the formula for your Moon''s Milk skin cream. Our offer will be fair-" It was Mama''s turn to snort a laugh, and Ulgwith scowled again.


    "Your attempts to duplicate it didn''t work? Your snitches have long passed on all the possible ingredients, have they not, even if your ilk haven''t broken it down?" Mama smiled, teeth white and gleaming, in contrast to the yellow-toothed men in front of her. "Your last ''fair offer'' was less then a tenth of its value. Have you come back to double, triple your last offer, and still gain it for such a pittance?"


    Both men flushed. "It is unwise not to share your knowledge... Mama." Haz¨¦ let out a snort, squinting at the two of them suspiciously. "Any intelligent person would have registered the recipe with the guild a long time ago, in case something were to happen to them, and the knowledge be lost..." Rombal went on, in something that might have been a solicitous tone, were it not for the gloomy aura attached to it.


    "Well, you know us old blind women, copper-wise and gold foolish. It would be a shame if the poxed whores you visit couldn''t receive my cream, but such is fate." She waved her hand. "You should leave, gentlemen... and please, invest in proper detergents and scented soap."


    "You are taking a great risk, Mama, both for yourself and those close to you," sneered the affronted Ulgwith coldly.


    "Did you just threaten my daughter in front of me?" Mama''s voice was very pleasant, and her hands moved very precisely to certain spots on the edge of the counter in front of her.


    Both of the alchemists froze as there was an ominous click beneath them.


    "Hands up and out of your pockets," she ordered cheerfully, and both of the men removed a hand from deep pockets, carefully empty of anything dangerous, holding them up so the sleeves fell back from arms pocked by scars from acid and fire. "Good boys. Now you just back out that door and head down the walk. If you make it to the fence alive, it''ll mean you didn''t try anything funny."


    They glared at her, and around, trying to ascertain where the threat came from. Haz¨¦ was openly smirking at them. "Stinky bad men!" she piped up bravely, shaking her small fist at them, totally humiliating them.


    "Go on now. When the guild can actually afford the cream, come back, and I just might be interested." Her hands didn''t move from the counter as the door creaked politely open behind them.


    "We''ll report this treatment to the Guild!" Ulgwith snarled, and there was another click. He yelped as a row of spikes shot up from the jamb and partially impaled one of his feet, right through his heavy boots.


    "Tell them to send a charmer instead of some roach-eaters next time, Master Ulgwith. Have a nice day, now!" Mama beamed a smile at the two of them. Eyes on the ground, and then on several birdhouses that rotated slowly to follow them down the walk, the cursing alchemists retreated from her yard, and didn''t lower their hands until they were past the low stone fence at the edge of her drive.


    They made clutching motions at several vials and pouches, then noticed the birdhouses were still oriented on them. Swearing, the two hurried away down the road, wondering what tricks she had hidden, but not brave enough to tempt them.


    ----------


    Haz¨¦ floated up to the top of the counter to look after them, her eyes cold. "I''m going to have to kill them, Mama," she said calmly.


    Mama''s smile didn''t fade at all. "The guild doesn''t have any intention of buying the formula, sending those two. They are either here on their own, or the minions of someone powerful in the guild who is willing to do anything for the formula. It might be a good idea for them to learn I have someone backing me, too."


    Haz¨¦ nodded in agreement. "I''ll wait until there are some witnesses around. I wouldn''t want them to die messily and nobody see it."


    "Well, they won''t smell as bad when they are dead," Mama observed with a soft laugh. Haz¨¦ smiled and flitted away quickly to get into position, while the dart launchers with poisoned loads silently rotated back to their original orientations.


    ----------


    The whole town saw the stinky alchemists going down the main road in a bad mood. They also saw the green lightning come down out of the sky, and melt their flesh off their bones. As the many reagents on their bodies exploded in a panoply of dangerous smokes and fumes, their screaming skeletons ran around mindlessly for at least thirty seconds, dripping acidic green flames everywhere, before their skulls finally melted away and corroded, and their steaming bones fell into the middle of the main street through town.


    It was an hour before anyone was brave enough to take a close look at them, and two before some strong men with wet kerchiefs over their faces emptied a wine barrel full of water over the fuming, spitting bones, finally dousing them.


    The Alchemist''s Guild learned of the happenings quickly, sending a dour tradesman over to pick up the wet powder that was left of them, and depart emotionlessly.


    ---


    They didn''t come to bother Mama Greta again. They did try to strangle her supplies of reagents, which resulted in the disappearances of several agents involved in threatening, bribing, or infiltrating those people who did business with her.


    They also tried tampering with some of her products, which only resulted in a couple men being caught, ties being found leading back to the Guild, and the temple of Harse imposing some severe penalties on them for the burns done to the unwitting women who''d used the tampered and resold facial cream.


    Mama Greta used the opportunity to naturally raise the prices again, for all but those people she knew personally. The level of her clientele increased accordingly, and after being found out, the Alchemist''s Guild didn''t dare to take action. One of the women affected had been the sister of the Duchess, who was naturally not happy with them. The Guild had been only a hair from being dissolved entirely, and certain members were purged from its membership.


    Several of those people were never seen again. Haz¨¦ wasn''t too shameless to get rid of them while they were down. Dismantling the darkness within the Alchemist''s Guild was worth a good chunk of Karma...


    ------


    Haz¨¦ still could not make her own Gear, as any Karma she earned was immediately applied against her debt... and only her debt. It didn''t ''buy'' her active Levels, because she wouldn''t let it. She knew that if she bought off her Levels directly, when they were finally done, she would be paying Ten prices for the Levels. She was perfectly happy to pay for all the Karmic Debt and start at 0, rather then pay Ten prices for Secondary Class Levels.


    That Karmic Debt looked like a big number, but to a Ten... not so much. Unfortunately, she didn''t have an unlimited Karma grinding area where she could truly strut her stuff... but since she was not even four years old, she didn''t really want to be engaging in Warcaster stuff full time, anyways.


    Still, she had gold, which meant she could hire others to acquire basic Gear... or she could claim it as spoils off of others, and that way make it for herself, which was basically how she went around doing things.


    The reputation of someone or someones who were treating the darker forces in the Empire as sheep to be fleeced and slaughtered was certainly angering some very powerful people. They were looking for her, and they might even find her someday.


    In the meantime, a lot of the people looking for her were dying, too...

 128 Chapter One Hundred and Twenty-Eight – A Knight Returns

    His steps were loud because plate armor isn''t stealthy, especially fifty pounds of it. But it wasn''t like she was hiding, having moved from hours of Tatting out hundreds of dwarves eager to get a taste of what it meant to fight with Thunder in your soul, to pounding steel.


    Humans had finally come to join the cause, under the leadership of their captain, who was staring at the small woman before him with undisguised awe in his eyes.


    Their captain was a man who bowed reluctantly to anyone, who carried himself with the aura of someone who had ridden through a thousand battles and treated Death as an idle companion to salute and send on its way. They had never seen him look at anyone like that.


    "S-Sage Sama," he murmured, finally looking on her with his own eyes, and without any hesitation went down on one knee.


    Three other knights went down with him. The others glanced at one another, at once annoyed that he knelt before someone who was not their liege, and wondering if they should do the same.


    Her eyes lifted from the forge she was working at, swept across them, silver on black, wrapped by a Tattoo Mask. Any words they had to say were stuck in their throats.


    "Only these four have earned the right to kneel before me. The rest of you may withdraw."


    It wasn''t very loud, but it carried like a knife to the ear. Despite themselves, the other knights found themselves withdrawing quickly and quietly, bowing as they did.


    Sama looked over the kneeling knights, and put down her hammer. She went over to a Cabinet as they raised their eyes, opened a drawer, and took out The Book.


    All four sighed at the same moment.


    She carried the weighty thing over as if it were a toy, laid it on a Disk floating there, and flicked up her hand, holding a pen there.


    "Sign your names. It was the only thing I would not do."


    Their breaths hissed out, and they rose, crowding to The Book.


    They knew where their names and faces were. Gauntlets were removed, the pen was grasped, and as each turned up the page, they paused despite themselves as hundreds, thousands of days of memory surged back, brighter then before, harder, harsher, and even more cruel.


    How many times had they died?


    How many times had they come back to her?


    They breathed to calm themselves, and not sign with shaking hands. Thunder rumbled in their souls as they set pen to paper, and that dark ink wound across the pages.


    Sir Orm Trommel, the Hunting Lancer, a challenger of champions.


    Sir Percean Alayn.


    Sir Trosmore Alyan, Percean''s younger brother.


    Sir Harold Gnostmore, "Cudgelmore", a master of the greatmace.


    She waited and watched silently, sternly, her mind like iron there in front of them, belying her stature.


    When they were done, they stepped back and watched her as she gathered up The Book, and put it back in its drawer.


    They would see it later tonight, remembering their comrades again.


    When she turned back, her Mask was gone.


    They inhaled together. The heaven''s-blue eyes that could swallow the world, the face of a child old beyond her years, the scarring of the Hag''s Curse... it was all there, exactly as they remembered it.


    She came forward again, reaching out with her hands. They extended their own, two to one, and she laid her fingers atop them. Her soul thrummed against them, diamond lightning against their spirits, so damn strong...


    "Thank you for coming back to me," she said, the words echoing through ear and mind at the same time, filled with the only level of sincerity that could match those eyes.


    Their legs quivered, and they almost fell down. They thought themselves hard men, warriors who''d killed and seen their own killed, but at this moment tears started falling down their faces despite themselves, just feeling a whisper of the soaring emotions behind those words.


    Sir Trommel was the first to kneel, bringing him down to her level. "My lady, all the hordes of the Warp would not keep us away," he swore sincerely.


    She reached out, and thorked his head promptly. "So sentimental," she said, but her eyes were shining, and on seeing that, Sir Trommel knew he would follow her forever. "Up now, and to work. We''ve horrors to fight, and that means killing them in the downtime, and in the uptime!"


    How many times had they heard those words? All four surged back to their feet, wiping their faces and recentering their thoughts. Sama''s Mask swirled back into existence as she stepped back to her Forge, grasping the hammer there.


    "Tell me of the men you brought here, what you want done, and how we are to go about doing it." She glanced over the three of them. "Tomorrow, I expect all four of you to step into Seven, and Human/3."


    Her voice held no option for them to fail. They all straightened despite themselves as they began to report.


    ----------


    "All right, you snooty-nosed highborn thugs, listen up."


    The back-handed words somehow sounded like a compliment, and the assembled two hundred knights did indeed quiet down. Not that they needed to, as her voice cut right through their conversations like a knife, not leaving them much choice.


    "Sir Trommel here has told me that you''re all good men, here to fight, not to dawdle around and pretend you''re actually worth something." Despite themselves, the knights straightened up, feeling her silver eyes looking over them, through them... and a few of them felt cold sweat rolling down their backs.


    "That''s good, because you''re going to be fighting. Fighting every single day, if we can arrange things to do so." Her eyes somehow held them all at once. "Go ahead and groan. You''re going to be busy, working harder then you''ve ever worked in your life. Ahead of you is an enormous amount of killing... and also a chance for you to break the First Ceiling."


    There was a murmur as the knights wondered what exactly she was talking about. She went on.


    "The greatest human warrior is a Six." Words to refute that rose, stuck in throats as she glared. "It is a self-defining limit! If you make Seven, you are no longer human, but superhuman!" she went on coolly. "You can do things humans simply cannot do! You can perform feats from the old tales, you can fight like a demon born, you are better, stronger, faster then a mere human can be!"


    Her voice dropped down. "But breaking the First Ceiling and becoming a hero from the tales is not easy. If it were, it would not be a Ceiling, it would be a mere step.


    "The best and easiest way to exceed that limit is to fight things that are more then human. Demons are a wonderful choice, as are those affected by demonic arts. Because you can look at them, and say to yourself, ''Self, look at those goony bastards there. Anything they can do, I can learn to do without selling my soul to some damn Warp gods. They are showing me the way to power, and I''m going to kill them, and walk that road, crushing them under my boots.


    "And those demons... those demons are nothing but Damned souls. I have a soul, but I''m not some vicious twit consigned to Damnation. I''m a living, breathing mortal who has the whole world in front of me, not eternal slavery to a twat. Anything their damned, dead end souls can attain, I can do, I can trump, and I can Feed those useless scum to the Land.''"


    Her eyes scanned all of them. "Ahead of you is fighting. Sometimes in the past, you''ve fought for purposes that, eh..." She made a flip-flop motion of her hand, and grim smiles arose despite themselves. "You can let go those doubts about WHO you are fighting. The enemy before you has sold their souls to the demons and gods of the Warp. They have no desire other then to destroy all that you hold dear, and laugh while they do it.


    "You do not need to doubt who sent you here, and their motives. The gods that are opposed to the Warp have begun to act, and the fact you are here so soon, and so early, with servants of the Divine with you, means that you are indeed swords of the gods, and today, possibly more then any time in your lives, you act with the gods behind you."


    The ring of belief, of utter certainty in her voice, was devoid of fanaticism, devoid of zealotry. It was simply steel-clad belief, and all the more impressive for it. Even the priests who had ridden with the company were impressed.


    "You who stand here are the start of a grand alliance. You are the Order of the Golden Hart. Your rivals and peers, the Order of the Lion, are only a couple hours away from joining you. The elves of the Sidhte and the Rockborn of Klintskun are already at war, as you have all seen. The blood of the Warped has been spilled across the forest, thousands of them slaughtered... and more are on their way, an endless tide of corruption and savagery, ravaging out from their Rift to the Realm of the Warp Gods, in Yle Tyorm."


    Some men swallowed despite themselves.


    "You are far from the Empire here. There will be support, there will be food, there will be healing. But more importantly, there will be the chance to get strong... stronger then you ever imagined you would."


    Eyes sparked, lighting up. Talking with the elves and the dwarves, the knights knew what she was talking about. The Marks, and Soul Magic!


    "If you trust me, I will Mark you all with a Tattoo that will increase your strength, and grant you access to the Marktell, a telepathic communication network that will allow you to talk with one another and coordinate as you never thought possible. In doing so, you will fully join the Alliance that we are building here, and realize just how great what you are a part of is.


    "I will also Open your souls, punching a hole in your basic Chakra points to enable you to truly tap the energy of your souls. Once you do so, you will have a very good idea of the power that demons have, and how you don''t need any of theirs... it is all there within you, waiting to be built up in strength, just like all those pelts you had to smite when you were mere squires."


    Only smiles, no laughs.


    "There is another warband, similar to what you fought yesterday, just over ten miles from here. The Rockborn and the elves are already moving out to deal with it.


    "You will be waiting, and getting Marked. There will be more for you to kill, rest assured!


    "Now turn, and we will Salute the Morning! It is a new day for you all, and your lives are going to change!"


    As one, the knights turned to salute the rising sun just as it broke the horizon, and then the voice of Sage Sama washed over them, making them quiver as they heard it.


    Clear, bold, sincere, expectant, thankful... it rang in them, and the bold knights felt their hearts quivering despite themselves, unable to break free from its spell..


    ------


    At the sides, the four Marked knights sighed, and greeted the morning besides Sage Sama.


    This time, it was not in dream, and they could thank Aru with their own eyes...

 129 Chapter One Hundred and Twenty-Nine – A Deadly Visitor

    Haz¨¦ spun her short Staff around her hand. Being four years old was still a major pain, but not as bad as it used to be. The fact she knew some Cantrips was now common knowledge, but to be expected since her Mama knew magic and had been progressing nicely.


    Getting a Staff of high enough quality had been difficult, and she''d actually had to get in contact with an elven Woodshaper to craft one good enough for what she needed. Even QL 35 wouldn''t suffice for Casting stuff with Reserve bonuses stacking on her Star Mage bonuses, which also meant she needed special woods for such a thing.


    She proved she needed it by providing a Delimited Fiery Ray scroll at Sixteen as part of the cost. It proved sufficient, as a year later she had received this staff in return.


    There was no magic in it initially, but then, she had not asked for any. She had asked for a QL 40 Focus Staff, with Warcaster insets, that could be enhanced and enchanted by herself. Thus, this Staff had arrived, with the requisite inlays she had requested. It was made of weirwood, precious enough by itself that it would only be considered for a Caster as powerful as one who had made the request.


    While she hadn''t been granted the Ranks of Skill she needed to carve it on her own, Spellcrafting it was totally her thing with Fabricate and Wood Shape. She altered the symbols on it, eliminating some, changing and moving others, and altering things enough that no amount of scrying would be able to use it as a target lock for divination.


    Wealth she had, and scrap Craft to pour into it. She began to burn gold and mana crystals, and finally power up a Staff of her own.


    Of course, it didn''t look like a staff. It looked more like a walking stick appropriate for a girl her age. Morphing was one of the first abilities she built into it, as she wasn''t going to be lugging around a six-foot hunk of dense heartwood from a weirwood at her age.


    She did pour some love into it. An ounce of noquar anointed the head with its resonance to force effects. Crushed black diamonds graced the runes that sank into the dense length of it, and of course she used Ironwood and Harden on it to make it more resistant to wear and tear and things like dragons chewing on it.


    She didn''t want to enchant it as a Weapon until she paid off her Karmic Debt and unlocked Soul Magic, but decided she needed it functional before then.


    The Focus Core of it was a black star sapphire, which she Energized. With a thought, it radiated an aura that absolutely shut down all chronomancy in the area, which would doubtless come in very useful against things that thought futzing with space and time was the way to fight.


    ----


    The woman was old, tall, and a little stooped, coming in with a couple of younger women as helpers, waiting on her deferentially. Haz¨¦ wouldn''t have bothered to stay around after they came in, save for the sparkling on the door that closed behind them.


    That particular combination of hues was a reaction from the Energized waterstones on the door to ambient magic. Specifically, it indicated something with active shape-changing magic had just passed through the door.


    Shapechangers could come in many varieties. Her paranoia went through the roof instantly, and she stepped up next to Mama, looking on with a child''s interest as the old woman came to bargain for some skin cream.


    She looked them over, and instantly noticed the amulets of tchazy they were wearing by the way they were scattering her ability to read magic. A less astute Caster would simply assume there was nothing there, but the natural reaction of the waterstones couldn''t be faked, so she noticed how distorted the magic was.


    The hairs on the back of her neck told her that she shouldn''t be seen Casting anything, the hooded lids of the old women were far sharper then they looked.


    She said nothing to Mama, since any reaction would be read by this woman, whoever she was, and possibly result in an immediate fatal reaction.


    The soft feather-touch of a mind-reading spell whispered past her mind, and she filled her thoughts with ''that frill needs to be mended'', ''oh, I think that''s the latest style out of Nourje, where is she from?'', ''hee hee, her shoes look like Patch''s feet!'', and similar spur of the moment, free-flowing childish nonsense, insuring the spell didn''t stay focused on her for very long.


    "I''ve heard very good things of this cream," the old woman said, her thin lips forming a hard smile. "I imagine you have had to beat the alchemists off with a club!"


    Mama smiled back with her normal cheerfulness. "Well, not recently, after they pulled some shenanigans and got burned for it, miss. Are you familiar with them?"


    She waved long, spindly fingers with arching nails. "There are simply too many things that cannot be satisfied without them," she sniffed. "And, of course, they charge you your first-born for them."


    "I see we share a similar opinion of them," Mama agreed. "Is there anything else you would like to look at?"


    "I see you have a selection of fragrant soaps up there. Might I smell them? I''ve been searching for some variety in my bath."


    "Of course!"


    The two women who were inspecting the different sachets on display had drifted into two positions, one close to Haze, the other close to the door behind the counter. Mama''s turn would take her across the path to the door, while the other could lunge at her.


    Mama turned, and that waving hand distorted, turning midnight black and doubling in size, the nails looking like rusty cleavers, swiping for Mama''s back.


    Haz¨¦ unloaded everything.


    There was no build-up, no alarm. She blew her daily Suddens as she briskly /ordered Mama to drop and roll, and shoot the Shapechanger on the left whose arms were beginning to lengthen.


    Sudden Fastcast, Top, and Energize dropped onto her Shards. She Admixed in acid damage, always good for laughs, condensed the spell into a Ray, Split it while Delimit, Brutal, Purified, Sacred, and Blessed stacked on top, used the Improved Heighten to drive her Spell Penetration to the moon, and hit this Hag with everything.


    There was no crash of impact blowing her out the wall. The energies simply drove into her, eight Rays of 10d8 +13+d6 damage +50%, Topped out for over a thousand points of damage slamming into her spindly chest and dumping their full load to the sound of eight ringing celestial bells.


    Haz¨¦ felt the wall of an awesome amount of spell resistance shatter and crack under the impact of sacred force, and the woman screamed in horrible, disbelieving agony as massive holes drilled through a massive amount of Health Qi and ate away a huge part of her.


    Distracted, the two shapeshifters looked at her, even as Mama fell to the floor and flung out her hand in the next moment.


    A glass orb flared with light, and the not-woman there caught it full in the face. There was a massive discharge of electrical energy carried on the alchemical lightning there... and it blew her head into a charred mess. The scream she gave out was not human in the slightest as half her skull blackened instantly.


    The Hag, an Annis, began to straighten as her eyes flared with yellow light, glaring at the child before her.


    A double row of ten Shards, ROYGBIV + black, white and pearly grey, snapped into existence around Haze''s slender arm, flared with light as they were Topped and heavenly hymns began to sound out, and she leveled her Staff at the Hag.


    On her other hand, the same assortment of Shards snapped up.


    The Hags eyes shifted in sudden panic, and she screamed out a Word.


    A hurricane slammed through the room, and took the Hag with it, blowing the door off its hinges and hurling her far away in a mere second ¨C


    The first array of Shards didn''t have time to be put into a Ray and Split, but they had auto-targeting and Distance, and found her unerringly before she could get out of spell range, following her right through the Air Burst and further ravaging her.


    Haze''s arm moved right, left as her Staff glowed, and she let loose both remaining flights of Shards.


    The two dops had been flung against the walls like toys by the Hag''s Airburst, half-stunned. The Shards drilled into them like knife-hammers, disrupting cell structures and ripping them apart internally. Nervous systems shredded, they both collapsed to the floor, already reverting to the near-featureless grayness of their basic forms, still clad in the final traveling robes of their disguises.


    Mama spun to her feet with surprising agility, another globe in her hand. Juicing her alchemical bombs with spells gave her surprising punch for her Level, which was precisely the point of learning to do so. Furthermore, she could deliver them with pinpoint precision with the minor TK of a generalist wizard, and had done so. That dop would never have been able to hurt her.


    Of course, now the shop was a total mess, since a literal hurricane wind had torn through it.


    Haz¨¦ waved her hand, and Heightened Prestidigitation at IV surged out and began to put everything back precisely in place, even if was scattered over a quarter-mile out the front door. Herbs and their shattered containers zipped back into place, broken windows reformed, and even the busted door came back together and was set back on rebuilt hinges.


    Leaving them two dops bleeding all over the floor with their viscous purple-blue blood.


    The two of them looked at the dead shapechangers, then at one another.


    "An Annis Hag? What was she doing here?" Mama asked somberly, looking in that direction, even as the door came up, fixed itself together from a thousand splinters, and sealed off the view.


    "Kill and replace you. Us. Eat our brains and take our places, and do who knows what with our identities. After all, you''re just a hedge witch, Mama."


    "And now she knows that you are not." Haz¨¦ frowned at Mama''s words. Of course, now the Annis had to wonder just what exactly she actually was. Showing ten Shards was definitely going to send all kinds of alarm bells ringing, especially laden down with holy magic. Given how individual Shards looked, they were a good indicator of identity, which was why Haz¨¦ never used them when out life-lining.


    "Worse. That Hag was incredibly tough. I hit her for over a thousand points of damage, I''m sure of it. She also had over thirty points of Spell Resistance, too. If I hadn''t juiced the heighten for Spell Penetration, it would have bounced off her."


    "That... seems very out of line with what you''ve told me about Hags." Mama gestured, and a floating Disk snapped into existence next to her. A helpful Spirit Servant began to lift the first of the dops up onto it.


    "Yes. And she not only took it, she took my follow-up." Haz¨¦ shook her head once, in mild disbelief. "That was not a Hag to mess around with. If she knew how hard I could hit her with Shards and prepped for it, we would have been dead without a doubt."


    "Indeed. Mmmm, well, no worrying about it now. She also has to be thinking she just kicked a hornet''s nest, and now we know she''s out there, and what sort of delightful things we are going to have ready for her when she returns." She sent the Disk drifting over to collect the other corpse, waving her hand to clean up the blood. "What would you like to do with these?"


    "Ah, dops render down into a bunch of useful comps." Haze''s eyes were cold and heartless, looking at these things that had threatened them. "You''ve never processed a pair, so let''s get you some experience in this..."


    "Of course, dear. What should I put on?"


    "Tough hide. We''re going to need the saws to do it right. Prep for a mess."

 130 Chapter One Hundred and Thirty – The King Under the Mountain

    I knew he was coming, and it was a Big Thing. The King Under the Mountain generally stayed Under the Mountain, and him coming out was not something idle.


    Given the number of dwarves running around with Marks and grumping to one another in Marktell and real life, there was no way I wouldn''t know of it... especially since he was coming to see the person heading up the Alliance and running coordination of literally thousands of people... in between Smithing and feeding Greater Demons to the Land.


    King Klintskyr was a noble dwarf born of noble dwarves, lineage going back to what they would certainly say was before Men knew how to build houses. He was definitely a doughty fighter, as dwarven kings didn''t sit in the back and give orders, they went out in front and got hip deep in butchery, or their subjects didn''t respect them. His beard was like black gold, the envy of many of his naturally graying subjects, looking as old and solid as basalt. His eyes glittered like dark sapphires, seeing a great deal, saying little.


    He did wield a Hammer, for the King also had to be a smith, a maker and unmaker, a master of the crafts of the Rockborn, able to judge between rivals, and lead the makers of the Rockborn in their drive for newer and better. It was very convenient for the King to have that symbol of making as his tool of unmaking, so the Clan Hammer of the Klintskyr line was also the Royal Weapon of the King Under the Mountain.


    Naturally enough, if the King Under the Mountain came out, the Kings of the Mountains could do no worse. So, the Kings of Clan Jadeaxe, Darkshear, Firedrop, Crystaltear, Ironhide, Grimshield, and Stonehelm had also moved out with their personal guards, come to take on these mangy dogs from the Warp and firmly send them packing!


    Bluster and all, they were still surprised when Greater Demons descended upon them, and there were no Void Brothers or Sama around to dispose of them. If the initial Banishments didn''t work... the cost was horrendous.


    Thousands of dwarves died in the carnage. The Kings of Jadeaxe and Ironhide fell to Greater Demons of the Warp, and their troops had to retreat to their halls. More Warpbands began to gather to the fight, and their numbers swelled every day as they pounded at the most eastern of the dwarven halls.


    Within five days, over twenty thousand demented fanatics of the Warp were pounding on stone halls that had not been breached in a thousand years, and the twisted magic of the Warp bent the laws of reality, so that that the Demons could stay there and dig at the Warded stones, hungry for the souls beyond.


    ------


    I smacked my forehead in front of Underking Klintskyr, not caring how terribly formal I was supposed to be. "So... instead of moving out in warband size, which would limit the amount of reality disrupting the Warped could do, they formed a united army of nearly fifteen thousand Rockborn, and thought they were going to march right up to Yle Tyorm, plant themselves down, and take on all comers?"


    I rolled my eyes. "Dammit, and now they''ve totally screwed us, because now we have to fight a full freaking army that''s Summoned in demons in numbers, and has multiple Casters. Worse, they can''t run away, so they''ll fight to the death.


    "Their idiocy is going to cost the rest of us. I''m not at all unhappy they are dead. Hopefully their heirs have a bit more common sense."


    Klintskyr was less than happy with my undiplomatic choice of words, but the fact I was saying what a lot of Rockborn were feeling meant he just let it slide off of him.


    "Can you aid us?" he asked calmly, voice more melodious then normal Rockborn. Probably had all the fem-dwarves cooing behind their veils. That awesome black beard was definitely an eye-catcher, though...


    Dwarven hair was actually much thicker and firmer then human hair, and not dead, still having active nerve cells. Cutting the hair of dwarf was like snipping fingers, so getting shaved was both incredibly humiliating and very painful to boot. On the other hand, getting their beard and hair combed was a sensual pleasure for the Rockborn, and the combination meant Rockborn rarely cut their hair, and took great pride in it.


    The Underking''s Armor and Weapons were all QL 40 stuff, Infused over centuries and with total devotion, all at least Acht and brimming with power, forged of mithral and adamant. I eyed it all in admiration for the skill of the Crafters; only the best for the Underking!


    He was a Ten Crystal Dragon Warrior, deep and solid, his Chi anchoring him to the stone like a moving fortress. He would be massively hard to take down in normal circumstances, tough, durable, and with nigh-endless stamina... but just being obdurate didn''t win wars and kill the enemy.


    "Your first matter of business is not to relieve them, it''s to cut off the reinforcements which are gathering there. If you do that with a huge army, guess what is going to happen?"


    The Underking wasn''t a fool. "Multiple Warpbands will gather together to oppose us. When they do, their foul magic grows," he grunted at me across the slab of stone laying across Carrier, upon which was a more accurate holographic rendition of the terrain around Ironholme then he had ever seen. The layout of the besieging armies, the locations of other Warpbands that were marching in that direction, and the positions of allied forces also creeping closer were all clearly represented, with probable roads and marching routes clearly indicated. It only took a moment of thought to calculate the times needed for them to join the besieging forces.


    The other dwarven elders present also scowled at the sight.


    "Your instinct is to gather together and show them the united power of the Rockborn. Were you facing a conventional army, that would be fine. But you''re facing an enemy whose force quadruples when their numbers double, because they can bring in more demons, while you are much more limited in the level of aid you can call upon. I see you''ve been Calling in archons and devas, but they get extremely vulnerable in areas under the influence of the Warp... and make it easier for demons to be Summoned to face them, too."


    Rockborn have fairly rigid faces to go with their thick skins, and so don''t have much facial expression. Watching the way their beards shifted was the best way to read them.


    "What are you proposing?" the Underking asked grimly. Like it or not, I''d made it plain I knew the enemy best.


    "The Warp is not united," I said calmly. "The only reason they gather is to oppose strength. Every single leader of a Warpband is out for all the glory for themselves. In addition, their bosses don''t really care about huge mass battles. They want spectacles, where individuals rise to the top and give them a good show. To them, this entire process of fighting is a just a means to let the cream float to the top, a grinder refining the best servants for them. If they all die, they''re just weak.


    "So, the way to do things is to hit them from all directions with multiple armies that seem roughly equivalent or inferior to their own. Give all those Warplords something to fight, to show their own strength and glory, and not subordinate them to someone else. They''ll tear their united forces apart, racing to grab the glory for themselves and prove themselves to the Warp-butts."


    The Underking watched as I used my fingers to drag forces here and there, splitting them and giving multiple angles of approach. Key was placing forces between them and the reinforcements of Yle Tyorm, meaning they''d be fighting one army after another, a slow, grinding march towards the fallen city.


    "That way of doing battle... is insane," the Underking murmured, to the general agreement of his generals.


    "Yes, but that''s what they love... and catering to it allows us to crush them. We only need to have better troops, with higher morale, better coordination, good supply, excellent leadership, readiness to deal with some truly horrible extraplanar beings, mobility, and fine equipment, and we can beat them handily."


    The dwarves all grunted at that. Not too small a list of requirements...


    "The Warp-butts want to throw their best against your best, grind up the weak, and let the strong survive. The key to playing their game is, naturally, not to play their game."


    Armor creaked as greybeards looked at me. "And how, Sage Sama, does one do that, since you seem to be telling us to do as they want us to?"


    "The Warp has no overarching unity, no central command. It has no cooperation between forces except the fist of the strongest. They don''t really know how magic works here, nor Karma, and so they are vulnerable.


    "Organize, collaborate, cooperate, and feed them to the Land. No glory, no gold, just contempt and fertilizer for the earth beneath your feet. Don''t respect them, destroy them. Put them down and make them pay.


    "It is a different mindset, and I have the tools to make it happen."


    "These Marks of yours." The Underking waved his gauntleted hand to one of his advisors, who held a thick book in his hands. "My advisors have been analyzing the effects of them, and to say the results have been impressive is not an exaggeration. First-rankers attacking like veterans, veterans performing like elites, elites like champions, champions like heroes.


    "Tell us how you do this, Sage Sama, in your own words. The claims they make are surprising, yet our priests affirm that there is no dark magic at work, only Runecraft, and the power of valiant souls."


    I flicked a finger, and Tremble shifted a holo up behind me.


    1) Marks


    2) Warlord


    3) Courageous


    Holopoint powers, activate! "These three things drive the whole system, Your Majesty. Marks form the basic foundation that the others work upon.


    "Your officers are more then capable of tactical analysis. I will mention the strength enhancement all your Marked have been choosing, making their weapons hit harder and with more control, their armor lighter, their endurance greater.


    "The Battle at Kromith Ridge. Only ten of my Marked were at the battle, half of them in scouting functions providing real-time tactical information. One of them saw the warg-riders coming in on the back of the right flank. If they hit the spears there from behind, the whole line would have buckled.


    "One of my Marked was the officer in that spear line. The scout''s information was directed to him within three seconds. His orders were out of his mouth within one breath, relayed to the neighboring formations within another. The back lines readied their spears, and without turning around, as the enemy committed and couldn''t react, Lieutenant Chasol gave the order, and the last three ranks spun and braced. The whole line of wargs drove themselves straight onto the wall of spears, unable to stop themselves, and were butchered within a minute."


    The dwarves hummed into their beards, watching the entire scene reply behind me, eyes glittering at the usefulness of this form of briefing.


    "Without the Mark, the scout''s discovery would not have carried over the fighting if he yelled, and not been conveyed accurately using other means, if he was even noticed. The enemy would not have been lured in so perfectly, or butchered so cleanly.


    "That is the power of telepathic information relay in real-time."


    The holo-glow on the Mark faded, and Warlord lit up.


    "A properly trained Warlord emanates an aura at the spiritual level that affects the troops beneath them who are nearby. It increases morale, focus, determination, resolve, and has a number of near-magical effects on troops, who fighter harder, longer, better when commanded by a Warlord they trust."''+1 To-hit, Damage, AC, and Saves'' popped up next to ''Warlord''. "Gentlemen, these are morale bonuses, much the same as you get fighting orcs and goblins. Every single one of my Marked is getting those bonuses when they fight, because they are right next to me." I tapped my skull, and the Rockborn shifted, seeing the power of that.


    Warlord faded, Courageous glowed... and Tremble began to hum, the power plucking at the air, at all of their hearts.


    "Courageous is a +I Weapon Enhancement, which increases morale modifiers by half the bonus of the Weapon it is attached to. Since Tremble is bound to me, that means it affects anyone who is able to hear her. And ALL my Marked are able to hear her.


    "She is nominally +VIII against my foes." Eyes glittered with shocked light on hearing that. "So, my Warlord bonus, to all my Marked, is increased by four." The +1 list changed to +5. "Recruits fight like veterans, veterans like elites, elites like champions, champions like heroes."


    The Rockborn swallowed, despite themselves. "Adding in the Strength bonus of the Mark, and the troops hit like bulls and stand like bears."


    I paused significantly as I looked all of them over. "Now, tell me what the Warped have that can do the same." There were only glances back and forth, nobody spoke. "Take an equal force out to fight them. If your troops are Marked, you will crush them... by not playing their game, because they cannot play mine."

 131 Chapter One Hundred and Thirty-One – Where’d the Math Come From, Anyway?

    "Haze, I have a question." Mama Greta was seated outside, rocking in her favorite chair, shawl on as she watched the sun go down. Haz¨¦ would usually leave to go live-lining about this time, but they often watched the sun go down together before she did.


    Haz¨¦ looked at Mama inquiringly. She never held anything back when showing things to Mama, which the older woman appreciated intensely. She knew she wasn''t as powerful as Haz¨¦ and probably never would be, but that didn''t mean she didn''t have the right to be curious. "Yes, Mama?"


    "This... Assaying. The... rendering the world down to math." Mama waved her hands. "It is just so unbelievable. How did they do it?"


    "Bored hyperintelligent Casters with too much time on their hands," Haz¨¦ replied promptly. She winked. "That shouldn''t surprise you."


    "They actually came up with something useful, instead of an easy path to power and ruling the world?" Mama scoffed, waving her hand dismissively. "How exactly did it begin?"


    "Shards and clay targets," Haz¨¦ nodded.


    "Really?" Mama blinked. "How so?"


    "It''s quite simple. Some bored Wizard decided he wanted to measure how much power individual Shards had. So, he made up a lot of clay targets he could reform with a wave of his hand, and shot them with hundreds and hundreds of Shards, recording all the results. Then he had his friends do the same, recording them, and then reviewed the differences.


    "When he did, he found that Shards had exactly six different damage ranges. One hundred percent of the time, they would penetrate a target under a certain thickness. Five out of six times, they would penetrate a target slightly thicker. Four out of six times, a target that was the same amount thicker again, all the way up to six additions, where no single Shard would penetrate.


    "Of course, there were differences. Some of his friends'' Shards were weaker, their minimum thickness they could penetrate was lower, the maximum also. Some were the reverse, able to penetrate tougher targets. But all of them progressed the same way, five more additional base thicknesses, and then they couldn''t penetrate at all."


    "So, every Shard was doing 1-6 points of damage... plus something?" Mama deduced alertly.


    "Indeed, and they went looking for that something. That''s when they found the differences between a Warcaster and a Tome Wizard.


    "Certain of them simply had no bonuses, and the six different thicknesses totally reflected their Shards. But others, who focused on casting skill and control, did more damage. These people were always Wizards, and they compared Levels by Matrices to see if there were any differences. Very quickly, they realized that the extra points of damage matched up exactly to the fact that the higher-level Wizards all had more memorized spells then the others. Furthermore, they confirmed that whatever that factor was that restricted your Level and accomplishments, was the same one dealing out additional damage with Shards.


    "Being too smart for their own good, they named this characteristic ''Intellect'', and more accurate measurements followed.


    "They found that this Intellect had two factors. One side affected your ability to memorize extra spells and the raw amount of practical knowledge you could learn, i.e. ''Skills''. The other side affected the extra damage with battle magic, and how good your memory was.


    "One side became a bonus, and the other side a modifier.


    "Just like that, they found that it required a minimum Intellect of +1 per Level to gain a Level. They assigned 10 as the human average, so a Ten Wizard needs to have a 20 Intellect to reach that Level. There''s no way around it, it''s a minimum.


    "And what do you imagine they did then?"


    "They went and saw if the same rules applied to others," Mama said firmly.


    Haz¨¦ nodded. "Correct. With other spellcasters, it was easy.Each time you gain a Karmic Level, you gain access to new Slots or Valences. It was literally a matter of counting on your fingers and recording changes in the powers gained.


    "Then, all you had to do was look at the Auras of others. Stand two people right next to one another, and you can measure the light of their souls through alignment-detecting magic quite easily. So, line up ten Wizards from One to Ten, match up visually against other Casters, confirm the rules are the same, and then go and apply the same rules to warriors and other non-Casters.


    "Turns out strong souls all look equally powerful, and all break through the same Levels, all have Stat limitations, and the First and Second Ceilings are definitely a thing.


    "So, what a basic Assay does is simply look for those indicators, the Six Stats that drive the system, measure them against a universal standard, and then render it down so it is easy to see."


    "But what about Skills? How does one measure such things?" Mama asked with a frown. "Can you really measure how much someone knows?"


    "Yes." Haz¨¦ lifted her eyebrows. "To measure, you must have a standard. They can measure Stats, so that eliminates one variable. So, they used apprentices again, added in people with improved levels of skill, and combined them with QL testing, making masterwork spellbooks and the like.


    "Being able to remove Stats, they simply looked at success results for a while, and the results were all over the place... until the maker reached a certain level of skill where they could routinely hit the required standard, and they went from variable to absolute success."


    "Taking 10," she immediately identified the principle. Where you were good enough that an average effort satisfied the requirements.


    "Yes. And with Masterwork as the standard, they were easily able to measure casual improvements. Furthermore, they could clearly see people who had invested extra time and effort into mastering Spellcraft, because they worked faster and did better work then those who hadn''t put in similar efforts. The difference was measurable between otherwise identical people, and because it was something gained over time, it was a learned thing, outside of just being a Skill... it was being better AT a Skill.


    "Thus, the definition of a Feat, and Skill Focus was the first. A ton of ''tricks'' were immediately re-categorized as Feats.


    "They noticed that people in certain broad professions were naturally better at certain Skills then others without that profession. For instance, Bards are much better at performance Skills then Wizards, ignoring Stats. So, the idea of ''Class Skills'' came about, and it was simply a matter of learning which Skills had ties to which Classes.


    "Then there was the person who, without training, was just naturally really good at something, and Talents were discovered, and that everyone has them, even if they are a little ridiculous at times, and not always Skill-related."


    Mama nodded. Her Talent was ''Trustworthy'', which gave her a surprising bonus to Charisma checks as long as her motives were pure. It was basically how she had survived all these years, making good products and standing by them. People knew she did, trusted her, and bought from her.


    "Therein followed different magicks to modify skills, discovering what those modifiers were, and then Soul Magic and the Akasha, where you could see the resonance between people and our ancestors, and measure them against everyone who came before.


    "Once that happened, Assay was in full bloom, and you could start breaking a whole lot of the world down to math. Test, compare, verify, and soon a great deal of things start having math behind them, even if the things themselves were fairly vague."


    Mama sighed. "It feels like being a puppet, dancing to rules you have no hope of changing."


    "I would agree with you... except I know enough that not being able to measure such things has many more drawbacks. Once you know and can measure what works and what does not... it is far easier to learn what works, plan, and avoid mistakes."


    "Health? Soak?"


    "You can measure Health precisely with Healing Reserve. Likewise, there are spells that can read Soak, and then it is a simple matter of making comparisons between the weak and powerful, throwing Cure spells into the mix, and so forth. Likewise, the axiomatic nature of Sieged Magic means measuring the amount of damage something can take is a matter of a few spells being cast, and determining the effect. Easy to do." Haz¨¦ made a dismissive gesture.


    Mama sighed. "I guess I keep wishing the numbers were bigger."


    "Eh!" Haz¨¦ laughed cheerfully. "Add 000''s to everything, and you find you''re doing 9,127 points of damage, instead of 9 or 9.127. They don''t change anything, except to look more impressive. It''s all a scale, and you just follow it. If it doesn''t break the threshold, it''s not important, so why bother?"


    Mama sighed. "I know, I know." The sunset was a spectacular orange and red tonight, and they watched it in silence for long minutes before Haz¨¦ finally stood up.


    "Should I ask where you are going?" Mama inquired teasingly.


    "No, Mama. It really is better if you don''t know," Haz¨¦ smiled. She ran skipping down the stones in the back yard; past the clean, painted, and well-lit barn; towards her Energized Seal. She was about to take a long trip, and resume her explorations from yesterday.


    There was a thieves'' guild in the port city of Seawall that looked like a prime target for some property redistribution. And if she just so happened to kill a bunch of them, well, it was just business, right? She was sure someone would take advantage of the opportunity, and seeing it was tied so tightly to the church of Shoul left her not at all sympathetic to the members...


    ------------------


    It was a castle, built high on a windswept tor overlooking a lake. The road to get up there was long and winding, easily defended.


    On this stormy night, fires were breaking out all over it, lightning was thundering down, and inhuman screams as loud as thunder were going off, right up until a massive white flash silenced them.


    With groan of overstressed stone, the mountain beneath the castle gave way, and the whole edifice began a slow, grand fall towards the storm-churned waters below.


    A line of light departed the castle as the collapse broke its wards, and Haz¨¦ watched from the mountainside as the Widened Rock to Mud liquified the foundations of the place, and it fell under its own weight.


    Tons of rock gave way, revealing the buried chambers of the dungeon and the caverns beneath, which collapsed further as more weight came down upon them. While she didn''t get the entire castle, she got about half of it, and the chambers below were now exposed to the sky.


    Aberrations. This fuckwit of a Wizard had been bargaining with Things Outside Creation, and even mated two of his underlings to them. An immature and a mature Star Spawn, ever demanding of more food and blood, resulting in the asshole noble pillaging his own domain of impossible amounts of livestock and even humans to feed to the things.


    They didn''t like a castle coming down on their heads, or a Cerulean Seal mixed with some vivus to devour them clearly. The cultists were mostly dead or scattering in fear, if the Earth Elemental she''d brought in didn''t catch them while they were fleeing through their secret tunnels. The Fire Elemental was burning the inner supports of the castle, anything wooden going up in flames and helping the collapse along. The Earth Elemental would be back to start knocking down stone walls and foundations, and really making a mess of stuff.


    She''d cleaned out his treasury and made off with a lot of stuff, her Masspack brimming with loot to be melted down and purged.


    Aberrations infiltrating the nobility. Mmm, that could mean bad news. His correspondence might give her a better idea of who else would be a ripe victim...

 132 Chapter One Hundred and Thirty-Two – The North Wind

    Warm breath hissed out in the cold air, but the owner ignored the cold. The cold never really let go here in the North, even in the summer it wasn''t uncommon to find ice in shadowed pools. With autumn pressing in, the temperature was dropping by the day.


    Their enemies didn''t seem to care about the cold, either. Their lust for combat rivaled that of any berserker, and indeed, there seemed to be a few ravagers among their number, especially the ones that preferred to dress in colors of red.


    Rorn Greywolf didn''t much care. His heavy bastard Sword, Mournfang, ripped across some fellow who thought having a bare stomach was a good way of fighting, and as his stomach muscles collapsed under the weight of those very improbable pauldrons, he folded, and Rorn smoothly hewed his head from his thick neck.


    Silent Jhon smashed into another Warped striking at him from the side, his shield taking the pincer-limb misting a vile black gas, and then driving his fang-mace into the fellow''s slitted helm to show his appreciation. He pulled sideways, turned, and Talatha''s graceful longsword drove into the side of the mutate''s neck, severing the vertebra and ending the fool''s life.


    Rorn brought Mournfang down on another of these pincer-armed bastards, saw it get caught, and in the same motion kicked out the mutate''s knee. As he buckled, Barus'' bear-spear drove into his liver, angled up, and charred his chest to a crisp. Rorn levered the corpse sideways, then leapt aside.


    The mutates there looked up in shock as the grizzly slammed down upon them. They were flattened to the ground, steel-shod claws rent at them as the bear kept going, and both Rorn and Talatha made almost identical spinning dips of their blades through throats, plunging them deep and pulling them out so quickly it didn''t interrupt their rhythm at all.


    Into the gap Brown had made for them, Rorn led the way, Jhon guarding one flank, Barus the other, Talatha backing one up ¨C


    A small hand grasped his belt as he lifted Mournfang again. He braced without thinking about it, and as his Sword came down and was blocked, the hyn that ran up his back and over him wasn''t. Swirls of dark energy accompanied the twin daggers that went in both sides of the mutate''s neck, crossed, and as the hyn flipped over, the much-bigger brute was flipped over backwards and his corpse, head half-severed, sent flying into two others.


    Before the two could get up, Rorn drove Mournfang through one''s skull, and Jhon''s Fangmace crushed the helm and skull of the second.


    There was the roar of a furnace, and a flaming streak raced by, smashing into another mutate and sending him flying into his companions. The Hammer that delivered the blow burned and beat with the sound of a forge as it spun back to the owner of it, and Grym, Clanhammer of Clan Dauer, bounced like his short legs were pistons, taking him right into the face of another mutate who wasn''t happy to learn that Rockborn generally weighed more then humans, even mutates... especially when decked out in full Shieldplate.


    The group worked together like smooth machines, completely confident in the overwatch arrow fire coming in smoothly and surely around them. Sometimes it was lethal, sprouting from eyes or throats, sometimes it was through a knee or arm, drawing one of their targets off-balance and opening them up for a lethal strike.


    Their path behind had closed, savage Warped were converging on them, waving arms transformed into pincers, blades, razored tentacles, knobbed bludgeons ¨C


    The fireball was very precise, the flames expanding and stopping exactly one foot away from Feist, who opportunistically knelt down, punched and grabbed a knee and belt respectively, and a startled mutate twice his size fell over him and right into the coming inferno.


    Liiss stood next to her half-sister fifty yards away, green eyes fixed intently on them and weighing the best moment to cast her next spell as a whole cluster of converging Warped were reduced to ash on bone. Riann''s matching green eyes stayed focused as she drew arrows steadily from a Quiver that seemed almost empty, but always had one more arrow in it...


    They had only come together for the first time two weeks ago, but already their names were on the lips of the clans here, who watched in disbelief the mechanical and devastating teamwork they displayed disposing of their foes, as if they had fought together for years.


    There was a Song burning in their hearts and minds, and Khadifyr, the Bard who had for some reason forsaken the comfort of the halls of the lords of the land, gave it a grim, yet spirited voice as his yarting rang with supernatural clarity over the battling clansmen, reciting grim lines in the old style.


    "Mourn them, pity them, lost in their dream.


    Fire, flame and burning souls, let them scream.


    Their lords, their bane, their doom, their slain,


    Heap them high, their lives, cut that strand


    Of their fate, and Feed the Land...


    Tremble, oh oooh oh, Tremble, we come..."


    A month ago, he had been a Junior Bard, traveling among the keeps and lords of the land, bringing tales and news from one keep to another, entertaining them with music hard to come by in the North.


    Now he was the lorekeeper and skald for the entire force, dominating older Bards effortlessly, keeping up the fire and endless use of yarting and voice to empower them in their fight against these twisted invaders from another land.


    Rorn had been a young man, an experienced warrior of his village for his age, but not one of the elite berserkers. In the eyes of his elders, it seemed he''d barely breathed, and suddenly become one of the most devastating swordsmen they''d ever seen. Even the berserkers of the tribe were looking askew at him, as his feats at arms rivaled or exceeded their own.


    Silent Jhon Bearclaw had been rendered mute by the same rabid beast that had scarred his face and given him his name, a Ranger and hunter of trolls and ogres in the cold forests and hills. He had come out of the forests with a golden beauty on his arm, a Halvyr swordswoman and wizardess, that no one had ever heard of or seen before, acting as if they had known one another for years.


    Feist and Grym were old friends, the clan of the former farming the lands of the latter. Why one of the elite Hammer Guards of Clan Dauer had decided to up and cross half the north, the cheerful and ownership-challenged hyn coming right along with him, still confused everyone, as the hyn generally tried to stay as far from the battles of their bigger neighbors as possible... and yet, both of them were murderously efficient at bringing bigger foes down to their size.


    The two sisters were both of noble birth, but their father had been slain in the internecine clan warfare that plagued the northern lands, and the Archer Riann had provided the survival skills while the Sorceress Liiss provided the magic that kept them alive and independent in the warrior-dominated culture of the north. They, too, were suddenly far more dangerous then the tales told of them before.


    As for the Druid Barus and his grizzly Braun, the men were pleased to have him, and a mite confused at his presence as well. The Druids were famously aloof from the strife of the clans, and unless it directly threatened the land itself, loathe to get involved in wars and combat. Yet here he was, merely an Initiate to a true Druid just a few weeks ago, and already displaying powers that his seniors had not developed yet in service to the Land. His bear Braun had essentially become a mascot for the entire force, bearing the Druid along, fighting for him, and sometimes being joined by him in bear form as they fought together, if need be.


    A bolt of lightning came down from the brooding skies above, punching a hole in a line of Warped about to break through the shield wall of clansmen. Liiss saw the risk, and her form flickered and was across half the battlefield in an instant. The Warped saw her arrive, and didn''t even have time to shout a warning before the lightning bolt tore down the length of their lines, the clansmen taking great care to hold as firm and straight as possible just to set this up for her.


    Scores of Warped died instantly, some convulsing as their nerves were fried, others hurled into the air by the crackling bolts that thundered past and through them, cooked and baked instantly.


    The hard-pressed line cheered as the yarting''s notes broke across through them, and they shouted as one, "TREMBLE!" as axes chopped and flew into the reeling Warped before them.


    Liiss ran away from the fight, and the few Warped that chased after her were rewarded for their efforts with merciless archery dropping them one by one as the sorceress headed for her sister. The last one was only twenty yards away when a flaming Hammer roared into the side of his head, and blew helm and skull into steaming shards.


    Grym caught Slag on the return, barely nodded at the two women, and Riann sent an arrow past his nose into the knee of a Warped charging at him. Slag spun, roaring, and the Warped''s headless corpse rose into the air and backwards, stump burning with the flames of the Hammer.


    The North Wind didn''t stop, wreaking havoc as they worked towards the mounted Champion who led the host, dressed in improbably overdone armor and wielding a Dire sword sized for an ogre. The berserkers were chewing into his main line of troops, the Rangers anchoring the right flank, and the tight shields of the huscarls on the left were all making it hard for him to find some hapless mortals to slaughter.


    This was the fourteenth Warpband the armies of the Clans had faced. The weak were already dead. The rest had gotten stronger, much stronger then the Warped probably thought possible.


    Rorn''s pale blue eyes were flat and icy as the high tundra to the north. He freely alternated between remarkably adept swordplay and unflinching teamwork, distributing the load of the fight among them all to kill as efficiently as possible. If that meant Talatha poking a brute and lighting him up with electricity instead of him going mana-a-mano, he was more then satisfied to spin and pull the brute onto the point of her sword. If he lopped off a leg, and Silent Jhon finished the man, he did not care.


    In their group, he was the only non-Powered, and yet they were following him!


    In the dream, in the Nightmare, he had been a skirmisher, either dealing with foes breaking through the spear line, or sent rapidly here and there to strike at flanks or vulnerable forces. He used a shield when he had to, two-handed at other times, and as his fights and deaths rose, so had his skill.


    He vividly remembered the time Sage Sama had taken him aside, that first time he had fought to the very end of the day, and seen the mists sweep over them, and bring the battlefield away.


    It had not been long, but it had not been needed to be long. Telepathy was a fast teacher.


    She had showed him what his sword could become, what he could become, even if he couldn''t call on the lauded fury of his ancestors, or prayers to the gods.


    When the Tattoos had materialized on his hands and back, three of them, he knew it was all true. He heard her voice again, he remembered what he had done, what she had done, and he knew his life was going to change.


    Not just to follow Sage Sama Rantha. Oh, no. He was a Kaldenman, and despite his gifts, he had been looked down on for far too long. The Sage had showed him the path to power, and he was definitely going to take it.


    He had advanced to Melee/7 with breathtaking speed, taken his Human/3, and stepped into being a Forsaken. The Land and gods had not given him power, but in return, he had his free will, and his will was going to lead his people to new heights.


    He was a Source and a King Among Men, forging his own destiny, burning through the tangled skeins Fate was throwing around, and drawing everyone in behind him.


    Mournfang crashed into that overly heavy blade, and the shocked Warp Champion watched him parry it and not give ground. Rorn levered it aside, and hacked off the leg of the spiked horse, sliding aside as it tried to bowl him over with remarkable ease for a man his size.


    The horse shrieked, almost human at the sound, and naturally fell over, spilling the Champion away. The man in Warped skinplate rolled with startling agility for the bulk of his gear, and then Rorn''s foot slammed into his head like an ogre''s boot. He went over backward, spikes biting hard into the soil, and looked up as a dark blur, trailing dark Shadow-flames from his daggers, came down. His desperate attempt to parry was locked by Rorn''s blade, who looked on coolly as Feist''s long daggers went precisely into eye-slits, and banefire did its job.


    His destiny took him east and north. Yle Tyorm was there, power and glory for the taking.


    Ahead of them, half a day''s march away, the Rockborn of Klintskun were encamped, waiting with supplies the clans desperately needed to continue. The Warped would eat their kills, their own dead, even slaughter one another for food if need be. No, mortal men still needed food and drink to power their blows.


    Sage Sama was waiting there ahead of him, too, not that she was more then a thought away now. Rorn swept a glance over The Map, noting the land ahead of them, and continued on with his killing.


    The North Wind followed, as did the clans of Kaldenheim, even if they knew it not.

 133 Chapter One Hundred and Thirty-Three – The Fire and the Sword

    "That was very well done."


    Haz¨¦ froze.


    She had Detect Life up, and yet nobody was registering on it. Her Ranks in Perception had been bought up with her Human Racial Levels, the only Levels she had been able to gain while saddled with so much Karmic Debt, yet even her heightened senses had felt no one behind her.


    She started to move, and felt something like gossamer pulling at the magic around her. It danced over her personal mantle of spells, and she watched them fall apart like snowflakes, the power in them sucked away.


    She had no way to cast spells, and even her shape-altering spell was gently and easily stripped away, dropping her a foot in height and reverting her attire.


    She turned and looked at her interlocuter, and the two Helices spinning around him.


    Multi-colored flames danced around him in the thaumaspectrum, drawn into him by one strand along a spiraling path. Along the other, a colorless mist was constantly exuded into the manasphere, pure mana to a degree she''d never seen before.


    He was a tall human, broad-shouldered, rangy, long arms and legs made to reach and grasp, with shadowed, dark eyes to match dark hair and a grim expression... that still couldn''t hide all its astonishment as he looked down at her. His large hands rested on the slender longsword and long dagger at his hips, and his every motion showed he knew how to use them.


    Haz¨¦ looked at the lines of fire and mist that had extended out around her, her eyes narrowing. She understood that she was well and truly caught, and there was no way she was going to be able to survive if this man in front of her wanted her dead.


    "That was very rude," she replied, looking up at him huffily. "I keep that Astral Ward up for a very good reason."


    He seemed amused at her cheek. "It is not often I see a Ten Archmage who is a child." His voice was grim and level.


    "I was reborn as a child here, as I''m sure your Helices have verified. I am not a body stealer," she replied crisply, shaking her short Staff at him. "You have no business with me, Void Brother. Why are you bothering me?"


    His eyebrow rose in reproof. "You seem very certain of that."


    "Would I not be dead if it was not true?" she replied coolly, glaring up at him.


    He actually gave out a short laugh, unable to hide his amusement. "Your age has not cost you your tongue, I see."


    "Or you yours," she replied tartly, which only made him smile more. "What do you want? I am rather young to be offered a bondmage position."


    He visibly flinched at that, a shadow of pain crossing his eyes. "Nothing so important. I merely wished to verify exactly who the spellcaster was who was terrorizing all the lowlifes I often spend time putting to the knife. I crossed your trail some twenty miles back, and followed you here." He lifted his eyes to the valley behind her.


    A palatial manor house was in flames... purple flames. The fires had spread over the lawn, which had cracked open in numerous places and was venting more purple flames from below. Additionally, the cemetery behind the manor house had dozens of similar fires venting out the graves there, as if they were taking out their ire on the long-dead, too.


    "May I ask what brought you to the Quierdaz family''s estate?" he asked simply. It was quite literally in the middle of nowhere, a sleepy barony where nothing ever happened. Even he had never been here before.


    Haz¨¦ reached inside her vest and pulled out two folded letters, holding them out to him silently. He plucked them from her hand, opened them up, and without difficulty began reading them by the moonlight.


    It took him only a couple of minutes, his eyes flickering over the flowing script. "Interesting," he admitted, eyes flickering to the manor house. "I shall have to alert my brother Bonescythe of this. We had no idea the Kingdom of Ghouls had reached into the Empire like this." He held up the letters, she waved them away, and he tucked them into his own vest calmly. "Have you others like this?"


    "Where do you think I''ve been getting my targets from?" she asked with a sniff. "Getting the cipher wasn''t all that hard after questioning the dead. The mere existence of it is enough to get me more targets to see."


    "And they have not been going to ground?" he asked archly.


    "Do not play the fool with me, Brother Firesword," she admonished him sharply. "If they''d word someone was hunting them, of course they would have fled. Happily, all that has been involved are horrible accidents. After all, they are delving into some fantastically dangerous matters, and mishaps are to be expected."


    "Mishaps." He eyed the purple flames burning so strongly, dark eyes showing faint appreciation deep within. "Always a fine way of distracting the foolish."


    "I need to re-establish my Astral Ward." He looked at her for a moment, then nodded, and the feathery touches of his Helices withdrew from her skin, allowing her to reach out and touch the manafield. She was surprised to feel how vibrant it was, and could only attribute it to the mana he was exuding as she once again raised her anti-divinatory defenses.


    "Do you have another target you plan to strike?" he asked calmly as she finished.


    "Many. I alternate between them to keep them off-balance," she replied.


    He was tapping the pommels of his blades thoughtfully as he regarded her. She looked back without flinching, knowing that if he hadn''t killed her by now, he was not going to, and thus she had nothing to fear from him.


    "If the Brotherhood were to supply you with some viable targets, would you be interested in pursuing them?" he inquired of her.


    Haz¨¦ frowned slightly. "Mercenary and cruel as it may be, financing is a requirement in my choice of targets. I do pick those who prey on others as a matter of course, and am far from unwilling to lay the blame on other equally duplicitous sorts... but I will not just attack someone on your say-so, brother. There must be compensation in loot, or you must pay me directly. My time has value.


    "And don''t even think about sending me after some pure soul who must die because the Land says so. I''ll leave that shrivening of the soul to you."


    A pained smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, but only for a second. "Reasonable enough. We have to support ourselves on the wealth of our foes, too." He seemed rather impressed that a Caster was standing up to him. "If you are willing to work with us and keep silent about it, we are willing to do the same with you."


    "Not worried about power corrupting absolutely and all that?" Haz¨¦ didn''t bother to hide her amusement. "Very well. How do I contact you?"


    "We will contact you." He took something out of a pocket, tossed it in the air, and put it away smoothly.


    Haz¨¦ just stared at him. It was a tin of Mama''s facial cream.


    "Your Helices are obscenely sensitive," she muttered under her breath. He must have felt the faintest traces of her aura in the alchemically-mixed cream, and matched them instantly to the teleport traces and her aural trail, even through the interference of the Astral Ward. His Helices were like parts of his body, while Casters, even powerful entities, worked through spells and similar effects for the results. It was like comparing the sense of touch of someone working with their fingers, and another using yard-long probes.


    "Why do you even bother with necromancies?" he asked her directly, his eyes intense on hers. "Your aura holds traces of them, but they seem to be routinely purified."


    "They are a requirement for Star Magery. I can count the number of pure necromantic spells I have cast on one hand, and only for specific purposes. I mostly rely on white necromancy, and even Speak with the Dead uses a mix of energies if done properly.


    "Likewise, I do not believe in enforced servitude, and so seldom use Summons, or Enchantments. I will Conjure something for service, but there will be compensation involved, or it will fulfill their natural purpose. Enchantments will be used normally to bypass more violent means."


    "Casters with morals are rare in the Empire these days." His nostrils flared as the Helices drifted around her, but did not touch her. "You are capable of a truly impressive amount of channeling. It reverberates in your Aura. Just what did you have to kill that required such a tremendous burst of power?"


    He seemed honestly interested, and it wasn''t good to lie to a Void Brother. "An Annis came to our shop, with doppelganger cohorts, probably intending to do a slay-and-replace. She took the main hit head on, survived it, fled, and ate an auxiliary blast while doing so, surviving that even with four holes punched right though her."


    Haz¨¦ flicked up her Shards, Twinned them, and left them spinning around her arm for him to inspect.


    He eyed the two sets of ten Shards spinning in different directions without fear, but with great interest. His misty Helix strand washed through them, and they flared with light at the passing touch. Haze''s eyes widened despite herself at the contact with her magic.


    "I know three different Hags that might be able to withstand that. What type?" he asked.


    "An Annis, judging by the blue-black skin."


    "Mmmm. Tusk Annie." She filed the name away for more research. "She has been active across a fair breadth of the Empire of late. And she''s also a Twelve Witch." He looked for signs of reaction, found none. "Whatever force she is working for naturally has great plans. I doubt she''ll return without sufficient reason, but being paranoid is the price of what we do, is it not?"


    "It is." And being crept up on so easily by a mage-slayer like him was definitely not soothing any nerves. "May I go now, oh Fire and Sword?"


    He waved his hand. "Teleport, if you like. I will wipe the traces on this end."


    She gave him another look, but pulled out a sheet of thin wood from her pack, glowing slightly with a Seal drawn upon it, fully Energized. She stepped on it with her small feet, extended her thoughts back along her lived-line, and found the bright light at the confluence of so many paths in and out.


    With a step, she moved along the path of her life to a previous position in space, and was gone.


    ---------


    Brother Firesword watched the Seal burn into ash and blow away. His Helices swirled through the area, removing any trace of a Caster from the manafield and restoring it to passing purity, almost on reflex.


    A reborn Archmaga, and likely a nigh-direct servant of Sylune. That she had managed to retain so much power in her rebirth was likely due to direct intervention by the goddess. Already going about facing the darkness, even if profit and the rebuilding of her personal arsenal and defenses was behind it.


    She was spirited, and aware of Void Brothers, an interesting combination. She looked like she would grow up to be a true midnight beauty, too. The Silver Queen had put a powerful and concealed piece on the board through a back-handed method.


    Ah, he had not asked where she was reborn from. In truth, he hadn''t even bothered to ask her name. He knew her Aura now, far more intimate an identification then eyes, ears, or even scent.


    It would be interesting to see what time made of her. He sincerely hoped he would not have to hunt and put her down in the future...

 134 Chapter One Hundred and Thirty-Four – Warlord Briggs

    Eight different warbands were taken out in one day. It was a new record for combats, and Sama or a Void Brother were present at all of them. Demons were Summoned, and the lesser ones Fed the Land all the way around. The Greaters were sent packing back to the Warp, howling angrily at such cheaty tactics... except for the two fights Sama was at, where their howls took on completely different tenors as the Land eagerly lunched them.


    The survivors spread all over the place, naturally some finding other warbands, or converged onto the great siege of Ironheim. News spread quickly.


    The besieging force was immediately caught in a quandary. They were clearly making headway against these Rockborn, tenacious as they might be, but multiple forces spread all over the place were encircling them, and their lines of reinforcements had been cut off. Further reports indicated that every warband gathering to them was being intercepted, one by one, and dealt with.


    They had the choice of being the nut caught between a hammer and an anvil, or charging out and winning glory and freedom by their own strength, before their enemies united.


    Naturally they sought glory, and the siege ended as the champions of the Warp slaughtered enough of one another to divide up their forces equitably, and fell upon the armies surrounding them before such could link up. The dwarves of Ironholme cheered to see them go, sallying to clean up the scavengers and demons left behind, like an infestation to be cleansed, and to mourn their dead, and their lost king.


    ------------


    "For now, we hold here."


    Briggs'' deep voice carried to every person there, the holo that Maga Skycloud put up was clearly visible to those not Marked... which, in this force, were quite few.


    His fighting force was eclectic and mixed, with human heavy cavalry, hyn stealth units, elven light infantry and caster, Rangers and Borderguard archers, Dwarven spears and bolt-throwers, and even all the Ancients of his tribe, pulling at new scaled mail wrought from Cleansed dragonhide.


    "The rest of the armies of the Northguard Alliance are busy fighting the siegers of Ironholme as they scurry across the lands. They''ll be here within three days, but in those three days, we will have at least three incoming warbands of our own to fight.


    "Nobody is here who does not want to be here. Here are your preliminary assignments, as we deal with the Warp Mutants in the first band." Unit assignments were visible to everyone on where to place themselves for the fight to come. The enemy was still an hour away, but those in forward positions immediately stood up and left, knowing they had to get into position early and lure the Warped into the rest of the army.


    ---


    The Warped were growing more cautious, as the tales of the few survivors came back to them. Naturally, they disregarded on the tales of their enemy''s fighting prowess as overblown complaints from the weak, focusing on their magic and shameless tactics and ambushes, and the like.


    There were a lot of scouts sent out to find the watchers that seemed to be everywhere, dogging their moves and leading their enemies in. Eventually, they stumbled across some, and savage combat swirled between the trees. Ropes choked, tripped, and triggered traps of logs, spikes, and branches, cunning nets collapsed or drew up, and beastmen died in new and interesting ways as the scouts had fun with them.


    The fliers of the main force soon located them, riders of giant bats who soon found themselves with a certain crown of wild griffons not at all happy with their presence. The griffons ravaged the packs of bats and dirge of harpies accompanying the force. Driving them off was only temporary, as the griffons were very proud and very incensed at the intrusion. The head shaman tried to bind one''s will, to use as a mount or slave, but the griffons were wary of his magic, and it failed utterly.


    Unfortunately, to do so, he had to reveal his position, and ten Arrows guided by True Seeking, boosted with Bane to the Warped and a bit of Holy power, found unerring homes in his chest, killing him from more then two hundred yards away in one conjoined strike. The Warped had to be wary of elven archery for a damn good reason!


    The harpies immediately tried to attack the snipers, but that meant they had to get in among the trees, and the elves punished them mercilessly for it. They straggled out with less then half their numbers remaining, none of whom included any who had actually dived on the elves to fight them. A great deal of rainbow voltage had done for all of those...


    Briggs watched the fight from afar with the rest, pieces moving in place here and there, the appearance of scouts teasing this troop forward, but they hesitated on entering the trees. When the dwarven soldiers popped out of their little holes in the ground and hacked the shocked horned mutates down in close quarters, they were unpleasantly surprised.


    The dwarves retreated into the trees, and the slavering dire wolves of the army were unleashed after them. That wasn''t too bright, as the dwarves were merely running to get their spears, and when the mutated lupines reached them, all they found were some very nasty spears lunging for their throats and sides, in the hands of Rockborn who simply weren''t going to be moved by then. When the retreating elves caught up and showered them with merciless arrow fire from the side, they could only howl and retreat, sniped down before both elves and dwarves withdrew at a comfortable trot.


    The beastmen who ran in after them found more traps waiting for them, and quiet knives taking them down in moments of confusion. The hyn were like smoke, and in face of the irritating losses, the Warped could only proceed slowly and let their opponents get away.


    If they knew that behind one nasty wall of thorns two hundred heavy cavalry were waiting and listening as they trooped by, they might have been quite annoyed. The Knights of the Golden Hart were eager, but patient. They had more fights to win then just the one today, so casualties had to be minimized if at all possible, and the slaughtering needed to be as lopsided as possible.


    They were quite pleased when they saw the assembled forces up ahead, and pressed forwards eagerly, ready for some bloodshed.


    Briggs was serving as Warlord. Estemar was with the cavalry reserves, holding a lance and looking to smite. Briggs didn''t have dual mind tracks like Sama, so he couldn''t fight and Warlord at the same level, and opted to just stand there next to the Chanter who was pounding out an empowering rhythm on his drums, while Endure sat under his hands, beating in time.


    With Courageous.


    He''d advanced Endure up to +Vier Slots, enough for Bane, Enmity, and Soulbound. +3 wasn''t as good a boost as Tremble, but the Chanter was a Bard, and his TH/Dmg boost was +2, giving him a higher base. In addition, hundreds of Rockborn were chanting along to the tempo, drawing everyone else in with the solemn reverence of their voices, the calls to their watching ancestors giving everyone the feeling that limitless numbers of ancient dwarves were looking down from the vaults of the afterlife, beholding what their descendants were doing.


    It was really impressive being under all those weighing eyes in the Markspace. Hearts beat with the drum of the Chanter as the tide of Warped beastmen came sweeping in.


    He feinted with the elven stag-riders, drawing over the centaurs. His eyes fixed on the massive horned cyclops (cyclotaur? minoclops? whatever) and its enruned rock, a mobile siege engine that could definitely be a show-stopper.


    Nine dwarven bolt-throwers of the new design came up. They were based on the compound wheel designs of the autobow, arranged in the familiar x-fashion of the dwarven style, and all the ammunition treated to be Bane and Holy. They were also floating on Disks, and so much, much easier to move around. The wagons that had formerly hauled them were now being used to store ammunition for them and the Autobowmen now backing up the Ancients.


    Nine elves stepped forward and laid hands on the shoulders of the dwarven gunners. Eyes lit up, minute adjustments were made, and nine heavy spear-sized bolts went screaming out, burning with blackened polycolored Banefire.


    True Seeking was, after all, just a Valence I spell.


    The cyclops could see them coming, but couldn''t do anything about it. Its thick hide was no defense against the massive power of the bolts, whose accuracy were pinpoint, none of them missing.


    45d6+18d6 Banefire +18d6 Holy +36 or so.


    The last bolt caught it square in the throat, drove through its twisted spine. Its Runerock thudded heavily to the ground, and Briggs'' forces didn''t have to worry about a living siege engine.


    The archers opened up, and became a dark rain from Hell as their shots smashed into the Warped. Sure, they had thick hides, but they generally only wore hide or leather armor, only the most intelligent actually deigning to wear heavily modified armor. The Warped had never been under arrow fire that accurate and murderous, and were losing dozens every second, even with the shields they were using to try and protect themselves.


    The bolt-throwers, of course, didn''t really care, and tore holes in their lines with impunity, impaling them haplessly.


    The centaurs swept through a gap in the flanks as they ignored the stag riders and raced forward to get at the archers. The dwarves who had shifted over to meet the charge of some of the Warped beastmen couldn''t pull back in time to protect them.


    But, the pits they had thoughtfully dug out were right in place.


    The centaurs crashed through the illusions covering the pits, and were both impaled on the stakes on the bottom, and crushed by those of their own charging madly after them, spears out to reap the lives of the lightly armored Borderguard and finding themselves dying by surprise.


    The stag riders pouring in behind were not out of position at all to take advantage of their panicked milling and crush, while the archers on that side turned and fired point-blank into the mass of furred bodies remorselessly.


    Briggs'' waiting tribesmen crashed into them with brutal force, and they weren''t long for the world against Ancients used to fighting ogres, trolls, and Jotuns. The pits were put to good use.


    The harpies came swooping in onto the Rangers, but neighboring elves cast a joint Web spell that covered twice the normal area, completely fouling their wings and sending them crashing from the air. There was a slight interruption in the covering fire as hyn swords disposed of the broken bird-witches, and then the longbows of the Rangers got back to work.


    The dwarves were more then happy to take the initial charge of the minotaurs, the largest and most aggressive of the Tauren, their longspears forming a three and four deep line of steel that absolutely punished the massive beastmen trying to get through them. As they hacked with long axes at the thistle-hedge of spears, General Moonriver dropped his illusion once again, and the Knights of the Golden Hart slammed into the back of the Warped line, centered on the minotaurs.


    They bellowed in pain as they were impaled, and then shoved onto the waiting dwarven longspears. General Moonriver actually stood up on his horse to deliver two bolts of thunderous, snarling blue-white lightning down the lines, tearing through the infantry units held in place by the rock-hard dwarven spears, and wreaking havoc on them. The elven infantry flowed through the spears, their swords sparking and flashing with multi-colored lightning, and tore through the stunned survivors.


    Estemar''s cavalry reserves swept around the flank and collapsed it, while the Rockborn advanced on the heels of the elves, finishing anything that fell and giving them a perfect wall to retreat to if wounded or things went bad.


    The stag cavalry of the elves had swung around and pulled out their bows, now busily engaged in riding down or shooting anything that was running away. The knights wheeled about and retreated, lining up for another charge as the Warped reeled.


    Sixteen Burning Rays converged and burned the brawny commander down to ash in an instant as he tried to gather and lead the survivors away, hastening the rout that was about to happen. The survivors hurried for the big gap between the knights and the cavalry reserves, and only realized how bad an idea that was when the two forces gathered up, leveled lances and rode them down, the explosive charge sending mutants flying in every direction as they were sandwiched between the cavalry.


    The first of their three days of fighting was largely over. The minotaurs were largely cleaned up by the hammering shafts of the bolt-throwers, what few were left after that rear charge by the heavy cavalry.


    Briggs looked it all over, contemplating that he''d used less then half of the elven spell power he had available, and simply nodded. Casualties were light, more accidental then anything, and the healers were on the job. Except for maiming, every single wounded person would be restored to full for the fight coming tomorrow.

 135 Chapter One Hundred and Thirty-Five – A Brother Stopping By

    The door rang, but there was no magical presence of whoever entered.


    Haz¨¦ already expected what to see, but popped her head around the corner anyway. "Oh, it''s you. Be right with you, Brother!"


    The Fire and the Sword smiled despite himself. She pulled off the tone and act of being a child so very well.


    Kicking up her bunny-slippered feet, Haz¨¦ hustled out of the back room, leaving Mama to finish up with the cream, and into the adjoining ''sales room'', basically a sitting room with access to the kitchen. "Come on in, Brother. Orange wine?"


    However she managed to distill it, he found he loved the taste. "Please." She shuffled in in her white socks and bunny slippers and fluffy skirt and apron that read "Mama''s Favorite Experiment" and sat down opposite the overstuffed sofa he had made himself comfortable on. She tossed him the bottle, he nabbed it effortlessly, broke the seal and cork with one twist of his hands, and took his first drink directly from it.


    She set down a plate of pastries, and he eyed them as if they were a strange new beast come to threaten him.


    Whoever had the nerve to offer a Void Brother sweets?


    Which meant he had no choice but to taste them. As he picked up the first one, she said crisply, "No magic or alchemy involved."


    He bit down, and let sweet sugary fruitful goodness explode in his mouth, only accentuated by the tartness of the wine.


    "Are you trying to bribe me?" he had to ask, helping himself to a second after a minute or two of thoughtful chewing and contemplation.


    "It occurred to me that you probably either get too much terrified hospitality, or none at all, and some good home cooking would do you well. You''re welcome to stay for dinner. I''ve already put the chicken in."


    He gave her another strange look, and shook his head to himself. Obviously, he would have to work more on his intimidating presence, because it just wasn''t working here. "Just checking in. How have you been?" he asked calmly, but his eyes, as always, were knowing.


    "Busy," she admitted. "Your Brothers have endless things they want me to do, and they keep coming back." Just like he did, she mused to herself.


    He just nodded. "You have a deft touch, and a sense of discretion most Casters lack. They appreciate it." Her not being utterly terrified of them helped too, although they didn''t say it. She knew what they did and wasn''t opposed to it, unlike most Casters.


    They were also all speculating what she would be like when she was grown, and they all knew where that was leading, even if they said nothing.


    "Common sense is quite uncommon among the brilliant," she agreed calmly. "What brings you here in person?"


    "I am on my way east. There''s been evidence of a planes-traveling warlock around, but he''s very slippery, and his Patrons are the definition of it."


    Haz¨¦ wrinkled her nose. "Dare I ask what you did in the west?"


    "Bone and I met up with some adherents of Skulos who thought of doing foul things with the great cemetery at Karsos. Why some fools cannot get it in their heads to burn their dead..." he sighed despite himself.


    Haz¨¦ considered the hundreds of thousands of faithful buried in that cemetery, and didn''t say anything.


    "Also, a report and explanation. Drimevort?" he asked calmly, but as usual, there were deadly implications behind his words.


    She frowned cutely. "Wererats." Her eyes narrowed again. "And if I find out you sent me sewer-chasing vermin lords for fun, you will pay."


    Despite himself, he coughed. "Mooncursed?" he asked, going for details.


    "And rat-men, and trueborn, a nice unhealthy package infiltrating the thieves guild there, taking over the smuggling." She waved her hand, and a bag full of books and paperwork was hauled out from behind her chair onto the seat next to her. Pages rustled, piled up, and she set them down in a neat pile on the low table between them. "Based on their paperwork, there are ties to Ruilvei. Given that most thieves guilds revere Shoul, I figured letting a couple advocates know that the witches were messing in their business would not be remiss. I think a shrine burned down in the forest near Yungvald a few weeks later, but I''m not sure."


    He hummed under his breath, mind working, drawing connections through senses she didn''t have and experience she was also lacking.


    "Vungal''s Ditch?" His voice was soft, despite himself.


    Her face fell, and she took a deep breath. "The whole village was werewolves. They were picking off travelers on the road nearby for food, and covering it up as brigand raids. They''d also infected half the bandits working the highway. I hunted down and killed them all."


    The Fire and the Sword was perfectly aware of what that statement meant, and as he had moved through the area after she had taken action, he was also aware of exactly what she had done. "Did you confirm the strain of the lycanthropy?" he asked calmly.


    She knew he knew the answer, but just nodded. "Moonworm."


    Aberrant spiritual infection.


    He took another pastry and ate it slowly. "Someone is doing something big," he judged.


    Haz¨¦ nodded. "The corruption is proceeding too quickly. Something is backing it on a level beyond the games of gods." She sighed aloud. "A werewolf tried to get hired as a vineyard worker here a month ago."


    "Tried?"


    "Well, he died his first day on the job. Wine vat rolled down on him, couple nails gave way at the wrong time. Crushed him flat as a pancake. Good vat, though. Didn''t break, saved the wine."


    He was amused despite himself. With well-timed paralysis to make sure the were didn''t move in time, no doubt. This eight-year-old girl was dangerously smart and subtle, and wasn''t in any way restricted to common uses of magic.


    "Moonworm?" he asked calmly.


    "Yes." Her eyes narrowed. "A black-on-white trueborn weretiger followed two weeks later, probably when he didn''t make contact. Bought some wine for himself, prowled around, and headed for Northgate with his carriage, playing at being a nobleman."


    Brother Firesword''s dark eyes seemed to spark. "Coridello himself showed up?" He stared at her as he took another drink of the wine. "Why would they mess with this vineyard? The vintage is good, but not that exceptional nor widely traded."


    "It is a minor holding of the Kremvell Family. As I understand it, Norelle Kremvell loved to spend her summers here. As a result, it directly supplies wine to the royal family for her."


    "Ah." The second wife of the emperor. "So, they cannot tamper with the source, they will do something on the way. Mmmm. And the king too wrapped up in his petty pursuits and entertainments to do anything while his empire dies around him." He sneered and shook his head.


    "I confess to having no connections at all in Zynozure, and what news I hear is rumor. Granted that I travel, but accurate news is rare, and I tend to believe my own eyes, rather then the tales that are nine-tenths lies and one-tenth brazen exaggeration," Haz¨¦ stated. "Is the government truly so bad?"


    "It is rotting from within at a tremendous clip. The smart powers are pulling out, aiming to find their own way in a sinking land, while blades stalk knives, poison and accusation stab deep, and the ambitious claw for whatever they can, not seeing the rising darkness behind. Merely backstabbing as usual in the Rose of the Empire."


    "Will it die? Or can it be reborn?" she asked calmly.


    "Given what it coming... I believe it is being sacrificed to save the best. It will not survive in its current form."


    "How long?" she asked, frowning.


    "Six years, if Brother Shadowknife is right... and I defer to his judgement on such things."


    The Shadowknife? That meant Those Things were involved in this. Things began to click, and Haz¨¦ swore quietly to herself.


    She would have to get Mama out of here.


    "How close are you to satisfying the conditions restricting your growth?" he asked her calmly.


    She took a moment to remind herself that Void Brothers were very, very smart. Not the smarts of a wizard or an engineer, but the smarts of born masterminds and killers, all the deadliness of killing machines, without the insanity that went with being a psychopath. They were the Batmen of the world, only faster, deadlier, and more ruthless then Mr. Wayne and his family issues.


    "Within a few months, I should think."


    "What will be your first move?" he asked, eyes intent.


    "I will supplicate the Silver Queen and ask for restoration of my status as a Favored and Cleric." She paused a moment, then forged ahead. "I seek to regain my fifth Star, the Divine Star. Divine Theurgy is required to do so."


    "Star Magery." His eyes twinkled for a moment. "If you can do so, I have a very special request for you."


    He took a folded letter out from inside his coat, held it out to her. With a flick of her fingers, it leapt from his hand to hers, and she opened it.


    "These are?" she asked, looking at the names and locations.


    "Young women with very strong magical talent, although they don''t know it, and perfect for recruitment into the Church of Sylune... after an appropriate recruitment process."


    She just looked at him for a moment, gesturing for him to go on.


    "They are all Hagchildren."

 136 Chapter One Hundred and Thirty-Six – Wrath of the Raven King

    Most onlookers would call them raven''s wings. They were iridescent black, sized to be of neo-angelic proportions, a comparison that would have generated nothing but ire from their owner.


    Ire was driving him now, as those wings performed like those of an owl, and he glided down into the camp of the Warpband below.


    Whether Warped beast-men mutants or soul-selling fanatics, they were all humans to him. Even though they all presaged the end of civilization, these Warped were still abominations, filth upon the purity of the land, fit only to be cleansed away with their puppet master gods.


    He pulled a short spear from his back, face momentarily twisting.


    ''Spears do double damage on a charge. Swords do not.''


    Such an irritating Hagchild. He was remembering her comments in passing even now.


    The sentry took his spear in the neck, incidentally silencing any cries he might make. Noir Rabe, the Erlking of the Sidhete, lifted him off the ground, dropped him just as quickly, and flit his wings once, proceeding to the next guard.


    The Warped seemed to have little actual needs in the way of baggage and supplies. They had no train of food and water trailing behind them, the few wagons they had carrying more in the way of weapon and armor repair, some plunder, and trophies of war.


    Not that they passed up eating. He had seen them heartily consume whatever fell to them, animal, humanoid, monstrous beast, they cared not, and roasted and ate them all.


    They were also perfectly happy to eat one another if someone showed weakness and the urge overtook them. They showed no restraints in their habits, taking pleasure in ****, torture, brutal fights for status and weapons.


    As a Fey, he saw nothing wrong with such actions, merely another way of living true to the spirit of Chaos, and these insane fellows were certainly emblems of Chaos, free will, refusing to acknowledge the rights and laws set down by others beyond their writ.


    Save that they truly had no will, being slaves to the gods of the Warp. Instead of being representative of Chaos, they were merely pawns to greater beings, with no true choice left to them at all.


    False Chaos, giving up their wills for power, puppets to be reaved and slain.


    And they had brought this False Chaos here, to the Forest of the Fey, the Sidhete.


    Another sentry died in silence, his corrupted body thrown to the grasses. Noir Rabe winged his way to the next.


    He marveled at the changes in his thoughts brought by the Crown he now wore, focusing his ire and rage in a different direction then he had known all his existence. The corruption borne by these... things below him was as revolting as he''d once found the advance of human cities and farms.


    Perhaps they were the same, representing influence and spheres of power, of the Divine and the Mortal, to be resisted as long as possible by the Fey.


    Whether the Gods of the Warp were truly divine or not, they were outsiders, and they brought them an end to the Dream of the Fey.


    With a grunt, another stinking, tentacle-armed sentry fell, covered by the night wind between the trees.


    He gained altitude, flicking off the blood and gore from the razor-sharp wooden length of his spear, stowing it in the Quiver made by his Queen, pulling out his Bow.


    The Warped brought few tents, only their commanders deigned to use them for their matters and personal amusements... and their spellcasters, of course.


    They were naturally the most suitable recipients of his wrath. His arms rose, and the forest writhed.


    Roots exploded in size, bushes and creepers flowed like serpents everywhere, sprouting thorns and nettles. Weeds intertwined, branches closed overhead like a looming net, saplings ruptured out of the soil and stabbed for the closed sky overhead.


    The cries were just starting to rise as the entire force of Warped, everything within three hundred paces of him, found themselves caught in the center of a choking, overgrown landscape of rampant vegetation.


    One, two three of the trees below rumbled to life, and began to swing at everything moving around them, pulping the half-pinned Warped to pulp with mighty blows.


    Another gesture, and Old Weathered, the spirit of his faithful treant retainer, materialized below, among those ruptured tents, and another two trees nearby instantly came to life at the treant''s command.


    He pointed, and the senior shaman of these invading things looked up, feeling the magic swelling, and had just enough time to recognize the spots of gold up there in the night as eyes when the Word came to his ears. The finger pointed, and Death clenched his heart in a black fist and squeezed it tight.


    He fell with a final gasp, heart''s blood spewing from his mouth.


    At his call, four mighty Earth Elementals rose up from the stone and dirt of the forest floor, liberally girt in vines and creepers, roughly Jotunish forms moving through the plants without disturbing a one. Anything moving on the earth was an infallible target for them, and the grinding, coarse rumble of their movements was a cry in Geoic of war and delight, for the Elementals could feel the corruption upon these creatures as clearly as any mage.


    Still, there were a lot of them to kill.


    From the side he had removed the sentries from came a hand-sized horde of wee Fey with bows drawn. Pixies, whose bows brought sleep.


    Following them was another wave of the wee Fey: brownies, sprites, grigs, and others, moving through the overgrown areas with ease. They only had blades in their hands.


    The forest rustled, and the centaurs and satyrs arrived, and with them the tall and coldly beautiful profiles of the Sidhe. As the Warped thrashed and cut their way out of the vegetation, they found themselves facing ready bows and implacable spears, which began to cut them down silently in the night.


    ---


    Up above, Noir Rabe watched the lethal, invisible wave of the gossamer-winged pixies bring sleep, and their tiny cousins slit throats behind them. Distracted by the massive presences and rumbling crashes of trees and Elementals pounding the center of the camp into mush, the Warped didn''t feel the wave of death stealing through their formations, merely slapping at the arrows as if they were stinging insects... until they dropped and did not get up.


    His fingers twitched. He could see gaps that could be exploited, a way to get the Warped to move this way and that, and that was just below him. In the other areas out of his sight, covered by overgrown forest, he could only listen and judge by horn and the whispers of the plants and animals around him.


    It was nothing like watching two thousand warriors moving as one in heart and mind, trusting in a commander they could not see, who was nowhere near the battlefield and still driving them to victory.


    He was a warlord... but not a Warlord. The difference was chillingly clear to him.


    Still, he had his own job to do.


    His Bow was firing nonstop, the Skull mounted on it burning with a black light edged with all sorts of unclean colors, Bane against the Warped. His arrows hissed down with unstinting accuracy, one or two sufficient to take down most of the Warped, and he icily shot down the heavily armored champion in his grandiose magical armor with nearly a dozen of them, ignoring the fool''s cries to come down and do battle.


    Soon enough, he ran out of arrows, and it was indeed time to fight.


    He removed the Baneskull from its place on his Bow, and affixed it to the pommel of his Sword. He knew it would not change the balance of his blade, he had tested it before. Unafraid of the injuries he might receive, knowing they would be healed away, he swept down upon the elites that were still alive and not fighting.


    And grit his teeth, because he knew it would take more then one or two blows to kill them, unless he got lucky. But that did not matter for now, he would kill, and be happy in the moment, even if he was not the equal in slaughter of Sage Sama Rantha...


    ------


    They arrived in the morning, the mark of the Warp upon them. There were hundreds of them, thousands, come down from the North, heading the call of the Warp behind them.


    Unseelie, Winter Court, the darkest of the Fey, cold killers forming most of their population, easy to hook and lure with the promise of blood and slaughter. Redcaps, spriggans, springheel jacks, wendigos, fellgoblins, the most twisted of satyrs and centaurs, the cold Sidhe of the high ice... even a few grimm, lured from their mountain caves, and Fomor, leading gaggles of hill giants, trolls, and ogres drawn to the promise of fresh meat.


    The mark of the Warp was upon all of these things already. Arms replaced by tentacles or pincers; extra limbs, including heads; tails of scorpions, snakes, spiked, barbed, and worse; bulging eyes, misshaped skulls, massive swollen body parts, blisters leaking pus, fur of manifold colors, horns and spikes erupting here and there...


    It was all on display, and a Fey force that was normally colorful proved it could get much more freakish and mutated very quickly.


    They had felt someone was going to be here to greet them, and this odd clearing in the forest felt like that place.


    There was blood in the air, and definite signs of carnage, but no one was there to greet them to the service of their new masters, and they were confused.


    The forest shivered around them, and these renegades of the Fey and the forest looked around suddenly, feeling the eyes of the Land settling upon them.


    The trees rippled, and from out of the green stepped the army of the Queen of the Sidhete.


    Four-meter forest giants, lean and bold, stared at their corrupted cousins in loathing. The centaurs, satyrs, and Sidhe looked on their own in loathing, never liking the Winter Court before now, and seeing what was made of them only made things worse.


    There was a rumble as a dozen trees stepped forwards, and which were Ents and which were not was hard to tell. Around them, dryads in their barked forms grasped eight-foot thorns, ready to fight.


    The ground shuddered, and a great green-skinned figure in gleaming bronze plate stepped out, the wood giants barely coming to his waist, and a spear over thirty feet long in his hand. Lightning crackled between his eyes, over his hands and armor in snapping arcs.


    Two figures came together at the center of the army. One was the Erlking of the forest, clad in his wooden mail, bow in hand. The other was a slender woman of inhuman beauty, clad in a dress of summer flowers and autumn leaves, also bearing a bow, both of them wearing crowns.


    Behind them stepped up a great six-legged, elephant-sized blue-furred catlike monster, with eyes like lamps and spikes all over it, staring at the fallen Fey there hungrily. They balked to see it behind the two monarchs.


    The sky began to darken, clouds roiling up out of nowhere, and even as the first lightning bolt came crashing down, the Storm Jotun lifted his spear, stepped forwards to hurl it with a bellow louder then any hunting horn, and the purging of the Fey traitors was on.

 137 Chapter One Hundred and Thirty-Seven – The Hear

    Several years ago...


    "Growing up a noble in a medieval society is supposed to be fun," Errant murmured for the thousandth time, as he picked himself up off the sandy floor of the sparring chamber, probably for the ten thousandth time.


    It wasn''t that he was depressed, it was just that it wasn''t fun, it was just enduring another beating.


    It was monotonous. So was his brother''s snickering.


    Errant sighed, spat out some blood, and got back to his feet. As always, he knew that his refusal to stay down would irritate the heck out of this older brother of his, instead of drawing any admiration or respect.


    There was being born into a noble family, and being born into a noble family of Huul-worshipers. Which basically meant power-hungry, arrogant, racist, and elitist assholes.


    And it permeated down, through the family and its underlings. Caste system rigidly in place, no crossing it except to abuse your underlings as you like, absolute obedience expected, fear and reverence a given...


    It was certainly a place designed to make you full of yourself to those lesser-born then yourself, and a sniveling bootlicker to those above who determined your fate.


    His family, the Gilderalz, had been worshipers of Huul for centuries, and quite open about it. They were strong supporters of the Empire, valiant on the battlefield, paid their taxes on time, had a strong fighting force, seconded a lot of knights to the Empire, and never had problems with rebels and peasant uprisings.


    The fact that they ruled their duchy with an iron fist was entirely responsible for all that. Despite their open allegiance to the Tyrant of Hell, their position was unshaken in the Empire.


    With the recent falling influence of the Heavenly Churches, their position was only getting stronger. In uncertain times, the rigid discipline and authority of Huul drew much attention from the noble classes for its focus on keeping those of lower orders in their place.


    Errant smirked to himself as he faced his older brother.


    The two years between them resulted in a discrepancy in strength, but not as much as his elder might have wanted. Errant had long opened his Vajra, and the energy it gave him meant he was capable of doing much more work on less sleep then his older siblings. He was third in the order of succession (sexism alive and very well in the Huul faith), and his older brothers were acutely aware that they had to secure their own positions for succession. It meant making sure their siblings didn''t take their power, all the while making sure that the power of the family wasn''t hurt by actually killing one another.


    So, at their age, regular beat-downs to show their youngers that they couldn''t possibly compete were a definite thing.


    It was just... it was hard for them to do that with him.


    Errant lifted his sword. He might only be ten, but he was much stronger than most ten-year-olds, owing to an exercise regime that was literally inhuman. Requiring less then one-fifth the caloric intake of a normal person, he could naturally sustain levels of effort far above his kin, and he did so.


    He had to. He was the piece of trash who wasn''t born Powered.


    His older brother here had already opened his dantian and could wield Chi, which was what he was using to overwhelm Errant''s defense. The Style he used was the Damnation Heart, and he was at the level of Dis, letting him add the iron weight of despair to every blow.


    In game terms, it was a combination of armor-sundering and a handful of extra damage dice, sort of a back-handed mix of Dark Smites. It was made for the knights of Hell, and his grandfather was a Nessian Master of it, a Ten and one of the most fearsome dark knights in the empire.


    He settled into his stance, and the sword in his hand didn''t move. He watched his brother''s dark eyes glitter in irritation, building up force to execute another of the Dis moves.


    He advanced with disconcerting lightness, and his brother reacted with an Iron Shield, the blocking area of his sword expanding out in a flash to easily parry the strike, which would lead to the Wail of Despair, a crushing stroke with extra damage that would lay him out on the floor again.


    Errant pulled back his sword, pointing, stepping. The point of his blade found his brother''s sword as it arced down, forming a nice sheering path and push, and it deflected nicely to his right, slamming into the floor and gouging through the sand into the stone floor beneath. His pommel came over the extended weapon, crashed into his brother''s helm, and sent him stumbling away across the circle.


    Errant just smiled normally as Procius nearly fell down, before catching himself and shaking his head in disbelief.


    He might not be Powered, but Soul Feats were nigh-invisible and very subtle... and he was a much, much better swordsman then his brothers.


    "You insolent cur!" Procius swore, his sword licking up with flames now. Errant just sighed, but his slight smile didn''t fade. "You powerless thing that doesn''t know your place! That I even allow you to be my punching bag is an honor to you!"


    Errant just shook his head. "Oh, I thought it was Father''s way of teaching an idiot like you not to underestimate an opponent who doesn''t give a shit about your order of birth. My mistake!"


    His brother''s eyes flashed in the red-black flames that covered his sword. Clearly, he really enjoyed the fact that he could do so, and how impressive it looked. But it was an Avernal-level technique, used up his Chi, and left him less to spend on more useful things.


    He flicked it out, and a burning brand lashed across and seared at Errant''s mail. He let it, having no fear of the flames whatsoever with his Vajra, and just smirked at his brother''s idiocy. Completely ignoring the burning threat of the sword, he lunged in again. His brother couldn''t support an Iron Shield, and so parried late.


    Errant flowed into the disarm, flipping over the quillons as he spun, hooking the sword and throwing his brother at the same time. With a grunt, Procius went falling over his shoulder and slammed heavily to the ground, while Errant kicked his sword nicely to the edge of the circle.


    "What a nice Avernal Sword. You should use it more often," he said calmly, half-bowing to his older brother as he stepped back.


    Procius roared to his feet, and his hands burst into flames. He started to advance on Errant, and held up when Errant''s sword slid over his gorget and was stopped by the hanging mesh there from impaling him right through the throat.


    Errant looked his taller brother calmly in the eyes, and said, "Go fetch your sword, brother. Or do you need a servant to do it for you?"


    Procius glared, the hellfire around his hands burning, but found he had nothing to say. Just leaning into his sword, Errant could crush his throat, if not punch through the mail entirely. With a growl he turned away, stalking towards his sword, and toed it up to his hand.


    When he turned back, he glanced at the instructors at the sides, and the other trainees, and wariness returned to his eyes.


    His younger brother had no Chi, but all the instructors praised him as the most talented fighter in mundane techniques they''d ever seen. Although they would never say it, they were impressed by his skills, even if never being able to learn the Damnation Heart meant he''d never ride with the elite knights of the family.


    Errant watched his brother come more cautiously this time, trying to use his height and reach advantage this time... mundane techniques. The smile on his face didn''t change as he met swords, and began to spin the tip of his sword around and against his brother''s. There was a surge of chi, knocking his sword away, but in the instant before it discharged, he caught up to and slid his brother''s sword to the side, and the burst of chi sent his incoming lunge back along the correct path. The point crashed cleanly into the joint of his brother''s armor, and Errant was back out of range before Procius could recover and retaliate.


    It would be so much easier if he was a Null, and could just ignore Chi entirely, he lamented, but he knew that it was not his fate. He could only win little victories like this, and enjoy the sullen look on his brother''s face at his inability to defend against proper technique... and a +10 MAB, which Errant was hiding very effectively.


    -------------


    He toweled himself off, leaving his disgruntled and humiliated older brother behind, heading off to the kitchens to grab a quick bite. His easy manner with the servant women meant they showed their favoritism to him in subtle ways, even if the more attractive (and ambitious) ones pursued being paramours of his brothers. He knew he had at least four half-brothers, but they were not allowed to live in the main house, relegated to the quarters of the knights and men-at-arms who protected the family. Although their status was less, they had an inalienable right to apply for positions of knighthood and least nobility, which would raise theirs and their mothers'' status accordingly.


    A slim, dark figure in black and red robes, somewhat reminiscent of clerical attire, was at the table in the dining hall as he passed through. The pale face of Master Phlenigos looked up and saw him, and immediately smiled thinly.


    "Master Errant, I wonder if I may have a moment of your time?"


    Errant looked into the black-orbed, red-pupiled eyes of the Hellbound Warlock in front of him without fear or sympathy. The man had likely been a low-born scholar, with no patron or opportunities before him, and sold his soul to Hell for the chance at real power.


    Hell had nine Warlock Pacts, each tied to a level of Hell and its diabolic master. The arch-devils vied with one another for servants, as the total number of Warlock Pacts Hell could empower had an absolute limit of five hundred per world, just like any other Rank Five Profound Power. Only the fact that the Seven Heavens, Elysium, and Paradise tended to act together and share Pacts among themselves skewed the results for Heavenbound, who considered themselves all members of the greater Cause of Good.


    "Master Phlenigos." The scholar with the slicked-back hair was not a martial Warlock. He had taken the Tyrant''s Heart Pact of Nessus, a popular one for Warlocks who mingled with higher society. Having a Pact tied to the Prime Minister of Hell, Asmodeus Himself, was a natural choice, and they considered themselves the elite of the Hellbound.


    That naturally meant that their more martial peers took great glee in killing them and sending them off to Hell a bit early. Hell didn''t mind, taking their newest soul and offering the Pact right up to another sucker. The Tyrant Hearts naturally realized this and tended to stick close to their Patrons and fend off rivals that way.


    "I see that you have come from your training once more. Is there a reason you pursue such a course, when you do not have the power the rest of you kin wield?"


    Errant had paused in false politeness. He knew what the Warlock was going to propose, and he was an ideal candidate for a Pact. A Primos in a Powered family devoted to Hell was like the runt of the litter, and he had experienced more then a few times what that meant.


    "I have no interest in a Tyrant''s Pact, Master Phlenigos. There are other Pacts better suited to my preferences. As for my training, it is merely building a foundation. There are other avenues for the non-Powered to power, you know."


    The red eyes flashed for a moment and looked away, caught for a moment in the endless doubt about whether what he had done was worth it.


    "So, you have considered this in the past." His hell-eyes narrowed. "Unexpectedly foresighted of you, young master. Is there another Pact you are considering?" he pressed.


    "Three," he admitted, and the Warlock''s face fell. "But they are all of the more martial path, and certainly well in the future, if at all."


    The Warlock sighed in mock defeat, and waved him away. "If you tire of such physical pursuits in the future, come and find me, and I might be able to set you on a different path."


    Errant politely bowed to the man, laughing inside, and went on his way.


    The Paths of the Cross, the Tome, and the Song were all waiting for him. He smiled thinly, and put the Warlock''s words behind him.

 138 Chapter One Hundred and Thirty-Eight - Supplication

    It was time. Her Karmic Debt was gone, and wiping that cult of Angar on their annual ritual hunt had definitely given her enough Karma to do what she wanted to do next. She only regretted that she didn''t have time for more then the local Baron to be turned into a deer and torn to death by his own hounds. Given the number of innocent travelers, serfs, and prisoners subjected to that fate, they all had deserved it.


    She''d already raised her Wizard Level to Two, instead of having to pay off the debt. Everything was in place. She would be buying back ALL her levels at the minimum cost needed to do so, instead of paying Ten prices for each level, which she would have done if applying Karma to the powers she had been left with all along...


    The place she chose was a natural fairy mound, in a glade deep in the woods, where few humans went, and even the fey were uncommon. It was normally gloomy, but this night, a white light was shining to the full moon above in supplication, the clouds taking care to part above and let the Silver Queen shine down.


    She''d made the components of the Seal ahead of time, and it floated above the mushrooms growing there, disturbing none of them. Holy power gathered, the moonsilver light warm and rippling as the moon in the sky, and a Presence filled the air.


    -You are awake, my child...-


    The voice was gentle and quiet to her ear, but her Matrix rolled like nothing she ever felt before as one of the Three Gods of Magic began to lightly manifest, and all the magic for miles thrummed in response.


    "My Goddess." Haz¨¦ did not hesitate to bow low. This was Sylune, the Silver Queen, the Patron of Silver Magic. She had been bowing and praying to Her since she was able to do so. In this world, the greatest spellcasters of Good were women, because of the Silver Queen! There was no denying this fact, and so Sylune was her inspiration.


    -I have long been watching you and the magic you retained in your rebirth. You have made fair, if violent, use of it.-


    Haz¨¦ swallowed. That she had been watched was of no surprise to her. She was a Ten, and the power of her faith and prayers likely far surpassed that of normal people. She was an Archmaga, and that combination of powers was not something that could be ignored in a world where Ten was the limit for all but the rarest of people.


    Fair, if violent use of it. She wanted to wince.


    "I know that Creation is the true calling of Silver Magic. But I am not yet in a situation where I believe such can be done properly. However, there is no lack of darkness here, and I can still bring the light, even while the darkness advances, My Goddess."


    -To Call for me to directly speak is quite daring. What have you come to ask, my daughter?-


    Haz¨¦ took a deep breath. "My Karmic Debt is paid. I can once again advance as a Priestess of the Silver Queen, if My Goddess wishes it so." She buried her head in the grass.


    -Are you truly aware of the obligations entailed by being one of My Servants, my child? Your remaining a user of the Arts Arcane keeps you free from many things.-


    Haz¨¦ could only nod. "Yes, I have, My Lady. I know that I desire power. I promise to use what Divine power I am granted sparingly, while my Arcane power will also be at your service. As for obligations, duties, and responsibilities... I will trust in the Silver Queen to use my gifts in the best manner suited for me. I will be your Staff and Wand in this mortal world, a bringer and a taker of the Silver Path... although I will probably have to grow up more before taking a more public position."


    Humor swirled through the mana. Magic sang all around her, through her. She knew she had no secrets before the Silver Queen, and did not care, actually.


    She had always imagined the Silver Queen as the greatest Big Sister she could ever have, there to show everyone the wonders and joys of magic, if they could but be responsible enough to control it.


    She would be responsible.


    -I see you are sincere in this, and I cannot deny your gifts. Very well, Haz¨¦ the Star Mage. I grant your request, and I will take you as Cleric and Favored.-


    The timing was exquisite. The bar to Cleric/1 tilted over, and as Renewal washed past her, Favored/1 ticked over as well. New Slots and expansions to her Pools thrummed in her Valences.


    -I shall give you guidance from time to time, and of course you may request more. For now, continue on with your tasks. Your prayers have said that you are working with the Brotherhood of the Void. As long as their methods do not conflict with the Silver Path, you may continue to do so. Be wary of the grimness of their tasks... but if they can look upon magic and know joy, you will have done a great thing for the world.-


    Haz¨¦ shivered as the moonlight wafted across her, and moaned as it touched her Matrix, before fading away as if nothing had happened.


    Now, she had choices to make!


    -----


    Clerics were the Divine equivalents to Wizards. They were generally better at fighting, and less adept at ranged combat, unless dealing with archer gods or something. Favored were the Divine equivalent of Sorcerers.


    Key factors were that Clerics didn''t have to buy spells and acquire a repertoire, they merely needed to learn the correct prayers, which their Patron and Churches were happy to teach them. This access to a large spell list was quite envied by many Arcane Casters.


    Another thing was Domain dominance. Within their Domains, Divine Casters won, always overpowering others using the same type of spells. So, a Divine Caster would instantly Dispel the fire magic of a Wizard or other Caster, if she had the Fire Domain.


    Every deity had at least two Domains: one for Alignment, one for Sphere. The rank of a God determined number of Domains, with the High Gods commanding five, and the rest fewer, in order of power.


    As the Queen of Stars and Patron of Silver Magic, Sylune was indeed a High God, one of the two of Pure Good, with Aru the Sun King being the other. The Domains of her Power were Good, Heaven, Magic, Travel, and Knowledge, and she was the Prime Goddess of Heaven, covering the moon and stars of the night, as well as one of the three gods who reigned over Magic.


    A Cleric got to choose two Domains, and received one free Domain spell per Level, plus a Domain power or two, as long as a spell from the Domain was memorized.


    A Favored only received one Domain, and it would overlap with Cleric as far as the spell Slots went. So, effectively she had received access to three Domains, but she could only access the powers of one, because she only got one Domain Slot at /1.


    Except she pushed over another lever, and bought the Faithful Wizard Feat, automatically qualifying for it as a Cleric, and naturally opened the Domain Slots for all her Valences immediately. It was effectively free, as she''d be refunded the Karma as her Divine Class Levels improved.


    A normal Cleric choosing two Domains effectively assigned themselves to an Order within the Church. Those priestesses who chose Knowledge and Heavens tended to be researchers and explorers, looking for new discoveries, while those taking Good and Magic were heavily involved in the magical community, seeking to steer it to better ends.


    She ticked over Extra Magical Domain, and picked her fourth. Let her Moonsisters wonder over how to pigeonhole her...


    Good, Heavens, Magic, Knowledge.


    Good, +1 Caster Level to all Good spells. Sacred, Blessed, and Purified spells were all Good.


    Heavens, +1 Caster Level to all Force Effects. The Valence I Domain spell was Shards, even.


    Magic, use all magical items as if a Wizard. Since she was a Wizard, this was upgraded to all Wizard Class effects also affecting her Divine Spells, as well as being the qualifying Domain for Sylune''s Mystic Theurges.


    Knowledge, all Knowledge Skills are Class Skills, +2 to Knowledge checks. Since she already had all Knowledge Skills as Class Skills as a Wizard, and she had the Magic Domain, this was upgraded to +1 to Caster Level of one School of Magic. She naturally chose Evocation.


    Her Shards were now going to be going off at +3 Levels, since she automatically Purified them with every Cast. Doing d8 instead of d6 against Undead and Evilborn was a no-brainer.


    Twelve Shards. She smiled as she Slotted Spells in contemplation.


    There was overlap. There was meant to be. She was effectively wasting the choices in her Domain Slots to build her Divine Star.


    Shards Divine resonated with Shards Arcane in Valence One. Detect II resonated with Detect II in Valence II. Circle of Protection from Evil resonated in both III Slots. Wizard Eye resonated in two IV Slots.


    And now to form the Star. The Star was formed by using the Slots gained from a high Wisdom to form the Divine half of the Star. It required Sylune to grant a spell she normally would not, but since it was basically a placeholder being done for a specific reason, there was no problem with it.


    To oppose Heavens, Darkness Domain, Darkmist in Valence I.


    To oppose Knowledge, Trickery Domain, Glibness in II.


    To oppose Good, Evil Domain, Circle of Protection from Good in III, wagh wagh.


    To oppose Magic, Strength Domain, Spell Immunity in IV.


    There was a boiling in her blood as the spells were Slotted, and her Matrix began to pulse and swirl as opposed energies joined inside it, and formed something greater.


    The First Star, the Second Star. The Arcane Rose. The Bloodstar, and now, the Divine Star were all in place.


    Five Stars to be Sustained!


    She felt the energies coursing through her, and laughed softly to herself.


    She was now basically free of many of the needs of normal people. Two hours of meditation per night, tops. Didn''t really need to eat or drink save to grow up and replace lost cells, endless amounts of energy during the day.


    +5 to Caster Level, finally!


    She clenched her small fists, looking up gratefully at the Silver Queen overhead, and swore she could hear a regal, knowing laugh in the manafield.


    Now, she was truly the Star Mage once more. In a world of Tens, she could cast her spells at the same efficiency as Tens using five-man Ritual Casting.


    And she was Sustained. Her Sustained Effort was going to start working, with excellent long-term implications for her both mentally and physically. She might not end up a physical paragon, but if she put any effort into it, she was going to be much stronger and tougher than any normal Caster.


    Eight years it had taken her, but things were starting to come together...

 139 Chapter One Hundred and Thirty-Nine– Supplication, Too

    Getting the components together hadn''t been as hard as he imagined. After all, there were still shrines to Amana around, as even devotees of Huul wouldn''t chase off the Gentle Mother''s healers without very, very good reason.


    Keeping one''s serfs and slaves healthy was a lot of work his family didn''t want to have to pay for, after all. If Amana''s Hands preferred to focus their efforts on the lower classes, that was fine. They were easy to coerce into service with brief periods of leniency, or the threat of punishment to the masses.


    But they also had holy incense, candles, holy water, and blessed silver. They were confused why a member of the Duke''s family would want such things, but wise enough to say nothing, and knew enough of his reputation and standing to sympathize with him.


    Errant didn''t really require it, but he also got the use of one of their Shrines, with the caveat that one of the Hands would be nearby to react if he planned to despoil it or something. He had simply lifted the case of blessed materials at the Mother, who merely lifted an eyebrow and said nothing more.


    He had long become an expert at leaving the castle at odd hours, and the guards at the gate had far more real respect for him then they did for his brothers and sisters, given how he excelled at their skills, not the Binding arts or Chi-using of his siblings. And if his late-night visits somehow coincided with various parties in town dying or complaining about someone robbing them, well, the guards might have noticed, but not really believed it. After all, people got killed and robbed on other nights, too.


    But tonight, the doors of the simple shrine creaked open, and he walked inside.


    The interior of the Shrine was plain. Simple benches that could be used as beds for injured patients were stacked against the walls, most services to the Mother being held standing as the Duke didn''t like extended ones interfering with productivity.


    The altar was of white birch, cared for lovingly, just big enough to fit a gravely injured person as needed, a clean white cloth draped over it.


    It was his target for tonight.


    The Mother outside would have been shocked to see how deftly he placed the candles, sprinkled the dust, and poured the holy water. Every motion and gesture had an effect, the sequence powerful enough to start the gathering of magic even if he had no ability to manipulate mana. This was old, old magic, Summoning of a special sort that had been written into the fabric of the weft and the weave, intended to be used by those without power, calling out for help from elsewhere.


    It was answered. His Spellcraft check was more then high enough, and the site was outside the Wards of the city, on blessed ground.


    The sigils of silver pulsed with new, holy light, but he had closed the shutters to make sure it was not seen by the overly curious.


    His father''s dark knights would be unkindly interested in why he was Summoning an Angel to himself...


    The Pact Angel that descended from the light transmitted through the ceiling, descending along it smoothly, was only about three feet tall. However, such Pact Angels didn''t need to be big. They needed to be able to evaluate supplicants, and confirm a Pact. Heaven would do the rest.


    Glowing golden eyes, filled with the warmth of the sun, washed over him, and an aura of vigilance, readiness to do battle, yet protective and supportive, filled the interior of the Shrine.


    "Mortal, you seek a Pact with Heaven?" the little Angel asked, gazing down at him with a soft yet piercing gaze.


    "To be honest, I seek the re-establishment of my Pact with Heaven," Errant replied, meeting that gaze without fear. "It was terminated by my death, and I seek approval for it once again."


    That actually managed to surprise the Angel, who looked him over closely. "I see. A reincarnation?" The androgynous being hummed. "Are you not a little young to be seeking such a thing again, Warlock? There could be consequences once you are seen to be bearing the Sign."


    The Great Pact of Warlocks meant that Signs could not be concealed by Warlocks. Upon the very first use of the powers of a Warlock, the Sign would manifest and could not be hidden again... much to the annoyance of many Warlocks who loved to lie and disguise themselves. Warlocks were meant to fight, and be in conflicts, not to slink around and conceal themselves.


    This both catered to and annoyed the Dark Powers, as not being able to hide their affiliation made it difficult for Warlocks to do many things. On the other hand, it sent a steady supply of souls to them, so they tolerated it, as either way they would profit.


    "I actually do not intend to use the active powers of Wrath, Ward, or Whim for some time, sir," Errant replied calmly. "The passive powers are quite useful, and I intend to undertake Angel Weight during this time period."


    "Ah, using the restrained Wrath to heal yourself." The Pact Angel nodded sagely. "A wise move, if a bit young... but tempering yourself early is hardly a wise thing." The Angel straightened. "Have you Grace and Worth to declare?"


    "I do." Errant bowed his head, putting it in reach of the cherub''s hand. It descended upon him, and scanned his aura, and the memories attached to that aura.


    He had been covering for the mistakes and errors of his servants for years, insuring they did not get punished for minor errors. Sleight of hand slipping coins here and there, unknown to them, unrewarded... and unexploited, as some of them would certainly try to gain more from him if at all possible.


    He had constantly and subtly undermined the harsh rules of Huul with knowledge that there was a better way, of camaraderie and respect, of hard work rewarded, and treating people what they were worth. People called him weak because he would not punish, torture, or revel in the pain and misery of others... until a point was reached where it would be worse if he did not react, and then he showed them what it was like to be under pain by his fists.


    When he felt himself ready to do so, he had begun his vigilante work, knowing that the law here was something exploited by the high-born, and not something that could be relied on for justice. Stealing from the wealthy, killing the murderous and demented with stealth and skill, especially those of low birth who preyed upon their own, or were minions of more ruthless masters he could not afford to touch at this time.


    He was one of the largest donors to Amana in the city, supported the quiet work of some adherents of Good gods he had been introduced to in passing, and had seen to encouraging his own small network of stout and hard-working souls who hoped for something better and endured this rigid and merciless land only because things seemed often to be worse elsewhere.


    And he had broken Procius'' arms when the humiliated idiot tried to poison him, but that was another matter. After the follow-up investigation, his father had ordered his brother lashed, and now Procius really hated him.


    That was one of the reasons he was doing this now. His brother was certainly going to get other, more competent hands to do his dirty work, and he needed the edge of a Pact to survive that. Resistance to poison, fast healing, and other Resistances to complement his Vajra were all going to be welcome.


    "Well done. For your age, and the environment you are in, you''ve done well." Errant nodded without pride. He''d put up with a great deal of abuse, emotional and physical, that a boy his age simply shouldn''t have been able to, astounding his whole family. They were less impressed then intrigued, however, trying to find new ways to cut him down and break his will.


    After all, he was not Powered, his worth determined at birth, like any peasant.


    "I approve a Pact with Heaven. Are you ready?" the Angel said calmly.


    "I am," replied Errant.


    "Are you prepared to sacrifice, and to serve?"


    "I am."


    "Agree you to serve the Will of Heaven?" There was a pause to receive his assent, and the questions continued. "To defend the weak, to protect the innocent? To defy the Diabolic? To hurl back the Demonic? To thwart the Daemonic? To embrace virtue and to scorn sin? To be shield and sword, spear and hammer, hand and foot, word and song of the Empyrean Sphere? To seek out those that serve Evil and stand between them and their ambitions upon this mortal world?!"


    The Angel''s voice was ringing with divine Thunder, its eyes blazing with the Light from beyond Heaven, making it abundantly clear that this was no mortal creature.


    Errant faced it squarely. It had been only a game in his memory, but he remembered these very words, this very feeling of transcendence, as he came to serve the Will of Heaven directly, bypassing the need to be Powered.


    Light flared over his Vajra soul, and began to carve into it.


    His resistance was immaterial. He had invoked a Pact, and this was being backed by the full force and power of Heaven. Indeed, it might be said a Vajra soul was the perfect material for a Pact to be written on. He wasn''t a Null, but he was close, and he stood there as beams of The Light cut into him, and made him a conductor, channel, and capacitor for the Light of Heaven.


    It was timeless, taking forever, and yet done very quickly. Light shown through his light, glaring up on the lights of his little sins, pausing over his inability to fight sin when he saw it, for lack of power, and what came of it.


    Things would change.


    A Heavenbound was meant to fight, to do battle for Heaven... but that did not mean Heaven wasn''t wise, and couldn''t wait and plan. He was indeed young for what he intended to do, and waiting a few years to consolidate his power was certainly something that Heaven could wait for.


    He would join the fight soon enough.


    Errant found himself on the floor, glowing smoke rising from his skin. Beneath his skin, he could see the pulsing of Runes older then recorded time, a Pact struck in the language of Heaven, girding his soul with the powers of The Light.


    Within his mind, he saw a whole bunch of glowing Patterns suddenly light up, injected with eldritch power. They''d been completely invisible before, since they were totally useless. But with the addition of a Pact, suddenly they had a great deal of relevance, indeed.


    ---


    Errant smiled as the faint music began to rise from his Pact, swelling him with the courage of all those who had fought in the name of Heaven before. He rose from the ground, and calmly cleaned up after himself. Most of the candles and incense had simply burned away, as had the silver dust of the circle, so there wasn''t all that much to actually do.


    He handed the small box of things to the Mother waiting outside, a knowing expression on her face. She stared into his eyes as he handed the things to her, and seemed to want to ask a question.


    "Not until they are openly used," he said to her silent question. Her dark eyes glittered knowingly, and she silently sent him on his way.

 140 Chapter One Hundred and Forty – Verd and Scu

    Haz¨¦ spun her Staff in her fingers, looking ahead of her.


    She was invisible up on a roof, and this town didn''t have internal Wards, so she knew she wouldn''t be spotted. Her attention was on a girl below.


    This girl''s mother was a greenhag.


    Haz¨¦ could see no sign of it. She was a green-eyed, brown-eyed young woman, attractive, of medium build that showed a hint of maturing early. Greenhags were the Hags of Cursed Fertility, the most numerous of them, supposedly their Curse originated from the punishment of the souls of men and women who abused their own children for their own benefit.


    It wasn''t the job of the Void Brothers to just slaughter Hags willy-nilly. Even in this day and age, there were some souls reborn precisely to become Hags and be punished for the evils they''d done in a previous life. The Curse was massive and unavoidable, a part of the magical landscape, possibly the literal Mother of All Curses.


    But like most curses, it had been bent and corrupted, with the ability of the Hags to steal the lives of the children of others, and literally make their own Hagchildren, who would inherit the curse of their mother and were doomed to Hagdom when they came of age.


    This girl was one of them. How the Fire and Sword knew before it was time, she didn''t know, but gathered that he had met and disposed of her mother for some reason... and the Curse of the Hag was a magical thing, he would be far more sensitive to it than any Caster.


    Her problem now was how to approach the girl... and her family.


    Greenhags were the epitome of savagery towards children. What they typically did is charm a father-to-be, got themselves pregnant, and then swapped children with the mother-to-be in their wombs. Separated by the moment of giving birth, the transferred hagchild would inherit the soul meant for the real child, and the other would be stillborn, often made into a scrying globe or other foul instrument in celebration by the hag.


    Often ate the dad, too.


    This girl had naturally grown up unknowing of her nature, and wouldn''t know until the first time she had sex... at which time she''d probably rip her lover apart and eat him. Given the strong sex drive and early maturity of Hagchildren, that was usually before their fourteenth birthday.


    But how do you tell an eight-year-old girl they are going to turn into a Hag, especially when their own Curse would be urging them not to believe? It was cruel and merciless... just like the Curse.


    The best way was probably to misdirect the idea completely...


    -----------


    "My Verd has a talent for magic?"


    The woman was blond, attractive, somewhat careworn by grief and time. She had a babe on her shoulder, who did not share a father with her firstborn daughter, so she had remarried. The man was obviously out to work, which was precisely why Haz¨¦ was here.


    Talking with the woman was not difficult. A II Valence to appear years older and taller, the white and black of the Silver Queen''s servants and silver crescent symbol at her throat was more then enough reason for the awed young woman to let her into her small home.


    "A strong one. More precisely, witchcraft... a wizardess with a Patron. I think you can understand how important it is that such a talent not turn to darkness, Elia."


    "Yes, yes, of course!" Her dark eyes dotted back and forth, a mixture of excitement and uncertainty. This was a massive opportunity for her daughter, and would take her off her hands, easing tensions in this household, where her husband had to be reminded every day that he was not the man she had loved first and most. Naturally, she did not know how her husband had died... or even if he had... "Things have been so difficult since her father left..."


    Well, that was one thing she could lay to rest.


    "Died," Haz¨¦ corrected crisply.


    "What?" Elia stared at her in horror, shock... and an inner well of relief breaking.


    "He was murdered before she was born." Haz¨¦ tilted her head slightly. "I naturally ascertained her parentage and the whereabouts of her parents after I saw her. The nature of his death was quite violent. Were you not aware of this?"


    She was trembling, shaking, and the tears began to flow. "I... no, no, everyone said he fled after he learned I was with child, he wouldn''t marry me..." There were other things she was called. It seemed her husband had been desired by many of the young women her age, and naturally they blamed her for everything when he went missing.


    But he hadn''t abandoned her, hadn''t betrayed the promises he''d spoken.


    "If you are wondering, he is with Aru. He did not forsake you," Haz¨¦ said kindly.


    She was sniffling non-stop, unable to stop her crying. The years of abuse and tears came out together. Haz¨¦ kindly supplied a kerchief and waited patiently.


    "I-I will have to talk my husband, Moonsister, but to have a daughter accepted into Sylune''s service, I do not think there will be a problem! This is a great blessing of the Goddess!" She reached for the light in the gloom, and Haz¨¦ clasped her hand warmly.


    "The stars have indeed blessed your family," Haz¨¦ agreed patiently. "How about this? I will return tonight, and if you and the child are willing, I will take her with me into Sylune''s service." Her voice dropped subtly. "I do not know how long she will be in training, so it may be some years until you see her again."


    Elia nodded understanding, long apprenticeships were the norm in this society. Her daughter would come back to her when she was capable of doing so.


    Haz¨¦ waved her hand as she left, and magic swirled through the small house. Elia looked around in wonder as the floors were polished, walls scrubbed down, dirt vanished, clothes were cleaned, dishes washed, blankets folded, and she heard the hot water bubbling suddenly in the kitchen.


    Hours of labor, accomplished in mere minutes. Truly, this was a servant of the Silver Queen.


    Walking away, Haz¨¦ nodded to herself that the first step was done.


    --------


    Verd was waiting for her when she returned at twilight.


    She was wearing her best dress, clearly a little threadbare, shifting nervously from foot to foot. When she saw the tall woman in black and white coming up the road to her house, she couldn''t help her eyes getting wide.


    There were a lot of eyes on Haz¨¦ as she strode down the street. News of her coming earlier, and doubtless the tales from Elia''s lips, had certainly spread. The silver light glowing softly above her head was more then ample proof that a Moonsister had come to their humble town, and her house and person, formerly ridiculed for her status, was now going an abrupt change.


    Her daughter was going to be brought into the service of the Silver Queen! Only a fool would want to offend her now.


    Elia came to the door behind her daughter. She was standing straighter now, a grief of years gone, and a fierce pride in her eyes now. Her daughter, THEIR daughter, was being called to serve the Silver Queen! For a laborer''s family, this was truly a massive honor and good fortune. All the curses, insults, and doubts were gone now, and destiny had paid her back for all her pain.


    The younger brother and sister who could walk were leaning out the windows to watch, and indeed, there were a lot of spectators who silently filed out to watch. An older man and woman, her paternal grandparents, were present, as well as her maternal grandmother, all watching to the side in silence.


    Indeed, there were a lot of people out there with their children. Their goal was apparent, especially as they slowly moved into her wake. They wanted to see if any of their own children could catch the eye of this Priestess of the Silver Queen.


    As this was one of her responsibilities as a Priestess, Haz¨¦ didn''t shirk it, but her first duty was before her.


    Verd was staring wide-eyed at the tall and beautiful raven-haired woman before her, so strong and powerful, unseen magic plucking at the edge of the eyes of all who looked upon her. She radiated power and control, completely overwhelming everyone around. The young girl was finding it hard to breathe.


    "Are you ready to go, little sister?" Haz¨¦ asked with a smile that dazzled everyone nearby.


    "Y-yes, ma''am," Verd managed to get out, awed at all this. She clutched the bag of her most precious belongings.


    "Very good." Haz¨¦ gestured, and a lotus-style lamp appeared on her hand. She handed it to Elia, and it opened up slowly, revealing the bright Eternal Moonflame burning steadily within. "This is a scrying focus. We will use it to check up on how you are doing over time, to set my little sister at ease. And exactly once, you may snuff it out, and I will know that you are in great danger."


    Elia''s eyes widened, and those of the lean man behind her trembled, knowing the value of such a gift. No one would dare to invade their house with such a thing present, nor dare to steal it, lest it lead a Priestess of Sylune right to them.


    The Goddess had extended a shield over them...


    Haz¨¦ met both their eyes, and her fingers twinkled as she laid them on Verd. Both of the parents had a very clear image of a purse appearing in a corner of their loft, under old blankets and clothing too worn to wear, containing a thousand pieces of silver... a true fortune for a family at their standard of living, but a pittance to Haz¨¦ now. If they were prudent, it would last them for years, and provide a good home for their other children.


    "Come, little sister." Magic swirled around Verd, and she gasped as she was suddenly wearing the black and white robes of an acolyte of Sylune. The eyes looking on her all changed instantly, and she straightened up despite herself, holding her pack to herself.


    Haz¨¦ casually relieved her of it and tossed it on a Disk floating on her side. Leading her new acolyte by the shoulder, she turned and walked back out the street.


    Her eyes sparkled with stars as they swept over the men, women, and children on their path out, especially the children.


    She stopped before a skinny blond girl, perhaps six, who stared up at her in wonder. Her parent''s eyes went wide, and her siblings nearly exploded on the spot.


    "Take her to the Harvestmother''s House," she said softly, and continued on her way, while bows and prayers rose spontaneously behind her.


    "If you keep your fire, Valus will take you," to a young man, who quivered to hear it.


    "Go to the Guild Arcane, and ask for a member of the Eclectics. Tell them Moonsister Haz¨¦ sent you," to a thin boy with dark, active eyes.


    "If you dare to ride free, Aethra will take you," to a fiery-eyed, freckled redhead who clenched her hands to hear it, turning instantly to glare at her parents, who almost rolled their eyes in relief.


    ---


    "You may come out."


    From the shadows between two homes, a thin, scrawny young man stepped out. He was dressed in rags, cast-offs from others, with sunken eyes and scars from fists and the lash. His hair was black, his skin pale, and he had already lost a couple teeth from beatings.


    But his eyes were hungry, not afraid. Bitter, angry, stewing with emotions.


    Verd gasped next to him, and took half a step forward. "Scut..."


    Haz¨¦ raised an eyebrow, seeing this. "Come forwards, young master."


    The boy shivered at being addressed so, and came cautiously closer. His eyes met hers, afraid but defiant, expecting the worst, spitting at their own despair.


    "Your potential is higher then anyone else here, save my little sister." Haz¨¦ squeezed Verd''s shoulder, and she trembled. Scut shivered, and despite himself, stood up straighter, those words reinforcing his own beliefs.


    Haz¨¦''s fingers twisted, and a silver coin appeared there, rapidly flowing into the shape of a crescent moon. His eyes fixed on it hungrily. "I will give you three choices. Take this and present yourself to a true Bard, not a mere musician. A drop of blood upon it, show it to them, and the sorrow in your heart will one day be heard across the land, and men will know your name and respect you deeply.


    "Or," she turned her fingers, and the darkness on the other side gleamed like black oil, "take this to the Guild of Thieves, one of their masters, and men will one day learn your name, but they will only speak of it in whispers..."


    She lowered her hand, and his rose to take it, eyes gleaming. "Lastly," and his hand froze, "you may come with us, and I will introduce you to someone."


    Verd''s jaw dropped, and Scut blinked as well.


    He looked at the crescent moon, the two choices of fame and infamy, and then at Verd, up at the beautiful Priestess before him.


    "I-I''ll go with you..." he grit his teeth and clenched his fists.


    "Cunning already." Haz¨¦''s eyes sparkled, and she waved her Staff.


    A silver wind swept down the street, and before he could say anything else, they were gone.

 141 Chapter One Hundred and Forty-One – A Beating

    The sounds of beatings being applied weren''t particularly unusual in the training area. Such encouragements motivated the inept and lackadaisical to focus better, and the threat of them kept the motivated more driven.


    Too, beating the shit out of people you didn''t like was freely allowed here. Either they got better or they washed out, and were replaced with others who either fit in, or fought back successfully and started their own round of beat-downs.


    There weren''t too many people who asked for a beating here, but Errant was one of them.


    He was in low horse stance, hands clasped before his chest. Four men with wooden rods were standing around him, and they were beating on him.


    It wasn''t having much effect. The loud impact of wood on flesh drew more and more attention, and eventually the other men sparring or lifting weights or doing exercises paused to turn and watch the runt of the Gilderalz take a beating.


    Repeatedly.


    There was no restriction on targets. At first, the blows went on muscles, gut and back, legs and arms. When there was no appreciable reaction, the focus began to shift to bones and joints, slamming down on shoulders, elbows, spines, cracking across the back of his neck, and then hitting his skull, jaw, even around his temple and eyes. Finally, even his nuts and groin were targets.


    Sometimes his skin split at the impacts. He might move an inch, but rapidly corrected his posture.


    Smoke visibly rose from the injuries, and promptly sealed any cuts, warded away any bruises.


    Hard men swallowed. They could see how hard those clubs were hitting, and where, and how. Errant was just a boy and should have been a pile of bruised meat on the floor, not even conscious, barely alive, if at all.


    He was just taking it all...


    He was taking the second instance of the Power Feat, Roll With It. Currently, he was a Six, with DR 2/Silver from his Warlock Ward Resist Mastery, + 3/- from Way of Iron stacking with all other DR, Roll With It going to 4/- stacking with Way of Iron, and converting Expertise/3 into 10 more points of DR.


    They weren''t getting through DR 19/- with those little clubs, and even a crit was just gone in seconds with his Wrath at /3, Purity at /3, and Healing Wrath thus at 6/round. Naturally he had already completed his Internal Fortification alchemically, and minimized his vulnerable areas down to null.


    His Vajra was as hard as steel throughout his skin, every impact diluted across the whole of his body, reducing the shock of impact considerably, venting a good portion out his feet. The attentive might have noticed the sand moving away from his feet, but it had been lost in the initial blows, and now there wasn''t any being kicked out from under his soles to show what was going on.


    His eyes were closed, he was focused on their positions, reading the way their feet were posed and shifting to judge where the blows were coming from. Shadows danced across his skin, he registered the shifting in light, and mated the two to determine where the blows were coming from, shifting his Vajra ever so slightly to anticipate the coming impacts. It was a dance and melding of mind, body, and soul, driving his combat awareness outwards... and also reaping Karma, as he defeated these four men simply by exhausting their willingness to beat on something that simply was ignoring them.


    He heard the hoarseness of their breathing, and the waxing eagerness of their blows began to fall off as not even repeated blows to his forearms dropped his hands more then an inch for a moment. Eventually, they just tapered off, and he opened his eyes.


    His four tormentors were breathing raggedly, looking at him in disbelief. He cracked his neck once as he straightened up, worked his shoulders once, and audibly popped his ribs and fingers as he turned right and left.


    "Thank you, gentlemen. Same time tomorrow." They nodded dumbly as he stepped out from between them, and the brawny men there gave way to him.


    After all, what were they going to do, punch him? He could take a weighted club to the head... and it basically bounced! They consoled themselves that it wouldn''t work with a knife or sword... or would it?


    "Boy, I have a massage for ¨C urk!"


    The brawny, bearded men in the light armor of a guard stopped talking when the cold steel of Errant''s sword nestled up against his throat, while removing half his beard.


    "What did you call me, guard?" Errant asked dismissively, not looking at him as he toweled himself down with his other hand. He naturally recognized this man, Pwent, as one of his oldest brother''s toadies, er, supporters among the guardsmen. He had also beaten the man at swordplay multiple times.


    The man knew he was about to die, the sword held very firmly and creeping up. "My-my apologies, young master. I spoke hastily..."


    "Indeed you did. Gentlemen," Errant''s voice rose. "Ready your clubs again. Give this guard five minutes of your time, if you would. I wouldn''t want anyone to think you were being soft on me."


    There was a murmur, followed by some quiet, dark laughter. He might not have the support his brothers did, but he had more true respect from these men then they did, for all that, because he could beat them without resorting to powers they did not have.


    Pwent''s forehead broke out into a cold sweat. He knew the beating that was coming was going to be brutal and vicious.


    "Worry not, I''ll stay here and watch it all. I''m sure that you will be able to deliver your message afterwards." The four men nodded slightly at his words, and he tilted his sword, moving the unwilling guard in that direction, backing him into the circle of four men slapping heavy clubs against their hands meaningfully.


    Unlike Errant, Pwent didn''t last very long. The beatdown was merciless and precise. He did try to defend himself after the first couple of blows came in and the sword was withdrawn, but his legs were rapidly hammered out from under him, and he dropped to the ground. The sound of wood meeting flesh was now synchronized with shouts and cries of pain.


    Errant waved them off after two minutes, and they backed away from the battered, bruised man curled up between them. They had avoided any permanent injuries, and the head, but he was going to be black and blue all over for days, if he didn''t get any healing magic.


    "Well, I imagine you''ve set a good example for everyone who thought I was getting off easy. Out with it, now." He snapped his fingers above Pwent.


    The guard was in great pain and anger, but kept his eyes down, knowing that any slip-up was either going to resume the beating, perhaps fatally, or earn him a slit throat. "Your brother Guteriz c-commands that you attend him in the main hall."


    "Does he now? And he thinks he can just interrupt my training time at his idle whim?" Technically, as the heir and elder, he did have more power... but all of that was unwritten as long as their father still lived, and he was willing to live with the consequences of pissing his brother off. He had no true authority to command his siblings beyond what Father had given him, and Errant, being shuffled into a place of no real importance, was simply not in the hierarchy.


    "Well, since you''re obviously unable to walk, I suppose I''ll have to bring you with me." Errant strapped on his training gear and reached down to the man who was painfully unbundling himself. Ignoring his shouts, Errant grabbed him by the back of his armor and threw him over his back like a sack of potatoes, drawing an impressed look from all the men in the room. That was almost three hundred pounds of man and armor he was handling like that.


    His sword in one hand and Pwent struggling weakly behind him, Errant walked out of the room. Pwent got the idea he was going to be baggage and humiliated after a minute when Errant''s steps and grip didn''t falter, and stopped moving and hurting himself with a silent curse.


    ----


    He strode in very heavily into the main hall. Normally he didn''t wear his training armor within the house, but he decided that a certain image should be presented to his older brother, and if he stank a bit, that only helped the image along.


    His oldest brother and sister seemed to be having another one of their interminable social gatherings, building bridges and burning their lessers, all sons and daughters of the wealthier and more powerful vassals, and some allied nobles. All of them were older then he was, but it was hard to tell, as bundled up as he was.


    His training armor was not designed for protection, it was designed to be heavy. It was sort of metal plates with more weights attached to them, a good hundred pounds of extra mass to be moving around.


    At three gravities.


    Angel Weight training was the opposite of Angel Walk. Angel Walk had two Masteries, the Walk and the Wind (beneath the wings). In short, the Wind was a light gravity modifier, reducing the gravity from ? to 1/6th normal, allowing prodigious feats of lifting and jumping, as required. It didn''t grant power, but being able to jump a hundred feet was pretty nifty.


    Turn that around, and it was heavy gravity training.


    Only Heavenbound could undertake this kind of training while still a child, internalizing the Healing Wrath to continually offset the damage heavy gravity would do to the skeletal system, positively reinforcing his entire system and mobilizing it to fight back and adapt to the increased gravity without physical consequences.


    Of course, bioalchemy was very useful for adjusting physiology, and he used that as well.


    His suit was thus a monstrously heavy physical conditioning tool. He had to learn to run, crawl, fight, bend, stretch, tumble, jump, and roll wearing this absurdly heavy thing... at three gravities.


    It put incredible stress on his system to perform at that level, literally forcing him to develop superhuman endurance, strength, reflexes, and coordination to compensate for the increased load. If he fell at three gravities, he''d hit the ground before he could get his hands out. The slightest shift in balance would send him crashing to the ground, and he could and did break things when it happened.


    Healed up, got up, went back to it.


    So he struck a certain image as he walked into the room, all heavy-suited up, the force of his thousand-pound steps loud upon the marble floor. Everyone turned to look at him, and then watched as he dropped the battered Pwent onto a couch with idle ease, his armor knocking loudly.


    "Your servants need an education in civility, elder brother," Errant said idly, sketching a half-bow in his creaking armor. "I was in the middle of my training, you''ll have to forgive my lack of proper attire. What was it you wanted?"


    He didn''t bother to hide his irritation at the situation, and their snickers faded away as they looked at him, and judged just how much metal he was actually wearing... and how lightly he walked.


    If only they knew.


    His brother was a fine model of a Gilderalz knight and warrior, tall, broad-shouldered, muscular, pale of skin and dark of hair, with hooded dark eyes. He was currently in a silk jacket and trousers that cost more then the homes of most of their vassals, flashing a ruby ring their mother had given him, a shirt so white it almost glared, and rider''s boots with high heels, giving him yet more height. He cut a striking figure, sure enough, and definitely had the eyes of many of the young women in attendance. The Damnation Heart cultivated a tyrannical, commanding air that furthered his status and power, and well, there were only a couple others here from families with status equal to their own.


    The Caliopi were sorcerers, hoarding their bloodline and the magic that went with it, while the Benedelli were masters of intrigue with deep pockets, not exactly warrior equals. No need to be overshadowed, and the Gilderalz were marginalized in many courts for their servitude to Huul.


    "Ah, little brother. I suppose I should have asked you to dress appropriately, but that can be remedied." His voice was commanding, arrogant, in control, and disdain danced in his dark eyes. "I have something of a bet here I hope you can help me resolve."


    Errant rolled his eyes, and let everyone see it. "Oh, that is certainly worth my time, eldest. What manner of tripe shall I help you with? Locating your hands at the ends of your arms? Guiding you through the serving wenches'' halls during daytime? A new way to strangle dogs?"


    There was surprise and scandalized delight at his words. Such defiance from a piece of trash was totally unexpected.


    Guteriz simply ignored the barbs, although there was a flash in the depth of his eyes. "One of my friends here brought a retainer along who is something of a specialist in weaponless combat. I mentioned that my little brother has something of a reputation in the family for being good with his fists, and he wondered if you might be interested in a bout."


    Errant rolled his eyes again, glancing around the room, but looking for something different.


    "A Golden Wing assassin?" he inquired, raising his voice, and saw the face of the Benedelli heir''s face drop to a scowl. "Weaponless combat, indeed. Does that mean she hasn''t poisoned her nails today, perchance?" He coughed to himself. "No, no, I should have been looking for poison in my breakfast this morning, I suppose. I didn''t find any, so this must have truly been something spontaneous, brother. How about before you send me up against this hireling, you and I have a little practice bout for all your friends, and you can show them your mighty Phlethegos Mastery and all."


    Everyone saw the tic in Guteriz'' cheek, and the way his eyes narrowed. Because if they sparred, Errant was going to kick his ass.

 142 Chapter One Hundred and Forty-Two– This isn’t a Temple...

    Haz¨¦ stepped off the Energized Pattern, turned around and waited.


    Scut and Verd looked at her for a moment, then their eyes crossed, they stumbled and fell down, and began to heave out their guts.


    First time teleports were a thing. Subtle changes in air pressure, magnetic fields, light, elevation, visual and auditory displacement... yes, the nausea was something impressive when you slid across dimensions to a new point in space-time.


    It took both of them a few minutes to get their bearings, and Haz¨¦ just waved her hand and cleaned up the mess they left behind.


    "Lesson one, it takes time to get used to moving through dimensions," Haz¨¦ smiled, as both of them glared at her despite themselves. "Lesson two, appearances are deceptive!"


    She lifted her hands, and her morphed appearance shattered into motes of light and ectoplasm.


    She smiled at their stunned faces, in her ''Mama ? Haz¨¦'' poofy white shirt, and bouncy skirt that did not look at all like a Sylunar Priestess. "Come along, Mama will have something cooking for us." She reached out and took their hands, leading them down the path, the ball of light above her still shining down to illuminate their way.


    Too stunned to resist, they let themselves be drawn in.


    "I am a Priestess of Sylune, and a very strong one, but I don''t work out of a temple," she informed them calmly, and her aura swelled for just a moment before fading away. The mounting resistance to her fell meekly back. "So, this will be much more personal then some big temple, which is good for both of you."


    ---


    Haz¨¦ brought them inside through the back door, where the smell of chicken stew was flowing through the air, and immediately made Scut''s very empty stomach rumble.


    "Mama, I''m back!" she called out, leading them to the dining table. Scut was awkward as he fit himself into a chair, looking around in disbelief at the warm, comfortable settings.


    "Dinner''s coming right up!" Mama called back cheerfully, and in a moment, she shuffled in, not looking like anything more then comfortable, her glasses up on her head, and unfocused eyes apparent to both of the new comers.


    "This is Mama Greta," Haz¨¦ introduced her. "You will call her Mama. This is her house. I am Haz¨¦, you may call me Haz¨¦ or Big Sister, as you like." Haz¨¦ took the bowls as Mama set down the crocker of stew, and began to fill the bowls and pass them out, giving them to Mama first. "Mama is my first apprentice, if you must know." Both children blinked at her, then back at Haz¨¦, and Mama only smiled widely. "Now, eat up, and we can get to your questions tomorrow. Scut, you will be taking a very long bath tonight, as I''m sure you understand." His face fell, but he said nothing, since he was in the middle of shoveling more stew into his mouth. "Verd, there will be things to talk about tomorrow, and the other reason I took you on."


    Verd just nodded slowly, savoring the stew. It was definitely the best she had ever eaten in her life. She hadn''t thought her mother was a bad cook, but this was just incredible. She really, really wanted to be able to cook like this.


    They were both amazed to get their own rooms, small as they were. Scut was sent off with Mama for his bath, and his caterwauling soon rose as the scrubbing commenced. Haz¨¦ waved away the miasma he''d left behind, helped Verd get settled with a cheerful smile, and with a little bit of magic, sent them both off to sleep, Scut''s face scoured red and looking sorely put upon before he was buried in blankets and snoring away.


    ----


    "My teeth!" Scut stared at the face in the mirror, looking almost alien, with it being free of grit and grime. He peeled his lips back, finding that all his teeth were straight, his gums healthy... and the three that had been knocked off had been put back sometime in the night. He looked at Verd''s wide eyes in the mirror, gleaming with appreciation, and knew he''d made a really, really good decision to come here.


    Breakfast was ham, eggs, toast, and cheese, and some fruity drink the two newcomers could not get enough of. When it was done, Haz¨¦ brought the two of them into the sitting room, set them down, and looked at the both of them for a long moment.


    They fidgeted. Those green eyes were far too deep to be comfortable.


    "There are two reasons I brought you here, Verd. One is that you have a great talent for witchcraft, and Sylune would be an ideal sponsor for you. I certainly do not wish you to be turned over to the Crone." Verd blinked and shivered despite herself. "The other is that tonight is the first night of the full moon. It is the second reason I brought you along, Scut. Verd is going to need you."


    "Me?" he blinked, startled. "What would Verd need me for?"


    "She needs you to hold her hand as she undergoes the Ritual of the Silver Queen."


    They both looked at one another. This sounded very important. "What is this Ritual for?" Verd asked, unable to hide her nervousness, and excitement. Would she get to talk to the goddess?


    "It destroys the Curse of the Hag on a hagchild, freeing her from being damned to turn into a Hag."


    It took a moment for that to sink in, and then both their eyes got very, very wide. "Wh-what are you saying?" Verd''s voice got very shrill. She started to jump up, and an invisible pressure forced her right back down.


    "Do you know what a Void Brother is?" Haz¨¦ asked calmly. She snapped her fingers, and Verd felt her nose get tweaked hard. Distracted, her whirling thoughts focused again. "Void Brother." Haz¨¦ glanced at Scut, who had a look of awe on his face. "I am going to introduce Scut to one of them. He will know a place where your gifts can best be tempered."


    Scut swallowed despite himself. He was going to be introduced to one of the most renowned killers in the lands of men...


    "A Void Brother spotted you, Verd. As you hadn''t turned yet, they had no business with you, and simply passed you by." Verd swallowed despite herself, staring mutely.


    "You are a Greenhag Hagchild. Your Hagmother slept with your father, murdered him, and swapped her baby with your mother''s in the womb. The first time you have sex with a boy, you will activate your Curse, you will turn into a Greenhag, and likely murder and eat your lover.


    "Unless you undertake this Ritual."


    Her eyes unable to move, Verd swallowed again. "Why... why are you telling me this now?" she asked in a very small voice. "Shouldn''t you... we... wait? I-I don''t have to sleep with boys..."


    "The Curse gets stronger as you get stronger. Furthermore, it calls to other Hags, who will come to make sure it is completed. Capturing you and administering an aphrodisiac is nothing. Nor is getting someone to **** you, if it comes down to it." It didn''t seem her face could get any paler, but it did. "Right now, the Curse is at its weakest, because you are still innocent, and you are untrained. If I train you before this happens, the Curse grows right with you, and will accumulate sin with time, making this even harder."


    Haz¨¦''s eyes turned to Scut. "But he is here. You have ties, and Scut''s power is attuned to Shadow, which is the least afraid of the Dark. He can hold your hand, and give you the strength to beat this."


    They looked at one another again, and Scut''s hand clenched tightly. He had power! The power to save her...


    "So, today, I will be showing you your chores to help me with. Tonight, we are going to burn that damn Curse on you in the light of the Silver Queen, and tomorrow, we will start your training."


    Verd blinked, despite herself. "Just like that?" she asked, despite herself.


    "It will be a horrible, traumatic experience you will remember with searing clarity for the rest of your life. You''re going to be exposed to the essence of pure evil as the Curse rises up, and tries to turn you into a Hag now that you are trying to fight it.


    "If it succeeds, you will be turned into a Greenhag, and I will kill you on the spot." Verd shivered at the total resolve in Haz¨¦''s sweet voice. "You will die Verd, and not some Hag mockery of you."


    Verd swallowed, and nodded despite herself. Despite herself, she reached out and grabbed Scut''s hand. "I will start my training tomorrow!" she agreed urgently, and Haz¨¦ smiled approval.


    ------------


    Naturally, it was a long day.


    Haz¨¦ simply kept them physically busy, cleaning this, moving that, brushing down the animals, walking the herb and flower gardens which had both gasping despite themselves, touring the property and pointing out this and that interesting places around. They didn''t go down into town today, and instead concentrated on turning over a new section of ground to become a new section of flowers. When asked why she didn''t use magic, Haz¨¦ replied truthfully that using magic distorted the power of the earth, and biased the plants that would grow here in a method that would make them unusable for many purposes. So, things had to be done by hand, and if she was going to do them by hand, so could they.


    And so, sweating with shovels and hoes, hauling compost up, they turned over a plot of land, chopped it up, arranged it in rows, and prepared it for seeing the next day.


    Mama brought out lunch for them, sausages and apples and bread and more of the fruit juice, and the two dug in, starved. When evening neared, they split a roast chicken among themselves, but the meal was light, for the moon would be rising soon, and they had to prepare.


    ----


    The hill they''d chosen was back in the woods, where the light show that would be going on would be noticed, but nobody would bother to investigate for being too far away. Mama had already spread word that there would be a small Ritual going down back there, making up components for a special order of Potions, so the townsfolk were expecting something, and wouldn''t come running willy-nilly to interrupt anything.


    If someone came up thinking to rob them, well, that was a problem with a different solution.


    Haz¨¦ had prepared the place ahead of time. She did indeed don ceremonial robes for this, power swirling around her in understated grandeur as she melted the silver and poured it into the lines of the circle, empowering it with magic and making it ready as Sylune climbed in the sky. The lines and seals of the circle began to glow with starlight, a holy power that could not be denied.


    As the time neared, Haz¨¦ guided the very nervous Verd onto the platform, whispering her final words of encouragement as she did.


    "The Curse is exactly as strong as you, no stronger. You must hold tight to who you are, to what you believe. The Curse will throw darkness at you, it will throw evil, it will throw visions of horrors and terrors and power at you.


    "None of them are true." Haz¨¦ put Scut''s hand in hers. "He will give you the strength, for the Shadow is not afraid of the Dark."


    "The Shadow is not afraid of the Dark," Scut repeated with a nod, his dark eyes almost feverish.


    Haz¨¦ had Verd lay down on the slab of white stone, and Scut kneel at her side, before withdrawing.


    The moon swelled to its height, and the glowing silver Seal burst into soft moonflames. Haz¨¦ began to recite the lines of the prayer that would call down the power of the Silver Queen.


    The Ritual began.

 143 Chapter One Hundred and Forty-Three –Hell hath Fury like a Woman’s Scorn

    The Golden Wing was a pretentious bunch of erinyes-inspired women who had set themselves up as a monastery of sorts, where they accepted orphans, exiles, and the remnants of noble families or merchants who''d lost everything in cutthroat competition, as long as they were young and female.


    The Wing turned them into assassins, escorts, bodyguards, and special agents... basically ninjas with fashion sense. One had probably been purchased for ''special services'' by the Benedelli heir, flaunting his power via money.


    She wasn''t hard to pick out, being dressed in gold and black, the colors of the Golden Wing, her attire revealing a finely-honed athletic figure, lots of golden skin, and dark eyes that were measuring Errant up in both arrogance and amusement.


    Looked like a Seven. She''d been brought along to cool down his brother, who was a Five treading on Six, and talented and happy to beat people up to show it. And of course, the Benedelli could get some special instruction from an older woman...


    "Come now, little brother. Your love of pugilism is one of the few accomplishments you can claim in the family. Are you truly going to let this chance to defend the honor of the Gilderalz before the eyes of our peers pass you by?"


    Ah, pride, that Hellish thing thou art... "Well, yes, brother, I am. I''ve some conditioning to get back to." His brother''s face instantly blackened. "After all, accruing some glory for the House and you does nothing for me. I imagine you even have a side wager... yes, I see you do. And I''m supposed to just stand here and be a punching bag while you walk off with the winnings if I do well." Errant held up his hand and wagged a finger at Guteriz, whose ears started to turn red.


    His voice was a little irritable. "What do you want, then?" It was said in just that tone of voice, as if Errant was an unreasonable money-grubber.


    Errant glanced at the Benedelli. "What''s the bet?" he asked.


    Slicked black hair, aloof noise, decadent air as if he was above all the masses, at least five hundred gold in an outfit he''d probably only wear once, the amused scion replied, "A thousand gold."


    "Double it, my brother pays if I lose, I keep it if I win, and he can go talk about the glory of it all and how mighty our family is."


    That seemed to amuse the Benedelli all the more. "Oh, what pluck!" He glanced at Guteriz, whose face was going black. Errant would get a beating, and his brother''s purse would be emptied. If Errant lost, well, she was a Seven, and he was barely eleven years old. It was to be expected. He''d look like an idiot, and Errant could probably even lose on purpose just to spite him.


    But Guteriz, to Errant''s surprise, just nodded shortly. Privately amused, he wondered just what sort of beating Guteriz had arranged for him. The bet would be paid publicly and returned in private, no doubt.


    "Well then, bring her in." A circle was instantly cleared in the room by the interested scions, and whispers and wagers began to fly. "Oh, what are the odds? I''ll put five hundred gold on myself."


    There was stunned silence, and then the Benedelli laughed aloud in delight. Everyone knew what was going on then, and he stated loudly, "I''ll pay you five to one if you win!" he called out, utterly confident.


    Oh, he was about to have a bad day. The glance the fop sent to the hot blonde with the poison nails had all sorts of meaning. She completely ignored it, coldly confident in her abilities, and even a little irritated that she be given a job as simple as this.


    Errant put up his fists, and she paused, looking at him. "Are you certain you don''t want to remove your... accoutrements?" she asked delicately.


    "Do I need to?" Errant returned casually.


    She raised her nose, staring at him. "That is not a suit of armor. It will hinder you far more then it will protect you," she said, as if instructing a fool.


    "Says a woman trained for horizontal naked combat," Errant replied, rolling his eyes. "When you know something about armor, you can give me advice."


    Her eyes sparked with something, tightly controlled, but he hadn''t actually insulted her... because she actually was trained to kill people that way.


    "It is your funeral!" she stated, and blurred into motion.


    Errant turned off his Angel Weight, and stepped into the coming kick.


    She was actually really surprised, and had a right to be. He moved as easily in the clumsy, overweight training garb as someone in leathers, smashing aside her kick with a heavy arm, and then directly crashing into her with an elbow before she could dance back.


    With a whoosh of breath leaving her, she jumped back, folded over and needing five steps to regain her balance. There was more then a flicker of surprise in her eyes as she stared at him.


    "What style is that?" she asked, and this time, her hands came up carefully, half-claws ready to rip and rend flesh, the golden nails indeed poisoned, and ready to be used.


    "It''s a Thunder style, made to be used against profound practitioners," Errant replied calmly, gauntlets closed into fists. "You were probably told I was a boxer." Her eyes flickered. "But, you know, there''s all kinds of ways hands can be used." He hopped forwards a pace, as if he wasn''t nearly three hundred pounds at the moment, and her eyes narrowed at the display of easy strength. "So, this is going to hurt. Get ready."


    And completely screwing over her belief that he was going to be slow and clumsy, Errant danced in at her, and began to jab.


    Well, it looked like a jab, except his arm was carrying over ten pounds of metal and leather with it, and she got to feel it all when she blocked.


    He didn''t really bother to block much. His base DR was high enough that she wasn''t going to do anything to him, nor was he afraid of her poison. Poison resistance was a thing with Alchemists, further enhanced by his Warlock Ward, and he''d been building it faithfully.


    She ripped, slapped, clutched, pulled, and kicked. She tried to throw him, but that didn''t end well, as he had total control of his momentum, and if her hands stayed still for even a second, he was going to crush them. He utterly ignored everything she slammed into him, driving her across the circle as she ducked and dodged quickly, trying to circle him, and instead getting matched and forced backwards as his feet slammed to the ground with every step of his overweighted suit, and his hands didn''t stop coming at her.


    She couldn''t take the continued impacts, and couldn''t dodge them effectively. He was actually using a combined Fire and Thunder form, reducing both dodge-based and insight-based AC by 4 each, effectively taking her greater agility and monkish training and rendering it useless. It was like guided chaos, his fists filling the air in front of her tirelessly, disrupting her rhythm and battering her non-stop.


    Throws and locks were contested checks, and she was a finesse fighter, so he was using Way of Valus and plowing his armor into her strikes, subtly disrupting them by shifting vulnerable spots that tiny bit and rendering her blows, which relied on great precision, useless by forcing them to hit his armor. She couldn''t push or pull him at all.


    And with DR 11/Silver, her base 1-6 +2 just wasn''t getting anywhere.


    Of course, she was a Seven. Her hands burst into hellfire, which almost made him laugh at their uselessness. She scored the leather of his training armor a little bit, strikes which could rend chainmail and set wood on fire he barely acknowledged. She did get off a burning spin kick into his side that actually hurt... and then he slapped his arm down, caught her leg and spun before she could pull back, yanking her off her feet as his fist came down on her knee.


    The crack was audible, as was the gasp of pain as his backfirst overwhelmed her block and smashed across the fine bones of her face. Her head jerked back, and he grabbed her arm, jerking her forwards as his head snapped counter, and rammed his heavy helm into her forehead.


    The other leg she was balancing on folded as her eyes rolled back, and he let her drop unconscious to the floor, her nose flattened against her face.


    The Benedelli started to step forward, gasping, and Errant turned to face him. "I''ll expect the twelve thousand five hundred gold to be delivered to my room promptly." The fop''s eyes popped in outrage. "You DID say, very loudly, that you''d be paying me five to one, and the bet totaled twenty-five hundred, did it not?" Errant continued coolly.


    The Benedelli went white, looking at Guteriz, whose face was flat and impassive, concealing the shock he was feeling. Of course he had said that, and to a member of the Duke''s family. There was no way he was going to back out.


    She should have sent Errant flying and flipping all over the place, heavy and clumsy in this suit, truly treated him like a humiliating sand bag to beat on as she wished. Instead, he had rather brutally put her down and made her look ineffective and useless.


    It was a slap to Errant''s brother, his fop of a friend, and the Golden Wing and her Order.


    That much gold was not a small bet. You could buy some serious magic for that much money, and it likely exceeded his budget for this trip by a fair amount. There was taking out money to buy stuff, and there was losing that much for no return.


    And doubtless the Belledini couldn''t help feeling that Guteriz had set him up to put him in his place.


    ''Look, fop, this is the home of the Gilderalz family. We FIGHT here. Look what your money can do, and know your place.''


    Errant didn''t know which way Guteriz would spin it, but it would be to his benefit, no doubt.


    Then he''d probably want Errant to give him a share of the winnings. Errant laughed to himself after receiving the Benedelli''s reluctant nod, and marched out of the room, leaving the hellpriest acolytes standing by to rush forward and administer healing magic on the fallen Golden Wing.


    The burn marks on his gear would generate a lot of reminder stories for a long time after this...


    -------


    The gold bars were on his desk, no one would dare touch them, save his father. Errant pulled out the set of mithral alloy bracers he''d had the family smith make, just waiting for a moment like this.


    Tonight would be day one of Infusing the Bracers. +2 Ward/Humans would raise his DR by another +2, and his Armor by 4... while wearing no armor. While he could potentially wear armor, it was not something normally worn by any but earth or metal-aligned Warlocks, and put major restrictions on use of Wrath and Whim, since it leeched away at the power of eldritch energy. In the future, he wouldn''t be using armor at all, relying on the Bracers for what protection they could give him, and the Monk training from Secondary Classing to make up for what plate armor could give him.


    Word was spreading again. The family''s warriors were again giving him cautious and careful looks. What the Benedelli and the Golden Wing might pull, he wasn''t worried about. Regardless of anything else, he''d gained great face for his family, as even the non-Powered runt of the Gilderalz could beat down a skilled hireling, what more those who could actually fight!


    It was laughable, but it was the way the world was.


    Errant carefully lifted a heavy bar up onto the soles of his feet, rolled onto his back, levered it into the air, and rose into a handstand, all while under triple gravity. Any error or mistake could send it falling down onto his head, and it magnified any and all wavering in his balance and poise.


    The Pattern under the rug glowed, and gold burned away as it bound with Karma into the set of Bracers made to accept the magic. Calmly, Errant kept it going as he exercised in the dark of the night.

 144 Chapter One Hundred and Forty-Four – The Mercs

    The chatter didn''t stop as I walked in, as the ones here were too busy proving their manhood to one another, and didn''t notice me, at least at first. Then I walked up on the stage, and that got attention. The conversations started to drop off, heads to turn, and hard, assessing eyes looked me over.


    Barely five-foot-tall, blond hair worn too long and bright, Tat Mask, no figure to really speak of other then a ripple of really good muscle tone.


    And then I looked back at them, white eyes on black, and conversation stopped like a knife. The smart ones even swallowed.


    "Generally speaking, I don''t want you here," I opened up, voice carrying very clearly to every ear. "I''m aware of what you are, who you are, and what you do. You are slaves to coin, and you''ve been bandits, raiders, marauders, pillagers, and looters, in addition to paid soldiers," I stated flatly. "A good number of you have innocent blood on your hands, and there''s some dark places waiting for you when you die. The rest of you are pragmatic and ruthless, getting to where you are because someone else died for you to get here."


    A number of them shuffled uneasily. This definitely wasn''t going as they hoped for.


    "I am aware that some of you are agents of Huul, Imprus, Angar, Hurn, Shoul, and a dozen mortal powers who think they are relevant to what is going on. In truth, I don''t care, nor do the gods of the Warp. They''ll butcher you all just the same, no favorites among them."


    More uneasy shuffling. One bright boy started to speak up, "Now, see here, girl¨C"


    There was a flash of light, and he pitched off his seat as a Banestar smashed into his head, hitting the ground cold and silent.


    I went on as Tremble clicked back home. "Be that as it may, you being butchered saves some of my people from being killed. The Warp certainly has enough loot to go around, and enough things to kill, that feeding you to the crows isn''t going to cost the rest of us anything."


    They had ugly expressions on. I was indeed talking to them like their lives didn''t matter, and they really didn''t. These were men who didn''t give a shit about others, so naturally I didn''t give a shit about them.


    "You''ve probably heard of the awesomeness of getting Marked and Opened by now." I measured the instant eagerness in their eyes. "It should come as no surprise to you that neither you nor those you command will be getting much of that." Protests started to rise to lips, and my hand shifted ever so slightly towards Tremble. Nobody missed it, and everyone shut up.


    "I have no obligations to you whatsoever. You are not my people. I did not ask for you to come, you came seeking gold. You are perfectly welcome to turn around and go right back to where you came from. Indeed, I wouldn''t be too surprised if you go running off to the Warp and try to offer your services, sell off your souls, and I get to butcher you on the battlefield."


    Clearly, I didn''t have a high opinion of them. Their mood darkened further.


    "So, I am not here to discuss recruiting you, because I''m not. I have no desire whatsoever to have people like you Marked, nor am I going to waste the time to Open you. You all have your methods, they brought you this far, I''m sure you''ll make do." I waved my hand in dismissal. "I had you all brought here to discuss what I will give you."


    They rustled uncomfortably, having a clear indication that things were not going as they hoped.


    "If you want to fight, you go and fight. I''m not giving you support troops, I''m not giving you supplies. If you want them, you buy them. To buy them, you''re going to need plunder.


    "I will give you a base of operations, insofar as it is going to keep moving. If you are in that base, you''ll be able to get some free healing every day in the form of a Healing Trap, so all of you can get fixed up fairly quick. If you''ve got the gold, I''ll even sell you one, no skin off my nose.


    "The warbands of the Warp have a significant amount of loot on them in the form of skins, blood, bones, and organs of magical creatures, ivory, gems, gold ornamentation and jewelry, and some magical armor, weapons, and knickknacks, probably more than most things you''ve ever fought. As the Warped have no homes of their own, they carry all their valuables on them."


    Their heads were nodding, grim smiles rising. This was good news!...


    "Fully a third of what they have is Cursed or Possessed." Faces fell instantly. "That doesn''t mean its not valuable, it just means that you best be damn careful when looting, and if you''re greedy enough to keep something for yourself, you''re going to end up a Warp slave in no time at all, and it will be my pleasure to gut you like a fish and feed you to the Land."


    They hid their sneers, but it didn''t disguise the fear in their eyes. Possessed loot was no joke, nor were Curses.


    "We''ll have exchanges where you can burn loot down to raw form, remove impurities and foul magic, and revert them to mana crystals, which you can use to upgrade your own Gear directly, or pay to have someone do it for you. If you''ve never done Mana Infusion or Investment, we''ll show you how. You pay the fee to use a Pattern or you buy one for yourself, and you use your own eight hours a day max to do it, instead of someone else''s. But it''s a skill, and if you don''t know much spellcraft, you''re only going to be able to do the most basic upgrades.


    "That said, I am not lying when I say that if you focus on getting your men stronger, you''ll very rapidly be able to provide all of them with magical armor and weapons... if they don''t die. And though I can see the greed shining in your eyes, the best way to win is to make all your people stronger, not just you... not that you care."


    Faces twisted again, as I voiced what was in their hearts.


    "You will have the opportunity to employ some of the Marked as guides." That startled them. "I don''t think I should need to tell you the benefits, but I will, anyways.


    "First, you''ll have access to The Map. That means you''ll have a superb guide who can get you where you want to go without fail. You won''t be running into competitors... because we all know you aren''t allies." That actually got some grim laughs from them. "Furthermore, you''ll be able to pick out and call dibs on warbands we''ve information on... and we''ll actually and very happily let you run out there and let yourselves get killed fighting them. Force breakdowns, numbers, position, advised combat points... yes, we''ll give that to you without a problem.


    "It also means we don''t have to worry about you ambushing some of our forces out there for some spur of the moment funsies, and then having to slaughter you all in return.


    "The cost of having a Marked with you will be an officer''s salary, paid a month in advance for the service of the Marked, and twenty percent of plunder. If you fuck us over on the loot, you''re cut off, and open season on whoever wants to take you out. I don''t really give a damn if you all kill one another, it''s one less headache for me to keep track of." I paused significantly. "I really, strongly suggest you employ a Marked Guide."


    If this wasn''t earning me any friendly faces, I didn''t much care. They weren''t friendly.


    "If you want to succeed out there, you have an additional option of employing more Marked as either eyes or officers, who will actually fight. I don''t think I should have to tell you what having ten men who can instantly relay commands and observations across a chaotic battlefield could do for you, but the choice is yours. You''ll have to negotiate individually with Marked, and given who some of you are and your reputations, you''re screwed.


    "Don''t try to follow an Alliance force and mooch off them. This is pay as you go, feed as you go. We aren''t paying you, you''re paying us... but we''ll let you kill all of the enemy you want to, and the spoils are totally worth it, even from your points of view.


    "I totally expect your numbers to be infiltrated by traitors, shapeshifters, the Possessed, and fanatic converts to the Warp in short order, because you''re just the kind of people the gods of the Warp love the most." Their expressions were indeed fun to watch.


    "Lastly, the thing you want to hear the least." I frowned at all of them. "We''re watching. All of us. I''m going to know if you turn on my Marked. So are thousands and thousands of others. We''re going to know if you lie, cheat, and steal, and everyone is going to know rapidly, and we will cut you off or down, as the situation warrants it, instantly.


    "You can con one another. You can cheat one another. You can even go and kill one another, I don''t care. But if you fuck up anything for the Alliance, if you screw over one of our people, and if you prey on those coming up here to join the Alliance, not just availing themselves of the loot harvest... you''re dead. There are thousands of people here doing their best to defeat entities that literally threaten the entire world, and we have one another''s backs.


    "You prey on them, and the only place you can run to is the Warp... and the gods there will take you in, relieve you of your souls, and send you right back out to prove your worth, so we''ll kill you anyways." I frowned over all of them, completely uncaring of their expressions. "It isn''t a promise, or a threat. It''s just a fact.


    "Base of operations. Place to buy supplies. Some free healing. Information and guides. Free reign on killing the enemy. Access to more potential plunder then you''ve ever had, and even purging the danger that it comes with," I enumerated, one after another. "These are what you are given here. You have the potential to make great profit, to get in as much fighting as you want, and you''ll be dealt with fairly, if you''re fair in return.


    "But as I said, I can guarantee that you''re going to be problems. The greedy are going to hold back loot for themselves, and fall to the Warp when their loot eats their souls. You''re going to be infiltrated by spies and saboteurs and fanatics. You have agendas that involve subverting the Alliance and extending this fight out as long as possible.


    "That''s fine. I know it. The Alliance knows it. There''s going to be some throats slit in the night, some heads hacked off in the day, and life will go on.


    "Are there any questions?"


    Instantly a hand shot up. I nodded at the big man with the flaming red beard. "Just how much loot are we talking, Sage Sama?" the burly man asked incorrigibly.


    "The average amount of plunder we''ve been getting has worked out to around twenty goldweight per thousand troops in the Warpbands we''ve faced. If they have monstrous beasts with viable alchemical comps, this tends to go somewhat higher... but monstrous beasts naturally come with more deaths, so there''s a trade-off," I replied without batting an eye.


    Another hand rose, this one from a hawk-faced, lean man with icy eyes. "What size forces are you suggesting we use?" he asked quickly.


    "The average size of the Warpbands is between two and four thousand men. Those with monstrous assets tend to have fewer men, as the influence of their Warlords is eroded by having such powerful assets. There is a very complex relationship here between the power of the Warlords and the forces under their command, wholly mandated by the gods they serve. If we start using larger forces, or setting up fortifications, the Warlords will start joining forces and the average size of a fighting force will skyrocket quickly.


    "We cannot win a numbers game with the Warp in this aspect. So, I would recommend that you organize yourselves in forces up to a thousand in number, and assemble and disassemble to face the Warpbands that you hunt.


    "Yes, I know it is totally insane, and if you can outnumber the enemy''s power, you should do so. And you know what? If you''re weak and inept, the gods of the Warp will let you gang up and do just that, so that there is even more slaughter and loss of human souls.


    "But they don''t want to see elites using numbers to kill stuff. They want to see you FIGHT." I dropped my voice down, and had their attention. "If you''re good, you get the rewards. If you don''t, you''re carrion. If you break their rules, then they''ll happily arrange things so you get a proper match on their terms... or maybe they''ll just bulldoze you with a demon swarm.


    "You''re fucking with gods here, people." I didn''t hide my scorn. "They are gods, and they want to have a good fight. You''re their gladiators, and if you don''t like it, you''re fertilizer for the gardens of blood.


    "Live, you''ll get glory, you''ll get gold, and you''ll be fighting things that live for the exact some reasons. Die, nobody cares. There''s more fighting to come."


    Some of them shivered at the cold reality of my voice. Others were excited at the coming fight, having no care for what was on the other side of that fight. They''d been hearing about how we''d been ripping through the enemy, so they had no idea what they were in for.


    They weren''t elves, with warcraft and magic on their side. They weren''t dwarves, with millennia-deep reserves of magical arms and armor, total discipline and brotherhood to carry them along. They weren''t Marked, with boosted Stats and my Warlord bonus plus Courageous to turn them into killing machines.


    They were greedy men eager for gold and glory, and they were going to get ground into paste.


    "Now, let me give you some idea of what you are going to be fighting, so you can prepare yourselves..."


    But that was okay. Every Warped they killed was one more we didn''t have to. There was plenty to go around, as we stumped slowly and grimly north and east.


    To Yle Tyorm.

 145 Chapter One Hundred and Forty-Five – The Ritual of the Silver Queen

    Moonfire came down from the sky, quite gentle at first.


    As it coursed across Verd, something responded.


    It was like a shadow that was always there, but never noticed. Under the moonfire''s illumination, it couldn''t conceal itself any more. From inside every cell of her body, it began to bubble forth.


    Verd began to scream, because she could feel it worming out of the back end of her mind, and suddenly she knew that everything Haz¨¦ had told her about the Curse and Hags was totally and utterly true.


    She was a Persona built upon a Curse, with a stolen soul. If she wanted to be real, if she wanted to live, the Curse had to go, or it would swallow her everything.


    Darkness rose, moonfire lashed, and the fight between a Curse that had bedeviled humanity through eternity and across multiverses, and a goddess of silver magic.


    The Curse had originally been meant to punish the souls of those who sinned, perhaps woven by outraged goddesses in the past. Black Annis, made from the souls of those who raped and murdered women. Greenhags, the souls of women who abandoned and abused their children. Shellycoats, reincarnated from women who used their beauty to forge a bloody road to power. Stormcrones, from the matrons who ruled over their families and brought ruin to their own and others in cold scorn. Sea hags, those who abused magical power over others, the weakest and ugliest of the Hags...


    There were others, but those were the most common Hags. And somewhere along the way, the Curse had been turned, altered, and the Hags learned how to use it to make more of their kind out of innocent souls.


    Only a goddess could twist the Curse, for good or ill, and thus it fell to the Silver Queen to fight back on behalf of the innocent souls condemned to a horrible fate, and take their doom from them.


    ------


    Scut''s hand was burning, both of them. He was holding onto Verd, who was now floating above his head, holding her down, feeling the Curse lashing at him, moonfire swirling with grace on his scarred hands, darkness and light spraying across his soul raw and pure, as he had never imagined.


    He''d had a hard life, losing his parents young, and the orphanage he''d been staying at closed for lack of funds. Verd had been one of his few friends, looking past his desperate need for food and shelter to see what he might have been, helping where she could, talking to him when few would.


    But he''d been told he had power. As much as Verd herself, and Verd was potentially a Hag, a terrible witch of nightmares! He had that kind of power!


    It was a dark thing, twisting inside of him now. He could feel it inside him, responding to the intrusion of the powers here, one cursed, one divine; a power that was neither and ready to defy them both.


    The Shadow is not afraid of the Dark.


    "The Shadow isn''t afraid of the Dark!" he snarled, refusing to let go, and he breathed. Something stirred deep in his gut, and began to build, racing through his blood. He could feel it, cool shadows in his blood... shadows like knives.


    They erupted out of his hands, cutting and slashing, and the dark and the light reeled back from his hands as the shadow danced between them.


    "The Shadow does not hate the Light, for without the Light, there is no Shadow, only the Dark," came a whisper into his ear, and Scut shook.


    It was true, wasn''t it? A shadow was defined by being created by the light. The dark was where there was no light, and it loathed the light, was chased away by it... leaving behind only shadows.


    It was in the dark that there were no shadows!


    The shadows enveloped his hands, locked onto Verd''s hand, he felt like he was hanging onto her with his very soul, latching onto her own with his, not letting go.


    "Cut the Darkness. Be the shadow to the Light!" he swore to himself.


    His power billowed in his lungs, swirled through his blood, and stopped fighting the moonfire. Swirling with it, through it, it began to follow it, dimness to the light, falling upon the darkness and chasing it from its territory.


    A shadow to the light.


    His power wasn''t great, wasn''t enough. He knew that he couldn''t go much past her wrist, past the hand clutched in his grip.


    But he wasn''t going to let go of that hand, and where shadow and light burned together, it formed an unassailable source of strength for the light to work.


    As long as he didn''t let her go.


    Scut bit his lip hard enough to draw blood, and held on.


    ----------


    Haz¨¦ and Mother Greta had literally nothing to do. The Ritual wasn''t something that required raw power. No, this was taking place at subtler levels, fundamental competition of magic, energies of Fate going against Creation, trying to establish who was more absolute, more dominant, a competition of non-finite powers drawn down to a tiny wrestling match over a soul.


    Verd was still screaming, on and off, from both pain as the energies conflicted over, and from the searing visions the Curse was inflicting on her. It was showing her what it would do if she didn''t submit, if she did, power, horrors, dreams fulfilled, the price she would pay if she won...


    There were only words to hold onto, and moonfire burning into the visions and ending them with cool grace and reassurance.


    To win, all she had to do was hold on!


    A cold, deadly hand was clasped about hers, she could feel Scut''s presence despite everything the Curse was doing, that one hand that it could do nothing to.


    Holding her, letting her know what was absolutely real.


    She was a shadow upon the Curse, and it wanted to take her into the Dark.


    He was a shadow, too. Of course he could hold onto her...


    To defeat the Curse, she had to embrace the Light, and leave behind only shadows...


    ----------


    "She understands," Mama Greta said, her dark glasses watching the swirl of magic change suddenly.


    "Yes," Haz¨¦ agreed, as the moonfire began to shimmer and gather, and what was a wild conflict now became some different.


    It became a hunt.


    From the fortress of her right hand and the shadow chi there, the moonfire began to move, ripping, tearing, domineering, dominating. It began to separate Curse from Persona, let the latter fall back to the soul, leaving the former with nothing anchoring it.


    And it drew the shadow chi behind it, dim tendrils of grey that sealed away any attempt by the dark to reclaim what it had lost.


    Up that arm, down the side of her chest, dripping darkness. Down her right leg, forcing umbral worms out her soles and feet; shitting and pissing out vile remnants as it crossed over her guts to her left leg and chased the darkness out of that leg.


    Up to her left arm, nails discoloring there, until she half-flipped over, her hand slapping into Scut''s as he released his and they came together like magnets, the air rippling with spiritual howls as the Curse was pushed from two fronts.


    The moonfire spun up her left arm, and drove up her neck and throat. Foul gasses and black slime spewed out her mouth, eyes, ears, and nose, and she gagged and choked in horror and pain. Her whole body spasmed as her brain was cleansed, the visions raging through her and promising her godhood and damnation, that it was over and she''d won and would have her power and be the greatest of Sylune''s servants...


    Shadows on her hands told her of the lie, and she screamed as the moonfire closed in from all directions on her heart.


    More vile stuff, vomit and bile from her stomach, choking fumes from her mouth, umbilical fluids from her navel, waste from her guts and kidneys, all forced out of her as she convulsed, heart stopping, the Curse closing in a fist around that organ as veins popped out all over her body, burning white, and suddenly surged forwards, pushing, pushing against throbbing darkness trying to stream out of her heart, locking her down...


    Her chest split open, clean as a surgeon''s cut, her ribs cracked and opened more cleanly than a bonesaw. With an eerie, wailing howl, the Curse was forced out with the spray of blood, a red deeper then blackness spewing into the air.


    The moonfire and shadows came together, severed that last invisible tendril. The Curse floated free.


    Haz¨¦ and Mama turned around, and as Aru tipped the horizon, twilight turned, and the King of Suns rose as the Silver Queen descended into someone else''s starry sky.


    The Curse had no anchor, no shelter.


    The light of the King of Suns burned through the dawn, the Great Renewal of a new day. Shadows flew between the trees, wind danced, and like a hurricane, the dawn swept past them all, burning that unanchored Curse away to nothing before The Light.


    -----


    Scut caught her as she fell, bloody and stinking of foul things, and at least ten pounds lighter then she had been. Bones were showing through her skin, her robes torn, ripped, burned, soiled.


    Oh, and her brown hair was rapidly changing to deep green locks.


    Shadows rose where he clasped her skin. He turned desperately, just as Haz¨¦''s hand came down, flaring with gentle magic that rolled across Verd like waves of clouds.


    The gaping cut in her chest sealed up smoothly, filth wiped away instantly, and her robe began to repair itself... partially, as some of the stains and the burns didn''t go away, frayed and discolored in a way magic couldn''t fix.


    Just like her.


    Verd''s eyes opened, and her hands crossed to hold those of Scut, kneeling and still holding onto her.


    "It''s gone," she said, her voice hoarse and strained, and holding a great sadness under the firm strength. Her eyes found Haz¨¦''s.


    "Yes," Haz¨¦ said sadly. The Curse was the source of the magic of the Hags. To lose the Curse meant to turn away that power.


    Verd was now Forsaken. For a hagchild to embrace magic meant becoming a Hag. To deny that doom was to deny and let go of the power, of the magic, of the visions the Curse had told her she could accomplish with her power.


    She would never be a Witch of Sylune now.


    "Are there... are there others like me?" Verd asked, and everyone looked at Haz¨¦ inquiringly.


    Haz¨¦ nodded shortly. "The Void Brother told me of two others he knows of."


    "Will Scut be able to help them?" she asked, and Haz¨¦ sighed.


    "No. The child of a shellycoat needs fire, and a stormcrone, wind or lightning." Her eyes turned to the lightening horizon where Sylune had disappeared. "But the touch of a sister can help."


    Verd''s green eyes burned, and she clutched Scut''s hands tighter. "I won''t let them go, either!" she promised.

 146 Chapter One Hundred and Forty-Six – Comes the North Wind

    Rorn led the men up to a hilltop and paused. Even knowing he was going to see it, he stopped.


    Below, the foothills suddenly smoothed away into a grassy plain, dotted here and there by copses of trees. Gouges had been scraped out of the plains, irregular hills driven up here and there in unnatural forms, all being pushed away from a certain direction to the northeast, tearing the smooth plains up into a bizarre, broken landscape of elemental monuments to some great power or disaster.


    The nearest of those gouges ended exactly at the foothills of the dwarven mountains, as if some obdurate power had passed down sentence, and let them go no further.


    "The Earthpower of the mountain''s roots stopped it," Grym stated, looking over the strange tableau. All of them could hear breaths hissing out as Kaldens drew up and looked at the strange landscape.


    It made everyone feel small. What manner of force could do something as bizarre as this?


    Riann pointed silently, and eyes turned to see a slab of rock, larger then a village, frozen mutely in midair, just hanging there without any support. It wasn''t that far above the ground, but still, it was floating.


    Smidges on the horizon promised other stones doing the same, some larger, and higher up.


    Below them was a camp.


    The trails leading up to it were obvious, but not deep, for it had only been here a couple days, and it would be moving in a couple more. Rorn''s breath hissed out as he saw it, as did the rest of the North Wind.


    The mounts there, supplies there, tents there, healers there, work area there, marshalling yard there, wagons...


    The fences and posts, accented with shield walls and ground spikes, cut it off clearly from the rather disorganized mess on the south side of it, where a small city of tents and corrals for horses spread out, obviously meant as temporary camps. Large numbers of men teemed in that tent city, and more black dots were coming in from the south, and a tunnel had already been cleaved through the border hills to allow the dwarven wagons and escorts easier access in and out of the Badlands. To the north was a river and a lake, for bathing and water.


    Badlands, because at the middle of them was a very bad place. There''d been no road leading here before, but the Rockborn had put a crude one in with their normal tireless efforts, for they had a very good reason to be here now.


    Rorn''s eyes went to a specific area of that quiet camp that dominated everything with its order and purpose.


    She''d be right there. She knew they were there, and she was waiting for them.


    The south side would be full of civilized men from the Empire and its borders to the south. They''d have little respect for northerners, and doubtless seek to take advantage of them, if they were not Marked. The southwest had the orderly camps of the Rockborn, who also looked to be disseminating some supplies.


    "We''ll be resting for two days on the west side of that camp!" Rorn called out, and his words were quickly relayed through the horde, who gave out cheers. "Let''s go!"


    ----------


    There were a lot of men queued up to enter the Sage''s Camp, but the North Wind walked in right past them, and the men on guard didn''t even glance at them as they did so. "Marked," rose on multiple lips, words of envy, maybe prestige, at the way they moved, completely at home among these people they had never seen before, from lands and ideologies thousands of miles apart.


    There were nine other men, two women with them as they went in as a group, unconsciously matching paces, letting some people slide by, and others raising wariness which insured they kept a safe distance.


    Without fail, they navigated this place they''d spent years walking in their dreams, to the area where the skilled hands worked, laboring at making them all stronger. Though there were strangers here doing their business, the sights, the sounds, the atmosphere of martial focus, discipline, and drive was almost explosive.


    This entire camp was a sword, a hammer, and a bow, pointing towards Yle Tyorm.


    The Investment Yard, over an acre of open space containing nothing but Patterns, was nearly full. Over two hundred men were sitting on glowing Patterns, as plunder of gold, gems, and Artifice were burned down and poured into Armor, Weapons, and other items.


    Over there, mana crystals and gold were being exchanged for Potions, over a dozen Alchemists and an equal number of aides were operating Apparati set into the back of floating wagons, ready to move out in minutes, and dispensing life-saving healing and combat-enhancing Potions to those with the coin to pay them... which were immediately plowed back into purchasing the ingredients to make more Potions, also being offered up by those men.


    They all paused as they crossed the mid-yard route to the middle of the Camp, where the Healers worked in the Hospice. Right now, some very battered men were leading their horses and themselves over the Healing Traps extending out in a line from the Hospice. There were at least a dozen of the white plates, because when you had a thousand men with injuries, one person every six seconds just didn''t cut it. Add in horses, and the time added up quickly.


    More seriously wounded men were staggering into the open tents where those with Healing Reserve waited, ready to patch them back together. Off to the side, a Bard was playing on a Healing Harp, where an hour of song equaled a strong healing spell, also able to restore Soak and rapidly hasten overnight recovery, or the ability to return to the battle-line in long-term fighting.


    Rorn could see a Druid also treating severely wounded animals as attentively as the humans were, also endowed with Reserve. Under his hands, steed after steed was led away, returned to full health under his care.


    The very faint sound of hammers ringing on steel came from ahead, faint because there was a massive Sound Bubble radiating from the flagpole with the grey flag on it, so as not to disturb the rest of the camp. At all hours, even when the camp was on the move, there would be people working onsteel here: men, dwarves, elves, even hyn and a few gnomes.


    QL 26+ Gear didn''t make itself, after all.


    But that wasn''t where Sama was at this time.


    There was a short line of men and women standing there, looking eager and hopeful. Rorn instantly identified them as Border Guards, a group of them must have come to the camp and finally had their chance at being Marked. Just a thought of inquiry, and he knew they''d come up from the south, where they were watching over the travel routes of people coming to the North, and had finally escorted a group of hynfolk all the way up here.


    Rorn''s heart was in turmoil as he walked up, eagerness warring with ambition and a desire for independence. He didn''t want to be subordinated to her, to have his legend buried under hers... but at the same time, she was teacher, master, champion, officer, warlord, and general, her presence overwhelming, and her faith in her Ironblood was not something he could let down.


    The Kaldens and the North Wind walked up, and waited patiently for the Border Guards to be Marked, watching Sage Sama.


    She was barely five feet tall, her golden hair swaying like a thing alive, ignoring the wind, better then any cloak or crown, wild and free and shining. Her Mask, black and white and turning her eyes to orbs of ebon with pupils of starlight, was exactly as they remembered... and the black nose and Whiskers somehow even cuter.


    The blue-black of her Curse climbed up the side of her neck and face from her shoulder, but vanished under the Tats. She wore the same Vest, the knee-length tight trousers, and the tight brown shirt that barely covered her ribs, leaving her midriff open. Glowing Tats formed a belt on her skin beneath her crossed Belts, iron Bracers on her arms, a Buckler was sitting on her back, and the hilt of a very, very familiar Sword was jutting out behind her waist.


    She radiated poise, control, hidden power, and deadly precision, all merging into fluid movements that were hard to look away from. Sometimes her hair seemed to billow with sudden flames, other times flowing like water, drifting weightless like a breeze, or forming a shell and not moving at all.


    And, of course, her chest was as flat as a board, despite her starting to show the curves of a young woman, and her nails were obsidian.


    She moved through the Tatting process of the Marks with incredible speed, her fingers like talons as they pressed the Ink into the person she was working on. Given the time being taken, she allowed no variance in where she scribed it, placing it on the upper arm for now. It didn''t matter, as the Tats could be moved by will and touch once they were active.


    All those freshly Marked would be heading out to the battlefield, to get the Marks empowered. She was paying the cost for the Marktell out of her Glory awards, but they earned their buffs themselves.


    She dealt with them smoothly, one by one, and the Marked knew that more dwarves were trooping over to gain the same treatment, but there would be time for them.


    She looked up at them as the last of the Borderguards drifted away, their Marks already lighting up as the Karma Invested and they hooked in. Rorn could feel them enter the Markspace, and they almost staggered as they did so, their real eyes having that empty look come over them as they looked upon The Map, and felt that incredible presence on the other side of the Markdoor.


    Those heads turned to look at Sage Sama, and suddenly they had a much, much clearer picture of who had been working on them.


    The Kaldens watched them leave, shooed away with no more then the slightest of mental nudges. Sama was very busy, and would be more then happy to download her schedule into their heads to make them realize how busy she was.


    But her Ironbloods were here, and she would make time for them, no matter how many people wanted Marks.


    She turned to face them all, and her facial Tats went away.


    The smear of the Hag Curse was now fully visible across the side of her face, ruining what could have been great beauty. But the eyes were unaffected, that heavens-blue that saw right into his soul, and his guts clenched despite himself.


    "Thank you for letting me see you in Reality."


    He''d heard her mental Voice so much, but her physical one had even more power to it. He was sensitive enough to identify the ki and Essence in it, the power of soul and life, and the thrumming Diamond Vajra beneath it. Her voice was silk and steel, caress and razor, and you didn''t just hear it with your ear, your entire soul was a receptor. He was pretty sure a deaf man could hear her perfectly.


    She came forward, one by one, taking their hands, looking into their eyes, their faces, as if once again burning them into her memory... because that was exactly what she was doing. He didn''t even open the Markdoor, and he could feel an ocean of emotions on the other side when she finally came to him.


    He was pretty sure if he opened that door right now, he would follow her forever.


    Her Diamond Vajra was like a cool rock, cold and utterly unaffected by his Source flames, so solid and dependable and reassuring, a toughness of mind and soul that he could lean on forever.


    He was clearly inferior to her in this regard, and her blue eyes seemed to dance as she read his desires... and didn''t mind them at all, as he knew she wouldn''t.


    They were both Human/3''s; she was a Null, he was a Source.


    He was a King among Men. They had different things to do. She was the bedrock and the foundation, a Pillar of Reality, and he was a Maker of Destiny.


    All of the others looked at him, suddenly realizing the weight behind him, the fire and the drive, that had swept them up and was driving them, too.


    "What have you decided to do, Sergeant?" she asked him quite calmly. He could join her personal force, rejoin the Ironblood once more, and carve a path to glory. He was certain he would receive an immediate promotion.


    "We will fight for the glory of the Kalden," he said firmly, not even considering another action.


    She nodded acceptance, eyes flicking over them all, and finding no deviation. They were Ironblood, but now, they followed him.


    It was perfectly fine. "I can upgrade your Strength Marks to the next level, but you will have to fill them yourselves, as normal." Eager breaths hissed out from the warriors, as she walked away from them, to a Cabinet nearby. "Line up," she called over her shoulder, "while the rest of you sign The Book."


    Rorn was the first in line, as she brought back the massive Tome all Ironblood would recognize. As the Powered clustered up to find their pictures and sign their names, he and the four Nulls among the others received their improved Marks.


    ----


    His hand paused over the picture in The Book. The man there was younger, leaner, his beard short and tight, somehow trimmer, without the commanding look in his eye of a Source.


    He was the boy from his own dreams...


    He knew how to read and write, not common skills in Kaldenheim... especially in three languages, courtesy of Dream and Sage Sama.


    He wrote ''I Will Be King!... Rorn Graywolf of the Hiken''.


    Smiling, he set down his pen, and made his Oath, as had the other Sources who had come before him. "And I will stop the gods of the Warp and their plans on this world!"


    Fate burned around him, and a new stream joined the mounting river, coming and crashing to meet the divine powers trying to bend the will of the world.


    Sources might break, but they wouldn''t bend. The gods of the Warp were his stepping stones to glory, and he would make them pay for their arrogance on this world!

 147 Chapter One Hundred and Forty-Seven: Errant’s Little Sister, Part One

    "Errant!"


    Hearing his younger sister Quetzal calling him was unusual. She was rapidly being turned by this damn environment and his older sister and brothers into the cold hard bitch typical of the Gilderalz Ducal House, and had started taking advantage of his goodwill when possible.


    Naturally, his goodwill evaporated. Still, he was the only really trustworthy member of the family, because he never lied to his siblings, and always kept his word, never bothering to try and manipulate them. Given that he was a dead-end on the family power-level hierarchy tree, manipulating him wasn''t going to get them much further ahead, so his siblings either didn''t know what to make of him, or wanted to beat him down to make themselves feel better.


    It was getting a lot harder to beat him down, however.


    "What is it, Quetzal?" he asked coolly. Since that time she had tried to show off in front of her friends because he had no magic, his relationship with her had begun to sink. He slammed his overweighted gauntlets into the punching bag, without looking at her.


    "A Sylunar Archpriestess arrived here! She''s talking with Mother and Father!"


    That was interesting enough for him to stop abusing the poor rocks. Even magically reinforced, he regularly reduced a load of stones to sand inside a week. The number of people who dared to be punched by him naturally fell sharply.


    Needless to say, a family dominated by Huul-worship didn''t have a whole lot of respect for the Sylunars, considering them soft and short-sighted. That being said, you just didn''t mess with a Ten who was also an Arch-Caster, and a faith known for their divinations. Of course, the women of the family all preferred Ruilvei and Sybylla...


    Naturally, he was just the opposite. A Sylunar Priestess was a person worthy of great respect, and one of Her Archpriestesses would be one of the most powerful Casters alive.


    "Interesting." He gestured to the servant at the side, who immediately came forwards to help him take off the heavy training gear, as he invisibly stepped down from four gravities. It only took a minute, and he toweled himself off before throwing on a fresh shirt, his trousers serviceable enough for now. "Did she say what she came here for?"


    "Rumor is that she is coming for Veis."


    That was absolutely the best thing that could happen to the youngest member of the family, and definitely not going to occur. Veis'' talent at aeromancy had already manifested, and there was no way the family was going to let her go. Simply guaranteeing control of the weather, and thus freedom from drought and flood, was enough to make sure she stayed in the family forever. She would get the best teachers, but the House of Gilderalz would never let her go.


    The Sylunar must have known that, sending an Archpriestess to negotiate. What they could possibly bargain that would bend his naturally hostile parents to even consider such an arrangement was a mystery in and of itself.


    They certainly hadn''t come for any of his other sisters, including Quetzal, who was already taking steps on the road to being a Summoner... of diabolics, naturally. She already had a black cat familiar who hissed at him whenever it saw him.


    The ruffled buttons and cuffs were fashionable enough, and his conditioning meant he looked older then he was. Combined with his natural confidence and fearlessness, and he knew he cut an impressive figure, for all that he was twelve. Some of the maids were definitely interested in expanding his education in certain worldly matters, and that he hadn''t taken them up on it rather shocked all of them. His brothers had spread the word that he wasn''t interested in women, naturally...


    What a family...


    Further questioning of his sister revealed that they had actually had private words in his father''s study, where only his father''s immediate underlings normally had the privilege of talking with him. Impressive, indeed.


    Ignoring his sister''s cat when it came out of a side hall and leapt into her arms, promptly hissing at him, he arrived in the hall leading to the study, finding the door open and the guards looking somewhat nervous. None of his other siblings were there, an impossibility in the clawing demand for early information, and he just turned an eyebrow on one of the guards, an old soldier that had served under his grandfather.


    "Master Errant, the Duke and Duchess have escorted the priestess up to their chambers for some reason," the old man said softly. He turned his head to the study. "He seemed quite angry..."


    Their chambers? Errant nodded to the greybeard, who nodded back as well, and headed for the main stairs, Quetzal following after, eyes alight with curiosity and determination to find out what was behind all this.


    ----


    The sweeping double stairs were no impediment to him, he went up them as if they were level ground as Quetzal cursed under her breath, picked up her skirts and trailed after him.


    Up ahead, he saw his three older siblings waiting, and little Veis, being attended by her nanny.


    Veis was six years old, but short for her age, with a pure white air that betrayed her elemental affinity. With pale blue eyes and doll-like features, she was still incredibly cute in her white and blue frock, white stockings, and dark shoes, the very picture of a too-innocent loli. As she hadn''t learned how to twist the knife quite yet, she was also the only member of the family he would still spend time with and talk to.


    Naturally the others tried to discourage this, even his parents, guiding her into activities away from him, but chance encounters still turned into long walks or rides as he escorted her here and there, and there wasn''t much they could do about it. He wasn''t a danger to her, after all, they merely felt he would drag her down.


    "Errant!" she piped up happily when seeing him, traipsing up to see him and extending her hands out for a hug. He picked her up easily, spun around once as she giggled, and gave her a good hug. His brothers and sisters could only look on stiffly. They certainly weren''t happy to see him, but he was irrelevant, in the end.


    "They say the moon priestess wants to take me away, Errant," Veis said in a stage whisper, equal parts afraid and excited to be at the heart of something important.


    "She must have heard what a genius you are," he replied, giving her chin a chuck, and she beamed at him. "There''s probably no better teacher of magic in the world then a Sylunar Archpriestess. You are very impressive, little sister!"


    "Will I have to show her my magic?" She was incredibly excited. "Can I see hers? What is Silver Magic all about, anyways? Can she call down the stars and moon?"


    Errant laughed despite himself. "If you see her doing that, it means very bad things are happening, so pray that you don''t." He tweaked the bow in her hair as he let her down. "I trust she hasn''t said anything, except to Mother and Father?"


    His brothers had sour looks, so it fell to his older sister to reply coolly, "She has said nothing to anyone, outside the bare minimum required by etiquette." Her nostrils flared. "As if she is better than us."


    "She''s an Archpriestess, sister. She IS better then us." Her mouth opened at his remark, closed, and she just turned away, trying to hear what was going on behind the oaken door.


    ============


    Haz¨¦ gestured, an open casting that anyone experienced in magic could tell was not an offensive spell. She had told the Duke to bring his Saber along, clearly not worried about his or his wife''s hostility.


    They were standing on the balcony of the manor house, overlooking the gardens beyond, and offering a decent overlook of the city and hills beyond its walls. It was a view designed to show the aesthetics of rulership and control, not beauty, and she accepted it and moved on.


    A cone of visible light extended out from her hand, reaching out and playing across a layer of magic rising up from the walls of the estate about a hundred feet away.


    "What are you doing, priestess?" the Duke asked, barely keeping his anger under control.


    "You will know exactly when you see it, Your Grace," she replied calmly. The seals and repeating Rune Patterns of the Wards cycled past her. "Your eyes should be better then mine, after all."


    About to say something, he closed his mouth and stepped up next to her, watching as that Light revealed the Wards about his home clearly, making them easy to inspect. It swept back, forth higher in the air, and then back again, higher yet...


    Paused.


    His eyes narrowed. Like a crack in armor, or a misaligned seam, he could see that an arc there was thicker than it should be.


    "Cut it, Your Grace, or Dispel it, Madam."


    Duke Rauoz Gilderalz''s expression darkened considerably. His Saber sang as it cleared its scabbard, and hellfire roared up along the Blade. An arc of hunting flame lashed out like a living thing, aimed precisely at that slender crack, and hit it unerringly.


    Like a released web, the Ward split open in defined circle, now ringed by hellfire, easily enough to admit a flying person.


    "Notice the angle. Even if your Stillflight Field was up, a breeze and a Featherweight would easily bring her down to the veranda." The cone of Revelation dipped down low, just above the walls, paused again.


    Another arc in the patterns that was too thick, just above the walls about the estate.


    The breath hissed out through his nostrils. His wife stayed deathly, coldly silent.


    "And a simple question." Haz¨¦ turned around, not looking at either of them, her eyes settling on a single object. "How long has it been since you moved your bed?"


    The magnificent four-poster naturally dominated the room with its carvings of carefully not-quite erotic scenes, silken drapes, and embroidered covers.


    The Duke strode forward, and with one hand, shoved the bed away and across the room, sliding through the rugs on the wooden floor and not hitting any of the furniture as it rotated and revealed the dusty space below.


    He kicked away the rug and bedwarming stones set up there, and stared at the empty expanse of floor beneath it, before turning to look at the moonpriestess in challenge.


    The cone of Revelation came down and played across the smooth wood in answer.


    He almost lost his breath.


    Where the light played, deep gouges in the wood were visible, edged with a dark crimson he was all too familiar with. Seals, runecraft, an asymmetric pentagram, it was all clearly revealed... and when the Revelation was removed, it was clean and smooth.


    "An illusion under both bed and a rug, where only a cleaner would see it..." the Duchess breathed out. Even a routine magical inspection would have revealed nothing, with it hidden from line of sight.


    The Duke was pale as he stared at the floor. He lifted his foot, and hellfire, subtle yet strong, erupted out from his boot. It washed across the floor, burning, searing... and as it did, the concealing illusion wavered, and was eaten away as its foundation was damaged by the flames.


    "Damnation." His hands were shaking as he stared at the pentagramal Circle under his bed. His chi could easily sense the very dark magic attached to it, even if it was years ago. The things that could have been inflicted upon him he did not care to think about it, the defilement was already obvious. His teeth clenched, he raised his eyes to the woman who brought him such foul news. "Did this Void Brother tell you ought else I should know of?" he asked thickly, his Saber still in hand.


    "Are you certain you wish to hear more?" Haz¨¦ asked calmly, unafraid.

 148 Chapter One Hundred and Forty-Eight: Errant’s Little Sister, Part Two

    The Duke took a very deep breath. He was a servant of Huul, he dealt with fiends, and steeled his heart for more dire news. "Yes!" he stated grimly.


    "Your daughter''s nanny is a doppelganger, placed to watch over the Hagchild." His hand crackled on his Saber.


    And then Haz¨¦ turned and looked at the Duchess, her fingers spreading in the beginnings of a spell. "And your wife is a Poison Kiss Warlock."


    Despite himself, he froze. His incredulous eyes turned to the woman who shared his bed, his life, the matron of his family.


    "My Lord!" protested the Duchess, taking a step back, her face still calm and composed. "She is merely using these events to cover a greater lie! Do not believe this!"


    "You''re a Powered in your prime years, but you no longer have a period, because Poison Kiss Warlocks are sterile. Ergo, no more children," Haz¨¦ continued calmly. "By Consuming the Duchess, you can imitate her Casting ability... but you cannot improve on it, so you''ve not improved at all in the past six years. I believe she was a Sorceress? You cannot even swap spells out." Haz¨¦ touched the silver crescent at her throat. "As she had an Infernal bloodline, your Pact won''t react to hellfire, which would normally reveal it. But there will be no concealing the demonfire if you are touched by moonfire, Warlock."


    Her moon symbol lit up, and moonfire shot out from her hand... at the Duke, who was startled enough for it to strike him in the chest.


    Instantly the devil chi in his chest roared up at the anathemic energy, enveloping his body and chasing away the white moonfire that tasted of holy energies.


    "My Lord..." the Duchess spoke up, worry coming up in her eyes, seeing her husband standing there, now fully covered in the flames of the Damnation Heart.


    "Such a trifling will do no harm to my Lady," Duke Gilderalz said flatly, staring at her with eyes that had lost all emotion.


    Her hands came up, and magic sparked, failed as stars went off on Haz¨¦''s fingers and stopped whatever magic she was about to wield, and a spray of moonfire washed over her.


    Puke yellow-green-black demonfire howled up from her to fight it off, while hollow, empty hellfire flickered at the ends of her fingers.


    She knew her disguise was done, and lifted her hands to call on her powers-


    The Execution of Nessus came down on her left shoulder, exited through her right hip. Hellfire exploded throughout her body, and demonfire raged up in protest. Her eyes had just enough time to meet his, sparking with anger and hate, and then a swathe of crimson-black flames came across to take off her head.


    Haz¨¦ watched as the woman fell to the floor. Demonfire pulsed, overwhelming the hellfire and putting it out as it bubbled out of the wounds, and as it did, it pulled away the mask of the Duchess Gilderalz.


    For a moment, the woman revealed was short, mousey, face scarred by disease and beatings, clearly someone who had seen much suffering, none of the elegance or beauty of the Duchess visible. Then the claws of the demonfire emptied her out from within, and her skin split, flesh devoured as spectral claws reached up into the writhing mess. For just a second, the woman''s face was visible as the claws tore her spirit free from her mortal shell, and as she screamed out, they dragged her down to complete her Pact.


    The Duke looked at the smoking remains of the woman who had killed and replaced his wife for years. "Why would they go to such lengths?" he asked in an iron voice.


    "Who says the matters are related?" Haz¨¦ asked calmly. She gestured, and the image of the woman arose in illusion, captured in perfect detail, then condensed down to a piece of paper in her hand. She set it on the dresser next to her. "Find out who she was, and likely your questions will be answered.


    "As for the doppelganger, they are often Hag servants. They wouldn''t need two minions to watch over a Hagchild. Replacing a Duchess is a far, far bigger game. Indeed, the harm a revealed Hag could do would be minimized in a place such as this, she would likely be killed before she could escape.


    "No, the Hag''s purpose would be insult and humiliation, bloodshed incidental. Have you crossed a Stormhag before, Your Grace?"


    His face was grim as he looked east. "Zouma the Ill Wind lairs in the mountains to the east. She wrought havoc on the weather and preyed upon the peasants in my grandfather''s day. There were conflicts, and they came to a manner of agreement which has lasted most of a century."


    "You may wish to review the wording of that agreement," Haz¨¦ said politely. "As matters stand... what will you do with the child?"


    His grip tightened on his Saber. "You would bring her away with you?"


    "I will."


    "Will you speak of this?"


    "Her ancestry? To none here, and I will take her far from this place."


    "Then take her immediately. I will deal with what has become of my wife."


    "And the shapechanger?" Haz¨¦ asked pleasantly.


    The Duke looked at her, strode to the door, and threw it open.


    "My Lord?" the guards on duty asked, eyes flicking past him for a moment, and noting the bedchamber in disarray, the Moon Priestess standing at the far end... and no Duchess...


    He said nothing, closing the door, turning his head, and shifting with his gaze, his eyes coming to rest on the matronly woman standing near to his youngest daughter.


    Her eyes widened as she read his mind. She started to move-


    And Errant''s fist crashed into the side of her head, bouncing her off the wall, and before she could move, she was spun around and sent stumbling backwards towards the Duke.


    Fire divided her from head to crotch, and a backhand sent her flying, to bounce heavily off the walls and leave a smearing trail of burning purple ichor behind as her halves fell to the carpeted floor.


    Veis'' instinctive scream was covered up almost as quickly as she stared at the corpse of the nanny she''d known all her life... whose body was changing into something that was not her nanny before her eyes.


    Haz¨¦ calmly stepped out of the bedchamber, closing the door behind her. Everyone looked at her, and who was absent.


    "Father, where is mother-?" Guteriz was naturally the first to speak up.


    "Your mother died years ago," hissed the Duke, staring at the now-grey, featureless remains of the doppelganger''s burning body, before moving his eyes to Veis, who shrank back at the chill in them, and then to the Priestess. "Go! Take her!"


    Haz¨¦ moved forwards smoothly, taking the small child in her arms without much effort, and sweeping grandly away. Veis trembled as she looked back at her father, and the emotionless, killing eyes there.


    "Daddy?" she asked once, before Haz¨¦ found the stairs and started down them, taking them out of line of sight.


    "Hush, little sister," Haz¨¦ said softly. "None of this is your fault, but it is not something a man like him can tolerate. If we do not go, he will kill you, and everyone will agree it is a righteous thing."


    "A righteous thing?" Errant was right behind them, a frown on his face, following his little sister out, not caring about his father''s anger. "Your Holiness, what is going on here?" he asked calmly.


    Haz¨¦ turned at the bottom of the stairs, meeting his blue eyes with her green ones easily. "You are the youngest son, Errant?" she asked easily, taking in his total lack of fear, yet wary respect.


    "I am, Your Holiness," he said calmly.


    "Heaven speaks of you," she said softly. "The current Duchess was replaced by a Poison Kiss Warlock." His cheek ticked and his eyes narrowed at her words. "Your little sister here is a Hagchild via a Stormcrone, and I am taking her from here ere she be killed."


    "What is a Hagchild?" Veis asked softly from her shoulder, eyes wide and trembling at the words that her own father was ready to kill her.


    "Shush, do not let others hear you say that," Haz¨¦ said softly. She extended a hand to Errant, who, caught between bemusement and concern, still took it fearlessly.


    His eyes dropped down almost a foot, staring at the image inside the shell, a girl who was younger then he was. "I trust we shall meet again, young master," she winked at him, one of those green eyes flaring silver for an instant, and then she turned and walked away.


    "Veis, she will take good care of you!" Errant said, following after them, reaching up to the tears starting to fall down the little girl''s cheeks.


    "Are you coming with me?" Veis asked, cheeks puffing out.


    "To a land of priestesses and sorceresses? While I admit that sounds very fun, you know how well I do among Casters, little one." Veis giggled despite herself, as his disdain for magical stuff was very well known. "However, I will visit, yes? She will tell me where you are, and when I am old enough, I will come find you. Is that alright?"


    Veis nodded as soberly as she could, and Errant smiled. "She is going to save your soul. Be strong, little sister. I will come for you!"


    "Thank you, big brother! I will be waiting for you! Promise me!"


    "You know I always keep my promises, Veis!"


    They were outside the gates, the guards standing aside, acting happy to see her go, all of them wondering what she was doing with Veis with her, and the family runt following behind.


    He stood up on tiptoe to kiss her forehead, and Veis almost managed to smile.


    The Priestess made a gesture, and the wind blew past. Like a silvered shadow, they were gone along the lived-lines, back to a previous point in space.


    -Heaven speaks of me-, Errant repeated to himself. She knew I was a Warlock before she came here. Truly high in Sylune''s favor, probably asked Heaven about details of the family before I came.


    -And she is going to administer the Ritual of the Silver Queen to my little sister.-


    That his sister was a Hagchild did not bother him, but there was no way his father could possibly tolerate her being around, even were she cleansed of the Hag Curse.


    He would see her again... or she would burn in the moonfire of the Silver Queen, before the Curse would be allowed to take her, dying as Veis Gilderalz, and not some shrieking stormcrone.


    He knew what his own task was. His eyes turned to the east, cold and harsh.


    It was time to kill him a stormcrone.

 149 Chapter One Hundred and Forty-Nine– The Fate of the Mercs

    The Camp disassembled in an amazingly short period of time. The people working it moved with quick harmony, as if they had done it all before, moving from one area to the next with aplomb as wagons were loaded and sent off.


    A fair number of those wagons had no wheels, floating above the ground. Sama had never skimped on the foundation of the Ironblood, and that wasn''t going to stop now. Without having to worry about the rough terrain, the first part of the caravan was moving out, with a lot of men trotting alongside or riding ahead on ready horses.


    The site had already been chosen for the next camp, forty miles ahead, and one way or another, they would reach it today.


    The Kaldens could only look on in envy, deeply impressed by how everything was torn up, loaded away, and then on the road, like ants devouring the camp and sending it on. There own efforts looked quite pathetic in comparison.


    The North Wind helped tear the Camp down, knowing perfectly well what needed to be done, and what did not.


    "Prepare to move out!" Rorn shouted at everyone, not caring what everyone else thought. "There''s going to be fighting today! We''re going to secure this trail, we''ve got ten miles to go to meet a Warpband coming in!"


    Ten miles seemed like a lot, but they had traded some of their spoils for wagons and horses of their own, to carry armor and shields and lighten their loads while they trotted along. Ten miles was nothing.


    Half an hour later, everything was stowed that needed to be, and the wagons rolled out as the Kaldens headed out.


    ------


    Rorn held up his hand, reining in his horse. Fellow Marked, nearly two hundred more in number now among them then two days ago, sent the alert back through the straggling numbers marching northeast through the Badlands.


    The broken landscape and mismatched terrain made it fairly easy to conceal major numbers, so scouting was of great importance. Alas for the enemy, this territory had been completely mapped out in The Map, and while it was legendary for its shifting... at least a thousand Nulls had trod down this path, Interdictions firing off, and vivic energy had baptized it. They''d already passed four battle sites, and the space here was locked down harder than steel.


    In the distance, the men could see the stones warp, shift, and change, but there was a road stabbing towards Yle Tyorm that wasn''t moving at all, and was completely locked down on The Map.


    Rorn knew that this was part of a massive injury done to the Land, spillover from whatever catastrophe had happened at Yle Tyorm in ages past. One of the things they were doing is feeding the invaders to the Land, for the express purpose of healing this injury. These invaders bore with them a lot of chaotic, unstable energy, and once vivified and devoured by the Land, the spatial distortions were being addressed, especially the instability that the Warp Gods were taking advantage of to materialize in the first place.


    The Warpband coming from ahead was escorting a great brazen Bell, an artifact that would probably have a maddening effect on the Kaldens, while frenzying the Warped. It was something they would have to take down quickly, but that was what Liiss and the other Casters did best. The Warped had made the frame out of some wood, so Barus would probably just warp it, break its frame, and send it crashing to the ground, unable to ring. Subtle magic was sometimes the best...


    But now there was another threat coming in from the right.


    Orders came out, men were hurrying up to form a fighting line, grabbing their armor or shields, hurrying to get into position. Archers moved up behind, spears warded the flanks, the berserkers readied themselves to charge behind the lines, while the scouts disappeared into the scrub and shadows of the copses that grew here and there between the jutting, frozen waves of grey stone.


    He saw the horsemen first, scattered and straggling, clearly beaten like dogs, running from a fight.


    Khadifyr began to softly chant a lay from poems passed down for a thousand years or more. If he wanted to make his legacy, he would need to set down his own Song, and drawing upon the strength of his ancestors, the legends they were, was a good way to start.


    There were demonic serpents in the air, swooping down and attacking the fleeing riders, who had little defense against them. The ones in front saw the swelling lines in front of them, and desperately whipped their horses to find shelter.


    "Kill them!" Rorn ordered.


    Archers set in cover, arrows released, a few simple spells covered the sky with sticky webbing and fouled reptilian wings. Drakes shrieked and tumbled from the skies, and the other fliers veered off quickly, not wishing to follow the others into spirals of death.


    After all, there were men on foot to prey on, too...


    "Forward, easy trot!" he ordered, and the line of men swung in the direction he pointed, other Marked making sure to keep them on course. They parted to let the gasping horses file through, but otherwise spared the beaten, bloody men there no attention.


    The mercenaries looked harrowed, eyes a little wild. They had come for gold and glory, and they had instead found death.


    Rorn was already talking with their Guide, who was with the infantry who were fleeing for their lives, riding down Warped and harrying their flanks, slowing them down to stop the slaughter as best he might.


    They were civilized men, and hadn''t been prepared for the pure bloodthirstiness and savagery of the invaders... nor the fact that the least of the Warped fighters were Threes, veterans Fours, and elites Fives and Sixes. The Warped officers were all Sevens and above, and all of them had the Warped template, basically an Advanced Template that also included temperature resistance and lower food requirements... meaning all of these troops were bigger and stronger than normal humans.


    As their morale faltered, the weakness fed the Warpband they had chosen to attack, and their lack of unit cohesion meant reinforcements and willingness to die holding their ground simply wasn''t there. When one troop broke, their formation had an opening, and the enemy elites got into their back line. Warp Wargs had harried the cavalry, preventing them from being effective, and the riders of the enemy had tied them up long enough for the Warped to surround them with glaives and spears.


    A unit of spearmen had thrown down their shields and run. Seeing their reserves abandoning them, the front line had faltered, and the berserkers of the Warp had torn them apart.


    He was looking at routed cowards, a few score survivors out of over three hundred cavalry, none of them in great shape.


    Rorn didn''t meet with them or talk with them. Cold-faced Marked directed them to get behind the lines, while Kalden streamed past them, giving them looks of contempt and not a few not-so-hidden comments about mongrels, soft southerners, puppies on the battlefield, and the like.


    "Spread it out. We''ve got two battles to fight today. The first is to clean up after these fools who don''t know how to fight." His words were picked up by Marked and disseminated across the Kalden lines quickly, and an eager shout went up in response. "After that is done, we still have our own fight to undertake. Quick and clean, we kill them all and get ready for the next fight!"


    --------------


    Sergeant Temerick heard a Song in his mind from far away, the Sage still watching over him. There were no other Ironbloods to fight shoulder to shoulder with him here, but it was enough to render him a demon in personal combat.


    A Fireball smashed into his Null, and nothing happened. He hewed the head from the shoulders of a Warped warrior reaching seven feet tall with that stupid overdone helm on, knocking down another that had tried to wrestle Corporal Bill down and now got himself trampled for his efforts.


    Guides and Scouts were the first to get Awakened steeds. Corporal Bill was no mere horse, he was a Horse... and Horses could get Marks, too.


    He felt Corporal Bill''s fatigue, and without a care drew out a Potion as they retreated from a flight of hurled spears. Bill turned his head as Temerick leaned forward, and the Horse sucked it down as he cantered away, striving to show his nimbleness even as he breathed hard.


    The Potion was strong, even the small dose enough to give a man energy enough to fight for an entire day. The Horse wasn''t much different; Temerick instantly felt the wave of energy sweep away his mount''s fatigue, and his pace became easier and cleaner.


    At this point, the two of them were true fighting partners. Per Sage Sama''s orders, any Horse rider had to be maxed out in Ride, and the Horse had to be maxed out in Mount. The synergy of the two skills, one able to guide their mount to evade blows, and one able to move to avoid strikes at their rider, made them particularly deadly combatants when skirmishing with the undisciplined Warped infantry.


    He was out of arrows, quivers long emptied, momentarily noting that he needed a One More Arrow Quiver if he intended to do this job right.


    The last of the Beloy Steadfast were about two hundred yards ahead. There were only a hundred or so of them left, out of a company that had mustered close to six hundred. They had fled when their Captain and his breastplate were unceremoniously hewed in two by an eight-foot brute wielding an Axe sized for an ogre. The rest of the company had panicked as his blood sprayed over them, and only the deaths of those who didn''t have time to panic had let this many get away.


    They''d be run down within half a mile. The Warped were faster and had much more endurance. Several hundred of them were pursuing the straggling survivors, many of whom had thrown off their armor to run faster, and certainly didn''t have their weapons left.


    Meat on the plate for the Warped.


    But Sergeant... no, Warlord Rorn was coming.


    Temerick''s eyes looked at the waves of stone, and the position of Rorn''s men on The Map. Rorn had quickly divided his forces, seeing the route of the fleeing men, and was waiting for the Warped to arrive.


    The Warped cavalry were keeping their distance out of wary respect for him and Corporal Bill, who had cut down several dozen of them, letting them know that not all of the humans of this world were greedy cowards. His Sword was bubbling black stained with unnatural pastel hues, and they knew he wielded a Weapon made specially to kill them. They were screening him from their wizard, who seemed particularly miffed that his magic was utterly useless against the pair.


    But now he had caught up to the runners, kicking away those who tried to grab at him and Bill, pointing with his blade. "If you want to live, make it around that hill! Move! Move!"


    They didn''t have the breath to shout questions, they could only have blind faith in the blood-spattered man who was the only reason they were still alive.


    A couple of the slower men faltered, fell, and couldn''t do more than stagger back to their feet. The Warped ran over them, hacking them apart in passing, howling inhuman war cries as they did so, closing in on those still living.


    Temerick watched the formation in his head, turning the edge down there, where illusions screened the motion from the hundreds of incoming Warped, and where the archers had already stolen into position, in the brush at the base of the next wave-hill.


    The Beloy rounded the hill, gasping, staggering, and found themselves racing past lines of grim, ready men, a single passage to life between them. They staggered into it with the last reserves of their energy, and as the Warped came charging in after them, the Kaldens surged out to meet them.


    "Thrust! Stand!" barked Rorn, as Khadifyr''s horn blew the opening notes to a new Saga.


    The lead Warped kept coming, lost in bloodlust, and leapt to cleave into the lines of spears. Tall men with long spears stepped forward, drove into the Stance that Rorn had hammered into them, and gleaming spears plunged into throats, their shields raised to catch the incoming blows.


    The front line was hammered backwards, but the second and third lines stood fast, their own spears braced, thick bodies hammering to the stops of their spears. The men in front were dragged back and to their feet, some gushing blood or cursing with broken arms, and the Healing Traps were Right There to fix them up.


    The Kalden surged forward after the Warped charge was broken on the corpses of their own, the line of infantry wrapping out and around to close the flank and curve in on the Warped''s disjointed line.


    The mounted marauders began to advance, raising their glaives in anticipation of biting into and along the line of men who were not armed with spears over on the flank.


    Three bolts of lightning thundered through their lines in blinding tandem, and then the arrows scythed across them with unnatural accuracy. Warped horses, spiked and with fanged maws, screamed and fell, distorting their formation, while a line of spikes erupted out of the earth in front of them, six feet long and fully capable of enduring the advances of their mutated mounts. The cavalry charge crashed into it, and was broken, men and horses flying at the impacts.


    The Huscarls charged in to close-quarters, cutting the last of the foul horses down, arrows zipping above them to hatrack those riders who hadn''t fallen and thought they might be able to flee.


    A roaring Hammer barreled past, and the wizard, his skull-tipped Staff glowing with power, was slammed off his horse as the weapon punched through his protection, ribs and breastbone cracking savagely. He didn''t manage to get up from the ground before a shadow passed under his staggered mount, scampered right over him, and left his throat with a new crimson mouth in passing. Although he was gurgling and kicking, he didn''t manage to die before being trampled under the rush of combat.


    A knot of marauders that had somehow managed to gather together saw a golden-haired woman point at them, and then a fireball detonating in their midst sent them hurtling in all directions. Formation shattered, the Huscarls, led by Silent Jhon, began to crack them open.


    The late half of the Kalden line, led by the howling berserkers, slammed into the back of the Warped, hacking and hewing with abandon, easily able to compete with the Warped in battle-frenzy.


    Rorn''s eyes moved constantly, the Marked shifting as he gave orders, concentrating fire here, plugging a gap there, pulling out wounded, opening a hole, dividing, pincering, flanking.


    The brutal, bloody fight was over in less then ten minutes. Brown came rolling up out of nowhere to take down a massive armored brute who had managed to cut his way out of the back lines. A Marked fell on each of the man''s arms as the grizzly proceeded to rip his armored skin off, and then tear apart his chest and the unnatural organs within in a frenzy of blood and gore. His claws grabbed the helm of the still-living Warped and wrenched with irresistible power.


    "Clean it! Feed the Land!" barked out Rorn, and those with Vivic Weapons moved in to set the battlefield alight. The Powered spread out, scanning for magic and gold, the Disks floating next to them starting to fill with the spoils of war, the things that would strengthen them and let them kill the Warped harder and faster.


    Swifter men were assigned to immediately follow the backtrail of the mercenaries. After all, there was a lot of loot left behind on the dead of both sides, and the Kaldens were going to be completely impolite and take it all. What were the Beloy Steadfast or the Lances of Achime going to do about it?

 150 Chapter One Hundred and Fifty: The Spider’s Nes

    This girl was a redhead, and literally. Her hair was scarlet, almost the hue of blood, just enough on the unnatural side to be magical. She flaunted it, obviously quite proud of it. It set off her pale, almost milk-white complexion, and the scattering of faint freckles along her cheekbones only seemed to accentuate them more.


    She might have been ten, but she knew she was beautiful, how to use it, and was obviously known by all those about. Her attire was clean and simple, but the flame symbol at her throat was an alert to anyone who knew anything that she was a sorceress of flame, and even if she wouldn''t be very powerful at her age, those dark robes meant she had a backer, and testing them would be a bad idea.


    She was very confident and at ease, clear in her beauty and power, but few could see that behind her golden eyes was a clear and cold mind at work, that knew the ugly parts of the world and what they meant. She was neither clean nor innocent, despite her appearance, and she knew how to survive and play the game of life.


    And then she stopped in place, blinking in consternation.


    There were three people in front of her, two girls and a grown woman. They were all definitely singular in appearance. The woman was tall and graceful, dark of hair and golden of skin, a beauty desirable by any man... and in the robes of a Sylunar Priestess, not to be touched by those who desired to see the next evening. The older girl''s hair was pure green, a strange hue that did not seem to be related to water or plants or anything, really. The smaller girl was like a doll, white haired and pale-eyed, and staring at her in nearly as much consternation as she was at the two girls.


    She had never felt a sensation like this. It was like... sisterhood?


    Instantly her defenses came up. Strangers were always trying to take advantage, it had been a cruel lesson she had learned repeatedly.


    Both of the girls looked up at the woman with complicated expressions. "You''re right, she is one of us, Sister Haz¨¦," the emerald-locked girl said, before turning her eyes back on the scarlet-haired girl.


    "The Void Brothers are rarely wrong about such things, especially the Fire and the Sword."


    The girl with scarlet hair froze on hearing that. She lived in a certain segment of society where dire stories proliferated, and those of the Void Brothers were definitely among those. The Fire and the Sword was a Mage Slayer incarnate, something no arcane Caster would take lightly.


    The Priestess looked at her, assessing. "What is your name, little sister?"


    This question was not light, coming from a Moon Priestess. It acknowledged her as a Fellow Caster. She puffed up despite herself.


    "I am Amber, m''lady," she said, even managing a partial bow despite herself. This woman came from a very different class of people then did she, but she wasn''t any more beautiful, only more powerful... for now...


    "Would you be available to have a short chat?" The Priestess gestured at a park nearby, and an empty bench there. Amber looked over at, debating risk and reward. Her errand was not that urgent, and this did not sound like it was dangerous. The eyes of the two girls staring at her were filled with strange, knowing emotions... she suddenly felt like they were older and wiser then her, even the little one who didn''t come up to her chest. "Verd and Veis would like to speak with you."


    "I, I think I can spare a few minutes," she sniffed proudly.


    -----------


    "What is it you wish to speak me about?" Amber asked, glancing after the Priestess who was walking away from them, her brow furrowing. She was on guard against the Priestess; who knew what magic the woman commanded, but these two felt like talking to two new best friends, a very odd sensation to her, who had mostly dealt with older women around her all her life.


    "I see that you can feel the sisterhood bond between us," Verd spoke up, and Veis, with her huge pale blue eyes, nodded along, so incredibly cute Amber wanted to pick up and hug her despite her resentment. The sadness in those eyes was aching to see, overriding her estimation of the girls'' high stations.


    "I... sisterhood?" She felt uncomfortably aware that if she lied, it would be sensed immediately.


    "Yes. We are all Hagchildren." Before Amber could process that, Verd pointed at herself, fingering her hair. "My Hagmother is a greenhag. Veis'' Hagmother is a stormcrone. Yours is a shellycoat."


    Amber felt her breath catching in her throat, her heart pounding at a revelation like this. She looked back and forth between them, a refutation, an accusation, denials and protests trying to leap off her tongue... and found she simply couldn''t believe they were lying to her.


    That... she was the daughter of a shellycoat? "I-I don''t know much about Hags," she whispered, her eyes wide, and stomach doing flipflops. "I thought I had a bloodline of fire from my father..."


    "You might, but it''s irrelevant. Your Hag blood will take over, unless it''s stopped. We came here to help you, and take you away from here before your Hagmother grabs you, and makes you one of them."


    Amber found herself shivering so hard she almost convulsed. My Hagmother is coming for me... the words whispered in her mind, like a nightmare slowly uncoiling, waiting for this very moment to stir in her a dread she''d never known.


    "I can''t... my mother, my aunts-" she started to protest. Both girls, with their sad, sad, pained eyes, shook their heads together.


    "Don''t go back there." Veis'' voice definitely had an aristocratic accent, despite her age. "It''s a very bad place."


    Amber felt her anger rising, and her face flushed with resentment at their judgement, but Verd spoke up before she could defend it. "It''s a werespider nest."


    Her passionate defense of the women she lived with and their lifestyle being judged by those born to higher station suffered a choking death in her throat. Amber felt like she had almost swallowed her tongue.


    "We-werespiders?" she repeated, almost screeching, as things began to crawl in the back of her mind. Glimpses of strange things she attributed to the illusion magic so many of the women who worked there had, adding an air of mystery and danger to everything.


    "You''ve never been down below, have you? Below the basement with all the costumes," Verd said.


    Amber felt her pulse roaring in her ears. She knew that sometimes abusive, cheap, or notorious customers were sometimes brought below, and never heard from again. The women just laughed it off with knowing smiles, men getting their rightful comeuppance from women who knew how to take care of themselves...


    "It''s a spider''s nest, a big one, where they go in their alternate forms." Verd''s nose wrinkled. "They have a servant spider down there, guarding their treasures, meals strung up in great cocoons. Oh, and there''s a phase spider that can go ethereal guarding the whole building. Its webs run inside the walls, and keep out stalkers. It lives up in the attic, and eats all the thieves that try to break in."


    "Ugggh." Veis'' shudder was more convincing then a thousand stories. She squirmed with a total revulsion that was impossible to emulate.


    Amber swallowed again. She had been told there was a monster in the attic that ate thieves, and not to disturb it, ever. She had once seen a client who refused to pay get taken down by a poisoned stiletto, hauled up to the third floor, and bundled up the ladder to the attic. Something had reached down and hauled him into the darkness, and they''d shut the ladder up and left it, just like that.


    She had definitely never gone up to investigate.


    "I... what about my mother?" she asked, wide-eyed now. "I mean, I look so much like her..."


    Both girls shook their heads. "No," corrected little Veis firmly. "She looks like YOU. She''s a Red Widow. They can look however they need to. She''s not-not your mother!" Veis started tearing up like she was going to cry, and Verd pulled her back for a hug. Amber was not at all sure she wanted to hear the story behind that statement, as she had the feeling it was far too much like what she was confronting.


    She took a deep breath, trying to calm her raging emotions. She had always been around the workers at The Crimson Rose, women who were calm, calculating, and deadly if they needed to be.


    All of them, so much alike in temperament. Very few arguments, very few differences, performing their duties in the sex trade with complete aplomb and occasionally dangerous proficiency. They never seemed to get sick, they all had wonderful complexions and dark charms, especially her mother...


    Not like any other brothel in this city. The women there looked beaten so quickly, exhausted by the trade and its unrealistic demands for the soiling of perfection. And they all had bouncers...


    There were no men working at The Crimson Rose. There was no venereal disease among the women...


    Amber swallowed again, trying to bring all this together in her head. "They work for my Hagmother..." she found herself saying, and knew it was true.


    Verd nodded with her. "Probably. Shellycoats are almost all involved in the sex trade. The werespiders have been spreading a nasty form of syphilis which can be activated with a magic Ritual. Sister Haz¨¦ has already let the White Mothers know, and is working on an antidote for when they activate it. It will probably hit thousands all at once, their clients and their other lovers."


    Amber wanted to laugh coldly about such hypocrites getting a taste of their own medicine, but the women they were cheating on were not guilty of anything, and would die too. She had certainly seen enough of them, cheated on by husbands and lovers for mere coin, giving the lie to all their promises of love...


    "I-I," she started, and then stopped. "I don''t know what to do..." It was a very hard thing to admit. She prided herself on being able to take care of herself, but this, this...


    "Come with us. We sisters need to take care of one another," Verd said, and Veis stepped forwards to take Amber''s hands, staring at her.


    Hagchildren. Sisters cursed by Hags, bound by more then blood. No one else could understand what it meant to be someone like them.


    Amber swallowed as she looked into the too-old eyes of this little girl, and knew that her own eyes were starting to reflect the same thing.


    "What... what about my mother, and my aunts?" she found herself asking. She knew she couldn''t go back. The women were sharp, attentive, and would notice something was off about her immediately.


    Both of the girls looked in a certain direction, and Amber followed suit, turning around.


    Back in the direction of the Crimson Rose.


    Fire exploded up in the sky, erupting out from below, a raging cone of fire of tremendous fire. A cyclone of flames spun out of it, roared back down in the distance. She heard the rumble of the explosion seconds later, and another blazing set of flames rose in the distance, sending smoke soaring high and far.


    "Sister Haz¨¦ started at the bottom," Verd said calmly. "She''s killing the rest of them now." She looked at Amber sympathetically, as the red-haired girl turned back. "She''s already killed the Red Widow." There were two strokes of lightning coming down from above, in different locations. "Those are the safehouses they are trying to reach. She trapped them last night. They''re burning too." More pillars of smoke joined the climb to the skies. "She''ll be back in a few minutes to bring us away from here. Do you want her to save you from your Hagmother?"


    Amber thought of Rose Crimson, the premier courtesan and owner of The Rose Crimson, who she had always called mother, and until this moment, thought actually was. A false love, a manipulation that had started with the day she was born, no doubt...


    A stranger, taking advantage...


    "I don''t have anywhere else to go," she murmured, and knew it was true. There were places she could go, certainly, but the first thing they would want to do is take advantage of her beauty, and she knew what would follow thereafter. "She isn''t a hagchild... is she?" She did not have any sense of sisterhood with the woman.


    Both girls shook their heads. "Teacher!" they said together.


    Amber didn''t debate long, seeing the pained conviction in both of their eyes. "I will come with you..." she murmured, and both girls smiled sadly, yet happily.


    "It''s going to be horrible," Verd promised with a straight face. "She''s a total slave-driver, insisting we be able to take care of ourselves."


    Amber could totally agree with that philosophy. "She is obviously powerful..." Both girls nodded.


    "And you will love Mama!" Veis spoke up happily.


    "Mama is wonderful," agreed Verd calmly, and Amber found herself looking forward to meeting her, despite herself.


    ------


    It was only ten minutes before Sister Haz¨¦ returned, unmarked and unruffled, and not looking at all like she had carried out a massacre of werefolk and a demonic shapechanging arachnid. She just looked at Verd, who nodded; so did Veis; and her eyes turned to Amber, who also slowly nodded.


    They walked a short distance away into an alley. Magic came up, and took all four of them away.

 151 Chapter One Hundred and Fifty-One – The Start of a Saga

    "Warlord," Temerick greeted Rorn respectfully, coming in beside him. He could feel the orders going out, elements of the Kalden continuing to advance, while others cleaned up at speed. The battlefield was starting to burn white, and the looters were intent on their job, trusted by their clansmen to do the job properly and claim their share.


    "Sergeant, Corporal," Rorn replied calmly, glancing at rider and mount. "I see you''ve had a good day."


    Temerick grinned despite himself, and Bill tossed his head. "Aye, sir. But it''s not over yet, I''m thinking."


    "Where are you advising we engage?" He nodded at some black specks in the distance, surely able to see them. In both their minds, The Map blew up to their local area, spun, and flat images rose about real-world images.


    The bright red marker of the incoming Warpband earmarked for them was veering in their direction, obviously having spotted them. "How good are your riders?" Temerick asked, studying the scene.


    "Skirmishers. We''ve no lancer tradition in Kaldenheim. Not enough horses," Rorn stated calmly.


    "Good enough. You''ll need some speed if you want to loop up behind them, and those birds haven''t seen your cavalry yet."


    Rorn nodded once, pointed. "Around there, we line up here?"


    "There''s something going on with the terrain there, some hills and inclines we can exploit, especially with that self-moving bell tower of theirs."


    "Barus will take it out as the battle starts. A combination of lightning to weaken the frame and then twisting it into scrap will render it useless," Rorn waved dismissively.


    "That''ll work, too." Temerick nodded as they plotted a course, bringing Rorn''s forces up over the battlefield where the mercenaries from the south had lost so badly, cleaning up the loot there, and getting into position for the other Warpband in the afternoon.


    "Were they really that bad?" Rorn had to ask, glancing back at the riders keeping a safe distance behind them.


    "They severely underestimated the strength of the enemy, and with no confidence in their own, cracked too soon. If they were unified from the start, obeyed orders promptly, and held their ground... yes, they could have won. But they were not here to win, they were here for an easy fight and gold, and they became the slaughtered." Temerick shrugged. "They killed some of the enemy before they died, so they were good for something. Vivic them as we go."


    "We''ll also pick up their supplies," Rorn said heartlessly. "I see one of the officers survived. He''s trying to screw up the courage to ask me if he can walk off with their baggage." Both of them chuckled.


    "Give them enough to leave the area. I doubt they want to stay here. Some of the horsemen have merits, but those spears... not a one," Temerick spat.


    "I''ll run them off. They are already lightly burdened. If they can make it to the Waystop, they''ll make it home. If not... eh." It was not his concern. Kaldenheim was not a place that had sympathy for the cowardly or the weak.


    "Well, let''s show them how to run a proper battle then, eh?"


    ---


    "So, Slaughter Demon, Collared. Obviously a favorite of Klaw." Rorn dismounted next to Grym, who fell in beside him, advancing on the burning, eight-foot demon waving around a zweihander like a short sword, leaving burning trails of cackling flames behind it. Its floating pupils fixed on Rorn heading towards it, as the horsemen circling it parted to allow him entrance.


    "Jah. Butcher''s Sword," the Dwarf snorted, eyeing the corpses of the men who hadn''t been able to get away from it fast enough. Their armor was cloven clean through, like seared cotton. The flesh below didn''t have much resistance, but the demon had still only managed to kill a dozen or so men, doing little but irritating the rest.


    The Collar was annoying because it made ranged attacks almost impossible. It was a direct blessing of Klaw, making the demon impossible to target with direct spells, and reducing the damage of missile fire to next to nothing.


    "Oh, a challenger, it is?" snarled the demon, bringing the burning sword around to face him. "You think you are sufficient to kill ME, Skruwl the Soul Burner?"


    "Ah, that''s where the screaming comes from," Rorn remarked, limbering up his Shield, as Mournfang hummed to life. The demon was capturing the souls of the slain with its Weapon to torment them...


    Despite itself, the demon flinched as the rainbow soulfire mixed with golden enmity rose up... along with the polyhued-black banefire.


    "Hrn hrn hrn," Grym chuckled, bringing up his own Shield, Hammer rumbling like a furnace ready to blow in his hand. Its fires wouldn''t be effective here, and he couldn''t throw it effectively, but that was fine. He was a Dwarven Clanhammer, one of the toughest melee combatants there was... and silver soulfire was burning on his Hammer, too.


    There was no further need for words. The two of them strode forwards, not bothering to charge, as this wasn''t going to take long.


    The screaming, burning blade crashed down on them as the battle-crazed demon leapt towards them.


    Rorn lunged and froze in the Archer Stands Thrust.


    The burning Sword crashed down on his Shield... and didn''t pass through it like butter.


    At the same time, Mournfang drilled right into its chest, and Rorn didn''t budge, taking the impact with inhuman strength and focus.


    Slag roared in to smash a kneecap, and then the edge of Grym''s shield smashed that joint sideways, depriving this thing of its prancing agility. It tried to bounce back, and this time Rorn stayed right with it, leaving Mournfang in place as he reached out and grabbed one of the burning arms with his bare hand, wrenched it down, twisted, and forced it to bend in the direction of the leg that was already at thirty degrees to the side as he kicked its other flaming foot out.


    Its head, way up there, came way down abruptly, looking right into Grym''s face as Slag came pounding in to meet it.


    It had a hard head, burning horns and all, and the first blow didn''t crush it, knocking it back like a heavy pendulum. Rorn pulled it through and out, and as Grym spun with disconcerting lightness for someone so squat and heavy, the rebounding head came square into the Hammer again, and this time stuck.


    Rorn dropped his grip, pulled Mournfang out of its body with a gout of feasting Vivus, and one, two, three, chopped off the arms that were still trying to wave its sword. As it fell to the ground, bony hands still wrapped around its hilt, he finished the combination by chopping off the head above its Collar, even as it tried to wrench itself off of Slag and found it a bit hard as Grym twisted the Hammer and its neck into position for the coup de grace.


    The demon collapsed to the ground, and the men around set up a cheer at the execution of the creature. Vivic flames spurted up, devouring the demonfire and quickening the process of it being Fed to the Land.


    Slag came down on its axe backer once, twice, and the burning sword broke under the precise blows. The wailing of released souls filled the air as they streamed past, fading away as they were sent to their proper fates, hundreds, thousands of them, more, the trophies of endless war waged in the name of Klaw.


    Mournfang''s tip sent the Collar over atop the Sword; they''d be burned together for the mana crystals to empower more Gear. The Disk with the Pattern was already on the way to roast them together.


    The riders had arrived late in the fight, but at the perfect time to break the maneuvering of the Warped forces, and rode down the Wizard in the back and his bodyguards as they tried to evade Liiss'' magic coming in to wreak havoc among them.


    Their Warlord had broken his Sword to Summon the Demon, obviously not as powerful as a favored Wizard, but definitely enough to be a terror to any mortal troops. A Weapon effect able to ignore armor in a fight was no joke, a +IV Slot effect called Umbral.


    -"Armor is useless if it can''t serve as armor. You know the crap we fought that hurt us most... incorps of all kinds, reaching through your armor to flesh and soul, and spells that go right through your armor. Yeah, you all want powerful armor, but first, you want armor that always works. Energize that Armor, or its going to be useless when you want it most."-


    Sage Sama''s words reverberated in his mind; Energize was the second effect he''d put in place. Thus, his Shield and Armor could both take the hits from this demon''s Sword.


    It also meant this Sword was a minimum of a Vier-Slot Weapon... before the soul-capturing and flaming effect. He was probably looking at Zeben, at least... which was damn near two hundred goldweight in mana about to be coughed up. Quite a prize!


    That he was losing the use of an Umbral Weapon didn''t bother him at all. Melt it down and turn it into something clean and usable, piss off the Warp Gods. Any man insane enough to take up a Slaughter demon''s sword would likely turn into one, a risk hardly worth taking.


    The Collar was something equally useful and precious, a direct gift from a god. Immunity to targeted magic, and almost immunity to ranged attacks. Definitely a powerful toy.


    It was going to burn, too. Some Floating Wagons, and a lot of magical Armor and Shields were going to come out of these two things.


    Clean-up was going on around the field, as the last of the Warped were surrounded and died. Some of the berserkers were having duels with one another, but he wasn''t worried about them. They had better Weapons and Armor then the Warped, and Khadifyr was there to goad them on with the Saga they were contributing to. Knowing they''d be healed to full if they lived, the berserkers were going all out and making sure they got their share of glory.


    It didn''t matter, as long as their enemies died.


    There was a viable campsight about a mile away, water access, good defenses. He didn''t see another Warpband within twenty miles, and had no intentions of leaving the Warp-free zone he had just helped expand and solidify.


    There was an alert off to the east, and heads turned as the sky over there turned purple and green, and began to churn vertically, like a sideways tornado rolling across the land, with flashes of not-lightning, shrieking splits in the Veil letting loose energy that would take apart anything they cut through on the edges of spatial splits.


    It was coming right towards them, but Rorn just watched it come, and those people who were starting to panic were shouted down by disgusted Marked, who were watching it with complete aplomb.


    After all, they weren''t the first ones to witness a Chaos Storm plowing at them over these cursed Badlands.


    ---


    The roiling spatial storm rolled right towards them, and the Kaldens watched it silently. Stone mounts warped and flowed, like waves on an ocean, and everyone realized where they got their shapes from. The great rocks floating in the sky bobbed and shifted, the colors of the stones flowed through a hundred changes in seconds, from glittering crystal rainbows to inky darkness, and every combination in between.


    Towering, shrieking, shaking the ground with Reality trembling, it swept down upon them-


    And vanished a couple of miles away.


    Rorn turned around with a few thousand others, and watched the sideways vortex flow out of nothing miles to the west, on the far side of this corridor of stability formed from the slaughter of the Warped. The blue sky didn''t change at all.


    There would be things rising up in the wake of the storm, drawn to the stability of this area like an island in the sea. Some would be dropped here from Outside Creation, others animated to impossible life by the energies from beyond the Veil.


    There was more then Warped to endanger them in the Badlands... as many of the Warped had found out.


    Scouts began to head out towards that border, looking to see what would be coming towards them, and get them ready for the fight doubtless to come again. A distinct air of urgency prompted the burning and looting, and the unwounded moved out to secure their campsite, the Healers worked quickly to get the wounded back on their feet, and men groaned and complained as their day wasn''t over yet.


    One hundred and forty-seven names would go into the scroll of the Saga being wrought here, Khadifyr was seeing to that. The tale of the battle, who did what and when, battle honors won by the valiant, would all be set down, to be read and inspire those in future years.


    Sage Sama had The Book, the record of the Ironblood, being added to even now. Kalden would have its own Saga, to be remembered by its own people.


    ------


    Twenty minutes later, the first scouts reported dirt-colored, skittering creatures the size of great spiders, but with central multi-eyed polyps atop their mid-bodies, and legs that looked to be cleavers as well. They were miles off, but exploring everything curiously, scampering over stuff, and falling off most amusedly when they couldn''t support their own weight ascending surfaces.


    Axiomatics of some kind, brought here in opposition to the Chaos on the Veil, and shunning the influence of it. They would probably head towards the Rift on general purpose, but if they scoured the area and found imperfect mortals, they''d be happy to clean his people up, as pitiless as brooms clearing dust out the door.


    Rorn grunted. They had fought so many things in Nightmare. He wondered what could surprise him now...

 152 Chapter One Hundred and Fifty-Two: Of Elves and Kings

    They looked very pretty, that was sure. Some of the women were mounted on unicorns; many other elves on stags, with great curved racks polished with metal. They all had mail on so fine it could be poured in the hand, sometimes with ornate plate in addition, if they were cavaliers. Their clothes were silk from butterflies and spiders alike, brightly colored, with ribbons and feathers and glittering stones to accentuate perfect complexions and glorious hair and pearly teeth and massive sparkling eyes.


    Ah, so munchable.


    I had a two-headed harpy gynosphinx''s head in my off hand as their leaders rode up on creamy white elven steeds, as much antelope as horse. I cocked an eye, surprised they weren''t on pegasi or something similarly magical, but elf-steeds were good enough, I supposed.


    And unlike all the other becloaked and bejeweled and bedazzling elves, these two wore crowns of mithral and emeralds on their heads.


    I drove my hand into the chest of the sphinx, right through her hide; bone cracked, my nails and Vajra cut and ripped, and I pulled out her heart with a spray of dark red blood that didn''t quite reach them. It did spatter on me, but ran right off as if I was Teflon, even my arm that was covered up to my elbow.


    "We''re not done cleaning the field, Your Majesties," I spoke to them, pulling out a jug from my Masspack, and stuffing the six-chambered heart inside leisurely. My Exsanguination Tube coiled up from over my shoulder, and I stuck it into one of the aortas of the sphinx as I dropped a five-gallon jug in the ground, and thick red blood began to get sucked out of the carcass. "Surely proper introductions could wait until the mess is cleaned up?" I punctuated the sentence by hacking off her vulture''s wings, lifting up her half-ton body with one hand to chop off the second one cracked and folded beneath her.


    The high and mighty monarchs of the Sidhete were a long way from home, and looked down at me with a mixture of curiosity and hauteur.


    "Is this not a task you can leave to others, Lady Sama?" the Queen of the Elves of the Sidhete asked. Her silver hair gleamed under the sun, her eyes were deep violet, and her aura of magic was strong enough to rub on my Null. An arcane Caster of tremendous power, definitely post-Ten.


    "You want the fruits of your labor, you harvest the fruit. Two skulls suitable for Greater Baneskulls for Warped or Magical Beasts, innate two goldweight each means automatic Lesser Baneskull once properly Enruned. One heart worth two goldweight in burn material. Pinfeathers worth a goldweight for Potions or Scrolls for flight magic. Blood worth a goldweight a gallon for general Potion mixtures or Scrolls, with a +1 CL bonus for Heartsong magic.


    "I know you''re rich and all, but I want my twelve goldweight reward for killing this mutant thing, and the sixteen goldweight-per-Sword of burning these Tainted things." I flicked the spiked and twisted blades used by the Carnage Demons I had slaughtered on the field, and the metal seemed to scream at me. "They''re going to die and come back as Warpbane Blades. My boys are already thirsting for them."


    And given I had a few thousand boys to help provide for, it was no wonder.


    "Is her hide worth much, Lady Sama?" the golden-haired Elf King, pretty enough to give Legolas conniptions, asked curiously.


    "No. These are Warped creatures, tainted with the laws and energies of a cosmos that is not our own. The only thing you do is burn them, or turn them into weapons that can be used against them, like Baneskulls. You don''t keep them as trophies, and you don''t make them part of something powerful, unless you want those things to be turned against you."


    My voice was flat and uncompromising, and even the elven nobles shifted at the rebuke in it. Yes, the dark hide looked soft and fine, and it was going to burn in vivus like the rest of her.


    "Otherwise, I''d''ve made a nice suit of leather armor out of it, or maybe a magical saddle."


    The elves around nodded at that addendum.


    The landscape was already stained white by vivus, with more then a few eyes turning to one area that was basically crystallized by overlapping, massive vivic explosions.


    I loved Massacre demons. You always got a two-for-one out of them. Their habit of turning their defeated peers into Weapons they could use was working out so damn well, and the Land agreed with me.


    "But, since I don''t want to waste your time, what did you come up all the way out of the forest for here?" I inquired, knowing that elven monarchs don''t just leave their lands and come out into some place like the Badlands without a good reason. "Seriously, Your Majesties, I know you''ve got a Marked in your Court just to relay news. Coming all the way up here just to watch the slaughter is not really necessary, and I''m sure your people are keeping you well informed of all developments." Since I had to shuttle the reports, I was sure of it, actually.


    The King nodded regally. "That is true, and they even replay some of the events as they happen. It is those reports which inspired us to come in person."


    I''m afraid my expression turned rather sly and knowing. "Ah. You''re looking to Advance, and you''re hoping this can do it for you both."


    Both of them glanced at one another, not needing to nod at me. "You have shown us many deeds, and word of the benefits of your Marks and leadership are singing through my people. Endless conflict, constant victories, slaughtering a fell foe who deserves naught but the end of a blade, and a threat from beyond the very realms... What true king could stay away from such a fight?" the elf-king asked rhetorically.


    "And you heard the dwarves signed up first, and aren''t about to be out-shone." I winked at both of them, and they remained perfectly impassive. "You did hear right. The King Under the Mountain and all the Underkings of the Clans have taken a Mark, and they have a regular old chat room going on in the back of my head. There are things going on among the Rockborn that they''ve never been able to get going for lack of coordination, and now they are happening."


    "Our servants have indicated that your Marks can enhance either the physical or the mental characteristics of a person, Lady Sama, and raise the limit to which one may advance, in addition to other benefits?" the Queen asked, verifying what she had heard.


    "That is true." The elves behind them glanced at one another, looking a bit eager to be about this.


    "And you have no ability to magically control or influence anyone through these Marks, and they can be removed with great speed?" the Queen continued, looking for affirmation.


    "Instantly, if you ask," I agreed, not batting an eye.


    "And... you can open all those who wish to fight to Soul Magic, Lady Sama?" the King continued, not even bothering to hide his own eagerness.


    "Of course."


    The royals looked at one another. "We would like you to treat all of those here, including ourselves," the Queen said calmly.


    "That''s a lot of trust you''re extending me," I noted, looking at the both of them. "You''re elven nobility. You don''t need what I have to give you, you can find alternatives, although what I have is very convenient, I''ll be the first to admit. What is inspiring this great drive to join the fight, if I may ask?"


    "Is it true the Rockborn are assembling an elite army to face these... Warpbands, as they come?" the King asked softly.


    "They are first making a master army, and then they plan to make a similar army for each of the Underkings, as well. Truly, they want nothing more then to kill all of the Warped themselves to assuage the stain to their honor, but there''s too many others here eager for the Karma."


    The King nodded, the gleam of a competitor in his eyes. "We shall be doing the same. When you form up before the Rift, the songs of the Elven will be with you!"


    Well, I couldn''t let down that kind of bravery now, could I? "Well, then, get your demon-slaying shoes on, Your Majesties, because if the two of can''t combine up to take down a Greater Demon, I''m going to be very disappointed in you!"


    "Hah!" The King straightened, his amber eyes flashing. "I shall endeavor not to disappoint you, Lady Sama!"


    He nodded at his Queen, bowed from atop his steed, and the entire party of nobles, knights, and attendants, in all their colors and finery, turned away and headed gracefully for the location of The Camp, where I did all my Mark and Chakra work.


    I eyed the half-full jar of blood, ultimately bound for the alchemy shops, where two ounces per would form the power comp for a lot of healing Potions, after being properly Burned and mixed in vivicized reagents. Forty healing Potions for one dead mutant shrieking sphinx was a pretty good deal, in my opinion.


    By the reports coming in, I wouldn''t be able to get all of the elves done in one day, as the royals had naturally brought the single strongest armed force of their nation on this expedition, along with a lot of Casters.


    I was fully aware that with the +2 to +4 bonus to a Stat, I was basically allowing many mediocre-talented individuals, especially Casters, to experience a sudden leap in power. An Elf at 11-13 in their Primary Casting Stat was doomed to be mediocre for literally centuries, before age bonuses kicked in and allowed them to actually gain another Level. Getting a bonus of +2 raised a mediocre Caster like that to someone with potential. A +4 turned them into a genius who could reach Ten directly.


    +1 to a Stat at Fourth; Stat Mastery/2 giving +1 at Five; Six allowed you to take Expert or another complementary Class to Four, +1 to that Stat you needed; At Seven, they qualified for Racial Paragon/3, +2 to Int, Wis, or Cha by subspecies; Eight gave another +1 of Choice; Nine finished Stat Mastery for +1, and Ten gave +1 to all Stats.


    But they all needed that 14 to start the process by reaching Four. A larger bonus just made them even more capable, got them ever closer to that magical 20 needed to make Ten.


    As a magical race where every single one of the Elves was potentially a Caster as long as they had the Stats, they had to be extremely sensitive to having low mental Stats and not being able to Cast decently.


    The fact my Mark could break those chains for many of them would be a life-changing event. I could turn someone with a below-average Caster Stat into yet another magic-using elf, meaning they would no longer be a cripple in the eyes of other elves.


    I had never actually administered a Mark to a non-Casting elf specifically for that purpose, but I was pretty sure a fair number of these elves in attendance were not Casters, and by the hunger in their eyes, were very anxious indeed for that to change. After all, the vast majority of elves (and dwarves and gnomes, for that matter) followed their Racial Levels, never taking Classes, or only a few Class Levels to complement their natural talents.


    Too, while elves and dwarves here weren''t rivals or enemies, they each still had their pride, and in the game of nations, being able to show that you could defend yourself was an imperative... especially with humans around, who would jump on perceived weakness, and the many feral races, who wanted everything the elves had. Self-defense meant a clear veneration of martial ability, a martial culture, and a willingness to fight and die for their people... and maybe just a tad of glory.


    I reflected that I wouldn''t need Tremble Singing for them, as the elven Bards were going to be vying with one another to provide that bonus for the whole army, and certainly their Warlords weren''t going to be relying on me to direct them.


    I didn''t know what the Warped knew about the elves here, but I could only feel sorry for them. Elves were a whole race of Casters, and going up against that on a battlefield could only be described as a nightmare. Making even MORE of them Casters... I had the feeling a long-term invitation to the elven kingdom was going to be in the works hereafter.


    Just like the one the Rockborn and the gnomes had already extended to me...


    Word had already gotten around that my Marks would not stick on people of non-Good alignment. I could put it on, but it would fade to uselessness.


    That wasn''t an accident. I was Investing Karma into my Marks every single day I fought. At two goldweight equivalent a day, they were a bottomless pit, as expected of a typeless Stat bonus with awesome secondary effects. One of the things I did was attune them to Good, as Succubi Blessings were to Evil.


    Evil didn''t care who used their stuff. Good did. So, the touch of holiness around the Marks meant they quickly lost all power when anchored to a non-Good soul.


    But that wouldn''t be a problem with elves, most of whom were Chaotic or Neutral Good. Ditto the largely Lawful Good Rockborn, and the Neutral Good gnomes.


    Humans... all over the spectrum. But I wouldn''t have to worry about someone I Marked Falling and exploiting the Marklink for my enemies. This wasn''t a power I was going to give away to the Bad Guys...

 153 Chapter One Hundred and Fifty-Three – Scut’s Destiny

    Scut didn''t know quite what to think of Mama at times.


    Oh, she was a good cook, always cheerful, smelled like old herbs and honey, gave great hugs, and wasn''t afraid to cuff him on the head if he was being rebellious.


    The fact she was blind but always seemed to know what he was about was worrisome, too.


    And then Haz¨¦ brought home the Red Widow that had been Amber''s mother, and he watched wide-eyed as with the same cheerful smile as always, she carved it up with Haz¨¦.


    And then she brought him in there to help out, keeping up a cheerful commentary about poison glands, silk glands, barbed hair, suction tips, the multiple eyes, the magic in her blood, some of the organs unique to shapechangers, pointing here and there as she had him cut and pull and he stared at all of this, wondering how this woman who made such good chicken soup could do all this so cheerfully...


    He had to admit his days were very good. While Haz¨¦ and Mama didn''t take any shit from him, he had new clothes from head to toe, he bathed daily, he was stuffed with food, they tossed spending money at him to use in town, and told him to make up a go-bag, of stuff he needed to take if he needed to leave quickly.


    He''d done enough petty thievery for food and clothes to find it plenty strange to be paid to think like that.


    Finding out Haz¨¦ was a kid no older then him had been jarring. Finding out she was a hideously smart girl with a paranoid streak a mile long was even worse.


    She wasn''t a Chi-user, but she had a fair handle on the basics, and was able to guide him in his cultivation on internal power, reaching out into the shadows and drawing the energy of the world to him. His bed didn''t get much use, because he was out there in the pavilion, in the drifting shadows filtering through the beams and the trees, feeling the power coming to him.


    He was getting stronger every day. It was a glorious feeling.


    Of course, he wasn''t allowed to laze about when he wasn''t sitting there meditating. There were lessons to be had, and he was getting a brutally effective education.


    Haz¨¦ was utterly dismissive of his whining. "Hard? HARD? You scramped and survived for how many years without a home, and you call this HARD? What kind of total and utter wimp are you? I thought you were a survivor! I thought you were gifted? Are you really the trash everyone thought you are? Whining, slinking, sulking, instead of working to be the totally freaking awesome Powered bastard you can be. ARE YOU?!"


    He never complained to her again. Every time he was about to, her words rang loudly in his head again, and he shut his mouth and did what he had to do.


    All four of them did. He didn''t know if he considered them classmates or a substitute family, but he was the man of the house, and was utterly amazed that they treated him that way when it was appropriate.


    At others, they treated him like a punk kid, so it never went to his head, of course.


    There were always chores to do, and the reason behind the chores was carefully explained to him so that if he whined, the first thing he had to do was recite why he was doing it.


    He stopped whining.


    He had to learn his letters, an astonishingly fast process when Haz¨¦ used telepathy to help them all along, and since he couldn''t stand the girls learning them faster than he could, he learned very quickly.


    ------


    Then, he had to learn poisons.


    Oh, sure, it was only part of the herbal and alchemical knowledge he had to learn. Crushing, boiling, tinctures, mixes, preserving, drying, grinding, separating, storing, cutting, harvesting, cleaning... alchemy and chemistry were such huge, broad subjects, and what could be done without magic, just using the natural laws of the world, was so astounding.


    But of course, the poisons had everyone''s interest and caution. It was all disguised under the point of making anti-toxins, as the best ones were made from multiple toxins, but when Haz¨¦ was lecturing about the effects of poisons, how they killed, how they were used, how to apply them, the care to take in mixing them, and then had them test them themselves in light doses to feel the effects...


    Yeah, she was showing them how to make and use poisons, not just defend themselves against them. He was ecstatic when he made his first anti-toxin, delighted when he mixed up his first successful batch of alchemical fire, overjoyed when he drew his first Healing Potion out of the centrifuge... and deeply, grimly satisfied when he drew an invisible coating of blade venom across his knife, which he knew from personal experience would cause searing heat and convulsions to his opponent''s nervous system, if he hit in the right areas.


    -------


    Fighting lessons were twice a day. There were katas, early in the morning, to greet the Sun, limber them up for morning chores, and remind them of the movements they had to take in a fight. They paired up, and literally danced around one another, punching, kicking, blocking, moving correctly, changing partners to get used to changes in reach.


    Even little Veis had to participate. As Haz¨¦ said repeatedly, if hyn could fight, she could fight, and she proved to be pretty wicked with a knife, too.


    Afternoon was full contact sparring. Haz¨¦ had all the healing magic they could need, so it was full contact, stopping only short of killing... and when Haz¨¦ Mercied their weapons, not even them.


    He very quickly learned the girls weren''t going to hold back against him. He had seen all of them go through the Ritual, he had held Verd''s hand, and she had held Veis'', and both of them had held Amber''s.


    That experience had harrowed them like nothing he could imagine. They''d burned away something of the Dark, so profoundly evil that even thinking about it roiled the chi inside him defensively.


    They had to learn to fight Powered, so him having Shadow Chi was a boon. The ability of a Shadow stylist to grip and cling was immense, and Haz¨¦ was happy to bring in some of the guards from the vineyard estate nearby, looking to earn some extra cash, to show them what it was like to fight someone bigger, stronger, and more experienced.


    There was blood. He was knocked, stabbed, kicked, punched, throttled, and beaten into unconsciousness many times. He did it to all of them in return. Haz¨¦ healed them back up, and showed them how to focus, and leave the emotions of their little dojo in the dojo, that the fighting was to make them all stronger, and they only personal thing about it was the desire to both beat the other person, and force them to get stronger, too.


    It was about bonds. It had been so long since he had bonds.


    ------------


    The middle of the day was about trades. He had to be able to do something to make him money, that was a given, so an apprenticeship was a thing.


    "I want to learn how to make music!" he blurted out, after being asked what he''d like to learn.


    Verd nodded eagerly, as Mama and Haz¨¦ looked a little astonished. "I want to learn how to cook like Mama!"


    "I want to make sweets!" Veis waved her little hand.


    Amber lifted her nose. "I will make clothes!" she stated firmly. She had firmly taken over the t-shirt cuts for everyone, and her ''Mama'' surrounded by a dozen hearts in different colors was definitely eye-catching. She found the simple combination of a t-shirt and all the images it could have, and tight jeans to be just perfect, and was always talking about different cuts, folds, stitching, cloth, and accessories, as Haz¨¦ was more than happy to fit out a room for her with stuff to play with, and local women were easy to convince to come in and show her different techniques to use... and buy her latest creations.


    "A cook, a pastry chef, a musician, and a master seamstress," Haz¨¦ mused, and their lessons started the next day.


    They were the best days of Scut''s life, even if, as the only man, he had to be a fashion model a lot...


    ----------


    "Scut! Scut!" Veis came running out to him, where he was paying careful attention to some of the, ah, more exotic plants in the garden. Weeds sapped the vitality of the plants, as did insects. Working with crappy stuff got crappy results, and Scut wasn''t going to have the stuff he mixed be worthless because of that stuff.


    "What''s up, Veis?" he asked with a smile, plucking up a late-flowering hollyhock for her. She accepted it with a delighted smile, keeping it in her hands as she reported, her smile falling somber, "There''s a man here to see you."


    Scut blinked. "To see... me?" His mind spun. Who could... he didn''t know anyone. There wasn''t anyone who...


    The introduction.


    He swallowed, despite himself.


    "Haz¨¦ and Mama are talking with him now. They said to come right as you are," Veis said softly. She reached out to take his hand, and rather numbly, he followed after her.


    The introduction. Just who was he going to meet?


    -------


    -Oh, gods, this man is so dangerous.-


    He''d seen a lot of hard men, but this man was just lethal. Dark eyes, dark hair, handsome without standing out, tall and lean and just sitting there he was ready to kill everyone in the room despite being totally relaxed.


    Scut held himself very firmly at attention, but his composure still shook when the spirals rose around the man. They were semi-magical, the chi within him stirred to see them, a very odd mix of fear and desire swirling through the power.


    His throat locked up. This was a Void Brother! They were the greatest assassins in the land!


    Haz¨¦ and Mama knew a Void Brother! He knew Haz¨¦ was powerful, but this-?


    "Scut, this gentleman knows a great many people who can truly give you proper training, beyond the minor things I have been able to provide you," Haz¨¦ said calmly, seeming quite relaxed as she sat there. "Sing for him Kandaly''s Lay."


    Scut blinked, focusing on her words. The Lay was a very sad song, the Bard who had wrote it talking about a village where plague had swept through, and taken away all they loved. It resonated with him deeply, for he had lost so much when he was young, and the ache in it drove at his heart.


    It had only been a few months since he learned it, but with his chi accelerating his conditioning exponentially, his voice was much clearer, lung power up to the task, and he began the tune a bit nervously. His confidence soared when the girls began to sing it along with him, and by the time he was done, his voice was strong and firm as it dipped into the last of the weeping notes, and he fought back the ball in his chest as Kandaly buried his kin and his past.


    The dark man nodded once. "He needs to learn showmanship, but he''s got potential." His Helices reached out like living things, and Scut gasped as they stretched through him, rainbow and shadows, and his chi jumped around like a living thing, at once frightened and ecstatic at their passing. He could feel the rainbow swirl slicing through and draining away his power with just a pass, while the shadowy one deposited it back, somehow purer then before, yet without the Shadow bias all his chi had.


    "Aye, a good talent. I can bring him to a place," the man nodded, and Scut flushed despite himself.


    "Will any payments be necessary?" Haz¨¦ asked calmly.


    "My word is enough." That statement carried all kinds of weight.


    Haz¨¦ nodded. "Is your go-bag ready?" she asked Scut directly, and his eyes went wide.


    "Right now?" he asked, shocked.


    "Brother Firesword is passing through. We have discussed what needs to be said, and he has places to go and obnoxious assholes to kill." The man''s lips faintly curled at her words. "If you go, you go now."


    Scut bowed quickly, and hurried off to his room, aware that the eyes of the girls were on him, especially Verd.


    He knew it wouldn''t take long. Everyone had a go-bag, even Mama. If they had to get up and go, they picked what was within and grabbed it. There were a couple extra things he had acquired which he could take with him... but there was nothing that he couldn''t replace.


    --------


    "We may not see one another again," Verd whispered behind him.


    He turned around, a wooden spoon in his hand... one she had carved out for him herself, Haz¨¦ had made it as strong as steel. Her green eyes fell on it, and she smiled despite herself.


    "No," he replied, his eyes keen, refuting her as he stuck the spoon into his sack and prepared to go. "You''re going to be strong, very strong. Haz¨¦ said so. I''m going to have to get stronger, or I won''t be able to hold your hand when we meet again."


    Her eyes lit up with that strange and awful drive that had been there, been in all of them, since coming out of the Ritual. Finding out just how small you were in relation to the evil that was out there.


    "Shadows aren''t afraid of the dark," she whispered, stepping closer to him.


    "Shadows can''t live without the light," he returned, and swept her up into a hug. She was actually heavier than he was, these months had put on weight on his skinny body, but not enough yet. He inhaled the smell of herbs and wildflowers and three different poisons, free and clear and sweet poison, and he smiled despite himself.


    "I will be back for you. I won''t let you go alone!" he said fiercely in her ear, and she clutched him tight, with improbably strong hands.


    I helped those hands get strong, Scut thought fiercely. His chi pulsed and their arms slid apart. He held her eyes as he slipped past her, and then turned towards his destiny.


    His introduction was waiting for him, and with it, his future.

 154 Chapter One Hundred and Fifty-Four – The Stormcrone, Part One

    It had been a year since his little sister had left, and his mother had been revealed as a changeling. That she was actually a Warlock was something not spread out to others, but the search for the background of the woman was something that his father''s spies were delving into.


    They had already found out that she had likely infiltrated the manor by taking the place of a servant girl who had disappeared from the kitchens about five years ago. From there, it was simply a matter of time and place before his mother had been murdered and replaced by the Poison Soul Warlock.


    Demonic Pactbound were notoriously independent, so it was entirely possible that her death was just a case of a woman taken revenge on her betters, and stealing her high status and life for herself.


    Was it involved with what had been done with Veis? He didn''t know. But he knew that Seal under his parent''s bed was Hag work.


    His ancestors had come to an agreement with the Stormcrone, something he wasn''t privy to, and really didn''t care about. Essentially, she got a territory of her own and would be undisturbed, and vice versa.


    What had possessed her to force a Hagchild on his mother, he didn''t know, but he was certain he was going to do something about it.


    His Angel Weight training was done, the benefits locked in. He was effectively a six-gravity heavy-worlder now; stronger, faster, tougher than anyone without magical enhancements, and his Endoskeleton would be next.


    That would take a lot of gold and Karma, however.


    It was time to go kill a Hag.


    ---------


    "Father, do you have a moment?"


    Duke Gilderalz barely broke stride as he headed down the stairs for his next meeting. "What is it, Errant?" he asked, forcing Errant to hurry to keep up.


    "Just confirming that whoever kills Zouma gets to keep the reward money, sir."


    That did give the Duke pause. He looked back at his youngest son, who had grown significantly in the last year. Although Errant wasn''t exactly the most welcome of his sons at events, he had built up a deadly reputation among the Duke''s instructors and soldiers for his sheer determination and persistence. His self-healing ability had gotten a lot of attention, and everyone was wondering where it came from.


    Most thought it was a diabolic gift, and wondered where in the Gilderalz lineage it had come from. He was giving sword instruction lessons to senior knights, because the instructors kept getting humiliated by him.


    "Of course they will, Errant. The bounty is a matter of public record, and the Gilderalz will stand by their promises!" the Duke stated coldly.


    There was nothing but calm in Errant''s eyes. -But you won''t commit House soldiers to that effect for some reason, nor send any of our uncles or cousins out to deal with a Stormcrone-, he huffed inside. Heaven sang a tune behind his ear, and he had no problem meeting his father''s intimidating gaze.


    "Very good, father. Best wishes for the negotiations." Errant turned and strode away, leaving his father confused for a moment, but he dismissed their conversation quickly.


    ---------


    Errant dropped down forty feet from the wall, heard bone creak as he hit the ground, but basically it did nothing to him, and he healed the damage to his ankles within two steps.


    A horse would have been faster, but noticed more quickly, and didn''t have his endurance. With a light pack and lightfoot, he was heading out at a trot equal to what most men sprinted at.


    There had been numbers of adventurers who''d taken up the bounty. Some actually came back from their attempts without being Cursed, Morphed, mind-reamed, Possessed, turned into undead, or made over into interesting objects d''art.


    The number of adventurers attempting to collect it had dropped off, however. The only ones who reasonably could beard a Senior Hag Witch in her lair would require Tens, and most Tens had better things to do with their time... especially since the Good Tens had been chased off, and/or had no desire to help out a noble family of Hell-worshippers.


    His disguise wasn''t much, but it didn''t need to be much. He had been going into town at the wrong ages for years, and was perfectly able to fake being at different levels of birth, and what to wear and how. While he wasn''t unhandsome, he didn''t really stand out with dirty dark hair, blue eyes, compact build, a little taller than average, just looking a bit older and more well-built then his years.


    It was thirty or forty miles to Zouma''s peak, if her lair was even up there. But it wasn''t her lair he was going to worry about first.


    He needed some practical experience outside, and this was a great time to get it. He''d suspended all his normal responsibilities, or fobbed them off on others, over the past month. Nobody was expecting to see him doing anything anywhere, and given how ridiculous the stories about his self-training were, it was hardly unexpected. That night he''d run a hundred miles to Colpenton down the road, beaten the snot out of two of the Colpen heirs who''d been spreading nasty rumors about his family, and then run home while avoiding the cavalry sent out to chastise him, was still making the rounds.


    He had leeway, and he had no true responsibilities. His healing made him freakish, and his ability to take a hit was impressive, but he still couldn''t use Chi or Magic, so he was a failure as an heir and certainly not a marriage prospect for anyone of importance.


    Zouma had servants and pets around her peak, probably Hag Eyes located near their lairs and the main trails, along with magical traps. Those minions were ogre clans, trolls, a tribe of corrupted stone giants, at least one temple guarded by minotaurs, and a scream of harpies nesting higher up the slopes.


    He''d had enough of killing men... although some of the guardian creatures he''d found during his nocturnal adventures had certainly been interesting, and given him enough Karma to get where he was today.


    But there were places to go, and things to do.


    ======


    Half-ogre wereboars. Wasn''t that a match made in a dark and filthy room...


    Definitely strong enough to dominate the mountainside. Their pig forms were the size of small elephants, with tusks over a foot long.


    Being able to constantly heal and be fearless was a potent combination. These brutes got to learn all about it. They were strong and fast... and they got to meet the first Grandmaster of the Sword in the Power of Ten.


    One Sword.


    He was one of the first Warlocks in the game, and after Sole wowed everyone with his multiple Pacts and stuff, one of the few to remain pure, with a single Pact. Being a Warlock meant he couldn''t run around with a shield, and he''d be carrying a Warlock Scepter in his other hand, at best. So, one sword was all he could ever use.


    His One Strike Grandmastery had been impressive enough that even Sole had picked it up, recognizing its usefulness and how applicable it was for a Warlock.


    This... weresow-ogress was now learning what had killed her sons. Lovers. Brothers? All three? The amount of inbreeding on the brutes he had killed had been that bad, and there''d been no mates for the males, which didn''t bode well.


    This weresow was fully as big as an elephant, weighing multiple tons as she charged at him in a rage. Given that she was so fat she could hardly walk in her normal form, it was understandable. Still, those short legs didn''t give her any leaping ability whatsoever, and avoiding her wasn''t all that hard, if you were prepared for her to blow through every obstruction between her and you to get to you.


    Errant went out the window twenty feet behind him smoothly, hit the ground and rolled off to the side with perfect control. His Sword Grace burned with silver fire as he pivoted and cut, following her location perfectly as she pounded after him through his tremblesense, marking every hoofprint and slamming change of weight.


    The wall exploded. The shrapnel spraying everywhere would have given pause to any normal fighter, but Errant just closed his eyes and cut, letting the splinters and logs bounce off him, and ripped a transcendent strike down her side with the mithral and adamant edge of his Sword.


    Fully two feet of Grace carved into her side. His Battle Stability was on line, his heavyfoot was nailing him to the ground, and his Angel Weight meant he weighed over half a ton at the moment. She gutted herself along the edge of his blade, and ignored it as a good berserker should.


    With a thought, he released the Angel Weight and jumped as she rounded on him, easily clearing her backside and coming down on her flank. He held his breath against the wall of stench there, and swung again as he hit the ground, nearly chopping off her leg on the opposite side, even as she was trying to turn on him.


    Her leg buckled under her massive weight, but that didn''t stop her from moving with her manic strength. He was out of her line of sight for a moment, sliding down her side, before jumping up again, light as a grasshopper, again easily clearing her bulk as her massive hooves clawed at the dirt to get at him.


    She looked up just in time for Angel Weight to kick in, and the full weight of his body at six times gravity came down on her head, coming down from twenty feet and hitting as hard as if it was from a hundred.


    He drove Grace fully through her head, slamming the porcine skull to the ground, and pinning it there. He wrenched forth, back, and completed the mincing of her brain, and even her berserker rage couldn''t compensate for having a brain turned to mush.


    Naturally, that meant the shapechanging was also going to let go, and the vivic fires start to burn. The power of the Curse inside these monstrous werepig-ogres meant the vivic fire was particularly quick to light up and start feeding them to the Land. Errant''s magical self-cleaning service, at your pleasure...


    He didn''t want to look at the engorged, swollen body of the ogress... really, he didn''t want to look at much here at all. The whispers behind his ear were sorrowfully informing him about the purpose and history of the sprawling log home of this clan, from the Gentling Room where hapless victims were raped and sodomized repeatedly, the torture chambers, the butchering room, cold storage, the kitchen racks and roasters...


    This place was an assault on the senses, and common decency. It was all those horror movies about hillbilly cannibals done large by ten-foot ogre wereboars. How they ever got enough to eat here was solved when he found the two trolls chained up in the basement, where they were obviously carved up repeatedly for meat, and were completely mad from the repeated butchering...


    Still, he had to take what was valuable before the scavengers moved in, which meant exploring. Finding the pit full of female ogre baby bones was something he could have lived without, as was the room of ogre-sized spiked sex-toys for humanoids who were largely invulnerable to normal items that were not made of silver. Yep, could have lived without all of it.


    It took everything he had not to burn the place down. He could do it later, on his way out, but in the meantime, he didn''t want the other minions on the mountain to know something had happened. It might only buy him a couple of days, but he could get a lot done in a couple days...

 155 Chapter One Hundred and Fifty-Five – One-Two

    Not too long ago, after a certain Mark /Omnitell...


    The ceremony was progressing nicely. The priests were chanting, the sacrifice of hapless peasants was completed, the blood-filled pentagram was burning, and the Calling was nearing completion.


    The Portal was forming slowly but surely. The faithful prayed in ecstasy as a shadow appeared in it, the devil arriving that would help lead them in their quiet grasping for power in the Eastern Kingdom. A slender clawed hand, bones and muscles not set like a human, extended out of the opening as the Caelixcriai started to come through-


    There was a crunching sound, and something seemed to grab the devil from behind. Both visible hands twitched, and were abruptly hauled back into the Portal. The ecstatic calls and prayers began to falter uncertainly as the conspirators, Hellbound, and Hellpriests stared at the hole to Hell before them.


    The motion beyond was surged, and before the hole could close, two large forms jumped through it, skidding across the pentagram before coming to a halt.


    They were Hell Hounds, that was perfectly obvious, and big ones. The one on the right was tall and broad-chested, scarred by fights, fur black as pitch, with hellfire eyes and saliva dripping like lava. He was munching on a familiar arm casually as it looked over the assembled humans with burning eyes, dark smoke rising from his nostrils.


    Looking rather out of place, an odd symbol that was asymmetrically Not Diabolic glowed on the black hound''s forehead, white around lines of black.


    The other hound was just as large, but cold, icy blue-white, eyes burning hellrime, every puff of breath making carbon dioxide condense into snow. She ¨C they could only picture her as a she ¨C was also crunching a familiar arm casually, flash-frozen in her jaws and shattering as she chewed.


    She had that weird symbol on her forehead, too.


    The two hellhounds looked at one another, then back at the stupefied conspirators there.


    They swallowed the arms of a certain devil who had been about to be Called to the Material Plane, said destination they were very interested in reaching. They had addressed his objections, and he wouldn''t be contesting their taking his place.


    Together, they stepped forwards, bending their heads slightly, and the Marks on their heads flared with a very un-Hellish light.


    Which was really, really not a good thing when your Summoning Pentagram is made to stop diabolics.


    The invisible seal of the pentagram went out with a poof, the bloody sacrificial flames were quenched, and the two hell hounds stepped out.


    Someone started to panic, and then the two hell hounds opened their jaws and let out a One-Two.


    ------------------


    The building was in flames, and a lot of sinister souls went wafting off to hell. The two great beasts, six feet high at the shoulder, moved through the night with deceptive speed and stealth through the city. Nobody wanted to mess with them, and they didn''t bother with anyone out that late, most of whom thought two horses had gotten free.


    The white one found a length of rope hanging out, and they raced towards the city walls, as the gates were closed and would take too much time to open. The black one reared up high against the stone, the white one ran right up his backside, and scrabbled to the battlement overhead. She turned and let down the rope, which he gripped firmly in his jaws, tensing.


    The white one leapt over the outside battlements, still holding onto the rope, and as it pulled taut, the black one sprang, easily reaching the top of the battlements as the white one hit the ground. Without any hesitation, he scrabbled over the lip and jumped down after her, hitting the ground without any problem.


    The guard on duty in the tower blinked at the sight of two huge dogs using a rope to get over the city wall, shook his head, and decided that reporting this could wait until he was sure he wouldn''t be judged drunk while on duty. Besides, that fire over in the warehouse district was more eye-catching, no one wanted to hear a story about giant dogs...


    --------


    There were a lot of miles between where they came in and where they needed to go. Thankfully, the two of them had a Map right there, telling there where they were, and where they needed to go. They were also hounds, made for endurance hunting, and so running for hours and hours wasn''t all that difficult, especially with otherworldly physiques that meant they didn''t have to worry about mortal weaknesses like eating or drinking.


    Occasionally they stopped to rest, nuzzling gently as they did, steam popping as they touched carefully, taking care not to injure one another. Nothing in the forests and open fields they were traveling through wanted to bother them, and as for the humans who saw them from a distance, they didn''t want to mess with them, either.


    They were heading north.


    --------


    The Northmarch of the Empire of Rosencruz was separated from the East by the great river called the Feralbar. It formed a convenient wall against the feral tribes further east, and a clear demarcation between the Center Rose and the Northmarch. It was also a couple of miles wide at this point, and nothing that a non-aquatic beast wanted to swim. Although they''d seen the Styx and weren''t impressed by any kind of mortal terrain, they both turned up their noses as the river came into view.


    Thankfully, it wasn''t something they had to worry about.


    Sergeant Oshken was an archer and a hunter, with years of patrolling the borders of the kingdom looking for Feral incursions and smugglers alike. Naturally, taking a boat across the Feralbar wasn''t all that difficult for him, and he just paddled his canoe up to a convenient spot and waited.


    The forest going very suddenly silent was all the alarm he needed, even if he couldn''t track them coming. The hell-born aura of the two arrivals was more than enough to terrify any normal animal, and no magical one would want to deal with them if the pair were just passing through on their way to elsewhere.


    You just didn''t mess with Nessian and Canian Warhounds without a REALLY good reason.


    Seeing the two of them trotting out of the forest, the plants unlucky enough to touch them smoldering and freezing, the grizzled hunter snapped to attention, and saluted them.


    "Captain Fido! Captain Shirley!" he greeted them enthusiastically. The two hellhounds, towering over him, nodded in recognition, coming up to sniff him with great interest, comparing memory of dreams with the reality before them. "It''s good to see you again, sirs!" He took a deep breath, looking up at the magnificent, ferocious images of the dogs before him. So many battles, that fire and frost saving so many men, ferocious jaws defending them as arrows withered away at those beyond them.


    Fido woofed, sounding more like an iron ball dragged over gratings than anything else, but Sergeant Oshken just smiled. He fished out two bottles from the purse at his side, holding them up. "Water Walking. Get you across this river with no problems."


    He popped off the seals, held them up carefully to the two hounds. Black and white teeth that could rend steel took them delicately, and their heads tilted all the way up to send the liquid down their throats, popping and crackling respectively. They shook the vials once, lowered them back down, and deposited them back into his hands as blue lights swirled about their feet.


    "You got your path down, sirs, it''s wide open to you." He waved at the flowing expanse of water behind him.


    Shirley woofed, eyeing his boat. "Aye, I''ve got to get back across. Oh, certainly!" he blinked. Laughing, he headed down to his boat, and the two hell hounds paced after him with disconcerting lightness. He unwound the mooring rope, ran it through the ring at the front of his boat, and held up the two ends. Their jaws came down carefully on the ropes, and Sergeant Oshken held on as his little boat was turned around. The two dogs easily dragged it across the waters between them as they pawed confidently across the moving waves, steps hissing with steam or crackling with frost with every step.


    Very quickly, they picked up speed, and he whooped as his boat began to hydroplane, and really fly across the water.


    -----


    The ends of the rope were charred away and dissolved to specks of ice as his boat coasted the last few yards to shore. The two hell hounds looked at him, and he waved them off. "I''d join you if I could, sirs, but the Sage wants me here, who knows why." He gave them a knowing wink, and they both woofed understanding. "Give the Warp some Hell, sirs!"


    They favored him with a tail wag as they headed out, and although they wanted to bay eagerly that they were coming, they were also aware that might track a lot of unwanted attention, and so didn''t bother.


    They''d had their pride beaten out of them in Dream, dying so many times, to so many things. Never in Hell did you find people friendly and wishing you well.


    The choice between staying in Hell or coming back to Sage Sama was never in doubt. In Hell, they were just two nameless hell hounds.


    In the mortal world, they were the Fire and Ice of the Ironblooded, Fido and Shirley, the Hellpoodles of Sage Sama!


    Ah, to Heaven with it.


    Both of them bayed excitedly, picking up space, and the forest for miles around emptied out when it heard them calling.


    ----------------


    Word had been sent ahead in various places. Bridges were crossed in the dark of night, rivers were swum, trails were followed along deep and winding ways.


    At last, they reached the caravan trail winding along the edge of the Sidhete, and paced along it.


    Much of the traffic was taken up by hynfolk, who were a bit astonished as the great black and white dogs loped on by, but certain of the guards just waved at them and watched them go pass.


    Of those warriors and holy folk that were moving, some disguised as pilgrims, others as crusaders going to fight a holy cause... the hell hounds circled past them, having no desire to start a conflict.


    Word had been long left with the Borderguard and the Rangers, who simply stood aside and let them pass without comment.


    ---


    There was one minor incident where an Auric Lion had come out of the Feral Lands and was harrying a patrol of Borderguards, with a raiding force of orcs following behind.


    The two hellhounds stumbled across them, and eager for a fight, there was a One-Two, and a large number of the orcs suddenly were no longer life-worthy. The hounds'' baying panicked the rest of them, especially when great jaws started tearing off heads with impunity.


    The Auric Lion, having found a proper fight, came pounding back, larger than either Hound and confident in its strength and legendary golden hide to beat them up.


    Shirley met it with a face full of hellrime, and then Fido leapt in, crossed and kissed their jaws together, and poured hellfire directly down the lion''s throat.


    The fight was literally over that quick. Tails wagging, they trotted over to the Borderguards, Shirley nosing the great claw gashes on Fido''s hide, and the Rangers hastily used what healing magic they had to fix him up.


    They left the cooked carcass of the lion behind. Its golden hide, claws, and teeth were exceedingly valuable as power comps... and the Borderguards also had a little bit of revenge to deal against the orcs who had been hunting them beside this lion.

 156 Chapter One Hundred and Fifty-Six – My Hellpuppies

    The Ironblood were drawn up in lines along the entry line into The Camp as the two hellhounds trotted in, heads high. They saluted the two hellhounds sharply as they came in, spear butts pounding the ground and cheers breaking out for the return of their Fire and Ice.


    I shooed off the last of the people I''d Marked for now, waiting as those big figures rounded the corner and paced towards me.


    They pounced on me without hesitation.


    I tossed them in the air, spun them around, wrestled them down, and endured great slobbering molten kisses and freezing frigid tongues to the face.


    Yeah, they smelled like brimstone. I''d dealt with it in Nightmare, I could deal with it here.


    The slobbering and recognition that I hadn''t gotten any softer outside of Nightmare over, I scratched their iron-hard fur with hands like razors, drawing little contented whimpers from them. Then I hugged necks thicker than my shoulders and let them rub their rasping fur against me, taking it without a problem.


    "Yeah, I missed you, too. C''mon, let''s get you dressed up."


    Both of them bounced back to their feet expectantly. They''d already seen the armor waiting for them at the back of the smithing area.


    I whistled, and the grinning smiths trotted up with all the parts. They all greeted the hellhounds like old friends, and received very serious sniffs in return to fix them into olfactory memory.


    The white armor went on Fido, the black armor went on Shirley. It was mithral alloy, the kind of stuff only a king would dare put on his warhorse, and I really didn''t care. The saddles were made from minotaur hide, always one of my favorites to deal with, and just as magical as the armor.


    I Opened their chakras, and the armor blazed to life on each of them, humming with burning blue energy.


    "Let''s take a ride."


    -Okay!- they /replied, and off we went for a tour of the area.


    Of course, they were incarnations of fire and frost that would mangle any green environment without mercy, but this place was sparse on the green, so I brought them up top a neighboring hill-wave, and sat down between them at the crest, looking out over the forbidding image of the Badlands, towards Yle Tyorm.


    "I can''t have you fighting here with me now," I told them calmly, interrupting scratching their ragged ears with a point at the horizon. Something had mangled the ears of my hellpuppies? How dare they... "See that purple shit? Pure planar chaos. This whole area is lousy with it. We''ve got an approach corridor, but take a whiff of that."


    Their heads rose up, and they inhaled together, then growled like car engines. Really high horsepower car engines.


    "Precisely. That shit touches you, well, you''re extraplanars. You can be sent back to Hell at any moment by anyone using a Banishment or Abjuration or other effects on you. I know you want to chew on some Warped, but if some demons pop up, their planar instability might get multiplied by your proximity, and send you all back to where you came from.


    "You spent a lot of time and effort to get here. I''m not going to have you waste it by getting into a fight."


    They both growled, and /asked me what they were supposed to do. I certainly couldn''t expect them to sit on the sidelines while I fought. They were Warhounds, after all; the Fire and Ice of the Ironblood!


    "Oh, Heavens, no. It''s your time." I clutched them to me, scratched harder. One was boiling, one was freezing, I didn''t care. My Diamond Vajra was basically up to the ''Temperature differentials? Mwahahahaha!'' stage. "You got out of Hell, it''s time to stay out of there forever. You up for that?"


    Both huffed agreement. They were my Warhounds, my Hellpoodles, their place was with me now. It was just how it was.


    "You need to move beyond hellfire and hellrime. You need to be of real frost and fire, all kinds, not just Hell. By taking in other kinds of fire and flame, you can transcend the grip of Hell and become creatures of true fire and frost, with wherever flame and frost are your home... but mostly the mortal world." I bent forward to look into their burning and freezing eyes. "You up for that?"


    There was a hesitant whoof. "No, you won''t be weaker. You''ll actually be much stronger, because you won''t be dependent on hellfire anymore."


    Tremble flicked to my hand, sang a few familiar notes, and tails part spiked whips and part hairy flails pounded the protesting stone in greeting. I popped them both on the nose, and then Tremble began to burn.


    They watched as she moved from soulfire to banefire, arcane fire to elemental fire, vivic fire to necroic fire, holy fire, chaosflame, and dictumfire.


    "These are all fires, and not even most of them." Tremble sparkled, and fires became mists, and all those energies combined with cold now, too. "Hellfire is the fire of punishment, it''s made to refine the evil out of souls for use by Hell, burning people with the power of both fire and soul.


    "What I want you to do is eat each of these fires and frosts, and make them your own. I asked the Void Brothers for two places of extreme fire and frost, and instead they found me one... Something called a Yin-Yang Pool inside a semi-active volcano in the North."


    Their heads came up as they looked at The Map, the path they had to take, and what was within.


    "You eat this ice and fire off of Tremble, make it your own, and you go to that pool. You drink in the power of pure fire and ice, and you make hellfire and hellrime just a tiny part of who you are, something you''ve grown beyond.


    "When you''re done, you come back to me." My turn to pull up their heads and give their eyeballs a big wet smooch, steaming and icing respectively. "And then we''ll fight and show them what it means to be Ironblood."


    They whoofed agreement, blowing my hair around, which naturally fell back perfectly into place. "And yes, you get your do''s when you come back. My hellpuppies aren''t going into a fight without looking FINE."


    They slobbered me with burning and freezing tongues again, I laughed, and then Fido took Tremble politely in his teeth, and she began to burn with the first type of flames for him to inhale...


    ----


    We talked for an hour or so, hell hounds have a rather pragmatically ferocious outlook on life that was interesting to interact with in the real world. Pack hierarchy was very big in their world, but the ruthless fight for more of it in Hell was a thing they didn''t have to put up with at all here, which rather delighted them, and was a big reason why they were here.


    Of course, if I wasn''t strong enough to kick their asses repeatedly, they wouldn''t have come at all. But when they saw me ripping through Warp demons like chew-toys in Marktell, they knew that Sage Sama was every bit as horribly awesome as she''d been in Nightmare.


    And feeling the incredible goodwill from thousands of Marked, who all considered them heroes, unique, special, awesome, loyal... well...


    Their pack of Marked. How could they not come to join them? Theirs, no others!


    Oh, there was a lot they could tell me about Hell, and the neighboring planes and worlds; the endless wars over souls, pride, grudges, and if they were bored, that was certainly something I could chat with them about.


    And if a rather remarkably accurate Map of some of the Lower Planes was placed in a special addendum to The Map, well, that''s just how things worked out, wasn''t it?


    Their armors were very special, but they would have to power them up beyond the basic Soulbound level. The ability to borrow one another''s powers while within thirty feet of one another was strong enough, I thought.


    They had a long way to go, but there weren''t many normal monsters who could withstand two Warhounds of their caliber, and they weren''t interested in idle fights. There might be some things guarding the Yin Yang pool, and I felt sorry for whatever wanted to stop them. They were probably going to be really unhappy when the two ripped into them for some additional lightning damage with their Shock Gauntlet claws...


    -----------


    "Where''s your silver shadow?" I asked Briggs, making a show of looking behind him. The unobtrusive Prince was nowhere to be found.


    "He''s concentrating on that nested doll of his again. Says it''s an aid to developing the Eyes of Heaven. Spends hours at it, if you didn''t know." Briggs shrugged. "Nessian Warhounds? Seriously?"


    Briggs and I could /chat in Markspace, but his warband was in for resupply and a couple days of leisure... mostly meaning frantic Investing, Infusing, converting spoils to mana crystals, and practicing new tricks with the Levels they''d gained. There was always a different feeling doing it in person, instead of the telepathic intimacy of the Marktell.


    "Blame the Curse. They got tougher as I did, but I caught up too quickly. Once I could take the flames, they couldn''t last in personal combat."


    "Ah, yeah, Sage of Swords coming into her own." He scratched his head slightly, then shrugged. "You notice that you haven''t had to run out that much anymore?"


    "Yes. They aren''t Summoning demons ahead of time, and fewer Summoners going out. Why do you think that has to do with me?"


    "Because you keep taking a pound of flesh out of certain arseholes when they come here?"


    "That would be logical. Horrors!"


    "Well, they are probably saving them for the games to come." He wrinkled his broad, flat nose, a remarkably cute gesture on his rather brutish face. "You notice the advance had to narrow and slow down too, I take it?"


    "Of course. It''s taking more vivus to stabilize each additional foot we advance. We could narrow the corridor down, but that would be a bad idea. It''s already attracting the unstable planar shit as the only stable space in this place. Getting all the crap concentrated in an even narrower area is just asking for trouble."


    Briggs had to agree. They''d encountered at least thirty different other-planar creatures so far, none of them duplicates, just dragged here willy-nilly from across Creation and plopped in; injured, off-balance, and in an alien environment, so naturally hilarity ensued. Combat was basically a given... except for the half-dozen devas brought in from some disastrous fight against Aberrants in a place very different from this one, who decided to pitch in when they realized the scale of the incursion. With their open-ended telepathy, they made excellent relays and commanders, with their auras and support powers propelling them right into command positions.


    Of course, they were in disguise. Their purpose here was to empower mortals, not show the flash of Heaven and make targets of themselves.


    "It''s basically going to take a Warped for every foot we advance," I calculated, and he gave out a low hoot, since he couldn''t whistle.


    "Wow. That is... a lot of Warped." One of the larger warbands would basically be only a mile. "How far do we have to go? A hundred miles?"


    "And hostile extraplanars. Momma Nature isn''t exactly discriminatory when it comes to eating Soulborn, you know."


    "And the Warped is just going to feed us half a million of its servants." He sounded amused.


    "Yeah, we''ll help ''em round down the decimals on one of their minor armies, or something." Briggs looked at me, I looked back at him, and he grinned and sighed at the same time.


    "Yeah, okay. Divine powers with a pet universe. They probably weren''t expecting to have to do so, of course..." He gave me another side-eye. "You keep a pretty good tab on Levels and stuff, right?"


    I snapped to attention and saluted him. "Supply Sergeant Sage Sama reporting, sir!" I said crisply, and he snorted.


    "So? Good news?"


    "The Karmic harvests are non-stop. The gold doesn''t keep pace, unfortunately, so the Gear isn''t keeping pace with the Levels, but that''s what the Soulshaper Levels are for, filling in for lack of materials."


    He grunted as he thought of advance schema, both Powered and Primos. Soulforms and Soul Feats. They could plug a lot of holes, be it Saves, getting hit, hitting others, or making men tough to kill, something they always appreciated. Just being able to heal themselves away from the brink of death was a godsend to so many soldiers.


    He and I could only make so much Artifice a day, after all, and we were more about broad low power for soldiers then tossing it on a few elites. The elites could make their own stuff, after all.


    "Satisfied with the Warlording?" I asked him calmly.


    "Honestly? No," Briggs grunted, spinning Endure in his outsized hands. "Rather be in there crunching Warped and sparing my lads. At least I started sitting on a Disk and sniping with Reach, or I''d go crazy not being down there in the fight. The boys appreciate the sentiment, but don''t want me taking their Karma. They''re getting addicted to improvements."


    "Can''t imagine why," I laughed quietly. Three Scout Levels, +2 Cunning meant +2d6 when flanking in a fight with others. Add in Versatile Flanker, and that meant the spearman standing next to you. Three Soulshaper levels, six Soul Feats for Forsaken, easy +12 to both Soak and Health, massive increase in staying power and ability to avoid one-shot kills.


    Just one level of Runesmith, help out with smithing, make custom doo-dads, +1 TH/Dmg with your Named Weapon, possibility of getting your own intelligent Weapon. Everybody wanted a Tremble of their own.


    Three levels of Alchemist, near immunity to critical hits, +2d6 Sneak Attack damage, poison resistance, help make Potions and everyone''s favorite alchemist fire/frost/lightning/acid, if the comps were there.


    They all read the potential, they were all getting bigger, badder, better. The Warp was making them stronger, and all they wanted to do was feed more of the bastards to the Land.


    "So... do you know what you are going to do with them once this fight is over?" Because they were going to be the most terrifying army this world had ever known.


    "Unfortunately, yes." He looked at me. "Can''t tell ya. But they''ll need it all with what''s coming."


    He just grunted. His focus was on the Warp, so he really didn''t care. It would just be another reason to Make Fate and tie the fuckers up in the Doom coming off him.

 157 Chapter One Hundred and Fifty-Seven – Red, White, and Green

    "Thrust! Again, again, again! Faster, faster!" Haz¨¦''s Staff spun, cracking against the thrusting spear, knocking it aside as fast as it stabbed out.


    Eyes intense, Verd chased after her, motions eerily fluid and precise, stepping in sharp cadence, trying to pierce the defense of the Staff that was dealing with every attack.


    Haz¨¦ swirled through the Moon Chaser footwork, soft and gentle steps that contrasted greatly with the King''s Road Verd was using.


    Most Casters used Moon or Sun Dragon Styles back in the Power of Ten, as it was more suited to spell users, and only a fool wouldn''t pick up Monk Levels if they could. Adding another Stat to AC was a no-brainer when you didn''t wear armor, anyways.


    These girls had incredible fighting instincts. The Curse had tried to change them during the Ritual, and even if they weren''t made into Hags, that energy had drilled into them, power sufficient to transform all of them into at least 7 Hit Die Monstrous Humanoids, with major Stat boosts. It hadn''t done so... but that didn''t mean the power and the potential weren''t there.


    Monstrous Humanoids had Full MAB, so... melee combat instincts were on in full. Hags had major physical and mental Stat boosts over average humans. They also access to the incredible knowledge basis of the unaging crones, which meant a dark and knowing wisdom and force of will, and the cunning to make use of it.


    Both Verd and Amber were stronger then she was, and tougher. Seven-year-old Veis was almost as strong, despite her size, easily a match for an elf or hyn her size.


    The two of them moved back and forth through the freeform portion of their sparring. The girls had inherited a lot of Karma, and under her direction poured it into a very strong foundation of Levels. She was still marginally better than them, but melee combat was never her primary focus, and now, this kind of fighting had to be theirs. Naturally, they were improving much more quickly than she was.


    It didn''t bother her. What bothered her was not having suitable sparring partners for them. Of course, they were all still children... but children didn''t have eyes like theirs, and hadn''t gone through the Ritual of the Silver Queen.


    At the side, Veis and Amber were sparring as well. Amber naturally had the short end of it with her size and reach, but that was why Haz¨¦ had hired a hyn knife specialist to teach her... and he''d found himself with an incredibly talented student.


    White hair flowing, Veis'' sword-catchers clashed with Amber''s rapier, forcing her back again and again to avoid her press, Veis'' scampering steps wildly aggressive, erratic, energetic, and unpredictable. Amber was dancing to a song of her own, Rose-blade out and dancing sinuously, sensuously, at once playful and serpentine dangerous, her blood red hair stark contrast to her opponent, while her Thorn-blade main gauche was straight and no-nonsense rigidity on defense.


    Veis being so short meant she had almost no cross-section, which was incredibly annoying for a fencer. Amber had to use saber form to enhance her striking chances, which dangerously allowed Veis closer and able to cut at her extended arm if she wasn''t really quick.


    -----


    Standing off to the side, Feist watched his young student with a gleam in his eye. He didn''t really have much fondness for teaching a human, but Veis being so short had eliminated a lot of his bias. She''d be lucky to reach five feet tall, and probably not even that.


    All of the girls had been very appreciative of some of his other specialties, with absolutely no hesitation in learning the finer points of somewhat more light-fingered aspects of his trade. Normally a Shadow House master of his skill would never deign to spend time with a bunch of human girls with such weird backgrounds... but the words of a Void Brother and the fact they cooked really well meant he buried his pride and spent a lot of energy burning off all the food.


    They also ate like they were wolves, which he also respected a lot!


    He saw Amber as a kindred soul, her mannerisms easily showing her familiarity with the sex trade, which translated very, very easily into Night Rose teachings. It was like she was born to handle a Rose and Thorn, dressed the part to a T, and had no problems at all playing the role, showing off and slyly knowing incarnate.


    Veis was learning a combination of Crazy Flame knifework and Shadow Stalking assassination techniques, and the mindset that went with it. Her great trust in her sisters meant she''d always have partners if she needed to fight openly, and if she didn''t, she would be a lethal stalker in the darkness.


    Verd was going to be the muscle, no doubt about it. She was the strongest of them, handled a spear with great intuition, and supported by the other two, would be dangerous to cross... moreso when she got older, and would likely be stronger than a man twice her size.


    He glanced at her now-emerald locks, and green nails, and the matching scarlet hair and nails of Amber. Veis, of course, had nails white as milk.


    Green eyes, red eyes, and blue-so-pale-it-was-almost-white eyes, too. They all had paired canine teeth, too... not prominent, but there were indeed two sets of them, which sent strange thoughts through his head when they were devouring meat...


    It strongly reminded him of something, but he had been unable to picture what, and truth be told, the mystery of it had kept him here as much as anything else. He kept thinking of black nails, but didn''t know what it meant, like that tune he sometimes found himself humming to.


    Oh ooooo oh... something, something something... eyes too old and wise for their age...


    Maybe it was something he dreamed, although the Mother knew, he hadn''t remembered any dreams for years...


    -------


    A Shardray lanced out, drilled through a member of the congregation below. She instantly selected nineteen other targets, spread out within thirty feet of one another, for maximum pattern dispersal throughout the sizable crowd, and the coruscating beam of light fractured and drove in every direction... and then detonated inside every target in a five-foot radius Burst.


    Sure, it was sixteen dice, eight Chained, and four Bursting.When Topped for maximum damage, it was still enough to utterly annihilate the majority of the crowd.


    Rep counts, years of rep counts, taking +III Valence modifiers down to effectively +I. It was a lot of repetitive spellcasting.


    Naturally, the main target was the head Priest of this cell of daemon-worshippers. This was a major unholy day, and they were pretty bold given that the local baronet was the second in command. He and his guards had taken most of the chained Rays, and then the explosions going off hadn''t helped anyone.


    The ones still alive were staggering, for the most part, only a few of the people at the fringes miraculously suffering no wounds.


    She cleaned them up with a follow-up Chained Shardray.


    The Summoning of the Uglathi Daemon had been interrupted, but only so she could take precautions. She calmly cast two spells on delay, and then charged up the Portal with a wave of boosting magic, clearing it up, and allowing the flaccid, salamander-toad daemon, aligned with death by drowning and exposure, to leap through eagerly to the mortal world.


    It looked at all the corpses burning vivic around, and then at woman with a glowing Staff pointing in its direction.


    It definitely wanted to vomit something her way, and then the two hard, cold points of light to either side of her joined her primary Casting in driving two Frozen and one normal Shardrays into the thing.


    Daemons generally were pretty vulnerable to cold, and this rotting thing was no exception. Force and frost tore through it and its resistance to magic, freezing it solid and then ripping it apart as all the magic tore into the multi-ton Greater Daemon at once.


    Many of the bits didn''t make it to the ground, misty vivic flames popping them out of the air like fireworks.


    Telekinetic fingers stole through the bodies going vivic, liberating coins and jewelry, and what minor magic was present. It was all goldweight, and slid into her Masspack.


    She had sympathy for the lower-class people here, brainwashed and compelled into service, transformed into willing servants of the Glooms. She could only harden her heart and bring them down, knowing that they''d just go to another evil Patron who could compel them to serve once more. It was making a bad situation only slightly better, as doubtless these people had others who depended on them, who would now be in the same situation their mates, lovers, and kin had inflicted on others.


    Letting the Summons succeed and killing the daemon with overwhelming force also meant that it wouldn''t be coming back to hunt her. Its master might... if it could find her.


    She''d long lost count of how many secret societies, cults, dark churches, guilds of assassins and thieves, and heartless mercenary groups she''d made enemies of over the years. They''d certainly set a big enough bounty on her head, in various guises, and likely many, many traps.


    Traps were hard to trigger when the people giving the marching orders operated on a completely different paradigm then those being attacked, of course. She rarely continued an attack for more than one or two nights, and if she went back, it was often months later, and only on the biggest targets doing stupid things. It was like being a Void Brother. Today, killing off some fools bringing in a Greater Daemon. Tomorrow, messing up the plans of some insane genius who thought he''d invented a way to make mass golems. The day after, silently offing a mad playwright who''d managed to write down one of the plays that could Summon the King in Yellow... none of them less then three hundred miles apart.


    She sent a swirl of silver magic across the air, a spell from Sylune that was actually modelled on the effects of the Void Brothers. It completely wiped any magical residue in the air, making it impossible to use divination to find out what had happened here via magical traces. As the white fog spun up and out, she gestured, and was whisked away down her lived-line trail.


    ------


    The Water and the Spear was sitting in a stuffed chair enjoying a glass of wine when she walked in. She looked over the room, the three dead bodyguards, and the older man behind his desk, nailed to his chair through the heart via a Spear through his chest.


    "Mind the blood," he said with false cheer. She just nodded, gesturing with glimmering fingers whose Light played about the room. They paused on the trophy of a stuffed marlin hanging prominently over his head.


    "Really." Brother Waterspear shook his head, his dark eyes empty over his debonair smile. Without a care, he stepped up on the desk, pulling out his Spear, shrinking it down to just a hand haft and point. Without a care, he stabbed into the trophy at the eye, jaw, and after a moment of inspection, below the top fin. There were cracks and clatters, and a hiss of something green leaking out.


    He pulled open the hinged mouth, reached in, and liberated several scroll tubes and a clinking purse. He examined all of them, lifting up one hand and shaking his head at the poison dusting his fingers and trying to get in.


    The Water and the Spear was somewhat shorter than the Fire and the Sword, but they definitely had a family resemblance, with dark hair and the same kind of dark eyes. The Water and the Spear dressed more flamboyantly then any of the other Brothers, because he operated more publicly, a known rake and buccaneer, known as a merciless raider and pirate to those who caught his eye... and a highly reliable carrier of cargo living and otherwise to those who dealt with him.


    He stowed the scrolls until he had a few free idle moments to disarm them. There was no magic on them, else he''d have discovered them earlier. The poison dusting them was amusing enough.


    "Dead, I assume. The daemon?"


    "Fed to the Land," she replied calmly. She flicked a finger at the dead ship captain. "Primary smuggling contact?" she asked, mildly curious.


    "Primary contact for the cult''s quarters on an island out there in the Gleaming." He made a vague gesture in the direction of the sea behind him. "They''ve been making bad noises recently, exciting some things down Deep that should stay there, and whispering among the pirate clans." He gestured at a bundle off to the side, of wrapped-up Weapons and other things, and she retrieved it to her hand with a gesture, depositing it into the Masspack behind her.


    "Shall we leave?" he asked pleasantly, looking her over. Her veiled face and all-black leather met with his distinct approval. There was no sign she was a Sylunar.


    "As you wish," she replied, turning around to head back out.


    She stepped over a pair of crewman lying face-down in their blood outside in the corridor, drew back the door to let another one fall down through it, and stepped outside.


    The three-master was riding gently at the pier. There were no sounds of alarm, despite the fact that over a dozen sailors were sprawled here and there around the deck and rigging, in various positions of surprise or complete shock at having died.


    "The ship?" she asked calmly, as she walked down the gangplank ahead of him, and he enjoyed the view, even if it was a morph.


    "Oh, it''ll be confiscated and sold off at auction. Nobody will dare to buy it, being the cult''s ship and all, and well, if they reclaim it, I''ve put two of those Markers of yours in place."


    Amulets of Inescapable Location stuck in hidden places were very useful for tracking inanimate objects, punching right through anti-divinatory defenses.


    "I notice that the crew had Deep Spawn blood."


    "Yes." The large dark eyes, unique musculature, and jaw line were subtle giveaways to those who knew. "A nice tie to the things who should stay down there."


    Haz¨¦ frowned beneath her veil. A raid from the depths of the Gleaming Sea by the aquatic races could be catastrophic. Deep Ones meant Mythos involvement. It was not a good sign.


    "It would seem that a bucolic ocean getaway is not in the plans." North, she considered. There had been fewer missions for her there. She would have to bring the others away as things came to a head.


    "No, it''s going to get plenty nasty. The pirate clans are already bracing for it, knowing something is up. It''s going to get worse, and then it''s not going to get better." His smile was dark and knowing, the smile of a man used to wading hip-deep in blood.


    "I shall keep that in mind."

 158 Chapter One Hundred and Fifty-Eight – Bringing The Ligh

    Errant brought Grace from nearly his heels overhead and down, hewing through the neck of the Stone Jotun Warlock who he had just hamstring. Black earthen energy spewed out of the wound with the geysers of blood, sparking and flaring against the residual energy of his Pact, even if he hadn''t called on his Wrath.


    He stepped away from the blood, as vivic energy started to bubble, flaring quickly as the residual energy of the Dark Earth Pact of the Stone Jotun leaked away. It didn''t stop the Pact from harvesting the Jotun''s soul, of course, but it would eat away the twelve-foot corpse with great speed.


    Residual holy energies burned around his Sword. Consecrating his Sword and making it a Warlock''s Glaive was an extremely back-handed way of accessing his Wrath without actually discharging it. It required a Greater Soulbound Weapon, the Eldritch Glaive, One Strike, and Consecrate Weapon Feats, and a fair degree of skill at manipulating Wrath... which was rather difficult to come by if you didn''t actually use it.


    It wasn''t the same as a true Eldritch Glaive, of course, which actually manifested Wrath as a solid weapon of its own. This way, the Wrath inside him naturally flowed along his soul and ''filled up'' the sword, like it would fill up his arm, and so was discharged when he struck with it. Given that he had his Purity Mastery at Five, that meant a fixed +36 damage, 6d6 topped out, which was nothing to sneeze at.


    And since he was a One Strike stylist anyways, it didn''t bother him to slow his attack pace down in order to strike a devastating blow each time.


    He sniffed the air, and looked around at the trappings of this shrine. Battered flesh and splintered bone began to rejoin as he stopped using his Wrath for other purposes, and it healed him from inside.


    He could see that this had been repurposed from the original worship of the Stone Jotuns'' racial deity. If he had any guesses, this runt of a Stone Jotun had gone dumpster diving for the power to overcome his lack of Stature, and found it in something Below.


    An Aberrant Power, not strong enough to grant divine spells in mockery of the gods, but more than strong enough to grant a Warlock Pact, giving power over earth and stone... and the Stone Body enhancements, making him tougher, stronger, and sturdier then his bigger kinfolk.


    This Jotun Runt had come back here, and either killed or driven away the original worshipers, slowly bringing the younger giants, in awe of his power, into his fold, and suppressing the elders. A Power from down deep in the darkness, which should not be rising to the light, was showing its power here.


    He had killed six of the junior Warlocks, and fully a dozen normal Stone Jotuns. How many more had been sent to other tribes to take them over, he did not know. At least they had not started gathering here... or perhaps, they weren''t gathering here, yet...


    He looked at two of the idols that had been Shaped into existence, inhumanoid forms like pulsing tentacles veins of earth wrapped around a malformed brain, just begging to be cloven with Grace, and then crushed with a few proper blows of the Warlock Jotun''s mace.


    Best tool for the job, after all.


    He''d seen two lesser versions of this thing in the were-boar home, giving him a good idea where the weres'' Curse came from. It was probably a direct blessing from this Thing from down in the darkness.


    Stone Jotuns were the most peaceful of the Jotuns. They were herders and carvers, not really caring about outside events, content with their lives and the message of the stone.


    But they were Jotuns, and once their elemental urges were stirred up, they were hard to put down. Their Stature mindset made them look down on anything shorter than them, and once it came to the fore, their aggressive territorialism could be redirected into brutal conquest. If they were whipped into a mood for battle, it would take little for them to bring in lesser Jotuns, given their easy relations with them all, and so assembling a large force would be remarkably easy.


    Had he just headed off a catastrophe, or stumbled into one in the making?


    Soul Magic and Warlock Pact magic had some great synergies, including alternate ways of avoiding using Tats. Angel Walk and Angel Weight were very similar to Cloud-Stepping Sandals, so simply channeling the power of one into the other let him access the power without having to dedicate Wrath to doing so. Angel Eyes'' Devasight gave him extraordinary visual acuity in even very dim light, but provided no benefit in darkness. However, a Halo Crown was simply a method of manifesting the light of the soul, and shining it out his eyes was a perfectly workable substitute.


    So it was that his eyes were now basically flashlights. It wasn''t the same as 360-degree illumination, but effectively, wherever he was looking was lit up, so the fact everywhere else was dark was moot.


    It also freaked out the Jotuns, which was somewhat understandable. His eyes were literally glowing like incandescent bulbs right now, and if he didn''t have Devasight, making him immune to brightness, he''d be blind. The Stone Jotuns, dwellers in stone, had darkvision, so having no light source basically meant little to them.


    Having The Light as your light source could potentially reveal a lot of things, and that was one of the things he was once known for in the game, meshing all these different things together with the strength of a Vajra soul. The Light from his eyes swept the room, seeing where stone had been naturally worn away by water, Shaped by magic, cloven by tools, or worn away by the press of massive limbs. Angel Eyes opened his visual spectrum up to all the colors, including those above and below human sight, and he picked out the cunningly hidden door from its surroundings by the change in crystal structures, and the stalagmite that levered it open by the residue from the hands touching it.


    He knocked it over with an elbow, the Shaped stone inside pulling a counterweight, and the stone door pulled back and slid aside with barely a whisper of sound. He strode within, eyes shining the way and doubtless alerting any guards within... not that he had sensed any, but they could easily be out of his range, and Stone Jotuns could be as motionless as statues if they desired.


    Constructs and similar things didn''t move randomly at all, of course.


    The new area looked to be the living chambers of the tribe''s Shaman, taken over by the Warlock. He scanned it quickly, looking for the glow of magic, things hidden or out of place, and naturally higher places where Jotuns liked to stow things from little thieves.


    There was a big heavy chest behind a removable section of wall, that happened to fit that symbol he''d lifted off the severed neck of the dead Warlock, so out of place among his belongings. Errant opened the chest up, and was rewarded with the cold hard glare of magic.


    Looked like equipment from humans that hadn''t been sold or traded off, probably some of the adventurers who weren''t expecting Warlock Jotuns, judging by the level of the gear and the Blast marks on it. He spent some time stacking them up to take up minimum space, and then pulled the Disk from his Masspack to haul them out.


    After all, he hadn''t found the tribe''s wealth yet, and he didn''t feel sorry about depriving them of it, after finding that mound of ground human bones in the den of their cave bear pet...


    ----------


    Air was moving past him.


    The stinking edges of the creature that had flattened itself around the entrance hissed, carved apart with two cuts of Grace. Its disguise was good, but only in visible light. In UV, it was obviously not part of the stone, and when close enough to use tremorsense through the stone, not part of it, either. It was very surprised when he cross-cut it into four parts.


    It wasn''t powerful enough to harm a Jotun, yet there were signs of passage. So, this was a guardian beast. And... there was air streaming past him.


    This was a mining tunnel, following a vein of gold. He could see the remnant crystals in the walls, the main vein long removed and sent to be crushed and smelted somewhere else. Being a Jotun mine, it was spacious enough for multiple men, and built and reinforced very stably, feeling as safe as going through a natural cave. He picked up the airflow moving in past him very easily.


    Sizable nuggets of gold ore and a few thousand assorted coins were stacked up on the Disk behind him. He''d be making a lot of money when he finally went back to human lands, especially if he could exploit the vein of gold at the bottom of the lair.


    He was heading down and into the mountain. Air coming in at the bottom of a mine... was strange, unless there was an emergency exit down here somewhere.


    The mine tunnel opening out into another cavern didn''t surprise him at all.


    He looked out into the cavern, which had a fair degree of phosphorescent minerals, molds, mushrooms, and the like. The Light from his eyes didn''t cover them, only making them shine brighter as he looked at them.


    His Alchemy Ranks informed him that there were a fair number of valuable alchemical comps in this place. The Jotuns could have made a fair amount of gold harvesting just the easily reachable ones, or using them for their own Potions. Power comps were power comps, after all.


    But he saw no signs anything had been disturbed here. He did, however, see veins of aural darkness stretched like living shadows across the walls.


    The Light followed them back to the other side of the cavern, while a breeze ruffled his hair. A glance at the ground showed signs of giant feet flattening a path there, but not with the weight of a Jotun carrying lots of ore to dispose of.


    He paced down that way fearlessly, eyes glancing right and left, looking for surprises, finding nothing except a spreading evil aura under his feet... which burned and flinched away from his boots. Touch of a Heavenbound, and all...


    There was an air flue in the ceiling here, ascending the mountain. More than large enough for a person to enter, too.


    They hadn''t mined it out, because they had dug into this flue, which led up, up into the mountain... and also way, way down.


    His eyes fell onto that dark pit, twenty feet across and going down far, far beyond his light. He could see the Evil worming up along the stone from below. He didn''t know if Things had come out from here, but their influence had certainly reached up here, from down below the roots of the mountain.


    And also, down from above. He had a pretty good idea where this flue went. Going down would be an interesting experience, but likely suicide. He hadn''t come here to start a voyage into the Felldeep.


    He dropped a coin on the ground, glowing with Eternal Light. A marker, as needed. He put his foot on the wall, and walked up at a vertical, Angel Walk defying gravity so long as he remained in contact with the wall. His Disk followed him as he walked up to the ceiling, shifted to ''upside-down'', wove among the stalagmites there, and headed over to the flue.


    He stopped next to it.Upside down, it looked like a pit to his perspective at the moment. He took out a vial from inside his Masspack, and began to apply the scent-reducing oil from within all over himself.


    Stormcrones had an incredibly acute nose for the smell of children and young creatures, and he probably still qualified, amusingly enough.


    Without hesitation, he stepped into the windpipe, and started his ascent to the peak ten thousand feet above, where waited the Stormcrone Zouma.

 159 Chapter One Hundred and Fifty-Nine – The Berserkers Complain

    They were big, hairy men, brawny and muscular, with an air of incipient violence hanging around them , ready to boil over. Their armor and weapons showed signs of a lot of use, and they handed them over to the smiths to fix almost reluctantly, as if thinking they might be stolen away by the craftsmen.


    Berserkers, the frenzied savages of the martial world, endemic to barbarian cultures, reveling in their fury and the raw, brutal power of their emotions. Elite warriors of their tribes and clans, coming to this place to fight, and finding the servants of the Warp Gods having all too familiar a mindset to theirs.


    I didn''t have a single berserker in Marktell. They hadn''t matched my mindset in Nightmare, so none had come or been recruited to me in their dreams. I''d opened their Chakra without hesitation, they could use the Soul Magic edge, but not much beyond that.


    It left them outside the Marktell, and the power that could be displayed by it. They were witnessing the Marked around them performing with astonishing power, fluid coordination, and instantaneous responses, and it was affecting their status.


    Like great athletes suddenly being eclipsed by a new generation, they weren''t too happy about it. The looks they were throwing me were a strange mix of grateful for what I had done, and sullen that they couldn''t get the full treatment.


    I finished up my Tatting, and eyed the lot of twenty or so Kaldens standing there. They were all veteran warriors, they''d certainly earned their positions, but now were feeling the pressure from behind, and it was daunting them.


    "Your stink-eyes are hurting by dose," I said, pinching my nostrils. "What''s up with you lot? Standing around waiting for your armor is a waste of time."


    They all looked at one another, wondering who would be the first to speak.


    A red-bearded brute shouldered his way forwards to look at me, like a big hairy bear. "We want to be Marked, Sage Sama," he said, as if it was a given that I would do so.


    "No. I don''t want guys like you in my head," I denied him simply, staring right into his eyes. "You''re not Good people. Our personalities would clash immediately, and you''d start having reactions to my being there. You''d try to resist the influence that would be coming off me, and that would send you straight to the Warp, given how close the Rift is. Ergo, insane and bloodthirsty, ready to turn on us whenever the Warp commands it. Not to mention the Mark would fade away under your defiance within three days. You''d burn it right off yourselves to get me out of your heads."


    He took a few deep breaths, nostrils flaring, but all their impressiveness didn''t deter me a single bit. I met all their eyes at once, and ever-so-slightly narrowed mine at their body language.


    They all took a step back at once. I''d come in once to deal with some Weavers from jRaztl, and they''d seen me butcher a Spell Weaver with extreme prejudice. None of them could do that, and just because I was half their size didn''t mean squat.


    Redbeard''s mouth worked, twisting around unfamiliar words. After all, men like them just didn''t apologize. "We meant no offense. It was, it would be, an honor to accept a Mark!" he managed to get out, saving his bacon.


    "Some would think. I don''t give them out as honors, I give them out as rewards and tools. Rewards for good life choices, tools to help fight an Evil so great that it threatens to destroy the world.


    "Neither of those are why you fight." I met all their eyes easily, and despite themselves, their gazes dropped or looked away. "Our motivations don''t match. Because of that, giving you a Mark is useless."


    They tensed up despite themselves. This whole talk of Evil simply went right past them. They lived in a world of strength and battle, and being praised for that prowess. Any other measure was simply foreign to them.


    "What you really want is more power, isn''t it?" Their eyes snapped back to me with very quick interest. "You can feel all the others fighting with you getting stronger faster than you are. Your position is threatened, and they are poking your pride. You don''t fit in, even more than before, and it''s isolating you.


    "And the eyes of the women going elsewhere probably doesn''t help."


    They all found something to cough about right about then. There were quite a few women fighters among the Kalden, but they tended to be shield-maids, not berserkers. There were a couple bat-crazy women berserkers among them, but they weren''t here, preferring to fight alongside the shield-maids who helped keep them alive.


    "What you want isn''t a Mark. What you want is advice." They all blinked at me, huffing despite themselves, scrunching up their brutal faces at the very idea of thinking hard. "Seriously, you''ve got all the power you need, simply because you''re all Powered. You don''t NEED a Mark. You might want it, but you certainly don''t NEED it.


    "Your problem is that you are on a very straight road that has an ending. It''s been trod by countless numbers of your ancestors, you know it from song and tales, where you can go, what you can do. Maybe you can even break into the ranks of legends and become as famous as your ancestors...


    "But opening your Chakras has shown you that there are other roads, just as wide and broad as your own, only you don''t have any tales to guide you. You don''t know what to do, and so you are asking for a Mark, because that seems like the strong play."


    They shuffled a bit as they thought about that. Not being too introspective, they realized I was probably right. They wanted to grow their strength, but they didn''t know how.


    "Go down to the river, and wash up. Scrub yourself clean, skin pink, clothes washed. I''ll be down there at dusk, and I''ll talk with you."


    Their eyes lit up despite themselves. They knew I Knew Everything, and such words were bound to be valuable. Sage Sama, duh... Feeling much better about themselves, they started for the river, someone mentioned they were hungry, and they shifted course towards the mess tent promptly.


    I shook my head, and joined the many smiths at their repair work. There were now six copies of my Tools in existence, and two more Silent Thunder Anvils. Add in Mikel''s clan of brownies helping with the soft goods repair and maintenance work, and we got things fixed very quickly around here...


    ----------


    There was a fire, not too high, not too low. The berserker women had heard hints given out that this would be useful for them, and the grim-faced, scarred not-quite Amazons had also arrived to hear this.


    If a few others were keeping a polite distance in the dark to listen in, I didn''t have any problems with it.


    Silence fell as I stepped up to the circle where everyone could see me, Tremble floating beside me and ready to start a Holopoint presentation.


    "Valus is a Berserker."


    It was probably the last thing they expected me to say. A couple of them even gaped at me.


    "I know, I know, you lot love Hurn the War God, because He''s a Berserker, too, and you think Rage is only good for fighting. That''s because you don''t understand what Rage is." I let that sit for a minute, as they struggled with that.


    "Rage is emotional power. It is magic, on the same level with Ki, and basically on the opposite side of the spectrum. It has exactly the same relationship with Soul Magic that Ki does, as a result. Yes, it''s magic; shut up, don''t try to deny it. The fact that you don''t know it''s magic means you aren''t using it right. Some of the shit Rage can do is so obviously magical you''ll hit yourself for even doubting it." The ones about to speak up shut up again.


    "Rage has three factors to it: Emotion, and its derivations, Instinct and Passion. The problem you all have is that you are sitting in the first one and thinking it''s awesome, and ignoring the other two, where all the real power is. You Rage, you go stupid, you get big and strong, and think you''re awesome, when what you''ve got is a fairly minor buff to Strength and Constitution." I rolled my eyes meaningfully, and they twitched, despite themselves.


    "Instinct is just that, your connection to your animal roots. Rage is that same fighting instinct that pops up in every animal when it''s time to fight. Its why you feel a closeness to animals that are ready to fight; you share that primal fury.


    "And then you absolutely ignore the fact that you are connected to those animals, and can do so much more than fight by accessing that primal instinct." I glared at all of them, and they shuffled again uneasily.


    "Passion is different from Emotion and Instinct. Instinct and Emotion are inflicted upon you when you respond to something. Passion... is what you choose to drive you. I want you for my mate." Redbeard went red as I pointed. "I want you dead!" A balding man paled. "I want to be the greatest warrior on this field! I want to dive to the bottom of the sea! I want to climb to the top of the greatest mountain! I want to scream out at the gods, and I want them to KNOW MY NAME!"


    They were all shaking now, thrumming with the power of the Heartsong in my voice.


    "That is Passion! And that is the other end of Rage that you are ignoring... the fact that you choose to make of your Rage a power driven by YOUR will, YOUR desires, not just some damn automatic buff on a field of combat! Eesh." I rolled my eyes, and they looked ashamed again.


    "The two extra paths to power are based around Totems, and Passions, Goals, Quests, whatever you want to call him.


    "Valus calls his Passions Quests, and he is the Questing Knight. He is always following his Passions.


    "Hurn has only one Passion, and it is War!


    "As for the Dark Powers... their Passions are numerous, dark, and unrestrained, and they pursue them with abandonment and fervor. You could say that little exists of them beside their particular Passion." The Holopoint behind me listed half a dozen divine beings of Chaos, and their Passions, and even the Berserkers blanched a bit.


    "Totems... are the primal side of your powers. I noticed some time ago that not a single one of you bothered to pick a Totem. I wanted to knock your heads in for sheer stupidity, but it was your choice, not mine." Their eyes looked away again as I glared at them.


    One of the women raised a hand. I jerked my chin at her. "Aren''t Totems something that comes and picks you?" she asked hesitantly. "I''ve heard of them in the tales..."


    "If you''re a wolf, a wolf will pick you. If you''re a bear, a bear will pick you. I don''t see any wolves or bears here." Crickets played, the woman flushed. "You''re Human. More specifically, you are Powered. You are MAGICAL." I slapped my head thrice. "Magical people, all of you, and acting so dumb! YOU CAN PICK YOUR OWN DAMN TOTEM!"


    They kind of gaped at me.


    "What? Some scrawny Powered Wizard guy can wiggle his fingers and cast a fireball two hundred yards away, killing a score of men, and you equally Powered magical people can''t even select your own Totem?" I leaned forwards despite myself. "Just what kind of inferiority complex do you people have, anyways?"


    They all flushed despite themselves. I was really hammering this home. They were magical people, and they were just acting like they didn''t have magic.


    "I''m going to first tell you about Totems. There are two basic categories: Group Totems, and Champion Totems. Group Totems are animals that live and fight in groups: Wolves, Lions, Griffons, Deer, and so forth. Champion Totems are animals that fight alone: Tigers, Bears, Dragons, Snakes, and so forth. These Totems have very different mindsets." I looked over them all.


    "Here''s where you all have to make one of your choices in life. A group Totem will bind you to a tribe, a clan, a company. You are a family. Members of a Totem tribe work together very, very well... especially in wartime, on a battlefield, and geegollygosh, where are we now?"


    Several of them actually looked thoughtful at that remark.


    "Champions work for themselves. Even if you''ve others like you, they are rivals and competitors, allies by happenstance only. You may have friends and family, but in the end, it''s all you and nobody else, baby."


    Others flushed, some with excitement, others in embarrassment. So easy to read...


    "Different Totems focus on different things, and will guide you to different understandings of Rage."


    ---


    It was weird seeing Berserkers thinking hard about what they were going to do. I went over the Totems, the Passions, and then just to annoy them further with possibilities, delved further into Soul Magic, noted they all had potential for other kinds of magic they might Cast before a battle even started.


    They would be nothing unless they were masters of their Rage, not addicts dependent upon it. It was their choice to make themselves better people, I wasn''t going to make them do it. If they became worthy of and tolerable to me, they could get Marked. Before then, they''d need a Marked officer to tell them where to go and what to do.


    Oh, and they wanted Courageous Weapons, because it would amplify the effects of their Rage powers, always a useful thing. But that was reliant on Naming their Weapons and fighting successfully.


    I gave them three hours of my time, answering questions that popped up, helping them visualize just what kind of Rage machines they wanted to be. They definitely had a lot to talk about...

 160 Chapter One Hundred and Sixty – Of Sources and Voids

    Rorn was there, waiting out in the darkness. He fell in beside me as I headed back into the Camp.


    "I wondered why there were never Berserkers in the Ironblood," he mused to me.


    "Chaotic Good Berserkers are awesome heroes. The rest can go jump off a cliff," I snorted. "Just more assholes who want to Rage away and not take responsibility for their choices in life. Use or be used, bow to strength and nothing else." I gave him an elbow. "Good job, showing them up."


    "I''ve been waiting to do so my whole life," he growled. "All the High Kings of our people have been Berserkers, but they never last. Too many grudges, too many emotions. They can''t build a nation, and even their own clans fracture with infighting, since the whoresons usually have dozens of offspring who all want the throne. I aim to give my people a Warlord and a King who doesn''t rely on Rage for strength."


    "Showing them a new way. Powered Monarchs always have problems, in the end," I sniffed. "Hard to be a Monarch of people who aren''t like you."


    "The Path of Kings is never easy." He certainly wasn''t thinking so. "It is strange..."


    "What is? Everything?" I laughed. "You''d be growing up if you thought so..."


    "It''s just... I don''t think of you like a queen, but you hold so much power..."


    "That''s because I''m a Null, and you''re a Source. In your eyes, I''m someone who helps you become a King, not a Monarch myself. Nulls make things happen, but they don''t sit a real throne." I waved at the guards as we walked into the Camp, they just nodded back at us. "You''re not the only Source among the Ironblood, you know. They are all looking to become kings and queens of their own kind now, you know?"


    "And are using you to do it." He hmphed, but he had his answer. "And you don''t really care."


    "As long as shit gets done that needs to get done, no. Gotta have leaders, gotta have followers, gotta have guides showing the way... and gotta have crazy people with magic powers doing weird shit to keep things interesting."


    He actually smiled slightly at the thought. "The gods do seem to enjoy spectacle."


    "It''s just a pain in the ass to live through. Then you live through it and are like, ''wow, what a show that was! Wonder what they''ll think up next. Ah, shit, forget I said anything... crap!''"


    "I think we learned in Nightmare that there was always more shit that could be dropped on us, right?" His eyes flickered with memories of dying, over and over again, to stuff that was so damn strong...


    "These chowderheads are giving so many people a chance to get so strong, and they don''t even realize it." I lifted my hands in casual acknowledgement to people walking by, but basically no one disturbed me, as it was late and I was on my way to do my daily reading, and the Salute to the Silver Queen was coming up quickly.


    He paused for a half-step. "It''s just like Nightmare, isn''t it?" he murmured. "Foes unending, harvests of Karma, and if you are strong and survive, you get better..."


    "Yes. It''s a Karmic Buffet, and the Warp Gods are setting the table. It''s why I''m not worried about how long this takes. The longer it takes, the stronger we''re going to get. Instead of wearing us down to desperate last-stand heroics, they''re polishing and refining us. Unless they really go all out with a massive invasion force, we can do this... and if they do try that, well, the gloves come off on our end, too. There''ll be a Celestial Cascade, the Armies of Heaven will come down, and we''ll see just how Heaven handles things on their end."


    He grunted. "And they know it, so they''re playing along."


    "Only we''re not getting tired of fighting, and we''re not losing the people we are supposed to. Actually, our healers are getting better and better, just like our fighters." I smirked. "It won''t be long until we''re going to be able to do larger scale Revivifications of the dead, if we get enough people to Nine and Ten."


    Rorn sucked in a breath. "I''ll have to borrow some of those healers that are coming in, then."


    "Borrow away. They are here to be taken advantage of."


    "The anvil that sharpens the sword," he remembered.


    "That they are. Just a lump of iron if they aren''t used. Use them."


    "I will." He clenched his fist. "And thank you for not undercutting me."


    "If you were sabotaging the fight, you''d be dead. You''re trying to prove something while fighting, I have no problems with. You want to leave when done, I''m no slaver, congrats on having a plan and wanting to do right by your people.


    "Good people came to me in Nightmare. Wanting to be a king doesn''t make you a bad person. It means you know what tough love really stands for."


    He grunted again, tall and proud and ready to fight some more, and make use of all his people to burn a path to being the Kalden High King.


    ---------


    Three Void Brothers were waiting there as I finished reading from The Book. I put it away, picked up my Shaping Hammer, and got to work on my next project, while /asking, -So, what''s up with the three of you? I thought you guys never took breaks?-


    They looked at one another, kind of hiding their laughter at my tone. -We are seeking your unique perspective,- Brother Firesword /replied, watching me heat up a longsword there waiting for attention. Actually, four of them. -It seems like a night for you to give lectures.-


    -And a good excuse for you to come to The Camp and get laid. Okay, what?- They had the grace to look scandalized, despite the fact I already knew they''d arranged hook-ups. After all, sleeping with the incredibly toned and impossibly dexterous Brothers was veeeeeery sensuous... and that nasty killing rep danger vibe didn''t hurt the ol'' adrenaline rush. Them finding lovers was so not difficult.


    How ticklish their Helices were, well, that was something different...


    -Grandmastery,- Brother Windarrow /spoke up firmly. -To be able to kill the Interlopers, we need Grandmastery to, ah, get our damage up high enough to be effective.- He glanced at the shortest of their number.


    -The Shadowknives inherit a Grandmastery called Time to Die,- the hyn /spoke in his androgynous voice. -It involves cutting at a being''s temporal existence with our dimensional awareness. However, my Brothers do not have such awareness, and so cannot emulate it.-


    I calmly /shuffled them all into a chatbox, and opened up the Doors to the other Brothers, who didn''t seem all that busy and were not averse to joining in.


    -Part of that is because of your low numbers. Have you contacted other Brotherhoods, or started recruiting more heavily? More minds solve problems.-


    They collectively blinked. -It''s not a... no, the subject of Grandmastery has never come up on our information exchanges with other Brotherhoods. As for recruits... that is only done by the Land.- Emotions rolled behind the Firesword''s words.


    -Huh. Who told you that?- I /asked all of them.


    They collectively flinched. -It... has always been that way,- the Shadowknife said softly. -One Void of each Order per landmass.-


    -Minimum.-


    They all froze. -What?- the distant Ancientaxe /blurted out at the correction.


    -One Void Brother per landmass, minimum,- I /said mildly. -Whoever told you there weren''t more Voids out there?- I gave each of them the mental hairy eyeball. -Seriously. Did you think you were like Divine Favored''s, suddenly made Voids out of nowhere by the Land instead of by a divinity?- By the way they were /gaping at me, I could see they did. -Oh, such smart people, and so dumb. The Land insures there''s always AT LEAST one Void Brother per landmass of sufficient size, by forcibly triggering your Helices, She loves you so very much.- They all /grimaced collectively. -But that''s it.


    -It''s THE LAND, boyos. She doesn''t suddenly ''create'' a Void out of nothing. Voids are already there, they just ain''t Forsaken yet. Except for a very rare few who know to make The Choice early in life, most Forsaken are just Primos until they pass the First Ceiling, hit Seven, and make The Choice.


    -You''ve been watching my Ironbloods, yah? Seeing all the many new Nulls popping up... and significantly less Sources, right?- Mental shuffling as they confirmed that they had been watching the process closely, whistling, eyes elsewhere, dig the toe in... -So you saw the ratios are approximately a hundred to one, Nulls to Sources, among humans. What do you think the ratio of Voids to Sources is?-


    I was rocking them. -The same?- Brother Waterspear, who''d come Veilwalking in a few weeks back and left just as quickly, /asked from the distance, out in the Gleaming Sea. I think he was hunting eel-men, not sure.


    -Exactly so. Potential Voids are one in ten thousand among humans. Talented Voids, well, that''s a somewhat lower number...-


    The four non-human Voids promptly stirred at that distinction. -And non-humans?- the Mountainhammer /grumbled from afar, the sole dhatun among them, while the humans did the math on the millions of humans running around...


    -Are crossbreeds with magical races, or, they do not have Sources. What do you think replaces Sources among the Hyn, Brother Shadowknife?-


    He didn''t even bother to reply, but his jaw dropped at the revelation. Every hundredth hyn was-?


    -Dhatun, halvyr, and urukhar are all Powered races. They have neither Nulls, nor Sources. That one in a thousand soul who can''t use the magic that is their birthright, what are they, do you think?-


    I could hear them all /swallowing out there in the distance.


    -I... Can... How do...-


    It was quite funny hearing a Void Brother /stutter.


    -Is it possible for us to sense these Brothers of ours?- the Firesword /interrupted the Bonescythe crisply.


    -I''m not a Void with enhanced ability to sense the instinctive ability of people reacting to magic with their Auras. But I imagine that a Void who''d sensed Nulls and Sources before and after could tell something was different with potential Voids. As for those of races who have no magical ability compared to their fellows, I think it''d be like seeing a black spot in the middle of a white piece of paper, all other things being equal.-


    They all started talking with one another at blindingly high speed. All Void Brothers were very smart, and very quick thinkers, so I let them blab while I worked on turning these Swords into QL 26 Weapons, good enough for Drei Slots... Soulbound, Arsenal, Slaughter. If they wanted better, they''d have to earn it by Naming them and building them up, and breaking into Seven.


    -How do we Awaken them?- Brother Wayfist /asked, keenly interested in this.


    -If they are kids, at the same time they choose their Renewal, like any Forsaken. Deny the magic, or just live without it. Otherwise, they break the First Ceiling, step into Seven, take their Racial/3 level, and they have their last opportunity to do so. If they don''t, they''re basically like Human Primos forever.-


    -So, it''s a just a choice for them,- Brother Mindring /breathed.


    -Yeah, well, the Land isn''t going a force-feed a bunch of mana down their throats to force the issue like she did you, so, yep, just another choice of being Forsaken for them.-


    There was a collective /sigh from them, and I knew they''d rapidly be spinning out plans to locate and recruit more Voids. Loyalty wasn''t an issue. A Void who deviated from serving the Land was basically committing suicide. The Land loved them, and kept them so busy as a result.


    But if they could spread that load out...


    -Grandmastery,- the Firesword /silenced the others. -Your thoughts?-


    -Mmm. Brother Shadowknife''s awareness gives him a road you all can''t follow... but really, his Time to Die is just a subset of your general awareness of the flow of magic and relevant powers, right?-


    -That is true...- the hyn /agreed.


    -I''ve not seen you use it, but what I imagine you do is that you condense your Helix around your Weapon, and then pull out the time from what you cut, essentially killing, aging, or disrupting whatever you slice, before venting that time right back out to multiply the effect of your slice, as if multiple weapons were slashing in parallel to your own?-


    He kind of gaped at me in astonishment. -Very close...- he reluctantly /admitted.


    -So, do the same with magic, the rest of you lot.- I /sniffed. -Life is magic. You can already drain Casters, pull magic out of objects... and then gift it away. Pull the magic out of whatever you cut, magic is life. Then wrap it around your Weapon and burn them away with it. Just like the Shadowknife... open the wound on one end, and then multiply it when you vent it.


    -I imagine that it will destroy magical effects and living or unliving creatures like a hot knife through butter. You can probably rend natural armor like tofu. Damage-wise, it''s probably akin to an eldritch glaive, but stacking on every blow of your weapons, it should be extremely impressive. If the opponent is especially attuned to your Orders, I believe the effect will be even worse.


    -Keep in mind this is not Grandmastery with a Weapon. It''s Grand Mastery with a Helix, channeled through a Weapon. I actually doubt any of you can be weapon Grand Masters, because of your Helix, just like Powered.


    -But it will do the job you want it to do, generating the massive amounts of damage against magical beings that will allow you to really bring the hammer down on them. After all, what Void Brothers excel in... is Cutting The Magic.-


    That Markspace got very, very intense, very quickly, as the Shadowknife began to demonstrate the principles of Time to Die to them, and they began to adapt it to Cutting Life.


    I interrupted them once. -Remember, do not Awaken any female Voids, and tell them why. Get them on one of the alternate Paths of Seven Dragons or Warlock.-


    There was a moment of silence. -So...- the Firesword /murmured, -Why?- Beneath it, why were they a Brotherhood, and not more open to Sisters who could understand them and share their travails?


    -Ah. Well, first, becoming a Void massively heightens your territorial instincts, your racial instincts, blah blah. For a woman, that includes maternal instincts. Men, not a problem, have some sex and go on your way, leave the kid with the woman, provide financial assistance if you''re not a total ass. You''ll never be a dad, because your Mother won''t let you, but I''m sure you all have kids, probably multiples.-


    Crickets... -So, woman. Maternal instincts. But none of your children will be born Voids, which means none of them can purify the mana flowing through you. Which means that if they conceive children, the children all die stillborn, probably messily.-


    Okay, maybe they''d been told female Voids were sterile. They were hard men, but this was still veeeery upsetting to them. That I could tell them this with a straight /voice was making them seriously reconsider how hardass I could be. -So, combine massive desire to have kids with total inability to have kids, and the Land forcing them to do all this shit, and She is responsible for this, and what happens? The exact same thing as any Void who loses it... only to a woman, it is Inevitable.-


    More crickets. -So, the Land doesn''t ever Awaken female Voids, they just don''t work. If you do it, they''ll be dead within ten years via spontaneous combustion.-


    ------


    I calmly /shut them out as I continued Smithing. Work to do, work to do...


    And maybe I smiled a bit, because the Void Brothers were about to get a WHOLE lot deadlier... and there just might be a bunch more of them in the near future... and now they Knew.


    Knowing is half the battle...

 161 Chapter One Hundred and Sixty-One – The Wine and Cheese Party

    "Canapes! I need the canapes out now!"


    "No, the fish, the fish! Set it there, there, and there!"


    "Do you not know how to arrange a proper cheese platter? A wheel, a wheel, this is the pattern..."


    "Did someone never teach you something as elementary as washing and plucking grapes properly? These are for eating, not for wine!"


    Amber''s tyranny of fashion was on full display. The baronial staff was completely cowed by now, hurrying this way and that, their former huffiness and disdain completely cowed under the relentless demands of perfection and busy-busy she was heaping upon them.


    Everything had to be set before the visiting nobles got back from their tour of the winery. Bunting was being hung, candles put out, the wines and many glasses put in place, and Amber had half the glasses sent back to be cleaned and buffed properly, so outraged that she had a senior maid crying in frustration.


    Mama, of course, cleaned them all up with a cantrip, greatly relieving the maid, who returned in triumph, and promptly was set off to clean up a dozen of the tablecloths that were stained as a reward for her fine performance, sending her back to Mama, trembling in anxiety.


    One of the Northmarch King''s lesser wives'' children, cousins of the Baron, were visiting with an entourage, turning this small winery into the biggest gala of the season. There were dozens of young nobles in attendance, many of them young maidens wearing their best and trying to outshine one another. Many of those had the misfortune to run into Amber and her tight and eye-catching garb, with flowing silks and frippery and tight here and showing legs and high boots there, were totally bowled over, and in a flurry of fittings and cuttings, were now wearing custom outfits that were obviously very different from all the other girls.


    Amber took to the mass confusion with a great smile, inexhaustible energy for everyone, and soon knew everyone''s name, faces, backgrounds, who was sleeping with whom, tastes, preferences, and all the gossip, all the while directing the event with total aplomb, as if she was born for it.


    Nobody believed she was only twelve, and as she was tall for her age, she said nothing.


    Mama, Verd, and Veis had taken over the kitchens with a deftness and coordination that put the serving staff to shame. They''d also brought over most of the appliances from home that Haz¨¦ had helped them put together and enchant, because the quality level of the ones in the manor simply weren''t up to stuff, so there was a quick stone building annexed to the kitchens holding the extended cooking facilities.


    Mama''s use of lesser magic to accurately measure the food, Phantom Servants to help with stirring and peeling and other drudgery, heating and cooling exactly as fast as needed, and the use of alchemical ingredients, combined to fill the kitchen with a heavenly aroma. The pastries and fruit for breakfast had already received rave reviews, with not a few intruding minions inquiring if they weren''t for permanent hire at other estates before being shooed off and out of the way. The sight of the diminutive and unbelievably cute Veis in her fluffy skirts bringing out tray after tray of delicacies definitely had them all salivating for more.


    Feist was working in the kitchen too, and many a servant was watching as his knives moved like living things, juggled without effort, slicing meat, bread, cakes, dough, whatever, at a speed to rival magic, only more precise. He had been roped into the cooking the girls did long ago, despite himself, and had a real gift for working with pasta.


    Haz¨¦ contributed minor magic where needed, mostly getting food where it needed to go at maximum speed. Dark and quiet, she did little more than accept the invitations, which allowed her to examine all the nobles coming in, and as she moved through the flow of servants, all of them, as well. Very proper, and her green eyes very knowing, she intimidated even many of the noblewomen, especially with the silver amulet at her throat indicating she was also a Caster, if her casual use of cantrips wasn''t enough to warn them.


    Verd and Veis had been very excited to go into business, and Amber was also keen to use the chance as a launching platform. Mama also hadn''t minded, and with Haz¨¦ around, picking up fine and fresh ingredients was remarkably simple, with Teleporting and Item spells letting her grab fresh fish from the ocean, and fresh berries in season from the other side of the Empire in passing, as there simply was no way they could afford her to pay her properly for using that level of magic just to transport food.


    But it was definitely paying off. It had taken her three weeks to get all the proper ingredients, getting everything prepared for this, and everything was going off smoothly.


    While the others were glowing with the accomplishment of putting their names out there, Haz¨¦ was here to people-watch.


    Most of the important nobles wore minor Artifice to interfere with divinatory spells, out of an enhanced sense of privacy, and the whole noble and mercantile family secrets thing. A social event like this was a good chance for the younger generation to meet and to socialize, competing and comparing, while the older generation would renew ties, break ties, and forge new ties in a whirlwind of cut-and-thrust wordplay and cruel one-upsmanship.


    The money being spent on new clothes alone could last their quaint little town of Vyster for a year or more.


    However, these nobles didn''t know they were dealing with a Ten Caster, and their minor defenses wouldn''t stop Divinations at Five. She had Dawnstopped her Aural Rede, and with the permission of Aru, it would last until the first rays of morning light. She was examining everyone''s Auras, especially those who came from far away.


    She was unsurprised and yet still disappointed at the few people among the nobility veering to the side of The Light. Despite invoking the gods and praising them, their hearts were completely on mortal needs and the demands of being rich and wealthy people scrambling to preserve their status and gain ever more of it. Such a mindset naturally reached down into the children, who had already lost their innocence and were scheming for their own futures, especially any young women who didn''t have any real Levels or power of their own to fall back upon.


    Those with darker intentions and ambitions, and willing to do a wide variety of socially unacceptable things to further those desires, were also very much in evidence.


    She was making mental lists in her Visual File of who served what, whose Auras resonated with others despite seeming to have no relationship via emotional attachments and enmity. She saw hands red with the blood of the innocent, others flaming with dark lust, and a notable few with some very dire proclivities.


    If things were not handled very carefully, there was going to be a lot of blood spread at this gala. She wasn''t necessarily opposed to a number of these people getting their just desserts, but the fallout for the locals might be a bit excessive...


    -------


    The evening''s entertainment was a singer and her band from Southmarch, invited on their tour of the area, their alternately lively and sad music very different from that of the Western March. They arrived late, coming in only an hour before dusk, but set up quickly, replacing the classic orchestral quintet smoothly, and launching into their show. Support members of the band were more than happy to demonstrate a couple southern dances to the eager younger folk, and the head singer, Muomissa, did a soulful job on the traditional waltzes and strolls to alternate.


    During a short break in the dancing, Amber slid in with a tray of drinks to the band. Winking at them knowingly, she said, "This is some Kruegur vintage that may have fallen off the table before it got to the nobles. I thought you might like a taste of some of the famed Golden River grapes?"


    The band members glanced at one another knowingly, and eagerly accepted the golden wine, which did indeed go down smoothly.


    She presented the final glass, a deep red, to Moumissa. "And a vintage from the Kasmaido hills. There was only the one bottle, so we would not think of denying the singer a taste from her home, so far away."


    The chocolate-skinned singer looked both impressed and hesitant, but accepted the glass, sniffing it with a smile, and her dark eyebrows rose despite herself. She took a drink of it, and nodded once to Amber. "Very good! You have a considerate eye, young miss."


    Amber waved it off. "Think nothing of it," she smiled graciously. "Now, I have to go, as I''m sure they''re trying to let the cream melt before we can serve the sherbet." She turned and glided off quickly, adroitly accepting a few flues on the way without breaking stride, before handing the tray off to a maid and zipping out to inspect the deserts.


    The band finished their wines, and the whole tray of gooey, cheesy pastries of out-of-season fresh gooseberries, and headed back to their instruments.


    ---------


    The late dessert was coming out, slices of elderberry pie and moonberry sherbet, to top off the evening and give a late kick of energy to those who still wanted to dance. The band played softly, and Moumissa crooned an old ballad from her native land, perfectly adept at fitting the music to the temporary mood as the people ate their fill.


    The gasp behind her, and the sudden off note alerted her to the fact something was wrong. Then the longhorn player choked, his instrument bleating as he dropped it and clutched at his throat.


    All her band members started writhing in pain, lines of silver shining where veins should be. As they did, they began to change.


    Their faces elongated, sharp muzzles protruding, incisors extending, whiskers blossoming as dark fur erupted over all of them. Their clothing tore as hairless tails erupted from behind them, legs shrinking in size as clawed feet drove out of fine slippers and boots, hands twisted into strong yet delicate claws.


    Moumissa''s hands flew to her own chest. Something was burning in her chest, her heart was roaring, blood pumping, and she was also losing control.


    She spun around, looking for Amber, and found the whole of the noble audience staring at them, aghast, as Haz¨¦ walked into the center of the room.


    "Ah, vampire, you should not be looking at me," Haz¨¦ said softly, staring at the sharp-eared, red-eyed, long-fanged woman before her, her pale coloration completely covered by her naturally dark complexion. Haz¨¦''s finger glowed as she shook her finger, trailing silver ripples as the undead singer tensed, flesh crawling with unnatural strength.


    The singer grunted suddenly, and looked down at the shining length of wood that had been driven through her back, and was now jutting out the front of her dress.


    Ancient magic jerked through her system. Unable to move, she fell forward in place, revealing a young man with brown hair and eyes behind her, looking grim and ready... and not like someone who had not seen a vampire before.


    "You should be looking for the Prince with the hawthorn stake in hand." Haz¨¦ bowed slightly to the young man, about her own age, and he returned a nod of his head. "Herr Baron, I note that you seem to be equipped with some silver. Would you mind putting those wererats out of their misery? Oh, Amber, fetch the musicians from earlier. I believe they are playing in the conservatory."


    The grim Baron rose to his feet, looking at the silver knife he''d used to cut his pie in his hand, and glanced at several of his compatriots, who rose to their feet at the same time. Before the shocked eyes of their guests, they slit the throats of the writhing wererats, a rather bloody job they performed with dour steadfastness.


    Haz¨¦ conjured up a couple Disks, and the men unceremoniously dumped the corpses upon two of them, halting before touching the vampire.


    "If anyone has not seen a vampire burn before, we''ll leave this one out on the sun deck to greet Aru in the morning. You are welcome to join us for the Salute," Haz¨¦ said kindly. She waved her hand, and the blood soaking the shirts and jackets of the noblemen, and staining the play area, was lifted away and burned in a flash of silvery moonlight. "Carry on, everyone."


    Coolly and calmly, she led the Disks out of the room, followed by many eyes, while the musicians in the back came smoothly in from the side, hiding their unease, and knowing this was an opportunity to make their reputation.


    When the strident notes of the Imperial Victory March rang out, a number of patriotic young men and women surged forwards to enjoy it, and were soon joined by their elders.


    After all, they were high nobles of the Empire. A little bloodletting was almost expected at an affair like this. There was no need to be all upset about it. The Empire, and life, went on...


    --------


    "Very well called, Miss Haz¨¦," the Prince said softly, his protectors close by as he caught up with her. "Tell me, how did you know?"


    "A very impolite Aural Rede, Your Highness," she replied, sending the impaled vampire off towards the sun room with two very attentive guards to await the sunrise, while she led the corpses of the wererats towards a side room.


    With no change in expression, she chopped off the head of one of the wererats completely, and as he watched, flicked a long dagger out and precisely and methodically stabbed each one of the Cursed men''s corpses. Vivic flames spurted out of the wounds, and the magically enriched flesh began to burn like tinder.


    "I like being tidy," she explained, lifting the severed head off by its pinkish, furry ear.


    "What are you planning now?" he wondered aloud.


    "Some white necromancy. This is the leader of this little rat pack. I''m going to question his spirit about who sent him here."


    She pivoted on her foot even as the swords swept out. Two circles of Shards flashed up around her right hand as the two guardsmen nearest them charged at them both. The Prince gawked as his own personal guards lunged at him.


    A dozen amped Shards took both of them in the face, blowing their faces apart and turning the insides of their skulls to mush. The force of impact broke their lunges and sent their corpses crashing to the side and down, missing their targets.


    The leader of his guards, following behind, saw his chance, moving with incredible speed and lightness. His hands were like two iron maces as he charged at them, aiming for this dark-haired spellcaster before she could get another spell off-


    Two circles of ten Shards popped up around her other arm, still gripping the wererat head by its ear. The darts of force converged and flashed out into a Ray, which then struck a prism of force just ahead of her pointing fingertip. The dual Rays bored right into the man''s chest as he gaped in shock, momentarily lighting up his entire chest cavity.


    He crashed down, and they both stepped aside as he slid past them a good dozen feet on a breastplate with two holes in it. Were anyone to cut him open, they would find his entire chest cavity had been reduced to liquified goo.


    The Prince regarded her with strange calm as she ignored him, looking left and right down the hallway, and without a change in expression gestured. They lifted each body, one after another, on top of the burning wererats, where they quickly caught vivic fire.


    She also chopped off the head of the guard captain with the same kind of aplomb as before, clearly not unused to doing this.


    "I trust Your Highness has some questions for this man, too?" she asked calmly. She looked down the corridor, where a short and smiling figure in a chef''s hat was trotting towards them, his feet moving further then his strides with every step.


    "I do believe I might," the Prince said fearlessly, eyeing the smiling hyn who came up before them... who was also not blinking an eye at the burning unwhite heap of corpses floating on Disks in midair.


    "See that we are not disturbed, Master Feist," Haz¨¦ said calmly, and the hyn just laughed and winked at them.


    ------


    As they entered the guest room with the severed heads, Feist assembled the three Disks of the dead around him so as to better discourage people from coming down here to watch them burn.


    And, of course, they might have some interesting things on them, which he wasn''t at all adverse to investigating properly. For evidence, surely...


    Feist smiled. It had been some time since he''d had such fun at a noble''s party. Good wine, good food, good dancing, and the bloodletting had already begun. Such fun...


    Essence of silver dissolved in holy water, stirred slowly into the cheese souffle for the pastries, forcing them into their wereforms as the moon rose. Essence of garlic alchemically treated to smell and taste like cloves, part of the dusting around the rim of the wineglass which was the proper serving style of the Kasmaido vintages, forcing the vampire out of her human form and denying her the ability to shapechange.


    The hawthorn stake through the heart would paralyze her completely. No need for a big ritual and burning and whatnot, just wait for the sun to make her dead.


    The vampire was a big lure. There were at least two other forces moving who might want to make use of her, and if they made an attempt to save and recruit her, well, the Baron had already been quietly alerted and had his own resident Cleric standing by to take action.


    It was going to be an interesting night. And when Haz¨¦ questioned those two heads, what other interesting scandals might she find? There might even be some wetwork he could hire himself out for...

 162 One Hundred and Sixty-Two – Playing the Flue

    Errant thumbed his chasuble reflexively as he made the long walk upwards, traipsing up sideways along the windy passage to the top.


    It had taken him several months to finish it, as he had to first commission the cloth with extraordinary workmanship through his contacts in the Church of Amana. Once it was delivered to his specifications, he then had to spend a small fortune empowering it properly to do its job.


    The wide strip of cloth looked like part of a priest''s or sacred knight''s vestments... mockery on the part of many Warlocks, but an honest acknowledgement of the position and mission of the Heavenbound. It wouldn''t fall off, it passed through any fingers but his own as if it were liquid, and if damaged by an attack or energy, it would respin itself back to full form, powered by his own Wrath.


    It gave him two additional Slots of Wrath to use. Bound to his Throat Chakra, it gave him another one, and when enchanted as an Arcane Mark Soulbound item, +1d6 extra damage per Soul Essence invested in it. It was the first time he''d taken it out.


    Eight slots Topped for 48 damage, +6 for Warlock Sword +4d6 Mark +Con bonus in damage. Sole had forged the way for multiple Pacts, able to get twelve Slots this way... but without the power of Purity. On average, the damage from the two Paths were close, but a pure Pact had much less versatility then multiple ones.


    But that was fine. The Heavenbound Pact was versatile enough, and if he couldn''t Shape Stone or manipulate fire or play with lightning or make the grass grow... well, he couldn''t, but that wasn''t his job.


    He was Heavenbound, and his job was to fight. The Warlock Pact of Heaven did that very, very well.


    The matching ends of the Chasuble were stitched with platinum threads in symbols honoring the gods of Good and Law. The threads gradually turned golden, and the symbols alternated to those of pure Good, then multiple colors adorned the middle and backside of the Chasuble, none the same, honoring the gods of Good and Chaos.


    Heaven was united. Heaven did not war against itself. There were too many ways for deities to settle their differences then fighting amongst themselves for such to occur, and such happening meant that a god was going to Fall, and all those who blindly followed Him as well. Supposedly, that was how much of Hell''s senior hierarchy came to be...


    His father would freak if he saw it. The son of a family loyal to Hell, selling himself to Heaven. Might even try to kill him. Errant found himself amused at the thought.


    But as long as he only used Wrath internally, there would be no Sign, and his eyes would not be silver. Normally, this would not be allowed, the very existence of Pacts was predicated on the basis of showing Sign... but as the Warlock who''d replaced his mother had demonstrated, Pacts could be subverted if the purposes behind them deemed it right.


    Heaven certainly didn''t mind if he delayed showing Sign until he came of age.


    The sound of the airflow around him was actually deafening, vibrating the whole shaft at this point. It didn''t bother him, however. The default resistances of his Pact were to Cold and Lightning, and with Purity, included Thunder. Sonic damage simply couldn''t affect him at this point, and he couldn''t be deafened by loud noise any more than he could be blinded by bright light.


    The flue was getting broader, and lighter. He could see some faint illumination up ahead...


    --------


    The wind tunnel ahead was broad enough to fit an ogre, scoured by ceaseless flows of air pulled out of the opening of the cave. A couple other side tunnels poured into this one, driving the air out of the cave, as pressure differentials sent the dank, cool air behind him screaming out into the thin atmosphere.


    Where the air got into the Felldeep, he didn''t know. But places like this pulled it out constantly, helping refresh whatever lost and forbidden things were buried down in the magical mantle, ignoring all the physics of air pressure and internal heat of the world...


    That said, he was pretty sure the side tunnels would lead into the home of the Stormcrone. He was also sure that she''d be very sensitive to changes in the winds and air pressure.


    He was also certain that she wasn''t just a Stormcrone. He''d read some battle reports about her, listened to the tales of adventurers who crossed her, and her ability to take punishment while raining down lightning was legendary. Blood would fly, and yet the wounds would vanish instantly...


    She was a Legendary, a Boss-level Hag in gaming terms. The tales had made it plain she had a nasty level of Witchcraft, in addition to her native abilities, and copious amounts of Health Qi. From what he could interpret of the battles, she never let her Health Qi vanish before fleeing, probably spending several days using healing magic to restore it before getting into another fight. She would hound people for days if she could, using magic to track them down and simply pummeling them to death from afar with her greater recovery ability and massive Health Qi pool.


    Definitely not something he wanted to deal with, so he had to make sure she couldn''t run.


    There were ways...


    He sat there, looking at the intersecting passageways, the swirling winds, and then down at his finger.


    She could smell the blood of the young, eh? Well, that could work against her...


    ------


    It wasn''t hard to hear her coming, by the way the wind was warping. He sucked down a Potion and remained perfectly still as the wind blew past him.


    She came floating out of the side tunnel swiftly, buoyed by the wind, scrawny legs with oversized clawed feet never used to walk if she could help it. She had a mouthful of teeth like a barracuda, the face of a withered crone too mean to die, wild white hair longer then she was tall, and she probably didn''t come to his shoulder, with claws longer than her gnarled fingers and toes.


    Oh, and lightning crackling around her hands, up her arms and across her shoulders. Couldn''t ignore that.


    She floated right on by him, drawn by the smell of the drops of blood he''d smeared in the air pipe, thirty feet down. The thought that there might be a human child down there was probably the equivalent of sugar plums dancing in her head.


    She was just about to the edge of the lip when he slammed into her at a full six g''s.


    Over thousand pounds of mass hit her at significantly above normal human speed, driving her right across the twenty-foot wide pit, crushing her against the opposite side of the well with a ferocious impact. The Sword inserted into her liver likewise wasn''t very comfortable, a One Strike Spirited Charge doing a horrible amount of damage in his hands.


    The basic Wrath effect employed against mages was using the Wrath''s eldritch energy as a general Dispel, capable of endlessly counterspelling as long as you beat their Caster Level, a pretty annoying tactic. He had five Ranks of Purity, he had a Warlock Sword that was currently at +VI, he had a +4 Caster Level on contested checks against Evil, and he had full Holy Warder Mastery for +5 on Dispel checks.


    He also had the Eldritch Dispel Mastery at V, and could choose various supplements to his Dispel. As this was his opening attack, Devour Magic, turning the disrupted energies into healing for himself, was inappropriate. Disrupt Magic, the equivalent of Spellflash, was far more appropriate, as it turned every spell dispelled into a discharge of energy against the Caster.


    He had to get rid of all her Contingencies and buffs, and then get down to butchering her. So, the Wrath in his Sword didn''t do any damage this time, but it tore every spell and magical effect extant on her into wild magic.


    The lightning crawling over her became pearls of iridescence and clots of inky goo. A half-dozen spells inside her erupted out her orifices in fountains of smoky butterflies, pink flames, orange and blue fireworks (complete with rocket sounds and explosions), streams of living sand, a torrent of minnows, and a rather gruesome set of extruding tentacles in paisley.


    Ignoring the effects, he grabbed her arms and wrenched them behind her as they both started to fall.


    She had at least as much Power as him, something like a 25 Strength, suitable for a legendary Stormcrone. But his Might was much, much higher. In pure brute strength, he was the equivalent of a 37 or so, and in a grappling contest, Might was as or more important than Power.


    The rope he used was magical enough to resist tearing and assist with the grappling, binding up her arms with incredible speed and fighting any attempt to wriggle free as he held them tight with his massive Might advantage.


    He also flipped her over with his greater mass and slammed her face into the wall as they fell.


    Her arms pinned, her face shedding a waterfall of Health Qi, he dragged Grace out of her back and began to plunge it in again and again as they fell... at six g''s.


    With his Wrath powering his plummet, he didn''t have much to put into his Sword, but that was fine. The big thing was keeping hold of her skull, ignoring the lightning she was trying to put out, and keeping her face grinding against the wall and a solid flow of Health Qi streaming away as they fell down the smooth shaft, quickly outpacing the rocks falling down at normal gravity behind them.


    A normal human reaches a speed of about 120 mph when falling, 180 mph if they dive headfirst. Under the effects of six gravities, he was much heavier and falling much, much faster, and he was bringing the Hag along for the ride.


    Ten thousand feet of face-grinding at 300 mph left a solid trail of bloody Health Qi light following them down, dissipating above them, while stones cracked and shattered under the unbreakable force of her face not giving way, and the nearly solid wind howled past them, not affecting either of them despite flesh-stripping power.


    A couple of times he spun her and slammed her into the wall again, feeling some energy building somehow as she tried to marshal her concentration and get some magic off to save herself... but this was now a contest of grapple checks, his advantage between Might, Feats, Masteries, and Expertise was at least +17, maybe +20, and she had no chance of breaking the pin, let alone wriggling free.


    If he figured it right, she was taking a d6 every ten feet in abrasion damage. So, ten thousand feet, 1000d6. Should be about 3500 damage, which hopefully was enough to get through her Health Qi...


    Then she was going to hit the bottom, moving at more than twice the normal impact speed, wind resistance unfortunately not allowing him to do six times and break the sound barrier. That should be another 50d6 or so...


    And in the meantime, he was driving Grace into her over and over, hissing holy light burning against more Health Qi, One Striking repeatedly for 50-some a hit, just to add insult to injury.


    Ten thousand feet at 300 mph took less than thirty seconds to cover. The tiny dot of light stayed small and small and small... and then suddenly he was in the open room as he let go of Grace and Zouma. Five feet from the ground, Angel Weight automatically became Angel Walk, and all his momentum dispersed silently, leaving him floating down abruptly as lightly as a feather.


    Zouma slammed into the ground at 300 mph. So did Grace, right through her back, the crack of it driving into the stone sounding simultaneously with the Hag''s impact.


    He reached out, touched the ground, and rolled away as the stones came pouring down after him, a deadly hail that shattered against the ground and the impaled Hag, further pounding her into the stony floor and sending shrapnel flying everywhere. Quite a bit of it bounced off him as he waited for it to end, and then he promptly pounced on her when it did, over a half-ton on her back making sure she couldn''t get out of the shallow indentation she''d made on the patient stone.


    He yanked out Grace from hilt-deep in her back, and still had to make four more stabs before the Health Qi was gone, and she actually began to bleed.


    Using both hands, he left Grace in her back, reached up, and grabbed her skull. He lifted it up enough to grab her jaw, and wrenched her head completely around with a loud crack... a completely impossible kill move if she had any Health Qi still remaining.


    Her pale white eyes glared at him for a long moment, and then the Wrath in Grace coursed out one more time, disrupting any death curse she might have, glowing behind her eyes, and burning them out in the sockets.


    The light went out, and so did she.


    Errant took a deep breath as he sat back for a moment, then rolled away from the last few stones still falling down and banging away at his Soak, dragging the corpse with him.


    He looked up at the flue above.


    It was a good plan, but now he had to walk all the way back up there to get any other prizes, and could only hope she didn''t have any servants who would steal it all first!

 163 One Hundred and Sixty-Three – It’s all Black and White

    Today we set up the Camp at the edge of the Dichromatic Plains.


    The ground ahead of us was all black. Some were stretches of sand, dunes whipped back and forth by planar gales visible in the distance, parti-colored lightning visible Over There where the Rift was, at the edge of Yle Tyorm. The planar gales in that area never really went away.


    Other stretches were simply fused black, cracked and broken, as if God''s Own Fireball came down and fused the whole place. It had swept the ground pretty flat, only the occasional hill and slope left, although jagged cracks formed canyons that eventually ran into lower points here and there, as if the land below couldn''t stand the heat and just gave way.


    What stood out were the leaning white pillars of crystal.


    They jutted up everywhere, the least of them at least three feet wide, and some of them ranging up to twenty. The smallest of them was fifteen feet high, the vast majority twenty or higher, the biggest ones ranging up to sixty feet long. Their crystalline white was almost blinding against the broken black ground and shifting black sands, the latter of which wouldn''t get within three feet of them.


    All of the crystals nearby were leaning at exactly three degrees, away from a certain point.


    Briggs came strolling up the last of the wave-hills, where a force of javelin throwers thought they''d be cute and toss things down in ambush, and were now strewn across the top, burning messily. His heavy boots idly kicked them out of the way, which generally meant over the side to a crunchy ending which would help them burn up all the faster.


    "So, what are you thinking this is all about?" he asked me, sitting down beside me to look at the scene.


    "Airburst magical effect, some sort of Law/Chaos conflict. Chaos won, but Law is sticking around. The pillars are all basically at right angles to the Burst effect. As we get closer, the angle should change. I just haven''t measured it with how far our scouts have gotten. The Brothers say they end at about forty-five degrees, just before we reach the city proper, so I''m thinking above the Wards of the city. Might even be the crystallized remnants of the city Wards, dunno."


    "Huh." He looked at the closest one. "Can we salvage the Law energies inside? The Warp must hate them."


    "Doubt it. There isn''t a single scoring or scratch mark on them, and how many warbands have passed this way? There''s no way they wouldn''t try to score them or see if they could ruin them."


    "Yeah, that''s totally true. Pity, they''d be decent material for the Obelisks we have to make..." I looked at him, slowly arching an eyebrow. "Oh, right, they need to be of the Land, in harmony. Not axiomatic. Sorry, was anticipating working with a new kind of stone."


    "Well, if you can split or carve it, I''ll cheer for ya. I''m thinking explosive axiomatic crystal siege bombs for the catapults, introduce the Warp to some Lawful luvvin''. However, pretty sure the crystals keep the Chaos Storms contained." I pointed at the literally knife-sharp split between the Dichromatic Plains and the wave hills of the Badlands below us. "We can''t see the greater pattern, but what do you think the odds are that those varying crystals are NOT a part of some greater Formation?"


    "Ugh, pretty damn low." He shook his big head, glancing over at the river winding its way toward Yle Tyorm, where fairly normal banks gave instant way to waters turning almost silver, its bed turned inky blank. The dichotomy was obvious. The river was also waveless, all extra motion totally gone, flat and smooth as a mirror. Pretty creepy, really. Gusts of wind blew black sand past, and it skimmed over the river water without going in, like eternally pure ice.


    "How many more coming?" Our frontal area was down to five miles for the moment, Nulls and Brothers out scouting.


    "Brothers say four bands more closing in. The hole we''re making in the sky is pretty obvious." We both craned our head upwards, where blue sky had jutted out into the strange purple-grey sky and the black clouds that overlaid the Plains, very clearly denoting the edge of the Corridor formed from multiple Interdictions fed by vivicizing hundreds of thousands of Warped.


    "That looks both inspiring and terrifying. I don''t want to do the math on how many Warped we''d have to kill to open up the sky."


    "Mmm." He looked at me, I looked at him, and I flashed five fingers twice. He grimaced, and then grinned. "Damn! That is going to be a BIG explosion when it all goes. Do the Warp Gods have any idea how much they are going to be helping us here?"


    "I''m sure they are writing it off as a charitable contribution on their tax returns even now," I replied loftily.


    "I heard that the Ferals have finally reached the area, too." He rubbed his chin.


    "Their pace is quicker since they are barely establishing a Corridor. All the stuff they have to fight that just drops out of the storm is just interesting potential meat."


    "How we planning to deal with them?"


    "I haven''t a clue. Making first contact with them now."


    -----------------


    His name translated to Blackheart in the higoblin tongue. He was an illrigger, a dark knight of Hell, blessed with killing magic, assassination skills, lethal combat ability, and a set of hell-forged armor that proclaimed his status to all his people.


    He was what they all wanted to be: a servant of their gods, a disposer of his rivals, a great commander, and a lethal warrior.


    He eyed the human in the distance, a white flag hanging from his spear, both suspiciously and with interest. His troops stewed behind him, some calling for the head of this Borderguard, the grey-green color of his cloak unmistakable. The Rangers of the elven lands had killed countless numbers of goblins from the three races over many centuries, and their enmity would never fade.


    Generally, such warriors would kill goblins on sight, and the favor would be mercilessly returned, if possible. But few goblins got to live after killing Rangers, who were implacable trackers and hunters.


    So, a white flag. The rules of war were well known among his people, if rarely ever called on. Blackheart turned his pupilless black eyes to the sky above, blue against the purple-grey, thinking.


    Waving to the green-blooded soldiers behind him, he kicked the sides of his bulox, and the horned brute trotted forwards expectantly and fearlessly. He had to rein it in from starting a charge at the unfamiliar rider, slowly and calmly making his way over, showing no fear, only discipline and control.


    The human rider had his spear in his stirrup, bow on his back, and grey-green cloak over leathers on display. His horse was light and built for speed, and could certainly outrun his heavy bulox without trouble. He had obviously not come here to fight. A fight would involve eating armor-punching arrows while the archer stayed out of range, but Blackheart knew that he could easily survive such an attack... and the elves were not known for treachery at parley, when they rarely offered it.


    He reined in sixty feet from the Ranger, flipping up his helm to show his purple-black skin, a noble color among the higobs, and his prominent fangs. "A white flag is a strange sight from you tree-kissers, Ranger. These lands have never been claimed by your kind. Do you seek to deny us passage?" Blackheart spat out, testing the waters here, showing he was ready for a fight.


    "By no means. If you seek to continue forwards, please do so." The Ranger''s voice was coolly amused.


    Blackheart narrowed his eyes, looking past the Ranger at the sky far behind him, a good twenty or more miles away. There, like a sharp spear, a length of blue extended across the horizon, and plunged a short distance into the black clouds ahead, ominous and waiting.


    The blue sky was tied to burning the dead creatures in this land with the unwhite fire. The more were burned, the wider and further the blue sky extended.


    Without the protection of the blue sky, the Chaos Storms would swallow them. They''d already had to put down hundreds of fools caught in them, who were variously possessed, mutated, turned into undead, turned into elementals, made into puppets, turned into living bombs, became hosts to strange creatures, or just plain went insane and started killing everything.


    Their deaths did help make the blue a little wider, however. Practical lessons all around, and even fools had their uses.


    "Then why are you here?" He was surprised the human dared the Storms, but the Ranger seemed unfazed by the threat they posed, which was intriguing.


    "You are not the only force closing in on the source of the rabid warriors who plague us both." He gestured into the distance. "The Warp Gods and their Rift are waiting fifty miles that way."


    Blackheart licked his fangs eagerly despite himself. He''d rarely eaten so well as he had in the past few months. The vivic-burned flesh of the outlanders was quite a treat, a sign of plenty that had drawn many, many tribes to the banner of his clan, and even more clans of other tribes ¨C orcs, hyen, kobolds, huul, tauren, ogres, trolls, even some Jotun, all eager for meat, more meat! These outlanders were savage, cruel, and merciless... but every weakling they killed was one less they had to share the meat with, so nobody cared.


    Still, the Shamans had spoken, and he knew the gods had confirmed that the incoming invaders would never stop. They might be feeding well now, but every warrior killed now was one that took years to replace, and the invaders were coming in more and more numbers. They were being given a feast, but they would die gluttons if they ate too long. The invaders had to be stopped, the Rift closed, while they were still strong and numerous enough to fight.


    "So, they despoil the lands of the tree-kissers and rock-humpers?" he guessed uncaringly. "And you expect us to fight your battle for you?"


    "My commander merely wants to know if you have given any thought to a plan to close the Rift," was the cool and unimpressed reply.


    Blackheart narrowed his eyes, and just gestured curtly. "That is a matter for the gods. The Shamans will come up with a plan once we have slaughtered all of them!" he declared confidently.


    "Divine power can''t close the Rift, or it would be closed. The gods of the Warp are enemies of all the gods," was the instant retort, taking Blackheart off-guard with the response. "If it could be sealed by divine action, it would have been slammed shut long ago."


    Blackheart growled, feeling that this was both a challenge and an uncomfortable truth. "How do you know this, human? The gods have been silent about the Rift itself!" Which, now that he thought about it, was a bad sign. Precise directions on how to destroy it would have been very appreciated...


    "The Void Brothers."


    Blackheart''s black heart skipped despite himself. He had no desire to test his skill at murder against the merciless swords of the Land. Those who tried, died. Those who ignored their warnings died catastrophically, and generally took a lot of tribes with them. Loathe them they might, but when the Void Brothers came, their words, though cold, callous, and uncaring, were treated with great caution. Despite their mutual hatred, the legacy of blood between races, their hot tempers, and their ready blades... the Void Brothers had never lied.


    If they spoke of a disaster coming, they spoke only the truth. Those who did not believe them died, and generally died very, very badly. They had warned the tribes of Things controlling their leaders, tribes delving into matters that would threaten all the Feral lands and tribes, magicks that could rend the world, ancient beings who saw them as less then sand, fallen gods seeking new slaves to raise them back to glory, and horrors from the deeps preying on them like cattle.


    Those who listened had the chance to fight and live. Those who didn''t, died, and then many tribes had to come together to deal with the problem, often as not finding the Void Brothers dealing with the heart of the problem in a bloody manner only after they proved themselves willing to fight.


    Blackheart thought about all of this, and knew the Void Brothers would not say anything that was not true, or important, and they would be utterly merciless about it.


    Regardless, they would still have to fight!


    "What is the plan?" he asked, and wondered how many would have to die to kill this threat. At the very least, they would die not hungry, full of the meat of their enemies!

 164 Chapter One Hundred and Sixty-Four – A Farce

    Haz¨¦ put her hand to the side of her head in disbelief. Feist just chuckled and threw two more bodies on the Disks with impromptu ease for his size.


    "How many is this tonight?" she asked a little helplessly.


    "I think we''re up to sixteen or so?" the hyn Master chortled. "That doesn''t count the three duels, of course."


    "Sancta Argente," murmured Haz¨¦, especially when she saw his cheerful attitude. "I confess to never having gone to one of these things. Is this common?"


    "Well, I don''t know about common, but it''s not unusual." The hyn patted the corpses, and started pushing the Disk away as she followed, waving her hand to remove the bloodstains and signs of anything having happened. "These are all hireswords, street bravos in servant''s attire. Someones definitely want someones else dead, and this low security winery seems to be tailor-made for a proper throat-cutting."


    "A set-up, stupidity, test?" she asked, dismayed by the carnage. It wasn''t the blood, it was the idea, and the enthusiastic way they were killing one another.


    "Probably all three!" the hyn said cheerfully. "I never give nobles too much credit for brains. All that concern with honor and reputation... pardon me."


    His sword-catcher came up, a thrusting rapier from a side door was deflected aside, twisted, and the hyn glided in impressively quick, flicking through a feint so fast his opponent''s main-gauche went right under his thrust, and then the slender man had a long dagger driven up under his rib cage.


    Feist caught him over his shoulder as he fell, took three steps back, and unceremoniously dumped him atop the others. "Yet another servant urgently called home for a sick member of the family. Must be having a plague in Espen. I recognize the cobbler." He flicked the newly dead man''s boots with his dagger after his kindly doublespeak, leaving a smear of crimson across the soft leather.


    They both tilted their heads at the sound of glass breaking, looked at one another, and Haz¨¦ stepped over to open up the door to the sitting room there.


    Some fellow had been driven completely through the window with a spear in his liver, definitely spoiling his fine coat. Verd popped up on the other side of it, pulling once to get her Weapon back, then spotted Haz¨¦ looking out at her. She waved once, smiling, and ran off into the darkness outside.


    "There''s a good girl now," Feist said, stepping forwards to grab the slack-jawed fellow by his shoulders and drag him back. He frisked the corpse without slowing down, and tossed him on top of the pile with disconcerting ease for someone his size.


    ---


    The two of them stepped outside, to where an unwhite fire was burning in a corner. The dead vampire had been added to it after seven men had died trying to free her to get her help, and the stack of dead had just kept growing.


    The two of them paused, seeing four men in black scooting up a trellis to a patio above, knives in teeth, short blades on back, all the fun stuff. The two still on the ground froze on seeing them come out; Haz¨¦ and Feist looked at one another, and shrugged. Totally ignoring the nervous assassins, who were frozen between running over to attack and looking after their friends, the pair began tossing bodies on the vivic fire.


    The first killer to roll over the railing onto the balcony got two crossbow bolts in the chest, punched through the glass door of the room beyond. The second one got one in the middle of his head. Both went screaming down to the ground, landing with dull thumps.


    The second pair leapt onto the balcony, and crashed through the doors before those beyond could reload. There was a flash of light, a war cry, and the sounds of something big biting into meat. Twelve seconds later, it was all quiet again.


    The two on the ground started to flee, but alas, a robed man with an unhappy face appeared on the balcony above. He gestured, and a Summoning Circle rose from the ground, disgorging eight large pale-furred timber wolves. With a gesture, he sent them after the killers, and they sprinted off, hot on the trail. It was only a breath before the first scream rang out, and the growls and chomping began.


    The Caster''s eyebrows rose when he saw the two of them standing there, Feist still with his chef''s hat on, Haz¨¦ in her formal dress. The two shrugged at him, and he smiled thinly and backed away from the railing. With a gesture, the shattered doors reformed, wooden bits and glass leaping back up into place behind him as he swept back through them.


    A moment later, they opened back up, a brawny form came out, and hurled two hacked and fried bodies down over the railing, on top of their friends. The warrior watched in black humor as the pair below grabbed arms and began to pull the corpses over to the burn pile, and then went back inside, saying nothing.


    "Do you want to go after the wolves?" Feist asked, his cheerful smile still in full evidence.


    "Well, I''ve little better to do tonight, I guess?" Haz¨¦ replied. They both turned at the signature roar of a fireball going off in the back yard, and then something inhuman bellowed in pain.


    "Ice troll, sounds like, probably Summoned," Haz¨¦ said professionally, grabbing a set of arms. Feist grabbed the feet, and they heaved the corpse onto the vivic fire. "Amber says there are half-a-dozen murder squads going at it against one another in the back, barn, and cellars."


    "And as long as they don''t set fire to anything or blow it apart, the Baron will stand right there and let them." Feist pointed with his chin, and Haz¨¦ glanced over at a mounted party of a dozen men, blades out and Focus items ready. They were underneath a broad tree, deep in shadow, watching in every direction to make sure nobody was doing something clever, like setting his winery and vineyards on fire to flush out their enemies. Nice and stupid was the name of the game for tonight.


    "How long will this last?" Haz¨¦ inquired of Feist.


    "Oh, it can go all night, if the pockets are deep enough, and they are entertaining enough. Why?" Feist asked, as they dragged the other pair back.


    "Well, there''s two dead men in the kitchen, and we have to put the cakes in in two hours."


    "Really." He blinked. "Only two?"


    "After Mama burned the face off the one and Amber and Veis spit the other, they had better ideas about taking hostages or something. Verd chased off one, and, well..."


    Feist waved his hand airily. "Say no more, dear lady, no more."


    A slew of lights shot through the air, and a man perched in the upper room of the barn pitched out, his chest burning and his crossbow falling from his hand.


    "So... I imagine they are wagering on this?" Haz¨¦ wondered.


    "Some of them, most certainly. Just pawns bought with coin dying for their masters. Some are here to show off, some are here to kill, some to perform..." Feist glanced at her as they wandered after the wolves. "That Prince you were with... seemed like a decent enough fellow."


    "His soul is pure silver. He''ll probably be paladine." The hyn pursed his lips. "Not really the best at skullduggery like this. The killers probably came from two different half-siblings. We got the names of their contacts, but that will likely lead nowhere, cut-outs and shadowy middle-men and all."


    "Ah, Northmarch fratricide. I had no idea it was quite this entertaining. I will have to revise my estimation of their intellectual accomplishments." They rounded the corner to the front yard, and there were the bodies of the two spotters, ripped all apart, with only lingering mists left behind of the wolves who had killed them. "Instead of Ogredown, perhaps they should call the place ''Brotherdown''?"


    Haz¨¦ snorted despite herself. "I somehow have the feeling you have been involved in one or two farces like this?"


    "Please, I would never be so obvious. I may have witnessed them from very close-quarters, but putting on a play for the nobility?"


    "Ah, you just punched a few tickets and exited the show."


    His wide smile grew even wider. "I did escort a few people on to their final destinations." His tone was hurt, but his eyes were dancing.


    "Mmm. Did they tip well?" Pick up, plop. Pick up, plop. He held out his hands to get cleaned by her, as this pair had been messy.


    "They were indeed free with their money."


    Haz¨¦ sighed and turned around, ignoring some shadows gliding between the parked carriages, and at least one sniper working out of an upstairs window. "Speaking of money... you don''t seem the kind to work without it, from personal experience, and the Brothers don''t seem the kind to pay. Given our mutual association with them... how and why do you work with them? For them?"


    His smile didn''t fade, but it grew darker. "Ah. My School has been training Voids for... a long time. You could say we are fellow disciples..."


    "Nice redirect. You, not your School. That much was obvious, when all the Voids I''ve met are Shadow Stalkers for some reason."


    He puffed up despite himself. "Well naturally. We teach the best cut-throats on the continent, you know?"


    "Yes, I do." Something in her voice made him glance at her, and she just gave him a raised eyebrow.


    "Ahhhh... we handle minor matters for the Brothers, and they take the blame. They are usually worth our time, stuff we can handle at our own pace, so we can set up and execute properly, instead of having to go in there and slaughter. Keeps our edge up, and is very good misdirection. Mission payments have always been based on successes, so these lesser missions really help our ratings, too."


    "Kind of backhanded pay. Reasonable. Unfortunately, that doesn''t tell me why you are spending time teaching a bunch of young women how to break and enter noble homes."


    His smile finally thinned out. "I owe the Bonescythe. I took a commission to recover something in a very bad place, and the Bonescythe happened to come in and get me out of a much worse situation. They called in the favor to get me to do this job."


    "Ah, them necromancers and undead," she nodded sagely.


    "By the way, with his guards dead, what did you do with that young Prince?"


    "He''s in a dress and bonnet in the kitchen, folding and cutting grumkis, since a certain hyn is out slacking. Taking it all terribly well, too."


    Feist grumbled as they headed for the back yard.


    A window crashed above them, and two forms fell down, one atop the other. They hit the ground, kept rolling for a minute, until one clawed at the air and slumped down. The other, a wiry older man, got to his feet after releasing the wire he''d garroted the other with.


    Haz¨¦ blinked at the cello player. He just glanced at her, adjusted his spectacles, and glanced down. "Master Feist."


    "Troland," waved Feist casually. "Molwen guild?"


    "Yes." The musician ignored the second window exploding above him, and a headless corpse falling limply out it. The head followed a moment later.


    Haz¨¦ waved her hand and tidied up his formal suit. He sketched a polite bow of thanks in her direction. "Working, Master Feist?" the cellist asked.


    "Just a hired cook, Troland. Stay away from the kitchen."


    "Of course. Miss." The cellist half-bowed again to her, and was on his way.


    Haz¨¦ glanced at Feist, and he shrugged. "He often works security for these kinds of things. The Baron probably hired him."


    "He''s good with a garrote," she observed.


    "He uses cello wire. Doesn''t like being interrupted."


    Haz¨¦ snorted as they turned the corner, and looked out across the back yard. "Um," she murmured to no one in particular.


    Feist eyed the clashing swords, the flicker of knives and darts being thrown, people running into and out of the shadows in the dim moonlight, the occasional flash of spells, the skirl and glitter of steel.


    And a lot of dim figures laying on the ground.


    "I count twenty-one. Twenty-two," he adjusted, as a rapier ran a fellow in a golden sash through.


    Haz¨¦ pointed, and a few more Disks shimmered into view. Under the view of all the combatants, the chef and the hostess moved to the closest bodies to throw them onto the hovering circles of dim light...

 165 Chapter One Hundred and Sixty-Five – A Knight Errant, Part I

    "So, she is doing well?" Errant confirmed, as the two of them watched the impromptu Shrine to an Elder God burn both up and down. Half a dozen Mother Vines populated the area, and a Simming Pod was blazing with cerulean fire.


    Over two hundred Pod People had to be put to the sword. It was not a job the young woman next to him needed help with, but since he was in the area and close by, it didn''t hurt to stop by.


    Helped add to his Baneskull collection, too.


    "You should have seen her at this noble gala we were cooking for. Perfect application of the frosting, and inserting stilettos in a few places, too."


    He smiled despite himself. "That is good to hear." He tossed a thumb over his shoulder. "I have her Hagmother''s head."


    Haz¨¦ considered that. "I was thinking of going after her myself, but I couldn''t verify where she was magically, and I''m rather busy. Did you get lucky and catch her at home?"


    "Yes."


    "Any issues?"


    "Other than her being a Legendary? I was expecting it and planned for it. Scraped her face down ten thousand feet of stone at 300 mph, and then kept stabbing her after she landed until I drew real blood."


    "A Legendary." Haz¨¦ winced visibly. "Okay, I probably could not have taken her." Health Qi could be expended to eliminate status effects, and there was no way she''d be able to put out that much damage while also being attacked. "So, a question."


    "Go ahead."


    "You look a little older than me. What''s your birthday here?"


    "Icebreak 13, 1419. Died March 22, 2016, brain tumor." He knew what she was trying to do. "Had about four years in game. Started at launch."


    Her eyes spun, and she took in a breath. "I died June 9th, 2018, six years in game. I was born with diabetes mellitus. I was reborn on Fairwind 9, 1421, but I was quite premature..."


    "So, it lines up, to some degree." He wasn''t surprised. "Just what kind of game was that? Was the Archmage actually real?"


    "We''d have to go home to find out." Her nostrils flared.


    "Or we could ask some angels," he pointed out helpfully.


    "I already tried. They have never heard of Terra. Researched it and everything. There was no such world under Aruan purview," she told him softly.


    "There are way too many similarities for it to be a stretch of imagination from some game designer," he replied with a frown. "So... we come from outside Aruan purview? What does that mean?"


    "It means there might be others here." Haz¨¦''s eyes lit up. "Do you think we might be able to go home?" she wondered aloud.


    "With all our uber powers?" he instantly shot her down. "No. We only got here on a spiritual basis, something sent us across the divide here, and we don''t know how... only that anything that can mess with reincarnation and death is above our pay grades." He shook his head once. "We''re here, Haz¨¦, make the best of it."


    "Oh, I am!" she said confidently. "Mystic, Divine, and Arcane Theurgy! You were called The One Sword and The Heavenbound, weren''t you?" she asked him.


    "Oh, you know who I was?" He laughed despite himself, but she just looked at him softly.


    "You weren''t the only one dying of disease who got a Title," she said to him, and he just shook his head. "Of course I knew who you were. There''s a statue of you at Heavenbound Hall in the game. The Purity Mastery is credited to you. I daresay most of the people playing the game have heard of you."


    "Ah? Well, it was a good escape from the slow dying and treatments. I suppose I did leave something for people to enjoy behind. You earned a Title?"


    "I am The Star Mage."


    "Forgive me for not knowing that. You must have received it after I died."


    She nodded shortly. "Yes. You know about Star Magic?" He nodded vaguely. "I discovered a Fifth Star using Clerical Domains and Mystic Theurgy. Five Stars to Sustain." She was quite proud of herself.


    "Sustained? Like Aelryinth, and his Ring?" Errant was impressed.


    "And Sole, and his Five Acting Pacts." Errant''s eyebrows rose, and he whistled. "There were others. It was a fairly select group, at least initially."


    "Purity equals Pacts. I must have not done something I could have to not get the benefit. I''ll have to think on it."


    "Perhaps it is a function of power. Sole was a leveling machine, as I recall."


    "Possibly," he agreed.


    "Speaking of which, how is your Karmic Debt? I have been traveling and repaying it since I was four, but real life is much harder than a game with unlimited leveling options before you..."


    "Killing the Crone was productive. I''ve been playing Robin Hood in the city of my family, and you probably won''t find it remarkable how many dark and sinister plots go on in a city ruled by Hell worshippers. I have stolen a lot of money from a lot of people, I have killed a lot of people badly in need of killing, and generally haven''t done too badly. It''s not gone, but I''m about halfway or so?" He looked at her. "Sounds like you were in the higher Ten Ranks. A? B?"


    "B," she confirmed readily enough. "I am quite some ways away in a real sense, although working with who I have been has been productive enough, and my lived-line goes all over the place!" she added proudly.


    "This is close to the furthest traveling I''ve done. Haven''t been the child of choice to tag along when my father pays obeisance to the Emperor." Errant shrugged casually.


    "How do you manage to stay Heavenbound within a family of Hellbound souls?" she asked, shaking her head. "I am amazed that you have not left them."


    "You must not have family here," he said calmly, and she stiffened. "There might come a time when I have to fight my family, but childhood is not it, and Heaven isn''t going to force me to do so.


    "But, my time with my family is coming to an end. I''m going to bring back the head of this Hag, collect my reward, burn it all on Gear, and take my leave."


    "Going where? Would you like to join me? We could definitely use the talents of a skilled Heavenbound, given the stuff we fight."


    "I was under the impression that discretion and misdirection was a great part of what you required to do your job properly... and especially not being followed by those interested in exacting revenge."


    Her eagerness did dim somewhat at that. "And a Heavenbound is not discreet enough at this time," she admitted. "We still have to grow up..."


    "Separating the Caster doing work for the Brotherhood from yourself would make little sense with the same Heavenbound along for the ride. Be that as it may, if you would like to drag me along on an excursion or two, I definitely would not say no, if it is appropriate."


    Haz¨¦ tapped her cheek thoughtfully. "The Brothers have already recruited an Archtheurge of Sylune. I do not think they will blink at all at exploiting the proclivities of a Heavenbound. I will bring the matter up. They will quickly realize you are a reincarnate, so be prepared."


    "It is a non-issue." Working for the Void Brotherhood... since Haz¨¦''s goddess was not opposed to it, Heaven itself probably would not care. The Brotherhood would probably regard him warily, as he was sworn to an otherworldly power... but generally speaking, Good people made the best neighbors, and were the most eager to stand against the kind of dim, dark shit the Brotherhood fought anyways, so they made the best eager pawns.


    And if he died, the Heavens would just shift his Pact to someone else, no harm, no foul to the Land. He had lived with a family of devil-worshippers, and died and been reborn. The last thing he had was a closed mind, even if he whole-heartedly believed in the path he had taken.


    "Where, then, did you intend to go?" she asked directly.


    He smiled grimly. "Well, I think I might have a very interesting time in Zynozure, with no end of fun things to do."


    Her eyebrows rose, as she had very carefully steered away from the Imperial Capital in her travels. Too many rival Casters and powerful people in that place, and the aura coming over it was not encouraging at all.


    "You will need a backer," she warned him. There was simply no way he could conceal what he was in a place like that.


    "Well, of course. I seem to have a contact with an infamous Order of assassins. I was thinking of complementing it with one of the knightly Orders that have not yet fallen... or working with the Church of Harse as an Inquisitor."


    Her lips pursed. "Why not all three?" she asked him.


    "Why not, indeed?" he laughed softly back.


    ------------------------


    They parted easily enough, back to their own destinies. The way things were going, they''d have to be adults to truly work together openly, and naturally that was some years off.


    His arrival back in Gulder generated remarkably little fanfare for his absence. The guards at the gate were happy to see him, and then gawked at the head tied by lots and lots of hair to his backpack, the strands still fluttering with residual magic on their own.


    There being some coinmages attached to the gates to monitor the Wards that scanned everyone exiting and exiting (and politely not getting too nosy about a nobleman wearing anti-divinatory wards), word literally did spread ahead of him as he rode towards the family manor on the opposite side of the city. The guards were quick to let him borrow a horse, and would even have called for a carriage if he liked.


    He moved the head to the saddlehorn, white hair billowing around it like serpents, and rode through Gulder, letting everyone see, and those who understood point it out and inform everyone else.


    He, Errant Gilderalz, the most worthless son of the Gilderalz Ducal family, had killed the Stormcrone Zouma, alone, with no entourage, soldiers, or hirelings.


    He made sure to take a detour past the halls where adventurers and mercenaries gathered, so they could point and curse and a certain posted reward would be taken down...


    ---


    The guards at the gate knew him, of course, and straightened up when they saw him coming. He hadn''t ridden fast, word had spread ahead of him, and he could already see people outside, others at the windows, waiting and pointing as he rode in. They stood straighter then they ever had before as he rode by, eyes drawn to the head of the Hag and that writhing hair.


    He dismounted easily on the drive before the main walk, ignoring the servants and guards gathered around for the most part. He pulled the head off the cantle, wiped it off with a cloth, directed one of the guardsmen there to return the horse to the men at the city gate, knotted the Hag''s hair up in his fist, and strode towards the doors.


    His sisters had come up to greet him, and started to step forward to say something when his eyes swept across them, and they all faltered. He didn''t have to guess to know what they had been saying about him vanishing, and he noted neither of his brothers was daring to make an appearance. He was coming back with the head of the Stormcrone Zouma... just what did they look like in comparison?


    The guards and servants couldn''t keep a combination of admiration and fear out of their gazes as he strode by. He was always the worthless youngest son; no magic, no chi, no advantages, and he''d been given only the respect due his birth and not a jot more for most of his life, forever relegated to be no better than they were.


    That certainly didn''t apply any more.


    His father would certainly be in his study, and the way the guards were stationed confirmed it. They only gave him nods as he passed by, and he opened the fine wooden door to see his father seated on the far side of his desk, waiting for him.


    He closed it behind him.

 166 Chapter One Hundred and Sixty-Six – We’ve Got Worms

    The ground exploded in a shower of dark rocks and sand. A sound reminiscent of breaking boulders and protesting steel rang out over the empty land, carrying for miles.


    Briggs hooked Endure on the corner of its mouth and levered down, dragging his Hammer behind him in Axe form.


    Weight and strength ripped open the stony hide of the beast, tearing a gaping wound in its natural protection. If it dove into the ground again, the wound would tear open further and force it back to the surface.


    The lunge upwards was stalled, it didn''t get the tasty prize it wanted, and began to back down.


    Five Glaive wielders ran forwards, shouting as they drove their blades, edges topmost, into the sides of the white-ringed black worm. As it withdrew its massive body, their blades slammed down into the top of its tunnel as they grimly held onto the shafts, and it tore itself open on them as it pulled itself back and away.


    Briggs hit the ground, ignoring the rumbling underneath him as he watched the worm retreat in his tremblesense. The five men carefully backed away from the hole, returning to their previous spots and pausing.


    One, two... ten, eleven... thirty, thirty-one...


    The bellow came from below, and Briggs smiled. He could feel the distant trembling of it starting to tunnel again, and then its pain as rocks and debris cut into the open wounds, especially around the jaws that were supposed to open the way for it.


    That meant it could retreat, or come to the surface to heal along an existing route... or just sit still for a few days.


    "Road clear on this one," he grunted, and the men nodded. They picked up the thumper that had drawn the beast in with the sound of moving lunch, and headed out.


    A lot of people were going to be moving through their Corridor, which meant these not-so-purple mutant worms had to be discouraged. Associating the sound of the thumper with pain would be a good start, if they did not kill them outright.


    For some reason, he hadn''t been surprised that the Ironblood had experience fighting tunnellers, and after the Void Brothers warned them about the beasts, they took it all in stride. At least four of the Ironblood had cut their way out of worm stomachs by now, while seventeen or so worms had been put to vivus, as human stomachs couldn''t tolerate their flesh.


    As a point of trivia, it turned out that kobolds could eat them, and the little scaled bastards actually considered the worms a delicacy, because it was far more likely that the worms ate them, rather than the other way around. So, the Ferals were having a fun time slaughtering them, one Worm enough to supply several tribes of kobolds for a week or more...


    The river was actually the safest approach vector, because there was no threat to them from that direction... at least, not yet. To be honest, they hadn''t seen anything living in the cold, still river, but at least the water was drinkable once it was removed from there.


    Men with tremblesense were advancing and marking the path, looking for the buried defenders of this land. So far, they consisted of scuttling thirty-foot centipedes and millipedes, immense buried scorpions and sun spiders, ant lions in their sand pits, various beetles big and small, and these Worms which hunted all of them impartially.


    They''d had to burn out two giant ant nests in the Corridor after stirring up a bunch of two-foot, mandible-clicking poison-stingered killers. Collapsing the first nest had brought in no less than half a dozen massive Worms, who had a feeding frenzy on ants while people watched from the distance. The second time, it was scorpions and beetles, happily taking the opportunity to snatch up a bunch of ants who couldn''t burrow away.


    Afterwards they naturally killed as many of those feasting as they could, not wanting to have to deal with them again, since the over-sized bugs were basically going to treat the people moving through the Corridor as a buffet line.


    The planar instability that wafted along with the Warped chased away the vermin, so the Warpbands didn''t have to put up with much of their interference, which was rather unfair and lucky at the same time. It was highly likely that the bugs would have been rapidly enslaved by the Warp interference and mutated, but their instinctive dread of the Chaos Storms that swept across the place meant they avoided the Warped.


    The Corridor shrank in width, since they didn''t want to sweep and guard a wide area of land. Oddly enough, the border was soon very, very clear, since the native vermin began to use it as shelter against the Chaos Storms, flocking to the fringe when the storms came, and either dispersing when they passed, or going to investigate the walking meals nearby, and hilarity ensuing as bugs met extraplanars with similarly lethal attitudes.


    Sama''s attitude was fairly typical. "They are Karma. What are you complaining about? Kill them, make Baneskulls or add a Bane to your Slaughter. And someone see if we can cook ''em. Scorp tail is a delicacy."


    Bug-killing duty was soon one of the favored jobs of the mercs hanging around, as it spared them from having to pay for rations, and recipes for bug were easy to come by. Extras were always available for sale to the Mess Tents, too, and pointedly, there were always more of them to kill.


    -------


    "So, how many infiltrators?" Briggs asked, as he hammered steel with Sama that night.


    "Only a dozen or so, so far. Trying to pass themselves off as mercs," she snorted.


    "Aural scans?" he inquired. Easiest way to find them, but also to defend against, if they knew what they were doing.


    "Better. One of the mages with a quirky mind took one of the overgrown ants as a familiar. Guess what is sensitive to the Aura of the Warped?"


    Briggs found himself laughing as he hammered a spear head into shape. "I see the vermin are avoiding areas with vivus, too."


    "They are sustained by agathic energies. Vivus eats them like extraplanars," Sama explained, and he grunted.


    "Why do they avoid the water?"


    "It''s null agathic, sucks the power out of ''em and neutralizes it. Kind of melts ''em away."


    Briggs frowned. "That''s pretty damn weird for water..."


    "I''m hazarding it''s like a release valve for the opposing energies here. Any overlarge conflict of energies just disperses into the water and is neutralized, preventing it from getting too out of hand."


    "That would make it a target of the Warped, wouldn''t it?"


    "It might... if not for the fact that they don''t go near it. Why might that be?"


    He laughed despite himself. "You''re right. They''re all swinging in from the desert, none of them really following the river. I think I might throw one of them into it and see what happens."


    "I''m guessing not lethal, but losing your handy template gifted you by the Warp Gods is probably not too pleasant and all."


    "I''d agree." He looked at the silver-white ribbon, snaking its way into the black and grey desert of the Dichromatic Plains. "It just worms its way through the place, and nothing can do anything about it, can it?"


    "Well, the Brotherhood says it''s pouring into a deep hole in Yle Tyorm, when it used to flow through the city and out into the plains beyond. One of the reasons the northeast is such a crappy place to live is because the river doesn''t flow through it anymore."


    "Pouring into a deep hole. Felldeep access?" Briggs asked alertly.


    "Brother Ancientaxe says yes, and do not go wandering around down there."


    "I have problems just wandering around up here. I can''t believe that some of the shit from Yle Tyorm hasn''t woken up and come out here."


    "Shadowknife says the Hags are responsible for that. The two semi-safe ways into the ruin have both been cut off by them, so hideously overpowered mutant things looking for excitement aren''t wandering out creating trouble... or maybe they are getting charmed and recruited, he said that was always a possibility." Sama shrugged. "A problem for when we get there."


    He found himself smiling. "A problem for adventurers?" he asked softly.


    "Shhhhh, dirty word around here. We''re valiant heroes out to save the world, remember?" Her tone was perfectly placid.


    "Isn''t your Hagmother in there?"


    "That''s what Noir Rabe said, but his information may or may not be current. The Brotherhood gave me some decades-old and older information about some of the stuff that is encountered in there. It sounds like a lot of the elder monsters in the continent, once they reach a certain level, emigrate there. The amount of magic and the primal aura of shredded Time in the air is like a balm to them."


    "Uh-huh." He shook his head, thinking. "Anything organized, other than the Hags?"


    "Ancientaxe says Things Below. There''s a Mu Spore down there serving the Old One Zygom, with a fungi kingdom. Dunno how much has come to the surface, of course."


    "Mushroom zombie legendary beasts." Briggs rolled his eyes as she laughed. "That place must be like a whole dungeon region."


    "But, no respawns, but every monster is probably a Boss, and a tough one," she agreed. "Add in random planar distortions, and that''s going to be a very weird area to be in."


    "Definitely for adventurers." He had a longing look on his face. "Are we gonna have time to investigate it?"


    "Beyond killing hagmom and company? Probably not. I''m sure the Warp Rift will keep us all nicely busy."


    "And then we''ll do a vivic blow-up and everything and have to see what comes out of it," he grumbled.


    "Life is not fun without some mysteries!" she laughed back, and he grunted reluctant agreement.


    "But, a city-sized dungeon, Sama!" His pale violet eyes almost glowed. "Boss monster fights! The wealth of a grand ruined city as prizes!"


    "Horrible death and traps around every corner! I know, I know," she chuckled. "We''re just gonna have to save the world first and have great fun after... maybe."


    He tossed a hairy eyeball in her direction. "This part of that Void Brother shit you can''t talk about?"


    "Yeah." Her calm expression gained a slight frown.


    "Why do I get the feeling we''re not gonna have much time for fun?" he sighed.


    "Probably because the stuff out there doesn''t want to sit around and wait for us," she supplied. "But, it ain''t like there ain''t gonna be more Karma on the table. We''ll just have to be heroic, instead of adventurers."


    "All work no play makes Briggs a dull Ancient," he said flatly. "Maybe I can make an Oath..."


    "To do what? Pacify Yle Tyorm? I think that big vivic blast is gonna do just all that, kinda a waste to make two Oaths to the same purpose!"


    "Quit shooting down my dreams of living a crazy-fun Delver''s Carnival, woman!" he mock-barked.


    "Yeah, well, you know how those turned out..." And he pursed his lips, because he did. Those dungeons had been crazy fun, and taken people away from the vital task of keeping the lands cleared, while also generating power for the Dark and Grey gods.


    Yle Tyorm was a massive dungeon and fun place to go pick on absurdly tough monsters... because of a massive disaster and the following Curse on it. Helping it be more of what it was really didn''t make much sense from that point, did it?


    It was still a nasty fun idea, worming into his brain and trying to distract him. He firmly banished it, and got back on task.


    Spears and swords and stuff at QL 26+ to make, and Warped to kill...

 167 Chapter One Hundred and Sixty-Seven - A Knight Errant, Part II

    The expression on his father''s face was interesting. Pride, of course, that his son had done such a thing. Unease, at what this might portend, because his father did not think he could do the same. Regret, that he had not paid more attention to this son of his, who had proven to be so capable. Expectant, about what might come next.


    Certainly, Errant had proven himself more than worthy of deserving more attention in the future. Alas, that was not going to go well.


    Hs father rose from behind his desk as Errant came in. "Father," Errant said crisply, standing to attention properly. No need to deviate from established protocols.


    "Errant, my son." Errant could not recall ever being addressed that way. Being claimed and acknowledged. Interesting experience.


    "I''ve come with the skull of the Stormcrone Zouma. I would like to take possession of the reward that was offered for her death." It was a sum worthy of the death of something like her, and he definitely needed it for proper Gearing out. That he was being somewhat crass by coming straight to the point didn''t escape his father, who narrowed his eyes thoughtfully.


    "Sit." Errant did so, after pulling out a cloth bag, and dumping the skull with the animated hair into it.


    "Sir, I strongly, strongly, strongly recommend that you reduce that skull to ash as soon as possible. Zouma was working with at least three other Hags, who may take it upon themselves to regain her skull, either to plumb for knowledge or to aid in her resurrection or transformation into a vengeful spirit, a witchfire. If what you have seen is sufficient, I can reduce her to ash right now."


    His father regarded him for a long moment, then glanced at the twitching hairs still drifting up out of the bag. "Dispose of her, then."


    Errant pulled out Grace, now in poniard form, and simply stuck the head through the skull, vivic flames igniting on it promptly. Without another word, he threw head and sack into the nearby fireplace, where unwhite flames began to mist over it.


    "An extraordinary deed, my son. Did you have help?" his father asked probingly.


    "No. Some luck, perhaps, but no help."


    "Difficult?"


    "Proper planning, execution, and use of terrain, more than anything."


    "You were gone for some time, Errant, without telling anyone where you were going."


    "Operational security over matters like this is a must, father. I didn''t need our enemies knowing I was gone, or where I was gone, and Zouma was doubtless paying attention to the family, too. The fewer who knew, the better, and I decided that the optimal number was exactly one."


    "Mmm." His father sat back, staring at him, as if he were an entirely new being. "An extraordinary feat, to accomplish by one''s self. And with no help?"


    "None whatsoever," Errant repeated fearlessly. "Check as you like, I was alone. There might be some minions on the mountain who saw me there by myself, but that might take a bit of effort."


    His father tapped his cheek, trying to see through him and failing. "You did all this... for the reward?" he asked, darting a glance at the disintegrating head.


    "My moderate allowance has been rather insufficient towards assembling a proper array of equipment. The sum will prove beneficial in forwarding my plans. As you have doubtless already written it off, it should not require any changes to existing cash flows for the household."


    "And... that is all you are asking for?" his father asked seriously.


    "Well, a letter of commendation. I am going to be joining a Knightly Order soon. I understand that I am unsuitable to join the household''s forces, but I am certain my skills will be appreciated elsewhere."


    His father''s eyes narrowed. "Do not be insolent, boy," he stated calmly. "The killing of the Stormcrone is a great feat, yes, but it does not give you that right."


    "Every single member of the household knights is trained in the Damnation Heart. This is a fact and an inviolate rule. I do not train the Damnation Heart and am incapable of doing so. Ergo, I am unsuitable to join the household''s forces, as I simply do not intend to serve as a footman... or perhaps you think the son of a Duke should be made an eternal squire?" Errant went on, his eyes and voice completely unmoved by the warning.


    "There are other capacities in which you might serve the family," his father stated crisply. "Indeed, you would excel in them!"


    "If they require being subservient to my brothers, I''m afraid that they will quickly agree that I am unsuitable for such things. And if there is no road to sitting upon the seat of the family, then my path leads elsewhere," he stated frankly, keeping his father''s dark stare without effort. "As the head of the family has always been a Chi-user or Caster, there is no road. My ambitions are taking me elsewhere."


    His father sat back, a brooding expression on his face. He had discovered that this son of his was a shining jewel... but no jewel could shine in the Gilderalz family, where Hell had its sway.


    By the laws of the family, he could not even confer a knighthood onto his own son, even after the killing of Zouma. Telling his son to give up on such an ambition was foolish, he could see at a glance it would not work... and would sort of knight aspirant would stoop to being a dark hand and assassin of the family, especially when his rivalry with his Powered siblings was so apparent?


    It simply wasn''t going to happen, regardless of what he ordered. His son definitely had the gifts, and had proved it by slaying Zouma alone, but it seemed those gifts would not be put to use in service to the family.


    Yes, an uncomfortable feeling.


    "Where are you thinking of submitting your service to?" he asked calmly.


    "There are six different Orders I would be pleased to serve with, I will simply visit them in order, and go with who accepts me. A general letter would be best," Errant replied calmly.


    His father regarded him for a moment longer, and then slid open a drawer to take out a sheet of the crisp, embroidered official paper of the Duchy, bearing the seal of the family. He plucked up the fountain pen waiting on his desk, and with cold, bold strokes, began to write.


    ---------


    Errant put the sealed letter away, not having bothered to read it. It was there for show, more than anything. The places he wanted to go to, the seal of the Duke of Gulder was truthfully not valuable at all. It would be only there to show an amicable parting.


    It was time to get his Warlock Scepter made and enhanced, and to dispose of his other earnings. He''d burned much of them at night, if it was precious materials or power comps, but there were still some interesting items the Hag had cached up in her cave which some end-users would be happy to pay him for, and he would be happy to reduce their wealth in exchange.


    ---------


    The next two months went by with some monotony. He was not at the dinner table, and his family barely saw him at all. Thirty thousand gold was sixty days worth of Infusing, and he was quite determined to clear his wealth away and put it into his Gear. Thus, he basically spent most of the day Infusing, and the rest of the time working out or studying. Interactions with the family and its retainers were short and to the point... while he need not act against them, he was cutting his ties and removing himself from their lives.


    He was also very curious about how to get to Sustained status. The simple level of not needing to eat or drink would be extremely useful, let alone the additional hours per day. Alas, Haz¨¦ did not know.


    He had the feeling it had something to do with his Vajra, as the reduction in need for food or drink was basically a lead-in for being Sustained. It meant he had to upgrade his Vajra, which meant his ki and Essence. He had been entirely focused on paying off his Karmic Debt and regaining full control of his Warlock Pact abilities, so he hadn''t set any attention towards that end, and still hadn''t come close to doing so now.


    But that was fine. Eventually, he would, and as long as he didn''t die in service, he definitely had time.


    ---------


    "Master Phlenigos, Hanz. You and your toadies can come out now."


    His exit from family and home had been understated: a packed bag, traveling clothes, spare change. His wealth was basically being worn now, which didn''t make him less of a target... but brigands jumping him was something he looked forwards to.


    There was some hesitation in the shadows, wondering how they were detected. But then the air shimmered, and the Hellbound adviser and his father''s pet Illrigger came stepping out. Four of the family knights that he knew to have more fanatical leanings joined them, as well as a scaled red diabolic creature with vaguely draconian features, bat wings, claws, talons, fangs, lashing tail, hellfire eyes, and so forth, stepping forth behind the Warlock.


    Estemar found himself smiling in satisfaction. He reached into the Masspurse at his side easily, brought out a Baneskull, and fit it over the pommel of Grace. The chiterai''s insectoid skull still served perfectly for Evilborn, and that included devils. The temples in town had interesting things keeping watch in their dungeons...


    The knights slowly spread out around him, wielding a spiked mace, flail, greatsword, and halberd respectively; all Dire Weapons in the Hell Pattern, too many barbs and spikes to actually work, yet they did. Every little thing...


    "Ah, young master Estemar. Truly, your senses are keener than I expected," the Tyrantbound Warlock smiled, as if they were strolling together in the sun, and not setting an ambush. "On a professional basis, how did you know we were here?"


    "Oh, this is the only convenient spot for an ambush within the first five miles out of town. I made sure your man Henrik there saw me packing last night, and Jils there saw me heading out this morning. As I left on foot, you naturally could use horses to get ahead of me, and Timoth there watched me leave through the gate."


    The confident smile on the Hellbound''s face fell, and Hanz'' emotionless eyes flashed. Even the knights looked at one another in surprise.


    "You expected us to be here. How... surprising."


    "Well, you''re not nearly as clever or subtle as you think you are. Hanz there has been following me around for months, your agents have been talking to people I know in town, and you''ve searched my room at least four times." The Heavens were softly singing behind his ear, any fear or nervousness that should be manifest was firmly held at bay. He had been looking forwards to this for some time.


    The Warlock inhaled, glancing at the devil over his shoulder, who simply looked back at him. "Well, aren''t you a clever young man," the Warlock murmured, almost to himself. "You do seem to have hidden yourself well. Right in the middle of a family known for their devotion to Huul."


    "More like run off into the corner and left there, but whatever, sir," Errant glanced at Hanz. "I trust this is a matter of faith, and my father is not behind this?"


    His father''s pet dark hand narrowed his eyes. "That is correct. We will simply arrange matters for rivals to have ambushed you between here and the capital. A simple task."


    "I see. On the other hand, I do recall you having to swear an oath to never turn your blade against the family." The unholy knight blinked in surprise. "Thus, you have shown your true loyalty, and have rebelled against the family. On my father''s behalf, I will expunge you all, and I will definitely write all the details out and send him a truthful letter explaining it."


    He still hadn''t drawn his Sword, but that was fine.


    They all looked at one another as if he were daft, of course, but his uncompromising expression caused the first few layers of doubt to blossom.


    "Do you know why we are doing this, young master?" Master Phlenigos asked, eyes flickering. This was not going properly. If his suspicions were wrong, they could have just let him go. It would be an easy enough test, after all. But this was going poorly, as if what they suspected was true... and yet, such confidence?


    "I imagine on the behest of Guildmaster Kupholos, who has been severely upset with me for some time," Erant said promptly, still undeterred. The knights were slowly edging in, but he was still relaxed, eyes not moving. Sharp eyes might see the dirt around his feet was starting to ripple, however.


    "You have been seen associating with Amanans. It has been very suspicious. Things purchased by them on your behalf, accidents befalling those who discriminate against them..."


    "Oh, that. Well, sure. Like I said, Kupholos has been trying to extort them for years. Given he''s a Mammite and all..." Errant spit off to the side. "I imagine him getting a Nessian to deal with a blood of the family is causing him all sorts of jollies. He wouldn''t dare do it himself, of course..."


    "Enough! You have sworn yourself to enemy powers, and you will die here!" snarled the scholar, upset about how Errant was sowing doubt. His Scorn came up, and he blew hellfire at the youngest son of his liege.


    And then he was dead.


    Errant let his Wrath billow up, used the Whim. Crossing the Light, able to warp from area to area of light, coupled with Quicken Spell-Like Ability. After so many years, his Aura of Menace finally billowed up, letting them know that a servant of Heaven was here to judge them, and woe, woe to the guilty!


    In the same motion he drew Grace, and took Phlenigos'' head, continuing the Cleave to drive Grace deep into Hanz'' side through the chain links covering the gaps in his plate armor. His father''s dark hand cried out as Wrath boiled inside him, stepped back as Errant stepped in, extended, and the Illrigger''s armored solleret hit Errant''s heel, caught and overbalanced, and the hellknight began to fall.


    Errant pivoted as he came down, blocking the sweeping sword with his free hand, bulling through legs and arms, and drove Grace down right into his open-helmed face.


    Golden Wrath blew Hanz'' head apart, leapt to the devil right next to him and cut a searing path across its chest. Burning black banefire crawled across the wound, and the abishai reeled back a step. It was just enoughto get out of Errant''s reach so it could belch hellfire at him, while the four knights charged at him, shouting.


    The abishai jerked and fell as a stroke of gold cut it diagonally across the back, and then a bolt of golden glory shot out to take Timoth right in the chest. The knight screamed in agony at the blast, staring as the abishai fell, already starting to burn in holy fires, revealing Errant standing behind him, a massive blow at least eight inches deep ripped through its back.


    "Gentlemen," Errant said, his brown eyes now finally a burning, nonesuch and unmistakable silver as his Sign flared joyfully to life, "I believe you know my reputation with a sword." His words were enough to check their momentum, now staring into the shining eyes of a Heavenbound. "Now, I am going to show you unfortunate hellbound souls what a Warlock''s Sword can do." Their eyes flickered to Phlenigos'' corpse, where, in the middle of the holy fires, dark claws could be seen grasping a struggling spectral figure, dragging him down, down to his sworn Fate...


    Their screams were short, it was all over in ten seconds. The Whirlwind killed Timoth, ripped burning wounds through all of them, and then the Cleaves that followed Timoth dropping rent through the rest of them. They collapsed, armor split and burning with the holy fires of his Wrath, aghast at their first true brush with a servant of Heaven, and how they had ended up.


    --------


    He pulled out his Scepter, and the Vivic enhancement upon it rapidly reduced their bodies to misting ash. He removed their enchanted armor, as they were senior members of the knights, for conversion that very night, stacking them up on the Disk he brought out to carry their loot. Minor enchanted weapons, jewelry, Master Phlenigos'' assortment of belongings, and Hanz'' kit of crisply efficient Gear for slaughtering the hapless all went on the Disk.


    Their horses weren''t far away, and the Wildstone he''d purchased let him talk with animals enough to tell them to get back to their stables before night fell, or something might eat them.


    That done, he resumed his trotting towards the capital. But this time, he had one hand on the Disk as he Crossed the Light every six seconds, covering three hundred feet each time, not even interrupting his stride as he moved along.


    The capital of the Empire of Rosencrux, Zynozure, awaited!

 168 Chapter One Hundred and Sixty-Eight – Yle Tyorm

    The crystal pillars were denser and denser as they closed in on the Rift, battling vermin and Warpbands with equal regularity, taking cover against Chaos Storms that were reduced to mere sand storms in the Corridor. As the Warped died, the Corridor drove forwards, and wound towards Yle Tyorm.


    There were murmurings from some of the men as they began to get some idea of the scope of what they were facing. By now, even the dumbest of them could calculate that they had slaughtered tens of thousands of the enemy, yet they still kept coming, and showed no sign of reluctance to do battle after so many of their own had already perished.


    The number of Marked increased steadily, and the efficiency of the fighting companies soared with it. Mercenaries looking for plunder and non-Marked soon found themselves doing patrols along the Corridor, killing the extraplanars who were hurled in by the Warpstorms, or hunting down bugs, blooding themselves for the real killing that was still constantly marching out every day to face their lead elements.


    ---------


    There were five of them this time, waiting for me as I climbed up this massive ring of sand and stone. It stretched out in an unbroken line into the distance, slowly curving around in a massive ring. Many crystal pillars jutted out of it like broken bones, tilted crazily in all directions, these pillars black, while the hill itself was white.


    The only gap in it was the Silver Worm, whose waters had chewed right through it and continued on its way, undeterred by any reversals.


    The five Brothers waited for me on top of the hill as the baggage train of The Camp followed the riverbed through the layered canyon, eyeing the pillars jutting out of the sides, seemingly ready to fall out and down onto them. Layers of white stone, melted and solidified in jagged waves, flowed through the rock around them, polished instead of pitted by the sands, unnaturally smooth and strange to see.


    Less than five miles beyond were the walls of Yle Tyorm, south and east of which was the Warp Rift.


    Lightscepter, Firesword, Bonescythe, Wayfist, and Mindring were all here. Ancientaxe, Mountainhammer, Windarrow, and Shadowknife were all out doing scouting at this moment, making sure no Warped were escaping in other directions. The latter were all people who had seen this place before, and they could share Marksight now, so there was no reason to be here in person.


    Lightscepter was a slender human, blond-haired and hazel-eyed, with the look of a fanatic about him. Living so close to mortal faith, perhaps it was unsurprising. His new Scepter was anything from a rod to a mace to a flail to a greatclub, and he had definitely been enjoying wielding it against the Warped, interloper neo-gods from another reality, come to subsume this world and its souls.


    Bonescythe looked like an ebon-skinned voodoo priest. His Scythe was now changeable from a kama or sickle to a warscythe, and he''d also been plying it for Karma. His normal area of interest was necromancy and undeath, and this was only tangentially of interest to him, although there were enemy Casters using death magic.


    Wayfist looked like a martial scholar-priest, tanned skin, with layered robes and hair in a warrior''s knot, dragons in colored threads embroidered over his robes, sharp eyes and straight posture. His hair was dark, his eyes were grey, and he had a focused and serious air about him.


    Brother Mindring looked like a martial monk; coppery skin, bald head, dark eyes that seemed to go on forever, and a weird feeling that something was strange and austere around him. Regulating mentalists and invasive psionic entities without being one himself, surely an interesting life.


    All of them were gazing at the city beyond, probably feeling combinations of energies twisted beyond tolerance, like a massive knot that couldn''t be untied.


    I panned right and left, seeing that this hill line was actually the ringed edge of a crater, where something obscenely powerful had shoved down the earth, turned it molten, and then pushed it all out to here... somehow without utterly destroying the city beyond.


    The landscape between here and the walls of the city was basically glassy grey, impossibly level and straight, hard pressed to find a parking lot laid out more firmly. The only break in the perfection was the Silver Worm winding its way into the distant city.


    The city itself was overlaid with shifting skies, just a m¨¦lange of odd colors until you got this close, and the dimensional interference was suddenly obvious.


    There were at least twenty different skies and times of day visible over the city, showing different hues, clouds, stars, and angles of the sun. They moved at different speeds, forwards, backwards, sideways, with no discernible pattern to them, and the areas warped and shifted as the dimensional breaks shifted, too.


    The walls must have been a polished light gray at one time, almost white, but their status now flowed and shifted, sometimes showing high and proud, and others broken and rent by terrible forces, scarred by magic and siege engines to various degrees. Sometimes the angles of them shifted sideways or vertically, yet still connected to their neighbors somehow, and fires still smoked, stones glowed with heat, and I could easily imagine the screams of battle taking place.


    The city beyond must have been a metropolis of magic, with some buildings or edifices towering to a thousand feet, at least a five-mile rough circle of fairly densely-packed buildings in complex street patterns, now with yawning gaps and sites of ruin within them. The environment inside was twisted and uneven, but it didn''t seem to be actively hostile, as the undergrowth of hundreds of years of Nature''s patience was visible in greenery crawling over a lot of things in the city. I looked at detonation craters crawling with ivy, crumbled roads andcorridors with trees poking from them, fallen edifices now overgrown hills, all of them shifting from place to place irregularly, the past and present combining and shifting back and forth, recombining the city as if someone was trying to put a puzzle back together and failing.


    In the center of the blast, directly beneath the blast point that had formed this hill ring, a yawning pit descended into the depths of the land, and the Silver Worm emptied itself smoothly into it, not having filled it despite the centuries that had passed.


    I didn''t recognize the architecture, but the Marked said the style was something imitated in Rosencrux, with signs of both elven and dwarven influences. Records about what the place had been were very scarce, as if a divine hand had come down and removed much of it from memory and physical traces.


    A high magic city, a City of Hope, where the great and good came together to build something awesome and wonderful, spurring rival forces to take it out at all costs. What had they brought here to make the history of both factions involved dire enough to be wiped from memory?


    I wasn''t a historian, so it was not a pressing matter. If it was important, I''d find out more. I briefly wondered how much the Hags knew, as I turned my eyes to the Rift.


    There it was, a jagged, roughly circular opening about two hundred paces across; pink, magenta, orange, and red, stitches of another reality pulsing into our own, a blotchy bruise on the Land that was trying to heal, held at bay by the forces pulsing out through the ragged edges of the Rift. Weirdly colored lightnings jolted into the sky, bleeding out into the Dichromatic Plains, stirring up the winds and Chaos Storms out there, sometimes grounding themselves suddenly in whole arrays of crystal pillars that pulled them down and neutralized them.


    It was about eight miles from our position, part way around the city, about half a mile outside the walls in the five-mile wide Scoured Circle below. Even now, I could see streams of dark figures marching out of it, some in disciplined formations, most in loose hordes. Some flew out, some rode, some even crawled. The forces spread out for about a mile around the Rift; mortals, demons, monstrous beasts, engines of war, mounts, whatever. There were rough tents for supplies, there were smiths making those Demon-pattern Dire weapons, and there were men heading off for that chunk of blue sky from the Ferals, aimed directly towards them.


    And more were coming our way. Our Corridor was actually closer, as we''d made better time across the Plains, but we would have to swing around the White Ring to close on them, instead of going straight in. Not that it was an issue, we''d be sticking close to the Ring regardless as we moved, and likely setting up camp right in front of the Rift opposite it.


    My eyes narrowed as I saw a weird circle out beyond the camp of the Warped. I could see the Rift''s influence ended there, and it looked like the crystalline pillars of the place had been chopped off nearly uniform, and arranged to form a circle about a mile across.


    The red and black colors of the crystals didn''t inspire me.


    "Fudge me, they built a Bloodyard," I swore as I looked at it.


    All five brothers looked at me, and I fed them what I was seeing. "You boys ever see that before?"


    Oddly enough, it was the Mindring that spoke up. "Fevered dreams in the Akasha, screaming out from the lower realms, a place of war and death and blood..."


    I grunted assent to that. "It''s an arena for warbands. The forces march in from opposite sides, the Bloodyard closes, and the winners walk out."


    Mine weren''t the only eyes that narrowed. "Your plan to blow the Rift may be interrupted by the presence of that thing, Sage Sama. It is entirely likely that the energies of those who die there will be drawn away by the Warp," the Bonescythe murmured in his voluble voice, so deep and smooth, like hearing chocolate.


    "Well, I guess we''ll just have to dissuade people from using it." My smile wasn''t friendly. "They''ll definitely want to be challenging us inside there, of course. I think we should be able to use it against them. Just gonna have to make something portable that can suck out the vivus when they burn."


    "Will that be difficult?" Brother Wayfist asked, his knuckles popping.


    "No. Vivus won''t want to be caged by Warp energies, anyways. If they can blow all that power to make a soul siphon, we can pop it internally without too much problem." I scanned the area beyond. "Yeah, we should be able to set up some forts near the ringline. We''ll have to clear out some chaff while we''re doing it, but that just makes the job fun."


    "There''s at least twelve thousand combatants in that camp," Lightscepter said, eyes grim. "In addition to at least a thousand Interlopers of various power. We should wipe it first from all sides. The Warp will send more, but we don''t want them building their own defenses, which we will be giving them incentive to if we set up our own."


    "Mmmm. Well, the thing is, our forts aren''t there to defend us, or even give us a place to rest. We may use them as temporary healing stations, and throw supplies in there, but the main purpose for them will be to make it easy to defend the Obelisks we''re going to put up. If we make actual fortifications, the Warp Gods will use the excuse to invoke the five times siege rule, and things could get real nasty thereafter."


    That rule being that if attacking a good fortification, you generally wanted five times the number of defenders to take it, and up to ten might be required, depending on how strong it was. An excuse to flood more Warped in was not appreciated.


    "So, we end up playing their game regardless..." Windarrow murmured, and I nodded.


    "And then we punish them sooooo hard for it. We''re dealing with gods here, people. They can cheat bigger and badder then we can. But they also know they can''t push things too far. If we don''t give them excuses, they have to obey the tacit agreements between them and our gods, and keep this fair, in its own way.


    "So, don''t you be worrying about the fighting. We got lots of folks eager to feed them to the Land, and coming up with ways to do so seems to occupy a fair amount of their time." I turned to regard them all. "And, naturally enough, we have some unique ways for the Brotherhood to contribute."


    Windarrow smiled despite himself. "Oh, why do I have the feeling this is going to be very interesting to hear?"


    "Hey, you''re the Brotherhood. In the end, it comes down to you doing what has to be done. How could we not figure that into the equation, especially if it will screw the enemy the most?" My smile was most unkind.


    I gestured them forward, and five of the greatest killers in the world stepped closer to listen to me...

 169 Chapter One Hundred and Sixty-Nine – An Inquisitor in Colamn

    Riding the Light, Errant naturally made very good time. He also got in a lot of practice dealing with rapid environmental shiftings via dimension-skipping, which dovetailed with the memories of what he''d done back in the game and grounded him in the particular feeling of this reality.


    Dimension-skipping naturally meant skimming the Veil, the layer of vibration/existence/quantum uniqueness that defined this plane. This was another sense it was very beneficial to cultivate, because there weren''t many things that came across the Veil that were friendly to the things on this side.


    Creatures of Law wanted to remake the world to their ideal. Creatures of Chaos wanted to return it to unbound reality. Creatures of Evil wanted to do whatever they wanted without restraint. Creatures of the Elements wanted to get rid of the other Elements and their own to predominate. Creatures of the transient planes wanted to play with the locals, prey on them, and then head on back home.


    The Heavenly Planes had good intentions, but generally they only came down if Called or there was a Big Problem. If Celestials were around... well, it was generally because they were randomly going around doing good deeds incognito, or something bad was happening that mortals weren''t handling very well...


    Like that was a surprise.


    -------------------


    It only took him two days to reach Colamn, a distance of over three hundred miles, and that was with a minor delay when he slowed down through a new area and some brigands decided he would be a good target. Some burning bodies later, a few minor trinkets to his stash, and he continued on his way.


    There were quite a few minor settlements on the way, but the towns and villages were just waymarks.


    Colamn was something different, as it actually held a still-operational Temple of Harse, which maintained a firm grip on the town and defied the desires of the local nobility with great resilience. In particular, it was noted for the zeal of its Inquisitors, who tracked down wrongdoers with grim determination and holy devotion, and made this place just Hell for thieves, smugglers, assassins, and the like... and really, really went after cultists involved in dark things, having brought down three noble families and a dozen merchant houses in the last decade for collusion with dark powers.


    Unsurprisingly, this meant the town was flourishing, free from the tyranny of those with money and power that characterized the graying of morals of the Empire. It was a clear difference from the seat of his own family, all whispers and shadows and inferred brutality behind polite words. There were flowers on display in window boxes, people were smiling and waving as they went down the streets, talking with their neighbors openly, without fear.


    The guards at the gate took one look at his silver eyes and just waved him by, and although they waived the entry fee, he flipped a silver coin to them in passing, and they just nodded... and put it in the box of tolls.


    Good men, he half-smiled, and headed for the temple of Harse.


    -------


    It wasn''t that hard to find, as the town had been gradually realigned around it, long-term planning done in a clean and organized way, very orderly, in the proper Harsite mindset. Scattered neighborhoods around industries of various types, certain businesses in certain areas to encourage buyer traffic to move around the city some, and even the noble estates were more scattered then they usually were, forcing them to go through the areas of their lessers to visit one another.


    Shocking, really.


    Imprus had a church here too, of course, and although it was well-financed by the nobility, regular instances of corruption assaulted it and sapped it of its foundational strength. In the last hundred years, at least a dozen High Priests had fallen from power badly here, their glad-handing and pandering to the nobility unable to keep up with the drive and devotion of the largely lower and middle-class-born clergy of the God of Justice in ferreting out all their schemes.


    Too, the Imprusar also continually underestimated the degree of cooperation among the Good Churches in this town. The Temple of Harse regularly contributed to the festivals of the other faiths, shared information back and forth, and the Paladins operating out of the Temple were regularly seen at the churches of the others. Direct intervention had kept moves by outside powers from driving out certain churches, to the point where in the past Harsites had been preaching in Nuavan and Tiirithar shrines.


    Add in their unstinting support of Amana and Flora, and the roots of Harse in Colamn were very strong. It was difficult for much to get done without them finding out.


    That they were also the most trusted bankers and enforcers of contracts in the Empire also rankled the Imprusar and Huul-mar to no end.


    ------


    He strode up the wide steps that led to the main Temple, a place of power where literally thousands came to attend services. He looked up at the balcony where the Speaker of Harse would stand, and back out over the plaza where the faithful would gather in their multitudes to hear the words of the God of Justice.


    And it wasn''t always Harsites up there. Wandering Priests of other Good Faiths would be offered chances to speak, which could get quite interesting if a Bard of Tiirith took the podium and got the entire congregation dancing...


    Smiling to himself, he glanced at some of the guards standing about, who noted his eyes, and if they were a bit startled at his age, they said nothing.


    A young man in clerical robes moved to meet him as Errant stepped inside the vast church. Errant''s apparel naturally set him apart, given the black and reds of his attire clashing with the whites and steely grey of the Harsites.


    "May I help you, brother?" the young man asked, seeing the silver eyes and raising his eyebrows, but reserving judgement.


    "I was told to go see a certain Inspector Piair in Colamn, and take him out to drink."


    The young Cleric''s mouth twitched towards a smile. "Well, he is quite a drinker at times," he replied, without batting an eye. "Come. Have you been in the Spires of the Lasting Laws before?"


    "To my regret, I have not. My travels were restricted until late. I would appreciate seeing such a place of The Light, and paying my respects to the Ivory King," Errant answered with a smile.


    "Then let me show you around before we visit the Inquisitor. I am sure he will dig out a fine vintage or two for you..."


    --------------


    The wine was poured smoothly into crystalline glasses, removed from a case at the side. It was indeed a good vintage, as supporting wine-making was supporting the work of Flora.


    Inquisitor Piair was a smaller, wiry fellow, with intense brown eyes that were always looking for signs of weakness, reading the area around him for threats and prepared to act, wheels spinning behind his eyes. His reputation preceded him as a finder of killers and thief-taker, and he had some powerful enemies... which he regarded only as proof that he was on the right track.


    "Before we begin, I ask if I might borrow a pen and paper? I have to write a message to my father."


    The Inquisitor answered him by pulling out a writing board, paper, pen, and ink, and putting them down before the younger man. He waited patiently as Errant wrote swiftly on the white sheet, describing his encounter with Master Phlenigos and Hanz in sparse detail, noting that they seemed to have been goaded on by Guildmaster Kupholos. Proper amounts of hilarity should ensue forthwith.


    "If you could tamp it for me, and see that it is delivered to my father." He put his signet ring''s seal upon it, and pushed the board back.


    The inquisitor silently took out the dust to dry it, sprinkling it on as he rapidly read over the contents, blew it dry, folded it up precisely, and placed it in an unremarkable messenger''s envelope. Errant marked it with his signet again, wrote ''For Father'' upon it, and it was set aside.


    "The son of the Duke Gilderalz, a Heavenbound." His dark eyes studied Errant in surprise and delight. "Heaven works in mysterious ways. We have known of your interest and possible position for years, of course, but dared not inquire directly of the higher powers, lest the unwelcome overhear."


    "Discretion where needed, action where required," Errant responded calmly, and received a nod in return. They both took a drink, and The Drinking Game began.


    The tradition was very old, and very sacrosanct. For all their presence in society, the clergy of Harse were often hamstrung by the very laws they loved and championed. They were also not fools. Evil laws ignited great passions of indignation in them. Evildoers walking away because they had committed sins inadmissible in the courts of law outraged them, as these were the hallmarks of tyranny ascending. As the God of Justice, Harse represented fair laws beneficial to the living and the dead, and using position, wealth, or corruption to bend those laws in favor of the few fanned embers of scorn in the souls of all his clergy.


    And so, the clergy went out and got drunk with certain people. In clerical circles, these were often followers of Valus and Tiirith, who generally had no problem whatsoever with going around the law to punish people the law could not touch. The clergy would slurringly impart certain things about certain people, the Valusar would buy them more drinks, walk them home singing risqu¨¦ songs... and then some brutal, enthusiastic, and very violent things would start befalling certain folk, while the cleric bemoaned his headache and wondered pitifully about what he had spoken of.


    Good was not stupid, and Lawful Good was very, very Not Stupid. Being of the Silver in the real world was quite difficult, especially when Evil was a very real thing wanting you to Not Be That Way. Heck, the same for Neutrality, and even The Land.


    "May I ask how you got my name?" Inquisitor Piair asked, swirling the wine in his hand.


    Errant lifted his hand, and the Wrath rose and spun in a silver and gold helix. Piair tried to narrow his eyes and raise his brows at the same time, an interesting challenge, and then shook his head with a sigh again.


    "It is not that I work with the Brotherhood... but they speak of things that always turn out to be true, and they seem to have chosen me as a contact person." He shrugged, but there was a flicker of pride deep in his eyes. "I take it you are like I, an incidental person who disposes of problems they cannot be bothered to."


    "The next tier down, actually. I have never actually met one, only those who were associating with them for certain purposes, which turned out to be quite amenable to my disposition."


    "May I ask where?"


    "The most recent was in the swamp southeast of Gulder. There were Mother Vines raising Simming Pods. Pod People had already taken over three fishing villages there."


    He frowned deeply, and took a sip. "Mother Vines come from Outside Creation, as do the Pods. There have been many such events happening in recent years."


    "I was apprised that the cult that placed them had been exterminated in some haste, but the Shadowknife delegated removal of the infection before it blossomed."


    "Yes, they are horrible at proper clean-up of messes. But sniffing out the dangers, ah, they have no equal." Piair sighed and looked to Errant. "So, what are you looking for here?"


    "I am en route to the capital. I thought I''d hear whatever slipped off your tongue, have a few laughs on the way, and get a recommendation for drinking partners and watering holes there. I aim to apply at some of the Orders there, and was wondering if any of them know how to drink."


    The Inquisitor smiled thinly, reaching across to tink glasses with the younger man, and downed a clear mouthful. "Now, this is only hearsay, of course..."


    "Of course," Errant agreed, his face totally serious and composed as he also took a drink...

 170 Chapter One Hundred and Seventy - Errantry

    "I was found innocent! Innocent!"


    Errant''s fist crashed against the man''s jaw, and he slammed to the ground. Deftly, he removed the golden ring and its warding magic on the man''s left hand, and as the man whimpered and looked up, he met Errant''s silver eyes.


    "Ah." The one word made the handsome young man''s heart plummet. "Lust rides on you like a fat horse. Pride spews from you like sewage. And on your hands..." The man swallowed as the silver eyes dropped. "Three? No, four murders."


    "You-you can''t kill me! I was found innocent!" he protested, slurring around his aching jaw.


    "The Temple was totally aware of your hush money and threats to those who would testify against you, and mysterious accidents happening to several others. Do you think the servants of Justice are stupid?" Grace began to hum with golden light, and the man tried to scramble back, to find Errant moving right with him without taking a step.


    "Rapist graduating to murder. Psychopath and entitled ass thinking he can do anything because his family has power and influence. You are a rabid dog, Praethus Comwell, and rabid dogs get put down."


    The young man started to scream, but the Wrath of Heaven cut him short. Vivic fire combined with the Wrath, and his flesh burned away in a flash of Land-feeding. His bones would take a few more minutes.


    Errant let the Sound Bubble fade away, looking around the bastard''s room. After a little thought, flames came up around Grace, and he set the bed alight quickly.


    The family knew about all of this, and deserved to be punished, too. They probably had magic to control fire, but that wasn''t going to be very useful when he ignited the entire back side of their manor...


    ----------


    The wagon was overturned, heaved over by brute force. The smell of many chemicals of dubious origin and make filled the air, while the horses fled a safe distance away.


    The big man who served as driver and bodyguard lay on the ground, life''s blood pumping out his neck toward the staring head a few feet away. Errant''s foot, five times heavier than normal, kept Nomin Quale securely pinned.


    "Six people dead, nine scarred, with twenty-nine dependents." Errant held up a bottle, and plunged a long needle into it. "You do an excellent job changing your name and how you harvest for the Lord of Bones. You serve the Second Horseman, eh? Disease and poison, such a cute devotee. And because you don''t use magic, well, hard to track, isn''t it?


    "Still, do you know what happens to alchemically-energized daemonic ichor when suffused with the Wrath of Heaven?" The vial in his hand glowed suddenly, the inky black stuff within igniting with holy light, and he slowly backstopped it.


    "It becomes a Ravage. You know, like holy water for sins." He held up the syringe, designed to be used on horses, and a drop of silver-gold liquid fell from it. "Totally harmless to most folk, of course. But if you''ve been accumulating that fat tally of sin for your masters, well..."


    "No, no!" the shaven-headed man in apothecary robes tried to stutter, and the syringe was stabbed into his neck, and slowly released into his carotid artery.


    His skin began to light up in patterns of blood vessels, his eyes shimmered with celestial designs. His lips glowed, the beads of sweat on his forehead were like crystals, the blood dribbling like his mouth began to burn.


    His hair began to smoke, his teeth cracked, his tongue blazed. He screamed as the sins he had accumulated on his aura became fuel for the Ravage tearing at his mind and body.


    Spontaneous combustion and melting bones followed about thirty seconds later, after a virtual infinity of pain. The speed of it was a direct indicator of just how much evil this bastard had done. The Harsites believed him guilty of the deaths of hundreds of innocents...


    ---------


    "I understand family love. I really do," Errant said, frogmarching the sweating man forwards. "But, you know, there''s solutions for this stuff that don''t involve just killing the afflicted. And somehow, you managed to choose the absolute worst of them."


    "I-I just wanted to help him! He can''t control himself-"


    "And the Curse could have been lifted from him with one trip to a temple of Sylune, which could have been arranged by force if he refused. Instead, you locked him away in containment, except when he escaped and killed at least sixteen people, all to save your damn family name!"


    Errant threw back the bar, hauled the iron door open, and, totally ignoring the many scratch marks and dents on it, threw the man inside.


    Cries and shouts sounded from within, and the man looked up in horror at his father, mother, sister... and his older brother, who was manacled not very securely to the back wall, staring at them all in horror.


    "Don''t worry. I''ll kill him in the morning," Errant said, glancing at the rising moon. The older Ristwick brother was already starting to get a bit hairy. "I left you knives, but, you know, you really should have carried silver, no?"


    The door slammed shut, the bar came down, and the screams started from within.


    The howls started in about ten minutes. They built for about half an hour, and then iron protested and the screams grew shriller.


    They were replaced by the sound of ripping meat and crushing bone, ending with remarkable speed. After all, like all his other victims, they weren''t carrying silver.


    The abuse on the door started after about an hour of feasting, but his Ward had overlain them, and they would hold; the werewolf inside had no chance of getting through them.


    In the morning, he''d feel the pain he''d inflicted on so many others... and lose himself to the beast entirely, most likely. Instead of getting help and removing the Curse, he''d chosen to hide it and prey on people, all just to save face.


    And then... his skull would serve as a compass to the werewolf that had infected him, or the party that had Cursed him to begin with, and they could get to the true root of the problem...


    -----------


    "Don''t bother. They are all dead."


    The young man with the sword in hand looked around in a panic. The attack had been too sudden, too brutal. Flashes of light, a sword sweeping out, here, there, coming from all sides and reaping them one after another.


    "Colin Flinster, right?" The young man in leather and mail gawked at the silver-eyed fiend who had spoken in between whistling for the horses that had scattered when their riders were summarily blasted or cut from their saddles.


    "I-I..." Too stunned and frightened, the young man stared at the freak who had just slaughtered sixty men, like trying to fight an angel from Heaven...


    "Your mother thought you''d fallen in with some bad men. She was right. Rundel''s Company here are paid raiders and pillagers, whose favorite targets are small thorps and isolated farmsteads, always in the pay of this master or another one."


    Errant pointed at a horse nearby, pawing at the ground next to the headless corpse of its rider. "Take that horse and go home. The Church of Aru needs some temple guards, you might apply for a position. Now, off with you."


    Colin swallowed deeply, looking around at all the dead, all of whom were starting to burn white. "Th-thank you?" he managed to stammer, sidling towards the horse.


    The helmed man with the glowing silver eyes waved him off without turning around as he continued gathering up the horses. It was a small thing to expand speaking in Tongues to speaking to animals as well, and while dumb, animals saw a lot, and were very informative at times...


    Colin Flinster hastily mounted the fine stallion that Captain Rundel had ridden. He looked at the headless corpse of the mercenary captain for a short moment, before hurriedly urging the horse into motion. He didn''t want that killer changing his mind...


    Errant glanced over, knowing the company''s pay was probably in those saddlebags, and Colin was going to have at least some kind of a windfall there. Rundel''s magic sword was still slung on the side, too...


    Shrugging, he let the young man go. His mother was a devout Amanan, and really wanted to save her boy from a bad fate. He wanted to go out and see the world, and the world was going to bite him hard...


    --------------


    "I get that you thought others were prey."


    There was a crack as bone broke, golden light flared, and a slavering muzzle bent unnaturally.


    "I get that you are far more than any normal person could think of to fight."


    A claw ripped out, was caught in a merciless grip of iron, and a hammerstrike shattered the bone in a flash of electrum. A kick pounded into a ribcage, and a howl of pain was cut off by the shattering of the breastbone.


    "But you know, what goes around, comes around."


    A fist way too heavy for its size crashed down upon the werewolf lord''s skull, smashing him into the ground.


    "Your pack''s gone." Crunch. "You won''t be infecting others." Crunch. "You won''t be killing others." Crunch. "You''re cursed meat, and you''re going to feed the Land." Crunch, crunch. "Rejoice! We all become meat and dust in the end."


    Krak, crunch, splotch...


    The oversized brute didn''t have a face anymore.


    Errant stood up, took out Purity, and blew a load of Wrath the length of the broken corpse, instantly sending it up in eager vivus.


    Mismatched spiked shoulders, horn on the nose... one of the nine primary Aberrant Curselines. Uligloctal''s? The Feeder in the Woods was making a move here? How wonderful...


    The warhorses had been swapped to a local baron who had recently suffered some major losses from raiders, the extra arms and armor a welcome boon to the man. Errant had kept the magic and coin, of course, or rather, burned the latter quickly away. Gear was a bottomless pit for goldweight...


    He brought out the skull of the Ristwick brother, which remained dim and cold. This Curseline was gone, so this werelord''s progenitor was also dead, likely at the hands of its descendants, if tradition held true.


    A pack of trueborn weres was no small thing, dangerous and sly hunters who preyed on all aspects of the forest. Driven by the Curse, they''d pack-hunt at least one sentient during every full moon.


    The blood on their hands likely formed a small river. If they spread their Curse instead... multiple rivers.


    They''d keep what spoils they had in the lord''s lair, so they''d be easy to find. Grabbing the jewelry (non-silver, of course) off the burning corpse, he stepped into the light between the trees, and Crossed the Light away to clean up this pack properly.


    It was just a shame that he couldn''t follow the Curse down to other infected weres, only upwards...


    -------------


    Lightning cracked and rumbled, flashing down to the spire atop the manor home, glowing with the power to attract the might of the storm.


    Conducted down into the laboratory below, arcane machinery lit up, tubes of copper, silver wire, golden couplings all crackling and arcing with power, flowing down into the thing on the slab in the center of the room.


    It had been stitched together by at least a dozen bodies... bodies that must have been attained fresh, since nobody with a brain buried their dead for fear of necromancers and just this kind of situation. Most likely they had been designated as viable specimens and killed...


    The withered man controlling the machines cackled madly, his eyes alight with the knowledge that he was finally creating new life. He was defying the heavens, bringing into existence a new being, a servant that could help him in his endeavors, and silence all those critics that ¨C


    "Awk!"


    He looked at the point of the Sword coming out through his chest, glowing golden, and jerked as the Wrath jolted through every inch of his body. His sparse hair ignited like a candle, forming an odd flame of gold-eating-indigo as he slowly slumped to the ground, his dreams dying as his eyes burned away.


    Another lightning bolt came down, and the entire lab seemed to explode with arcs of electricity. They all poured down the multiple bars into the stitched-corpse on the table, especially concentrated around the head.


    Errant was neither blinded nor deafened, but could only sweep his Wrath through the connecting conduits one after another, swearing to himself.


    The next bolt descended, and finding no place to vent, blew apart the top of that corner tower, taking much of the roof with it, and leaving the rain to come in and send sparking, sizzling steam everywhere throughout the laboratory.


    Errant could only sigh. He looked at the figure on the table, hoping... but such was not to be.


    It sat up abruptly, from motionless as death to sudden activity, strength beyond death surging through it. The flesh golem turned mismatched eyes on him with the acuity of a trapped spirit, and uttered a low moan of hate and recognition.


    He had killed its master, and if it truly wanted to be free, then it had to kill him, too!


    "Yeah, yeah, yeah." Wrath was useless against a golem, but that''s why he had a Sword... and a certain Scarab, clever planner that he was...

 171 Chapter One Hundred and Seventy-One – The Long, Grinding Road

    It took eight days to advance eight miles and hold the ground. The Camp actually did not move, the formal base staying near the Silver Worm to have access to water, and secure the trail of supplies and new bodies arriving from behind. Sure, they could labor up along The Ring, but why?


    Better to have a fortified base for rest and resupply, before going out to fight again.


    The Warped naturally enough mustered and marched over to have a great fun time assaulting the Camp. Since it was a fortification, however crude, they actually massed up to attack.


    Instead of fighting from the Camp, they were met out on the field, by just about everyone, and were completely annihilated. A set of Greater Demons from each of the Warp Gods was slaughtered, and the True and Lesser Demons butchered on the field by Void Brothers hunting Karma. Combat magic from the elves swept the field, legions of dwarven longspears boxed them up like hedgewalls, and heavy cavalry smashed into them left and right while lancers and mounted bowmen harried the edges.


    Flying monsters were unable to take to the skies, and died on the ground. The Shadowknife hunted Casters like a wraith, severing them from their own lifelines. Commanders, champions, and officers of the Warped went up against grim men with a trembling Song thundering in their hearts and minds, and died.


    The array of healing magic saved many lives. Multiple Healing Traps meant more Casters with healing magic could operate near the lines as combat medics, pouncing on those who fell and saving them before they died, to be hauled off by other men using Disks to the Traps to recover and form a wounded reserve and relief force. After seeing the efficiency of the healers at work and the lives saved by them, all those fighting were very much in favor of more healing magic and Disks being allocated to move the wounded. There were only two Healing Harps at work, but a Minstrel or Bard was manning them 24/7, and any wounded who could listen were allowed to stay close long enough to be healed further.


    The Warped lost twice their number of troops to the combined forces, tens of thousands of Warped humans, tauren, anthros, monsters, and demons.


    A similar amount marched out of the Rift that very night, forming up for battles.


    The attackers didn''t wait for the Warped. Marching forward quickly, the elves, the swiftest of the attackers, quickly swept through the first warband of anthros to come braying out of the Rift, and then retreated into reserve to support the others.


    The Kaldens crushed the next group before falling back, and then a joint force of several knightly Orders had their way, cycle-charging their way through the savage armored troops of the Warped as ranks of spearmen in support kept them boxed.


    The dwarves went up next, longspears burning Bane to the Warped, and fairly marched all over the anthros and tauren who tried to deal with them. Autobows and autoballistae drove death at those who tried to use ranged attacks on them, the volume of fire murderous and heavy, their advance unstoppable.


    The Ironblood smashed into their camp proper, clearing out the craftsmen and non-combat troops there with merciless efficiency, operating together with a fluid ease that impressed even the dwarves.


    Behind them, walls were built, pits dug, spikes of stone put in place, pathways formed. The ground was stained white by vivus, yet slowly reverting as the energy was leeched away by the land, and the blue sky slowly expanded in the direction of the Rift.


    ----------


    The pattern repeated, showing no signs of letting up.


    The Warped would flood out of the Rift; beast-men, humans, and/or demons, coming in units of warband size, occasionally with monstrous add-ons. A force of defenders would muster to meet them in series, giving them no chance to accumulate numbers. Battle would erupt, and white fires would stain the dark land.


    Every mile behind them, another wall went up. More terrain was prepared, more hedges for mass assault. Companies fought, disengaged, and others moved up to do their duty.


    On the seventh day, the first iteration of a road arrived at The Camp.


    Behind them, the full force of the Rockborn of Klintskun had swung into effect, outraged by the damage done to their kin. Thousands of dwarves had begun laboring as soon as The Camp started forward in the Badlands and the threat of the invading Warpbands had been dealt with.


    From the slopes of the mountains, a ceaseless line of wagons rumbled along quickly-reinforced trails, bringing with them supplies, food... and stone. Thousands of tons of stone.


    From the skirts of the great mountains, where the great apocalypse had come up against the earthpower and finally faded away, a road had taken form. It was made of stone that had not been subjected to the power of the tragedy that had destroyed Yle Tyorm, but from pure stone of the mountain''s roots, forming a metaphysical connection to the outer world, a conduit of strength reinforced by the vivus from the many deaths of interlopers on the way.


    Nobody worked stone like the Rockborn, nor worked so hard and steadily. They were joined by Gnomish lairds who occupied the smaller hills of their domain, handling the extra magic and some of the fine details of what was being built. Precise blocks of stone went down on solid foundations, the wagons rolled farther and faster, and the road had extended by miles every day as they labored, driving the earthpower into the Badlands, on a winding course by the Silver Worm across the Dichromatic Plains, and into the Ring at the Camp.


    Overnight, The Camp turned into a fortress, walls wrought from the distant mountains rose with speed and surety, digging into and over The Ring. Along both its base and its peak, trails began to extend out, the layers of low walls were reinforced and further built up by this vengeance-fueled force of Rockborn builders and makers, following the Ring along its arc towards the Rift.


    Behind them, wagons bearing dark rock brought from the depths of the mountains, carved by Rockborn artisans and craft-priests, waited to be assembled into the first of the Obelisks, while other loads slowly brought more stone to reinforce and widen the road.


    Despite all their oaths of vengeance, these Rockborn never set foot on the battlefield, save to replace those who had fallen. They had been told of the crazy rules this place existed under, and if they massed into an army and advanced, they would only encourage the Warped to do the same, and in greater numbers. As long as they did not take up arms, they could not be used as an excuse for the Warped to flood this place with endless foes, limiting them to mustering forces comparable to those coming to beat them.


    Even the forces fighting camped out on the field, coming back to the Camp only to heal and resupply. They were here to fight, not provide convenient excuses to the Warped.


    To get stronger. To Grind.


    -------


    The Grind.


    Briggs crashed Endure against the flaming Sword of a Carnage Demon, sending it spinning away, cracks racing across its tainted metal. Endure smashed into its hip, crushing the bone, and it fell, screaming at him.


    He stepped past, and Estemar''s Sword Angfar relieved it of its head smoothly.


    The two of them made a devastating combination as they mowed through the battlefield. There was no holding back here, seeing if some of their men could kill more powerful troops, and gain more Karma. No, the time for blooding was past.


    If the men wanted to kill the more powerful foes and gain more Karma, they needed to kill the weaker ones faster. They needed to minimize casualties, preserve their lives and health, and endure until the next fight.


    Endure beat like a powerful drum, Courageous thrummed out through it. His Charisma had reached 28, and being a Source, his mind had split in two. He could now run his mixed-arms Company of Ancients, humans, Rockborn, gnomes, and dhatun while simultaneously engaging in combat.


    It was a good feeling. After all, he wanted to Grind, too.


    Endure caught a burning Sword on its haft, powered right through the blow to smash into the Carnegi''s skull, smashing it to the ground. Estemar took another flaming Sword on his shield, shocking the burning Carnegi wielding it when it didn''t slice right on through, and smashed the Sword down and into the ground before ducking.


    Endure came around full circle, screaming above his head, and went in the demon''s right ear and out the left, bringing along everything in between in an explosion of vivus.


    Estemar hastily leapt backwards and sliced off the head of the demon on the ground, and was back in position as Briggs let go of Endure. It left a white trail behind it as it slammed into the skinny chest of another Carnegi highstepping this way, taking it down as if clotheslined as a ball of unwhite fire erupted on its collapsing chest.


    Steel skirled, and the crimson edge of his white blade glowed silver as it met another sweeping burning sword before it could hit Briggs'' head.


    Briggs reached out, grabbed the flaming hand on the Sword, and pulled as he stepped in. A knee cracked under a boot like steel, leg going the wrong way, and the Carnegi and its overlong arms were pulled forwards, screaming into his face as it clawed at him... and he caught its other hand without missing a beat, also crouching down.


    The lunging Carnegi blinked as Angfar thrust straight into its mouth, and up into its skull, popping out the far side and holding there for a second.


    Briggs let go of its sword hand and backfisted it across the skull. Its head went off to its left, Angfar ripping it open, and the Sword met his gauntleted forearm with a polite ting! of mithral.


    Endure roared back to that waiting hand, equally politely beat greetings to the Sword, and Briggs let the corpse drop, Estemar spinning to his backside.


    "One officer!" Estemar called, but Briggs didn''t even look around. There was a crack and thrum as the ballistae let go, and said fellow in overly done dire harness suddenly had four glowing javelin-sized bolts in his spiked chest. As he dropped to his knees, two snipers finished him off with a bolt in each visor-slit eye, as a gnome Wizard laid hands on the arbalesters to give them True Seeking.


    Briggs contemplated piling into a big mass of armored Warped off to the sides, big fellows reeking with Warped power trying to reach the solid line of dwarven spears which were starting to wrap them. He heard the protests from those involved, grinned, and trotted behind them, spinning Endure and heaving it as he did.


    Two armored brutes were slammed forward into the third, and with perfect timing six spears lunged. The man in front was impaled, and his death turned instantly into a wedge, breaking the line. Before the off-balance men could regain their balance, they were bowled over from the front, as short, squat, and strong Rockborn plunged forwards, and split the line of elite Warped fighters.


    The gnomes flowed through between the dwarves like released water, picks in hand and striking with cruel blows to groins and knees, below the eye level of the Warped men. Around the plunging wedge, Warped were shaken and began to drop. The spear line surged and circled to follow, finding throats with rock-steady hands and gleaming eyes.


    Endure slapped back into Briggs'' hand, and he threw it again, and again. Within thirty seconds, the line of Warped was torn apart, and they began to flee, only to pause when a line of lancers rode calmly up behind them, sealing their way out, with Briggs and Estemar and their burning Weapons right in front, waiting for them.


    Hissing autobow bolts buzzed in, punching into the invaders'' armor, and dropped almost half of them. The lancers shouted and charged in, leveling their burning lances... and plowed to a halt not ten yards from the tensed survivors bracing their axes for the impact.


    The men laughed, and the startled Warped looked back just in time for a wave of gnomes to hit their legs, upend them with the hooked ends of their picks, and grimly bearded Rockborn with suddenly short spears plunged them down and killed them.


    -CALL IT!- Briggs /ordered, spinning around and looking.


    Officers called out the all-clear, with the snipers pausing a moment to punch quarrels through some fleeing Warped near a hundred yards away with perfect neck shots before doing the same.


    -Scan, loot, burn, clean! Wounded, hit the Traps!-


    Vivic Weapons materialized, and chopped into the dead, setting them on unwhite fire. Grim hands heaped bodies on top of bodies, the weapons chopped and stabbed, and bonfires of burning dead began to rise around the battlefield.

 172 Chapter One Hundred and Seventy-Two – In the Center of Power

    Like most big cities, the capital of the Empire was built along a river, the Crowned, and the great lake called The Throned, flowing through a broad river valley. The fields around here were the best in the Empire, if not the world, and upon the combined bounty of river, lake, and fields, the foundation of the Empire had been laid.


    Mines upstream had yielded a wealth of iron and copper, and upon those two metals the city of Zynozure, the Center of the Rose and the Cross, had risen, and the Rosencrux Empire had begun, over a thousand years ago.


    The high walls of gray stone looked impressive from the distance, the circles of the city rising slowly, each level built up higher than the ones below, until the Imperial Palace towered on the highest point of the city, none able to match it. By Imperial Fiat, no building in the city could rise higher than the walls of the level above.


    Raising the levels and adding a new one was an expression of the might of the Empire. The stone was literally heaved forth and upwards out of the ground by a massive Ritual, displaying the magical might of the entire Empire as it did so. Each level lifted the ground of the new Circle a hundred feet, and this had been done nine times. With its elegant spires and towers reaching up to nearly four hundred paces, the pale red Imperial Palace of the Rose was a thousand feet in the sky, forever the tallest structure in the city, with its foundation reaching down who knew how far into the risen depths.


    A rose atop a mountain, flowering cold, alone, and mighty, someone had described, and Errant found the description apt.


    It had been centuries since another Circle had been raised, and the city sprawled for miles along the shores of the lake and river. The Rose had been built upon an island at the mouth of the Crowned, and as the Circles rose, they expanded out and past the shores of the river to either side, basically forming a mountain across the mouth of the great river. Great arched channels flowed underneath the Circles, taller than the greatest of ships, not impeding the flow of the river, extending higher than the Ninth Ring, halfway into the eighth, and thus separating the classes yet further, as the River cut the Ninth Ring apart.


    The primary means of crossing the Crowned was the Soaring, the great bridge that crossed underneath the Rose, and formed the Cross with the Crowning that supported the Empire.


    From here flowed the power of the empire, out to the four Marches, the Kingdoms founded by Zynosure, the Center, to ward it from all sides. Wealth flowed into the center of the cross, and power flowed out from the rose.


    So it had been for a thousand years.


    But now, the roots of the rose were dying, the soil was bad, and the sun was no longer shining upon the center. Bad things were coming, he could hear the ominous notes behind the whispers at his ear.


    It was the perfect place for a Heavenbound to be.


    Errant smiled to himself and continued walking forwards. His eyes would mark him, of course, there was no magic that could hide the Sign once it manifested, so he didn''t bother to do so. If trouble happened... well, that''s what Heavenbound were there to do, attract trouble, so other people didn''t have to.


    Not that most people would be stupid enough to mess with a Heavenbound directly. While some of his kind served relatively passive roles, those duties were generally left to clerics or the like. Warlocks were bound to the Heavenly Hosts, not the gods, and the job of the Hosts was to fight.


    So... he was going to find some other folk who liked to fight...


    A smile on his face, and ignoring the many curious gazes of passers-by as he stepped on his path, Errant continued on.


    ----------


    The Tenth Circle (frequently addended ''of Hell'') was naturally where the poorest members of the capital''s society lived, along with most of its traders and factories... especially the smelly and loud ones that might annoy the wealthy.


    There were no walls around the landbound portion of the capital, so technically the residents here weren''t natives of Zynozure at all. Of course, that didn''t stop them from claiming so, as they were obviously blessed to live at the heart of the great Empire, and what did a mere outlander know?


    Errant found their pride a little funny, as they seemed to think that being a Zynozure native meant they could lord it over a rube, meaning anyone NOT from the capital... except maybe a noble who could slaughter them on the spot for something.


    However, anyone seeing his silver eyes tended to clamp up quick when he met their eyes, as you just didn''t mess around with anyone showing Sign, Good or Bad or Whatever. So, asking directions wasn''t all that hard, people found their good manners after only a second or two of inbuilt arrogance, and he proceeded down the tiled roads, looking around and painting the streets and city into his Visual File casually, looking like a rubbernecking tourist and encouraging those following him to act upon their motivations.


    There was a run at his Disk, a little diversion to hide an attack from behind, multiple people collapsing from multiple directions... and then a wall of fire swallowed them all and burned them into ash rather quickly.


    He kept walking on, letting their less flammable belongings fall to the street behind him, and the beggar children pounced on them quickly. He motioned one of them over, and whispered in his ear. The ragged boy grinned and took off.


    He was attacked twice more within fifteen minutes by street gangs who thought he was an easy mark, and the boy and his friends collected more goodies and got rid of some bullies at the same time. Win-win all around.


    ----


    The Tenth Circle sprawled out for miles, hardly a circle, more a bunch of neighborhoods, towns, and villages that had grown together over centuries, and integrated only under the relentless pressure of populations that wanted to move ever onwards and upwards. Different races and ethnicities staked out their own locations in the lower city, sometimes mixing, sometimes not, giving it both energy and drive... and depression and a sense of ancient sloth, bred into the bones, as if nothing had changed while they lived, and wouldn''t change for all their lives.


    Such an atmosphere was naturally fertile ground for all sorts of things. However, things like innovation, invention, empathy, and brotherhood were naturally preyed upon by those mercilessly seeking any means of getting ahead in life, or maintaining their grip on power by any means against the cruel hands clawing at them from below. So, what grew here tended to be in the Grey... and the most ambitious and relentless of those naturally got darker still.


    He had the Eyes of Heaven up at Five, easily piercing most minor divination Wards, and every Evil aura within forty paces and not behind walls was coming up very clearly, giving him a pretty detailed view of who his potential opponents were. At Five, he could maintain it without concentration, and was actually sensitive to Sin itself, not just the Evil it left behind. Feeling those who thought about killing him as soon as they saw him was very useful, after all.


    Just about everyone was wondering how to take advantage of him, except those who knew what Silver Sign actually meant, and either kept a low profile or directly or discretely got out of his line of sight when they saw it. He marked faces in passing, knowing they''d be whispering and word would be passing.


    The Church of Imprus had successfully pushed Harse out of the higher Circles, but getting rid of the fairest church in the land, their grip on the courts, and influence on laws, was proving more difficult. While Trose was attempting to take away their banking business in addition, the fact was merchants who could deal with the Church of Harse were an elite and trustworthy lot, and gaining that recognition was worth a lot in certain circles. Too, the Goddess of Wealth and Trade''s clerics were often pretty ruthless merchants and traders themselves, often direct competitors of other faithful, who preferred not to entrust their funds to them... or might run off with their money if it were loaned to them.


    Lastly, Harse was the Judge of the Living AND the Dead, and so presided over many, many funeral arrangements in the city, especially for those who could afford no other, and had to be consigned to the vivic flames to avoid undeath. Combined with handling many estates in a fair and above-board manner, and there was simply no way to truly run them out of the city, only deny them direct access to the highest levels of power.


    So, Harse''s presence endured in the city. The ivory coin that denoted their mercantile side was more trusted then the gold coin of Trose by the common folk, and woe to the moneychanger or lender who falsely used it...


    ----------


    The man was thin, nose like a hawk, with hair going white, and bent fingers on his left hand, as if they''d been broken and reset improperly at some point. His tunic, shirt, and trousers bore gold thread, but they were a bit shiny from wear; bought for good coin, but held long past their fashionable date. The mark of a man who had money, knew what he had to spend it on, and was thrifty enough still to not give a damn about not wasting it on frippery.


    Estemar sat down across from him, having already procured a bottle of wine, and setting it on the table before the man could order.


    Dark eyes looked over the young nobleman, fixing on the silver eyes in mild disbelief. "My business is closed, Heavenbound, and you''ve no truck with me." He picked up the bottle of wine, made an approving face. "You''ve good taste, at least."


    "I come by it naturally," Errant laughed, snapping his fingers, and a swirl of golden flame circled and went away. The man betrayed no surprise at all, gesturing for a waiter. Estemar listened to him order a dish appropriate for the wine, indicated he would have the same, and directly flipped out a gold coin to pay for it all. Eyes shining, their waiter hurried away.


    "One of the cooks is a cultist of an Elder God," Errant noted politely, the Sound Bubble from Grace rising and cutting off conversations, and any chance of them being overheard. "Do you eat here on purpose?"


    "He just started. I have certain interested parties watching him and seeing who he talks to," the moneylender admitted. "Very astute. Why are you here, Heavenbound? I am only a lay priest of Harse, not one of His divine servants."


    "I was hoping you could help me deliver a letter," Errant said calmly, taking it out and sliding it across to him. The older man opened it up, eyed the name of a certain Inquisitor in Colamn, and the various symbols that had been crossed off within.


    All of them.


    "You are looking for work?" the moneylender asked him directly.


    "I like to keep busy. I believe that you are capable of keeping me busy without violating my Oath, and my talents might be useful to you."


    The older man considered him carefully. "Heavenbound are generally used best as open fighters, given how flashy your Pact is. The work of the Inquisition often requires a much more subtle hand."


    "I am the Phantom of Gulder," Errant said plainly, and the moneylender actually blinked. "Do not repeat that without my leave."


    "Well. Well, well, well..." the moneylender murmured, trailing off. "Quite a record of thefts and heists you''ve pulled off, then. Your reputation has even spread to the city here..."


    "I was unwilling to show my Sign until I was ready, and so subtler means were called for, usage of my Pact very limited."


    "That is... very interesting..." the Inquisitorial agent murmured, looking at the young Heavenbound in front of him thoughtfully. "What sort of things are you looking to do, young man?"


    "Punish those wreaking Evil in whatever way will hurt them the worst. I can do violence, I can do stealth, and I can even do surveillance, although it is not my focus. Warlocks are meant to be active, not passive, after all." Errant''s reply was brief and clipped. "Also, if you could arrange for additional introductions to the Order of the Ruby Heart, I am seeking to get knighted there. I understand they have the highest Circle access of the remaining devout knightly Orders."


    "The Order owes us a favor or two, and admitting a knight aspirant whose credentials are adequate should not be a problem, particularly a Heavenbound. We don''t get too many of them in Zynozure... and they don''t tend to last long when they come here."


    Errant smiled widely. "That sounds absolutely perfect."


    The man harrumphed, and then his weathered face split into a knowing smile. "Well, then, how familiar are you with the city?"


    "I''ve just gotten here from Gulder. Not familiar at all," he admitted.


    "Very good. The city''s Wards don''t extend out here, any that are in effect are privately set up and maintained. Familiarize yourself with the Tenth''s layout, structure, and fine points, and meet me back here tomorrow at this time. I''ll have your invitation to the Ruby Heart."


    "Excellent." Errant gestured at the bottle he''d brought. "You seem like a connoisseur. Have you a favorite vintage?"


    The man''s dark eyes lit up. "Oh, you''ve a tongue for wine? I admit to favoring that Kalden icewine for some damn reason, but I''ve drank stuff from one end of the Empire to the other. This is a decent vintage from Vyster, favored in the Northern Court?..."


    Errant let the Sound Bubble fall, and the rest of their conversation was as normal as could be.

 173 Chapter One Hundred and Seventy-Three – Round up the Wagon!

    "It''s time for us to go."


    The three girls looked at one another in astonishment. "Go where?" Verd asked Haz¨¦, caught off guard by this sudden statement.


    "For starters, down to Zynozure. Veis'' brother Errant is heading there, and the capital will be a very interesting place for you to ply your talents."


    Amber was definitely the most interested of the three, as the center of the Empire was also the center of fashion. She was the oldest of the four of them, and the fact she enjoyed some of the young men in town was no secret, and didn''t really bother any of them. She was already picturing herself cutting a swathe through the pampered pretty-boy nobles of the capital. "That sounds like great fun!" she announced. "I wonder how many people from the wine party might be there..."


    That party had certainly made them famous from a certain point of view. Certain young noblewomen were still stopping by to get custom dresses made for them, as well as riding outfits.


    "What about Mama?" Veis spoke up quickly. She was still short, and always would be, but she was still a fair beauty with a complexion like milk and a waterfall of silken white hair, so beautifully cute when she wanted to be that it could drive men crazy to see her. She still wasn''t quite yet ten years old, but she knew far more then she looked like, and she saw a great deal more than people expected.


    "Mama needs to stay in Vyster for now. She still needs to train more of the young women, and keep the factory going for now."


    The morning Tai Chi exercises and knife competitions among the women who worked in their shops had spread throughout the little town. Training the women of the town as apprentice Rune Chemists meant that production of raw material for certain herbal remedies and minor alchemical goods was easy to keep up, and empowered the women with good pay for good work. Mixing healing effects into the local wines, pastries, and sausages had, along with other Potion effects as requested, had made them relatively popular for the military and nobility, as alternatives to merely drinking another Potion.


    One of the prime requirements of working in the shops was being good with a knife. To get a promotion, the women had to display the ability to cut quickly and precisely, chopping and dicing, both plant and animal matter. They had to know the cuts of meat and how to assess them, as well as the plants. They had to be able to exchange knives between hands, juggle them, and be able to throw and catch them back and forth between themselves. This had also started up an actual knife-throwing competition between them, which, since their knives weren''t made for throwing, took some actual skill.


    Two other young women had also been found to be Powered, and were undertaking earnest lessons from Mama, eager to better themselves in the world. They already performed much of the duties as Mama''s personal helpers, while the three Hagchild girls worked the stores and helped with mundane operations during the day.


    During the night, they often went traveling with Haz¨¦ and Master Feist here and there.


    "Why do we need to up and leave?" Verd asked calmly, always the most level-headed of the three. She also looked the most mature, with lush curves that had as many boys pursuing her as they did Amber. She was more discrete about such things, but her libido as a Hagchild was not something to fight against. Amber had gone over everything with all of them with the authority of an expert, and they knew all the risks and what to watch out for.


    And really, the boys were rather fragile; they had to be careful not to hurt them.


    "You''ve seen the kind of things we are running across within the Empire... and they are spreading. We won''t be able to stay here very long. There are bad tides on the horizon, and we are going to get a bit of a head start on them. Mama and I have made some preparations for Vyster, but they need a little while longer to come to a head."


    Amber''s crimson eyes glittered. "Is that where all the money has been going?" she asked softly, glancing around. She was always very concerned about money, and had seen that the profits of their alchemical enterprises seemed to drop into a black hole. Having experienced herself just how much money it cost to upgrade her own Gear, it was obvious what was happening.


    Haz¨¦ did not bother to hide it, leaning forward with the others. "Yes. The Artificing is already done, I worked on it for years. We''re just powering it up now, day by day. Needless to say, it is a lot of coin. Happily, we''ve made good money, and much of the foundation magic is done."


    "Can you tell us what it is?" Verd pressed eagerly, and Haz¨¦ shook her head.


    "Only Mama and I know. Once it''s revealed, naturally everyone will know. In the meantime, we''re finally going to be taking The Wagon."


    Their eyes all lit up. That was the special project all of them had been working on for literally years, the main focus of their Artificer levels. The demands of craftsmanship required for it had required a lot of doing, redoing, and doing again to get it right, repeatedly beating them over the head with the high QL requirements of truly decent magical items. The woodworking and machining requirements of The Wagon had been high, and no small amount of their own gold had gone into its requirements.


    It was their own little moving base of operations, meant to be able to go with them anywhere, and allow them to do their supporting downtime Crafting while giving them a place to put their stuff. While traveling via teleporting was very cool, it just didn''t have the same allure as traveling overland themselves... and they also had to extend their lived-lines, such as it were. Visual Files didn''t just fill themselves, after all.


    "When are we going?" Amber asked forthrightly.


    "Tomorrow," Haz¨¦ stated, and the three girls all jumped in astonishment. "So, busy, busy! Whatever needs to get done, get done. You know by now what to do and what not to. We leave after morning ritual tomorrow."


    The three all uttered flustered sounds and went scampering away in excitement, calling out to one another intermittently on all the stuff they had to pack and supplies to assemble and food to pack and so on and so forth.


    Haz¨¦ smiled and went out to make her own arrangements. She had told Mama about this some time ago, so preparations on this side were already completed. Mama was already getting ready in case some bad crap went down, and wouldn''t those be a big surprise to everyone...


    -------------


    The Salute to the Morning was over, the Dance of the Day had moved them through the warm-up routines to get their blood flowing and ki humming. The crowd of women and a few men broke up into groups, chatting with one another as they flowed down the hill to their jobs and got on with the work of the day.


    The Wagon was already ready. It was painted in subdued hues that would darken in shadow and pick up reflected light alchemically, meaning it blended into the surrounding terrain very easily.


    Tabi was a fine horse with good lines, strong and well-built. With the garnishes and ribbons on him, he looked like a show horse, not a war horse, and that was completely by design. His job was to look inoffensive right until he kicked someone''s face in, and he was very good at looking harmless right up until them.


    He was prancing and eager to get going, too. This was his first trip out into the greater world, and he couldn''t have picked a finer bunch to do it with.


    Master Feist was going with them, and waiting for them. His job was to shepherd them, after all, and he was sort of their crewmaster and overseer. He''d stayed on well past his allotted time simply because he enjoyed working with all of them. In any event, he took up even less space than they did, and he could meditate on the roof in a driving thunderstorm without batting an eye.


    Tabi was fixed up to The Wagon, and pulled it on out of the barn cheerfully. Verd and Amber were up front driving, Feist was sitting on top in overwatch, and Veis was hanging out the door as they rolled down the drive, calling out to Mama, waving their pastries at her, and she waved back with her two new apprentices as they set out.


    Haz¨¦ was already gone, flitting off to somewhere doing something that didn''t require help, only a Caster in the right place at the right time, and would doubtless be back before lunch. They headed on down the road, Tabi setting a good pace.


    Actually, Tabi wasn''t drawing The Wagon at all, it simply matched his speed and momentum precisely, as The Wagon was actually floating on eight separate Disks that collectively could bear several dozen tons of weight, and the wheels that were spinning on the sides right now were only illusions, made all the more real-seeming by how expected they were. There were real wheels, stowed underneath in Compressed Slots for backup, along with a Perpetual Motion Wheel that could be used for slow but steady progress if something were to happen to Tabi.


    The net effect was that Tabi expended no effort drawing The Wagon, and the ride was absolutely free of the normal bumps and bruises that came from traveling rather primitive roads. The four of them made very good time as they headed out for the main trade road to the south and east, and the way to the Imperial Capital.


    They were expecting to see a great many things on the way, and Haz¨¦ had promised that she would find some fun projects for them to work on while they traveled. After all, these were dangerous times, and it was best to be prepared...


    ----------


    Calespi was a trade town near the mountains that divided the West March from the Central Empire. Given the unruliness of the Kohlete Mountains and the creatures and wild tribes that still lived there, it had a wild, frontier appeal to it, filled with prospectors, mining companies, hunters, trappers, explorers, and the occasional team of adventurers all eager to find remnants of prior eras buried in the depths of thousands of square miles of ancient and brooding mountains.


    Feist sat on top with an autobow in his hands, treasuring the new toy Haz¨¦ had made for him. Making the ammunition was a bit of a pain, but with the additional accessories on it, this was definitely the best sniping tool he had ever seen. His eyes conveyed the idea that he was looking for someone to practice on, and other then a few glances at the girls riding up front, and really strange looks at Veis kicking her legs excitedly next to Feist, they weren''t bothered as they trundled along.


    The Wagon was technically a covered carriage, and so longer than a buckboard for hauling stuff. While it wasn''t showy and ostentatious, anyone who inspected it closely would be able to tell it was very well-made, and would have cost a pretty penny. Of course, those same people would likely half-faint if they knew how much goldweight had gone into it.


    They pulled in next to a general store near the end of town, and dismounted with a casual ease and confidence that had a number of curious eyes go wary when they saw how the lot of them were moving... and the number of knives they seemed to be wearing with total familiarity. They also let the wagon there unguarded... except for Tiba, who was unhooked and ambled over in front of the door, waiting calmly as they hung a feed bag for him, and gave the stink-eye to anyone who got too close.


    ----


    Walking down a town street to see the sights and anything interesting, you generally don''t see someone ganked right in front of you.


    The man was non-descript, in a black cloak and well-made leathers, rough and competent-looking, like many of the hardy independent sorts who ran into and out of this town. All four of them were munching on apples and berries from the local orchards, looking over the stalls and windows of the buildings they were passing by. There was a lull in the crowd, and just ahead of them, a dark figure smoothly went up a wall, came down on the back of the man passing an alley between two buildings, and drove a knife into his neck.


    Even as the man fell, he was rolled sideways, looking as if he stumbled if you didn''t have the angle right, and toppled out of sight to his left.


    Nobody around reacted at all, except for the four of them.


    The three girls and the hyn looked at one another, and then Veis didn''t hesitate at all to run forward to the edge of the alley and peek around the corner, rapidly followed by Amber and Verd going up, and Feist going down.


    A hooded hyn was hauling the man backwards like a sack of meal, the hood somehow throwing his whole face into shadow despite not being long enough to do so. He looked up at the four heads peeking at him, and paused for a moment at the sight.


    Shadowed, nigh-invisible spirals of transparent energy were spinning up and down around him...


    "Elder?" Feist asked in amazement.

 174 Chapter One Hundred and Seventy-Four - The Grind Continues

    Those who had fallen had already been dragged away. The Casters who could Revivify them were already waiting, and the White Staff that could do the same was also waiting. Paying for it out of the Company spoils had been totally agreed to by those fighting, and given the numbers who had been returned to life by it within its one-day limit, nobody considered it a bad expense. It could only do three at the moment, but every nine days, it would add another, up to the maximum limit of five. Forty-five goldweight, and Karma to match...


    Gnomes, like elves, had an innate talent for magic, if their hair colors, ranging through every shade of the rainbow, didn''t make it blindingly obvious. Their talent was, however, restricted to being Illusion Specialist Wizards, which was totally fine with him. Yeah, it meant no direct damage magic, or necromancy, but when those groups of invisible dhatun and their greataxes had smashed into that flank, well, who needed a fireball? The Warped went flying and were reduced to little bits all the same.


    Now they were scanning for magic and precious materials, accompanied by Rockborn muscle who would rip away armor and toss the bodies as they were cleared. Gold, gems, enchanted weapons and armor, skinplate, and other things were heaped onto Disks uncaringly, all of them destined to be Burned, because nobody here trusted anything from the Warped to keep as their own.


    Because nobody trusted Warped metal, the leavings of weapons and armor on the battlefield also had to be gathered up, and were hurled into contemptuous piles and pits near The Ring, forming some fairly impressive mounds. Nobody wanted to be tripped up by a fallen dire axe or piece of spiked armor, so clean-up was one of the things that had to be done before the next fight. Summoned Spirit Servants heaped up the junk on more Disks and wagons driven out by ready support troops, racing off to the mounds to dump their loads from thousands of Warped dead.


    -----------


    Briggs waved at Rorn Greywolf as the Kalden came up, riding a big black Horse named Sergeant Chops.


    "Field should be yours in ten minutes," Briggs said with grim patience, and the Kalden nodded, eyes fixed on the Rift a few miles away. Tattooed lines flared into existence around his eyes, and he stared at the distant moving figures there.


    "Ah, they''re doing it," he said warily, focused on the distance. There were always scouts watching the Rift for any surprises, but no news had passed through yet. Briggs followed his gaze.


    "Into the Bloodyard?" he asked calmly. He''d been surprised that it had taken them this long to force the issue. The Warp Gods wanted their bounty, and they''d been denied it when their minions burned.


    "Looks like it. Force of anthros."


    Briggs smiled despite himself. "Here I thought my day was over." He glanced thoughtfully over at Estemar, who was talking with the lancer captain, Sir Harivus. "You going to join us?"


    "I''m not at that level yet, Commander Briggs," Rorn replied honestly. What was going to happen required Grandmaster-level ability, or being a Deep Ten. Basically, they needed the ability to one-shot basically every minion-level creature on the field, and one-round most everything except truly tough bastards.


    He definitely wasn''t at that level, and knew it. He''d need to be a Grandmaster to do that, and would just have to settle for one-rounding minions and two or three-rounding their commanders... and staying away from big bosses and Greater Demons.


    Their heads lifted as a quiet voice, silk over such razored steel, drifted through their heads. -Brothers, some people want to play in the Bloodyard. Come and have some fun with me.-


    There were a whole lot of very strong fighting men, who''d been looking into bestial faces, at men twisted by mutation and madness, and confronted capering demons formed right from the essence of Sin, who shivered at that purr in her voice.


    Rorn looked down at Briggs. "You know she doesn''t need any of you, right?" he asked softly.


    "Yep," Briggs grunted back, smiling fiercely. "Give me another six months of fighting like this, and neither will I." Endure spun once, multi-hued flames forming a full circle backtrail. "But for now, perfectly happy just killing all of these bastards that I can." He shifted into a trot, and Estemar broke off his conversation to run after him, hopping up on the Disk Briggs pulled out of his Masspack to accompany him to the south side of the Bloodyard.


    ---------------


    The world had probably never seen so many Void Brothers gathered in one place, only the Water and the Spear was missing. Killing men who''d built their reputations on mountains of bodies were gathered behind one young woman shorter than any of them, just beyond the great circle of black columns that formed the battlefield of the Bloodyard.


    "You lot sure you want to come along?" she asked the five extras who had chosen to join her.


    Noir Rabe''s face was a bit harsh as he glanced around, feeling the threat level of the humans gathered here. These were some very dangerous Men...


    "I will go," he stated firmly.


    She looked him up and down. "They''re going to throw in a Greater Demon just to offset you." He made a long face. "Perfect!" She smiled brightly, and he just blinked at her. "You''re on archery and spell duty." She pointed at Haul, which held a painstakingly rune-carved pedestal of white granite. "You''re standing on that, Briggs will tow you. I realize you can fly, but the area is going to be Interdicted and Stillflighted so those manticores and chimeras they have can''t do the same. So you stand, and you shoot."


    She reached into her Masspack, and drew out two quivers of arrows, which exactly matched the large one sitting on his back. She tossed them both to Briggs, who put them inside his own. "I expect you to go through all of those arrows before you get into melee. You''re going to be in the center of their formation, and if anything gets close to you, wow, I''m going to be very unimpressed."


    Despite themselves, all the men there clenched their weapons tighter.


    "Sir Harbrom, your lightfoot sucks, and if you bring a horse into this fight, it''s dead. Do you have any magic to increase your speed afoot?


    The mighty, near legendary Paladin of the Order of the Silver Dragon opened his mouth and closed it. "No, my lady?" he finally admitted hesitantly.


    "Sir Estemar." The young Paladin nodded, taking off his Gauntlets, and to the amazement of the older Paladin, cast an arcane spell on him.


    "It''s not much, sir, but it will help you keep up with them in combat," he said, as the magic focused on the older man''s feet.


    "Briggs." The young Ancient hauled out his own Disk, and Sama pointed. "Sir Harbrom, you ride that to the fight." The noble knight looked somewhere between offended and resigned as he stepped over and sat down on the edge of the Disk, whose concave iron circle took his weight without a problem.


    "Master Chardon, Master Fieyor," she turned to the two Dragon Warriors who had come north to join the fight. "This is a straight-up merciless slugfest. The entire point is to slaughter the enemy as much as possible, while keeping that pedestal safe. Nobody is counting kills this run, you can save that for any that follow. You kill them all, and everyone walks out alive."


    The two men nodded slowly, one holding a glaive, the other a greatsword. Both were Tens, and had initially been a little reluctant to acknowledge the orders of a woman half their size.


    Then Sama had butchered a Vile Dancer in front of them, and they decided that maybe giving her some respect would be good for their health.


    "General Moonriver, you certain of this?"


    The slender, short elven general, no taller than she was, smiled at her. "You need a Primary Caster for surprises, and I''ve a full load. If I run out of spells, I should still be able to contribute some." He had swapped in his Baneskull''d Bow, and would certainly be able to do that as needed. The fact he wasn''t carrying a quiver just meant his Bow would make the arrows.


    "You stand on the Disk." I pointed at Briggs'' Disk, and he nodded and without any displeasure went and hopped up on it, easily enough room for him and the Paladin. "Brother Wayfist, you''re hauling the Vivic Capacitor. Stay close to Briggs."


    His Staff clicked, and a forearm''s length of dark steel slid out from the end of the Weapon. "Very well."


    I looked over them all: humans, elf, dhatun, urukhar, halvyr, hyn, and a Fey lord. No Rockborn or Gnomes represented here, which I was sure both races were aching to rectify. "Our goal here is to completely slaughter them all within the Bloodyard with just our numbers, and give the Warp Gods nothing, so that those behind will be increasingly reluctant to come in. That means we go in, slaughter them all, the Capacitor harvests them as they burn, and we walk out. If they decide to do it again, then we do it again, and again, and again, until they realize we are just going to keep butchering them all if they come in here."


    The eyes of the two Masters and General Moonriver flickered, while the Brothers looked eager, and Noir Rabe remained hard and thoughtful. Briggs just looked expectant and rather blas¨¦ about what was coming.


    "Let''s go."


    =============


    The dozen-plus of them stepped through the ring of crystal pillars bounding the Bloodyard. A few pillars around them lit up, reacting to their presence. On the opposite side of the field, more than twenty other pillars had ignited.


    The Firesword smiled, like a tiger about to feast. "They aren''t reacting to Forsaken..." he murmured, and his Brothers hummed with eerie synchronicity.


    A purple and green pastel plume of energy ignited in the distance, spinning, rising and resolving into the multi-armed, sword and sickle-bearing form of a twenty-foot-tall Vile Dancer.


    "That''s supposed to be your dance partner, erlking," Sama stated, and Noir Rabe just huffed once. "A Dancer means a Rutterhorn tribe. They''ll be immune to pain, and it looks like they are all downing mushrooms as we speak." The experienced fighters here all spat in scorn.


    More plumes of power rose as the group broke into a trot. There was well over a half-mile of ground to cover before they reached the enemy, who were being herded into battle lines as powders, drugs, and fungi started to act on their brains. It was easy to see they were magical, as changes began to come over the bestial Warped anthros... size increases, changes to hides as they became scaled, or metal-furred, arcs of lightning wrapped around them, limbs grew larger or became pincers, massive claws, or tentacles... some actually grew extra heads or other limbs, had fire or acid spewing from their mouths, and the like.


    "Might want some poison, fire, and lighting resistance, if you have them," Sama offered, and Sir Harbrom promptly knelt in prayer to administer just that to everyone. Noir Rabe raised an eyebrow at getting protected by divine magic, but said nothing.


    A huge one-eyed giant hove himself out of the ground, his skin shades of pastel yellows and oranges, and the huge iron spiked ball in his hand leaking green poison between his fingers. "Ancientaxe, take out Stilts over there, then the beasties." The Glaive-wielding urukhar just grunted. "Fire, Shadow, those Spiral Dancers that just came up. The Spinners are targets of opportunity, just kill them like the normal troops. Moonriver, you''re in charge of breaking any mass charge at your group.


    "Other than that, follow Briggs, keep the pedestal safe, and everyone gets back alive!"


    Sama drew Tremble as their pace began to pick up, and the opening notes sent a thrill through all their souls.


    ''Tremble, oh ooooh oh Tremble, we come...''

 175 Chapter One Hundred and Seventy-Five – Ah, Elder Brother...?

    "Little Feist." The voice of the hyn was very smooth, rather genderless and hard to describe or remember, while at the same time being quite unforgettable. No one who heard it would fail to recognize it, but trying to describe it was virtually impossible. "And three Hagchildren? Are these Haz¨¦''s sisters?"


    All three girls swallowed, eyes wide. "I think he''s the Shadow and the Knife!" Veis stage-whispered. Verd and Amber above her both nodded, eyes dancing.


    The hyn noted this very unusual reaction, and pragmatically stepped away from the dead man. "Drag him around the back so he can decompose out of sight."


    Without the slightest hesitation, the two older girls zipped around the corner, darted up to the dead man, seized an arm each, and hauled him much more quickly around the back as the bemused Void Brother watched.


    Master Feist walked up oddly, a strange kind of pattern that would make any hostile moves exaggeratingly clear, hands always in sight. Veis pranced behind him, big pale eyes wide with curiosity. The Shadowknife strolled after the dead man, white mist leaking out from the wound in the back of the corpse''s neck.


    "You usually don''t act so openly, Elder," Feist said respectfully. He looked over the dead man, and saw nothing out of place. "What marked this fellow? Dealing with Aberrants?" he asked softly, eyes narrowing.


    "He''s a pan-dimensional scout from a world under the auspices of The One God," the Shadowknife told him calmly, not bothering to hide the information. "They''ve been sending people here for the past century, looking to gain information about the forces here, and we''ve been offing them as they come."


    "A spy from another world?" Feist wondered aloud, shaking his head as the girls dumped the corpse behind a storehouse without batting an eye. The Shadowknife went up and began to pat him down, taking off the dead man''s cloak and dumping his findings thereon. "Ah, I thought you dealt with time travelers, and things outside Creation, sir..."


    "That is my specialty, and what I am more sensitive to then my Brothers. These folk are also outsiders to the Land, their flesh born of other worlds, the magic they bear wrought of different Lands'' energies, the touch of other Gods upon them. We would not bear them much ire if they were but travelers, explorers, or merchants, flitting from realm to realm as others do city to city, save that we questioned the first of them in depth, and employed several Powered to infiltrate and survey their homeworlds.


    "They are the vanguards of The One God, seeking to add more worlds to its worship. As such, they are dealt with when we find them immediately."


    His long knife was in his hand in a blur, striking and sheathed in little more then an eyeblink, and the staring, startled head of the man rolled free of his neck, dark energies sizzling and quenching the trace of vivus on the wound, so the head didn''t burn.


    "Is your big sister going to be returning soon?" he asked the girls calmly.


    "She is scheduled to return at dusk, sir," Verd spoke up promptly. "She said she had some tasks to address."


    "I will employ her services to question this fellow, then. Wrap the head up in his shirt." Verd and Amber quickly and professionally cut open his tunic at the seams, tore it off him, and bundled up the head, not blinking an eye at the sight of vivic flame burning on the neck stump, turning flesh to mist slowly swallowed by the land.


    "Does he have compatriots?" Feist ventured to ask, and the girls all brightened visibly at the thought of possible fun.


    "Only the unwitting. The One God needs cross an entire Pantheonic boundary to reach here. Normally I would remand the head to an Inquisitor of Harse, but with Starsister Haz¨¦ available, I will make use of her services." He bundled up the cloak and the man''s belongings with deft movements, and tossed them to Verd. "See that all are Burned for their magic."


    "Yes, Brother," she acknowledged promptly. It didn''t matter what the items were, they were dangerous and foreign, and for various reasons, from being scry focused to possibly Possessed, they had to be disposed of. Turning them into Investing material for their own magic items was best.


    "Is your business in Calespi done? We are just passing through on the way to the Capital..."


    The Shadowknife paused. "The center of the Empire is a dangerous place to stay long," he said calmly. "I trust you don''t have long-term business there?"


    Master Feist pursed his lips thoughtfully. Such warnings were not to be taken lightly. "We are meeting Veis'' brother there, who happens to be a Heavenbound of some ability."


    "Ah, the Gilderalz boy? Mmmm." His shadowed eyes glanced at Veis, who straightened up proudly. "Well, two decent things out of that family in the last century, I suppose..." Veis looked a little confused about whether to be offended or delighted at that. "As for your question... no, I didn''t come here for this man. I simply happened on his trail and tracked him down en route to my main reason for being here."


    "Oh!" Amber let slip, not bothering to hide her excitement. "We''ve done work for Brothers before!" she blurted out.


    "I am aware." His calm hadn''t changed, but certainly damped her excitement down. She flushed despite herself. "And since I am waiting for your sister, I may as well put the time to good use."


    "Yay!" all three girls cheered, totally okay with doing wetwork for the Brotherhood. The Shadowknife looked on in bemusement.


    "What are they going to be dealing with, Elder?" Master Feist asked carefully.


    "N''Guthu infiltrators and their hosts," the Shadowknife said placidly, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. "They''ve set up a nest in this city, and need to be expunged."


    All four of them had blank looks.


    "Ah, right, they aren''t one of the mighty, overbearing races, like the brain collectors, cerebrovores, or Elder Races. They''re a fringe race of the Void Pact, working through the occasional Warlock or mad Summoner dumb enough to stumble onto their existence. Think of them as large worms that co-exist inside the bodies of their Hosts, with great hatred for Divine entities and the insecurities of thinking themselves opponents of the gods."


    "No affinity with the Heralds?" Feist sighed in relief.


    "Nowhere near enough influence. They''re Aberrants, but not servants of the Old Ones or Elder Gods, much too egotistical for that. I''ve already completed a circuit of the town, and sensed five of them. Shall we?"


    All the girls nodded eagerly. Karma waited for no one!


    ---------


    "You''ve done good work. They are quite smooth," the Shadowknife praised Master Feist.


    Veis had darted out like a mouse, her Kukri held against her arm as she sliced through the tendons at the back of the knees of the fat man moving down the street. As he shouted and fell down, Verd''s Spear took him right in the liver, driving through the mail on his chest. Amber seemed to fold out of nowhere, and her rapier licked out, opening his throat smoothly.


    "They''ve some killer instincts behind them, cold and ruthless. That Ritual they went through showed them some things about reality that no one should have to face... and they clawed their way out of the darkness. Those are some nasty girls there, and when they grow up, they are going to be some very dangerous women, Elder," Feist said with a very straight face.


    The N''Guthu came up out of the wound in the man''s neck... and the one in his stomach, lamprey mouths opening and writhing, lunging at the girls... who immediately went all in, hacking with knives, ripping with nails whose colors suddenly looked a great deal more ominous, and in the case of Verd, bit into one of the heads of the thing and ripped it apart.


    "Hagchildren may end up being a useful resource for the Brotherhood, if we can find suitable foster parents for them. Haz¨¦ was a good find. Our luck with the Sylunars has been intermittent, as Hagchildren tend to be difficult to deal with, so we haven''t pursued it."


    "They defied the Hag Curse, they can defy anything. Really, I think the best thing is that they are sisters, and that holds them together. Haz¨¦ manages them well, but they manage one another better. She pushes them to be better then her. If she beats them in a fight, she rolls her eyes so perfectly, they get soooo mad that they can''t best her physically. Always pushing them to find another way, use the tools they have to be better then the Hags they were going to be. It''s really quite impressive to see," Feist noted.


    The girls were now in the middle of chopping the multiple heads of the unwound N''Guthu into writhing bits with great enthusiasm. The slimy things were whipping and writhing, trying to escape, and the girls were having none of it. Shadow-style grappling ki made their grips very hard to break, and their ki-buffed nails were at least as strong and sharp as steel blades. They had no ick or eww factor whatsoever as they tore the eel-snake-tentacle things apart with vim and vigor.


    "They''re using Soul Magic?" the Shadowknife asked, watching intently. "That''s a very uncommon path."


    "Haz¨¦ tripped them to it, not me. She opened my Chakra points, too," Master Feist admitted. "And... yes and no. They can''t use any of the active Soul Magic." Shadows swirled onto Feist''s hands as the Shadowknife watched, and his fingers began to drip cold, dark mists. "They can''t do anything like this, none of the ''magic''. However, they can use the power to gain some transcendent insights into fundamental combat skills. As a result, they are far more dangerous then they appear, and there''s nothing actively magic about them whatsoever."


    "That''s true. I can feel the Essence on them, but that''s just an energy. It''s not interacting with the Breath at all." The hyn looked intrigued.


    "If they could use magic, they''d be Hags now," Feist reminded him calmly.


    The Shadowknife nodded, as the girls gathered the pieces of the dead Aberrant together, and stacked them onto the burning corpse of its host. They were covered with some alien gore and dirt and blood, but didn''t seem to mind at all, with Veis remaining the cleanest somehow, and Verd and Amber helping one another clean up quickly and precisely and completely uncaring how strange it looked after their unrestrained fighting.


    "So... this sisterhood makes it easier to manage them? That is good to know. When we find others in the future, we can direct them to their sisters."


    "Turning the Hags into a provider of skilled servants for the Brotherhood?" observed Feist.


    "At least the crones will be good for something," the Shadowknife sniffed. The girls rifled through the man''s attire expertly, liberating some interesting items, and quickly brought them over for the Shadowknife to inspect.


    He lifted up a copper medallion from the pile, waved the rest away. "Fairfoot Portage and Travel. Merchant association. Perfect cover for spreading this kind of creature. I recall a trail near the warehouse district. Let us wander on down that way and see what sort of things might be there, shall we?"


    Not looking anything but excited to help, the three girls nodded, and followed the two hyn who were moving with deceptive speed down the darkening streets, towards a part of town where all sorts of things were hidden in the darkness.


    ----------


    Semi-transparent Helices swirled around the hyn''s arm, and the banker swallowed despite himself.


    "Take this, read it, and forward it on to Colamn," the Shadowknife instructed patiently, and the man bowed and accepted the letter. The hyn left as quietly as he entered, none of the attendants outside ever catching a glimpse of him.


    Haz¨¦ was waiting outside for him. "I could have dropped it off myself faster then it will travel," she told him with a sniff.


    "It needs to be read by others on the way there." The Shadowknife shrugged. "The Watchers of Harse need to know what to look for."


    "And they alone?" The corner of her mouth dropped in disapproval.


    "You will inform your faith and goddess, and I will inform the Druidic Circles in passing. If you choose to disseminate the information more widely, I do not care. Past practice suggests that the average person knowing it creates short-term paranoia and long-term apathy, so it''s usually best left to the elites who might do something about it."


    Haz¨¦ sighed and had to agree. The disappearance of five, no, six men had barely caused a ripple in the town, where many folk passed through, and many regulars left and never returned, for one reason or another. More men who''d succumbed to alien invaders weren''t really going to be missed...

 176 Chapter One Hundred and Seventy-Six – An Unworthy Son of Gilderalz

    The headquarters of the Order of the Ruby Heart was up on the Third Circle.


    At one time, he''d been told, it had stood on the Second. But as the power of the Aruan Church had waned, its greatest knightly Order''s standing had fallen with it.


    Part of this was due to the increasing stratification of wealth in the city. Aru wasn''t really a chosen god of the nobles of the city. His power was rooted in the middle-class, of farmers, crafters, merchants, traders, ranchers, and the like, deeply embedded into many of the crafting guilds and working men and women alike. He had the broadest number of followers, and his priests were fiercely protective of their flocks, strong in their communities.


    But that root of power was more outside the city, among the people, and not in the hearts of nobles and the greatly wealthy, who were more concerned about grasping after power then bringing prosperity to all.


    Marginalizing the Aruan Church enough to silence its constant pointing out of their own moral faults had been quite a success, and it was largely unwelcome by the mighty in the halls of power... unless there were undead to be fought, in which case they were happy to send the incensed servants of Aru out to eagerly die against their dark foes, yes, indeed.


    The Order of the Ruby Heart had a long and glorious history of defending the people of the Empire from threats from within and without, and its knights were known inside the Empire and without for their no-nonsense dedication and service to the people, righteous behavior, and willingness to die for their god and the people behind them.


    Being demoted from the sight of the Empire and Court hadn''t really hurt the manpower of the Order much, since it drew most of its recruits from outside the city, anyways. However, in the halls of power, they were largely ignored and with few friends, other Orders crowding in to take on the tasks and rewards of the Court, and the glories that went with it.


    Not much of the Order''s official business actually got done in the ornate, lovingly made hall up on the Third Circle. It was mostly there to attend court, keep track of who was playing whom, and receive proclamations from the Emperor and the Court. There were still people willing to deal with the Order, as it did command power and influence outside the city, and many lands and holdings of noble knights retired to estates and temples to manage them for the good of the people and the Order.


    Given his unique status and abilities, the Inquisitor agent gave him a token and sent Errant right up to the Third Level to speak with the Grand Maester of the Order, a lauded Ten and powerful knight of the Empire, Knight-Baron Daemo Lawvin.


    It was a bit of a long walk, for all that the road was arrow straight and free of obstructions. Traffic was restricted between Circles, after all, consisting mostly of unceasing deliveries of food and some processed materials going up, and high-end crafted goods going out... along with endless messengers and clerks moving this way and that on endless errands needed for running an Empire.


    Clothing was increasingly expensive as Circle increased, he noted, as the wealthy moved further and further upwards to be among more of their own kind, and the powerful gathered to power. The Ninth Circle would see minor business magnates or successful merchants, while the Eighth would start to see the truly wealthy, minor nobles, landowners, and caravan owners, highly skilled craftsmen, and lower-level governmental officials.


    The Seventh would be fleet owners, multi-city trading organizations, wealthy nobles of at least Baronial rank, and elite craftsmen. The Sixth was for rare specialized craftsmen, major landowners, fleet owners, Counts, mid-level governmental officials, and business magnates known across the Empire.


    The Fifth was dominated by organizations. Here were the highest mundane Guild officials and halls, labor unions, the highest tier of non-Court officials, most embassies, and the largest military offices.


    The Fourth was dominated by lesser Court functionaries, the greatest craftsmen in the country, generals and admirals of the Empire, many smaller knightly Orders, and lesser temples.


    On the Third were those just outside the halls of true power. Powerful Churches out of favor, great knightly Orders, the families of powerful Dukes, the Guild Arcane and many powerful Casters and Champions of the Empire.


    The Second was the heart of the Court, where most of the high-end business was done. The most powerful ministers, favored Churches, and powerful servants of the Empire resided there, and no one else.


    The First was restricted to the Imperial Family and its branches and guardians. The Emperor actually descended to the Second if they wanted to hear the business of Court, otherwise whiling away their time at the top of the world in luxury.


    He really didn''t have any desire to visit the top of the Circles, as the Emperor was widely known to be living in debauched luxury while the Empire rotted underneath him. The Prime Minister effectively ran the Empire, jockeying and manipulating all the many factions of nobles, generals, merchant lords, and guild leaders with callous skill and ease.


    After all, that was why he was there, right? To start hunting for problems.


    ------


    His silver eyes got many startled looks, some even hostile, from guards that he passed on the way. He recognized the signs of Imprus and Huul worship on them, men haughty over their station in life, and very defensive against someone who transcended the stratified society they depended on.


    Still, the token gained him easy passage as he made his way up the ramps to the higher levels, amused and impressed at the way they altered gravity so that the wagons moving up and down were always at a right angle to them, allowing traffic to move up and down the fairly steep slopes without slowing down or taking great effort. It was certainly easier and faster then using portage or elevators, he observed.


    It wasn''t a high magic society, but magic was quietly pervasive. Permanent Spirit Servants swept the roads clean. Eternal Flames lit up the streets. Temperature regulation moderated extremes, leaving the air comfortable even in the depths of winter or hottest summer. Powerful Wards strengthened the Veil, stopped overflying, and restricted the use of magic by outsiders. Trees bloomed here and there in small parks, and if the flowers were out of season, it was no big surprise. There were public fountains with cool, clear water, easily fit to drink; public restrooms that were Cantrip''d clean on a regular basis, and the omnipresent nature of the city guards kept unrest to a minimum.


    As expected of a millennia-old Empire, there were statues every, honoring this or that hero, past Emperor, great artist, wizard, or the like. Some were animated, some had illusions playing around them to tell of the glorious history of the one so honored, some were gilt in wealth to show the power of one''s ancestors.


    The statues were also changed on a regular basis, with new statues being thrown up, and older ones quietly relegated to other, less ideal locations in the city... or perhaps chopped up and recycled, if the descendants and followers of those depicted weren''t vociferous enough in its defense. A decade or two in the sun, and then bumped off by a later, greater hero with an ego to be tended to...


    The architectural style was a m¨¦lange of the Four Marches coming together, plus the unique ringed and rising style of the capital itself, where layers of buildings built towards a higher and more prestigious level, looking down upon those lower then they even within a level. Whether it was the onion domes and triangles of the south, the steepled buildings and wood-framed stone of the North, the columns and spires of the West, or the gentle curves and tiled roofs of the East, they all tried to nod to the rising idea of Zynozure, and pay tribute to the Empire as they did so.


    Mmmm. And as each level rose, the amount of stone beneath them, and the secrets that could be held within it, increased. The great water pumps of the city existed up on Eight, great columns of water brought up from the Crowned below, filtered, and sent down miles and miles of pipes in all directions to supply the city. Even the areas of the Tenth close to the city profited from the water supply and excellent sewage system, a marvel of city planning that had endured for centuries, and highlighted how forward-thinking the Empire had once been.


    Things to be proud, then jaded about, then arrogant about. Thinking others primitive for not having such things, not paying heed to just how much effort from a community went into developing something like that...


    Key point, he saw very few non-humans around... and most of those were in servant or slave status.


    Dragons with Thrall collars to keep them tamed, flying through the skies. Anthros and feral laborers or personal bodyguards, all wearing Slaver Brands or Bracers, basically under Geas to serve. Various forms of monsters visible as pets or guards here and there, the more ostentatious the better.


    Beautiful members from multiple races, with elves and halvyr prominent, at places of pleasure, there for the amusement of the human wealthy. Artisans bound to shops and factories, unable to leave and only labor for their owners, probably prisoners of war, or similar excuses for such behavior, more likely simply hunted and captured by slavers seeking a good payday.


    He was pretty sure there were bound demons or other fiends being used as power sources, and knew exactly how that would end. Nobody would speak up for such creatures of evil, but what was going to happen to them if and when they got free was totally predictable.


    There was certainly magic. There were certainly fantastic races. But this was a city of humans, built by humans, and very clearly non-humans did not have anything resembling equal status. Arrogance and pride had gone to the heads of those who structured the society here, and they had fallen from heights of glory and progress to arrogance and sloth.


    He could see the trace of other races in what had been done here. Jotuns had worked on the walls, Rockborn had brought stonework, elves had touched the wood and the designs of gardens and parks he passed.


    He saw no hyn that were not of servant status past the Ninth Circle, as there were no noble hyn clans in the Empire, and hyn could not be Arcane Casters, only Clerics. Gnomes had individual status as master Alchemists, Artificers, and Illusionists, and would certainly protect their own, but again only the most powerful of their kind would have respect here, so few would reside here and suffer constant human domination and exploitation.


    Humanity, a force that could bring many nations and forces together into a greater purpose, falling to a power that would oppress and dominate them all instead.


    He knew the stories, because his family had participated in many of those conquests and wars, with great fervor and glee.


    The constant battles and conflicts with the feral tribes and anthros to the east. The naval battles and land wars with the ageless empires to the south. Continuous conflicts with the rising kingdoms to the west. Endless skirmishing and hunts back and forth with the fey and elves of the Sidhete to the north. The resentment and distrust of the Gnome and Rockborn Clans of the Kahlete Mountains that separated the West March from the Central Empire, starting when the Seventeenth Emperor, Lukos the Rock Breaker, cracked open the Dwarfhold of Grim-Garan, and slaughtered every Rockborn man, woman, and child for daring to not pay fealty to him, creating a grudge that bedeviled the Empire to this day.


    And now he was here, at the Hall of the Ruby Heart, to see about being Knighted into this Empire, and see how he could use such a status to further the work of Heaven.


    He smiled slightly. It would be interesting, at least...

 177 Chapter One Hundred and Seventy-Seven – A Grym End

    Buzzing arrows came whizzing in from all directions, driving into the planks of the carriage. Truly it was unusual for such a vehicle to be traveling alone, without armed guards, and doubtless the men in wait thought they''d hooked themselves a fine, foolish fish for little effort.


    They came boiling up out of concealed holes and creches in the rocks and brush, very easy to miss, armed with spears, axes, bows and crossbows, wearing motley sets of leathers and mail pieces, twenty of them rapidly ringing the carriage, and darting forward to grab Tabi and stop him in place, as a good horse was worth a lot of money.


    The men whooped as they closed in on the beardless driver, bows aimed at the hyn riding crossbow up top and daring him to make a move. They looked quite excited as they came in, and one eager fellow reached in to grab the door and lead his fellows inside.


    There was a popping sound, a crackle and a snap, and muscle reflex kicked the man back off his feet, hair burning and eyes black from the surge of voltage that had gone through him.


    The momentary shock drew a lot of eyes, and then the side panels folded down, and the automated dart launchers ploinked off their loads, two on each side of the carriage instantly dropping four men writhing to the ground.


    Feist tapped the top of The Wagon, and shield walls shot up as he rolled back, taking a half-dozen bolts that couldn''t penetrate the Hardened Ironwood. His Autobow snapped into hand, he propped it on the slit as the hatch behind him was thrown up and Veis zipped up behind him, her own Autobow in hand, and took the back arc.


    Down below, Verd, looking rather boyish in traveling attire with her chest bound up, reached out to a prodding spear with her left hand, and to the total amazement of the grown man holding it, hauled it in to herself as her right hand struck out and plunged fully into his throat. Her head turned as the short spear left his weakened grasp, and back-handed she drove it six inches into the face of the swordsman at the other side who hadn''t responded in time.


    Tabi thought that was a fine time to stop being a docile horse. His harness unsnapped, leaving him free to move, and he took a step forwards and pivoted. His large square teeth closed on one man''s throat and ripped out, while his rear leg slammed out like a piston and crushed another man''s breastbone like a battering ram, sending him flying into his fellows.


    Amber dropped down through the bottom of The Wagon, rolled smoothly, and came up with her rapier spitting one man''s throat, and a throwing knife flicked precisely into another by her side as she raced for the nearest crossbowmen who were trying to reload.


    Verd spun off her seat, the prod at her side extending with a thrust and sweep, the first finding a startled throat, the second whipping one man off his feet, and a spin slamming down the bloody spearhead into his liver as she kept going towards an archer reloading there, eyes grim and focused. Up above, two Autobows clacked together, pump actions sliding the Compressed bolts up out of the magazine, no need to draw a bolt or string, and precise, deadly black missiles zipped out at the archers whose arrows thunked uselessly against the mantles.


    Amber leapt right onto one man, rapier leading the way to his throat, kicking back off him, down, rolling, up, and slashing across an archer''s throat in passing. Another throwing knife dropped into her hand, flicked sideways, and an excitable fellow screamed as it cut his bowstring, and the rebound nearly smashed him in the face and took it out of his hand. Before he could draw the dirk at his waist, she was on him, a long lunge spitting him cleanly.


    Verd slid sideways, and a point-blank arrow shot whizzed past her cheek, shocking the archer here, who was scrambling to keep his distance as she charged at him very quickly. She lunged with her spear, there was a second of relief in his eyes when he saw it would fall short... and then it was three feet longer in mid-thrust, drove into his guts, and was twisted and pulled back, dragging micro-tears of flesh and guts with it in messy fashion. She planted her foot to stop, rotated around and snapped her hips, and the axeman rushing up behind her didn''t drop his shield in time to prevent the heavy head from cutting into his thigh. As he stumbled, she moved up, spinning her spear to knock away his lunge with the sword, and then coming down from overhead to split his skull through his leather cowl.


    There was only one man standing there unwounded, an archer who suddenly realized everyone else seemed to be dead or dying, and promptly panicked. He turned to flee, and a buzzing bolt took him square in the back. Reflex action took him forward two steps, he faltered, and the follow-up shot drilled him in the back of the head, snapping him forwards and down limply.


    Tabi backed off two men whose skulls he''d crushed, a couple bloody wounds on his hide that he ignored for the moment, looking around alertly. Nothing was threatening the Horse, so he trotted over close to the door to wait for healing.


    "Clear!" shouted Feist, spinning and looking around for any spotters close by. There''d be one placed at least a half-mile ahead and behind, looking for any patrols or other traders, but there was nothing around them now.


    "Clear!" rang out from each of the girls in series, also spinning and looking for threats.


    "Verd, call it!" Feist ordered calmly.


    "Amber, circle and track them to their camp! Master Feist, forward to get the advance spotter! I''ll take the rear! Veis, heal up Tabi and move the carriage forward in five minutes, find a place of cover and wait for us to return! I''ll take the rear and return, Feist and I will follow Amber!"


    Without batting an eye, Feist turned the lever that dropped the mantlets, the arrows snapping off as the shields dropped, and he swung down from the roof to the ground in a flowing motion that made him look more like a moving shadow then a person. In a second, he was on the ground and moving out, silent as a breath of wind, and about as easy to spot.


    Amber began to circle the position, looking for the trail that led away, head low and sniffing for emphasis. Unbathed men stood out very sharply on this Imperial road.


    Veis used the Amulet at her throat twice, touching it to Tabi''s bloody wounds, and sealing them up quickly and painlessly with channeled Soul magic through the pendant. Verd swung up onto the hill, blending into the rough terrain and searching out the rough trail that would lead her to whoever was playing the spotter behind them.


    -----------


    If the fact he hadn''t bathed for weeks and enjoyed locoweed wasn''t enough, he was drinking some very sour booze as he waited on guard duty. He had a nice enough place, but wasn''t expecting her to go up the side of the rocky cliff, and then come down it on top of him, especially at the speed she did. Her knife flashed once, and he died in a drunken haze of surprise.


    She collected his bow, knife, and purse, and then left him there to go vivic in the shadows, stealing silently past him to see what lay beyond.


    It looked like an abandoned dwarven guardpost, the road to it carefully overgrown and disguised, stones removed to make rough fences and walls as a foundation for the tents and lean-tos around. There were a couple cliffs, which doubtless held rooms and storehouses within, knowing the dwarves, and men and women going around doing the mundane tasks of everyday living.


    The men were all scarred, unwashed, and wearing weapons. There were guards here and there, especially on the larger cave entrance, where the men there had half-plate and shields, and were noticeably larger than most of the men here.


    Amber stole around the edges of it as silently as she could, which was pretty quiet, as Feist had placed a premium on stealth operations, and they simply were not suited for direct assaults. She had a fair idea of the layout of this place after only a minute or two, and began to withdraw towards the guardpost ¨C


    A large, strong hand grasped her by the head as the stone beside her seemed to come alive, kicking out one of her legs, and the hook of an axe head rested against her throat, ready to dig in and tear it out instantly.


    She was much stronger then she looked, easily as strong as a strong man, but the one holding her was heavy, much stronger... and smelled of rock dust, iron particles, forge fires, and mushroom ale.


    "Du haz good reazon to be hier, gurl?" the deep, grating voice of a Rockborn echoed in her ears, as steady pressure forced her completely to her knees, and the grip on her head shifted to the arm that was palming a knife, a twitch of the axe warning her about trying anything. She could feel an ominous chi pressure against her ki, warning her that this Rockborn knew some earth-based profound form, and she was in real danger.


    "These men ambushed my friends and I, and we killed them all. I am the scout sent to find out where their camp is so that we can clear them out completely."


    "Hur?" The Rockborn sounded amused, she could feel his beard against her back. "A young''un und a gurl as a scout?" He didn''t quite believe it.


    "What do I look like? A borderguard? A feral? Someone lost?" she sniffed back at him. "I know you aren''t with them, because you at least bathe."


    There were quiet huffs behind her which she recognized as laughter. "Zpirit du hast, gurl. Fine, then." The hook at her throat went away, as did the release of her arm.


    Instead of spinning away to face him and gain distance, Amber instead turned and sat down, startling the squat, powerful figure who''d been holding her.


    He was indeed covered in dust and sand, blending so smoothly into the terrain that her eyes had skipped right past him. Some had brushed off when she held him, and she swore silently that someone in plate armor could be so quiet and undetectable, as she met his glittery eyes.


    Master Feist''s long knife tickled the dwarf''s ear, and he stiffened ever so slightly in his almost immobility. "You''ve good sense, Rockborn. Your name and clan, sir," the hyn said, very calmly.


    "Binst known as Grym, Clanhammer ov Clan Dauer," the dwarf replied carefully, but there was no fear in his voice. "Hynfolk, aye? Zound ye of Hoggle Hove, und a Ztalker, no lez. Ye far from home, small lord."


    "We hammer the sky,"


    "Und breathe der earth." The long knife was withdrawn, and the dwarf rotated to see Master Feist flow out of the undergrowth.


    "And you are a fair ways from mighty Dauerhamar, Clanhammer," Master Feist said, looking the taller, broader dwarf up and down fearlessly, brow furrowing. "I passed through there, long ago, on my ways down from the Hove. Have we met afore, Rockborn? I''m called Feist."


    The dwarf peered back at him, an equally thoughtful look upon his face. "I know not yur name or face, tho may haf seen in pazzing, Ztalker," the Clanhammer acknowledged. "Come du to be rid of de vermin beyond?" He waved at the brigands inhabiting the ruins of dwarven make. Though not of the local clans, he knew of their grievances against the Empire, that had driven them back from the trade roads cutting through lands that had been theirs for years beyond knowing.


    "Yes. We can speak further after we have dealt with them. Are you prepared to slag them?" Feist asked with a grim smile.


    "If du binst ready to draw deir lazt breath, aye," the dwarf responded, brow furrowing again, for his Hammer was Named Slag.


    Feist blinked. His Sword was Named Ink... because it drew people''s last breath...


    =========


    Verd arrived several minutes later, having further to run after finishing disposing of the far spotter. She was surprised to find they had found an ally, but the plan of assault was made quickly, and they attacked.


    They were outnumbered twenty to one, and it wasn''t even close. The Clanhammer was a monster, his burning Hammer roaring like a furnace as he whipped it around, threw it like a cannonball, and crashed his way through anything that got in his way with incredible power and great mass.


    He and Feist worked together uncannily well, the hyn zipping this way and that, setting up panicking bandits for shockwave assaults from the Hammer, or ripping meteoric throws that were like solid fireballs plowing through screaming men. The two synergized as if they''d been fighting together for years, leading one another from point to point, covering one another and setting them up, always seeming to know what the other was going to do next, and making these brigands pay for it.


    The girls got to watch this display of high-end martial savagery with wide eyes. Both hyn and dwarf were Profound Masters of different styles, and their skill was unmistakable. They''d seen Master Feist occasionally go at an enemy, but as they''d never faced these kinds of numbers, they''d never seen him pull out all the stops. He was a flitting shadow of knives, cuts, and instant kills, shifting from shadow to shadow so fast they couldn''t really keep track of him, always in the wrong place at the wrong time for the enemy.


    And Master Grym definitely showed them why you didn''t want to engage a Rockborn in a straight-up fight. He was uncannily fast for his size, brutally powerful, and basically immovable. He could slam his burning Hammer through shields and plate alike, sundering metal and making stone leap under the impact of his chi, and they only had to watch his flanks, because anything in front of him just died.


    The brigands didn''t last near as long as they thought they might, and when the robber knight that was their leader came out to play, the Clanhammer took his challenge while the other three took his guards, and that fight was short, brutal, and very final all the way around...

 178 Chapter One Hundred and Seventy-Eight – Tens at Work

    Thrice Way of Waters, -6 to opponents'' armor or natural armor. Water always finding the weak points in a rigid defense.


    Thrice Way of Fire, -6 to opponents'' dodge or dex bonuses. Fire consumes all, erratic, unpredictable, your own movements used against you, just that little bit of randomness throwing off reflexes.


    Thrice Way of Storm, -6 to opponents'' abstruse bonuses, like deflection, sacred, insight, profane, luck, or other odd things. The wind and the thunder hit everything, immaterial defenses ignored.


    This Vile Dancer had more then +6 in all categories: demonically tough skin, supernaturally coordinated, and +Charisma to AC as a deflection bonus.


    The One Strike Charge avoided her parry, which meant base AC was all she had to stop me... and that AC was eighteen points lower then she thought it was.


    She/it effectively dodged right into my path, I tore right through her aural defense, and Tremble at +X didn''t find her supernatural toughness at all an impediment, carving a line through this Vile Dancer''s face and popping off inside what passed for a brain.


    Snake-bodied ultra-marilith went flopping, spasming as vivic banefire ate at her brains, and then there was that pitched scream as the End of her Eternity came.


    The Land couldn''t sense what was going on here and come in to feed, but that was A-OK. Vivic flames spiraled into the air... and instead of getting sucked into the bounding pillars, dove in and went into that marble pedestal following Briggs around, glowing vit der ubah powah.


    I left the burning multi-armed half-snake Kali-wannabe behind, and hurtled towards the screaming, frenzied anthros going out of their minds on a very nasty convergence of alchemical immiscibility and psychotropic drugs.


    That was okay, they were dying all the same.


    A One Strike turned a Banestar stroke into a Penetrating Shot as I worked the angles, and if it was only seventy feet long, that was okay, as nearly a dozen of the packed brutes screamed and fell, chopped halfway apart right through their chests and that vital pumping organ. That created a nice walking path for me I could slip into invitingly, with enemies on all sides, and I began to Cleave.


    The Firesword and Shadowknife were dancing through the four-armed Spiral Dancers, their Helices surrounding them in a wild blur of magic-purifying power. The Shadowknife''s blades struck through moments in time, bringing their time to an end in a flash and flicker as he moved through them at and above the ground, his motions flowing through their dance as if they were his partners, not his victims.


    They didn''t even get to join the Firesword''s dance. Weep reached out, and the power in their dancing died, the point shearing through them, sucking away the magic of life, pouring it right back out as annihilation. Vivic fire was consuming them before they could hit the ground as the Helices around his weapon literally tore apart the essence of them, and set it free.


    Ancientaxe''s Glaive had hewed down that overgrown Cyclops mercilessly, and the chimera that had come over to investigate had rapidly lost all three heads, now leaking on the ground while the manticore flung poisoned tailspikes at the Urukhar, which he avoided so casually it might not have been throwing them at all.


    Over to the side, the main group had slammed into the main lines of the anthros, who were trying to gang up on them, and failing utterly.


    Briggs was slamming everything in front of him improbably hard. It didn''t matter if they were twice his height and eight times his mass, he crashed into them, through them, over them, bones cracking and organs pulping as horned and hooved bodies went flying this way and that, opening the way. His heavyfoot crushed them as he ran over them, caving in skulls and ribs with every step, and Endure bounced from here to there like it was made of rubber, never stopping its arcs of metal and bone-crunching doom.


    To his sides, the two Dragon Warriors reaped, explosive impacts and cut-through strokes that could reach out twenty feet or more, sucking hapless stoned-mad anthros up into deadly sweeping strikes, exploding earth, icy sprays, conducting impacts, and multi-strike blows that sent bodies flying in multiple parts without fail.


    The Brothers operated outside this template of brutal physical force like reaving scythes. Helices wrapped around Weapons, and harvested the magic of life. It wasn''t fancy, violent, or explosive... but everything around them folded and died, without exception, swirls of black-pink-purple banefire following their weapons through arcs and curls, sweeps and lunges, and the Warped fell down went ugh! around them.


    A fireball went off, limned with Banefire, right in the heart of the packed anthros. Flattened against the ground, the forty-foot sphere was a hemisphere closer to sixty feet across, and caught scores of them in the blast. Half of them died instantly, the rest charred and tottering from the impact, almost dead.


    His arm a blizzard of motion, Noir Rabe picked those wounded off, driving the arrows of his Queen through their heads and chests with merciless precision. If he got a clean shot, he could potentially one-shot these creatures, but in their maddened state, it was unlikely. Those wounded but not slain by magic were perfect victims for his arrows, with no need to do other then shoot constantly and reap their lives.


    Briggs slammed into a great bull-horned minotaur in armor, a commander of some sort, scar-runes seething with power carved all over his black fur and green scales. The Rutterhorn bellowed and breathed a toxic cone of gaseous acid right into their face.


    It ran into Brigg''s Source and evaporated. The bull-man was still exhaling when Endure came up under its chin, lifted it right off the ground in full extension, and then the Hammer came around and hit it in the side, jolting it sideways just in time to catch Master Chardon''s Glaive in the neck and lose its head over it.


    Wham, wham, two more minotaurs stumbled away, managing to get past the two Dragon Warriors as Briggs came out the back of the formation. They were still trying to regain their feet when the wildly mutated anthros in front of them deflated and folded over silently, and the Mindring and Bonescythe came right through to send Voidbound Weapons slicing through their thick bodies, the Runes carved into the brutes all going silent... and then tearing apart the flesh about them as they were disrupted.


    Using Sir Harbrom and his cycles of Smites, Condemnations, Castigations, Imprecations, and Exhortations as the pivot at the end of the left flank, Briggs swung around in formation, and their flying wedge didn''t try and get away at all, oh no. Over the carpet of burning dead, and the vivic flames getting drawn into the Pedestal, he smashed right back into the thick of the Warped. A lightning bolt roared with power and blew apart dozens more of them, and they slammed into the crazed Warped again.


    ---


    The Shamans keeping a careful distance in the back gawked at the scene, even in their stoned-out haze. They started to bleat out more calls of power, magic conflating to come down in a killing miasma of bestial vapors and tearing spirits-


    That the Helices of the Void Brothers tore apart before it could even form. The shamans all staggered at the sucking feedback as the power was ripped out of them and cancelled before it could even manifest, like a great black hole had devoured the energies of the Warp and left them with nothing.


    They turned around, and the Firesword and Shadowknife smiled politely at them. Their bleating calls weren''t heard by the frenzied mob of their clanmates, but then again, they didn''t last more than a breath, anyways.


    ---


    Sama crashed into the far side of the formation at a near sprint, or so it looked to everyone watching. That sprint didn''t slow down as Tremble was just a blur, a beautiful trail of interlinked arcs and spirals shearing through everything around her non-stop, and she only seemed to speed up as she killed. Bodies already coming apart in front of her were smashed out of the way to get to the screaming fanatics behind them, filling the air with burning blood and gore as bodies collapsed in every direction around her... and then she was out the far side before the anthros even registered she was there as a threat.


    Briggs crossed her path, spun fully around to send two bisected corpses sailing across the line into the stunned and reeling anthros shrieking there, and the flying wedge chewed through and out the rest of the far side in a bit more time then it took her to go through all of it.


    Even the most stoned of these creatures realized that something really bad had happened. Reeling, the quartered mass of anthros, having lost more then half their numbers already, found themselves staring at the spurting, burning corpses of their own, some of them not even having managed to die even as they were burning away.


    The demons were smears of white, arcing up and descending en masse into that glowing carved rock. Burning arrows didn''t stop hammering the stoned-mad anthros as Briggs paused and turned around, everyone following with him.


    To the side, a single masked girl who didn''t come up to their shoulders had slid to a halt, the Sword in her hand Singing a Song at them that was cutting right through their drug-addled minds with bone-deep fear and the knowledge that their souls were being harvested... and not for Amourae.


    Fanaticism was cut through like a razor, and they finally realized why they were going to die.


    Ice pounded down with steel-hard hailstones over a massive area, crushing and cracking and finishing off the wounded, hammering at the rest. Burning arrows continued in non-stop, the Warped bleated and died.


    Sama and Briggs charged together. There was no chance of them meeting, Sama was out the far side before Briggs hit halfway through the remaining mass, and then she just curved into the heart of them and began to sweep them up, Tremble''s song never stopping.


    Briggs'' wedge never wavered in shape or form, sweeping back and forth. Those who were crazed and fought, died.


    Those who screamed and ran, arrows chased, or Sama did. They couldn''t escape the pillars of the Bloodyard anyways, and so they died.


    ---------


    The corpses of the dead burned quickly, being shot up with Warped alchemy and stuff like they were, and the Warped outside the Bloodyard, and the Presences beyond the yawning swirl of the Rift, could only look on in silent fury.


    None of them had died. There had been very few chances for the enemy to even strike at them before they died, and naturally there hadn''t been any lethal wounds.


    They were dealing with Tens, after all, and the Void Brothers and Sama were Deep Tens. Briggs wasn''t, but he was a Grandmaster of the Hammer, a brutally strong Source, and there was no way to stop him once he got moving.


    "Well done," Sama told them all, as General Moonriver helpfully directed their looting via magic for burnable and occasionally worthwhile plunder. The Brothers were far from too arrogant to collect it all, especially when it started heaping up. The four-meter Swords of the Vile Dancer and the smaller ones of the Spiral Dancers all made worthwhile loot, and the shamans, commanders, and minotaur brutes all had magic stuff worth picking up, along with precious metal ornaments. They seemed to have a fetish for nose-rings and horn-bands...


    "My lady Sama," Sir Harbrom said, with more respect then he had likely ever shown a woman in his life, "May I ask what the harvesting of the vivus is actually for?"


    "What, you think I''m just going to toss it outside the Bloodyard and let Mama Land come down and feast?" Sama laughed lightly. "Nope, nope. It''s going to be a part of that." She pointed, and everyone turned to look at the nearest fort going up in the distance against the Ring.


    Briggs caught it first. "It''s fuel for the Obelisk," he said, pale violet eyes gleaming.


    "Yez!" Sama reached out to pat the brimming white stone. "A couple thousand points worth. We need about two hundred thousand more."


    "A couple thousand points," repeated Brother Firesword, as they all started walking casually out of there. The watching Warped Riftwards from them didn''t dare to loop around and try to meet them. They had just seen what would happen to those who tried. "A greater demon. Over a thousand anthros."


    "Yeah." Sama pointed up, and they all looked up, to see a sliver of blue sky had somehow opened directly above them. Just a sliver, however... but it showed that the Land was reaching in here. "Any fight in this Bloodyard, the Pedestal goes with them. Outside, the Pedestal is going to be out there. It can''t take all the vivus, the Land is too hungry here, but it can take most of it.


    "We are here to stop that Rift, close it, and send the Warp Gods back to their own realm, licking their wounds and having a good reason not to try this shit again. Sure, they''re insane and will be back sooner or later... and if it works, we''ve given the gods a very good blueprint for what to do to really hurt them, if we do it right."


    "That is a lot of killing," the Mountainhammer murmured, a strange light in his eyes, reflecting the crystalline streams of the Helices wrapped around his Hammer.


    "It is, isn''t it?" Sama''s Masked silver-black eyes were like obsidian and diamonds. "And the wonderful thing is we get to keep all the Karma, and man, is there gonna be a helluva Glory Award when that damn thing behind us blows."


    Heads craned to look up at the quarter-mile ripple of intruding reality shredding into their world.


    "I have no idea what that is, but I definitely have to be here to see that," murmured Sir Harbrom, and everyone else agreed...

 179 Chapter One Hundred and Seventy-Nine – The Grand Maester

    Something was wrong here.


    Errant eyed the architecture and ornamentation of the place with an eye both critical and approving. Verses of the primary tenets of Aru, depictions of miracles associated with him, art and sculptures of saints and heroes who had held up his good work across the centuries... all quite appropriate, made with skill and care, there to inspire later generations in service to the Sun King.


    But... there was a Darkness here, where there should be only Light.


    The Warlock set of powers was defined as Ward, Wrath, and Whim, or Defense, Offense, and Utility. The Heavenbound had a decently robust set of Whim powers, starting with the basic Devasight from Eyes of the Angels that made their eyes keen, sensitive to colors, and immune to being blinded, dazzled, or the like by bright light or mirages, and made illusions difficult to use against them.


    That was a Primary, unpaid power, the base of the Whims. It extended into the Mastery called the Eyes of Heaven, a Mastery similar to what Paladins had.


    The Eyes of Heaven were about being able to find Evil. As Heavenbound were meant to fight Evil, being able to sense it was rather key. While being Evil was not a reason in itself to strike someone down, it let the Heavenbound know who to watch, be wary of, learn more about, and such folk often lead to other interesting things that required intervention.


    After all, being Evil meant having the weight of Sin upon them. Such people had chosen to stand close to Evil by thought and deed. They didn''t get that aura just by idle wishing...


    Most Warlocks who improved the Eyes were looking for range, duration, and broader sensitivity, upgrading it to sensing Good, so as to find allies and comrades in arms, and then Law and Chaos, to learn the manners and mindsets of allies and foes alike, one to work with them better, the other to destroy more easily.


    He had done all of that. He could extend his range of detection out a long distance, get the information very quickly, and sustain it even in the middle of combat if he was of a mind.


    But more importantly, he could Heighten it to Five base, which made it very, very sensitive. As a spell, this was called Into the Heart of Darkness, and it was incredibly sensitive to both current and past presences of Evil, to the point where he could track the trail of an evil being like following footprints.


    And that was what he was feeling here... the traces of Evil had passed here. Evil that shouldn''t even have been allowed in this blessed place, or even been able to tolerate it here. The aura of the Wards alone should have weighed down on their souls, making them hugely uncomfortable and unable to tolerate the spiritual weight of their own sins dragging them down.


    But it was here, dust and shadows, broken up by the overarching magic, swept into the corners like dust... but it should not have been here at all.


    It was very not good news. It meant the Order of the Ruby Heart had been infiltrated, and said infiltration had escaped routine divinations aimed at them, as well as flying under the effect of the Wards that should be oppressing them.


    That would either take some incredibly powerful magical items, or...


    His thoughts turned in a direction he didn''t like. Haz¨¦ had already spoken about certain ongoing events. There was plenty of magic and natural effects that could obfuscate active divinations. However, those magicks tended not to work on traces left behind, which was what was happening here.


    He questioned the guards about the history of this or that as he was being shown through the halls, while messengers ran ahead and made sure the Grand Maester was available. At the same time, he was scanning for those little dusty shadows, and where they were the most common. Faint footprints, forming a trail and a pattern of habit.


    There were more then one. Three, it felt like? They were avoiding the chambers of the priests attached to the Order, which was understandable. Being a false Priest in a world with active gods was not exactly possible.


    His escort was kind enough to tell him the layout, and he glanced in the direction of the library, where the traces were thick, and then over to the barracks of the active Knights.


    And... ahead of him...


    ----


    The Grand Maester was over a hundred years old, a Ten of great reputation and legendary accomplishments, famed for victories over two Anti-Paladins, a Bone Knight of Skulos, and a Grave Knight raised from an old foe of his, Sir Brogginkraut. Grand Maester Daemo "The Lance of Aru" Lawvin was an old and established legend, and even with the more then healthy rivalry between knightly Orders, not someone to offend here in the capital.


    He looked to be nearing thirty-five or so, with a handlebar mustache set that was all the rage among the knightly officers, hair still dark and thick, a cheerful and honest demeanor that could set almost any person at ease, while at the same time making you subtly aware of the Thunder chi burning underneath his skin and ready to explode forth in a healthy Smite upon you.


    There was a considerable amount of shadowy dust piled up in his chamber, too.


    He was intrigued to meet a Heavenbound who was so obviously young, yet naturally unafraid or overawed. He gestured Errant to a seat, and the young man sat down calmly.


    "What can I do for a young servant of the Heavens, Master Errant?" he asked calmly, hands clasped and studying the younger man intently. "It is rare that I see a recommendation from the Inquisition come my way."


    "Yes, sir. My reason for coming here is simple. I have completed all the required steps for knighthood, up to and including a test of valor. However, the nature of my birth does not permit me to join the knights of my family." He rolled his silver eyes tellingly. "As a Heavenbound, I am naturally limited in the Orders I can apply to for my knighthood, and while I have no problems working with the Inquisition if called upon, the Orders associated with the Ivory King are somewhat too rigid to accept a Heavenbound''s way of doing things. Thus, they recommended that I be knighted by and attached to the Ruby Heart."


    "Well." The dark eyes scanning him were shrewd, a master of politics as well as the lance, fully able to read between the lines of what Errant was saying. Basically, he was a bastard son and an embarrassment who could not be allowed to remain in the family and be a threat to the primary inheritors, who were likely far less capable then someone who had actually qualified as a Heavenbound. "I doubt we''ll have any questions about the moral character of anyone who qualifies for a Pact with Heaven. Are you versed in the knightly codes?"


    "I may have to study somewhat to ascertain those that the Ruby Heart stresses as most important, but I doubt that will be difficult," Errant replied calmly.


    "I will give you a copy of the Order''s Precepts, which should satisfy any particulars. What is the nature of your Deed of Valor?"


    "I killed the werewolf lord Blutfang and his pack. He was a primogenitor, so doing so enabled at least two infected werewolves to be unequivocally freed of their curse," Errant replied calmly.


    "Yourself?" Errant nodded slowly, and received an impressed look in return. "You are capable and clever, I see."


    "He was also overconfident, as is typical for a creature that cannot believe that it could be hunted in turn." Errant brushed off the feat, underplaying the danger of the creature.


    The Grand Maester only nodded. "We swear in new knights in ceremony on the Sun''s Day. There will only be a couple this time, earning their spurs. There will be senior knights in attendance, but it is not a high holy day, so there will be few others. Is this acceptable?"


    "It is." He wanted the formal rank and recognition of knighthood, and the appellation. Anything else was merely extra.


    "Then I shall add your name to the list, and make your presence known, that there be no questioning. Still, it is best you prove your capabilities, that the Order know that you are not going to disgrace their standards."


    "That will not be difficult to do," Errant smiled slightly. "The Harsites do not give their recommendations easily, after all."


    "No, they do not," the Grand Maester agreed. "You will be working with them in the future?"


    "They''ve expressed a desire to contact me in the event of special events," he admitted easily enough.


    "I shall take it into consideration when assigning your duties. I shall have you quartered with the Knight Aspirants, if you have no objection, and look forward to hearing good things of you, Master Errant."


    "Thank you, Grand Maester. I will not disappoint you or the Order," Errant replied firmly, getting to his feet and bowing properly at the waist.


    "With a Heavenbound around, I think things might get a little exciting shortly!" the older man laughed, and saw him out.


    -------------


    His escort had a much better opinion of the younger man after receiving his orders from the Grand Maester, but found his own questions buried under Errant''s quick and incisive inquiries about the Order and things to watch out for and be wary of. The precise yet respectful nature of the questions had him re-evaluating the younger man yet again.


    The quarters he was given were shared with another, even younger man, adjacent to Sir Zigfried, an experienced knight who was training a squire. Neither were present, being out training at the moment, and his belongings were few, regardless. He sat down on the thin but clean cot, looking out the narrow window, opened to admit air smelling of the river and horses in the yards below.


    He was going to have to kill the Grand Maester, Sir Zigfried, and someone in the Order''s Archives who he hadn''t met yet... but would make a point of doing so when he went to pick up a copy of the Precepts.


    Tchazty stones weren''t all that uncommon in a place as paranoid as this, being a favorite for personal Warding Rings and anti-divination protections.


    Dark tchazty stones, especially on the ring of a Grand Maester of an Order, not so much.


    The dusty shadows lay heavy upon the door of Sir Zigfried, too.


    He smiled grimly to himself, and raised his eyes to look at the ceiling, thinking.


    Doppelgangers could eat the brains of their victims, wrap themselves in their persona, and avoid basic aural detections in so doing. However, it was foil wrapping over an evil shell, hence the trails that would normally escape those looking. Not many folk scanned for Evil at V, after all. Major waste of a powerful Valence.


    But he was a Warlock, and so he could spend his Wrath however he wanted. If he wasn''t fighting, having it at V was a perfectly valid use of his time.


    They''d be able to imitate the Heaven-calling, offensive powers of a Thunder user... but not the healing effects, which would literally separate them from the brains of their victims, and alert the divine powers behind the energy that something was off. Those they had imitated were likely dead, but caught between life and afterlife by the dops using their flesh to take their places... which also prevented the gods from noting that they had died and learning that something fishy was going on.


    The Grand Maester of the Order of the Ruby Heart, murdered and replaced by a dop. He didn''t want to think just how bad that could make things for the Order, and what it had done to start gutting the Order already from within.


    He was going to have to kill them soon, before their plans could come to fruition.


    And he should swing by the kitchens and servants. The easiest way to kill a large number of the knights would be to poison them all, after all...


    Hmm. The squire he was with seemed clean. He was going to have to find a new knight to sponsor the young fellow...

 180 Chapter One Hundred and Eighty – Travelling Wagon, Makes a lot of Stops...

    Haggar Gozeman had spent untold hours of pain, sweat, and tears trying to get ahead in life. He had built up a small trading business, owned his own textile mill selling cheap fabrics to the underclass, and exploited his workers ruthlessly as he attempted to move up the living scale.


    Unfortunately, he had been thwarted time and again by other, equally ruthless people. A fire at his mill. Organizers trying to unite his workers. Shipments lost in storage. ''Protection'' fees from the local mob. Zoning inspectors that had to be bought off or he would be shut down. Pressure from richer men trying to buy him out for a tithe of the value of his assets.


    He''d had enough of their tactics, and so when the whispers of the Cult of the Eye in Shadows came, he was willing to listen.


    Now, he was engaged in a Summoning. The secrets he had been taught had not been great, but they were enough to let him aid in this thrilling ceremony, bringing in a servant from Beyond to help all of them finally realize their ambitions. The Wards of the city had, over the centuries, developed many holes, punched in them by interested parties trying to gain an edge over their rivals, and such a one was being used today.


    Power was swirling in the air with their chants, building under the steepled roof, heavy with the smell of preservative incenses and the fresh blood of a couple of Boss Femerman''s bully-boys, personally volunteered for the role of sacrifice by himself. The Veil between worlds was being thinned slowly and subtly, as the alignment of stars above disguised it from the Wards, and calls from unhuman throats were starting to echo from within the circle, stir the candles rendered from corpse fat, singing to them of ambitions nearly fulfilled.


    "Hey, mister, what would happen if this candle fell over?"


    Haggar Bozeman blinked, forcibly shaken from his trance, and looked over, his mouth falling open in shock.


    She was incredibly cute, with long white hair in two ponytails bound with blue bows, huge pale blue eyes, an immaculate blue and white dress, and might have come up to his chest. His first impression was that he was definitely going to capture her and take her home to use as his sex toy with such youthful beauty, and then his vapor-raptured mind finally took note of where her hand was, and the question she had asked.


    "What?" His tongue felt thick and heavy, even as his alarm rose. "No!" he protested, as other enraptured eyes turned his way, and tried to process what was going on.


    Burghar Klauswitz responded perceptively faster then everyone else, as if his mind was not lost to the magic and the drugged vapors. "Stop her!" he screamed frantically.


    Veis pushed over the heavy candlestick. The heavy bronze stand and its unholy burden fell over, breaching the containment circle and messing up two of the painted symbols as wax spilled from the candle and marred yet another sweeping line.


    There was a pause in the magic, the calls and sounds from beyond going suddenly and very ominously silent.


    "Oops!" said Veis, and turned and ran away.


    The Summoning Circle exploded with a scream of the Veil being ripped, and calls from beyond that were anything but obedient now. The first boneless arm flopped up through the portal in the floor, drawing out a half-toad, half-cat thing the size of a rhino, looking around with five bulging eyes at the aghast cultists who could no longer control it.


    The fear finally hit them, and the men began to scream even before it pounced on Haggar Bozeman with frog-like jaws opening wide, set with very un-froglike curved teeth.


    ---


    "Aaaahhhhh!" Veis scampered down between rows of goods in the warehouse, and the ulgahi crashed into a box of cloth ties and buttons, which promptly stuck to its oily skin and began to smoke. Little feet moving very quickly, she darted away from it as the Aberrant writhed to its boneless feet, fixed three of its eyes on her, and bounded once, twice, and leapt up to grab this little snack fleeing away.


    Rather abruptly, two other snacks slid in from either side, and a gleaming Rapier and Spear, both coated in the horrific blue shade of the Cerulean Sign, rose to intercept it.


    The Spear hit first, right in through the mouth and driving into the skull atop it. The weight of the ulgahi slammed it all the way down a foot of steel, until it smashed into the boar-stopper behind. Its body kept going as the butt of the spear crunched down into the stone floor, and the Rapier dipped, point driven by Anathema towards the most vulnerable points, and drove into the ribless chest and a certain organ behind there, spitting it cleanly.


    Veis turned around, ran right up Verd''s braced leg and off her shoulder, spinning with her long knives as she kicked off a tall crate of loom parts to the side, and opened up its wide, flaccid throat as she cut across it, ignoring its flailing limbs. She hit a lower crate on the far side, and rolled out of its range as a gaping cut nearly two feet long trailed behind her, jetting out greenish-black ichor at odd angles, which all promptly began to burn cerulean and unwhite.


    Verd let the heavy mass of the creature drop, twisting her Spear and leaning into it as she ripped it out, making the massive wound worse. The ulgahi tried to croak and paw at her with burred toe-pads that could stick to and rip away skin and flesh like glued fish-hooks. It plopped to the ground, wobbling skull burning in two shades of hostile hues that were eating it up.


    Feist looked down from up on a support beam, where he could have dropped down to instantly kill the thing. Grym swung out from the shadow of a pillar, like a statue suddenly starting to move, and equally quiet. The girls below looked up at Feist, and he pointed back the way Veis had come.


    There were more ulgahi to kill, although the screams of the cultists were more intermittent now, as the Aberrants slowly and lovingly pulled them apart. They would not last long, as without a proper Summoning their existence here was subject to the stars, whose power would fade anytime between now and the sweeping power of Aru''s Great Renewal in the morning.


    But that hardly meant they had to sit around and wait for them to go away, when there was Karma to be had, right? With Grym and him there as back-up in case things went wrong, there was no great danger.


    So went their first night in Konndital.


    ========


    "Hi there."


    The man sitting at the table looked like a scholar, being thin, bespectacled, holding a book in his hands, and in the second-or-third season-to-last wave of fashion typical of a member of the middle classes. There was little to separate him from the other clerks and scribes also perusing this small caf¨¦, where they could soothe their quiet complaints with hot kaffe and snobbish discourse with their peers.


    Of course, nobody else in the place had three attractive girls gathering at their table, so all eyes were momentarily upon him.


    "May I help you?" he asked them, watery eyes flickering over them, a momentary flicker of fear turning to confusion.


    "We are here to deliver a letter!" Amber announced to him, Verd nodded, and Veis stepped forward with the letter in both of her small hands. "We have to confirm that you have read it, so please, sir."


    Mystified, the man took the plain envelope, which had an unmarked grey seal, opened it, and slid out the letter within. He held it up, and began to read.


    It only took a few seconds for the blood to drain from his face. He swallowed, looked at the three girls, and read further. When his eyes finally found the signature at the bottom, his pupils instantly dilated to half normal size.


    "I-I will be there," he managed to gasp, his complexion not returning at all.


    "Thank you!" Verd chimed helpfully, and all three girls curtsied to him and strolled quickly away.


    -----


    Professor Culminos, time traveler, historian, and dabbler in chronal mechanics, swallowed as he looked at the symbol of a shadowed knife at the bottom of the letter.


    He had thought that he was being subtle, careful not to interfere in the course of history, merely observing and doing research for what was sure to be an explosive paper, a first hand account of one of the most tumultuous periods in history.


    The Shadow and the Knife hadn''t even had to show up personally, merely sending this letter. Obviously, the Void Brother knew who he was, why he was here, and where he was. If he fled, likely the Brother would be there waiting for him, wherever and whenever he went, following his trace across time as surely as a Hound of Tindalos, and there to greet him when he synched with normal time again.


    If he did not go, even if he returned home, he was likely dead as soon as he returned to his own time. The myths about their power were true...


    But... he was not dead yet. He prayed softly under his breath to Uruth, Lord of all Magic, that he would get out of this alive, and reached for his coffee to soothe his frayed nerves.


    That his hand was shaking as he took it was noted by more then a few of his neighbors, who carefully turned their eyes away and minded their own business, not wishing to get involved in something which so clearly frightened one of their peers...


    -------


    The wererat was a little surprised when its skull was crushed.


    Generally speaking, a horse wasn''t much of a threat to it. Sure, a full-on stomping might be painful, but with DR 10/silver, werefolk in general were pretty much immune to anything short of a massive blow or something which hit a weak point. Getting kicked by a horse was normally less dangerous to them then one normal human sticking another with a dagger.


    Of course, when that hoof happened to have mithral horseshoes upon it, well, DR/silver was bypassed by starsilver, just like the more mundane stuff.


    Energized titanium infusing his hooves, Tabi reared and came down on another wererat that was showing an unhealthy interest in The Wagon, and a narrow skull was pounded through and shattered.


    Two squeaking and overconfident wererats jumped off the top of The Wagon, and the Horse stepped aside. They hit the ground hard, but with their DR, it meant nothing... until he spun, shifted all his weight to his front hooves, and like a see-saw, bent forward to kick back with both rear hooves.


    Breastbones crunched, both rats flew back into the side of The Wagon with spine-tingling impacts, and he shuffled back a step as they fell to the ground, bereft of breath. His second pair of kicks caught them both in the face, crushing their muzzles and driving them back into their skulls even as their necks snapped.


    The last couple of rats ran up at him, stabbing with their short swords, slicing at his legs and belly respectively.


    He felt the pokes, and was amused despite himself. He turned his head, and his teeth sank into the furry shoulder of the one on his right. He lifted as the wererat squealed, and flung it up, then down right at his feet. Before it could recover, his foot came down and crushed its skull flat.


    The last one finally realized something was wrong as it poked again, and couldn''t get past DR 7/-. The Horse turned to look at it, giving it a very unequine smile and snort of amusement. The wererat started to back up, and Tabi hopped as lightly as a deer, smashing himself sideways and crushing the wererat against the side of The Wagon. It didn''t do any real harm, but stunned it and deprived it of breath. He reached over, his teeth sinking into its ear, and flung it down in front of him.


    The wererat just had enough time to squeal before the platter-sized silvered hoof came down on it.


    Tabi looked over the assorted number of dead with crushed skulls, already reverting to their human forms. He snorted in disinterest, matching up what Mistress Haz¨¦ had told him about such things, and with patient disdain, reached down to drag the nearest one nearer to the parked Wagon and out of casual sight, kicking the corpse underneath it with an easy sweep of his hoof.


    The girls would dispose of them properly when they came back...

 181 Chapter One Hundred and Eighty-One – Bound to a Banner

    -Sage Sama! We''ve got a problem here!-


    Dwarves came across much more clearly in Marktell than in person. The quarter of my brain devoted to communication /responded instantly, -Go ahead, Captain!-


    The Rockborn officer gave me a full eyeview of the fight going on. As he was in the middle of it, that was a bit frantic, but since my brain worked several times faster then normal folks, I had no problem.


    The Warped were actually forcing themselves through the packed spear line of the dwarves, enduring cuts and thrusts that should have killed them, had them bleeding out, and yet they just kept coming. The front ranks were having to short their Spears or grab their katars to defend themselves in close combat, which only made it easier for the Warped soldiers to draw in closer.


    My eyes narrowed. -Stab that one''s shoulder!- I /ordered the Captain, one Guerock by name.


    His Spear flicked out, burning with Banefire, driving deep into the thick shoulder of the one she had indicated. It should have immediately rendered the arm useless, but as he pulled back, the wound slowly began to seal up, and in six seconds was nothing more then a small bloody hole.


    A small bloody hole reflected on the undamaged Warped behind him.


    -Do they have a Banner up?-Captain Guerock looked around sharply, found the thing, adorned with carved horns, skulls, and symbols that made his eyes water. -They''re Bannerbound! They''re sharing wounds among themselves if they aren''t killed instantly! It''s a way of keeping more of them alive right up until the end!-


    -How do we counter it?- the gratified Rockborn /demanded grimly.


    -Shattering or Suppressing the Banner would do it. If not, concentrate on finishing them, and leaving spears in the wounds so they can''t be shunted away. Impale the heart or brain, or chop the head off. Or, you can boarstop one of them, and while he''s pinned and helpless, keep attacking him repeatedly while using him to block those behind him. Deep wounds, but not instant kills, so he can deliver them to those behind who still can''t reach you!-


    The Rockborn roared mirthless laughter, giving out a series of clipped orders in Rockborn Battle Cant, cycled through the /Marktell room being used. Spears thrust out and held up the Warped in non-lethal thrusts into arms and legs... and then others began to drive repeatedly into torsos, staying away from the hearts.


    The Warped kicked and thrashed, trying to get out of the way, but couldn''t do so. The men behind tried to get them out of the way, dragging them back, but the dwarves just pressed in and gave them no room to work with.


    A few Warped chopped into the heads of their own pinned men to get them out of the way, and then promptly volunteered themselves for the same treatment.


    Wounds flashed into existence on the Warped, including the ones who weren''t in combat, weakening all of them even as very few of them were killed. The dwarves pinned them in walls of spears, even drawing them in so an additional rank could join the fun of thrusting into those that were pinned.


    Wounded, healed, wounded, healed. The accumulated damage spread across all of the Warped, until they were all staggering with bloody injuries, despite never having been struck.


    A volley of crossbow fire buzzed over the heads of the dwarves, and dozens of Warped men went down instantly, the bolts uncannily managing to find throats, skulls, and hearts. The Captain roared an order, and the spear line surged, precise thrusts killing the hapless tools in the front, and then rapidly pressing forward to plunge into the wounded men behind.


    The entire line of Warped folded with incredible speed, not quite running away in time as the dwarven spears rolled right over them. That magical Banner fell as half a dozen bolts found the man who was holding it high, and the Rockborn let out a low roar as they watched it drop.


    The dwarves were not idle, calls going out as other lines found the strategy, and all of the units of this Warpband were so equipped. The only way to kill someone was basically a lucky hit or focused attacks to quickly bring individuals down, instead of wearing them down with successive shots. Anything less then instant death would be shared away within six seconds, giving the men in the unit unprecedented staying power.


    It wasn''t enough to give the Warped the victory, as the ranks of dwarven spears were murderously hard to get past, and their unit coordination and responsiveness was much better. However, they lasted longer, and inflicted more casualties on the Rockborn then any previous fight had.


    -------------


    The conference was virtual in Markspace, taking place in real time, but several times faster and more clearly then any form of briefing. All the Warlords and Champions at work were brought in even as the Rockborn were fighting, watching the action and analyzing everything.


    -The Warp Gods are using a technique called Bannerbound. It introduces a shared healing concept, similar to, but not the same as hivemind units like Legion Devils, if you are familiar with those,- I /told them. -It''s a powerful tool, combining an effective Health buff with de facto curing by sharing injuries. This is how it works...


    -Unless you instantly kill a member of a Bannerbound unit - in other words, by reducing them to -10 Health - within six seconds the injury is sucked away and distributed among the surviving members of the units.


    -Normally a being falls unconscious if reduced to -1 Health, and will bleed out or stabilize while unconscious. This healing is basically a monstrously strong way of healing a person all the way from -9 back to nearly full Health, every six seconds.


    -This is effectively giving every member of a Bannerbound unit +10 Health.


    -As a result, you can see that it increases the staying power of the Bannerbound unit tremendously... because they won''t die unless instantly killed, meaning they stay in the fight longer. You can''t kill a single individual by attrition, they stay near their cap, and they won''t have deep wounds, only a growing collection of light ones. You''re effectively being forced to wear down most of the unit before they suffer any impediment to their own fighting prowess... very dangerous!-


    There were murmurs of understanding from those around.


    -How to fight this? The first way... shatter or dispel the Banner! Easier said then done, of course, and a Dispel will naturally only work for a short period of time... although, if it is time for a charge they expect to be able to live through, you could give them a lethal surprise.- The Warlords all understood the implications and timing that was necessary, but since it effectively could do tremendous amounts of damage to a lot of troops, it basically turned a defensive Dispel into an effective fireball of sorts when it thwarted the tactic!


    -Another way to exploit it is to keep one of them alive, and simply keep Not Killing them. Attack, attack, attack, but don''t kill. The Rockborn did this by impaling those in front, and then stabbing them repeatedly. They even let them come in closer, so instead of the default three ranks, four ranks of spears were attacking!- They murmured among themselves as they watched the tactic on both active and replay from memory.


    -A variant on this is to simply bring one member down, pin them, and simply have your back lines keep hacking on them. As long as the target is close to its Banner, you are effectively going to turn targeting one soldier into targeting the whole unit, doing damage to those who aren''t even in the fight with your own back line troops.


    -Third solution, focus fire and instant-kill your target. This is probably going to be necessary for missile troops. Wolfpacking individual targets works the same way, heaping on the damage before it is healed away.


    -The truly murderous solution is to grab and pin and subject multiple members of the unit to continuous damage, such as throwing them into a fiery pit. The whole unit will burn to death unless they manage to flee far enough away. Granted, this will be very slow unless you are doing this to multiple bodies at one time, but is a known tactic for dealing with Legion Devils, and so should work well here.-


    Dwarves were grabbing fighting Warped, heaving them into the back lines as they fought, and then clusters of dwarves were punching them with katars like practice dummies, making the wounds non-killing, just repeated over and over. Scars and bloody wounds began to ripple into existence on every single member of those Bannerbound at impressive speed, group attacks on a mere half-dozen of them rapidly doing damage to the entire unit.


    -Sage Sama, can we do this... Bannerbound... with our own companies?- General Moonriver /spoke up quickly.


    I mentally pointed at him. -Yes! And oddly enough, the very Banners that are used to power the effect for the Warped hold enough Mana to make Banners for yourself. You only need the components and to craft them!-


    There was a /hum of interest all around. This tactic would severely cut into their casualties, spreading out damage to survivors, keeping the injured alive.


    -In addition, you may not have noticed, but the Warped have little to no access to healing magic, other then Potions that are generally restricted to officers. Thus, it is not obvious that healing magic can also be directed into such a Banner, and flow out to the unit. This is not likely to be substantially effective, unless someone spends a Valence V... but it means that one Healer with the Reserve can simply grasp the Banner, and eventually heal up an entire unit. Or, the Bannerbound can traipse across a Healing Trap, and any excess Healing is redistributed among the other Bannerbound, as well.


    -Thus, the Banner speeds recovery times!


    -The downside of this? Bannerbound cannot be higher then Six, and there is a Level Cap on what a Banner can handle. Powerful Banners can handle one to two thousand Levels, with Legendary ones possibly reaching four thousand. If you are thinking that this is remarkably similar to how a Warlord Aura works, you are absolutely correct!


    -I do not have the Ritual for Bannerbound. That is a Divine Ritual, and can only be enacted among those with shared Faith and backgrounds. Thus, it won''t work for mixed race units, even among my Ironblood. A great deal of solidarity and unit identity is required, which I''m sure you will understand and allocate accordingly. It requires those so bound to remain close to their Banner, which imposes some limits on flexibility and versatility. Thankfully, if you leave the area of the Banner, you can re-enter and realign without much difficulty.


    -A Banner that can do something like this is a twenty goldweight item that can only be forged by a company fighting on a battlefield, and can only be harvested by the Banner of those that defeat it. As building such a Banner would require the entire company to give up their ability to Invest or Infuse for that day, it is not a great option when trying to rapidly build offensive power.


    -However, if the enemy is going to allow us to build our own... then I expect everyone here to bring out their company colors and set them up on the field! If the Warp Gods want some pageantry, stick it down their throats!-


    There were /shouts from the Warlords there. The raising of these Banners would massively cut casualties among their people... if they won. The Warped were delivering such things right to them... now that they knew the effect, they could plan around it, and punish the Warped for using it.


    The Grind had just entered a newer, bloodier stage...

 182 Chapter One Hundred and Eighty-Two – The White Sheep

    His roommate turned out to be a lad even younger than he was. Brown-haired, brown-eyed, Squire Estemar had not yet been knighted, and was clearly rather envious of the slightly older brother who was to receive the honor. Of course, after seeing the silver eyes, he also understood why he was being knighted... Heavenbound didn''t tend to have very long careers, after all.


    Those silver eyes simply attracted too many enemies.


    Although he was supposed to be waiting upon Sir Zigfried, the knight obviously considered it a bit of a bother to be saddled with a squire, and was remarkably open to fobbing him off on Errant for training, especially after the rather private knighting carried out by the Grand Maester. Having to call such a young man a fellow knight was clearly off-putting to the grey-templed Zigfried, and getting out of his obligations was definitely to his likings. A quick request up the hierarchy, and the matter was taken care of.


    -----


    "So, do they know you''re a royal, and paladine?" Errant asked, as the pair of them hung up the practice swords they''d been using.


    Errant had very quickly made his reputation as an obdurate, incredibly strong, and very strong swordsman, with an incredible breadth of tactics and moves that could foil even the most experienced knights here. As a result, he was always being challenged by the other knights for bouts, especially since he healed so quickly and didn''t hold grudges.


    Nevertheless, he always made time for Estemar, whose swordsmanship had been improving quickly as a result. The two young men were virtually always together, and Estemar''s envy had rapidly faded away and grown into genuine respect and admiration over this short period of time.


    Nevertheless, he paused as he racked the practice sword. He was torn for a moment over admitting the truth and remaining silent, and then saw the amusement glinting in Errant''s silver eyes.


    He sighed despite himself. "How long have you known?" he asked.


    "Since I saw your boots. The Royal Cobblers in Ogredown don''t make riding boots for anyone but the royal family. As for being Called by Mithar... you do know that you radiate an Aura, do you not? If one is sensitive to Courage, it is like holding a torch in a dark room..."


    "I have not advanced far in His service," the young man admitted, as Errant helped him off with his mail. "It would quite surprise my family, were they to know of it..."


    Errant chuckled as he set the heavy practice mail aside. Smiting pelts was such fun and all. "Not more then my own!" He caught Estemar''s look. "Ah, my full name is Errant Gilderalz, though I''ll thank you to not repeat that."


    "Gilderalz!" Estemar was thunderstruck, looking Errant up and down in disbelief.


    "Aye, the white sheep of the family, truly an unworthy son of Gilderalz," Errant laughed, without embarrassment. After a moment''s hesitation, Estemar joined in, reassured by the silver eyes.


    "So, we are fellow white sheep." Estemar''s eyes dimmed slightly. "Are your siblings trying to kill you, as well?"


    "They probably would be if they knew I was Heavenbound," Errant admitted cheerfully. "My case is somewhat different from your own. I was born unable to Cultivate or Cast, and so am naturally not a threat to them in terms of inheritance. You, on the other hand, have a rather improbable number of rivals..."


    Estemar coughed to the side. "Yes, my father''s lustiness is as bad as the tales." The two of them reclaimed their knives as they walked out, as swords were normally worn only on business outside the halls... not that Chalice minded staying in dagger form.


    "Come, let me introduce you to a form of training you can do on your own time."


    --------


    Errant set the matryoshka doll down on the table in front of Estemar, who stared at it in interest. It was a picture of an Aruan Saint, Clear-Eyed Insom, if he knew it correctly, and expensive, with proper holy signs, silver and gold script, and a feeling about it of being Blessed.


    He looked at Errant inquiringly.


    "An ability shared between the Heavenbound and the Paladine is the Eyes of Heaven. At its most basic level, this is the ability to sense evil within a sixty-degree arc, within a range of twenty paces."


    Estemar nodded at Errant''s words. "It takes some concentration to use, but yes, I have this ability. It does not seem overly useful hereabouts," he admitted, glancing around.


    "It is one of the strongest of our abilities." Estemar blinked. "It, like fighting skill, must be developed. It requires great mental discipline to perfect, and this doll will help you with that."


    Estemar was very interested. "What must I do?"


    "First, you must learn how to sense the Good in people." He gestured at the doll. "This radiates an aura of Good. Finding the Evil allows you to identify potential enemies and rivals. Finding the Good allows you to find potential friends and allies."


    Errant turned the doll over its base, and the images changed, becoming more silvery. Estemar looked with interest on the image of Sir Kostovar the Dragon-Cleaver. Errant turned it another third, and there was Saint Ulianna the Feathered, a lover of birds and art acclaimed by the Church of Nuava.


    "Like Evil, good comes in flavors. You need to learn to sense those flavors and identify them quickly. Normally, this takes time, but if you train your Eyes of Heaven, this speed increases quickly."


    He popped off the top of the hand-sized doll, revealing an identical one within. "The aura on this one is much fainter. It is equal to sensing the first one twice as far away." He lifted off the second shell, to reveal the third. "Three times as far away." Again, lifted away. "Four times, and five times."


    Estemar''s brow furrowed. "Wait." He concentrated on the doll, which suddenly seemed to waver and run before his eyes, the colors darkening.


    Errant plucked off the last cover, and Estemar cried out as a stabbing pain hit his forehead. He kicked backwards, knocking over his chair, and kept his feet with a stumble. His hand was on his forehead, staring at the black lump revealed within the heart of the matryoshka.


    "That is the heart of a Quasit that tried to tempt my older sister some time ago. The auras of Good confine and restrict its presence, just like many folk try to conceal the evil in their hearts." He put the fifth doll back on it, and the dark, hostile feeling vanished instantly.


    "You know it is here. Your job is to learn to sense it."


    Estemar stared at the doll, then at Errant. "Why do I feel there is more to this?"


    "There is a great deal more," Errant said. "You need to learn to sense this darkness in all directions, not merely straight ahead of you." He scrunched up his face and turned on the doll, making it wholly obvious what he was doing, and Estemar blushed despite himself. "Exactly. Being obvious about this is foolish and an excuse for hostilities. You should idly be able to scan a whole area as easily as you breathe, and you can only do so with practice.


    "If you do this, you will be able to sense Evil constantly about you at all times, and indeed, you will be able to fight without even opening your eyes, fixing on the souls of your opponents, instead of mere sight."


    Estemar was enlightened. "I had no idea such a thing was possible," he admitted.


    "You are not being taught by Paladins, but by knights. What would they know of such things?


    "Each layer of the matryoshka equals a distance multiplier, and/or a Valence of Defense." He put the first layer back on, and the sense of Evil vanished. "Wards are stronger then Divinations by a level. Thus, to surpass even the most basic Aural defense, you must beat it by two Valence Levels.


    "If you can sense the Evil through first shell, it is like sensing it at twice the distance, and the same for the second. However, to sense it through the second, you must also overcome a Cantrip-level Ward, and your ability to sense Evil must be equivalent to the second Valence.


    "Both distance to sense Evil and Valence required increase with each additional layer, until your Eyes of Heaven are active at the Fifth Valence, and five times the normal range."


    Estemar exhaled a long breath as the last of the dolls was placed over the Evil at its core. Naturally, he could sense nothing.


    "So, I am first to learn how to sense Good?" he asked, eyes on the doll.


    "In all three major alignments. You can do so simply by leaving it in a location, and then wandering around it. Do not turn your head, and keep tracking it. Let your concentration lapse, and then bring it up again. You can then remove a layer to keep the distance the same, or simply widen the area you wander in."


    "Increasing the Valence level you can use by leaving it right in front of you, attempting to overcome the Ward locking it away. This is a matter of time, persistence, and spiritual strength. None of it will happen overnight, the same way becoming a great warrior will not happen overnight."


    Estemar nodded understanding. "And this can be practiced in passing, yes? Sensing it walking by my room. I could set it in my window, and see how far away it could be sensed. I can sit here and sense the changes as the Saints alter, how fast can I feel the changes..."


    "Very good. You will know you have the Clarity Mastery down when you can fight without sight, based purely on auras. You will have the Field Mastery down when you can sense everything for fifty paces around you, or a hundred paces in one direction. You will know you have Serenity down when you can maintain it all the time with little effort, taking it up or dropping it on a whim. You will know you have the All-Seeing Mastery down when you can look through the doll fully covered and see the Evil within."


    Estemar took a deep breath. "And you... can do all of this?"


    Errant hesitated, and then nodded. "Yes."


    "You are monster of a white sheep, Sir Errant."


    "Baaaaaaaaah!" Errant replied with a light heart, and Estemar laughed despite himself, then again when he realized the pun.


    "I see I have much work ahead of me. This is indeed not something that is done overnight," he repeated calmly, eyes intent as he picked up the matryoshka.


    "No, it isn''t. Nor is such focus common among many Paladins," Errant told him. "But Mithar is a wise god, who knows the heart of his enemies. To think all the gifts he grants would only be usable to fight with is a fallacy for outsiders. Mithar is very cunning, or he would not be the General of the Gods."


    "Agreed!" Estemar sighed, holding the doll in his hands now. He thought of something, and looked up. "Are there more Paladinic Masteries I should be worried about?" he inquired.


    "Naturally there are others. Your ability to heal by laying on hands, channeling the heartfire of Mithar, smiting, summoning a sword spirit, gaining a mount, and naturally when you are able to Pray and be Answered. The things a Paladin can learn are many and deep, the same as Warlocks," Errant informed him.


    Estemar pursed his lips. "It would seem difficult to practice many of those things here... especially since I do not have many of those blessings yet."


    "Hence..." Errant indicated the doll. Estemar smiled, and ducked his head in acknowledgement again.


    "Come... let''s go eat, and I''ll see if I can give you some guidance on how to sense the Good," Errant said, and they headed out to the mess hall to see what was being served today.

 183 Chapter One Hundred and Eighty–Three – Eldritch Theurgy

    The mushroom was about three feet high, partially mobile, shaking... and shrieking loudly enough to qualify as an ambulance, if any of them knew what that was.


    Alas, the Sound Bubble was up, and nobody heard it before Verd brought her heavy spear down and chopped it in two... at a careful distance from the pinkish-purple veined mushrooms next to it.


    "What the heck are those doing here?" Amber pointed out, as a couple tentacles spurted out of the violet caps and slapped Verd''s spear with oozing slime. "Aren''t they subterranean?"


    Everyone looked up at the stone roof above them, back down at her, and she scowled. "Come on, this is just an entry tunnel..."


    "Planted by someone with a fungus affinity, obviously," the Shadowknife said. He pointed at a cluster of large yellow balls nearby. "They stopped the violets from eating the yellows, and vice versa. Zyguomy probably has some Fungal Queens ahead, and likely a number of mushroom folk enslaved to them."


    "Ugh!" All three girls made the same expression at the same time, amusing the heck out of the two hyn and the dwarf. Feist just gestured them ahead.


    Amber threw a flask of alchemical cold over the yellow spore-balls, freezing them and rendering them inactive long enough for Verd to chop them to bits, not letting any of their poison spores fly. Continuing on through the tunnel, they made their way towards the secluded valley on the other side.


    "Masks on," said Verd, slapping on her own, a dark thing which would filter out spores and protect their eyes and noses. Amber had naturally painted all of them in black, white, and red bloody skull patterns. Even the dwarf and hyn covered up their faces, as the spores were increasing quickly ahead of them, and none of them wanted something to start growing on and in them.


    "Eh..." murmured the Shadowknife, as they came to the entry, and saw the blasted remains of half a dozen mushroom folk, crude faces formed on the base of toadstool stalks, all of them over six feet tall. They had been ripped apart by focused magic of some kind, leaving them dripping slime in multiple parts.


    Beyond them was a valley, nearly buried inside a valley almost completely enclosed by the stone walls above. The amount of light that came down from above basically never reached the ground, by the angle of the gap above, only the cold of the higher stone and the wet of the melting water.


    There were mushrooms everywhere here, growing taller than Amber''s head. Toadstools, puffballs, clusters, waving tendrils, fuzzy patches, brainlike lobes, fleshy branches, umbrellas and tallcaps and more, all in a dizzying array of weird colors and textures.


    No green plant life at all. The Gray had a strong foothold here...


    Verd bent over the dead. "No fire or lightning, or acid residue. A force effect wouldn''t melt through them like that, though..."


    "It''s eldritch energy," the Shadowknife said, his Helices sweeping over the dead fungal-folk. "Mixed with some force magic."


    "A Warlock?" That energy was pretty unique to Pactbound.


    "Warlock and Wizard, I think. Quite familiar. I''ve crossed his trail before, but never met." Small hands caressed the hilts of long knives. "Interesting to find him here..." His voice didn''t make that a positive thing. "This place is under dimension disruption, so he couldn''t Shadow-Step any further, likely came out of it right in front of these guards. He killed them, then took flight." His unseen head lifted inside his cloak. "That way, I think."


    "He''s coming in on the right. We should go left," Verd said, and cast a glance at the Shadowknife.


    "I think I shall go introduce myself to him," the hyn mused and took a couple steps.


    Everyone blinked, because he was very suddenly not visible, like his Helices had gathered around him and erased him from sight.


    "Oh, that is very good!" Veis hissed for all of them, very impressed. Even Feist had to nod, a little wide-eyed. Less then two paces away, and vanishing from ALL his senses instantly... he knew his elder brother was dangerous, but had never seen it driven home so hard.


    "There''s already death spores in the air, then. They know trouble is coming," Grym grunted, sniffing with an air of experience.


    "So, being sneaky is out?" Amber asked with a smile.


    "There''s no audience but us here, lass," Feist laughed, and her face fell sharply. "That said, I''m sure we''re going to have some interesting times ahead of us." He pointed at some waist-high rolling spheres which had just become visible on a faint path between the mushrooms, writhing tendrils sticking out to either side. "I don''t think we want those to run over us..."


    ----------


    Tongues of grey-limned red energy lanced out, rays of power that tore into the assembled fungal queens and erupted into some extremely powerful fireballs, ravaging the cold-loving creatures. Once, twice, thrice, the blasts pounded them down from the flying wizard above, while rhinoceroses with tentacles for eyes and rather unsettling distortions to their physical anatomy charged groups of mushroom-infected humans and fungi-men in cycles, slamming back and forth between the groups of them without stopping.


    The dark-haired wizard, owning a haggard beard, one eye noticeably larger then the other, raised his hands and shouted out words in some language that was old before humanity crawled out of the oceans. Writhing black tentacles erupted out of the ground, lazy and purposeful, snaking out to wrap around the shrilly screaming fungi queens... and space seemed to open around their bases.


    The pseudo-feminine fibrous, slimy bodies of the fungal queens were dragged irresistibly back as they clawed at the mold-strewn ground, and bloop, bloop, bloop... they were yanked into those holes and vanished, as the holes closed behind them.


    The rhinos rapidly made short work of the remaining and shell-shocked fungi servants, ignoring the fact that infectious mold and mushrooms were spreading all over their glowing, mutating hides.


    The wizard had bent over in mid-air, clearly dealing with convulsions of some sort, and waved his hand. The Summoned beasts wavered, and then a wave of blackness seemed to open and suck them in, leaving nothing behind.


    Swearing was clearly audible from up in the air as the wizard twisted, fighting off whatever effect was shaking him after that casting.


    He was not at all prepared to suddenly fall down from the sky.


    His curse was interrupted by a somewhat wet face-flop to the lichens on the ground, which he Soaked for no real damage but a groan and a curse.


    Then a pair of bare feet not quite touching the moldy, mushroom-strewn ground stopped in front of his eyes. He froze as something moved through the manafield, and the magic which he had just used to turn this battlefield into a slaughterhouse was snipped away as cleanly as if he was a puppet with severed strings.


    "Oh, shit," he muttered hoarsely, and then promptly vomited all over the ground.


    It didn''t quite manage to touch those small, bare feet, which waited patiently as his eyes rolled back, and black lines bulged under his skin alarmingly before slowly and reluctantly retreating.


    The haggard, pale wizard didn''t make any sudden moves as he fought back whatever was happening inside him. It was a full minute before he dared look up into the hooded shadows of the hyn standing over him, two long knives gleaming.


    "I''m-," he started to say, then turned his head and hacked and spit out some more stuff, that started to glow where it smoked on the ground, "-sworn to the Mazakam."


    The Shadow and the Knife stared down at him. "You''re an off-worlder."


    The man shuddered, looking back up at the hyn who had him at his mercy, fevered and mismatched eyes wandering over the transparent Helices that were swirling through him, and taking away all his magic.


    "Yes," he didn''t bother to deny. "Not by choice. I was kind of thrown here."


    "Why?" the Shadowknife asked.


    "Well, I was in a real bad situation, and I screamed for someone to save me, so something did, by throwing me here."


    "The Mazakam?"


    "Yes. The price was accepting a Pact. I''ve been their toadie ever since."


    "The Mazakam seek to feast on Aberrants, both here and Outside Creation. That does not make them our friends. They would happily sacrifice this world and all upon it for a good chance at a snack. What manner of fool are you to call out to such beings, knowing what they would make of you?"


    "I would have been dead, and I didn''t have much choice! They answered, imposed the Pact on me, and threw me here!" He seemed to want to get up, uttered a moan, and then flopped back down. "I should have done nothing enough to stir the Brotherhood! I don''t make a habit of inflicting magic on the innocent!"


    "I have marked your trail at dozens of Aberrant sites and ceremonies," the Shadowknife said calmly, totally unsympathetic.


    "Yes. I was preparing them for action by the Watching Stars, when the time is right. Far easier then drawing on their power off the cuff. They seem to be all over the place. When their numbers build and they finally start attempting Summonings, I can return, and feed them to the Mazakam!"


    "And you think we haven''t sensed your casual use of the Tyrant''s Triad?" the hyn purred, his knives gleaming.


    "I''ve done no lasting harm, I''ve built up no undead forces, and I''ve made no grabs for power, nor messed with the fundamental powers of the Land," the wizard spat out. "My business with the Mazakam is sufficient for you to stay your hand, unlike Zygomouy''s pets here. Fighting corruption with corruption may be unwise, but it is effective enough in its own way."


    Brother Shadowknife looked down at him, his unseen eyes as ominous as mountain heights.


    "If you seek to grab temporal power, especially by use of magic, you will be dealt with."


    The wizard-warlock took a deep breath. "I understand. I will be circumspect, and not seek to take advantage of those with little to lose."


    "Your name?"


    The haggard face twisted, mouth rising in a strange smile. "Memphistopheles."


    The Shadowknife blinked. "You have a very inauspicious name," he said carefully, and drew only a knowing, dry chuckle in response.


    "Yes, the man who named me was a fool," he agreed, coughing weakly. "May I go? I have fed my masters, and there will be a short period of time before they... motivate me to feed again."


    The whirling, living Helices slowly withdrew from him. Slowly and carefully, he regained his feet. His dark robe made his build hard to discern, but he seemed lean and tall, with scars or traces of pox on his neck and hands. He looked down at the hyn who barely reached to his ribs, still unable to see his eyes. "Raise your Stillflight. Please."


    There was only a pulse from the Helices, and the strange wizard was airborne, trailing liquid black flames as he shot up towards the gap in the stone roof of this buried valley at great speed. In only a few breaths, he shot into the gap and away, obviously headed elsewhere, and away from the walking death that was a Void Brother.

 184 Chapter One Hundred and Eighty-Four – We’ve a Small Dragon Problem

    -Sage Sama? We''ve got a small situation here...-


    I always encouraged a little healthy understatement as a way of controlling fear. Someone who was screaming about the end of the world wasn''t in a state of mind to give a very good report.


    -Go ahead, Sergeant,- my chatty persona /replied.


    -Well, there''s some dragons perching on some of the wave-hills out here in the Badlands, along the Corridor.-


    -Really.- Beat. -Not trying to eat anyone?-


    -No...-


    -Metallic hues, or primary colors?-


    -Metallic. Bronze... and silver?-


    -No gold? Pity. They look like this?- Images of Shield and Valor dragons popped up in the Markspace.


    -Yes!- Great relief. I wondered why more people didn''t know how to color-code dragons... Probably because changing scale color was a very minor effect abused by the nastier members of the species, and not many bothered to look at crest and scale patterns...


    -There a Caster there with Messaging available?-


    -Checking...- La, la, la... -Yes!-


    -Tell the Caster to send this message to the silvery one, exactly as I''m saying this to you.- I /ran off some words slowly in Draconic to him, and he repeated them faithfully. -And tell me what they do.-


    -Waiting...- La, la, la... -They appear to be rising... they''re taking wing down the Corridor towards the Camp, ma''am.-


    -I am relaying word ahead. Anyone who shoots anything at them deserves exactly whatever the dragons decide to do to them. Don''t Stillflight them, don''t snipe them, don''t shout at them. Actually, if you wave at them nicely and blow a few horns you''ll probably stroke their egos.-


    -Really?- He seemed a little astounded. -Friendly dragons...- The sergeant was astonished. After all, we''d never met any friendly ones in Nightmare...


    -It''s like saying ''friendly flesh-eating flying fire-breathing spell-casting genius dinosaurs''. Keep your perspective.- I /warned him.


    -Yes, Sage Sama.- he /replied quickly.


    Dragons, huh...


    ======


    Although they weren''t slow, it actually took the dragons most of a day to follow the Corridor through the Badlands, across the Dichromatic Plains, and up to the Camp where it was set next to where the Silver Worm crossed the Ring around Yle Tyorm.


    Just to make sure there weren''t any undue accidents, the Stillflight Field around the Camp was very obvious, and the dragons glided down to the ground just outside it. A small troop of cavalry rode out to greet them, and another small troop of spearmen cleared away everyone lingering around the southern gate and formed an approach line for the dragons.


    Colonel Markov was at the head of the lancers that rode out to greet the great winged reptiles. He made a specific set of bowing motions with hands staying down while atop his Horse, attracting their interested attention.


    The Shield dragons had scales like armor, the plates especially large on their necks and bellies, with fairly crocodilian heads, a frilled crest, and layers of bronzed scales overlapping. They had four legs, the rear legs far larger than the front, all bearing great metallic claws, all edged with faint, rust-like traces of green. Their builds were solid and muscular, giving the impression of armored reptiles made for war.


    The Valor dragons were slenderer and more serpentine, their scales much finer and gleaming like polished metal. Their heads were more birdlike, with jaws ending in a razored beak, and a solid frill backing their heads. They had a nobler, more elegant look about them, their sapphire eyes very curious as they looked over everything about them.


    "Greetings." He looked over the five dragons, three Shields, two Valors, showing no fear of them, despite all their heads reaching up higher than his own. "In the interest of crowded spaces and not panicking the rather high number of idiots wandering around, Sage Sama asks you to use your bipedal forms while in the Camp." He made a gesture, and the Sorceress at his side flicked her wrist, five Disks shimmering into existence immediately. "We shall escort you in, and keep away the fools."


    "And if we do not?" the Shield dragon who was the biggest and oldest of the five asked directly, green eyes fixed on the Colonel.


    "Well, anything you knock down, you have to put back together," he replied after a moment of thought. "That includes fences knocked down by panicking horses, the tents said idiots are going to fall into screaming, the dishes they break, the tables they overturn, and the chairs they trample at the sight of you." He wrinkled his nose. "I think you''ve got better things to do with your time, sir."


    All five dragons huffed as one, a strange combination of cool and electrically-charged air spilling over the humans. There was just a glance, and their elephant-sized bodies shimmered and flowed with great speed, pouring down in size from six-limbed dragons to humanoid forms.


    They were all fully dressed, two females, one of each species, and three males, two Shields and one Valor. The Shields were in bronze robes cut to resemble armor, with raised shoulders and heavy cloth, solid boots and trousers, and looked like deeply bronzed southern humans, with dark hair and green eyes. The Valors were in more casual blue and white tunics, high black boots, and riding pants, looking like fair-skinned carefree noble humans out for an excursion, their hair light, long, and gleaming white.


    Naturally, they were all quite handsome or beautiful, with the imposing manners typical of the very confident.


    The dragons hopped onto the waiting Disks, unperturbed, and if an arc or two of lightning crackled between the Shield dragons'' eyes, everyone took it as a proper hint that they hadn''t lost their powers just because they looked like humans.


    Colonel Markov pointed, everyone turned about, falling into escort positions behind the five dragons on Disks, and they trotted calmly back towards the Camp.


    The spearmen all pounded their glowing Spears and brought them down in salute behind their dragons, earning a flicker of approval for the courtesy, if nothing else.


    ---------


    Colonel Markov gave them a quick tour of the place. They''d already seen it from above, so he was merely explaining who and what went where, what was going on, indicating the camps of elves, dwarves, southerners, northerners, and the rather uneven ones of the mercenaries and merchants moving back and forth along the road.


    Only the bravest and most skilled of mercenaries was signing up for the battles now, contenting themselves with slaying the unending numbers of raiding beasts and creatures stirred up by the Warp Storms along the Corridor. They were mostly taking service as auxiliary troops alongside the knights and crusaders who had come up from the south, as no mercenary had successfully established a warband of their own... at least not without being beat all to hell, and finding a lack of enthusiasm on the part of new recruits.


    I was largely done with carving Marks for now, and had moved on to real Tattoos for those who had earned sufficient battle honors... and had the blood of magical beasts for the foundation inks. This was akin to forging magical weapons or armor, which I could also spend all day doing, but making Soul Tats was not a skill practiced by the many Powered here, and only a few members of the Ironblood had learned the skill to use on their fellows.


    It was also much slower, and I couldn''t work as fast as I could on Weapons. Still, I finished my most recent customer/mommy-screaming-victim, etching the black and blue Shock Gauntlets across the top of his hands, and the grimly scarred Lieutenant Hendriks bowed to me before quickly making himself absent. Soul Essence flared on the Tats, crackling arcs of electricity moved around his fists, and his face had a grimly satisfied expression as he left the tent where I was working.


    I looked up as the dragons stepped inside, the Disks following them, and I sized them up as they looked at my Tatted face in astonishment.


    "Have a seat," I waved to them, indicating the Disks, and they looked back, at one another, and then sat down on the Disks they''d been standing on.


    Haul drifted over, and I levered up a flat stony circle on top of it with no effort. It deCompressed, turning into a table ten feet across, and I sat down calmly on midair, mist slowly falling from the glowing blue-white Tats on my ankles and shins, across from five dragons.


    "You''ve come a long way to find me. I am Sage Sama, by default the leader, administrator, and Warlord of this effort to fight the minions of the Warp Gods intruding into this world from the Rift over yonder." I waved negligently in its direction. "May I ask your intentions here? It would probably not surprise you to learn that our recent interactions with dragons have all been on the extremely violent ''eat native bipedal sentients rarrgh'' side of things." My Draconic was extremely precise, if lacking some of the resounding depth that really made the language shine.


    The dragons had all drifted up around the table, and found it very secure and fixed in place.


    From a side entrance, a Rockborn came trundling in with another Disk, this one made of copper, and piled high with bottles, snack boats, glasses, and the like. He deftly passed out the buttered snails to the Shield dragons, the iced fruits to the Valor dragons, and the whiskey and wine to former and latter respectively.


    The dragons actually smiled slightly as they enjoyed the trifles. Their eyes opened as they sampled the liquor, and made small compliments for it in delight, as they''d never tasted anything quite like it. Elves didn''t normally make whiskey, and dwarves were largely centered on mushrooms and common grains, so elven whiskey and dwarven wine from their alchemists was indeed a new experience.


    "We are here to lend our aid to fighting the Warped," the oldest of the dragons said, seeming to be a powerfully-built deeply bronzed human in his late thirties. He had a scar along his cheek, ragged and not made by a weapon, which had also been obvious on his draconic form. "All wise beings should gather to such a fight," he stated firmly, as if it were obvious.


    "Hmm. I will have to request that you not do so," I replied after only a moment.


    Despite themselves, the dragons twitched in surprise. I seemed open-minded and well-informed, so this was quite unexpected. The lead dragon studied me for a while, I studied him back without blinking, and he finally hmphed. "I see that you have considered this well. May we inquire as to why?" he asked, rather stiffly.


    "It''s the nature of the Warp Gods to give the people fighting... things to fight that are equal to them or stronger. They want to see great big fights and lots of blood, after all." I tilted my head slightly. "Given that logic, what do you imagine will happen if dragons start joining our forces?"


    Their lips pursed despite themselves. The male Valor was the first to answer, "They will start sending out dragons themselves."


    "Which they already do, but very limited in numbers." I looked them all over. "On average, we''re fighting four to six battles a day right now, every day. More then ten thousand Warped pouring out of that Rift, every day, with all their attendant creatures and demons along for fun and jollies. If I can, I would prefer that number not increase by at least five dragons a day."


    "At least five Warped dragons a day," the lead Shield repeated. "You are certain of this?"


    "Certain? No. Extremely confident? Yes. And once it starts... it won''t stop. They''ll force you to keep fighting every single day, by sending out more dragons. If you aren''t capable of stopping them, then we''re going to have to. You are dragons, you know how dangerous you are. I really don''t want to have to deal with an ever-increasing number of dragons every day. The Gods of the Warp have their own pet universe. They can send out dragons every day for the next millennium if they want to.


    "You going out there to fight with us is going to start an escalating arms race I want no part of, and would prefer to push off as long as possible.


    "Now, I imagine I am also too late, and you were probably noticed as soon as you entered the Badlands. They''re probably going to wait, see if you commit, and then if you don''t, force the issue. But I would prefer to put that off as long as possible, and away from the battlefield where mass use of breath weapons is highly undesirable."


    The dragons hummed, bending over to quietly confer in subsonics back and forth. The lead Shield nodded, and turned back to me. "We agree that accelerating this form of response is unwise. Nevertheless, we would like to help where we can. How may we contribute?"


    "Corridor purging duty," I replied immediately. "There is always stuff intruding on the Corridor we''re getting our supplies from, sometimes in excessive numbers. You saw the forces we have stationed at waypoints on your flight here. We''ve got thousands of bodies moving along the Corridor to provide security, and they''ve always got something to do. If you want to contribute a bunch of dragonfear to driving some lethal annoyances off, and some fulminous exhalations to deal with others, I can move those people here to participate in the fighting." I turned my head to glance at the Rift. "Question: what''s the effective audial range of a dragon''s challenge?"


    The leader looked interested at my question. "We can hear a challenge from one of our own at a hundred miles or more. Why do you ask?"


    "Because when they start sending dragons out from the Rift, I''d like you to pull them out into the Badlands with a challenge and kill them."


    Hard smiles spread across their faces. "That should not be an issue," he agreed grimly.


    I nodded. "Second thing, you are going to have to be very, very careful of the Warpstorms outside the Corridor. It is entirely possible and definitely probable that the Warp Gods are going to make special efforts to catch you in them. I don''t have enough telstang on hand to make you Torcs to defy that kind of mutation magic, but I can order some. If you get caught... well, you''re dragons, they are gods, I think you understand what is probably going to happen to you."


    The dragons stared at me in silence, then looked at one another. They had pride, but they weren''t stupid. This whole thing was directly set up by insane Evil gods. If they weren''t wary, they were stupid.


    "Understood. You can give us a defense against this?"


    "Yes. The basic touch of Energized Telstang defies all transmutational magic, for good or ill. So, a Warpstorm won''t be able to mutate you. On the other hand, they will definitely send out Casters with anti-dragon magic to attempt to enslave you, so you had best keep up anti-enchantment magic at all times."


    They hummed in a hostile manner. Their enemies were not simple... and more than audacious enough to attempt to enslave dragons.


    "If you like, I would also like to extend a formal invitation to join the Marktell and to get your Chakras for Soul Magic Opened." They blinked at me, and I smiled as the Holopoint presentation rolled into action...

 185 Chapter One Hundred and Eighty-Five – Special Delivery

    "A message delivery?" Errant''s brow furrowed. "You aren''t a page, you are a squire. Why was such a simple task given to you?"


    Estemar''s brown eyes flickered with annoyance, that was quickly buried under his discipline. "I do not know. They only told me that it was urgent. I was merely stopping to inform you of my whereabouts."


    "May I see the letter?" Errant asked calmly. Estemar looked at him strangely, then shrugged and drew it out of the vest under his tabard.


    Estemar took it from him, and stared at it, his silver eyes glittering. Estemar, about to say something, fell silent, because he could clearly see the corners of Errant''s lips turning down.


    Errant''s eyes finally rose to Estemar''s, a hardness in them the young Prince had not seen before. "You are without armor or weapon, yes?" he asked calmly.


    "That is correct..." It somehow sounded ominous, now that Errant had mentioned it...


    Errant passed the letter back. "They are watching. Go about things as if you are leaving soon. I will be at the statue of Saint Miyata. I will be going with you."


    Estemar nodded shortly, seeing a hard light in Errant''s eyes. He had great trust in this Heavenbound son of the Gilderalz, and now it seemed that something was happening. Errant hurried away, and Estemar resumed his course to the stables... but not moving as quickly as he might have.


    -----------


    Errant was indeed waiting by the towering statue of the Ranger Marshal of Aethra, one of the great hunters of criminals of the Empire; riding back and forth the length of it to bring wrongdoers to justice, she had been a true heroine of the masses and Sainted by all five major Good Churches. Her statue had thus endured here for over five centuries, unable to be moved off and replaced by those eager to take her prime place on the Promenade to the Palace.


    Errant was not mounted, but he did have a Disk next to him, loaded with what Estemar instantly saw was his own armor and weapons. He met Errant''s eyes as he gestured, murmuring a soft prayer to Mithar, and the pieces of his Armor began to rise and move into position slowly, one by one. Straps tightened, pieces locked together, buckles were hitched, strings knotted, and in less than five breaths he was mailed and plated properly. He slung his shield at the side of his saddle, and his sword opposite.


    "Glamer it," Errant ordered shortly, and Estemar brushed the finally made plate. It shimmered and seemed to reform into a tabard and cloak. His Sword and Shield were still obvious, but him being armored was not.


    "What is going on?" Estemar asked, as Errant pushed up the Disk, and the squire touched it to take control, afore Errant hopped lightly atop it to float at his side as he snapped the reins again. The young bay he was riding trotted smoothly into motion.


    "You have not refined the Eyes enough. There was murderous intent floating around that letter. It was written with killing in mind."


    Estemar didn''t pale, instead thinking of the implications. "I have been sold out? By the Order?" he asked calmly.


    "It is perhaps not the time to mention this, but you know the death of that scribe in the records, and those two workers in the kitchens?"


    Errant had brought them up before, so Estemar nodded shortly. "The one was overindulging on proscribed drugs, I believe? And the last two were crushed under wine barrels being unloaded."


    "I killed them." Estemar blinked. "It was a test, to see how well they would cover up the details, and the details were all firmly suppressed. The three were doppelgangers."


    Estemar''s cheek twitched. "It is not my first time dealing with shapechangers... although the last time was wererats and a vampire."


    "That dance you were telling me about?" Errant''s eyes were steady. "Your foes are thorough. They managed to get you assigned as a squire to another one."


    Estemar inhaled sharply. "Sir Zigfried? Are you certain?"


    "His chambers reek of killing intent. He wears an empowered tchazty stone to conceal his aura, but it does not cloak the residual," Errant told him calmly.


    Estemar was thoughtful, thinking of the implications. "I was assigned him by the Grand Maester himself. How high does this corruption go?" he asked softly.


    "The Grand Maester has also been slain and replaced," Errant told him softly.


    Estemar almost reined in, and his eyes grew wide. A single stare told him Errant was deadly serious. "Have you told anyone else?"


    "The Inquisition knows. I informed them over two months ago, and they have been watching his dealings closely. Some of my excursions outside the Halls have been in service to the Church, pressing closer into the matters of those he is dealing with." He glanced at Estemar. "It seems they are going to take this opportunity to deal with you."


    Estemar padded his side pouch, where the letter now rested. "An ambush, then? Daring of them, in the Sixth Circle..."


    "We can be sure that things have been carefully arranged so that there is no help nearby. I believe an assassination attempt is more likely, with mercenaries on standby to make you difficult, if not impossible, to revive."


    "Of course." Estemar took it right in stride. "So, what are your plans?"


    "Do you have problem acting as bait?" Errant asked.


    "None whatsoever," Estemar said calmly.


    "Excellent. I am going to signal to a couple of spotters, and I will be shadowing you as you ride to deliver your letter. I plan to give those who think to ambush you an unpleasant surprise."


    The young Paladin smiled calmly. "And I shall have to see if I can spot them as well, no?"


    "I may not give you the chance," Errant replied with a low chuckle, hopping off the Disk, which spun itself up into stacked wedges from its Disk-shape, and was inserted into the flat Masspack on Errant''s back. "I will be with you, have faith." He darted off at impressive speed, causing a few heads to turn before he was abruptly out of sight... all sight, vanishing under the light like a mirage.


    Advanced Heavenbound Mastery, giving him concealment in the light the way others were concealed in the shadows. He was effectively invisible as long as he did nothing more abrupt than moving.


    Estemar found himself caught between smiling and frowning. The Grand Maester of the Ruby Heart, one of the most important Order Maesters in the Empire, killed and replaced by a Shapechanger. It would rock the nobility to the core if they found out about it, and there would be a great deal of witch-hunting to follow.


    Witch-hunting that was likely to find more of the same, if some of the things Errant had whispered about during their training time was to be believed.


    The letter might be real, might simply be a tool to get him in the right place and time, the recipient could be a conspirator, or totally innocent. Still, if it held such murderous intent, that meant that the one who wrote it was definitely involved...


    So thinking, Prince Estemar considered his unseen set of armor and how that was going to be an unwelcome surprise for any attackers, at the very least...


    ========


    He felt the impact of the crossbow bolt ring off the plate covering his back before he processed what the buzzing sound was. The force jerked him forwards, and dispelled the illusion covering up his armor. In a moment, it flowed back into being, his ''clothing'' diffusing and revealed the ornate full plate of a mounted knight, complete with helm.


    He turned his head up and around, opposite the direction the bolt had skittered away from, up to a darkened window across the street, and the shadow of a startled figure there.


    From the roof, he saw a blur of motion come over the edge and swing down, landing sideways on the wall next to that window. A glowing blur of light swept out and plunged into the target, eliciting a cry of surprise and pain. Hiding in the Light broken, Errant plunged from the wall into the room, changing orientation easily, his hand pointing at Estemar and then to an alley ahead of the young squire.


    Estemar pulled out his sword and turned his horse around, even as a knot of experienced mercenaries ran out of the side street next to the walls of the home to which he was delivering his letter. Passersby, judging the situation at a glance, immediately ran for their lives, conspicuously not shouting for the watch... and a couple of them moving into position on his flanks.


    He was not a master bladesman, but he was mounted and these men were not. Without hesitation, he spun the bay and sent it hurtling directly at the men who thought themselves unobserved behind him.


    They were ready to fight, but they still had to get out of the way of his horse. His Shield took the first strike aimed at him, and then as the darkness of the man in front of him hove into his view, he called on Mithar to aid him as he brought his sword down and in-line as the unshaven man barely avoided being trampled. The ambusher looked up, and his eyes went wide as a searing flame lit up on Estemar''s sword, sweeping unerringly into his throat as he passed by, depriving the ambusher of his life.


    He''d seen two men with bows, and moved his Shield to cover behind him just in time, two buzzing shafts bouncing off the steel. He moved away from any pedestrians, eyes going left and right to see if there were more shooters above, or any others coming out of the shadows ¨C


    A dark form came hurtling out of the high window behind him, its head separating in midair. Errant was in the window, looking, and his hand stretched out. "BOLT!" he shouted, and magic glowed on his hand.


    A shield of magic force, golden and semi-transparent, appeared on Estemar''s left side. An instant later, he noticed the wizard as the lightning came smashing down, bounced off the cobblestones, and tore into the horse beneath him. The bay screamed and crashed down, and Estemar tucked and rolled like the experienced horseman he was, finding himself on foot and sliding over the cobblestones in his armor, very glad he was wearing it.


    That wizard hurriedly ducked away, but Estemar reached out with his eyes, feeling the evil upon the man... and then something decidedly not evil coming up behind him very swiftly. He rolled to his feet, using his Shield to brace himself back to his feet, and resumed his running as the mercenaries pounded after him.


    Without any hesitation, Errant jumped after him, soaring through the air and coming down between his squire and the ambushers. He hit the ground, skidded almost five feet over the stones, and smiled at the incoming men, his silver eyes bright.


    "Gentlemen," he said, as his sword lit up with hard golden lights, and they slowed to a stop to face him, "welcome to the Inquisition. You are about to have a very bad day."


    Despite themselves, they swallowed. There was a curse and a gasp above them, and they looked up to see the wizard that was working with them hanging out of the window, someone stuffing a round ball into his mouth as teeth broke, a long slash across his throat and face showing someone was waiting for him.


    They had set their ambush, and been ambushed in return...


    ----


    Ahead of them, Estemar turned a corner to get out of the firing line of the archers, hugging the wall with Sword and Shield at the ready.


    An older man in leathers, the Scales at his throat gleaming on an ivory disc, walked up to him and around the corner, looking at the carnage taking place with flat eyes. Seeing him do so, Estemar naturally stepped up to join him.


    Two of the ambushers were already down, their light mail not really hindering Errant''s burning Wrathblade at all. Aghast, they started to retreat, and he raised his hand.


    A wall of golden flames exploded across the entire street, slamming right into the two archers hanging back and sniping at him ineffectually. They shrieked as they were set aflame, and the fleeing men could only slide to a halt.


    "Now, then, I know you want to talk before we get persuasive, instead of after. You do know that the preferred method of interrogation of the Inquisition is to chop your head off and question your dead self, right?" Errant asked cheerfully, but his shining silver eyes held no sympathy, and the faces of the four remaining men fell further...

 186 Chapter One Hundred and Eighty-Six – Mythos Spawn for Great Vengeance!

    "Whoooo!" Grym called out, swaying as the Wagon beneath him juked sideways. A tree, whirling end over end in their direction, crashed to the ground and tumbled and rolled right past them as they headed off on an angle, shattered branches flying everywhere.


    An unnatural cry rolled over the landscape. Limned in a half-dozen shades of phosphorescent paint, the unnatural monstrosity thundering across the rolling hills after them let out an impossibly shrill scream for such a big creature, pounding at their heads. Tentacles grabbed at a jutting boulder, heaving it off the ground as the creature keened from three mouths spaced unevenly about its mass, the gleaming of five scattered eyes seeming to be rather angry.


    A shining bolt plunged deep into one of those eyes, and the insectile legs propelling the elephantine bulk of the creature along seemed to shiver once in reaction. The keening tore at their minds again, but the only reply was two more bolts streaking into the mass of the godless monstrosity pounding after them, punching right through the unnatural toughness of its hide and finding interesting things to rip apart in its impossible anatomy.


    "Left!" Verd called back over her shoulder, and Tabi veered away as that rock was heaved in their direction. It had to weigh at least a ton, but it still cleared fifty yards in the air, smashing to the ground very loudly where they would have been if the Horse hadn''t shunted sideways at her command.


    Tabi eyed the rock bouncing along the stony ground ahead of them, and shook his head as he kept his pace.


    He wasn''t actually running very hard. After all, he wasn''t trying to outrun the thing.


    Grym and Master Feist were up on the roof, the unnaturally smooth ride making it easy for them both to use heavyfoot to keep their balance, and were using the autobows to send shining quarrels back into the glowing target that was a Starspawn.


    Why the Shadowknife hadn''t brought its lifeline to an end, they didn''t know, but that was fine. The Brilliant bolts Haz¨¦ had made up for just this situation were ignoring its thick natural armor, no different than they would a dragon, and punching deep and true. Wasn''t like they could miss something so damn big...


    The starspawn had come crumping through the scattered hills while invisible, thinking that it had found some sort of easy snack in the Wagon. It had not been expecting to be sensed and run away from so adeptly, or have these glowing quarrels of solid light stabbing deep into its innards.


    It had tried to teleport on top of them, and found that was impossible with the Wards around the Wagon up, which rather shut down its most effective ambush tactic. When the bulbed bolts loaded down with alchemical dyes splashed over it and took away its natural invisibility, that had shut down its other natural advantage.


    Well, other than being over twenty feet tall, with six massive insectile legs that could propel it much faster than a man could run... but not faster than a Horse.


    Given that it could regenerate, the bolts slamming into it would normally be useless, just a waste of magic. However, the Interdiction radiating out from the Wagon in front of it was pressing down on its multi-dimensional existence, and preventing it from drawing energies from across the Veil to heal itself. It had tried bringing down mighty curses on its foes on the Wagon, and the little things had the temerity to dodge them all!


    It had not noticed the Seal tossed off to the side almost a half-mile back, that suddenly lit up with a silvery light.


    There was a crack of thunder, and something streaked past it, startling enough to center two of its remaining eyes on, and a couple of its mouths commented on the event in babbling Aklo as something Linejumped past and ahead of it slightly, startling enough to bring it to a splay-footed halt.


    A human woman was standing on the air in front of it, thirty yards away, looking full into its madness-inspiring gaze. The abomination could easily see through her magical disguise, but that didn''t stop its caution, and it instinctively tried to retreat.


    The Interdiction was still locking it down, as the Wagon ahead abruptly slowed and turned around.


    The disguised young human lifted the Staff in her hand, and it flared with a soft light that somehow dominated the harsher sunlight behind her.


    Twin circles of twelve multi-colored crescents of force on her right hand... two more matching flaring up on her left.


    The abomination had just about enough time to try and dispel the basic magical spell that had been juiced to a degree it had ever seen, when the Shards converged into a softly streaming Ray that hit a prism in front of each of her hands, and promptly split apart into a pair of purifying streams of energy.


    Four Rays of silvery, almost wind-like energy sliced into the creature, converging like lines on a target and meeting in its off-center of mass.


    An anatomy highly dependent on a multi-dimensional existence had no resistance against the power of the Cerulean Seal within that attack, the banefire, the anathema, and the pure raw amount of sacred Force energy locking it down and ripping through it all at once.


    It set up a great howl of pain and mad enlightenment as the force-rays shattered into a million fractal waves, and ripped it apart like it was made of paper.


    Flaming, vivic-burning hybrid thing sired by something beyond the stars flew everywhere within thirty yards, not quite reaching where Haz¨¦ was watching it. She watched the remains fall rather too slowly to the ground, still not wanting to obey the laws of physics, but the streams of vivus were rapidly sucked into the land, staining the grass and soil temporarily white.


    Well, there were things you could make out of powerful Aberrants, but that didn''t look like it was going to happen here today, she considered wryly.


    The Wagon trundled to a halt just below her, and she drifted down to land on the roof. She took note of Grym and Feist on the roof, and Verd standing on the driver''s seat, where she had been looking back to play spotter. "Where are Veis and Amber?" she asked calmly.


    "Oh, they decided to track the thing back to its lair, and see what interesting nonsense they might find there, big sister!" Verd smiled.


    Haz¨¦ mused to herself that she should have expected such actions, and made a ''lead the way'' gesture in resignation. Tabi knickered audibly, and pranced through the remains of the abomination proudly, cracking one of the ten-foot long lower legs under his hooves with emphasis as they headed back in the direction they''d come.


    -----------


    "It seems creatures relying on telepathy to warn them and communicate don''t work well when Nulls surprise them," Feist noted, admiring the dead tentacle-faced ape-thing that had had its throat smoothly cut, and spine impaled. Two guardian creatures that looked like legged worms had been sliced smoothly open, and whatever passed for innards were burning brightly.


    "Kneal-vurms," Grym murmured on seeing the things with insides that looked like squashed brains. "Third Herald?" he asked Haz¨¦.


    "Aye, the Worm of the Gibbous Moon." Haz¨¦ followed the dwarf and hyn closely, Staff ready, but instead of finding things to fight, only found more bodies cleanly dispatched. "Those two are getting cocky in their old age, Verd," she noted to the green-locked spear-carrier at her side.


    "Aye, cranky and irascible as all get out," Verd agreed without batting an eye. "It was such a nice day, scenic landscape, birds flying, and they just had to spoil it by putting that ugly thing in the middle of it. Veis was VERY pouty about it."


    "It probably drove all the birds away within a mile. I can see how that might upset her," Haz¨¦ agreed blandly. "That is some good bolt-work I''m seeing."


    "They''ve been practicing. They love those hand-bows."


    "I prefer a good knife at that range," Feist interjected quietly from ahead of them. "Crossbows are for sniping."


    "Hrn!" Grym grunted, and everybody smiled, knowing that was shorthand for ''That''s the proper distance for a Hammer to the skull, and you all know it.''


    More kneal-worm ''hounds'' were found, gutted and burning like those before them, and an open door at the far end of a chamber covered in Runes that beat at the eyes and minds led to stairs leading upwards.


    "I don''t recall a building above, Master Grym?" Haz¨¦ asked softly, running her hands over the stone after they hastened across the chamber. The Rockborn frowned and reached out to touch it himself.


    "Jah," he agreed, touching it. "Dwarf-work."


    "The races of the Third Herald are known for working with fallen Rockborn and Gnomes," Haz¨¦ commented, and the Clanhammer of Dauer exhaled long and low. Slag at his side began to slowly rumble with the sound of a burning furnace.


    "Dhen best ve abut killing dem, Lady," he said softly, his glittering eyes showing understanding, but no mercy. The Dwarven clans of the mountains had suffered greatly at the hands of the Rosencrux Empire, and being mad enough to work with the Aberrants was certainly possible once a close-knit clansdwarf lost enough of their kin. If that meant bringing down a horror from beyond and breeding an abomination to ravage the lands of humans, that was perfectly all right to some.


    --------


    The dwarves they''d run across were like caricatures of proper Rockborn, shriveled and hairless, eyes like obsidian balls, almost the size of gnomes.


    "Derro. Rockborn fallen to de Aberrant." Grym''s quiet rumble didn''t hide his loathing, his glittering eyes flashed. "Good work they made of them..."


    Feist circled the three dead derro once, the smile of an approving teacher on his lips. "Aye. See this here? Amber led with a cut to the wrist, took off this one''s hand. The other''s looked over, and my little Veis poked this one''s inner ears.They all looked back, and Amber finished this one up with her Thorn to the base of his skull, and did a sliding lunge to the heart with this one." He mimed all the motions, ending up behind the single mutate dwarf with a small bloody hole punched through the mail on its back.


    "Smooth, quick, lethal," Haz¨¦ agreed with a nod. She looked around the room, drifted over to a table strewn with papers. She glanced over them, turned her head away sharply, and gathered them up with a wave of her hands before stowing them away. "Moon Worm, sure enough. How they brought in an abomination, I don''t know..."


    "They are only a few minutes ahead," Feist judged, and the quartet ghosted down the hallway in the hillside lair of these mad once-dwarves.


    ------


    They all heard a quiet gasp ahead, the stuttering sound of something trying to speak as its life leaked out its throat. Unnatural feet shifted awkwardly, and something hard wrenched into meat and bone with a grunt. Steel cut the air, meat was sliced through, and there was a grunt as small but wiry hands bent and pulled.


    They turned the corner as Grace came whipping back, and as Veis levered the unnatural head backwards, the Rapier finished cutting the thick head of the larval spawn from its writhing chest.


    Both girls hopped back as three different streams of not-quite-blood were vented into the air, and the corpse of the spawn seemed to shift and fall, as if it was too heavy to actually exist. It collapsed to the ground, something broke under the robes that hid its lower legs, and it seemed to deflate in place.


    Veis pointed, Amber turned, and both of them waved at the new arrivals.


    "Nice work," Haz¨¦ said for all of them. "But you forgot about the construct." She pointed up, and the two girls snapped their eyes upwards as the mechanical, spidery-looking thing clinging to the ceiling above them began to move.


    "Shit!" Amber spoke, and she and Veis dove in opposite directions as the creature fell down on them, the two barely escaping the reach of splayed razor-sharp limbs. Without bothering to turn over, the seven legs of the mechanical Leng Spider inverted it and lifted it from the rune-crazed floor to face the rest of them.


    A burning Hammer roared past them, smashed into the spider-construct, and seared and warped one of the seven legs at the impact, pushing the thing back a foot or so as it did so, before spinning back to Grym''s hand.


    Feist rose up underneath the creature from its own shadow, long knives plunging into two joints, ping ping, scrapping them and making it very hard for the thing to move with the agility it was normally capable of. It bounced toward Grym, Haz¨¦, and Verd, only to drive a faceted, spinning eye well onto the glowing tip of Verd''s Spear, and then its massive body smashed into the Ward Wall that Haz¨¦ waved up.


    The force barrier cracked, and then shattered as Grym stepped full into it, driving his burning, roaring Hammer down onto the delicate structures of its jaws, shattering them like glass and sending them spinning away. A plunging pedipalp drove for his skull, ran right into his raised Shield, gouging it, but failing to pierce through.


    Verd shouted and drove forwards, actually lifting the head of the creature off the ground as it tried to scuttle away, and found its third leg on the left reduced to uselessness, overbalancing it to the side.


    Grym stepped in towards the vulnerable thorax joint, and Slag came roaring in with a crash of hammer on anvil, once, twice, and shattered the vulnerable joint there with a scream of melting metal. The spider shattered in two, and reverberations sent the gears and pistons within it flying in all directions, rendering its parts broken and useless.


    Haz¨¦ cleared her throat and tapped her booted foot at Amber and Veis, who looked rather crestfallen.


    "Um, the dead guy did manage to attract all our attention," Amber managed to say, a little ashamed. She looked up, wrinkling her nose, and shook her blood-red hair. "Okay, okay, we didn''t look up like we should have..."

 187 Chapter One Hundred and Eighty-Seven – The Head Maester

    The Order of the Ruby Heart was in an uproar. Someone had dared make an assassination attempt on one of its squires, and been thwarted by the fact everyone concerned had stumbled right into the middle of an Inquisition operation.


    There was nothing for it but volunteering by the brave knights to get back at the dastardly folk who had conspired against them, and as they''d properly bolloxed up the Inquisition''s sting operation, well, a few extra bodies were never unwelcome in the Inquisition''s untiring efforts.


    It had been some time since the Ruby Hearts had had a proper amount of fun, and they did get a mite carried away digging out heretics, blasphemers, traitors, and insane idiots messing with stuff waaaaay beyond their sanity grade. Doors were kicked in, homes and business were wrecked, and fanatics were cut down in number. Buildings exploded, secret tunnels were plumbed, traps went off, ceremonies were interrupted, bases of operations were purged, and dread creatures never meant to see the light of day went rampaging about to the horror of all watching. There were sudden meteorological phenomena, unclean things brought into the world (and somewhat more slowly sent back out... or invited to stay permanently), a lot of desperate people and creatures running willy-nilly this way and that, and quiet hands in the shadows following them to exactly where such desperate people might go...


    All in all, it was terribly exciting. The ministers and scribed were cheerfully describing all the events over tea and kafe, chortling to themselves about the foolishness of certain individuals:


    "Did you hear about Jenks over in textile tariffs? Turns out he was worshipping some sort of intelligent slug!"


    "I always did think he was a bit too radical. But that was nothing like the eighth precinct sewage control! They raided it just this morning!"


    "Egads! What were they doing, worshipping some sentient pile of poo?"


    "No, no, they were taken over by some kind of shapechanging slime creatures!"


    "Seriously? Who would think of such a thing?"


    "Well, you, for starters, sir." Eyes rose just as a burning blade came down, and split the questioner in two at the hip. The not-blood that leaked out quickly began to burn white.


    The quiet young man in leathers with silver eyes who had somehow walked up to them without being noticed gave the watching scribes a hard smile as he cut in the opposite direction, and the quarters of the reverting slime-thing that had replaced Vice Chief Tallyman Prento pulsed and writhed and began to dissolve.


    "Eukayrot demons, servants of the Demon Lord of Ooze, Guixilin. Sirs," the swordsmen informed them, turning away and striding out of the tea house.


    "My word!" exclaimed the fake Prento''s tea companion, bending over to look at the burning, shivering ooze, with all its many unwholesome hues. "No wonder you had such horrible taste in tea..."


    ------------


    Grand Maester Knight Baron of the Ruby Heart Daemo Lawvin looked up as the doors to his office opened smoothly. There was no warning from his secretary or his guards, which was enough to bring him to his feet as the party of men in white and black walked in.


    The man in the center had a cowl with no eyeslits, covering his whole face, but the Scales of the Inquisition shown right through the silk covering. To his right was a man clad in polished silver armor who the Grand Maester knew well: Grand Maester Jon Krys, head of the Order of the Silver Sun, the pre-eminent Order of Paladins in the Empire, and considered the greatest master of the Thunder alive today.


    At his left hand was the too-young, silver-eyed Heavenbound Warlock who he had admitted to the Order, holding in his hand a severed head wearing a signature lion helm.


    The head inside that helm did not belong to a man.


    "What is the meaning of this?" the Grand Maester asked softly, leaning forwards on his desk. "And you, is this how you repay your fellow knights?" he asked, glaring at Errant, ignoring the head in his hand.


    "I would apologize, but I am not a knight," Errant replied calmly. "To be a Knight, one must be knighted by a senior knight in good standing. I am afraid a fair portion of the Order are not actually Knights."


    The flat expression on the Grand Maester''s face was the very picture of offense. "You are questioning my qualifications?" he barked, and his power began to rise, the air humming with the power of Thunder.


    "Ah, yes, displaying the Thunder only a true heart can show," the Inquisitor murmured in a faceless voice. "Please, perform for us the Call to Benediction." The man in black with the white gloves indicated the silvered Paladin at his side. "Sir Krys noted that he taught you the Call personally."


    "Evil Stands Before Us, Show Us Your Grace!"


    The stentorian call was one hundred percent cheese wrapped up in a fine bow of Thundering belief.


    Silver light descended from on high as the Paladin stepped forward, seeming to swell in size and... no-no, he actually did grow a foot taller, his armor grander, rippling with power, eyes burning with silver light as his Challenge was answered.


    "Let me see you Call for a Benediction," the Paladin said, his voice ringing like steel. "Not upon a stroke of your steel, upon your heart and soul!"


    The Grand Maester tensed, his hand moving to the hilt of the Sword at his side. "Such a basic Challenge?" he scoffed... and the desk exploded out of his way as he charged the Inquisitor. "What Punishment Darkness!" he shouted.


    Something fell from the Inquisitor''s sleeve into his hand, and he raised it smoothly. It was golden, not white, and upon it was a stylized sixteen-point sun, with a crown within.


    A Holy Symbol of Aru, and it flared with The Light. Not of Harse, but the Sun of Suns Himself.


    Golden Light burst out, and filled the room. The Grand Maester was in mid-stroke, less then five feet away, but was caught in the middle of the Light, like trying to work his way through adamantine gossamer. The Light pierced him through... and grabbed.


    He screamed as his face seemed to peel back and away, gently teased free of his flesh by strands of infinitely heavy yet delicate Light. As the soul was softly eased free of its prison of flesh, the meat behind warped and shifted to a featureless grey hue. The image of the noble knight seemed to stir from a horrible dream, spectral eyes opened as he pulled free of the creature that had taken his place, ripping away its proportions and false image as it did.


    "Behold Their Wrath!"


    The silver sword came down, blending in with the golden aura, and split the inhuman figure of the doppelganger from crown to crotch in a flare of gold and silver wrath. Burning divine flames didn''t even give the thing a chance to scream before they ate it away, and as it fell and hit the ground, it broke apart into burning dust.


    The Holy Sword of the Grand Maester of the Ruby Heart, Shining Faith, fell softly to the floor, while the metal jewelry and tokens the dop had worn clattered to the thick carpet. The amber-like ring that had adorned his little finger burned and shattered, and the band turned black and corroded.


    Sir Krys eyed the spectral form of the Grand Maester, who regarded him somberly, the golden lines of his soul getting pulled gently towards the sunlight streaming in through the grand window behind him. Student and teacher looked at one another, and then the soul of Daemo Lawvin the Sunsworn bowed to the Paladin, as Aru''s Light wrapped about him and took him away to his rest.


    "Your intuition serves you well, Master Errant," the Paladin murmured sadly, staring after his student, friend, and peer. "I can only wish that you had been wrong."


    "That would have been for the best, wouldn''t it, sir?" Errant replied, looking after the departed spirit, and then dropping his eyes down to what had not burned among the remains. "The Order of the Ruby Heart is in for a bad time. There are going to be a lot of machinations around the election of a new Grand Maester..."


    "No, the most critical thing is that those who were anointed by this duplicitous thing be given the chance to regain their status under proper eyes," Sir Krys stated calmly. "I will speak with the Luminarchs and take command of the Ruby Heart until a new Grand Maester can be chosen from the Elder Maesters. The Crown will have little to say about it. Our first order of business will be a grand ceremony to re-anoint those whose titles are now in question."


    The Paladins of Mithar served all the Gods of Good in turn. Having one agree to serve in the Order of the Ruby Heart was an honor, not an intrusion. Being an old hand at Imperial politics, and not wishing the Church of Aru to be dragged into the morass of them, the great knight immediately declared a term of action that would result in the cleanest transfer of power.


    "The things that this creature has done while serving as the Grand Maester will all have to be reviewed. Deadly things will be concealed in the most innocuous orders," the Inquisitor, who had stowed away the golden symbol once more, said in his soft, unsettling voice.


    Sir Krys agreed, as did Errant. "There will be those given knighthood with ulterior motives, working ill in the name of the Ruby Heart. We will have to suspend their titles until their service can be reviewed... and it will not be at all odd for some guilty parties to mysteriously vanish..."


    These were events he had seen in other forms take place in other Orders and organizations over his long career, but never in an Order as strong and righteous as the Ruby Heart. Infiltration, corruption, exposure, cleansing, purging. Only, this cycle of events was deeper and penetrating into places it had never gone to before...


    "Master Errant, what of the young Paladin you spoke of, the attack on whom started off this whole chain of events?" Sir Krys asked firmly.


    "He''s long gone from the city, Your Grace. A Senior knight of the Order whose virtue was beyond reproach is taking him to the North. Given that his identity was revealed, it was best to get him out of the city before more assassins arrived to deal with him. The Ruby Heart has only a minor presence there, so he should not be readily exposed," Errant replied promptly.


    The senior Paladin eyed the young Heavenbound with a mixture of rare respect and interest. The young man had literally been all over the city for the past few weeks, serving in high places and low, in some of the deadliest fighting the effete nobles of the city would never hear about as more then stories in passing.


    This young man was terrifyingly competent and completely willing to use that competence in the service of Heaven. The Angels had picked an extraordinary champion on this plane.


    "It would be my pleasure to re-ordain you, young Master," the noble Paladin promised.


    Errant''s smile was broad and unfeigned. "I daresay my family will have breakdowns if they ever find out, Your Grace. I will be most pleased to attend whatever Ceremony you put on." His silver eyes shifted away. "I wouldn''t be surprised if someone desperate also considers that a great time to take action, with so many knights in attendance..."


    Sir Krys looked at the Inquisitor, and saw the scales rise on his cowl in interest. "Well, then, we shall have to arrange some surprises for them, young Master..."

 188 Chapter One Hundred and Eighty-Eight – Reunion of the White Sheep of Gilderaz

    "That''s a big city!" Amber noted on behalf of everyone, eyes bright as the ringed walls of Zynozure rose from the sprawl of the lesser city below.


    "The biggest in all my travels," Haz¨¦ agreed, eyes looking around with casual alertness. The hyn and dwarf on the roof discouraged any casual opportunists, and, well, she was dressed in Sylunar colors, with little stars twinkling back from the vanes on the roof. While magic was far from unknown, messing with a devoted of the Queen of Stars was not something that anyone who wanted to be able to find their way home ever would do casually.


    It made for a rather boring trip, which irritated the girls, but with such a big city to look over, they got over it.


    "Paint the roads into your Visual File," Haz¨¦ directed them coolly. "You''ve all heard the tales Amber has told about her life and what cities are like. Well, all of them learned their lessons from this one. This place is bigger, badder, more vibrant, and with more hidden power than any of the places you''ve been through... and also more corrupt, more jaded, more abusive, and crueler. Master Grym could be enslaved for just being a Rockborn without me here. Without a servant''s cuff, Master Feist would automatically be considered a thief. Without someone strong to obviously protect you, you three would be seized by someone and put to work however they wished, if they had the strength to take you. The law down here is generally in on whatever schemes are going on, and you''ve no recourse but yourselves."


    Verd''s dark green eyes sparked. "Is this one of those ''what''s good for the gander is good for the goose'' scenarios?" she asked with deep interest. Amber and Veis leaned in for the reply.


    Haz¨¦, in her grown-up guise she was still the better part of a decade from being real at, smiled slowly. "Feist showed you the rules of the game. You can deal with them as they deal with others. We''re not staying here long enough to make a lasting difference... which would doubtless bring down all kinds of heat from up above. You can punish them, and make them vulnerable to their enemies, helping the wicked to prey on one another... and the better you are at it, the less likely anyone will attribute anything to you.


    "Amber, you know the score. Any man here is going to look at you as a sex toy, an object to be owned, or will be a total fool. Punish the first two, go light on the last. Watch your sisters, and show them what to look out for."


    Amber''s smile was sweetly predatory. "Aren''t we going to be under the protection of a noble knight?" she asked cheerfully, looking forwards to meeting Veis'' brother.


    "He doesn''t really have a household of his own, merely a place to stay. He''s too young to have a high official standing, although I understand he has managed to gain some tremendous merits to his name." She wagged a finger. "Also, he doesn''t have a lot of money. It''s not like he''s still collecting his allowance or anything."


    "Father cut him off too?" Veis puffed up her cheeks in a huff.


    "Rather more that he cut his father off. He doesn''t spread his family name any more than any of you three do."


    "It would be best to never mention it, then?" Amber made a frown.


    "It would cause a lot of trouble for both of them," Haz¨¦ agreed. "Devil-worshippers have some extreme ideas on ownership of bloodline and purity and whatnot."


    "Are you sure he''s not going to hate me?" Veis asked softly, reaching out to grab Amber and Verd''s arms. "Or my sisters?"


    Haz¨¦ made a dismissive gesture. "Remember who he was. In your whole family full of assholes, he was the nice guy who was actually the nice guy, not the manipulative bastard undressing you with his eyes, or going to exploit your magic for power, or making sure you knew your place as the baby of the family, right?" Veis nodded despite herself.


    "Did he know I''d lose my magic?" she asked softly.


    "Once he knew you were a Hagchild? Yes. However, he also knew you''d end up a Null, and he knows exactly how dangerous Nulls can be."


    "I am much bigger now and can take care of myself without magic!" Veis announced proudly, and was promptly mercilessly teased by her bigger sisters for those words. She squealed and poked them right back, and it was a few minutes before they settled down again.


    "How much farther?" Verd asked, always the most level-headed of them. Amber liked things to be in motion, seeking opportunities, while Veis was looking for exciting new things.


    "He''s about five miles ahead, waiting at a fountain up there," Haz¨¦ pointed, and all three girls sighed together. Tabi, pulling the Wagon up ahead, just batted an ear at them, and didn''t change his pace one iota.


    "Master Feist," Haz¨¦ called up softly. "Anything out of place?"


    The hyn up above frowned. "The air is tense, I don''t like the atmosphere... but then the only time I did like it was at night and I was on my way to kill this important person at the behest of this other important person. I''ve seen some Guild-sign, but its all territorial, there''s no directions. I''ve the feeling the shadow-side has fractured recently, and they''ve lost central cohesion, or its been curtailed. I heard the Inquisition has been acting up around here again..."


    "Very much so. They''ve been turning over a lot of stones, and finding a lot of unclean stuff. Shouldn''t be much of a surprise to find out the Thieves'' Guilds were rather heavily compromised..."


    "Criminals are generally open to selling off their souls for minor things, let alone real promises," Feist opined shamelessly, obviously not considering himself a member of the former. He was, after all, a highly trained professional snuffer of lives, not some back-alley cutthroat. "Just creates room for the younger generation of folk with nothing to lose."


    Amber nodded agreement, having seen much of the same. She glanced sidelong at Haz¨¦. "So... any spider''s nests involved in the Cowls coming down?" she asked archly.


    "It might not surprise you that I neither command the influence to be informed of the doings of the Inquisition, nor do I have much desire to do so. I do know that the Light and the Scepter blew through here about three weeks ago, and slaughtered his way through over six hundred people, including over two hundred nobles or landed wealthy, and dozens of members of the Clergy of a dozen religions." She paused, and even Feist leaned closer to listen.


    "And he might have left a list of things behind for us to look into..."


    "Yes!" all three girls burst out together, and Feist, up above, let out a grin. Nobody was going to bring the law down on someone who cleaned out cultists worshipping unhealthy things. He did have to wonder what the Lightscepter would leave behind, however...


    ------------


    There he was, standing by the fountain. His clothing was neat and trim, with high horseman''s boots, a Ruby Heart tabard framing broad shoulders and a narrow waist, his black hair and handsome face attracting a lot of attention from those around, and a long dagger behind him. There were bravos in the area who might have thought about messing with him... until they saw the silver eyes, and decided they had business elsewhere.


    Nobody in their right mind messed with Warlocks, and those crazy enough to swear to Heaven were definitely not folk to mess with.


    Veis didn''t wait for the Wagon to stop, jumping off it straightaway and running to her brother, who only smiled broadly to see her in her blue dress and ribbons, all four feet nothing of her.


    Seeing that smile, Veis completely ignored the color of his eyes and sped up, squealing with glee as she leapt into his arms and was lifted weightlessly into the air. He tossed her up once, caught her, and spun around a few times as he hugged her tightly.


    "It''s so good to see you''re doing okay, little sister," Errant whispered into her ear, and was privately impressed by just how hard she was holding him back. His little sister seemed to be made of iron cables and oak right now.


    Still didn''t weigh anything, however.


    Veis pulled back, her nose still running, and trying not to sniffle as she looked at him. "What happened to your eyes, Errant?" she asked softly, reaching up to touch his face.


    "Ah, that. I''m Heavenbound," he said cheerfully, supporting her weight easily in one arm.


    "No!" Her pale blue eyes widened in disbelief.


    "Yes!" he countered affably, reaching up to poke her nose. "I couldn''t be a Hagchild, so I had to find some other way to piss off Father, right?"


    Veis giggled despite herself, and bent forward to plant a kiss upon his cheek. "I think you are worse than me!" she said primly, and then giggled again.


    The Wagon was pulling up beside him now, and the other girls piled off. Errant nodded to Haz¨¦ calmly. "Starsister," he greeted her warmly, and his eyes fell on the crimson and emerald-haired duo coming up to him.


    They were staring at his silver eyes in disbelief as he looked them up and down. "Veis, care to introduce me to your sisters?" he asked calmly.


    "Yes!" She pointed proudly. "This is Amber. She''s the one who tells me about all the bad things men and women do together," she whispered loudly. Amber, true to form, merely smiled widely at the statement, and Errant only arched an eyebrow in amusement. "And this is Verd, she''s a very good cook, and she beats me up all the time because she''s bigger than me!" Veis sniffed as if wronged.


    "A pleasure to meet you both." Errant extended his hand, and shook each of theirs in turn. Their eyes widened a little at the power of his grip... they weren''t expecting him to be able to dominate their hands. "Shellycoat, greenhag?" he asked, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, and they both nodded. "What''s the status of your hagmothers?"


    Startled, they looked at one another. "We... don''t know?" Verd admitted. "I''m not even certain who my Hagmother is..."


    "Me, either," Amber agreed. "Why are you asking?" she asked suspiciously. "Are you planning to ride out and kill them for us?"


    He caught her huffy tone, and just laughed. "I most certainly would, just like I killed little Veis'' here."


    All three of their jaws dropped. "You-you killed my Hagmother?" Veis squealed in disbelief.


    "You remember the stories of Zouma the Ill-Wind?" he asked his little sister, who nodded her small head urgently. "Yes. Rode her face down the side of a ten-thousand-foot windpipe, drove her into the ground, pounded the Hell out of her, and then tore her head off with great prejudice." He cleared his throat slightly. "Collected a thirty goldweight bounty and a heap of plunder off it, too," he admitted, winking at the other two. "You''re not mad at me, are you, little sister?" He poked her nose again, and she laughed and batted his callused hand away.


    She tried to look angry, and failed miserably. "I wanted to kill her myself!" she declared proudly.


    "My apologies, but I was much too mad about what she did to you to let things go that long. And I needed the loot," he admitted in a stage whisper.


    "Then shouldn''t you be sharing with me?" she asked forthrightly, and he laughed again.


    "It''s all in Gear now, and you all know what a sink that is." There were loud admissions from all three of them about their money woes. "I''ve been getting more action then cash recently, but it all goes to the same area in the end, you know, right?"


    "Getting stronger!" Veis said emphatically, clenching her little fist. He beamed at her.


    "You''ve taught her well," he winked at the other two, and they blushed despite themselves. "Well, let''s get you all to the house I requisitioned for you to stay in. I''ll regale you all with tales about just how much rot is under the glitter of this place, and how much of it I''ve been swimming in, and then you can tell me about all the fun and violent things you intend to do to the place, while I find other places to not witness said violence from."


    He turned towards his horse, mounting it with Veis still held in his arm with no effort whatsoever, and somehow still held her smoothly off to the side while on his horse, without overbalancing or affecting his mount.


    Verd leaned in to whisper to Amber, "Oh, I think I like him..."


    "I have dibs!" Amber insisted, and darted towards the front of the wagon.


    "You do not!" Verd protested, racing after her...

 189 Chapter One Hundred and Eighty-Nine – Thick as Thieves

    It wasn''t a very big house, but it was enough for six house guests without too much problem. The three girls scampered all over the whole thing, looking for items of interest, including up into the attic. Perhaps particularly up into the attic.


    Perfectly aware that the Wagon was also living quarters for everyone, he had them park it right up against the side entrance, so they could enter it without having to go outside. They did ooh and aah over the hot bath, and each getting their own bed was a thing, but in case they had to leave quickly, he didn''t want them moving much into their own rooms, which they agreed with.


    They came down from his examination, to find Errant at the big kitchen table with Feist, Grim, and Haz¨¦ going over papers, and various expressions on their faces. They slid into the other three chairs waiting for them, wondering what everyone was looking at. Feist slid some folders over to them, and they quickly dove into them.


    For about half an hour, nobody really spoke. Errant unfurled a fairly accurate map of the city in the center of the table, and began to push thumbtacks of various colors into it, here and there. Grym snagged the black ones and began to push them in thence and so, expression flat. Feist snagged the grey ones, and began to do the same hither and yon. Veis eagerly added white and clear ones to a few places after the girls conferred together.


    By the time they were done, several dozen tacks were scattered all around the map of the city, like little stars of potential... something.


    Haz¨¦ looked patently amused in her mature guise. "That looks to make for an incredibly busy workday," she noted.


    "Yah," Grym murmured, his gemlike eyes cold and hard. "Prieztezz, ve vill be relying upon du graze. Doze be de zites of zlave zhops of de Rockborn. De only vay to zet dem free be to get dem to our landz afore dey can be zkried und followed."


    "Teleporting freed Rockborn slaves? Interesting." Haz¨¦ steepled her fingers. "I am afraid I have no lived-lines running to the clans in the Kohletes, hidden and unfriendly to humans as they are. Where would I bring them?"


    Grym ruminated into his thick black beard. "Know du of Clan Dauer?" he finally asked.


    To the surprise of both him and Feist, she nodded. "I have run there in the past. Kaldenheim represents one of the far ends of what I have traveled to."


    "You are more traveled then I expected, Starsister," admitted Feist.


    "Well, having a Master around who hailed from the Hove inspired me to expand in that direction," Haz¨¦ winked at him, and Feist pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Granted, it is still two jumps away, and I can only move so many at one time, without taking other actions..."


    "Und ve canna rizk returnink dem to der own clanz und leading de Empire dere," Grym breathed. "What manner of precautionz need du take, Starsister?"


    "The limit is based on mass. Mass shrinking them might work. If there are a bunch... then petrifying them, and Itemizing them onto a scroll would work best."


    Grym took in a deep breath. "Eazy to zolve at de far end," he grunted, and she inclined her head. His eyes turned to Feist. "I may need du to run mezzagez, Ztalker."


    Feist shrugged as he considered his targets. "The Inquisition wants independent verification of those targets, either traceless passing or guilt verified." The fact pretty much all his targets shared space with a tack of another color was lost on pretty much nobody.


    "The colored ones?" Verd asked, interested.


    "Places the Light and the Scepter, the Fire and the Sword, and the Shadow and the Knife indicated we might like to investigate," Haz¨¦ said serenely. Some stood rather starkly alone, some well into the central, higher portions of the city, and others joined to other colors.


    "Oooooh..." said all three girls together. "What''s the color code?" Amber asked.


    "Standard ascending ROYGBIV threat level," Errant informed them. No reds, only a few oranges, numerous yellows and greens, a couple of blues, one indigo. "Why he''d leave an indigo behind, or even the blues..."


    "What is it?" Veis asked in interest.


    "A Fallen Celestial... he wasn''t clear on what kind." Errant pulled a long face looking at the tack, up on the fourth circle. "Way under the fourth circle. Most of these are under the city proper. It turns out there are extensive tunnel networks under the city... some of them a great distance under the city..."


    "Well, ours are only volunteers for extensive application of property redistribution," Amber sniffed, glancing at Errant, who simply grinned slightly. As a noble knight of the city, engaging in such violation of the law and pettiness was beneath him... but these were people who sorely needed to be punished, and if that meant people who weren''t constrained in doing so, well, wasn''t that the whole reason Heaven was so open-minded about doing the right thing in different circumstances?


    "Mmm, showing the servants of Shoul how it''s done, shall we?" Haz¨¦ laughed gently.


    "Certainly, there is enough to keep us busy a season or more," Feist agreed. He shook his left wrist, where a servant''s bondclasp was on his wrist. "How do you intend to conceal Master Grym moving about? The Rockborn are not allowed to wander about in Zynozure, Heavenbound."


    "I expect him to get rather impressively familiar with the subterranean routes that have sprung up, and during the day working on smithcraft. What''s your Masterwork at, Master Grym?"


    The Clanhammer''s axe-like nose rose proudly. "Tirty vid veapons und rote metal, young Mazter."


    "Excellent. There''s a very basic smithing set up in the barn. You can cover yourself with work, and a smith who can work at +20 is crazy-good even in this city. If I spread word, there''ll be no shortage of people wanting good work from you from the Orders. No one will be allowed to touch you... and what you do in the night, well, no one''s going to say anything." Errant waved his hand and looked away, staring at the ceiling.


    Grym grunted acknowledgement. What Errant didn''t know, he couldn''t be forced to admit.


    "So, let me clarify things, to be safe. Errant doesn''t need to know what happens in the white and the black, and the grey, if they turn out to be true, become colored. The colored ones are basically open season?" Verd asked.


    "Well, as I understand it, some of the colored are actually fairly important people who yet managed to escape the Inquisition, even during such an exciting time as this," Errant replied somberly. "And ''a Void Brother said it was okay to kill you'' just doesn''t go over too well in a court of law anywhere."


    "Oh." Verd looked up at him, down again, back up at him. "You''re still going to kill them, right?"


    "Of course. I''m just not going to go bragging about it to the Inquisition. I might get drunk with them and mention a thing or two, alas, alas..."


    Haz¨¦ was well aware of that tradition, and laughed behind her hand, giving the girls a look that would be explained later.


    "So, shall we start planning some of our moves?" Errant continued, his silver eyes starting to shine. "I think the girls want to set up some groundwork, and we need you all to get familiar with the city... and at least some of the ways to go up and down without having to go through the gates."


    "That might be very useful for not being in the right Circle after some unfortunate events," Haz¨¦ agreed smoothly, and everyone nodded.


    ------


    The actions of the Inquisition seemed to have settled down during this period of time. Although there was a hidden threat of violence simmering under the surface, as the shadowy hand of Harse had stirred and flexed muscle that none of his divine opponents wished to see revealed, overt use of the Inquisition''s power had quietly calmed down.


    Emboldened by the withdrawal, the Churches of Huul and Imprus led the outcry against the heavy-handed tactics of the Church of Harse, making loud and righteous claims about abuse of power, lack of right, interference in the affairs of other faiths, ignoring the law, vigilantism, and even levying charges of being infiltrated by the very things they were claiming to fight in insinuating whispers and a rumor-mongering campaign of truly epic proportions.


    By the time they were done, it was as if the Church of Harse was responsible for all the evils they''d ostensibly been sweeping away, riddled with corruption and heretics who were using the blindness of their followers to commit even greater treasons before the Emperor!


    And then, little things began to go wrong for them.


    The High Priest of Imprus was observed to have several dealings with prominent figures of the South, where the faith of Imprus was old and unshakeable... and whose dominance was something that Church dearly wanted in Rosencrux.


    An ''independent'' nobleman was revealed to have a Hellpact, his soul sworn off to Nessus, and his veracity thus now literally nothing more than a mouthpiece of Hell, at best, and a fool of fools for getting into a deal with literally everything to lose. Two days later, a Heavenbound knight of the Ruby Heart challenged him to a Warlock''s Duel by ancient right, and slaughtered him on the spot, firmly putting a stamp on his uselessness.


    One prominent Imprusar''s enslaved work force of Rockborn, long captured by slavers as prisoners of war, evaporated. Their overseers were found dead or unconscious, and the entire work force, including some trusties who had secretly been selling out their kin, had all vanished, with scrying magic unable to find them. Needless to say, the man''s loss of such a skilled workforce meant his manufacturing losses were going to be tremendous, as he couldn''t simply replace such skilled craftsmen... and he rapidly lost a dozen different contracts dependent on having access to dwarf-wrought metal.


    This Huul Priest was found to be sleeping with that Knight Imperious'' wife on the side; this haughty merchant-lord of Trose had a son found caught red-handed cutting up a general''s daughter in his private torture-cellar; this minister was found indulging in the drinking of human blood in a sunken drug-parlor in the depths; that force of house guards were burned to death in a warehouse full of smuggled goods that sent a certain merchant company into a tailspin of evaded taxmen come to investigate; this courtier was robbed and hung upside-down, naked, tarred and feathered, before the temple of Eryl, which resulted in a very strong investigation by said Church into a number of missing women''s belongings found in a secret place in his home...


    The treasuries of the Guilds of Furriers and Barrel-Makers were burgled, despite being warded by the full authority of the Guild of Thieves... and then accounting irregularities came to light as a lethal combination of embezzlement, tax evasion, fraudulent records, and substantial bribes paid out and accepted all came to light as the missing records found themselves in all the wrong places.


    The coffee houses and tea shops had themselves quite an exciting time again, as Inquisition raids and horrible revelations of mad cultists and shapechangers were instead replaced by wars of words, sweet juicy scandals, and tittering at the misfortunes of their peers and betters.


    Zynozure was once again the center of the Empire, where all the daily entertainment you could wish for was happening!

 190 Chapter One Hundred and Ninety – Reporting!

    The goblet was full of a rich red wine, shimmering like ruby under the silvery magical lighting, scattering a few crimson rays about the room. Errant accepted it smoothly, and took a drink without hesitation after briefly tinking the crystal goblet against that held by the cowled man before him.


    They swallowed together, smacked their lips, and lo, nothing could be held against them for what might be said while under the power of the grape. Errant really had to appreciate the practical side of working for a god of Justice.


    "Those family and friends of yours have been extremely busy," Inquisitor Master Divez, one of the most feared men in the city, murmured in an off-handed manner, fully able to play this part to the hilt. He numbered many, many Valusar among his acquaintances, as well as Aethrans, Tiirithar, and Nuavans, and his ''loose lips'' had been the downfall of many, many people who needed to fall down, and who he was largely powerless to move against openly.


    "They are industrious," Errant agreed. "There is half a dozen goldweight a night vanishing in my house as they burn away the proof of having done anything. That is a horrifying sum of wealth, and they are always happy to see more added to the funnel."


    "That is indeed a lot of coin... and gems, and magic," the Inquisitor agreed. "However, they don''t burn dwarves. How are you spiriting them away? There are over a hundred of them missing now, and don''t think we haven''t noticed some hyn families have been vanishing, too..."


    "The Starsister gets their permission to petrify the lot of them, Summoning in a Celestial Gorgon to do the job. Then she Itemizes all of them, teleports off to their final destination, revokes the Itemization, and then Breaks the Enchantment to restore them to flesh. She only needs to move out of the city''s Wards to complete the task, which as you imagine isn''t all that difficult."


    "Clever. Their destination is either so far away or wards away divinations, foiling any trackers," the Inquisitor mused. "Well done on that Hellbound fool, by the way..."


    "Heavenbound aren''t the only Warlocks with a short shelf life in some places," Errant smiled thinly, and then his face fell slightly. "I''ve run into three Madbound in various places in the depths. That is an extremely high incidence rate of them. There is something very, very bad going down. I would wager that different elements are converging at different times in different places, making it very hard to stop. The final touches will be made only when the time is wrong..."


    "Yes, the number of shapechangers is troubling. We believe both the South and the East are in motion, in different ways and overlapping boundaries..."


    Errant frowned. The brutal lands of the East were long fallen to savagery and brutal rule by ancient powers, where Ferals and Old races shoulders rubbed together and fought with great enthusiasm over the ruins of ancestors long, long fallen. The old Empires of the South, teeming with repression and lives bent under the lash, looked at Rosencrux as an upstart that needed to be brought low, and its riches and members subjugated to the rule of the Rajahs of those old and decaying nations. The Church of Imprus, seeking to stratify and subjugate all beneath the onus of the Church, was a mighty proponent of a more active stance, fully happy to spend the lives of lesser beings for its own goals.


    That was, in the end, all they were good for, after all...


    "So, how many assassination attempts have you had to deal with?" the Inquisitor inquired in mild curiosity.


    "Six since last we spoke," Errant replied calmly. "There''s been a couple others that my associates decided to deal with out of sheer irritation. I understand one fellow from Vicklerston was really surprised when Veis gutted him after he ''captured'' her..."


    "They are a remarkably dangerous bunch," Divez agreed, without judgement. "And remarkably discrete about what they do. I understand you''ve been delving rather deep into the foundations."


    "The depths are riddled with tunnels and passageways like rotten cheese, dug out by magic and metal over centuries, as I''m sure you know. Things have been coming up from the Felldeep, and there has been virtually no way to stop them. It''s not like we can collapse the city above to block the tunnels for a short time..."


    "If they are below the water table..." Divez offered meaningfully, but Errant just shook his head.


    "Water is a resource in the Felldeep. The tunnels may have taken time to dig out, but waters can be held back easily with the right magic, the flooded tunnels sealed, and new ones dug out parallel to the old ones. Unless we dump a good bit of the Crowned into those tunnels abruptly, we won''t accomplish anything more than a short-term advantage.


    "The proper solution is armed slaughter, but no surface dweller with brains wants to go fighting in the Felldeep... and the Empire has successfully managed to offend all the races with the greatest proficiency in this area."


    "Almost as if someone has been planning this for a very long time," the Inquisitor sighed.


    "Playing the long game against Eternals and Immortals is a very difficult thing for mortals," Errant agreed, and they both took another drink of scarlet comfort.


    "You don''t seem particularly discomfited by that fact," Divez observed, swirling his wine.


    Errant only smiled. "Eternals and Immortals playing the long game against Mithar also find things very difficult."


    The Inquisitor slowly smiled. "This is true, on many levels. It is simply too difficult to see all the things He puts into motion here and there." He looked at Errant with a new light in his eyes. "Do you think that you are one of those stratagems?" he asked, intrigued at the idea.


    "I am a very dangerous Heavenbound for my age, meaning I am being underestimated. Usually, a Heavenbound Pact is offered to an older individual, who has accrued great experience in the world, and thus can endure the almost immediate conflict they are thrust into. Coming in underneath the view of many... there must be some greater plan." Leaving off the fact that he was a reincarnate from a video game player in another world...


    "You are, in fact, the most powerful Warlock Heavenbound I have ever met personally," the Inquisitor admitted. "I''ve met no more than a score in all my years, and including you, there are less than five currently operating in the Empire... and Heavenbound rarely come to Zynozure."


    "For good reason," Errant agreed. "I will admit that no one with serious chops has made a move against me. I was given enough time to build up my Pact to a truly useful level. It''s much more difficult for someone to do so who already has some achievements... and who has to be wary of getting into a fight at any time. Heavenbound work best when given some time to grow, like anything else."


    "Indeed? And how long have you had your Pact, Sir Errant?"


    "Almost five years now."


    The Inquisitor blinked in surprise. "You swore a Pact... very young," he murmured.


    "Yes, specifically so that I had time to grow it."


    "And yet you concealed it for so long?"


    "As long as you do not make active use of the Pact, Sign does not manifest. It is how the Dark Heart and Death Kiss Pacts get away with what they do, you know."


    "Indeed. Vile things, those..."


    "Yes, and there''s probably at least a couple more of them in the city, waiting for an opportunity. They do stay hidden, however..."


    "We cannot intrude on everyone''s privacy, unfortunately." The Inquisitor sounded more amused then regretful, as they regularly violated personal privacy for the safety of the city and empire... and generally were correct to do so, and did not take advantage if they were not. Which didn''t mean they wouldn''t fob off the job to some individuals who weren''t squeamish about violating the privacy of those who violated others...


    "That being said, your little band of trouble-makers is both doing a good job clearing our slate, and drawing us pictures of connections we''d rather not existed. Exactly how long are they going to stay around and grant us all manner of deniability?"


    "I don''t speak for them, nor give them orders. I only offer opportunities and they decide to take them or not. They''ve been happy to test themselves against some of the worst the city has to offer, but still..." He took a deep breath. "I''ve also been handling some Void Brother items of interest in the city. Did you know there''s an Angelus Excorciate under the city?"


    Divez''s unseen eyes popped open. "You are not serious."


    "I am."


    "And they did not deal with it... why?"


    "I don''t presume to judge the Brotherhood''s motivations. I gather that just because it has Fallen is no reason for the Light and the Scepter to judge it, and magically it''s kept its nose clean, so the Firesword doesn''t care about it."


    Forbidden the sun, never to fly again... an Angelus Excorciate was a rebel against Heaven''s very nature, punished for arrogance and twisting what was Good to their own meanings, yet not seeing that Good was not reliant on any individual''s view, Good simply Was.


    They still had power, and could still repent and return to the Light, but the sheer amount of pride involved made that unlikely. Most of them historically set up cults to compete with Heaven, and acted as Patrons of Dark and twisted Pacts of various sorts... making them as legitimate in their own way as demons and devils. Being fallen from Heaven, they were essentially bound to the mortal plane until they repented or died... meaning they weren''t Soulbound Outsiders, strictly speaking.


    Getting rid of them was a job for mortals and the faithful of the Churches of Good, not the Void Brothers.


    "I''ve a feeling I''m not going to like this revelation. What details?" Divez asked with a knowing sigh.


    "As far as I can determine, it is the dominating force behind the Fraternity of the Sunken Stars. It is the primary maker behind cutting and charging the shadow-tchazty stones the dops have been using to hide themselves."


    Divez'' fingers drummed the table at Errant''s words. "The Sunken Stars have been around more than three hundred years..." he murmured softly. It was a fraternal organization of extremely wealthy men, dominated by the Jeweler''s Guild, expanding to whitesmiths, lenders, and moneychangers. While elitist and snobbish, there''d never been problems with its reputation or doings, any problems coming from individuals with too much money and ambition, and not enough common sense. "Should I be thankful they''ve not infiltrated the High Guild?" he mused aloud.


    "I''ve reason to believe that at least three Tens in the High Guild are Mad Theurges."


    Inquisitor Divez resisted an urge to reach for his gavel and beat something flat. He instead poured them both more wine.


    "Well, that would certainly explain the plentitude of Aberrant influence recently," he sighed, clinking his goblet to Errant''s again. "Geniuses who couldn''t advance Up, so they chose Sideways, and Patrons all too willing to take them."


    "Well, at least they didn''t become Warlocks," Errant mused aloud, and both of them laughed together.


    "Are you going to move on the Angelus?" the Inquisitor asked softly. He had been on several Inquiries with this young man, and learned very quickly that underestimating him was not wise.


    Errant frowned, looking into the wine for a moment. "The fact it is Fallen is no reason to simply kill it. I have no proof that it has been acting against Heaven. That being said... it would not surprise me at all if the Angelus were at the very center of everything that is going on, using the funds of his mortal influence to manipulate, pulling strings this way and that, and setting up something suitably grand to spit in the face of Heaven."


    "Not proving himself right?" The Inquisitor''s voice fell. There was a great distinction between proving oneself right and someone else wrong, in this circumstance.


    "I don''t believe so..."


    "This is going to be bad, isn''t it?" Inquisitor Divez asked rhetorically, picking up the bottle of wine they''d emptied. "I think I need a drink..."

 191 Chapter One Hundred and Ninety-One – The Omnitell

    Feist and Grym both gasped together.


    When you''re two hundred feet underground, creeping through tunnels bored through solid stone by magic by creatures with inhuman senses, that''s not a good thing to happen.


    Everyone''s heads snapped around in shock at the totally unexpected lapse in noise discipline from the oldest members of their party.


    The Hyn and Rockborn were gaping, staring at nothing with exactly the same expression on their faces.


    Errant swore as light swung around ahead of them, groaned silently, and exploded forwards at top speed.


    The first Oculis drifting out of a cylindrical tunnel, bored through the side of the cave twenty feet up, and two of its nine eyes focused on him, the rest pointed in other directions. It wasn''t expecting him to be running along the walls at a speed a full-out race horse might acknowledge.


    He popped the Wrath, and suddenly the whole cavern was lit up brighter then day. All the eyes of the Oculis instantly closed in shock as The Light smashed down into its optics, and even if it was normally immune to changes in illumination, getting the very bright Light of Heaven popped in front of it to stab down deep into its heartless soul was not something it could shake off easily.


    Chalice flashed, a stab and cut in one motion, Spirited Charge and One Strike going off, hewing through the unnatural flesh and hide with one bright shining stroke. The huge central eye in the center of its disk-like body was cloven right in twain, the writhing tentacles on its underside convulsing as something unmentionable in Aklo was blurted out the bulbous jaws beneath it.


    Its levitation magic failed, and the Oculis fell away from him. He leaned back improbably far for just an instant, ducking back as a burning green Ray flashed past, and a cubic meter of the wall opposite him just vanished into less then dust.


    Everyone else knew exactly what to do. This run was blown. Before Feist and Grym could protest, the former was slung over Verd''s shoulder and the latter was slammed face-down on their Disk while the girls booked back the way they''d come at top speed... which, given the lightfoot they''d been practicing, was much faster than humans could normally sprint.


    Errant raced after them, chopping off two eyes from the Oculis and setting it on vivic fire with a passing blast from his Scepter, Purity.


    They were well into the darkness when the next Oculis drifted out of the tunnel. With nine eyes looking in all directions, the floating compass of eyeballs instantly saw its compatriot down below, unnatural organs all spilling out of its flat body, and cerulean-white fire quivering its many eyeballs as it was consumed.


    Its massive central eye shone with grey light in a great cone, playing over the cavern floor one way, then the other after it rotated ninety degrees, looking for signs of whatever had done this.


    Nothing was illuminated in the range of this steady, piercing off-white light that seemed to render down all of reality in its path, turning light and darkness to the same grayish hue.


    The Oculis rumbled and swore, different shades of light raising cones from its secondary eyes, as they played over the walls and ceilings, looking for a sign of the attackers, and finding nothing...


    --------


    A hundred yards away and safely inside a secondary tunnel access whose entrance was only eighteen inches high and so inaccessible to the awkward bodies of the Oculis, Errant slowly eased the concealing boulder back into place over the entry, knowing the Oculis would have enslaved creatures that would be joining the search soon. They had anti-scent protections in place, and didn''t leave any tracks with lightfoot, but the visual acuity of Oculis was legendary. Having nine eyes might have something to do with that.


    The girls kept retreating, but Grym and Feist had snapped out of their trances and looked very strange... ashamed that they''d been the ones to break stealth protocol, and elated about something else.


    Errant didn''t want to hear an explanation until they were out of danger, and given the maze-like combination of tunnels they had to thread to get into and out of here, there was no time for that.


    It took them twenty minutes to reach the foundations of the city, and start winding through an unnaturally smooth tunnel that had been chipped out with partial steps and Sovereign Glue''d rungs. They went up it quickly, a Sound Bubble popped to make sure nothing heard them coming, and happily nothing was waiting up top to eat them...


    ------


    "Did something attack you?" Errant asked calmly.


    "No," replied Feist, and was about to say more when Errant held up his hand.


    "Has something locked onto you?" Both hyn and dwarf blinked, looked at one another. Errant lifted an eyebrow. "Is something following you?"


    "No," both said together.


    "Are we in danger?"


    "No," they both said again.


    He waved a hand glowing with Wrath over them, eyeing the Light playing over them calmly, his silver eyes back-lit as well. "You''ve no magic... ah?" There was a glow on their chests, radiating through their armor, that hadn''t been there before.


    The two of them looked at one another with strange expressions, and without hesitation stripped off their chest armor and the clothing underneath before everyone''s eyes, the girls helping them do it quickly in case this was dangerous.


    Both of them had strange Tattoos on their chests, right on the breastbone. They were identical in presentation, black lines surrounded by glowing white energy, but not in form.


    Errant made a strange face, and played the light of his Wrath over them, noting that neither hyn nor dwarf seemed at all worried, and had a m¨¦lange of emotions playing over their faces.


    "Those are Succubus Blessings, but the empowering energy is all wrong," he judged, looking between the two of them. "There''s no demonic aura about them at all. How did these two things pop up so suddenly on both of you at the same time?"


    Feist looked at Grym strangely. "Sergeant, did you start dreaming again after a long time, about ten months ago?"


    Grym nodded slowly. "I see the Chief did as well..."


    Errant glanced back and forth between them, noting the change in address, and the attitude. They''d always acted amazingly comfortable with one another, but this wasn''t an act. The body language was that of old friends and fellow professionals who''d gone through Hell together.


    "Explain for those of us without strange Tats?" he asked calmly.


    The two looked at one another, and Grym grunted to Feist to go ahead.


    "They are the Marks of Sage Sama. She... she''s out of Nightmare, and up in the North. A Rift to the Gods of the Warp has opened up, and she''s taking the fight to them."


    "Sage... Sama?" Errant asked, lifting an eyebrow.


    "Sama Rantha, the Sage of Swords." Errant tilted his head slightly at Feist''s reply, glancing at his sister and the girls. "Uh... you know Sage Sama?" Feist asked, startled.


    "I might. Just bad timing. Let''s get everyone out of here and bring this up with Haz¨¦. You said a Warp Rift up north?"


    "North and east of the Sidhete. They are sending out warbands all over the place, fighting everything they see."


    "Well." He looked at the girls again. "Looks like you''re going north!"


    -----------


    Haz¨¦ and Errant looked at one another as Feist and Grym finished relating their tale.


    "Eight or nine years in Nightmare," murmured Errant. "Fighting every day?" His voice had a rueful tone to it that couldn''t be disguised. That... was a true Karmic Buffet, all-you-can-eat grinding leveling of the most horrible kind, shoved right down your throat, thank you, may I have another... "And here I thought I was staying busy..."


    "This fight in the North will be the same. The Warp Gods have basically an unlimited number of followers. We''ll be able to fight as much as we like," Haz¨¦ murmured, and glanced at the three girls. "Everyone. I told you how important combat experience is. This... is an opportunity to earn a lot of it. And the Levels and Masteries that go with it."


    There was no hiding their eagerness. The girls knew perfectly well that they were much more dangerous than normal people, and had been told how the most fundamental magic of Leveling worked. This was a chance to fight a LOT.


    "Who is this Sage Sama? You act like she''s familiar to you all," Verd asked, looking at the four ''elders'', such as they were.


    Errant eyed Feist and Grym, who were also curious. "I only know her in passing. She once learned One Strike swordplay from me, but she didn''t pursue the Grandmastery, going to find her own path. She''s not a Warlock, after all."


    "Wait!" Feist blurted out. "You''re a Grandmaster? And you taught Sage Sama?" His expression was just stunned.


    "Yes," Errant admitted, and Veis'' eyes grew really wide at these words from her brother. "But only One Strike swordplay, no different than teaching anyone else. Like I said, she was working on her own road, not sure if she finished it..."


    "She did," Haz¨¦ interjected, and he lifted an eyebrow as all eyes turned to her. "''The Sword is a Shitty Weapon''," the Archtheurge informed them. "It''s, ah, somewhat more involved than One Striking, as I understand it, I never went too much into it. And I''ve no idea where the Sage of Swords Title comes from." But the ringing underneath her words confirmed it was a True Title.


    "So, dur Grandmaster title bin?" Grym asked cautiously.


    "The Pure Sword," he replied calmly, and the words rang in the air, changing the faces of everyone yet further. Haz¨¦ just nodded.


    "So, this Sama has her own Title, one more then you?" Amber conjectured, fishing for more.


    "Errant''s Title is actually two of them: Grandmaster One Sword, and Purely Bound. I imagine Sama''s is the same," Haz¨¦ interjected calmly, as the Titles rang in the air. "We''re definitely going up there to meet your elder sister..."


    "Elder... sister?" Veis repeated, as the girls'' jaws dropped.


    "She''s a hagchild?" Amber blurted out. "What... what kind?"


    "Annis," Haz¨¦ informed them calmly.


    Greenhag, stormcrone, and shellycoat daughters all looked at one another in shock.


    Oh, nothing was going to stop them from heading north now...


    "Lady Haz¨¦, Grym and I would be obliged if you could deliver us back home to the Kalden lands," Feist stated firmly. "The warbands of the Warp are threatening our homelands, and we''re going to stop them."


    "And reunite with your Sage on the way? That''s fine. But we''ll have to make it a two-for-one." Her emerald eyes glittered.


    "Oh?" Grym grunted.


    "I believe there is one more location using Rockborn slaves in the city. They''ve increased security, and doubtless have all sorts of nasty tricks ready." She eyed the pair of them unblinkingly. "Since you''re leaving, there''s not a whole lot of reason to be as discrete as before, is there?"


    Feist and Grym looked at one another, and the same kind of fire rose in their eyes. "No, my lady, I don''t believe there is," Feist replied, very softly. He glanced at the girls. "I think you should be planning to leave the city tomorrow. Grym and I will handle this, with the lady''s help." Errant, of course, couldn''t conceal his identity, so he couldn''t be seen assisting.


    The three girls nodded and promptly bolted from the room together. The wagon and Tabi would be ready to leave shortly.


    "Are there going to be any problems with us leaving the Oculis problem?" Haz¨¦ asked Errant.


    "All these knights and Inquisition agents should be useful for something," Errant just smiled with a wink. "When you reach the north, come back and fetch me. My place is here, but zipping off to eat at the Buffet just sounds incredibly attractive..."


    She nodded, and watched as he rose and left the room. The plans the three of them were going to make he didn''t need to be there for...

 192 Chapter One Hundred and Ninety-Two – Seeing Them Off

    The carnage and destruction wreaked upon Hardhelm Forging the next night was the talk of the capital.


    Unlike earlier liberations of the dwarves, there was nothing subtle or mysterious about this. Overseers, slavemasters, and guards died in great numbers, many of them without any idea of what was happening as they did so. The facilities came crashing down, sublevels collapsed, and the whole area became a fiery hell of crushed stone, wrecked machinery, and dead strewn everywhere.


    Up on the Sixth Circle, the great palatial estate of the Helmreich Family burned to the ground, taking with it centuries of their history and accumulated artworks. Most of the people got out alive, although the flames that enveloped the servant''s quarters were so intense that only the finest ash was left behind, to say nothing of their indentured hyn and gnome servants. Even the deepest family vaults cracked, burned, charred, and collapsed under the inferno, and if a whole lot of the family treasury ended up missing, it was quite hard to tell amid all the destruction.


    Of course, Grym, Feist, and Haz¨¦ could not be responsible for all of this, as they''d been seen riding the Wagon away from Zynozure early that morning, totally obvious and watched by many interested parties who''d had their suspicions.


    Certain members of the temples of Sylune and Harse got drunk together on moonwine. It was also a scandal of sorts. And if the Tiirithar spread all sorts of rumors about what really went on in that burned manor and some of the things found there, well, it was really no surprise given all the other stuff that had been going on, was it?, nod, wink, nudge...


    Errant waved his sister goodbye, knowing he''d be seeing them soon, and if her sisters were a bit depressed that they hadn''t been able to discuss certain things with him more intimately, they sort of glanced at Haz¨¦ and the looks she sent after the silver-eyed young noble, and decided that holding their tongues might be rather wise.


    The road to the North was thousands of miles long, their trip was not going to be completed shortly... and then there might... no, most certainly would be excitement along the way. But the Rift wouldn''t be closing any time soon, so they had time... and if not, well, wasn''t there a ruined city up there full of things to get excited about? Who better then they to delve old cursed ruins?


    Errant returned to the city. There were millions of people here, and the corruption had come in very deeply, very secretly. The number of inhuman and supernatural forces that were working out of here was simply beyond what one person could handle... but that was fine. Given his skill, he was being led to the most challenging of assignments, and that would keep him busy in the interim.


    And, of course, the assassination attempts every day or two were sources of constant amusement...


    ---------


    Grym and Feist stepped off the Greater Seal Focus with Haz¨¦, two Rockborn Priests moving immediately forward to receive them. Naturally, such elders of Dauerhamar recognized a returning Clanhammer, and if they were briefly surprised at the strength of his aura, they said nothing.


    Seeing a hyn arriving, especially one with such a subtle and dangerous aura, was also a rarity, as the hyn weren''t noted as an ambitious, power-seeking people, even here in the North. Their gardens fed a good portion of the dwarven kingdom, protected by the spears of the armies of Dauerhamar, but their own martial tradition was largely limited to skilled hunters and trappers. A native of the Hove like Feist was truly surprising.


    Haz¨¦, of course, was welcomed as the honored Starsister and Archtheurge of Sylune that she was. She had brought many dwarves, gnomes, and hyn to freedom here, many of whom chose to stay in the kingdom, and the others were slowly and carefully making their ways back to their native realms, where doubtless her name would be spread further... as would all sorts of foul opinions of the Rosencrux Empire.


    Alas, she could not stay long, nor could Feist and Grym. The news of a Rift to the Warp rippled through Dauerhamar, and the most adventurous of young Rockborn and Hyn signed up with the Shadow Stalker and Clanhammer of their people who had signaled their intent to bring the battle to the coming enemy, afore the battle came to them. Given the reputations they''d made by freeing so many of their races from servitude and slavery, this was not unexpected, and their words were taken seriously.


    Haz¨¦ waited until midnight to go through Renewal and regain her magic, as Valence V''s were required to Teleport, and it took two of them to reach the Kalden lands, even with a Great Seal there to receive her.


    She had not completed any running of her lived-line to the north or east of the Sidhete, or through the Giantback Mountains that bordered Kaldenheim to the east, something she promised herself to do in the future. Running around the great forest to link up with the Wagon would require weeks, given the distance, and with the length of the trek to the North, she was unwilling to leave the girls on their own for so long, especially given their proclivity for finding trouble.


    Grym and Feist saw her off as she disappeared in a swirl of silver, watched also by hundreds of those she had rescued from bondage. While her grace had not wiped away the hatred for those of the Empire in their eyes, it had at least softened their stances on all humans being devils.


    ------------


    Honus Hardhelm was the patriarch of a Ducal family, a cold and hard man whose clan had supplied the Empire and its many legions with arms and armor for centuries. The war against the dwarves of the Kahlete Mountains had been partly instigated by his family, at once getting rid of a major competitor for his wares, and the slavery rules for prisoners of war ensuring that he could get a skilled workforce to increase his production.


    He had sponsored slaving raids into the mountains for decades, always interested in acquiring more dwarven slaves, and if that meant kidnapping and enslaving dwarven travelers and merchants from clans not in the Kahletes, well, that was business.


    The burning down of his business and home, and the vanishing of his slaves enraged him... moreso when his vaults were finally dug out and the wealth within them was gone, or melted or crushed into unusable slag and dust.


    Still, the coffers of the family were deep and immense after so many centuries, and he had other foundries and smithworks that were unaffected by this debacle. Rebuilding his family''s manor would also allow him to put his personal stamp on their home for centuries, and he was actually looking forward to it, as the architecture had been centuries out of style.


    He was certainly not expecting to be beheaded in the night by a glowing sword that sent him off to Hell, where he would learn what it meant to be the lowest thing on the totem pole personally. With him went every adult male member of the lineage in the city, and several of the women. No one saw the silver eyes of the Warlock who saw them all off to their final lack of a reward. In the power struggles within the family that rapidly erupted for control of their enterprises and the controlling seat, who actually killed them all was a minor detail that ended up being blamed on several of the ambitious heirs who tried repeats of the deed on one another, to varying degrees of success.


    After all, being tenth in line to the Ducal title suddenly becoming top three was not something they could pass up on...


    --------


    Several days later...


    Haz¨¦ opened her eyes in some shock as she came out of Renewal.


    Verd was standing guard, taking the midnight shift as Haz¨¦ Meditated and Communed with the Silver Queen.


    It was very unusual to get such direct contact from the Goddess. Divine powers tended to give omens, dreams, general guidance, and leave the particulars to mortals as an exercise of their Free Will, which in turn empowered their Faith and the moral choices that drove the engines of the afterlife. Making decisions for them just encouraged apathy and faithlessness, and the Divine had long ceased such blatant instructions, as it dried up the very waters of Faith that they sought to encourage.


    But Haz¨¦ usually left a Commune open and quiet for just this very reason when she Meditated. If the higher powers of Heaven had something to say, the link was open, without her nagging the Goddess with pleas for guidance and stuff. She had received more than a few instructions and urges to do this or that because of this... but never so directly as now.


    There was something Bad going down in the Empire, and they needed to get out of there, with the good and the true. The message was going out through all the faiths of Heaven, and in no uncertain terms.


    There was a disaster coming, and not just based on the Warp Gods. Indeed, the Rift opening was a great opportunity and excuse to mask the movement of the faithful to a new land rising there, covering it in the guise of a grand Crusade, while it was actually swimming away from a rotted ship heading for a reef that could not be saved.


    She had to warn Mama. The vision had been remarkably clear. The roots of the rose had rotted away, the stalk had withered up as the leaves dried up and fallen off. The blossom had fallen, but seeds had spilled away, to take root elsewhere, and grow and flourish once again.


    The roots were the South, the leaves were the East and West, the blossom was the North, the stalk was the center. The blossom had retained its color as it fell, but without its roots, it would no longer remain part of the Rose and the Cross.


    Haz¨¦ took a deep breath. All the missions she had run for the Void Brothers, the Inquisition, and her Church itself, yet still not enough to forestall what was coming...


    She had killed literally thousands of people. None of them had been innocent, none of them caused her much guilt, secure in her faith that she had done the Right Thing. The Void Brothers... how many had they killed over these last few years? Perhaps not always centered in the Empire, but still, they had pulled so many weeds before they could spread...


    And yet, it still wasn''t enough.


    Being as inhumanly smart and comprehensive as she was, far beyond what she had been capable of in her former life, she understood that immense forces were moving. A disparate coordination of events that had taken place across centuries was coming to a heady fruition... and it had all been done so subtly, so grandly, that the powers of Heaven didn''t have a clue it was truly happening until right now.


    So, Divine powers at the very least, and given the things she had encountered so often - the plethora of Great Old Ones, Aberrant influences, and Mythos creatures getting active - likely from Outside Creation, entities who saw Time as just another carpet to be woven and rewoven at their whim...


    How much did the Brotherhood know?


    She found it impossible to believe they didn''t. They might not be able to stop the How of it from going down, but the What of it was not something people as aware as they were could miss, especially the way things were building.


    And the Warp Gods had come.


    She ran through mental scenarios, and sighed...


    The Warp Gods, so visible, brutal, and far away, were probably the greater threat. A standing Rift to their pet universe, through which they could send out endless amounts of mortal servants, expand their power into another world...


    They wouldn''t care about moves by the Old Ones, as their own actions were also outside the purview of the Mythos. They would just enjoy the fight. The power of the Mythos was, in the end, limited by the movements of the stars. As long as any Divinities were around to make use of them, they could use the stars and mortal agents to send the Old Ones back beyond the Veil, as the universe itself didn''t want the Aberrant here.


    But the Warp Gods... that was a direct invasion, and if not nipped, could lose the whole planet once it reached a certain level.


    They would be up north fighting now, she was certain, except possibly Brother Waterspear, who basically never left his waters.


    A lot of innocent people were going to die. A lot of Good people were going to die. And there really wasn''t anything she could do about it. Trying to warn everyone would just cause a panic and catastrophe, the fear would accelerate the whole process, and make it easier to start what was going to come as the psychic energy and nightmares strengthened the ties to beyond Dream and Nightmare through the lands of Leng, and the stars would just go wrong that much sooner.


    She was truly inhumanly powerful, a superhuman in all respects, capable of magic and miracles and wielding a might that might be called that of a goddess back on old Terra.


    She felt very small and helpless once again, and could only sigh. Too many forces, too profound, not finite, and she was only a Ten, a mortal.


    The only way to truly mess with those kinds of plans would be to be beyond Twenty, and step onto the Road of the Eternal.


    That... was a long way off. But the crushing powerlessness she felt right now was nothing but motivation to get better, get stronger.


    Her childhood was now over, and she could only wave it goodbye. It was now time to Get Serious, and start doing stuff that would truly Make A Difference.

 193 Chapter One Hundred and Ninety-Three – Sisters

    The arrival of The Wagon was a cause for celebration in The Camp. The reason was obvious... behind it came the Road of the Silver Queen.


    Starsister Haz¨¦ had wrought a road where none was before. A Dawnstopped Widened Shaping Stone, cast out of a V Valence. The Archtheurge of Sylune had walked from the end of the imperial road in Ogredown, and up the whole eastern length of the Sidhete, over a thousand miles.


    From the edge of the Badlands, she had split her attention. The great caravans of hyn and humans who had followed her stayed with her as she veered to the west, and the hyn kingdom of Shadowvale rising there, so named because it stood in the shadows of Klintskun and the Sidhete.


    For eight hours she would walk, and behind her a road forty feet wide of white stone rose from the ground.


    Bridges rose from waters, fluted and carved of white stone. Hills sank down, or were simply bored right through, receding from her path. Ditches fell to either side as stone was brought up from beneath them, or drawn forwards and away from mounts and hills passed before, extending the Road of the Silver Queen further and further.


    For eight hours, and then she would return to where the Road branched, and she entered the Corridor to the Badlands, and extended the Road there.


    Progress there was quick, for the Rockborn had been laying a road, mile by mile, with heartstone from the depths of the mountains, extending the earthpower out into the Badlands to defy the Warpstorms that rolled across them.


    She sucked away their stone from the wagons it was being transported it on, merged it into the Road, and walked on past the hundreds of Rockborn at work as they watched, and the Road followed behind her.


    Behind her, the incoming wagons came up to the Branch, and offloaded their wagons there, watching the heartstone flow down into the Road in awe at the power on display here, and the Corridor solidified around its strength.


    It proceeded along the Silver Worm through the Dichromatic Plains, arriving at The Camp eight hours after reaching the heart of Shadowvale.


    Thousands of warriors of many races were there to see her arrive, her Wagon drifting along behind her, her trio of acolytes waving atop it. With her came supply wagons, reinforcements, reserves, relief forces, adventurers, mercenaries, and more, walking along the wide, smooth road that cut through the wild lands and leagues to Yle Tyorm.


    There was no doubt whatsoever that everyone knew Starsister Haz¨¦''s name now.


    ------


    I didn''t go out to greet her, of course.


    I knew she was coming for nearly two months, naturally enough. The Marked couldn''t shut up about her and the Road she was making. The sheer volume of traffic that was coming North, and how speedily it was moving, was almost certainly due to the Road that she had strong-armed past forest and hill, Shaping Stone on a truly colossal scale.


    Haz¨¦ the Star Mage was here.


    She certainly could have gotten here much faster if she wanted to, but based on the timing, she was probably one of the people the Divine warned, and had chosen to make a significant contribution. In one fell swoop she had driven the spear of civilization deep into untamed lands, connecting realms that had been far apart since the Fall of Yle Tyorm.


    A river of people was moving along that Road now. It was changing the fate of multiple nations by doing so.


    There had already been some people who tried to set up a strongpoint at the Branch, to control the traffic on the road, and they had been unceremoniously shanked. Elf, Rockborn, Gnome, and Hyn, along with the representatives of gods and knightly Orders, had come together and agreed unanimously that traffic on the Road of the Silver Queen could not be impeded or controlled, a great affront to the goddess in her aspect as the Patron of Travel.


    That there would be something rising at the branching of the Road was a given. The priesthood of Harse, advised by the native races, was given the job of planning out the city that was going to grow there, and with the numbers of people arriving every day, the planning started going into effect immediately.


    The fact that said Priest was Marked and I was helping them design the civil engineering in Markspace was something nobody much bothered about. What Branch would turn into someday was beyond my knowledge, but given the number of covetous eyes being fixed upon it as a trade city in a very key location, I didn''t think it impossible to become Pretty Damn Important.


    Which meant I wasn''t going to let it slip away from me. I wasn''t an idiot, and I had some Ironblood who were very, very eager to take up some reins in that area.


    -----------


    The procession to the last mile of the Camp was done, the Road had ended at the Hospice in the middle of the Camp. That didn''t mean Haz¨¦ stopped Shaping... but the stone that began to rise up was earth colors, mixed with the obsidian hues of the ground inside the Ring, giving the Camp paved streets and drains as she strolled around the place, turning the dirt and dust streets into something more permanent.


    Sylune wasn''t a goddess of cities or towns, but some health issues could be easily taken care of this way.


    Her doing so also gave the Wagon time to trundle over to where I was Opening Chakras for some soldiers, with extra Marks going in for those who were Forsaken.


    The girls looked a little pensive as they pulled up off to the side, waved into the space by a friendly smith. Their eyes fell on me, and all three of them stiffened, the bigger two on the seat in front, the little one riding up high with her legs hanging down.


    I felt their eyes on me, how could I not? My blood was singing to me that I had sisters nearby. I finished up the last of the soldiers, ignoring his screams and whimpers as his Chakras were Opened, and his buddies helped him walk away, cursing with every step he took on his protesting feet and Soul.


    I met their eyes, and they all flinched. Not unreasonable, they could read me better than anyone.


    What a strong sisterhood link, I thought, this naturally being the first time I''d met fellow hagchildren.


    "Come along," I said, waving and pointing as I turned, and they tumbled off their floating Wagon, forgetting to tie it down, and rushed after me. I sent a nod to one of my men nearby, and he just chuckled and moved to anchor it, with their Horse watching him in some surprise.


    ---------


    My Tent didn''t actually have much, mostly because I carried around my belongings, and Meditated on Haul. Forge was always being used, naturally enough, and my Cabinets were standing off to one side of the work area. But there was a blanket on the ground big enough for all of us to sit on, and I pointed to it silently.


    They sat down quickly, and so did I... floating two inches above it.


    "Well, little sisters?" I asked calmly. I naturally knew all their names, easy to find out with the Marked.


    My admission of the fact seemed to relax them all greatly. They all let out breaths they didn''t know they were holding, pouted on seeing me floating there above the blanket, and excitement flowed across their faces.


    "Annis?" Veis piped up for them directly. I nodded and let my Mask fall. They gawked at the blue-black remnant of the Curse still there on my face, down the side of my neck and shoulder.


    "Why...why do you still have the Curse?" Amber whispered in awe, staring at it, not knowing if she should be frightened or not.


    "I never went through the Ritual. I took the long way around," I said simply. All their eyes popped.


    "What happened?" Verd asked. The Ritual of the Silver Queen was the defining moment in their lives, both scarring and empowering them far beyond any normal folks.


    "You know that you and your identities, who you are, are formed from the Curse, right?" Shivering, all of them nodded. "The Ritual impressed who you are onto your souls, instead of allowing the Curse to do so after maturing and warping you.


    "I was sentient since the moment I was born. The Curse started trying to suppress me and wipe me away, as it did the children your souls came from, as soon as it consumed me. I resisted, fought it for many long years in Nightmare, and when I was strong enough, I broke the Curse and reclaimed my life and body."


    All three of them swallowed. I could tell they understand intimately what I meant. It had required a goddess to break the Curse for them.


    I had done it on my own!


    They all reached out at the same time. I extended my hand, and let them touch me.


    Mmm. They were all Forsaken Nulls, of course, in the area of 20-some. Had Vajras, too, in the range of 14-16. Not bad, but not great... but then, they hadn''t had nine years of Karmic slaughter in Nightmare, or Greater Warp Demons in the present, to help them along.


    Of course, my Diamond Vajra was rocking a 55+ by now, and my Null was in the same area. Their Nulls felt like marshmallows rubbing up against a steel wall.


    They all swallowed together. Imagine that.


    "Sylune!" murmured Verd, her green eyes wide. The other two nodded along as they all withdrew their hands. "How... how strong-?..." she trailed off.


    I reached over my back into the slim strip of my Masspack, and drew out the Assay Slate there. I poked my finger with the black nail of my thumb, and a point of crimson welled up as I spun around and backed up into Veis'' face. She stood up and leaned right onto my back and shoulder without hesitation, face next to my ear as she put her weight on me, which I barely noticed. Verd and Amber leaned in from the sides.


    Crimson wiped across it, the Slate shimmered, and the writing came up.


    Various strangling sounds and whimpers arose as my Stats came up. They looked at me, I just sat there impassively as I scrolled it up, and up, and up...


    ---


    By the time I reached the bottom, they were utterly and totally subdued. Verd and Amber had an easy power-sharing of authority going on, Veis clearly secondary as the youngest, the little sister.


    They were very, very obviously all little sisters to me.


    "Can... can we get all that?" Amber asked, her tone sliding into differential respect without even noticing.


    "Can? Yes. But it will take some time... and colossal amounts of Karma, of course. I am a Deep Ten, and you''re all just Fives at this point... which is not a bad thing, given your ages." I flicked the Slate and it wiped as they sighed. "Now, I want to see yours."


    In turn, they dropped blood on it, and we all looked at their Stats. They teased one another about what they were best in, who had more Levels or better numbers here and there, but they definitely didn''t boast in front of me.


    "Haz¨¦ has given you some direction, but not enough, and you''ve had some Karma limitations," I summarized after I went through them all. "That''s not a bad thing. You''re Nulls, and she''s Powered. She''s not familiar with all that we can grow into, because it has nothing to do with being Powered." I pushed away from Veis, spun around to face them all again as the littlest sister sat back down.


    "Well, she''s not a Hagchild, either," Verd spoke up, glancing at the rest of us meaningfully. It wasn''t something to hold against her, it was just the truth.

 194 Chapter One Hundred and Ninety-Four – Sisters II, Marks Addendum

    "Yes, that is true. You should be aware that its part of the nature the Curse coded into us. Think about it... despite Hags being pretty much the epitome of vile, evil, wicked women, petty and scheming and powerful enough to make their wishes reality... they still get together in covens and work together to mutual benefit." Their heads tilted as they thought about that. "Their sense of sisterhood must be extraordinary to be able to put up with all that, despite being as despicable as they are. We have the same sense of it... but without all the raw Evil sitting in the way."


    They all looked enlightened. "So, it''s like a special power of ours?" Veis popped up happily.


    "Yes. Regardless of anything else, we''re bound by the Curse. We don''t really have any other family, yet we all have the same source, and its stronger than blood, because it''s blood, meat, and bones, too. In truth, I''m very surprised by how strong the bond is." They all nodded agreement. "So, do you have any questions for me?"


    Veis shot up her hand instantly. "Can you tell us about what it means to be a Hagchild?" she asked softly. "You just mentioned sisterhood, Sama. Is there more? Are we normal humans, other than that?"


    "Mmmm." I considered that. "That is a loaded question. I will say that, from a magical standpoint, we are all humans. Bane/Humans works on us, just like other humans, and Bane/Monstrous Humanoids, which works on Hags, does not. So, for ''real'' purposes, we''re humans.


    "But no humans have ever had to endure looking into the heart of the Hag Curse, getting their minds fused to a stolen soul, and endure the Ritual of the Silver Queen. So, you can say that we have become human, because we took our humanity back, and held tight to it against the strongest Curse to afflict the human species."


    They considered the implications of that. "What does that mean?" Verd asked, her face scrunching, looking down at her fingers, and stroking her green locks.


    "Do you know Powered aren''t exactly human?" They all blinked. "That''s right. All Powered, anyone who can use magic or chi, has something in them that normal humans do not. They may be ninety-nine percent Human... but there''s something in them that is not, that allows them to spin spells and execute Techniques, to warp magic and spin the Breath of the world. We... are Not-Powered. That one percent of something else, we still have it, just like the Powered do, and that one percent makes us Forsaken Null Hagchildren.


    "So, we''re human... but just like a magical bloodline, there''s something else there. It gives us our Sign," I flicked out my black nails, a gesture they all repeated with me in their own colors, "our teeth," I smiled ferociously, and they did the same, everyone showing off their doubled canines, "your hair and eyes, and me my lack of a chest." I tapped my breastbone.


    Their eyes popped. "Seriously?" Amber blurted out, staring at my lack of cleavage, only muscle.


    I nodded. "Not that there''s not magical ways around it, but I''ve got no bust. Rejoice! You''ll always look sexier than me." I rolled my eyes and waved my hand, and they all laughed despite themselves.


    "On the flip side, I''m going to be stronger and taller than any of you, because I''m the brute force bitch of Hagchildren, thank you very much." I braided my hair with a thought, mock-ignoring the way their eyes opened in delight.


    "Now, you all know how to get stronger, right?" I asked them, and they all nodded quickly.


    "Karma and Levels!" Veis piped up eagerly. I nodded along with them.


    "And you''ve all been shown Class Levels, Secondary Class Levels, and Racial Levels, right?" I asked them, and they all nodded quickly. "Well, there''s a fourth path, and I''m not talking extra training. They are called Evolutionary Levels."


    "Ohhhhhh," they all said together, and didn''t even find it strange. Neither did I, come to think of it.


    "The default for us is Human Levels, which is very important, because it binds us to Humanity and people. Even if people think you''ve got weird hair or eyes or nails... those Human Levels bind us all together. For instance, people don''t give me shit about my nails or looks, because I''m a Human/4. They get a little weirded by the Curse, but I''m still human, they understand it on a gut level, and I''ll always be a Human, first and foremost."


    "Human/4?" they all chimed together. They''d seen it on the Assay, but it hadn''t sunk in. "I thought Humans only went to Three!" Verd finished for all of them.


    "Human/4 is an Evolutionary Level, often called Atlantean Human. Basically, a better human then humans, or humans perfected. You know about Stats, their range, and how Humans get a +2 to one of them, and Human/3''s get that bonus again?" They all nodded. "Human/4''s get that +2 to ALL their Stats."


    Their eyes popped again. "Wow!" Amber exclaimed. "What''s it take to get that?"


    "Human/3 and a Ten, or being born that way. Super high-end magical societies sometimes try to advance humanity to the next level by forcing the Evolutionary Level on them via various means. Usually, it ends up restricted to nobility and then they crazily preserve their bloodline so they can dominate other humans, and they rarely reach Human/3, as they consider themselves above other humans," I sniffed, waving it away. "Just know that it''s there, and it''s one of the things you''ll want to gain when you are a Ten." They all nodded eagerly.


    "But for us, the first Evolutionary Levels are otherwise going to be Hag."


    They all sucked in a breath, looking at me in shock. I held up a finger. "Remember, no Curse."


    They all calmed down, thinking hard. "When the Ritual cleans us out, what it does is empty a lot of holes in our heritage... all the little markers that turn us into Hags, instead of people. Powered also have those Markers, and they''re also usually mostly empty... so they take Evolutionary Levels to fill them in with... stuff. Templates, racial characteristics of other species, things like that.


    "I want you to think about what it means to be a Hag." I started putting up fingers. "One, Hags are tougher than Humans. Humans have a d8 racial hit die for Health. Hags have a d10. It''s not much, but it''s there. Key point, higher maximum Health." Eyes sparkle-sparkle.


    "Two, Hags generally have a lot MORE Racial Hit Dice. So physically they get obscenely tough, just like monsters do. We can potentially get that physically tough." They all looked very interested in that point, indeed.


    "Without looking like a Hag?" Amber blurted out nervously.


    "Hag ugliness comes as a part of the Curse. Everything I''m talking about is there... but will have to be powered up by Karma, not the Curse." They all looked greatly relieved. "So, correct, no sausage noses, turnip bellies, rakes for hands, wart gardens, and the like." They all visibly relaxed.


    "Three, Hags have awesome melee combat instincts. You all know this, because you''ve been told how fast you pick up fighting." They all nodded. "Fourth, Hags are strong. You know that now, because you''re all much stronger than you look. You''re not stronger than humans can be... like Hags are... but you''re stronger than you look.


    "Four, Hags have a specific set of skills tied to their Race. In other words, they have an Akasha that taps into some of the oldest, deepest, and darkest secrets of the multiverse. Hags Know Things, without ever having to be taught, and some of those things are pretty damn bad.


    "We have the potential to learn those things, if we want to go sewage diving in the Hag Akasha. Yes, that''s exactly like swimming through the Curse." All their noses wrinkled ferociously in recollection.


    "Five, all Hags have a better base Stat line then humans do. Even Stormcrones are physically stronger than humans are. Annis are the strongest and the toughest of us here, with Greenhags next. Greenhags are the wisest and most cunning. Shellycoats are the most charismatic. Stormcrones are the most intelligent.


    "And this applies to what you can become." I met all their gazes one by one. "I''m going to be stronger and tougher than you, and you''re not going to catch up to me, because I''m an Annis-child, and complaining about it is just dumb. You can be wiser than me, Verd, and you''re going to be stronger than Veis or Amber. Amber is going to be the best looking of us, and the most tempestuous. Veis is going to end up the smartest, and the most agile." Veis promptly beamed a smile even wider than Amber''s.


    "And Six, on the subject of age... Hags do not have a maximum life span."


    It took them a moment to digest that, Verd got it first. "Hags never die of old age?" she gasped, and I nodded as the others stared.


    "Does... does that mean we''ll be young and beautiful forever?" Amber promptly asked.


    "No. It means we''ll be crones for a very, very long time." They all blinked, and their faces fell. "Which is not a problem if you have a Diamond Vajra keeping you at your physical prime. Basically, we have the potential of getting closer and closer to middle age, but we''ll never go past it, if we have a Diamond Vajra.


    "So, you won''t look like a pretty young thing forever, Amber, sorry... but you will look like a very fit and sexy older woman... once you hit two hundred or so."


    "Two hun-?" she repeated, all of them blinking.


    "Still Tens. Still get a hundred years extra time."


    "Oh, well then!" Amber smiled. "I think I can get used to it by then!" Verd and Veis agreed with her firmly.


    "You''re not ever going to get married." They all blinked. "That''s correct. One, the sisterhood bond is too strong. If you have to choose between us and a man, we''ll win." They all had strange looks on their faces. "You can have lovers, but you''ll never have a husband. I''m also not sure we can have children." They all gasped. "Yes, that''s right. Think about all the artificial conniption horror shows our Hagmoms had to go through just to make us. We don''t have any of that magical Curse-powered crap going for us.


    "So, I''m pretty sure we can''t have children. But, I might be wrong. We can only try repeatedly and energetically, I suppose."


    They all burst out giggling despite themselves.


    "On to what we''ve inherited in particular," I continued. "I... am a killer. I revel in combat. I like to fight, I can kill at the drop of a hat, I''m not afraid of anything, and my Talent is Natural Swordswoman. I like to beat on things that are bigger than me, or who outnumber me. It is who and what I am, and I make no apologies for it."


    They all nodded happily, totally fine with that. Having the brute on your side was always a good thing.


    "Verd, your Talent is Natural Woodworker. Greenhags in general are close to plant life. So, you''re always going to be using wooden weapons, the best of which are spears, staves, and bows. You probably shie away from swords and axes and things, and like to carve wooden things?" A bit surprised, she nodded. "That restricts the type of weapon you can use, and I''ve been told you use a spear." She nodded again.


    "You saw my Titles on the Assay," I made them recall. "I am a Grandmaster of the Sword. None of you are naturals with the Sword, I can''t teach you that level of skill in a weapon. So, you will have to pursue the Grandmastery in different Weapons.


    "That doesn''t mean I can''t show you how to use them in many different ways. My Grandmastery required me to learn how to use many weapons extremely well, and I can certainly pass that on to you.


    "Verd, the most natural paths of the spear are the mastery of the charge, and the mastery of the stand. The synthesis of them, the Grandmastery, is called One Step."


    ===========================


    +++++++++++++++++++++++++++


    ===========================


    Addendum: Sama''s Marks


    Sama has a ''belt'' of nine Tattoos around her waist, mixed in with the Soul Tats of her Manticore Belt and Arakne Arms. They are instantly identifiable by anyone who knows Demonic as being Runes of that Source, and someone with a high enough Knowledge Check or experience can identify them as looking similar to Succubi Blessings. However, although the Marks are black, the empowering energy is white and pure, meaning there is nothing profane or unholy about them.


    By feeding the succubi who made them to them, Sama locked in their relevant effects, while not incidentally removing the controllers from play. There are nine basic effects: +2 to one of any of the basic Stats; +2 to Charisma checks against potential sexual partners (this is appearance-based, you look hotter); +10 to movement; and +2 to Natural AC (skin is magically reinforced, and incidentally looks better).


    Sama had to pay Karma as if they were magic items to activate all those effects. The succubi were part of that ''Naming Karma'', locking the effects of the Marks, and in effect growing her soul into the Marks.


    By killing and feeding a lilitu to them, she unlocked the code to upgrade them to +4, +20 Move, and +3 natural Armor. The Queen of Succubi has the +6 level effects... Naturally, she has had to slowly and patiently pay for all those upgrades on her own.


    There are two Greater Effects possible with Succubi Blessings. One allows the recipient to instead use the Succubi''s Charm Other ability, mental-based, and the other allows the recipient to use the Succubi''s Change Shape ability to morph into other humanoids. As the Charm Other is a projected ability, Sama can''t use it outside of herself. She can''t even use it on those who access her Markspace, as that''s actually a link, they aren''t in her head. IF she could, they''d suffer a -4 to the save, however.


    The Change Self has limitations because she''s a Forsaken, and magical effects find it very difficult to affect a Forsaken for long durations. She can''t imitate anyone she hasn''t fed to a Mark (naturally requiring she kill them) or eaten (which usually means drinking a blood sample), gaining her the genetic information the Marks can access to do the change.


    Such a transformation is effectively permanent once done, as the cells of the body are rearranged into the new format and ''set'' there until Renewal, where they loosen up long enough to revert to normal if desired.


    Using the shape changing magic takes Soul Essence to power the change, a basic Mastery to control the accuracy of the change, and a second Mastery to use more than one change. Inspiration must be used if you wish to make a change more then once a day, meaning the ability is nowhere near as nice as a doppelganger or a Hat of Disguise. Again, Forsaken pay a lot for similar effects.


    --Others:


    Sama can inscribe the Marks on others, and by resonance through the salvaged power of the original succubi, activate their Marks. Such resonance gives them a telepathic link to her that works across dimensions, and a buff that corresponds to the Mark she gives them. However, these are magical items being given away, not ''free'' like succubi can do.


    Sama usually activates the telepathic award with Glory awards from Warlording. The recipient gets the first +1 bonus by spending a day of naming Karma (i.e. 1,000 pts) to turn it on, usually instantly. They can get it to +2 for 4 days of Name Karma. Go out, kill, get stronger! They can improve them to +4 with Sama''s approval for the Greater Resonance, with nine days for the +3, and sixteen for the +4 (Note: they have to do this in lieu of improving their Weapons...). This is a typeless bonus that does not stack with Sacred or Profane bonuses (Primal bonus?)


    Sama can talk to any or all of the people who are Marked at a whim, their presences totally individualistic ''doors'' in her mind. She can maintain an outer ''shell'' that people with a Mark can see whenever they look at the link, which is why everyone can see The Map, all the time. She can ''silence'' a Door at will, and she can cut Resonance with a Mark at will. She can project to another and cannot be silenced in turn (although she won''t do so unless it''s an emergency). Sensory or tactile information is not shared, nor full memories, unless the one doing the sharing is make a concerted effort to broadcast/allow such a thing to happen. i.e. Sama can''t read minds, either. Standard Marktell communication is like speech, only much faster, and the meaning and intentions much clearer, with moderate emotional context conveyed/broadcast.


    A Powered, Primos, Source, Void, or Warlock can have one Mark. For Warlocks and Powered, adding more would just disrupt all of them. For Voids and Sources, adding more would simply be too constrictive to their Forsaken natures, and they''d be dismantled/burned away, like getting rid of handcuffs. Primos simply don''t have the power at either end to support more.


    Nulls can have up to three Marks if they have no Vajra. They aren''t tough enough to support more, but don''t have the resistance of other Forsaken.


    Nulls can have up to six Marks if they have a Vajra, as their souls are the hardest and completely neutral. They can have up to all Nine Marks with a Diamond Vajra, and potentially work on the Greater Mark Combinations.


    Any person can remove a Mark by simply deliberately marring the Tattoo, Erasing it with magic, or even Dispelling it, if specifically targeting it. If it is marred by an outside force, it will heal naturally as long as the Marked did not intend disruption.


    Anyone with a Mark can potentially make that Mark on another, and achieve resonance. However, this makes a link to that person, not to the higher Mark, and so doesn''t give access to Sama''s Markspace, so, for example, they couldn''t see The Map, which Sama maintains. Sama could reach through her Marked to the new person, seeing them as a subset of her Marked''s Door, but the reverse would not happen.


    Sama can create links between doors, i.e. ''chatrooms'', where Marked are basically broadcasting through the back of her mind to one another. Generally, she simply walls them off mentally and pays no attention to them. Constructing private chatrooms is codified into specific requests and phrasing so she can perform them automatically, i.e. "Commander Shavrone requesting chatroom with all members of Seventh Company of the Ironblood!" Flick, done.


    Individuals forming Fellowships and the like simply jointly request a chatroom.


    Sama''s Minstrelry and Warlord bonuses work on everyone in her chatroom because they are ''right there'' in her head, and all she has to do is share thoughts/auditory experience with them all to hear the music. Tremble being able to play telepathically means this can be done in total silence. Everyone is effectively subjected to the same effect that she is, which means her Courageous bonus from Tremble is conveyed to the whole field, boosting her Warlord Bonus to +6 from its default +2.


    ----


    Binding Sealer


    Sama isn''t stupid enough to actually have a free-willed Fiend staying in her body, like many Binders do (and who get access to their spell-like abilities). Using Binding Sealer, she killed powerful Evilborn (and one Fallen Ahren), and used the vivus and Karma of the killing to seal their genetic imprints into the Marks.


    Doing so allows her to access their benefits for later Evolutionary Levels. For Powered, this would mean the full kit of being able to evolve into a Succubus, Angel, etc. For Sama, this basically means being able to buy some of the base Stats, magically making and empowering permanent changes to the body like a magic item, as she has the blueprints to do so.


    This can get very dangerous when doing mental Stats, as you are basically growing your brain in the direction of learning to think like a Fiend...


    Because these changes are like magic items for a Forsaken, they can only be purchased at the rate of such, i.e. 1,000 Karma a day, where a Powered would just invest massive amounts in an Evolutionary Level and take it all in one go. Every Stat point is priced out like a magic item, meaning gaining the full +16 racial Strength bonus of a lilitu, even if purchased in part in other templates, will normally cost 256,000 xp... and take 256 days, naturally.


    Feeding others directly to the Marks basically sets their Karma aside for the Marks and/or records their imprint for shapechanging in the future. Note that Change Shape is limited to Succubus ability, i.e. it can''t be used to look like even a Succubus, only humanoid creatures. No wings, for instance. She could certainly look similar to one, and ''borrow'' aspects of one to mix with another...


    Sama''s goal here is to gain the Hag Stat buffs (which, without the Curse, are basically neutral in aspect), then the Nymph (urp! No, that wasn''t me), then the Fallen Ahren, then the Succubus/Lilithi/Lilitu, using the different influences to offset one another. Given the very slow rate at which this progresses, all these upgrades will literally take years of time, and it takes her personal Naming Karma and Magic Item Investing to do so. She can still create Crafting Value, and use Naming Karma on one Weapon per day, as usual.


    Taking Human Levels forms the foundation of all Evolutionary Levels, building up from that basis. The racial bonuses from additional Levels join with those of Human Levels, i.e. the lilitu''s +16 bonus supersedes that of the Atlantean Human +2, meaning there''s only +14 more to go. Taking Atlantean Human basically was done to save a small amount of Karma at the bottom end... and a month of time.


    Her final goal is Str+16, Dex +18, Con +22 Int +10 Wis +12 Cha +18 from all the various aspects she has acquired. That''s 1,608,000 Karma, five years of it, and doesn''t even touch things like the lilitu''s 60'' base move, or the marilith''s +15 Natural Armor, or maybe upgrading Arakne Arms so she ends up with an extra 4 arms, equal to a marilith, instead of just two, or having her Phoenix Cloak manifest as actual wings, or the lilitu''s base open hand damage not requiring ki, a mantissari''s jumping ability, every demon''s racial bonus to Stealth and Perception checks, the resistances and immunities to energy damage of all the various races, or a succubus'' constant True Sight...


    Evolutionary levels can give you a lot of stuff, but they take enormous amounts of time for Forsaken. And for Powered, they basically end up turning them into NPC''s, as they forcibly align themselves with the races they are transforming into.


    If that sounds like Sama is going to end up a six-armed, five-tailed (lilithi!), winged, horned, clawed killing machine... well, she''s a gamer-minded melee warrior who can''t have kids of her own, who''ll be able to shift to a more social form. So, yep! And we haven''t even touched on templates...

 195 Chapter One Hundred and Ninety-Five – Sisters III

    "The advent of this style came out of the convergence of two skills. One is the ability to deliver increased damage on a jump or fall. The other is being able to make a running long jump from standing still." I watched them think that over. "What it evolves into is being able to make a full-strength charging attack... with one step. Combined with a One Strike, this is a supremely lethal attack.


    "And only a Spear-user can pull it off."


    Verd looked excited. "What about archery?" she asked, puffing out her well-developing chest. "I''m the best archer of us three!"


    "I could see that... but Hags aren''t wired for archery. If you think about it, it''s a convenience for you. A serious Archer solves everything with a bow. For us, archery is something we use until we can pull out a real weapon and beat the shit out of them up close and personal."


    She nodded slowly after a moment. "But don''t give up on it, right?"


    "You saw my Archery Levels. I''m perfectly willing to kill at range. I just prefer it up close. Soothes my ego." They giggled again.


    "Amber, if I have shellycoats right, you see melee combat as a bother, and ranged combat as a distraction. You have performance and a drive to be in the spotlight in your veins. And until you get good enough to terrify the stupid with a look, it makes you a walking target for ****." She blinked. "You won''t ever marry. You aren''t a take home to mom girl. Men aren''t going to look at you for your brains. You''re going to be a sex object, and lusted after. It''s going to be hard to find a man who loves you for you, and not for the fact you''re just so drop dead sexy."


    Her smile was kind of odd, on the brittle side. "I think I found one..." she whispered, looking around the tent suddenly.


    I had to lift an eyebrow. "Oh?"


    "Hee hee!" Veis pushed her, and Amber giggled. "She''s talking about my brother Errant!"


    Errant?


    "Pure Sword Errant?" I asked faintly. Obviously I hadn''t asked enough questions in Marktell of Grym and Feist.


    "You DO know him!" Verd exclaimed for all of them.


    "Sword Grandmasters have a habit of that," I nodded. "You''re falling for a Heavenbound? I can''t say you''ve got bad taste, but he''s marriage material for someone, Amber."


    "Oh, I know..." She rolled her eyes in disappointment. "He''s almost ridiculously nice. Has no eye gravity at all, and those silver eyes just look right through you, and..."


    All three of them sighed together. Veis had her nose in the air proudly. He was HER brother, after all!


    "Well, then stake your claim on a Void Brother," I said, and all three of them promptly choked.


    It took a moment for Amber to recover herself, her scarlet-orange eyes wide as berries. "What? V-Void Brothers?"


    "Among Void Brothers, strong Null Forsaken have another name. We are The Silent and The Stone."


    They repeated those words together, anticipating what they meant.


    "Within a strong Null, Voids cannot feel the Breath of the Land." I looked back and forth between them. "They aren''t being pulled this way and that. The call to act isn''t there. All is quiet and peaceful. We are like that cool, peaceful pond they can float in under the sun, and let everything go...


    "So, yes, Void Brothers. If you have a STRONG Null. Wimpy non-Sevens need not apply, and it won''t get really quiet unless you''re a Ten with a Null of 40+."


    They all swallowed; Verd and Amber looked at one another, while Veis had the expression of someone who really wanted to know more about all this sex stuff on a hands-on basis.


    "Anyhoos, back to Amber. Amber, you use long and short, and performance-style combat. Rose and Thorn is perfect for you, but Grandmastery is probably going to be elusive. You''re going to have to focus on being a Master Fencer in all aspects, which is a road that deals more with your Sneak Attack damage being boosted to the moon then pure Mastery of the rapier. Distracting, dancing, dazzling... every moment of combat fighting you should be like that, and you should take full advantage of it."


    She seemed to find that idea quite satisfactory, and nodded agreement. I turned my eyes to the smallest of us.


    "Veis, you''re doing a synthesis of Fire and Shadow styles, which is a very Hynnish assassin dual-wielding thing, and not bad for you. But the fact is that you''re smarter than you let on to others, and you''re very quick. These are your best traits. You''re going to be faster than people think, and smarter. You can analyze and find weak points and then hit them. You need to add Wind to your style, and Rising and Racing Winds is best for you. You might end up with the best lightfoot of all of us. Your size is something you have to make up for, but when attacking from surprise... you should be as dangerous as any of us, and definitely the sneakiest."


    She beamed again. "I can do it!" she agreed confidently.


    "Wait! What''s this about smarter than us?" Amber protested.


    I turned a lazy eye on her. "You did see that 16 Int versus your 13''s, right?" She and Verd pursed their lips with a look at the smallest of them. "Uh-huh. I bet little Miss Precocious here was Casting spells before she was two."


    "I was!" Veis piped up proudly, making practiced motions with her hands... that of course didn''t absolutely nothing now.


    "Well... so was I," Amber protested, her brow furrowing.


    I waved my hand and rolled my eyes. "Sorcerers. Things happened around you, and it took you how long to realize you could control them? Age four? Five?" She pouted at me. "Regardless, the first thing you''re going to be doing is going out and fighting out there on the battlefield every single day. Multiple times, if you can."


    "Really?" Verd looked a bit uncertain. "I heard it can get very dangerous out there..."


    "You''re already tougher than ninety-nine percent of the enemy, and fast enough to run away from the other ten percent. You''re going to be mostly immune to their magic, and if you fight together, you can stop one of their champions cold.


    "You need Karma, and you need combat experience against a variety of foes and monsters. It is the best way."


    "Will you be there?" Veis asked quickly.


    "In spirit. Literally." I pulled a box out of my Masspack, set it to the side, and opened it up. "I am going to Mark you. I will literally be a thought away, and I will be Singing for you.


    "I cannot fight with you. I fight at an entirely different level than you do, as you will see eventually. There won''t be anything for you to fight if I fight with you, and you need the Karma. I don''t want to call you little sisters forever..."


    They puffed up despite themselves. "We can do it!" Amber declared, and the other two nodded with her. They all wanted to be the Big Sister, too...


    "Good. You have Vajras, so you can get six Marks. It''s cheating, but you''ll get the rest when you reach a Diamond Vajra." Their eyes glittered at my words. "Then, we have to get you Null Weapons. You don''t have Slaughter or Arsenal on your Weapons, do you?"


    "Uh, no?" Verd admitted. "Haz¨¦ enchanted our Weapons, and we''ve been growing them. We''ve got Baneskulls..."


    "Forsaken don''t need Baneskulls. We have Slaughter," I told them with a sniff, getting them all on my side. "Weapons made by Powered inherit their bias and rigidity. There''s no such problem with Null-forged Weapons. Do you know how to smith?" All three of them shook their heads. "I''m aware you have ancillary skills you probably prefer to use, but we need your downtime here to be productive. The Intellect Mark will grant you the skills of a Smith, so you can help at the forges, or you can find another place to be productive. I want you to get good at metal and/or woodworking for a simple reason... if you lose your Weapon, you can than make another for yourself."


    They all agreed with that line of reasoning.


    "And before I begin, let me introduce you to my Sword, Tremble." Tremble floated out from her scabbard behind my back, and their eyes rose.


    "Hello! And I know you''re going to ask, so these are my Stats." The holo projected from the star sapphire in her guard, and they all leaned forwards to read... and read... and read...


    "I am going to forge a new Sword for her soon. Just waiting for the metal to arrive," I told them calmly, as they gaped at my Sword. "She''s going to be very impressive when I do."


    They all swallowed, staring at that list of Stats for Tremble. She was going to be impressive then... but she wasn''t now?...


    --------------


    They gawked at The Map. They stared at all the doors in Markspace, once they stepped past their own. They gaped at me. They dove into their own chatroom and started chatting with one another with blizzard speed, and actually started running out of topics to talk about fairly soon. /tellepathy is damn fast, after all.


    And I was Right There. There was no doubt whatsoever that I was the Big Sister. Advance Schema and a path to uberness were all conversational points, and they didn''t need to be with me to do that.


    ------


    Inscribing the Mark on Haz¨¦ was quick and easy. She picked Intellect, not a surprise. Choosing Blacksmithing for the Skill raised my eyebrow, but it was just one more thing you needed to make Constructs and other magic items, so not that huge a surprise.


    We didn''t need to speak in person. Once it was up, we could converse /tellapathically through the Mark, and be about our other business. And if outsiders thought we weren''t conspiring together, well, too bad for them.


    She was a little intimidated at my mental presence. After all, she was a Wizardess, Sorceress, and Priestess. The Mental Arena was supposed to be all her. Finding out how ripped I was in the mental arena was a rude shock.


    Benefits of being Forsaken and having more Levels.


    -You really are from Terra? Can I ask what the last date you remember is?- was the first thing she /asked.


    -As I recall, Haz¨¦ the Star Mage died a few years before the Fall,- I /replied calmly. -I''m sorry, I don''t remember an exact date, although it was at least three years. I died during the Fall, and a lot of precise details are extremely fuzzy. The circumstances of my reincarnation probably have something to do with it.-


    -At least three years... the Fall?- she /asked sharply.


    -The Archmage warned the whole world that the Apocalypse was coming and the world was going to end. Everyone laughed. He was right.


    -A Thing from Outside Creation pulled Earth out of our home universe and tried to eat it. Somehow, the Archmage stopped it, but I''m not precise on the details. I died during the transition.


    -So did Briggs.-


    She sucked in a breath even as she was about to begin some Potion prep work. -Commander Briggs is here?- she /asked faintly.


    -Yes. He should be coming in from a fight soon. They''re almost done slaughtering some ex-human Warped.-


    Haz¨¦ took a deep breath. -I know one more person for certain, and one maybe.-


    -The girls mentioned Pure Sword Errant. Veis'' brother, aye? How''s that for coincidence...-


    -Do you remember someone called Memphistopheles?-


    Despite myself, I scoffed. -Now isn''t that a gamer''s name. Are you sure?-


    -He ran into the girls and Brother Shadowknife. Eldritch Theurge, Madpact with the Mazakam.-


    -Huh. That quest-jumping asshole made it here?- I shook my head.


    -He''s an adult. Fully grown.- she /informed me.


    -Wha... Well, shit. He was actually physically BROUGHT here?- The implications were impressive. -Did you try to see if Terra was in Aruan purview after he arrived?-


    -No. It may have arrived here afterwards, you think?-


    -Temporal anomalies are to be expected when moving between worlds. If he was brought here, there''s definitely a connection now...-


    I could feel her mind working. -Errant should be in here. I should go get him and have you put a Mark on him.-


    -He''ll only get the one, but yes. Heavenbound are invaluable just on the face it. Did he get here before you?-


    -Yes, and I''m pretty sure almost exactly relative to the times we both died.-


    -So it''s a shunt, not relative temporal velocity. That''s good, I suppose...-


    -But Terra is in danger?-


    -Pretty sure about it. Also pretty sure that they''ll be able to handle it.-


    -Oh?-


    -Magic was coming in. Who do you think is going to be the best at wielding the magic in that new universe?-


    -Power of Ten gamers...- she /murmured in understanding. The Archmage had planned everything. Even for the people like us who didn''t make it...


    -Go get Errant. And we should probably be looking out for Mem-can''t-think-of-a-real-name guy. He probably has some details for us...-


    -I''ll let Errant know and go get him immediately.-

 196 Chapter One Hundred and Ninety-Six – A Reunion for the First Time

    "Sir Errant!"


    "Highness."


    "Prince Estemar!"


    "Miss Amber! And Miss Verd, and Miss Veis... Lady Haz¨¦?" A pause. "Is Mama here, too?"


    "Commander Briggs. It has been some time."


    "Pure Sword Errant? Damn, I was a still a noob when I talked to you last!"


    "You know my sister, Highness?"


    "I, ah, met the girls some time ago, Sir Errant. It never came up in conversation..."


    "He''s just Sir Estemar, Errant. Don''t go giving him airs."


    "Apologies, Sama. Ah, Sage Sama. I heard you had a most interesting set of Titles revolving around Swords..."


    "Says The One Sword, The Heavenbound, and the Purely Bound. The immortal Pure Sword Errant..." I answered with a snicker.


    "Yes, I''m feeling all kinds of immortal now," he replied drolly, his eyes flickering over everyone. "I am to understand that you can give people a modified form of Succubus Blessing? And... something about a Diamond Vajra?"


    I eyed my sisters, who were all clustered around the modest and astounded figure of Prince Estemar, Paladin and all-around team player nice guy, naturally arriving here with Briggs. "How''d you meet our Paladin?" I asked, amazed that he had met everyone before anyone else. Mithar making chess moves...


    "I am his senior in the Order of the Ruby Heart. He was my squire for a short time, in no small measure because his knight was a shapechanger whose head I ended up removing."


    "You Heavenbound, always picking fights with unlucky evil bastards."


    "Yes, a very sorry state of affairs," he agreed, with absolutely no change of expression.


    Great poker face. I was going to like him. "Let me get you Marked, and we can take this into Markspace."


    ---------


    -Damn, you completed the Heavy Gravity Training already? So unfair,- I /groused at him.


    -You''ll get it in time. Now, some details. The Heavenbound, a Diamond Vajra, and your Titles, as a courtesy?- He was looking around the Markspace in fascination, his golden figure as pure as Estemar (who wasn''t in this private /chat), only brighter, the Pact on his soul visible in his Markform.


    I /squirted him the details on a Diamond Vajra, and he whistled to himself. -I would probably have stumbled across that before Sole, if I had not died...-


    -Your Title of The Heavenbound was conferred upon your posthumously, after they founded Heavenbound Hall.- Haz¨¦ looked interested, as she didn''t know about such events.


    -As for my Titles, my Grandmastery is: A Sword is a Shitty Weapon, but it''s Better than all the Rest. I can use any weapon-related Feat with a sword as long as the sword can sub for such a weapon, and I have Weapon Mastery in it.-


    He considered that. -Your swordwork must be tremendously versatile?- he /hazarded.


    -Well, think Spirited Charge lance, Hew axe, and Finish spear, among other things.-


    He made an impressed face. -Very good. And Sage of Swords?-


    -It played off my Grandmastery. Remember Profound Artisan?-


    His mental eyes glazed for a moment. -Plus Synergy bonus to damage with a Focused weapon from a specified Skill?- he /remembered. Not a bad Feat, not a great one. +2 damage at five Ranks, +3 at ten.


    -Uh-huh. And because of my Grandmastery, it applies to any Skill which wields a tool that can be called a martial skill. Thus, a Mastery of Skills applying to Swords, ergo, Sage of Swords.-


    He mentally blinked, as everyone listened in. -Any Skill? Stacking?- he /asked faintly.


    -Yes.- I /affirmed.


    -That... sounds like a Warsmith''s Hammer bonus...- Haz¨¦ /interjected, amazed.


    -Funny you should say that. Briggs'' Hammer Grandmastery works exactly the same way. Any Skill that uses a tool in the hammer/chopping motion...-


    Many eyes turned on Briggs, who mentally shrugged. -Twelve of them.- he /admitted.


    Errant and Haz¨¦ turned back to me, all their eyes wide as they did the math on that.


    -Ah, twenty-some synergies, not all of them a straight +3. Riding only applies when mounted, for instance, and Stealth and Sleight of Hand only apply to Sneak Attack Damage.-


    -So, bonus fixed damage bonuses of at least +70... in addition to all other things.- He /sighed despite himself. -Okay, I finally believe what they say about Forsaken being the tool-users.-


    -Which reminds me. Haz¨¦, you a Shardcaster?- I /inquired.


    -Meta''d to the moon,- she /smiled. -Why?-


    -I heard that Weirdboy had managed to break down a +9 Meta called Perpetual Spell. A single spell in memory-only effect, Cast and the spell doesn''t go away.-


    Her face made some interesting contortions. -Plus NINE?- She fretted for a moment. -How did he pay for it?-


    -Anima Theurgy could reduce the cost to a manageable level, and then with a million castings or something, Metamagic Efficiency would kick in.-


    -No Divine Theurgy?- she /asked quickly.


    -I don''t think he''d miss something so obvious, but that''s all I know. I do think that with your connections to Miss Silver Magic, you might just be able to get your mitts on that Meta...-


    -And Residual Metamagic means rebound casting at a significantly higher degree of effect,- she /continued, eyes flaring with stars. -I just have to get the modifier down to +4 base so it fits in Valence...-


    -Effective Soulshaper at Eleven, Arcane Thesis.- Even I knew that much. -Totally doable.-


    -And now I know in what direction I need to direct my Karma,- she /murmured, shaking her head.


    -In the meantime, you''ll just have to be the strongest just-turned-a-teenager Mystic Theurge in all the lands,- Briggs /laughed, and everyone joined him.


    -So, what''s the agenda for what you are doing here? Endless slaughter and Karma until there''s so much vivic saturation the Warp Gods get sick of you?- /asked Errant archly.


    -Well, yes, but we''re going to focus on closing the Rift as soon as we can, instead of endless harvesting of Warped. They might finally decide to stop Levelling up the lads and up the attrition rate via endless reinforcements, or something that forces Divine involvement,- I /sniffed. -It''s just that it takes a lot of damn vivus to do what we want to do.-


    Haz¨¦ hummed, calculating based on what she had seen. -Quarter-million or so dead should do it, right?-


    -If the Land and the general environment weren''t sucking half or more of it away. We''ve got the Obelisks in place and they are charging up, but the Veil and Land here is so stressed that it''s eating up huge amounts of the vivus. Every time they send out a Greater Demon, the Land is directly manifesting and ripping away ninety percent of the vivus like the glutton She is.- /snorted Briggs.


    -And it doesn''t stop the Warp from sending out more. After all, there isn''t anyone surviving to be demoralized when the planet eats them.- I /sighed. -On the other hand, it''s a boatload of Karma, ripping down CR 18 to 20 Greater Demons, if you can do it. The Brotherhood is having a field day with them now. They only let me go out once a day now, greedy bastards.-


    Everyone else /chuckled, making very unsorry conciliatory gestures in my direction. I hmphed at them, sticking out my virtual tongue.


    -What about the city?- Errant /asked. -I''ve been hearing about Yle Tyorm since I was a child.-


    -Oh, there''s some nasty shit outside, and I intend to go in there and find some it, and then put it in the ground.- I /smiled nastily. ¨C My hagmom, for starters.- The image of her popped up behind me, mental spaces being convenient that way.


    -Her?!- Haz¨¦ /blurted out. I blinked at her. -Um, I gave her a full Nova of V''s when she came to my shop when I was a child... and she lived through it! That Annis is your Hagmother?!- The whole incident replayed for us in startling detail.


    -And you think it was coincidence you ended up there,- I /sniffed at her.


    She started to say something, stopped herself. -She''s in Yle Tyorm?- she /asked instead.


    -According to Nior Rabe, yes.-


    -THE Nior Rabe?- Errant /blurted out, eyebrow raised.


    -The Butcher of the Sidhete, the Raven Reaver, the Reaper''s Crow... yes, that one. He''s flitting around the battlefield, inspiring Greater Demons to manifest. I think he''s a bit perturbed that people want him around so monsters so much more dangerous than he is pop up. He drops in with your warband, you''re guaranteed an Eighteen or better popping up to mess with you.-


    -Nice,- Errant /nodded, seeing the appeal of that. It was just like re-running a high Karma dungeon back in the game. ¨CI take it that there aren''t a high number of people who can actually solo one?-


    -No, but there are a whole lot who want to be able to!- I /laughed smugly. -Me, some of the Brothers, the team of the Sidhe Monarchs. There''s some Elevens who might be able to do it as a team, with emphasis on the might. They''re definitely soft on Gear. Briggs is close, just needs to ramp up his combat defense.-Briggs made a hand-wave of dismissal. He was doing plenty well just mopping up the mid-range Demons and commanders. He wasn''t even a Ten yet, so he didn''t much care for messing with Twenties.


    -So you need a team for a city sweep of a location with a broken Veil, and dimensional and temporal instability. Is there any leakage?- Haz¨¦ /asked reasonably.


    -Chaos Storms?- I /supplied snarkily. She rolled her eyes and swatted her head, duh! -Beyond that, no. I think the Silver Worm neutralizes a lot of the stress. However, there are supposedly primal ancient beasts in the city, drawn to the power there, and there''s definitely some nasty, nasty shit down Below it in the Felldeep, including a Mu Spore.-


    -Before we go further, it''s time to come clean,- Briggs /stated firmly. -What did the Brotherhood tell you about the Empire? There''s a whole lot of shit going down with great speed, and I''m not even in Shadowvale or Branch to watch it all happen.-


    I /cleared my mental throat. -The Shadowknife gave me a very precise date of when the Stars Will Be Wrong, and the Rosencrux Empire is going to die.-


    The three of them went still. Crickets literally started playing, and then the Jeopardy Theme started sounding, and they all blinked at me.


    -Well, that certainly does explain a lot,- Errant /breathed. -Can you give us the date?-


    I /turned my head. -Brother Shadowknife, my fellow reincarnates want to know the date of the coming Fall.-


    A Markdoor opened, revealing a small, shadowy form on the other side, Helices spinning about him. Unseen eyes swept over us all, and we all just looked back at him. Despite himself, he knew that he was in the company of peers, even the unknown Errant.


    He spoke a few words, and the Markdoor vanished.


    I looked over at Errant, who was extremely grim. He closed his eyes, fingers moving as if calculating something.


    -I am going to be very busy,- he /observed, to no one in particular.

 197 Chapter One Hundred and Ninety-Seven – An Adventure!

    "Let''s plan out our next moves, now that we are on a schedule,- Briggs /broke in calmly, sunny form radiating purpose. -Errant, I understand if you want to remain in the capital back there, especially if that''s where Heaven wants you. Are you going to do any grinding here?-


    The Heavenbound Warlock glanced at Haz¨¦. -If I can get rides back and forth, that shouldn''t be an issue. I''m sure I can use the Harse Temple''s Great Seal... and if I tell them why, I''m sure that the various priesthoods will start using it to evacuate people and materials under the table.-


    -I will be happy to help.- Haz¨¦''s eyes flashed. -If we could get a Seal set up at Branch, I''m sure that would be very useful for people getting out of the Empire...-


    -The Camp is not permanent, and the cost of a motile Seal here would be expensive... not that it also couldn''t be useful. Since the Road is here, Recall spells, at the very least, should avoid any dimensional interference, as should lived-line teleporting.- I /observed. -I will discuss it with the elves and dwarves, as they''d have to front the materials.- I glanced at Errant. -Either Rebound Teleports or using that tactic you employed with the slaves would be more efficient. Errant, try to employ them as you can.-


    -A new Crusade coming to the churches, certainly enough,- he /agreed. -Where would you like to put me on the field?-


    -With one of the new dwarven companies that is assembling. Haz¨¦ can participate on overwatch and support, the girls can follow you, and you can be a formation breaker, like Briggs is acting as now,- I /answered. -I''d like to say a merc company, but there aren''t any I consider solid enough to trust the girls to.-


    -And the knightly companies are too cavalry-based and full of headstrong cavaliers,- Briggs /snorted. -I''d volunteer mine, but I''ve got too many adept people already, it would be a waste. The Shieldhelm company should be okay with it, they don''t have many irregular troops, and they aren''t as xenophobic as some.-


    -We are a seriously deranged bunch of people, throwing a bunch of teenage-and-under girls onto a battlefield,- /sighed Errant.


    -Please. Be a Hagchild and you won''t even be able to THINK that.- I /rolled my eyes theatrically. -I''m no older than Veis. Same with Briggs.-


    -If you''re going into Yle Tyorm, I''d like to go with you,- Haz¨¦ /spoke up.


    -Ditto,- Briggs /agreed.


    -We''re talking a dimensionally shattered and temporally misaligned Raid-level combat zone. If we''re going in, then we''re going to be there for some time. It means giving up other stuff, especially the grind.- I lifted an eyebrow at the both of them. -Are either of you ready for that? Especially you, Haz¨¦. You''re going to be doing a LOT of flitting, and making no less Karma for it, too.-


    She grit her teeth at me. -Dammit!-


    -Hey, I want you there. I want everyone going in to be Sustained, and that''s damn rare for Casters. You''re just needed more out here for now.- She just /groaned. -Briggs, can someone take over for you?-


    -Completely, no. Functionally, yes. There''s a big dhatun champing to go line-breaking, there''s a couple experienced Rockborn Warlords who can do that job just fine, and I''ve enough Champion-killers that I''m not worried about them. 99% is more than good enough for them to keep right on harvesting.-


    -Good, we''ll need a good Source along. Which one of the Brothers? I''m thinking Shadowknife...- I /conjectured.


    -Ancientaxe,- Haz¨¦ /put in. I glanced at her. -Shadowknife is needed outside to monitor any abnormalities in the Rift. Ancientaxe is the beast killer. He''s wasted on the field, there aren''t enough monsters to occupy him, while the city is supposed to have many, as I understand it.-


    I glanced at Briggs, who nodded agreement. -That works for me. AA is a rock. He''s probably not used to working in a team, but that''s what a Warlord is for, right?-


    -We''ll need fillers. This will be an exploration.- I considered who I could invite. There were definitely a ton of Tens who would love to be involved in something as epic as the exploration of Yle Tyorm.


    -Especially healers. I''d like to bring Estemar along.- I raised an eyebrow at him. -He just hit Seven, and he''s got Healing Reserve. He doesn''t have a hundred and one Masteries, but he''s rock solid in fundamentals... and has Way of Water II. He won''t be lacking in any fight.-


    If Briggs thought he was good enough, I trusted Briggs. -Who else?-


    -Take the North Wind off Rorn''s hands.- I blinked despite myself. -Seriously, he''s trying to build up the confidence of his people, and the North Wind are all Ironblood. He doesn''t want the normal troops relying on their presence any more than the berserkers. Actually, you can probably take the rage monsters if you need them. They''re really good at monster butchery and all, especially after the advice you gave them.-


    Well, it was true. Rorn didn''t want his people relying on any kind of Powered to do what had to be done. Easier? Yeah. Necessary? No. He hadn''t bought those autobows and autoballistae for no reason...


    The North Wind were all Eights to Tens after so much fighting. They''d be second rank, but they had a broad enough skillset that it shouldn''t be much to just survive with me, Briggs, and AA taking the muscle positions.


    Heh!


    Leave Rorn to his King-making and the future of his country and lead some adventurers to an adventure. Sure, that sounded workable.


    -Errant, Haz¨¦, you work out some of your coordination... and I believe your Mama Greta is still back in the Empire?- Since Amber had conferred upon me a "One of Mama''s Girls" shirt, kinda hard to ignore that. I did draw the line at scattered hearts...


    -I will have her leave immediately.-


    -----------


    "Bwa-hah-hah!"


    They couldn''t hold it in. Briggs looked on them in bemusement as the three girls held their hands out towards him, not quite touching, and unable to stop laughing.


    "He''s so ticklish!" Amber''s orange eyes were dancing with all kinds of promises. "How is he in bed?"


    "Dunno, he''s the same age as Veis." All their eyes fell in disappointment, while Briggs just laughed as he picked up his Hammer to start working on their new Weapons. "I''ll let you know when it''s time."


    "Awwww!" all three protested at the same time, and Briggs only shook his head.


    "Seriously, you think he''s going to be in any shape for you after I''m done with him?" All their faces screwed up. "Night Rose, ten Ranks Courtesan, 40 Con, all the Feats and Masteries..."


    Even Briggs had to look at me after that one, and my little sisters all flushed despite themselves.


    "Shoo. Go meet the puppies when they get here." A spot of thought sent them racing off towards the western entrance.


    Briggs sent a calm eyeball after them as he dropped several ingots of steel into the flames at different locations. "You lot are going to be a handful."


    "I''m going to pawn them off on Void Brothers. Helices are also ticklish. You''re safe with me." His expression indicated that our definitions of ''safe'' might not be exactly the same, but it wasn''t like he had much choice in the matter. What was he going to do, embrace some 12 Str 14 Con piece of sugared fluff somewhere when I was right here, my hips already moving towards perfection and fingers able to cut into his Crystal Shield? Mwa-hahahaha...


    "So, a rapier and main gauche, a spear and shield, and two kukri?" he asked.


    "All the way to 40." I eyed the mithral alloy steel. The dwarves were very forthcoming with metals once they saw I could not only forge them, I could do so with incredible speed and skill if I was so inclined. Of course, the demand for large numbers of lower QL work had been a major demand on my time, with Powered smiths from all the races satisfying the same need for the other fighters. Since most of those fighting couldn''t use Slaughter or Arsenal, the demand for high QL''s to satisfy their demands for More Slots, Please kept them all pretty busy.


    The girls didn''t have overly powerful Weapons, but they were Funf-Slot already, showing they''d had more than a few combat encounters and had chosen expressly to advance their Weapons with Naming Karma. Not making them Weapons that could advance all the way to Zehn Slots was just a waste at this point.


    They had huge amounts of work to do on Slaughter and Arsenal, regardless, and were giddy with expectation, naturally.


    And if anyone heard me refer to Funf Slot Weapons as not overly powerful, they''d want to box my ears...


    "QL 40." Briggs noticed the ears of the smiths nearby were twitching as he said that. Even the Master Smiths of the Rockborn wouldn''t talk about a QL at that level casually, but I was just throwing it out there as if it were nothing much. He had to grin despite himself. "We got the wood?"


    "Just got a shipment of stuff from the Fey Queen. Lots and lots of arrows, and plenty of spear hafts." The entire fighting force was being supplied with arrows by the Hamadryad Queen of the Sidhete at this point, and as a point of courtesy, everyone was using them. The Fey''s weakness in straight-up combat against the Warped was humiliating them, as was their lack of recovery options.


    So, their Queen had resorted to other means. First, their intelligence network of Wee Folk blanketed the area, watching everything, complementing the Marked doing much the same. Second, units of elite Fey troops were working alongside the elves, reclaiming at least some honor for their Queen and Warlord. Third, Nior Rabe, if not pulling Greater Demons out to be slaughtered, was more than happy to brutally dispose of certain human forces eager to do some rather unacceptable things to those traveling to the North. And last, supplying all the arrows and bolts used by the allied forces meant the enemy was receiving the pointed end of Her Fae Majesty''s displeasure in every single battle.


    I was actually aware of a great deal of this, because Mikle and a good number of his clan had accepted Marks and happily chattered about Fey things inside Markspace. The Unseelie Fey were making noises in the far North, and already some of them had been sucked in by the Warped. The Fey Queen and Nior Rabe were more than happy to extend their animosity to the Winter Court to all those fey seduced by the Warp, and there was some impressively bloody fighting going on north of Yle Tyorm.


    I had little faith or trust in fey steel, but the Queen knew her wood. Any weapon carved from it was obligated to be decorated with a leaf pattern to indicate where it came from, too, and a fair number of human knights were riding out with lances of such... which amused Nior Rabe to no end, of course, given how many knights he''d killed over the years.


    A pair of woofs thundered out from over-sized lungs, and I turned back as two oversized hellpuppies, with certain hagchildren hanging over them, padded up to the smithing area.


    Amber was hanging onto Fido with both fists, eyes dancing, while Verd was side saddle on Shirley, and Veis was balancing on Shirley''s head gleefully, earning her a stink-eye from the white-furred Captain.


    Their fur was much longer and curlier than before, grown out and pulsing with crimson and pale blue lights, respectively. I notably lifted my nose, sniffed; no brimstone.


    I condensed my Null on my finger, and their eyes fixed on it, feeling Reality solidify about that finger, the weight of Existence on it. A touch from this finger would send an extraplanar right out of this dimension as all the pressure of the Veil vomited it out somewhere. If they were strong, they could get sent home. If not, getting stuck in the Astral or Ethereal, or shunted somewhere totally random, was also possible.


    I tapped his nose, her nose, fwap fwap.


    Nothing.


    Their tongues lolled, and they gave me those big slobbery hotcold kisses of theirs. I just gathered them in and hugged them as they rumbled like lawn mowers.


    "You may be our hellpuppies, but Hell has no more power over you, and that''s all on you," I told mah dawgs, and they woofed into my ears proudly. There was a lot of pyro and cryo going on with them that wasn''t there before.


    I looked up at my little sisters, eyes narrowing. "I''ve got the tools. Why don''t you help these hellpoodles look presentable?" Their eyes lit up at the mental image I presented them, and they all nodded eagerly, as Fido and Shirley straightened up expectantly.

 198 Chapter One Hundred and Ninety-Eight – Yle Tyorm

    A Warped Champion howled and charged me from behind. I didn''t look back as half a ton of stone came down on his head and crushed him flat behind me. His oversized sword chopped down and bit into the stones a half-inch from me, and I mentally wagged a finger at Sergeant Grym above me, who just grinned.


    Three berserkers converged on a troll, burning axes rose and hack-hacked as the green-skinned Lesser Jotun shrieked and was chopped down, effectively disarmed first and then just hewed into with burning Weapons that foiled its ability to heal itself.


    A great club came crashing down, and Silent Jhon smashed it over to the side with his fangmace, whipping back to send the beak of Crow through its thick neck. Before it could drop its club, Talatha danced up the weapon, inserted her longsword into the gaping wound. Lightning crackled over the ogre''s thick skull, its thick body convulsed, and Jhon spun his wife down from up there, both of them ducking low as another ogre swept a great axe over their heads. Their Weapons bit into the back of its knees from opposite directions, hawser-like tendons snapped, and the ogre stumbled and fell.


    Grym descended from overhead, and Slag came down on the thick skull like the mighty Hammer it was. A furnace roared, and the ogre''s skull exploded in fire and charred bits.


    Riann came booking around a corner, the ground trembling from the impact of massive footsteps. Behind her a whole line of brutish hairy brutes twelve feet tall were pounding after her, visibly salivating at the prospect of a tender lunch.


    The hill giants poured into the open street like a hairy tide, loping after her with strides twice as long as hers... and she veered off to the side.


    A black dog and a white dog, kitted out with carefully groomed hairy crowns that could defy a hurricane and flowingly skirted feet, were waiting there. Oh, wait, they were seven foot at the shoulder, and had glowing eyes, and-


    One. Two.


    The deep screams didn''t last at all long as the two blasts of fire and ice overlapped, but didn''t cancel one another out in the slightest, seemingly feeding one another instead of neutralizing one another.


    A green-spotted manticora came bursting through a stone wall, sending three berserkers flying. The next second, the leopard-bodied creature was smashed over by a brown-furred form even more massive then it was. Brown slammed a heavy paw down on the scorpion tail dripping lethal venom, bit down, and tore off the end of the heavily scaled thing with a massive pull as the manticora screamed at him. The massive bat-winged panther could only yowl as the great brown bear, enchanted to twice his normal size, wrapped it up in a crushing embrace and began to crush it, nearly a foot of fur, hide, and fat ignoring the ripping of its claws and teeth.


    A group of werewolves came howling to the attack, and a fireball detonated among them, sending furred flaming forms flying furiously every which way. Silver-tipped arrows hissed out, whist, whist, whist, and the lycanthropes went spinning away with the arrows buried in their skulls. Shard Reserves from Liiss cut down a fourth one, and as the fifth and sixth still alive surged back to their feet and leapt at the two sisters, Riann nocked two arrows at the same time and released.


    The two didn''t even break stride as the werewolves crashed down in front of them, racing towards Brown as he rose from the ripped and torn carcass of the manticora. With easy familiarity, they grabbed onto the inflated bear as he rose over twenty feet to his full height, and they jumped over onto the stone wall of a crumbling fortification, giving them the high ground and a better place to snipe from.


    The greenhag coming out of invisibility probably thought she was being sneaky as she leapt at me. Since she was using her nails, she led with them. I reached out, grabbed the extended limb, pivoted in a classic Moon-style throw, and this seven-foot Hag with a potbelly and smelling like a dozen rotting swamps was suddenly sailing tail over teakettle through the air. She hit the ground hard and awkward, rolled, and looked up in confusion, totally amazed at being thrown by someone so much smaller than she was.


    Brown looked down at her from way up there. She started to scream as a few tons of bear came down with steel-shod claws hard together.


    Man, they had ear-grating voices...


    A group of trolls crashed through an old stone building. They were a full ten feet tall, larger than others of their kind, with darker skin, and armored plates nailed directly into their skin. They were also carrying human-sized polemaces or greatswords in one hand, and had an air of being the toughest brutes around.


    There was a whoosh, and the head of the one in the front exploded as something heavy and burning swept past.


    The trolls gawked as the one in the lead collapsed... and more importantly, there was no sign of him starting to regenerate and getting his head back together. He just fell, dark blood spraying and going suddenly still.


    Blooding wasn''t a very popular Arsenal choice for no reason, and troll-killing was only the most common use of it, making cursed wounds that their ability to regenerate couldn''t affect.


    Endure roared back to Briggs'' hand as he strode towards the three remaining armored battletrolls, completely unperturbed at their presence, radiating poise and confidence. The three naturally took a step back at seeing him coming.


    Fido''s jaws closed on the throat of the first one, burning with a fire so hot it completely overwhelmed the troll''s fire resistance, ripping it off its feet. From atop his back, Estemar''s Lance plunged into the side of the second, smashing it completely off its feet with the force of the Smite raging through it. As the last one jumped away in reflex, Shirly grabbed one of its legs, and pulled, spun herself, and tossed it with agility and grace completely belying her size. The troll shouted in alarm as it was sent flying, crashing off a patiently tolerant wall and skidding across the ground, its leg half-frozen.


    It looked past its very long nose up at Briggs, at whose feet it had stopped. He hummed deep in his throat, and Endure descended and rebounded in little more than an eyeblink. Troll skull sprayed in all directions. Briggs paced onwards towards a group of ogres that seemed to be having a roar-fest with some berserkers, Endure leading the way with a low, ominous roar that took the biggest one in the head, removed that obstruction to its movement, and opened a hole in the line of ogres the berserkers were quick to flood into.


    A swirl of gray and black lines followed the arc of Ancientaxe''s heavy Glaive, cutting through heavy bodies like mud. Great stony bodies, looking like rough statues still capable of moving, shuddered and fell as the brawny urkhar tore through their ranks like an old, deadly wind, cursing them in Jotun. As their glittering blood sprayed through the air, the regret in their deep cries could clearly be heard as the legendary Butcher of Giants, the Ancient and the Axe of the Brotherhood of the Void, pursued his true calling.


    How many millennia had the Brothers been there to hunt them when they strayed from the ancestral teachings, when they whelmed for war against the smaller races at the urging of this or that power, entity, force, religion, or madman? Now, the Hags had charmed them and brought them here with honeyed words of ancient wealth and power, rightfully theirs... and now they were dying.


    Dying, as so many Jotuns and other elder races had, under the steel of the Ancient and the Axe.


    A Hag appeared nearby, another greenhag witch, gesturing and about to bring in something fiery, when Barus walked up and slapped her with his Spear, disrupting her spell and causing a fiery backlash when sent the much-larger Hag flying back into the wall behind her. Not really hurt, she struggled back to her feet-


    Two arrows nailed her eyes to the wall behind her, just after a trio of glowing green Rays drove into her chest and reduced everything in her midsection to goo... not that anyone wanted to look there.


    Barus gestured, and from the boiling clouds above, a bolt of lightning came crashing down into a knot of redcaps charging into the fray, three-foot imps waving ogre-sized battleaxes eagerly. Shrieking iron-booted bodies went flying in all directions, and speeding arrows from Riann''s overwatch sought them out and kept them down. Those not hit came screaming in towards the bearded druid and his waiting bear-spear, which he lowered to greet them.


    Shirley stepped out of the street behind him, lightly extending her head over his and past as the eyes of the murderous little bloody-hatted bastards got very wide.


    "One," Barus smiled politely. They didn''t have time to reply properly as Captain Shirley obligingly counted off.


    A sabretooth tiger and a red-haired berserker who looked familiar crashed through a few tents and rolled up to me, ripping into one another energetically as they tumbled towards me. I scooped up my arm as their mass hit me, and heaved the cat up and over me... whoops, was there an archway there? Silly me, sorry about that.


    It crashed into the stone head first as I dragged Hungrun along before the cat fell back down, hauling him up to his feet to stand there in surprise as Tremble, floating and Singing overhead, zipped his fallen Axe back to his hand. I politely ignored the fact that his hands had four-inch claws growing from them at the moment, and he had fine golden fur over most of his body.


    With a rumble, the rest of the arch fell down on the sabertooth, adding to its woes. A breath later, a glowing Axe came raging down on its narrow skull, ending its troubles, and the mighty Hungrun went bounding back in the direction he''d come from, moving much faster than a man that big had a right to.


    There was a group of minotaurs charging along, and Estemar came sailing over a wall and smashed into their rear flank with Captain Fido, sticking one of them and bowling two more off their feet. Barus waved his hand, and vines and ropes lashed up onto those plate-sized hooves, wrapping around them as they moved at speed, and whoops, there they went stumbling and skidding, brought up short of their targets by the grasping plants.


    "Two," said Estemar calmly, as the minotaurs on the ground looked back at the rumbling furnace of destruction behind them.


    A couple actually survived the inferno that came howling over them. Grym walked up through the flames, Slag went pop, pop, and their pain became a thing of the past.


    Hmm, that one was colored blue. Slag patiently tapped it again, and it stopped moving after the additional six-inch indent in its thick skull.


    My, such exciting times... yes, yes, we''d save some putty-tat for the hellpuppies...


    ------------


    They''d dug out a small pit... small by Jotun standards, at least. The bones were cracked and piled up in there, and the rats and flies were naturally at them, and a lot of shit and piss was piled on the things in addition, lending it a uniquely appealing aroma.


    Fido and Shirley were sniffing the various bones as Liiss magically brought them up closer for inspection, and AA was looking them over, too.


    Everyone turned around as a bright blue explosion of fire erupted behind us. The Jotuns had a fair amount of booze here, but after one sniff from Shirley, nobody dared to drink the stuff. So, the berserkers had, in their ire at not being able to steal the alcohol as spoils, dumped it on the burning piles of dead Hag employees. Happily, the brutes had a fair amount of wages, and everyone knew what those were good for now.


    Talatha was overseeing the harvesting of tendons and hides for Gauntlets and Girdles, not about to let this opportunity pass, and the berserkers were all over it, too. Strength of Giants, here they came!


    After Estemar and Barus healed them all up, of course. Paladin healing Berserkers... I rolled my eyes, wondered about the world, and ignored it.


    "Buncha different magical monsters. That manticora was Warped, of course," the tusked AA indicated the bones. "Advanced, Shadow, Primal, Giant, Fungal, Earthen, Ossified... and that is a worrisome one." He indicated a nigh-spotless length of bone ivory, looked like the rear leg of a cat. "That''s a Lesser Paragon Lion."


    Huh. Everyone''s eyes turned on the shimmery barrier of dilated time a hundred yards down the road, where time looked to be passing at about one-quarter normal, and was currently early evening instead of late morning.


    The Hags had constructed a rough wall of elemental stone and scavenged buildings to keep creatures from wandering outside into the landscape to hunt the walking meals coming out of the Rift. They''d had a decent haul... the pit was full of bones of the dead, most probably eaten by the numbers of Jotuns here.


    Lesser Paragon Lions were the diluted children of Paragon Lions.


    "There''s Paragon animals in this place? Why?" I had to ask. The affairs of Paragon creatures shouldn''t be drawn to a place like this.


    "The disruption of time creates a massive confluence and saturation of magical energies flavored with temporal compression. It''s exactly like a time-lost land, heady and satisfying to powerful magical creatures," AA growled, fixing me with his red eyes, finding me unimpressed but agreeable. "There''s going to be a ton of creatures affected by magical energies here, especially vermin, which probably forms the foundation for stuff getting eaten by all the other stuff."


    "Fungal. That means shit is coming up from the Felldeep," I observed.


    "Shadow and Earthen likely, too. These would be the weak ones, shunted to the edges of the area where the magic is least strong," he grunted.


    "Well, doesn''t that sound exciting." I didn''t believe the force here was actually threatened by what they''d killed... but might have been intended as insulation if something stronger decided to wander out. "Hey, you wanna help me bring down a wall in time?"


    His crimson eyes glanced at me, down at that barrier of passing time. "Why not?" he grunted, his tone expectant.


    "Briggs!" I called out. "Need a welder over here!"

 199 Chapter One Hundred and Ninety-Nine, Yle Tyorm, Part Two

    Watching two fractured temporal flows rub past one another is an interesting experience. It was possible to see the different degrees of wear and tear through the time, although not very far. Light did screwy things when it passed through the barrier, and visibility was less than twenty yards before details that fine were lost. We could only see the general level of illumination and the shadows of buildings continuing on.


    "You sure this is going to work?" Briggs asked rhetorically.


    "Not at all."


    "But?"


    "Why wouldn''t it?"


    "Because it''s stood for a thousand years?"


    "And the chances that something non-finite is providing help and destabilization behind the scenes is-?


    "Ugh." Briggs looked up at the fractured sky, flowing through day and night cycles in disjointed speed. "Pretty damn high. What exactly are you planning to do here?"


    "I''m going to link up different temporal zones. Guess what happens when the weight of the world starts moving into your own little shard of disjointed time?" I grinned.


    "And why do you need all three of us for this?" AA asked, red eyes more cunning then anyone had ever seen an urkhar.


    "We''re all Forsaken, but our denial of magic has different forms. A Void is active and purifying, drawing in elements, stripping them of their hostile portions, and exuding purity. In other words, you can rip this barrier open.


    "A Source burns away that which is unnatural, like a firestorm flowing out, reducing that which is wrong to naught. So, Briggs can punch out with the force of the Land, and burn away whatever power is holding this thing intact.


    "And Nulls reinforce the strength of the Land and existing natural laws. One unlocks the door, one opens the door, and one keeps the door open." I pointed at the barrier in front of us. "Brutes before bitches."


    AA grinned widely, a ferocious expression with those tusks of his, and his black and grey Helices rose around him, carrying a strange feeling of days long past with them, returning to the present.


    And that was exactly what he was doing. Like living lines of color, he reached out with his helices into the structure of the wall of flowing time in front of us, smears of colors all across and beyond the spectrum instantly swirling into being inside its structure as his Helices played. He grunted as the colors on them deepened, his crimson eyes narrowing, and found the elements of past and present that his Helices represented. He wasn''t the Shadowknife, but his was the vigorous power of the now and the future, sensitive to those things with the weight of ages upon them, and this wasn''t much different from that.


    He grunted, a drop of blood fell from his nose, bright and crimson against his brown skin. Helices swirled horizontally, narrow bands of dark color that splashed apart into thick streaks that suddenly seemed to latch onto something, grip, and then heave it apart.


    Sound was sucked away for a moment, as the faint rumbles and tiny sounds behind us swept past and into the void beyond, a man-sized tear peeling open in the barrier, and instantly releasing a crazed swirl of winds as air met at different momentums.


    Briggs'' Source flared with an Interdiction.


    Foundational power raged outwards, conducted perfectly by reality, burning away the things that didn''t belong there, unseen forces and energies that were not in compliance were eaten away, and for a moment, the Veil was fully extruded into the space beyond.


    My Interdiction went off, and the bored hole was locked in place as my Interdiction strengthened the natural laws to the point of nigh-unbreakability.


    The opening in the barrier began to wobble, the polyspectral colors of AA''s Helix shot in all directions like devouring worms, far beyond his normal range. The substance of conflicting time was collapsing on this hole, trying to fill it, and instead being totally ignored, absorbed by the laws of reality backed by the weight of the universe behind us.


    An almost solid mass of slow-moving air broke past me, bringing with it a morass of sounds, smells, and sensation suddenly rendered into normal speed. I swayed, locked my feet, and reality flowed past into the opening, shattering this section of the fractured city.


    Mists and dust from temporal windstorms filled the air as this whole section re-aligned with normal time. The three of us stood there as cross-currents of air whipped back and forth, and bestial cries from deeper within sounded out in surprise and confusion at the change in sensations.


    More old and shattered city existed beyond, and while it didn''t seem to have the weathering of the area behind us, there seemed to be a lot more signs of conflict around. Not a big surprise for a slow time bottleneck, I supposed.


    "There were definitely dimensional hijinks going on," Briggs grunted. "If you''re going to mess with time, why not space?"


    "Yes. The Shadowknives have occasionally scouted within. The distortion in time is greater towards the center. Too, the dimensional area increases. The city is a hundred times bigger on the inside then the outside. What we see are only the shimmering images of the city from the distance, but within, it has been ages..."


    "Fuck me. They''ve been breeding an army in there using temporal acceleration." I slapped my head, and Briggs grunted. "You ever make it to the center?" I asked AA.


    He shook his head. "Brother Mountainhammer has tried to get closer from below, but the tunnels are crawling with endless amounts of vermin, animated fungi, and aberrant monstrosities, who all are replaced with great speed if he withdraws." He looked around at the collapsing barrier, shimmers now only visible in the distance where the acclimating area was edged with other shards of time. "We were never able to shatter one on our own, they regenerated too quickly..."


    "And your Nulls can''t do mass purification or strengthening of the Veil, only localized," I agreed. "Likewise, our Nulls won''t be able to rip open the barrier at all, although we could probably walk through it."


    "So, all types of the Forsaken are needed to do this." He paused in thought. "Could Casters accomplish it?"


    "Caster Interdictions work by infusing masses of magic into the Laws, not by resonance. They''d have to somehow find the core Laws or areas being affected, unravel the effect without everything blowing up in their faces, push the effect forwards, and then try to mass stabilize it... I think they could probably shrink the area rather clearly, but trying to use the world itself to do the heavy lifting? No."


    AA grunted again. "Well, we have the area open. Are we going ahead? And who are we bringing?"


    "Just us." The other two looked at me. "Fido and Shirley need to stay back for raw brute power. You just told me that there''s a multi-zero to one-time ratio at the middle. That''s years in a day. In short, there''s going to be an endless number of monsters coming out from inside here, without a whole lot of downtime in between. It''s going to get worse as we push towards the middle and shrink the territory as we do."


    "Where''s the extra area coming out of?" Briggs asked.


    "Mu Spore means Aberrants. Aberrants probably mean Leng. Leng means Dream."


    Briggs glanced at me. "So... old home week?"


    "Yes and no." My eyes narrowed, looking at the overgrown, fallen city above. "Dreams recur. We''re going to be cutting through this area, and the extra area will evaporate back into Dream as we do... but that''s going to be putting a lot of Real Stuff back in very close proximity very suddenly.


    "Instant fight, and us sitting here at the border waving hi," Briggs mused.


    AA looked back. "They are competent, but they will not be able to handle what is coming," he agreed flatly.


    "We have our first volunteers." They both looked up sharply, as a group of blood-red mantises seven feet tall hopped through the next barrier down a block or two.


    "Their pincers are edged like sabers. Mind them," AA grunted, his Glaive, Zeitgeist, humming as he straightened.


    "And we haven''t even managed to clear anything else that lives here," I mused, Tremble drifting to hand and Stand moving into position as I drew Fall.


    "Happy day, happy day," Briggs said. "I raise a question... I think it will be smarter to rip them open from the inside, instead of the outside, given the time compression?"


    "Depends if its slow or fast time, but yeah. Slow from outside, fast from inside."


    "Can we skip some?" Briggs asked.


    "Without the world sitting right there like a boss, who is in charge in any particular shard? Nope, we have to plow a path all the way to the middle."


    "This will be a fight!" AA grinned cheerfully.


    "You got a Healing Edge?" Briggs asked, knowing how important that was for sustained combat.


    "Gave Doc to Feist and the girls, just in case. I''ll have to make do with Battle Focus and Revitalizing Strike. You get that Healing Edge long knife done?"


    He grinned widely, and pulled out a knife Jim Bowie would have loved, cream-white steel, crimson along the edge, just like Estemar''s Sword, Angfar. "Meet Nurse!"


    Both AA and I laughed, and I glanced at AA. "How about you, Brother?"


    He paused for a moment, looked at the both of us... and then at our Weapons. He snorted almost to himself.


    His gauntleted left thumb touched the ring finger of that hand. "I have a Ring which continually heals my wounds."


    Briggs and my breaths hissed out, surprising him. "A Ring of Regeneration? Are you kidding me?" I exclaimed... in a very low voice.


    He seemed pleased at my reaction. "I am the only Brother to bear one, it has been passed on by my predecessors. Supposedly it came off a Titan''s hand, long ago. It is very, very old."


    "And if it weren''t, the number of Fifteens willing to make one would doubtless not be very high. One hundred and eighty goldweight..." I gave him a gentle slug on the shoulder, and he grinned ferociously. "Well, you won''t need much rest time, if the fights aren''t too long. Your Crystal Shield is on the weak side..."


    He didn''t look too happy, but could only shrug. "I usually hunt beasts, I don''t fight them toe to toe..."


    Which was true. Ambush attacks from a sweeping heavy polesword didn''t require a lot of staying power. He was a Dark Waters specialist, Shadow and Ocean. He hit like a truck... and Cutting Life let him do it straight up to something, which was helping him evolve his tactics to something more straight-forwards.


    Which, if his performance on the battlefield meant anything, he was truly enjoying. Urkhar loved them a good bloody fight.


    "Regeneration does not help with getting tired, however," I admonished him, and he blinked, then nodded slowly. "Do you have True Arsenal, and Revitalizing Strike?"


    "True Arsenal, yes. Revitalizing Strike, no," he admitted.


    "One blow, complete recovery of fatigue and stamina," I told him, and he made a thoughtful face. "In a battle of attrition, it is mandatory. Make it a priority. Your Ring gives you long-term healing power, but is easy to overwhelm in pitched combat. Do you have Battle Focus and Battle Vigor?"


    "Not yet." He made a small sigh again. "There have been many ''little steps'', as you say, that us Brothers are just getting to."


    "Priorities and Karma, I understand." Getting enough Karma to pay for all that stuff once you were a Ten was no small thing, even for a Void Brother...

 200 Chapter TWO HUNDRED. YAY! - Crowning a Griffon

    Errant stepped out from the bounds of The Camp, trotting calmly along the packed trail that led towards the Rift, aiming to get out of the Camp''s Interdictions.


    A large winged creature with a dark head spiraled down out of the sky ahead of him, clearly aiming to intercept him at the edge of the safe zone. The Griffons of the Stormcrest Crown were helping the allies here with patrols and other things, occasionally swooping into a fight with flying Warp mutants to vent their ire upon them.


    They had a great deal of experience with Interdiction zones and knew how fearsome losing the ability to fly could be, and very wisely shirked their limits. Errant was heading out to meet one personally he had been referred to in Marktell, a proud young griffon called Darkbolt, who prided himself on being the fastest of his Crown, and whose wing had been saved a few weeks back by Sama.


    He was waiting as Errant stepped out of the Interdiction, a saddle and a couple other things piled up on his Disk as he walked fearlessly up to the haughty eagle-headed, lion-bodied creature.


    "Good morning. My name is Errant, and I''m a Heavenbound Warlock. I''m here to request your services as a mount in the service of Heaven."


    Wrath burned up around him, golden glory suffused with the power of the celestial realms. Despite himself, Darkbolt''s golden eyes widened at the nonesuch sight and power of it, an ancient calling burning in his soul.


    "Griffons are the sacred animal of Aru. When the greatest knights of Aru ride to battle, they call for griffons, no lesser steeds." Errant looked up the darkly feathered eagle''s head above him. "I would like to show you why griffons ride with Heavenbound."


    The griffon''s head tilted sharply in a birdlike manner, and almost despite himself, shrilled a curious assent.


    "I am going to saddle you." He jerked a thumb at his own back. "As you can see, I''m wearing a pack, for the exact same purpose. It''s a more comfortable way to carry something. I''ll take the saddle off when we''re done, and I''ll also show you how to take one off." He picked up the oversized saddle, as the griffon was significantly larger than most horses, and the griffon watched closely as he set the blanket on, dropped the saddle, and cinched it tight with the griffon''s reluctant approval.


    He also fixed two greaves along the raptor-like forelegs of Darkbolt, who chirruped unhappily at them, while Errant''s Disk folded up in leaves and went back into his Masspack.


    "Say ''lion''," he said calmly, stepping back and crossing his arms.


    Darkbolt chirped something, and there was a flowing golden light. His raptor''s forelegs transformed into the muscular legs and paws of a great lion, matching those of his hindquarters.


    Darkbolt squawked in alarm, bouncing up and down, lifting up one paw, then another in surprise and fascination.


    "Try running and jumping around. You''ll find them much more comfortable for walking then talons," Errant said patiently.


    Darkbolt did just that, prancing back and forth for a few minutes, sprinting fifty yards, leaping to and fro, dodging back and forth, finding the experience interesting. Indeed, it was much easier to get around like this on the ground.


    "Say ''eagle''," Errant told him, and a shriek later, his talons were back as they were before. Chirps and shrieks interchanged as Darkbolt watched his forelegs change back and forth.


    "Now, let me get up on you." The griffon didn''t move as Errant fluidly set himself up into the saddle. "Now, I''m going to speak a terrible truth to you, which you already know." He pointed back to The Camp. "Griffons can''t fly." The griffon looked back at him with a turn of his hand. "If you don''t believe me, go forty yards that way. Nothing that uses magical means to fly can stay airborne... not griffons, not pegasi, not dragons, not manticores, giant bats, or whatever. But a simple, ordinary bird has no problem flying there."


    Darkbolt protested the unfairness of it, but looked away. All the Griffons had experience with the fields, Sama had insisted they know what it felt like to be in one of them. It was frightening being forced into a power glide that barely slowed their descents...


    "What this means is that you are magical, especially your wings. And Heavenbound can share their Whim with their mounts." Errant shifted his position as he concentrated, sending a flow of Wrath down his tailbone.


    Darkbolt jumped five feet into the air at the sensation, his great dark wings snapping out in alarm... and they were sparkling with golden light in between his feathers.


    "First application of Angel Walk, Light as an Angel. Jump for as much height as you can."


    Darkbolt obligingly tensed down, and with a shriek bounced for altitude.


    The shriek became a little wild as he shot up, nearly weightless, over a hundred feet above the ground in only a second, far, far higher than he expected, in only a single beat of his wings.


    He felt like he weighed nothing. Shrieking in glee, he beat his wings, and his body bounced around like a fledgling.


    -Come to a halt, and put your feet down,- Errant /told him calmly in Marktell, now that they were touching. The Marked griffon looked at his mental image, and there was a ripple in his mindset as he beheld the burning purity of a Senior Heavenbound. Errant wasn''t Sage Sama, but there was something both grim and glorious behind him that she didn''t have.


    Heaven...


    He looked down, his dark wings aglitter with gold, and found himself standing on the air, faint golden mist curling away from his feet. Hesitantly, he paced forwards, and found his progress sure and easy, the air like a steady road under his claws.


    Slowly, he picked up speed, wings out to glide, kicking forwards, moving faster and faster with ease, no effort behind the motion at all.


    -Angel Walk. As long as I ride you, you can walk on air, and hover endlessly as a result. You can also stand on vertical surfaces... see that section of the Ring? Go land on it.-


    The mental instruction was clear and precise, and Darkbolt went winging down in delight, feeling his increased agility and speed. He pulled up at the sheered-off section of stone, set his feet against it, and found himself standing easily on the cloven stone face at a ninety-degree angle. Errant, still on his back, was also perfectly fine, not dragged down.


    The griffon turned a few circles, careful to keep most of his feet on the stone at all times, his tail swishing as he pondered the odd view from this angle.


    -Makes for good hunting ability, flatten against a tree or hill, waiting for things. And even works upside down. -Darkbolt squawked enthusiastically. -It works on water, too. Go head over to the Worm and try it out.-


    Eagerly, the griffon did just that, winging the half-mile or so there fairly quickly, taking the long loop around the Wards of The Camp. He swooped down upon the translucent silver waters and alighted atop them easily, sliding a bit, but the waters were heavy and barely stirred up under wingbeats and his landing.


    He pranced around a bit in interest. He would never have to worry about drowning like this, would he?


    -No. If you find yourself underwater, just activate it and you''ll go right to the surface... and it''ll dry you off, too.- Darkbolt was naturally delighted to hear that. Griffons couldn''t fly if their wings were wet.


    -Get some altitude, and I''ll show you a power dive and pullup you won''t believe.-


    Impossibly light, he shot into the air, soaring a thousand feet into the sky in mere breaths, feet pawing at the air to move straight up in a vertical without effort, heart pounding at the speed and power of the ascent.


    They were a mile in the sky within a minute, an impossible rate of ascent in any normal circumstances. Who needed thermals?! Just have a Heavenbound!


    -Now, dive, and don''t pull out. Trust the Heavens!-


    Darkbolt screamed his eagerness, and dove.


    Six gravities surged, and they dropped faster than any stone ever. Golden flames blazed around his head, and the wind howled past them as they built up speed, incredible, how fast, curling into a dive, the ground was coming up on them, and the anthem was soaring in his head and he didn''t pull up, he knew if he tried to brake at this speed, his wings would rip right off.


    Faster than an arrow, they dropped down from the skies. Anything he hit at this speed would likely kill both him and his target. The ground was leaping at them, how fast, never so fast ever-


    His head was a foot from the ground when the Arms of the Angels caught them and dispersed all their momentum in a ripple of light.


    Darkbolt called out in disbelief as he reached out and landed gentle on his foreclaws, the rest of his body falling softly to the ground and alighting easily there.


    -You cannot crash while a Heavenbound rides you!-


    Darkbolt''s heart beat crazily with the thrill and the release. Speed! Safety! Agility! He thought it was the finest flier in his crown, but what did he know? This, this was what it meant to soar in the heavens!


    -Would you like to fight with me, Darkbolt? We will soar over the world, and show them the power of Heaven!-


    The griffon screamed his ready assent to this. Great lands spilling forth before them, soaring with the heavens behind him... what more could a griffon ask for?


    Errant''s mere thought turned his head to the Rift nearby.


    -A Warlock must fight, and a Heavenbound even moreso. We must be blooded, and learn how to fight together, and no better way to do exists then to pit ourselves against the creatures of the Warp. Are you ready to fight?-


    Darkbolt shrieked enthusiastically. Glittering wings spread, and he picked up speed, prancing ahead, kicking off, and shooting across the ground, only a few feet above, hind legs driving him forwards at an increasingly fast clip. Errant nodded at nothing and limbered Grace in her scabbard. His sister and the girls were getting ready to fight with the Jadeiron Company, and he''d be joining them in the battle.


    With Feist watching over the girls, he wasn''t worried about them. The hyn Master was a deadly foe, and the girls had proven themselves repeatedly to be canny and instinctual fighters. But a battlefield was different from an ambush or a delve, and they needed this kind of experience as well.


    They''d cover the miles in just a couple of minutes. The Warped were about to get another unwelcome surprise, courtesy of Heaven...

 201 Chapter Two Hundred and One – Call the Exterminators...

    The three of us stepped into the opened zone, and came to a halt at almost the same instant.


    "Well, that''s clever," Briggs mused aloud, Endure on his shoulder as his pale violet eyes scanned the buildings around us.


    They were overgrown with vines and plants and things, but there''d been some resistance from the stone streets, so the growths were shallow, basically rooted in moss and decomposed leaves. Still, the buildings were in surprisingly good shape, although showing signs of some explosion, eruption, or just plain age in their slow decomposition and the fact some of them had crumbled here and there.


    Remarkably clean, too. No visible signs or hints of danger.


    "Damn, isn''t it? Sure gets them a conga line of munchies. No wonder the Hags didn''t have much to worry about," I agreed.


    AA''s Helices swirled out, ancient black and grey, and seemed to caress some invisible lines in the air, which became momentarily visible as the living tendrils of his Helix draw swept through them. He looked back and forth with his crimson eyes. "Can you see them?" he wondered.


    Mine and Briggs'' Masks activated with a surge of Essence flowing into them. Seeing the Invisible was the Mask of Clarity Mastery/3 alternate power, past Deva- and Devilsight. My black and white pattern contrasted nicely with Briggs'' more robotic/faceless warrior one, making it look like he''d donned a visor with only one cyclopean white eye glowing in the middle of his forehead. Very intimidating.


    "They are all over the damn place," Briggs informed him, eyes white in black now, same as mine from Devilsight and Devasight. "I count at least fifty, and needless to say they are coming in our direction."


    The sky was grey-blue, swirling with temporal wishy-washiness and the intrusion of the world behind, but it looked totally open all the way around.


    If you could see invisible or ethereal items, or where the stuff was anchored, it was quite a bit more crowded.


    Because every damn place everywhere was festooned in massive, wrist-thick spider webs.


    "Well, start killing them, then," Ancientyaxe groused. "How much for me to get one of those Mask Tats?"


    "The inks run about 2k in comps, but you have to Karma them up yourself," I said, snagging Tremble and switching her to Firephasing. "They use the Weapon table, so getting them to Five is fifty k-days. You can fight-Invest because they are a Tat."


    He grunted, actually understanding all that, unlike 99.999999% of this world''s inhabitants.


    Endure was in fire mode too, and the incoming spiders, all of them with bodies bigger than a horse, and legs going out much, much farther, paused for a moment despite themselves.


    And then we began to shoot them down.


    A mental touch was all we needed to coordinate. AA got everything within sixty feet, the limit of his Helix sensory capability. Briggs took the right, and I took the left.


    He didn''t bother to throw the Hammer, just the Sharding, a big burning hammer shooting out as he swung it, and slamming into the nearest ether widow, the black hourglass on its crystalline white hide clearly visible as100+ points of fire damage plowed directly into its face and popped it like a steaming egg, even though it was still ethereal.


    A Banestar swirled its way into the face of another on my side, spurted out its back. AA swept down with Zeitgeist, and a crescent cutting arc shot out, equal parts wind and force, and chopped halfway through another one.


    Naturally, all the ethereal webs in the way lit on fire, even if they were ethereal. Banefire really doesn''t care.


    At first, the spiders were incensed. Ether widows are intelligent spiders, and there were rumors of web-cities of them on strange worlds and deep in the ether, where they waged war on formian ants, bee-people, thri-kreen, manscorpions, and other intelligent races of insectile creatures.


    Supposedly there was a section of Strife devoted just to the unending cycle of eating one another that the insectile and arachnid races indulged in.


    As rapidly as we could swing our Weapons, the spiders died. They were shocked first at being seen, then at being hit, and finally at being one-shot. After all, they were far bigger and stronger than normal members of the giant spider family, used to snatching up intruders and dining on them out of sight of the main road by materializing the huge webs around their enemies and attacking from all sides. If they were too numerous or powerful, the spiders just let them pass.


    The three of us were instead butchering them right out the gate, and in passing, their massive spiderweb was coming down.


    I''d already conveyed all of this to the people behind us, who were creeped out by the idea of hundreds of giant spiders and a web big enough to swallow a small town covering the very sky above us.


    On the other hand, Fido and Shirley were already bounding up here to do some serious house-dusting, totally unafraid of what the giant spiders might do.


    We all felt the impact of multiple great legs coming down, and when the massive sword spider hove over a wall and got ready to come down on us with its glistening black barbed and razored legs, a scything Glaive-crescent showed it the tenor of the age, and ripped it apart instantly.


    The ether widows did have time to run, as our range didn''t cover nearly the range their web did. On the other hand, we were burning that web down around them, so if they went up, it was collapsing about and under them.


    Now, they were in the Border Ethereal, like ghosts, immaterial and coterminous, able to ignore many materials and move through them. They couldn''t actually attack us without materializing themselves, nor could they flee beyond the confines of the zone due to the temporal and dimensional distortion, they''d probably be ripped to shreds by planar pressure. They also couldn''t go below ground, so that left them going and hiding in the houses and buildings, trying to get out of our line of fire.


    Shirley and Fido came up to the edge of the zone, and did a very light set of One-Two''s. One target only, not cones. The fires and rime were oddly transparent and ghostly.


    Heh heh heh.


    By the logic of being elemental creatures who could breathe out monstrously powerful Cones of energy, why couldn''t they breathe out monstrously less powerful Rays instead? While they were swimming around in the elemental energies of the Yin-Yang pond, they were practicing changing the form of their breath weapons constantly, with Marked Casters demonstrating spells in Marktell to give them some guidelines and examples to go by.


    As a result, they now had five different forms of breath weapons they could use, which was not a welcome surprise to these spiders.


    The first and least powerful form was the equivalent of a Fan, a short-range swathe of fire or ice. Not powerful... but they could use it constantly. They could also instead concentrate it into their bite for a powerful discharge of energy in combat, if they so desired, just like an Energy Grasp spell.


    The second form was a Ray, turning all that energy into a single target attack once every twelve seconds. Given how powerful they were, that was a 12d6 directed energy touch attack to the face, bound to be enjoyed.


    The third way was a spattering of small exploding balls, minute meteors of energies that exploded every which way. They weren''t individually powerful, but when they came flying out at one a second for eighteen seconds, with the same amount of time before being used again, they could create some havoc.


    Alas, no spitting exploding fireballs of great size...


    Fourth form was the classic Bolt AoE, five feet wide, a hundred feet long, recharging every twenty-four seconds. The fifth was naturally their natural Cone attack, with the thirty-second recharge.


    They were naturally bursting to make use of Metamagic Spell-Like abilities to grant additional power to their breath weapons on demand, and learning how to use them to power other effects, and were more than happy to collaborate with the Casters of the Ironblood on joint uses. Charging up a Fire Caster''s fireball with a little extra Hellpoodleness hello-how-are-ya got sinister little giggles all around...


    The ether widows were getting the hot and cold end of the Ironblood''s universal loathing of incorporeal creatures. We hated the way they ignored armor, hated the way they used status effects, hated the way they moved through walls to surprise attack, and hated the way they did the same to run away or avoid retribution.


    Ghostfire and ghostrime were indeed a thing.


    Spectral fire pushed along the Veil, and right through material walls, burning and freezing its way through the ether, doing no harm to material objects. However, this meant that the spiders trying to find cover from our attacks literally had no cover.


    Hell Hounds are infamous for their visual perception, and can see invisible and ethereal objects as casually as humans see normal things. Fido and Shirley could see these spiders everywhere within their range, and simply began to alternate breathing on them with punching Rays of fire and frost.


    From their collars were hanging six different Baneskulls apiece, adding a nicely somber air to their immaculate poodle-do''s. The lads had been happy to contribute them to the cause, and Vermin from the Dichromatic Plains were definitely among them.


    They began to pick the spiders off heartlessly. The Rays burned holes right through them, or froze their thoraxes and blood solid. Burning, shriveled cow-sized spider corpses floated here and there, while others were stiff and unmoving as the hellpoodles, the Fire and Ice of the Ironblood, went to remorseless work killing off the spiders that escaped us.


    Of course, we were drastically thinning the spiders out, and fiery swathes were burning down their big web, much to their dismay. Whole sections of the gargantuan web were collapsing, and as they did, ethereal mounds of bones and shriveled corpses, literal hills of them, materialized in, on, and about the stone buildings, crushing some and starting several collapses.


    I''m talking hills, fifty to a hundred feet high. These spiders had been preying on stuff coming out of the inner part of the city for a long, long time, which, given their numbers, was not all that surprising. There was enough prey to sustain so many of them...


    Alas, they couldn''t get away, and they really couldn''t get close. Briggs and I were killing one every two seconds up to a hundred and fifty feet away, and AA doing the same if they got within sixty feet. They were trying to reach us ethereally, maneuvering around their webs, and weren''t able to gather in sufficient numbers to do so before they died... and then the dogs came up and added to their problems, Rays crossing the Veil to pick them off wherever they fled to.


    Some actually decided to materialize to escape the dogs, popping inside buildings and houses out of line of sight. The poodles naturally noticed these malcontents who dared to not die helplessly, and their locations. It was a great excuse to set the stone on fire and collapse the buildings on top of them as they froze and shattered.


    Ex-Nessian and Canian Warhounds are no joke.


    I noted to the people we''d left beyond that the wealth of hides and ivory here was incredible. The place was already at a quarter normal time, time on the ethereal was a tenth that, so the corpses of the magical creatures these spiders had been slaughtering for years were still in pretty good shape.


    There were shouts from behind as eager berserkers raced after the North Wind to wipe out the last of them and harvest poison and web glands for me, and maybe get stinking filthy rich on ivory power comps for their Gear...

 202 Chapter Two Hundred and Two – White and Red and Black and Green All Over...

    Verd, Veis, and Amber had been in many, many combat situations.


    They had done a lot of sparring against other humans, humanoids, and their pets, especially on the little missions with Feist that Haz¨¦ had dropped them off on.


    Then had come the more exciting minor missions for the Void Brothers, where they ran into things that were very magical and which brought up coldly chilling memories from the depths of the Ritual of the Silver Queen, recognition and an enmity that went deeper than bone.


    Their work in Zynozure with Errant, especially the stuff going deep, had involved more and more dangerous versions of this, necessitating ever more caution... and greater rewards.


    And now... everything they had fought before was standing right across from them on an open field.


    Feist was standing before the three girls, up on his Disk, watching the Warped anthros coming towards them with indifferent, deadly calm.


    The girls had been in some larger scuffles, but they had never been on a true battlefield, where thousands contested in life and death, and one didn''t run out of foes in a mere handful of breaths, nor was there an easy place to retreat to.


    This was a place of cooperation, of trust in the blades beside you and the orders of the officers who commanded you. Your willingness not to run could be the lynchpin that decided the battle.


    The girls stared at the creatures coming towards them, reading them, realizing that these were mutated former humans, servants of the Warped devolved to bestial forms, blind in their faith and ''gifts'' of their masters. Their souls were already lost, promised away for ephemeral blessings and zealous fanaticism, ignoring the fact that all that the Warp Gods gave them, they could have gained for themselves.


    No one knew better the value of their soul then a Hagchild. Giving it away to entities who valued them not at all stirred a deathly cold fire in them.


    "Missiles," Feist ordered calmly.


    The Quiver on Verd''s back disgorged her Bow, while Veis and Amber drew theirs from the holsters at their sides, deCompressing from Hand size to Light crossbow size, as did Feist.


    "Pick your targets," he ordered, as they looked over the ranks of Rockborn Spears in front of them. Around them, other arbalesters got ready, more Autobows rising and getting ready as they pointed at the sky. There was a scream of harpies flapping their way over, but they were just target practice if they stayed up there. However, winging in from the side was something moving very fast that was really going to give them a bad time...


    Their Autobows had seen more action then those of the Dwarves, and despite the Rockborn having much bigger Heavy versions, their ranges were the same. All of them had Archer Levels, after all, and hadn''t been reluctant to feed their Weapons.


    A drum began to beat in their minds, as the Cantor of the Dwarves thundered through on his drums, a rhythm and beat deep from the heart of the Land, driving them on with the knowledge their ancestors were behind them and their hearts were one, giving everyone a cadence and pattern to fall into.


    Lines of Rockborn, Gnomes, and even a striker force of vassal Ancients began to pivot and move, posturing up as the Warped closed in. Healers made ready, while the x-sprits of the Autoballistae began to thrum and hurl out dark and heavy loads into the distance.


    Bleating and blaying forms kicked over, impaled by hungry javelins. The great horned cyclops rose up from behind the anthros, hefted its Runeball, and keen-eyed gnomes watched and waited for the thing to be hurled out. Quick fingers and Mass Dispersal spells were ready to render its weight down to a feather and make it useless.


    The ballistae re-angled to the new target. The brute would be down in a minute or two to the six autoballistae, but the fight on the line would begin before then. The bloodthirsty braying and howling of the Warped was already reaching them, but nobody cared, listening to the pounding drum gathering all the impetus of history and raising it before them, and the orders being barked in curt dwarven through the Marktell, clear and precise in intent and meaning, no ability to misunderstand.


    The enemy''s centaurs were also unlimbering powerful bows, motile horse archers that could be extremely annoying to face... not that the shielded and armored dwarven spears cared. Those centaurs were going to learn a deadly lesson about the range of heavy crossbows, and the firing rate of autobows.


    Targets were dribbled out, the arbalesters oriented, and the silent command came.


    There was no sound on the dwarven side, no calls to command, no deep singing, no pointing and shouting. Only silence, everything in Marktell, and the arcs of the first volleys shot out at their still-distant targets.


    The Rockborn were firing salvos, but the girls and Feist were aiming calmly, keeping their own target picks tight. Dark bolts of glassy material, trailing Banefire from borrowed Skulls, arced out and slammed into the middle front of the anthro lines. Two of the creatures were jerked off their feet with startled bleats, opening a hole in the rather loose lines that had to be quickly filled by those trampling over the ones in front.


    They racked hard, lined up, fired again.


    The two goat-headed sots moving up into the opening jerked and fell as the quarrels hammered into them. They racked together, aimed together.


    The centaurs were just approaching their range when the flat trajectory of heavy quarrels came buzzing in and scythed through them. Garbed in little more than some loose hides, they screamed and crumpled by the dozens, shocked at the driving power of the shafts. Still, they rode up closer, as they knew the reload time of heavy crossbows meant they might take a pounding volley, but they could ride out of range before the next volley went off.


    Their own arrows had just taken to the skies when the next Rockborn volleys went off, and needless to say, they weren''t out of range.


    They howled in disbelief as the bolts ripped through them, and turned to flee.


    They weren''t happy to inherit a third, more arcing volley in their backs before they could get out of range, either.


    Some centaurs came riding up on the flanks, easily screened out by walls of long spears. They unleashed shots at point-blank range, and the tings of dozens of yard-long shafts bouncing off dwarven metal spattered like rain over the silent ranks of spears. Without a word being spoken, the arbalesters behind rose up, the long spears knelt, the shooters leveled their autobows, and also discharged at their taller enemies at point-blank range, punching the shafts deep into them with great bloody holes.


    The spears rose to guard the shooters, the crossbows were racked twice to pump the heavy sprits back, poised to lift, and the spears dropped as one, autobows aimed and loosed as the centaurs tried to react in time, and their screams preceded their bodies tumbling to the ground at the flesh-punching impacts of the bolts.


    To the left of the girls, the gnomes were using their own autobow variants. Being mechanically inclined and renowned for their gearsmithing, they naturally weren''t satisfied with just the power of a rapid-firing crossbow. Their weapons were lighter than the dwarves, but they had gone with a repeater variant, meant for closer support of a battle line, and could fire two bolts in series before pumping twice. It allowed them to capitalize on breaks and unready targets.


    The whole corps of gnomes was standing on folding seats and flat boards, getting them up higher than the dwarves standing in front of them, who were almost a foot taller. With all those Spears in front of them, the gnomes could and would fire with near impunity... especially at anything that looked like it was going to throw something at them.


    The anthros had elite troops, of course: seven-foot tall fanged gorehorns, ogre-sized minotaurs, and two hulking greathorns, twelve feet tall and massively overmuscled. They had horns and claws and fangs and hooves, were tall, strong, and brutal, painted all over in weird patterns, with skulls and teeth bracelets and trophies dangling about them.


    Unfortunately for them, the dwarves just didn''t care.


    The minotaurs and greathorns wanted to run right up into the dwarven lines, counting on the crude but heavy plates of their armor and their own strength and thick hides to punch into the lines of longspears. If they had been facing individual dwarves, they probably could have done so.


    But, just to get into range of their axes and clubs would bring them into the range of two layers of gleaming Spears. If they wanted to plow in like bulls with their horns and toss dwarves in every direction in bellowing fury... three ranks, a minimum of six planted longspears... all of them with the hard silver edge of being Soulbound.


    The gorehorns crashed into that hedge of death in their frenzy, and were impaled and killed before their own shorter weapons even came into range. Instead of trapping the weapons with their corpses, the Spears suddenly shrank to a mere yard long instantly, letting the corpses fall, and as the second rank impaled the next wave, the first rank shot out to full length once more, driving into the unprepared third wave behind.


    The losses of the Warped beast-men mounted quickly...


    The minotaurs and greathorns found that they were big, wide targets, attracting twice as many Spears at their size. One or two they could strike aside, but six planted Spears was enough to defy even the rumbling mass of the first greathorn that came barreling in, head low and horns glowing with bloody Runes to reap and slay.


    The first two Spears were struck aside with its club, but there were four more planted, dropping to meet it, and punching into its shoulders and neck as it bellowed at them... and the boar-stops slammed into its bones, the Energized aluminum shafts flexed, driving deeper into the gritty grey, blood-soaked earth, and forced the huge minotaur up, up to its full height. Over a foot of spearheads were buried in its flesh, the metal shafts bending at its weight and strength.


    The retracted Spears of the front pair of Rockborn coolly shot upwards into its throat from their advantageous position, butts slamming on the ground and reaching right up into its skull as they finished the job the dwarves behind them had started.


    One of the ballistae behind them discharged, and the driving bolt blew the hulking corpse back off the gleaming Spears, sending it crashing down on the shrieking gorehorns behind.


    ------


    None of the mutates wanted to get into the opening the girls had forced in their lines, as they were quickly shot down, even before they could hang themselves on the dwarven Spears. The dwarves all noticed it, and there was a subtle shifting in the Rockborn lines, helped by leaving some corpses hanging to block their view.


    The gnomish infighters streamed past the rear ranks of the dwarves behind the four, Rockborn shifting sideways just enough to let them slide past.


    Feist and Veis took the middle, Verd and Amber took the sides. Behind them, the gnomes capered in with deadly little smiles and gleaming eyes, kukris held chop and stop pattern like wingblades, and they all suddenly drove into the mass of beastmen.


    Veis and Feist were below their line of sight, just like the gnomes, and hacked and stabbed with crippling blows to groin, knee, and hamstrings. Beastmen bleated and collapsed, and kukris chopped into throats or plunged into eyes as gnomes scampered past.


    Verd was stabbing and cracking, her Spear Hedge alternately acting as staff, glaive, or piercer, chopping down legs and bringing them down into the remorseless kukris of the gnomes. Heart-thrusts stabbed out, widening the road the gnomes were pouring into and past her, and then she was plying her Spear above them as the mutates brayed and tried to forestall the stream of undersized death that was cutting them down.


    Amber just put on a display, distracting the mutates from the real threat of the gnomish infighters, killing with Style, her Rose-style Rapier. It was a flicker of burning motion, never more than three inches of it committed as it sought out eyes, bellies, throats, hamstrings, and groins in whipping arcs of silver. She danced here and there through the press, her Thorn-dagger Style plunging in and out of inappropriate places with alarming frequency, in between blocking and turning spears, axes, teeth, hooves, and claws aimed in her direction.


    Behind the infighters, the dwarves moved, advancing smoothly, cracking the mutate lines, and Spears began to split them apart, hitting them from the flanks, and then from behind as the dwarves moved with almost magical precision to start encircling them.


    Getting cut apart from within and encircled from without, even the frenzied mutates began to panic and look for a way to flee. However, running a gauntlet of thrusting longspears to get away wasn''t a good way to stay alive, and presenting their backs to the waiting arbalesters willing to pick them off even less so...

 203 Chapter Two Hundred and Three – That Knight, Erran

    Errant hewed the head off the last of the minotaurs, and Darkbolt flung the corpse aside. Without pause, his Wrath lashed out and punched through a gorehorn, before splitting to cut down two more wounded ones fighting next to it.


    The harpies that came with this group hadn''t been at all prepared for a griffon-rider using Wrath, and he had cut them out of the sky, before turning his attention to the minotaurs who had decided not to charge pell-mell onto multiple Spears and were attempting to use the corpses of other mutates to force an opening.


    Him diving down into their flanks had really spoiled that idea.


    Wrath pulsed through him and down into Darkbolt, who trilled softly as the golden power mended his flesh of half a dozen spear wounds and one glancing axe-blow. In a couple minutes, he''d be fine. His beak and claws were coated in gore, but golden flames were slowly burning those away.


    The griffon was very aware of how convenient this was, of course. As long as he fled, or just retreated from fighting for a moment, his wounds would clean up and he''d be fine. It wasn''t like when he''d fought the dragon, when one claw and a tail lash had nearly killed him, rendering him unable to do battle!


    "You know to not eat them. Corrupting energies flow through them," Errant said, a mental nudge and knee sending the griffon prancing towards the nearest group of gorehorns who hadn''t had the sense to stop bleating and die yet. Errant''s Wrath ranged out ahead, most of it devoted to healing, but enough was left, combined with Bane and Purity and Soul, to have some serious punch behind it.


    With a call and an Oath, he reduced their healing to rip a Wall of Fire down the length of the mutate formation, a hundred feet of perfectly placed inferno that sent furred bodies tumbling this way and that as they were consumed, set others on fire, and generally played merry havoc with any semblance of a battle line they had left.


    Darkbolt jumped suddenly as a group of mutates threw javelins at them. Lion-clawed, wings gleaming faintly gold, he bounced away as if he weighed a quarter of what he did, while Errant let the Wall of Fire lapse away and that section of the dwarven Spears rolled over the hapless, doomed brutes.


    There was no way these hooved idiots could get away from Darkbolt, who closed on them so fast it seemed magical. The griffon smashed through them, ripping one''s head off and tearing open two others, while Errant swept a head off its shoulders and discharged the Wrath in Grace to burn through the skull of a second who was too close.


    Darkbolt went right, Errant turned left, and his Scepter Purity blasted one, forked into two others, and all three went flying back with holes through them. Darkbolt mauled the rest with savage abandon, Errant turning back to start killing and Cleaving on the griffon''s right side, who responded by moving through the press as quickly as possible to give him more targets.


    The mutates could only bleat, baaa, and flee. If they raised their javelins to throw, Errant promptly blasted them dead with Wrath. Darkbolt pounced on a few like a great eagle-headed cat, tearing them apart remorselessly, and then turned to watch the Wrath of Heaven pop them off in burning trios.


    ---


    Errant let up, let the healing come back and continue working on the griffon, while taking a look over the battlefield.


    The gnomes and dwarves had dealt with the Shaman of the tribe, the combination of ballista bolts and True Seeking a truly nasty combination, even at two hundred meters. Broad low magic combined with weapons could be just as powerful, used correctly, as mighty combat magic, and the two races knew that well. He''d''ve been happy to charge it and one-shot it, but no need. No demons were Summoned, and the Shaman''s magic had basically been Countered or Dispelled promptly upon casting.


    The hulking corpse of the horned cyclops was also proof of that. The lower-Level Gnome Casters had easily neutralized the power of its Runeball with casual Featherweights, bless their oversized noses, giving the ballista teams plenty of time to punch their loads into it. It had died without contributing to the battle at all.


    Truthfully, he wasn''t needed. The dwarven spear lines were practically impervious in real terms. The soldiers were heavy, strong, skilled, shieldplated, and disciplined. Their Spears were all magical, however lightly, and Baneskulls were abounding, harvested from the heads of the more powerful creatures,the dead''s own purified gold used to Infuse them in a slow but steady process.


    The only chance for the Warped would be an equally obdurate spear line coming to meet them, and trying to grind them out. Good luck with that, especially with a Heartsong Cantor pounding out a +4 to-hit and damage to every combatant on the field, and the perfect responsiveness and clarity of the Marktell for conveying orders. The Warlord on duty wanted to strut his own stuff, after all, but not having Sama''s power, was perfectly happy to let his Cantor contribute.


    These Mutates didn''t have a chance, and the dwarves knew it, which only further enhanced their confidence and resolve.


    There were losses, of course, mainly lucky hits, crits in gamer terms, the law of large numbers coming down and wagging a finger. But the Healers were on everything, the Healing Traps could save anyone who was not dead, and Healing Reserve could get anyone back to top physical shape within a minute, while Soak would return naturally.


    ---


    The last of the fighting was a big blob over there, and Errant sent Darkbolt loping that way, high-stepping and half-gliding along, picking up speed without actually exerting much effort with a striding hover. It was like riding a furry Disk.


    Yeah, the dwarves had the conga line going, forcing the beastmen to run the length of their Spears to get away through the single break in their formation... where the arbalesters were promptly shooting them in the back as they fled.


    The girls were in there, emptying out the middle with those steely little gnomish bastards, not much left for them to do as the Warped tried to get away, and the Rockborn politely put their hopes to rest. The Healers were moving in to attend to the wounded, and he dismounted smoothly, announcing to all and sundry that he was a Healer, too.


    Quickly he had a line of those not fighting moving up, with triage happening as they walked, the most wounded at the front. Using the Wrath to heal others was almost exactly like Healing Reserve, with glowy golden flames instead of cool white mist, putting his hands on them and letting the healing power of Heaven burn away imperfections, fixing them up.


    He quickly stopped a dozen of them from bleeding out, one after another, saved a couple eyes and limbs before they could further degrade, and then went back to the heavily wounded and started restoring them to the walking wounded. If they were quick enough, even severed limbs could be re-attached, the reclaiming of which was a priority when dragging away a wounded soldier from the field.


    He ended up reattaching four arms, a dozen fingers and toes... and three big gnomish noses, bringing tears of joy to the little fellows. The other Healers were equally hard at work doing similar things, while around them the battlefield was being rapidly cleaned up.


    The next group of Warped was already on the way, gathering up their numbers as they marched out of the Rift, and making ready to fight. Dwarven work crews and gnomish inspectors were scanning everything, corpses were burning vivic, and scraps were being gathered to be hauled off and dumped onto the increasingly large piles over by the Ring.


    Errant eyed the massive collection of weapons and armor that had been heaped up by the battlefield cleaners. There was enough there to supply hundreds of thousands of troops... because they came off hundreds of thousands of troops. The ground here had seen an incredible amount of repeated slaughter, vivus burning over it drawn away into the Obelisks, the blue sky extending this way, the Land feasting...


    ------


    His share of loot from the dead was dumped on his Disk by the cleaners, as they hastily vacated the battlefield so the next army could get into position.


    No defenses were allowed, be it pits, walls, stakes, fences, Wards, or mounds. Such defenses were excuses for the Warped to send more and more people, and were not worth the price that would be paid to keep them.


    It was nonsensical, but totally necessary. The Warped had outnumbered them two to one in this fight, and those numbers were only going to rise. It was kind of a compliment to the dwarves, showing that they were elite and the enemy was treating them as such. However, it didn''t take into account the power of the Marktell, the Marks, Soul Magic, or the Heartsong.


    The dwarves had chosen the subtler effects of Soul Magic. Boots to anchor them to the ground and make them much, much harder to move, or dark Gauntlets that increased the power of hands and arms, instead of crackling lightning about their Weapons. Feats to heal and toughen themselves up, too.


    They had stood, and they had held. They didn''t need a wall, because they were the wall!


    ------


    The emergency cases addressed, Errant joined the others in a quick evacuation from the field of battle. The elves were coming up, brightly colored, chanting a musical song that stirred even Rockborn blood, saluting dwarves and gnomes as they marched by.


    In a short amount of time, it would be them retreating bloodily from the field, getting saluted by the next to march up.


    They withdrew the full three miles to The Camp, making use of the plentiful Healing Traps there to walk all the wounded over them, and all the Healers gathered in the hospice at its center to treat the wounded. Others listened to the musicians playing the Healing Harps, getting back more Soak more quickly, while those who were lightly or not wounded at all reformed their camps and lines outside.


    Errant joined the healing effort, and wasn''t much surprised when the girls came traipsing up to him for some mending action.


    They had been involved in some very intense fighting, and all of them had multiple injuries. That obviously meant they''d blown through their Soak, Vigor Uses, and Combat Vigor, and even having Doc handy didn''t keep up with their injuries. Behind them, Feist looked fine, revolving that Tier Two Moon Dragon Healing Technique to restore his Health and injuries easily, and his Soak would replenish itself with time.


    Their Vajras had cleaned them up, so although their attire was a bit shredded, it wasn''t all that bloody or gory. As for the pain, well, their Con scores were all in the mid-20''s at least, and how could it compare to the Ritual? They just accepted it and waited for the healing.


    Nevertheless, all three were very happy to giggle when he took their hands one by one. They pulled in their Nulls, and the golden fires of Heaven''s Wrath washed over them. Cuts, scrapes, gashes, gouges, rips, and tears that sometimes went right down to the bone mended up, and they all sighed despite themselves.


    "If you go to the brownies, they can fix up your clothes so you don''t have to bug Haz¨¦," he winked at them. They were the last of his patients, waiting patiently until the other wounded were taken care of, so he got to his feet and walked away with them.


    They sort of rolled their eyes and looked at one another. "Tremble can fix them quick, too, big brother!" Veis chimed up at him. But of course, Tremble was rather busy right now...


    He made a face of acquiescence. "Are you all ready to go out there tomorrow?" he asked calmly.


    "Yes!" they all nodded together, grim determination on their faces.


    He glanced over at Master Feist. "Your assessment, Master Feist?" he asked calmly.


    "They''d do better as elite shock troops, skirmishers, or scouts," the hyn admitted firmly. "Then again, so would I. We are here to learn how to be something other then what is natural for us."


    "Goals?" he inquired of them.


    "Bracers!" the girls all announced, faces twisting. "We were getting hit way too much. If it wasn''t for our Crystal Shields, we would have had to run!" Verd complained unhappily.


    Errant had to chuckle. "You walked onto a battlefield with no armor, stylish clothes, fought through the whole thing, got your clothes a little ripped and your hair out of place, and you complain you were hit too much." He rolled his eyes theatrically. They were all sitting on at least DR 5/- and +4 Nat AC, hitting them was like hitting wood. Those little wounds he''d been mending on them would have crippled normal folks, especially women, who couldn''t normally use the Crystal Dragon disciplines.


    No such problem for Hagchildren...


    "Says the living target on a griffon jumping about like a rubber ball!" Amber shot right back without hesitation.


    "Oh, Darkbolt was getting hit way too much, too. If I hadn''t been healing him, he wouldn''t have made it beyond the harpies," Errant assured them. "He''s definitely considering the finer aspects of some well-made barding, but only the best will do, of course."


    "Of course!" all four of them agreed together, as that only made perfect sense.

 204 Chapter Two Hundred and Four – ... We’ve got a New Problem. Call the Lumberjacks!

    Flikflikflikflikflikflikflikchokchoksqueeeeeee...


    The blood mantis was huge, thorax well over my head, pincers the size of yataghans, and it was both fast and flexible. It stabbed down with its pincers, trying to impale me with a rain of blows, totally unlike the grab and crush it was supposed to be using... but effective, nevertheless.


    Until I chopped off both pincers, it drew them up and realized they were missing, just as I hopped forward and up and split it from head to thorax in irritation.


    I lashed out before I landed, and the Banestar flashed out to the ten-foot dragonfly buzzing around Briggs and demanding his attention. Compound eyes caught the motion and it barely dodged the streak of slicing energy that would have cut it in two... and unfortunately, Dodge Missile is a 1/round thing unless you''ve got the Mastery and can burn AoO''s off to dodge more, meaning Briggs'' hammershard ventured into its face and blew it into mush.


    He, in turn, spun and let go of Endure, which hurtled out and caromed into the side of the big slicer beetle that was stick-leg-dancing towards AA, who had just succeeded in blinding another dragonfly with his Helices and cut off its head. Big mandibles were nipping for a quick limb to pinch off and run away with, when Endure crashed into the side of the deer-sized bug''s head, lifting it off its feet and making it the subject of a smithing project, with a manor''s stone border wall playing the anvil. There was a wet crunch, and Endure zipped back to Briggs'' hands... just as he jumped five feet to the side and hammered down.


    The burrowing centipedal creature came bursting up right through the ancient stones of the street, looking to dig some gleaming pincer-mandibles into his guts. The next moment its iron-hard head crunched to the ground, deforming visibly, and everything within there squirted out of there.


    "Shit!" A dozen root-lances exploded out of the soil, and it was a damn thing I was so skinny, contorting myself around to watch the poisoned things zip up, nearly touching my cheek, and I circle-hacked with Tremble, cutting them all down as I jumped away, and then rolled my eyes.


    The ground caved in at my destination, and a big mouth down there yawned open, four tentacles writhing up in my direction, hungry for a meal, and not incidentally the dead mantis tumbling down in that direction.


    I slammed to a halt five feet above it on misting heels, spun and clipped all those tentacles, and then cut two, no three, banestars down into its mass, feeling annoyed and-whoop!


    You wouldn''t think giant locusts would be so aggressive. I counter-jumped past them as they came down at me, and as the pit gulper convulsed and died, two, three, four locusts in multiple parts crashed into the slope and fell down into its gullet.


    A swarm of moths spreading white dust, skull marks on their wings, flowed towards Brother AA, whose Helix swirled through them and Zeitgeist chopped down. The Swarm exploded into floating dust, which was blown away as the rhinoceros beetle charging Briggs was grabbed by its horn and thrown over his head, its short, thick legs scrabbling, and crashed through the cloud of poison dust, sending it everywhere.


    I pulled out Fall just because I was irked, and Sparkie popped in, grabbed his Skull from my Masspack, and energetically started zipping around shooting the smaller stuff. Some great worm thing heaved itself out of the ground, three feet thick and looking hungry, covered in and made of green stuff and wood fiber and nope, didn''t help it much when AA ripped it down the side, Helices and Glaive turning that cut into a withering, dying wound of ghastly power.


    Endure sent it crashing over on its side, shattering what it called a head, just to make sure it couldn''t turn and take a bite at the Brother. Briggs caught his Hammer as he arrived next to the beetle he''d thrown away and brought Endure down to stop its wild scrabbling and contorted attempts to turn back over.


    Something that looked half-lizard, half-centipede, and all ugly came racing through the undergrowth in serpentine, many-legged motion, bringing with it a couple friends. They all reared up as they got close to me and spat out this really nasty-smelling cloud of poison and acidic goo.


    Then I was past them, thanking them for presenting their necks, inhaling the triple dose of poison and using it to catalyze my Poison Healing and get rid of the blistering sores from the exploding stand of seed pods that had tried to turn me into a source of fertilizer for some new grenadier flowers a little earlier.


    Our mental communication was naturally faster and more accurate than any shouting, which would be drowned out by the crashing bugs humming, droning, shrieking, chittering, rustling, grinding, and skittering all around us. We all had versions of omnidirectional awareness, Briggs and I based around Tremblesense, and AA with his Helixsense. We noticed, we reported, we moved, we coordinated, and bugs and animate plants and whatever died around us.


    There was a lot of nasty pollens and seeds floating in the air we had to actively use our Vajras to keep out, and pretty much all the plants were poisonous to one degree or another, all the flying sap and little hooks on the leaves and squirting bulbs and lashing roots and exploding seed pods and poking thorns trying to invite us in to stay for a while.


    They didn''t seem to take rejection well.


    Now I knew why the spiders fed so well...


    -------


    They looked like reeds, but they were as sharp as blades, and seemed to hum around us as Tremble played machete and I ceaselessly hacked apart everything in front of us. Banefire reduced the stalks to withered scatterings on the ground, popping up from the ground like buried fireworks.


    There wasn''t any safe place in this area. Giant bugs laired everywhere, and where they didn''t, it was because the animated plants were there instead.


    The dimensional stretching was at least ten to one, we''d moved at least five miles and were only closer to the temporal barrier. The amount of killing that we''d done had been tremendous.


    It wasn''t like we could leave all these bugs to go flooding towards the food source behind us, i.e. the berserkers. So, we deliberately had to stir up trouble and attract the most active predators here to be butchered.


    The plants, now, they could have sat back and done nothing, let us trundle on past. But no, no, they had to get involved, too.


    Briggs hacked Endure in axe mode through a hollow trunk, wood exploded, and the quickwood quivered from roots to crown as he drove his shoulder into it and sent it crashing back.


    AA was just coming around the corner of a half-crumbled wall, and the truck-sized scorpion caught the crashing tree right on its main body, hammering it down to the ground and cracking its carapace.


    I was coming in the opposite direction, the van-sized wolf spider on my trail a bit startled when AA slid underneath it and Zeitgeist opened it up the long way. I inserted Tremble into a crack in the stunned scorpion''s shell as it made some effort to lift up the dead and burning quickwood, and fired off two banestars into important areas inside it. Plink-plink, Sparkie picked off two oversized glow-bugs divebombing me, which blew up in midair in a sticky, acidic mess, and Fall politely inserted two force-quarrels in a couple of lidless scorp eyes, just to be sure.


    Briggs splattered a dozen lightning bugs in a rolling double circle of his Hammer, and then hacked into a shambling mound of unusual (read: a small hill) size that was now without its I-love-lightning healers and size-boosters. It exploded into rotting plant matter in regret, and he sighed.


    AA spit a pig-sized tiger beetle racing at him at a mad clip, stepping back and letting it split itself apart on Zeitgeist as it went by, and also looked around.


    Cut off like a knife, this mass of green and daylight from a sun that had not changed its angle for the last six hours gave way to another barrier. Roiling clouds of temporal action at the far end were slowly shredding this moment in time, the cycle of day and night was about to go back to normal.


    "So..." Briggs asked, taking deep, long breaths.


    AA did the same, looking all around for signs of motion, listening for approaches.


    "Clear over here," I announced, hopping down from the tail of the bus-sized scorpion, where I''d just harvested its poison sac. "Oh, wait. Briggs."


    I threw out a banestar. Endure''s hammershard roared up behind it.


    Juking and jiggling like a ball on a string, the twenty-foot tall daddy longlegs dodged out of the way of my banestar, and moved right into the path of the hammershard. It splattered nicely, sending its torpedo-sized body flying away, and the legs at least thirty feet long after it, back into the trees and hanging vines it had come from.


    AA walked over towards the wall. Briggs was closest, and spun out his Disk to sit down with a sigh. The urkhar joined him on it as I skated over.


    "You can''t be not tired," Brother Ancientaxe glared at me.


    I screwed up my face, scratched my head. "Dunno. You think there might be some benefit to having a working 42 Con with the Endurance Mastery, or something?" I looked back at him, my eyes dancing. "And don''t you be thinking I didn''t notice you drinking that Elixir of Vitality."


    His mouth opened, closed, and he smiled ruefully. "Endurance fights are not the specialty of Void Brothers," he admitted.


    "I know. Slogs are jobs for big dumb strong me-not-think-go-hack types. Fortunately, a true warrior excels at all modes of combat, because mastery of one-shot kills doesn''t help too awful much when fighting a forest." I nodded much too seriously at him, and he chuckled again.


    He glanced at Briggs, then down our backtrail, which wasn''t actually too awful straight, but for some reason was missing a lot of trees in the way. Some of which were burning, with big clouds of toxic smoke that stuck to the ground and clung to the thick undergrowth. "Are you sure Lumberjack isn''t your chosen trade?"


    "I''m a lumberjack and I''m okay..." Briggs replied firmly back to him, keeping his voice flat. It was a bad idea to make Briggs sing.


    "He sleeps all night and he works all day!" I added on with a slow nod, and much more melody.


    AA looked at Briggs, then me, knowing something was going on. "Is there a joke here I am not aware of?" he asked slowly.


    "Ah, I don''t remember it all," Briggs admitted.


    "I do," I piped up, and Briggs blinked at me. "Dream is probably closer to Terra, so the Minstrel Levels grabbed a lot of the old music."


    He looked intrigued, despite himself. "Do you remember the skit?" I pursed my lips and looked up and around, and a big smile crossed his face. "You''re missing a hairy beard and some scones."


    "I recall there was a dance line of hairy brutes along, too."


    "Well, we definitely have the hair between the Brother and I, but I''m afraid that we''re off on the dance line." The bemused AA nodded agreement, having no idea what was going on... but he did have almost as much body hair as Briggs.


    "I guess I shall just have to make do without it." Briggs grinned wider, and AA looked interested, while I could tell Tremble and Sparkie were VERY curious. I let Tremble float, drew out her Scabbard, deCompressed it to full length, and held it out before me.


    "Well, the weather for the whole area..." (1)


    ---


    "That was totally ridiculous..." Brother Ancientaxe mumbled, and both Briggs and I agreed heartily.


    ===========


    1) Google the Lumberjack Song. Then imagine a half-orc Void Brother''s expression. Credit to the Mick for first bringing it up to me long ago, who''s not a lumberjack, but he''s okay.

 205 Chapter Two Hundred and Five – Back to the Rose

    Errant fought twice more out there, earning himself some battlespoils, and facing off against one of their champions wielding a greataxe an ogre might enjoy, clad in that stupid spikey dire harness, waving that Axe about like a willow wand and crashing it into him with abandon, mad joy, and lust for combat.


    He''d nearly split Errant open at one point, but then found out that Wrath pretty much went right through non-Energized armor, and his insides were reduced to ash. Errant than split the head of the big scaled dog with the anti-magic collar the bastard was riding on before it could rip Darkbolt apart, and the two of them sat there and healed together slowly as they watched the rest of the fight roll on around them.


    "You need to take you some Racial or Melee Levels, Darkbolt." He chucked the beaten and gnawed griffon''s jaw, and the big fellow could only chirp in agreement. That had been one nasty Axe...


    Sama was out exploring Yle Tyorm... although exploration probably wasn''t the correct word for what they were doing there. A shattered temporal space a couple blocks wide was ending up a mile or more across, and just absolutely filled with dangerous stuff they didn''t want streaming towards the berserkers and the North Wind... not that a whole lot of the stuff wasn''t doing exactly that.


    A hundred Ironblood and a few more Healers had been sent the first day. Then a company of elves and dwarves each arrived to reinforce them as nasty crap continued to flow out of the inner city.


    In real distance, the trio were maybe a half mile in. The amount of slaughter they were going through was unreal.


    He really wanted to be there, but he knew his place wasn''t there.


    Haz¨¦ blew in on a magic wind next to him, but did no spellcasting. Like the previous day, the dwarves were handling everything, and her sudden intervention would have been a fine excuse to suddenly inject some demonic fun into everything.


    She had already popped a Greater Sluggor earlier that day, serving with the knightly Orders during her turn on overwatch. The Void Brothers responding to the presence of demonkind didn''t have a chance before all those Shardrays reached out together and obliterated the crawling mass of pustulence from a thousand feet away.


    Everybody kind of looked at her differently now, imagine that.


    "Need help?" she asked, watching the dwarves pincer and rapidly hedgerow lines of armored Warped humans who were finding it hard to get to real fisticuffs, and not liking being groin-cut, hamstrung, and gut-ripped by the gnomish infighters, who were really getting a hardline reputation for their brutally efficient close-quarters work.


    Feist, of course, was just death on bare feet, totally outclassing anyone but a Champion... and as that Champion found out, if the girls were helping him, outclassed him, too. Between the distraction of Veis hanging off his antlered helm, Amber''s Rapier inserting itself into some sensitive areas, and Verd impaling his oversized fanged horse to force the initial dismount, Feist''s clean-up work had been pretty simple.


    This group had brought along a couple wyverns, which had kept him and Darkbolt occupied for a few minutes, but the advantage of ranged attacks was not so easily overcome, and Wrath-enhanced speed and maneuverability on Darkbolt''s side meant absolute advantage in the air. That fight hadn''t come to much, and then he''d swept down to hack into some horrifically mutated, soul-lashed abominations whose mass was almost enough to breach the dwarven lines.


    Purity had popped them into great stinking masses of vivic fire, and then the Company Commander, his physics-ignoring Axe, and his improbable Armor had ridden over with the anticipation of a good fight.


    "You need some healing?" she asked, holding up a hand as she hovered next to him. He sighed.


    "Four forty-point hits," he told her, shaking his head, and she whistled. "Yeah, I''m out of Soak. But the fight''s done, so no. Let''s head for the wounded." He tapped Darkbolt, whose limp was now gone, and the griffon paced quickly for the back of the dwarven lines, where figures in white were moving quickly from person to person, first saving lives, loading them on wagons or Disks, then healing them up further.


    Haz¨¦ was, of course, the highest level of Healer on the field, with her Reserve capable of giving back ten Health per round, as only a healing spell in Valence V could achieve. It generally took her no more than two or three rounds per injured person to get them back to full Health and send them off to reclaim their Soak.


    "You blew your Vigors that fast?" she asked, concerned.


    "I could have sniped those abominations from a safe distance, I suppose, but they died much faster up close and personal, and I didn''t want the dwarves sucking in the pestilence and corruption that long."


    "Generous." But this was a battlefield, trading time for injuries. His Damage Reduction took care of a lot of minor injuries, to the extent that he could almost ignore most missile fire, but Darkbolt wasn''t nearly at his level of innate defenses, as the griffon had quickly realized.


    It was too true. Pets and mounts, even at the level of a griffon, simply weren''t as tough as a Senior rider, especially a Deep Ten. His lack of armor meant his ability to avoid damage wasn''t quite up to where he would want it yet, given that a Warped Champion could beat him down that much in personal combat, but that Champion would have dispatched Darkbolt in seconds if the griffon had been his target.


    She eyed the Collar floating on his Disk, and the Champion''s Axe and helm. "Scalehound beats griffon?" she asked in interest. Darkbolt''s feathers drooped slightly. "Don''t worry. Invest the Karma, get bigger and tougher, and beat it down the next time."


    Darkbolt''s black crest rose in golden-eyed determination. That had truly been uncomfortable, being overpowered by the demonic scaled brute and its huge jaws. He chirped at Errant, who glanced his way.


    "Melee Level. Primary Weapon, IUS/Natural Weapons. First Technique, Profound Natural Weapons. First Training Technique, Toughness. For a Melee, those are based off Melee Attack Bonus, and yours is already high as a Magical Beast. You will notice a very significant increase in the damage you deal out.


    "Then take the second Melee Level, Weapon Spec in natural weapons, and Toughness Mastery/2. You''ll be on your way to badassness quickly. After that, take the Advanced Template. Your crown''s leader has that. It''s why he''s bigger and stronger than the rest of you. He''s just a superior griffon."


    Darkbolt called out excitedly. He could get that powerful? This was definitely the way he wanted to go!


    "Aye, kill powerful enemies, get powerful. It''s the way of the world." The griffon softly chirped agreement.


    "You will be leaving for the capital today?" Haz¨¦ asked calmly.


    "Aye," he said, patting Darkbolt. "Estemar has said he''d ride Darkbolt into battle, and help him advance. I''d like to take him into Zynozure, but I''m sure some mages would chop him up for his pinfeathers and blood, so there''s no way." Darkbolt made an irritated screech, and both of the young humans nodded back at him. "Yeah, the Empire is not a nice place, especially the city. Even having me around probably wouldn''t save you, too much greed in that place..."


    "Do you know why you''re being pulled back there? I don''t mind ''porting there to pull people out, but staying there until the Day..."


    "Heaven knows. But I''ll have faith and trust that I should be there."


    She was an Archtheurge of Sylune. She could only agree.


    -------------


    Teleporting back to Zynozure after finishing up helping with the healing was much easier, as he came right into the Temple of Sylune''s Star Chamber, where a bevy of attractive women in white and black soon clustered around the barely-teenaged Archtheurge who''d brought him in and kindly shooed him out of the way as they got to talking about important business.


    Smiling to himself, he quickly exited the lovely white building, built high enough to allow an excellent view of the Throned below, the ships traversing it, and the expanse of the waters around it; the truest heart of the Empire, the source of its lifesblood.


    There was probably something really bad going to come out of that lake, whose legendary depths were said to hold the tombs of ancient kings, and the burial ships of emperors consigned to its depths. Errant sighed at the view, and headed for the Temple of Aru.


    ------


    The Order of the Ruby Heart was nominally a Templar Order attached to the Church of Aru and enjoyed its unstinting support. Finding out that the Grand Maester had been killed and suborned by a doppelganger had sparked a dangerous fire in the hearts of the priests of the God of the Sun and Light, igniting a wave of martial fire that was filtering into the clergy all over the Empire.


    And then the Visions, Dreams, Messages, and Prophecies had started to quietly come in, with the kind of no-nonsense weight behind them that prodded them to start taking action. Word of the great fight up north, and of a new kingdom being founded there, a fight under the very walls of Yle Tyorm, made for a fantastic excuse to start taking action.


    He wasn''t involved in those movements, but he knew a great many of the acolytes and younger priests had quickly been dispatched to the north to get themselves blooded, guided by senior Priests who were quietly taking with them Relics and wealth of the faith, to preserve and to build anew.


    As such, there were far fewer young men and women around, and they were quietly thinning out by the day. What were left were men and women in their later years, who''d grown into their power and their faith, and who had made the choice not to run.


    The Sun was setting on the Rose of the Empire. More than once, he caught the elders of the Temple looking up and around, at this grand and brightly-lit edifice of light and hope, built by the faithful in adoration of their god and the bright future He held for them. The light from it could be seen clear to the horizon, a beacon to all coming to the Rose, even if that light faded away into the darkness eating at the roots of the city.


    They would be the last witnesses to the fall of the Rose, and the Temple of the Sun''s Promise, the heart of Aru in all the lands of the Empire, would fall with it.


    But the Sun would still rise, and these old men and women would see that the coming darkness would know the price of bringing down The Light.


    ------


    Three sets of silver eyes turned to look at him, and one set of grey.


    One was a young knight of the Order of the Golden Stag, who''d sought him out for training after a wandering Celestial had sponsored him to the Order of the Shield. The second was an acolyte of Flora, who was not Powered, and been offered a way to serve by a Harvest Angel, directed to come here before displaying her abilities. The third was a slender, hatchet-faced young fellow, his eyes burning with subdued outrage and rebellion, sponsored by an Ahren to the Order of the Song, and rather sulking that he had to wait on Errant''s return at all, eager to be about confronting the evils of the city with his new power.


    The last was a young woman, who had been sent to the followers of Aethra the Rider many years ago by a certain Archtheurge of Sylune, and had taken the path of an Amazon, which was a variant, special path of Warlock.


    He''d been training the Heavenbound when the news had broken, and left them to their devices temporarily while he headed north.


    The eyes that met him showed no fear, and that was good.


    "I have returned from the North, and the fight there," he told the four of them plainly, sitting down on a bench across from them. "I will ask you this straight-forwardly, and tell you the truth. If you choose to go to the North, I can take you there. If you do this, you will gain Levels quickly, if you remember what I told you about.


    "If you choose to remain in the city, gaining Levels will be less steady, and more dangerous. The foes we seek here are not right out in the open, and will tend to vary between very weak and incredibly dangerous.


    "I would have dearly loved to have the years needed to make you truly strong with the Angel Weight discipline. But we do not have that time, so we must seek strength the more direct way.


    "So tell me now, my Brothers and Sisters... what do you want to do?"


    +++++++++++++++++


    +++++++++++++++++


    Addendum: Amazons


    This is a self-invented ''Class'' inspired by DC Comics'' Amazons, the sisters of Wonder Woman.


    Amazons are considered a Warlock Class, because they empowered by divine energy and an Oath to serve the Goddesses who empower them. Like Warlocks, there is a hard limit of five hundred Amazons per Goddess per World (and it reduces the number of Warlocks they might sponsor), meaning their numbers are strictly limited. They are only found among humans.


    Amazons take twice the Karma to progress in their Primary Class. This is analogous to the Karma a normal Warlock would have to pay to advance their Warlock Masteries.


    Amazons are turned into genetically perfect humans once they take their Oath. They have base 18 in all Stats, no randomness at all, but can still pick their first level bonus, which is usually to Strength. That means that a starting Amazon starts at 21 Strength, as strong as an ogre, and stronger than any man is naturally, or four average men!


    This transformation alone means there is no shortage of would-be Amazons, as even the ugliest and weakest woman will instantly become tall, beautiful, and very strong! Indeed, the goddesses seem to prefer such applicants, as they know best what it means to be weak and ugly in a world dominated by men...


    For every Primary Level an Amazon gains, they gain a +1 bonus to Strength, and half that bonus to Con and Dex (i.e. +1 per two Levels). The rule of the DC Comic Amazons is that they vary in strength from five to ten times the strength of the naturally strongest men (Str 20). Five to ten times that puts them at a strength score of 31 to 36 at that top end, which is possible without any magical Strength enhancements at all for any and every Amazon!


    Thus, without ANY magical help, Amazons rapidly become stronger than any man, and even Powered tend to have to resort to extreme buffing to equal what they gain without effort.


    Amazons can gain a Vajra, but Soul Magic and Ki are not traditional avenues of strength among them, and will be shunned by most Amazons instinctively, i.e. they have no desire to investigate them. Those with Human Levels, on the other hand...


    Amazons are physically near-identical, with no more then a quarter-inch difference in body shape between them, i.e. they can all wear one another''s clothes. They are all right-handed, ambidextrous, have the same dominant eye, step forward with the same foot, and otherwise exhibit Cadence, able to move and interact with one another in perfect trust and harmony, like an elite squad of marching troops or dancers, all without effort. Seeing a few hundred warrior woman sprinting at you in perfect lockstep has unnerved more than a few armies...


    Amazons are restricted to traditional Amazon garb and gear, meaning unarmed combat, spear, knife, long and short swords, slings, bows, and glaives, shields, and light to medium armor. Given the choice between a bow and an automatic rifle, they''ll grab the bow every time. They can USE just about any weapon well, but they will ditch things like maces and hammers and axes at the first opportunity, even if they are magical. Likewise, they will ride a horse before a motorcycle, but if no trained horse is available, will make do.


    Amazons have no other magical ability, it''s all used for their Stat buffs and ''perfect state'', although, like Primos, they can still use magical items (they are not Forsaken). Thus, they advance almost always as a Melee combatant, with Levels in Archer and Scout taken secondary. The fact they are genius-level combatants with extreme cunning and strong personalities means that they end up looking down on normal human combatants who don''t have nearly the same Stat lines as they do, and tend to rapidly assume leadership positions among male-dominated warriors, often to the men''s displeasure.


    They tend to not take kindly to receiving orders from men who have not proven their superiority, which is quite the tall order.


    There are evil Amazons, sponsored by the dark goddesses, but they are not frequent in number, as the dark goddesses are more into witchcraft, poison, and intrigue, not fisticuffs. Such Amazons usually end up as temple guards or bodyguards to their priestesses, and have no influence. On the other side, there are whole nations led by the Amazons of Eryl the Storm Queen, and the various Good goddesses, led by Eryl''s daughter Aethra, the Wind Rider. Amazons of Eryl are guided to gather together and form nations, and Amazons of the other Goddesses usually sprout within those, guiding them away from pure martial sexism and conquest to higher purposes.


    While Eryl''s Amazons are neutral and friendly to all other Amazons, the conflicts between the Good and Evil Amazons are vicious, bloody, and impossible to rectify. As the Good Amazons tend to be much easier to get along with, this usually results in the Evil Amazons forming their own nations and societies, which generally end as conquerors, pirates, and slavers, despised by all their neighbors, and tend to exacerbate gender conflicts on all sides. The fact that Eryllian Amazons are far from unwilling to also engage in gender-based conflicts certainly doesn''t help matters, and even the Good Amazons look down on patriarchal systems.


    Amazons are all six feet tall, beautiful, and can only reproduce with the approval of their goddess, i.e. their purpose is like that of a Warlock, to fight, not to be a mother. They can reproduce parthogenically, i.e. with other women (magic involved, of course!), but if they chose a man, the daughter will always follow the father''s coloration, otherwise defaulting to olive-skinned, dark-haired, and dark-eyed.


    Amazons will only bear daughters, and those daughters will have a flat Stat line of 15 in all attributes, Amazon-born. Amazon-born''s own daughters will be normal humans. They only get the perfect Stat line if they swear the Oath, but unlike their mothers, Amazon-born can be Powered and gain Caster Levels, which means that the prominent Casters in an Amazon society are almost always the daughters of Amazons.


    Amazons have their own three Racial Levels, which effectively fits them ever more firmly into the trope of being an Amazon, i.e. strong, devoted warriors of their goddess, feeling completely secure in their role as the best warriors in the world. They notably lack much of the flexibility and versatility of thought of Amazons with Human Levels, as well as slowly losing understanding and empathy with normal Humans.


    Among themselves, True Amazons are Oathsworn Amazon-born who have taken the Amazon Racial Levels; Sworn Amazons are Amazon-born with Human Levels; and Sworn Sisters are normal Human women who have sworn the Oath and become Amazons. Sworn Sisters are usually much more common outside Amazon nations, serving their Faiths or goddesses directly, and their numbers are heavily biased towards the Good goddesses.


    Amazon societies, while lead by numbers of extraordinarily intelligent women, are also hampered by the conservatism of their own Oathbound nature. Thus, innovation and advancement of Amazon society is almost always driven by the Amazon-born or the Sworn Sisters with Human Levels, who retain the versatility and adaptability of their origins, while the True Amazons end up serving as defenders and martial leaders of the nation.


    ---


    Amazon societies are always defined by the horse or the sea. They will be either great horsewomen, renowned for their horse archers, or masters of the sea, renowned for their ships and naval warfare. An Amazon Empire will naturally be good at both. As the Patrons of Archery, Wind, and Storms are on their sides, this is quite natural.


    Thus, most Amazon nations are island nations, or occupy great plains as formidable leaders of light to medium cavalry. Since Amazon nations are by writ backed by the goddesses they are sworn to, there is always a strong theocratic element to their society, which is always goddess-dominated. While Good Amazons will respect the male deities, the Neutral and Evil Amazons tend to ignore them or disparage them outright.


    ---


    Amazons have a natural dislike of Hags, who come from literally the whole opposite end of the Dangerous Woman spectrum, and this carries over to Hagchildren instinctively. It is not something that they cannot recognize and overcome, of course.


    ---


    There is an analogue to the Amazons sponsored by certain male deities, whose role is more of Shield Maidens. They are called the Erhiar, also named the Valkyrie, Air Maidens, and so forth among other cultures. Valus is their primary sponsor.They have a rivalry with Amazons, but tend to serve singly instead of in groups, going from battle to battle to fight alongside heroes, instead of being the heroes.


    Because their assistance is often the difference between life and death, they are often called The Choosers of the Slain, i.e. they prevent heroes from being killed. Their role is more to inspire heroes to come forth, rather than BE the heroes themselves. In times of peace, they serve as god-approved messengers, trusted scouts, and inspire the warriors of the realms towards martial readiness in anticipation of the battles that will come.


    Warriors of Valus and Mithar will follow an Erhiar without batting an eye, assured of entrance to the Halls of Glory if they fall in the battle to come.


    As they watch over the souls of the faithful and guide them to valorous lives, Erhiar absolutely loathe undead, necromancers, and those who would profane the right of souls to proceed to their final reward.

 206 Chapter Two Hundred and Six – Wait, You’re GIVING us a Time Skip?!

    "You know, this is not nearly as fun as I thought it would be," Briggs commented, slumping down to a seat on a pile of fallen rubble. He kicked the head of a hacked carnoraptor out of the way with a sigh.


    "These should not be here. Their time is long past... something must have brought them up from dark lands lost to time below, or they were drawn here," Brother Ancientaxe mused, sitting down next to the Ancient youth nearly as tall and broad as he was.


    "Awwww, watsamatter, Briggs, you not get to dig into every hole and house and sniff out all the buried gold and ancient treasures that endured the millennia?" I asked him, skating over to take up my own perch.


    "Snake!" he pointed out. I aimed Fall and held down the trigger as a series of bolts flashed out, each one manifesting after the one before it hit. The thirty-foot viper coursing in on us had great holes punched into it, and couldn''t get into cover before the shots walked up its slithering diamond-scale patterns and blew its neck apart. Sparkie zipped over to pummel the head a couple of times and make sure it stayed down, its body writhing around on top of the T-Rex sized carnosaur that had somehow managed to survive here, and which Brother AA had opened up like a fish with severe disregard for its threat level.


    "I haven''t seen any real loot at all," he admitted, glancing around while barely moving his head. "I mean, seriously... there''s even been few coins fallen into the soil and the dirt." He took a long step, drove a knife-hand into the ground, and pulled up a badly weathered copper coin between his thick fingers. "I don''t know if someone vacuumed up the good stuff a long time ago, or it got burned away, or what... but we should have stumbled into something forgotten in a corner, and there''s been nothing but scrap too rusted away to be worth anything, and certainly nothing magical."


    AA nodded thoughtfully as Briggs sat back down. "That is true. This was a city of high magic. There should have been little magical trinkets and toys scattered here and there, a show of the city''s wealth and joy. I have sensed nothing like that. Moreover... I''ve not seen any collected signs of the city''s inhabitants, or a collective defense. Granted, the numbers of dead creatures may have obscured their bones and remnants, but there should have been some sign..."


    "Well, that all depends on whether or not something removed them," I pointed out cheerfully. "This was a big city, and that was a lot of corpses that didn''t get burned."


    "Are you saying that someone came in and looted the city long ago?" he asked, crimson eyes narrowing. "Who?"


    "Well, they would have had to be merciless, natives who could ignore the planar instability, magically gifted to sniff things out, inclined to dark magic, and, oh, probably with indefinitely long lifespans. Also probably experienced combatants, given the threat level of the native life, probably with knowledge of the powers behind the conflict so they could get into position... I wonder who fits that bill, who is known to be in the city right now?"


    Briggs grimaced. "The Hags?"


    "Uh-huh. Remember how Errant said he killed Zouma, a stormcrone, and she was a Legendary?"


    "Yeah, she had some incredible pool of Health Qi. He had to facepalm her into the side of an air chute for two miles or something to burn it all away," Briggs nodded. AA''s brows lifted in appreciation of the tactic.


    "Well, records on the stormcrone only went back about two centuries." I jerked a thumb towards the middle of the city. "What you want to bet she built up all that power in the middle areas. You don''t become a Legendary with a Qi pool like that without being around for deva''s years.


    "My personal guess is that they looted they city a long, long time ago, taking advantage of the temporal acceleration fields to do so, and they''ve been using the wealth to further their plans in the outside world. Just think of what it would cost to attract a Rift of that size here... and to set in motion what they are doing down south."


    "And they animated all the dead?" Brother AA wondered aloud softly.


    "They definitely had enough wealth to do it. Any mysterious runs on obsidian in the past five hundred years that all went missing?" I asked him.


    "I''m sure if you asked Brother Bonescythe, he''d know." He looked at the blue sky that was far in the distance, taking its old sweet time catching up to us.


    "We''re at twenty times normal chronology already, and some of the side zones are even faster," I informed him. The temporal shift didn''t stop my Marks, but I was thinking much faster than everyone outside, so it was like dealing with people in slow motion. Oddly enough, Tremble had no problem shifting her speed of thought, and was actually acting as an intermediary while I learned to do the same.


    Briggs whistled under his breath. "This place is a leveling dream... if you can handle the action."


    "Errant''s bringing in some Warlocks, knights, and Priests from Zynozure to take advantage of the accelerated time, and the North Wind is moving the wall up. There''s adventurers flocking to the place now, we let word spread. There''s no cash loot to speak of, but if you want Karma, this is even better than the battlefield... if you can take the monsters."


    "Grow in power or die." Brother AA was very familiar with the paradigm. "As long as they persist in the outer areas, and have good teamwork, they should be fine."


    "So, we''re two miles from the city center of the big hole, but we''ve traveled nearly a hundred." Briggs sighed. "It was nine miles after the first mile..."


    "You''re thinking what I''m thinking," I agreed, as Brother AA watched us. His eyebrow prodded an explanation. "It''s increasing at ten to the power in miles closer to the center. The next mile is going to be near a thousand miles long."


    "Ten thousand miles to the middle?" He was shocked, despite himself. It was like putting an entire world or more inside the ruins of the city!


    "I''m pretty sure we''re in the equivalent of a gestating new world here, and the Hags are trying to lord over and control it." I considered the implications. "This world won''t just go away when we correct the time/space around it, it''ll be shunted elsewhere... somewhere the Hags want it to go."


    "They either sold off the souls or are setting themselves up as creation goddesses of a new world," Brother AA said, his eyes narrowed.


    "And if the time acceleration is holding true, the next one there is a hundred times, and the one after that is four to five hundred. You can make some very, very long-term plans with that kind of time and nobody trying to stop you. Even just a year outside gives them centuries within to arrange stuff and make it happen."


    "They could have made an army and marched out of here, practically unassailable," Briggs noted aloud. "No way we''d be able to keep up with their numbers..."


    "The creatures that are born here are living on primal Qi in the air and at accelerated temporal wakes, drawn from the Ether and Dream. They will not last long outside of such conditions... a month or so at most, aging away quickly and dying. As we break the temporal walls, we essentially are bringing their doom," Brother AA said authoritatively.


    Well, guess the Land had its own way of dealing with those born under grossly unreal conditions.


    "Unless they can be forced into a new timestream that they can claim as their own, where the existing Land won''t suck away all the power," Briggs observed.


    "Or, more likely, the area can be sent to something really powerful as a snack or a breeding ground. But while Creation Goddesses is an option, I just don''t really expect it of Hags, however ambitious. The Curse simply will not let them become divinities. Like it or not, their power is founded on the Curse; it would buckle under the power of a Divinity, and their souls would collapse under the pressure."


    "The Hag Curse is very strong, but not enough to make a god," agreed Brother AA. "I had heard that one had become the Lord of a layer of Hell, but the power was not her own, and was taken away from her in the end, so that she might become the sacrifice for a true Lord to emerge. I think it was a hard lesson for the Hags... they truly cannot escape the Curse."


    "Whatever it is, it sounds like something we can''t let happen," agreed Briggs. "Is there really any way we can stop it, given the amount of time we have left?"


    "There are a lot of scarily competent people coming to the North, who we can throw into this area or the fight against the Warped... who have been sending out more and more of their troops in response to ours getting tougher and tougher, in case you didn''t notice. If we can set them up on clearing actions, using the time acceleration to our benefit... we can make the time we need by pressing in."


    "The time we gain is not equal to the amount of area we will have to cover," pointed out Brother AA. "The inner areas are going to be simply immense!"


    I snorted back at him, and pointed at Briggs with my thumb. "You didn''t notice?" I asked AA.


    He looked at Briggs, who looked confused. "I confess I did not?"


    "His Source field is disrupting the Primal Qi in the area. It''s like waving a big ''I''m an alien here!'' sign. Why do you think stuff is always finding us all the time?" I kicked the rock underneath me. "The only delay has been how long it takes them to get here. They can follow the path we are driving through the Qi in the air like a burning sign, and everything here is hostile to us because of it. We''re bringing the outside world, and they don''t want it here!"


    "Ah," both of them said together, looked at one another, and exhaled. "That does explain the sheer amount of slaughter we''ve been having to do. Everything really is trying to kill us, isn''t it?" Briggs murmured.


    "The herbivores may not be hunting us, but they are certainly hostile when they see us, as you noticed." We''d killed enough saurials, saurids, and saurs over the past virtua month to fill up a lot of meat lockers. And we might have tried different types of roast dino meat, from a purely investigative standpoint...


    "So, we have to get the people who hit a certain level of ability in here, and they''ve basically got to kill everything," Briggs said thoughtfully. "The loot will be shit, but they can make it up in Secondary Class Levels. That will also control the invading Warped forces, if the strength of those they face stay at a fairly constant level."


    I found myself screwing my face up. "I wonder what the Warp Gods would think, them being abandoned by the real fighters because they didn''t grant enough Karma quickly enough..."


    Both of the men burst out laughing. "Can you make it so? It will take at least another of my Brothers to work with a Null and Source to shatter the barriers ringing the city, and press inside," AA noted.


    "They''ll all be eager to take advantage of the temporal acceleration to grind up Levels. The problem will be having alternatives to them popping off any Greater Demons who show up. We''ve going to need clerics ready with Ritual Abjurations and stuff. I don''t think anyone wants to hack them down the long way."


    "We should bring Errant, Haz¨¦, and anyone relevant up with us, to take greatest advantage of the time acceleration," Briggs said thoughtfully. "Haz¨¦ might be needed to do many things, but if we''re working on a hundred to one scale... she can Linejump out of here, do the ''porting, and come back, and she''s still going to get 8:1 time usage or better, if everything is prepped for her to move."


    "And she''ll be moving stuff quick, because she won''t want to miss out," I agreed.


    "What of the Warped? Might they try to get involved in this?" Brother AA wondered.


    "To be honest, I hope they try. This place will grind them up like meat, they are even more alien then we are. It''s an entire world in here. We are literally over a hundred miles of hungry forest and hungrier critters away from them. They are walking buffet tables, and they will be attended to by cheap and opportunistic gluttons, as is only appropriate."


    "And we haven''t even run into any truly organized forces, aside from the spiders at the beginning," AA said thoughtfully.


    "Can''t expect that to last," grunted Briggs. "The Hags will need hands to do stuff, slaves to make them feel better and generate faith and power for dark Patrons. That inner area is probably going to end up a war zone."


    "At five hundred times normal speed," Brother AA mused, and his smile widened. "Ah, the irony."


    "Going in to stop the Hags makes us incredibly tough to fight the Rift. They bring the Warp in, yet end up strengthening those fighting against them," I agreed. "Who knows, it may be part of the plan. Odds are the Warp Gods can''t eliminate the Curse from them, despite all their promises, so the Hags don''t trust them, and don''t care if they fail, only that they got what they want."


    "And what do they want?" Briggs asked me.


    "They want power. It''s the only thing that matters, in the end, to something that is Eternal. Power to stave off death, to fight against those that would hold them to their misdeeds. Everything else comes to those with power," I stated with certainty.


    "So they got power from the Warp Gods... It is only for us to see what kind." Brother AA nodded. "We will need more bodies."


    "I''m arranging things as we speak." I looked back along our path. "We''ve got one Renewal per spatial shard to do this, you know." That was how long it took for the outer world to push away and collapse the spatial zone here. Given patience and willingness to clear the shards, we could actually clear the whole city together, something the Brothers had not been able to do alone.


    Even Brother AA twisted his face at my words. "That is a lot of time... but a lot of area to cover for that time."


    "Yes. We need more superbly ready bodies. Your Brothers are going to be needed, with a lot of other heroes..."

 207 Chapter Two Hundred and Seven – Story Background: Alignments

    (This chapter is background, not a story. Feel free to skip to the next chapter.)


    The forces of Good, Evil, Law, and Chaos represent conflicting profound forces that define the multiverse with their struggles and conflicts in the Power of Ten. As forces that profound, they exist beyond the gods, and the Divine could be said to be what they are because they represent minor tropes of different aspects of the alignments.


    A LOT gets argued about alignments when playing RPG''s. This is because it''s hard to pinhole people to an alignment... especially optimizers who want maximum benefits. Getting the rep of the Lawful and Good while being able to do anything you want, like the Chaotic and Evil, is basically what is pulling at people.


    The difference is that when people assign an Alignment to their character, they are saying they are going to play him that way. However, if they don''t play them that way, said people get very upset with their Dungeon Master coming in and saying, "No, you''re CN, not NG, if you''re stealing from everyone you can." In the interests of friendships and gaming, DM''s end up having to put up with the Lawful Stupid, the Stupid Good, Chaotic Arseholes, and all sorts of dumb variants of ''Alignment'' that have to do with keeping the game going rather than any sort of reason.


    However, in a literary world, the exact opposite is true. Players don''t get to just say ''I''m Neutral Good.'' No, Good and Evil exist on their own, they are not defined by the characters. Someone thinking they define what Good is, is the exact same thing as an ant screaming at the Heavens to stop raining. The Alignments exist in and of themselves. Your Alignment is how close you stand to them, proven by word, thought and deed. Your Alignment is the result of the choices you make, it is not what ''decides'' those choices, completely the opposite of what an almighty Player Character thinks.


    Thus, a story with real Alignments is dealing with fundamental forces as primal as gravity and light. They can''t be avoided or talked around. They are real and have real effects.


    However, this doesn''t mean that what any particular person believes is Good is ''good'', or that what is ''good'' is Good. In Earth''s own history, Law/Civilization was seen as inherently ''good'', while Chaos/Barbarianism was ''evil'', and indeed the conflict between them shaped a lot of history.


    But in the Power of Ten, because Good, Evil, Law, and Chaos are ''real'', there are some tropes in effect, and NOT in effect, based on the power of the Alignments.


    First of all, Human-style corruption of the Good gods isn''t really there. You don''t get Zeus going down to shape-change into the husbands of women and **** them to satisfy his libido. To be a Good god, you actually have to be Good and your choices resonate with it. The human desires and corruption would mean that god would make choices and move further and further from Good, falling into Neutrality. The searing arrogance and pride of the whole Olympian Pantheon means remarkably few of them would qualify as Good, among other things.


    This fact of being Good means that things like War in Heaven between different opposing gods, angels, ahrens, celestials, devas, archons and whatnot... does not happen. Good people have many, many ways of resolving conflicts without resorting to butchering one another, and they have so many external enemies that there is tremendous incentive not to do so.


    Good is also the alignment of empathy, compassion, understanding, and mercy. Because of that, Good is a higher power that can do something Neutrality and Evil cannot... they can bring the opposite ends of Goodness, Chaotic Good and Lawful Good, together in a greater understanding and recognition that all are parts of a greater whole, and no Alignment is inherently greater or more perfect or ''better'' then the rest.


    Oh, Good can ''compete'' with itself... healthy competition is a matter of evolution, competence, and preparation, after all. But simply reducing war to athletic competitions, debates, setting goals in thwarting Evil, negotiations, mutual cooperation, trading of favors, or a thousand other ways means that Heaven gets along with its many parts on the wings of understanding, even if there is rivalry.


    Secondly, Good stands against Evil. Oh, Evil may try to explain it away, especially devils who argue that they fight demons all day long, and isn''t that doing Good by helping contain them? Yet the Hells, by their very existence, require Evil souls to make more devils, and those Evil souls generate the Sin that creates the demons. In effect, Hell is creating its own enemies by growing its own power... and despite Good getting involved in the war now and then, which should immediately turn the tide fantastically... it doesn''t work.


    Hell has no interest in stopping that eternal Law/Chaos war, or the flow of Evil souls. If that means competing with demons forever to do so, so be it. Managing an eternal stalemate is totally and completely within the bounds of Hell to do so, as long as it foster''s Hells own survival!


    Evil actions throw Good into stark relief. Good can be called the most restricted of the Alignments, for Good is defined by what it will NOT do more than any other alignment. Things that Good will not do are deeds that generally generate the Sins that create the denizens of the lower realms. Evil, by contrast, is the least restricted of the alignments, for the more Evil you are, the fewer the limits you place on what you will and will not do. Truly Chaotic and Evil people can murder a billion people as readily as they step on an ant.


    Lawful Good people are the most restricted of Good folk, as obeying Good Laws naturally means that things like stealing from the rich and giving to the poor are quite out of line, among other things. It could be called the highest calling of civilized folk, since it has the fewest moral and ethical options open to it.


    Chaotic Good folk, on the other hand, have the fewest restrictions of the Good on themselves, living as they will, with their own definition of what is Good being more important then what some sage or king or distant god says. Living with a clear and independent heart, they yet do not step over that line into selfish and uncaring behavior. Trying to do this without being affected by increasing communal bounds is often difficult, at least for humans.


    Neutral Good folk see the benefits that both Law and Chaos can bring, and so try to take the best of both, and set aside what they consider unpalatable. In terms of numbers, most Good people are Neutral Good, as CG and LG are both extreme alignments that demand a great deal of those who follow them, and it is intrinsically HARD for a normal human to operate at those extremes of behavior long-term.


    Because Good stands against Evil, it could be said that Evil makes Good strong. When people see Evil behavior directed at them, they understand there is a better way, and this is how Good prospers. In the end, Evil seldom truly conquers Good, because superior cooperation, trust, and harmony really are that powerful on the macro scale. Good is also capable of sacrifice of self that Evil is not, and if that means apocalypse on both sides, so be it.


    What kills Good in the end is generally Neutrality, or the Grey. People like to separate the two sides into black and white, and the grey is what exists in between.


    In real life, this is simply the people that take advantage of others, without being actively malicious about it, and think it''s Just Fine... and get away with it. The worker who doesn''t do their job, but still gets paid. The manager who gets the promotion because he drinks with the boss, not because he''s competent. The merchant who soaks a client for every ounce of gold by whatever means, instead of treating him like a valued client. Viewing a stranger as a resource to be exploited, instead of an equal and a peer. Favoring blood ties over all else, and taking advantage of others to empower and enrich yourself without end, without necessarily using violent means, breaking the law, or such.


    Such actions and views erode away the Good, as trust is not returned, faith is not restored, equality falls apart into various forms of justification and discrimination, and things start heading towards the zero-sum game where people can only prosper if someone else suffers. The idea of synergy where everyone benefits by supporting ideas becomes more and more difficult to take root if someone will benefit more than others by not going along with everyone else.


    Evil tends to kill Neutrals, who generally are totally susceptible to the way Evil steps over the invisible lines of family, friendship, and community to advance themselves by more ruthless means. Subjected to such methods, Neutrals are likely to respond with the same, as such actions are often incredibly pragmatic and practical, and "get results". Coming up against Evil, Neutrals tend to darken over time as their own life choices taken to the extreme come back to bite at them, and they decide to bite the same way.


    Evil people naturally don''t think of themselves as ''bad''. They think of themselves as pragmatic and reasonable sorts who aren''t bound by some kind of self-limitation or enforced morality dictated to them by others. They can be nice if they need to be nice, and they can impale a thousand babies as an object lesson, if they''re Evil enough. This willingness to step outside moral and ethical boundaries others draw about themselves basically defines how Evil they are, and they generally aren''t too concerned about it, and there certainly isn''t anything WRONG with it.


    ------


    Other implications of Real Alignments:


    Rewarding Evil: Generally speaking, doesn''t happen in the afterlife. Why? Because your boss is Evil. Alive, you are a potentially fattening soul, who can lead other souls to your boss. Dead? You''re just a resource, like gold, to be spent and used as they deem fit. The forces that rule in the Lower Planes are Evil to a great and dark degree... in short, they are like you, only much, much worse, and they treat you accordingly. You have no value as an individual, no power to speak of, and are only a resource, which generally means being rendered down for more Sin, being agglomerated into a Fiend as a pawn in the machinations of those more powerful, used to power the furnaces and war machines of the Dark Planes, or tortured for emotional sustenance the doomed can subside on. You were rewarded while you lived. Dead, you pay it all back as the boss deems fit.


    You are NOTHING, a disposable commodity.


    ---


    Aural colors are not variable: Lawful Good is Silver, and Everyone sees it that way. There''s no mistaking it, there''s no interpreting it as something else, i.e. Chaotic Evil types don''t see themselves as Silver and Lawful Goody-types as Black.LG is Silver. NG is Gold. CG is Rainbow or Orange. LN is Blue. True Neutral is Green. False Neutral is Clear. Chaotic Neutral is Grey. LE is Red. NE is Purple. CE is Black.


    Creatures ''beyond alignments'' will still have resonance with one of these Alignments. They may have orange and blue reasonings, and consider themselves above such petty things... but those petty things define reality, so they aren''t ignorable, and they will resonate accordingly... generally CE, as placing yourself above all morality and ethics is the highest degree of CE, however you want to justify it.


    Celestials and servants of Heaven are not vulnerable to Evil: in 3rd Edition D&D, evil weapons are those that do the most damage to servants of Heaven, as they have damage reduction x/Evil. This is very dumb, from a logical standpoint, because Evil is what they are meant to fight the most. It is when Good does turn upon itself that it suffers the most, so in the world of Power of Ten, angels and celestials are most vulnerable to holy weapons turned upon them, and they have DR x/Good.


    Likewise, the greatest enemies of the Evil are one another, not the Good. It is generally the fiend next to you who is most likely to get you killed, not some angel who could not care if he never meets you, and certainly doesn''t want your wealth, power, or place in the lower planar hierarchy. Devils, daemons, and demons fight one another on unthinkable scales, and that is how the vast majority of them die, Evil preying upon itself. Heaven tends to fight Evil when needed, if it fights anyone, while the Neutral powers either stay out of things or act opportunistically, if at all, or have personal grudges/enemies they war against instead, staying ''above the conflict'' which is so much larger than their own.


    Thus, Fiends and the minions of Evil have the exact same vulnerability that Celestials do, x/Good, because Good is something they rarely run into; they need to protect themselves from one another!


    The net effect is that Fiends can rip into one another, and find it difficult to kill one another with their DR, resulting in protracted battles of great violence. However, a single Angel can often defeat multiple Fiends, as they are both resistant to the damage Fiends inflict, and inflict damage that can cause them great harm. This satisfies the trope that Angels are usually seen as stronger than demons and devils of the same rank via a simple mechanics change.


    The fact that demons and devils brought to the Mortal World often end up fighting celestials is a non-factor. Those conflicts are so small in the macro scheme of things they constitute a rounding error on the scales of the Divine.


    Note that Evil and Good Magic are explicitly harmful to the opposing Alignment. Conversely, Evil magic also works just fine against Evil people most of the time, but Good Magic virtually never does.


    ---


    Law and Chaos:


    Law represents both the power of Fate, and the idea to subject all the multiverse to a single hierarchy and system of laws. It backs the power of science, civilization, discipline, unity, and inevitable progression towards a single perfect path.


    Lawful Good is the force of Destiny, LN is pure Fate, and LE wields the power of Doom.


    Law considers Chaos to be nothing but raw potential, waiting to be defined and ordered, perfected and refined towards the ultimate state. True Law considers any imperfection something that must be addressed and eliminated, and beings of Chaos should be dealt with immediately under this principle. Conflict within Law is evidence of imperfection, and dealing with internal divisions is merely refinement towards an ultimate state.


    The fact that reconciling multiple types of Law is probably impossible until you end up in a state of total entropy at the heat death of the universe is not a concern of Law at all, they keep at it.


    ---


    Chaos represents Luck, individual choice, emotion, raw personal strength, conflict, and ultimate freedom. It backs the power of magic, favors individuals over the many, talent, drive, and endless variety and options, uncaring of where they lead among the many possibilities.


    CG represents Good Luck, CN Luck fickle and fair, and CE very bad Luck, indeed.


    Chaos considers Law to be merely one option among the many possibilities available to reality, of no real importance save for its tendency to try to restrain other options and possibilities. Chaos acts on all other forces to reduce defined paths back to infinite possibilities, gradually eroding away all other profound forces in a continual march towards entropy and rebirth, and Law''s attempts to restrain and limit it are met with passion and fury.


    Internal conflicts within Chaos are constant, to be expected, and tend to be enjoyed by all concerned.


    ------


    STRIFE: There are wars taking place between profound forces all the time. The place where most of these things take place is the realm of Strife (not yet featured in the novel).


    Strife is a Plane of indeterminate size, exactly big enough to fit ALL the forces fighting there. These forces wax and wane as their corresponding forces in the mortal realms rise and fall, engaged in conflict unending on scales equally massive. The Planes are the source of the forces that fight here, the fighting rarely gets to the Planes themselves. Strife will expand to pull in invasions of the other Planes, removing them from the source and making it very difficult, if not impossible, for such forces to truly ''win'' a fight against one another by always having wars occur on eternally neutral ground.


    On Strife, Earth throws mountains at hurricanes from Air. Fire raises volcanoes and small suns in oceans of Water. World-trees do battle with Planet-spores, while Kaiju rage at both of them. Demons assault devils in a war as primal as time, while axiarchs build and anarchs destroy endlessly. Forces of Heaven confront Evil spilling off the Eternal War and attempting to corrupt all the other forces. Insect hive-minds consume one another ceaselessly, avians war on fish and furred alike, dinosaurs clash with mammals, sahaugin battle with mermen while Deep Ones prey on both, Jotuns continue their ages-old rivalry with Dragons, and life goes on.


    Aberrants, Old Ones, and Elder Gods exist Outside Creation, and are not part of Strife. The Warp Gods exist in their own pocket universe, separated from the rest of Creation, where they toy with life as they wish. Both align with CE for the simple reason that they have no moral or ethical restrictions that would limit them, and their actions tend to confirm that disregard for same, even with rare exceptions that tend to end up being based on entertainment value.


    +++++++++++++++++++


    Characters:


    Sama: (L) NG ¨C Lawful bias because of her enforced military background with the Ironblood.


    Briggs: NG ¨C Closer to nature and less constrained then Sama, and Sources tend to be more emotional than Nulls. His past and being an Ancient tends him towards N instead of Chaotic like many human Sources.


    The Brotherhood: TN ¨C Their whole existence is about bringing things back into Balance with the Land. They may want to be NG, but the things they have to do and the pressure they are under generally doesn''t allow for the kind of slower, longer-term solutions being Good requires.


    Estemar: LG ¨C A Paladin is required by definition to be LG.


    Animals, plants, uncaring people: False Neutral: Either don''t take a moral position from being unable to make such decisions, or simply don''t care and follow their instincts. Most hiveminds are Neutral, instead of LN, for this reason... the lower orders obey out of instinct, not of choice, or simply can''t think at all.


    Errant: NG, a slight Lawful bias because of his family, but he''s moving away from it once independent. Heavenbound by definition must be Good.


    Haz¨¦: Also NG, as the Goddess of Silver Magic is NG, and prefers that Alignment for her priests.


    The Girls: Amber is CG, Verd and Veis are NG. Scut would also be CG. Mama is also NG.


    Feist: N (G). He''s quite ruthless, especially towards larger races, but the girls and Sage Sama have been softening him up with heroism, or maybe just antipathy for Evil.


    The Ironblood: Most are NG/LG, due to being in harmony with Sama''s Nightmare originally, i.e. the most moral of soldiers.


    Rorn Greywolf: N (C) G. Most Northmen have a strong independent streak, but he''s effectively rebelling against the traditions of his country and planning on conquering it to set himself up as a benevolent King and Source. Sama doesn''t mind.


    The average mercenary: N, LN, NE. Concerned about paychecks and following orders to kill others, not much else. Oh, yeah, power!


    Sorcerers and Rogues/thieves/scouts tend towards Chaos. Wizards and warriors tend towards Law. Barbarians tend to be quite Chaotic, especially Berserkers, while the vast majority of Monks are Lawful.


    Any questions, leave them in the comments!

 208 Chapter Two Hundred and Eight – Donst Give Gamers Time Acceleration

    In the space of less than a day, there was a tremendous amount of movement.


    The Brotherhood brought out an ancient spell for Haz¨¦ called Gemjump. A Valence V effect, it allowed the Caster to recall precisely to the gem the spell was placed within, regardless of distance or across planar boundaries. It even worked through the dimensional soup of Yle Tyorm, once a ''path'' had been Interdicted through it. Naturally, the rogue stones that were usable with the spell were incredibly rare... and the Brotherhood owned several.


    It meant that Haz¨¦ could take advantage of the temporal compression of the inner spatial zones of Yle Tyorm, and was able to, for example, go through Renewals one hundred times faster in the fourth Zonering. With a full load of spells and Teleports, she could also do many, many more teleport retrievals and removal of the faithful. Thus, although she wanted to participate in the clearing of the inner area, she chose to instead vastly accelerate the withdrawal of people and precious items from areas of the Empire. She directly spoke with Summoned Celestials of many of the Good gods and powers to coordinate where to go, and her years of lived-line expansion throughout all the lands of the Empire were put to good use.


    The dragons doing overflights along the Road through the Badlands and the Dichromatic Plains were hurriedly brought into Yle Tyorm. Their flying ability and combined magical and fighting power would be very useful there, for the distances to be traveled were immense.


    The news that Yle Tyorm was open to exploration, and the danger and degree of the monsters found within it, soon had adventurers from half the continent flocking there on dimensional wings to hunt great beasts without limit or restraint. Indeed, the time compression meant they could earn fortunes, or their deaths, in a much shorter time than anywhere else! The clearing of the outer zones soon began.


    Brothers Firesword and Shadowknife took it upon themselves to be the Voids necessary to open up a Zone for exploitation, borrowing Nulls and Sources from the Ironblood to complete the effect. Generally speaking, the time-accelerating Zones were those the adventurers didn''t want to disrupt quickly, giving them time to clear out anything, while those where Time was slow or twisted were ripped open and they only pressed in after the realm was normalized to deal with the many powerful things that were left behind.


    The requirement for entering Yle Tyorm was being able to kill one of the Warped commanders or champions, or solo one of the powerful drakes, manticores, chimeras, demons, or other powerful beasts. Learning that there was also an endless amount of these creatures that could be killed, without having to delve into a land of ruins and ambushes by unknown and effectively countless numbers of strange magical creatures, many of the adventurers instead joined the companies marching to war, raising their general competency level.


    This was good, because the Ironblood took over command of the city entry and defense, and their companies were clearing zones where adventurers failed or were reluctant to. Too, many of the experienced elves and dwarves burned to take advantage of the accelerated time, and formed bands both single and multi-racial, looking for combinations effective against the endless variety of creatures in the fallen city.


    This required massive reorganization of the defense. Sama and friends were down in the hundred-fold Fourth Zonering, both dealing with the numbers of creatures being drawn in to fight them, and forging and making Gear. Nine hundred miles long and a third of that wide, the wild space in there was a primeval wilderness with ancient and powerful beasts in numbers... and more of them always coming in from the Fifth Ring, the innermost, which was moving at a colossal four hundred times normal pacing and believed to be nine thousand miles deep...


    Reaching them wasn''t actually that hard. After ripping through the zone of time/space and forcing it back into compliance with reality, it was only three miles down the road, and the area itself cleared of remnant intrinsic life.


    However, the Zones to the sides were not cleared. One was a slow time zone and so little threat, while the other was another accelerated time zone of fifteenfold or so speed, but still popping out new monsters regularly, and so the preferred target of many adventurers.


    If they made it all the way to the fourth zone, Sama was not far away on the other side, slaughtering the locals, administering new Marks, and forging away with breathtaking speed. A reinforced camp where master smiths were laboring away at a hundred times normal speed meant huge amounts of iron needed to be shipped in to keep them busy, and in return high QL and magical arms and armor were sent back out at improbable speed.


    The number of Marked proliferated across the newcomers, instantly moving them into command positions across multiple forces, while units who were all Marked enjoyed a massive boost in their combat prowess on the battlefields, becoming the backbones of their armies. The massive influx of Clerics, Favored, and other healers brought in by Haz¨¦ helped expand the recovery ability of the armies coming in tremendously, a necessity when those numbers also included many that needed to be blooded on the field of battle, and casualties were much, much higher than before.


    Happily, there were many prominent Clerics among those brought in, who were more than happy to Abjure away Summoned demons, lessening the need for Void Brothers. Nobody really wanted to try fighting such things straight up if they had a choice, as very few had anywhere near the power of Haz¨¦ or the Void Brothers when fighting the things.


    And all of it happened in a mere three days.


    --------------


    Sama put down her Shaping Hammer, and all work around the smithing site stopped. Dwarves, gnomes, dhatun, even a couple humans, and especially Briggs, waited silently by as she reached out with her bare hand and lifted the red-hot blade from the Anvil formed from a dozen different Fire-biased metals.


    Frost gathered about her shoulders, forming a shimmering cloak of rimeflame. The icy cold stole across and down her arm, gathering in her Vajra, and followed her hand down the length of the blade, carbon dioxide hissing and flaring into mist as the cold stole into the metal, and began to drain the heat far faster, and under far more meticulous control, than any dousing in water, oil, or other liquid.


    They had been here three days in the outside world, just a short distance beyond the temporal barrier in the fourth Zonering. Kill teams had ranged for miles in every direction, slaughtering the many beasts here which kept converging on them, an endless task yielding up furs, blood, organs, and other salvaged gold value in great measure. Fortunes had been made... and burned as power comps into making more magical items, or making current ones stronger.


    Three days had been nearly a year. A year had been enough time to do a lot of work. Most especially, it had given them time to get their own key Gear the QL upgrades they needed, at least partially. They still hadn''t gathered all the many things required to make a suit of orichalcum skinplate... but the temporal Quintessence generated when a reality zone like this was fractured and returned to normality was one of those items, so they were closer.


    And so Sama had forged Tremble''s ultimate home, with adamant and gemstones traded from the elves and Rockborn, who even now weren''t sure they believed what she had made.


    It hissed with the cold in the air, the red heat of it fading, and the Runes on it awoke with gentle power.


    This Sword she had made Properly, in accordance with the tenets of her Grandmastery.


    Thus, she had forged it as other weapons first, each time at QL 40, an exemplar weapon of each and every type. Each such forging took twenty-one hours of her time. Spear, lance, dagger, hand axe, battle axe, mace, pick, hammer, scimitar, chain-whip/dart, short sword, rapier, long sword, until finally it was time to make the bastard sword.


    Seeing her lift up the same metal over and over into the forms of what most there considered to be perfect weapons at QL 40, only to melt each down again into another weapon, had driven the smiths there nigh-crazy with such unreasonable demands of craftsmanship. How was what she was doing actually making a sword? Any of the weapons she had made would be fit for an Emperor or great champion to wield for the rest of their lives, practically begging the magic to come into them and empower them.


    But no, they had all been melted down, into bars of metal once more, and reforged anew.


    And now they were done.


    Her breath skimmed across the metal. The fires in the Runes, uncountable numbers of them, Runes made of Runes made of Runes, swirling with layers and layers of power, beaten inside the metal and without by all the continuous reforgings, until they intermixed and swam together with a power like none of them had ever seen.


    The eyes of these master smiths, who had been blessed to look upon QL 40 Perfect Weapons, only a tale to some of them, closed despite themselves.


    The sight of it was... too pure!


    The craftsmanship seemed to hit the back of their eyes, without actually having any power to it, impacting their souls with the sheer absoluteness of its existence. This was craftsmanship beyond the mortal, embodying the very concept of what a Sword might be, taking mortal skill and materials and pushing them into the realm of the profound.


    "A Truly Perfect Weapon," murmured a dwarven master-smith in awe. Only the greatest smiths of the race were ever thought to have made such a thing, and if such Arms existed, they were stored in vaults, or delivered unto the gods for safekeeping when needed, to be turned into artifacts or legendary Weapons used only by those who were post-Ten.


    They watched her moving her palms over and past it, the sword balancing smoothly as her hands moved back and forth, supported on her Vajra, not quite touching it.


    Her Phoenix Cloak shifted to acid, washing across the metal, sealing, treating, adding layers to the Runes of measure and finality. The greenish, liquid flame flowed back and forth, doing no harm, only adding the most perfect of finishes to the alchemical slakes and treatments that had been part of the entire process, and the Sword responded by beginning to steam.


    Then, another round, another change, as the Phoenix Cloak became a crackling thing of lightning, snapping arcs of electricity crackling around her, dancing over and through the metal here and there, wild dances of chaos that yet somehow found themselves drawn into some kind of a greater pattern.


    Her fingers and palms wove different and dangerous patterns, the Sword tumbling about in her grasp as her hands moved in some strange exchange of a greater Form the other smiths there couldn''t understand. There was heat and induction, conduction and transferal, energy moving around and opening up, or closing down, connections finalized and others sealed away.


    Then once again, the cold and the ki, coming in to remove the heat, and guide the final cooling-down process as no quenching could ever emulate, the incarnated energy of a soul coming in to remove the heat and guide the Sword into a final form more perfect than any of them had ever seen.


    It had taken her a full month of labor to make this Sword, and the many weapons that had preceded it. Given the amount of work she could do on lesser Weapons, that level of effort and focus was just unreal to those who had seen her at work.


    And now she was done, and Tremble would be finding a new home.

 209 Chapter Two Hundred and Nine – Time is on Everybody’s Side

    Mastering my Phoenix Cloak so that it could manifest as other Elements was one of the two Masteries attached to that Tat. The other Mastery concerned how the Phoenix could manifest and be controlled, both of which were vital to this final quenching, heating, and controlling the fire while forging.


    Without access to comets or similar celestial ice, relying on my own soulrime to quench the adamant was the best choice.


    Fifty days of Karma to boost effective Soulcaster Level to Fifteen via Soul Mastery. Fifty days of Karma to pay for Phoenix Cloak Mastery to Five, giving me control to go with the power. Fifty days of Karma to open the Tat to Five, for the raw power needed. Twenty-five days to get the Elemental Mastery to switch elemental damage around, thus being able to use lightning, cold, acid, or fire damage as needed... and even radiant, for the micro-etching of the smallest Runes. Induction, quenching, slaking, treating, heating, melting... my soul was intimately involved in every step of the process.


    Some of the things were done concurrently, but generally it was part of the massive time suck, which this time-hastened zone of reality did so much to offset.


    And hey, I grew a couple inches, too. Time does that for folks.


    The metal settled and crystallized in strange patterns, the very movement from molten to solid state another final circumstance to imprint Runes upon it. The heavy metal in my hand, as Energized pure Earth elemental tungsten is three times as heavy as steel, settled into its final state with waves of ki and cold going through it, chasing away the heat, and I was aware of it on so many levels.


    This was the Sword I remembered from the game, the Sword I had been awaiting for over eleven years of Nightmare and reality.


    "Tremble," I said softly, as I held the sword across the top of the fingers of my two hands, "it is time for you to come home."


    Power pulsed in this thing, but none of it was committed. I could forge a thousand gold worth of work into a Sword in an hour, using all my skill, my Shaping Tools, Floating Forge, and Anvil of Silent Thunder. It was a monstrous amount of work; a magical Weapon every two hours of work, if I so desired.


    Forsaken can add goldweight value into an item by pure exercise of skill, something Powered have to do with Karma and Gold. Yeah, it takes money, but only a third of the cost of what we were making, as opposed to the half of Powered, so us Forsaken Smiths have a cost advantage. However, not many mundane smiths can do five hundred gold worth of work a day, and match the speed of Powered when it comes to making Gear. Infusion is half the cost of Investing, so unless you were a really good smith, Powered did it better.


    I was a really good smith.


    A QL 40 Crafting represented twenty-one thousand gold, forty-two goldweight, worth of labor. I had done that work thirteen times, and the remnants and echoes of that work still hummed in the adamant.


    Then I had made the final version, at the highest level I could, the very limit of what adamant could attain. No mortal material I knew could be forged better.


    QL 55 Adamant, which meant a check of 65, due to the difficulty of working with the metal. A Truly Perfect weapon, literally a stereotype incarnate of a bastard sword made for me... and it represented an additional 63k of value.


    Tremble floated in. A fallen knight''s sword, refined and improved by me, still a pale and ugly shadow of the silver-edged, flowing black metal in front of me.


    Tremble actually held a tremendous amount of power. As an Intelligent Weapon, she could allocate great amounts of the Naming Karma I earned with her to improving her special powers, and the allocations to Arsenal, Arsenal II, Armory, and the like sucked in massive amounts of Karma to expand her versatility. On top of that, there were many external powers that could be worked into a Sword that were actually Slotless, and she''d improved herself that way, too.


    Indestructible, for instance, would cost 30k all by itself.


    "I am ready!" Her humming voice was eager. She could feel the nameless power held within the Sword, more than three hundred thousand gold of raw value, enough to pay for a lot of stuff.


    Each +III addition to Greater Arsenal cost 18k. Each +IV, 32k. +V...50k. Finally adding her Special Purpose Power... 90k!


    It all wouldn''t be going very far. All that gold value of my forging would be disappearing right into the black hole of Gear upgrades.


    Floating above me, she lowered herself point-down to the black star sapphire that was the eye of the waiting blade, touched it with her steel point.


    Magic sparkled, and began to flow as Tremble transferred her Name.


    Runes flared in polycolor glory on the new Sword. They lit up in series and combinations, representing every power and ability Tremble had and was bringing with her. The Sword hummed atop my fingers, my Soul Essence moving through it and making it Soulbound once again, my Item Familiar link transferring smoothly over through my connection as maker and wielder.


    The old sword began to disintegrate as the magical meaning of it was removed. Flakes of steel shivered and fell apart, the gems inlaid in the guard shattered and fell to dust. From the pommel down, the old sword began to disintegrate, as the magic and essence of it poured down into its new home, less than the dust swept away by the breezes from the burning Floating Forges.


    The last inch of her was blown away, and a flaring flash of completeness blinded everyone around who didn''t have Devasight. I watched the Slots light up, one after another. Einz, Zvei, Drei, Veer, Funf, Zeks, Zeben, Akt, Neun... and Zehn.


    A Ten-Slot Sword. The number of Ten-Slot Weapons in the whole of the Dwarven and Elven lands was probably measured on the fingers of one hand. It was just a massive amount of gold to be putting into a Weapon, a minimum of two hundred goldweight, gold that could be spent on many, many other things, instead of burned away forever to make a single Magical Weapon. One hundred magical swords, or one very magical sword?


    In combined Naming Karma and Forging, Tremble was now well in excess of four hundred thousand gold in value, closer to five. It was quite unreal, but that''s what happens when you feed Naming Karma into a Weapon for many, many days of battle.


    "Mmmm." Tremble''s stereo voice was crisper, clearer; still humming, but like it had gone to a much better set of speakers. "This is very comfortable, Sama!"


    I smirked despite myself, as I flipped her up and grabbed her by the hilt.


    She was a Heavy bastard Sword, admittedly a bit too long for me... but then, I hadn''t reached my full height, and she could morph and pull back her length to current perfect size for me. Her weight was something that would break a normal person''s wrists to use, but I had no problem with my Might effectively around 40. I flipped her about as casually as a willow wand... I''d have to do some katas to get really familiar with her again, but that was fine.


    "Any problems with all the extra Slots? How''s Final Arsenal?"


    "Active without problems. I picked the defaults as we discussed, and a III, IV, and V to make Final Arsenal open and effective." She did a good false sigh in my hand. "You put so much into this, and it all went so fast..."


    "A Grandmaster''s Sword should be special, and you''re all sorts of that."


    "I think it''s time to help Briggs with Endure," she said softly. Her True Perfection shifted to merely QL 40 Perfection dagger-form, and she zipped around to her comfortable old scabbard... I was going to have to make a new one for her, but it could wait.


    I glanced over at Briggs, and the head and handle of the Hammer waiting in the Forge for me to get done. All the smiths in the area sighed despite themselves.


    He''d only done five reforgings, as mace, flail, axe, maul, and pick, before coming back to hammer. But oh, did that Hammer look nasty... without being an oversized joke, as so many of the Warped liked to use. No, using a Hammer with an end bigger than your head is not necessarily so effective, given how well you are controlling it.


    "Let''s go, fuzzy," I grinned.


    Three hundred days inside, three outside, had been good to him. He''d gained his Levels and the Masteries he wanted; the unending killing we had to do every day had been good for the soul, as it were. He''d hit Ten, topped off his Grandmastery, and he could now officially Wreck Face. Even the Void Brothers were very respectful when they talked to him now. The power of his hammer blows was just freaking insane. I knew that I was extremely deadly with a Sword, but his Hammer was just overwhelming.


    And you know, that was fine. We made a good team, there was no doubt about it.


    We were working on his ultimate Hammer, the same way I''d worked on Tremble. I still had to do Stand... that was my next project, and wouldn''t take as long as Tremble did, but her little brother was already champing at the bit.


    -So, what did you decide to go with?- I /asked her, as I readied my Hammer to help Briggs with his final poundings. His pale violet eyes were glowing with expectation.


    -The four defaults will be +I, Water School Sword, Fire School Sword, and Courageous. All effects are constant and beneficial, but can be swapped out easily enough for Final Arsenal effects.


    -I opened the +III paradigm with Speed, - !!!?,¨C and the +IV with Umbral. The +V was Vorpal, of course.- Well, of course. Just in case we had to fight a Jabberwock. Blowing fifty days worth of Karma on that possibility... We''d had to bring in Ligaii, the male Valor dragon, for the Spellcraft Ranks for the IV and V effects, but if you can''t take advantage of having a dragon in Marktell, what kind of person were you?


    -No Healing Edge?- I was surprised. I mean, Doc was fine and all, but I seriously wanted that effect for my long-term staying power.


    -I''m working on that next. It''s redundant, and Speed giving you that extra attack is an offense boost I think we''re going to need.-


    Redundant?... -Okay. Go on.-


    Delighted I''d not second-guessed her, she continued. -I upgraded Impervious to Indestructible, of course, since I don''t feel like getting Sundered by a Greater Demon.- Mental thumbs up. -I picked my second Extraordinary Power to be Teleport, three times a day.-


    Okay, that was a utility effect, and my greatest metagame disadvantage was a lack of long-range mobility. She could even upgrade this to five a day... with more Karma. It made my Visual File and Lived-Line useful. Naturally I''d have to pull in my Null to actually use it... but it also meant that she could pull me out of a bad situation if the need arose.


    -I spent a lot on that Planecutting effect you wanted. There''s two uses of it.- Excellent utility value with that...


    -I also picked Brilliance as a supplemental IV, given these over-armored steroid-inhaling rejects we''ve been fighting.- Okay, another 32k gone, but being able to ignore all their armor was pretty nice. Potentially meant up to a +14 to hit, more if they used a shield, which they seldom seemed to do.


    And I knew she was going to make me wait, so I just smiled as I hammered with Briggs, our blows a cadence of destruction on the adamant. I was just adding the force and putting things in motion, his ki was the stuff doing all the directing. At this point, he was actually a better overall smith then I was, except with Swords, given how his Hammer Grandmastery dovetailed with smithing overall.


    -I thought a long time about my Special Purpose Power,- she finally /went on. -Thwarting the Curse of the Hag allowed for a lot of flexibility.- Choosing a special purpose had been all her, I''d just gone over how to approach it with her. Until she chose the power to go with it, it didn''t really have an Ego effect, but now she''d done it.


    -Taking an offensive spell was very tempting. Fireballs in all directions would give me a direct effect on combat that could be used at close and distant range, I would always have something to do!


    -Except when I wasn''t fighting, and then it would be useless. It was too much like the Curse... all death and destruction, no life and rebuilding.


    - I was going to go with Telekinesis, as that would give me many, many options in uptime and downtime to do things.- I nodded at that choice. -But then you told me that power was available as a Ring, which meant it could also be used in a Rod, and thus usable in my Wand Chamber, or added to my Pommelstone.-


    Also true. No need to have the power twice, and it wasn''t like I needed it right now.


    -So I decided to completely break the rules and crash the magic. I picked Reach Cures.-


    It didn''t affect my hammering, but I mentally blinked. -In a V Valence?- I /clarified.


    -Yes!- She sounded quite smug at the fact she had just crashed the system.


    No wonder she said Healing Edge was redundant...

 210 Chapter Two Hundred and Ten – A Broken Power

    Unlimited Cure V''s at will, every six seconds, in service to her Special Purpose of Thwart the Hag Curse.


    She had chosen that Special Purpose with the clear idea that it put her solidly against all Hags, their plans, minions, and allies, AND it also meant supporting Hagchildren, the cast-offs of the Curse, and their plans, minions, and allies.


    So, for example, it included me, all my Ironblood, and anyone fighting beside me.


    Reach was one of the two Ranged Spell Metamagicks in the system. Distance, the first, doubled the range of a spell, and was basically used on long range spells to make them just ridiculously long range... or, if Weirded, to double the range of any spell for no cost.


    Reach extended the range of a spell by one category, from Touch to Close to Short to Medium to Long, each increase costing an additional Slot to power the effect. A Touch Spell was effectively turned into a Ray, delivering the effect elsewhere. It couldn''t be Weirded, unlike Distance, but that hardly hurt its power.


    She was saying that she could use a Cure spell in a V Slot, with Reach. That meant there were five variations on the base spell she could use.


    The V Valence Cure spell was Cure Deadly Wounds. It healed up to 5d8+5x Caster Level, max 75, hit points, meaning both/either Soak and Health. It also could return someone to life who had died within the past minute, making it truly able to cure deadly wounds.


    The Heal spell was also a V, but both healed more damage and removed a lot of conditional effects, like disease, blindness, deafness, and the like. It couldn''t bring back anyone who was dead, and it wasn''t in the Cure line of spells, although it was in the Healing Sphere for Divine Casters.


    There was also a Mass Cure Light Wounds effect, sort of like bomb healing. Roughly fifteen feet in radius, up to one person per Caster Level, a d8+CL in healing to all of them.


    Being Soulbonded increased her effective Caster Level to 15 or so, so that''s what her effects had been boosted to. They could go to 20, but Crafting reflected Reality, and I couldn''t Craft in a CL higher than my Ranks. The spells had caps in effective Caster Level, but still...


    Cure Deadly Wounds at touch, 5d8+75 Healing.


    Cure Critical Wounds up to sixty feet away, 4d8+40.


    Cure Serious Wounds up to a hundred and twenty-five feet away, 3d8+30.


    Cure Moderate Wounds up to two hundred and fifty feet away, 2d8+20.


    Cure Light Wounds up to one thousand feet away, d8+5.


    Mass Curing of up to fifteen individuals in a circle up to fifteen feet in radius, d8+15, up to sixty feet away...


    Repeatable endlessly...


    -Is there a cap on this?- I /asked softly. Because this unlimited amount of healing magic was really, really broken. Healing Traps had unlimited use, but would only work once a Renewal for anyone.


    Being able to zap me once every six seconds for 100 points of Healing, and even bring me directly back from dead? Health Qi could take a hike, I''d basically be unkillable except to a massive one-hit... and then be right back no more than six seconds later!


    -I don''t think so..?- she /replied, uncertain, and I breathed out despite myself.


    -There''s almost no way it''s not, Trem. Positive and negative energy have some severe restrictions on them. I''m sure there''s going to be a resonance effect of somewhere from three to five times a Renewal per person.-


    -What? But I could have fireballed or lightning bolted all day!- she /protested.


    -Which amounts to something less than five times a day per individual, right?- I /added knowingly. She made a strangled /sound.


    -Okay, so Healing Edge isn''t redundant. I''ll start to work on it again promptly.- She sounded very disappointed. In the meantime, I could always use Doc in its setting on Stand. The girls had grown past needing him.


    -Don''t be unhappy. You''re capable of saving an unlimited number of people from dying in combat, if you get to them fast enough. You''ve got area heals, incredibly long-range target heals, and incredibly powerful touch heals. You''re literally as powerful as a dozen Ten Healers going at it, if not moreso. By yourself, you could heal an entire army in under an hour, and keep them on their feet during combat.


    -It might not have unlimited use in personal combat with me, but you know what? You can save me from dying several times a day. That is huge all by itself. I''m fully capable of restoring my Soak over an extended fight, gradually, and with this kind of safety valve, I''ll be doing fine. Get that Healing Edge back for eternal staying power, and we''ll be fine.


    -And you know what?-


    My /voice had that conspiratorial edge she loved. It meant she was going to find out something else about the rules of the world that could be exploited. -What?- she /whispered back.


    -Transfer Wounds counts as a Cure spell, right? But you''re transferring the damage, not healing it, so there''s no resonance...-


    The star sapphire on the Sword at my back glittered with cold light. -Combine Healing Edge with Transfer Wounds, and we could heal others all day...- she /realized.


    -It isn''t like I don''t have a stupid amount of Health, and if we turn Healing Edge into a cyclic pumping effect... well, it''s not stupid broken for myself, but if I''m fighting with others, they are going to think so!-


    Tremble shivered behind me, letting out a nasty /cackle I approved of tremendously. The Ironblood were going to get another notch on the unkillable cockroach scale when she and I were around.


    And really, while I was away smithing, she''d be able to run battlefield healing support for any of the forces out there. I pointed this out, and she got excited all over again. The fact she couldn''t give me unlimited healing didn''t change the fact that she could deal out unlimited healing, as long as she could do so to different people.


    It was a stupid broken Special Purpose Power, and really only possible on a Weapon.


    Another thing was that negative energy destroyed resonance. So, people wounded by negative energy attacks, or fighting undead, could be healed multiple times, as the two energies rose in opposition to one another.


    Mass CLW was also a mini-fireball against undead and negative energy life forms, which meant that she did have a limited unlimited offensive use to that effect. Sure, it would only wipe skels and zombies, but what did you need unlimited offensive power against when it came to undead? It wasn''t like vampires occurred in the millions...


    Yeah, I wasn''t seeing the downside, as long as it was usable more than once a Renewal per person. I personally hoped three times, but we''d have to see...


    If I could get myself a measure of Fast Healing, I''d be able to Transfer Wounds even outside of combat. Mmmm... what Templates or Classes gave that? It''d be like a back-end Healing Reserve, only really painful to Yours Truly.


    Okay, Tremble had spent 50k on opening a V Slot effect with Vorpal. That Enhancement was basically only useful if you could barely hit. It required a nat 20, and ping, off with the head. The problem was, I had a x4 crit, and around a hundred damage a swing with my Grandmastery. So, it was only useful against creatures that had more than 400 Health, as a crit would kill them anyway. It would only proc one swing in twenty, and there were very, very few creatures that could stand up to twenty hits from me without a biiig pool of Health Qi... and if they had Health Qi, they could spend it to null the Vorpal effect, so it was useless against them...


    Except against Jabberwocks, who had something like DR/30 and an insane regen rate against non-Vorpal Weapons. I might never run into one, but she had heard me mention it, and the V-Slot effects were... not spectacular for their cost, anyways. Still, needed them open to add in later Legendary +VI and greater effects.


    Oh, yeah, demiliches, too. Hmm...


    Bless the dragons for having Spellcraft Ranks equal to their Hit Dice. Inherited genetic knowledge was a such a nice thing when you had the Hit Die to abuse it...


    I could now have Courageous up all the time, and with Fire and Water Discipline, was provided an extra +3 To hit, each. That +6 to hit gave me a lot of room to trade off for Power Attack and Expertise if I so desired, which was entirely the point of it. The standing +I final Slot meant Tremble would be +5 base against all creatures, which actually bypassed most DR types on the face of it, and practically insured Anathema would kick in for some extra damage on them.


    If I was fighting extremely armored stuff, Umbral would mess them up badly. If I was fighting crap with extreme natural armor, Brilliant would do the same to the monsters. Umbral could be thwarted by Energized armor, but only people who hated touch attacks that ignored armor invested in such stuff. Like, oh, the Ironblood...


    Speed would just increase my damage output against chaff and minions that I would hit anyways, or be good for long slog fights against bosses.


    The net effect of all this was not a huge increase in damage. It did, however, mean that I was going to hit what I fought, as I could neutralize either the armor or the natural armor of my enemies completely, which was huge against specific foes.


    Unless they were constructs, but that was something me and my Scarab vs. Golems could deal with...


    Teleport would let me bop around and give me a bailout option in case things went really south. Very useful.


    Planecutting, ah. That was a Mass Travel option. Using Tremble, I could cut the Veil to another plane and step on through, the Portal staying open for a couple minutes (150 seconds, to be exact). Then, on the other side, I could cut a Portal back through to home... or some other destination halfway around the world, if I could locate it.


    Or another world or plane, if need be.


    It was basically a method to move large amounts of men from one place to another. Just line them up at speed on both sides of the Portal, and run them through before it closed, then do the same on the other side. As long as I picked a ''safe'' transition point, there wouldn''t be any problem.


    I was going to have to talk to some Celestials and see if there was a convenient marshalling ground I could use as a waystop...


    If organized properly, I could move a lot of people that way. Evacuation, transport... trade... the uses were both tactical and strategic.


    Tremble''s power in combat had grown some, but not hugely. I was already at the almost auto-hit stage, there wasn''t a lot of stuff that could avoid me in a fight. But I now had some powerful options open to me that most Powered couldn''t even use.


    And I would most certainly use them...


    I loved time skips, and Forging Karma!


    -------


    There were a bunch of us gathered in /Marktell, including every single Ten that was Marked. Rockborn Kings who''d come out to play, elven Monarchs thirsting for another post-Ten Level, Knightly heroes, respected adventurers, powerful Casters, renowned Masters.


    Before us was an extension of the Map, now centered on Yle Tyorm, as scouted out by members of the Void Brothers.


    It took a powerful Forsaken to walk through the higher temporal barriers of the Zones, or some very specific magic, and only a Void Brother could take someone along with them. As they were high Stealth operatives anyways, it fell to them to make a map of the whole city in detail, and figure out what the Hags were doing.


    And now we had, and it was time to make a plan.

 211 Chapter Two Hundred and Eleven – It’s all about the Time...

    Those people outside the fourth Ring were just here to listen, as they were operating at a fraction of Sama''s time and couldn''t contribute effectively. They had to know what was going on to coordinate, but the decisions were being made here by among the most powerful people people in the whole Alliance effort... and a direct blow against the Hags that were behind all of this.


    Members of the Brotherhood had gone into the Fifth Ring, and used Veilwalking to progress through the thousands of miles of territory to all the magical trouble spots, drawn by their Voids as none of us could equal.


    There were massive Obelisk formations laid out through all the accelerated time zones, guarded by literal empires of humans and non-humans under the command of Hag servants. What these were intended to do precisely wasn''t obvious, but they had obviously taken a great deal of time to get into place accurately, and the races of the inner realms were completely bent to them.


    Close to the central ring, the areas were dominated by Aberrant monsters, cultists, inhabitants of Leng, and a whole lot of dark elves spun out on psycho-spores, and not a few being ridden by cerebrovores.


    What was far more interesting is that there were ten zones around that central hole, and only six of them were fast time, varying between three and six hundred times normal speed. The slow time zones also varied by that ratio... in the other direction.


    "Going from a fast time zone to a slow time zone at that level of temporal velocity is effectively impossible. The route that the Hags set up and that we are on is the only ''safe'' way to reach the inner ring. Any other route involves detouring sideways multiple times to avoid slow zones in the way. Trying to breach a one thousand or greater temporal conflict is impossible even for me," the Shadowknife said.


    "So, this awesome master plan of theirs, putting up obelisks in a grand formation across multiple empires... isn''t complete, despite having millennia to work on it... because the slow time zones aren''t letting them complete it fast enough," Haz¨¦ observed. She pointed at the slowest of the time zones. "One six-hundredth normal time. It hasn''t been even two years since Yle Tyorm fell in there. Even if they used Grand Rituals to send in monstrous amounts of people to set things up in there, the internal distances involved mean that there''s no way they could be set up to the degree they truly need inside there."


    "Correct," Brother Firesword agreed with her. "Notice the layout of the formations, and how irregular they are once they take into account the slow time zones. Their formation is quite vulnerable at all the junction points that cross the slow time barriers. We don''t need to crash them all... we only need to take out these four in the zone that we have access to."


    All attention naturally devolved on those. They were obvious conduits to and through the slow time areas to each side. I could imagine the cost in forces and materials that had been spent to run obelisks across the slow time zones over the centuries. The inner zones narrowed down some, but they were still a thousand miles across. They would have had to get those Obelisks up in the equivalent of only months, stretching across thousands of years of their own time, probably by flooding it with massive amounts of manpower to succeed. If the forces inside also suffered temporal shock, it also meant they were going to be advancing over the inevitable bones of those who died before them.


    "What are we looking at there?" Sama asked briefly, and tactical maps as scouted out by the Void Brothers materialized at all four locations, there to be zoomed in on and details downloaded.


    Now, there was no thought whatsoever of just hacking their way into the city. The populations of the places numbered six zeroes and higher. But that didn''t mean they couldn''t reach the places.


    "Site one, descendants of Hagspawn and half-ogres. The primary power is a legendary Green Hag. I believe she is Verd''s grandmother," the Firesword answered calmly. "Site two are dark elves with fungoid traits, commanded by a legendary shellycoat. Amber''s grandmother, I am presuming.


    "The last is Jotunbloods, trolls, ogres, and swamp giants with mire dragon blood and Hagspawns among them, definitely the toughest of the three. I believe Tusk Annie herself is defending that obelisk, with a Mire Wyrm consort."


    "Huh," was Sama''s only comment. She pointed. "What''s with the monkeys?"


    "It''s an ape kingdom. We expected a lot of demonic influence, as the Pits love intelligent apes, but these stayed surprisingly neutral. That led to some poking around..." Brother Firesword cleared his throat, and two locations on the map lit up.


    "Oh." Everybody mentally bent forward to look at what was brought up. "Oh..."


    "I don''t know if that''s good news or bad news..." Briggs commented to nobody.


    "Given their nature, they won''t even notice or care until something impressive happens," Ancientaxe spoke respectfully. "That being said... there is known to be an Elder Mu Spore down in that Hole, and if it''s been taking advantage of the time dilation, it is very old, indeed."


    "I really don''t think they care," Sama pointed out, and everyone laughed softly, despite themselves. "So, what we''ve got to do is punch an Interdiction route all the way to Ringzone Five, nine hundred miles, and then crack open that four hundred-fold dilation and make it their last year of existence while we race to those obelisks." I glanced at the dragons, who were watching all this in fascination and great interest. "You can see the reports, lots of dinosaurs, drakes, and rocs in the air. Still willing to come?"


    "The cost of us not assisting you is too high," the oldest Shield dragon demurred firmly. "We will be there!"


    "Then we crack the barrier here tomorrow, and make the run overland starting then!"


    -----------------


    Three days, she''d given the Brotherhood back then. Three days to get into the inner zone, and get stronger.


    Over a thousand days. A time skip, a time acceleration capsule, something their opponents had been using, and they could take advantage of.


    Because Sama said they were weak, and they weren''t getting strong fast enough. The fastest way to get strong was slaughter, and there was a whole lot of powerful stuff in the fifth ring that had an early appointment with death. All of the Brothers could feel it, and they all went in on their ''scouting missions.''


    The Fire and the Sword held up the blade of Weep, a QL 40 adamant, Zehn-Slot Weapon. The parade of recent dead carried over with the dead held by the other two Swords that had borne its name.


    None of his elders had racked up a kill total quite like he had. Everything in this shard of reality was an invader, barely real; killing them was like wiping film off the eyes of the Land. There were so many aberrant and foul otherworldly bloodlines, reaving through them had been a pleasure and a duty.


    The Brotherhood had killed millions between them in those ''three days.''


    They had raised the Names of their reforged Weapons to Zehn Slots. They had gained Levels. They had applied Masteries. They had picked Feats. There was enough Karma for them to do all that, the numbers of their foes so vast that it still didn''t matter.


    They had moved from assassins picking off targets to becoming agents of slaughter, slicing through hordes and armies, killing everything in their way, tanking in a way that no Void Brothers ever had before. Always clean, surgical, precise, killing and moving on to the next problem.


    Nothing clean or surgical about this. A dirty butcher''s shop, living in blood and slaughter.


    He lifted up his hand, and the glowing spirals of his Helix swirled through his palm reflexively. Unseen, the Runes on his Endoskeleton glowed with power.


    Magic to increase strength, dexterity, and toughness wasn''t uncommon, but Sama had doubled down on the concept with her Heavy Gravity training method, a variant on the same thing the Heavenbound Errant had used. As they were all grown men, there was no problem with it, other than it taking two and half years to take effect. One Heavy Gravity belt with a slow self-healing effect to offset the damage the training did, large amounts of Karma, and putting up with ever-increasing gravity while wreaking havoc on a scale he had not imagined he could do before.


    Sama had sunk the strands of gold and platinum into their bones, dancing delicate wires between muscle and sinew, setting them in place to soak up magic and Karma, binding ever tighter, to lock in the gains of the heavy gravity training... and to internalize the physical enhancements normally gained through gloves and belts, welding them directly to their bones.


    An Endoskeleton. Biomagic, she called it.


    All combined, +5 Enhancement to Strength, Dexterity, and Constitution, sacking all their magic items that did the same for the originals, then feeding the Endoskeleon with slaughter. A +5 racial bonus to the same Stats, with an effective +12 for Might on top of that to reflect the x6 gravity boost.


    Four times stronger, more precise, greater endurance. All of the Brothers were now far, far beyond any of their elders in their records. They were capable of a type of open combat that was simply impossible before. They didn''t NEED to be stealthy all the time. They could simply be blunt instruments, if they so chose.


    They could just go up to their targets, cut through all their guards and minions and traps, and kill them. No need for shirking or stealth or too much cleverness.


    Not that they didn''t still prefer that style, and certainly wouldn''t forget it. There were still things it was best to approach with every single advantage possible.


    But he was very, very powerful now, far different then he had been before he had met Sama Rantha.


    Sama and Briggs weren''t full grown, and couldn''t do an Endoskeleton yet, nor could the other Hagchildren. Soon enough it would be their time, and they would be going into the accelerated time zone, and picking up those years, for the last ''three days'' had been transformative of many, many people.


    Errant''s group of fellow Heavenbound had all their arrogance smashed out of them repeatedly dealing with the monstrous attacks in the 100x zone. They''d had to get better fast, or die, and had been tempered faster and harder than they''d believed possible. Everything in this shard wanted to kill them, was coming for them, and there was always fighting. Without vivus, this place would have been piled with hills of corpses from the dead.


    That Amazon was so ridiculously strong it was hard to imagine, at least twice as strong as any human he''d ever met. He''d watched her catch an ankylosaur''s tail and then club a King saurial with it. With her Endoskeleton up, she was rocking a Strength of at least 40...


    A good reason not to mess with Aethran Amazons, he considered wryly.


    He had gone through fortunes, looting gems and jewelry and valuable power comps that didn''t weigh too much, burning them into extra Gear to cement his defenses, utility items. Gauntlets, Bracers, Amulets, Belt, Boots... they all had to be Invested by standard means, and they required a lot of goldweight to do so.


    The wealth of kings and emperors had sifted through his hands, and blown away as their power was Invested into his Gear.


    As Sage Sama said in her unique way, he was now a strong character. There was still a lot of Levels he could take, advancing as a Ten was no easy feat... and there was always Eleven, and that first step on the road to the Eternal.


    There had been multiple Legendary Hags in their own little Empire worlds around the pit, but they were irrelevant. As long as the key Obelisks were toppled, the whole Formation was worthless, and the oldest and the most powerful naturally guarded the most essential of the Obelisks.


    Fighting a Legendary Hag. If what the young Heavenbound told them was correct, and Haz¨¦ had pointed out, they would have loads and loads of Health Qi. Tusked Annie had taken a shot from her of more than a thousand points to the face, and lived through it. The storm crone Zouma''s pool must have been even larger... perhaps expanded when she found it difficult to grow her power in other ways?...


    He would have to live long enough to hew through all that Health Qi, if he fought them.


    He visualized a mental lever in his mind, a Feat called Beyond Law and Chaos. With a half-smile, he flicked it.

 212 Chapter Two Hundred and Twelve – More Meat for the Table

    "Raaaaaarrrrghhhh!"


    Blackheart turned his head as a flood of yellow-skinned orcs smashed into the lines nearby, screaming their bloodthirsty little hearts out. The armored, mutated humans there, the Warped, took the charge with near-berserker frenzy, welcoming the fight with deep cries of their own.


    Alas, the orc chief smashed into the heavily armored commander of the marauding invaders, there was a bit of discourse with over-sized Axes, and then the orc was chopped in half with impunity. Their chief killed, the morale of the orcs fell like their blood, and with every bit as much energy they''d had charging in, they fled yelping in fear.


    That was fine. Blackheart pointed, and as the expected rout of the orcs occurred, the urgobs on the flanks of the marauders piled in with glee, swinging morningstars, flails, and tetsubos with energy and strength, ripping through the lines of humans with their greater strength and mass. The chief of them, a sly throatcutter called Nugglib, closed in on the Warped commander with his two favorite kidney-eaters along, rapidly surrounding the man. One of his flunkies was quickly chopped down, but Nugglib took the loss without a tear, his Axe relieving the Warped of his leg below the knee, then coming down to break his neck as he fell, even if his overweighted armor held.


    The last of the goblin serfs ahead of them were chewed up by the elite troops of the enemy, all mutated with pincers, claws, tentacles, spikes, or horns, which they plied to deadly effect. However, those were all personal combat weapons, and not much use when tired and facing a shield wall of pikes. Grim higob soldiers in tight formation, knots of control on the battlefield, held up under the powerful blows of the enemy, spears finding throats out of which odd-colored and strangely reacting blood flowed out. Were there minnows leaping out of that one''s jugular?...


    To the sides, a howling band of hyen raiders mounted on horse-sized hyenas, their laughing cries eager as they hacked down, smashed into a unit of Warped riders tossing javelins around. The hyen were a strong race, and the jaws of a giant hyena were capable of breaking the necks of even the altered horses of the Warped. Bloodthirsty giggling presaged carnage, and only seeing the effects on those who had indulged kept the hyen from immediately partaking of a feast. Not very sane to begin with, the hyen whose eyes started glowing and sprouting new appendages, and the hyenas that did the same, had all had to be put down.


    Their purified corpses made decent hyena fodder, however.


    A massive horde of the wretched little dog-faced, scale-bodied kobolds washed up against a long line of Warped men, and shrieking little bodies went flying in several parts as the slaughter commenced. However, the little worm-eaters were small and clever, driving between gaps in the lines of the men, striking low and hard, and soon causing chaos in their lines as they dropped a soldier or two and swarmed over them. Soon, the hundreds of men were fighting kobolds in knots and clusters, separated from their fellows, and heedless of deaths, the kobolds piled in to kill them and be killed energetically.


    -Worms must give them courage-, Blackheart thought, and raised his hand.


    The bullox riders around him couched their spears and their heavy horned mounts began to rumble into motion.


    The goblin serfs had locked the heavy armored unit of elites into place, and the goblins were hanging off their limbs, up on their shoulders banging on their helms, gnawing on their vambraces, and basically being as much nuisance as threat as they tried to find an opening to insert their crude knives and hatchets into.


    Still, they did their job perfectly. Blackheart''s line of heavy cavalry trampled right through the goblins, and if they couldn''t get out of the way in time, that was their own fault. The Warped elites could only stare at the cavalry coming and riding right over their own troops, unable to disengage or brace for the charge.


    Steel-tipped horns hooked and threw even as barbed lances punched home, and these painted chosen champions of the Warp Gods went flying under the impact of more than a ton of metal, along with more than a few unlucky goblins in inconvenient positions. Massive hooves crushed down on Warp-forged armor, regrettably almost impossible to salvage and re-use without inviting corruption, and although a few lucky individuals survived, some even keeping their feet, their lines were broken, and their fate sealed.


    Blackheart closed in on the mounted leader of the force, yet another mutate clad in impressively embellished and oversized demonic armor, wielding a Dire Axe in the demonic pattern. He offered a challenge with a flourish of his Lance, declaring the scornful spite of his people''s gods with a curse upon the other''s head, and charged him.


    Naturally, he wasn''t going to take this fool blow for blow in a formal pass. Sharing the power of divine wrath, Glumgrin swayed out of the side of the enemy''s path, veering directly in to face it, trusting in his greater mass and strength to overcome the mount of his foe. The other tried to avoid the swift sidestep, but his bullox was inordinately quick and strong, buoyed by his own prayers, and Blackheart caught him on the turn.


    His lance punched right through the horse''s neck as Glumgrin''s horns caught it and lifted, throwing off the massive Axe blow aimed at the bullox''s head, and drove through to crash into the rider. Massive armor and size and all, he was still smashed off his horse''s back by the impact, as Glumgrin bowled the dying mutant horse over and Blackheart let go of his Lance ere he followed it.


    He pulled out his own long barbed dire Scimitar, in the very precise barbed pattern of Hell, while Glumgrin pursued the Warped commander savagely, head lowered and trying to gore and trample him beneath thousands of pounds of weight.


    With impossible ease for someone in so much armor, the Warped human got to his feet, swinging his Axe and chopping into Glumgrin''s neck, splitting the armored barding there and drawing blood. Glumgrin smashed into him in response, but proved unable to lift and throw the man for some reason... which hardly mattered as Blackheart''s Scimitar came down once, twice, thrice, splitting the man''s fantastic helm and sending him staggering back, but not before a backfist like a battering ram sent Glumgrin staggering and almost falling down.


    Blackheart dismounted with speed and ease, giving his opponent no chance to catch his breath. The poison on his Scimitar would already be blinding the freak, despite his supernatural vitality, and the Illrigger surged to the attack.


    Instead of taking the descending Axe on his shield, he parried it, turning it just enough to lock it away, and spiked shield and barbed armor screeched and skirled against one another, looking for weakness. Before the Warped could pull back his wailing demon-haunted Axe, Blackheart let go his Scimitar and drove in with his hand to the open and bloody wound in the man''s massive helm.


    Dark energies poured out of his fingers, the deadly touch of the gods sweeping through the half-blinded invader''s brain, directly warring with and consuming the energies that animated him.


    Purple-black flames erupted out of the champion''s glowing crimson-blue eyes, and he lost his energy. The Warped armor about him creaked and began to settle, locking about him as it lost its animating magic, and Blackheart spat as he pushed the corpse backwards. As stiff as a statue, it fell over flat with a crunch of final impact, the higob pulling out the oversized Axe that had somehow reflexively bit into his side even as the warrior died.


    "Now you know how a true chosen of the gods can fight!" the higob sneered, following that with a quick prayer to seal the wound and render it little more than a nuisance. Repairing the breech in his armor would take a little more work, but there was still killing to be done.


    Another healing spell took care of the wound on Glumgrin''s neck, and he remounted his bullox, surveying the battlefield as the last of the enemy''s elites were barreled over and stomped into mush between massive hooves.


    His horn-like call garnered their attention, and they finished up their enjoyment of the slow deaths of the invaders with some brutal thrusts and crushing of skulls, riding up quickly to gather around him.


    There was another line of marauders swinging around to flank some orcish berserkers going off on more of the enemy, leaving themselves nicely exposed to another charge. The timing would be fine, hitting them as they attempted to sandwich the orcs between two lines, one rear charge deserved another!


    =========


    The harvest was pretty good, and if he lost two-thirds of those fighting, he didn''t much care. The majority of those who died were expendable, and their meat didn''t need to be purified to feed their replacements. Thousands were still streaming down their narrow trail through the unnatural waves of stone and floating rock islands, and the silent yet lethal black and plains and their ominous white pillars.


    Threetusks had gathered up his tribe and clan, and invited in some trolls and ogres to help them out with some additional muscle. The boar riders were chafing to get into a fight, all of them staring at the meat being hauled off the battlefield hungrily.


    Behind the battlefield, great pots and cauldrons were ready and waiting for their own dead, and the white fires there for treating the meat of the enemy... which, since they had so much of it, they ended up giving away to those incoming, to get them in the mood after the dangerous trek to the battle here.


    Soulhunter''s disciplined army of huul rested, waiting for Threetusks to take his chance for meat and gold, buttressed by several hungry hill giants, and the fearsome dire wolf cavalry of the huul. Lines of brow-beaten hyen formed the loose infantry lines, and a great number of the archery corps that would support them.


    There had been a force of ogres led by an oni, with many giants in support, who had found themselves facing off against many demons Summoned in to deal with them. The resulting losses had been pretty bad, and so the bigger races now worked in support to the smaller ones, spreading out their power and appetites so the Warped didn''t bring in so many dangerous forces to counter their strength.


    There were other great tribes of higobs here, their own goblin vassals swelling in behind them, with the urgob strikers supporting, occasionally with a leashed drake, great lizard, or similar behemoth along to be expended against the enemy. Blackheart had considered Summoning in aid from the Hells of his gods, but knew that would just mean they''d be facing demons on the field, effectively negating the value of the tactic.


    The fighting was done, his troops were heading home with spoils of meat, what metal could be purified and used in the next battle, and the magic of the enemy, to be burned down and turned into something useful by the Shamans. Another elder Shaman had died in battle with the enemy''s sorcerer, but his apprentice was very happy to take his accouterments and possessions and prove himself in his new position.


    It wasn''t like the fight to the west.


    The higob Illrigger''s dark eyes narrowed, debating whether he should follow the gouged line of hills around and observe the battles taking place over there again. He closed his eyes and banished the thought.


    He did not want to see them win again.


    The battles the forces of the plains and hills of the east fought were merciless and bloody. None of them ended without at least two-thirds of the forces of both sides dead, often as high as ninety percent. The Warped were fanatics, with the presence of their gods Right There, and the tribes themselves were united by the words of all their gods, and the call of so much endless meat.


    The battles of the west... were nothing like this.


    Those walls of dwarven Spears. Those merciless gnome infighters. The terrible precision of the dwarven ballista and crossbow teams. The eruption of hundreds of spells at once from the Elves. The lethal silver rain of their archery. The impossible precision of their pass-through marching, and even cavalry charges through their own ranks. The folding and surging of their lines, drawing in, collapsing, peeling this way and that, scissoring the enemy''s advance as if one hand, one mind was drawing and guiding everything.


    Their losses were miniscule, and their annihilation of the Warped complete. Any Warped who fled were chased down and eliminated without fail. No word of the tactics or lethality of their enemy was allowed to get back to those coming out of the Rift behind them.


    They had hills piled up of the armor and weapons of the dead. Army after army slain by the same cycle of forces...


    And the demons, and the Greater Demons...


    His breath hitched. Disposed of. It was the only term he could think of to describe it. They would enter the battlefield, and they died. Seeing a burning, Axe-bearing colossus of a demon butchered...!


    And his underlings complained about why they hadn''t swept into the rich lands of the west and made them their own...

 213 Chapter Two Hundred and Thirteen – The Run

    The Run began fairly quietly, but it got pretty loud, pretty quick.


    AA, Briggs, and I tore open the Barrier, letting in normal space/time into this 100x zone and starting the collapse that would literally rip the zone apart and send huge portions of it tumbling back into Dream or Leng.


    The smiths had all headed out, nearly a year of labor under their belts for only three days of time outside. They''d all made tremendous contributions, and the joint efforts and sharing of lore had all helped them advance their craft.


    Some did look longingly at the wall of the next zone, so far there in the distance, the land flat and seemingly going on forever. Then they thought about running through nine hundred miles of fun, and keeping on going to get out of there. There were a couple somewhat slower Zones that they could make it to, and take advantage of time still, although who knew how long they would last...


    The magic of the world was gushing out. In one full day of outside Time, it would link up, and forcibly synchronize. At Aru''s Great Renewal, the spatial collapse would drive forward under the rays of the sun, returning this area to the proper amount of space here, where so many millennia had passed.


    Some of the creatures that were strong enough were going to still be left behind. They would first fight one another, then they''d flee into other time zones, trying to get away from the sticky, slow period they found themselves in.


    And, they might go wandering around to vent their ire on something else.


    Our job was to make it to the next barrier, and if we did it right, get it and this realm to collapse at the same Renewal. The only way to do so was to make a trail through the unstable time/space all around us, running ahead of the wave of synchronization going on behind us, outrunning it, and doing that for nine hundred miles...


    Killing everything in our way. The extra vivus would help solidify the connection.


    We couldn''t fly, as without the Land as an anchor, any such trail we made would just disperse. No, this had to be on foot. We could be followed by fliers, as was appropriate, but us three Forsaken had to be the tip of the spear, driving the nail of reality into this unbalanced place, and in our wake a whole universe would be expanding in.


    We had twenty-four hours until Time synched up, and then to the Great Renewal after that. We actually did not want to give our enemies a lot of time to work with, if they could see this coming... and we knew there were spotters on both sides of the barriers, for just this reason.


    Still, there was a lot of ground to cover, and we were going to create a lot of havoc.


    ------


    Knowing this was coming, both AA and Briggs had been investing very heavily into Lightfoot and making sure their Con was raised. Technically, they didn''t have to run this... I could do so, and push or drag them on Disks. That was certainly what we were doing with a number of people, including the North Wind, and my little sisters. Haz¨¦ could Linejump or Gemjump and catch up to us without much problem. The dragons were flying overwatch ahead, helping scout the path and alerting us to any problems.


    Errant and his Heavenbound were on griffon-back, and with Heavenbound buffs, those griffons could fly rings around anything in the sky. They''d spent a lot of virtual months getting a lot tougher alongside their riders, too. The Amazon he was training, Trella, was riding the Valor Dragoness, Kumusa, putting lance or bow to use as needed.


    The optimal path was naturally AA leading, Briggs following, and me solidifying the temporospatial path they were blazing. AA tore apart what was there, Briggs burned away the energies supporting it, and I made the solid funnel that was going to be the chisel that would break this entire place wide open.


    And so, off we went, the boys in the lead, and me trailing a flying wedge of Disks at multiple levels. Behind us, lines of hardened Men, Rockborn, Elves, Gnomes, and even Hyn waited for the flood of retribution and unrest that would be coming behind us.


    --------


    This was all about movement speed and endurance now. The best overland lightfoot was the Wave-Skating Step, because it ignored terrain modifiers like rough ground, mud, water, and the like.


    It didn''t ignore vegetation and undergrowth, which is where Barus came in. Druidic magic in Ritual Format could put out a Pass Through Woodlands Growth that could last for hours... and Extended, an entire day. So, we could basically make most of a beeline for the far side, following rivers if they were convenient, crossing mud puddles that had grown into lakes, while constant Detect Locations from Liiss and the Dragons watching above made sure we didn''t stray off course.


    Base movement of a human is 30. Fast movement as a Class alternative is +10'', to 40, but dress light. The Fleet Feat was increased by Armor Mastery, +5'' to base move multiplied by Armor Mastery, which was base 2, increased to 3 by Combat Genius for +15''. Lightfoot is based on spiritual and ki development, which we all had topped out now, +1/3rd of base movement for every three Monk Levels or points of MAB. So, doubled at +10 MAB.


    Base 55, doubled to 110 with lightfoot. Add Swift Soul Feat, +5''/Essence to speed when running, 4 Essence invested. Cruising along at 130'' movement, which meant 520 feet every six seconds running, and we could sprint to 650 if needed.


    It worked out to an overland speed of about sixty miles per hour, which wasn''t bad for being on foot.


    We all had the Endurance Mastery, and Con scores of at least 30, by hook or by crook. Couple that with using Revitalizing Strike on monsters in passing to eliminate fatigue, and we simply didn''t bother to stop.


    We didn''t get into pitched fights, we were there to run, and only the fastest things in the skies could possibly stop us... and the fastest things in the skies would have taken a look at five dragons up there and griffons flitting about like swallows, and decided they had something better to do.


    Even a good ambush predator would have a hard time dealing with us, considering that any jump from us was going to span at least a hundred feet, about as easily as skipping a step. Running into a web simply wasn''t going to happen, and by the time a snatch-and-grab ambusher could even sense us, we''d either be right on top of it or past it, so there was nothing.


    Under Barus'' magic, up there towed by AA as he concentrated, the thickest of thorn patches, clusters of vines, walls of ferns, fields of reeds, and mazes of roots opened up just enough to allow us passage, and we zipped on through. No matter how dense or unreal the vegetation was, we went right through it.


    The rest of the broken terrain we simply handled with lightfoot. No matter how broken or wet it was, we could skate over or through it, and cracks and crevasses, unless they spanned over a hundred meters, we could simply jump and skim down and across without a problem, arcing and sliding through the air.


    In our wake, we pulled a thread of reality, which would only grow as the weight of the universe came in behind it.


    Did I mention the Hellpuppies were pulling up the rear? Oh, that''s right, they weren''t on Disks.


    Hellhounds with Monk Levels. They hadn''t wasted the last year, either. Mastery of Breath Weapons and Monk Levels had been the big things they learned. Base 50'' move, buy +10 of Fast Movement, add +5 of Fleet, Run, and then +4 Swift Soul, and they could cruise at 600, easily able to keep pace with us.


    The biggest thing we had to worry about was all the bugs hitting us... but everyone was wearing Bracers of Force Armor at +5, which was basically drawing the equivalent of a suit of chain mail all over us, and the many, many bugs just splatted against us, prompting many a comment about alchemicals to get the stains out... On the Disks, there were shields breaking the wind, helms, and bowed heads against the draft, if they didn''t have the same.


    I would have liked to say the scenery was fantastic and strange and I could ooooh and aaaah about it... but it wasn''t. Sure, the trees were freaking huge, and when you''re running down a mile-wide river and there''s thousand-foot trees rising up to either side, that''s certainly impressive. When you''re skipping across tree roots that span half an acre, that''s nice, too. Seeing spider-webs a half-mile across, witnessing a land wurm measuring two hundred yards in length sidling between them... yes, yes, all quite fantastic. There were rocs up in the sky that veered in to investigate, got three blasts of lightning to the face, and decided that maybe land wurms were better to play with.


    There was a whole lot of stuff that got very excited when we blazed through and past them, massed fire from the Disk Train occasionally popping a critter or two for that nice shot of vivus to help the Land out. Some were creatures I didn''t know about and had never seen before, and just filed away for reference. None had much time to do anything about us. When you''re traveling two hundred yards in six seconds, and putting out a respectable amount of firepower, first instincts are to flee and/or hunt cover if you are an animal. By the time they peeked out again, we were well past them and vanishing into the distance.


    We did pass giants on more than one occasion, wandering among the trees and surprised to see us. They didn''t try to chase us more than a few steps before realizing they couldn''t catch us, but they did chuck stones after us in irritation at us not stopping to slaughter them. I did avoid them conscientiously, debated satisfying their urge to die, and kept on going.


    I mentioned to Haz¨¦ that this was the biggest waste of nine hundred miles of lived-lining in like EVER, and now I could actually take advantage of it. She laughed at me...


    Ahead of us, the turbulent wall of 400x normal time loomed ever closer, extending clear across the horizon and up to the sky.


    Nine thousand more miles to the Hole past that. Not that we were going there right away. No, this run was to make sure the Land got all the way to this Barrier at Renewal, and started on the process of tearing it down when we broke it open. If we needed to make it to the Hole to bring it down, well, we could do that... but our mission objective was off to the east, such as it was, and the three key Obelisks that had been put up there.


    Testing on the other shattered spatial shards had shown that the Land only resolved them slowly if a wake like ours wasn''t put in place. There was simply too much distortion, possibly being fueled by outside sources. Putting to vivus a whole lot of stuff sped up the process nicely, however, but unless we did punch all the way through to the Hole, wrapping up the space was a slow process.


    There was a caveat. There was no telling what was going to happen when we took those Obelisks out, especially if we led a Wake right to them. If they went vivic, and that vivus flowed along the Wake, well, things could break down rather quickly.


    And when that happened, things were going to get very interesting, indeed.


    =========


    Eighteen hours of skating, fading, jumping, pumping, sliding, gliding, veering, steering, sprinting, sideswiping, dashing, almost crashing, diving, and skidding, our destination was in front of us.


    So was an army of about two thousand dragon-blooded lizard-men. Mire blood, too...


    It might have been because a very narrow but perceptible line of blue sky started following us on our grand trip, splitting the clouds above us visibly, and given the flatness of the land, was visible from a great distance away. An hour was plenty of time to muster a response, and this area of torn-up ground formed a natural chokepoint that we had headed right towards.


    But you know, that was okay. The dragons saw them way ahead of time, and really, there was really no reason we had to face them. They and the drakes and dinos they were riding certainly weren''t enough to catch us, and we could have gone around them.


    But we needed a warm-up, and overpowered lizard-men were definitely one way to get the kinks out of our muscles...


    Acid resistance all around, Shamans identified, and the whole shebang started off with five dragons diving down on them, which certainly wasn''t good for their morale.


    Each dragon had two riders: one lancer, and one ranged. As they made the best lancers and support in this area, all of the lancers, save Kumusa''s, were Senior Paladins from assorted Orders, brimming with pride to be chosen as Dragon-riders. As they made the best dual-duty ranged attackers, all the second riders were Elves who were excellent archers and Casters. The combination had been proven repeatedly in combat in the air and ground to be immensely effective, and the trios had gotten a great deal of practice in together.


    Estemar and General Moonriver were riding the big male Valor dragon, Ligaii. Estemar had been branching out in many directions, as Powered could, and the amount of support he could dole out was impressive, while he hadn''t let his fighting ability slide at all. General Moonriver had put a lot of effort into upgrading the killing power of his archery, above and beyond what he had achieved as a Ten, and a year of slaughter in the 100x zone had certainly helped with that.


    Down they came, and it was on.

 214 Chapter Two Hundred and Fourteen – Some Gratuitous Carnage

    Okay, an average lizard-man is a 2 HD scaled humanoid (lizardoid? Okay, bipedal sentient carnivore). They''ve got a decent bite attack (as in, it would rip off a normal human''s face), and weak natural claw attacks. They''re stronger than humans, but slower afoot, excellent swimmers, and prefer swampy/wet environments... and naturally there were subspecies with magical bloodlines that existed in other terrains.


    Historically, large lizard man settlements end up dominated by gator-men, or Kroks, who are a head or two larger, and mass what an ogre does, with about the same strength, and have six to eight HD.


    Adding dragon blood thickened their scales, gave them acid resistance for their Mire bloodline, maybe a breath weapon, and made them stronger... much stronger, if they were full half-dragons, with wings and everything.


    Maybe they had 2-3 more racial hit dice, being part of a draconic kingdom ruled over by dragons. But in the end, it really didn''t matter when they were slammed into by a wave of tricked-out Tens.


    Yeah, I had a few of them behind me. Namely, fifty berserkers crazy eager for a fight. The North Wind. One hundred Ironblood axe and shield, bracing fifty elite dwarven spears, fifty elite elven archer/swordsmen, a score of gnomes on the Autoballistae, and twenty hyn infighters and hole-pluggers.


    The order of battle was very plain and I had hammered it into them on multiple occasions.


    The strong killed the weak. The weak ganged up on the strong. The really strong killed the really strong.


    This was naturally completely at odds with what you were supposed to do, going up against foes of equal power for glory and proving you were better.


    These foes were here to be slaughtered, not to be dueled. We were here to massacre them, not teabag them.


    That meant the big berserkers with individual totems began a cleave-fest on the weakest of the lizardmen, one-shotting them and reaping on to the next. The big Kroks or mutated commanders were double and triple teamed by the pack-oriented berserkers, and taken down from multiple angles in seconds.


    The dwarves crushed forwards in a line, a stalwart wall anyone could retreat behind, a moving juggernaut of punching longspears that let nothing past. Behind them, staying on their Disks, the elves drew endless arrows out of One More Arrow quivers, sparkling with various magical Reserve energies, and nailed them point-blank into the writhing walls of scales in front of them. Spears retracted, scaled bodies flopped and writhed, spears extended, and iron boots crunched into their scaled heads. Anything that managed to move past the dwarven spear line found itself instantly attacked on four sides by leaping hyn, and ceased to be a threat within two steps. The archers hardly bothered to glance at them.


    My Ironblood kept the flanks of that spear advance clean, and swept up after the rampaging berserkers with unmoving expressions, sweeping past to rescue those held up improbably, finishing anything on the ground, and available to dogpile anything that looked particularly tough.


    The North Wind roved and played favorites with the enemy, Casters being free in their loosing of spells, be it fogs to interrupt line of sight, fireballs and lightning bolts to open up lines, or Rays of death at specific Casters to tear them down instantly. A grizzly bear the size of a small elephant was sending lizard-men flying in every direction, Jhon and Talatha were cutting down the toughest commanders in seconds, Grym and Feist were shadow and fire in a driving wedge, leading my little sisters in a wicked, weaving dance of cutting blades, driving Spear, and roaring Hammer.


    I was wielding Quaver, an adamantine longsword I''d also made at QL 55, but with a distinct catch. Quaver was +I Main Gauche, which meant she reflected the magic of the other Weapon to which she was attuned... which was Tremble.


    This was because Tremble was flying around bestowing Cures on anyone who was too wounded. This was especially true of the Berserkers, who weren''t too focused on defense when Raging away like they were. Through Quaver, she could initiate Transfer Wounds if need be, and I could simply heal them up with Healing Edge while on Cleave-trains. The berserkers were the main beneficiaries of this, as zipping Transfer Rays or AoE effects would wipe away the marks of ironwood spears, nasty bites, claw attacks, tail swipes, and hacking stone axes and clubs, and I''d be pummeled by the same... yet when I Supreme Cleave''d my way through a score of shrieking lizard men and buried Quaver in the skull of a Shaman who couldn''t believe I could get through them so quickly, 20d8 of healing would inevitably wipe away the Health damage, and open wounds would vanish as fast as they were inflicted on me. Ow! Ahhh. Ow! Ahhh. Ow! Ahhh...


    The berserkers were the only ones who weren''t all Marked by me... although a few of them had evolved their viewpoints and taken that step into fighting for a greater cause, and helped lead the rest. Nevertheless, they were inside my Warlord Aura, and to a man, they all had Courageous Weapons, Greater Soulbound, and Furious, the last giving them +2/+2 while Raging, which was all they did. +5 To Hit, Damage, AC, and Saves was only a shade below +6, and with Tremble singing overhead and dispensing heals to everyone, their chances of dying were slim to none... which only spurred them to even greater frenzy when killing.


    We''d learned that there was indeed a per person limit on Tremble''s Cures... one per Valence Level per day. So, five Cures, from Light Wounds to Deadly Wounds/Mass CLW in step... or unlimited Transfers. If I was willing to take the hits, I could take it all.


    In mass combat and with Healing Edge? Yeah, I didn''t mind at all, and I had the Health to give a massive shot in the fundamentallum to even a dragon. When the big Shield Dragon Corgun, being ridden by Sir Harbrom, saw me take a 100-point six-foot long, scale-peeling and flesh-rending wound from him, and then Healing Edge it away in under six seconds, well, even the dragon was impressed by that... but not enough to stop him from ripping apart the mammoth-sized Behemoth Shadow Rhino that had given it to him back then, while I left a whole lot of wisps of Dire Shadow Rhinos burning behind me through the stampeding umbral crash it was leading...


    And yeah, that had freaking hurt...


    So, Tremble was taking over very active healing duties, and had a little sister who could borrow her combat powers, so I wasn''t lacking for anything.


    They outnumbered us better than five to one. Alas, it just gave the lads more bones to chew on.


    They lasted about three minutes. The Mass Acid Resistances from the elves basically took care of their breath weapons from Ancestor Dearest, and after that, this bunch of buffed-up and impressive scaled bastards just died. The opening breath weapons of the dragons wrecked their formations; the berserkers got into the middle of them; Briggs, AA, and I blew through their commanders and Casters in a spray of scales and gore, and there were loud complaints that we weren''t to do any more Cleave-runs before the main line smacked into the reeling scalies and displayed why you don''t mess with an armed force of Geared-up Seven through Tens.


    Tremble flitted here and there, healing any large injuries, while the Healers among the Elves dealt with the rest. I could Transfer while fighting and even during downtime, if Healers worked on me together, so I could even reload everyone''s Soak as quickly as the Healers could bring me back up, converting Health Healing of the Reserve into the Soak Healing which Transfers could do.


    What goldweight there was to salvage was quickly snapped up while the healing was going on, some blood harvested from the true half-dragons for power comps, and after about ten minutes of recovery, everyone mounted their Disks again, and followed after Briggs, AA, and I as we trotted up to the Barrier at a leisurely thirty mph or so.


    -----


    Nine hundred miles in a day. I was impressed despite myself. In a 100x temporal zone, that amounted to like fifteen minutes Outside. Behind us was an almost straight line of solid reality intruding in, reinforced by incidental vivus, and now anchored by this huge vivic feast of drac-blooded lizard men we were giving it.


    "I can feel it growing," murmured Ancientaxe, looking up with his crimson eyes. The clouds above were distorting, a sign of reality readjustment ongoing. It would still take the full day and Renewal to get through the full spatial distortion... but the temporal shifting would precede it.


    "Then we don''t want to stay here." I pointed ahead of us, and felt the hum of expectation coming from those behind.


    From the moment we entered it, we would go from 100x to 400x, and basically had a year to travel thousands of miles to the Obelisk cities and foil whatever the Hags were planning to do.


    We''d just proven we could run nine hundred miles in a day. We could definitely do this.


    AA grunted, and drove Zeitgeist into the wall of sliding time in front of us. Everyone tensed as his black and grey Helices spun out into the flow of time, grabbed, and began to twist, test, and pull.


    In addition to being more energetic, the distortion here was also harder, but AA wasn''t the same Void Brother he''d been a virtual year ago. His Helices moved with grace and precision from one point of temporal flow to the next, subtly twisting, distorting, crashing the irregular and naturally imperfect flow of time against itself, aided immeasurably by the weight of Creation streaming down a nine-hundred-mile Wake behind him.


    With a grunt that brought a spray of crimson from his nose, he threw his arms wide. His Helices writhed, locked, spirals in gigantic concentric patterns flared across the Barrier, and he tore it open with an awful sound of plastic space and time being rent by applied Eff You.


    "Rah!" Briggs brought his Hammer down, and everyone here was a Null or Caster of some sort, even if it was only Soul Magic. His Source Interdiction erupted out like a wave of invisible sunlight, forcing its way in against the power flowing out from within, turning the jagged edges of the breach into a smooth tunnel, pushing and burning away whatever forces were trying to keep it intact.


    -UP!- I raised my foot, and all the Nulls in my Ironblood did the same. -DOWN!-


    "FUCK YOU!" we all shouted out together, as we all Put Our Foot down.


    The Veil blazed with our Interdiction, vivus blew through the dimensions and locked them down tight as adamant, visibly making the Casters twitch at the sensation of massive indomitable spiritual weight crystallizing all around them. The writhing, burning edge of the Barrier trembled and stilled as the Veil solidified far, far harder than it was before, and time and space seemed to spin around everyone for a second, before settling into something old and mighty and Proper.


    Maximum length of a Forsaken Interdiction was one day. But we''d driven a spatial nail into here from outside, had a nice offering of vivus to make it stand and lock in place, and so that One Day was Real Time, not this unbalanced 100x shit.


    Three hundred ninety-six days awaited us.


    The view ahead was hazy with an early night, but we''d already seen a lot of this through the eyes of Void Brothers scouting our path and targets.


    It was a fog-shrouded land, with all kinds of terrain. Forests hundreds of thousands of years old, both plant and fungal; blasted hills and desolate moors, improbably steep and high mountains, yawning chasms, howling cold steppes, and sun-scoured deserts. Whole areas swayed with interplanar instability to Dream and Leng, and the nightmares of unclean things lived alongside the bent and twisted descendants of the city and those who had come up from below. Empires warred, mortal creatures died, and timeless things looked on from the shadows and laughed while the sacrifices millions fueled a vast scheme beyond their knowledge...


    And we were going to tear it all down. Mwahahaha!


    I pointed. AA took point, Helices extending out, and the most powerful Source and Null in the world followed behind.


    The nail in the sky grew longer behind us, a clear path to follow, a Wake of reality, if but the natives were fast enough to follow it. Who knew if any would take up the challenge...

 215 Chapter Two Hundred and Fifteen – Encounter Zone Abuse

    In the course of an epic journey to equally epic conflicts with some of the most elite fighting forces imaginable, it is of course necessary to have conflict zones.


    Such areas are replete with dramatic scenery, and fell foes that must be overcome on the road to uberness, little smelting trials to make you worthy of the fight at the end, won in the blood and deaths of your comrades and followers.


    They were a goddamn pain and we did everything we could to make them as undramatic as freaking possible.


    Naturally the Void Brothers had scouted out our pathway, so we knew which way to go. That didn''t mean the way was easy, because this was basically a 9000 x 3000-mile little world, a quarter of a million years old or older, filled with nasty shit vomited up from the Felldeep, or twisted by the influence of both the Hags and Leng.


    That didn''t mean we avoided fights. On the contrary, we made sure to include at least one fight a day. Naming Karma didn''t manufacture itself out of nowhere, and why waste any day you might get stronger? Every single individual was fully cognizant of how the wonderful baseline magic of Naming Karma and Renewals, of once a day Feats, Masteries, and Levels worked, the restrictions thereof, and how to make use of them. A day without Karma was one day lost on the road of apotheosis, and while that didn''t matter as much to the longer-lived races, it left the humans champing at the bit to fight more.


    Which was fine. After all, I liked to fight, too. It''s just the whole army complained when Briggs, AA, and I did anything other than wipe out the really dangerous things. I was only allowed one Cleaving run to open up the enemy formation, and then my job was to sit aside and Warlord everyone while Tremble kept everyone healed, and Briggs and AA went on idle ''Oh my are they trying to spring a surprise? Splat!'' duty, disposing of certain undesirables who would mess up the fun of those behind us.


    Even the dragons, those elemental-breathing, flying, hexa-limbed engines of destruction, got in on the whining, once they saw how the three of us would steamroll anything that looked like a proper fight. With two riders each, the dragons were extremely confident of taking on just about anything, and watching us mulch down some terrifying opponents that looked like they might provide the dragons with a good tussle and an ego boost was something they were quick to get snarky about.


    Naturally, when there was stuff up in the sky that only they and the knights in the air could do anything about, we didn''t hear a peep about sharing. That was okay. They could only look on, depressed, when their enemies zipped into the Stillflight Fields of our continuous Interdiction and went plummeting to the ground. 20d6 ground-saying-hello damage and a few Spears to non-mushed parts later, and the various mutant avians, reptiles, insects, worms, polyps, drakes, dinos, humanoids, plants, swarms, elementals, jinns, undead, flowers, towers, shadows, Radiant Ones, canines, felines, bovines, ursines, rats, bats, and other twats that defied easy description went aaAAaaAA in disbelief at Reality insisting that no, a multi-ton brute with no wings and a poor mass-to-area ratio really could not fly, and King Gravity agreed from up there on his Throne of Interdiction.


    The Nulls in our company scrupulously kept their smiles off their faces at such things. But still, everyone enjoyed watching the pageantry of swooping griffons and dragons speeding through the air with improbable agility, setting up one another''s charges with ease and experience, Wrath flashing here and there, burning arrows flying out, and multi-ton engines of destruction smashing into other equally impossibly big fliers and doing a claw-claw-claw-claw-bite-wing-wing-tail flurry of ripping destruction and quickly disassociating key body parts.


    Despite their egos, the dragons were also team players, and it was repeatedly pounded into them that they couldn''t abuse the healing capacity of the group, in case we had to, oh, fight five times in one day, and didn''t have time to heal up in between the scalefolk on the ground, the spellcasting Rimmer Cones, the swooping flock of monstrous bats, the charging raptor riders, and the avalanche elementals thundering down the side of the pass we were going through.


    -----------


    "Sooooo... is everyone else smelling what I''m smelling?"


    Everyone else pretty much flared their nostrils at the same time.


    "Trap." "Trap." "Trap." "Trap." "Sacrifice." "Ambush." "Trap." "Enfilade." "They think we''re stupid."...


    I sniffed again. "Yep, smells like it. Shall we smirk?"


    Smiles teased at the edges of lips as everyone looked over the situation ahead of us.


    The canyon was over a mile across, going down into some howling gulf that might or might not have a bottom in this dimension. Certainly the winds coming up out of it smelled/felt/sounded/looked/tasted like something not exactly of the mortal plane, and the non-Forsaken indicated that there felt like something down there was looking up at them, and it was a mite bit eternally hungry-like.


    There was a single long arch crossing that gulf, old rock shaped by unhuman hands, big enough for a wagon to cross, but bereft of anything sensible, like, oh, handrails... Gusts of roof-raising wind blew this way and that, and playing in the unholy winds were a whole lot of wind walkers, a-wailing and a-whooping in a-nticipation.


    The dragons and griffons, having the best eyesight, pointed out a dozen aether-wendigos leading the worship services to something Man Didn''t Want To Know in the howling winds. We waved to them...


    The fort and small city behind us were mostly empty of life. The Leng natives and ghouls that had made up the city and the fort respectively had long since ceased to burn vivus, and a disconcertingly blue area of sky had opened above the city, with wan sunlight now filtering through the temporal-dimensional soup down upon us, no need for sunscreen.


    Leng ghouls were powerful undead. We''d harvested enough heads for Undead Baneskulls for all the dwarves, gnomes, and Casters by now, with the Tokens going to the elves. When we ran into more of them, they''d swap who got what. Our rest period had been about burning a whole lot of goldweight from the belongings of the natives, and converting it into things that could kill them better.


    ...Fine, we plundered them thoroughly, just like respectable murderhobos should. Unfortunately, we couldn''t trust most of the food, so it was clerical manna-with-spices and some Really Good Apples/Berries/Oranges once again.


    The dragons had informed me that the moonbeast in charge of everything tasted like mushroom and chicken pie after I fixed it up for them, and they were looking forwards to more. Not having the I-can-eat-rocks-and-dewdrops-mwahahahaha physiology of a dragon, the rest of us demurred on the dish. More for them!


    The constant susurrus of the winds, interspersed with expertly timed wails, howls, groans, and shrieks, would have had quite the deleterious effect on any normal troop. Alas, the combination of fear-immune Heavenbound, Aura of Courage Paladins, and Tremble not having to make fatigue checks for playing morale-boosting Courageous music meant the maddening, terrifying chorus of unholy paeans to forbidden powers was running into the wall of something like an extra +18 bonus to save against fear and horror, and everyone was pretty much ignoring it in favor of some rather transcendental elevator music.


    Oh, and Minstrels/Bards can sub their Skill Checks for Perform skills against sonic effects to everyone who can hear their music, which means there''s no automatic failure on a 1. Guess who had a base Song check of +34 before other modifiers, and just Took 10, making a no-roll average effort? Additionally, the Cantors and Bards among the dwarves and elves could assist if they so liked, for an additional +2 each, up to +6.


    Let''s see. Take 10, add 34, add 6, and then tack on 18 for fearlessness, Courage, Courageous, Warlord Bonus, Save buffs...


    Hmm. With a 68, all the hordes of Hell could be sitting in front of us, and we''d be humming along to the elevator music, and were trying not to sway along to the melody.


    Tremble, oh OHHHHHH oh tremble, we come...


    "Confirm no flying through that mess?" I inquired.


    "You''d need Windbound to cut through that," Errant promptly replied. "We''d be blown all over the place. The Walkers will rip apart any kind of aeromancy put into effect."


    The dragons conferred with /Marktells and subtle movements of wings and muscles. "We could reach the other side, but we could not be certain of our course," big Corgun spoke for all of them, both proudly and admitting they didn''t have the strength to overcome it all.


    "Which is totally the idea. Likely there''s a Blessing or Ritual that''s formed to propitiate the wind walkers, probably having to do with sacrificing some slaves to them, in order to cross," Briggs noted. "We''ll have to rope it across, the gusts are mostly from below, but there''s some nasty crosswinds coming across, I''m betting?" The dragons and griffons confirmed it immediately, looking annoyed that they''d have to claw it across. No hooves, couldn''t hoof it, hee...


    "Oh noze, we shall have to sacrifice some of our own to cross the dire bridge to nowhere," I said, clasping my cheeks, and more than a few chuckles spread out behind me. "Might we, how horribly, be ambushed as we cross, roped together in single file, so vulnerable as we cross this ageless bridge to the other side, where yet more fell foes await us? I canzt not think of what to do, woe, oh woe is uz."


    More of them chuckled.


    "Okay, get the wings of the fliers bound tight so they don''t get caught by the wind, and get the roping done. Let''s make this as hilariously anti-climactic as possible, I trust everyone agrees?"


    There was effusive and amused agreement.


    -----


    March march march, humming softly as the Odes of Heaven calmly fended off the subsonic, quasisonic, psionic, and sensionic waves of fear, horror, terror, despair, apathy, insanity, madness, craziness, mad enlightenment, disenchantment, bleakness, weakness, and overall eminently critic-worthy bad vibes coming from below.


    A few criticisms promptly got made into anti-Aberrant specialized stanzas, as the music-makers took the opportunity to collaborate on something new and interesting. Hey, a +2-4 modifier in the future against Old One sonic effects could be useful to someone, why not?...


    The smallest folk and elves were hanging grimly onto the Rockborn, who had low centers of gravity and Heavyfoot, and were in about as much danger of being blown off this bridge as walking boulders. The humans largely all had Heavyfoot to one degree or another, more than enough to secure themselves.


    The dragons, once their wings were bound, were in no danger, their claws and mass letting them advance with sure-footed, powerful grace. The griffons had all gone lion claws, but their riders all had shared Heavyfoot up, or Wards flicked up to deflect the winds that could come from any direction.


    March march march. Wail-howl-moan, look at them all gathering up. Why, there must be thousands of them. What were they saying in Aklo? Dire threats? Devoured souls offered up to which of the Old Ones? How horrible. Really must do something about their invitations to dinner and religious services, how did they expect to recruit new worshippers with such stuff?


    March march march, we be a-moving and a-grooving, nobody paying attention to the winds that were definitely trying to shake us, effectively deaf to everything but the Elevator To Heaven music playing in our heads. It really seemed to be pissing off these things, which were anticipating a hearty meal of fear, dread, horror, terror, and other flavorful sesquipedalian synonyms (seriously, the phobias get VERY long) while making offerings to their foul and benighted master...


    Hey, why weren''t air-based worshippers offering screaming souls to something Up There, instead of Down There?


    Everyone looked up at the same time, pursed their lips, and puzzled over that before glancing in ridicule at the thousands of wind walkers and their wendigo masters gathering around us.


    Ah, right, non-Euclidean geometry, it is a thing with this set, the Valor dragoness Kumusa pointed out with just the right touch of levity.


    Okay, we were all on the bridge, halfway, couldn''t get away, and we were not-so-subtly pissing them off. They all did the moany-shrill howl-tornado rumble thing and exploded at us. Less than a hundred yards to reach us, moving pretty fast there, somehow all the winds blowing at us from every direction at the same time without crossing.


    March-march-march. -Oh, fine, put your foot down.-


    March.


    The Stillflight from the spread-out Null Interdictions went off when they were about ten yards away. The equally spaced Casters released their Ward Walls to cover the entire length of the column from those diving from above, angled nicely to deflect certain falling entities off to the sides.


    It was impressive seeing that solid wall of elemental spirits and doomed hunger-makers suddenly take a dive all together. The astonishment on their rather indistinct and wispy faces had to be seen to be believed, exaggerated as it was.

 216 Chapter Two Hundred and Sixteen – Giger was a Bad Influence

    For some strange reason, I was absolutely sure it was coincidence, the winds didn''t blow them out of the Stillflight area as they fell. Sure enough, the winds were all suddenly blowing in and down. These elemental creatures of air, who should have been able to tread the winds like the lawn I didn''t have, dropped like stones. Well, soapstone or pumice, maybe, but that just meant the winds had more effect. The semi-corporeal wendigos, materializing to get some food for perpetually empty bellies, found they couldn''t go back ethereal, nor ignore He Who Is King gravity anymore.


    They smashed into our meteor shelter of Ward Walls, bounced off to the sides with rather shocked shouts of pain, and scrabbled instinctively at the stone with claws of solid air and congealed ice, hanging on in shock and disbelief as the winds dragged them down...


    March march march, crossbows held at arms swinging down. Poinkpoinkpoink!


    Damn, that +15 (or higher) or so penalty to climbing checks to an unskilled climber from taking damage was truly nasty. Aieeeee... off they went on their pilgrimages.


    Zipzipzip, Shards flew out; a few Fire and Lightning Reserves detonated; some breath weapons disdainfully played over the stone and cleaned off the sacrificial offerings to their no doubt delighted master and patron. Waaat, they didn''t know how famously uncaring the Mythos masters were?


    Well, far be it from me to withhold a fine instructional moment from such eager and willing students, so zealous and eager in their fanatical devotion. I''m sure they appreciated the enlightenment, judging by the amount of fear, dread, terror, and so forth ad nauseam wafting up from below, which their master would no doubt dearly enjoy, given the amount of effort they''d put into trying to generate some for It.


    I strongly admonished everyone not to peep over the side for the umpteenth time, as they didn''t really want to see what was down there greeting the eager devotees.


    March march march. Hey, the winds died down! Wow, their Master really did approve of this offering of theirs. No doubt It wished It had more such zealous servants serving It so faithfully...


    A thin line of blue crept across the sky, and if the shadows down below seemed to pull back a bit, we could only regret that we didn''t vivic some of the eager worshippers. Their master might have taken it as trying to steal food from Its mouth, after all. Gotta be polite about this sort of thing, after all. A little respect for immortal Entities from Beyond keeps a Null healthy and sane, after all...


    Humming and Not Looking Down, any vertigo and agoraphobia finding the Elevator To Heaven just too hard to climb and taking a polite rest off to the side, we marched on across this mile-long arch of warped stone towards the far side.


    --------


    Now, the Brotherhood had zipped across this thing by Veilwalking, pausing only just long enough to see what was on the other side, and then they were on the way again.


    Naturally, it couldn''t be more undead to let us use all these nice new Baneskulls and Tokens in proper field tests. Leng natives are kind of rude that way.


    No, this was an opposing faction of Aberrants, namely the cerebrovores.


    These little brains-on-legs are pesky little fuckers. They can eat the brain of a sentient, then occupy their bodies and animate them, using surface memories to sub for their victims and infiltrate their societies. Naturally, they are completely amoral about such things, considering it their right and privilege to do so, the rest of us are just walking livestock existing to provide them additional experiences to savor and a new set of meat clothing.


    They''re also approximately as hard as granite somehow, as well as extremely resistant to most forms of energy, including magic, and so a true pain in the ass for most people to butcher and grind into spell components properly.


    The favorite ride of cerebrovores are xenosyms. These creatures bear a disturbing resemblance to Aliens from Da Movies, which only served to reinforce my opinion that Giger was one of those mad artists tapping into the dark dreams of Mythos entities and painting out stuff nobody really wanted to exist.


    Cerebrovores didn''t have to eat the brains of xenosyms. Nope, symbiotic relationship, they could scuttle in right under their skull-crest, and there was a nice little shielded hollow with cortex access they could plug right into. Lo, now you have some existential psionic brain-eating genius horrors plugged right into phrenic acid-spewing chest-bursting horrors... with extending jaws and claws and nasty tails who could scuttle along walls with blindsight.


    Needless to say, these creatures were not something you wanted to fight with a standard line of infantry. Aberrant phrenic shit is just a total pain in the ass to deal with, worse than most magical creatures that at least take a decent amount of time to mature.


    I did say most...


    Of course, the folks I had fighting with me were anything but a standard line of infantry, and as they say, knowing is half the battle.


    Mind control was the last thing I was worried about. Any successful mental attack like that was blindingly obvious in /Marktell, meaning only some of the berserkers were vulnerable, and trying to mind control them in rage was completely impossible, as they had been very careful to learn how to resist such. The rest would just get shouted back to awareness by their buddies, getting somewhere between zero to two hundred or so extra saves against mind control, at most costing them a moment of hesitation, or not even that if I noticed and just bid them attack something other than the creature that had just tried to control them.


    Certainly I wouldn''t notice such a blinding intrusion against my Marked, nope, nope...


    Topping off their Will saves was my Warlock bonus enhanced by my Resolve bonus for a happy +10 extra, and with Soul-boosted Mindwarding saves adding +3-4 more, well, the success rate of such things wasn''t going to be too high.


    The Forsaken, of course, basically ignored them. Nulls work perfectly fine on piss-I-on-ics.


    Acid resistance took care of that horribly acidic xenosym blood, and, well, both silvershine and blueshine slakes rendered the gear so subjected completely immune to acid. I certainly wouldn''t have been so foresighted as to insist on everyone have their Gear treated that way, right? I mean, with all the rotting, corrupting, decaying, molding, rusting, and other effects prevalent in Mythos and Chaos-infested areas. Nope, nope, not me, my 32 Int and 34 Wisdom is Totally For Show. I r stoopid, hur hur hur, I iz.


    -------


    Corgun traipsed up behind me, Briggs, and AA, while some esoteric energies were trying to get past Null, Source, and Void, and basically just fading into nothingness ahead of us. There were a few catapults unleashing their loads, and the Casters behind us were taking turns Featherweighting the big rocks and watching them blow away on the winds into the void beneath us. After a few minutes, there was a crack of some inverse-note thunder from below, the ground trembled, and even the cerebrovores in charge didn''t keep sending more offerings of just rocks down to whatever was below us.


    The dragon wasn''t exactly comfortable in three overlapping Forsaken auras, but tolerated it out of pure superiority... and knowing we weren''t going to attack him. -There is a Queen atop the wall,- he /pointed out helpfully, with that tone he used when wanting to wheedle a good fight away from us.


    I''d already seen it, my Mask up now that we were past the canyon and there was no chance of me looking down low and Seeing Something I''d have to lobotomize myself instantly to forget. -Yeah, I''ma throw Briggs at it,- I /replied, ignoring the way the dragon''s surprisingly mobile lips fell. -I need you to be a mobile siege ladder, not a combatant here, until we get multiple Disk Stairs risen. The last thing I need is for a dragon to be caught in tight quarters and assaulted from all sides.


    Xenosyms are armor-rending sons of lungs, and they''ll chew up your scales quick. Once we have a foothold, I''ll need the dragons to get around to the front and make sure nothing gets in or out. You can cover one another in formation there, and you''ll be out of the winds if they try to swarm you.-


    -Hmmm.- The dragon ran a few scenarios, I helpfully /supplied him some numbers, his eyes flickered, and he decided that being attacked by a dozen xenosyms ripping away his scales was probably not a good tactical decision... and it may or may not have got him thinking about actually investing in some barding, which the proud dragons had been rather skeptical of acquiring when magic was so sufficient.


    Big difference between +4 from Force Armor and potentially +11 from mithral Plate Barding, and if it was well-made, it would look totally badass on him... and it wasn''t like they hadn''t built up a heap load of goldweight credits for battlespoils.


    We weren''t dumb enough to actually give the dragons coins for their hoards, of course, as they''d never spend the damn things, and they would be completely impossible to haul along while we were traveling. It was just a mental tally, but they salivated over the shining numbers in Markspace as if they were real.


    -I know this isn''t your specialty, AA, any problems?- I /inquired, bringing my left hand back, and Tremble slowly slid forth from her scabbard, immediately beginning to chime with the notes to our Song, which Endure patiently picked up with ringing emphasis.


    Quaver slid out eagerly, happy to be fighting with her older Sister.


    Soul Essence flowed over the Belt at my waist, flared as it turned my hips into extra shoulders and two vaguely spider-like arms coalesced out of a third of the symbols encircling my Waist, electrum against the white of my Marks. They crossed, clasped, and Fall and Stand lit up in eager anticipation as I drew them.


    Corgun pursed his scaled lips warily. He''d seen me fight with a Sword, and rarely a Sword and Shield. He''d never actually seen me pop the Arakne Arms. Sir Harbrom and Vialeste, the Elven Magebow riding crossbow, were also very interested.


    A kite-shaped silver decoration on my waist-length hair dropped down, and sealed itself just blow the Mark on my spine, right on the tailbone. Soul Essence flared on the other third of those Belt-Tats, and Compressed mithral extended out in serpentine segments, arcing out and up and over my head.


    Sparky flared into existence, and promptly zipped into the widened last segment of what looked like a serpentine Tail that had lit up with the same assortment of multi-hued flames as my two Swords. Three spikes of solid light gathered around the Tail, and Sparky formed a watching eye up there, ready to attack with his own now-considerably buffed energies.


    We had an Interdiction up, so Tremble couldn''t float free, which meant hack and slash time it was.


    -I''ll just clean up in the wake of the two of you,- the Void Brother /chuckled, without a bit of shame.


    -Errant,- I /called back softly. He traveled over the intervening troops and dragons by bouncing from Ward Wall to Ward Wall, landing weightlessly on Corgun''s head, since space was limited. The dragon just rolled an eye at him.


    -Go!- and Errant took off. I followed on his heels, AA paced me, and Briggs paced heavily behind, each step planted like a descending stone... or a boulder rolling downhill.


    Errant wasn''t as fast as I could be, but he was definitely not slow. He stayed just within my Null, so the cavalcade of piss-I-on-them energies coming down faded into nothingness right in front of him, and if they were mind-churningly bright and nauseating to look at, well, that''s what Devasight is good for.


    It was two hundred yards to the walls. They got off one volley of arrow fire, which rattled against the stones behind us as we kept picking up speed towards those hundred-foot walls of basalt that were bending and twisting as we looked at them.


    Errant held out his hands low to the sides, palms up.


    AA and I took two steps, and left the ground. Our ki was nicely harmonized, juked into Errant''s, and without stopping, he heaved at the same time he jumped, the Philosopher''s Might on his forearms burning to life.


    An effective Might in the neighborhood of 60, sufficient to lift a main battle tank, hurled us skywards.


    He hopped into a handstand at sixty mph, Angel Walk took his momentum away an inch from the ground, he hit, crouched his legs.


    Briggs came down perfectly on his soles with both feet, and they kicked off one another with massive force, enough to send Errant''s hands crunching into the ground, and Briggs took off like a rocket.


    =========


    Author''s Notes: Giger is of course the name of the artist who inspired the design of the xenomorphs in Aliens, and a master of some really disturbing imagery.

 217 Chapter Two Hundred and Seventeen – Up the Walls

    AA and I were still shooting up towards the walls, tossed up like softballs, when Briggs shot right on by; last to jump, first to get there. His broad shoulders rotated Endure back to his right as he came over the edge of the parapet just as the Queen Xeno was looming forward to get a look over the edge.


    His right foot hit the ground, anchored him as if he weighed ten tons with Crystal Dragon heavyfoot, and Endure came around.


    Well, that''s what it looked like, at least, because Endure was on his right side, then it was on his left, and the head of the Queen was spraying out in a burning cloud of acid over everything to his left. It was literally just an eyeblink. Mixed in that spray was a shattered and pulped cerebrovore the size of a small pig that had just been enlightened on what it meant to be a Hammer Grandmaster first-hand.


    Briggs'' left foot descended, a step forward and down. His shoulder hit the Queen''s headless carcass, sent it flying back off the curved and gnurled stone of the walk she was latched onto with her immense lower claws, and away she fell, wheee...


    She didn''t get much of anywhere before AA and I alighted.


    There was a horde of the things on the walk, on the walls, down in the courtyard, and the psionic backlash of their Queen dying was reverberating through their hivemind. They were at once directionless and going territorially berserk. The cerebrovore in charge dying had also disrupted the telepathic network of the little neo-peabrains, and now they had to work out a new hierarchy of command. Given their Evil nature, exactly how seamless a transition was there going to be with that?


    Maybe in the future I could advise them that they might not want to put the commander of both themselves and their rides in the same place. Why it had risked itself out here was another bizarre mystery I''d just chalk up to sheer arrogant overconfidence of someone riding a 15 HD giant xenosym...


    Briggs and I saw the subtle motions of the horde dividing between competing factions instantly, picked out the three warrior-class drones being piloted by the second-rank ''vores clamoring for authority on their tele-bands, doubtless making their cases for I Be Da Boss with great urgency while also trying to direct this horde of dispirited and woe-is-us Queen-less xenosyms.


    There just might have been a little bit of a multi-tasking problem we took advantage of.


    Welp, change of plans. AA went left, I went right, and Briggs dropped down after the Queen. Battleplans surviving first contact and all...


    I let go with pretty much everything.


    They had carapaces as hard as good steel, which might have impressed me if I wasn''t currently wielding a set of +VIII Weapons made of adamant, which meant very, very sharp, i.e. tracing lines of spatial cuts behind them, and also very, very hard.


    The normal xenosyms had eight or so hit dice, giving them a high end of about eighty Health, freakishly tough, with DR 5/- or so. Their claws were psionically empowered by the same phrenic forces that allowed their unnatural physiologies to exist, doing improbable amounts of damage, very similar to having ki-boosted weapons and fighting skills. When cut, poked, or getting their carapaces broken, their acidic blood sprayed out under high pressure, powerful enough to eat through steel like cheese, but strangely not so effective on the greasy basalt underneath my feet.


    It also sloughed off my Vajra like rainwater, as my Swords began to trace arcs of it in flowering sprays of death.


    Quaver and Tremble were Singing with me, transcendent music pounding at the ears of the xenosyms with awful angelic rhythms in Aklo, letting them know that the wrath of the Heavens was upon them in Cerulean words.


    Trust me, to the ''syms, the words Definitely had Color.


    Intimidate check at +50, swift action if you kill an opponent. -5 to apply it to everyone in sight. Sneak Attack damage applying to all frightened opponents...


    Stand slammed into a thrusting jaw hard enough to snap it closed on the extended teeth, cutting them off and spraying acid at me, which I ignored. Sparky turned the Steel Manticore Tail and drove two spikes into its skull, Anathema blowing it apart, and exposing the cerebrove riding it. A third spike punched into the turkey-sized thing, and then two rays of Soul Light hit that spike of force, punched into its innards, and blew the supernaturally tough little brain-eater into spraying pulp.


    Sparky really loved the Tail!


    Fall''s trigger was pulled, the Arm holding it able to rotate unnaturally and keep impossibly steady as it pumped out a steady and endless stream of Force quarrels at whatever was beyond my shoto and convenient as I moved along the walk surrounded by flowering sprays of phosphorescent yellow-green blood, hissing stone, and xenosym carcasses igniting like tinder.


    Vivic fire loved to feed phrenics to the Land, too, even if it didn''t do any extra damage to them.


    Two seconds after our slaughter commenced, Errant had completed his somersault, shifted to full Angel Walk, reduced gravity to one-sixth of normal, leapt after us, shot up a full hundred feet, and landed on the parapet behind AA. Boy had springs!...


    Now Grace and Purity came singing out. He flowed off the battlement to the walkway, and Grace hissed through the heads and necks of two xenosyms crawling over the edge there in an arc of decapitating Wrath. He swung onto the flank of Brother Ancientaxe, who was plying Zeitgeist like a reaping scythe of death as fear shot through the screeching, writhing horde of xenosyms on Cerulean words from Reality and Heaven come calling.


    Hey, Cutting Life operates off base Sneak Attack damage dice. You mean the Brother got both Cutting Life and ALL his SA dice on these Intimidated Aberrations, too? Man, what dumb Hagchild thought up that combo?


    ------


    Behind us, the rest of our forces were charging down that OSHA-noncompliant arch and onto the broken ground behind us, led by Corgun and his riders, lining up even as they charged forwards into the breaching formations they needed, under strict finger-wagging from Warlord Sama''s Mark-glare of Tyranny.


    Corgun reached the proper point first, turned and put his shoulders down, and his tail up into the air.


    Pursuing elven Casters cast their spells rat-tat-tat, and a line of Mass Disks winked into existence above him, extending from the end of his tail all the way up to the edge of the parapets above.


    His two Riders were the first ones up that slope, running up his broad back, up the extended tail, and onto the Disks.


    Flowing up after him were the elven archers, interspersed with Ironblood to block for them, going up his claw, shoulder, back, and tail in a smooth, easy stream.


    Sir Harbrom hit the parapet, charged into three xenosyms who had crawled up to block him, and Thunder sounded in a place never meant to hear such purity. Sunlight punched a hole in the clouds above, xenosyms screamed at the touch of it, and shattered carcasses blew back from the ramparts, yay-us!


    Vialeste was exactly one step behind him, hopping up for height, two arrows leaving her bow at ninety degrees to one another, striking down and past him on either side.


    Lightning gathered up the remnants of Thunder and blew down the sides of the walls, hammering through the hordes coming up the walls as she came down.


    Two more archers came up behind her, and everyone moved left, making room for those behind. Two arrows punched through the skulls of smoking ''syms coming over the edge, sending them off the walls as the first Ironblood arrived, shield and axe at the ready. More elven archers danced up the battlements behind and above him as he brought his cerulean-burning Axe down upon a smoking skull, treading sideways to make room as arrows hissed past him and nailed two more wounded ''syms through the head.


    Don''t watch the bosses, don''t watch the bosses, don''t watch the bosses, rang through all their heads. Follow the music, watch the paint, keep moving, make way for those behind you...


    They very, very much wanted to watch their bosses slaughtering everything, just stand there in awe at the fact any living beings could actually wreck that much carnage on everything before them... before the inevitable, acerbic -Why can''t you do the same thing?- /came along to kick them into action once again, and they remembered that they too were some of the deadliest warriors alive, and it was their job to kill!


    ---


    Errant hit the parapet above about the same time as Briggs hit the ground below. His heavy boots and weightier heavyfoot slammed down on the carapace of the Queen, radiated sideways, and blew out her shell with the impact of his Heavyfoot soles. Soul-soles? Acidic innards blew out in a flat stream in all directions, and xenosyms screamed and smoked under the deluge.


    His Tremblesense radiated out like sonar in all directions, locating every clawed foot, every shift of weight, and tensing of talons on the ground, reverberating up into those unnatural bodies pulsing with phrenic energies, and reading them, noting which ones were unnaturally reinforced and strong, painting them into the Marktell for sixty feet around himself.


    There, There, and There were in range.


    The handle of his Hammer grew to ten feet long, and his arm moved up and down.


    From behind him, Endure was now in front of him, along with the head of a ''sym with a ''vore rider had been reduced to the thickness of a pancake beneath the impact of his Hammer, creating a nice dent in the ground.


    The rebound lifted Endure as Briggs took a precise step and pivot, and the Hammer arced up and down, and then another pivot, up and down, and then a rotation.


    Whamwhamwham, three ''vores were flattened to spongecakes, the Hammer only seeming to get faster and faster, and he spun in a circle as his ki and motion seemed to pull their heads into a line. He completed a full circle and let go of Endure.


    Six heads exploded in passing, and Endure smashed through two more skulls, sent two more careening away, and a warrior drone starting to rise up from their mass got caught right in the eyeless-face, which promptly decided to flatten itself against the ''vore behind it, and that thing decided to take a brain nap against the unflinching and supportive basalt of the wall behind it.


    There was a beat, and Endure was back in his gauntleted hand, drumming happily around, covered in steaming acidic gore that had absolutely no effect on either of them. One more beat, and the acid was blown off the Hammer by Briggs'' Vajra, and he casually took a step fifteen long, and struck out.


    Carapaces shattered like brittle glass, and ''syms swarming instinctively to the attack went flying back, their own acidic blood coating their kin.


    Beat, step, left. Beat, step, right. Beat, step, left. Beat, step, right, release, flatten another head against a wall sixty feet away, watch the telepathic shudders and loss of control ripple through the horde.


    Beat. Left. Three ''syms around him found four arrows each punching through their heads, and the ''vores also impaled there didn''t seem to like it too much. Acid fed back, and mount and rider liquified explosively in that classic cranial out-all-the-orifices way.


    Four more arrows bracketed him as he took two more steps towards another drone at the entrance to the hive fortress. He pulled his Sun in, and four fireballs went off all around him, flat Disks overlapping in multiple areas, pulling up just shy of him with perfect placement of the AoE effects. Xenosyms screamed and died, and two revealed ''vores were nailed to the ground a second later by unerring arrow fire. A step, wham, and a toss later, they were shattersplattered, and his unhurried, irrevocable progress continued.


    There was a momentous hiss as a couple brood guards, almost as big as the Queen, rose behind the drone. Unlike the drone, their narrower heads didn''t allow for a ''vore rider. They had come hurtling up in response to the death of the Queen, and without hesitation, the massive things bounded towards him.


    Step left.


    A crossbow quarrel, three spikes, and two rays drove into the side of the head of the one on the left, smashing its head to the side and throwing it off pace as Briggs took another step, and brought Endure back as it overstepped, looming up on him, blocking the other one trying to lunge at him-


    A leaping ''sym''s head disintegrated, so did the narrow head of the brood guard as its extending jaw bounced off his skinplate, and Endure continued on through into the shoulder joint of the second, shattering it like glass and smashing it away from its course as acid spurted from the broken carapace.


    He didn''t look back as a shining Shardstroke sliced down from above through the middle of the second''s head before it could find its feet, cutting its foreskull and brain right off. Up on the battlements, Errant continued after Ancientaxe, not breaking his own warding of Brother AA''s flanks.


    ++++++++++++++++


    Glossary: Phrenic is the psionic equivalent of spell-like abilities. Any creature born with natural psionic powers is phrenic. A creature with psionic talent, but who gets their powers from Class Levels, is just psionic.


    So, Marvel''s X-Men mutants would be considered phrenics (and psionic), but Moondragon, who got her telepathic powers via training, is merely psionic.

 218 Chapter Two Hundred and Eighteen – Down the Walls

    There were now two lines of Disks forming steps racing up to the walls. The dragons all waited until they were together, and then used the Amulets of Spell Knowledge they were wearing. The spell within, naturally enough, was Spider Climb.


    It was like we planned how to get dragons up over the walls in a no-fly zone, or something.


    The dragons swarmed up the side of the basalt walls every bit as quickly as the xenosyms could, poured themselves over the battlements at the top, and triple lightning breaths scythed through the masses on the walls in their arcs of fire. Silver jaws reached out to crackle and crunch a couple ''syms who were too close and too full of themselves.


    They went over the walls, and started down them, and suddenly the wall-crawling xenosyms found some really big competition for wall space, and some big-ass tails and wings flinging them down fall-go-splat.


    The Valor dragons didn''t bother wasting their breath weapons, as the syms were quite resistant to cold damage. They just bit, clawed, buffeted, and smashed while on a vertical plane, not at all put off, and bulldozed a path through shrieking ''syms.


    The Torcs their Amulets were hanging from flared repeatedly as mind-control magic went the dragons'' way. Betrayed by the psionic displays, the guilty ''vores and their rides were promptly hatracked by archers waiting for those very signs. The dragons were also very curious about how the ''vores were going to taste...


    The Rockborn, being the slowest of the troops, arrived last, with one of the Priests with them whipping up a wall of stone in spiral stair format, forming a tight rising stairway to the top of the walls. The dwarves tromped upwards tirelessly, their Spears held tight, their cadence on point with every step, reaching the top at a trot and pouring out onto the battlements in a steady stream.


    An elf dropped over the side of the wall, immediately followed by a dozen berserkers. Five feet from the ground, the gentle white cube of a Featherweight Zone went off, and everyone hit the ground softly in the midst of writhing xenosyms.


    Berserkers zerked, jumping away as another dozen of them came leaping down with excited cries, hit the ground, springing away as the next wave came down.


    Right after them came the dwarves, to set up the relief line behind them. Brawling berserkers found Rockborn Spears driving into the guts of the writhing aliens they were hacking into, and soon the hedge of Spears was up and the dwarves were taking ground, as the berserkers pulled back to get healed.


    The scampering dragons made every effort to catch up to AA and Sama as they made their way around the walls in explosions of black carapaces and glowing green blood. Everyone made mental homage to the Casters who''d doled out the Mass Resist Acids for everyone, given how acrid the air was becoming, and as the dwarves and berserkers below followed after Briggs, the rest of the troops secured the walls and battlements.


    The griffons and the Hellpoodles were the last ones to come up the Disks, following in the tracks of everyone else. The griffons were annoyed by the Null Interdiction keeping them from flying, and occasionally got to mix it up with a xenosym and further realize why they didn''t like not being able to fly. Captains Fido and Shirley stayed alert for any surprises to the flanks, which their slavering jaws and massive claws were more than happy to greet with fire, cold, and lightning.


    With Errant keeping his flanks solid, and dragons playing flick-the-wallcrawler below him, Ancientaxe made very good time, his Glaive Zeitgeist happily vivisizing a bunch of angry Aberrants. He naturally didn''t give a damn about the ''vores in charge, their psionics finding him less substantial then a ghost, and he picked them out anywhere in his Helix, no matter how hard they hid, painted them into the Mark-Up Display, and the Archers hatracked them if they were out of his reach.


    Sama reached the far side, sent three shrieking strokes of Tremble through the door in front of her, psionic energies shattered shrilly in protest, some things inside started boiling out at her, and she went right in after them.


    Quaver and Tremble''s ominous notes didn''t stop at all, and the sounds of whatever was inside there contributing a stanza to their Song would probably have caused a lot of nightmares if everyone wasn''t humming along with Heaven''s Elevator Music.


    The great drawbridge over the naturally unfathomably deep moat slammed down, severed chains with jagged ends falling down to dangle above the depths. The dragons slithered up over the walls, down the outside of them, along the gatehouse, over out onto the bridge, and across it quickly, facing the new xenosym and ''vore forces coming up from the settlement below.


    A good number of the cerebrovores were riding sentients instead of ''vores, including humans, apes, lizardfolk, anthros, orcs, ogres, and even a couple Jotuns, Drakes, and other monsters.


    That was totally fine. AA, Errant, and Sama bounced off the walkway, skipped along the walls, leapt out to land lightly on the dragons'' backs, bounced again, and Void and Null landed right in front of the walkway just in time to meet the barrage of spells, psionics, and natural abilities from suborned hosts getting tossed at the dragons.


    It was an explosive display, very colorful, eye-catching flames and crackling arcs of power, rings of energy, mind-bending auras and waves. When it was all done, and people could open their eyes easily, Sama and AA stood there unharmed, his Helices up and spinning blacks and greys, while Sama just looked annoyed.


    The heads of five dragons rose behind them, looking very smug, while Errant just looked amused.


    And then all the spells went off from the elves on the walls.


    Acres of ground vanished from sight under a lot of fireballs singing with banefire, swallowing every part of the small army out there. Although the cerebrovores riding the skulls of their hosts were mostly unharmed by the magic, the same thing couldn''t be said for their host bodies. Overlapping flames tore into them from every direction, burning to ash what was only still living by psionic energy, and suborned throats screamed in irritation at this event happening, and maybe just a little pain from the feedback... which was a new and splendid experience, and so not nearly as off-putting as it should have been.


    What it did do is get rid of a whole bunch of xenosyms, and Brother Ancientaxe and Sama were off like launched bullets. Lines of ''syms in the way parted ways like cloven waves, gouts of corrosive blood flew into the air... and no, the stolen bodies weren''t immune to the blood, either. Might they possibly be taking the splash effect into account when cleaving? My, they would have had to be pretty damn good to do that...


    Glaive, Swords, and Autobows went hunting for ''vores, shearing through skulls and splitting them inside their rides. For those whose rides had died and were extracting themselves from their carriages of charred bone, streaks of spinning Helices and wrathflame divided them, and their wielders kept going.


    The dragons, however, were bellowing for attention, and the surviving xenosyms reacted to the stimuli, swarming toward them in a wave of gleaming, writhing black alien bodies.


    Dragon tails and wings are incredibly strong and quite heavy. The dragons flowed into a five-part circle of motion while Errant began picking off ''vores here and there who, it just so happened, were not immune to The Light of Heaven, and Purity blazed like a small star as chained Rays of radiant energy speared out and let their thoughts out into The Light.


    Massive wings and slamming tails scooped and hurled xenosyms sideways with great energy, lunging jaws grabbed and hurled them like sides of beef. They hiss-wailed strangely as they went hurtling over the side of the moat, were pounded past it with crushing tail-swipes and swept flying with hurricane-force winds picking them up and sending new offerings down to whatever Thing existed down there in the darkness.


    The wind coming up from the moat stopped, too...


    Standing up there on a small Ward Wall just above them, Errant ripped Walls of glowing fire right and left, chained bolts of Wrath, and picked out the ''vores for the archers ready on the walls behind him to hatrack with True Seeking Arrows. There were a lot of them, but ten of them were basically dying every breath, stolen skulls transfixed by quintets of arrows as their wounded host bodies staggered and tried to attack before being brought down by uncannily accurate arrow fire.


    But AA and Sama were moving with appalling speed, zigging and zagging from ''vore to ''vore, narrow lines of destruction exploding in passing, and ''vores were getting to investigate Life''s Final Mystery in numbers as the two zipped hither and yon, and split skulls and the squirming things within were flying in their wake.


    Cold swallowed a cluster of ''syms, two of them, doing scarcely no damage to them, but the follow-up lightning bolts went through them as if supercharged, blowing many of them apart violently as superconductivity did its thing. Valor and Shield dragons glanced at one another, made little neck shakes that amounted to ''hee hee hee!'', and continued flinging ''syms and some overconfident ''vore host bodies over the lip of the moat and down to their doom.


    ------


    The inner gates groaned slowly open, and Briggs marched out at the head of the infantry corps and the griffons.


    He saw me glance at him, his helm opened slightly so I could see his grin, and he patted his chest. Probably three or four pounds of gory remnants of things fell off his Skinplate with a hissing, wet squelching.


    Tremble started flashing, hands went up, and the Healing was doled out quickly. There had been some impressive traps and psionic energies used inside, but the Healers were on them, and the White Staff had already brought back two berserkers and a dwarf who''d been reduced to meat paste, a blasted corpse, and nearly bit in half, respectively.


    The force outside had a fair amount of carried Gear and jewelry, as bling seemed to be a vanity statement for ''vore host bodies. Nobody protested their odd tastes in style, as we were just going to Invest or Infuse it all, anyways.


    "Got some nice spoils. Although some of the shit makes my eyes want to bleed." He picked up a coffer of some slick, greasy pseudo-metal. Some kind of Void-Energized palladium, I thought...


    He''d naturally relayed most of his finds to me, a huge chunk of it weird trade goods bartered for passage, in addition to a lot of coin from tolls cum offerings. What was in the coffer was pretty nice, given how warded up and sealed it had been in a corner of their secure storage area.


    He popped it open with his thumb, and a cool, pale blue light rose from within. We looked at a pentagrammic star inlaid with a very unique Rune that pulsed with an inherent strength of reality, and disdain for those things not of Creation.


    "A Cerulean Seal." I smirked despite myself. "And they didn''t throw it into the moat, why?..."


    "Probably it made them forget about it. It represents just how much Creation doesn''t like them, after all." He snapped it closed, and tossed it over his soldier.


    Barus, who was just walking up, caught it reflexively, startled. "It''s made for Druids. Enjoy."


    The Druid of the North Wind''s eyes lit up, and he bowed shortly before hustling away, Brown ambling like a small hill after him.


    A Cerulean Seal was essentially a minor Artifact designed to really piss off Aberrants. It had Greater Bane effects, sensed them nearby, could Turn them like they were undead, trashed their spell resistance, and generally made them feel very unwelcome here in Existence. He''d be able to do some major bullying of Aberrants with the thing. As its origins were Druidic, it only made sense for him to be the bearer of it.


    Vivic fires were everywhere, burning merrily. We''d gotten some blood and organs off some of the more magical monsterish hosts, the dragons were trying out different seasonings, frying, boiling, broiling, roasting, and mincing the crunchy cerebrovores left all over the place.


    The little sisters trooped up, their trim outfits of deep green, burnt crimson, and bright white and blue with ribbons had some gashes and gouges in them, which Tremble would fix up when she got a minute or three.


    "Oh, Sama, was that ''vore surprised when I punched it in the jaw and got all the way up to its brain!" Verd buffed her fist proudly.


    "Sooooo irritating," Amber sniffed in contrast. "They run around naked, and only have like three good places to stick them. No style at all." Her scarlet eyes fixed on the town a mile down the hill with interest.


    "Everything in that town is ridden by a cerebrovore," I informed her blandly, and her face fell again. How was she supposed to get any Night Rose practice in with Aberrants riding hosts everywhere?


    I looked down at Veis, who looked so cute in her outfit, totally out of place here. Of course, it could morph to a ninja body-stocking in a heartbeat, but that hardly meant she was going to give up her loli cuteness if she had a choice.


    "Two ''vores!" she chimed up, her twin Kukris flipping up like ready snakes, and just as quickly flipped back down into their scabbards. "They were trying to run away. They look really funny when they run," she added in a stage whisper.


    "They do," I agreed, knuckling her head. Ribbons and bows... "We aren''t done, of course."


    Their eyes joined a bunch of others looking downhill. "We have to purge that?" Verd asked grimly.


    "Basically," I agreed. "Really, just get past it, loot, plunder, kill everything in our way... you know, Heaven''s Brigands."


    They all smirked despite themselves. "Murderhoboing?" Amber cackled despite herself.


    "Yeah," I agreed with a lop-sided smile that didn''t reach my eyes.


    "And that''ll wrap up this zone," Briggs contributed, with a glance at me.


    "What? All this is one zone?" Verd spoke up in alarm.


    "Both sides of the bridge, yep," I informed Busty Little Sister.


    The girls looked back, thought about everything we''d killed, how much more we had to kill, and pursed their lips.


    "So..." Amber drawled, "how many more of these zones do we have to go through?" she asked slowly.


    "Twenty?" I asked Briggs, who made a ''thereabouts'' shake of his hand. "And of course, the three super-zones around the Obelisks."


    "So, this was just light exercise," Veis piped up.


    "A casual harvesting of alternative draconic culinary fact-finding components," I answered with a straight face.


    "I bet those things would taste really good in ''sym acid blood that''s been gently electrified," Verd mused, and went off to volunteer that to the dragons, her sisters darting after her with great interest, coming up with a half-dozen more totally weird and inspired suggestions on the way. Hag Akasha at work...


    Briggs smirked after them. "All of you are characters," he supplied helpfully.


    "Well, duh." I glanced at Errant at the far edge of the temporary camp, speaking with Estemar as their combined Eyes of Heaven scanned for any sign of intruders incoming. "Freaking predetermined combat zones. So glad the Brothers scouted us right into them."


    "I''m more worried about the stuff we are avoiding," Briggs admitted, and I couldn''t say I blamed him...

 219 Chapter Two Hundred and Nineteen – Sure, Let’s Call it a Training Montage...

    Zone 2...


    "So, I count two hundred visible super-worm tunnels through this pass..."


    -------------


    Zone 3...


    "Um!" Verd pointed at a castle-sized toadstool in the distance. "Is that mushroom moving?"


    "Yes."


    "Oh." Everyone stared at the landscape covered in a thousand types of fungi, seeming to undulate as if alive, despite the fact there was no wind, only a lot of spores in the air... and some of those winged things in the sky had no heads...


    ------------


    Zone 4...


    It was cold, and the wind was howling through the pass ahead of them. Snow blanketed the ground, and the trees were heavy with white snow.


    Shirley and Fido sniffed and growled. The dragons nodded agreement.


    "Thousands of them," old Corgun murmured, his wings wrapped tight against the nearly gale-force wind.


    Everyone looked up at the long, narrow Wake of the Land riding above us. Yeah, no way they didn''t know something was coming.


    "Should be fun!" Veis chimed, enjoying the climate, and everyone laughed softly...


    --------------


    Zone 5...


    "Well, don''t these look familiar," murmured Feist, shrugging off his new yeti-hide cloak. There were a lot of them, stacked on Disks as loot, they''d fetch a good price back home. Haz¨¦, busybusybusy with her evacuation duties, would be popping in with an Item Tapestry to take them all off their hands, and distribute them to Sama''s goods-hungry burgeoning mercantile empire. There were, after all, far more of them then they needed to make everyone here cold-resistance items, no reason not to send them back to make more of the same... or make a whole lot of money, as long as they could be distributed around the continent.


    And, well, Haz¨¦ was definitely bouncing around the continent, coming into the 400x zone, getting Renewed, and Gemjumping out to punch through the spatio-temporal hijinks. She''d already done a dozen Teleport Runs, bringing in hundreds of people and colossal amounts of goods through coordination and Marked in key places helping communicate. Popping up and dumping off a few/dozen/scores of prime yeti hides wasn''t even an imposition, although most of them simply got dropped in The Camp and were snatched up to make Cold Resistance items for the Ironblood there.


    The company parted with them because the plain in front of them was dotted with large mounds. They were all at least a mile apart, but they stretched straight to the horizon. And there were already dark blurs wriggling out from each of them...


    ---


    "That''s a lot of formians," Briggs observed, side-eying me.


    "Is it? Prep for poison, everyone..." I half-grinned.


    -----------


    Zone 6...


    Haz¨¦ looked behind us, at all the insect mounds littering the plains, the ones underneath that blue line in the sky kind of half-crumpled, with a clear line of white on the ground matching the skies above. She glanced at the stacked-up square Stone Shaped containers, lifting up the plug on one and sniffing.


    "Ant honey." Her eyes fell on the containers made from white stone. "Royal?" she asked, pointing.


    "Well, their nests didn''t need them anymore," Briggs said with a straight face. "We kept a bunch for Healing Potions, and Wand charging..." As a power comp, the magical royal honey meant you didn''t have to cast the spells to charge up a Wand, like normal; you just sacked the Honey to it. Given how much we''d recovered, charging up a couple Wands of Cure Serious Wounds made for a nice emergency reserve... and now everyone in the army had at least two doses to drink in event of emergency, too!


    "Right." She looked ahead, where the sparse grass of the ant-ridden plains gave way to desert, the sands turned remarkably dark remarkably quickly, but did not venture past this hill line, as if held at bay. "And what''s out there?"


    "Temple to Apep," Errant replied, silver eyes shining expectantly.


    "Sooooo... lots of snakes."


    "Especially Fire Snakes!" he agreed enthusiastically.


    "Well." There was clear longing in her voice, but she was doing Good Work, and earning no less Karma then him in so doing. "Be about your snake-hunting, I suppose." She sat down on her own Disk, shaking her head, and watched our troops gliding past on Disks, alert and ready to fight. She could rest from the spellcasting she was doing, go through an accelerated Renewal, and be off to another evacuation.


    There had been deaths, of course, but with the White Staff, we''d managed to recover most combat deaths, and there were several Clerics among the elves and dwarves who could bring the dead back, as long as we recovered a body. Given how damn tough this troop was, and how much Healing we had available, it was actually really, really hard to kill anyone as long as formations were kept and teamwork was adhered to.


    And of course, Haz¨¦ could Gemjump in to the rogue stone Errant held, and provide even more help on the revivification side of things. With Tremble able to bring back anyone who died within the last minute, as long as she could reach them, we still hadn''t lost anyone permanently, despite some very energetic attempts to make it so...


    ----------------


    Zone 7...


    "That would be a real bad idea to go in there," Errant mused, accepting the new boots of Fire Snake hide I handed him. He sat down on his own glowing Ward Wall and swapped out his tooled leather ones calmly. The flames that poofed up from them when he put them on were certainly eye-catching enough, although they wouldn''t set fire to anything unless he wanted them to.


    The desert had rather abruptly given way to a dark and brooding old forest, rising out of the sands over the course of a mere mile, splayed around a winding river that gave some wet to the dry sands.


    Apep had one less temple and was pissed at us, no doubt. Those had been some big Fire Snakes, but the Valor dragons had had an absolute heavenly time, freezing the burning neo-cobras and stuffing themselves silly on them. Fido and Shirley had just gone off on them, as such things were fairly common in certain areas of Hell, and rather bemused, the rest of us had just followed their lead as they rampaged around.


    "Agreed!" Barus and Verd spoke up together, and Silent Jhon nodded, as did every single damn elf and halvyr there. Nobody wanted to go into that place. Broody and hungry, everyone could feel it.


    "Barus, Commune with the Land, not the forest! Find out if this place can be purified. If so, where the heart of the forest is, what we need to do, and we''ll alpha-strike it with a strike team, and run everyone through while it''s recovering..."


    ----------------


    Zone 8...


    Horns blew, shrill and high, haunting and soul-chilling. I cocked an ear at them, noted how the eyes of the elf-bloods went wide.


    -Hey, old crow, that horn what I think it is?- I /replayed the sound for Nior Rabe, veeeeeeery slow.


    -The Lost Hunt!- he /identified the horn immediately. -Be wa-... Ah. Let them entertain you...- he /caught himself in time.


    If they were caught in this zone, then pretty much anything dangerous had probably been hunted away. As long as the zone could be crossed during the day, it was probably perfectly safe.


    Alas, we had come out in the evening.


    "So, who wants to come with me to kill a Fey Hunt?" I asked freely, and the elves all looked very uncertain, while Brother Ancientaxe just looked disdainful, and Briggs and Errant totally expectant. Everyone else just kind of pursed their lips, looked at the stats in Markspace, and wished us well. The dragons were already scouting ahead, no need to turn back and engage with this... unless the Hunt was dumb enough to pick them as prey.


    Not that I''d give them the chance...


    ----------------


    Zone 9...


    Mutated, malformed bodies, parodies of natural animals and bipeds, warped with aspects of other creatures, swollen muscles, gaping jaws and extended claws, the occasional extra mouth or limb, were everywhere, burning vivic.


    The demigod sitting atop a mound of burning corpses, His eyes glowing as he regarded Briggs and me.


    He looked like an Ancient, with more teeth and claws, dressed in leathers from some beast I''d never seen, His famous Spear, and of course His stag-horned head.


    A dozen warped versions of Him were burning away under our feet, and many of the creatures we''d had to kill were mutated versions of His green-fire-eyed Hounds. Of course, there were literally thousands more of the creatures dying throughout this barren place, where even the lichen and moss had been scraped off the stones to feed the hunger of the Gargovian Mother ensconced here.


    She had to be limited to this zone, or she would have eaten the world by now.


    I kicked the skull of one of the replicants, probably made from eating His corpse after He died. As a demigod, He naturally was Renewed to Hunt again, but if the Mother had been able to make multiple versions of Him, that meant He''d died here multiple times, and had been brought back to hunt again.


    "Briggs greets the Elder!" mah Fuzzy said, bowing to the ancient god of the hunt. Lord Herne studied him, His bloody wounds healing quickly, and nodded slowly to this junior, His eyes flicking to the Hammer beating softly in Briggs'' hands. His eyes turned to me, and Tremble zipping around in the distance, dispensing rays of gentle white light... the same rays of light that had kept Him alive during this very long and bloody fight with a dozen of His doppelgangers.


    By transferring his injuries to me.


    He gestured us both closer, and, totally unafraid, we stepped up within arm''s reach. His hand reached out, and dark claws bit into Briggs'' shoulder (he let it). The bloody scar flashed with harsh red light, healing up even as He carved it. Briggs didn''t even grunt, as he had half-a-dozen deeper wounds on him right now.


    He did the same to me, and when the scar flashed and closed, so did twenty-two different faded claw and bite wounds all over me, which He didn''t fail to notice. I''m afraid I quirked a smile at him, and He exhaled long and slow as he looked over the two of us, and nodded.


    "Girls, clean Him up and make sure He takes the rest of the night off." I snapped my fingers and pointed.


    There was a fire in the eyes of all three of my little sisters as they came forwards, and there was no way the demigod was going to miss that light. The three of them pulled Him to His feet, and there was a thick set of cover not so far away...


    Briggs watched them go, not knowing whether to laugh or not. "So... her first time will be with a demigod?"


    "They are so envious of her," I chortled, leaning over against him as if he were a tree.


    "And you aren''t indulging because-?" he asked.


    "Mah Fuzzy is way more dangerous than some ancient demigod who can''t even kill a bunch of Gargovian dupes of Himself. Exactly why would I prefer Him over you?" I gave the rock of his ribs an elbow, and he politely grunted... and lengthened it into a groan.


    "I so need puberty to start and get done with like yesterday!" he growled, reaching a big hand out to drape around my shoulders and drag me in. He smelled my hair, all nice and sweet with vivisizing gargovian guts. "Aren''t you as old as Veis?"


    "I''ll turn mine on when yours turns on," I patted his hand. "It keeps them happy thinking they are all bigger than me because they went first."


    He sniffed the air, thick with primal vitality and ancient energies, stirred up by the presence of the Hunter. "We''re going to have to declare a night off after this, and break out the beer. The elves are getting restless..."


    I laughed deep in my throat, and he shivered. "Come on, let''s give that Mother the final treatment. You ever kill her in game?"


    "Yeah, made a couple runs. She probably won''t look anything like that, though..." He hefted Endure, I drew Quaver back out, and we started in the direction the Fido and Shirley were indicating.


    The rest of the troops fell in behind, and didn''t look back to where the girls and the demigod had vanished to...


    ===========


    Author''s Notes: Small zones range in size from 50 x 150 miles to 100 x 300 miles. Major zones are 300 x 900 miles.


    Zone 2 ¨C I was channeling Dune, but not so big. There are spots in the Felldeep where lots and lots of purple worms gather...


    Zone 3 ¨C The killer fungi zones in Vault of the Drow, only worse.


    Zone 4 ¨C Last module of Rise of the Runelords, there''s a yeti camp. Yeti can be verrrry tough in Pathfinder...


    Zone 5 ¨C I was thinking the bugs from Starship Troopers as I wrote this...


    Zone 6 ¨C Big Fire Snakes are the Cobras from Gods of Egypt. You can''t ride the little ones.


    Zone 7 ¨C This is based on an old Dungeon Magazine adventure where if you don''t purify the heart of the forest in time, it animates the WHOLE FOREST to kill you.


    Zone 8 ¨C I saw the stats for the members of the Wild Hunt from Paizo and went, aww, I just got to do this...


    Zone 9 ¨C And if you run into a Poser Hunt, you should run into the real thing. 15 HD demigod, kill him or die if you''re the target of his hunt. It''s okay, He just rises anew to hunt the next day, and holds no grudges.

 220 Chapter Two Hundred and Twenty – Zone Montage #2 – Too Many Damn Zones

    Veis was looking a lot older in the eyes as she and the girls stumbled into the tent in the morning, and they all promptly fell asleep together without saying anything.


    Briggs kicked back on the side of a hill, the vivic fires eating away at the remnants of the Gargovian nest also happening to make the sky blue and faintly sunny, a nice day. "He must have popped away at dawn," he observed to me.


    "He did. And without dupes of Him here, shouldn''t be coming back." There''d been literally hundreds of dupes of Him to kill, although they happily exhibited no teamwork, and didn''t have the Health Qi of an actual demigod. Just big, strong, lots of claws, and inordinately tough. Wolfpack them and they went down pretty easy. "She probably made a dupe of Him every time He died, and He was drawn back here by them after every real hunt, until the true Dusk in the outside came to steal Him away for a Hunt. Really, getting brought back over and over to kill gargovian dupes of Himself and his dogs, for who knows how many times?"


    "Well, not evolving and adapting to the times is a bitch. Hopefully His Favored Enemy Slayer/Aberrations is up nicely, or at least he got Foe Hunter out of all this. If not, eh." He glanced at the scar on his shoulder. "So, what do you think this symbol does?"


    "Well, according to Nior Rabe, it''s the Mark of Herne, which makes us the equivalent of people who have bested the Lord of the Wild Hunt in battle. He sounded a bit envious."


    "Huh." Briggs rubbed his nose. "Well, I suppose having a modifier on Diplomacy and Intimidate checks against Fey can''t be all that bad. He doesn''t have any real enemies, as I understand it..."


    "No, he''s older then both Courts, and beyond their control, a servant of Nature Herself. The Fey Hunt is a smarmy attempt to imitate Him. He could probably tell we''d wiped one of them." I smirked, and he laughed low and roughly. Damn, he really did have to hurry his hormones along...


    "How do you think the Hags trapped a Gargovian in here for so long? Seriously, giving a Gargovian that much time, it should have eaten the planet a long time ago."


    "I imagine that it has to do with the Formation they started, and the Mother being pinned by its influence. It just ran out of biomass and has just been sitting there cannibalizing its children, slowly starving unless idiots come in to be eaten. Herne must have somehow come in to hunt one of her kids, and been trapped and killed many, many times over."


    "Yeah, even a classless demigod has fifteen Outsider Hit Dice. Even with no gear, those things were pretty mean." They could have been a right terror if every one of them wasn''t basically fighting at least six Sevens or higher at once, and simply wasn''t allowed to kill one of them before it died.


    The Mother had definitely gotten addicted to demigod flesh. It had morphed into a canine tauren, three dog heads with burning green eyes and stag horns, furred femalish torso, six legs, huge clawed hands, moving with divine speed and energy.


    Oh, and twenty feet tall.


    Alas, its instincts and constant spewing out of more Gargovians meant it ended up fighting in a birthing chamber, without the area to run around with its vast speed and really be a threat to our forces. We''d simply plugged up the main way out with a lot of shining steel, and then Bane of Legends, Bane/Aberrants, Enmity/the Unnatural, and Greater Soulbound combined for +X on our Weapons as we carved into the planet-eating spawn-spewing thing.


    Had a lot of Health Qi, did a lot of damage. It was really, really shocked when all three of us straight up shanked it dead, and it had real problems dealing with us.


    Well, me. I was the one with the Shield blocking for the boys, Transferring wounds with Tremble and just concentrating on hitting it as many times as possible for Healing Edge to do its thing. Stand intercepted dozens of attacks that could have really done a number on us, bearing up under the impacts in his new Indestructible QL 50 Adamantine home.


    Bane of Legends wasn''t a Slaughter effect, it used a different type of Rune. It was basically an evener, a quintessential fight of the little guy against the powerful, there to compensate for enormous, unnatural power. As such, it fit into Arsenal, and now a lot of the Ironblood had the chance to add it to their Weapons... which might trigger a fatal surprise if something that thought itself obscenely strong and them not at all dangerous went reaping into them...


    Good lads. Most of them were just sitting down and doing casual maintenance work from their kits right now.


    AA was off taking a look at the Obelisk in this zone. Scholarly interest? Brothers found it almost impossible to relax in normal areas, let alone in some place as humming with distorted magic and reality as this.


    We didn''t have to worry about residual taint. The Mother would only allow its spawn to escape if it had sufficient reserves, at which point it would have evolved into a Great Mother and would send out Mothers of its own, which would grow in size, and then come back for a big battle Royale, turning into a Grand Mother which could then literally start the process of eating everything alive on the planet.


    Yeah, Gargovians were not shit to mess around with. Happily, this batch had been mostly predictable, as the only biomass it had had for a long time was Herne and His hounds, which basically supplanted the other, lesser bioforms it could have used. So, hounds, dog-demigods, and demigods, all with that wonderful Gargovian touch, had formed ninety percent plus of what we fought.


    --------------


    Zone 10...


    Great brutes roared hard enough to shake the leaves of the trees.


    The earth trembled from the mass of great bodies thumping across it.


    Boulders crashed through the trees, exploding against mighty trunks and bouncing and plowing holes along the crowd.


    Blood flowed in great gouts and streams, staining the ground with streams of it, flowing out of massive bodies.


    It was Jotun time.


    The most numerous of our attackers were ogres, coming in their hundreds, with the hill giants behind them looming over them. Driving those twelve-foot brutes on were their thirty-foot tall mutant cousins, the mountain giants, using whole stripped trees as crude clubs, with their Jotunblooded ruler looking like he was made out of black gneiss or something in charge.


    You''d think a bombardment of that many thrown rocks would be dangerous, but since we knew they were coming and were there, well, all it meant was a lot of elves had to stop the rocks in midflight and send them falling to the ground in front of the befuddled giants, while Rockborn longspears held an uncompromising line and the command crew lit into them, with Ancientaxe proving devastatingly dangerous against things the heart of his Order was made to kill...


    Lots of Gauntlets and Girdles material to salvage from here, as well, and yo, Jotuns have, by hook or crook, decent loot...


    ------------


    Zone 11...


    We watched the hunting pack of Tyrant Raptors... literally, a dozen of the great carnivores hunting together, threading their way between massive herds of sauropods grazing along the riverbanks, and making their way in our direction. They spread vestigial black wings, and black acid was dripping from their jaws as they hurtled our way.


    Bane to Dragons swiftly began to arise on the Weapons around us... because those sauropods were also turning to look our way, and they had vestigial wings, too.


    Draconic brontosaurs and Tyrants, and a half-dozen other types of dinos, and that wasn''t even counting the magical ones, like the Thunder Lizards.


    The mood of the five dragons in the sky was very, very bad. This was why they killed all evil dragons as soon as they could, because the fuckers would mate with anything and totally infiltrate the ecology with dragon-spawn.


    Briggs pointed silently, and a great black-scaled sauropod two miles away turned to look at us. The wings it unfolded weren''t vestigial, and were wide enough to basically span a football field. Nor did it have the flat teeth of a plant-eater, as it bellowed out a challenge that had every single mutant dino in the land raising its head and contributing to with lungpower that was definitely on the excessive side.


    Ancientaxe wasn''t off-put, he just sighed some. "That''s a lot of meat to hack," he murmured, with the air of someone who''d seen this sort of thing before.


    We were definitely, definitely going to be able to add to the Dragon Baneskulls from this area, in addition to the ones being harvested off the Warp Dragons...


    This zone... might take a while just from the sheer amount of meat we were going to have to cut through. No wonder the border with the giants was strewn with so many bones...


    -------------


    Zone 12...


    There were massive reptilian bodies playing out there in the waters of the lake, which was wide enough that we couldn''t see across it. That wasn''t a terrain problem, as the three of us could all run across water, towing Disks with the troops behind us.


    It was that there was a whole lot of plesiosaurs and wako in the way out there, a considerable number of which had dark scales and vestigial wings.


    Up above in the sky, Wrath was flashing, frost and lightning were flaring, and pteradons, pterosaurs, and similar flying wedge-headed dinos were tumbling from the sky, with many a large scaled body in the waters below surging to the sites of their splashdowns.


    Damn, there were a lot of them.


    It wasn''t that we couldn''t outrun them, either... we certainly could, but sound traveled faster than we did, and if they warned the ones in our way, well, we were stuck in an open area with unlimited attacks from below possible. Not the most advisable way of doing things.


    This lake spanned almost the entire width of this reality shard. We''d have to go through at least five other zones to get around it.


    We could punch past the dracosaurs here, sure, and outrun them... but they''d roar warnings to their kind ahead of us, they were smart enough to do that, and we''d find another wall of sneak-attackers ahead, possibly with some deep-water dwellers of size, to make things difficult.


    But that was fine. It was still better than going through the additional zones to the sides, at least one of which was thick with incorporeal undead.


    There were a lot of sentient eyes watching us, ready for us when we made a move. That meant they weren''t watching up above, and so when the Shield Dragons came swooping down to unload some lightning on their acid-resistant, lightning-vulnerable hides, their surprise was great, reactions instantaneous. They dove and fled, opening up a path... and Ancientaxe led us right out there to face it, Glaive at the ready.


    Wrath manifesting as lightning added to the chaos, as did a few cast spells, giving the massive bodies underwater more shocking surprises, sending more than a few heaving and convulsing out of the water in death throes.


    We surged past at sixty mph, skimming across the top of the waters, a wedge of Disks behind me, the Wake of Reality driving us forward as we escaped the shoreline carnage and headed out into the deeper blue of the lake.


    Behind us, frustrated roars rose, signaling those deeper in the waters, and above us, griffons and dragons flew grimly ready, swooping energetically ahead to look for surprises and help us avoid them. We chewed up the waves and spray as we surged forward for the opposite shore, fifty miles away.


    Beneath us, dark things in the seas began to stir into motion...


    ++++++++++


    Author''s Note: Tauren is a term for any creature that is half-man/biped, half-animal, like a centaur or minotaur. An ogretaur has an ogre upper body and bear lower body, for example.


    Anthropomorphic is a variety of tauren where animals are ''evolved'' into humanoid form, so your cat-folk, dog-folk, rat-folk, etc. Many of the wild, feral races are anthros, like the hyen (hyena folk, i.e. gnolls) and the huul (savage wolf-folk). Orcs can be seen as pig-folk, there''s frog and toad folk out there (grippli and bullywugs) and so on, with croc-folk, lizard men, and serpent folk also prominent.


    Sauropods are the big plant eater dinosaurs, like brontosaurs.

 221 Chapter Two Hundred and Twenty-One – Zone Montage #3 - Insigh

    AA hit the side of the cliff with a running vertical, and Briggs and I zipped right into his wake and did the same, momentum redirected with physics-ignoring aplomb. No full Interdiction meant we could wiggle our noses at King Gravity, too... we just had to keep the dimensions strong, not Da King, as we ran.


    The roars of frustration behind us shook the stones, and a lot of hissing black liquid was spewed in our general direction, to a complete lack of effect. The Disks turned vertical, but the riders were perfectly aware of their Retention ability, and remained glued to the Disks, personal gravity switching with them, heading right up the side of the cliff after me, more than a few making rude noises at the reptiles following us.


    Oh, and the barrage of One More Arrows didn''t stop, no need to conserve ammunition. The beasts trying to corral us certainly appreciated the fact.


    They''d herded us nicely, tried to ambush us from below several times, but in the end, we moved too fast and knew they were coming. They''d sent us into this harbor here, cliffs a couple hundred feet tall around, crowded with seabirds, and thought they had us trapped.


    Yeah, running up the cliff had certainly annoyed them.


    It also meant we had a quicker way to the far side of the island then they did... except for this antediluvian Shrine to some nasty shit in front of us, and an Obelisk looming above the trees there. What do you know?


    No doubt there was something big and horrible there, and the sky grew rapidly and unnaturally dark as we loped unerringly across the island towards it, our fliers swooping down to join us grimly...


    -------------------


    Endure came down on the dark altar, and it exploded into dark shards and rubble in all directions. Vivic flames blasted everywhere as they fed on the unholy energies instilled into the thing, and then Briggs expressed his displeasure at the event by punting the rest of it over the edge of the cliff beyond.


    Various aggrieved roars spread out from the dracosaurs below, and Briggs spit in their general direction.


    A lot of the company was down, shredded by tentacle-waving dinosaurs of impossible strength and speed for their size, physiologies completely warped in horrid and unnatural ways, obviously products of other planes and horrifically strong.


    Our poor lads had to delay them while Briggs, AA, and I cut them down, using shield walls as best they could and digging in with heavyfoot to restrict their movements. It was really hard for the troops to even make contact with them, and if they did, the wounds healed very quickly unless they had a Blooding Weapon.


    Tremble was zipping everywhere, doling out the healing. She''d saved at least twenty people from death in this fight, and we were still going to use up the White Staff and all the spells of the clerics we had with us to bring the rest back... and then again come Renewal.


    AA was making sure nothing of the creatures survived, Briggs was grinding stuff to dust, and I was inspecting everyone for contagions... and finding some, much to my displeasure. That meant more magic from the Paladins and Priests to burn the unnatural stuff away...


    The Obelisk was down there in the water, shattered on the many rocks and not making anyone happy. Briggs had been very enthusiastic when he was bashing it over...


    ----------


    Estemar flopped down next to Briggs, who was now seated on the moldering stone in front of the former altar dais. He had pried the stones beneath the altar up with the help of the dwarves, and the loot hoarded below was being passed out to those who would be burning it up. It was a king''s ransom, centuries of offerings, and in eight hours, it would all be dust and mist.


    "So... that was a Legendary Template, the Pseudonatural?" the prince asked, his expression wan. He''d used up all his disease curing on others... and all his basic healing for himself and the dragon he rode.


    One! One of the unnatural things had nearly killed a Valor Dragon over twice its size. The blow to the egos of the dragons at how they would have been thrashed without their riders and healers keeping them alive had them sulking yet.


    "Yeah." Brigg''s pale violet eyes were flat and unhappy. Killing the unnatural raptors, things Summoned in from Outside Creation, had caused more injuries then when they''d chewed their way through hundreds of Jotuns. Without him, AA, Errant, and Sama here, this whole troop, probably the most elite band of soldiers that had ever existed on this world, would have been wiped.


    "Please tell me why they were so dangerous," Estemar breathed out, his hands clasped before him.


    "The crux of it comes down to advanced Insight bonuses," Briggs told him grimly. "In short, they are looking ahead through time to see what you are doing, so they know where to strike, how to strike, how to dodge, exactly as if they knew where and how you were going to move. The rest is just an unnatural anatomy tougher than anything real should be."


    "Insight bonuses, looking through time." Estemar looked over Briggs. "I notice you were not that injured..."


    "No, I wasn''t, nor the other three of us. Insight bonuses do not work on us."


    "Oh?" Estemar''s eyes widened. He considered his words. "If Sir Errant can do this, it''s not a Forsaken effect... Diamond Vajra?" he asked quickly.


    Briggs nodded. "It''s a powerful Feat working off the Vajra. There are two versions of it, both related to the Great Alignments. The first, and most infamous, is Beyond Good and Evil. The second, which we are using, is Beyond Law and Chaos.


    "The first makes you immune to holy and unholy magical effects, and Divine power, basically denying the gods and the judgement of the Alignments as having any relevance. For instance, you wouldn''t be able to Smite someone Beyond Good and Evil."


    Estemar pursed his lips, eyes narrowed. "That sounds quite powerful..."


    "It is, but you can only take the Feat if you''re of the Grey." His holo flicked up with the nine-point graph of the Alignments, streaked across the middle horizontal layer. "Supposedly there''s an Epic version which allows someone strong enough to transcend Alignments and be immune to all Alignment-based effects, but that''s for Eternals.


    "Beyond Law and Chaos means severing yourself from Fate and Luck. In other words, you''re a sentient being and claiming control of your own destiny from the uncaring forces of predestination and chance. The net effect is immunity to curses, karmic backlash, prophecy... and insight and luck bonuses used against you."


    "Subtle, but powerful in its own way," Estemar reasoned, thinking that over. "So, the effects of what you do cannot be predicted in prophecy?"


    "Correct. We can really muck up Fate, and it doesn''t matter how lucky someone is, we don''t care." Briggs half-smiled. "Which is why these things died to us so fast. They couldn''t see what we were going to do, or how and when to hit us back. Just meat on the plate, hard-hitting but not that bad to deal with."


    Estemar heaved a sigh. "Is there a defense for us against such ''insight'' effects?"


    "Yes." The young Paladin immediately brightened. "It''s a psionic Feat, but I''m pretty sure you can replicate it with Soul Magic. It''s called Unstable Mind. It basically wraps you inside a field of aggravated probability. Someone trying to use Insight against you basically ends up seeing all futures instead of just the best one, effectively giving them no information at all via probability overload."


    "Master Briggs, I think that everyone who experienced combat here should love to shut down such a hideously powerful advantage that such entities have," Estemar told him.


    Briggs grunted agreement. "Sama will broadcast the details to everyone. Something like this isn''t something we want to see again, either." He saw her golden hair flicker nearby in acknowledgement.


    "You look like you want to go hit something again, sir," Estemar noted.


    Briggs turned around, got up, and walked over to the edge of the cliff overlooking the rocky waters down below, now swarming with dozens of large scaled bodies moaning around their fallen Obelisk, who all started to scream and roar at him when they saw his figure there far above them.


    "Yeah," he said thoughtfully, and his knuckles cracked like breaking rocks as Errant strolled over next to him, looking down. "Yeah, I do want to go hit somethings."


    "You know, I never do like being chased," Sir Errant also mused aloud. Behind them, Estemar found himself smiling softly, and sighing. Brutal, sustainable power. He was not there, not yet...


    A little distance away, both Ancientaxe and Sama also smiled at the same time.


    ---------------


    AA removed the head of a plesiosaur with a massive arc of Zeitgeist, Briggs brought Endure down onto the skull of a dragon turtle and shattered it, and Quaver opened up a gash in a mosasaur a dozen feet long and two feet deep as they swept by. Wrath and arrows made for burning hatracks, and the group swept ashore, finally off of the lake.


    They hadn''t been followed from the island. The amount of blood they''d harvested from the drac-bloods that hadn''t wised up and finally run away had made a lot of Healing Potions, many of which were condensed down into Healing Wands and passed out to have further Healing reserves. That whole harbor had been stained a very dark red... until it was all set to vivus, and then it became unnaturally clear, contrasting nicely with the dark waters surrounding the island.


    The blood, hearts, and basic fundamentallums of the dracs were nice acid resistance power comps, too. It wasn''t like they didn''t have a whole lot of blood to contribute, so nice they were so big...


    -----------


    Not-A-Zone 13...


    Massive fists beat on chest, a roar of challenge to buttress it all. The great silverback letting out the challenge also happened to be twenty feet tall on all fours.


    The rain forest was alive with apes, some like gorillas, some like chimps, and some like baboons. They were on all sides of us, sending up a screeching, shrieking, yowling racket that was really rather ear-splitting.


    Of course, it all amounted to ''go away!'' ''we kill!'' ''our land!'' ''fightfight!'' ''youbad!''


    Nobody was really all that perturbed. The Elevator Music to Heaven was on the job, and the first volley of things they threw at us magically went right back and bopped the throwers on the head. So did the second, and they didn''t try the third.


    I walked out from the orderly ranks of those standing on Disks, the unnaturalness of the show just one of the things that was spooking all these apes. Of course, all the metal and bright shiny colors didn''t hurt, and the fact we hadn''t attacked anyone until now certainly didn''t hurt.


    Buuuut... these fellows had no demonic or unworldly aura. As a matter of fact, there wasn''t even an Obelisk in this territory. It wasn''t so much a Zone defined by an Obelisk as a no-Zone where the Hags didn''t dare to put one up.


    "You know," I said, my voice ringing with ki, and cute little whiskers on my cheeks and black on by dose, "there are better ways to greet travelers through your lands that mean you no harm."


    The cacophony of sounds cut off like a knife. They had all heard me, and more pointedly, understood me perfectly. Now they were looking at me in confusion, then one another, and then they all lit up with hoots and howls, naturally all of them questions and challenges and curses and what-not.


    "I believe your elder wishes to speak."


    Once again, the hooting all cut off like a knife. The massive silverback, with protruding tusks a gorilla didn''t normally have, huffed like a steam vent going forward, his eyes fixed on me suspiciously, but he was confident and powerful, looming up right in front of me, and looking down from his naturally superior position.


    He also gave the hairy eyeball to Fido and Shirley standing there, tongues lolling and freezing/burning drool dripping down with corresponding hisses. They were obviously magical animals, but they didn''t seem at all upset or wary of him at all.


    He was about to say something when I stepped up with one foot, mist congealed, and I walked up in mid-air in front of him, making his eyes go wide as I stepped up in the air to right before his face.


    +++++++++++++++


    Author''s Notes:


    Zone 12 ¨C Pseudonatural is a very powerful, epic-level template that can turn routine creatures into horrors beyond space and time. Basically the second most powerful stock template you can slap on something you want to kick ass with.

 222 Chapter Two Hundred and Twenty-Two – Zone Montage#4 - Monkeyshines

    "Good morning, elder," I greeted him, looking him right in the eyes as he inhaled and found absolutely no trace of fear on me, which to a big thing facing a small thing would be very strange, indeed. "Me and my friends are simply traversing your territory, moving from one area to the next. We have no intentions of claiming your land, disturbing your people, eating your food, killing your prey, or taking what is yours. If we may but pass in peace, we shall leave and disturb you no further."


    He stared at me, grunting, but couldn''t find anything suspicious about me. He pointed and huffed and grunted.


    "We killed a lot of the drac-bloods." I pointed up, and his eyes turned to where the dragon and griffon riders were circling overhead. "They are our friends, and waiting for us to move along. They have no intention of swooping down and preying on your people." I leaned forwards. "They''ve been getting stuffed on drac-blood meat and are getting kind of picky..."


    The behemoth of an ape hurfed under his breath, baring his teeth.


    "Yeah, Mire Drac-bloods taste horrible, there''s no accounting for taste," I agreed. "So, how about it? Can we just sidle through, no need to fight? We''ll be out of your fur in no time."


    He waved a tree trunk of an arm, paws definitely big enough to wrap around me twice, gesturing up on the sky. I looked up to the Wake punching through the brooding clouds, pausing above us.


    "Oh, that''s the world outside. We''re going to break the grip of the Hags on this place. We already knocked over one of their Obelisks... we''re going to collapse them all and kill them."


    His amazed huff blew me back five feet in the air, like wind in a sail. "Well, if it was easy, I wouldn''t need to bring friends along now, would I? You want us to show you some of our skulls? It''s been a long trip, and we''ve still got a ways to go."


    He sufficed for sniffing me all over, then bounding up and sniffing over Briggs and AA, moving down the line to inspect members of all the different races... who didn''t have Vajra to clean themselves up like we did. He could smell the blood of a whole lot of things on us.


    They all watched me handling this multi-ton ape with amusement. I really wasn''t afraid of the big fellow. If things got violent, well, we''d be trying monkey...


    He was getting a bit excited, calling out and stirring up the apes all around as he identified who we fought.


    I watched him bound away, and several older apes who were actually wearing necklaces of crude beads and bearing carved staves came out to meet him. They immediately got into a hooting and jabbering raucous discussion with great animation.


    I fell back down to ground level as Briggs and AA stepped up, and everyone waited patiently. The Whiskers of the Wild on my face were glowing slightly, and I had no trouble understanding any of them.


    "I think the big guy wants to help," I murmured to them, lifting their eyebrows. "It sounds like he''s seen the Obelisks, and they know there''s bad magic involved with them."


    "We should tell them what''s going to happen if we succeed. That elder of theirs can probably save them without much thought."


    "Yeah, that''s what I thought." I screwed up my face. "If so, we''re going to have to figure out a way to bring him with us, or he''ll slow us down."


    "What, Kong''s cousins aren''t built for marathons? Who would have thunk it?" Briggs was pretty amused, despite himself. "And okay, I give, you were right."


    I sniffed at him. "You and him are gonna be buds. What pattern you want?"


    "Hrm." He looked around. "I was thinking mandrill."


    I lifted an eyebrow. "Interesting..."


    "There''s mountain apes back home in the tribe. We get along pretty well with them. Not quite as bright as these fellows, though..."


    "Yeah, if they stick with us, they''ll be completely ruined," I admitted cheerfully. "Haul could hold him, but we''d need to build him something to stand on, he''s too big."


    "Which would probably bend under his weight."


    "Sixteen tons capacity. He probably masses ten or so?"


    "So there''s some room. He''s gonna have to eat, though..."


    "Like we haven''t been passing by boundless light snacks for him..."


    "True, I don''t want to have to feed him a ton of bananas a day or whatever."


    "Tusks. Canine teeth. Him ape, ape omnivore."


    "Think he''d like a pair of battlefists?"


    "If he can tolerate some armor, he''d be a great line breaker. And shouldn''t a big monkey have a stick?"


    "I think we have plans for the little fellow..."


    "I''ll boost his Int with a Mark. That should get him to around human average, at least."


    "Just make sure they know to stick to their elder when things start going wrong..."


    "This whole zone is probably ''close to their elder''. I don''t think it will be a problem."


    "Good enough for me."


    =================


    Author''s Notes:


    https://www.dandwiki.com/wiki/SRD:Behemoth_Gorilla


    The toughest basic gorilla in D&D. And then you template him... Yes, he can straight up butcher a T-Rex in not much time at all...


    King Kong from the 2005 Peter Jackson movie is about the size of a primordal gorilla. The most abusable thing is, of course, that he has 21 Hit Dice, which means he can reach post-Twenty in Skill Ranks... and take Legendary Feats...


    ================


    ---------------


    Taking a day off and having a feast of fruits and nuts with the intelligent apes wasn''t a waste of time, especially when you have a few dozen helpers assisting you with making a pair of battlefists for a twenty-foot gorilla.


    Still, what really set them off was the Marks, and getting Opened to Soul Magic. Naturally enough, I couldn''t stop at just him. He had over twenty Hit Dice, and as a Primordal gorilla his life force and vitality were astounding. He only had to gain Levels and start taking Feats.


    He Shaped in his Lightning Gauntlets atop the battlefists we made him, and I swear the jungle almost exploded with the monkeys going off in excitement. Glowing Soulbound battlefists wreathed in green-white lightning, worn by a brute that big and awesome... what wasn''t to love?


    And, of course, the fact that mentally I towered over him like he did over us physically meant he was a puppy in front of me. Always good to have big friends and everything.


    Since they weren''t Zoned in and limited, the apes here actually raided other zones, and loathed them all. Having new weapons to do so, and the Markspace to talk to far more intelligent and learned outsiders who weren''t trying to make slaves out of them, they looked at The Map and just gawked at how big the World Outside really was.


    Naturally, I couldn''t and wouldn''t do all of them at this time. But any Int bonus was a major uplift to them, and just giving it to their leadership meant word surged out explosively to all the tribes in the jungle.


    The times, they were a-changing.


    ---------------


    Zone 14...


    This was a containment zone, meant to hem in the monkeys and make sure they didn''t stray too far.


    It was filled with undead. Thousands of years of accumulation of undead.


    The apes raided it regularly, because if they didn''t, the numbers grew and grew until they pressed in on the great escarpment the jungle of the monkeys had ended up being built on.


    But someone was always reinforcing these undead, be it priests outside the zone, or the undead inside the zone after being given new corpses to work with. Tied to the Obelisk, they couldn''t leave, couldn''t grow... except in the direction of the monkeys.


    But Mithar and his mutt, there were a lot of these things...


    It was pretty plain we weren''t going to be able to run through this place. The number of undead here had to reach into the millions, and it was slowly and surely coming our way. Not just humans or humanoids, of course... most were non-human natives and beast-bones, particularly larger ones. The only thing holding most of them back was the fact they couldn''t climb, and the winged apes secluded in the center of the plateau came out to take on any skeletal fliers.


    Yeah, there were winged apes. I started humming Follow the Yellow Brick Road, and there were some knowing guffaws...


    So, it meant we had to arm up. Since we had an enthusiastic army of monkeys here who were totally ready to fight, and we definitely needed the additional offense, well, why not put them to use?


    And Baneskulls and Tokens could both be fed with Naming Karma.


    Every Intellect Mark I made was a potential Smith, Bonecrafter, or someone with Spellcraft. If they were talented enough, they could directly become a Shaman recruit, and if not, they all wanted to be Soulshapers. Even if they couldn''t get a big pair of battlefists, having Lightning Gauntlets Shaped, plus Banefire on top of them, made for a very impressive sight.


    And so, we started killing undead, for hours and hours on end.


    They were packed up, had killing instincts, and were commanded by the more intelligent among them. Said intelligent ones were hatracked by Token-bearing Archers, leaving some very big and stupid skeletons around to be mauled by ever-increasing numbers of monkeys with sparking fists.


    The apes were enthusiastic, to say the least, and they really didn''t get tired of exploding all these old bones that kept coming for them. Of course, they were rather lacking in tactics and strategy, so I didn''t let them fight without oversight, and Elder Arg there to keep them in line. Still, apes with ghost-fired, crackling fists bouncing all over the place, wearing Baneskulls about their necks and Tokens at their hips, made for quite a sight.


    The fact we could Cure them from basically anything short of death just utterly wowed them, even the Shamans were awed by that level of Healing ability. Apes go running out, flail around and kill a lot of stuff, come pounding back to get Healed, go out and do it again. Elder Arg was particularly enthusiastic about this tactic...


    Which is about when Haz¨¦ returned for another night of quick power-up. She''d been gone only an hour or so in the outside world, but given a four hundred times temporal modifier... eh, it had been days here.


    ----------


    Just inside Not-A-Zone 13...


    I watched Amber, Verd, and Veis teaching a bunch of she-apes how humans danced, which was only fair, seeing as how the she-apes had been teaching the girls their own dances. Having toothy smiles, the apes took a big shine to us Hagchildren, and naturally Briggs was totally their own hairy buddy, especially once he got his Whiskers and could hoot and howl freely with them.


    He was over there now, teaching them how to throw using sling staves. With their strength, and some Returning ammunition, they could wreak havoc from range with them, which the smaller apes, the champa-ka, were all for.


    The chakon, the gorillas, were much more into the melee mindset, which was fine, because a lightning-handed gorilla can fight any way he wants to, thank you.


    Errant was watching his sister and a champa-ka swaying to a waltz from a very straight-faced elf who had pulled out a lyre, while another ape nearby was deftly setting a drum tempo for them.


    "So, I see Haz¨¦ is initiating the Shamans into the greater world of the gods," Errant mused as he sat down next to me, offering me a gourd of fruited water.


    I glanced to the side, where a holy light was playing down from the stars, and some apish Celestials were discussing things over with a whole lot of awed Shamans who were completely bowled over by seeing monkey-ish Heavenly spirits.


    "It''s a magical world. They are going to evolve fast once they get out of here," I noted to him, clinking gourds and taking a swig. It wasn''t booze, but not half-bad, really.


    "And be part of Sama''s growing empire?" he observed, silver eyes seeing all.


    "Some will join me, sure. But like anything else, most of them are sedentary. I''ve been asking if there''s some primeval woods at the heart of the Sidhete, and been getting good responses. The elves won''t mind some decent neighbors with strong natural biases."


    "You''re going to have an entire race in your Marktell and practicing Soul Magic," he observed slyly. "Like, holy shit, Sama. Kingdom-building much?"


    +++++++++++++++


    Author''s Notes:


    The champa-ka are a variant of a Paizo/Pathfinder race of ape-men called the charua-ka under demonic influence, with great throwing ability.


    The chakon are variants of a forgotten monster from the 1E Fiend Folio, the dakon. They are LG gorilla/chimp ape-men. They''d be bros to Tarzan. Inspired by Gorilla City.


    Flying winged apes are statted up in Paizo, the derhii.


    As the Void Brothers noted, no demonic influence here. Strange, that...

 223 Chapter Two Hundred and Twenty-Three – A Bone to Pick

    Still hanging in Zone 14...


    "If I''m gonna uplift ''em, might as well go all the way, right?" I narrowed my eyes in the direction of the holy council taking place. "They''ve got good intentions, such as they are, and are very malleable. Last thing I want is some demonic butcher-god getting into their heads, right?"


    "Truth. Gonna keep Haz¨¦ around to help with the undead?"


    "That depends. I''m hoping she earns enough brownie points off of this to get that Perpetual Spell meta direct from Sylune. If she gets that, and her Soul Magic is to snuff... well, undead are the perfect practice targets, no? And we''ve got like a hundred-mile crawl of that shit to go through... I don''t want to be hung up here that long."


    "Especially since there are other zones of them to go through after we''re done with the Obelisks?"


    "I wouldn''t be making sure everyone has the Baneskulls and Tokens all good to go for a reason, would I?" I snarked back.


    Errant just laughed softly. "I wonder if Haz¨¦ knows how you''re steering her around. She''s already irked your mental Stats are so high..."


    "She''s probably figured it out. The key part of being the servant of a god is serving the god, something hard for us modern types to get into. She wants to go out and butcher things with magic like a super-powered gamer... but that''s not what Sylune wants. By doing things which further the Cause of Good, she''s suborning her mortal impulses to a higher cause, and Sylune is seeing it.


    "She''s making crazy Karma and beaucoup brownie points doing this. She just has to fight the urge to act like a gamer and stay the most powerful mortal servant of Sylune that we know of."


    "And just maaaaybe she realizes that her talents are even more useful outside of combat then in it?" Errant ventured. Because, you know, we could fight like all the Angels in Heaven, but we couldn''t Teleport like her.


    Well, Tremble could, but nobody needed to know that. Tremble was floating out there with Quaver, adding whistles and bells to the music, which the apes really appreciated. "Says the man who can cast Walls of Fire all day?" Errant''s smile was cheerful, indeed. "Even if it''s only one active one at a time, that''s still impressive."


    "And given the numbers we''re facing..." I just nodded to him. "I''m just so glad there''s nothing like a lich among them. There might be some undead Knights, but I haven''t seen them yet..." Nothing like a Death Knight lighting you up with a twenty-die fireball to say ''Hello, how are ya?'' after all...


    "That Wrath treatment working on the dragons?" Our five genius flying energy-breathing spellcasting not-dinosaurs were having a time of it. First some pipsqueak pseudonaturals half their size nearly butchered them, and now there were so many undead they were abusing their fundamentallums trying to strafe as many as they could... and not really making a dent in their numbers.


    "I think so. Takes a solid half-hour of treatment to get it back to steady, but that''s better than forcing them to go gorging. Isn''t there some sort of mental disorder tied to overuse of breath weapons?"


    "Apocalypse Gluttony. Pyre Dragons revel in it. Eat, breathe flame, eat, breathe flame. The more they eat, the more they burn."


    "Oh. So, Riggibuhl and Klaw having a puppy together."


    I tilted my head at that mental image. "You know they can hear you." When he said their Names. Hear him, not me. Him not Forsaken.


    "And I''m sure they find the concept of having a puppy together fascinating." Naturally, he wasn''t afraid, and they couldn''t act directly against another faction''s Warlock, anyways. We tunked gourds again.


    "So," he asked, giving me the silver eyeball, "exactly what course gets us through them in only fifty miles?"


    I could have come up with fifty miles being all they could stack in our path, but I just smiled. "The one that leads to the Obelisk, of course. Pretty damn sure there''s more pseudos there, and the lads are just spoiling for a rematch."


    With Baneskulls, Totems, and Bane of Legends to help out. Gear up properly, own the bastards!


    "That could get really nasty if they are Knights," he pointed out helpfully.


    "If the three of us have to go up there and hack them down by ourselves, we will. But I highly doubt the Hags wanted anything that could be a magical threat to them in charge of stuff. So, I''m thinking just Skeletal Warriors."


    He rolled his eyes. "Almost magic-immune Nines to Twelves. I suppose it fits the theme of animated and forced to serve..."


    "See, we''re doing a great good deed, sending them back across the Veil," I chirped at him.


    "Indeed, indeed, my dear young woman!" he agreed, speaking through his nose in a bad high-class pontificating accent. His eyebrows rose as Veis and her partner exchanged dips, chortling with one another, and he shook his head. We both looked at Amber, who had discovered that the primary visual sexual focus for the champa-ka were teeth, arms, and shoulder hair. Out came the alchemical dyes, teeth were being painted, shoulders curled and braided and colored, and clickers and jinglers being put around wrists. Add in some grass skirts in colors for the swirling motion, and when they suddenly spun into the circle, all the male champa-ka almost lost their eyeballs on the ground.


    Amber started putting them through what amounted to a not-so-toned-down stripper dance, and the jungle erupted in pure primate appreciation...


    -------------


    La la la, Zone 14, still grinding...


    In the end, it took ten days of building up before they made the run for it.


    AA led the way, as he had to, Briggs following and driving the Wake after him, and Sama had to follow and lock it down.


    Behind her was Errant and Haz¨¦, and a line of meditating Heavenbound. Meditating, because they formed an interlinked Wall of Fire around themselves over sixty feet across, burning a path through whatever remnants of the undead managed to survive the slightly-staggered carnage being wrought by the Forsaken in front.


    Elder Arg rose over the center of the flying wedge behind them. They''d elected not to stick him on Haul, but simply have Haz¨¦ cast Enduring Flight on him. The delighted ape was zooming along two feet above the ground, arms spread wide, and anything that got past the three in front and the rings of fire was smashed to the ground by his bulk... or bulldozed and held in those rings of heavenly flame, cooking to nothing in mere seconds if it tried to fight.


    Two Healers were on his broad back, making sure he suffered no lasting injuries from the fighting.


    To either side of him, the Hellpoodles formed the outer edge of the wedge, being big enough to slam aside any of the man-sized undead, and fully capable of blasting down much of the bigger stuff.


    Anything too huge, the dragons were strafing ahead of time, slamming frost and lightning into the animated bones in their own One-Twos, and the skeletons of great dinosaurs and beasts blew apart in great moving explosions ahead of us.


    The center of the formation was generally clear, things collapsing from the edges were the only real danger. The circles of divine fire from the Wrath of the Heavenbound consumed all of the weaker skeletons as they raged past them, ready spears and arrows caught the leapers and lungers, and other arrows hissed out, whist-whist, as Reserve Casters let loose at short range in endless salvos.


    The griffons were spotting out ahead, looking for the undead that stood out, big ones obvious, smaller ones trying to hide in the press but not escaping the eagle eyes of the griffons, who knew what to look for.


    Sama''s calm voice was issuing silent orders as the Marks-Up Display interacted with the Visual Files of the troops, and painted over their vision with a wild worldview of information from all sources. Positions of everyone, ranges, threat levels of the enemy, coverage and motion, coordinating missile, magic, breath weapons, following the terrain, scouting information in real time, allocating targets and converging cross-fire...


    The more intelligent members of the group realized they would have cracked under the intellectual load of Warlording to this level of threat and efficiency. The Elevator Music of Heaven was the Elevated Music at this point, drumming out a dire beat which had long imprinted on the bipeds fighting, and now had claimed the hearts of the primates who were coming with them, now pounding on drums with beats that even had the undead wavering as they came.


    Intimidate checks at -20 can affect even the fearless if successful, and at +55 to start, the penalty was still far from what the undead could withstand, orders of their masters be damned or whatnot.


    The dire beat and endless Song resonated among many magic Weapons, which added their own hums and songs and beats to the melody. The bardic-types took turns with stanzas new and old, adding ever more to the lexicon as they beat a requiem for all these undead, who shuddered to see flames black and unwhite coming for them, and final rest for their tormented souls at the end.


    They trembled in hate and relief and fear, and True Death came for them.


    ----------------


    Okay, it''s the middle of Zone 14, finally...


    It was made of stone, but it was still a tower shield, albeit one sized for a giant. Elder Arg heaved it up, and the massive fireball detonated against it, splashing away and to the sides, sparing the soldiers and apes behind the great gorilla.


    Two streaks flashed by on either side of him. A pale white ray flashed down on him from a Sword floating in the air, and stole away his burns and the impacts of half-a-dozen boneshard arrows punched deeply into him, forcing them out of his flesh, and redistributing the wounds through Quaver into Sama.


    Twoscore reinforced skeletons and wight guards blew apart in wrathflame explosions, positive energy from Healing Edge wiping away the wounds almost as fast as they were inflicted. Elder Arg bulled forward like a bulldozer, crushing and trampling the undead in his path, many of them made from fallen apes and great lizard men, his mailed feet trampling them flat with no fear of sharp points at this time, and exploding balls of Fire Reserves exploded non-stop along the sides of the furrow he was making.


    A cone of cold flashed down one way in front of them, a bolt of lightning came down an eyeblink later, conducted out along a greater width than normal, and blew apart a whole line of elite corpses of great beasts gathered to meet them. The hellpoodles howled and cleared away the chaff to the sides, and the burning Weapons and fists of soldiers and apes poured up the steps of the landing towards the Obelisk.


    Sama slammed into the formation of ogre and Jotun skeletons, weaving between scything weapons, crashed into the skeleton of a Tyrant raptor being ridden by a skeletal Bone Knight, and three strokes collapsed the animated beast and sent its rider into a free fall... which would not have harmed it at all if Briggs hadn''t wandered up that way, striding through a press of dozens of skeletons that were exploding around him, and Hammer met skull on the way down, to immediate deleterious effect.


    Elder Arg continued forward behind his shield, too big and strong for anything less than the skeletons of great saurials stop him... and those were the instant targets of a dozen fiery Rays coming in from all directions.


    The wedge drove up into the central plaza, where the leaders of this place were waiting for them... some few of the Knights, and the twisted, distorted, tentacle-waving skeletal figures of cursed warriors beyond them.


    Errant, Briggs, Sama, and Ancientaxe converged on them in streaks of banefire and vivic flame. The misshapen skeletons, each bearing three extra bony tentacles with spatial-shearing barbs on them, leapt to meet them with distorted, impossible agility... and found out that their otherworldly insight didn''t work against these foes...

 224 Chapter Two Hundred and Twenty-Four – Big Ugly Rock Fall Down Go Boom

    Yep, Zone 14 still...


    Haz¨¦ stopped her strafing and brought up two Walls of Fire in front of two of the six entrances to the complex, forcing the undead into taking double-damage banefire''d flames to the face to get to them. The Heavenbound immediately sealed off three of the others, and General Moonriver the last.


    The dragons had swooped in to join them as the last of the wedge came flying through, spreading out with the hellpoodles to cover each of the entryways. The archers and the Casters flanked them, and as the toughest of the undead managed to make it through the Walls of buffed-out flames, salvoes of undead-eating arrows, magic, and breath weapons, coordinated to maximum effect, slammed out to meet them.


    The dwarves and Ironblood converged on the skeletal warriors not being taken apart by the previous four, mobbing them with shields and thrusting in for what damage they could inflict, reinforcing one another and not letting themselves be thrown back like they had before. Shields screamed as bony appendages and rotting Swords and Axes that shouldn''t work crunched against the troops surrounding them... but this time, they held, smashing their victims to and fro, taking advantage of their lack of mass and heavyfoot to render them off-balance.


    Tremble floated overhead, the griffons ripped the last of the skeletal bats and pterosaurs out of the skies with burning claws and beaks, watching the unlimited horde that was converging from all directions, covering the ground for literally miles around with rushing undead bodies big and small.


    It took less than two minutes for the Big Four to rip their way through the dozen skeletal warriors, each of the ones enfolded by the troops turning in anticipation as they saw the Shields opening up... and then seeing nothing coming for them, only to be surprised by the sudden arrival of Grace, Endure, Zeitgeist, and Quaver, all come to play.


    "Take it down!" Sama ordered, her voice cutting through the thunderous, collective moans of millions of undead, resonating through the Elevated Music. The apes howled together, vine ropes were snatched up, and they climbed up the rough basalt thing glowing with yellow-green Runes, shrieking in fear and loathing as they touched it, but still continuing.


    The fighting lines quickly reorganized as the Healers tended to the wounded fast, forming up shield and spear lines before the six entrances. The dragons and hellpoodles pulled away to the Obelisk, while the griffons above alighted on the stone columns ringing this plaza, eyes sweeping everywhere, missing nothing, warning everyone of what was coming.


    Long vines wrapped around the top of the Obelisk, layer on layer of braided vines extending down into the ready hands of the strongest apes, and Elder Arg. Briggs decided the angle, and then the One-Two-Threes started.


    The elven Casters with Fire Reserves poured the power into Captain Fido, who sent a steel-melting Topped blast of fire into the side of the Obelisk. An inhalation later, Captain Shirley and the Two Valor Dragons slammed it with enough combined cold to freeze helium. An inhalation later, triple blasts of lightning from the Shield dragons hammered at the black stone, sending shards flying in every direction.


    Fire howled down on it again, and overstressed rock expanded and disintegrated. Cold came, it crumbled, and lightning followed, to explode and shatter.


    The apes were all pulling steadily, feet wide and braced, heaving back on multiple creaking rope vines, feeling the Obelisk tremble.


    The magic-resistant stone cracked and crumbled and shook, as a huge bite was taken out of its base.


    The breathers poured over to the other side, at closer range now, and began the bombardment again, across a narrower strip.


    One, Two, Three, repeat...


    One minute, two, shredding a narrow path across the base of the Obelisk, and the apes heaved opposite them.


    There was a very loud crack, spreading through the base of the Obelisk. It began to sway and tilt. The apes howled and surged, muscles popping and sinews straining... and the tower of stone began to fall.


    Shrieking with glee, the apes got out of the way, Elder Arg giving it one final pull before leaping in the opposite direction. The lines of shields and spears moved out of the way as the Obelisk tottered and fell, slowly, grandly, the Runes emblazoned all over it going out, right between two of the six pillars forming the entrances to the plaza. The griffons thereon didn''t even move out of the way, just narrowing their eyes at the rush of wind as it fell past... right onto the forces of undead and the Wall of flame burning there.


    The impact jolted the entire plaza, enough to send the Casters and Archers stumbling, while those with heavyfoot largely staved off the impact.


    The undead outside all seemed to slow and mill around as a visible shockwave swept through them. The pell-mell rush to surround and overwhelm became more of a trot or walk, as whatever uniting force the Obelisk held over them vanished.


    Now, it was target practice time.


    ----------


    Yawn, Zone 14 again?!...


    In the end, it took almost twelve hours to burn them all away.


    As the only living things in the Zone, and definitely creating a commotion, they still attracted all the undead there... hundreds of square miles of them.


    As they died, the vivic fires feasting on their remains spread out over the plaza, eventually becoming a virtual bonfire of unwhite fires, wiping out the weak skeletons before they could even make it to the plaza.


    Like moths to honey, the mindless undead kept coming, stacking up their bones... and getting burned down literally as fast.


    The intelligent undead were instantly noticeable because they stopped. Archers on Disks up beside the griffons on the columns instantly took note of them, and hatracked them with burning arrows.


    Haz¨¦, flying in the air, did the same. Endless streams of Shards and Shardrays continued pouring out from her, getting in the rep counts she would need to Weird the price of her Perpetual Spell down a level. Ten a minute, six hundred an hour... and one million twenty-four thousand to get to...


    She was covering a third of an arc all by herself, Rays and Bolts and Shards flying out from her endlessly, multicolored eruptions among the undead, just target practice for her. Anything flying she started dealing with hundreds of yards away, and flocks of hundreds would be reduced to scattered numbers easily shot down before they could reach anyone.


    ---------


    Okay, seriously, Zone 14 is taking way too long...


    There really wasn''t much to do. The entire plaza was now surrounded at about a hundred paces out by burning undead heaped more than thirty feet how, the vivic fire glowing with a sepulchral light, heavy mists wrapping knee-high through the area. The undead charging in never got down the mound before collapsing under the force of the flames, expanding the hill further out as they did.


    Archers and Casters on Disks up in the sky were poking down any intelligent undead who might stop the incoming horde, but that was about all that was needed. Nevertheless, a lot of Casters were working on rep counts with their Reserves... why not, with so many targets? Aiming practice on top of it all was always a good thing...


    The apes were up on the fallen Obelisk, or up atop the pillars not commandeered by the griffons, watching the endless undead marching blindly to their dooms. The vivic mist was as thick as soup, almost liquid, the hill of undead grew ever higher, ever further away, as they marched in mindlessly and died... or maybe willingly, as the sight of the vivic flames was seen very differently by the living and undead, perhaps beckoning them...


    Even the Heavenbound were out there, practicing the uses of Wrath, making use of the casual time. With the undead having no ranged attacks, just endless numbers, it was a decent use of down time.


    "I have to admit that this is a first even for me," Brother Ancientaxe said, seated on the steps to the dais and gazing at the thick vivic mist that stopped just below his heels. "The Land is feeding very well today."


    I pointed up. He and Briggs glanced that way, where the clouds were getting lighter and lighter, prying apart that pale line the Wake was drawing through the inky clouds. There was a lot of negative energy here, and even with the millions that had died, the cloud cover hadn''t broken yet.


    "Given a couple years, this would be a nice not-a-Zone for the apes to expand into, if it weren''t all going away," Briggs observed sagely, eyes more on the Marks-Up Display than anything else. Lines of red and orange x''s, interspersed with the occasional yellow or green, were marching up and going away as they hit a blurry white line. Countless shapes were crawling to the top of the hill, igniting unwhite, and crumbling down, and the mound expanded out...


    "Is there really a need for us to stay here, other than killing the intelligent undead?" Brother AA asked.


    "Glory Award," Briggs and Sama said together, emphatically. The urkhar Brother lifted a dark eyebrow. "You''ll know what it is when you feel it. It''s the reward from mass combat, when you finish the job, drive or break your enemies before you, and accomplish a great deed in concert with many others. It''s the reward of a Warlord, and those that fight with him," Briggs went on. "So, we see the deed through, and get our reward. How much longer, Sama?"


    A couple of the dragons were a-wing, scouting the edges of the Zone, measuring the pace everything was moving at. "Six hours, give or take."


    "Well, a rest is not unearned, but could we speed it up any?" AA asked archly.


    "If the three of us went out there and chain-slaughtered until they were gone, we might speed it up by fifteen minutes," Sama informed him blandly. "Six hours of effort for fifteen minutes of reward..."


    "Any harvests?" AA glanced at a small mound of unnaturally warped skulls sitting nearby. The undead Knights and pseudonaturals would auto-Invest as Lesser and True Baneskulls respectively once Carved appropriately, but naturally needed someone with the skills to do so. QL 30-35 didn''t just stumble by...


    "Other than the Weapons and armor of the bosses, no," Briggs sighed. Those were already being burned away by the apes, who really had a long way to go on their Gear... although not as much as a week or two ago. The weapons of the skeletons tended to be bone, obsidian, stone, or ironwood, so not much to salvage from those, and that was if they just didn''t use naked carpals and teeth.


    Sama grunted, bounced to her feet, grabbed one of the misshapen skulls off the pile, and sat down against the column nearby. She fixed her gaze on it, her nails began to caress the steel-hard bone, and white dust began to fall away.


    "Let''s do something a little more complex with these," she said to them, not looking away from the skull. "Qualifies as Undead and Aberrant Bane, or stacks on it as a Bane of Legends." Her fingers moved like delicate spiders over the bone, etching subtly, strongly, and already there was a glitter of fell blue-black light in the unequal sockets.


    "Ohhhh, that sounds interesting. Give me the Pattern," Briggs said, also rising to his feet. AA grunted agreement, getting up as well. This sounded like a very useful tool.


    One of the things that the Brotherhood had started investing Karma in seriously was Expert and Vizard levels. Even they had downtime, and one thing they had never lacked for was raw materials. Being able to Craft their own stuff during downtime had surprisingly come across as very relaxing and rewarding to all of them. Carrying around enough Tools to do so before had always been something of a problem, but now they were happy to Craft, stitch, sew, paint, mix, and assemble during their rest.


    There was plenty of stuff that needed full workshops to do properly, and they certainly didn''t have the time to stick around in one location to do that kind of work, but carving wood, bone, and stone traveled easily, and rewarded those who had steady hands and keen eyes with something other than placing a length of sharp metal into the vital points of things that had to Feed the Land...


    ---------


    It was a pause, of moment like drawing in a fresh, cold breath. That instant when the deed was done, the mission accomplished, the goal achieved.


    Victory.


    It blew across their souls, perceptible, obvious, a recognition by the Land of accomplishment, of achieving a Great Thing, above the Karma of individual effort. This was the end results of souls coming together and accomplishing a Great and Worthy thing through combined strength, not individual strength.


    This was Glory.


    To those who''d never tasted it before, it was truly an awesome experience. A feeling of being connected to all who they had labored alongside, of collective undertakings rising up to do what must be done. To those with the most accomplishments, the greater Glory, but the true Glory was what was given to them all, standing together and fighting together.


    Many of them had tasted lesser Glory on a battlefield, against the Warp Bands... but nothing like this, the purging of literally millions of undead from the land, a totally lopsided battle that they had somehow managed to engineer.


    The Glory, even for the more seasoned souls, was overwhelming. They had done an awesomely Great Thing this day, and the Land had taken notice.


    "So, this is what Warlords live for," Ancientaxe mused aloud, savoring the sensation, his crimson eyes glowing brighter. "And Champions, and those who lust for battle..."


    "Yes. Eternal yet fleeting, powerful yet ephemeral. There is nothing like it... and little to rival it in the course of gaining Levels," I answered him. "Glory Awards are addictive, and why generals want to fight, fight, and fight. Glory is truly something that men strive for."


    "So... this shattering of the Hags'' ambitions, the destruction of the Warp Rift... these will also generate Glory?" he asked in understanding.


    "Yes. And they should dwarf this. This was merely a slaughter, after all. Defying a millennia-long scheme, thwarting Divinities... yeah, much bigger," I replied knowingly.


    He laughed softly to himself. Naturally, I was still power-gaming, even after all this. Or really, the power-gaming was meant to facilitate this...

 225 Chapter Two Hundred and Twenty-Five – Mama, it’s Time to Go...

    The house looked subtly different from before. The many birdhouses were now mounted on the porch, for starters, and the small gardens and flowers had been left to go wild.


    There was still a lot of traffic going in and out, as many women and few men bustled about here and there, getting ready for things.


    The exclamations as Haz¨¦ came walking in from the back acreage were enough warning of her arrival, and she eyed the changes behind made archly.


    It was subtly jarring, being around people who weren''t Marked, and who she couldn''t just flick a thought at to give orders, acknowledge, or converse with, even while doing other things. With Sama''s Mark, she''d broken the 32 Intellect barrier, and had the four thought streams, which really, really helped with multi-tasking.


    Still, it was just a shift back to an older paradigm, and she smiled at the women doing final gatherings of herbs and plants as she stepped up the back porch to the door.


    "Mama, I''m home!" she called out, already hearing Mama giving directions from the former living room area.


    "Oh, my sweet little girl!" Mama''s smile was as infectious as ever, turning and sweeping up to embrace Haz¨¦ warmly.


    "You look like you''re lagging behind a bit, Mama," Haz¨¦ said severely, looking about. Much of the furniture and ornamentation had been stowed away, taken over by storage cabinets, chests, supplies, and the like.


    "We can up and leave in five minutes, dear," Mama told her calmly, waving towards the kitchen, which still had a couple stools to perch on. The two of them sat down at the station in the middle to talk.


    Haz¨¦''s brow furrowed. "Then why are you still here?" she asked calmly. "The time is but days away. It will be difficult for you to bring more people away if you delay. Northmarch will be in chaos, even if you reach it in time..."


    Mama sighed, reaching out to take Haz¨¦''s hand. "It is because of you. You are a horrible influence on the women, once they found out you were one of Sylune''s own, and fighting against the filth that has risen up everywhere. They refuse to just leave everyone behind like that.


    "When it comes time to go, we will withdraw, but we will not flee!"


    Haz¨¦ heard the steel in her voice, and had to smile despite herself. There was a whole world of difference in those two words. "Well, then..." she reviewed what she had seen of the outside of the house. "What would you like me to help you with?"


    "Ah! Well, there are a great number of things, but they will take several days worth of Valences..." Mama replied carefully.


    "I am in a rather unique situation right now. I have a tie to a temporally accelerated area where time passes four hundred times faster. I can go through a Renewal roughly every four minutes, if need be."


    Mama Greta froze for a moment. "Sweet Sylune..." she managed to whisper after a moment. "Then... then it is best if you Cast as many spells as possible as quickly as possible, no?"


    "I have been evacuating people from churches literally all over the Continent. I have an hour of time before they have more sites prepared for me, and I must go."


    Mama Greta promptly jumped up, still holding her hand, and burst out running towards the back yard, and the barn outside. "Then we must hurry!" she said over her shoulder to her little girl, smiling broadly. "Oh, there is so very much you can do in an hour..."


    Clutching her Staff firmly, and quite bemused, Haz¨¦ let herself be dragged along by Mama Greta enthusiastically, already analyzing what Mama was doing, and what spells she might be needing. No doubt she would need to be Casting literally hundreds of Valences over the next hour of real time...


    -------------


    Rorn Greywolf''s Sword Mournfang took the Champion through the eyeslit, banefire eating away his warped brain and ending his fanatic devotion to Amourae in a last twitching, spastic dance, before the vivus ended that final bit of piety, too.


    It had not been too many days since they went in Yle Tyorm, but the change on the battlefields was subtle, even wary now.


    Truly, having Sama and the Brotherhood around had relieved a great deal of stress on the part of those fighting. Who wouldn''t be stirred, seeing those people cutting down Greater Demons more easily than the normal soldiers did Lesser ones? With such people around, there truly was no foe too terrible to worry about.


    But they weren''t here now. They were driving in the depths of Yle Tyorm, where tales of endless monsters, fell beasts, undead horrors, living forests, and other things in endless numbers flowed out with powerful and skilled adventurers who went in, and most of whom came back out alive, albeit much bloodier and warier than they had gone in, and they had not been overconfident entering to begin with.


    It was endless battle in time-accelerated zones. The amount of combat experience to be harvested there was simply incredible.


    The soldiers looked at the fell beasts, powerful monsters, and most mutated of the elite troops they were facing on the field, listened to the tales where such creatures were the least and weakest of the creatures being fought inside the city, with no gold for a reward, only the harvested carcasses of the slain, if they were lucky... and they decided to stick with the fight they knew.


    The average soldier stepped up, goaded on by those tales, by men who certainly weren''t any better than they, right? The numbers of Warped they were facing were growing steadily, trying to balance out against the increasing skill, Levels, and Gear of their opponents, balanced on some paradigm of the Warped Gods that still couldn''t take into account the Marks, the Forsaken, and the boosted Warlord bonuses that applied to everyone on the field.


    Rorn was satisfied.


    He''d sent away the strongest men of the Kalden, the berserkers, and the North Wind. There had been complaints and protests, which he had silenced with curses and challenges to the courage of every loose-lipped, lazy shirker who dared call themselves a child of Kalden, daring them to be strong enough to not need those crutches.


    Were the North Wind going to be there when raiders came in the night?


    Were the berserkers going to save their villages from things come clawing for food in the winter? When out a-hunting? Would they beg and scream and cry for the North Wind to save them when brigands struck on the roads? Perhaps they could whine at the feet of the dwarven spears to fight for them, or bend their knees to the frippish elves, surely they didn''t need to fight for themselves any more...


    He was a son of Kalden, a wolf among men, and if they wanted to be sheep bleating for a shepherd, let them go find one! Their time to be shorn, gutted, and roasted would be coming soon enough!


    The complaints dried up. The grim men of Kalden settled down and did their jobs. No berserkers, no magical heroes. Oh, there were Skalds, there were priests and clerics, mostly Southerners, there to heal them when they were wounded, or counter the spells of the enemy.


    But this was a fight to be won with Axe and Spear, Sword and Hammer. By normal men, strong of arm and stronger of will, fighting back against these freaks and mutant things from the Warp. With the fury of their ancestors, who were looking down and telling them to surpass their forefathers, to become something greater than Kalden had ever seen before!


    Yes, the monstrously strong Heroes were engaged in some gods-damned Quest to the heart of Yle Tyorm, and the tales whispering back through the Marktell raised hackles at what they portended. But their fight, here, could not be finished until that fight was done, or all the horrors in Yle Tyorm might be unleashed upon the world, sweeping away everything.


    Now, they had to fight, they had to kill an ever-increasing number of Warped fanatics and anthros, their very numbers indicating that they were better, stronger, more capable of killing, a salute, and a challenge to get even better!


    After all, Rorn was right there. They knew his tale, they knew his background. Was he any better than them? Born of heroes, blessed by the gods, a fountain of luck, a child of destiny?


    No, he was a Man. A Source. He made his own Fate, neither Valus nor Hurn was sitting back there showering him with gifts and destiny and good fortune.


    And these gods-cursed Warped aliens were not going to keep him from achieving his dreams!


    His howl of triumph carried over the battlefield, and drew many eyes. The light dimmed in the demented eyes of the Warped of Amourae, a greater fire lit up in the eyes of the Kalden fighting them.


    He tossed the overwrought pink and yellow helm aside, and charged towards the nearest battle line, his shield leading the way. His countrymen cheered to see him coming, the enemy wavered and turned to greet him, and Mournfang sang an old, grim dirge of blood and steely doom as he hewed into them.


    But not berserk, never berserk, roaring his orders and tracking the field, fighting with his countrymen, leading them to further glory.


    ==================


    Back in the North, somewhere...


    "You will go back."


    Cold winds rose at his words, swirled in the air, stirring old powers, ancient eyes turning this way.


    The ghostly mounts of the Fey before him pawed nervously, able to sense his power, while the victims of the Hunt, captured and twisted into its Hounds, whined with both fear and hunger as they looked at the raven-winged erlking floating before them.


    They could, of course, run on air, so flight was no escape from them. But this was an Erlking, a Fey of status equal to the Master of the Hunt, and not chosen prey.


    "Neither Seelie nor Unseelie may command or deny the Hunt, only make a request of it," the unperturbed Huntsmaster called back, dark eyes unflinching, his long and deadly Spear raised. "Be off with you, erlking. You have no place here." His tone was mocking. An erlking was strong, but no match for a Hunt. Indeed, an erlking was meant to fight those who were often victims of a Hunt themselves, mortals intruding on Fey realms.


    "You are no Hunt. Your wits are stirred by the things of the Warp, hooking you on your bloodlust, drawing you in to become slaves of the Warped Gods, fighting against those who would deny it entry to our realms. Return, or be deemed traitors to both Courts, Huntsmen, and sentence will follow!"


    The cold wind blew again at the harsh rebuke, and the Hunt shifted uneasily. Those were not light words among the Fey.


    "And how shall you stop us, erlking? You think your force of arms sufficient to even slow us down?" The Huntsmaster was unimpressed. "The Hunt goes where it is drawn!"


    He edged his mount forwards a step, and at his will, the other eight members of the Hunt, Huntsmen and Hounds alike, advanced with him.


    Nior Rabe did not sigh in regret, only grimaced knowingly. How did she know? Damn Hags...


    His taloned hand drew a silver crown, a circlet, set with five black jewels, out from the purse at his side. He placed it on his head, and the world changed.


    The Huntsmaster''s eyes widened in sudden shock and fear when the golden eyes of Nior Rabe opened, for now he saw that he was the erlking''s prey!


    Nior Rabe''s shriek as he drove forwards with leveled Spear was laden with the strength of the ancients. Or, as Sama would have put it, his +10 Favored Enemy bonus against Humans had been transformed to a bonus against the Fey, accentuating a Spirited Charge and One Strike. His Spear and Sword were Named, burning green and grey with soulfire, not throwaway Weapons like others of his kind wielded. His Armor was actually enchanted separately, not merely empowered by him wearing it. Essence seethed in the air, glowed in lines on his arms, in his Weapons, and unseen about him, Soul magic the Fey, and other erlkings, had never used...


    Today, a King was on the hunt, and they were the Hunted... and he knew all about them...

 226 Chapter Two Hundred and Twenty-Six – Trundling Along...

    What, we skipped Zone 15 entirely?...


    "I can''t believe you actually netted so many Will o'' Wisps."


    "They''re like prize munchies for Shield Dragons. I''m thoughtful that way."


    "But really, a Ghost Touch net? When did you make that up?"


    "Well, considering how much silk was left over after killing all those ether widows..."


    "And you''ve got Ranks in Weaving?"


    "Don''t be silly. I had Haz¨¦ do it. She''s got the Spell Weaver Mastery, has ten Ranks in Weaving as a pre-req."


    Briggs mumbled to himself for a moment. "That''s a hilariously good way to trap incorps, who have no strength to speak of..."


    "Well, it was her idea, not mine. She dropped the comps off at one of the temples she was evacuating, didn''t even have to use her own downtime."


    "Clever. It''s like being an Archtheurge saving thousands of the faithful is worth a few favors here and there..."


    "I''d say we could have joined an army and done the same thing... except anyone stupid enough to have us join an army and think we wouldn''t take it away from them deserves what he gets."


    "Requirement one, of age to be recruited. Oh, wait..."


    I made a few choice syllables at his words. Can Kill Greater Demons, not qualified on basis of being too young. He laughed. Can throw a horse at someone, as an Ancient obviously too stupid to be a soldier...


    "That certainly was a lot of damn stinking swamp," he observed, not looking back at the miasma a mile or two behind us.


    "You want to work out how you get a draconic black willow?"


    He scrunched his flat face up. "That''s like where you do it in the woods, right?"


    "Sure."


    "See, just take the basic approach." We looked at one another, and then spluttered at the imagery. Forget humans, dragons will really mate with anything...


    "I notice that nobody complained we didn''t stick around to slaughter stuff," he pointed out.


    "Yeah, the I-wanna-fight to the I-wanna-puke ratio was more than a bit off. Have to work on that. Wimps."


    He rubbed his nose and chuckled again. We''d certainly cut through enough lizard men communities, all of them led by half-dragon Kroks or the like, but we hadn''t stuck around to really do the job right.


    Except at the Obelisk, now that we knew they were such fun places to investigate, and the lads really, really liked the Karma from beating on creatures with Eternal-class Templates. The four pseudonatural wakos had certainly stirred up a fuss, while their little giant monitor lizard brothers kept the lads excited while we dealt with them. The Royal/Imperial/Divine half-dragon Krok guards had all been enthusiastic about us being there, too.


    It had been a fine party, and there was plunder for party favors under the altar, literally a dragon''s hoard worth, which we merrily looted and exited with.


    The lads were in the middle of burning pretty much all of the metal and magic of it away at the moment. It was funny how far a dragon''s hoard worth of loot did not go with several hundred gold-hungry mouths to feed.


    Of course, what awaited ahead of us in Zone 16 was similarly welcoming. Cold fogs laced through the desolate wasteland ahead of us, the winds yowling with a connection to Leng, things we couldn''t make out moving in the sky, shadows at the edge of vision, tempting, teasing, trying to stick with us.


    The Elevator Music to Heaven /chanted, and those things were ignored, actually sounding kind of petulant at not getting a reaction from us...


    ----------


    Zone 17 flies by...


    "Wow, that was my first gug!"


    The anatomical stupidity of having vertical jaws splitting your face in two firmly established them as aberrations, and no evolution could defend having two forearms extending out from your elbows.


    "Same here!" Errant''sHeavenbound chimed in at Briggs'' words, as did the dragons and their riders watching as the massive natives of Leng burned away.


    Conspicuously, the Ironblood stayed silent, and Errant, AA, and I said nothing.


    Briggs slid his eyes our way, figured that out quickly, didn''t even think about AA, and grimaced at Errant. "You kidding me?" he grumbled at our Heavenbound Ten.


    Silver eyes glittered over his smile. "The tunnels beneath Zynozure go down rather too far, and some things wanted to bring up a couple guards with them. Guess what easy-to-dominate brutes they picked?"


    Briggs mumbled something about unfair extra years, and Errant just winked at him.


    Pseudonatural spiders lorded over by a Spider of Leng. It was probably not here by choice, as being compelled to guard the Obelisk simply wasn''t in the nature of the things... but compelled it was, and we weren''t going to pull punches against the massive thing, especially when giant wolf, dream, black widow, sword, and trapdoor spiders from Outside Creation were doling out the poison, shooting hair-thorns at us, waving four living sword-limbs at us, and dispensing hallucinatory powder in the air.


    We''d simply cut through most of the things we''d run across. I''m sure they appreciated the murderhobo action of hitting and running, faster than they could move. This group of gugs looking for some ghouls to much on were high-Karma targets, and the lads and monkeys definitely wanted to give them a try. Elder Arg straight up mangled one, ending up rather unimpressed, especially compared to wrestling an eighty-foot crocodile from Outside Creation...


    ----------------------


    Zone 18...


    "And here I was complaining about not fighting any gugs because I hadn''t gone underground," Briggs announced, Endure beating agreement.


    The cave was a hundred yards in diameter, clearly going down and deep through a mountain that rose beyond sight above us. Not even the dragons wanted to think about flying over it.


    "Did the Brothers say what we''d be meeting down here?" Estemar asked from dragonback, his eyes thoughtful.


    "The first Obelisk we''re shooting for is the territory of the Shellycoat, zone after next. Take a guess," I grinned at him.


    Everyone shuffled. Images of dark and slender figures with obsidian skin and pale hair all came to mind. The faces of the elves hardened, the dwarves snorted, the Ironblood just grunted, the berserkers tried to hide their interest in other matters, and the apes snarled.


    "But we''ve got a route, right?" Verd asked from behind me.


    "Sure. They had to come out the far side." I smiled winningly. "There''s only a few tens of thousands of them to get past on the route. I''m sure it won''t be an issue." The Map popped up, and our route was plotted out for everyone.


    "Two hundred miles underground?" Even Errant had to wince.


    "Aren''t you glad shit can''t teleport through the Felldeep?" I said merrily. "Otherwise, they could pull up so many demons and send them after us the fast way!"


    "They can send word on ahead that we are coming..." mused Errant back at me, also smiling slightly.


    I pointedly turned around and looked up at the sky. "Damn, that''s horrible. There''s definitely no way they''d know we were coming otherwise."


    A ripple was in the churning clouds above, fed by a whole zone worth of millions of undead, cracking this much-abused sky and giving just the hint of sunlight coming through above.


    Definitely a lot of low chuckles going out at that statement. Even the apes were learning to appreciate some good snarking.


    "Dragons... go humanoid? They can always revert if need be?" Briggs spoke up calmly. The dragons glanced at one another, then back at their riders, who dismounted with alacrity.


    The hellpoodles whoofed, glancing at the griffons as the dragons shrank and shifted into their humanoid forms.


    "No, the griffons are fine. They can basically levitate and speed after us with Heavenbound on them. But you''ve a point. Sir Harbrom, Sir Estemar, on Captains Fido and Shirley, chop chop." The two Paladins only paused a moment at the thought of mounting two ex-Hounds of Hell, but the saddles unfolded out of the Hounds'' Barding and the two Paladins swung up onto them with alacrity.


    "Elder Arg, you''re probably going to have to fly prone most of the time. Most of these tunnels are going to be small for you. If need be, we''ll get you shrunken down to fit." The great ape grunted understanding, sparks crackling on his fingers for a moment, his eyes glowing with soulfire. "Yeah, there''s gonna be stuff to mangle down there that needs the mangling."


    "Like all the drow," General Moonriver muttered under his breath, to the general agreement of the elves and dwarves.


    There were two kinds of dark elves: drow and drakeer haror. The latter were ''redeemed'', returned to the stars and moon of Sylune, the most magical of the elven races, the drakeer haror, the Star Elves... of whom Sylune Herself belonged to...


    Drow were demon-worshipping fallen elves turned from the Light by denizens of the lower planes and their own accumulations of sin. Given their casual proclivities, killing them all was very much the preferred way of dealing with them.


    "Well, there''s the equivalent of a dozen empires of them spread throughout the Fifth Zonering here, so let''s focus on sending them all off to whatever doom awaits them when we really mess up the Formation the Hags have up, rather than having to chew through millions of them one after another, shall we?" Oddly enough, nobody thought that was a bad idea. "Okay, pop those Masks of Clarity, you poor bastards who don''t have perfect night vision," my own Mask descended on me, as did those of all the non-humans.


    Why yes, sentient apes are actually Powered, and it was like we planned ahead on teaching them what to learn, or something. As for my Ironblood, it was one of the Tats they all had to get to go on this little escapade, and pay up to at least Mastery/2.


    Ancientaxe also had one, since Devilsight outdid infravision in almost every practical way, and down we went, not quite moving as fast as we had through the angry and misty-fist-shaking plains behind us...


    ----------------


    I had to admit I grinned when the elves, dwarves, and gnomes along for the ride all had Masks of their own. It wasn''t just for the visual acuity, although that was part of it. It was for style points. Can''t have all the humans and monkeys running into battle with stylish Masks over their faces and them not having any either, right?


    Soul Essence was a valuable commodity, and usually they didn''t need to waste it on visual enhancement. This was a special situation, and it meant we didn''t have to light up the area with magic to see... although that was an option we could exercise at any moment, very well prepared for that eventuality.


    Our worries were about full tunnel obstructions, possible collapses, or potential large magical formations or traps. Tight quarters fighting with troops weren''t what we were much afraid of.


    Already having a route to follow also made things much easier. I reflected on all the many, many side tunnels that we''d be passing by and ignoring, eaten away by massive stone-feasting elemental worms or other entities and forming the Swiss-cheese underworld of the Felldeep in passing. The larger caverns were generally formed by elemental creatures acting in some capacity or another.


    Drow did mess around with demons and daemons a lot, which could be problematic, but the sheer amount of time/space interference here meant that bringing in such would be dangerous, as they couldn''t leave easily... and not even dark elves generally wanted demons around for the long term.


    It also meant there was probably going to be more Evilborn around then a normal dark elf society...

 227 Chapter Two Hundred and Twenty-Seven – Just Let Me Pop Off a Moment Here...

    We were a meme.


    That whole thing about going to exotic foreign lands, meeting beautiful, charming natives, and killing them? I wasn''t sure about the charming, but the rest certainly applied.


    I snarked to myself as we trundled along, leaving behind us a lot of black-skinned, pale-haired corpses, and their slaves, servants, pack beasts, war beasts, Summoned minions, and various visitors of other sorts and species. Most of the slaves and pack beasts were left alive. Most of the rest joined the dark elves in burning vivic.


    I made a habit of finding the most attractive females among the dead dark elves, chopping off their heads, and feeding them to my Marks. Additional Karma? Well, they definitely did have intrinsic magic, so yeah, it was like a Power Comp.


    Mostly it was because the synergistic ability of the Marks needed to be fed and developed. To wit, there was a Succubus Blessing that gave those it was conferred upon the ability to change shape like the giver could. I had no intrinsic shape-changing ability, so it didn''t work quite the same way for the Marks, and I was a Null. Any kind of magical effect like that would slide away within ten minutes.


    However, pretty much all Hags were shapechangers too, so that ''empty area'' on my genetics was there, and work could be done with it. So, invest Karma, magic, at least one dead dark elf per Mark...


    Anyone whose template was burned into the Mark, like, ah, the Evilborn I''d fed into them previously, or anyone I ate, could form a template of someone I could shift shape into, if I was of a mind to.


    Now, I didn''t know when I''d need to turn into a dark elf, but that was no reason not to build up a wardrobe of alternate appearances, right?


    This process had actually been going on for some time, and not just for me. It was available to all the Nulls who had the three Physical Stat Marks, and anyone if they Invested enough Karma and Masteries in it. If the enemy could do slay-and-replace, well... Half a dozen mercenary companies had Null Ironblood officers who had replaced agents of various entities with ill intentions. Said mercs were now up to little good, instead of no good, but they were getting better.


    The Hyn Nulls were particularly keen on being able to change into human-size. Of course, they had to Invest in the Marks, Invest in the Mastery, and Invest in the Soul Essence that drove the whole thing...


    Naturally, I did the same thing with any succubi or incubi we came across, and given the origin of the Marks, nobody batted an eye. The general consensus was that I probably had to feed the Marks to expand the number of people who could use them and join the Marktell, which wasn''t actually all that wrong, as I was pretty sure the number of dead succubi-types affected how many of my Marked could use this expanded ability. Always looking out for my lads, I was...


    The dark elves had naturally enough gotten rid of most of the wandering terrors that wanted to use their preferred routes of travel, so naturally enough the thing we encountered the most of were their merchant trains and patrols. Needless to say, both were quite surprised by the sudden appearance of several hundred upper-worlders, especially fair-skinned elves, who were basically an evil myth to them after the thousands of centuries that had passed in here. Yes, them Light Elves really were quite as dreadful as the old tales!


    We did do aural validation (Estemar, Errant, Paladins, Heavenbound, take a bow) and, to everyone''s lack of surprise, Purple and Black were massively dominant. Given the charmed slaves and their treatment, necromantic goods, choice of Summoned minions, tokens of faith, and the like... well, we did our due diligence, and the dark elves settled firmly into designate: drow, and taking prisoners was out of the question.


    Still, it was a dim and grim fairyland, with evil fey, occasional Evilborn looking to spread some woe, enslaved monster pets, abused slaves of multiple races, undead servants, mushroom forests, artistically carved caves with beautiful and dire stalagmites and stalactites worked up into unholy places of acclamation, auras of death and despair... and some really savage fighting when it came time to breach one of their tunnel blockades or camps.


    There might have a been a few dark elf survivors left behind us, but not many, and word certainly wasn''t physically going ahead of us. We were simply moving too fast.


    ----------------


    Office building/palaces made out of giant stalagmites. Noble dwellings far above in the matching stalactites up on the ceiling hundreds of feet above. Faerie fire and shifting shadows to accentuate things with just the right amount of uneasiness. Fliers going to and fro on batback, avenues of flight determined by great webs sealing parts of the roof, with their attendants looking idly on as bat-boys flapped on past, or skittering up and down the walls in a dance with the great lizards doing the same.


    The emergency signal flares and horns had been snuffed and silenced respectively; word hadn''t gone out of our intrusion into this cavern as yet. The dark elves were skilled fighters, relatively speaking, but they certainly weren''t prepared to face off with a vanguard force like ours, where one of the soldiers could take out the captain of this probably cushy job. Cushy, because they certainly had a lot more loot on them then we could expect, especially after the gnomes and hyn tossed the place at speed.


    That said, getting into and through the city over yonder that stretched right across most of the cavern might be a bit more difficult. Or exciting. Depended on your point of view.


    There was a polite ''chok'' as Endure hacked off the head of the vulture-demon that was probably supposed to raise the alarm, and instead had the unique experience of having its scrawny neck grabbed by an Ancient and wrung like a chicken, while all its claws and talons rang off waiting skinplate.


    "Too many eyes," he grunted. "We don''t have time to rest or do more than heal up. Call it, Sama."


    "I need illusions of empty road tied to raised spears. They don''t have to be perfect, they just have to hold up from a couple hundred feet away so the things up above can''t see us coming." My Mask of Clarity was up and fully juiced. "They''ve got standard citywards up as far as preventing flyovers and teleports. That said, the main gates are open and they aren''t expecting anything to be coming as fast as we are.


    "The three of us are going to have to go in and dismantle their magic wards and traps, and fuck up the material defenses.AA, you''re on the magic, Briggs and I will wreck shit. Errant, your Heavenbound will have to stop the portcullis and the gates."


    "Won''t be a problem," our silver-eyed knight er-... of the Ruby Heart promised.


    ------------


    The illusions above us connected end to end, tied to the end of raised Rockborn Spears. They showed a ground area roughly the same hue as the crushed crystals lining the road, distorting and flowing, as if odd shadows were flowing across them when viewed from above.


    From the ground, it was bloody apparent what was going on, but anybody on the ground was going to be taking a dirt nap if they were a sentry, or not have time to really do anything if they weren''t... plus the Casters could always toss a couple extra illusions to ward us if need be.


    And so, we charged across three miles of open ground toward the gates. At sixty mph, that naturally took three minutes.


    AA''s Helices turned him into a blur of shadow and grey-black motion. The dark elves and their superior infravision couldn''t possibly see him until he got within fifty yards... which gave them maybe three seconds to realize something was out there, and respond appropriately out of nowhere.


    They didn''t quite make it when he blew past them. The heads of those on the right flew free in his wake, the ones on the right met Endure, and we were in.


    Helices flailed out in lines of black and grey, coiled into waiting magical traps and wards, ripped and tore with pulses of Void precision and emptiness.


    The tremblesense of Briggs and I painted the entire area with vibrational echoes at every step, exposing every joint and pivot, chain and gear. Tremble sheared through stone and metal, Endure crashed and crunched against the same. Gears popped, metal buckled and wedged, stone tilted and settled.


    Errant was literally three seconds behind us, he and his fellow Heavenbounds'' Ward Walls flaring up golden to forestall the abrupt fall of the heavy portcullis, and then the whole force was flowing in after us down the twenty-foot killing tunnel before the troops up above could take attention to fill the area below with poison gas, flaming oil, or spells. One very coordinated elfin lobbed a Fireball through one of the murder holes into the space above, and a silent burning explosion blew out in the confined place above, which I''m sure made their day more exciting.


    Then we were out and into the streets as the alarms started to go off.


    I''d like to say the streets emptied out in front of us, but we were moving way too fast, troops on Disks, running bloody fast, and not really giving them time to do anything.


    Estemar and Errant were feeding overlapping Eyes of Heaven into the Mark-Up Display, painting everyone and everything around us with threat levels and colors.


    It was bloody apparent everything around us was Not Friendly whatsoever. Non-combatants didn''t have colors that deep. Everything around was stained deep with treachery, blood on their hands, and ready to get more on them if it meant furthering their desires. The degree of depravity was really making both men wince.


    Well, it did make things easier, in a way. To wit, if it got in our way, it pretty much died, unless it was something like a goblin or kobold slave.


    ---


    She had quite the entourage around her. Escort of a few minotaur-esque bull demons, two vulture wrath demons, two gluttony toad demons, a four-armed envy demon, a serpentine half-snake demon attendant/lover, and of course her little old six-armed half-snake marilith demon self.


    They weren''t exactly in the way, but what they heck! -Uh, boys, momentary detour for the six-armed bitch.-


    Ah, yes, a more mundane Greater Demoness, whirling around at the commotion we were causing, slanted and slitted eyes widening at the speed we were moving and closing in on them ¨C


    Whoops, sorry guys, you can''t fly here if we can''t...


    Fall was out and pumping as I closed, my Tail was throwing spikes as Sparky did his thing, and Tremble was rising and ready.


    Her six dire swords, all irregularly spiked and barbed in that impossible demonic Pattern, popped into her hands, just in time to get a bolt or spike into each of her arms.


    The two vulture demons went away as AA and Briggs went past them, shredded and pulped in passing, respectively. I slammed between two bular''ri, and as she was shrieking at me and trying to bring her six swords in to parry, I was suddenly down on my face as she was rising up into the air on her lower snake-half, and came up underneath her parries, fluid as a mountain stream. Tremble pulsed in exultation as a foot of her edge went in and up through impossibly tough demon flesh, and exited in a spray of gore blazing vivic.


    Elder Arg smashed into the Tempter''s shocked form, its canine head bleating in alarm as it was slammed backwards. The great ape''s lower feet reached out and settled on the toad-heads of the gluttony demons, gripping very securely indeed.


    ---------


    A couple weeks ago...


    "Go ahead."


    The chakon charged at Feist, howling and flexing and arms poised to rip and rend.


    The hyn seemed to blur and flow, grasping the incoming arms. To the shock of the chakon, the ape was suddenly going head over heels, slamming into the ground headfirst and hard, stunning it.


    And then it was still going, rolling over as something kept it moving, up into the air and down again, crashing again even harder, and over one more time, wailing as it crashed into the patiently stoic trunk of a forest giant. He wobbled once, and fell backwards, unconscious.


    Errant laughed, standing right there, and reached down to administer the healing. It only took the chakon a few seconds to regain consciousness, and the surrounding watching apes were still silent.


    I scooched a finger towards Feist, and he trotted up to stand next to the woozy chakon.


    "Notice how big Feist is," I said to the silent champa''ka and chakon. "Note how big Omah is." There were a few hoots and calls. "Now think: If you could do what Feist just did, just how big a creature could you do it to?"


    For a pregnant second, everything went still, and then it went literally apeshit crazy.


    Elder Arg stepped forward with massive steps, bent down to inspect Feist with a head taller than the hyn was, and then his eyes looked way up.


    His tusked smile was truly and utterly ferocious.


    ----------------------

 228 Chapter Two Hundred and Twenty-Eight – Exit, Gate Ten

    Elder Arg massed more than all three demons together, and he was motoring with a Motion spell to accentuate his already tremendous natural foot speed. His Primal heavyfoot was also coming along nicely, and oh, what was that Strength of his? Base 39, with five bars of Philospher''s Might glowing hot on his furry forearms?


    He tore off the Tempter''s pincered weapon arms with pure brute face before his jaws came down and bit off the demon''s screaming head. As he did, he was rolling.


    His full weight came down on the two gluttony demons'' heads, driving them deep into the stone. He tumbled forward and rolled, still grabbing them, up and over and down, crunch! And then again...


    Their heads exploded under the metal-clad impacts of his pawed feet, and vivus exploded all over him as all three demons went off at the same moment.


    His roar of exultation was pretty loud, and demons understand most languages.


    "PUNY DEMONS!" he hollered at all of them in Chakonic. Effective 60ish Strength, Shadow Stalker Rolling Doom executed perfectly, boo-yeah! Grappling MMA ftw...


    Alas, they''d not be sending any mail home to tell folks in the Pits about him. The Ironblood swept past them, and the bular''ri died the deaths of too many hatracks, not enough hats. Her ophidi''ri paramour was hit with two criss-crossing blows as the Hellpoodles swept past, momentarily glowing lines of crossing Valorous Weapons Smiting and One-Striking on a Spirited Charge effectively quartering him instantly, and then profound Thunder exploded out from within him and sent the burning pieces flying in all directions.


    I gave Elder Arg a mental slap upside the head, and he looked around to see the rest of the company streaking past him. With an erp, he pounded after them and me as I swept by him, the marilith slammed down upon Haul, half her snaky body whipping along the ground as I fed her to my Mark, and not incidentally had some place to put all the demonically forged magical weapons from the demons and her twenty goldweight of magical accessories and other miscellaneous belongings.


    He leapt into the air as lightly as a much smaller monkey, in midair shrinking down to one-quarter his height to land smoothly on Haul, which had no difficulty taking his weight. He grinned shamelessly at me, then clutched the rim of the Disk harder, latched onto the corpse of the marilith going rapidly vivic, and whooped as I kicked into high gear.


    I had to swing out and around the company as I sprinted past them, all of them grinning behind the wind buffeting them, especially on seeing my haul, and in fifteen seconds I was back in my proper place in line.


    Another fifteen seconds, the last of the marilith''s vivus swirled down into the Mark on my hip, it glowed in polite thanks for the free lunch. Elder Arg carefully bundled up the weapons he was sitting on, taking care to only touch them with his gauntleted hands and paws. Tremble guided a rope over to wrap them all up, then bundled them into a dino-hide sack to pass back to the Ironblood.


    ---------


    There were alarms going off all over now, fliers swooping our ways, spiders coming down on webs from above, spells igniting brightly in our wake... but the fact remained that we were basically out of range within ten seconds or so, and the ones ahead of us still didn''t know what was going on.


    We charged in, kept on going, and charged away. They were basically still deciding what to do when we were already gone.


    The gate out of the city was designed to keep stuff out, not in. We eased our Interdictions enough to allow flight, especially after the first few dozen riders of bats, drakes, nightmares, flying worms, carpets, magic boots, wings, spells, and whatnot all suffered tragic falls as they came too near to us, their expressions hilarious as their innate levitation magic didn''t work either, and King Gravity added some more skulls to his throne.


    Up the walls, over the walls, and looooooong jumps away from the wall while we slid down through the air on misting heels. There were a couple of desultory discharges of arrows and spells that Ward Walls from Reserve graciously intercepted, and we were down, on the road, and booking for the tunnel out of here.


    Yeah, there would be another fort in the way, but there weren''t going to be prepared for us to come through, either.


    -------------


    "Wow, the lads have fast hands." I was impressed, despite myself, at how much stuff they''d grabbed in passing. The elves had been looking hard for magic, and had Mage Hands out to grab and point as we''d swept past, sucking in all sorts of goodies in our wake. It was basically all the gnomes and hyn had been doing, too.


    We couldn''t travel at our breakneck pace when in the actual tunnel, because it turned and twisted too much, which meant we might smash right into a rock-eater before we knew it was even there. Still, nobody else was going to be following us at much speed, especially after we spread out a few Explosive Runes here and there on stalagmites behind us. Just to keep things entertaining for the drow, of course. They needed some light in their lives.


    Briggs glanced at the Spear he''d ripped away from the vulture-demon he''d killed, now being burned away by a couple of champa''ka to power up a basic magical Amulet to increase the toughness of their hide and fur. Little steps, little increments. "Well, it wasn''t like they didn''t have an effective teacher."


    Taking the wealth and magic of the enemy, burn it pure to increase your own Gear. Life lessons on the road to Ten. My little sisters were burning up the marilith''s jewelry, probably a gift from some besotted demon who might want to scry and track it, and was going to quickly find it was dust. Only needed the mana crystals, not whatever the necklace actually did.


    "Mmm. You see those human slaves?" His pale violet eyes were cold.


    "Morlocks. Degenerated mutates. It''s been a hundred thousand years or more here in this Zonering, fuzzy. They aren''t humans as we know them, anymore."


    His shadowed eyes dimmed slightly. "That''s what our species has to look forwards to?"


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    "One branch of it, that is dwelling underground, in areas with unknown radiations magical and otherwise, afflicted by temporal and spatial instability, dark energies from foul gods, and the presence of Evilborn and Aberrations, yeah."


    "Ah." He managed to sigh. "It would have been nice to see something in the other direction, something to look forwards to."


    "There''s a future where humanity has a bright future? Really? Which story was that?" I screwed up my face, trying to think of one.


    "Legion of Superheroes," he said immediately.


    I pursed my lips. "Huh. Wow, okay, DC had one. Marvel... not so much. They have gods running around as heroes and still can''t do anything right without a Kryptonian around..."


    "Wouldn''t that be cool if those universes actually exist?"


    "Do you want to get retconned around existence every ten to twenty years? Fight things on the scale of Galactus?"


    He thought about that. "Well, the thing is... in those places, you can strong enough to do that, right?"


    "Well, yeah... Do you really want to imagine me with a Kryptonian racial template?"


    His eyes narrowed. "Well, that is pretty damn exaggerated..."


    "You mean monumentally unbalanced."


    "Hey, so is Dragonball Z."


    "We are not bringing Daoist-style cultivators mixed with super aliens together into this, are we?"


    "Ehhh, let''s not." He picked up a rock the size of an egg, flicked it, and a three-foot centipede crawling out of a crack in the cavern wall went crunchy-splat. "But that does bring up the topic of breaking Ten."


    "Because Superman is a Three or Four who counts as Epic because of his race?" I rolled my eyes.


    "It ties in, doesn''t it?" he prodded, undeterred in his examination of the condensed water slowly, slowly dripping off one of the stalagmites into the pool in this cavern below us.


    It was a bit before I replied, "To an extent, yeah." I flicked my eyes over at the dragons lounging nearby and chatting with several of the Casters with us. Forsaken made them uncomfortable, so there was tacit space between them and the Ironblood.


    "You sound like you figured something out." He was definitely interested. His mental prod opened up, and quietly I had open Markdoors to all the Brotherhood, Errant, Haz¨¦, the girls, and some other suddenly Very Interested people.


    "I''m pretty sure that base Humanity is too weak a race to get past Ten," I threw out there, and backed it up with how Stat increases worked, particularly at the mental level, where post-35 meant you literally had to be thinking outside your head, and physical Stats meant your body was basically a magic item, because physics simply wouldn''t support that level of power. "Now, while the Land, or the gods, can simply come down and give you that moment of Insight to break Ten in your moment of Awesome, actually reaching out and taking it means looking at the races who can naturally break it, and using them as a crutch.


    "I''ve got the wherewithal to break Ten right in front of me. That marilith I fed to my Marks is a Seventeen, with superhuman baseline Stats, and a +17 blanket Attack Bonus, both Ranged and Melee, with Skill Ranks and Caster Level to match.


    "Look at the dragons; they are all in the Fourteen to Sixteen Hit Die range. They have that level of Attack Bonus, a Caster Level that exceeds Ten, and Skills that do as well.


    "To Break Ten, you need to have one of those three things. I think our ancestors, and the current crop of post-Tens that are out there, just went looking for examples to emulate in one of those three categories.


    "There are plenty of races that could display a base Caster Level for Casters. Many Celestials have natural Class Levels higher than Ten. One visit from an Astral Deva, and any Priest or Favored would see how being an Eleven works magically.


    "Any Sorcerer would only have to find a powerful enough creature sharing their bloodline, and watch how their magic works, and they''d be able to borrow it and advance into Ten.


    "The key thing for any Melee is getting that +11 Attack Bonus, be it Melee or Ranged. Once you understand that, everything else follows. The instinctive understanding of combat is very different than the learned one that Classes download, which is experience through a thousand failures. Instinct is experience through surviving ten thousand generations, the weak fall.


    "But still, once you have that +11 in front of you, and know the end result, you can take that Step into Eleven pretty easily.


    "Likewise, if some Celestial or Fiend telepathically shares to you what it means to have Eleven Ranks in Stealth or Perception, that''s going to light up everything else.


    "So, Powered types can literally be sponsored to Eleven. Forsaken, we''re going to have to steal it with Evolutionary Levels. I''m not sure any Powered being can effectively share with us the Skill Enlightenment, so it simply may not be possible for Scouts to make Eleven on a pure basis for Forsaken... unless Luck or Fate play heavily into it.


    "I''m looking at a +17 Attack Bonus from the fiendish side of things. If I can buy that up even one point, nothing is going to stop me from stepping into Eleven Melee.


    "But, I''m pretty sure that''s a Hard Ceiling. As it relates to magic, that''s an Epic-Level bonus, right? Going from +10 to +11 is making a huge hurdle in understanding.


    "So, I''m pretty sure you''re going to have to throw Rank D worth of Karma at it to make it stick, Forsaken and Powered alike."


    Instant mental convulsions all around. That was a metric fuckload of Karma. That was making Ten sixteen times over...

 229 Chapter Two Hundred and Twenty-Nine – Wait, Forsaken aren’t Forsaken?

    "Like getting D Rank, just for that one Level?" Briggs murmured, and everyone else agreed. Earning that much Karma was no joke at all! Eighty Levels worth...


    "There''s a reason all them post-Tens aren''t youngsters anymore," I hinted strongly. "Pretty sure the extra years we get are just so we can last long enough to maybe break that ceiling under normal circumstances, if we keep trying. After all, you don''t NEED to be a Deep Ten to make Eleven."


    "Huh." Briggs glanced down as the pool in front of us trembled ever-so-slightly. "What are you planning on doing?"


    "The Annis Hag evolution is actually very strong, especially once you remove the Curse. It gets to +7 flat Attack Bonus. I have a Fallen Ahren template that should get me to +13 thereafter, and then lilitu or marilith would get me to +17."


    "Ugh. You have to pay for the bonus twice?" He rubbed his nose as the water trembled more.


    "Never said the process was efficient." I was watching it too, of course, and what was at the bottom of the pool. We weren''t sitting here for no reason. "Wizards are associated with Dragons because they are the easiest Arcane Casters to reach, with Evilborn the next most, particularly Arcanadaemons. Divine Casters go to servants of their Patrons. Warriors emulate mighty creatures that can have higher AB''s. It all fits."


    "Why not make the run for Eleven?" he asked, his hand closing around Endure now, and the Hammer starting to burn. Quaver slid herself into my hand, starting to do the same.


    "Karmic costs for Secondary Levels all increase with every Primary Level," was the automatic reply.


    "Uh, you''re still buying up Class Levels?" He was shocked despite himself. "Prestige Levels? What?"


    "Well, I made a discovery." Something dark at the bottom of the pool was starting to flow upwards. Naturally, we could both see it perfectly in our tremblesense. It was massive, easily a hundred cubic meters in size, flowing up, up, stealthily and steadily, toward the food above vibrating on the ground.


    "A discovery." Briggs threw a partial smile. "That''s that 32 Int coming into play again, gnawing at something. What is this massive discovery that is holding you back from Eleven?"


    "Well, do you know Forsaken can take Caster Classes?"


    Despite himself, he flinched from head to toe in shock. "Are you serious? Of course you are. Why in the world would we do so?" Everything about the Classes was designed to increase Casting ability. Even the Feats you could theoretically take since you didn''t get spells would have to do with magic and Casting, useless to us.


    "Well, it turns out those are the Classes that work with our Forsaken Status. Nulls default to work with the Druidic Classes, Sources are probably on the Divine Paradigm, and Voids on the Arcane."


    "Wait, there''s Classes that advance Forsaken skills?" His eyes almost popped.


    "Null Druid subsumed my Null Mastery and all my Null Feats I''d paid for."


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    The edge of the great black ooze broke the surface of the water on the opposite side of the pool from us, closer to the numbers of people-snacks over there. More mass flowed out of the pool like an inky black tide, noticeably lowering the level of the pool as it did so.


    "Well. Shit," Briggs blinked at me.


    "Oh, and one more thing." I moved Quaver back, now a blade of solid Firephasing flame. "I have a Casting Matrix."


    I cut forward. Briggs almost smashed his own foot, and I grinned as my first Oozebane Fireshard drove hard into the bulging mass of the great Ooze, boring a hole right through it.


    Oozes, degraded shoggoth-spawn, were utterly insatiable eating machines that could be found basically anywhere they could hide from sunlight, as the skinless colonial organisms were intensely vulnerable to ultraviolet light. Given its size, a whole lot of biomass had been devoured by this sucker, but now its time was at an end.


    Endure''s Sharding plowed into it, a foot-wide tunnel plunging deep into its mass. Everybody nearby knew what was going on, of course, and the Casters waiting there immediately began to pepper it with Fire and Force Reserves. Ashified, disrupted colony cells eroded away, vivic energy flaring like fireworks as the miniscule creatures died, removing them from blocking further effects. Now it was taking fire damage from both directions, all directions, getting eroded down very quickly as Banefire tore through it and guided the damage to all the best parts.


    I noted a lot of water flowing down it and back into the pool, too.


    "Are you shitting me?" His eyes narrowed as he leapt along that train of thought. "We can store magical energy... our own magical energy?" His eyes popped. "We''re generators... and capacitors..." He glanced at me. "Can we use the power?"


    "We can''t spend it, if that''s what you are asking. Are there some Feats or Masteries out there, besides the traditional Reserves, that allow you to leverage all the magical energy in your body into something else? I remember there being a Feat which granted Toughness based on how many metamagic Feats you knew... eh..." But my eyes were dancing as a constant flurry of burning Swords and Hammers matched with the firecracker explosions of the directed Reserves, chewing this Ooze to bits. It had a lot of Health, even as it shuddered and stopped moving.


    Nobody let up. This thing was going down to vivus... and then we were going to get all the nice things out of the bottom of the pool.


    "What about elemental energies?" he had to ask. "Is it just generic?"


    "I was automatically thrown into the Animal Domain, probably because of my Annis background. I''m likewise assuming Verd, Amber, and Veis will be thrown into Plant, Fire, and Air respectively. So, all the Engrams and Pools I''ve been raising have signs of bestial, primal energy to them."


    "But if we can''t use the power, that''s a total waste," he frowned.


    "Is it, Brothers?" I /asked into the Marktell going on.


    The /silence was thrumming with anticipation. It was the Fire and Sword who finally answered. -Bondmages,- he /whispered.


    -Mechanics?- I /asked for everyone.


    -When we disassemble a spell, or drain magic from another, we can transfer some of that energy to an Arcane Caster we are in resonance with. Also, when Meditating, we can increase the rate at which they regain Valences by exuding the refined mana we naturally process into them.-


    Which, if any of the vague emotional subtext around his words were any indication, was a remarkably pleasant experience. That lady-killer reputation they had was not unearned...


    "Well, shit," Briggs said for everyone, as he let up with Endure, and the two of us watched the Casters pummel the black ooze down to white ash and water. "And now you can potentially store up some of that power and inject or share it directly? It would be like your Bound Caster having a whole separate Matrix they could draw on..."


    "...and I''m pretty sure we could do it on the psionic end, too. Chi, doubt it, unless ki accumulation can get refined up, and I don''t think it can."


    Everyone was silent again, as the implications spread across everyone.


    All those magical races, and humans had magic based around being non-magical, and thus being able to hold magic for others...


    "I''m going to assume you need a bondmage, and can only bond to one at a time," Briggs murmured to nobody, and got several Brotherly acknowledgements. He and I sat down as the first of the eager elves stripped down after a nod from us, and went diving down for the remnant belongings of prior victims down at the bottom. The loot would have to be acid resistant, so magical, slaked, or made of noble metals, most likely...


    "It''s likely no different than storing power in a familiar. You can''t do that with the more magical familiars, which is what got me thinking about it. A normal animal, you imbue it with power. A magical familiar, it imbues you." I hummed to myself. "And then there''s another precedent. Remember the Mystics of Nog?"


    His face screwed up again. "That... was just stories. They..." His eyes opened as he thought back to before Power of Ten was a thing, and geekdom beckoned. "Wait, that was a Prestige Class, where they permanently gave up spell slots and imbued them into their bodies for special abilities!"


    "Which is exactly like creating a magical item, biomagic. I also believe it''s one of the things for the Artificer/Druid Theurgy, right?" Because no one had ever developed a Prestige Class off those biomagic principles... that I knew of.


    "Life Theurgy, right." Briggs pawed at his face. "Wait, Theurgy? That means-?"


    "Uh huh. Archnull, Archsource, Archvoid. The Druidnull equivalent to Shaman and Shifters is Wis and Con-based, respectively, so bonus Spells from two Stats, more Spells, and since they aren''t the Primary Class, higher Null Level... just like Archshaman, Archshifter, and Archdruid."


    "You''ve invested in all those?" Briggs queried.


    "I''m 3/3/1/1/1 in the Null versions of Shaman, Shifter, and the Archies."


    "Gods in Heaven. Thirty-five more damn Levels to get!" Briggs moaned, and there was some swearing from Brothers in the background.


    "And the Masteries to go with them," I agreed with a sigh. "Deep Ten just keeps getting deeper..." My little sisters only had to pay Seven prices for those Levels, after all, to which they were quietly cheering, especially Veis, who would once again be able to work with the aeromancy she''d had to give up.


    "Okay, importantly, how do you fill the Valences?" Briggs asked reasonably.


    "This is a guess, which you''re going to have to verify. I''m sure the Voids just deposit their filtered mana into the Matrix instead of passing it through, so they''ll just do it continuously, or whenever they take down some extant magic. They''re probably the most suitable for Forsaken Matrix Classes.


    "You Sources probably just fill it by living, slowly, constantly. You probably can''t ''refill'' a Valence between Renewals, but you won''t have to work at it, either.


    "Me, I have to convert life energy to it, ripping away my Con bonus in Valences with temporary damage to my Con, which heals at a point an hour." I spat off to the side. "And at the top end, that means hundreds of Valences. No healing with magic, either... the feedback inflicts even more Con damage. And yet, the bonus Slots from Archnulling can''t be Nogged."


    Briggs had a lopsided grin on his face. "Ah, Class balance sucks, doesn''t it..." I elbowed him in his brick-like ribs, and he just laughed. "Any particular Masteries, Skills?"


    "They are all poor combat Classes, with one Good Save corresponding to their Forsaken basis. Two Skill points. Mystic Nog Forsaken is a Mastery. I believe my Skill Reqs for the Archies were Concentration and Heal five Ranks, Toughness, Iron Will, and Endurance Masteries, and the Skill Focus for the two Skills. Class Skills are probably Concentration, Heal, Meditation, and Craft.


    "If I were to hazard for Sources, it would be a similar set up, with a Strength and Charisma bias. Athletics and Diplomacy, maybe Intimidate, three similar Masteries, and so forth. Having Leadership wouldn''t surprise me, either. Kings Among Men is a thing.


    "For Voids, I would hazard Spellcraft and Stealth together, maybe some Knowledge Ranks and/or Acrobatics Ranks. Lightning Reflexes, Evasion, Stealth Masteries...


    "But otherwise, the Forsaken Matrix Classes were base Classes, no req except to be a Forsaken of the appropriate type. They were so basic and low I''d almost call them NPC Classes, if they weren''t subsuming all my Null Feats, and driving the Karma reqs down because of it."


    "Any Mystic/Nog exchanges?"


    "Stat boosting of your base Stats, up to 18 and ''perfection''. There''s an Iron Fist technique, much like ki-boosted unarmed damage, making your fists lethal, up to the base d4 and requiring another spell level per 2 levels for damage increase. Stacks on the ki equiv.


    "There''s also a ''magic armor'' effect that effectively replaces Force Armor and Natural Armor boosting."


    "After you already maxed your Bracers and an Amulet?" He rolled his eyes.


    "It would work inside a Greyfield, and can''t be dispelled, so it''s actually useful. I think you can get bonuses to Skills, but I''m not sure. The maximum you can invest at each Level seems to be that Level, so one Valence at One, three at Third, etc. You can''t Invest Slots from the Archies.


    "I''m assuming basic all-around physical buffs in the future, and maybe other Inherent Bonuses once you hit Perfection. Have to see."


    Briggs grunted and sat back again, the abrupt Markchat broke up as everyone retreated to their own thoughts on this matter.


    Haz¨¦ /flicked me an intrigued note. Exactly who would get to be Bonded to our lovely Archtheurge?...

 230 Chapter Two Hundred and Thirty – We’re Getting Closer

    Zone 19....


    Zone 19 was a dark faerie wonderland, outside instead of underground. That unhelpfully added a lot of twisted dark magic plants, fey, animals, magical beasts, scattered undead, and various undead capering around, all with a huge amount of Unseelie Court and demonic influence competing to see who could be more wicked.


    They weren''t happy to see us cutting through miles of animated corpses caught in an eternal Danse Macabre; burning through an entire forest trying to maze around us; slicing through an abattoir that specialized in flesh of sentients, artfully prepared; torching a choir-woods of elves, humans, fey, and others melded into trees and forced to sing of their pain and suffering for the idle relaxation of their noble listeners; hewing through battlefields literally thigh-deep in bones where necromancers raised armies over and over again to duel one another with undead warbands in endless variations of battles; chopping our way through a blasted tor where cambions and alu''ri led slave armies of fey against Unseelie Sidhe-led armies of demon minions, and drow cheered at the side...


    We did learn from some gossipy demonic korred that the Brotherhood of the Void had swept through here several years ago, and slaughtered their way through the noble houses in an orgy of violence that was still talked about to this day. The fighting between the various noble families had never really stopped since then, factionalizing for fun, profit, and entertainment value.


    There was too much crap in every direction, and teleporting demons could indeed hound and intercept us. Ergo, we moved much more slowly than we would have liked. Forests of animated trees didn''t help, especially when we ignited all of them...


    -------


    I heard someone clapping slowly, and turned around.


    She was standing up on a balcony, leaning over to give full view of a pair of Succubus Standard Issues. She was making absolutely no effort to hide her identity, as she had a set of ivory-white horns curling back from her temples and around her ears, almost the same silvery hue as her hair, which was set off against skin like polished jet. Her eyes were glowing pale white, and the dress she was wearing was shimmering like phantom moonlight and snowflakes in the flames accompanying our passage through the area. The bat-like wings rising up behind her were shadow chased with silver, as were her fingernails, even her lips.


    She was also so damn beautiful that every man behind me swallowed at the same time.


    The manor yard of this Hoary Hunter, his pet Hunt, and personal guard of Sidhe and Banshees were all burning right now, adding some billowing foggy remnants to the falling ice and snow. She was leaning out from an upper balcony, having watched us slaughter everything down here without lifting a single finger.


    "Are you taking passengers out of here?" she asked directly, and even Ancientaxe swore at the sound of her voice. You couldn''t put that much syrup and honey into words, could you? Even I was impressed. She definitely had Ranks on me in all the appropriate Skills.


    And she was looking right at me when she was talking. Not AA, not Briggs, not the dragons, or the knights atop them. Which meant she had identified me as the heart of the company here while watching me during the fighting, despite no vocal orders being given.


    "Interesting." I met her glowing eyes without any trouble. "I gather you had no attachments to the dead lord here?"


    "If by attachments you mean a frozen ball and chain, I did. But after a few centuries of being his little prize songbird, well, it''s time to move on... and I believe you can take me out of the zone."


    "My lady-" Sir Harbrom began, and I just held up a finger in his direction. If he thought I didn''t know about succubi wiles, then he was a fool. He clamped up.


    I sheathed Quaver, Tremble was already doing her healing circuit, and my Arms faded after I hooked down Stand and holstered Fall. "Come on down. Brother, give her a swirl."


    She slid over the railing so gracefully it might have not been there, and more men swallowed at the sight of some extremely exquisite legs, flashing high heels... and four slender tails behind her, all black of scale, and tipped with hooked jetsilver scorpion tips.


    Not a succubus, a lilithi. The Priestess princesses of the succubi...


    She glided down with one flap of her wings, alighting with weightless grace just a couple steps away from me. Brother AA''s Helices swirled out and through her, and she just raised an amused eyebrow as they danced through every part of her, lingering only a moment on the glittering diamonds and black sapphires on the jewelry at her slender throat and wrists. She looked and held herself like a noblewoman and a queen, and even the elves couldn''t deny that she fit the bill.


    I didn''t see him pop any personal Wards on her, so she wasn''t carrying any magic spells ongoing. "Ah, Sama," he murmured, his crimson eyes a little wide. "She''s not a demon priestess. Her Domains are Travel and Stars..."


    "No shit?" I vocalized for just about everyone. "Errant!?" I demanded.


    "She''s True Neutral, right there in the Green," he said, not failing to hide how impressed he was. "I do not even want to know what kind of willpower it would take a lilithi to turn from The Dark..."


    She favored him with a smile that could melt a glacier. He looked away and coughed despite himself.


    "Very brave of you to come down so readily."


    She met my eyes, amused. "I watched you specifically wade through Lord Geunheff''s magic like he was tossing air at you. I watched you carve him apart, while your allies chewed through his pet Hunt, his house guards, and destroyed a score of banshees made from the women who had failed to amuse him down through the centuries. I find myself incapable of actual flight, I am definitely not faster than people who can outrun a Huntsman''s Horse, and I am not Lord Geunheff''s equal in magic.


    "So, bravery, or knowing that the only way I was going to get out of this through talking, not fighting?"


    Well, it was most definitely one of her strong suits... "Being a captive must have been quite the test for a Travel priestess..."


    Just a flash in her glowing, icy eyes. "Well, I would occasionally amuse myself by running away. However, one does not just lose a Hunt, and when one''s area of travel is limited, the time free is not overlong." She sighed, and all the guys went weak in the knees.


    I threw a thumb at the sky, naturally diverting her attention to The Wake. "That''s a spatio-temporal intrusion into this place from true reality. This realm is a temporally-accelerated, spatially expanded dreamworld. If you were trapped by the zone before, you can follow the pathway out, and it will eventually take you all the way back to reality."


    The glow of her eyes sharpened greatly. "Ah, that explains a great deal..." she purred. "You have been able to destroy the Obelisks set up by the great Hags..."


    Given, we hadn''t talked much with those we killed, but it was still interesting to hear the Hags mentioned so casually.


    Her eyes flicked down to me. "You are going to... destroy more of them?" she asked directly.


    "Only the ones that are in our way," I admitted, and she lifted another eyebrow, smiling slightly down at me. Yes, she was taller than I was.


    "One would be amiss not to notice that your tear in this false world is pointing almost directly at Crysindrala''s personal domain," she observed with rather dire interest.


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    "She and the other two Hag Domains in this spatial shard do happen to be in our way." Her eyes lit up at my words.


    "I have been waiting three thousand years to get out of this zone, and I am far, far from the eldest of those trapped here. Lord Guenheff had been here for at least a hundred millennia." Her delicate nostrils flared the slightest bit. "I should think some repayment is in order." She stepped and curtsied to me, as beautiful as a dark ice flower, and most of the men had to find somewhere else to look. She was just too easy to stare at. "I should like to get what revenge I might, if possible, if you might take me with you."


    I''d just given her the way out, and she knew it. However, she''d been a prisoner for three thousand years in this zone cut out from the spatial shard, maybe a few hundred miles on a side. She would definitely be pissed at whoever trapped her here.


    Still, a lilithi priestess? The mind boggled...


    "She is a Sorceress and a Bard as well," coughed AA. "All at Twelve."


    My turn to lift an eyebrow, while her nose came up slightly. Demon or no, that was impressive. Lilithi got the Favored default to Twelve for free as part of their evolution. She''d earned the rest on her own.


    Granted, she had at least three thousand years to do so, by her own words. And probably didn''t have to deal with the Second Ceiling...


    "I''m not sure you''ll be able to enter another Zone until we take down its Obelisk, if we do at all. I''m fairly sure they both keep new arrivals out and bind those within inside."


    She glanced up at the sky again, then off in a certain direction. "The Obelisk for this area is not too far from here, if you would like to remove it," she smiled cheerfully, and yes, she had noticed that the men were moving to keep a distance from her, checking the dead for loot more than anything. "As for the next zone, I am certain I could simply ride someone through."


    "Something as simple as a Circle of Protection from Evil would keep you out. Do you really think the Obelisk effect is inferior?" I rolled my eyes at her.


    She did look somewhat thoughtful. "Mmm, yes, I suppose I was being too hopeful. I suppose I shall simply have to follow if you topple the Obelisks..."


    "You''ll fall behind and not catch up. You won''t be able to teleport past us with the dimensional uncertainty, space is roiling as we punch forwards."


    She tilted her chain. "You have something in mind?"


    "I''d have to Bind and Seal you."


    Her expression froze despite herself. I smirked at her, daring her now. From a cell in a prison, to a cage... but the prison would be broken.


    "For how long?" she asked, after I did not turn my eyes away.


    "I will release you the moment you ask me to."


    She actually blinked. "A fine promise." Her tone was absolutely neutral.


    The Marks around my waist lit up, black on white.


    Around me, Marks lit up, everyone turning to look at me, shining through armor, reacting with Soul magic, impossible to miss or conceal.


    "Indeed it is. Why don''t you tell me how many of these magnificent souls behind me are here under compulsion?"


    She had been able to see the Marks before, and the fact I held the Master Marks, and what it meant. She was effectively treating me as a master succubus, a manipulator of the highest order, even if I wasn''t a demon at all. I had replicated their power, and exploited it.


    Her eyes lingered on my little sisters, who stared right back at her, nine Marks burning on them. "What race are you four, bearing so many Marks?" she asked curiously.


    "Hagchildren." Her eyes went wide. "Verd and Amber''s grandmothers are the Hag Queens of two of the realms we have to clear. Tusk Annie is my Hagmother."


    We all smiled, and dual sets of canines gleamed perhaps a bit too much.


    Greatly daring, this drow-succubus reached out, touching the blue-black of the Curse''s mottled touch, and I felt it churn at the contact with her. Evil, without evil... born of sin, but not Sinful. Not enough to grab and punish, only taste and twist impotently.


    "How many?" she asked, staring at me. "How many have sworn to the child of a Hag?"


    "Would you like to be Marked and see?" I threw it right back at her.


    "Marked? I? You cannot..." she trailed off, as the corner of my lip turned up, and her breath hissed out softly, seeing I already knew the answer. "You would need my True Name to Bind and Seal me..."


    "Freely given, or not taken." I waved my hand. "If you wish to travel a new road, you must find new ways. Trust will have to be one of them." I pointed over my shoulder. "Or you can just leave." Behind me, the men parted in a straight line, leading right to the gates out of here.


    "Choice is all yours." I turned away, pointed for the lads. "Pick that manor clean of anything usable, and let''s get out of here."

 231 Chapter Two Hundred and Thirty-One – Wayfair

    She had far too much self-control to betray what she was thinking, but I was sure she was weighing a whole lot of things mentally. Three thousand years of living in a place chock full of demons, drow, and fey... those things could not be pleasant. Everything in her experience would be saying that she should take the deal and just run, run back out to reality.


    However, she was a prisoner of her own Stat line. She had genius-level intelligence, and had a minimum 22 Wisdom to sustain being a Twelve priestess... but a lilithi''s racial bonus to Charisma was +20. If she started with the Elite Array and base 15 to Charisma, add in +2 from Masteries, +6 from taking Sorceress and Bard to Twelve, and +1 at Ten, then right now, without using any magical enhancements, she was sitting on a 42 Charisma.


    Charismatic people are not necessarily pragmatic. What they are is stubborn, unyielding, overpoweringly influential, and persuasive. They don''t give up and they don''t change their minds, they suborn their genius and wisdom to making their resolutions work. It''s why they can be such awesome leaders, because they simply don''t care if there is a better or easier way to do something.


    And right now, what she wanted was revenge. Enough that for the chance at it, instead of simply walking away, she was trying to find a way to get back at the things that had trapped her here for millennia... and talk with someone powerful enough to butcher the lordling she''d been held in bondage to for decades.


    "You can read my Aura, but I cannot read yours." Said with just the slightest hint of petulance.


    "You aren''t strong enough to read my Aura. However, Sir Errant there is a Heavenbound, in case you don''t know what those silver eyes of his mean." Said person flashed her a meaningful look before turning away.


    It was plain she didn''t. "Heavenbound," she repeated, slanted eyes narrowed and intrigued. "There are no Heavenbound Warlocks in these lands..."


    "I imagine there are very few Warlocks, period, as the Hags wouldn''t want outside interference in whatever is going on here. Oh, by the way, anything on the inside that we should be looking for to take away? Keep in mind we are moving quickly."


    "Ah, proper plunder." Given more time to think, she issued directions concisely and thoroughly, obviously taking great pleasure in bringing down everything about this place and its lord. There was some fighting inside, but Prince Estemar sussed out pretty much all the skulkers at a distance, Briggs at close range, and intermittent bursts of extreme violence later, what magic, materials, and power comps could be retrieved were on the way out.


    Lord Guenheff had been bled dry and relieved of his head, as had his Hunt, and were summarily put to the vivic torch. The succubus watched this with completely apathy.


    "What use are you making of the blood and heads?" she asked neutrally.


    "The blood of powerful Fey is a universal component in illusion and charm-related scroll inks. The heads are bound for Baneskulls, they self-Invest if carved properly. The Lord''s should be able to make a Greater Baneskull."


    "Pragmatic."


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    "We need all the advantages we can get," I replied calmly. "Surely you don''t think it was luck that I could wipe a Fey Lord that powerful?" I followed her gaze to his Sword, sitting on a Disk nearby. "Was he an exile? His Sword was not as powerful as I was expecting." I''d been expecting it to be base +VI, Epic, which would have been too, too sweet. A million gold in value was a lot of wealth. Alas, it had only been +V. Although the soul-trapping diamonds were pretty nice, too.


    "His power faded after being caught in the area of the Obelisk, and being unable to bring it down. The Fey are powers of Chaos, and being so limited was also demeaning to them. With proof of his impotency before him every day, how could he claim to be so mighty?"


    "Especially if subtly mocked for his uselessness." Only the slightest shadow of a smile at the edge of her exquisite lips. A long-term campaign whittling down his self-confidence, the very essence of a Fey, tropes that they were.


    "Five minutes!" I called out, as updates rang through Marktell. Those on guard outside started to form up as portable wealth started to emerge from the manor... while the deeper places were naturally set on fire. "You need to make your decision soon enough. Which way to the Obelisk?"


    She pointed. "Ten miles in that direction, just out of sight. He wanted it near, but he didn''t want to be able to see it and be reminded of his fate."


    "Good enough." I wasn''t worried about her. A Twelve Caster Risen Succubus would have absolutely no problems taking care of herself anywhere. She could charm a fey lord even while despising him. Her Diplomacy modifier had to be in the +60 range, minimum. Amber should take lessons from her, and probably wanted to.


    "Do you wish to know what guards it?" she asked.


    "Pseudonatural somethings. My guess would be grimm, svartalfar, or spriggans, maybe with treestalkers and quickwoods or shambling mounds." She looked at me oddly. "What?"


    "Yes, a grimm from lands beyond Dream, and his cohort of spriggans. The fringe is occupied by stalkers and several animate plants." It was like I had taken away some fun from her.


    "I haven''t killed a grimm in months. I''m looking forwards to it." She gave me another look, as if I weren''t quite sane, but I ignored it.


    "I will think on this, and meet you there." I waved her off, and she walked off, a lot of eyes really trying not to watch her heading out the gate, and utterly failing. Midnight and silver, and I still hadn''t asked her name. I smiled to myself and got back to business.


    ------


    ..."And were gutted, shattered, jaws split wide,


    Fed to the Land, and cast aside.


    Every day, a grimm to slay,


    Until they dared not come to play.


    TREMBLE, SHE COMES!"


    The tentacled hentai nightmare yowled weirdly enough to make reality convulse, and I took its goo-and-gore head, that it might join its tentacles and claws in limply writhing around. Vivic flames poured into the pustulant, impossible anatomy of its unreal body, and reality began to feast.


    Elder Arg and the Monkey Boys began the act of bringing down the Obelisk as the others cleared up the rest of the area. The acreage in the area was all burning nicely, fire Elementals coming out to play, and the animated trees and sentient plants hadn''t much liked them. Alas, alas...


    She glided in on silver-edged jet wings, dressed in a somewhat more practical black outfit, complete with rocking thigh-highs, her tails rising up behind her like a serpentine train around her folded wings, ready to strike. Everybody sort of looked at her, and kept on with what they were doing, trying really, really hard not to drool.


    I kicked this thing that really didn''t look like a grimm, then booted the head towards Briggs, who caught it without looking and dropped it on Haul. Not much loot for this place, but we''d have work for our next down time, soon. Fey Legend Baneskull, was looking forwards to it. I didn''t pay much attention to her as she leaned forwards and whispered into my ear.


    I turned to glance at her. She watched my hair go into the tight space of my Masspack and pull out a dark box. "Right shoulder. You can move it later if you wish." She made a shrug that sent a few too-wary hearts racing, and I rolled my eyes. She glanced in the direction of the roll, and smiled splendidly. The guilty parties almost fell over. "I''d say ''be nice'', but you are." She smiled even more widely, and I just pulled out the needles and got to work, glancing at the sky.


    ---


    It didn''t take much to do, and I definitely had the Karma for the initial empowerment. She looked at it with great interest as the scars melded back into smooth skin, making it like a Tat, blended in and not marring her perfect complexion.


    The white lit up, and those cool white eyes widened despite herself as the Door sprang up, and she saw The Map.


    I could feel the fire of her emotions right through the Door, that howling desire to be free, to see, to escape. The whole world was before her... no, merely a fraction of the world, see all the empty spaces, waiting for someone like her to fill them in. All the wonders and places, so far beyond this eternal benighted realm...


    She was literally burning mentally with the need to get out of this place, and yet looked perfectly in control. A normal person would be half-mad with their desires, but it was just part of who she was.


    Yeah, I''d never run into a Charisma score that high, that was sure. On the other hand, she lifted her eyes from the Map and looked through that door, and checked herself.


    I couldn''t match her fire, but I had depth and clarity that she didn''t.


    There was a hiss as the Mark materialized on her mental shoulder, pumped with a day of Karma, and giving her a further +1 to Charisma.


    I held out my hand, and, intrigued, she stepped through the Door and looked around inside my head.


    Thousands of people looked back at her, glowing with Marks of their own. There were some impressive characters among them, the spiritual equals of any fey or demon she knew of.


    "It is time to Salute the Silver Queen," I /told her, as Haz¨¦, replete in the spiritual regalia of a Starsister, appeared behind me.


    "I understand you have been denied contact with your elder sister," Haz¨¦ /said to the burning succubus, reaching out to take her hand. Like me, she didn''t have the same fire, but she was far deeper in the other mental areas. "Join us, and see the stars denied you."


    People surged in closer, eyes opened, and above us, the view from a thousand different eyes opened up and filled in the vault of heaven.


    Her eyes flared, power rolled about her, stars in the mindscape materializing around her.


    The Salute began, thrumming, building up with emotions, a heady stream of respect, admiration, faith, belief, even love, all blatantly apparent in the mindscape. It was free of lust for power, of demand for attention, of bargains and sly dealings with things best left unmentioned, of pleas for power despite the cost that would be paid.


    This was a Song of how Things Should Be. Of generosity returned in equal measure, not in mockery and repeated attempts to take advantage; of trust and belief, not greed, treachery, and betrayal; of mercy and grace, that was not repaid with resentment, disdain, and later vengeance; of admiration that was not based on lust and possessiveness.


    This was not the exception; this was the way Things Should Be!


    True Midnight rose across the lands, and the voices of tens of thousands resounded in the Markspace, reaching up to Salute the Silver Queen, the Goddess of the Moon and Stars, of safe travels, and of Silver Magic.


    A great eye open in the Markspace, carried down that stream of faith, a confluence of stars, but there was no doubt whatsoever that the Goddess was there, listening, watching... and had found something of great interest there.


    And She winked, and was gone.


    The Markspace emptied smoothly, serenely, every person back behind their own unique Door, back to their own minds and things to do.


    The newly Marked looked at Haz¨¦ and I, my little sisters there, and the circle of the Void Brothers, Errant and his Heavenbound, great Paladins, Clerics, dwarven and elven kings, all gathered to greet the great burning spirit before them.


    Whose eyes were now full of Stars.


    -You may call me Wayfair!- she /smiled in greeting to them all, her /voice like the moon soaring towards a new horizon.

 232 Chapter Two Hundred and Thirty-Two – More Damned Mu-shrooms?! Oh, Wait...

    "Don''t resist, and there should be no pain." She arched a flawless eyebrow at me, and simply let me press her hand against my Charisma Mark.


    There was a flash of light behind my back as the Seals there below my Phoenix Cloak lit up. Wayfair''s black and silver form began to discorporate and stream into the Mark, which fed into the Seals on my back.


    It was very quick, took less than two seconds. The people standing around were all surprised. One breath there, the next she was gone.


    Now, the mechanical side of it was a little busy.


    Her spirit got shunted over into the section of my head reserved for odious things that tried to Possess me. Normally I could simply Seal this section off, but I left it open so communication was open-ended.


    She also flowed in through the Charisma Mark where I had my Lilithi imprint. Being the opportunistic person I was, I realigned it to harmonize with her, noting the interesting changes to the imprint as I did.


    Hmm, she was born from a mortal, and advanced into succubus? No wonder she looked like a dark elf, she used to be an alu''ri, born from a drow mother... and a succubus mother. Hah!...


    Of course, that meant she was Harmonized with my Mark, which meant no difficulties at all accessing Markspace as long as she wasn''t totally Sealed. To wit, she popped up inside my head, now literally on the inside, instead of connected, looking around in interest.


    -Your Seal is powerful. I should be able to confer upon you a good portion of my abilities, although Casting is naturally impossible, given your Null. What would you like?- she /offered me.


    I smiled slightly, still speaking aloud so those around could know nothing was wrong, although most were also watching through their Doors. "First, let''s give you full sensory access." I touched her, and she watched my mental self fracture into four to her eyes, representing my four thought streams. She was impressed, despite herself.


    -You are much stronger then you appear,- she /murmured approvingly, as I shook my head and flexed in place for her. -Though somewhat lacking...- she /teased.


    "Annis hagchild don''t have them," I replied, with such a neutral and reflexive air the topic went no further, instantly relegated to horrid banality, not to be touched for fear of being pass¨¦. "You can either ride in comfort, or get involved. What would you like to do?"


    -Oh, get involved,- she /replied such that every male there started to drool despite themselves.


    "Good enough. Empower your True Sight, and follow me in pouring your Soul Essence into my Manticore Belt."


    My Mask of Clarity flared at the harmonic power of Wayfair''s natural True Seeing coming into effect on my eyes. Through the eyes and reactions of those around, I could see that the Curse was instantly chased off the left side of my face, flowing down basically to the side of my chest out of sight to avoid overlapping with my Tats and being overwritten. That half of my face now looked like hers, and even my hair was washed silver to match... and yeah, there was a silver horn curling around the ear there, too...


    My Tail dropped down from where I held the metal Seal in my hair, adhered to the Belt, and two streams of Soul Essence surged through it, one electrum, one green with a hint of gold. The metallic, serpentine length of my Tail popped up, Sparky materialized and immediately made himself at home... and four more pseudo-metallic, stingered tails of ectoplasm, slender and lively, popped up beside him, two on each side.


    Layers of magic slid up around them, harmonizing into Fall, gathering around the bulge Sparky was in, and the three spikes hovering around him, and onto the tips of the Four Tails.


    "You should be able to shoot from the four tails, just like Sparky. I''d give you access to the Arakne Arms instead, but I''m a much better combatant than you are, so that would be foolish. You should be roughly as accurate as I or Sparky am with the Tails, so no problems there. Don''t attack in close-combat with them; the magic they are synched to with Fall is for ranged combat, and they will be ineffectual in melee."


    -But I can still grab and snatch, yes?- she /asked, and one of the Tails snaked out and plucked Endure from Briggs'' hands, snapping out an improbable distance to do so. Briggs politely let it go, and Endure didn''t burn her/me for doing so. -Oh, quite heavy,- she /purred, and Briggs just opened his hand for her to toss it back to him.


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    "If you can grant more, I''ll take your Unearthly Grace and the effective racial boost to Charisma."


    She tilted her head, looked down at the Mark, and made a mental wave.


    Part of her Power drove into that Mark, which visibly flared with silver light.


    +20 racial bonus to Charisma, activate!


    My soul seemed to ignite with power, belief, emotions, confidence, faith in myself. In the mindscape, my image flared like a sun, suddenly burning brighter than Wayfair herself, who blinked in shock, just like everyone else.


    Faint silver stars were swirling, fading in and out around me, the acknowledgement by Reality that, wow, it really, really liked me now, and did I have any favors to request of it? Oh, right, Unearthly Grace!


    Deflection bonus to Armor Class equal to Charisma bonus. Effective current Charisma, 50. Deflection bonus, +20.


    Stuff might well think I was intangible, they''d never get near me.


    Ignoring the gawking looks all around as my new Presence swamped everyone, I pointed at the nigh-intangible boundary in front of us. "Let''s see what''s past this..."


    -----------------------------


    What, we finally reached Zone 20?!...


    "Oh-" and several dozen unprintable words in two dozen languages followed. They were highly complementary of one another, and the people all around swallowed their own curses and just nodded along. I did a fine job of expressing their sentiments.


    Another fracking sea of mushrooms. But this one had gardeners...


    They were floating above all the stands of puffballs, toadstools, mushrooms, caps, buttons, stalks, cilia, lichen, moss, tendrils and roots. The smallest of them was fifty feet in diameter, with tentacles trailing down from them at least that distance.


    The biggest of them that I could see, which wasn''t that far because of all the spores in the air creating a haze, was at least four times that size.


    There were fungoid flyers too, beasts without heads and fleshy wings, without the strength or aerodynamics to fly, still swooping around, looking like they were inhaling clouds of spores in the air. At least four different species, and some of the small ones were victims of the big ones.


    They''d be victims of the ground-based mushrooms, too. One little fellow, only ten feet long or so, went swooping into a light plume of spores coming out of bell-shaped mushroom... which opened up and blew a sticky wad of tendrils fifty feet into the air, totally covering the hapless flier in goo and ooze... and retracted almost as quickly, swallowing the flier up and closing down, as if nothing had happened.


    "Hey, nice place. Mu Spores everywhere," Briggs murmured, his face impassive. "Those are like, tons of Karma. Like greater demons."


    Eyes twitched all around. We did have a rather unique take on elder abominations...


    "Yeah, but they''ll annihilate any of the troops who get close. That reach is nothing to scoff at, and that spore attack shreds anything if they get it off," Errant said from on back of the regal and somewhat bigger Darkbolt, who had also profited immensely by a year of unbridled combat. He was no longer a member of the Stormcrest Crown, as he was fully as large as the alpha griffon there, who could not tolerate the competition. So, Darkbolt was effectively Crowned for the griffons ridden by the other Heavenbound, which wasn''t bad, as all those griffons were tough as nails, too.


    Softies need not apply for Heavenbound mount status, after all.


    "Oh, that means I won''t have to share?" I blinked, and there was a quiet mumble of laughter behind me. Mammoth elder abomination, it still was impossibly heavy, and couldn''t fly naturally. King Gravity did not like such disobedient rapscallions, and I was one of King Gravity''s favorite enforcers.


    Errant stirred. "I don''t think I can get a One Strike big enough to finish it," he admitted reluctantly. "What''s the play?"


    "Close-Quarters Fighting and Combat Reflexes, of course. The things are covered in molds, yeah, but also tentacles. It will reflexively try to grapple you if you try to hit it with those pseudopods, and guess what that leads to?"


    Eyes lit up all around. "Sunder and Cleaving chains," Briggs smiled, the shadow of a ki-axe around Endure.


    Brother Ancientaxe spun Zeitgeist slowly. "I can''t bring it down so easily, but I can definitely do a Cleave Run," he smiled harshly.


    "What''s the damage required?" Verd piped up behind us.


    "Fifty minimum," I judged, and she made an unkind face. The One Step Mastery she was working on was extraordinary on the charge or set against a charge, but didn''t contribute much to a Cleave run.


    Errant worked his fingers. "I can do that. We''ll have to do at least triple that on the charge, then at least ten AoO, using Supreme Cleave to keep in motion and get in range of more tentacles for the autonomic reflex hit. If so, it should be dead before it realizes it is killing itself. Is there anyone else here who can do that?"


    The Amazon, Trella, enthusiastically raised her hand. She was up there as one of the best archers and lancers we had, but she was also a non-Caster Melee... and had the highest Power of anyone here, including the dragons... and Elder Arg! She could wield a Ladyglaive with some real enthusiasm, and had put serious props into mass combat Feats. Being able to take out a Mu Spore would be a massive Karmic influx for her.


    "Works for me," I smiled, looking at the big floating bundles of Karma out there. "Trella, we''ll keep you to the little ones for now..."


    -----------


    Hah, still Zone 20...


    The mechanics of what we wanted to do were pretty simple.


    One, Interdict the damn thing. That removed any attempt to teleport away, and brought it down from the sky. Given its size and weight, that did some nice crushing damage, bound up its tentacles a bit underneath it, and got it into a very unfamiliar situation.


    Two, run up on the damn thing, looking to carve open its yard-deep hide and let the Banefire guide all that magical damage to wherever it could do the most harm.


    There would be explosions of cold and poison spores from the parasitic molds growing on it. That was fine, Vajras exist for a reason, and we were moving too fast to be inundated.


    CQF, Close-Quarters Fighting. One of those incredibly situational Feats that was absolutely useless, until it wasn''t, and then it was godly.


    Any time someone grappled you, they triggered an Attack of Opportunity, even if they normally wouldn''t. If you hit and did damage, ostensibly to the limb or appendage attacking you, you added the damage you did to your attempt to resist the grapple.


    In reality, you chopped at whatever was trying to bind you up, weakening its ability to grab you, so stuff was literally throwing itself at your blade as it tried to wrap around you.


    The number of AoO''s you got was nominally exactly one... unless you had the Combat Reflexes Feat and Mastery, which added +Dex bonus and +Mastery level to your number of AoO''s, respectively.


    The reflexive defense of the Mu Spore was just that, a reflex, and didn''t take AoO uses, so even though it was so huge, it could lash out with every one of the thousands of tendril-pseudopod-tentacles on it without even thinking about it.


    And that was how the Mu Spores died.

 233 Chapter Two Hundred and Thirty-Three – Mu, Drow, Muuuuuu

    The bulk of the Mu Spore quickly closing in on our company definitely had hostile intent. Given that we had to carve our way through a hostile field of lethal fungus, and were creating a ruckus as we did so, not to be unexpected.


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    We were just pests busting up its garden, after all.


    It came crashing down as it hit the edge of the Interdiction, King Gravity proclaimethed His sovereignty over primordial mushroom nightmare, and down it went.


    Trella took over, her ladyglaive Sing in her hands. She had the Monk Levels to get some real acceleration there, the Flowing Waters lightfoot for not losing her footing on slick moss and mold, and Spirited Charge and Death from Above to make the initial charge up onto the mass of its body, and cut down on it with a lethal blow.


    And nicely surprised me by blowing Child of Water, the capstone Feat of the Ocean Dragon. At the beginning of an encounter, burn some Ki to double your Base Attack Bonus for the round... extremely powerful Feat, could only be taken at Ten, lots of pre-reqs.


    For six seconds, she''d have a BAB of +20. There was all sorts of stuff an Ocean practitioner could do with all that BAB.


    She carved deep into the thick fungoid shell of the massive Mu Spore, and naturally the tentacles there lashed out at her as she landed and kept going.


    The lashing tentacles were targets, effective Sundering attempts, about 50 Health each, enough damage to hack through a small tree, enough to chop right through them, and Improved Sunder meant the blow continued through to the Mu Spore itself. Supreme Cleave meant she could take a step between the Sunder and the Cleave, if she so desired, putting her in range of other tentacles.


    The path of Sing was an aria whirlpool of liquid Banefire and pure Ocean Dragon glaivework, rending a path through the shell of the Mu Spore as she danced across it. Tendrils went flying, and spores, fires, and flames of exploding mold, lichens, and crackerballs ignited underneath her like bio-bombs. The initial rent she had made in its hide lengthened in an unbroken stream of hacking Glaive blades coming down, literally carving it open as banefire lashed along whatever semblance of a nervous system it had.


    The panicked alarms of ''oh shit she''s cutting me open because I''m trying to wrap her up in mucous-laden pseudopods and eat her'' weren''t quite processed before it was all too late, and the Mu Spore had quite literally been cut open along a sixty-foot length. Whatever passed for gastric apocalypse vented out a very unwholesome gout of burning slime, spores, and all kinds of organic things with distressingly long names and descriptions as it died.


    Trella didn''t stop running, jumping right off the top of its shell forty feet up there, and turning on her Cloud-stepping Sandals to ski back down through the air in our direction, looking rather red-faced and quite pleased with herself, regardless. Her Vajra had dealt with the fire and cold, and the Adamant Pauldrons Tat on her shoulders with the invasive spores.


    ----


    Now, we didn''t just watch on as she did all that, of course, because the Mu Spore had some assistants along.


    These were drow, following after the Mu Spore in a hoverboat, based on the Disk magitech, except it looked like it was made out of several fallen and patched-together Mu primary tentacles. Given that Mu hide was at least as strong as ironwood, it was actually pretty smart.


    They looked to be harvesting the spores and drops of stuff the Mu Spore was constantly oozing and dropping, sometimes retrieving them, otherwise spreading them out on the surfaces of the fungi they found on, or areas of open ground. Totally cowed by the presence of the Spore, the fungi gave the gardening crew no problems at all.


    The fact the drow all had mushrooms growing out of them, to the point of covering some limbs with cilia and grey moss and little clusters of stools, might have had something to do with that, too.


    They didn''t much like us there, and the three ships of them all moved to attack us. The first thing they did is lose all their altitude, crashing down to the ground... Should have used Disk geomagnetism as a back-up, I thought, as a wave of rather impossibly accurate arrow fire hatracked them with prejudice. The Ironblood and monkeys who came racing up for some action didn''t have much work to do, which earned a lot of thumbs-up for the elves.


    ---------


    Still in 20. There''s money to be made...


    "Is there anything worth salvaging off this?" Amber had to ask, wrinkling her nose as Trella swooped down to the rest of us. To say the Mu Spore had a distinct aroma to it was like saying the sun is bright. It made the eyes water before you even smelled it!... which nobody who didn''t have a Vajra was stupid enough to do. Alchemical Masks for just this situation were fitted on everyone''s faces who couldn''t filter the air. Nobody wanted this atmospheric soup inside of, or on, them.


    "Yeah, the fluids and spores in its internal cavity are next to priceless for some very high-end alchemical work, among them orichalcum production." Wincing faces suddenly got very interested and were wiped clean. "Get some stone jars and let''s see how much we can take of the good stuff. And for heaven''s sake, don''t get any of it on you!"


    There was absolutely no doubt that was going to happen. Stone Shaping Rockborn Clerics were quick to make containers and rough stone tools, and the elves happy to manipulate them from a safe distance as we turned the dead elder abomination into something worth goldweight at high speed, being raced by the vivus that was devouring it, also at high speed.


    AA cleared his throat, and I glanced in that direction, seeing a Mu Spore some miles off turn from its normal path and proceed in our direction.


    "Brother, you''ve got a guest coming to dinner," I commented, and he smiled expectantly.


    "What do you figure it''s worth?" he asked casually.


    "Its psionic nexal can be carved into a self-empowering Greater Mythic Plant or Phrenic Baneskull. The goo in its guts... probably a thousand gold a gallon."


    Everyone looked at the ten-gallon stone jars lined up. There were a bunch of them.


    "We''re going to have to Tapestry them and send them out with Haz¨¦. There''s gonna be tons of the goop," Briggs said, watching stone scoops in glowing magical hands dipping and dunking into the vile, active stuff, still moving and oozing around as they salvaged it quickly.


    We could Itemize and shrink the stuff down in the short term...


    "Ten pounds to a gallon, ten gallons to a jar, twenty goldweight a jar..."


    It was a lot of freaking money, even if it only was for alchemical usages. Each jar was worth diamonds. We''d definitely be splitting it among all the Alliance members, who were already chaffing to get their hands on some. They''d still need some post-Tens with Skill Ranks in Alchemy to use the methodology for orichalcum and the high-end uses, but just having the shit was half the battle.


    "Murderhoboing for fun and profit is a great lifestyle," I said with a perfectly straight face, and Briggs couldn''t help but chuckle.


    "<Pah, we did not even get to fight," Wayfair said aloud through my lips. Didn''t have to move them, of course, just spoke out. Possession, you know. Weird stuff...


    "You ever been involved in any of those epic, slam-bang, down-to-the-wire, skin-of-your-teeth battles, Wayfair?" I asked.


    "<A few." She sounded amused. "<What of it?"


    "Do you remember how much of a damn pain they were?"


    "<Mmm, now that you mention it..."


    "They make wonderful tales. They suck to live through. We don''t want an epic tale here. We want cunning efficiency and everyone possible getting home, as long as we can get the job done. Fair fights are wonderful if they are in our favor. If they are not, we aren''t going to fight fair." I eyed the slowly approaching Mu Spore. "And a human-sized creature fighting that is not fair in the slightest, so we cheat for all get out. That''s how our unimportant little selves slaughter these things."


    "<How very appropriate. But do get into a fight soon. I wish to try out these tails." They all danced sinuously behind me.


    "Well, there''s definitely going to be shit around the Obelisk to pop. Brother?" AA pointed ahead and to the right. "Sounds like a plan to me. We aren''t going to be able to just race through this place, given the amount of hostile mycoforms around..."


    "What about the flying ships? Seems a shame to leave them..." spoke up Verd, probably thinking they could hold jars of Mu goop.


    "They can''t fly in the Interdiction we have to keep up, and who wants to ride in the ship made from the tentacles of a Mu Spore?" Crickets... "Right. I think a demonstration of everyone''s Sundering capabilities is in order, don''t you?"


    Briggs, AA, and I abstained from the quick contest that erupted. Sir Harbrom actually won, with a Crack of Thunder AoE Sundering that rendered the entire side of one of the ships into molding splinters, drawing much polite applause.


    Five minutes later, the next Mu Spore and its entourage was on top of us. Two minutes after that, Ironblood were pouring over the decks of its garden assistants to hang their helms on them, tree-sized tentacles were mashing stuff spasmodically as the Spore gooed out, and hey, we were going to be even richer.


    --------------


    Several days later in 20...


    It was raining dark elves.


    A BF Mu Spore nearly a hundred yards across had been swooping in after us as we closed in on this City in Da Toadstools. Then it had hit the ground and gone rolling along, with the requisite earth-shaking impact, and mushroom-flattening tentacles and high-school sized shell sent everything every which way.


    This was a mushroom city, as opposed to a tree city. The fungi-worshipping dark elves lived inside massive mushrooms, toadstools, puffers, tubes, and banks of pulsing, oozing, undulating fungi. Yes, it was quite singular and unique. Yes, it smelled head-swimming and eye-watering, and the colors were a phosphorescent nightmare before you added in the symbols nobody mortal should be playing with...


    I finished ripping the damn thing open, my first run taking me to the top of its head where its lower-mounted jaws and freaking massive tentacles couldn''t reach. As I kept going, the massive wound behind me shuddered with sympathetic resonance as my arc continued up the opposite side from where I started, it was already on the ground and oh, my, that looked like a tenement of stoned-out drow, eww...


    Flailing tentacles ten feet thick plowed through shrooms and stools, splat-whack-whee, so many things went flying... well, not flying, that was kind of impossible at the moment. Executing unwilling aerial acrobatics, that was more like it...


    There was a sound like a million people farting through a tight ass all at once, and a whole section of street and its inhabitants suddenly came apart as exploding spores and compressed air drilled right through them. Half a second later the whole area and natives exploded in ten thousand different kinds of we''ll-eat-everything fungus.


    Happily, the lads had kept a properly chipper pace, knees up, there you go, boys, and were just outside the area of effect, as if someone had calculated all that and sworn at them in six languages to get their asses moving in the right direction or become fertilizer.


    Oh right, someone had.


    In the meantime, of course, everyone who had missile weapons was having a field day.


    The Rockborn had the middle, the Ironblood had the sides, and the elves, hyn, gnomes, and champa-ka had everything else, while the chakon rumbled along behind with Big Sticks making sure anything suspicious didn''t get up, and well, everything looked suspicious, ''cause it was always twitching and pulsing and oozing and ughsmashitnow.


    The Marks-Up Display was painting everything that was a potential target, drow wearing fungal growths like proud shroom-heads were coming out of shroom-buildings all over the place at all the commotion. I was sliding down the air after the lads, sending Banestars in every direction, Fall''s trigger held down and pumping out bolts, and Sparky and Wayfair were competing on sending out lots and lots of burning Spikes into unlucky drow bodies.


    Admittedly, I didn''t have an unlimited number of targets. The elves, hyn, gnomes, and champa-ka were actually doing a rather explosive lethal job ahead of me, non-stop streaks and arcs of fire smashing into the drow around and above them. Those were some heavy spiked shotputs the monkeys were slinging around.


    There Briggs ran up, oops, the Mu Spore was falling, crash!, tentacles flailing, ''stools and ''shrooms were getting pulverized in an area the size of a city block, and it was raining dark elves, who found to their dismay they couldn''t levitate, and who bothered to memorize Featherweight when they could Levitate? Well, if they did, they kind of stood out and grew a hatrack as they drifted down, anyway...


    There were three more Mu Spores coming in from behind, two from the left, five from the right, and two more straight ahead.


    It was going to be a very profitable day of elder abomination killing!

 234 Chapter Two Hundred and Thirty-Four – Mi Go, Yu Go, Wi-Go.

    "I didn''t think a Mi-go could get much uglier, and the universe proved me wrong," Briggs stated with a sigh.


    "Zrrrt." I gave him a noogie. "Pseudos come from Outside Creation!"


    He opened his wide mouth, closed it, scowled at me, and then relaxed. "Ah, so the universe didn''t surprise me. That''s okay, then!"


    "Hahahaha!" The clear laughter echoed in heads and turned eyes as a certain bat-winged ohmyfreakinggodshestoogorgeous succubus furled her wings and slid down the air on Featherweight, having clearly learned the proper technique for dealing with a Stillflight Field. Next to her was Haul, on top of it a single twenty-gallon stone jar.


    She alighted somewhat more gently then a falling leaf, her smile dazzling from ear to ear. "One haul of Elder Mu Spore gut goop and gore, Itemized to the fourth!" she announced with an airy sniff. Yep, 44 Charisma and max that Diplomacy, casual slang sounds like formal traditional speech, with just the right touch of tempt-you demonic accent on it.


    All eyes turned on that urn. Jar. Treasure chest for the company pension fund. Stone container carrying 4^3 times its volume in very pricey and premium Elder Mu comps.


    Maybe two thousand gold a gallon for Premium, twenty gallons, times sixty-four...


    "Get the nexal core?" I asked calmly. Sure, sure, she had just retrieved two and a half million gold, five thousand goldweight, in Mu guts. But given how behind she was on Gear, she needed all she could get.


    She waved her hand elegantly, Haul rotated in homage, and the chest-sized piece of crystallized organic I-got-no-idea-what-that-is was leaning against the back of it. I looked at the thing, which was still oozing, and undulating, and leaking quintessence ooze that was evaporating in the air.


    "That one''s yours to carve, Fuzzy!" I fobbed off cheerfully, and he grumbled under his breath. Phrenic shit was like carving slippery soap as hard as corundum. Felt slimy on the Vajra. I had lots to work on already, no reason not to spread out the load.


    The Obelisk here was long toppled, the pseu-nat Mi-go had really, really hated us being Beyond Law and Chaos, and was horribly discomfited by Close Quarters Fighting. They had like seven limbs and kept trying to grapple so they could perform combat surgical eviscerations, and so kept losing all their limbs and lives at rather I-don''t-breathe-aie!-taking speed. Their mycoid servants, some of them the size of treants, had gone down with some hacking, exhortations about their bad breath, and banefire.


    Nobody at all was complaining that Bane/Plants was a useless thing to have around anymore. Strange, that.


    There were still some of the flying fungi-things around, which had been properly classified into kingdom and phyla as sqviggles for the little ones, vriggles for the medium ones, and ziggles for the big ones, further separated into Eww, Uggh, and Blegh species. Veis and the gnomes had it all worked out; the zoologists proclaimed it a fine example of proper scientific naming conventions; and so such beasts were duly entered into the lexicon with formal pomp and circumstance, along with the names of their discoverers, all honors to Mimir, Lord of Knowledge and data-obsessed librarians.


    The dragons liked Ugh, found Eww too greasy, and Blegh was just unappetizing. Everybody a critic, in the end. Although, they spent some of their share of Mu goop frying up various fungi, making a light batter, broiling, baking them into cakes, and were generally quite pleased with the results. Even Blegh came out alright deep-fried in butter, Mu goop, and cut into fritters...


    The cakes were actually pretty good, but nobody without a Diamond Vajra had the slightest wish to taste them, even Wayfair. They were all amazed that I could get the spores to stop trying to explode and inflate to ten thousand times their mass, and just act like normal yeast... kinda fun what all those Ranks of Cooking and Alchemy give you together. Hyperactive flesh-eating spores popping in the mouth like sugar snaps, like fireworks of inspiration going off...


    We had soooo much Mu Goop. It was occupying all the Disks as we waited for Haz¨¦, who would be with us as soon as she pulled a thousand people out of some Southern border town through petrifying them, shrinking them down, and then Tapestrying the lot of them before Gemjumping back to Split. Oh, and bringing a warehouse worth of Itemized supplies, too.


    Several warehouses worth, that is. Doing the Good Work, she was...


    There weren''t any more Mu Spores visible on the horizon. After gutting the city, ruining many a street with fallen Mu Spores and driving the resale values right down into fertilizer range, hey, suddenly the Mu Spores in the distance decided they had mounds of fecal matter to toss and all disappeared.


    Couldn''t understand why, we''d only killed like twenty, two dozen, thirty of them, something, sheesh...


    "There''s absolutely no damn way that''s all of the Mu Spores," Briggs murmured, his teeth clenched. "You know, we really should go hunt them down."


    I glanced at Brother AA, off looking into the horizon as usual, thinking dire thoughts of killing creatures that should have died off long ago. "This zone is at least three hundred by near a thousand miles. They can freaking hide themselves just by burying themselves in the ground. The Brother can track them, but it would just be fruitless for the rest of us, a total waste of time. I''m sure the lads don''t mind hewing down endless forests of shrooms and fungi-drow just so we can collect Mu goop and Karma."


    "If shit like that gets out when we take down the key Obelisks..."


    "If it makes you feel bad, consider that there''s seven more spatial Shards in this ring, and they all have multiple mushroom zones, too."


    He rolled his pale violet eyes, somehow looking quite intellectual despite the low brow. "Thanks. That''s really reassuring." I beamed for him, and he grumbled again. "I heard that Krigglerward wanted to try some of those mi-gos?" He conveyed astonishment, even for a dragon''s appetite.


    "Ah, unfortunately most of the corpses were heavily vivisized, and they''re immune to acid, doncha know, so the only way he could digest one is pour his lightning into his stomach and-" I pointed skywards.


    There was a rather horrendous vomiting sound, accentuated as it was with the sound of a thunderbolt going off, white and green clashing inside the frantically spewed lightning as it was hurled into the sky. The youngest Shield Dragon''s bronze scales were showing some definitely clashing hues of blue and orange as his head flopped to the ground, tongue lolling and crackling drool falling from his mouth with individual claps, like fists smacking the stones, pop, pop, pop...


    "You know dragons, once they get something in their head, they''re going to try it, so why not make it a life lesson?"


    "Don''t try to digest shit from Outside Creation?" he pontificated reasonably.


    "And now all the dragons know, and can spread the word." Blue and orange shades were flowing across his scales irregularly, and he definitely looked like he was going to hurl again, so everyone got away from in front of him.


    His erstwhile Riders looked over at me helplessly, I gave them a thumbs-up. Enlightenment, and they tried not to smile as they regarded the nauseated dragon...


    ---


    How often does a problem like this come up?


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    Elven Baneskulls. Drow definitely qualified as elves, and given that our next area was going to be more of these shroom-mutated, obsidian-skinned, off-their-rocker sorts, harvesting skulls was definitely a thing we were doing.


    It was making the elves here a little fidgety. It wasn''t like they could use the things, as they''d be subject to the effects themselves. They were being used by human Powered, and the other races along with us.


    My solution was simple enough. I sent off a message to the armies still fighting Warpbands that when they ran across Warped Rockborn, Derro, or ex-human Warp Champions, we needed a grand total of a hundred and forty or so Baneskulls of dwarves, humans, and gnomes developed by the elves at their own time and expense, to offset what we were making up here.


    Everyone agreed that the Baneskulls were too nice a tool to let slip by against the vast numbers of drow we were looking at, or against them in general outside of this theater, and solemn promises were exchanged not to ever use them against fellow Alliance members. There was even talk about setting up exchange companies who could use the things in concert against their mutual enemies.


    Elves using Dwarfbane against grey dwarves and derro, Rockborn using Elfbane against drow, each race on behalf of the other. Naturally every such Baneskull was now going to be enumerated and its history written down so that in the future it couldn''t be accused of being taken from the heads of one of their allies...


    Given the blatant hostility of the human Empire to the south, I really had no issue if the elves kept some Human Baneskulls for swatting pests, rather astonishing them. The people in Alliance with them now generally weren''t the kind to worry about such things being used against them, as long as everything stayed on the up and up.


    Of course, being able to call up and chat with the leaders of the other side at any moment really helped settle issues ahead of time. The alchemists of the elves, dwarves, and gnomes were going into conniption fits at finding out we had so much Mu Goo, let alone the humans contacted on the side. Thousands of goldweight of self-empowering Scrolls and Potions danced in their heads, and the implications for high-end Alchemy were impressive, indeed. Just the acids that could be rendered down were priceless...


    And yet, nobody had the slightest protest who most of that stuff belonged to. The Ironblood had just received a truly massive capital infusion, courtesy of flying mushrooms...


    ----------


    Someone else is now in 20...


    "So, what should I be doing with all this?" Haz¨¦ asked. Even she was a little dazed as the stacked-up jars shrank down into the white cloth on the ground, turning from a rough 20'' cube to a painting on the cloth, which was quickly folded up for her.


    After all, she had something like forty million gold in Mu Goo there. Even after she set aside some for the dwarves, gnomes, and elves, there''d be at least thirty million left.


    "You know there''s not much time. Hit the big alchemical guilds and rival churches who want this stuff, they won''t have time to capitalize on it all. Suck the goldweight out of them. I''d suggest a quick auction or three run by the temple of Harse. They''ll be able to expedite payments and suck the money away..."


    Haz¨¦''s eyes moved on nothing. "A good sales pitch would be useful. I''m sure the Harsites will have ideas, but a good story will sell it, give them something to work with..."


    "Mu Spores fresh from Yle Tyorm won''t do it, eh?" I rubbed my chin, and then grinned widely. "Hey, Wayfair?"


    The far-too-attractive succubi Starsister was currently engaged in making Errant sweat silently, he having drawn her sweet, sweet attention after speaking up for her. Still, she let him off with a promising smile and sauntered over our way, her hips doing things the boys would be dreaming about forever.


    "What might I be able to help you with?" she asked archly, giving her Archtheurge peer a startled once-over. She could see right through Haz¨¦''s disguise, of course, and seeing a multi-Ten Caster of her age was a bit jarring even to the jaded succubus. She simply didn''t look that young in Markspace.


    "Wellll..." I smiled in a predatory manner, which had Wayfair doing the same despite herself, clearly sensing something interesting about to happen, "We happen to need to trade away and/or auction off a lot of Mu Goo." She glanced at the Tapestry being delivered to Haz¨¦''s hands, and nodded slightly. "Now, the Mu are all ash and gone behind us, but that''s hardly a reason for us to not show the public what they are buying.


    "How would you like to do some modeling for us?"

 235 Chapter Two Hundred and Thirty-Five – Gather ‘round, Brothers...

    "How long until we find out the results of the auction?" Wayfair asked me quietly.


    I had to roll my eyes. "We''re in a time-acceleration zone, and it''s going to take at least three real days to set the auction up. So, not until we are out of here." I gripped my fists despite myself. "So unfair!" I hissed.


    "I know, right?" she giggled, and we hee-hee-hee''d all the way to the bank whose gold coins were dancing in our heads. After all, after working with us the grand sum of less than ten days, Wayfair knew how grossly under-Geared she was, and was in serious need of some supplementary accoutrements... preferably at exorbitantly high QL''s and fashionably done, of course.


    Wardrobe was not one of them. She had a different outfit for every single dead Mu illusion she poised in front of, and they all answered to different adjectives. Serene, sexy, dazzling, delightful, enigmatic, regal, kinky, alluring, charming, pure, daring, innocent, formal, mesmerizing, stylish... she pulled every look you could imagine off perfectly and without a hitch. I had great fun just matching her hair styles!


    Her voice could sell air conditioning atop a glacier. I almost felt bad for the bidders who were going to eat it all up, and then have almost no time to capitalize on their acquisitions. Almost. There were going to be a lot of unsavory characters bidding on Mu Goo...


    There were going to be five different auctions, starting in Ogredown, and going to each of the capital cities, ending in Zynozure itself. We''d separate the Mu goo into five age categories, which would indicate its QL, quantities of 1000/500/100/50/20 gallons at the outlier March capitals, and double that in Zynozure itself.


    Based on what we understood, the day after the last auction, everything was going to go to shit, so getting as much money out of the cities as possible was kind of urgent.


    All of the Mu Goo was good to 40 QL. The older stuff ranged all the way up to 55, truly ancient shit. The money would be rolling in.


    Hee hee hee!...


    --------


    Yes! On to Imperial Zone #1!!!...


    "Well, isn''t that an interesting place."


    It was horrible what they could do given the literally hundred thousand years or whatever they had to work on this project.


    The last zone was basically a city that filled out the whole place, interspersed with park-farms and some basic ranching areas. Elves as a whole subsisted to a degree on magic, so they didn''t have the same dietary needs as humans and stuff, but what was basically confronting us was bloody rings of walls every thirty miles, and whole cities of drow spaced in between.


    The central thirty square miles about the key Obelisk were a freaking fortress... or pleasure palace, take your pick. The population of shroom-bombed drow numbered in the tens of millions.


    There was no way I could take my company in there. Just on numbers alone, they''d be overwhelmed, and base Drow were Casters, just like elves. When ten thousand Casters toss a spell at you, you are going down, even if they are all Two''s.


    Which wasn''t an issue, when we breached the Zone, and some fine Brothers were waiting for us there.


    --------


    There were probably a lot of things out there that would have paid a hellacious price if they could pop a nuke on this place. The whole array of Void Brothers for the continent, all in one spot. All the assassins would have fanboy-sighed and fallen over in joy.


    Wayfair certainly found all of them interesting... and carefully acknowledged how dangerous they all were. High charisma and charm or no, she''d be dead in seconds if there was combat, and she knew it.


    I looked them all over, noting that they looked more travel-worn and battle-hardened then before, and definitely needed a new change of clothes.


    And to their utter shock, I did indeed pull out new clothes for them all. Like I wouldn''t be thinking about them after they spent three years doing some power-leveling?


    Despite themselves and their urgent, priority, must-do mission mentality, they found a creek mostly free of rotting ''shrooms, took a bath, and put on their new threads with some relief. They looked pretty spiffy, as even if they were done in shades that would disappear in shadow, they still reflected the colors of their Helices here and there.


    Black predominated, of course. They were still shadow hunters, not tanks. Although there''d be a lot of both going on shortly.


    The fact was, we could leave the zone and the natives... probably could not? Weren''t sure on that. There was a road, so there was some kind of trade, but it was probably controlled by the Hags. Open up the border, hack down a bunch of ''shrooms to feed the millions, send it back up. The ''shrooms were a lot shorter here close to the border...


    But there was indeed no way we could bring the main force all the way in. They''d be crushed under weight of numbers.


    That wasn''t true for the Brothers, Briggs, and I. My Ironblood Forsaken were needed to provide cover for the rest of the company from magic, so they needed to stay behind, too.


    We couldn''t disguise the fact that we were coming, because we had this huge spike in the sky broadcasting the fact, and we''d be driving it towards the Obelisk like God''s Own Nail of Reality come a-calling and saying that it didn''t much like what was going on.


    The Obelisks we''d toppled and left behind were set on vivic fire... fires that didn''t stop, as the pattern of the plazas they''d been set on gathered the energy of the Land, and vented it directly to be burned away by misty unwhite flames.


    As a result, that chop-line of the Wake in the sky was pretty prominent, much bigger than it probably should have been. I guess we were doing too good a job.


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    The details had already mostly been hashed out ahead of time. Briggs and I were needed to push the Wake-Spike of Ultimate Doom forwards in the sky, and Brother Wayfist agreed to stay back with the main crew in case of an Obliteration-Level Event happening that they weren''t prepped for.


    Their job was to cause havoc. Given the demonic inclinations of the locals, it would probably fit right into their preferred kind of activities. They were briefed on what to watch for, Baneskulls prepped, and then our two groups split up physically.


    Tremble went with me, despite knowing how much the lads might need her. The Brothers might need some surge healing too, after all... we didn''t know what we were going to be facing. And with no Casters along with us, save Wayfair who couldn''t manifest until the Obelisk was down, any source of emergency combat healing would be important. Potions only went so far...


    ----------


    Our progress was remarkably quick, all things being equal.


    Now, we couldn''t do slick stuff like Walk On Air via our Cloudstepping Sandal Tats, because we had to keep the Interdictions up to drag Ye Wake Infinitum behind us. But, that still meant we were running Fast... like, faster than any thoroughbred, ever, charging along at what should have been breakneck speed, and instead was just steady progress towards our objective.


    Yeah, we did kill anything that got in our way, which was pretty frequent. Not much had time to react at our appearance, but the alarm flares were soon going off behind us. We jumped over carts and crowds and small buildings, we ran along rows of others... and we carved bloody murder-sprees through dark elves if it was the fastest way to move. Of course, Sparky and Wayfair were up, and despite having part of her ancestry with them, she had no compunctions whatsoever in working on an Archery level, greatly enjoying the Tails spitting death in any direction.


    The Brothers were lobbing Shard-strikes this way and that, carving down anyone who bleeped their Caster-detectors too high. All in all, we looked like a blur of people ringed by multi-hued swirls of energy that were being spit in all directions racing by, and leaving a lot of dead drow in our wake.


    It was merciless and cruel, and it had to be done.


    The first two walls we got past by going through the gates, which they didn''t seal up in time to stop us, and certainly weren''t expecting us to charge through them at the pace we did, slaughtering everything around us to really mess up the situation.


    The succeeding gates were all closed in response to the alarms popping up all over behind us, and along our route of travel. That was fine. There was no way they could mobilize to a location as fast as we could, so we just picked a spot and went up the wall.


    Step One: Lead Brother jumps up, plants a spike in the wall with a crunch of protesting stone. Falls down.


    Step Two: An eyeblink after the spike is planted, Brother Two lands on it, jumps off again, plants Spike Two some twenty feet higher, falls back down.


    Step Three: His hands are barely off the spike before the third Brother is kicking off it, clearing the edge of the wall above, and if anyone is there, they are about to get a fatal surprise.


    Bouncebouncebounce, and we''re up, like over-energized mountain goats or something. Getting off is easy, just gliding down on Featherweighted feet, picking up speed and distance in a wavy line as we surf down the air, hitting ground cleared of anything living by multiple flying Baneshards, and we were off again.


    We had hours of running ahead of us. The Obelisk was in the far center of the zone, close to the slow-time Barrier, instead of properly centered. I could only guess that the slow time zone was getting massive amounts of built-up power being shuffled through it, and stability was one of them Very Important Things.


    Man, were we going to mess that up.


    It still meant we had something close to eight hundred miles of ground to cover to get there, and they were going to know we were coming and approximately where we were the whole time. How''s that for violating every law of a good fight?


    Happily, everyone had Revitalizing Strike on their Weapons, and after slicing through one of the plentiful numbers of targets around us, and all fatigue and exhaustion was thoroughly gone.


    Feeding Ye Unraveling Incoming above us with continuous offerings of drow en vivus, we raced towards our target.


    Wayfair decided to get into the role of hostess, treating this all like some great party.


    She would direct Brothers this way and that, relieving certain drow of their lives and belongings, which were passed down to Haul behind us. She copied every dress and hairstyle that was new to her, giving us all scathing insight into her flawless aesthetic sense as she did, and commented blithely on the artistry or fluidity of their kills, noting the Brother Mountainhammer had nearly outrun the head of that drow he crunched, and Brother Windarrow missed that eye by an entire two inches, how dreadful, while Brother Mindring had to work on his upstroke, not nearly enough blood had fountained up...


    And of course, given she had Bardic levels, all this playful criticism worked. Very soon, the Brothers were playfully competing on how artistic their kills were, how ornate the chain-Cleaves were, who could put together the most nonsensical tumbling lightfoot display, and collaborating on combined patterns and swirls of interacting Helices that had Wayfair clapping her mental hands in delight.


    I wondered how many necromancers and conjurors over the years would be spitting up blood at the very idea of Void Brothers putting on a show for a drow-born succubus. I very carefully kept any sight of this from people who wanted to get anything done, because, wow, when a bunch of Deep Tens as agile and graceful as Void Brothers start stretching out their lightfoot and flexing their 40+ Dex scores while moving at forty-plus miles per hour, Helices out and Banestars slicing in all directions, it''s like a moving, ever-changing fireworks show.


    I just sat back and Warlorded, letting Wayfair do her thing, while I organized, kept the Marks-Up Displays working, and monitored all the exciting stuff Errant, Estemar, and the girls were putting up with.

 236 Chapter Two Hundred and Thirty-Six – Getting on the Errant Path

    There was a lot of fire going on.


    Errant was chaincasting Walls of Fire at this point. They only lasted as long as he kept the Wrath focused on them, so generally no more then a few breaths... but that was naturally enough to disrupt anything resembling a line formation, and set a lot of mushrooms on fire.


    There were demons around, but the elves were hatracking them with Baned missile fire one by one, the MUD highlighting them for attention and arrows converging from all directions to take them out.


    If they were flying outside the range of the company''s Interdiction, nothing like a dragon swooping in with a smiting Paladin to really put a nail in their fun.


    Of course, there were lots of demons being brought in. However, they were dealing with Heavenbound, and there was nothing like the expression on a demon''s face when you grappled it into the range of the Interdiction and shoved it away, to go free-falling at King Gravity''s behest, while your highly trained and intelligent mount power-glided down under Angel Walk or Featherweight, reached the outside of the zone, and zipped back into motion.


    All the Dragons had Baneskulls for Evilborn, so they were energetically playing the chewtoy game, although even they didn''t have any liking for the taste of things made out of condensed sin, except for boosting their own superiority.


    There was a lot of magic going off, but there were problems. To wit, the sheer amount of smoke full of poison and spores that was obstructing the view of the battlefield.


    Even if you have hordes of Casters, they still have to be able to see their targets. Burning shrooms generated a LOT of smoke. Target acquisition was proving to be somewhat problematic on the far side.


    Sama somehow managing to interlink the perceptions of hundreds of eyes into a comprehensive personally-relevant real-time tactical assessment display, and the sheer fucking brilliance of it singing through them like that... well, this was a Warlord to beat all Warlords.


    With Wayfair bursting her Charisma to a 46, it was like fighting with a Goddess of War in your head.


    Elder Arg smashed through a couple of ''stools and straight into the flank of a drow missile line that thought having perching archers would work out for them. Tumbling dark elves flew in every direction under the impetus of a lot of monkey, five bars of Philosopher''s Might driving the big guy''s Might up to the Sherman Tank-reps level. Massive gauntleted paws slammed elves to pancakes, smashed them aside like toys, and a horde of Chakon with beat-sticks and metal-clad hands and feet sent them flying around yet further. On the other side of the street, more drow archers regretted as Elder Arg smashed through their stations, leaving the sharp ones floating in midair to be hatracked by elven archers armed with Smokesight and a rather large amount of antipathy.


    A full cavalcade of magic was unleashed at a charging line of shadows as pissed drow Casters found targets and unloaded. There were a lot of multi-colored lights, explosions, thunderclaps, hissing sprays, whirlwinds... and the Ironblood came out of it totally unharmed, dragging the dwarven pikes right behind them, and the elven archers behind them.


    The drow didn''t do a good spear line, especially with all the monkeys running around breaking things up, and the tight formation hit them like bricks. The Ironblood whirled and crashed through, the dwarven spears became lawnmowers, and the Forsaken were on the Casters before they could even think of fleeing. While hardly incompetent in a fight, given their society, it didn''t matter. Before the Ironblood, their magical defenses were smoke, and they were hacked down in no time at all by Axes burning the same bright ruby hue as their own blood.


    Rains of multi-pound hurled spikeballs introduced the elves to the ability of ouch-big-rock-hurt, breaking fine bones rather well, and capable of snapping an arm right through the bucklers they favored.


    He saw three strafing bolts of lightning off, and some ballistae on wagons blowing apart with their crews.


    A swarm of buzzing man-sized fly-demons was ahead, converging on him, Darkbolt hurtling right for them at improbable speed. Purity reached out ahead, sheared the droning wings off one of them, split to send two others tumbling away in fear and pain and bright holes burned into them. Darkbolt plunged through their numbers, tucking his wings at the last second, and reaching out with eagle''s talons and beak in three different directions to rip off more wings in passing, while his own flight remained perfectly level.


    The fourth, fifth, and sixth ones trying to converge on them ran into the edge of Grace, one after another, a single circling stroke cutting all three down instantly.


    He fired Purity backwards as bolts of lightning crackled up from below, just missing them as Darkbolt heeled them over. The remaining fly demons plummeted from the sky as Darkbolt dove down, slamming into a swooping vulture-demon with burning claws on all four limbs before spinning along the long axis that no flier should do, and Errant took off its head, snapping off a Wrath shot at the drow who''d thrown the lightning bolt at him that burned the dark elf''s head right off his shoulders.


    His and Estemar''s Eyes of Heaven were feeding right into the MUD, giving everyone instant, real-time awareness of Evil all about him. Since his Soul-Boosted Range to this was five hundred feet in all directions, he and Estemar were basically the perfect real-time tactical spotters for forward movement and the flanks.


    It was fucking depressing how much Evil there was.


    Even most of the children had been corrupted. He was seeing kids less than waist-high with dark Auras. Fucking dark elf society. Most of the slaves weren''t any better, which, if they were let free, generally meant they took the chance to slit a few drow throats, so a win in that direction.


    He basically always had something to shoot at, so, grimly, he shot it.


    They were leaving an impressive trail of carnage behind themselves; burned cities, dead drow, slain demons, some butchered undead ¨C


    A roar up ahead, and a building moved. Whoops, nope, that was a fifty-foot demon, looking sort of like a great horned demon with improbably broad shoulders, truly massive fists, and hooved feet that could almost stomp Elder Arg flat. Atop those shoulders, the dark elves had built a howdah, now currently packed with Casters and Archers.


    That was a Goristro demon, and a big one. Thirty hit dice? He didn''t even bother trying to punch his Wrath into it casually.


    Elder Arg wasn''t deterred at all. The big ape could motor with the Monk Levels he''d taken, obscured by the ruins of the massive shrooms and stools he was hurtling through and under, certainly a big target and attracting his great share of direct magical attacks.


    Errant and Klistos both blew golden Walls of Fire across the howdah, end to end, leaving the drow nowhere to run, only bail or get toasted. Some of them might be able to resist the wild Song Heavenbound''s Wrath, but not his own. They shrieked as all of them began to cook.


    The goristro was powerful enough to completely ignore the magic, but the bright flames certainly distracted it. Not being too bright, it reached up to beat the flames down, which wasn''t exactly good for the howdah.


    A lot of elite drow went floating or flying. Alas, they had lost their cover, and there was a lot of smoke down there. The waiting elves below began to hatrack them as they floated, and suddenly dragons and griffons were coming in from all directions, marvelously coordinated.


    Unlike demons, drow weren''t resistant to lightning and cold.


    Elder Arg swung around behind the much-slower goristro, bellowing his eagerness, grabbed onto the demon''s tail, and pulled his multi-ton bulk up through the shattering howdah falling down. Sinking his mighty claws into the goristro''s back, he began to rip.


    The goristro bellowed in pure agony, trying to reach back to the ape as his thick hide began to tear apart under the impossible strength of Elder Arg.


    Captain Shirley bounced off a toadstool as the great demon staggered, and #One''d the front of his thick knee hard and Cold, nearly locking it tight as it froze through. Facing front and back respectively, Amber and Veis held down their Autobows and sent constant flashes of burning bolts singing out to their floating targets.


    As she crossed by, Captain Fido came straight in, fires peeling away from his jaws and gathered around Verd''s Spear, currently transformed into something like hard light, which she plunged into that knee with perfect lancer form.


    Flesh and bone exploded as Two let go, Hedge plunging in through its hide like air to sever and burn with the flames congealed around it. The massive knee was actually directly blown apart, and the goristro began to fall instantly, prompting Elder Arg to leap free, grabbing a couple floating drow on the way down, and as they screamed, biting one''s head off and slapping the other into mush against his chest.


    The goristro hit with enough force to topple some nearby shrooms, bounce drow off their feet, and naturally crushed all three fungus-buildings it landed on.


    Elder Arg was on it in seconds, and to its complete astonishment, grabbed its horns in his hands, Philosopher''s Might''s five bars flaring like stars on his forearms, and wrenched the goristro''s demon through two hundred degrees, the crack of its neck breaking like boulders shattering.


    They really would''ve liked to grab its skull for use as a Siege Weapon, but it would have to be enough that it wouldn''t be animated as an undead. Vivic flames were blazing on the stump of its leg and foot, spreading rapidly as its death fed them.


    Elder Arg had a better idea. With an ear-shaking roar that had many of the nearest drow voiding their bowels, he slammed a mighty fist down and wrenched, and one of the great horns of the goristro shattered under the blow.


    Errant lifted his eyebrows as Darkbolt slammed into a haughty Drow Caster who had just witnessed the plunging griffon execute a ninety-degree course adjustment by pushing off the air with his claws, and ram right into him with plunging talons and ripping beak.


    Errant Sharded through a floating archer''s chest, ripping a Wall of Fire treated with vivus down the length of the goristro to accelerate the feeding process with Purity.


    Up above, the section of the sky turning clearer was getting wider as the Land was fed well.


    Hanging onto his new prize, Elder Arg slung it over his shoulder as he pounded towards the next group of drow trying to set up a defense, while the last of the floaters and fliers were mystified as dragons and griffons swooped away.


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    Ten seconds later they screamed as they plunged down from the sky. King Gravity wagged his finger in admonishment, and the Ironblood surging up and past were quick to end the pain of their broken bones and lack of Soak.


    ---------


    Bolts of Wrath came down from on high, shrooms burst and spewed out more poison smoke. Fire Reserves detonated in all directions, adding to the cacophony and burning buildings.


    Here and there, members of the company occasionally fell, struck by enough missiles or combined magic. Disks unfurled, their bodies were tossed on them, and within seconds the Healers were on them, restoring Health. Barus was wielding the White Staff, which could return to life anyone slain within the past minute without side effects, once a day per person. It could also return those slain within the last day without requiring a gold sacrifice, five times a day.


    Thus, everyone had buddies watching out for them, getting them onto Disks and to the Healers, sticking close and moving fast to get them out of harm''s way. The North Wind was the go-to team for this, spread out around the formation to catch any stragglers as they covered the outside of the main company, with Captains Fido and Shirley as back-up.


    The Healing Traps were getting a work out for emergencies, but the Healers were focused on everyone''s Health, trying to keep it up as high as possible as the fighting wore at them. There was a reason everyone had Racial Levels, Toughness, and Tough Soul, after all...


    Thus, the number of truly dead was limited to a handful of apes who had been caught in enough magic to reduce them to ash almost instantly. The champa-ka hurlers took to following the Ironblood more closely to prevent this sort of thing, and the timed shots that went off with Ironblood ducking out of the way while a spiked steel ball smashed in the face of a drow warrior began to occur with more regularity.


    The company poured into an open area of mushroom gardens, leaving the beleaguered drow behind, seething for revenge. A lot of demons were sent leaping, crawling, scuttling, and flying off after them.


    The demons didn''t come back...

 237 Chapter Two Hundred and Thirty-Seven – No, No, This Is Totally Realistic

    Rolling, rolling, rolling...


    The traveling music was nonstop and often hilarious, as naturally half the Bards and Minstrels (the ones not totally intimidated by the idea) scrambled for a chance to sing and play for us while we ran. To solve the whole 400x thing, they played out the songs and then Tremble recorded and played them back for us.


    AA was leading, Briggs was second, I had the rear. Bonescythe and Mountainhammer were to the left, and Firesword and Waterspear were to the right. Lightscepter, Mindring, Shadowknife, and Windarrow had decided to move on ahead of us, and create some introductory havoc while disposing of any interesting opponents popping ahead to face us, mostly meaning demons.


    The wonders of a Chaotic and Evil society were laid bare before us in the absolute lack of anything resembling a coordinated opposition. Sure, some of the half-stoned drow mushroom-eaters took action, relayed alerts, sent off demons, or at the very least followed us with some choice curses.


    Then they, and everyone else, went back to what they were doing. After all, it was bloody apparent we weren''t sticking around there, so what did they care?


    You just have to love that attitude in your opponents.


    That goristro that Errant stumbled across must have been a big surprise for the border fortifications, as we didn''t run across anything else quite that impressive on our way. Of course, once the lads went zooming up ahead and disposed of annoyances with extreme prejudice, us back here only had Cleave-trains to run through in artful style. Wayfair was absolutely loving all the music and madness, and sincerely regretting that she couldn''t be out there adding to it.


    Void Brother lethality was bound up into their Cutting Life, which meant the more attacks they got, the more damage they did. As that damage was tied to their Sneak Attack damage, they could do even more if they could also get actual Sneak Attack damage on attacks.


    Like, Sneak attack on surprise. Sneak Attack on Charge. Sneak Attack on Attacks of Opportunity. Sneak Attacks if opponents moved. Sneak Attacks if they were moving. Sneak Attacks if an ally hit the opponent first. Sneak Attacks if they flanked with themselves. Sneak Attacks if opponent suffering from fear effects...


    So, yeah, they were pretty much dishing out +30d6 with every attack, and not much was resisting them.


    Now, our team was only given time to hit our foes once, so we had the bigger Weapons and were focused on larger hits then the other team. Still, getting hit by two Brothers in passing was basically a death sentence for anything dumb enough to get in our way, as we weren''t trying to swarm anything, we were just motoring along.


    Dragging the Wake of the Land behind us.


    ------


    The leagues flowed past. Great Walls were scaled. Hapless drow and their minions and slaves were fed to vivus to help anchor the Wake down. The final Wall closed in over the hours.


    Mountainhammer and Wavespear took turns resting, as long-distance running was not something Brothers who usually operated underground or at sea usually did. Still, they''d all participated in the Three Day training, and were much more buffed and rounded out then before. They also complained about not being able to Veilwalk, before looking up at the Wake and sighing.


    The other team used Veilwalking to keep their lead, basically moving from site to site of potential conflict, nothing more than shadows along the edge of reality, coming out together in the midst of enemies and commencing a one-sided slaughter.


    They''d built up quite a rep in this Zonering when they''d been doing their Three Days. They weren''t at all shy about adding to it.


    But, finally, a good thousand miles of running later, we were at the last wall, and the massive, solid city-fortress-brothel-drug parlor beyond.


    --------


    She knew we were coming. The Spike in the sky would have told her even if the various magical alarms and messengers did not. So, she''d mobilized her forces, somewhat frantically as the speed we were coming didn''t actually give her a lot of time to do so.


    The Brothers ahead were happy to inform me that whole armies had been dispatched to the walls to stop us. That was great stupid news, confirming that the shellycoat in charge was an arrogant idiot who knew jack-all about the military. Having armies at the walls meant fewer armies in the middle, where we''d actually be fighting.


    Getting up the walls, packed with fungi-blessed drow ready to die and not a few demons and daemons, wasn''t actually that hard. The vanguard team simply Veilwalked into the chosen location, and commenced a wall-clearing slaughter at impressive speed, handily ignoring the very great amount of magic blowing shit away all around them.


    Before we were even arrived, the hundred-foot wall was half-destroyed by mass spell bombardment that hadn''t affect the Brothers at all. Applauding the intellects of our foes, we went up and through the gap, likewise ignoring all the magic flying around us, hit the legions all starting to morph and warp on the ground as they hastily ate their toadstool Potion chasers, and kept going.


    It turns out that moving at twice normal speed, having multiple arms, claws, tentacles, being twice normal size, breathing fire, morphing into bestial forms, and flying around doesn''t really mean squat. If they didn''t have a hundred HP, they were still in one-hit-keep-Cleaving territory. If they had more than that, maaaaaaybe they could slow us down. That basically meant only the most elite of them, or some of the tougher Evilborn around... who were usually the first to jump out of the way when they saw the exploding bodies in front coming right at them.


    There were a lot of them, and then we were through a quarter-mile of scattered body parts burning vivic, a swathe of dead about forty feet wide that left the drow reeling in disbelief... and the Wake nice and firm.


    ------


    Lucky for us, they hadn''t enclosed the Obelisk, just put more walls around it. Walls were fine, they could be scaled in normal circumstances. However, Ten Mile Walls were incredibly annoying, with spatial compression done on walls borrowed from the Pits to make demon-cursed stones that were literally ten miles high, compressed down into seeming a mere hundred feet, along with the moat that literally went down to another plane. Something of a theme here.


    Unfortunately for them, they needed to keep strong connections to the Land to conduct the Formation power of the Obelisks, so while the seat of power had these nice restrictions, the Obelisk itself was literally sitting out in the middle of this open square, currently packed with all sorts of elite troops.


    The Brothers gave me a nice view of the place as we closed in. The Obelisk was twice the normal size, bringing it down would require some hacking and pounding, and in the meantime, there were a million drow down there being excitable.


    There was also a large wolf chained at the foot of the thing, surrounded by a moat of blood. A Spear had been driven into its side, and it was seething there, unable to move, bleeding out into the moat.


    -That looks like a Exemplar Wolf,- I /noted, although it was hard to tell under all the chains. -They are using its blood for the Obelisk?-


    Brother Shadowknife zoomed in on several batches of drow, one after another.


    The first couple of groups were furry. Since elves couldn''t contract lycanthropy, that was pretty telling. They also looked pretty strong.


    The second batch had tentacles, eyes in the wrong spots, mushrooms at odd angles, and space shivered around them.


    Third batch was oozing shadows and didn''t seem all that material.


    -Huh,- Briggs /commented, as Endure exploded through a couple skulls in passing. -That looks like Lesser Exemplar Werewolves, Pseudo''d Drow, and Umbral Drow. That''s a pretty intensive line-up.-


    -I want that ring of blood. Lesser Exemplar Template is pretty boss,- I /stated firmly. -Freeing the wolf is definitely on the agenda, would it recognize any of us?- There was silence. -Right. What''s the way to bring the Obelisk down? I assume it''s nigh-invulnerable.-


    -That pool of blood is probably one of the defenses. Scrap it, dig out one side, and it can probably be tipped. But we don''t know how far down it goes. If it can be damaged, I''m sure Mountainhammer could pound through it eventually,- the Firesword /remarked.


    -Ahem!- Briggs /coughed.


    -And you too,- Firesword /agreed without blinking. -But to do that, we''re going to have to kill a whole lot of stuff.-


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    -It''s not often you get so much high Karma stuff just packing themselves in for you. I feel kinda bad for Haz¨¦ not being here. Her AoE''s would be taking out acres of stuff,- I /mused.


    -It is a lot of killing. Happily we can actually undertake such a task now,- Lightscepter /pointed out. -I do not see the Hag herself. Anyone?-


    -She is in her boudoir, possibly watching to see how things go. If she comes out, there will be combat. What do you think, Sama?- the Shadowknife /asked coolly.


    -I''m assuming she''s a Pseudo or an Exemplar with Class Levels and serious Spell Penetration. She may be able to affect any or all of us if she''s got those Templates, so don''t assume you are immune to her magic.- Breaths hissed out together. Not very good news. -On the other hand, there won''t be anything else nearly as strong as her, so non-Legendaries besides her. Maybe other Templated Hags, maybe not. If I were to hazard a guess, I''d say Lesser Exemplar Psuedo''d Shellycoat Hag. Her lesser Hags will either be Lesser Exemplars with some Health Qi, or Pseudo''d.-


    -They are NOT going to like Beyond Law and Chaos,- Brother Mindring /mused, and everyone chuckled darkly.


    -Any hints of undead?- I /inquired.


    -Massive necromantic energies beneath the plaza. Unsure if they are undead or just fallout from the building Formation.- Windarrow /reported. -Brother Bonescythe would probably be able to tell.-


    -If undead, we''re looking at Banshees or Witchfires, as well as Ecorches or Vampires.- Eyes moved to several other sets of drow without all the fungus, waiting unnaturally still. -Oh, yes, this is indeed going to be exciting... I''m expecting the Evilborn are shape-altered and blending in for the moment...-


    -Confirming the presence of daemons and demons,- Lightscepter /stated firmly.


    -You''re welcome to start, given the amount of killing we have to do and the time crunch of the armies coming back from the wall. You may want to wait until I''m on site for healing backup. I don''t think there''s much that can be a threat to you, but bronze and coppers can still wear you down,- I /told them.


    -We can certainly retreat if we must,- Brother Mindring /said, and the others agreed. -Stay close and simply start the killing, sound out any special surprises. How long before you are here, Axe?-


    -Two minutes.- We were currently running through some half-abandoned streets, only random demons loitering about, casually wrecking stuff. Those who would fight looked to have been sent off to get in our way, and the rest were indoors sucking ''shrooms.


    -What kind of pattern?- Mindring /asked. It took me a moment to realize that this was a completely new experience for them. Assassins didn''t typically hold an objective against zillions. They killed the person at the heart and got out. Taking down Obelisks is where they went looking for allies.


    -The goal is the center of the plaza. Drive through the middle, and then start rotating around it, killing as they all converge on you. However, their toughest units are there, and we have a lot of killing to do. Start circling just before you reach them, going around them and killing until we arrive. They aren''t going to like our late arrival, especially with you taking the attention. We''ll drive up and meet you, and then start grinding through all their special surprises.-


    -The Land is going to be feeding very, very well,- Waterspear /said solemnly, to grim agreement all around.


    -Take off. We''re coming.- I /told them, and they did.

 238 Chapter Two Hundred and Thirty-Eight – Totally Realistic, Part Two

    True to form, two minutes later, there we were.


    The great arch we used to enter had only a scattering of resistance. It did, however, have a lot of things burning vivic, odd smears on the walls, shattered and rusting weapons and armor, and a few maimed and screaming drow staggering about.


    For some reason, even these shroom-heads bombed out of their skulls didn''t want to see us coming.


    Yes, yes, there were legions drawn up outside the arch. Were. Past tense. Something had cut a winding path through them, ignoring the copious amounts of arrow fire coming from atop the walls ringing the plaza, and left a sixty-foot swathe of dead fungi-skinned drow in burning parts behind. That had really made a mess of their formations, and then at least three legions had gone pouring in after said individuals doing the Interdiction, finding that they actually had quite a lot of room to do so, as long as they didn''t mind trampling the dead and wounded on the tiles in front of them.


    Generally speaking, that wasn''t an issue, of course. Stoned out of their minds on actual magic mushrooms, the biologically diversified set of drow soldiers enthusiastically pounded after their opponents.


    This was a Hag Empire, three hundred miles wide, nine hundred long, filled with millions of drow, and lots of mushrooms, all of whom existed in a state of carnal bliss and demonic savagery whose only purpose was to satisfy the whims of their souped-up shellycoat mistress. The drow in the neighboring zones were basically feeder states for this empire, sending over their best and brightest to get addicted to magic mushrooms and sexual gratification of any type, and then die for her.


    It meant all these elite guardian drow legions were Elf Racial Sixes, meaning 4/4 Fighter/Sorcerers, for the most part. Granted, they weren''t Deep Sixes, as being stoned out of your mind and fed drugs like candy isn''t conducive to side studies, but still, phenomenally tough for base-line fighter types, with a combo of spells and fighting skill that would give any normal group intruding on them conniptions in such numbers.


    And, in case anyone was interested, there was no sign of spiders anywhere in the place. Probably because Hag not want competition with Spider Queen...


    Anyhoos, the combination of magic mushroom ''Potions'' going off, buff spells being released, and then all sorts of attack spells trying to seek out the Brothers did indeed make for a very fine show of pyrotechnics. If they were dealing with magic resistance, such as they themselves possessed, luck and the sheer volume of fire would have had results.


    Alas, they were dealing with Forsaken. As far as magic was concerned, the Void Brothers weren''t really there.


    No-miss spells missed, unable to find a target to lock on. Ripping bolts and exploding balls of energy swept right through them, and were treated as air. Rays flashed past them, ignored and ignoring in turn, while barriers, walls, webs, spikes, hedges, pools, quagmires, illusions, and enchantments meant to slow, stop, pin, trap, grabble, obstruct, divert, confuse, or hold them basically either collapsed upon manifestation in a Helix, or simply did nothing at all.


    It was like trying to grab smoke with a pair of tongs. There was no stopping them, regardless of the volume of spells.


    This plaza was a full mile across, with that Obelisk towering up a good three hundred feet in the middle of it. The walls holding the archways ringing it were sixty feet thick, and packed full of elite archers and yet more Casters, waiting for the Brothers to come out so they could drop tens of thousands of shafts upon them.


    It didn''t matter how agile you were, you wouldn''t be able to dodge a true rain of arrows coming down.


    But they didn''t, because they had acknowledged this point and gone up the walls before actually speaking with us. Objective? Clear those walls.


    And that''s what they did.


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    Swirls of Helices became a wall of death, four Brothers reaching across the breadth of the top of the Wall, and killing everything in the way. They ran up the side of the walls on misting feet, completely avoiding the arrows meant to saturate the area on the ground, and before the archers could correct their aim, they were into their compatriots atop the wall, and butchering.


    The shining, multi-hued threadlike Helix of Lightscepter. The ephemeral, haunting shadows of Shadowknife. The seen-with-the-soul-not-with-the-eye pspectral arcs of Mindring. The whites, blues, and greens blowing without substance around Windarrow.


    They all united in a colorful wall of annihilation, vivus igniting, Banefire flashing to add unwhite and ruby-red elfblood to the hues, blending into the green, maybe tinged with gold, of the Soulbound Weapons that seemed to blending into and out of the Helices, shadows, death, spraying blood, screams, and flames that followed their paths.


    At ninety feet every six seconds, as fast as many people could run, they moved forwards.


    The elite troops on the ground could only watch helplessly as a hundred feet above them, their archer cover was completely annihilated.


    They were Beyond Law and Chaos; there was no luck, good or bad, here to affect them, As Sama had explained it to them, skill was everything now. They wouldn''t automatically ''miss'' on a 1, ''bad luck'', or automatically hit on a 20, ''good luck''. It was all based on their skill, and just how good they and their weapons were together.


    They defined their own luck.


    There was no doubt whatsoever that their Weapons and they were now very, very good together.


    Cutting Life had finally given the Void Brothers a major boost to their damage in open combat, a killing power formerly reserved only for assassination attempts. Their Helices were now weapons, ripping the magic and life away from these very magical opponents, and then using that life to damage them further.


    The ability to do one-hit kills now meant that Cleaving was a valid, useful tactic, instead of something occasionally useful, and was horrifically deadly when dealing with large numbers of opponents. They didn''t need to execute a Storm of Steel, a Tsunami Rush, an Avalanche Run, or a Pyroclasmic Surge. Nope, just base Feats: Cleave, Great Cleave, and Supreme Cleave.


    They hit, they killed. They might step. Hit, kill, maybe step. Hit, Kill, maybe step. Up to the limits of their base movement every six seconds, which they had raised to at least 90, thrice as fast as an average human.


    Ninety feet every six seconds, as fast as many men could trot, as if there weren''t crowded throngs of archers before them, trying to shoot or fight or get out of the way, and just dying, dying, dying.


    They were far, far different from the Void Brothers of myth and legend, not that these drow had ever heard of such, sealed away here from the outside world. They all had Strength Scores of at least 30 now, Dexterity of at least 40, and moved with inhuman power and precision, ki-boosted speed, and Vajra tirelessness. Their Helices swirled out, touching, tasting, testing, marking, revealing their foes, their magic, their Brothers nearby, and with Intellects now also in the 30 range, they coordinated marvelously and continually, communicating with their Helices even faster than by /Marktell.


    The archers and Casters could only scream and die.


    Some archers were clever and leapt off the battlements, to levitate softly towards the ground. Windarrow, who was on the end, flicked a dash of his Helix out and removed the magic, and they could only scream as they plummeted to the ground. They might not die, but they would be severely injured, regardless.


    There was no missile fire to speak of coming up from below in support. Indeed, a mass saturation from archers below might have been the only way to deal with them. Unfortunately, it was these archers up high who were the support, able to back up those fighting below with ranges of easily a quarter mile. The only other archers in the plaza were in the very middle, with half a mile to go to the walls, and not in enough numbers to do what they wanted to.


    After all, not even True Seeking was going to be of use against them, as they were just blurs to Insight bonuses...


    Of course, those drow at the bottom tried spells, but all that did is kill some of their own and speed up the progress of the Void Brothers more. The Brothers serenely glided through the magic erupting all around them, basically ignoring it, guided by their Helices to their opponents, not even needing to see.


    One ruthless commander ordered the archers to begin setting up a rain of fire on their own troops in the way of the Void Brothers, so that they must run right into them and take the hits. Unfortunately, all that did is spur them to use Sidestep, attacks from the drow on the Brothers instead triggering additional steps, above and beyond their base speed as they slid through openings like phantoms, and left death behind them, combining the two motions. With at least 20 AoO''s from Dexterity and Mastery each, that was an additional 100 feet of movement every six seconds. They were now slaughtering everything faster than a human could sprint.


    The bombarding archers were over two hundred yards away when they started their shooting. The Brothers were underneath and inside the arch of fire before the first volley arrived, and the archers barely got off the second volley before the interlinked Helices were upon them.


    Their screams and ruthless tactics died with them.


    There were three miles of walls to cover. The Brothers swept them clean of life, leaving a ring of unwhite flames encircling the entire plaza, in a little over fifteen minutes.


    There was a short interlude where the drow thought they might have some hope, when flocks and swarms of flying demons and daemons fell screeching and shrieking upon the invaders.


    The Brothers slowed to half speed, and those AoO''s being used for additional speed were instead used to cut apart demons.


    The drow had never seen demons explode quite like that. The smaller ones just popped. The ones that could survive one hit ignited, and then popped with the second hit. The ones that could survive two hits went up like oil-soaked torches and died screaming. The great ones that could survive three hits either fell burning from the battlements, howling all the way, or directly popped out of existence as the magic that kept them here, far from their home plane, was ripped away from them, and Reality came down and sent them howling back home.


    Granted, that only occurred a couple of times, as what normally happened is two Brothers disposed of such demons at the same time, not wanting to let the Karma get away. Being literally made of Sin and ectoplasm, the bodies of demons and daemons went off like oil-soaked tinder to vivic flame, which also had the effect of strengthening the Veil and making the Summoning of more of them impossible in a rapidly growing radius.


    Demons, daemons, and dark elves died, and left a trail of unwhite fire behind them. Despite their drugged states and their fanatic belief in their Empress, the elite troops watching below had shivers of fear going through them as they watched the carnage taking place, and whole companies of archers were bailing out before that line of swirling colors, fire, and blood could reach them.


    Sure, they were archers, but they were elven archers, they could still fight, there were no weaklings here. So much magic going off, so useless, and that trail of carnage was Three Miles Long...


    ---------


    So it was that the Brothers paused, standing atop that wall, as they spoke with us to coordinate the time of arrival. Yep, they did all that BEFORE we got there.


    Two minutes, to drive towards the heart of the formation below, and begin the wreaking of havoc.


    Their Weapons had all reached Zehn long ago, all made Item Familiars, all Intelligent. Twin long knives, twin short swords, twin chakram, and twin maces all began to hum and sing softly. Yet the sound carried, carried down to the waiting drow on wings of dread and fear, their skin crawling as they stared up at those Helices playing at the magic above them, shrugging off and ripping apart all the spells sent their way.


    And they understood every word.


    {Tremble, oh Ohhhhhh oh Tremble, they come...}


    They clutched swords and spears and shields tighter, but they knew it would make no difference...

 239 Two Hundred and Thirty-Nine – More Rules Abuse

    We swept into the inner plaza.


    That ring of vivic energy burning on the walls above us, ALL around us, was particularly impressive. Mental thumbs-up went all around. Wayfair led an appreciate round of applause from those watching the show.


    And the looks on the drow''s faces as The Trembling Song went up behind them, even louder and clearer than before. The Wake in the sky was right above them, exploded widely at the presence of so much fresh vivus, adding in some light so we proceeded from deep gloom to shadowy twilight, and getting brighter. All those spells going off probably really stood out in the darkness, active Helices sure did, but everyone on our side had Devilsight on Clarity Masks active, so nobody really cared what the illumination level was.


    Still, if it improved enough, the drow were going to have light sensitivity issues, which would be absolutely hilarious.


    They were totally shocked, totally aghast.


    Worse, there were seven of us... and our weapons were bigger than the dual-wielders who''d been Cutting their Lives away.


    Ancientaxe''s Helices of old gray and faded black led the way. On his right, the burning rainbow hues of Brother Firesword meshed flawlessly with the swirling, fluid whorls of aqua and pearl and deep blues of Waterspear. On his left, the deathly pale and inky black of Bonescythe looked like death before a mountain as they perfectly synched with the dimly glittering crystalline arcs of Mountainhammer.


    Seven people, each claiming a swathe fifteen feet wide. Technically, we could have done twenty, but no reason to be greedy.


    Oh Ohhhhhh oh, Tremble, they come...


    We didn''t follow the same exact path, as part of it was empty, and that would be wasting kill-yardage. Nah, we all juked left by the same amount, and then we slammed into the drow, who had just about enough time to scream before we crashed into them.


    The primary armor of these guys was chainmail and buckler, only the officers wearing breastplates or anything approaching plate.


    All our Weapons were functioning at +VIII, and chain+buckler is effectively +5 AC. In other words, we were ripping through them as if they weren''t wearing any armor at all.


    Ruby-blood banefire tore through them, making crippling injuries lethal. Heads and limbs flew, torsos were severed, chests eviscerated, throats slit, skulls crushed, chests crunched, and a line of drow over a hundred feet wide virtually exploded before us.


    To keep things quick, Fall, Sparky, and Wayfair were targeting those who looked like officers or tougher, administering that polite application of 20-30 damage that would crash their Soak or Health to just below one-hit level as they staggered from getting a bolt or spike in the shoulder, gut, chest, or occasionally a lucky shot to eye or throat.


    Between the three of us, that was about fifteen shots going off every six seconds. I was acting as a firing line in addition to a Cleave-Training fountain of blood.


    Just to annoy them, I had my Halo Crown out, with which Wayfair being Bound turned into regal succubi horns on both sides of my head, as well as stubs in front and back.


    They glowed as bright as the sun. I was saying something about light sensitivity, right? Now amp that up to rock concert level of flare and throbbing brilliance, combined with Tremble, Quaver, and all the Weapons here beating with the Song at over a hundred decibels, Minstrel-ki and magic totally dominating their pitiful screams and battle-calls, and yeah, this was a complete Heaven Falling Down On You nightmare for these guys, who were already half out of their gourds.


    You could tell from their eyes that what they were seeing as they looked at us wasn''t us, but something worthy of a spores-generated fever dream. Throb, throb, throb...


    Oh, we had devasight, too, no effect on us, nothing to worry about here.


    Straight ahead we plowed, behind a curtain of banefire, Helices, and blood, accompanied by some kicking, thumping music only slightly marred by the constant screams and sounds of bone crunching, flesh parting, and metal screeching. Blades so sharp they were slicing space slid past, blunt impacts so forceful they were pulping cells and shattering souls crushed home. If the arms swinging them started flagging a little, there were no worries; a Revitalizing Strike from Arsenal was trotted out, a drow died, and bright cheerful energy piped the wielder right up as if it were a new day, and got him back into the mood for endless slaughter.


    Rather addictive, really.


    ------


    Rather greedily, the first team of Brothers had made it to the teams on the inside of the formation, the best of the best. Drow Werewolves, Lesser Exemplar Hagborn Drow, Pseudonatural Drow, Umbral half-Fiend Drow and Lesser Exemplar Drow Werewolves, the cream of the Melee crop, awaited them there. Interspersed with them were succubi and incubi, mezza and nycodaemons, more Temptation, Gluttony, and Sloth demons... and hey, were those elite cambion drow on nightmares? How cool!


    They thought they''d be able to take to the air and charge everything with life-draining lances or just shoot them down from the air. Indeed, quite a few of those with wings, as in almost all of them, decided it was a prudent course of action to take to the air and get out of reach of the wave of murder proceeding towards them. All of them had ranged attacks of one kind or another, and soon arrows were falling from above in number, trying to pick out the Void Brothers in the confusion below, or actually indiscriminately mass-firing down into the mess and confusion below trying to hit something.


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    The Wind and the Arrow was naturally the only Brother who could tie his Helix to a ranged attack. The other three just shrank their frontage and he started returning fire calmly from down below, while the swirl of their interlinked Helices really did make it hard for archers to find a target in the ongoing mess, and their severely upgraded defenses, including anti-ranged Augment Stones attached to their Bracers, made hitting them even with massed arrows almost impossible.


    Arrows wrapped in misty whorls flashed up, and found hearts and brains with disconcerting ease. The nightmares were no threat without their riders, so Windarrow just sniped them out of their saddles, one by one, daring them to come down closer and dare the Sharding attacks that would come up to slice them down. Sure, he was only returning one arrow for every hundred or two coming down, but the difference was, his were hitting and killing, and there''s nothing for morale like walking your shots down a row of archers and daring them to stand in position as the man next to them is picked off...


    Of course, it was actually just a delaying tactic to annoy them and disrupt the arrow fire long enough for me and Briggs to get there. His shots stopped a few casual seconds before our Interdiction, full Stillflight in effect, hit them, and then they, their wings, levitation magic, smoking nightmare hooves, I-wanna-go-ethereal-mom-aieeee, and such were all falling from the sky as they screamed.


    Being shameless opportunists, they were also our main targets as we came rolling up. They were barely staggering to their feet and trying to get out from the corpses of falling nightmares when we came up on them, led by Sparky and Wayfair''s enthusiastically accurate spiked Tail fire. Demons screamed with fear and drow wailed in disbelief, both quickly quashed by the light and sound show going on, swallowed by light and terror and spit out as corpses going vivic.


    The first team shifted course so smoothly it looked choreographed, and the rest of the landbound riders who came charging up behind them suddenly found themselves heading into a swirl of Helices and coming out the other side impossibly dead. Our team pursued, sandwiched the elite riders without a care, and as they tried to fight and live we were moving over, under, past, and through them, with a certain fuzzy fellow launching nightmare corpses flying as Endure patiently ticked and tocked from right to left, as fast as any sword and equally remorseful to any impediments in its path.


    More to the point, the bone-crunching impacts were right on the beat, and the drow and Fiends instinctively froze when they saw it coming to defend themselves, which was totally fine with Briggs; it made it much easier to crunch them.


    Nothing below a Twelve had a chance of surviving Briggs'' Hammer. He was easily breezing through 150 points of damage a swing, which made no sense using physics, it just meant that not only did every blow have an ungodly, magic-assisted amount of kinetic energy behind it, that energy went to where it did the most harm. Nothing below a thousand pounds had any chance of keeping its feet at the impact, and inevitably went sailing off in one direction or another, caroming through the crowd and upsetting any semblance of a formation or teamwork that they had. Any drow bowled over and fallen was just a victim waiting to be walked over, which was precisely what happened to them on the way.


    ---


    My own progress was impressive, true, and the expressions if they managed to make out Wayfair''s half of my face were always interesting to note. But I had done my work well. The Void Brothers had claimed their Grandmastery of Cutting Life/Time, grabbed the Cleave Tree of Feats to make it work, and had Geared Up. They still weren''t anywhere as Deep as I was, but they had the core of the slaughter build of a melee specialist down cold, and that would just lead to more depth in the future, catching up with Tats and Feats and whatnot.


    Had I told them about getting Forsaken Matrix Levels to further slow them down? Well, no. At least, I didn''t think so.


    To be honest, Matrix Levels were a teamwork play. They did almost nothing for me unless I Nogged them, and the Archmatrix Level bonus spells and stuff couldn''t be Nogged, so there was limited usefulness and a cap on them regardless. For the amount of Karma I was putting in, the benefits were truly marginal to myself. If I hooked up with a Bound Spellcaster, they would certainly love me to death for all the extra Magic I could loan them...


    I guess I was just a completionist. I mean, I could have just been pouring all that Karma into Evolutionary Levels and jacking my Stats to the moon. Those Mu Spores had been sweet for the Karma, after all, and I was a bit miffed that the biggest demons I could kill were those six Mariliths spaced around the Obelisk screaming out telepathic orders.


    I also knew that I could probably step through to Eleven any time I wanted. The Warlord Karma I was getting over these past days had been monstrous, given the amount of slaughter we''d been doing... and I''d been assigning it to that monstrous Karmic Wall stopping us from stepping to Eleven. I could feel it slacking, and I had Wayfair Right There with her innate +14 Attack Bonus for me to study and usher me through to newer, higher insights.


    Buuuuuut... I had tons more Levels to get, and there wasn''t any real reason for me to get them as an Eleven and pay the increased Karma costs. So throwing my Warlord Karma at the Second Ceiling and filling it so I could click it whenever, and putting my own Karma towards all these other Levels I had to take, made tons more sense.


    And now, now I had a new goal.


    Only a flicker of will as we crashed into the gathered demonic forces there, and the flashing of ruby-red banefire changed to red-black for the Evilborn at the same moment. Vivus exploded faster, louder, and improbable Dire Weapons crashed and shattered, burning with their masters as the dumbfounded Fiends realized that their eyes really hadn''t been deceiving them, those drow being slaughtered really weren''t that weak... and these Void Brothers, and they definitely knew who Void Brothers were, were just that horrifyingly strong.


    They Trembled, we came.


    There was a crashing and crunching of impact, a marilith half-snake six-armed terror of the battlefield was smashed back off her feet by Endure, all of her went flying past the other demons, who exploded into vivus in blurred arcs of swords, and she crashed into the Obelisk, fell back rather limply to the ground. Streaks of light flowed past and over the bound Wolf that was in the way, and she was Finished as more crushed and burning demonic bodies slammed into the uncaring stone all around her.


    The wave of combat turned in a circle without stopping, and the Umbral Half-Fiend Drow, boosted on magic mushrooms with the requisite speed, strength, height, extra arms, burning hands, or whatever, screamed and surged to meat them. Meet them? Heh...


    Them, because I was sitting down behind the wolf, artfully placed dead demons with thick carcasses burning on either side of me. Screened by more stacked corpses, a Compression Jug with my Exsanguinating Tube attached was on the edge of the shallow moat of blood, and sucking that precious Exemplar juice up like there was no tomorrow.


    Sparky and Mayfair joined up to jerk the marilith towards me, and Sparky nailed her to my Marks with the Tail. Quaver was currently being held by Brother Firesword, Briggs was holding onto Tremble, Briggs had subbed in his own Halo Crown to keep up the light show, and so only the shooting was gone... but I had, ah, let that tail off during the last hundred meters...


    Time to free me a really, Really, REALLY, dangerous Dawg.

 240 Chapter Two Hundred and Forty – Nice Dawg

    "Morning there," I told the Exemplar Wolf, whose bloodshot golden eyes glared at me, but showed confusion at the burning marilith getting sucked into my Tat, and my friendly tone and facial Tats. "I''m going to release you, but it''s going to take a minute or ten for the rusting compound to eat through this steel, as it''s been treated." Yeah, it could resist acid, or rusting, but combined acidic rust? Alchemy ftw! "While I do that, I''m going to carve a Mark on your forehead, please suppress your healing factor long enough for it to take hold. It will up your Strength, and tie you into the telepathic link we have among us. We''re here to put down the Obelisk, kill the Hags, and I bet you''d like to help some?"


    His eyes moved from crimson back towards yellow, clearly intrigued, and a more than good enough judge of character to know I meant what I said. He could only growl, but I was speaking fluent Wolf right now, so I understood him perfectly.


    "This will hurt like pinpricks, nothing like that spear." The middle of his forehead was visible through the spiked muzzle of the bindings keeping him down, so I stuck my hand out over him and began to etch the Mark into him. He growled again as it bit in, and actually hurt him. He wasn''t expecting a simple cutting implement to be able to do so.


    Well, my hands were conducting the edges of Tremble, which had shifted in Bane of Legends just for this purpose, and Blooding to make sure his Fast Healing/10 wasn''t an issue. His hide, even enhanced, wasn''t an issue to the adamantine tip, and I scribed the Mark quickly and surely, given my thousands of practice sessions.


    "Fill it with power." He had to have shitloads of Karma lying around. As he did, I tossed some Warlord Karma at it, more coming in even now as the Brothers sang silently along and slaughtered away, and the Markdoor lit up in his mind.


    The hard light of the full +4 bonus to Strength lit up on his forehead. True to my expectations, a Legendary-class beast could break the empowerment rules for such things.


    His eyes widened at seeing The Map, and I waved at him from the other side of the Door. He mentally walked up to it, poked his head through.


    The words and conversations of the Void Brothers, Briggs, and I in our own /chatroom flowed over him. He could look and measure all of us, saw the others notice him, acknowledge him, and then get back to what they were doing.


    The Brothers were a deeper Green then this wolf was, and I could tell he recognized who and what they were.


    Mayfair was placing the vials of acid-rust I''d wiped up, they''d be done in minutes.


    "Second thing I''m going to do." My hair reached into my Masspack, swapped in my Chakra-opening Tool. "This is really going to hurt, but I''m going to poke some holes into your Soul, open up some very key Chakra points, and show you how to use them. You ready?"


    Golden eyes in the emerald spirit before me narrowed, but he growled acceptance. He had a cursed Spear sticking out of his guts, what more this? He could smell the metal binding him start to hiss, to weaken ever so slightly, and knew I was doing what I said I was going to do.


    "Okay, let me give you a quick rundown on Soul magic..."


    --------


    The Exemplar Template is hilariously dangerous. However, part of its power is based on the creature itself. It made the creature stronger at being what it was, but there was a limit.


    A wolf is basically a 2-3 Hit Die creature, not that much more dangerous than a human. Indeed, we breed dogs bigger than wolves, unless you start up the magical size thing with Dire Animals. But this was a normal wolf, albeit the perfect member of the species.


    That''s probably why he''d been targeted, and how they''d been able to capture him. While dangerous against single foes, and absolutely lethal for his Hit Dice, he was, in the end, a 3 HD creature with monstrous Stat boosts. He really had absolutely no way to effectively battle large numbers of enemies, and while his Stats were high, they weren''t insurmountable. A buffed Hag was likely stronger, for instance, so it only remained to overwhelm his gargantuan natural Luck and Insight bonuses... and since they were based on a 3 HD chassis, that wasn''t impossible, either.


    So, beat him down with enough brute force, and if he kills a few hundred servants, so what? Enough magic to immobilize him, wrap him up in adamantine chains even he can''t break, and all he could do was sit there and be a source of blood.


    I guessed that he''d been given to the Shellycoat because she''d be the weakest of the three Great Hags, and he was also a test subject. They''d go after a stronger Exemplar next.


    But y''know, that was fine. Because I was giving this Wolf a crash course on Class Levels, alternate energy sources, possible advancement paths, and ways he would never, ever have to put up with this again. I brought in Elder Arg to chat with him, and even a Legendary-class Wolf was freaking impressed talking to an Epic Ape. Words were exchanged, trust established, and he agreed with my plans.


    He realized he wasn''t near as powerful as he had once thought, that teamwork and sufficiently powerful beings could overpower him... and he also realized he couldn''t feel any luck or insight concerning me or the Void Brothers at all. While being an Exemplar gave him a precious +15 to all his Stats, his real bonuses were some truly monstrous Luck and Insight bonuses... none of which were useful against us at all.


    Exemplars had triple normal speed, so he wouldn''t have any troubles keeping up with us. His problem right now is that his awesomeness was limited by his Hit Dice, so he had to get his Racial and Class Levels up. Given the instant bonuses he could get, Class should come first.


    So, it was Character Creation time for an Exemplar Wolf that was stepping past his limits.


    Bing!


    Once a day retrain Feat from Skill Focus/Perception to Improved Natural Attack. D6 bite goes to d8.


    Bing!


    Take Monk Level/1.


    Swap out Improved Unarmed Strike for Profound Natural Attack, since he was an animal. D8 bite goes to 2d6.


    Establish Ki pool, half monk level + wis. Fine, +8 ki.


    Wis to AC. Oh, nice, that''s a +8 to AC.


    Bonus Feat. Instead of Dodge, take Elusive Soul. +13 Insight Bonus to his Soulcaster Level for Capacity Determination, effectively 15th. Can put Four Soul into it. Constitution modifier of 32, so 11 points Essence out the gate. Elusive Soul, +4 dodge bonus, bringing him up the whiff-whiff-whiff scale for a total of another +12 AC. Nobody would be able to touch him.


    Flurry of Blows useless, only has the one set of jaws. Swap that out for Bonus Feat, Deflect Missiles, letting him avoid ranged attacks.


    Stunning Fist useless, swap it out. Improved Trip is a wolf racial Feat, take that to save time later.


    All Good Saves for level 1 Monk.


    Exemplar. Gets Maximum Soak, plus 12 per Level. Monk HD of 8, +11 Con, +12, equals 31 Soak.


    Already has Fast Healing, already has 62 Health, and Fast Healing/10, with triple movement rate. Just have to pull that Spear out and he''d be fine in less than thirty seconds.


    He tensed his muscles, and the metal did something it had not done in a very long time... it creaked.


    His ears flattened, and he shifted subtly. The burning vivus hid the pungent smell of burning, rusting adamantine.


    "Easy. We don''t want them to know you are out, and we don''t want them targeting you. The others are swinging back, they''ll be here in seconds." He just growled, and made ready, while I dig in my fingers and worked off one section with some effort, aiming to flip it over and minimize his profile.


    Nobody was coming up on the Obelisk, it was like sacred ground, and with the bodies burning here, the Fiends definitely didn''t want to set foot here.


    ------


    I counted down silently, as the sounds of some terrifying rock music and lights zoomed in closer, the troops that had surged in closer to the dead screamed and died in horrifically brutal fashion at impossible speed, and then they were sweeping past to cover us.


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    I surged up, he lifted with a 36 Strength and all the luck of the universe behind him. The metal creaked and bent, almost eaten through, and I rolled over it and yanked out the barbed Spear driven deep into him.


    He yelped softly despite himself, bits of his guts attached to the cruel barbs of the point, which I dropped in vivus to burn away. I jumped to disappear into the blur of multiple Helices sweeping fast, and the wolf lunged with breathtaking speed into the press as well.


    -------


    Quaver and Tremble came whirling back to my hands, and outgoing fire slowly picked up from my Tails. The formation spread out that little bit to give me room to slaughter, and we went at them again.


    The Wolf had a 27 Wisdom, which meant that if he focused hard, he could track what we were doing through /Markchat. Also, my Warlord bonus was singing around him, and his newly expanded awareness of ki and motion-flow from the Monk Level gave him an awareness beyond instinct of how and where to move to avoid interfering with us.


    A wolf''s base move is 60, tripled to 180 for an Exemplar meant he had no problems loping around with us.


    17 Intellect meant he was the equivalent of a human genius. His golden eyes were wide as he bounded behind us, watching everything that was going on.


    He saw the difference between a +10 Attack Bonus, and just being lucky to hit. He saw Techniques and Feats flowing into one another, ki and Soul Essence thrumming thickly in the air. He saw furless monkeys moving with precision and grace far beyond what he had ever witnessed any normal biped have, and he felt the soul-shuddering power of Weapons with ten Slots open and hungering for the blood of their enemies.


    From very close range, he watched us kill, as he could not kill, and any hauteur or arrogance he had as the nadir of wolves, and any thought of distrust and treachery that might be arising in rage and freedom, were utterly and thoroughly quashed.


    We didn''t need him. Releasing him was truly and only a courtesy, nothing more, nothing less.


    I saw the Jug sitting on Haul behind Briggs, and smiled. Nobody had noticed the moat emptying out of blood so quickly, having so many other things to focus on... and the lads had knocked burning bodies directly into it on this run, cleaning up the scraps, so they''d just think the vivus had taken it, anyways.


    He noticed the Disk, and almost jumped up on top of it, before deciding that he wanted to run and run and enjoy his freedom after uncounted years. There was no problem on our end. Our job was to kill everything that came, so we would have room to take down the Obelisk. With no dragons or big ape to help, it ostensibly would be a mite trickier.


    For now, it was simply an unreal, endless murderfest, executed with blows faster than a normal human''s eye could follow, ignoring the steel and hides that got in the way, shearing through supernaturally strong and tough opponents as we slaughtered thousands of them every few seconds, and left a burning trail of vivus behind us to let them know.


    But, y''know, this was just going to take too damn long. There was something like half a million enemy combatants here, after all, more coming in from outside from stations outside the Walls. It was simply going to take an annoying amount of time to slaughter a major metropolis worth of troops.


    But, hey, you know, we hadn''t carved into any of the werewolf troops yet. I wonder why that was?


    The Wolf looked at me. -Hey, they''re your kids. Take charge, grandpa.-


    Now he did jump on the Disk, raised his muzzle, and he Howled.


    Hearing a Perfect Wolf howl is really, really something. Tremble and Quaver took furious notes, and all the magic Weapons blended in to accompany him with a thumping backbeat.


    It was a call to war, and the one doing the calling wasn''t bound to, enslaved by, and having his blood being leached by the magic of the Obelisk anymore. He was Free and he was calling for his pack.


    All those Lesser Exemplars and Werewolves literally froze in their tracks as their progenitor called to them. They were elites before they''d been transformed, Sevens through Tens, the bloodline a gift for the best of the best of the Hag Queen''s servants. But now, the luck and insight bonuses were thrumming inside them as Luck and Fate wagged their fingers and told them who their true progenitor was, and the raging instincts of the Pack thundered through them in a red tide.


    He was calling for his Pack, and one failed Will save vs 30 or so later, they answered...

 241 Chapter Two Hundred and Forty-One – Obelisks and Hag Queens

    And just like that, all the Hag''s carefully crafted elites were ours to play with.


    Werewolves get some pretty impressive physical buffs, and combined with that DR 10/silver, can both dish it out and take it. Lesser Exemplars got +4 to all Stats, speed increases, DR, fast healing, and some smaller Insight and Luck bonuses then their progenitor, still making them deadlier than any normal elite.


    Some rare fellows got both. They were truly monsters.


    In a splendid display of remorseless Chaotic Evil mindsets, the bloodlines of the Wolf turned on the drow they used to be part of, no hesitation, no regrets. The Brothers had already removed most of the Fiend bloodlines, so they had no real competition. With howls of glee, the slaughter among the drow abruptly exploded in area, and suddenly there was a massive pack of a thousand or so really tough bastards who were now working in support of us, instead of hunting us and getting ready to get killed on our Weapons.


    Amazing how that all works out.


    The amount of slaughter and carnage increased by a very significant margin. There were quite a few werewolf drow; after all, it would have been the easiest thing to infect them with. The ensuing chaos was not at all to the benefit of the drow defenders.


    ------------


    Haz¨¦ materialized next to the Wolf. She held out her hand, enthralled by the magnificent sight... this was a Perfect Wolf, after all, the wolf all wolves aspired to be. The golden-eyed, grey and white-furred Wolf obligingly dropped the rogue stone into her palm, and she sat down on Haul as the Wolf immediately bolted back towards the Obelisk, moving faster than a sprinting cheetah without effort and dragging the Disk behind him.


    There was a circle of carnage burning for three hundred yards around the Obelisk. The surviving drow forces had pulled back close to the walls ringing the area, or ran out the exits in terror. Slavering werewolves and ranks of enthralled Lesser Exemplars waited two hundred yards away, encircling the Obelisk, just waiting for the enemy to make a move again, at which time the slaughter would recommence.


    "The Wolf Taxi service has arrived!" she said, jumping off the Disk as it reached the edge of the black area.


    "Hey there, pretty lady," Briggs smiled, leaning against the thing. "You all ready to go?"


    Haz¨¦ nodded, fingers moving, focusing elemental energies. ''Fifty feet down, right?" She eyed the diagram in the Markroom of how things were spread out, taking note of how things were unstable given the mass of vivus starting to permeate and feast on the large amounts of energy artificially being gathered and sent off underground.


    Sama was right, this was indeed a key part of whatever great Formation they had set up, sucking in massive amounts of power built up in the slow time zone and forcibly sending it out to multiple other Obelisks quickly, dispersing the load and stress on the system. The stress in the slow time zone would have to be incredible, no longer it took so long to build this Formation.


    "How are you going to tip it?" she asked quietly, as she began to turn a spell into a Ritual.


    "The Stillflight aspect of our Interdiction is currently down, and there''s a Wolf sitting over there who can fly and is very, very lucky."


    She glanced at the Wolf, whose tongue was lolling out of his mouth in expectation, watching her.


    "That sounds just wonderful," she said, and began to draw the magic to her.


    -----------


    The drow were having a heck of a time.


    I could see the smoke rising, and see the occasional explosion outside as the chaos spread. All the werewolves and Exemplars were obeying the call of their bloodline, and creating havoc outside. Havoc meaning engaging in mass slaughter of their former fellows and trying to make it here to join the pack of their progenitor.


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    The drow outside were slowly getting it through their shroom-addled brains that bad stuff was happening, and while the werewolves and Exemplars were powerful lads and ladies, they weren''t us, definitely weren''t Grandmasters, and were running into the zillions of drow out there and getting themselves hacked.


    The Wolf didn''t mind at all, and considered it quite a fitting end for those who''d stolen their power from his bloodline to begin with.


    The only people who would be resisting this would be the Hags and the Hagborn. What Hagborn had been in the plaza had been singled out and killed, being effectively enslaved to their mothers'' wills. There''d only been a few Hags here, and they''d died in passing among the many other creatures here, noted for their status, given a few whacks, and burned in passing.


    The real Hags would now have to be coming to pursue this fight. They''d probably thought their fanatic legion of addicts could do the job for them while they continued desporting themselves. Alas, they''d run into a wall of Deep Forsaken who really, REALLY didn''t care about their massed magical ability, and lo, were now Acme Land Food.


    I had no doubt that the rebellion of the werewolves and Lesser Exemplars had been very bloody, frenzied, and probably gotten their attention. But, if for some craaaaaazy reason the Hags were so intent on their vices they still didn''t pay attention, well, Haz¨¦ was just about to really rock their world.


    The magic went off, and that carefully polished and designed foundation for the Obelisk liquified into mudrock, piercing down deep around half the base... and half the bottom.


    Why only half? Because the Wolf sitting up there in the air with the strength of an elephant was going to give it a push. He only needed to move the center of balance a few feet, and y''know, he was lucky enough to push it at just the right place and right angle for maximum effect.


    There was about ten seconds of effort on his part, nothing too ominous. The tip of the obelisk waaaay up there moved over several feet, got past that critical part, found there was only mud there to support it... and began its long, mighty fall.


    The Wolf got out of the sky quick. He probably didn''t want to be there when the thing hit down, even if he would enjoy the view.


    Down down down... damn, hundred-paces tall things take a while to fall. I wanted to say ''Timbuuuuuuur'', but Briggs beat me to it and yelled magnificently, "Ba-saaaaaaaaalt!", getting all the snark points for himself.


    It was loud when it hit the ground. The tiles all jumped, the shockwave bounced drow off their feet, rippled past under my lightfoot, diverted around Briggs, pretended the Brothers weren''t there, and the Wolf was sitting on Haul with a fanged smile, Haz¨¦ next to him.


    Oh, did ya feel that... like a little popping in the ground, as the Obelisk shattered into many, many parts, which all the Hag''s werewolves and all the Hag''s drow couldn''t put back together ere now...


    Lots of power down below the ground there, and now the thing which had kept it circulating wasn''t there anymore. Which meant all that incoming power, and whatever was circulating, had nowhere to go.


    The ground began to vibrate, at first almost unnoticeable without a Vajra, and then picked up pace. It was more discernible further away from the center here, except along that ley line path towards the slow zone several hundred miles thataway.


    It picked up more. The walls started shaking, loose stones skidding away, falling, cracks subtly starting to spread. Even the enthralled wolf-blood drow started to panic, as they subconsciously realized they were not standing in a safe spot, and they should run.


    And then it all flashed and let go.


    Walls of bloody light blew from the ground towards the sky from those buried ley lines. The entire plaza, except for a hundred feet around the foundation, heaved itself towards the clouds in ripping profane energy and channeled arcane energy all released at once. The vivic energies still burning on the dead roared along it like det cord, raging out along the pure, raw energy, igniting all the abruptly dead creatures caught in it, and really making a rather spectacular show of it.


    There were five irregular lines running out from the plaza. The shockwave of the plaza itself going up blew the wall to smithereens, and whatever legions were encamped outside had an even worse day then they''d started with. Three of those lines ripped off towards neighboring zones, including the Mu Spore region whose Obelisk we''d toppled. The feedback from that one was probably going to be bad, too.


    Another one headed over for that garish pleasure palace over yonder. Stood to reason she''d be sucking in power to support her Wards and little pet projects. Now, they all blew at once, which I thought actually improved the view. That designer really had no taste...


    The biggest one of all went feeding back towards the slow zone. The ripple effects of that would echo through the whole Formation. The surviving two relevant Obelisks would have to take on the load, stressing the system, and as of right now, whatever they were trying to do, they couldn''t. The Formation could probably ignore the smaller Obelisks we''d toppled, but not a major junction like this.


    Likewise, the Hag Empress here couldn''t gaff this off. For this level of a failure, she''d be deposed and someone else installed in her place, unless she fixed this, and fast.


    She''d be coming over with what Hagdaughters of hers survived, to get some revenge.


    Bricks, tiles, stones, and bits of vivus burning on bodies was raining down all over, but all around us, not on us. The plaza was now a broken pit, with trenches a hundred feet deep blown out of it in five directions, and the walls had been leveled outwards and buried whole swathes of the elite armies out there.


    None of them felt like coming in and investigating, apparently.


    Ah, there we go. Motion.


    They were all Witches of course, so they were flying, swooping in our direction on a variety of brooms, bats, bat-wings, pet demons, or just streaking through the air. Looked to be about a dozen of them, all of them with scraggly red hair, just not looking at their best right now.


    The Wolf withdrew judiciously. He wasn''t going to be of too much use in this fight, being barely able to hit them, and not doing near enough damage, but that was fine. He was plenty happy having slaughtered just about everything that had stolen his bloodline.


    I saw three of them that thought they were being sly by being invisible, which just made me laugh. Three of them were like crimson shadows, Umbral Lesser Exemplars; three of them were shape-changed to normal forms, but the reality-bending nature of Pseudonaturals was following them, impossible to miss; five of them were Lesser Exemplar half-Fiends of various parentages, with a panoply of feathers, horns, slime, extra arms, tails, and cloven feet to proudly display their heritages; and the last one was nine feet tall and had a very impressive aura of power around her.


    Exemplar Shellycoat. Used the wolf and the power of the Obelisk to catapult herself into an unchallenged position of dominance here, and her Template was naturally layers above those of her Hagdaughters.


    And yeah, I could see a resemblance to Amber, twisted as it might be. I didn''t know if this Shellycoat was a true Hag or a Hagdaughter herself, but it didn''t matter, she was still going to die.


    Definitely had the orange eyes. They were burning as they fixed on me. Fixed, because an acting 48 Charisma is going to catch all the attention.


    The Brothers and Briggs got to their feet laconically, Weapons out, clearly undeterred by all those powered-up Witches. Haz¨¦ calmly stayed in Briggs'' shadow, readying her own assortment of spells.


    Fun was coming!

 242 Chapter Two Hundred and Forty-Two – Coat them in Blood, not Shells

    They opened up with a spell bombardment from range, of course.


    Demons and daemons came shrieking up behind them, Summoned in earlier, commanded to inflict Ye Awful Harm upon us. Twisted energies spat at us ¨C profane killing strength, hate lightning, aqua sanguia, bonechill, hellrime, balefire, dirgewails, necroic and negative life-sucking power, and poisons not of this realm.


    We weren''t worried about the undead. When the Obelisk here blew, all the buried undead went with it. I guess they should have been told to get involved a bit sooner, then they might have afforded us a few minutes of distraction.


    The magic came in, and the magic vanished. The Helices of the Void Brothers tore them apart. Briggs burned his away to naught. They hit my expanded Null and just vanished, water into a lake, gone without a ripple.


    The Summoned demons came in and were fricasseed. They were big, strong brawny sorts, every one of them over twelve feet tall, and hung like mammoths... probably the fathers of some of the hag princesses, and lovers of the Exemplar, Crysihdrala.


    Alas, oversized genitalia was not an indicator of transcendendent combat ability, and these big virile powerhouses lasted literally seconds. The opening magic barrages meant nothing, they came swooping in and Briggs and I brought in the Stillflight once again. They came down very heavily, and all of us went out to meet them very quickly... save Haz¨¦.


    Haz¨¦ sent an eight-fold Sharding Ray of Force at one of the Umbral Hags who wasn''t where she looked to be, spearing the Hag, and dumping a whole lot of cell-rupturing Radiant Force into her. Coruscating rainbows tore her apart, and residual vivic energies converged and blew her into white ash in about one heartbeat.


    As the outraged Hags focused on her, she smiled and glided up behind Briggs. The incoming volley of obliteration-prone dark magic burned away before it could reach her.


    Horned vulture-demon and all eight appendages parted ways; tentacled toad-demon was opened up to get some Light and air; four-armed white bull-demon was butchered so fast even I was surprised, he''d cloven a bit too closely to actual cow musculature or something.


    The only Balor in the crew chose Briggs. Its burning whip and Dire Axe never made it to him. It hit the ground, and Endure crunched into it with bone-breaking force, the thing''s chest just sort of caved in. As it attempted to parry, the Hammer came drumming in a second time and his flaming-skulled head just exploded.


    The draconic worm-fellow close by saw this, and had the sense to panic just before the Balor cooked off in unholy final death throes turned hungry-vivic-mm-mmm-Feed-The-Land. Draco-worm staggered out of the explosion, just in time to catch Endure coming in one more time and ending his pain... well, no, his soul and essence burned nicely too, as his physical form was destroyed. No heading back home to brood vengeance on seven generations of descendants when vivus is involved, nope, nope. Go feed that expanding hole in the sky, you.


    The Windarrow had also picked off some gargoyle-esque sort with rat-tat-tat spirals of incoming Helix wind-shots. I noted that the Brothers needed to bone up on their ranged attacks more, as the rest of the fighting came down to melee.


    While that was going on, of course, they were ignoring all the magic being sent their way... or maybe actively destroying it, I didn''t know. To help matters along, I contributed a withering salvo of Banestars and Spikes, which turned the neighboring combats from potential three-hit affairs into two-hits, which meant the demons in range got shredded really, really fast, Brothers bouncing from one to the next and Cutting Life in swirls of multi-hued Helices.


    Really, it didn''t take that long.


    And then, before the Hags could properly panic, probably overly confident of their own combat skills, the lads jumped.


    Yeah, I really, really wanted that Heavy Gravity modifier. Five of the lads went up and up and out, and the now landbound Hags could only watch them do so. Well, they watched and threw spells at them in midair, which had the same effect as just watching, trailing those lovely swirls of Helices... and then surfing down the air smoothly, while Shardings streaked down, albeit bereft of Helices, to slice and dice.


    They landed behind the Hags, moving with great speed to cut off any line of retreat, while the other six of us smoothly advanced to the front, moving faster than all but the main Hag could move at.


    I, of course, pretty much only had eyes on the Exemplar. And while I wasn''t able to out-bounce the lads, I was still faster afoot then they were.


    One of the Lesser Exemplar half-Fiends was in the way. Alu-Hag? Whatever, all the perverted exaggeration of sexual features of a shellycoat, plus spikes, horns, tail, and her weeping sores dripped slime.


    She seemed to think she was hot stuff. She had a lot of magic up to protect her, raise her armor, and of course those Exemplar Lite gifts.


    Whoops, nope, not those.


    She took a full frontal volley, only able to evade about a third of them, and her Damage Reduction was completely good for nothing. She had increased her size, buffed her strength, speed, and toughness, accentuated her natural armor, had force shields and armor up ¨C


    Quaver ripped through her magical buffs, destroying all of them in one hit. She shrank back down, muscles fell, speed dropped... she lost it all in flying splinters of shattered mana, stunned at the sudden and total loss... and the line that had nearly bisected her from left hip to opposite shoulder. Red Health Qi sprayed, the wound healed... as expected, she had some. Otherwise, just going by base Stats, she would have been dead on the triple-damage Spirited Charge.


    She wanted to retreat, but that wasn''t happening, I was way faster than her, and all she could do is lash out, clawing to get at me... and being unable to read what I was going to do, and luck not meaning crap to me, she met empty air twice, and as she was lunging to take a bite at my face, I executed a full attack kata, a flurry of blows.


    On Speed, since I wasn''t worried about not getting through her protection.


    Katas exist to help a person execute a move automatically. Full kata execution at speed is more of a think about it/done kind of thing, and Seven Ripping Dragons is a very high-end kata, given the speed demands to execute it.


    Health Qi bloomed like a red-black rose. She could see my arms moving, but couldn''t keep up with them. Cuts exploded over her torso, legs, arms, and throat, spraying Health Qi everywhere, while at the same time Spikes and Bolts continued to drive into her at point-blank range.


    Stand came up under her chin. She was eight feet tall, and the impact stretched her out to her full height as Exemplar Lite met adamantine backed by working 50 Might and had its way, like getting hit by a 100-mph steel girder to the jaw.


    Quaver and Tremble dipped and cut with impossible speed and precision, worked by ki and Essence, way more than strength motivating them... oh, and +X space-cutting in full effect as I ripped into her with everything, tyvm Bane of Legends.


    She bought off the stun from Stand, screamed at the unending misery of the point-blank Spikes and Bolts pumping into her, less than a third as effective as my Swords, but still hurting, and tried to retreat.


    There was no way that was happening. I couldn''t execute a massive Kata like that while moving, but I had no problems getting to her flank and back, and when she tried to charge past me, landing three blows on her knee, numbing it and sending her sprawling, unable to get away.


    I came down from above, heels like drills, both blades like plunging spears, and Wayfair decided to pump some poison into her and see if it stuck. It probably wouldn''t have, except it was working off my Constitution bonus, and a Save DC of 35 or so had about a 50% of landing.


    Let me tell you, judging by the amount of Health Qi she vomited out of her eyes, nose, ears, and mouth, fighting off that much blood-burning wisdom or level drain is a big hit to the old Health Qi. Of course, taking multiple Death From Aboves isn''t exactly fun, either.


    The Hags were realizing that the only way they were going to win was to gang up on the Brothers, or try to run while one of their Sisters held them off. The problem was that the whole plaza was a freaking mess, they couldn''t fly, their pets couldn''t fly, they couldn''t Summon anything, and they couldn''t teleport... and they''d just seen four Brothers jump a hundred paces through the air, meaning they had no chance of outrunning or outmaneuvering them.


    Tremble transferred a claw injury from Mountainhammer to me, it was gone in seconds as my target tried to get up, shrieking in fear, hate, and anger, trying to lash at me as I skated around her in Seven Circling Dragons, hitting her at all levels and ¨C


    Oh, there it was. Real blood, a real injury. Swish, gone, burning away in vivus...


    Her black and orange eyes got really wide as they met mine, all backlit black and white, my face cut in half so Wayfair could smirk at her. All five Tails aligned on her face, while I sheared off the one arm in the way that might be able to block, and then robe-cut her while all the Spikes discharged at once into her face, along with Sparky''s beams of banelight.


    Her head exploded en vivus, her body divided into two diagonally as it ignited. I rolled forwards, and a blurring claw ripped through the stones beneath me as the Hag Empress missed.


    I got to fight me an Exemplar Hag.


    ----------


    ...They can''t ignore the pain of Health Qi. Just cut them.


    ...They want to grab you and rip you apart, chew on you. Close Quarters Fighting punishes them for trying.


    ...They might be stronger than you, but not by much. On the other hand, you will be much Mightier than them. Let them know; toss them around a bit. Pick on something bigger than you.


    ...Lots of Health Qi means you have lots of time to use all sorts of moves on them, learn their fighting style, and punish them. Things with lots of Health Qi don''t have the AB to match.


    ...You are faster than they are, and there''s nothing they can do about it without magic... and hey, look who rips apart magic like gossamer?


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    ...No one-hit kills. No death attacks. You are not in a hurry. You will outlast them. Survive, and kill them.


    ...Your Helices don''t multiply on a crit. Crits happen, don''t hunt for them. Just hit them as much as you can. Your Helices kill now, not your Weapon. Give them the chances to do so...


    Brother Firesword couldn''t keep the smile off his face. The thumping music blaring a heart-swelling power anthem in his head didn''t hurt at all, of course.


    Technically, Health Qi meant he could stab them in the head, they could ignore it, and try to grapple him and rip him apart.


    In practice, getting a foot of steel through your eyes and brain tended to interrupt everything, even if the wound was instantly healed.


    Learning to Cut Life had meant a radical adjustment in his fighting style. As Sama had said, it was no longer about how good a swordsman he was. It was about being able to deliver the Helices to his target, and letting them kill.


    Oh, a one-shot kill could still be done, could still be useful... but not against Legendary Creatures, who had sucked in enough power to get Health Qi active and could simply spend that power to counter any instant-kills like that, turning them into mere weapon attacks burning off more of the fake red stuff.


    Still, proper placement of his Weapons magnified the damage, accelerated the pace of killing... it just wasn''t as important now as actually hitting in the first place was.


    The swirls of his Helices made Weep and Bitter Tears just rainbow blurs of motion, weaponizing his Void and shearing massive quantities of this Lesser Exemplar Hag Witch''s Health Qi away, even as she tried to rip at him with clawed hands that could encircle his head, and nails the size of daggers harder than steel.


    He could actually tell how much of the stuff she had left, and even when she was joined by one of her demonic sisters, he simply maneuvered with precise steps and flowing footwork to keep the newcomer on the other side, faster than either of them, and far more experienced in real combat.


    And looking much better at it, too, as that overwhelmingly charming succubus riding Sama was happy to point out to him.


    Tears, his Thorn-blade, inserted here and there, but mostly just parried away the more dangerous claw attacks, the Philosopher''s Might glowing on his arms meaning he was fully capable of matching their strength, and the play of heavy and lightfoot resisting their greater mass or avoiding it, as needed. He cut and poked anywhere there were openings, and given her overlong arms, that meant she would have lost her hands very quickly, continually ripping along them and venting Health Qi, which he then channeled right back into her to even more devastating effect.


    Weep was shedding bloody tears of Health Qi along the edge and tip of the Rose-blade, a sad rain being shed for all the souls this Hag had killed, and its waste of a life.


    ++++++++


    Glossary: Hate Lightning, Bonechill, Balefire, Aqua Sanguia, and Dirgewail are necroic versions of Lightning, Cold, Fire, Acid, and Thunder, respectively.

 243 Chapter Two Hundred and Forty- Three – Coats of Blood II

    Brother Firesword bent, he twisted, he slid this way, then that, all the while his Blades danced and cut, punishing them with every move. He was in easy range of a swing of their arms almost half the time, but never quite in the right position to get shredded easily, a fight of inches, where luck and insight had no way to play, only skill, reflexes, coordination, and awareness.


    And magic. Couldn''t ignore the +X.


    These Hags still had a bonus to hit of at least +25, after he''d ripped all their buffs apart. They were stupid and weren''t using magic Weapons to increase their attacks, nor did they show signs of enchanting their claws. Truly cocksure, overconfident in the buffs their Templates gave them.


    As the Exemplars were finding out, Templates were no substitute for proper Levels and good Gear.


    Picking up the Crystal Dragon and being able to use it with Night Rose and Fire Dancer also meant picking up all the Lesser Dragon Styles for Way Mastery, yet more Karma Sinks. But the Damage Reduction and Natural Armor were incredibly useful, allowing him to simply ignore annoyances, give him something to build up towards reducing the tiny nicks and bruises that added up over a long fight, allowing him the staying power that Brothers had never been known to have.


    His Intellect was sitting at a prim 32, four thought paths, giving him time to contemplate and analyze even while he was fighting for his life. His Dexterity was now a 44, meaning he moved more like a ghost then a person. Just those two Stats getting to the levels they should have been at meant a +28 bonus to his AC, which in real world terms translated into miss after miss after miss.


    Analyzing calmly, every movement precise and measured, drawing them into this pose or position or stance, creating an opening while he moved just out of range of their motion, guiding their attacks as much as avoiding them, staying ahead of them through sheer analytic power, not some ability to see the future.


    It was still frustrating them to all get out. They swirled through a dance, trying to catch up with him and his vicious, condescending grace, and he cut them without pause.


    And there was Sama over there, giving the Grandmother Hag the business. That fight was incredibly vicious, both combatants moving with inhuman speed and power, the Hag trying to ignore the hacking and hewing swords which could not truly damage her, and finding it impossible with the sheer amount of punishment being dished out. Health Qi didn''t neutralize damage, it insta-healed it, so there was a still a moment of pain and interruption, trying to bull through it possible... but not with the level of punishment she was receiving.


    She was incredibly fast, but Sama was matching her step for step, having no trouble keeping up with her feet, and her Swords were moving even faster than the Hag''s claws.


    And, of course, a constant barrage of missile fire was planting itself into the Empress'' face, too, making things even worse.


    She was, she was... painting a Rune?


    Health Qi was floating in space, rippling along the edge of the cuts Sama was making. The wounds layered like petals, rippling, floating, as the two combatants slid this way and that, forming a circle as they moved through the clouds of blood-red Qi...


    It was a Blood Rose!


    Three slashing strokes slicked in the final petals, leaking power into a Rune wrought in mid-air, heavy with primal power stolen from the Hag. Sama couldn''t use Chi, but she had backdoored the technique by literally Painting using the Health Qi of her opponent.


    Because Painting was a Skill that fed her Sagedom of Swords...


    The multi-petaled, gently rippling Blood Rose ignited with a fwoosh, gone in a blink, and yet something changed in the air around it.


    For the next six seconds, all the fates were against her, and every hit would be a crit.


    A pull on the surrounding mana turned his eyes, where Haz¨¦ had stepped away from Briggs, who had been batting around two bigger Hags like they were hapless drunks. Around her arms were Rune Circles of stacked metamagicked Shards.


    He smiled despite himself. The Empress Hag, who happened to be facing the wrong way, and was frozen for a tiny second as the Blood Rose ignited, turned her head around.


    The coruscating, shining Shardrays hammered in, boosted past her spell resistance, laden with holy power... and automatic criticals for triple damage, too. Because Haz¨¦ had naturally invested in Improved Critical for Ray attacks...


    Health Qi vented in a burning cone of life preservation that sprayed out fifty feet past the Hag. One mass of coruscant Rays drove into her head, the second into her throat, snuffing her scream before she could give voice to it.


    And then Sama executed Seven Ripping Dragons again, with every hit a x4 crit.


    He didn''t know when the Health Qi of the Empress faded, but it didn''t matter. When the seventh stroke cut through her, she was totally done for.


    All five Tails lashed forward, impaled her body parts, while Sama plucked away the head. As the limbs and torso ignited, they were pressed against Sama''s Marks and sucked in and away, digesting the full and complete energy of the Exemplar Hag.


    Which, Brother Firesword mused, was probably going to be pretty impressive. The head in her hand Sama just slung on her belt as the flesh and skin burned away. Vivus would make sure her spirit couldn''t be interrogated anyways, so there was only prepping it for a really strong Baneskull...


    ----


    The remains of the Hag Empress burned away in under ten seconds, while the surviving Hags shrieked in fear.


    Briggs took that moment to Hammer one like batting a ball, and the shocked Lesser Exemplar half-Fiend shellycoat found herself flying nearly sixty feet through the air, hitting the ground with a roll and a tumble, and was back to her feet as if her center of balance was around her ankles.


    She slowly turned around and looked down at Sama, who was smiling up at her.


    The Spikes hit the Hag''s face before she could scream, and then Quaver and Tremble were all over her.


    Brother Firesword smiled, and inserted Weep into the throat of his primary foe, while Bitter Tears drove into her ear. She froze in place as brain and brain stem were ravaged by Helices and banefire, and he smoothly spun away from her sister leaping at him with both claws, withdrawing Weep and running a two-foot cut up her left arm and gash across the back of her right hand as he did so.


    Brother Lightscepter was playing the drummer with a Pseudonatural Hag, and had taken a couple ripping blows from her in passing. Tremble reached out and stole away the injury. They flashed into existence across Sama''s slender chest, and seconds of screaming Hag later, had been eaten away, even before Lightscepter could invoke his own Healing Edge.


    Sama was looking out for all of them, and they didn''t have to focus on healing, was exactly what that meant, and the Brothers took it to heart. Arsenals reconfigured...


    -----


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    Health Qi could neutralize a lot of circumstances. It could break grapples, rupture manacles, even throw off rocks and boulders if meant saving the person who had it. It was like Soak on steroids, and even Regenerated or Fast Healed. Totally unfair broken lame-ass ability for Legendary boss-level monstrous foes.


    If they couldn''t go up any further, they went sideways large.


    It couldn''t overcome simple pushes and strength advantages.


    The Hag in front of him had reverted to her Pseudo form, sprouting overly long spiked tentacles from her shoulder blades and navel. Given how she had eyeballs, cilia, random organs, and loss of skin all over as her natural form was exposed, complete with a skeletal structure that should just fall over, it complemented things nicely.


    Endure at +X didn''t really care that this thing had a bloodline that extended from Beyond Creation. He smashed her off her feet, and then began to pound her as this misshapen thing hit the ground and tried to get itself back up.


    Down. Up. Down. Up.


    He gave her no chance to get up, no chance to move. If she wanted to strike him, let her reality-ripping try to get past his Source and +V Warded Skinplate and DR 30/-.


    Endure came down, and he began to treat her as something to refine, something to pound the unreal out of.


    She began to bounce, hitting the ground, rising in the air to greet the Hammer coming down again with incredible speed. She writhed as her torso was reduced to pulp by blows nearing two hundred points of damage, like a boulder crashing down on her chest again and again, hammering her unnatural existence with raw reality. Her Health Qi immediately healed the wound and shook off the stunning impact, just in time for the Hammer to come down again brutally fast, its beat a drum as fast as a pounding heartbeat that kept crashing down into her.


    Thunder of the Mountain''s Heart, Storm/Crystal Feat. Single target, every hit expands the Crit Range by 1, missing or getting a crit resets it back to start. Big weapons held in two hands only.


    There was no way he could miss her. Every hit sent a shockwave of energy through her, snapping out her tentacles, making her warped limbs spasm, and before she could complete any movement, Endure was coming down again.


    And then he drew his long knife Nurse, softly ripped it through an extended tentacle, and turned away.


    Touch the Falling Stone. Give up a crit so the next blow is instead a crit.


    Haz¨¦''s Shardray slammed into her with the finely refined blood of Reality, force without mass, Radiance without source, and all the high Holiness you could shake a psalm at. It drilled right into somewhere, and the crit blew through the Hag as he stepped away, hurling Endure as he did so. The Hag behind him screamed something from beyond the Veil... and donated the sum total of her existential energy to the Land forever, praise be to Lady Sylune.


    Minus the skull. Aberrant/Monstrous Humanoid combined Baneskulls were useful!


    A Hag trying to tag-team Brother Ancientaxe went stumbling away as the pounding Warhammer caromed off her skull... and then into the head of her sister right next to her, before thumping its way back to his hand.


    He was already halfway to them, and picking up speed. Haz¨¦ didn''t need to hide behind him anymore... the Hags were now trying to hide from her!


    ------


    There were a couple who tried to run. The Wolf actually decided to try his luck on a couple of the half-Fiends, and was definitely strong enough to hold them at bay long enough for one of us to get up there and start the bash-down. It would have taken him forever to get through the Health Qi, however.


    Of course, once they no longer outnumbered us, it was all over for them. While the Brothers were very pragmatic about the killing, they also wanted to see if they could wear down a foe that before they would have ignored or avoided. So, once we got rid of the double-team Hags, we generally left them to finish killing at least one each.


    No, no, getting all the Karma certainly had nothing to do with it...


    The place was already a chaotic mess, and wiping the Hags, thwarting their various soul-escaping tactics via vivus soul-eating mmm-mmm the Land says you be tasty, and turning their elites into mad butchers had only made things worse for them.


    The rupturing ley lines had chewed canyons hundreds of miles long right through the zone, further dividing things up. This massive city-state was heading into full-blown civil war as the power grabbers woke up and started to make their bids, shroom dreams of Empire dancing in their heads.


    We sat back and enjoyed the minor Glory Award... bringing down an Empire was something of an accomplishment, but they''d just install another Hag tomorrow, and doubtless there were other Hag-daughters on the way here to vie over the throne. We hadn''t really wiped the place, just cut the head off a snake. Lots more snakes for the hole...


    It was time to go... after looting the Hags and taking a quick spin through the ruins of the Palace and the dead. Holy Mithar, was there a lot of minor magic and gemstones to make off with. The rewards of doing Good Work...

 244 Chapter Two Hundred and Forty-Four – Linking Back Up

    It was hard to miss the several-hundred-yards-high wall of magic, earth, and bits of drow and their cities tearing across the landscape, even at a distance. Being forewarned of it happening, everyone broke off the fighting, slaughtering, and run-by looting to get a good view of things going utterly bad for the drow and the Hags.


    Any sense of organization among the drow rapidly petered out. That also meant impediments to travel, especially along the Walls. Guards abandoned their posts with haste, hurrying back to join up with clans and families and figure out what to do next with the massive power vacuum at the top... and doubtless the intervention of other Hag Empresses at some point.


    In the meantime, there was opportunity to grab for power, extract some revenge, advance agendas, and manipulate rivals to be taken advantage of. Oh, and they had to deal with all the Blessed of the Hags (i.e. wolf-blooded Exemplars and werewolves), who had gone batshit crazy and were killing everything, certainly endearing them to their mistresses.


    The drow no longer had the desire to sit themselves in front of an army of butchering outlanders and bloodthirsty monkeys and be killed. The number of drow the company had to worry about naturally plummeted.


    That still meant they had to hook up with Sage Sama''s team, but happily, that meant just crossing the zone straight through, which they needed to do regardless. Naturally enough, Brother Wayfist took the lead dragging the Disk Train, Elder Arg flying in his wake and dealing with any obstructions with some very big fists.


    Their killing and burning and stuff was almost incidental to what was now going on. The drow had turned on one another with incredible energy, and simply ignored any thought of taking orders from powers beyond clan matriarchs and their own witches. The great zone-wide city was rapidly burning, and a whole lot of drow were being killed by one another with energy and enthusiasm.


    Ah, the pleasures of a Chaotic Evil society.


    Brother Wayfirst brought them as directly across the zone as he could, the fighting getting nastier as the buildings got more frequent. There were murmurs about how a lot of these drow were probably going to end up as undead, which wasn''t a comforting thought, but they couldn''t do much more than shoot corpses as they went by, and given the scale of the fighting, it was truly a minor thing to do.


    And besides, they''d killed a zone full of undead already. It wasn''t like they couldn''t do it again.


    Of course, it was easy to track where Sama''s team was, as the Wake extended across the sky, and the trail of carnage they''d left pretty much paralleled one of the smoking, hissing canyons that had blown through cities and great walls on its way out of the zone. A solid line of blue, bringing down light from sun and moon that the drow had not seen for millennia now stretched across the zone like an error, and began to bend and grow as it head Inwards.


    Ah, penalties in bright light, to add to those wild shroom dreams...


    --------


    Given that we were in the center of power, and the rest of the company had to catch up with us, there was no reason just to sit around with our thumbs up our bums. After a couple hours of drow and demons energetically avoiding anything to do with the plaza and the fallen Obelisk''s many cracked and shattered parts, which Briggs and Mountainhammer had some interesting contests in breaking down yet further, the lads got bored, and Wayfair wanted to go play, now that she could come out and gloat.


    Well, that meant it was time to loot an empire. Haz¨¦ renewed the Gemjump on the rogue stone with us, and Jumped away to another stone, taking a large amount of purloined wealth with her as she did so. There was no way it could not be put to use.


    The Brothers were extremely good at tracking down concentrations of magic. As often as not, this led us to some pit of horror where things we didn''t want to know existed lurked, were caged, or were Sealed. These cages often became rather weak when their primary source of power was gone, so the things inside broke out, and hilarity ensued.


    ...mostly because the Brothers laughed at the idea of extraplanars going up against so many Brothers at once...


    So, in addition to all the fractional strife going on, the Brothers let some stuff go to add to the greater havoc, and yeah, those imprisoned creatures were indeed happy to contribute to the slaughter.


    Wayfair was kind enough to shrink all kinds of massive volumes of loot down to be dispensed later. After all, our company could eat hundreds of thousands of gold value a day in precious metal, we wouldn''t actually be hauling it all around all that long.


    We''re talking actual rooms filled with gold, too. Whether it was real or dream wasn''t an issue as long as it was here. The lads would be all too happy to dispose of it.


    But, we only had so much time to work on fun before the lads got here.


    -----------


    We met them outside the walls of the capital area, deciding that moving a large armed force into an area crawling with pissed-off avatars, elder abominations, and even a minor demon lord or two wasn''t a good idea. The inhabitants might have thought the same, but some irked godling had collapsed all the primary walls out, made the entire area a no-fly zone, and brought in a bunch of creepy-crawly stuff to take over the walls and prevent anyone from escaping.


    The noble houses weren''t too happy about it, especially since they were experiencing an Eldritch Extinction Event, but they were certainly giving a good go of it. One of the Abominations was already dead, so the drow certainly weren''t no slouches.


    We were resting in an out of the way park, where everyone was burning lots of gold down into magic items, doled out by Wayfair with great amusement as she watched it all go. The accumulations of an empire were vanishing by something like a thousand gold every minute, which was absolutely hilarious to her... and didn''t stop her from working on her own stuff, of course!


    Being Sustained and Revitalized, we weren''t really tired mentally or physically, but I still called for two hours of meditation for everyone. Any drow passing by took one look at the armored ape looming over some ''shrooms and decided to go elsewhere.


    "It''s a good thing we looted all this," I said to Briggs, as I watched a heap of gold coins with imprinted Hag faces burning away before me, powering up a Hag Baneskull that I''d already etched with more molten gold in the appropriate Runes.


    "Yeah?" Briggs was doing the same, although that skull of his didn''t exactly look like a proper skull. Too many eyeholes, and I don''t think the mouth was supposed to be over there...


    "I chatted with Wolf and Elder Arg. You know I used the Int bonus from the Mark to give the big guy Alchemy Ranks, right?"


    Briggs pursed his lips, looked over at the looming mass of the great ape... who was also standing by a Rune Pattern, his Bonemelded Goristro horn now looking like a particularly frightening polemace.


    Elder Arg had 21 Hit Die as a Primordial Ape. That meant 21 Ranks in Alchemy. That was Epic Knowledge of Alchemy.


    That oversized, tusked gorilla was now the most knowledgeable mortal alchemist on the planet! Gotta love akashic learning...


    "Spellcraft next?" he asked softly, considering the implications of that.


    "And he wants the Smithing skills. He wants to start making his own stuff, and teaching his people how to do so. He''s been taking Expert Levels on the sly..."


    With 21 Ranks to build up, it would take almost three full Levels of Expert just to max out one Skill like that.


    "What''s up with the money?" he asked shortly, knowing I''d brought it up for a reason.


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    "The process of Templating for Lesser Exemplar and True Werewolf involves using Mu Goop."


    Briggs blinked, his concentration almost breaking. "Gkkk!" he managed brightly. "Is this True Shifting? Not a Curse?"


    "As long as the Wolf is willing, yes."


    "What did you do, Charm the bastard?" Briggs sucked in a breath despite himself.


    "Well, I freed him from literally centuries of imprisonment, gave him a Mark... and I let him eat the brains of the Hag who imprisoned him. He''s also finding the Marktell hugely enlightening, and we''ve been talking about the Exemplars and their place in the world.


    "And you know, nobody works together as well as monkeys and canines. We''ve been together a long, long time."


    "Truth," Briggs grunted, still shaking his head. "Still... Mithar and Valus, Sama, do you know what those Templates can do?!"


    "Yes," I replied immediately. "I knew there were Exemplar Animals in here ever since we pulled up those bones at the entrance to the city. There''s at the very minimum a Lion here, and I can''t see only two out of the three Hag Empresses having one. So, I''m pretty sure there''s three, and the last one is stronger than a Lion. Don''t know what, but stronger.


    "What I didn''t know is that Mu Goop is required as part of the process. So, we''re not going to be selling all that much of it." Enough to at least see how good Wayfair was at the process, however...


    "Ah. Ahhhhhh." He looked around at the warriors here, especially the Ironblood. "Not just us..." he breathed. Obviously, if I needed lots of it, it was to do something on a scale similar to the Hags... without having harvest teams trailing Mu Spores around and accumulating the Goop over years and centuries.


    "Lesser Exemplar isn''t Epic, and it will tie the recipient to the Wolf, as would Were''ing someone... but it''s still monstrously powerful." I glanced over at the Wolf, who was sitting there with the Hellpoodles, who were treating him VERY respectfully. The Wolf was getting combed down by Veis, while Fido and Shirley were getting combed down by Verd and Amber respectively. Elder Arg was with them, too, and if he was more powerful than the Wolf, he had the automatic respect given to something with an almighty bloodline.


    The dragons were giving the Wolf careful space. They had already learned what Pseudonaturals could do to them, and Exemplars were the ultimate step beyond that. The Wolf had taken two Racial Levels over the past two days, and was now the size of a pony. One more, and he''d be the size of a large pony or small horse, the size of a Dire Wolf.


    He''d also expressed learning more about magic. He, I, Barus, and a couple of the Elves who were Druidic Casters were having discussions about it. The only thing holding the Wolf back from being a legendary talent at it was the fact that wolves didn''t think much about the future, even ones smarter and wiser than humans were.


    What we had agreed on was that he was the protector of wolves, and to a lesser extent, all canines. That meant he was also a protector of the world his people lived on. Precisely the thing I was doing was protecting this world against the things that would despoil it, and harm the harmony of nature, of predator and prey, that wolves were intrinsically a part of.


    Fido''s and Shirley''s stories about Hell and how the canines and lupines were treated there pissed him off to no end, as did the stories about how some of the goblin gods had corrupted wolves to make the barghests. The corruption was what bothered him, rather than wolves fighting for goblins. Canines would fight for their pack, whoever that pack was. Making them into something other then what they were was far too much like what the Hags had been using him for.


    Becoming part of a greater Pack was an interesting idea to him, especially after digesting the fact that humans and dogs had been together for so long that dogs had actually evolved away from wolves in order to work better with humans. We were natural allies, almost made to work together... and there was a chance to work even more closely with them. Having willing members of his Pack among the humans was not a totally unallowable idea... as long as he judged who was and was not worthy.


    Naturally, he regarded all of us Beyond Law and Chaos very carefully, indeed. He had seen us fight, knew how absolutely lethal we could be, and we were definitely no less superhumanly powerful than he was. The fact that so much of the natural power that made him dangerous meant absolutely nothing against us meant he knew that we could be a threat to him, and that he wasn''t anywhere near as much a threat to us. Mutual respect was the foundation of a good relationship... and as a Wolf, he respected strength deeply.


    So, yeah, there was now an Exemplar Wolf and Primordial Ape tagging along with us, and we were negotiating using the former''s blood as a component in a Ritual to make Lesser Exemplars and True Werewolves, which Elder Arg was going to be mixing up with Mu Goop and our assistance.


    I smiled to myself. This was the kind of reward that would make the Ironblood truly unique.


    More to the point, there were other Exemplar Animals ahead of us...

 245 Chapter Two Hundred and Forty-Five – Zone 22... Yep, Another One of Those...

    The trip out of the Imperial Zone was fruitful and definitely had a lot of diversions to admire. Why, there were dead drow in every single kind of pose you could imagine, and so many ways to die.


    There were also demons and daemons all over the place, which were promptly squashed as soon as they could be seen, without exceptions. After all, have to keep the Wake growing, and they were just the perfect fodder. If any drow got uppity in our way, they contributed to the cause, too.


    Still, no need to go up and down the walls. We ran right down the roads, only the soon-to-be-dead tried to obstruct us, and out through the gates. There was only one gate some opportunistic sorts tried to block. Alas, their opportunity was fleeting, and their feet not fleet enough. They probably realized something when Elder Arg loomed up with thumb-thick lightning crackling around his fists, but oops, too late.


    So, it was long, but never dull, too much incidental sniping to do. The Brothers calmly ran point, and I realized they weren''t showing off for Mayfair so much as working out a new combat language and synergy with their Helices. Very smooth of them, after all.


    ----------


    Wayfair headed back inside, and we stepped over the hill line of the next zone, looking ahead at...


    At...


    Briggs coughed. The Brothers really tried to hide their smiles. The company looked rather thoughtful...


    The Wolf wondered what was up.


    Yeah, it was another mushroom zone. Farmed by Mu Spores. They had a mushroom zone in between the two Empires, which, come to think of it, was pretty efficient. Of course, behind us the Empire was on fire, and the harvest teams had probably headed home on this side... but the far side of the zone was probably the property of the other Empire.


    And these Mu Spores didn''t look like they''d been informed of what had happened to their kin.


    "Okay, take it backwards," I said, and everyone withdrew after an eager minute, wondering what was up, but knowing enough not to question.


    I didn''t let them wonder long, as Wayfair came back out, and everyone looked at me curiously.


    "We''re going to be splitting up, AA staying with Briggs and I. I want this zone totally cleared of Mu Spores." I paused significantly. "However, there is no way under Heaven that we are going to miss out on all that Mu Goop. Which means, we need one-shot Compression Jars that can hold all the Mu Goop from one of these things. We are looking at what looks like approximately ten thousand square mile territories of these things, if what I saw in the last zone and seems to match the spread here remains true.


    "That is at least twenty-seven of these suckers, with a few extra in the central area around the Obelisk. Each of which is giving us a minimum of a hundred gallons of Mu Goop worth a minimum of a thousand gold a gallon." There was a very interested hum from just about everyone. "However... we need something to put the Goop in!


    "Wayfair, Rockborn, we need some Jars of high enough QL to enchant as one-shot Compression containers that can hold at least two hundred gallons of the stuff, usable one per Mu. I believe we liberated enough stuff on the way out here to pay for those, they should only be a goldweight each, and the Runes are easy.


    "To be on the safe side, we''re going to make fifty of them... and we''ll probably need to make more if there''s another mushroom forest on the other side of the next Empire." More interested hums, cash registers going off in everyone''s head. It wasn''t greed, it was power. Gold made magic, magic made you stronger. And the sums on the table here were just too high.


    "Since taking these things down fast requires Interdiction, Briggs and I are going to be needed to get them down out of the sky. The Brothers can take them as we land.


    "Our first tactic is going to be going right up the middle, because we have to draw the Wake. We''ll drag it to the Obelisk, clear the Obelisk, and then deal with whatever Mu Spores come crashing in on us.


    "After that, I''m going left, Briggs is going right, and we''re going to take teams of Brothers with us. Our job is to crash them down, leave a Brother behind to loot and kill, and go after the rest of them. They''ll catch up when they are done.


    "Four of the Brothers are going to go on dispatch duty to the most distant Mu Spores and track them for us when they wise up and start to disperse. Pure scouting, no need to kill them, just make sure you know where they are so you can guide the rest of us in. Of course, if they come in reach, you''re perfectly fine to Cut their Lives off."


    I clapped my hands as everyone once again visualized the sight of great flying abominations of fungi crashing to the ground again, and all that sweet, sweet money-to-be spilling out. "Alright, let''s get us some Mu-Mu Jars made to milk these nice fellows, and then make a real profit at all this."


    Nobody complained at all as they got to work.


    ----------


    In Marktell...


    -Damnation. Are you serious?- Errant /asked, stunned.


    -Yeah. Elder Arg even worked out the comps already. I already sent out the requests for the materials for the boiler and mixers and stuff, to make when we get back. Takes about twenty goldweight of Mu Goo, in addition to the Exemplar blood, to make the Elixir.- I didn''t beat around the bush with him.


    Haz¨¦, who was listening in attentively, hissed in shock. -Gods in Heaven, Sama... the goldweight value of a Lesser Exemplar Template is... is...-


    -A conservative estimate is 400k gold to duplicate the effects. So, giving up ten gallons of Mu Goop is like the best deal evah.-


    -What''s the Skill Check?-


    -40 for Alchemy and Spellcraft. Oh, and Elder Arg has confirmed with a Level of Vizard that Skill Focus at his Level is +10. He can make the check with no problem, which is how he figured out the formula.-


    -Intelligent Epic monkeys really are useful for figuring out the high-end rules,- Errant /mused. -Ah, do Masteries go up past Five? I remember the Dragons informing us they didn''t at their Fourteen to Sixteen level...-


    -He hasn''t tried to buy one yet, and if he did, it would probably be something totally awesome, like Stealth or Acrobatics.- Okay, they all had to grin. King Kong, the Primordial gorilla bouncing stealthier ghost. King Kong hiding ten feet away from you upside down in the tree and you can''t see him!... -My guess is yes, because Eternals have their own playbook, given the shit they have to deal with.-


    -Hmmm.- Haz¨¦ gave me the stink-eye. -You''ve got bad news again. The ''this is so awesomely broken BUT'' look, I think.-


    I had to roll my eyes. -Yeah. Once you take it, your Racial Levels lock in. No more additional Racials.-


    They both thought that over. -Okay, I can see that. It makes sense, making you an Exemplar of whatever you are at the time you get the Template. If you become something else, obviously you''re no longer an Exemplar. So, what''s the main issue?- Haz¨¦ asked.


    -You have to max out your Racial Levels or the Template application is wasted. In other words, you already have to be at the top of your race for the Infused Template to take hold. I.e. you have to be a racial exemplar, before you can be an Exemplar Lite. That means a /3, or a /4 if you are smart, and I don''t see any reason to give these out to non-Tens.


    -If you don''t have a max Racial Level, all the minor ones are wiped, naturally enough.-


    -Ahhhhhh. So, if we wanted to take some Celestial Racial Levels, we have to finish them off before we can take this Template.- Errant took a deep breath. -Damn. Like I don''t have enough incredibly expensive crap to pay Karma for right now.-


    Haz¨¦ favored me with a knowing smile. -And how many Racial Levels do you have in the works, Sama?- she /asked me.


    I /sighed. ¨C I started Nymph, Succubus, Ghaele Ahren, Erinyes, Mantissari, and Hag. I need sixty-seven in total, and like fifty to go.-


    They both gawked at me in Marktell. -Damn!- Errant /muttered. -You really don''t do things halfway!- He had to smirk, despite himself. -I mean, Nymph?-


    -Eight free Druid Null Levels. Otherwise, it just counters the Succubus influence on appearance and Charisma.- His jaw worked around that for a minute. Naturally, I didn''t care about the good looks side of things. I acknowledged it, sure, but that wasn''t why I did it.


    -Why such a spread?- Haz¨¦ had to /ask. -I mean, seriously?-


    -Nymph, potentially Charisma as Deflection to AC (have to pay the Karma), eight free Druid Levels.


    -Succubus, Seventeen Racial Levels, terminating in Lilitu. Demon racial bonus to Stealth and Perception. +10 Nat AC, True Sight, lightning and poison immunity, tail, +16 Strength, +16 Dex, +20 Con, +10 Int, +12 Wis, +20 Cha, base 60 Movement speed, Unarmed attacks equal to Monk of same hit dice, Profane Grace, DR 15/Good.-


    -Hurk!- Errant /managed. -Seventeen!- Which was a lot of AB!


    -Erinyes, fire immunity, natural Devilsight, potential access to wings, dunno. Mantissari, +18 to Dex, jumping, poison. Ahren, immune to Acid, Cold, Petrification, devasight. Hag, mostly a cheap way to buy off the Stat benefits of the other racial classes and reduce the cost.- And maaaaaaybe get to size L, if I wanted to be eight foot tall for the rest of my life. I was still considering that, especially since size-changing magic was pretty easy to come by.


    Buying Racial Levels wasn''t so bad if you already had the Stats that they gave, as you could simply skip over that aspect of the class. As a Forsaken, I naturally didn''t have to pay the same thing as a Powered might, as they would also be getting ALL the magical powers, status, and effects... which meant they had to be a LOT more careful about the Racial Classes they took. Yes, Succubi, great Caster Stats. Chaotic Evil sex DEMON you''re turning into, people...


    The problem with most of this stuff is that I could get most of the benefits that I wanted with only a few Levels in Ahren, Mantissari daemon, and Erinyes. I didn''t actually want to buy them up, even with reduced costs.


    But I had no choice now, or the Lesser Exemplar thing was just going to wipe them out. I had to reach Seventeen and be a Lilitu Equivalent!


    Argh. Just... argh...Like I didn''t have enough stuff to acquire...!


    Yeah, I was going to kill so many damn Mu Spores... it was just too bad I had to share them with Brothers...


    I had been seriously considering potential Marilith levels and evolving myself up four extra arms, just shapechanging them away when I didn''t need them. Good thing I hadn''t started that whole process...


    Succubus to lilithi to lilitu. If I could task the free Favored Levels into Shifter, well... I really wouldn''t need more than a handful of the Null Caster Levels myself...


    I still had to reach Seventeen. Tie the Tails and Wings to my Manticore Belt and Phoenix Cloak so I didn''t have seven extra limbs to worry about all the time...


    I had one or two Levels in all those, and was going to buy up the Nymph first to get the Null Druid Levels out of the way at the same time. The Stat boosts would have been noticed, but given the relative Stat boosts the Brothers were getting after their three years of massacre, wouldn''t have stood out so much.


    With Wayfair here, they also could be explained away as me borrowing from her.


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    Gah. So much Karma, so many Levels, so little time...


    It was just so convenient that a soloed Mu Spore was worth about one Level...

 246 Chapter Two Hundred and Forty-Six – Mushroom Giants?

    "Don''t you say it."


    "We''ve got giant mushroom people."


    "Don''t! It''s too obvious!"


    "And now we have Mushroom Giant people," Briggs went on, as if I hadn''t said anything. I threw up my hands as everyone tried not to laugh knowingly.


    And yet it be true. There were mushroom ogres and giants here, instead of, you know, normal ogres and hill giants.


    Their skin looked like mushroom hides, and they had toadstool caps on their heads. Their body hair was like cilia, moving weirdly, and they released clouds of spores when hit and when they breathed, which would have been annoying if everyone wasn''t Vajra''d or Masked by now. Their blood was also this creepy whitish hue...


    Like the straggler dark elves, they were following around the Mu Spores, harvesting the stuff they dropped in big longboats and containers on their back, as well as intermittently harvesting some of the more exotic and memorable fungi around... which actually turned out to be pretty valuable, when we started sifting through them very carefully. After all, having an invading fungus infiltrate your body and start converting you was not something we wanted to happen.


    So, the next Empire was the Greenhag Empire, Verd''s Grandhagmother Dearest. Amber was already toting her Gramma''s skull, Veis was pouting that her Grandmother seemed to be on the opposite side of the Hole and we wouldn''t be going there anytime soon... but we might be meeting her sometime soon regardless, who knows?


    Estemar and Errant once again took charge of the company, proceeding forwards as Briggs and I fanned out with our teams of Void Brothers to harvest ALL the Mu Spores. Wayfair stayed with Errant, to his somewhat consternation, as they wouldn''t be dealing with anything Epic hopefully... and for that, they had Elder Arg and Elder Wolf along, the latter eager to gain more of these Level things and feel his power increase very rapidly, indeed.


    So, the Company''s valiant hacking down of everything in their way around the Obelisk we''d toppled and buried under no less than six Mu Spores and the Pseudonatural mycoids (wow, making unnatural mushroom men even more unnatural was quite the gross achievement, I have to give Outside Creation some credit where it was due) that had been guarding it. The lads and ladies took it as an opportunity to get a little rest and some more Investing and Infusing done, while Elder Arg worked on a certain special project he and I had talked about, with the Girls helping him out.


    The Investing and Infusing was concentrated on improving the Giant Baneskulls we''d picked up earlier, especially since the apes needed some. Thankfully, we had extras that Haz¨¦ hadn''t spirited away yet, so they had stuff to work on in down time. The stronger gorillas particularly wanted to beat down the ogres. Maybe there was some racial rivalry going on there, or ancestral really bad blood?


    Elder Arg didn''t mind ripping apart giants limb from limb, of course, and there wasn''t a Jotun his size who could rival his strength, especially with Philosopher''s Might up.


    ------------


    Brother Wayfirst preferred to use his handfangs, but he wasn''t an idiot. He could use a bigger Weapon as readily as anyone, and we applauded politely as he downed his first solo Mu, previously working with Mindring to take down two others. Of course, I had to drop it from the sky, but eh, he did the job of carving it open with a Cleave-Train and AoO''s.


    Mu Goo Jars were inserted into the gunk, it was sucked inside; the psionic nexal was carved out, so very nice, and the other Brothers had all caught up by the time we were done. Disks followed them, full of many, many gallons of Mu Goop.


    They''d all been clued in on what it might mean to get Lesser Exemplar status. We all agreed the Bloodline compulsion probably wouldn''t affect a Forsaken Human/4, but you never knew. In any event, there''d still be recognition, and politeness meant we wouldn''t do it without Wolf''s permission.


    Naturally, it takes time to track down giant floating fungi-balls across a 900 x 300 mile zone covered in building-sized mushrooms, many of which liked to do exciting things when potential fertilizer was in the vicinity. Equally wonderful, Void Brothers can veilwalk very quickly to close in on their targets, and if I wasn''t THAT fast... I was still damn fast, and getting faster as I bought up some Hag and Succubi Levels for that extra +10 to movement speed, and could really kick it into high gear.


    We''d left the company at the Obelisk in the middle of the zone because we still had to extend the Wake. The company wasn''t staying AT the Obelisk, of course... something nasty and powerful might arrive there to investigate. A couple dozen miles away in the huge mushroom forest was fine, under some giant mushrooms that didn''t drop acid flowers or have animate roots or launch spore bullets or pop tendrils or... whatever, they were just big mushrooms that could make sure we weren''t seen from overhead. The fliers kept watch from above, waiting for us to come back with Jars full of Phat Lewt.


    Which is pretty much what we did. The speed we killed the Mu Spores at was only limited by the speed Briggs and I could get them to drop them out of the sky. So, basically every two hours we moved from one''s territory to the next, leaving a Brother behind to loot and then went to find another one. Rinse, repeat, find them all, kill them all.


    No, we weren''t particularly interested in keeping them around to harvest from for perpetuity, which the Hags obviously were. If this reality shard collapsed and they survived, there would be a whole lot of Mu Spores packed into a very small area, all of them pissed at us... or they''d all be swept off into Leng and vanish, and with them their sweet Mu Goop, Nexals, and Karma. Too bad, very sad. In order for them and their drive to cover the world in the Grey not to be wasted, best to kill them all now. Be confident, everyone, we will collapse this Reality Shard, so extermination of the elder abominations before they vanish is a mercy and useful thing to do!


    No, no, it''s not greedy harvesting of precious, precious resources without caring about species extinction. There were a whole lot more Reality Shards with Mu Spores in them, according to the wistful Brothers.


    Ah, if Briggs and I had just gone around massacring stuff with them for those three years, what joys and wonders we might have accomplished...


    Aaaargh. Doing the right thing, doing the right thing, I sobbed silently to myself, vision of so much Karma I could not eat it all running down my throat with all sorts of Levels attached.


    But, I could cover nearly two thousand miles a day. That was more than half the Mu farms, and a bunch of dead Mu Spores. Revitalizing strikes, chasing off the edge of that fatigue from running 75 mph for hours and hours.


    Damn, all those wasted lived-line miles, when this space was just going to go away. Sob, sob. So unfair on my poor feets...


    -----------


    I met up with Briggs in area 15, he not having quite the legs I did (in more ways than one, hah!) and we proceeded back to the area of the Obelisk, where the lads were energetically searching down dangerous things to make sure they got their Naming Karma, but not straying too far from the Wake so they could rendezvous with us. We could turn around, and go booking as everyone got on the Disk Train and headed for the border to the Greenhag Empire.


    And if the Elves had been up to some rather impressively awesome conspiratorial Rituals with Wayfair while we were gone, that was totally fine...


    ----------


    Unsurprisingly, it was wet.


    Long term terrain adjustments had resulted in a lot of floodlands here. Rivers sprawled over miles, marshes and swamps went on and on. There was a lot of game around, of a size suitable to feed a lot of giants... and there were a lot of giants.


    River giants, hill giants, swamp giants, and some rare fog giants formed the upper range of the intelligent threats here, with hordes of ogres, bands of trolls, and giant animals of the marsh and river-dwelling kind dominating the rest. Giant crocodiles and crayfish seemed rather common, with the occasional giant pike, giant snakes, and vecme in the deeper waters. We saw catoblepas, with their killing stares, at a careful distance, as well as different kinds of great sauropods munching away on the reeds and goop.


    We weren''t pleased to find out some of the ogres were were-crocs, BUT... they weren''t True werecrocs, so they had no Exemplar bloodline, as the Wolf confirmed.


    There were just a whole lot of Jotuns. And once the alarm horns carved from the thighs of massive sauropods sounded, they did keep coming.


    This was a problem. Normal ogres were one-hit kills for the vanguard team, but werecroc ogres were two-hits, which meant much harder to mass slaughter. Any True Jotun was at least two hits, with the elites reaching three and four. You start pouring hundreds, then thousands of such drawn over many leagues by the sounds of those horns, and yeah, the company was going to have a problem. Several hundred head-sized rocks coming in at two hundred mph was a good way to spoil everyone''s day.


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    Happily, they didn''t seem to have much in the way of air power, not needing it when they had so much anti-air defense walking around everywhere. Shields and armor didn''t really stop the rocks, you had to Soak the hit or you''d get smashed off your feet like a straw dummy.


    The best way to deal with them was to get in and out and do our business quickly, not allowing them to truly encircle us and gang up to stop us. We could definitely move faster, but avoiding notice was extremely difficult, as they had naturally high vantage points, and Jotun eyes are bigger than an eagle''s and can see things a long distance away. Avoiding notice was very difficult, and as soon as the first alarm horns blew, things were going to get very difficult.


    So, we had to move at night, which, dim as this place was, wasn''t so much of an issue, along with the wide prevalence of night vision and devilsight in the company by now. Some illusions to ward us in shadows, and were just a patch of shadow moving across the ground, with brothers scouting ahead, and invisible dragons and griffons overhead, laying out the ground and potential encounters up there, steering us away from knots of ogres and giants who could set up a really bad encirclement of us.


    It didn''t mean they didn''t notice the Wake above us, as the thing was bloody obvious. But word hadn''t spread that we were coming, so they didn''t know it was us doing it, and although it was interesting, it didn''t mean they were going to drop everything and move after it. Also, because we were minimizing kills, it was very slim and more erratic than the areas behind us wedged open grandiosely by the slaughter of legendary flying fungi and stuff.


    Oh, we did have to kill things, but Sound Bubbles of size made sure that all the horns being blown didn''t go anywhere, and nobody heard whoever we had to slaughter. We also got up on any horn blowers VERY quickly; much, much more quickly they expected, and they didn''t get the chance to run away and be seen by others. If some of the ornerier animals or predators messed with us, well, they became Wake fuel, and a lot of the folks made comments about giant crocs making some excellent and stylish footwear... who were promptly put in their place by their counterparts dreaming of dragon-skin cavalry boots and thigh-highs.


    Still, we managed to keep our profile low enough that no huge alarm rang out during the night.


    Naturally enough, the dim daylight of the occluded sky did eventually come, and we could see the Obelisk on the horizon... and the massive banyan tree city that spread about it for miles, Olympian-sized and populated by tens of thousands of Jotuns.


    Yeah, this was going to be interesting...


    --------------


    Strangely enough, it wasn''t as hard as expected. I knew there was a reason we kept Void Brothers along.


    Jotuns as a rule aren''t too clever, and definitely aren''t up on the military handbook. If we had problems moving the Company to a safe area, and risked them ganging up on us, well, then the thing to do was draw them away.


    The Hags had to know something was wrong and we were coming, and the giants and ogres closer to that mangrove/banyan city did indeed seem to be on the alert, especially seeing that rift in the sky coming for them. However, what exactly was coming they weren''t sure about, because the Hags didn''t know, and so couldn''t tell them.


    So, when a bunch of Void Brothers came out of nowhere and started kicking up a fuss, that got attention, and a whole bunch of giants, ogres, and the hags giving them orders converged on that area very quickly.


    Who knew a bunch of feared assassins did diversions so well?


    ++++++++


    Glossary: Olympian-sized means that everything mundane is approximately twice normal size. Trees, mice, bunnies, the grass, etc. In other words, it''s a world where Giants look like humans, and humans look like halflings. It also means mundane animals and magical beasts are twice as strong/tough/etc... you know, challenges for legendary heroes and demigods.

 247 Chapter Two Hundred and Forty-Seven – Timberrrrrrr...

    The Jotuns flooded towards the disturbance. Owing to a severe lack of real-time communication and post-combat lack of high-level people to communicate with, the Hags didn''t know precisely what was going on.


    They knew the Wake had come, and they had enough magical perception to see the effect it was having upon the reality here. They didn''t know precisely who was responsible, although disjointed reports of men with rainbows of odd lights around them made them wince in fear. Unlike their servants, they knew what Void Brothers were, and Void Brothers had never acted as blatantly as they had here in the Fifth Zonering. The slaughter from not long ago had been too massive and apparent in their memories.


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    So, the command to surround and kill the Void Brothers went out, and the Jotuns responded with fanatic zeal for their Hag mothers and matrons.


    The primary guards on the Obelisk weren''t sent off, of course, as that would be just dumb. However, they weren''t reinforced with the uncounted hordes, either, who were now all engaged in pursuit and slaughter of the Void Brother diversion.


    The entrance of the Company from another quarter was almost unnoticed, in contrast. The combination of speed and killing everything in their path, along with the rambunctious horn-blowing and drum-pounding and chest-beating and feet-slamming really did the job of drowning out any inadvertent alarms. So did the arrows and spears in the larynx, but those were just circumstantial.


    Even the griffons and dragons were down low, levitating just above the ground, propelled ahead by flight magic or bouncing, driving kicks to the ground below. Elder Arg was just behind the three of us at the tip, huge arms hurling away any over-sized bodies falling that might get in the way of the company behind us. There were a lot of giant''s skulls shrunk down and mounted on Spears, Bows, and Axes, thick red banefires about the points leaping at the chance to kill, turning the whole company into an incoming river of death in the eyes of any Jotuns who happened to see us.


    Our river streamed towards the crude, cyclopean walls rising around the Obelisk. They were just as tall as those of the drow, but there weren''t nearly as many troops atop them. That was good, as the thing which could wreak the most harm on us was the stone-throwing of the Jotuns, as powerful as catapults and far more accurate, with a greater rate of fire.


    There were still thousands of giants to kill, and those on the walls all had stacks of rocks to throw. Ergo, just like before, the Brothers went up the wall and picked off the throwers.


    Invisible elven fliers dispersed around the walls ahead of time, setting up the largest Sound Bubbles possible. The sounds of horns and alarms and battle would meet the Bubbles and just vanish, leaving only dribbles spreading past the top of them to draw attention. It would buy us time.


    And then, the mass spell bombardment opened up.


    We hadn''t used the elves for mass AoE''s, instead choosing to preserve their power for emergencies. The directed fire of Bane''d bows was incredibly lethal and inexhaustible, and so sufficed for offensive power.


    But now we were facing enemies with large amounts of Health and no effective magic resistance. It was time to bring as much punishment as we could.


    Ritual Casting to increase their collective Caster Levels, every elf by now was at least equal to an Eight Caster, and most were Nines. As the Brothers once again attracted a lot of attention by starting to sweep the walls of brawling, shouting Jotuns two and three times their height, the Company came in and opened up on the masses of them gathered around the Obelisk, already clustering and gathering in the direction of the great stairs to the walls, as if they would rush up and reinforce their kin up top.


    Flattened fireballs detonated at ground level, sweeping out in hemispheres of burning energy. Lightning bolts tore through long lines of giants and ogres. Storms of ice came pounding down with skull-sized chunks of ice. Walls of flame exploded through the battlefield, burning and dividing. Whole sections of the plaza collapsed into mud that would slow them down, or drown and bury the truly unfortunate.


    A score of sixty-foot wako, leashed like flat scaled hounds, were swallowed in a wall of fire and ended up fleeing wildly from the flames in the wrong direction, while their masters cursed and beat out the fires burning over their skins. The marshy lands meant there was no cavalry force, which was a relief.


    Unfortunately, the bombardment of spells was rarely enough to significantly harm or kill any of the giants, they simply had too much raw vitality and power. A few fell to elves who had invested heavily in metamagic effects that could boost spell damage, but mostly what it did was disperse a whole lot of damage very fast to clusters of giants in explosive, blinding fashion, rip up the battle zone, and break up lines of sight.


    The company plowed right into the confused mass with a vengeance.


    Individually, a Spear or Axe wouldn''t really do more damage than a spell could to any giant or ogre... but considerably more than one could be so applied. If they were already wounded, they just went down faster.


    Dragons and griffons were all missile platforms now, getting some elevation for their riders, who focused on anything that was lifting a spear, javelin, or rock to throw. Volleys of anywhere from five to ten burning, bloody arrows would streak out to those unfortunate giants, and smash them down as or more effectively than a bolt of lightning.


    The dragons and dogs were keeping up the breath weapon attacks, reaching over the lines of dwarves and humans and letting go at close range where the numbers of ogres and giants were the densest, wreaking horrible damage to them repeatedly and violently. Thundering lightning, blood-freezing frost, and all-consuming flame spewed out in bolt after cone of killing power, relieving the massive assault to the sides and the piling up of huge bodies to the front.


    Great clubs, axes, and mauls smashed down on the invading forces, and the Jotuns were stunned to find enchanted Shields actually holding up under the blows. Weapons dancing with fires the hue of their own blood came striking out for their souls, shredding tough flesh and hides and biting deeper than they ever thought things in the hands of smaller races could do.


    Of course, the giants had elites. They towered a head or more above their kin, were clad in actual mail and plate, and their eyes were bright and sharp, unafflicted by the slow minds and sloth of their lesser kin. They were commanded by those among them with greenish tints to their skin, and prominent fangs, the signs of Hagspawn.


    These were the guys AA, Briggs, and I ran into.


    The rote giants were all two-hitters, unless they got sufficiently softened up ahead of time, or we crit. That meant advancing was slower, as there were fewer openings, and the fact they all had massive reach didn''t help matters.


    Tremble was back with the company, flitting from here to there, Curing or Transferring Wounds in numbers to offset the smashing blows and great cleaving attacks coming in from giants who we couldn''t kill fast enough. The spell bombardments had thinned out, and now it was down to a slogfest of who could deal out the damage the fastest, as Music blared in their minds and drowned out the bone-shaking deep voices screaming all around them, coordinating, inspiring, uplifting, tracking, guiding, and motivating all at once.


    The ogres I could usually take out at speed, and when I needed to heal fast, that''s what I did. My Cleave runs were not as long, nor as fast. Happily, the giants were bunching up in order to get at us, which did ease some of the load, and the killing edge of Quaver extended out three feet beyond the edge of the blade as I was swinging her, also helping with that.


    Multi-ton bodies pressed and toppled around me, over top of merely half-ton bodies. The noise level was incredible, the impact of Jotun feet on the ground like the pounding of hammers on stone, but it didn''t stop me, or the unceasing firing of Fall, Sparky, or Wayfair, who energetically kept up a bloody stream of offense at everything around me. Generally, it took four shots to get a Jotun down to one-hit range, which involved coordination in a massive, chaotic press of bodies that made me feel like a toddler in room full of adults, just like my giant days in Nightmare all over again.


    Damn, I had hated those days...


    Being smart, Briggs and AA followed my lead. I could clear a trail better than they could, and they could widen it with aplomb, especially if the giants were unfortunate enough to inherit a few spikes or bolts. They didn''t have the missile fire volume that I did (I talked about the Karmic investment required to make it effective, and they both sighed and focused on other things).


    Zeitgeist burned through dense flesh, hides, and bone, trailing the edge of a new age, and sending down these oversized holdovers from antiquity in endless sweeping swirls of slaughter. He danced through their bodies like a ghost in blacks and greys of passing time, and despite themselves, bone-deep fear rose in the eyes of the giants to see him coming.


    He was the Ancient and the Axe, there to send to death those mighty primordial races who hadn''t had the grace to die, and messed with the new age.


    Briggs... just beat stuff.


    Endure played the giants like drums, crashing into and rebounding with appalling speed and force. I saw watching giants gawking at how hard he was hitting them. Knees kicked out as if made of reeds, exploding in passing. Stone-hard ribs caved in with crunches every bit as loud as those they could evict on one another. Heads coming down within reach cracked, shattered, even exploded, mighty necks bent and broke like trees shattering.


    Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack!


    Every step a blow. If no one was in reach, he threw the Hammer, and Endure hurtled out to drive into the center of a face, then back to his hand... or more frequently, carom over a skull, which cracked and jerked away, neck shattering at the impact, to bounce away to a second skull and repeat the process.


    Never more than two, unfortunately. There was a Crystal Dragon Technique that could actually bounce a hit multiple times, but Briggs couldn''t wield Chi, unfortunately. However, it didn''t matter. Briggs was plotting out way ahead of the hits, and when Endure bounced back to his hand, it was just in time to rip out another knee, pulp a heart inside its chest, or crush a skull.


    Everything is a Nail was some Grandmastery...


    ------


    The Lesser Exemplar Hagspawn Jotuns were not far ahead of us. Not being as dense as their kin, they were watching us coming with trepidation.


    First, little people were harvesting rows of combat-happy Jotuns like cornstalks. Bellies and throats cut, limbs flopping off, heads exploding, knees kicking out like twigs, ogres even being smashed back into their own. They realized that these small things could hit just as hard as they could... and maybe harder!


    Second, fifteen trails of bloody flame were spitting in all directions, finishing any wounded, softening up those in front with shots to the throat, face, groin, or knee, moving with fantastic precision and coordination, every shot primed to open up a slash, move the giant into reach of a lethal blow, disrupt movements, deflect blows.


    The three were like ghosts, only the faceless one in full armor ever taking a hit, none of which seemed to do more than move him a few inches as they glanced off his armor.


    Behind us was left a trail of dead and dying Jotuns, unwhite flames burning on the gallons of blood and barrels of gore leaking out of them. There was no mistaking the trail of dead we were leaving, and we were coming for them!


    Third, they couldn''t see what we were going to do...


    After the fact, they could subconsciously appreciate the arcs and flow, the fluidity and abruptness, the measure of every step and the cadence of every strike we were letting go. But while it happened, before it happened... they couldn''t see it.


    And they suddenly didn''t feel very lucky today...

 248 Chapter Two Hundred and Forty-Eight - The Lion Doesn’t Sleep Tonigh

    The Blessed Legionnaires were clad in breastplate and greaves, with greatshields fifteen feet high and thicker than your average door. Some had Axes, some had Spears, and the Hagspawn commanders seemed to prefer Swords. There were a hundred of the brutes, lined up and waiting for us, shields set in a wall, ready to thrust and hack as soon as we came in range.


    Mama Hags be so proud of their widdle boys...


    ---


    But they couldn''t see what we were going to do, and that ominous feeling of not having luck with them was making them quite tense.


    They were big, incredibly tough, fast, strong, smart. But Luck and Fate weren''t with them, as they were in any and every other fight since they had been blessed by the Hag Witches. Their lesser kin were being slaughtered even faster than they could do so, and that ominous storm was pointing at them.


    Hags opened up with spells from six different angles. Energy-devouring necroic bolts, rains of flesh-cutting crystals, seething dark tentacles from places unknown dripping acidic poison, hellfire eruptions, lightning called down from the skies desperately...


    None of it even slowed the incoming little attackers down. The magic evaporated, or simply passed through that swirl of lights as if the target wasn''t there.


    The giant shields locked down, the front rank of spear users got ready, and as the three broke loose of the melee with the lesser giants, the first javelins went streaking out.


    There seemed to be no way they could avoid them, but somehow, they did. The giants had never seen anything so agile, like they could dance between raindrops, and as javelins thudded into the corpses of the dead Jotuns around and behind them, they bounced off Shields, seemed to bend away from the trio just enough to miss them entirely... or bounced off the armor of the faceless one.


    And then they were coming, moving even faster than the incredible speed of the Blessed Legion. The javelins became an intermittent rain that simply couldn''t seem to hit anything as the trio wove and jagged, scarcely slowing down as they came in ¨C


    Spears lunged at the armored figure in the lead, backed by more than enough power to penetrate steel like paper.


    He stopped on a dime, so suddenly the extended Jotuns almost fell down trying to reach him. His bleeding Hammer knocked the closest Spears up and away, and then the woman with the cloak-like flowing golden hair was running at them along their own Spears, while the swirl of lights and Glaive heralding the end of their time was flowing along underneath it.


    A full volley of spikes and bolts opened up on every Giant within reach. Pure instinct had them raising their shields to deflect the shots heading right for their astonished faces. Some made it in time, some did not.


    And then the Ancient and the Axe slid in right underneath their upraised shields, and the first of the Blessed went down with a cry as Banefire coursed up through the gut-opening slashed up underneath his breastplate, and went down, vivic fire boiling out his seven orifices already.


    ---


    Briggs jumped like a cannonball, slamming into the dead giant, driving the corpse back into his fellows... and lining himself up to strike the backsides of that disciplined battle line. Endure crashed into a spine as tough as a tree, and Lumberjack Ranks did their thing with the crit, and took the legs of that giant out instantly.


    Up top, I was dancing on the shields raised to defend against me, poking shots through the narrow openings, and if they chose to hack or thrust or swing at me instead, their heads were exposed. Quaver dipped, and that generally didn''t remain a problem. Wayfair and Sparky were even crueler, lashing out like snakes over the edges of the shields, and as the giants gawked at the glowing spikes or bulging Tail in front of them, let go at point-blank range.


    If I couldn''t reach a head, there was often a giant arm jutting up waving around some heavy implement, looking like it needed to be trimmed up a bit. The screams following the severed limbs added to the chaos.


    The shields stayed up. Below, Briggs and AA made full use of that, staying below the giant''s line of sight with the best of Rockborn Jotun-fighting techniques, and really ripping them apart. Like bowling pins, the giants were falling, unable to see who was coming below, only me and Fall with the trigger held down, or Quaver rushing to meet any giant brave enough to expose his face to lock on me for a blow.


    We had already found out that this Lesser Exemplar Template, derived from a Legendary Template, was generally enough to trigger Bane of Legends. The giants below us were not happy to discover likewise.


    They were smart, and they realized very quickly that we were wielding Weapons designed to kill giants, and especially giants like them. It didn''t do them any good, but I could see the recognition in their eyes as I shot them in the face, buried Quaver a foot or two through their noses, slit their throats, sliced a path through their eyes, or if I was lucky and in the right position, actually took their heads right off.


    We had Bane of Giants on them. We had Bane of Legends. We had Blooding, to offset their fast healing. We had Enmity, preying on the Evil in their souls. Courage was blaring +7 to everything to everyone, Soulfire was letting them know our spirits weren''t any weaker than theirs, and Discipline Weapons were making sure we had that extra edge in wielding our weapons to really annoy them.


    AA had the Ocean Style to III, and Shadow as well. Zeitgeist''s shaft was shifting between a foot and six feet in length on a whim, wielded without difficulty in the tight press of massive bodies, finding all the weak spots and biting very deep as he did so. Blinded by my shots, his opponents were meat on the plate, carved up and through and being hacked down thoroughly and rather messily.


    Briggs used Crystal and Ocean, but AA''s killing power came from his Helix, while Briggs'' came from his Grandmastery, and multiplied on crits. Thus, any crit was an instant kill, be it pounding a chest so hard it pulped the heart behind it, or hitting the skull hard enough to shatter it, or breaking the giant''s neck like a twig. AA was a Master of the glaive, there was no doubt of that, but his Helices would work with any weapon or no weapon in his hands.


    In Briggs'' hands, a Hammer was death. Even in the skirl of giant bodies, crashing armor, clanging shields, and deep shouts and screams, the impacts of Endure stood out. The momentous crack of iron-hard bone giving way. The shriek of thick steel punched through. The thunderous whump of blunt impact against flesh that liquified the cells and sent bodies sprawling. The crunch of bone driving into cushioning brains and not finding enough support to stop them.


    Truly, Endure had the beat down.


    --------


    The head of a Hagspawn Ogre went flying. Estemar Clove through, sinking Angfar deep into the guts of the ogre behind it, and Aftershock activated, tearing out its belly in a gory spray of blood and vivic fire. He raised his Shield to take a massive blow on it, momentarily numbing his arm, but not sending him flying as it should have. The ogre behind it blinked down at him, and then a Spear came thrusting past him like it was mounted on a piston, driving up through its thick throat, into its brain, and three inches of it punching through the thick bone out the back of its skull.


    It was drawn back as perfectly as it came in, and he rammed his shoulder into the stinking carcass, while Veis tumbled past and between the legs of the next ogre there, hamstringing it with smooth touches of her kukri. It took a step, tendons snapped, and it began to fall. Amber''s rapier flickered past its neck, blood spurted out as its throat opened, and then she inserted the narrow blade into its ear as it fell past, just avoiding the spray as she did so.


    Nearby, the North Wind was also butchering ogres quickly. They no longer held a great advantage over the rest of the company, but they were still strong and skilled. Talatha and Jhon continued their one-two-kill teamwork, Liiss let loose endless bolts of lightning and balls of fire from Reserve, and Feist and Grym were ganging up on the much-bigger ogres, with the hyn using the Rockborn as a launching platform to strike high, while Grym hacked them down from below. Barus was playing healing duty, while the small moving hill that was Brown was dealing with any ogres that managed to force their way through the lines, with extreme prejudice and comfy hugs with lightning-dripping claws.


    Oh, yeah, he was intelligent. Why not Open his Chakras, too?


    A cone of freezing breath blew past them, tightly packed ogres screamed as air liquified and frozen skin shattered like clay, and a few of them died, hearts, lungs, eyes, and brains flash-frozen. The rest were disposed of quickly, but their enthusiastic fellows behind didn''t slow down, trampling over their frosted compatriots, just in time to receive the flaming follow-up.


    Captains Fido and Shirley followed up their breaths with leaps, clamping jaws and ripping claws that burned with lightning, great wrenches, and blood spraying from torn throats and chests.


    Great burning heaps of ogres and giants were piled up, and unlike the undead, the vivic flames didn''t stop those behind. However, they did make cover.


    Tremble was hovering over the center of the formation, dishing out healing spells without fail as quickly as possible, for there was no doubt that they were taking a beating all around. Luckily, the dragons and the dogs were slamming the thickest concentrations of giants with their breath weapons, breaking them time and again as magical or ranged fire finished off the weakened brutes, if the waiting Axes or Spears did not.


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    The berserkers were getting a lot of Wound Transfers, but there were also several long knives being traded among them called the "Little Healers'', which were +I Healing Edge, and helping hold back the damage. Even the most berserk among them knew they were facing very dangerous foes, and knew not to be stupid about the fighting... which hardly meant they didn''t enjoy cutting down fellow sentient bipeds bigger than they were.


    All in all, it was pitched combat and a fairly enjoyable experience for all concerned... as long as it resolved before too awful long.


    --------------


    "Good morning. You''re in no danger. Wolf is here to reassure you that we are not taking advantage of you, enslaving you, subjugating you, or forcing you to obey. He wears the Mark on his head because he wants it there, and he has the power, as do you, to remove it at any time. I am going to put it in place, then I am going to work on your restraints."


    The golden lion was magnificent, over six hundred pounds, all King of Cats... yet still just a basic lion that hadn''t taken any Level advances. He was staring curiously at the pony-sized Wolf, as he could tell that something was very different about Wolf.


    Thus, he only growled as I placed the Mark, and then went absolutely stupid quiet as he beheld the Mark, and then walked through the Door and the Markspace exploded with presences around him.


    He waited quietly as I applied acidic rust to his restraints, and then I opened his first set of Chakra. I think he was too busy /talking to Elder Arg, who was twisting the heads off of ogres and throwing the rocks of giants back at them energetically while he /chatted with the Lion.


    That Lion definitely had some grievances built up. As I let Briggs and AA clean up the last of the elite Lesser Exemplar Giants, I learned that the reason that there were no were-lions or Exemplar Lite Ogres is because his bloodline was too strong, and instantly subjugated them if they were imbued, and they went berserk and tried to free him. The stronger giants and the Hags didn''t have that issue.


    On the flip side, because their own bloodline was strong, it took more of his blood and the Mu Goop to make them, so there weren''t nearly as many of them as there were of the drow.


    I thought that was pretty reasonable. The Wolf noted the thick bands of metal were broken, it only needed to be bent and lifted out of the way, and he yanked out the spear that was bleeding the lion with a jerk, giving the great cat time to heal.


    Barus walked over, and cast Animal Growth on the Lion. The great cat erupted in size, doubling in every dimension, flinging the metal irresistibly out of the way, and burst out roaring to its feet, the sound drawing shocked gazes from the giants in every direction.


    -Go hunting,- I /told the Wolf and Lion, and that was exactly what they set out to do. When an Exemplar Bite/Claw/Claw/Rake/Rake killing machine leaps on a giant, well, the results are explosively bloody. While he couldn''t one-round a Jotun without a crit, he could play merry havoc on the ogres... but I hinted the giants were worth more, and he hated them more, so that''s who he went to play with.


    Now, there was only hastily bringing the Obelisk down. However, the Rockborn Priests had received a thorough briefing from Haz¨¦ on what she did, and now we had two powerful killing machines who would be soooo happy to send it tumbling down...


    I glanced at the discrete Jar sucking up all those hundreds of gallons of Exemplar Lion blood, and whistled to myself as I got back to work.

 249 Chapter Two Hundred and Forty-Nine – Grandmother Uraskalae, Hello!

    The couple of lightning bolts coming down might have alerted the Hags and Jotuns that something was going on in a different location. Of course, who would be dumb enough to keep using magic against Void Brothers?


    And then a very angry lion flew up as some chuckling Rockborn Clerics turned the foundation to muck, tiiiiiip, and over she went.


    The ley lines here were a lot less rigid, flowing around and through the place like rivers and streams. Just like before, there were five of them: three heading out to the neighboring zones, one incoming from the Slow Shard, and one going Over There to a palatial estate in some redwood-sized banyan trees.


    Poor palatial banyans. I will say that seeing trees that large being tossed a couple hundred yards into the air is pretty cool, and when they came down in all directions it was pretty impressive on the old Wrecked-''Er Scale.


    A thousand miles of ley lines blew into the sky heading north and south, a mere five hundred miles or so clockwise... and then an unknown distance backwards and through the sweeping wall of Slow Time looming over there counter-wise. Who knows just what might be happening in there?


    But right now, we''d shut down two of the outgoing ley lines powering this Grand Formation. That meant all their power had necessarily been re-routed holewards into the only remaining ley line there.


    Sever that Obelisk, and there would be a massive back-up of the energy being forced through this system. The implications were explosive, in a country-cracking kind of way.


    Now, there was just to take out the Hags.


    -----------


    They were the fastest to get here, of course, combination of flight and dimensional magic. Of course, they came upon a scene of total slaughter, thousands of butchered Jotuns, canyons splitting the ground, Obelisk fallen down, vivic fires having a freaking feast, the Wake punching a hole towards the sun in the sky miles wide and getting wider, cracking open a path towards the inevitable pressure of reality come to reclaim some territory.


    Their screams and curses were indeed something to hear, and didn''t fade when they noticed the Lion and its blood was missing.


    They were even less happy when they came plummeting down out of the air, and the Brothers, Briggs, and I rolled aside the corpses we were waiting patiently under, and made for them.


    Everyone was now fully ego-satiated that they could kill one of these Hags alone, and given we were missing four Brothers who were out there leaving a trail of dead Jotuns miles long behind them, this was a time for as much slaughter as fast as possible.


    That meant the Empress Hag had to die. There wasn''t much out there going to survive long when six Void Brothers, Briggs, and I converged on her.


    The Hags were actually weaker than the shellycoat Empress'' get had been, being almost uniformly Lesser Exemplars, with a couple with daemonic bloodlines who were obviously ''princesses''. No Pseudos, for some reason.


    Empress Uraskalae was a full Exemplar, of course, even showing a hint of a mane in her hair from the stolen bloodline. Not that we much cared.


    The strategy of the Brothers was pretty simple: feed the crits to me and Briggs. Briggs'' were bigger, but I got more of them.


    It didn''t matter how fast she was, or how strong she was. She couldn''t fly, and she couldn''t teleport. She couldn''t Cast at all; the magic was torn apart before it could ever take form with all those Helices on top of her.


    The Health Qi venting off her was almost solid as she screamed in pain from the whirlwinds of attacks pouring in on her. She jerked and fell as Endure nearly cracked her knee before the Health Qi took the injury, and I blurred crits across her neck, up her face, under her ribs, and across her eyes.


    Her daughters closed in quickly, some wasting time on spells or buffs, momentarily certain that their mother/grandmother/Empress could survive the horrifying round of attacks taking place long enough for the dozen of them to get in and relieve her.


    Three or six attacks each by six Brothers, generating crits fed to Briggs and myself, resulting in six for me and three for him. Plus Cutting her Life.


    We came together in a splash and spray of hacking, thrusting, sweeping Weapons, coordinated impossibly well, feeding into one another, feeling every dip and dodge we had to make to accommodate one another, aid one another, nobody''s Weapon interfering with anyone else''s.


    Her cry of disbelief didn''t do any good, as we blew through six thousand Health Qi in under ten seconds, and suddenly she was in seven pieces and falling apart as we came apart, and came back together on a ten-foot-tall winged and horned demon Hag with living vines for hair.


    The Hag Princess had just enough time to gape in disbelief at the ruin of what was left of her mother before she was shredded in an explosion of Health Qi and the gore that came afterwards.


    The incoming Hags slowed down precipitously upon seeing that, and our numbers split in both directions. Experience had showed us that the daughters tended to have two or three thousand Health Qi, which one team could burn through incredibly fast.


    The Hags lost any magic they had working under violent Helix disassembly, flailed about with ripping claws, but because they hadn''t come in as a group, we swirled around them in flurries of Weapons hungry for Legendary Hags, and tore them apart.


    It was about then that the survivors realized that they should run.


    Now we fully scattered, and lo, there were eight of them, and eight of us. The Empress was the only one who could have outrun us, and we didn''t even let them get to the newly blasted canyons that were filling with water from all the rivers and marshes the ley lines had blown through.


    The Wolf and the Lion came out from cover at that moment, giving Brother Wayfist a hand with his target in classic wolfpack style. Watching the three of them go after her while she was down in a ripping, tearing ball of fury was enough to terrify all the surviving Hags, who found they could not run away from their attackers. Their Health Qi could absorb a hit, but not before steps faltered, knees buckled for a moment, hamstrings jerked, and they could only fight against a terrible foe whose motions they could not read, who magic did nothing to, and whose Helices were ripping away their lives.


    Briggs was a thoughtful type, and slammed his Fiend-Hag into the one I had selected, sending them both stumbling and eliciting more AoO''s as they caught their balance, even if it took only a heartbeat.


    I fed him crits, since his were bigger than mine, and we circled around the winged, tailed, horned, vine-haired Hags who were trying to snap and claw at us and getting nowhere.


    Oh, and they were receiving a lot of missile fire to the face, which they didn''t much appreciate, and which opened up more opportunities.


    Six melee attacks of mine would generally generate one or two crits, which I fed to Briggs, and when he came in with those 600+ Health hits to the cranium or ribs, there was an explosion of expending Health Qi that was incredibly impressive.


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    They couldn''t break, couldn''t flee, could only try and spin with us, try to keep us in sight, as I cut red ribbons across them, and Briggs came in harder than any Jotun had ever hit them.


    Then his hit blew through the last of one''s Health Qi and all the way through three hundred-plus Health, and caved in her chest. Banefire exploded out inside her skull, and she dropped without an intact bone in her body. Briggs took a long step, spinning and anchoring, and drove Endure into the base of the spine of the Demon Hag trying to protect her face from the unending stream of missiles plunging into it.


    She screamed in agony, I heard the creak of bone rasping under the impact, and hopped forwards, striking up.


    Her arms went flying. Five Tails pounded death into her skull, driving her over backwards, and Briggs watched her fall over backwards right down in front of him.


    He pounded her chest flat against her spine, and she stopped screaming.


    I grabbed Endure on the rebound, and he whipped and let go, while I took a free ride sixty feet away, Quaver and Tremble angling in as Valorous ignited out of Arsenal for that sweet, sweet Spirited Charge and Pounce damage multiplier.


    Brother Ancientaxe slammed her arms up and out of the way, and both my Swords drove into his opponent''s chest to the hilt as he also fed me a crit, while Endure hit her face like a steel girder and knocked her over backwards in a splash of crimson Qi twenty feet high. Exemplar Lite Greenhag screeched, which was shut up as she started taking Tailspikes to the face.


    AA didn''t even bother to stick around, flitting away to help Bonescythe with his opponent.


    Stand disdainfully swatted away her claws, and I butterflied her chest with what looked like a solid wall of spurting Health Qi and banefire intermixing.


    Real blood sprayed in every direction, her arms flew off as a side effect, and banefire took her.


    I looked back in time to see Briggs charging, heaving Endure at two Hags who were fighting Lightscepter and Wavespear right next to one another, showing a modicum of cunning.


    Endure beat, beat a double-tap as it crashed off one skull, ricocheted to the second, and as the opening suddenly sprouted crashing double Rods and a lunging Spear, he was already in midair. The Hammer hit his hand and he came down as Lightscepter fed him a crit, and something like eight hundred points of damage vented skywards in a plume of Health Qi, staggering the Hag, who had definitely never expected to be hit so hard in her life.


    Briggs hit the ground, sinking nowhere as far down as the Hag who he had just slammed six inches into the tiles of the plaza. He spun around in what looked leisurely motion, but only took a second, and Endure hit her hip.


    There was a natural crit of his own. Bone broke, her thigh was now connecting at an obtuse angle, and she lurched over and fell.


    Rods crossed across her throat like blades, Helices ripped at her life, and flesh and iron bone parted as Lightscepter''s Test of Faith took off her head.


    The other Hag tried to hurl Wavespear aside and flee, seeing she had three opponents to deal with, and instead found herself driving herself right onto his Spear as he flowed opposite her motion. She lurched to a halt against the stops on his Spear, and Briggs and Lightscepter came in from the flanks together as she frantically tried to free herself from being impaled.


    It took her a bit too long.


    -------------


    Errant was leading a casual extraction from the city, slaughtering everything in their path while the Jotuns'' leadership was occupied and didn''t really know what was going on. Looting was incidental, mostly limited to crude jewelry and magic, not allowed to slow them down. The company roved out the crude city holewards, heading for the zone border over four hundred miles of marsh, swamp, rivers, and shallow hills away.


    The external team of Brothers came sweeping up on them a few leagues outside the city, having ditched their Jotun pursuers by a combination of being more than twice as fast as them, and running over the waters, instead of through them. Once out of direct line of sight, it was easy enough for them to blend into the shadows and tall grasses, and the frustrated giants and ogres could only curse deeply after them.


    Still, there was no doubt what direction they were heading in, as the Wake began to move again when AA, Briggs, and I led the rest of the vanguard team, leaving a nice burning vivic trail behind. The giants could follow, of course, and some did, but even those who were running could only watch the Wake in the sky getting further and further away from them.


    One more Obelisk to go.

 250 Two Hundred and Fifty – Time to go Milking, Muuuu, Muuuu

    Spore-laden atmosphere, deadly flora, odors to make you gag, hostile unnatural natives, and colors and hues to nauseate you.


    What was not to love?


    Had there been word conveyed across the Hag Empire? It didn''t look like it, or the three Mu Spores we could see would have been booking it away from the Wake.


    It was time to go harvesting for Levels and Phat Lewt again... as well as do some other things.


    Plans were made, means concocted, and the Vanguard team went out to hunt Mu Spores... after killing the first two nearest ones, and getting the company all set up on a safe zone where they could get some Important Work done.


    For some reason, quite a few members of this lot of merry marauders had suddenly taken Alchemist Levels, and a lot of Ranks had been put into Alchemy and its Mastery. It might have had something to do with an incoming apotheosis of considerable degree. The alchemical tools were made out of the shell and tentacles of a Mu Spore, rotting on the ground and happy to contribute its remains to the furtherance of pscience and the glory of alchemy.


    The girls even made Elder Arg a floppy hat and spectacles for this, since he was taking point. Even the dragons were tremendously interested in what was going to be happening, and their 14-16 Ranks were providing primary assistance to the great ape. A lot of humanoids with 8-10 Ranks were providing some very, very skilled labor.


    If it was passing strange for hundreds of brute force axemen, stolid dwarven spears, and singsong elven magebows to suddenly be discussing boiling points, mixture patterns, diffusion ratios, condensation paradigms, trans-temporal effluvia, and radical non-symmetric assignation of proto-elemental fluxes, hey, I had some gifted subordinates.


    --------


    We went about our milking the Mu-cows/Spores, while the surviving Hags behind us organized a Mass Ritual to allow them to send giants across the zone border. Thousands of them flooded into the mushroom zone... which didn''t treat them any more gently then it treated us. Alas, the lads were over a hundred miles away from the Wake, in the middle of a cluster of tightly-packed mushrooms with a central open area a kilometer wide, a Faerie Ring of great size, walking over a few hewed-down uber-stools, one unhappily dead Mu Spore, and no visible way in or out from the ground.


    Errant led the girls, the North Wind and the berserkers, along with the Warlocks, on some raids out into the shroom forest. Strictly hit and run stuff, trails erased by Barus and Riann. They stayed low, out of the way, and never fought within ten miles of the stuff Elder Arg was cooking up, and where the elves were chanting and bringing up all sorts of fun magic...


    For all that the Hags had stolen into Exemplar status, they didn''t have someone with Epic Ranks in Alchemy among them, so their system couldn''t be near as efficient. It also helped to have a lot of monkey brawn available for the stirring, because the patterns that needed to be followed were exacting. Under Elder Arg''s direction, the apes formed a very strong and disciplined work force.


    Anyone not helping with the brewing was still Infusing or Investing. As hordes of giants surged into the Mushroom Zone and exchanged pointers with the giant mycoids, various kinds of fertilizer-seeking fungi, the native mushroom giants, beasts and corpses animated by spores, and other sorts of fun surprises of the Gray, our team patiently completed our looping sweep of the zone.


    With no Wake to let them know we were coming, all they could rely on were their alerts to one another, which didn''t take place when being swarmed by Void Brothers. We didn''t split up as thoroughly as before, keeping fairly close together in our two teams so we could converge and split as needed. We left at least two Brothers behind to collect the Goop and the Nexal, making that process quicker, and they always caught up soon after we took down the next one, and well before the fight after that.


    So, while the giants, hags, and ogres were rushing all over the place and dying spore-adically, we were cleaning up the Mu Spores and giving Elder Arg time to do his stuff.


    We also didn''t take down the Obelisk in the middle immediately, even if it meant having hordes of giants arrive to camp around and protect it. The Pseudos there weren''t particularly appreciative of this protection, but after learning what became of the Greenhag Empress, at least tolerated them on the outskirts.


    -----


    -Elder Arg, we''re all set,- I /informed the big monkey, as I burned the last set of Runes into the shell of the last Mu Spore to die.


    He /acknowledged that, and put the scores of other Alchemists into motion. The complex Rune Circles filled with silver looted from the Empire behind us and melted down began to shimmer and burn with a new light, and excess Mu Goop was spilled upon them to burn with a most unwholesome stench and a variety of colors that was nauseating even in the thaumaspectrum. Goop froze, fried, was shocked, dissolved, and incinerated with a variety of magical means and energies, powering up the mixing process and interaction of energies for what was about to happen.


    I watched the Rune I''d carved into the Mu Spore light up. The giants had doubtless come across some of the Mu we''d killed by now, but none of them should have messed with the Runes, up in awkward places where they weren''t easy to reach. Normally we''d just vivify such things, as we didn''t want them Animated as monstrously powerful undead, which I''m sure the Hags had ideas about. In any event, we weren''t going to give them time to do so.


    The drawing of energy began.


    An Epic-level Alchemy Ritual naturally required truly monstrous amounts of energy. Now, they could have just drawn it from the area they were at... which was right in the middle of thousands of searching giants and so not very wise. So, the Runes and Mu Goop sent that drain out to the dead Spores, turning the floating abominations into living siphons tied intimately to the areas they harvested, and began to pull it all in.


    That included the Mu Spores from the LAST mushroom zone, too. Those Rituals around the fallen Obelisk were for a reason... and dead Mu Spores made for excellent foci when carved up appropriately. Tellingly, there was no resistance from the Land for taking down this mutated dark faerieland of fungi at all, especially with the mass vivic follow-up.


    The endless fields of fungi around the Mu Spores began to wither and collapse. Even the haze of spores fell from the suddenly deathly still air. Giants shouted as towering mushrooms fell over on them, in many cases unleashing unpleasant surprises, and often filling the air with poisonous grit and dust as they decayed with shocking speed.


    The areas of death expanded outwards from the rotting ''shrooms rapidly, harvesting the life force of these mutant fungi, tearing them down, and pulling it away as they collapsed into dust and goo.


    The dead Mu Spores withered up even as they pulled the life out of the heart of the fields they had harvested, using those links to power the Ritual. There were some powerful Druidic elements supplementing the alchemical in aspects of what was going on, and the repercussions were going to reverberate throughout the zone. Namely, what was being created here was an absolute vacuum of life, which Nature naturally abhorred. The life that did exist here was unnatural and bloated, and evening it out was a subset of what was going on.


    A ten-mile radius around each Spore was initially stripped of life, but the circles kept going out, ripping out the excess life energy of what was there, feeding it down into the Land, spreading it out, and totally tearing apart the entire zone''s forest of fungi as it did so.


    Watching 270,000 square miles of massive mushrooms falling away in grand slow motion (and knowing that another like area was doing the same) is truly an impressive sight. We were already in motion, heading for the zone nearby where the mushrooms would be the last to survive all this, protected by the buffer of the Ritual itself. That, of course, would give the giants a perfect target to swarm towards... but travel times were a thing, and they had to hack their way through the surviving shrooms... which they most certainly would energetically do, heading for the center where whatever was responsible for this would be at.


    That was okay. They weren''t going to enjoy what they were going to find when they got there.


    ----------


    The Alchemy was there to distill the Elixirs for gaining Lesser Exemplar status, True Werebeast Status... and the elves.


    The former was going to anyone who was a Ten, and had taken the /4 in their Racial Level, Enlightened, what was called Atlantean Humans for us. The latter was going to anyone who wanted it, and was willing to acknowledge service to the Exemplar who would be their bloodline progenitor. What the elves were doing was for themselves.


    Perhaps unsurprisingly, the Wolf was far more popular among the soldiers then the Lion, given his pack focus and teamwork mentality. The champions took the Lion, including all of the berserkers (since it would change their Totem), some of the North Wind, and some of the officers of the Ironblood. Most of the others went with the Wolf, although the girls abstained, as the Hag Levels they were taking basically equaled or overrode the benefits, anyways.


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    The fact the Wolf Elixir took less than half the Mu Goop and Exemplar Blood to make than the Lion Elixir did was also a factor. The latter was basically going to be reserved for champions who earned it.


    Afterwards, everyone who made Ten and had the Racial/4 partook of the Lesser Exemplar blood. Oddly enough, over the last two days, every single member of the Company had struck those three levers, knowing what was coming, and were willing to put up with the higher Karma of gaining more Levels and Masteries for the chance to get the Template. The Karma had been set aside long ago, a lot of mental levers were pushed, and the air was filled with power.


    The monkeys probably would have had the least effect, as they couldn''t take the Exemplar bloodlines. Ape not Wolf or Lion, and Humans were strange as far as bloodlines went, after all. Where else had all those Anthro Races come from?


    However, there was a Primordial Ape right there, who, enlightened to the potential of the Mu Goop, had been sharing his bloodline with his lesser kin, and those kin had been driving it straight to Ten Racial Dice in anticipation of this moment.


    -----------


    The giants were certainly energetic enough, hacking their way through literally a half-mile of wall-to-wall mushrooms, with stems as hard as ironwood. It ended up being more a tunnel then a cleared road, given the press, and a few hundred of them died to acid showers, exploding puffballs, dripping green slime, and viscous clouds of spores.


    None of that really deterred them, driven on as they were by the Hags, and not about to let such minor things stop them. They were Jotuns, after all.


    They hacked their way in, and the Company came to greet them.


    The apes had all doubled in size. The chakon were twelve feet tall, the champa-ka merely eight feet. All of the human, gnome, hyn, and dwarven soldiers had golden eyes and new grey or golden fur showing, and were moving with incredible speed and power.


    The endurance of a melee combatant is their pool of Hit Points, i.e. their Health and their Soak. On average, that pool had doubled for the recipients. Their physical Stats had increased by an average of +10, making them four times stronger than before. They moved faster, and most importantly, they healed.


    Not only could they take immense amounts of punishment, their injuries now healed themselves, exactly as if a Healer was attending to them. No longer did they have to rely on magic to cure their wounds... their Health (bodies) healed even as they were fighting, and if it fell too low, they only needed retreat from combat for a minute or three, leaving their eager fellows to leap into the fight to take their place.


    They only needed Soak to defend against massive blows. Now, they could easily survive on the continual influx of Fast Healing/5 coming into them from their Lesser Exemplar Templates, and their newly inflated Health.


    The giants had worked their way through the mushroom forest in great time, looking to do battle with whatever was inside. They were packed into the entry tunnel, three giants or four ogres across, and now... what was inside, was coming out...

 251 Two Hundred and Fifty-One – Milking Them for Everything

    And then, there were the elves.


    When I learned what they were planning, I rolled my eyes at what a Cha 50 half-drow alu''ri-turned-succubus could do, especially after being anointed as a Favored of the Goddess of Silver Magic.


    She had recruited them all. Most of that power sucked out of the fungi zones wasn''t for the Elixirs, which got their power from the Mu Goop. Nope, it was to help alter the elves.


    Elf exchanged into vohr, linked to alu''ri, and so into native Soulborn succubus.


    Yeah, it meant a gender change for half the elves, who were much less hung up on gender to start with. It exchanged their Ten Elven Racial Levels for Lilithi Levels.


    Now, they didn''t get all the demonic goodies, particularly the spell-like abilites, like teleporting at will. What happened there was all those Elven Caster Levels they had were transmuted into Sorceress Levels, with a Celestial Bloodline indicating Sylune''s approval. Then, the extra two Levels left from the Eight of a base Succubus were linked to the standard Lilithi Favored Levels.


    All such Caster Levels powered by Charisma. And who had just received a +20 bonus to Charisma?


    Levels in non-Favored, non-Sorceress Levels were converted to those, keeping Caster Levels constant with Levels, their AB as Outsiders equaled their Racial Level, so their combat ability also went up, and while Succubi weren''t massively strong at +4 (only twice as strong as they looked, natch!), the +8 Dex and +10 Con were massive bonuses.


    And so, the entire company of elves were now silver-haired, starry-eyed, silver-winged (feathered!) Favored/Sorceresses, with devastatingly potent magic, and a lot more of it.


    They all broke the Ten Level. They''d be forever locked to Fourteen when they reached it, barring Divine intervention, but that just meant they''d be more powerful than their King and Queen were now. Exemplar Lite came in, and since they didn''t have side Racial Levels, there was no problem, it applied perfectly.


    Yes, Sylune now had a full corps of maturing, devastatingly beautiful winged angelic vohr in the model of the delighted Wayfair, who was naturally the head of their new Order. How about that?


    -----------


    Just to hasten the process of clearing, Exemplar-boosted lightning bolts were exploding down the length of the tunnel, frying and burning the giants who had little way to resist or dodge. It was merely to make the killing of those behind easier, as they swarmed in fearlessly on the giants and ogres, who found, to their great dismay, that their much smaller opponents were now just as strong, or even stronger, then they were!


    The howls and growls coming from down the hacked-through corridor easily matched up to bellows and shouts of the ogres and giants eager to press their way in. The only problem was that the line in front of them was not moving, and the sounds of the fighting seemed to be getting closer...


    Then the crackle and boom of lightning lit up the area ahead of them, and the Hagspawn, who actually had a modicum of intelligence compared to their kin, blinked in shock. That magic didn''t have nearly the range to go the length of the tunnel, so what was happening?


    Why was the growling and roaring getting closer?


    The quintuple roars of dragons overwhelmed all the yelling giants, sending shivers down the spines of even the most battle-hungry brute with how it seemed to echo and drag on. Even as it faded, the hunting howl of a wolf, filled with unnatural power, chilled the blood, and was instantly joined by a chorus of other howls so powerful it was shaking the mushroom walls and ground.


    And then the lions rang out, and even the giants had to wonder what they heck they had stirred up by doing this...


    Fire, cold, and lightning filled the tunnel ahead of them, now visible to those outside, incredibly strong. Some of the wiser hagspawn and their mothers backed away, telling those with them to prepare rocks and spears for throwing. They were finally realizing that those within were coming out, and they could only be doing that over the dead bodies of the hundreds who had swarmed in there earlier...


    Right about then is when my team showed up. All that noise and light was a great distraction for a wedge of Forsaken coming in at sixty mph, and lighting into the back of them.


    Coming in through the ravaged air and decaying mushroom forest, we hit the back of the giant lines and ripped them open. There was a distance to go to reach the primary force around their tunnel, but that was fine. Letting them know we were coming was the whole idea, as was splitting their attention. If they wanted to be holding onto rocks when we plowed into them, that was their own choice. It just helped them die all the quicker.


    The slaughter was similar to that which we had executed earlier, but our targets were a) anyone nice enough to think about throwing things at the company coming out of that tunnel, and b) any Hags, of course. Brother Firesword volunteered for Hag-hunting duty, it was politely passed to him, and he was gone, flitting over and through the mass of giants, hunting down sources of magic. Oh, he ran into some shaman Casters, too, and politely disposed of them as well, but his zigzag course was taking him from Hag to Hag, who were not at all happy to see him coming.


    We hit the line of rock and spear tossers, and hilarity ensued. It was a good thing we kept moving, because the amount of bodies that were falling was creating all sorts of impediments to travel, and if the vivic fire hadn''t been eating them, wow, there would have been blood literally everywhere.


    A One-Two cleared the tunnel of anything living with deep screams and a lot of smell of burning flesh, and the company came screaming out.


    The berserkers led the way, all of them with golden fur and streaming manes, clawed, toothed, and a good foot taller, meaning the least of them was over seven feet tall now. They were fast, they were powerful, and they were having a really good time. The Exemplar Lite DR of 5/- stacked on the normal 10/silver of a werebeast, but that was okay, because Crystal Dragon DR also stacked with all other types, which meant they were sitting on at least DR 20/Silver or so at this point... and the giants didn''t have silver weapons, oddly enough.


    Yeah, giants hit hard, usually in the neighborhood of 20-30 points for the varieties that were here, but combine that level of Damage Reduction with 5 points of Fast Healing every six seconds, and those berserkers could last an incredibly long time.


    The Rockborn came next, moving at a pace you just don''t expect on anything that short, and were about as resistible as moving boulders... with spikes. Their beards bristled even more than before, all their eyes were golden, and they moved with even greater natural teamwork and coordination. They pushed, and pushed, and ogres and giants were forced back in disbelief, hanging on the Spears impaling them, as the dwarves cleared the way and set up the safe zone for everyone else.


    Ironblood to the sides, eye-poppingly beautiful angelic vohr down the middle. Bows that had for some reason been magically empowered in the past to match the strength of their wielders sent burning arrows out with brutal power and accuracy over the heads of the dwarves, building a wall of burning corpses in front of them that started to grow with amazing speed. Ever obdurate, the dwarves advanced up the corpses, their foes two to four times their height came pounding up for some fun, and the elves shot over the dwarves'' heads with impunity at basically an open field of targets.


    The Ironblood savagely opened up the fighting area, fully confident of being able to take on all but the Exemplars of the other side... and such only needed a moment of attention from a dozen or so vohr archers to lay that problem to rest.


    Growls, snarls, and roars competed with the aghast giants, watching these short folk shredding them.


    Then the dragons, hellpoodles, and griffons, plus riders, came stalking out of the tunnel.


    Even the giants knew they were in for a bad time when they saw the magnificent creatures. They moved with supernatural grace, ease, and deftness, idealized versions of their species, showing natural power and magical strength that they''d only seen on the Blessed Legion, and now realized where the horrible strength of these little people came from.


    The griffons moved to secure flanks, while the hellpoodles moved up to secure the lines of the dwarves... and unload fire, cold, and lightning right into the faces of the giants with elemental fury the vohr were quick to capitalize on.


    The ground began to pound. The elves began to subtly part, opening a path as they focused to either side. The giants heard the sound of massive feet hitting the ground, looked around in the chaos to see who was running so fast ¨C


    Elder Arg came hurtling out of the tunnel with a roar so deep it made the dragons look small. The dwarves in the way literally leapt out of the way with astonishing alacrity, ending up standing on top of their brethren blithely as the massive Primordial gorilla, his silver-tipped black fur now black-tipped silver fur, muscles rippling like quicksilver, and tusks gleaming like precious metal, slammed right into the giants that he towered over.


    Behind him came a tidal wave of massive chakon and champa-ka. The latter were of a size with ogres, and even stronger, while the former were as massive as any of the giants, and also stronger. Their magical gauntlets shimmered with lightning and banefire, discharging in massive cracks of electricity as the howling horde slammed into and through the giants with vicious, brutal force.


    And yet, wild and chaotic as it was, there was incredible, impossible order.


    A combination of luck and instinct, and apes were moving as they grappled ogres and giants, presenting obdurate skulls for arrows whistling in to impale them. Ironblood were sweeping in to hack at spines and throats, while apes grabbed and threw giants onto waiting Spears. Dragons were whirlwinds of claws, teeth, wings, and tails, which always seemed to send the victims into the way of attacks from those flanking them. Moving like boneless serpents, their lancers came into repeated reach of Jotuns, and sharp points plunged deep with brutal force.


    Breath of frost, fire, or lightning coursed out, ripping apart ogres and wounding giants, never catching an ape or human, and the wounded died within breaths to watching and waiting vohr sending out an arrow a heartbeat. Indeed, the breath attacks were staggered so that the vohr only needed to reacquire to the next target zone.


    It was a level of wild carnage and coordinated teamwork the giants were completely unable to compensate for or deal with, Warlording at its devastating finest. Those closest to the slaughter began to back away... only to find there was death at their back as well.


    The moving morass of the interwoven Helices swallowed giants and spat out corpses. Burning shafts of light in the hue of their own blood were spitting in all directions, raising great wounds or even killing unlucky ogres straight off. Who or what was doing the slaying was actually almost impossible to see, only blurs of motion, truly bone-chilling cracks of impact and giants going flying, and that unceasing fusillade of fire and light taking its toll as giants shouted defiantly in desperate fear... and fell into the swirls.


    There were no orders coming in any organized fashion, for the Hags who commanded all had their own dire problems, although not for long. One short biped aswirl in all the colors of the rainbow was sliding through the giants as if they were not there, closing on each Hag and in a blur of motion passing her by, leaving a shattered, eroding witch to fall dead behind him as he proceeded unerringly to the next one.


    --------


    -Don''t eat the ogres or swamp giants. Watch for tainted bloodlines. Ogres inbreed and pick up polluted bloodlines. The Hagspawn are your best bets if you can''t resist for now. Mark any giant that''s greenish. We''ll be killing dinos and crocs to fill your bellies.- After all, the boundary wall behind us wasn''t that far away.


    The apes were freaking starving. Their mass had increased by a factor of eight, and all that material had to come out of somewhere. For now, that was ectoplasm, but it had to be replaced by ''real'' material as soon as possible.


    The gnomes and hyn were already scavenging, heaping up crude gold jewelry and any magical stuff they found on the giants onto waiting Disks. As they finished, each corpse was set on vivic fire, which rapidly began to spread across the battlefield.


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    The giants broke before we could kill them all. The onrushing apes, the towering titan that was Elder Arg, and five dragons like something out of legend, combined with an impossibly strong and fast set of little folk who could maul them so handily? Massive figures sprinted in all directions as fast as their legs could carry them, and I had to repeat a few times for the apes to cease chasing them and bringing a last few unlucky ones down for a quick mauling.


    A few dozen choice heads were stacked up for Baneskulls, but basically the Ironblood got around quickly to looting, and the apes hurried to help, lifting big bodies as gnomes pointed to rip off the bracelets, belt buckles, rings, earrings, torcs, and similar things. A few of the hungriest apes ripped into some relatively clean giants to stuff themselves with a hundred pounds or so of meat and take the worst edge off of their hunger. The chakon were literally going to need a ton of meat before the urge to eat vanished, so we needed a meat source fast... and these guys were basically vegetarians most of the time, so that was saying something.


    At least post-combat healing was MUCH easier, as in nobody needed it. Within five minutes of the end of the fight, everyone''s Health was back to full. Soak would be slower, but most of that wasn''t really depleted all that much, given how much damage reduction was at work, and how thick certain hides now were.


    The Warlocks were already winging back to scout for suitable prey, like a big walk of sauropods. A few brontosaurs at least were going to be needed to assuage everyone...


    ----------


    I watched Briggs drink down the Elixir. The Wolf and Lion had guarded the Disks holding the extras that had been made, the two of them wandering out to look over the carnage wrought by those of their bloodlines. Even two Exemplars were impressed by the capability for slaughter they witnessed, and quite happy they had nothing to fear from their own bloodlines, who were literally incapable of attacking them.


    Of course, the Brothers didn''t take the wereblood route, although they did take the Lesser Exemplar Elixir. They were instinctive racial purists, and not interested in evolving through another such bloodline template. That was something for others. Their instincts said that such changes would just be cleansed out of their bodies by their Voids, so it was useless.


    The all-around improvements of the Lesser Exemplar Template, on the other hand, weren''t something to be turned down. Idealized Voids were a thing, and weren''t they already beloved by the Land?


    Briggs, of course, had taken another route. After all, Elder Arg was Right There, also a legendary bloodline. It was just none of the humans wanted to take an Ape bloodline. Cat? Sure. Dog? Sure. Monkey? What, and look like an Ancient instead of a cool cat-man or dog-man?


    Briggs didn''t have any problem with it, of course. The difference was that he wasn''t going to gain in size like a true Ape would, such as our monkey escort now currently glutting themselves on several wako with broken necks and sauropods whose heads had been cut off and then pulled out of the water by dozens of hungry ubermonkeys. The blood that had poured out of the dinos had brought in the wako, who became appetizers as Elder Arg stomped on them and snapped their necks with casual experience.


    "Sense of smell is sharper. I think my canines are getting longer." He spread his lips, I looked at his teeth, and nodded. "I can feel the power in my limbs. If I get bigger, I bet it would just explode." His stomach suddenly rumbled. "I think I need to go eat more food than my stomach can hold."


    I grinned despite myself. He should be sitting on at least +12 Strength and Con, and +10 to Dex, truly impressive physical buffs. The power would catalyze if his size increased, as long as he continued taking the Racial Levels, which I was sure he would. A Potion of Growth or two, and my, wouldn''t his opponents be surprised when he got even faster...


    The only other ones who hadn''t taken a Bloodline were myself, the girls, and the Amazon, Trilla, whose Amazon Pact would just return her to human perfection if she were to imbibe one. Yes, dear, that can be drawbacks to being an Amazon...


    Of course, Wayfair hadn''t a Bloodline either, it being no more relevant to her than to the dragons or griffons. However, she had been offered and accepted a Lesser Exemplar Elixir, somewhat astonished that we would even offer it to her. It would lock her into her status as a lilithi, meaning she''d never become a lilitu, but since she didn''t want to become an eyeless murder queen, that wasn''t so much an issue. She was already on very good terms with a big sister goddess, she didn''t need to be a succubi queen.


    Of course, when you give someone with a base 42 Cha, +4 from Mark, and now another +4 from Lesser Exemplar, well... let''s say she really had to tamp it down, or nobody was going to be able to take their eyes off of her...

 252 Chapter Two Hundred and Fifty-Two – Going After the Last Obelisk...?

    Briggs did give me a hairy eyeball. "How high have you taken those Succubi Levels?" he asked suspiciously.


    I lifted an eyebrow. "Where did that come from?"


    "You basically ordered some berserking, battle-crazed, flesh-starved super monkeys to quit chasing a fleeing foe, stop eating, and wait for us to feed them. And they patiently waited for three hours for us to get back across the zone border and butcher dinos to do it. You''ve talked two Exemplar animals into basically becoming your subordinates... and an Epic Ape!


    "And despite the fact that a whole bunch of Tens just became super-people, they''re all still marching to your orders with nary a lick of trouble... and you aren''t even an Exemplar yet." His eyeball was quite hairy, indeed. "You aren''t shining like a moon among the stars like Wayfair, but damn, Sama... and I won''t even go into how the dragons aren''t even trying to dominate you."


    I wrinkled my nose, glanced around, and leaned in to whisper, "Fuzzy, you are being too observant. Allow me to think nobody noticed. The Brothers are being very polite and not saying anything. You''re popping all my delusions!"


    He took a deep breath. "So... at Ten?" he asked quietly. Nobody was near enough to bug us, there were too many hundreds of tons of meat being roasted right now. It appeared all those Bloodline Investitures and Exemplar Templating also raised quite the appetite. Even the new angelic vohr were indulging... with very thin cuts, proper braising, spices, and competitions over recipes.


    Naturally everyone had to sample what they were cooking, even if they loved raw meat, and so it had turned into a feast and cooking contest all at once, with Wayfair merrily playing the role of master chef, taste-tester, and MC for the entertainers who inevitably set up and began to play, sing, and dance.


    "Yeah. I''m using Wayfair for the Lilithi portion of the Succubi advance. I''ve been pressing it up. It''s not as expensive as you might think, since none of the magic transfers over, including the life-sucking kiss, nor am I going for permanent tail, horns, or wings. Also, the physical side got taken care of with Hag Levels, and a bunch of the mental side with Nymph, too. And no, no killing beauty," I said, as his eyes narrowed appraisingly. Yeah, using Wayfair as the template basically meant I had a lot of synching with her Bloodline... and so over those winged, horned, and tailed ExLite angelic vohr over there.


    He didn''t know whether to be relieved or disappointed, so, broad-minded fellow that he was, he opted for both. "Ah, so you don''t have to pay full price for benefits you don''t actually receive?" That was logical. "That probably includes skill points..." he added thoughtfully.


    I nodded. "Yeah, you get the highest numbers, so I''m sitting on eight per Level from the Succubi Levels, and I can access the Akasha of any of the Levels... not that it''s relevant, since all Skills are Racial Skills to Soulborn." I shrugged. "I''ve actually sealed the Akashic links so I''m not downloading any Skills. I want to save the Ranks until I pass Ten."


    He raised a bushier eyebrow. "You can do that?" He sounded amazed.


    "Yeah, if you are Forsaken. It''s a spiritual link to an alien Akasha, after all. Human/3 means I can deny them that link until I want to. Still have to pay for it, of course. But I really don''t need another 56 Skill Points at the moment."


    "Given how Deep you are, I believe you. Especially with those Forsaken Caster Levels..." He sighed, thinking of how much Karma it was going to be for him to build those up. "Oh, how did the Nymph''s Druid Levels work out for you? And are you getting the Lilithi Favored Levels?"


    I quirked a smile. "The Nymph Levels were very efficient for me. They took my Null Druid Levels all the way to Ten. I made an adjustment to the Lilithi Levels, working off the faith and loyalty that''s somewhat streaming in from my Marks." He said nothing about the implications of that, just looking thoughtful. "Two Levels per Level in Lilitu. So, I''m a Four Null Shifter at the moment."


    "With lots of Slots, and an assload of Con bonuses..." he mused.


    "Which I can Nog away for other benefits," I agreed. "Have you been taking any?"


    "Yes, buying up my Stats towards 18 base as I can. But I''m only a Three... and found I can''t use the bonus Slots for a high Charisma to do so."


    "Yeah, but you can use the bonuses from Archsorcery or whatnot," I told him, and he nodded.


    "You spending for the same?" he asked calmly.


    "Yes. All the Slots... I''ve got no reason to save them. If I ever decide to take a Bonded Caster, they''ll have plenty to work with just off my Pool and Bonus Slots." I harrumphed. "So much power to not use..." He gave me that hairy eyeball again, and sighed. "What?"


    "Out with it. You found out something else."


    "You sure you don''t want to be depressed?"


    "Is it something I wanted to know at One?"


    "Yeah."


    "Shit," he summed it up nicely. "What now?"


    "Psionics."


    He closed his pale violet eyes. "Okay. Okay, Forsaken Caster Classes came out of left field. Psionics... actually makes sense." He opened them, fixated on me. "What did you do, eat a ''vore?"


    "Some of the Mu Goop, actually." Firecrackers in the mouth. "It was like, oh, it uses THAT energy? And there it was, right there, because I''m a sentient creature with a brain. Naturally I had psionic energy."


    He reached out and tunked on the air three inches from my face. "I thought your Vajra was stronger. What is it now? Adamant Vajra? Transcendent Vajra?"


    "That''s a good name for it. It''s like two to three points of Psi to one Mana, Ki or Essence."


    "And now you''ve got how many more Classes to Level up, too?"


    "Null Psion is Con based; Null Psyker is Cha-based; Null Psychic Warrior is Wis-based; and Mindblade accentuates my Sword."


    "Plus Theurgies?" he prompted.


    "It turns out that psionic energy ''fills out'' your Matrix, if you are a Caster, filling in all the empty spaces inside. If you have the Theurgy, you can sub one for the other. Great for using Metas, as you can spontaneously drain Psi to boost Spells."


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    "So, you''ve got a Mindblade?" He leaned forward in interest.


    "I''ve got a Vajra blade." I held up my hand, and suddenly the killing edge of my Vajra became faintly visible around my hand, like a crystalline claw overlaying my hand, killing arcs extending from my fingers, hammering ridges on my fingers and knuckles, and razored edges along the sides. It was a standard Vajra hand, but now it was visible.


    He reached out to feel it with his own Vajra, making a face as he felt the difference, like his was steel and mine was adamant. The addition of the psionic energy, and the magical energy it was tied to, effectively made a four-way Vajra at this point, melded together perfectly. I could picture the implications for Powered if they could do the same.


    "So, I''m feeling magic in there. Nog?"


    "Yeah, the Hands of Stone effect. Basically, very similar to Ki, stacks nicely. And with Sword is an Extension of the Fist, stacks on my sword play. You can feel the mindblade vibe in there, too, basically stacking on the Versatile UA at this point, but there''ll be additional damage dice, too, and improvements in base damage. I''ll never be able to throw it, of course, but it''s still going to get pretty nasty with time."


    The basic US progression for a Ten was d3 damage for a base Human, d4 with Improved Unarmed Strike, to d6, d8 and d10 with Monk Levels, and 2-12 with Superior US.


    Maxed Hands of Stone would increase that by one category, to 3-15, with +5 more damage on top. Mindblade/fist would increase it by three more categories; 3-18, 3-21, 4-24.


    Starting with the base 2-16 of a Heavy Warsword instead... 8 die increases was 3-18, 3-21, 4-24, 4-28, 4-32, 6-36, 7-42, 8-48, 10-55. With the +5 bonus, 15-60 base damage with my Heavy Warsword.


    All because of different energies stacking together in a Vajra. It took a long time to get there, but it was nearly as good as a Ten executing Forms... except they got extra damage dice, and this was base damage, so mine magnified on crits and charges...


    I could see Briggs was doing the math. Endure would be sitting on 15-70 or so, or 20-75 with the bonus. Doing 45 average damage before any other bonuses... was pretty substantial.


    "So much damn Karma," he sighed. I had to agree. "So, we are going to finish eating, I assume go take down that Obelisk, and then head to the last one?"


    I shook my head. "That would be very stupid. They''ll be waiting for us, and with enough dragons, even having superheroes in our employ won''t be enough."


    He cocked his head at me, thoughts moving, and he glanced holewards. "You''re going to do an end run around her..."


    "I imagine right now she''s calling in all her forces to guard that last major Obelisk, completely forgetting that I don''t need to topple it... I only need to topple the remaining two here that it is connected to. The flow stops regardless."


    His nostrils flared as he took a deep breath, and looked at The Map of this place as drawn by the Void Brothers during their scouting runs. "Another swamp. Drac-bloods, dragons, drakes..."


    "Some of whom are going to be drawn off to defend the big one. I know our dragons are dying to get their asses kicked by a Pseudonatural dragon after their ExLite buff, too."


    He chuckled despite himself. "So, we run to the downline Obelisk, blow it, and then race to the last one... which is in that Undead Zone..." he trailed off, shaking his head.


    And strangely enough, we had a whole lot of Undead Baneskulls and Tokens, and Energized Armor or Bracers of Force Armor, all ready to go. How ''bout that?


    "So, if we can sidle through fairly quietly, bring down that clockwise Obelisk, and then run to the last one... they have to cross four hundred miles to get to the zone barrier, do whatever Ritual they need to bring their troops across, and then run another five hundred and fifty miles to the center of the zone to try and get into position to stop us."


    "Funny how they probably don''t have Mass Gemjumps to teleport through the soup they made out of the Veil."


    "Well, what about the Wake?" he pointed up at the clear space above us. It had branched off the main thrust of the Wake while going through the middle of the zone, basically broadcasting where we were, but for some reason the number of giants investigating had been really small, fancy that. Mass slaughter does that to some.


    "What about it?"


    "They''ll be able to tell where we are by tracking it, unless you''re going to drop it."


    "Drop it? Why would I drop a diversion I''ve been putting in place for thousands and thousands of miles?"


    "A diversion..." He grinned slowly as he looked up. "Ah. Us three are going to go in towards the Obelisk, fighting our way through, and while they are looking at us..."


    "Everyone else does their job. If they are sneaky enough, the Hags won''t know what''s going on until it falls and they get the feedback. Then it''s a race to see who can get to the last one first."


    Nine hundred miles for them, possible delay at zone boundary. Square root of 900 squared plus 300 squared... merely fifty miles further at the angle, and we''d be moving at least twice as fast as they did on the ground. Sure, some flying dragons could get there faster... if they could cross the zone. So, the probable scenario was facing some dragons and whatever riders could come with them, against our whole company of Exemplar Lite murder machines.


    I wasn''t much worried about the odds. Whether they wanted it or not, the fight was going to be on the ground, and on the ground, their dragons weren''t going to be nearly as dangerous as they thought they were, even if they were also ExLites.


    "So, you are giving them time to make all the wrong moves, and then going to confirm those wrong moves by giving them a giant arrow in the sky indicating exactly where we are." He smiled despite himself. "Oh, they are going to be pissed at us..."


    "I sure hope so!" I laughed cheerfully.

 253 Chapter Two Hundred and Fifty-Three – Hi! We’re the Diversion!

    So, it was just the three of us crashing our way forwards, working on the assumption that having nine hundred miles of ground to cover, losing most of the leadership, and most of those who fought being dead putting a severe crimp in the ability of dear Hagmom to actually tell what was coming. All those Nulls totally effing up the scrying and divinations would be giving them some nosebleeds.


    Really, all we had to do was show some Helices, and all them stories about the glorious slaughter of the Void Brothers from a few relative years ago resurfaced urgently, and well, hey, they could see us coming. We were like, Right There. Taken down two major Obelisks with overwhelming force, annihilated two Hag Empresses, and treated Mu Spores like our personal gold mines. What was not to believe? We were just that awesome, and we were coming for them.


    There were a lot of dragons in the skies as we started killing our way forwards, and needless to say they started gathering in on us as we worked our way through the startled hill and swamp giants forces that were in this area. Yeah, yeah, there were ogres, and we breezed on by, and there weren''t any ogres.


    There were a lot of drac-blooded dinos, drakes, crocs, lizards, and whatnot, and man, my heart was bleeding sooooo much watching all that good fine leather and scale and blood and hearts and brains and teeth and fundamentallums going up en vivus. It, it was like gold getting dumped down a white hole, and I had to grit my teeth at the sheer waste of it all.


    After all, we had better than four hundred miles to cover, so dilly-dallying to loot properly just wasn''t something we could afford. I waaaaaaahed silently as I hacked through one black-scaled and very overconfident mire dragon''s head. I mean, it would only take me minutes... and there was a squirming pack of giant black-scaled and winged crocodiles coming our way, and I just couldn''t...


    It didn''t make me numb, it made me angry. I started pounding out cash totals as I started to really get into the slaughter, to the endless amusement of Briggs and Brother AA, who pretended to have stern expressions and not appreciate the volumes of numbers I was running up as we killed.


    Every single one of these drak-bloods was worth at least a goldweight, usually two to four. The actual dragons, at least ten!


    AAAAGH...


    Damn, the Land is greedy. I needed an army of telekinetic gnomes following me with adamantine butchering tools and Infinite Jars of Blood Accumulation to reap our rewards properly. Mama Land could have the rest, it would still be most of the thing... though even dragon guts were in demand for acid-resistant ropes and ties and stuff...


    Still, it was carnage, a lot of it, and we got to see surprised drakes and dragons and drac-bloods falling down out of the sky so often I began to wonder if it was their default state of mind. Naturally, King Gravity was proud to lend his mighty hand to our endeavors, and The Land was right there holding steady against the vertical charges, never failing to stop them cold as he sent them on their way.


    The Wake in the sky grew bigger, and we slaughtered our way forwards, giving the Hags time to arrange a really big welcome party for us, and try to figure out what to do with us.


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    Naturally, I could see everything that was going on with the rest of the company. They were keeping their heads down, illusions overhead making it difficult to stop them from above, and quickly slaughtering anything down low that might raise an alarm. The area I was in was the Empire of the Hag, which meant giant-dominated with a strong dragon presence. The area they were heading into was the reverse, with even more dragon-blooded things spread around, and the dragons were also bigger and older.


    However, there was no alarm going on over there, both because of the zone barrier not encouraging easy exchange of information, and because the things in the sky tended to be the drakes, not the dragons, and so were of much lower intelligence, scarcely above the living-to-fill-the-belly stage.


    Since they were trying to keep a low profile, it just meant watching out for fliers, avoiding large groups of stuff on the ground, and leaving any surprise encounters either dead or confused behind them. Druidic magic by Barus had Pass Without Trace going to full effect, and they weren''t even leaving a scent trail.


    So, we were of the opinion they''d get to their objective way before we got to ours, which was totally okay.


    We were still coming. We were still killing everything in our way. Horns were blowing, giants died. Dragons were bellowing and roaring, and going ominously silent. Those leather-winged forms in the air behind us were seeing a long line of unwhite devouring the dead behind us, and moving forwards at rather ridiculous speeds for things on foot.


    We were old hands at this by now, used to working with one another, able to divide and come together, attack across one another, anticipate one another''s moves, and idly chat about the scenery, point out fashion deficiencies in our opponents, comment on the sour disposition of the swamp we were running through, try our hands at some new stanzas with wild variance between amusing hyperbole, outright boasting, dire solemnity, and aghast complaining at the waste going on.


    Some members of the Company in the distance overheard my running totals of foregone earnings, and hastily demanded that I add the value of their kills to the total. The elves and gnomes pounced on this, the dwarves began to double-check my math with some shock, and wow, did a bunch of new, deeply lamenting verses get spun up quick... even as they tallied the kills and somehow made accounting for slaughter and organ salvage a deeply amusing, instead of a dry, morbid, and horrible, subject.


    It also really passed the time. All the good marching songs do.


    (Oh woe, oh woe, another goldweight gone,


    That drak done died by Jungbo''s side, and our bonus is burning whiter.


    Oh weep, there be four more now lost,


    Two drac-bloods flew at the Valor, too, and couldn''t even fight her.)


    Was I amused that they took over my raging tally of lost mountains of goldweight-equivalents and turned it into a satire? Maaaaaybe. The only reason they didn''t actually start pulling out instruments is they didn''t want to give the enemy any warnings.


    After all, Hagmom was at the top, and she''d be spouting at least a 28 Intellect if she was truly an Exemplar Hag. She''d tune to something funny going on pretty quick once she got any warnings at all, but that was fine. We expected it.


    And yet, the Wake was Right There, and what it meant was really, really ominous. Did she even have a chance to fix it? Could she snip away the crushing force of Reality coming into turn this whole Temporal Shard back to normal within another three hundred relative days?


    Maybe if her Formation was working, they could accelerate things and finish what they were trying to do...


    Huh.


    Odds are that the Warp Gods knew what the Hags were doing. They''d put that Rift right there just to fuck with them. There''s no way the Hags wanted that Rift right next to their base of operations, that was the height of stupidity. The Hags had helped them bring it in, and then it had popped up in the one place on the continent they didn''t want it to.


    No wonder they''d been pulling all that crazy shit down south. If nothing else, they wanted to offset the pull of the Warp Gods, who might be angling to suck in this entire Zonering for free when the time was right.


    Yeah, totally a jRaztl move. Make a deal, complete it, and screw them over anyway. What were they going to do about it?...


    Except make things even more fun and interesting!


    Gah. Dealing with gods was bad enough, but they just had to try it with the Warp Gods, of all entities...


    -------


    -So, Sama, how many Levels do you have left to gain now?-


    I didn''t know if Fuzzy meant to sound smug or not, but he did have that gloating tone in his voice. He didn''t have multiple outstanding Racial Levels to take, so he could get the Exemplar Lite Template and focus on other things, like all the Brothers were doing.


    -Well, the psionic shit really threw me for a loop,- I had to confess. -Since I''m the one breaking the ground, naturally I''m going to go in whole hog on it. Unfortunately, psionic Classes were only spoken of in the game, and never seen, because nobody was psionic, and we hadn''t run into any psionic-using cultures. So I''m going in totally blind, especially as a Forsaken. I don''t even really know the benefits that I can gain.-


    -So, you''re assuming the primary Classes are Tens, and work just like Casters?-


    -There''s some weird shit on the psionic side I didn''t dip into, according to the Knowledge (Psionics) and Psicraft stuff I''ve been taking. The wizard and sorc equivalents are the Psion and the Psyker, very different flavors. There are two primary combat classes, the Psychic Warrior and the Mindblade: one is a Jedi knight, and the other one gets a built-in lightsaber.-


    He made a mental face for me as Endure cracked into the side of a swamp draco-giant with scales and horns on its head, and let the fellow''s enhanced brains out to breathe. It had probably been a chief, now it was vivic food. Not even Gauntlet or Girdle salvage... weep, I tell you, weep!


    -Getting to Ten in each of those requires four Theurgies, in addition to the max of six Levels for a Secondary Class. Happily, there''s no Arch-classes to worry about, only some super-specialized Prestige Classes I don''t really care about. The Psionic Theurge is called a Mentat, the warrior side is called a Vanguard Knight. The Psyker/Mindblade combo is called a Glorysword, while the Psion/Psy-Warrior is called a Cerebral Master. I believe if they switch off they are called a Harmonic Blade and an Ardent Mind, but, eh.-


    -Sooo... forty levels in main Classes, and twenty in Theurgies, and that''s without dipping PrC''s, eh? All on top of your Racials and figuring out the Forsaken Caster Classes?-


    -I wasn''t exactly planning on leaving the Zonering until I had to, Briggs. I have so much Karma I have to earn... and that''s not even counting the post-Ten Racial Levels. I''ve got sixteen of them to earn, too...-


    -Well, I have to say you''re going to be the deepest damn Ten I''ve ever heard of, especially with all those impossible Racial Levels. I mean, seriously?-


    I had to grin as a trio of ogres fell down around me, losing their balance, probably because their heads weren''t connected any more.


    -Well, the Racial Levels pre-Ten aren''t individually all that expensive. As a matter of fact, I''m buying off a lot of the Stat increases with my Nog Slots, since I really don''t have a reason to hold onto them. Sure, sure, some Caster would love to Bind with me, but he can make do with my Pool, since I can''t spend that.-


    -Oh, so you can do that, too?- Another fact catching him sideways. After all, with both Engrams and Slots to spend, there was a lot of room for Nogging all those away, using the advancing of the Class as the excuse to do so without violating any rules. It naturally reduced the actual cost of the Racial Class massively... but I could still only take one Level a day...


    -Yeah, tried it out. There''s a rule about swapping Slots for Stats exceeding racial maxes, not to exceed 18... like gender swaps. Well, Racial Levels are about essentially raising racial Stats and upping them, so slide in those for the purchase, and yeah, swapping Slots you paid Karma for in one Class for Stat upgrades in the other really reduced the total costs down.


    -So, I''m just slogging through them, one day at a time. There''s a lot to do, as you noted. But the Stat buffs are pretty nice...-


    -How much do you have left?- He could technically take his Primordial Racial Levels all the way up to Twenty-One if he wanted to. He wouldn''t get the mental side of things that I had, but his brute force wasn''t going to be any worse, that was certain, especially if his size picked up.


    -Pre-Ten Racial Levels I''ve got over thirty. Caster Levels, ugh, the Arches and the Theurgies plus Levels, I''ve got like twenty to dispose of. Then you add in the post-Tens and the Psion stuff for another sixty, seventy-five...-


    -One hundred and ten-ish Levels in Classes nobody even knew a Forsaken could take. Damn, Sama!-


    -You better swear. One hundred and twenty of them are accessible by you, too, and you''ve got another dozen Racials to go still, no?-


    -Quit making me feel bad over how far I have to go while I''m gloating over how much you have to do.-


    -Sorry.-


    -Much better.-

 254 Chapter Two Hundred and Fifty-Four – Just Chatting to Pass the Miles...

    -By the way, Fuzzy, you''re going to take Warshifter Levels, right?-


    He /sighed. -Valus, what now?- He /ruminated. -That''s a Class for combat shifters, no?- Which meant we couldn''t use it, since active shapechanging was very much not a thing for us.


    -You know with enough investment in that Mark of yours you can access a Succubus'' Alter Self ability, right? You get it automatically with triple Physical Marks, but you can Invest in it, too. You just have to program it with forms using blood or vivus, or accessing your bloodline. So, like, you''d be able to turn into an ape, and the form would be set until you actively changed it.-


    -Really.- Beat. Oh, the implications in bed. -What about the combat benefits?-


    -Ah, most are a waste, since we''re using the ability through an item, effectively. However, the bonus to Str and Con, and the Fast Healing are kind of nice.- Especially for a certain someone who wasn''t an Exemplar yet... -I tell ya, Elder Arg is really looking forward to being able to morph down to human size, or smaller.- After all, if dragons could do it, why couldn''t he? Since the big ape was Powered, he could take any form he wanted, he wasn''t limited to stored templates or anything, like us.


    -And I imagine you linked them to other things?- Because I liked to try different things, right?


    -The Strength and Con bonus is equivalent to your Strength and Constitution Mastery. Hey, would you look at that double duty going on there. The Fast Healing bonus is equal to your Healing Mastery and Soul Essence Invested level, if you don''t want to take the flat rate of 2.-


    And it would stack with the Exemplar Lite, so potentially 10 Health of Healing per round. You wouldn''t need a Healer except for massive emergencies. Fast Healing was the dream of melee toons. Auto-filling that blood bag let us keep going and going and going...


    Fighting someone like me, it would take more than one Healer to keep you alive, but I was one of them exceptions. It was more a recovery and endurance thing, not meant to save you against something big. As this (chop!) adult Mire Dragon (stab!) in front of me was finding out (Aie! Twenty goldweight more I couldn''t keep...). Should have kept a safe distance, sport...


    Briggs rolled his eyes again. -And what new and wonderful psionic stuff did you discover?-


    -Well, we can''t spend psi, but we can focus ambient power in our Vajra and expend that to effect.-


    -That sounds promising... similar to Arcane Strike?-


    -More prep time, Concentration req, stronger. It''s awesome for lower levels. Psionic-backed blows can hit like trucks.- It could actually allow a low-level Forsaken some damage boosts!


    -Anything else?-


    -You know that Soul Feat that gives you Health for every Soul Feat you''ve taken?-


    -Oh, no shit?...- There was another one? It made sense, there was a Magical one, but generally inapplicable since just about all such abilities involved Casting or metamagic, or were outright magical, and so couldn''t be invoked by us, only by Casters.


    -Yeah, Psionic Body, two Health per Psionic Feat, reinforces your body...-


    -And so affected by Fast Healing.- He /inhaled again. Another massive potential Health boost incoming. -And?-


    -Oh, you''re going to love this. There are some impressive psionic enchanted arms and armor...-


    -You have that sickeningly ominous I-love-this broken note to your voice...- he /observed happily.


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    -Feeder Weapons. +III. When critting, Bodyfeeders can instead give you the damage you roll in temp Soak for ten minutes. Mindfeeders give you temporary psi points. Anti-psi, Mindcrushers can do the crit in damage to a foe''s PP instead, +II. And...- I started to /laugh, which naturally only wound him up more.


    That ogre in his way was launched through the air for sixty feet, chest over a foot thinner where Endure had beat on him. -Oh, this is gonna be good...-


    -Psychic Weapons and Armor. Enhancement bonus dependent on your PP Reserve. All the way up to +V... ¨C I let him picture that... - Slotless.-


    Naturally, Forsaken couldn''t spend PP, so our Reserves would always be topped.


    He almost dropped Endure. "Eff me running!" he blurted out loud. Ancientaxe gave him a look as he thoughtfully lightened the loads of another couple of ogres by their heads, glanced at me and my shit-eating grin, and knew something was up.


    "Do I want to know?" he asked curiously, wondering if that had been something personal.


    Briggs told him curtly, and Brother Ancientaxe, hardened killer of ancient creatures whose time had come, dealt with it by almost missing splitting an incoming crok''s head. "Fuck!" he added, blinking at the suddenly dead big black-scaled, horned crocodile, before continuing on with us. "What... is that... it stacks?" he had to ask, looking at me. My education in the fine points of enchanted Weapons had been very thorough, and he had seen the difference they made.


    "Yeah."


    "What''s the kicker?" Briggs groaned, totally in love with the idea of getting a +IX Weapon or Armor out of two Slots.


    "Seventeen Ranks, seventy goldweight."


    Both of them shuddered again. The only one who might be able to gain Seventeen Ranks, that we knew of, was Elder Arg...


    Who had just received that +4 Exemplar Lite bonus to his Intellect...


    "You didn''t?!" Briggs shouted, as Endure crashed down on another incoming crok, crushing a horn and pancaking its skull. Tons of part-dragon reptile skidded forwards past him, twitching in disbelief at being dead so fast.


    "He did." After all, getting 42 bonus Skill Ranks abruptly with an Epic Cap had to go somewhere, right? His Alchemy, Spellcraft, Psicraft, and Weaponsmithing were all at 21 Ranks, and he was working on Armorsmithing with his Expert Ranks. Those eight skill points per level were just designed for Crafting Skills, after all...


    Yeah, that was going to be one monkey capable of some seriously badass stuff. His people were going to make a Gorilla City that was going to be just awesome!


    Because, you know, all these Ten Monkeys had just gotten an Intellect boost and could pick two more Skills with 10 Ranks, too...


    Here in Power-levelingville, we call that bootstrapping a species to boo-yah status!


    Having Epic-Level friends was so very, very convenient for certain things! The Check to Craft such a thing was a 37, which was something I could do in my sleep. But, I didn''t understand the effect, so I''d need guidance, and Elder Arg could supply that.


    The seventy goldweight cost was a non-issue. I could Craft it to that value, if need be, or just engage in thirty-five days of Naming Karma.


    The difference was that it would need to be in hand and currently wielded. So, not as useful for Tremble, who ran around on her own, or Quaver, who Mirrored her.


    -------


    As we ran and slaughtered, I was Thinking. It was a big T, because at my Stats, idle thinking just wasn''t a thing I could do.


    I had Nogged my Stats to perfection, 18''s all around. That meant +4 to Strength and Intellect, +5 to Wisdom, and +7 to Charisma, bringing me up to basically the same standard as an Amazon.


    This was important, because, well, I''d been taking Racial Levels, and among those Levels was included a +8 Racial bonus to Intellect, +8 to Wisdom, and a colossal +20 to Charisma, superseding my Human +2. All these Caster and Psionic Levels I''d been taking would also be boosting me even further, once I got all of them to Four and higher.


    So right now, it meant I had a 44 acting Intellect.


    Just needed time, and a few merchant fleets worth of Karma. Levels aren''t cheap at Ten, unless you''re lining up Mu Spores and disposing of them for the greater glory of the Land...


    Still, a 44 was quite literally impossible for a person made of normal physical matter, even virtua-enchanted with magic, ki, psi, and Essence. The number of connections in my head, the sharpness and depth of my memory, the speed and precision of my analytical ability, exceeded biological matter''s constraints. I was plugged into the Akasha, had my own little nook and corner of it where transpsionic constructs formed extensions of my mind to help with all the analytics, calculations, and whatnot of my mental state. The strength and speed of those constructs directly reflected my Wisdom and Charisma Stats, which were also mind-boggling at this point.


    A lot of it was based on Succubi, of course. Succubi are natural Eternals, which means no memory cap. Unlimited amounts of data retention required memory to be something more than based in the brain. My hard drive was now my soul, which didn''t have physical matter limitations.


    I hadn''t even used any Stat Enhancements to my mental Stats yet. Or physicals, for that matter, other then the +4 Str off my gloves, thanks bro, aunties...


    This Akashic Link was why I hadn''t suddenly downloaded over 170+ points in Skill Ranks off the Akasha from Racial Levels and Intellect increases... I literally didn''t have anything I wanted to spend them on, so I''d blocked the transfer until I could make use of them.


    Naturally, that also meant that when it was time, I''d only be able to gain a Rank a day from the banked points, but oh well. Better than buying Basket Weaving. I''d leave that to Corporal Ugamba, who really did make some awesome wicker baskets...


    I''d only grabbed four Skills at 10 ranks: Psicraft, Knowledge: Psionic, Crystal Carving, and Autohypnosis, all four psi-centered, and Crystal Carving actually working with my Sagedom, yay, +3 more damage! The vast majority of psionic crafting involved crystals, and Gemcutter Ranks didn''t quite cut it when dealing with psi-active stuff like that.


    A 44 Int meant some supercharged thought streams... eight of them. Finding things to think about was actually a chore. I had two pretty much on meditative idle all the time, while three were monitoring the Marktell, one was handling all the math and logistics, one was handling physical chores and sensory input, and one was dreaming/calculating the future/running scenarios, borrowing the idle two at times for more brainpower.


    I didn''t like some of the things I was figuring out. There were gods involved, whose entire minds were ALL like my little invisible corner of the Akasha. They played at levels above what I could think at, sure... but with a 44, I had no problem seeing otherwise invisible patterns here and there, little hints magnified by my connection to the Akasha, tiny events taking on profound meetings as Fate and Chance did this and that and tripped my Hey-Yo meters as they did.


    Briggs'' and the other Sources'' Declared Fate was throwing a lot of the immediate machinations of both Profound influences and the Divine meddlers into flux, which is what Sources did so well. But it was Nulls that locked down the changes, while Voids removed them from the equation entirely, a lethal game to play. The fact I could perceive the shadows of these things now, when every Void Brother could as a matter of course, said something about their sensitivity to this stuff.


    Welcome to the world of Rank G and higher Forsaken, I guess...


    But there was absolutely no doubt that having all these different forces smashing into one another mucked things up a lot. Still, the greater powers were playing a higher game, and the only way to fuck them up would be to do something outside and beyond their expectations. Forsaken were great at that, since we were so hard to perceive at work.


    In short, I had to do something exceptional to screw these guys over. Oh, I could probably manipulate someone else into doing it, but their survival chances were much lower, and that just wasn''t how I thought.


    Sacrifice myself? Maaaaaybe. But I was definitely, definitely going to rip someone a Glorious something somewhere.


    I began spinning out more scenarios based on what all the forces out there could not see.


    -Estemar,- I /sent out, getting his instant attention. -I need a favor from you when you''ve got the time. It''s not urgent-urgent, but I''d like you to allocate time to it when we have downtime. It can only be done by a Paladin, so I''ll swap out time for time. Don''t argue, just hear me out...-


    -------------


    More and more coordinated wings of stuff were coming our way, groups of ogres and giants in companies, trying to intercept us, divert us, herd us, trap us.


    It was nice of them to try, and give us so much attention and Karma and vivus to feed the hungry Wake overhead.


    Dragons and their progeny fell from the skies, died. Bellowing giants and ogres, ignoring the losses of those that had come before them, let out barrels worth of blood and guts, dotted the path behind us with yet more unwhite fires. Our route didn''t change much, and we were even likelier to change course and punch through the middle of a company then we were to avoid it.


    If they''d been smarter, they would have realized that we wanted vivus to extend the Wake, and not presented themselves to us like that. They couldn''t stop us from going forward, and they couldn''t catch up with us on the ground. They couldn''t get within three hundred feet of us horizontally in the air, which really limited their missile fire options, and naturally we didn''t give a fig about the magic they were tearing up the marshes and swamps with. If the fliers weren''t on the ball, we could easily break cover, get them in the Stillflight, and down they''d come to meet their ends, just so we could limit the numbers annoying us up above.


    As ever, I added to the gold tally we were letting by, leaving a record for the ages about how beneficent and self-sacrificing we all were. We were well into the hundreds by now...

 255 Chapter Two Hundred and Fifty-Five – The Flank Attack

    -They decided to come out to meet us. Impressive,- Brother Ancientaxe /murmured.


    There were literally hundreds of drakes and dragons in the sky. Their main job seemed to be to pace us, as none wanted to get to close and pay homage to King Gravity.


    On the ground were tens of thousands of giants, ogres, and more drac-bloods, forming a line about a hundred meters deep that stretched on for literally miles. More of them were gathering in and forming up as we watched, obviously following the Wake in the sky.


    Everything within a quarter mile of that line was basically in the range of hundreds to thousands of rocks and javelins. It was pretty impressive, and set in just a location for us to hit as it became morning.


    Oddly enough, the stuff up in the sky didn''t worry us at all. The only major threat was the massed fire from the ground, which would be equal to an AoE effect. Saturate the area around us with enough stuff, and there simply was no way to dodge it all. Soak the damage or get pounded into mush.


    There was no cover to speak of, especially against dragons watching us from all directions. The forces to the flanks were slowly advancing, intending to encircle us and cut us off, gradually drawing tight a circle from which we wouldn''t be able to escape, and kill us with tons of thrown rocks.


    Basic snare tactics. We could easily outrace the ends of it if we desired, but that would cause a break in the Wake. Really, what we wanted to do was simply get into the thick of them... it was the safest place to be, and stay with them as they tried to retreat and open up fire zones from multiple angles, so they instead killed one another if they threw. They''d try to retreat in a circle and open up multiple fire angles, but if they did that, we could simply run and keep advancing.


    Newcomers were gathering into a layered second line of advance, so if we pierced the first one, then we''d come under fire again. And they''d make a third one as soon as they could.


    This was great, actually. They were taking us seriously, and mobilizing all these giants meant we had their attention.


    Going stealth was possible, but unlikely with the dragons having their eyes on us all the time, and so many of them fixated on us. The odds were that she had lines of giants extended out for miles, collapsing on all sides, and technically, it might be too late to retreat.


    But, that was the thing. We could expand the Wake at any time, we could leave it here... it actually wasn''t all that critical. What was critical was bringing down the Obelisk. Expanding the Wake would just speed up the effect.


    It was, after all, just a diversion.


    Very pointedly, we could see the largest of the dragons in the distance, never getting closer than a mile to us. My eyes flicked that way almost irresistibly, for there was definitely a Hag riding on its back, and when I upped my Mask of Clarity, she was indeed very familiar.


    Heya, Hagmom. Fancy meeting you here...


    If the number of half-dragon Hags on the other dragons nearby, swapping in and out occasionally with us, were any sign, that mount was basically her chosen mate, a Mire Dragon Wyrm, if its size meant anything.


    And despite its size, it wasn''t coming in to challenge us. Word might have come with how fast her sister Empress had died, and the greenhag''s daughters. Enough to make a paranoid, bloodthirsty, but very, very old Empress hesitant.


    How old was she now? It wouldn''t surprise me if a hundred thousand years had passed for her here, or even more. She''d probably had dragon lovers grow old and die. No maximum age for Hags, they just kept going, getting infinitely closer to ''middle age''.


    You get that old, fear of death is hard to overcome... But an Exemplar would have the mental capacity to do so, and at the same time, not be as arrogant as she thought. After all, we were just short-lived ants, what we had done was a fluke that could be undone with the accelerated time here...


    Or maybe it couldn''t. Did she realize that time was going to synch up in this Shard of the Zonering? That space was going to revert to normal behind the Wake?


    "Clockwise," AA judged, and without a moment''s thought, Briggs and I bolted after him.


    She probably thought she was clever, moving forces out of sight of us to complete the encirclement, but our abrupt turning, and leaving the Wake behind, caught her off guard for a moment. A couple arrogant drakes who couldn''t get out of the way in time plummeted down in our paths, we separated, and they died before they could stagger to their broken feet.


    The others retreated, and tried to keep up with us, but only some of the dragons were fast enough in the air to do so. They did clearly parallel us, indicating our positions to the giants who were moving in the distance; I could read their movements by the vibrations in the ground, as could Briggs.


    Unfortunately for them, this entire zone was marsh and swamp, occasionally cut by rivers, lakes, and small hills. That made for copious amounts of cover in the form of water, if not the many choked stands of swamp trees and reeds and rushes towering far above our heads. Olympian native life, yo, us be small widdle things...


    They probably wouldn''t believe how fast we could swim, either...


    However, there was no reason not to make an opportunity of this. AA''s Helices could really screw up visual sight, and there was no reason not to mess with them. Running under a set of trees over the shallow water, Briggs and I split off while AA continued ahead, zigzagging lazily and making the spotters work to keep line of sight on him. Naturally, they couldn''t clearly make out if I or Briggs was still with them.


    So, when the four Mire dragons beat their wings and found out they couldn''t create enough lift, there was a bit of surprise on their parts. Screaming, clawing at the air, they fell from the skies.


    Briggs and I rose up from the water, ready to greet them. They howled and screamed and beat at the air, then splashed down.


    They were Mire Dragons, they could swim quite well. Unfortunately for them, the water here was pretty shallow, and we were waiting for them and their riders as they hit.


    They sprayed their acidic goo at us, and then the smaller ones died, given no chance to run away. The bigger ones did try to run for it, but they couldn''t swim faster than we could run, and the drakes that instinctively swooped in to come to their aid all screamed as they plummeted down too, punished for their instincts and obedience to Mum and Dad. AA naturally looped back to help Briggs, while I set up a full volleying field of fire and went in with both Swords.


    The number of our spotters thinned out remarkably after that incident, and as we paralleled a virtual wall of giants and drakes ahead of us, we pulled it twice more, forcing them to back further and further off, and making it harder and harder to track us.


    When we reached the shores of a marsh and vanished into the twenty-foot high reeds, there wasn''t anything they could do about it except send in the drakes and croks to tear them apart and find us.


    Wearing alchemical rebreathers in between being able to hold our breaths for copious amounts of time, we played Vajra torpedoes.


    The Brothers had already scouted out the primary nature of all the zones, and were given more than three years to travel through them all and get done what needed to be done. That also included testing out a lot of stuff, and one of those tactics was Vajra swimming.


    A Vajra was basically a frictionless field of soul surrounding our bodies. It defied outside energies, and rebuffed fluid, unaffiliated matter. With a Vajra, you didn''t need to worry about rain or most winds. A Diamond Vajra basically meant you didn''t get wet by being immersed, and a hurricane would just blow on by you. Just by expanding your Vajra, you would immediately pop to the surface of the water due to water pressure... so, we turned that effect sideways.


    Instead of having the water push us up and out, we let it press in on one side, and let the other be frictionless. As it worked out, the deeper we were, the faster we went, the water driving in our soles and shoving us in the direction of our words, while our Vajras slid us through the water smoothly.


    The stronger the Vajra, the deeper we could go, and the deeper we went, the faster we could go. Granted, the waters here weren''t very deep, and they were occluded, but that didn''t bother any of us. AA''s Helixsense, and Briggs and my Tremblesense, worked perfectly well in water.


    And while they could track us at a great distance if they had line of sight, once they lost it, they were hosed.


    Being opportunists and wanting to keep their attention, Briggs and I surfaced in the middle of the line of giants, while AA surfaced near the Hagspawn commander who would be barking orders. Havoc instantly ensued as we waltzed across the surface of the water they were wading through, and they began to die energetically, in circumstances where their companions didn''t have line of sight to mass throw rocks. If fliers came in to investigate... they got a close up and personal view as one of their last duties in this life.


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    We moved through their lines, hunting the aerial scouts, Hagspawn, and Hags, Brother AA having the proper feel for the presence of the latter, and I left them to him, Tremble and I snickering at the Hags'' fate. By taking out their commanders, the giants, who had no feel for tactics, didn''t scatter like they should have, but came running eagerly in to die. The more of them there were, the faster they died.


    We kept the line of battle moving, not allowing the more astute commanders to wrap around behind us, tracking the movements of the lines by the power of those huge footsteps pounding on the ground. Advanced Tremblesense is a wonderful thing.


    We broke through the main line of giants, but instead of turning towards the Obelisk again, which would just result in us being encircled by multiple layers of giants, we turned and started killing along the flank lines, sticking to cover to break sight lines through either bayous of trees or fields of reeds, with water escapes in easy access, and simply began to reap.


    Lines of unwhite flames burning on submerged and sunken corpses backlit our trail as we came together and split, coordinating our efforts and maximizing the confusion of our presence. The flying scouts backed further and further off as we continued to dip in and bring them down if they got within a half mile, which we could reach if they lost us for only thirty seconds. Our trail wasn''t hard to follow, after all, and even if they could only track us by following the dead, they definitely didn''t want to see us coming their way.


    We listened to the horns, the bellows of giants and dragons carrying across the miles, conveying where and what and marching orders. Hovering well in back, the Empress and the Emperor flew patiently, watching and waiting as we indulged in all-out slaughter of their minions, not taking action themselves as the day wore on, the miles passed by, and our tally of kills grew.


    We were too near the end of her battle line, she couldn''t encircle us unless moving on an even bigger scale, and the ground wasn''t showing those kind of troop movements. She was just chasing us away from the Wake... which didn''t matter, in the end.


    -------


    The collapse of the zone to the clockwise was pretty catastrophic.


    There was a lot of ley line energy passing through that lesser Obelisk, half the flow of the entire Great Formation. When they brought it down, this time in the middle of a Ritual empowered by fifty angelic vohr, the flare of it blew miles into the air. The ground being almost perfectly flat in this expanded Shardzone, naturally we could see it, even if it was three hundred and fifty miles away. Then the four ley lines connected to it exploded, significantly higher than the ones from the previous Obelisks that had collapsed.


    Naturally, one of those eruptions led right back towards the Obelisk in this zone, and there were a whole lot of eyes watching it blow the length of the zone towards the distant Obelisk, hurling trees, earth, and water hundreds of yards into the air as it followed the ley line back to the last junction.


    Out from the four ruptured ley lines, the power-stealing energy ripped into the dragon-corrupted swamp, and all the polluted life energy was torn out of the greenery. While it didn''t have much of an effect on the creatures living there, the base ecology was pretty much annihilated.


    It also lifted those vohr to Twelve. Two more and they''d top out their Racial Levels, and then use Levels of Mystic Theurgy to cement themselves as dual Fourteen Casters, with +14 AB to supplement them for fighting, a terrifyingly strong force.


    Sylune was probably cheering for the Hags after they helped deliver to her such an incredible gift. Wayfair''s vengeance on the Hags was reaching an incredible level, and she understood ALL the implications, thank you, bows all around, please send roses.


    That wall of greenery-devouring energy swept across the horizon, turning the land into a sea of vivic fire chewing up everything but the living creatures... who began to go mad as the nature of the Land changed beneath them to something hostile to the draconic bloodlines they bore.


    And the defenders of the Obelisk, that Pseudonatural Dragon and all the Exemplar Lite drakes, drak, and whatnot? The Brothers took the one, and the company took all the rest. Some of the dinos were pretty big, but when the vohr were casting at Seventeen, with a Whole Bunch of extra Spell Slots and Pool, let''s just say the AoE spells were VERY impressive...

 256 Chapter Two Hundred and Fifty-Six – What Does Hagmom Do?

    Hagmother and Empress Tusk Annie now had a choice to make.


    Us three had broken free of her encirclement... or at the very least, were On Top of it, which made it hard to get around us. If we collapsed on the Obelisk, she could certainly encircle us... but what had she just seen?


    A ley line eruption that had cut across her entire realm, blasting open a canyon hundreds of feet wide and deep, right up to the edge of the Greater Obelisk that we had been heading for.


    Exemplar brains went to work, and she would instantly realize the dangers and the implications. While she had been out here trying to corral us, a more-easily defended Obelisk had been taken down with breathtaking speed. She had even siphoned off some of its defenders preparing to deal with us!


    She had been played, and played very obviously, because she hadn''t had enough information. I heard her scream, and her infuriated mate/ride way over here roar in that grand mad villain pissed-off way that is so heartening to hear.


    Brother AA, Briggs, and I didn''t tarry overly long. We dropped what we were doing and flat out booked holewards, laughing as we did. These giants were nothing now, just stanzas for the tens of thousands of goldweight we''d passed up in a song. Final moves were coming up, and she wasn''t in position!


    There was no way she could get a force of giants into position to defend the Obelisk. She was limited by speed to dragons who were fast enough, and those who could ride them, plus any Hags who might be able to Teleport or Linejump into position. The Zone security measures were now going to be a bottleneck, but likely with enough Hags and Dragons the Ritual to pass it by could be done quickly. Then they''d be in the Undead zone beyond, and her status as a Hag Empress and mistress of a Greater Obelisk meant she wouldn''t be bothered.


    Naturally, those of us who had to pound along on the ground were still going to have to deal with a lot of ground troops... a lot of them animated giants and dragons, with dracoliches and Jotunbones among them, slaved to the wills of the Hags. So, invasion force be slowed...?


    No, it was not a particularly happy circumstance for the Hags, and it was going to get even worse.


    We watched the stronger dragons turn, and vanish off into the distance, Teleporting and Linejumping towards the holeward zone wall... and burning some of their higher Slots to do so! I was sure Hags and Dragons all over the region who were strong enough were doing likewise.


    Man, they were so not going to be happy with us, because naturally when you have high Level magic, you have high Level options.


    Our group had over fifty Casters at Twelve. FIFTY. Holy shiznit Batman, that was a whole bunch of spells that could do nasty stuff.


    Granted, there were no spells at Six or higher in Valence. No, you were still limited to V''s, but all your Spells were Raised, and you got a +1 Metamagic of your choice that you knew at the moment of Casting. Raising a Fireball, a Valence III, to a IV, among other things, made it harder to resist, and increased its damage cap.


    And look, all those Twelve Casters had a +4 Exemplar Lite Caster Level bonus. Amazing!


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    The only thing we had to do was get them into place on time. How hard was that, for a bunch of 12/12 Sorceress/Favoreds? They had Slots out the kazoo! The only thing they needed was a teleport point to Focus on!


    They might have got word about how strong our force was. They almost certainly knew there were Void Brothers involved, who had quite the rep. But the angelic vohr hadn''t made a big showing of their Casting prowess, because that would just be silly.


    Wayfair could Teleport at will, if she wasn''t forced to Ride someone because of an Obelisk being there. That also meant she could provide an instant Teleport Focus for others at her destination, and given how flat the land worked here, a Linejump was actually as efficient as a Teleport. You just went as far as you could until you bumped into the zone barrier that stopped your forward progress.


    Oh, and Brother Bonescythe had already Veilwalked his way to the last Obelisk. He dropped the Teleport Focus for them to scrylock, just outside the immediate interference area of the Obelisk.


    When the draconian Obelisk fell, Wayfair came out and teleported to the corner of the zone five hundred miles away, and dropped a scrylock focus. Fifty vohr who had been careful to use almost no spells, not that hard with a killing force as powerful as they were accompanying, grabbed the Brothers that were there, the girls, the North Wind, and some Ironblood, and Linejumped directly over top of Wayfair.


    Wayfair went back inside Amber, they crossed the zone barriar, and scrylocked the Focus that Brother Bonescythe had dropped.


    A hundred of the most powerful mortal combatants the world had ever seen dropped down out of the sky just outside the defenses of the last Obelisk, bypassing all the defenses and undead armies in between.


    Oh, and they were all Geared for undead. Just saying.


    The Obelisk was pulsing and shining with a lot of power, as it was now the primary conduit disseminating ALL the force of the Grand Formation, as all the other links were cut. This agitated the undead, who could feel the massive power in the ground, and definitely knew something was up.


    It actually didn''t help them all that much.


    The vohr put all their power as the chosen race of Sylune right on display, and the silver magic blazed down in the area as it had not dared for a hundred thousand years. The Light shone down and washed away chained spirits and animated corpses as massive Area of Effects cast in Ritual format covered acres of ground at a time.


    The only troops not instantly annihilated were some Constructs of bones and corpses that had been added to the horde of undead specifically to address this weakness. Alas, the warriors who came along had also thoughtfully been prepped for Constructs, and swarmed them and took them down.


    The spirits and liches that were there to defend were powerful, but they were not prepared for multiple Void Brothers coming in, ripping apart their magic, and using it to destroy them. Brother Bonescythe was particularly obvious in how he harvested them, his Helix the most horrifying thing the undead had ever seen. They were not susceptible to fear as living beings knew it, but they quaked to see him coming, and the weight of Final Death walking with him and his great curved blade.


    The Ironblood were completely capable of dealing with surprises and holding them back, while the North Wind rapidly reinforced any positions that were lacking as the area around the Obelisk was secured. A single mass Casting of Rock to Mud turned the central plaza into a swamp, and fifty lightning bolts Called down from the brooding, dark clouds above at the same time smashed into the Obelisk at the same time.


    It defied the damage, only losing a few stones, but the impact still pushed it over. Mass shifted, passed the center of gravity... and the vohr fled with everyone else in tow as it began to fall. As soon as they had height and line of sight, another Linejump took them all away as the Interdiction fell, and the attacking force was gone.


    The Obelisk hit the ground, crushing a few skeletons that had survived the harrowing assault of Light and fire, and the pulsing power within it seemed to pause.


    There was a beat from below ground, and around the cracked base of the Obelisk, a pure, hot light of living energy suddenly shone forth, instantly burning a hole in the dark clouds above.


    The Obelisk cracked all over, light shining through, and the hardened, enchanted stone began to crumple and fall, even as the energy pulsed again, brighter this time, and the ground shook.


    It was falling apart even as it exploded, the watching undead unable to do anything, and the great eruption of the overstressed ley line fed back along that path, starting at the plaza absolutely saturated with high-level vivus from the undead.


    It roared up in a wall of light and arcane power thousands of feet high, racing across the leagues in an eyeblink. Everything in its path was annihilated for hundreds of feet in either direction, ripping a yawning crevasse in the land, heading right for the massive Obelisk that had started it all.


    ------


    Brother Shadowknife''s daggers stole a million years of time from the adamantine chains, and then applied it back to them.


    They broke with pitiful little crinkles, instead of loud shrieks of protest, crumbling away from the edge of his long daggers.


    It was time for them to end, after all...


    There were guards nearby, but they weren''t looking at the massive chained Elephant with a great Cursed Lance driven into its side, continually spilling out blood. Nor did they notice the jar there sucking in that blood at a magically accelerated pace, and the moat of it dropping quickly.


    The dark eyes of the elephant watched him patiently, trunk barely twitching, making no other moves as the small hyn stole around its bulk, little more than a shadow, quiet as a breeze, lost between the grunts and shifting of the massive bodies nearby, and the elephant''s continued breaths.


    The last chain and bands broke. Runes went dark, and the Elephant trembled once.


    Brother Shadowknife flowed onto its back, just as the Elephant heaved to its feet, sending the chains and bands that had kept it captive flying, tearing out the Lance with one jerk of its trunk, and then bolting into motion as the giants around him spun in disbelief, gaping at it.


    The giants were actually quite a bit taller than the elephant was... but stronger? Faster?


    His grey hide was stronger than steel. His tusks were more dangerous than a knight''s lance. He could race faster than any steed ever born, backed by impossible strength, the favor of the Land, tons of mass, and even some magic.


    He didn''t cry out. He just burst into motion with impossible grace and ease for something so big, and didn''t stop for anything in his way.


    It didn''t matter that the giants were bigger, they still went flying when he struck them, batted aside like tenpins, crushed underfoot if they fell badly, or impaled and tossed like children by the infuriated Exemplar.


    The plaza was a half mile across. The Elephant crossed it in thirty seconds, as astonished Jotuns, and three dragons, tried to stop it, and were smashed aside. The guards at the gate saw it coming too late to truly stop it, the blows, rocks, and spears of their kin bouncing off it uselessly or missing entirely, and even two drac-blooded hagspawn were smashed aside futilely as the Elephant charged through the gate like a great engine of destruction.


    The giants were drawn up to expect an assault from outside the plaza, not from within. They didn''t get turned in time, and their attacks were barely worth the pachyderm noticing as it hurtled by, Jotuns smashed away in all directions.


    "That way. Quick, it''s coming." Shadowknife passed an Amulet to the reaching trunk of the Exemplar Elephant. It was taken, the Elephant focused past the distant wedge in the sky, and broke it with a pinch of his sensitive trunk-tip.


    The Linejump kicked up and sent them shooting away into the distance along line of sight.


    Ten seconds later, a wall of annihilation cut through the land for the Obelisk there. The Jotuns only had time to gape for a second as they saw it coming, and then it closed on the Great Obelisk, swallowed it in the fury of the Land, and kept going.


    ----------


    It''s not every day you see an elephant falling gracefully from the sky. Brother Shadowknife took it out of the Linejump almost directly above us, where we had ducked away from the searching giants. As it fell, we all turned to watch the Great Formation collapse.


    Pointedly, the partial rupture from the mushroom zone hadn''t reached the Great Obelisk, nor had the one from the draconic. The first had barely crossed the zone before petering out, the second had gotten almost all of the way there before the energy redirected.


    But now, now the blast was going in every direction.


    And wouldn''t you know it, all that energy was flowing with vivus, and the Wake, the Wake was right atop that ley line.


    The blast at Hagmom''s base of operations was plenty big, rising miles into the sky and likely thoroughly obliterating it. The explosion naturally tore out Outwards and clockwise, completing those circuits, and I watched the Wake rip open hundreds of miles of sky in an instant... and then start branching.


    Oh, yeah, didn''t need no Forsaken punching a hole with that much energy doing unwanted things.

 257 Chapter Two Hundred and Fifty-Seven – Playing Hagmom

    The ley line fed back towards the Slow Zone''s wall, that wall just as massive as ours, and disappeared inside of it... followed by a plunging spear of reinforced reality cracking that temporal barrier and driving onwards inexorably.


    It wouldn''t run around the formation like a line of detcord. It would burn itself out as ley line after ley line erupted, then go quiet for a short time before the massive flow of energy built up into some key Obelisk once again, and blew that one apart, starting the ignition process all over again.


    It was inexorable, because there was a pulse of power coming from the far side too, overcharging the circulating energy, making it so they couldn''t shut the flow down or regulate it. It would progress backwards, Reality Shard by Shard, until the Formation, the work of hundreds of millennia, was destroyed.


    If Brother Bonescythe had reported correctly, this was the angle that would have located Hagmom right above the ley line when she came out of Linejump... and it was likely that the ley line path was the most used one if she Teleported to zone borders. If she was really quick and had a Contingency up, she could have gotten away in time... but then again, maybe not, it was moving pretty fast, and bringing some magic disruption with it.


    I didn''t think it could do enough damage to kill her if she was caught in it, given how much Health Qi she probably had. But all those Hags and dragons and elite giants that were with her? I was betting a good chunk of them had died from a killstrike launched hundreds of miles away.


    Her first and instant reaction would be to see what had become of her base of operations, which I expected to be fundamentally trashed, as if a nuke had gone off there... and if she connected her palace to it, goodbye to all her hoard of so many years, and probably a good chunk of her Hagdaughters.


    Bye, sisters. Too bad, so sad that I never got to know you... Tremble tittered quietly with me in the distance. Yeah, I was hitting her from ALL the angles.


    Her Grand Formation was in ruins, the plans of millennia were undone, and the sky was cracking open, Reality was intruding. She''d know that come the dawn outside, this entire Reality Shard was going to collapse, and eventually so would the entire Fifth Ring, the massive world that she had ruled over for uncounted years was now going to vanish to... somewhere, maybe into nothing, far beyond her control and power.


    Her plans were ashes. It was likely her strongest minions and daughters were dead.


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    She was an Exemplar Annis. While she could be sly and cunning, at heart, she was a butcher and a slaughterer. She was an Empress because she had ruthlessly killed anyone who got in her way, and the size of her ego was obvious after catching an Exemplar Elephant, her deeds dominating those of the other Empresses.


    She''d want revenge. But she''d have to find us, and she''d need what help she could find to do it. I was going over the many, many scenarios possible, given a high level of Witchcraft and access to dragons.


    I truly didn''t know her well enough to make a truly accurate prediction. I could infer from her use of her minions, how they responded, the disposition of forces, and so on, but there was a limit based on the fact that I didn''t really know her.


    But I had met her before, several times in fact. A copy of her had come across Dream to try and stop me, and failed.


    And so, I''d left more bait behind. The monkeys, the Rockborn, the berserkers, and rest of the Ironblood, and the dragons were all still mixing it up in the neighboring zone, which now had no restrictions on movement with the collapse of both Obelisks.


    So, she''d want revenge, and Messages were flying back and forth, with scrying to back it up, and would confirm that intruders were still there and fighting.


    So, she would have a target. She could quickly confirm that her army had lost us three, and the angels and their helpers had escaped from the undead as fast as they''d come...


    The Elephant set down gently next to us, Brother Shadowknife''s small figure standing on that noble head.


    "Ready for your Mark and opening your Chakras?" I asked patiently, having listened in as Brother Shadowknife chatted him up.


    The Elephant blew out a breath of air that was tantamount to be a declaration of war. I held up my black box, levered off his trunk, stepped off a gleaming tusk, and set myself atop his head. "This will only take a few minutes for the Mark. I''ll put you in contact with the other Elders once you hook in. Opening the Chakras will happen after that..."


    ------------


    The air in front of us was cleft open and aside, forming a temporary Portal to the Astral Plane.


    We ducked through it, shifting quickly from physical motion to mental motion.


    As the Elephant squeezed through, Brother AA''s Helix swirled out and sealed the Veil behind us.


    "Hi, Sama!" Tremble said brightly, a glowing Amulet hanging from her guard.


    "Heya, Trem!" One second later, there was a swirl of light, and a hundred figures blinked into place around that Amulet, synchronized group Planar Jumps locking on that Amulet and bringing them right here. "Move!" I pointed, and without hesitation the angelic vohr and their companions flowed through the other Portal sliced open in reality right over there.


    Our group flowed through, concentrating on moving to actually do so, stepping through into the remarkably well-lit area beyond, a grassy knoll in the swamp, whose brooding clouds had been torn back and revealed the lighter but still grayish sky above, and the formless light of a sun millennia-lost beyond.


    One hundred and fifty seconds after Tremble opened it, the rift healed naturally, double-secured by the two Void Brothers here.


    Quick illusions had screened us against flyers who might see us, but the attention was focused on a lot of fun stuff happening over thataway. I could see fire, cold, and lightning, lots of howls and growls and roars, the lads and beasts having a great time dealing with the drakes, drac-bloods, and angry dragons converging on them. Given I was helping coordinate their fight, I was intimately aware of what was going on, of course.


    Briggs was up to fourteen split Dragon Skulls, and finally capitulating to the incessant pressure of the Gold Foregone song; the hyn and gnomes were salvaging skulls and blood smoothly and quickly... and they''d whipped up the Jars to hold it all, too. If they had time, they went for thefundamentallums, too, and all that stylish black wing leather...


    I''d taught them so well. Mama was proud.


    "Didn''t look like any problems on your end?" I noted to Wayfair, who had stepped out of riding Amber after the Obelisks fell.


    "Such gloomy creatures needed a little light in their lives!" replied the succubus, who I was sure was on the fast track to becoming one of Sylune''s Heralds. "Oh, look, more reinforcements!"


    The boys left behind had stacked up the dead in burning vivus, which naturally solidified the Veil and prevented teleports from coming in too close, i.e. not on top of them. That meant incoming ''porters hit a wall and popped up in subverted clusters some distance from the ruined Plaza torn apart by venting ley lines, forming an uneven battleground with lots of chokepoints.


    Oh, and nothing was flying in there. If all these winged fellows came in, King Gravity edited their flight speeds to proper physics, and Autobows were happy to put the punctuation on the corrections.


    Of course, the numbers inside were limited, and the numbers outside basically were not. There were more drac being called in to support, some of which attacked in swarms, thinking they''d overwhelm any puny defenders, and getting introduced to the concept of fighting ExLites tricked out with anti-dragon stuff. Oooo, it wasn''t going well for them...


    The arrival of Tusk Annie''s wing of Dragon-Riders was very sudden, but actually took upwards of an hour to eventually blink in all at once... which was still an incredibly fast reaction time given how catastrophic everything had turned out. Within a breath, a hundred dragons actually popped up into the sky overhead via Linejumps, shading the whole ground, and immediately announcing their presence in proper draconic fashion, roars echoing across the land and stirring the many puddles.


    That most of the local puddles were rather burning with vivus and drac blood seemed to escape them.


    And yeah, there was the big daddy leading them all, with a familiar Hagmom riding him... and still astutely flying at the back of their formation.


    My Mask up to full power, I watched her and the dragons levitating there in midair through a hundred eyes. The dragons were looking around, and displaying their agitation at the changes.


    The landscape was collapsed, all the dark muck, trees, and growth fallen and collapsed, and great swathes of landscape running bright and clear as vivic flames, superfueled by the ley line, crisscrossed everywhere and ate up the draconic influence on the land. It was too bright, I saw them snarling at the sky, and they oh-so-wanted to go right down there and beat on their enemies.


    A wave of drac-bloods was sent in, trampling over the wave of Summoned demons that was now burning unwhite beneath them. The edge of the no-fly zone was strictly observed, and in went swarming thousands of blood, half-bloods, drakes, and even some incredibly eager younger dragons all up in their arrogant thinking they were greatest of all mortal creatures, now die and be lunch, thank you...


    It was probably their first time seeing dragons and giants getting killed by griffons, hellpuppies, apes, a lion, and a wolf, let alone humans, hyn, gnomes, and Rockborn. Also, they had probably never seen a Good dragon before, and their eyes tended to focus on the bronze plates and shining silver skins of the dragons fighting and dominating there, ripping apart all the Mire dragons and assorted drakes facing them savagely.


    They watched the unnatural coordination and teamwork of the defenders, how they rapidly recovered from any injuries, their incredible strength and durability, and I watched their trepidation grow.


    And of course, there was Briggs and Elder Arg.


    Every crunch of Briggs'' Hammer was a killing blow, ringing out like some omen of doom. The circling dragons'' wings and tails began to twitch in time to it, watching skulls explode, great bodies ten times his weight go flying in death, crunch crunch crunch...


    Elder Arg naturally loomed over everything, impossible to miss. No creature there could compete with his strength, and his habitual means of shattering the jaws of drac and breaking their necks like they were just snakes made the watching dragons wince... and the Hags atop them very, very eager to tame him somehow. Good luck with that...


    His massive lightning-crackling fists pounded and pulped, ripped and tore, pinned and trapped, rent and pulled. Lightning sizzled over him, cleaning off the gore, and he was holding an entire section of the defense by himself, throwing drakes on top of one another, stunning them, rolling them, interfering with their charges... and setting them up for hacking Axes, plunging Spears, and a whole lot of sticks in the hands of howling massive chakon and champa-ka who weren''t throwing stuff at the time... although spiked runeballs to the head could be applied personally instead of just thrown, or just stuck to their Staff-Slings, turning the Staves into Polemaces for fun and effect.


    Yeah, the Hags had built a great big powerful and high-level world, and I''d politely opened it up to everyone beneath me. Fighting a bunch of ExLite Tens was simply not a thing anything with sense would look forwards to.


    They''d grown complacent ruling over a world of their own, their only conflicts with one another. They were not warlords, not soldiers. They were just dragons and Hags, and even if they weren''t afraid of death, going into that meatgrinder and the sea of unwhite flame burning around it as their oversized minions died was just stupid.


    They did have the numbers, however, and it was going to take a lot of numbers to overcome this preternaturally hard to hurt, self-healing, incredibly strong, brutally skilled, and terrifyingly coordinated fighting force they had encircled below them.

 258 Chapter Two Hundred and Fifty-Eight – Death from Above?

    The attack was pulled back, not that any who had actually entered combat could return. More dragons, giants, and drac arrived, filling the disintegrating swamp around the ruined plaza with massive, angry bodies eager to exact vengeance.


    Which was totally alright. The rubble made any kind of a bombardment attack impossible, and the Autobows were more than happy to snipe back with a banefire''d punch behind them, making it an unpopular choice of passing the time. The tossing, I mean. Seeing if you could shoot a drake in the eye at two hundred meters was perfectly permissible, if the drakes dared to get that close.


    The magic bombardment was also an interesting tactic. After all, spells had range. The dragons and Hags moved in close to the edge of the Stillflight Zone, high enough to ignore most of the rubble, and of course from every side, so they could attain full coverage of the area the company covered.


    So, the attack spells commenced from all sides, dragons and Hags unleashing an arsenal of AoE magic to demonstrate their ire. Surely multiple rounds of direct damage would have the desired effect.


    Mmmm. And if the Ironblood and Briggs hadn''t been there it might have succeeded, too.


    Fire, lightning, acid, poison, death magic, heart-stopping cold, cutting rains, pounding hail, shredding blades... dozens of attack spells went down, filling the area inside the rubble with dust and energy, tossing rubble into the air, and making the place totally occluded by the debris.


    The assault lasted a full minute, which meant ten spells from a limited number were now gone. Always nice to deplete the enemy of their ammunition...


    Of course, it was completely futile.


    Those were Ten Forsaken Nulls, with Nulls of 40+. The only Caster who had any chance of getting through those was Tusk Annie, with her full Exemplar bonus.


    And she wasn''t going to get through Briggs'' Sun with that, especially since she was targeting him and Elder Arg.


    It was merely a matter of making sure everyone was standing close to an Ironblood. Elder Arg dropped down to the size of a chimp with Mark-shifting, hooting in disdain, and as the magic tore up the area around them, the blasts did absolutely nothing within the silent field of the Nulls.


    And then, it all went to shit for them.


    ------


    Our dragons had been getting a lot of Breath Weapon practice in recently, and Captains Fido and Shirley were more than happy to pass on all the interesting things you could do if you were skilled in use of Breath Weapons, which were basically quasi-magical energy sources that could be wielded in much the same way magic could.


    And while normal Breath Weapons didn''t have much of a range, that''s because they were AoE''s whose effects start at the mouth of the exhalation. Once they were turned into Rays, for example, well, their range extended... significantly.


    And if they linked up and built up power together, well...


    A bolt of fire lashed up, scored a searing hit across the hide of an older dragon. Before it could react, another line of cold slashed across the same line, and superheated scales blew apart even as they froze solid, driving jagged shards of the dragon''s skin into its own insides.


    Two more lines of cold punched up, along with a streak of lightning. The wounded Mire screamed as the blast tore through it, while two other dragons felt their insides chilling miserably-


    Two stronger lines of lightning reached up into the super-cooled skin, and went dancing about the insides of the frozen and rather overly conductive dragons.


    Three adult Mires went spiraling down from the sky, bellowing in pain and disbelief as they died. Their riders naturally jumped away, floating and flying in the air, only able to watch as their mighty mounts fell helplessly to the shattered and clear ex-swamp waters below.


    The other dragons realized they might just be a tad too close, and that they hadn''t killed those within...


    Then the vohr broke formation, and hit them from all sides at once.


    ------


    Approach was actually pretty easy. Each group of vohr flew in formation, covered by the illusion of an incoming drake or dragon, as they preferred. They''d be seen coming from a long way off, but neither Hags nor Dragons have natural True Seeing, and couldn''t immediately tell it was an illusion.


    Trying to overcome an illusion Cast by a vohr with a Charisma of 40 at a distance wasn''t going to happen, either.


    They came flapping in leisurely, assessed their targets, picked them out, coordinated spells, and Blinked apart.


    Energy Touch is a basic Valence I spell. Does a d8 of energy damage per Caster Level, capped at 5d8. Energy type is variable, usually set to lightning, and is favored by Mageblades who love conducting it through their weapons for a surprise punch. It only requires a touch to activate, so very useful against big creatures that can''t avoid it.


    Cast it out of a Valence II, the damage cap rises to 10d8. If you get a free Raise out of it, the cap is 15d8, plus attach a free +I Meta if you are a Twelve Caster. Spend two points out of a huge Pool of excess Slots from having such a monstrous Charisma to Top it out, and that''s 120 points of gently Laying-Your-Hand damage.


    Then spend your 1/day free Fastcast to do it with the other hand, too.


    One vohr to the rider, one to the dragon, two hands to the neck.


    No boom, but a lot of firecracker popping of extreme voltage going off. Twenty-five Mire Dragons and their riders convulsed as their brains cooked.


    They were staggered between dragons. The pairs Blinked, thoughtfully pre-Cast, and were suddenly in position next to new targets.


    Slender long fingers grasped clawed hands raised instinctively to defend, or touched the body to either sides of the dragon''s spinal crest.


    Residual Metamagic: If you use the same spell on a succeeding round, you may apply one of the Metamagicks from the previous spell for free. Like the free Quicken.


    Also, one got Topped for free. So, why not Energize it for +50% damage, especially if your second targets are senior to your first ones?


    The sky lit up again, while the dragons were writhing, trying to reach and intercept these targets... and only putting themselves right in the way of the attacks coming in.


    The sky was full of falling dragons and cooked hags.


    ---------------


    Hagmom was still far enough back, and the silver-winged angelic vohr had wisely not attacked the area right next to her. Watching her aerial encirclement fall apart just like that was a massive shock, leaving her momentarily frozen as to what to do.


    And then the Wyrm underneath jerked underneath her, let out a roar of alarm, and began to fall from the sky.


    She instantly tried to Teleport away, but that was Interdicted, too.


    She did throw herself off the big dragon, not wanting to buried under its crushing weight, and was more than willing to take the impact on her massive pool of Health Qi.


    I looked up and met her eyes as she came down. Oh, and the dragons that had been hovering to the right and left of her. Them close encirclements have some problems, I tell ya.


    There was a double, quadruple scream of dying Hags and dragons as Wayfair unleashed a firebolt, Topped, Energized, with a Sheath of silver fire about her to add a nice little +1 per die of damage. And then Fastcast its twin right next to it.


    Yeah 45d6+45 of maxed-out AoE damage with a save of about 40 wasn''t something dragons or hags were going to walk away from.


    More dragons and hags coming down from the sky.


    Hey, did everyone forget about Briggs?


    The whole Company came out of the plaza grounds as if they had steel springs for legs, with a lot of the Ironblood simply hanging onto charging chakon raging for the very distracted forces of encircling drak. A whole lot of head-sized Runeballs headed out by way of introduction.


    Briggs blew past the encircling forces with two leaps and two swats, sending scaled bodies flying out of his way. Elder Arg, towing the whole arc of the Rockborn on their Disks, formed a flying wedge of leveled Spears that nothing wanted to get in front of. Alas, they didn''t have much time, as the chakon hit the monstrous line, the Ironblood were launched past them, and the great apes latched on, rolled over, and presented broad enemy backsides for perfect targets. Burning Spears drove in deep, and drac bellowed as Shock Gauntleted hands grasped and wrenched.


    The surviving princess hags naturally were torn between fleeing and racing down to aid their mother. The choice was taken from them as the Stillflight Field of Briggs'' Interdiction swept over them, and down they came. Gotta be decisive there, mein sisters...


    Blurs of Helices arriving at speed from the distance began to break apart as Briggs executed a hard turn over the water, kicking up a thick spray as he bent his path towards the other dragons still in the air who hadn''t had the wits to run away while they could.


    The Wyrm took the crashing impact heavily, but the explosion of red meant he''d been allowed to build up Health Qi, and he took no real physical damage, although he did roll over once before heaving himself back to his feet.


    His head was just rising off the ground when the Elephant arrived.


    The Exemplars had listened to Elder Arg, who had chided them for not picking a name for themselves. They were the Kings of Beasts, and they should acknowledge themselves as such.


    King Ivory came out of invisibility, the girls on his back. At the moment he was twenty feet tall, massing close to a hundred tons, and Verd was also almost twelve feet tall via Growth Potion, riding behind his head, her Spear Hedge also twice as long and held as immobile as a steel lance, just above the tusks that suddenly were borrowing a Spirited Charge and One Strike from her as Mount and Rider.


    All that mass, moving at sixty mph over the surface of the swampland, slammed into the head of the Wyrm. Steel-hard scales shattered and flew away, the head of the Wyrm was smashed away like a ball on a string, scarlet Health Qi erupting from it.


    An unending stream of Brilliant bolts ignored those self-same scales, punching into them and building on the holes there, drawing spurting gouts of blood... but not from the head. Nope, they were centered around the base of the wings, chopping into them, making it impossible for the Wyrm to raise his wings and sweep them out as the tendons and muscles jerked under the impact and vented Health Qi like a sieve.


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    King Ivory slid over the surface of the water, lightfoot barely online with Monk/1, but enough to let him turn around with impossible speed, Amber and Veis spinning counter with smooth balance, and even exchanging positions to keep Veis in front of her as a constant 1/second stream of Autobolts drove into the Wyrm.


    The Wyrm was actually just as massive as King Ivory, but the Elephant''s mass was concentrated, not spread over hundreds of feet of serpentine body. There was definitely an old grudge between the two of them, and today King Ivory was going to settle some scores!

 259 Chapter Two Hundred and Fifty-Nine – Let’s All Join the Party

    King Gold roared as he dove into the lines of drak, and the quivering creatures were further intimidated by the answering roars behind him.


    The berserkers came to the aid of their king, and slammed into the drak lines in a murderous frenzy. Nothing was going to stop them on the charge, and blood of the Lion fought against the blood of dragons with murderous enthusiasm.


    ---


    King Grey was anywhere and everywhere he was needed, protecting and fighting for his pack, just another set of jaws and eyes, ripping drak off their feet to set them up for a hacking Axe or plunging Spear, or tearing out a throat to finish a pinned drak. He moved like a ghost, shifting to where he was needed with incredible speed, and eating and drinking his fill of drak as he had never imagined he might.


    Rather liked the taste, too...


    ---


    Elder Arg threw a crok through the air, over ten tons of lizard used like a club, smashing into and sweeping away two wyverns who thought themselves dangerous. Before they could recover, the great Ape was upon them, fists smashing, and they didn''t manage to stab him with their poisoned tails even once. His mailed paws came down on the crok''s belly after crushing the skulls of the two wyverns, massive hands reached down, bent, and twisted, and were rewarded with a loud crack.


    There were always more targets. He bounded towards the next one, opening a path for the chakon and champa-ka to exploit, and leaping apes followed him into the path he made, wrapping up the drak and bringing them down to be killed by the following Rockborn and Ironblood.


    ------


    Hag Princesses on dragons were falling from the sky. Void Brothers were sweeping in like hunting hawks, garbed in swirls of magic-flensing colors, gathering on their prey.


    The Elephant she had chained and bound and stolen power from was back, and fighting the Wyrm she had taken for her latest mate, while he writhed under the continued impact of shining bolts punching through his scales like they weren''t there. One of the Void Brothers, his Helix a grim and aged swirl of times long past coming to an end, was closing on the Wyrm, his Glaive already a Brilliant arc of moonlight.


    And so Hagmom turned and ran.


    I had to admit, she had good instincts. Without hesitation, I took off after her, as a hunting horn rang out loud and low in my head.


    ---


    The vohr had claimed the sky. The spellcasters who could be a threat to them were basically gone. Without missing a beat, they drew their Bows from the Quivers on their backs, One More Arrows materialized on the strings, and they remained just outside the no-fly zone as they began a withering and brutal rain of fire down upon the drak below, especially those who looked like they might want to come up into the air.


    The Company turned and worked in that direction, even as other drak were milling in confusion, running this way and that, some trying to help out the other drak, others running to the aid of the downed hags. It was confusing, the line of command was all broken, and the reformed Company took full advantage of it, breaking out from the Stillflight Zone so the vohr could glide in closer and support more easily. Silver flashes and grim steel were delivered with unerring power and teamwork, and the drak died in rage and confusion to mass numbers, but died they did.


    ---


    Heavenbound reunited with Griffons, and together went to beat on dragons and drak. Wrath sliced and blazed with The Light, working with all the other powers here to strike and to slay, and working particularly well with the vohr gliding like angels of starry death above.


    ------------


    There was no doubt Hagmom was fast.


    She had a base move of 50, tripled with Exemplar status, and even invoked a spell of Motion to add another 30.


    Which was pretty cool, sheer brute physical speed. Except my base was 60, add 15 for Dash, add +10 for Nog, double all that for Flowing Waters lightfoot, and then add +20 for Swift Soul while running, and x5 move running instead of x4 via Fleet.


    There was no way she could outrun me.


    My Arakne Arms were out,Fall''s trigger was held down, and Sparky was shooting away. Both could operate completely independent of my scampering along at 90 mph, and all her preternatural agility and stolen favor from Time and Chance, weren''t helping her. I was punching holes in her fine robes as her skinny legs covered a lot of ground, the swamp erupting with the force of her every step, and Health Qi was venting in little spurts of red.


    She couldn''t run away from me, and she couldn''t evade me. Spikes and rays of light girt in banefire matched with continuous bolts of force, and were eating her Health Qi away. I had veered in and was keeping her away from the ley line canyon blasted through the ground, meaning if she wanted to get closer to it, we were going to go fisticuffs. Whole rivers and lakes were being drained into the thing, resulting in the awesome sight of waterfalls miles and miles long plunging into the darkness below.


    Maybe they''d fill it up, maybe not. It wouldn''t matter in the end. I did get some nice eye candy pictures I could relay out to everyone to oooh and aaaah over, lots of water rainbows reaching right to the horizon. /Markchatvistas was a thing.


    Quaver and Tremble were in my hands, but I couldn''t use them while running this fast, even skate-stepping as I was. Having Wayfair along would have helped, but she was having much too much fun raining death from above back there... and she really had absolutely no desire to mess with a Hag Empress who could rip her apart basically as soon as she could grab her.


    I didn''t say anything, I didn''t taunt, I didn''t do much of anything other than ghost her and fill her full of 100-200 points of damage every six seconds, whittling down her Health Qi continuously.


    She slid to a halt with physics-defying power, ripping open the soil of the bank upon which she was stopping. A hundred yards away, water poured into the new canyon with a roar that shook the very air, continuing as it did right to the horizon. Good luck filling that anytime soon...


    She turned to face me, clawed feet holding her in place firmly. Her eyes were like black stars, bright and powerful, but there was an asymmetry to her features, above and beyond the Cursed nature of her appearance. Yeah, the long hook-like nose, the skin the color of a black eye, the chin like an ice pick, scraggly teeth like adamant nails, claws that could rend steel in bad need of a clipping, and overly long arms and legs with tendons like cables, moving with tremendous power...


    The Mankillers of the Hags, and she was a perfect Annis, a stolen Exemplar.


    "You gonna bring out the tentacles or not?" More importantly, I didn''t stop shooting, although I didn''t bother to focus on her face, since anywhere I hit was fine enough to vent Health Qi. She was healing, why would I stop shooting?


    Her dark eyes narrowed. There was a shuffle and bulge behind her, as concealing magic gave way. An eye popped up on her waist, skin peeled back and oozed acidic goo, exposing organs that were far from natural beneath, her bones shifted and bent in ways evolution would never cause... and the four tentacles of her Pseudonatural State ripped themselves out wetly from inside her.


    "Who are you?" she rasped, and the grating fingernails on chalkboard voice had that extra reverb that comes from originating from something infected with matter from outside space-time. "You seem familiar..." She ignored the continued missile fire as if it were gnats, eyes traveling to my Swords, which were droning a Song in dire harmony that could unsettle even her. The seething hate and long expectation was coming out in tonals of dread joy.


    "Your memory must be going." Her physiology was completely warped, so not surprising. "Not unexpected. Don''t you know that artificially endowed supernatural Templates don''t stack?"


    i.e. the massive Stat bonuses from the two Templates didn''t stack, nor did any luck and insight bonuses, if they affected the same thing. However, it was remarkable how little overlap there actually was.


    The big things off the Pseudonatural Template she got were a greater strength buff and a massive natural armor bonus, plus the tentacles. For a combat-happy Annis clawing for power, those were some pretty nice benefits.


    Quaver and Tremble already looked like solid light. Brilliant, the enchantment for dragon-killing, ignored Natural Armor, which effectively tanked her AC by 40 points. Too bad, so sad.


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    Her Strength score was probably about 60, given some of the stuff she was wearing. I definitely couldn''t match that... although in Might, I was actually higher with the bars of my Philosopher''s Might glowing hot white.


    Her luck and insight bonuses weren''t even going to slow me down, I was Beyond them. She could go looking for possibilities all day and effectively find none. The massive Health boost... was a non-issue. The only thing I was concerned with was her pool of Health Qi, and how long it would take to bring it down.


    And Hells, since she was sitting still, no reason not to start Sharding her.


    My arms began to butterfly, and cuts, stabs, stars, and scythes of shining energy began to join the shots from Tail and Arms. They didn''t get my Sage bonus, but everything else came though, and she staggered as they hit, because of my operational Strength.


    I had Nogged my Strength to base 18. Levels and Masteries had given me a +14 to it, leaving me at a 32. My Girdle of Jotun Power was upgraded... it could either raise me to 31, or give me a +5 bonus, with a x4 lifting capacity, as if I was four times my size. Those stacked with my Gauntlets'' boost of +4, since my Sword was my Hammer.


    I had taken my Hag Levels after I completed my Human ones. As an Annis-blood, the primary benefit was the +10 Strength bonus, up from the Human +2, and the Nat Armor. Skin like iron, after all. With no Curse corrupting it, it was actually not the slightest bit unsightly, and it only tinged if I wanted it to.


    Upgraded Strength Mark added +4, up from +2, and Warshifter added +5.


    Yeah, I had a working 56 Strength right now. Might was actually at 76, which she was gonna find out if things got close.


    With my Girdle, that meant right now I could surge-bench 1600 tons, give or take. I could tote around about a hundred tons.


    She didn''t have the x4 benchpress of my Girdle, but 65 was about Hulk-level Strength, as I understood it... before the green-skinned comic character went berserk or something, of course. So, we were both up there in superhero range, and definitely not alone, as Mah Fuzzy was proving back there. He was a couple miles away, and I was pretty sure I could hear the impacts of Endure with my own ears, if not through Marktell.


    So, she was functionally probably about twice as Powerful as me, which translated to +2 or +3. A 60 Strength meant +25 to hit... normal armor functionally didn''t exist at this level of power, and even enchanted armor would be overwhelmed. It would barely slow down a blow at all, without something to back it.


    Her head snapped up abruptly as I was reviewing my AC and to-hit numbers versus hers. "You! From the dream! That accursed soul that wouldn''t die!" All five of the eyes I could see on her were fixed on Tremble, who was ringing with our song.


    Ho, she actually knew it? I laughed at her, and began to advance. "I''ve killed you three times, Hagmother! Let''s make it a fourth, shall we?"


    All those misplaced eyes fixed on my face, and now there was recognition, I was de-lighted to see!


    Not of me. Of who I resembled. Of the girl that she had used to be, all those millennia ago, before she became a Hag. With a scream, she inflated in size, doubling her eight feet of bent-over height to sixteen, arms reaching out with fingers like cleaver blades.


    It was on!

 260 Chapter Two Hundred and Sixty – It’s Just Hagmom and Me; Tremble!

    Titan-Slaying Defensive Techniques, double your Dodge bonus against things two sizes bigger than you. Which she had just voluntarily activated. So nice. I wasn''t going to tell her she didn''t have to do that; she couldn''t hit me anyways.


    Courtier of Death, +3. Elusive Soul, +5. Feats, +4. Dodge bonuses stack. Doubled.


    That +8 Strength bonus she got for Getting Big just turned into a net -8 to hit. I didn''t even bother to dispel the buff with Pierce Magical Protection... I had absolutely no regard for it as I came in and began to shred her.


    She had magical items to further up her defenses, but they were offset already. I effectively reduced the Force Armor from her Bracers by six, her Dexterity bonus by six, and the Deflection bonus from her gaudy Ring there by all of it. I was ignoring her Natural Armor, the bedrock of her defense, entirely with Brilliant Weapons, leaving me having to hit an AC that still would have been 40+... if I didn''t get to ignore her Luck and Insight bonuses, too.


    This was a fight of pure skill on my side, and magical bonuses on hers. Unfortunately for her, magic can be neutralized, or gone Beyond.


    Seven Dragon Profound Swordwork mauled at her, while Fall and Tail fired up at her face from behind my back... or rather, spread their fire at all of her eyes. My Halo Crown lit up, and suddenly she was looking into a floodlight. No devasight for her!


    She couldn''t hit me. She was flailing with insane coordination and power, ripping through stone and earth, striking so fast the air of the wash itself was cutting and creating wind blasts my Vajra slid me through, hard enough to split steel and pulverize rock, not to mention rend with her claws... and other pairs of tentacles, if she hit in series.


    But she couldn''t. She''d pursued Witchcraft, which gave her some awesome supplementary effects, and was a necessity in the world of Hagdom, but it meant she didn''t have the melee foundation that I did. To assuage her shortcomings in this area, she''d gone mad for Stats and innate defenses of stupefying power. She could tell where I was, even if she couldn''t look right at me, but she couldn''t hit me with just that awareness. It wasn''t working for her here.


    Things might have been bad for me without Brilliant. That would have left her with about a 60 AC, a stupefying number, like an average man shooting at a tank and hoping to hit a vital spot. Brilliant had totally gutted that, which was why it was called the Dragonslayer enchantment. Wyrms also got into the 30+ Natural Armor range.


    If I wasn''t immune to Luck and Insight too, it could have been AC 84...


    On my side, she was going up against a +10 Natural Armor bonus from Ahren Levels, a working 44 or so Dex giving me +17, a +12 Dodge bonus doubled to +24 because she was too big for her britches, and a 45 Wis giving a +17 from Monk.


    The +7 from Force Armor and +3 Deflection were basically secondary. Oh, and there was Stand, +XI against Legendary Hags right now, +3 with Greater Shield Focus, and all his +IX offense against her turned to Defender, just in case.


    I had set aside the miscellaneous bonuses, like Combat Expertise, Natural Swordswoman, my singing Warlord bonus, and the like.


    She was hacking at me with a bonus of something like +13 from Hag and Witch Levels, and +25 from her Strength. Maaaaybe some focus on natural weaponry for +1 or 2.


    +40 to hit. Given the spread, that meant she could hit an AC of 60. If I wasn''t immune to her Luck and Insight, well, that number would have been higher, to the tune of AC 80!


    My AC against her was 100 at the moment, minimum... and I could easily spike it another 10 to 20.


    She couldn''t hit me. I was reading her every movement and motion, her intent and her possible vectors of attack, even with her unreal physiology.


    Skill, not magic. There was no Luck behind what I was doing, no profound force coming down and bending chance, or letting her look a second or three into the future to see what I would do. I was Beyond that.


    And I didn''t WANT her to hit me. No, not at all.


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    I wanted her to flail around with insane ferocity and power, with all that steel-shredding strength and might, and be totally and completely unable to hit me. She might scrape me, but I''d take it at just the right angle, and was tough enough to bounce it. Stand was meeting blows and smashing them back and away. I was moving like the wind, around her, by her, one step ahead of every strike, reading her through instinct and skill like she wanted to read me through future-peeking, making sure she was never lucky.


    Her Health Qi was vomited into the sky as we danced, our feet moving faster than people would be able to follow with the eye, shifting back, forth, around, the soil and grass blasting into the air, water spraying and winds churning as we danced. There was no ''looking'' at one another here, the air was full of shit: you either knew where your enemy was, or you didn''t. She had her massive size and reach, which only made it harder for her to hit me. I had greater speed, and weapons that ate right through her Epic DR and Blunt DR without even slowing down.


    She had seven things to hit me with: four tentacles rippling with space-tearing edges, her bite, and her claws, all of which could come into play at any second. It was a totally fearsome lineup which could devastate any unprepared opponent.


    I lowered my AC by four to set up the Karmic Strike exchange, adopted Thorned Stance, proceeded to Lock her Down, and Tremble and I Sang and laughed in anticipation.


    "Hag who thinks it all a game, darkly ever denies her blame;


    Play the witch, be the bitch, scratch the itch... but mind that twitch;


    What goes around, comes around... and now, you Hag, she''s coming around.


    Tremble, she comes!


    Wail, oh wail, you cursed thing, there is no mercy where we Sing.


    Lies and delusions to which you cling, let clear and pure the truth now ring,


    From the deadly light you''ll crawl, down, down, to that cold grim hall


    Where judgement waits, your time has come,


    Your soul of filth, of rot and scum.


    Your Fate, your Doom, come all too soon


    Your hate, your gloom, a useless tune


    Sung to despair and long-shirked blame


    At last now comes your end of game.


    Tremble, she comes!"


    There is a tremendously useful Feat out there called Lock Down. To wit, if a foe provokes an Attack of Opportunity from trying to move away from you, you can attack them, interrupt the movement, and force them to stand still. They get a Reflex save equal to the damage you do to avoid the effect.


    My average damage was in the 150 range. Thorned Stance meant that if she tried to flee, she provoked. If she tried to Cast, even a Fastcast spell, it provoked, not that she could cast while within the ten feet of my Null.


    And like that, her end of our dance slowed to a crawl. Every time she tried to step, I mauled her legs, and she tottered and almost fell.


    I was right up on her, and as she struck at me, the AoO''s went off. I stepped up with a Flurry as she lashed at me with seven attacks... and I gave her back thirteen, plus the Lock Down.


    Space-shredding claws scraped on Indestructible adamant. Teeth crashed next to my ear on extending jaws. Tentacles whipped and rang against Swords and Shield. Feet kicked, mass shoved.


    It was all openings to me. I executed Seven Ripping Dragons twice in six seconds as she tried to step back, Health Qi bloomed all around us, dotted with little stamen from my missile fire, which had never let up.


    "Tremble, She Comes!"we howled at her.


    Outraged at being unable to retreat, she unloaded on me again, and noticed the Blood Rose too late.


    "TREMBLE!" It was a scream of ecstasy, of culmination and anticipation, of saying Fuck-You!!! to Fate and Chance and all her machinations, and putting this rabid bitch down.


    The Blood Rose ignited, and that crazy warped insane flesh-twisted hate expression of hers took a real turn as she suddenly read the change of Luck, and didn''t realize that she should have stopped attacking in time... probably because she had realized that with my glowing Swords, trying to play defense just wasn''t going to work at all.


    Fourteen Sword crits went off, and eleven ranged crits helped them along. My Halo Crown became a light in a sea of blood.


    "TREMBLE!!"we screamed at her. Eat an Intimidation check at 70, bitch! Let me see all those eyes shrinking back in fear! Let me see you seeing Doom coming for you in every possibility! Oh, right, THERE''S NO POSSIBILITY FOR YOU!


    She staggered back uncontrollably as at least five thousand Health Qi vented. I didn''t know how much she had, but I''d cleared at least a thousand shooting her while running, and at least another four thousand sparring just now. If she had twelve thousand to start with, I was on the home stretch.


    I didn''t care if she was an Exemplar. If I got into her Health and Soak, she wouldn''t last six seconds. She wouldn''t have more than a thousand Hit Points of them combined.


    I think that''s about when she realized that not only could I kill her, I was going to kill her, and there wasn''t much she could do to stop it. Her entire body was starting to spasm with freaking terror as we came for her.


    She tore two things out of her robe with blinding speed, and instead of stepping away, both leapt and hauled herself up, the object in her left hand locking into the air solidly and providing a brace. I ripped through her leg, buckling it, but it didn''t matter... she weighed virtually nothing to herself with such a high Strength, and pulled herself up out of my Null with the one arm, and crushed the sphere in her other hand with the other.


    It was a Panic Button. She''d used the same damn thing to get away from Haz¨¦. I couldn''t jump up fast enough to stop it from going off.


    The hyperdraft only had half her body to work with initially, but that was enough. It howled past, tearing her up and sideways into the air, pure force of wind ripping her up and away at 200 mph, getting her in the sky and away from me in just a few seconds, even as I hit the ground from my thirty-foot vertical leap a hundred feet away.


    I didn''t scream, I just chased, my howl of fury instantly dimming to a cold, hunting roll. My Swords snapped back into their sheaths, I took Stand in both hands as he swelled to Autobow instead of Handbow size, and the shooting never stopped.


    She Flashcast a Gust of Wind and Featherweight, bypassing the no-flying magic by dispersing her mass into the area and just blowing herself violently away.


    I was running faster than she could retreat, but she had a hundred yards up on me. Spurts of Health Qi vented from her, but she took it, because escape wasn''t far away.


    There was that canyon there, yo.


    She hit the edge of it doing about 50 mph play-a-leaf tumbling in the air, and the static magical disruption from the ruptured ley line there destroyed her spells. She didn''t care, as she arched over and down, her enlarged figure shattering around her to reveal her smaller self within as she dove down, down into the yawning, glowing abyss below, populated only by the unending waterfalls and multiple rainbows coursing down all around.


    I skated right up to the edge, still shooting, Mask up, eyes flaring with mistsight to see through the water, tracking ¨C


    She was three hundred yards down when I hit her with a bolt, and saw it bury itself in her ass.


    Fuck me. Finally got through it...


    Then she was gone into the waters, and I couldn''t see her anymore.


    Ten Racial HD, d10. Con 40ish? +15 per die. Exemplar bonus, +12 per die, automatically maxed. 370 to 400 Health. At least twelve Witch Levels. D4. Same modifiers. Roughly the same Soak.


    Epic DR, Resistances, Fast Healing 10, natural water-breathing, swim speed. Insanely tough and strong, 750 to 800 Hit Points...


    Even with no magic, could she survive the fall, and whatever was going on down there?


    Most certainly.


    Tusk Annie, my Hagmom, got away.


    -------------


    I took Fall in my Arakne hand, pulled out Tremble again, not daring to let her fly about as I stood there above the rushing waters, a couple feet away from the edge, my Vajra the only thing keeping me from being swept over the edge as waist-high water hurtled past and around me, unable to touch me.


    "The bitch got away," Tremble cursed, shaking in my hand. Two Empresses, and we''d dominated her so hard, yet we couldn''t complete the trifecta.


    Hagmom was definitely a piece of work. She got out at just the right time. Ten, no, six seconds more, and she was dead, dead, dead!


    Stasis Bar, extended to as high as she could reach, outside my Null... or the default range of a Helix. Moving via the arm, instead of the feet, as it locked down in space for a default moment, before the Interdiction would overcome it, and bypassing Lock Down, which operated on limbs I could reach. She was effectively weightless to herself with her strength, pulled herself instantly up and flung herself into the air. I didn''t have the high-gravity training, so while my vertical jump was impressive, I couldn''t keep her in my Null fast enough, the Stasis Bar unlocking the instant she let go, I couldn''t use it as a step to pursue her.


    Free action to crush the ball for the Panic Button. Didn''t matter how heavy she was, the tornado-class winds would blow her into the air, gravity was a non-issue. Featherweight was literally a finger-wave, and she Fastcast the Gust of Wind, thus extending the duration of the Featherweight, which normally dissipated once contact with the ground was made, and it sidestepped any Interdiction or Stillflight.


    It was an escape method designed to not rely on flight or dimensional lockdowns, something she would only plan for in case of ambush by foes locking down those escape routes. Reasonably speaking, she would have been blown out of range of most of the areas of effect, and could have teleported away, just like she had with Haz¨¦. I could use the Cloudstepping Sandals to walk on air, but only if I didn''t have aerial Interdiction up, in which case she''d have flight magic, too, and better then mine.


    Still, she hadn''t been able to escape the range of my Interdiction because of my speed, but it hadn''t mattered. All she had to do was get to the ley line gap, and she was home free because of her unearthly toughness.


    She couldn''t have run or flown or been blown far enough or fast enough to escape my Interdiction. I would have paced her the whole way and whole day if I had to, and eventually some Casters behind me would have ''ported ahead of her and shut down the tactic with Dispels.


    And she figured that as well, and so dove into the ley line chasm, where nobody could follow her.


    I''d been beaten by TERRAIN, and my lack of truly uber long-ranged attacks. Only Haz¨¦ might have had the long-ranged punch to overcome her magic resistance... and only twelve seconds to do so, tops.


    If Haz¨¦ had been here, she would''ve been torn apart in six seconds or less, so... not an option.


    "She''s a survivor," I replied, disappointed, but wrestling down my singing emotions, focusing on the reality, and what was coming next.


    Awwww, who was I kidding. I was so pissed inside you could have lit a fire off my eyeballs right now. "She''s a Monarch; it''s how she got all that Health Qi, but all that power is dependent on her empire, the power passing up to her, and how much she was able to suck off this Great Formation she set up.


    "She''s going to hit the ruins of that Ley Line down there, and she''s going to have to give up something to survive. She was probably awarded the Pseudonatural, but she stole the Exemplar, so my guess is that. She is going to look a whole lot worse and be a lot less tough the next time she sees us."


    I''d had Blooding up just to stop any fast healing or Cures on her going off, or any necromantic healing shenanigans, or the like. She couldn''t heal up that Health Qi, and likely would never be able to get it back once the Ley Line was done burning her.


    So, I''d cost her her Empire, I''d probably cost her a lot of personal power, and she was going to have a damn hard time holding onto much Health Qi with her Giant Empire crashing down around her, and no Obelisks to leech off of.


    I''d burned her pretty bad.


    Unfortunately, now she knew how supremely dangerous we were to her. She would be doing everything she could to not get near to us, as you just don''t live down an Intimidation check at that level, and if she was smart, she wouldn''t even try using cat''s-paws, as I might feel the touch of her hand and go backtracking.


    Hagmom was smart, and a survivor. She knew I''d never stop looking for her, and when I found her, she was dead.


    But Hagmom was gone, the Formation was self-destructing, however slowly, and the important stuff we had to do here was done.


    It didn''t mean our job was done, or that we didn''t have things to do, but we succeeded at accomplishing the mission objectives.


    And we''d used less than a third of the allotted time. Eight hours, in the outside world...


    I lifted my eyes to the Wake cracking open the sky, while my anger seethed and tried to find an outlet.


    50 Charisma meant me being angry was equivalent to a normal person dying of apoplexy. 45 Wisdom only sort of kept it under control.


    Okay, we still needed to drag the Wake all the way to the Hole, and split this Reality Shard open wide. But that could be done idly.


    In the meantime, there was a whole lot of other stuff we could be doing in addition...


    Like butchering every damn thing I could find for a while!

 261 Chapter Two Hundred and Sixty-One – Party’s Over, Back to Work

    I ran back to the others, as they weren''t too far away, and the fighting was still ongoing.


    It was ongoing very, very bloodily. My exultation at finally fighting Hagmom had been blowing through the Markspace with singing glory.


    My fury at her getting away had blown through it like a crescendo of howling rage, and everything fighting here was absolutely freaking berserk, just a tool for my to vent my wrath upon everything in there way.


    I dove right into the slaughter as all the drak could only reel in disbelief at what they were fighting, and die. Die. DIE ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRGH!


    ---


    "That''s a new look for you. Eau de Sama the Butcher?" Briggs asked, not giving me any emotional support at all. I knifed an elbow into his ribs, and he grunted in mock pain.


    I was absolutely covered in gore, because it made me feel better for the moment. It looked like I took a bath in a dragon''s innards, and the smell could make eyes water at ten paces.


    "I feel like being miserable. Don''t bug me while I stew." I walked over to a pool of water burning with vivic flames, sat down in it, and began to glower.


    The area about me emptied rather quickly. I didn''t fight the unwhite flames as they stole up me to eat away the blood and body parts, and anyways, the lads had a lot of salvage work to do, along with disposing of other drak that hadn''t heard the news still incoming.


    But the urgency had vanished with the berserker rage. While we still had shit left to do, the Glory Award had come down and given everyone a Warlord''s alternative to hearty sex, blessing everyone with the knowledge that DAMN, slaughtering for a Good Cause was a really cool thing. Even the Three Kings were a little rocked by the sensation.


    Helped with the soul-deep exhaustion and bone-aching stress of coming out of a berserker state lasting nearly an hour. If they hadn''t been ExLites or possessed of Con''s of 40 (hey there, little sisters, Briggs, sorry about that), they''d basically be dead.


    That Wyrm was dead, and all his goodies earmarked for King Ivory, who had a lot of ground to make up on the personal equipment side of things. Elder Arg berated him for disdaining such items, especially when Void Brothers were walking by with Zehn Slot Weapons that made him very wary, indeed.


    King Ivory agreed that a set of Mire Wyrm Barding would look very attractive thereafter. The ignominious fate of being skinned to become armor for its conqueror soon began, while a Jar was devoted to containing the Wyrm''s blood.


    All told, its carcass was probably worth a hundred goldweight in materials and power comps, and various fractions of that value were enjoyed by all the other dead dragons in the area. The sheer amount of blood going to pulled off and burned for comps was immense.


    Alas for the mountains of goldweight we''d lost on the way here... yeah, that was gonna bum me for a while. The Land was so greedy...


    The apes were feasting on dragon flesh despite being nominal vegetarians, truly an enjoyable occurrence for them. Given their appetites, the carcasses weren''t going to last too long, and they were all interested in some dragonhide armor, not much liking metal armor if they could avoid it.


    Me, I had to think. There was so much stuff I had to finish personally, and then other stuff we had to finish up. Hagmom had gotten away for now, but there was so much stuff left to do which we could still address.


    I certainly wasn''t planning on leaving before True Dawn. But that didn''t mean I needed to drag everyone else around. After all, destruction of this place was inevitable.


    So, it was time to talk.


    -----


    We couldn''t ''take a day off'', because we were being constantly bugged by stuff being drawn from hundreds of miles away to kill us. That was okay, everyone wanted some Karma, more comps, and the eats were appreciated. There was enough to keep everyone busy if we spread out.


    Wayfair was still constrained by zones, but there was a much, much larger area she could teleport through freely now, and there''s nothing like an unlimited teleporter for mass scouting services over large areas. In a very short time, The Map around us was filled in, clusters of enemies noted, and strike teams moving off in all directions to harvest them.


    She was getting to Travel, and naturally loving it.


    The angelic vohr played spell support, while mixed teams of apes, berserkers, Ironblood, and dwarves were sent this way and that. The vohr were more there for emergencies than anything, giving some missile support and extra scouting in the meantime, but the physical power of the troops was generally equal to the task. Griffons and dragons sought out other fliers to head off problems, moved back and forth to support against larger forces, and generally everyone kept pretty busy as we headed back to the Empire Zone.


    The Brothers dispersed, some concentrating on finding and hunting down Hags. AA stayed with us, ready to finish the job of driving the Wake all the way to the Hole.


    The girls went out with the Kings, who were determined to reclaim some of their power and majesty by dint of earning a LOT more Class Levels. My Hellpuppies accompanied King Grey, naturally enough. King Gold was hunting with the berserkers, of course, while King Ivory had a howdah whipped up and all the gnomes and hyn were hooting and shooting from atop him in a bristling cluster of missile fire, working with King Grey as they rolled across the landscape, killing anything dumb enough to get in their way.


    ----


    "Elder Arg."


    The massive silverhide looked at me respectfully as I plopped down on his shoulder. The fact I was talking to him in person meant I wanted a bit of privacy, and the couple apes hanging around found other places to chew down drak meat into their full tummies.


    His grunt asked me what was up.


    "Two things. One, I need your help on a special project. Two projects, actually. One is metallurgy, the other is making a Sword."


    He huffed slyly. "Yeah, we''ve got the quintessence, that was the toughest thing. We can make some orichalcum. Fuzzy''s been wanting his ultimate armor, so getting enough raw metal for that is a thing. But, it''s a Fifteen Ranks thing with Alchemy to make, so, not something we can do without help."


    He patted his chest with his fist. "Thanks. I''m also going to be making an orichalcum sword with some of those psionic properties I told you about." He grunted, shaking his head. "It''s related to what''s going to happen outside. I''m covering my bases. If nothing goes bad, I have a back-up Weapon. If it does, I''ll need it."


    He choffed understanding. Based on what I''d done for him and his tribe, this was nothing.


    "But... you can''t do that while we''re moving, which is fortunate, because we''ve got to get you back home."


    That got his attention, and he huffed quickly, staring at me.


    I pointed up at the Wake. "There''s an open trail to teleport along on that path. Also, anybody and everything along the Obelisks we''ve toppled can now move freely along that path. I told you that ultimately most of this area is going to go away. The Shamans, Casters, and Diviners of the races are going to foresee this. Their alternatives are to flee into the side realms, risking the temporal shift, and that''s if they can get a Ritual to do so. The other is to run along the Wake towards the way out."


    His dark eyes widened.


    Monkey High was right in the way of those who would be fleeing.


    "They''ve got a long way to go, but they literally have nothing better to do with their lives. There isn''t enough magic to get them out of this Shardzone, so they''ll start heading along the back path as far as they can, and Ritualize teams in to take out the Obelisks as they run into them, maybe.


    "Whatever, your people are right in the way, because we didn''t go around you. They are going to need you there to protect them. The smart ones may not bug you, but there''s no end of stupid in the world.


    "You might think about taking down the Obelisks in the neighboring zones, making it easier to go around you. As long as you''re Beyond Law and Chaos, and have Brilliant Weapons, you should be able to take out the guardians, right?"


    He made a long growl. "If it was that easy, I wouldn''t have said anything. That''ll be true when True Dawn comes."


    He agreed despite himself, rumbling a few times. "Yeah, we''re going back to the Hag City, we''re going to loot everything we can for you to take with you. There should be literally tons of gold you can haul out of there... and, I think the dragons will want to go with you." I leaned in closer, and he did the same. "Some of your guys took Whitesmithing, right? We can''t just drop gold on them, and they''re too vain to ask, but I think making some objects out of gold for their hoards that commemorate all our fights, the friendship between the apes and the dragons, and similar things, would be a great use of their share of the gold, right?"


    He laughed deep in his chest, agreeing with me. He definitely wasn''t afraid of dragons, but they were indeed very useful, and good friends to have. Wholesale slaughter of things wasn''t normally their cup of tea, although they were very energetic about scouring down any hint of Mire bloodlines and eradicating them, muttering and cursing about how their darker kin would spread their bloodlines to the whole world if they could. It was likely time for them to leave this barbarous outright slaughter, and defending the monkey plateau would be a thing they could get behind.


    --------


    I sat down and had a heart-to-heart with my Weapons. We were all pissed about Hagmom getting away; Tremble the most, the rest because Tremble and I were. Tremble, after all, had a much-admired Special Purpose!


    But the fact was, there were big Events coming up, and when things like that happened, I wasn''t going to risk their existence just because I wanted them along. I laid out the scenarios for them, had them look at the choices that had to be made, and the risks and scales of things that were going to happen.


    They didn''t like it, as their existence had revolved around me, but they also weren''t dumb and could all listen in on Marktell when Soulbound with me.


    Things might not happen the way I expected them to... but I wasn''t going to bank on it, and neither should they. After all, they had the Ironblood and my little sisters to look after, too, not just me. Did they think I was going to let them get wiped out when Hagmom was still out there and might try to target them? Uh-uh, not happening.


    I was making the hard choice here, kids, so what mom says, goes...


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    -------


    And there was that other thing.


    i.e. apes mature sexually well before humans.


    So, yeppers, Briggs woke up.


    Hey, he had kept some skill points back, too, clever guy. Alas, that meant he could only grab one point a day about certain kinds of activities. I helped him with the akashic resonance.


    So, ten days of proper education had to follow. With teeth. And fuzz. And clashing Vajras. It was occasionally rather loud. We were occasionally interrupted by things with teeth and scales, which made it more fun, given the amount of healthy foreplay we tended to exhibit.


    Briggs was also undergoing a growth spurt, which also drove a tremendous appetite, and lots of energy. He was taller than I was now, and I swear he was adding on an inch a week.


    His skinplate was probably going to get its seams tested. I expected him to reach over seven feet tall and four hundred pounds, pretty much all of it steel-hard muscle. Harum, harum, rarrgh!


    It turned out the vohr weren''t at all squeamish about enjoying things with the Ironblood or the berserkers, and Wayfair naturally had to sample each of those Helixes personally, although Errant did escape her clutches, probably after Haz¨¦ cleared her throat a few times in warning.


    My two hours of downtime got much cozier and less meditative. I was all for that. The fact that Briggs could endure through it all got him quite a bit of respect from the lads, too.


    As for the girls, well, Veis seemed to have a thing for hyn, the more dangerous the better; Amber occupied herself with Errant''s moody prot¨¦g¨¦ Klistos, who had realized that having Heaven behind you didn''t mean you were invincible; Verd and our druid Barus started getting along remarkably well; and the Amazon Trilla and Kadifyr were having a fling. Estemar and the other Heavenbound seemed to be intent on trying to preserve their virtue, which was pretty much an impossibility for the pretty boys with angelic vohr around eager to test the silver soul of a Paladin and the touch of Heaven''s flames.


    I just laughed as they were finally cornered and had to succumb, and you know, they looked a lot more relaxed the next day. We were in much too violent an occupation to be saving ourselves for marriage...

 262 Chapter Two Hundred and Sixty-Two – The Days Blur Together

    I also had to speak with the little sisters, and my hellpoodles. This was replete with many protests, woofs of denial, and other disagreements that I just ramrodded right through. After all, they knew me, I wasn''t going to take the low road, and I knew them, and I believed in them.


    Having someone with a working 50 Charisma believing in you is nigh-irresistible. They all succumbed under Sama''s Steamroller, surprise, surprise.


    I had to speak with Errant and Haz¨¦ as well, and to my lack of surprise there wasn''t much resistance to what I was proposing. After all, Heavenbound and Mystic Theurge... they were tied right in to the powers Upstairs, and big picture thinkers for big reasons. They reviewed everything, agreed with me on what was likely, who had to do what, and knew what they had to be working for.


    Then, it was back to work.


    ---------


    We cut a very wide swathe across the zones, back to the capital city. We weren''t hasty, they knew we were coming by those who ran away from us, and yeah, they took some steps to defend themselves.


    The Void Brothers descended on the place and took down the Hags and their magical defenses in a night of slaughter, which rather thoroughly gutted their spellpower.


    The next day we began hitting them, making sure nobody got to run with the loot and wealth of the city. We were going to reduce the place, and cart off the wealth of an empire for Elder Arg, his monkey boys, and the dragons, and there wasn''t going to be any stopping us.


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    The self-healing aspect of the Exemplar Lites truly shone here, because it meant we could undertake continuous, grinding warfare. Five minutes was generally enough for even the most badly wounded of our people to return to full strength, barring missing a limb or something important, and as always, the clerics and the White Staff were standing by, ready to bring someone back who got too cocksure, much to the mockery of the others.


    A lot of Karma went into Racial Levels to get Health up, accordingly. The Kings maxed out their Racial Levels, King Gold getting up to nearly the size of a Dire Lion, while King Ivory grew larger than a mammoth.


    With more Hit Dice came higher limits on Skills, especially for Ivory. What he would choose to do with them was his business, but his discussions with me and Elder Arg were remarkably nuanced, even as he commenced taking his Class Levels, too.


    The capital city was immense, stone blocks hauled from neighboring zones, built up over this wet and marshy land, forming a grim, damp city that just begged for murderers in the shadows and things stalking the streets in the night. There was a mile-wide crater where the Obelisk used to be, deep-deep canyons dividing the city which couldn''t be crossed by magical flight, and many buildings fallen and collapsed.


    We didn''t kill all the giants, of course; that would have been inefficient. They were strong, tended to the dumb side, and were used to being ordered around by female spellcasters. Accordingly, Wayfair soon took control of them, supplemented by massive amounts of charm spells on key bosses, and in no time at all, we had a labor force for clearing the rubble and getting at the treasures within.


    Briggs'' and mine advanced tremblesense came in very useful for locating buried hoards and vaults, and we dug them out with amazing speed, with Rockborn directing everything and vohr supplementing with magic where needed. Tons and tons of gold were Itemized or Tapestried, and Wayfair teleported away, following the Wake all the way back to the Plateau of the Monkeys, depositing ever growing piles of the shiny metal for the apes waiting there.


    After all, I had tons of Marked monkeys back there, who were all very current on what we were doing and all the things that had been done. They knew about the Shardzone collapse coming, and were starting to gather all the tribes in the jungle in preparation. Their only weakness was supplies, and that wasn''t that hard to solve. Some of the chakon and champa-ka Exemplars headed home through a double Portal via Tremble, Wayfair providing the target focus on the far end, and with their muscle, starting to harvest the neighboring dinos and lushest greenery and fruits and preserve them according to the new methods they now had knowledge of.


    And if they happened to bring along multiple tons of giant''s weapons and stuff bundled up along with them, that was only a little opportunistic and pragmatic...


    --------


    You wouldn''t think that a major city that had housed over a hundred thousand giant-sized occupants could be looted thoroughly in under a month, but that''s what having a superstrong labor force who knows right where to dig gets you. We were literally hauling out wagonloads of precious metals, and buffing up Disks to take all the weight as we hauled them through Tremble''s Portals to Monkey High.


    The monkey-boys were delighted to learn that yeah, all that salvage and this digging up gold accumulated Karma, too. Given the amounts being pulled out, they were doing just as well as being in roaring combat all the time. Which naturally set thoughts turning to downtime, and Crafting, and casual Karma made that way...


    ----------


    "We take down all the Obelisks in this Shardzone. I want a full conduit in and out for dumping stuff in Reality. The faster we can do it, the better."


    We were all watching The Map of the Shardzone, looking at our winding path in and out. The positions of the Obelisks we''d passed were clearly marked, as were all those in zones that we''d bypassed or not entered on the way in. There were quite a few of them.


    Pseudonaturals were worth a LOT of Karma. There tended to be a lot of loot at their locations, too, used to fuel the power that held them there.


    Almost everybody listening in was an ExLite or better, and nobody was a dummy, even the berserkers. They were all worthy to be in on the planning, having their own inputs and ideas. Of course, the majority of their desires were for Karma and Loot, which was what this was all about, so nobody was naysaying.


    The key to taking out Pseudonaturals was Brilliant Weapons and a +VI Weapon bonus. Everybody could do the former, but it was pretty much Nulls limited to the latter. A +IV Slot effect wasn''t something their Weapons could sustain at this point, as most of them were at QL32 or so, and could only support Slot Zeks.


    So, we had to get everyone''s Weapons and Armor up to QL 40, the fast way.


    If I wasn''t Crafting for value, getting to QL 40 wasn''t all that hard. Elder Arg had taken Legendary Crafter and could do twenty goldweight of crafting a day, which translated into dozens of Weapons he could refine up. Briggs could out-craft me on anything but swords, for the most part, and we had lots of chakon with smithing Ranks at 12 to assist or work at the same time.


    We needed more Tools, but creating an array of Masterwork stuff wasn''t that hard, and Forge was fully capable of handling the work of dozens of smiths at once.


    All in all, refining the Weapons and Armor of everyone to 40 and making Zehn Slots possible didn''t actually take all that long. The key was raw materials, and it came as no surprise that the smiths and giants had some impressive reserves of ores carted up out of the Hole, or from the ranges of mountains that crossed the Shards. Given we only needed an eighth to a sixty-fourth what giants did to create their Gear, what we found in mithral and adamant was more than adequate for our needs.


    Looting the personal labs and stashes of Hags and Witches got us all the reagents we could use, and certainly enough to make orichalcum. Accompanying embellishments were added as new Weapons and Armor were forged to their owners, and the old ones ceremoniously sacrificed to them, transferring the Names and magic, and opening themselves up to be improved once again. If Forge wasn''t heating up Gear, it was smelting down ores by the tons. Alas, we had no use for the bricks from the slag, but such is life.


    Going from Zeks or Zeben Slots to Zehn would involve another half year of daily Naming Karma for one Weapon and one Armor or Shield. Needless to say, they were all eager to get about it.


    Fido and Shirley were crucial for treating the Mire dragonhides, which were naturally impervious to acidic or basic softening procedures. Many of the Apes opted for Force Armor Bracers over the Armor, but donned it for appearance and the natural resistance to acid damage that it could be enchanted to provide. Plus, ''me kill dragon take hide wear'' is a rather impressive story to relate to the ladies.


    The dragons opted for mithral Barding, with enchantments on it to absorb more mithral so it could grow with them as they got bigger. Dyed in black, it looked very impressive on them, and the ornamentation in gold proudly commemorated the fighting and glory they had won here. They were all quite pleased.


    It was a month of hard labor, doing high-end work that would have required all the gathered master smiths of the Klintskun kingdoms to equal.


    We didn''t have the time to give Briggs'' new Armor or my new Sword the full Crafting treatment, much as I might have liked. That still meant they were made at QL 55. Briggs'' suit first required making a full adamant suit of skinplate, and then letting the orichalcum eat it before reforging it into the same. Naturally we let the orichalcum eat a lot of different other kinds of metals, too. No reason not to take advantage of its magical nature.


    ------


    Team by team, as they were equipped, they left.


    King Gold left with the berserkers and a few vohr in support. Brilliant was a V Valence spell, and cast on a few Berserker Weapons, would be sufficient to take down any Pseudos they fought, as the group of them was tough enough to survive their onslaughts long enough to do so with a little help. King Gold was definitely looking forward to being strong enough to battle such creatures without such help, but acknowledged he''d probably need the aid for now. He''d also be towing them around very quickly on their Disks with his speed. It also meant he was VERY eager to gain more Druid Levels so he could do such things himself... and if he was quietly liking catman-form for being able to work with tools and Make Toys, well, nobody was going to say anything.


    Errant and the Heavenbound went with the Rockborn, several vohr, and the gnomes. All the Heavenbound had Brilliant in Arsenal, as Errant had prevailed upon me to make them QL 40 Weapons during our Three Days. They''d have no trouble with Obelisk teams, and the griffons could skim along and keep them moving fast.


    The dragons and their riders, including Estemar, did indeed leave to reinforce the apes. They''d also take down the neighboring Obelisks, and could easily fight every day with the dangers in the nearby zones. Already the forces from Leng were spilling off the high, cold plateau, moving into the empty undead zone, and closing in on Monkey High. They were not going to be lacking for Karma, and had the speed to quickly get close to the areas that would need to be reinforced.


    King Grey naturally went with the Ironblood, whose officers had naturally gained Brilliant Weapons some time ago. Again, there were vohr in support for Casting, but the Wolf would be leading his pack on a vengeful hunt. The hyn went with them.


    The girls went with King Ivory, the Hellpuppies going with them, as did the North Wind. The Elephant would be leading the charge, and unlike the other groups, would be focusing in the Holewards districts more. The girls had Brilliant on their Weapons, and King Ivory was definitely looking forwards to butting heads with such creatures. Liiss, Barus, and Kadifyr would provide the buffing support needed, so off they went.


    The Brothers scattered counter-clockwise, Veilwalking into the neighboring Shardzones. Their job was to take down Obelisks and ensure the Wake kept following the cracking Formation, driving it around the circle and making sure there were no problems. There was very little doubt that they would find tons to do as they did so.


    That left just me, Briggs, AA, and Elder Arg to finish up, before we went on an Obelisk-dropping journey, too. Wayfair would be our back-up Caster for taking them down when we hit them, but with her unlimited teleporting, was also everyone''s back-up, and the loot shuffler. Getting the Obelisks down along our backtrail was #1 priority for the teams, so that she could start bringing loot outside Yle Tyorm, and had Tremble with her just to facilitate that process, promising to get in some fights so Tremble could accumulate Naming Karma more easily.

 263 Chapter Two Hundred and Sixty-Three - Chalice

    My Weapons were floating all around as I went through the final quenching on the Blade. Elder Arg had taken less than eight hours of work to complete this, and I had been his assistant the whole time, adding in another eight hours of my own to give it a foundation. He watched carefully as I worked, knowing that my actual Crafting Skill was higher, I just couldn''t form the magical foundations that he could... yet.


    He hadn''t actually Empowered anything, that would have been a waste of all our times. Instead, he had worked on all the Weapons, and we''d leave it up to Naming Karma to do the work.


    Soulfire, flame, acid, lightning, even vibrational sonics rippled through the blade. The orichalcum was displaying the effects of qardaq, a weird alchemical alloy with a very specific use... it entered bodyphase with the flesh of the person whose blood it was made with, meaning it passed through them harmlessly.


    To grab this Sword right now, I actually had to grip it with my Vajra, which was nothing. But withdraw the effect, and it would slide right through me.


    Or, you know, it could actually sit inside me harmlessly.


    There was a ripple as the psionic matrices Elder Arg had formed rippled, waiting to be filled, connecting up as he guided me mentally and I did the work in the proper order. The magical side of things I handled without a problem, and as the quenching finished, I lifted up the sword, a darker, copper and black, gold-limned equivalent to Tremble and Quaver''s silver/gold and silver/black, respectively.


    "Your name will be Chalice," I said calmly and gave the metal a kiss. Magic swirled lightly, and the Sword was Named, carved into the essence of magic like stone, a smith-forged Truename.


    All my Weapons and Shield hummed in greeting. Chalice wasn''t Intelligent yet, but her Name was there, and this was the equivalent of watching a baby getting born to my Weapons. Even Sparky was watching in great interest from inside the Tail...


    All Weapons were limited to a gain of 1000 Karma a day, barring someone Legendary like Elder Arg, able to Infuse vast amounts. As a Battlesmith, I could pour Naming Karma into two of my own creations per day, generally one Weapon and one Armor or Shield.


    However, Intelligent Weapons could generate their own Karma, if they could wield themselves. All of my Weapons had Flying, and so could zip about on their own, and use my base AB to attack with. However, they didn''t get any of my Dex, Strength, skill, Class, Mastery, or Feat bonuses. So, Fall, Stand, Quaver, and Tremble attacking stuff was much less effective than them working in concert with me. They were Tools; they were meant to be wielded and used.


    They were also still limited to Name Karma per day; it''s just they were building their own Name, instead of me doing so.


    This was important, because I had a lot of work to get Chalice''s foundation built up, which meant I wouldn''t be able to wield all of them for the next six months. I could vary the Naming Karma off, and I could sit down and do eight hours of Investing, but there were a lot of Weapons to improve.


    Nine days of foundational Karma would make them Manifesting Weapons, able to generate five points of psi a day.


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    Thirty-five days of foundational Karma would make them Psychic Weapons, giving them an Enhancement bonus equal to the Psychic Reserve of their wielders. As Forsaken couldn''t spend Psi, it basically meant we were always topped off on the Reserve.


    But if they wielded themselves, that meant they were still going to be +II... which would stack with Soulbound, or replace it if they were not wielded, leaving them just as strong if I wasn''t around to power them all up.


    It also meant that they could grow other psionic-based effects, giving them alternate Arsenal effects to work on... and Armory, possibly.


    Being made a Psychic Weapon also meant that when they finished, they''d be effective Seventeens in Item form, giving them potential Skill Ranks at that level. They were already talking amongst themselves about who would take what key Skills, so they didn''t overlap.


    Quaver would be harmonizing with Stand for anything important, and to get her Naming Karma, but I''d be wielding Chalice at other times, and then burning goldweight for Stand and my Tail.


    Right now Chalice was just +II, Soulbound Bane/Humans. I had a LOT of work to do with her. It was going to take thirty-five days to get Psychic Weapon active, which gave me plenty of time to get Psion and Psi-Warrior Levels up. With my Stats, taking the Theurgy and getting one of them to Ten would be enough to top off PW to +V, and then I could start on opening Slots and powering them up.


    With psionic power, instead of magic. With my Vajra being what it was, it wouldn''t be hard.


    ---------


    Wayfair cut open a gap in space with Tremble, and Elder Arg, shrunken down to the size of a chimp, followed her through, back to Monkey High via a shortcut through the Astral Plane.


    Quaver hummed as she synched up with Stand. Stand''s whisper rising to a thrum grew more distinct as she did.


    I looked at Briggs and AA, who just looked back at me, waiting. His presence was an ominous dissuader to our Jotun thralls, keeping them in line even if Wayfair wasn''t here. He had been helping out with the Leatherworking, having taken Ranks to see what all the fuss was about, and ended up being one of the primary Crafters of dragonhide equipment.


    Briggs, of course, had helped out with the QL upgrades, tirelessly refining stuff for everyone. Fully set up, he was almost as fast as Elder Arg!


    "Ready to go Wake up that Hole?" I asked the two of them.


    Briggs, now fully six-foot-six and looking bigger than the burly, thick-boned AA who was about as tall as him, stretched out, muscles popping in a disturbingly sexy rhythm. "Damn right. We''ve got six months or so of grinding to do. Let''s be about it properly."


    Ancientaxe nodded. "Lots of Levels to gain. Psion and Caster, in addition to all the other stuff... my Brothers are cursing you for giving them so much to work towards." His tusked grin was broad and knowing.


    "Better than being bored and not knowing what the future holds," I quipped back without pause. "Shall we?"


    -------------


    We left the giants to their own devices. If sufficiently ruthless, yeah, we could have killed them. We didn''t know what their fate would be when the Shardzone collapsed and time synched back up, and the massive area distortion all went away.


    It probably wouldn''t be good. It was more than likely most things in the Shardzone would be hurled into Dream, to some other plane, or just eroded away as the time that had been concentrated here collapsed, was sucked away, and their lives with it.


    We weren''t ruthless, killing those that had surrendered. However, knowing that most of them were going to die anyways meant that we could wait them out... but that would just be a waste of massive Karma. We could get in some good fighting experience, tons of loot, and we needed the Karma. So, if they were going to die... AND they wanted to fight, give them a fight!


    First zone Holewards was naturally the undead. The Obelisk here was already down, of course, but there were still plenty of strong undead who really needed to be laid to rest.


    Brother Bonescythe was already at work here, and had actually done most of the work. What he did was set them up for us, drawing out a long line of undead, and the three of us rampaged through nigh-on fifty miles of undead nonstop, working our way towards where he was slowly and methodically grinding them down as they marched on him under the guidance of the last of the intelligent unliving.


    They weren''t happy to see us coming up a newly-white road behind them...


    ------


    "Wow! That is an inspirational poison!" I exclaimed, savoring the Pseudo-wyvern''s venom as it coursed down my throat. The normal stuff hit the constitution, creating widespread cell death and organ damage. This stuff from Outside Creation was even nastier.


    "Well, that''s a given," AA admitted, salvaging skulls. Powerful skulls saved a lot of time making Baneskulls. Resource Management 101! Aberrant and Dragon together? Yes, please! The fewer someone had to carry, the better! "What makes it so nice?"


    "It''s trying to break apart the molecules, like a spatial acid, bringing false Laws along with it to bend and twist bonds. It''s like an organic disintegration effect!" I had to store it in Eplumbum just so it wouldn''t react with the container, and poison the metal too!


    "Sounds like it would work on just about anything." His tone was thoughtful. Brothers were about killing stuff, not dueling honorably, after all. They had a formidable knowledge of poisons to do the job.


    "It would. Replicating it from inside Creation would be something for Elder Arg to work out at this point." And the big ape didn''t have much interest in poisons, other than getting rid of them. Still, it made a nice reference point for future research. Couldn''t have a legendary quality alchemy lab without some really weird shit in it, after all...


    Briggs was heaping the loot under the altar onto Haul''s container shell, joining a lot of random stuff we''d been scooping up. The naga and ophidians here seemed to like their jewelry, so we''d picked up quite a bit of it for later burning down. We would actually have melted a lot of it down, except that would have destroyed a lot of its value, so many tail and armbands were filling up space, stirred around a few times so the coins, beads, chains, and gems could settle between them. We mostly burned magic Weapons during our down time, cutting down on the bulk, and nobody wanted to use a wavy-headed serpent''s-tongue Spear except a serpent man, anyways.


    As for these minor Obelisks, it wasn''t a worry, as we could actually pull them down ourselves, Briggs whacking on the foundation, AA and I playing tug of war on the top. Wayfair didn''t have to stop in just for those.


    AA was pretty relaxed. It was no wonder, compared to the last time he''d been doing the whole murderhobos thing.


    Twelve hundred days the Brotherhood had spent running around in here. However, they had been much, much weaker when they''d started out.AA had been a 10/6 Melee Scout, with some Assassin and Ranger Levels thrown in, a fairly standard set of skills for a Void Brother. He hadn''t had any Voidbound Gear, nothing of superlative quality, and in addition, all of them had been going through the Heavy Gravity Training, two and a half years of ever-increasing gravity and slow, steady healing to offset it, making them 5g heavy grav worlders.


    They hadn''t had the skills or Gear to take on truly powerful foes, yet their objective had been enough Karma to Level, to advance the Name of their Weapon, and gold enough to build up more Gear.


    The heavy gravity had made it feel like they were barely making progress, forcing them to grit their teeth, advance their skills, pick their targets, build further and faster. And as their Gear improved, as their Vajra bloomed, and those precious Levels finally started coming, they started being able to kill faster, cleaner, more surely. They could advance into crowds without fear, and slaughter where once they had to run.


    It was a slow and gradual process, until they came to tipping points, where suddenly all the minor chaff died with one hit, the tough stuff in two, and only the really dangerous things took three or more hits.


    From then on, it was like hitting their stride, and working the kinks out of the system. Only, it had taken a long ass painful time to get there.


    And once they took the Belts off... well, the world suddenly became a very easy place to move around in, indeed. Their final six months had been quite fun in their own way indeed, and this, this was even smoother.


    Four hundred and fifty miles away from us loomed the hole at the center of the city, the pit which was probably the cause of the Doom that had seized Yle Tyorm... and which we were going to reach, hopefully to cut it off from this fallen realm forever.

 264 Chapter Two Hundred and Sixty-Four – The Hole

    "So, what are we looking at?" Briggs asked for everyone, as multiple eyes, including some powerful Casters from multiple races, were tuning into this, getting Brother AA''s impressions. Sure, Brother Shadowknife might have been the perfect choice, but he was listening in and could contribute regardless.


    Black and grey Helices brimming of vanished ages past rolled over the knife-sharp expanse of thrumming nothingness in front of us. Visually, what was in front of us was equal parts darkness fading down into nothingness, and mists rising above into infinity, with what was up and down subjective between eyeblinks. Just looking at it was enough to stir up headaches, and send more of my thoughtstreams into overdrive on dimensional physics.


    The eyes of a lot of things from Outside and Within Creation had been drawn to this place. It was simply too big a breach to the mortal plane.


    And probably how the Hags reached the entities they were playing favors with...


    "It''s pure creation and destruction, timelessness incarnate," AA said calmly. "We''ve got both Ethereal and Astral influences coming together, and it''s drawing energy from both Dream and the Akashas.


    "I can feel it rippling and destabilizing at a very subtle level, but its accelerating. Brothers, go ahead." Everyone waited while Mountainhammer pounded, and some flying feet smashed into a lesser Obelisk''s top. Wahhhh, fall down go boom.


    Everyone felt the spike, however subtly, ripple across the wall in front of us in response. -Yes, their Great Formation has been holding this stable, both draining off excess energy and preventing it from expanding or contracting. With the pressure from the Wake, spreading along it, it''s definitely weakening on many levels,- Brother Shadowknife /confirmed for everyone in Marktell. -If we complete a Wake circuit around the Hole, this rupture should be forced close. It won''t immediately close all the reality shards in Yle Tyorm, but their time will be limited.-


    Timelessness was an unusual planar trait. Basically, it meant time didn''t pass age-wise, yet you didn''t slow down, you were able to act as if time was normal. It thus combined super-speed and ultimate slow time traits. Ripping timelessness apart is what had created the variable time zones in this place.


    -As far as I can determine, the spatial paradigm holds true... as you go in, there''s more and more room. Basically, it''s an omnidirectional portal from the mortal world into whatever tweenspace this rupture comes from.


    -Without the support of the plane behind the barrier pushing back against reality, the spatial zones will slowly compress, and the unreal energies the stuff within is made of will slowly unwind back into Dream as it does. If we take the stuff out before it does, it becomes as real as anything else...-


    "So each Shard is like a mine." I nodded. "What we have to do then is loot each and every Shard down to the bones before that happens. By concentrating Nulls in each section without actually breaking open a path for a Wake, we can focus the degradation in an area following their progress while slowing it on the other areas, so they can be looted in turn."


    There was a shocked pause from the Marktell. The bigger Shards were like large countries, the fifth Shardring was like continents. What we were talking about was looting them down to the bones, because they were all going to go away if we didn''t...


    All in all, it was being given carte blanche to strip an entire world clean, and take it for ourselves. If we didn''t, it was all just going to go away.


    -There are plants and animals in these zones that are not found on our world, some of them with extraordinary potential, and others that just have to be killed and cannot be let out. They have wealth that can be taken, yet it will all vanish if it is not. They are sources of Karma that can contested against to gain in strength for our own, that will simply be gone if we do nothing.


    -And they are recruits, that if we are merciful and open-minded, may be able to leave their doomed lands and stand with us.


    -Yle Tyorm is a nest of great evil that has festered within itself for a thousand centuries. Out of this evil now sits before us an opportunity that likely we will never see again in this life. We will purge this cancer from this land, this yawning wound ripped into our reality, and we will be rewarded for doing so!-


    The plunder of nations, the loot of empires, the hoards of evil opened to the day. They had brought down a great Nation of Unity, and now, from their own wealth of Empires of Evil, such a thing might rise again.


    Hope springs Eternal, and Hope was one of the great powers of Good.


    We could rebuild. We could make it better, stronger, grander...


    The theme to the Six Million Dollar Man was breezing through my head. Briggs laughed on the side, the Minstrels and Bards made notes, and very soon it would become the theme song of what was going to follow, all inadvertently.


    They had done great evils, they were going to die and get away with it? No, they were going to become the stepping stones for the successor to what they had buried in Hag-spawned darkness and lies...


    And of course, we had to prepare for it. The corner of my mouth quirked up in a smile, as I began to lay out the things that would need to be done to do the job the right way, and it was nowhere as simple as loot and send the stuff out...


    "There''s something out there."


    My eyes shifted back to the yawning emptiness of yin-yangness in front of us at Briggs'' words. I frowned, not seeing anything, but not doubting it.


    He was feeling pushback against his Oath. Stuff had to hammering on me personally to get that attention from me.


    I turned my eyes down. "Mountainhammer said there is actually a hole under the city. So, it''s probably something from down there."


    His eyes dropped, and both he and AA nodded after a minute. "We are sure the Formation doesn''t exist below. So, the benefits of it likely extend down, and something has been profiting off it. Given how much of the stuff here seems to have emigrated from the Felldeep, it''s no surprise," Briggs mused.


    "It is likely something beyond our power to deal with," murmured Ancientaxe, rather sensitive to such things.


    "Seriously?" AA nodded somberly to me. "Well, ain''t that a hoot. We''ll just have to give it a nice surprise when it comes up."


    The Wake was splashing and spreading against the dimensional wall. Our secondary mission was complete.


    "Let''s finish out the day, and let what happens, happen." The boys both agreed, and we turned to get back to running. It wasn''t our downtime for the day yet.


    ------------


    The way out had long been secured by Lord Grey. Wayfair''s once-a-day trips from the inside basically meant that every four minutes or so she was appearing outside the Camp, the city of Split, a dwarven mountain, or deep in elven lands with a massive haul of loot, as she moved between the different fighting groups and spirited their excess loot away.


    It was astonishing that the wealth being discovered was actually staying ahead of the Investing curve. That meant over two hundred thousand gold worth of loot was burning away, every single day... and we were still generating excess wealth. Well, given that we''d started the process by clearing a zone full of giant and dragon hoards, and then an Imperial city zone of the same, I wasn''t all that surprised... but those outside sure were!


    It was night time Outside, and the daily Warpband fights were mostly over on our side. So, Wayfair opportunistically opened Portals with Tremble to the other imperial zones, to finish the process... and give thousands of fighters Outside about half a year to gain wealth and fighting experience. If there was an emergency, well, one day Inside was four minutes Outside, and they could reassemble for an external fight with effectively blinding speed.


    Even some of the more reliable and self-reliant mercenary bands were allowed to come in and clear some of the less populous and smaller zones. After all, there was an entire continent worth of stuff to loot, and it was a good way to build up ties. Just having an angelic vohr or two around to provide that Cha 40 support basically insured a steady stream of converts...


    Which was also one of the goals on the side of the drow. If they could be converted and rise above their origins, they would be a formidable force in the future. Of course, finding converts who were older than the youngest children among a society steeped in demon worship was highly unlikely... but in an empire now in the throes of some very serious civil unrest and power struggles among drow fighting free of Hag influences, young dark elf children being cast aside were very commonplace.


    Wayfair was like the ultimate example of how to rise above everything the drow here represented. Succubus demon, totally beautiful, incredibly powerful... and risen above anything and everything their society that was tearing itself apart represented.


    Still, bound in fanaticism, addiction, and thrill-seeking, the drow were largely happy enough to fight any invaders with all they had, dying with masochistic grins on their faces, odd lights in their eyes, and mushroom spores on their lips.


    The forces that had been fighting the Warpbands in set-piece match-ups were now suddenly gaining Levels and wealth very, very quickly during this one short night...


    ------


    One hundred and eighty days didn''t necessarily mean one hundred and eighty Levels, especially with two other fellow Tens hungry for that precious Karma.


    There were a hundred potential Empire Zones, measuring 300x900 miles in size, which could be broken up into nine 100x300 major zones, or up to a hundred 30x90 mile minor zones. Generally, it was a mix of minor and major zones, but the one constant is that all the Obelisks had at least one Pseudonatural creature protecting them.


    Thus, they were the primary targets of, like, everybody.


    The second batch of Hag realms was on the opposite side of the Shardzone of those we had already taken down, smaller kingdoms with only medium or small Obelisks, sitting on dozens of parallel ley lines coming off the 250x Slow Shardzone to clockwise.


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    Still, we''d picked the primary and correct Shardzone to annihilate. It seemed a great many evil characters who''d fled justice and vanished over the past centuries had come here and been offered lands by the Hags. They usually died and ended up becoming undead slaves, but there were magical beasts, vampire lords, random dragons, Evilborn, and other long-lived creatures that had built kingdoms and realms in here to desport themselves in their own versions of gilded cages.


    What goes around comes around, and we were coming around. Clockwise, as it were.


    Without their Obelisk down, those born here or turned undead here could not run or flee. At most, the ruler of the small zones could flee... but could they run from us?


    Age had made them strong, and they''d sucked essence from the Land to make themselves Legendaries, with Health Qi to bolster themselves.


    Naturally, it did not save them. We went in and exterminated them, appropriated their very ill-got gains of centuries, and brought unto them the ruin they brought upon countless others.


    Our plunder was as great as the carnage we wrought, and naturally exceeded what we could use. Of course, I had a great use for working capital, so Wayfair came in, removed it all, and we went on.


    Mountains of gold, barrels of gemstones, random stacks of magical items, some very powerful (and often quite Evil), that broken down were worth scores of goldweight... it all just flowed by, fuel for the mill. The powerful items were the ones that got burned down first and fastest, removing temptation or the thought that Relic X belonging to Dread Power Y was now back in circulation. Nope, nope, it was now dust on the wind, so sorry...


    As for the stuff that couldn''t be destroyed easily... ugh. The Void Brothers took them, and nobody asked what was going to happen to them. It seems they had some experience with the matter. That is, if asking Heaven or other interested parties how to destroy such a thing didn''t get some interested and entirely possible results for the valiant Quest-minded...


    We weren''t totally clearing the Shardzone, but we were picking all the low and medium hanging fruit (and digging out the valuable high stuff, if possible). Zone after zone opened up, and in our wake, conflicts over borders, and those fleeing the doom they might be able to feel coming, began to rise up.


    The apes were fighting every day by now, but that wasn''t an issue. After seeing all the incredible stuff that had happened to their brethren who''d brought down a Hag Empress, they were raring to prove themselves, too! And Behemoth Bloodlines were slowly going to be spreading to those who proved themselves to Elder Arg...


    ---


    There was only one more zone to finish out now, and the Wakes in the sky were growing, groaning everywhere, teasing and tensing at the sky, driving the natives wild as they began to panic at the feeling of impending doom washing over them.


    Outside, it was just minutes to dawn.


    And this last zone... was not a zone...

 265 Chapter Two Hundred and Sixty-Five – A Land of Fuego

    The inhabitants of this volcanic area were firenewts.


    These were the devolved, mortalish descendants of elemental salamanders, the flaming half-men, half-serpents of legend from Elemental Fire. They had black skin, whose cracks showed the heated flesh beneath, could breathe fire to a short range, and had the same kind of salamander proficiency in working metal, loving lava, and conquering anything colder than themselves.


    Their preferred mounts were fire striders, which were vicious elemental versions of either flightless birds or raptor-dinos, depending on how you looked at them; mean fire-spitting bastards whose favorite pastime was standing around in burning forests.


    This area was a slipshod territory where no obelisk zone was raised, and so no constraints put on safeguarding the natives, nor stopping attackers. As a result, the surrounding zones of animated undead, grey dwarves, hill and mountain giants, and vampires had considered them fine hunting sport and a good way to let off steam for their more aggressive underlings.


    The firenewts had reciprocated the fact, and their attackers never seemed to properly learn the lesson that when attacking creatures who lived in and were descended from fire elementals, mass fire resistance is really a thing, since the firenewts seemed to be thriving pretty well despite their neighbors.


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    Us, we weren''t so ill-equipped. Freezing, Coldphasing, Bane, Enmity/Fire, and other such custom preparations were all over the place. There were cold spells, and acid ones for firenewts who happened to be prepared for them, and yeah, they had native hellhounds and hellcats here and there, and large numbers of firedrakes, a couple lava wurms, and of course, some actual real salamanders on long-term visits/vacations, along with bringing in some fiery devils, mostly burning abishai, for funsies and some fiendish bloodlines to spice up the magical gene pool.


    Everybody but the apes and dragons were here, as those were busy dealing with invading hordes trying to escape the ruination coming down on them in a few days. Ravaging the neighboring zones made it easier to divert the hordes around them, but inevitably such forces were also hungry, and rampaging through the forest chowing down on monkeys and greenery seemed like a good idea to most of them.


    The dragons and their riders, along with a few angelic vohr, had been engaged in a great deal of airborne combat, keeping the skies clear with the help of the winged monkeys. A unit of Ironblood Nulls had been tasked to reinforce them to help deal with the numbers of flying enemies, and massed Interdictions at unfortunate times for invaders could send literally thousands of them hurtling to the ground, where the chakon, champa-ka, and mandrilla dealt with them savagely, drumming them beat-sticks hard.


    Elder Arg was far from averse to making more Exemplar Lite Elixirs, and had, with the help of Wayfair, salvaged the apparatus they''d made from a Mu Spore in that reduced mushroom zone, and made up Elixirs en masse for all the participants. The matter of him being the only one who could make the Elixirs was not something he exploited, as I was the one who had possession of the spilled Exemplar Blood, and the ultimate trust from the Three Kings... and none of them could really defy me. A working 50 Charisma combined with my Warlord bonuses was just frightening to deal with.


    Even King Ivory had gotten into the show... and there had been other mushroom zones found in this Shardzone, which had been brutally cleared of Mu Spores by my trio. There were even more in the other Shardzones, but they had mostly been left alone unless the path of the Void Brothers doing the full circuit crossed them. They could be harvested later... and would be.


    As a result, a lot of Mu Goop got processed by Exemplar Lite apes into Elixirs, and was shared with the mandrilla and the flying monkeys, as well as the uranga and the bandob, along with Elder Arg''s Bloodline.


    The defense of the monkeys took a great leap forwards. Naturally they also wanted to know more about the great Markspace the mighty champion spoke of so reverently, and a couple of the champa-ka had taken the necessary Ranks in Tattoo Artist and Spellcraft to make Marks that could, with my approval, link to a powerful Marked being''s own Mark... that entity naturally ending up being Elder Arg.


    The ubiquitous Mark was naturally Intellect, and so the average intelligence level of the monkey kingdoms was skyrocketing. It was heartening to hear, and he got them to work on a great localized formation that would help them to defy the incoming temporal synchronization. Skulls of invaders were a primary component, and were contributed enthusiastically.


    Meanwhile, pretty much all the rest of us were now in this fiery landscape, running down all these firenewts.


    There were thousands of them, they were very aggressive, fighting bitterly to the end, and they had a lot of fire magic to send at us. Of course, when everyone is buffed against fire, they should have been more inventive, but that was their fault.


    They did have a copious amount of loot from raw metals and minerals spilled out by the lava, and eagerly mined while they were also digging for the metals for their armor and weapons. We impolitely took hold of all of it, sending most of it outside to spill into the warehouses from all the bricks and blocks we were also sending out via Tapestry.


    ---------


    "Soooooo... what''s the play, Sama?" Briggs asked, as we stood on the rim of the volcano that formed the heart of this hot zone.


    The Priests of the firenewts had been undergoing a ceremony here when the vohr swooped in and flash-froze the entire congregation, stopping them from doing any funny stuff with the burning caldera yonder.


    "Come along and see," I said mischievously. I started down the crater wall, sliding down the jagged yet soft edges of the side here as if it were a slick slide, and he followed without hesitation.


    His Exemplar status plus some very high-end Vajra fire resistance meant he had no trouble moving across the bubbling surface of the lava with me, and we made a trip around the roughly hundred-yard surface, looking at what was below.


    We did move on tiptoes metaphorically speaking. After all, this was an active volcano, and if it let go, that would be bad.


    "Right here look good to you?" I asked, and he looked down.


    "Probably best," he agreed, and I /whistled mentally.


    Three vohr prepared for this, and immune like me to temperature extremes, swooped in overhead and began Casting. The lava in the area was pushed back by a combination of Control Fire, Part Water, and Rock to Mud in Ritual, slowly and grandly pushing the thick soup of two-thousand-degree stone back to the dark black surface below in this area.


    Sticking up out of that rough black surface was a blue-black spike about twenty feet high, almost the hue of adamant. We''d salvaged a lot of fire metals off the ''newts, and even now the vohr were working at Shaping and Transmuting free the vein of adamant the newts had found, aiming to get as much of it out of here as we could before it went away. The Rockborn, heck, everyone was lending muscle to that effort towards the base of the mountain, tons of ore being hauled away by superhumanly strong workers eager to claim all that they could before it vanished.


    Adamant make more QL 40+ Gear, yo!


    Wayfair was already waiting by the smelters who were washing free the excess stone, ready to Tapestry the whole mass and get it out of here before True Dawn.


    She was quite decked out in Gear by now, very little of which she''d made herself. As she was responsible for removing all our wealth, it was agreed that everyone would split the duties of making her Gear among ourselves. The cost individually was minimized, and at the same time multiple pieces of Gear were worked on among different parties.


    That they had to be QL 40 or higher, AND aesthetically pleasing, was a given, so Briggs and I ended up making the raw metalcraft, the dragons or Elder Arg did any Spellcraft, and Wayfair shuttled the pieces to the different groups to work on, individuals giving up a night of empowerment and the wealth that went with it to Infuse her Gear, leaving her time to teleport all over the place, see the sights, and transport away literally tens of thousands of cubic meters of goods over the past six months, laughing as she looted like no succubus had ever looted before.


    So, yeah, she was decked out like a Herald of Sylune should be, to the best of our abilities. There was at least half a million gold in Gear adorning her now, girting her in layers of magical protection and potential offensive power that should give just about anyone conniption fits if they tried to mess with her.


    At the same time, her evacuating the wealth of everyone, even splitting it with us, meant she was earning major Karma, even if she didn''t engage in combat. While ostensibly someone of her new status should be rather above mortal affairs, those mortal affairs had just made her the equivalent of a demigoddess in raw power, and she was doing the sort of Good work you just didn''t see as even being possible very often.


    Fuzzy and I hopped down this hole in the lava, ignoring the heat rising all around as we skidded down the air and landed on the black surface below, next to the spike.


    "You sure this isn''t going to blow up?" he asked, as I eyed the slightly curved spike with some trepidation. After all, consequences of messing this up were impressive, to say the least.


    "Cross thine paws and hopeth Sama not be crazy," I winked back. At these moments, being Undaunted and not really afraid of anything really was incredibly useful. Despite facing something that could literally blow up in our faces if it went wrong, I took out an enchanted adamant carving tool and proceeded to walk up to that twenty-foot spike''s base.


    The amount of Fire running through this thing, humming just below the surface, was thick and intense. Just a blip in it, and the volcano around us was going to pop like a cork, and we''d be taking a free ride in the sky for a loooong ways. Breathing steadily to calm my anticipation, I crouched down and began to carve.


    Yeah, this shit was magically-reinforced by the energy running through it, completely capable of ignoring truly massive forces, and then mending any damages or scratches to leave it unblemished. It took a special level of Blooding attuned to Fire, using the fact that what I was doing was designed to work with the existing magic and make it stronger, for me to actually start carving into it.


    Even then, the pieces didn''t fall off as much as melt back into the base, and only then if I worked quick.


    Working quick on something this impossibly strong, even with a Tool designed for the purpose, required a LOT of muscle. My Philosopher''s Might was full out, and all my muscles and focus were on display. I was putting in place the first of the Runes, then secondary Patterns designed to link each of them, draw out the fiery energy within, and help them power up.


    Yeah, there was a whole lot of power moving through this thing. The lines were lighting up very quickly, and the spike stopped trying to mend what I was doing as they began to burn red-hot in the dark stuff.


    I wasn''t even sure what to call this. It was obviously a fire material, but the quality level of it was clearly Eternal. I just didn''t have exposure to post-mortal materials like this. It was better than pure adamant, at least for purposes of Fire. Just crazy.


    Still, I wasn''t going to stop, or it would just mend away the damage, repairing what didn''t light up in time and basically forcing me to start over from a certain point.


    Thankfully, monstrous Constitution and VERY boosted Might meant working on this was not an issue.


    --------


    It took me six full hours of non-stop work to get carved what needed to be carved. I hadn''t designed most of the Pattern, Elder Arg had, which was of no surprise whatsoever. Executing it was within my capabilities, but I didn''t understand a lot of the why and relevance of some of the things I''d had to do.


    Nevertheless, when I finished, there were six interlinked Marks on that spike, and about them was the gorgeous, flowing Pattern of a Greater Magic Weapon format, albeit done about six times more dramatically than anyone had ever Cast that spell.


    The lines on it were filling with power at an impossible rate. The level of power at work here was Eternal-grade, past the mortal; if I could pull out this spike right now, the flaring Pattern meant it was already an Epic Weapon, even if only one of the Marks was actually active.


    "Watcha think?" I asked Briggs, as I backed away from it.


    "Well, it would look really eye-catching if we could have filled it in with precious metal... but I don''t know anything more valuable than whatever that is made of." I had to agree with that. "Let''s get out of here. It''s twelve hours our time until the dawn of a whole old world."


    I smirked at him, and we both started treading on air, mists under our feet giving us leverage up. "Well, hey, just think what this volcano is going to leave behind when it dusts!"


    He looked back down at the spike below, as the vohr floating above let the lava finally flow back, the silvery moonfire patterns and circles of the Ritual they''d been using gently fading away.


    "Well, it''s going to be quite a show..."


    +++++++++++++++++


    Author''s Note: Fuego is, of course, Spanish for Fire.

 266 Chapter Two Hundred and Sixty-Six – The End of the Shardzone

    There were thousands of eyes watching the sun rise today. A Ten Bishop of Aru, Moncynux Aeon, led everyone in the Salute to Aru, starting a little bit early and with exquisite timing finished the Ritual and movements just as the first rays of the sun came true over the horizon.


    With them came the Renewal. Mine was set to midnight, but the default for most people was the New Day, and the sensation rippled frequently through the Marktell as the world turned. There was no mistaking it as it struck, x/day abilities reset, Valences yawned open to be filled, and darkness and foul effects were checked to see if they were overcome. For normal folks, this was the time when they checked against poisons and most particularly diseases. Magic does some strange things to worlds...


    But that Renewal brought with it the full power of Creation and the universe behind it. Magic was coming in, gentle and subtle... except when it hit something that Wasn''t Right. Then, it was like a tsunami and a rolling mountain.


    Plenty of spotters and workers were at the edge of the 100x Shardzone immediately in front, where they''d been dealing with the occasional horde of natives trying to break out. They had first hand eyewitness, sharing so we all could see.


    ---


    First, the Zonewall lit up with gentle golden light all at once, instead of the striated blurs and fog. The hole that was punched into it by us three seemed to burn, and then pale red lights started streaming along the Wake in the sky. They cut across the horizon, and as one second lengthened to a hundred, they grew brighter and bright, turning orange, then gold, and then rising into whiteness as the colors blended together.


    Those with devasight got to see all the colors ascending and blending, ticking off like a clock of rainbow lights.


    The edges of the break burned white, and were eroded, burned, cracked, and eaten away all at once. The entire Shardzone Wall had cracks extend across its three-hundred-mile width, only a hundredth of that from the outside, extending in deeper, patterns at once wild and measured, as if Chance and Fate were coming in together, seeking to reclaim dominance over that which they''d been sealed away from...


    The wave of morning smashed into the far wall of the final Shardzone, where the same scene began to play from where we could see it. Looming hundreds of miles into the air, even virtual hundreds of leagues away it was still perfectly visible.


    Everyone in the company had evacuated, only the monkeys and the Void Brothers were left, watching this from the inside.


    From the third Shardring, the Shardwall tensed, and then shattered.


    Okay, not everyone was gone. There were hundreds of Casters there spinning spells, and as these barriers of quasi-solidified time got ready to break, they urgently and repeatedly set up all the traps that they could. Temporal Quintessence was a bitch to accumulate, and this was a rare chance to pick up a whole lot of Time for not much effort.


    Now the wall came roaring across, a 100x slow version of incoming reality, racing across the land. As it did, things Normalized.


    The biggest effect was all that stolen Time literally evaporated.


    It was pulled out of everything extant here, and as it was, everything naturally died as the unnatural millennia they''d lived were pulled away. At the same time, space normalized, the massive distortion collapsing and compressing. Hundreds of miles became fractions of miles, and would have jumbled everything together impossibly, if such things hadn''t just vanished, reduced to dust and less.


    The extraplanar mass that consisted of this place was measured and that which wasn''t pure enough, meaning almost all of it, was simply shoved back towards wherever it came from in the first place.


    The stolen time eradicated pretty much everything that lived. What was left was empty landscapes, everything that had lived wiped away, and then the landscapes themselves began to erode, falter, and fail.


    Those watching from the beginning of the Fourth Ring saw the ruins of the city start to gather from whence they''d been pulled apart and scattered. Most of it was all rubble, shifted and dispersed by ages passing, worn down and no longer intact. Still, the very rough outlines of streets and buildings came together as nine hundred miles of unreality was wiped away, returned to the mile of reality that was anchoring it.


    It took only a second outside. In one hundred seconds inside, Reality came and wiped almost everything.


    There were some scattered survivors, things that had enough anchor in Reality to survive the sudden diversion, or had been able to vent the extra Time in a safe manner, or had been brought in from Outside, were timeless or Eternal, and were unaffected.


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    Like a rather large number of Evilborn.


    The company was charging forwards as the wall came through, knowing that survivors would be left behind, materializing in front of them, and plenty fast enough to keep pace. Those survivors found themselves suddenly in front of a whole lot of fast-moving and very dangerous Nulls, Interdictions preventing them from leaving, and not much sympathy for them successfully surviving in their eyes.


    Pointed discussions followed. Bodies burned vivic, the unwhite flames bending in the direction of moving Reality, foam on the waves of Creation...


    -----


    The same thing happened in the inner zone, only we saw it coming for a longer time, and on a much bigger scale. It painted the whole sky in mystic patterns the Casters tried urgently to memorize, seeing truths of Time and Space in there which would be invaluable, something to build upon for years with both Profound Math and Spellcraft.


    That hole we''d made three hundred and ninety-six days our time and one day ago real time grew with incredible speed, the size of a mountain in seconds, reaching up towards the sky, visible from hundreds of leagues away. The grey border of the Shardzone was bright, so bright, nobody could not see it, the Wakes that extended from one Obelisk site to the other along the ley lines crisscrossing the sky, racing up slowly and grandly through the combined visible and thaumaspectrums in a show no fireworks could replicate, building to that key point...


    Great cracks shattered across it like a breaking window of the gods. You could feel the pressure of a world, of Creation itself, weighing down on it, forcing its way in and-


    Soundless bang. The entire Shardzone rocked.


    Beneath our feet, the ground jolted again in reaction. As the light of a new day began its four-hundred second march across this Shardzone, Casters gathered in Quintessence with giddy glee from the 400x wall. That stuff was worth cities...


    The volcano rumbled as the air shuddered, Time already beginning to warp and shift, Space to conform. Armies, nations, civilizations evaporated as the Time they''d lived was taken away, wailing as they died, as they watched all that was around them crumble and vanish as they did, and get swept back towards the void they had come from.


    They were the dust of another world, and to that world they''d return... or they''d burn vivic.


    The volcano shuddered, cracked as the earth around us reacted to its incoming fate. It was less than dust, it was only a dream, and without its own reality, unto dream it would return. Lava blew into the sky, like a slow and grand unveiling flower.


    And a roar of defiance, of a mighty power that had defied all the ages, not merely the stolen millennia here, bellowed a thunderous challenge to the heavens that rattled the stones all around us.


    I reached out to that Markdoor, to the massive, ancient presence on the other side, and as a massive reptilian head the size of a decent mansion heaved itself up above the lip of the crater, and a hundred-meter long tail with a white-hot burning crest snaked lazily across the sky, I /whispered, -Shhh. Just watch. There is no threat to you.-


    A half-mile away, I saw a white-hot eye blink in astonishment.


    Fuego the Fire Tyrant, gone from the known lands of men for a thousand years, grasped the lip of the caldera and less lifted himself out then forced a pathway through stone melting at his touch, precipitating a spectacular lavafall as thousands of tons of kaiju proceeded irresistibly forwards. His dark scales were showing waves of heat rippling through him, primal elemental power that had defied eons, let alone this time-accelerated Shardzone that had been feeding him power so similar to that in bygone years.


    He looked like a velociraptor, more elegant then a T-Rex or Allosaurus, streamlined, quick, and nimble... except he towered a few hundred feet in the air and was at least two hundred meters long. Massive talons dug unimpeded into the stone, melting and biting in as they did so. He pulled his full mass out of the volcano he''d been happily slumbering in, looking up at the sky, and the incoming Reality Wave that was going to take away his bedroom.


    ==========


    Roughly ten months or so ago...


    -They might be really angry you''re messing around their sacred territory-, Briggs /chuckled, as we moved noiselessly through the layered green, grass, and trees that had grown over this hill.


    -They''ll get over it when I save their asses,- I /replied, reaching the end of it, looking down.


    In our tremblesense, the hill-sized figure below the ground was completely visible. There was a cave nearby, the sole outlet for his breathing, which was slowed down by hundreds of times... but given the hundreds of times of volume, was still forced clean of obstructions.


    He stayed outside while I went in, squirming through the rather wet area of mossy earth and solidified mucus, using my Vajra like a snake to arrive at my destination.


    Two large pits yawning ahead of me, currently exhaling in a slow, slow breeze.


    I was careful to keep myself scentless as I dug in, as I certainly didn''t want to wake the big fellow up.


    His skin wasn''t scaled, but it was still stronger than steel, and so naturally lacking in tactile sense. Falling earth had naturally cleared a space atop his nose, and I slid over it to a clear spot before I began working.


    Yeah, adamant scribe, hardness enhanced, with a minor Blooding enchantment so his fast healing wouldn''t mend the damage before it set in. I had to do this right, of course, and certainly wasn''t going to skimp on things. When he found out about this, I wanted him grateful and interested, not pissed... but I also didn''t want to wake him up.


    None of the living apes had ever seen this ancestor of theirs, even Elder Arg, but that was not a surprise. A Golden Monkey Emperor wasn''t something you saw every day, but it was wholly the reason this wasn''t a zone. Putting up an Obelisk would have disrupted the magic flow in this area, roused him, and the Hags totally didn''t want to have to face an angry kaiju ape...


    =================


    Back to Da Present...


    Trees toppled as their thick roots were snapped like cotton. Grass, moss, leaves, and all the animal life therein dropped away and fled in terror as the golden fur beneath began to hum with power. Muscles long relaxed tensed, fragile stone gave way, the earth groaned as a great mass shifted, and began to rise.


    -Elder Arg, you need to get to your ancestor if you want to survive the light. Go go go!- I /told him, and the thousands of monkeys and apes surged for the hill that was rising, rising on four limbs, the detritus of millennia of sleep falling away, and a great furred figure pushing himself to his feet with a growl that shook the land.


    -Save your people!- I /told the huge presence behind his golden Markdoor.


    He was similar to Tyrant Fuego, a massive presence power-wise, but not brilliant or agile of mind. From that Door I could feel the patience of ages, a deep understanding of the cycles of life, and a force of will that had faced time head-on and won.


    They were kaiju, and just lived at another scale then us. That said, that didn''t mean they were oblivious to us.


    I felt his mind jerk at the awareness that came with the words was processed. Time was coming. The timelost creatures of this land were going to die if he didn''t help them. He was their Elder, and he could save them.


    A great eye looked down, and naturally settled on the largest of the onrushing apes and monkeys racing towards him. Towards, not away, despite how small they were.


    Thousands of Markdoors opened, and reverence and awe poured out from these descendants so many generations removed from him. He grunted with more understanding then he had ever possessed before, his thoughts moving quicker and clearer, a fluid sharpness to them that was strange and yet enjoyable.


    His grunt was permission to climb aboard!


    Flying monkeys descended onto his back and shoulders. Champa-ka, chakon, mandrilla, uranga, and bandob grabbed the long golden hair, which took their weight effortlessly, and swarmed up the great body of the risen Golden Ape Emperor.


    Ape Emperor Mono, also long-vanished from the Lands of Men, turned his great head to regard the incoming wall of light, clearly a little discontent. His sleep had been interrupted, and his comfortable bed was going to go away.


    And then I stuck him and Fuego into the same /Markchat.

 267 Chapter Two Hundred and Sixty-Seven – Tyrant and Emperor

    They were separated by literally thousands of miles, and yet their eyes met instantly. The ancient reptile who''d just received a +4 Intellect boost and full Ranks in Diplomacy and Sense Motive for his Kaiju hit dice, and the primeval ape who''d just received the same, looked at one another in astonishment, never having seen one another anything resembling this way before.


    Naturally they knew one another, rivals as old as they were. Tyrant Fuego was older by far, and had more Hit Dice, meaning his overall spiritual force was higher. But Emperor Mono was definitely smarter and wiser, showing more depth, and had a deeper understanding of primal forces, other than fire.


    That said, they both could tell the other didn''t want to fight, they were not intruding on one another''s territories, the same event had woken both of them, there was no reason to tussle, and they both had relative strengths the other did not.


    Really, they were both kind of astonished they understood the other so well. A breath or two later there were surges of questions arising that they''d never bother to ask under anything resembling the past, sensory impressions exchanged of what was coming, they worked out where the other one was almost instantly, compared their impressions of the events, and what was going to happen.


    And then they both Looked At Me.


    The Door between them and I peeled back, and I was brought right into their /room, simply by raw willpower. Expected, but still disconcerting.


    -You''re in a Reality Shard, and the Land is coming in to reclaim it,- I /explained, and then Barus was brought in, both of us hot, hard white lights whose thoughts were far less powerful, but far quicker and more agile, to an almost dizzying extent compared to these two ageless behemoths... me naturally outshining Barus, but him showing that point of Exemplar Lite which got their attention for a transcendent bloodline.


    His Commune with Nature went off, and these two Kaiju finally got to be aware of something sooooo much bigger than they were.


    That awareness of pain, of the distortion in Reality that warped time and space, was made abundantly clear. The Land was finally able to expand into this area, reclaim it, heal the wound that was gaping open. It didn''t get all of it, but part of it, at least.


    Everything that they could look or see, that whole great wall of light? That was all a tiny little bit of pain being eased by The Land. All that power they wielded, the magic that they could sense and empowered them? It was so small on the macro scale that the Land scarcely cared, and yet so high on the micro that a being whose awareness was so profound could not help but be proudly aware of them.


    They were less than gnats walking on the skin of the Land.


    ---


    Any ire they had vanished under that incredible awareness, tied directly into the source of all their might. They could recognize the Land; how could they not, having accumulated so much power, such insights, over so many years? But now, they recognized the power was not just power, it was something alive... and it knew and recognized them, favored little children the Land had nurtured through the eons.


    There were spiritual rumblings like earthquakes all around me as minds accustomed to just moving on magnificent instincts were suddenly Enlightened. The Druidic power and knowledge that Barus held, the entirety of his enhanced understanding and feeling of Nature, was opened to them, and it rippled across their minds like crashing tsunami.


    Elder Arg came in, his monkey brothers; every Caster, one by one; the Ironblooded; Kings and generals, opening up to those two massive presences, the Map sprawling open around them, the awareness of time and place and gods and magic and life, and the large, large world around them which they now understood far more deeply than they had before.


    Reality came, and swept over them.


    The mountain beneath Fuego''s feet eroded and died. Those monkeys who couldn''t reach Mono wavered, and vanished into ages reclaimed, millennia stolen now returned. We all watched the great jungle that was their home fall into ash, less than ash, taken and stolen away with all its creatures, leaving only the thousands of apes and monkeys atop and hanging from the body of the Emperor, who simply exerted his will and returned what needed to be returned, and kept what was equitable behind, aided by the vague wavering of the great Formation Elder Arg had raised around his ancestor.


    The Wall of Light swept past on its four-hundred second journey, Mono''s head turning, Fuego seeing what was coming, understanding as the vastness of the horizon was suddenly a very small area, less than half a mile across. The Fire Tyrant looked up at the sky, understanding without comprehending the signs and patterns and fracturing of the wave coming towards him, and awaited it calmly, absolutely sure it could do him no harm.


    It washed over and past, and he held onto his Time, as the Land didn''t care, and his will was strong enough to make it so.


    ------


    He lifted his foot, a taloned locomotive which was literally an arm''s-length away from me now, and put it down a hundred feet away, turning as he did over top of me, turning to see the light advancing still as the ground jumped, his tail swaying slowly.


    Less than a quarter-mile away, spitting distance for creatures like them, Emperor Mono, still adorned in monkeys, grunted once. With only a few screeches and grunts, the monkeys and apes got off him as fast as they could, streaming off him even faster than they had arrived. He turned his great golden head to watch the light sweep down the Shardzone, and Reality collapse back to what it had always been supposed to be behind it.


    Ape and dinosaur eyed the Slow Zones to either side; I explained what they were with only the brush of a question, they comprehended, it was done.


    Neither made a sign of aggression towards the other. Neither of them wanted to stay here, there was no territorial aggression, no status to affirm, no hunger. They could fight... but why? For now, there was no reason.


    Briggs and I astutely began to withdraw from the area, not wanting to be stepped on by talons longer than a giant''s pike. It wasn''t all that far to the way out, and pretty much everyone else was withdrawing, too.


    There were other survivors, of course: Evilborn and undead, mostly, some Aberrations who could endure the retracted time. Barus just turned his thoughts to those, his Communing with Nature, and the instant revulsion and unnaturalness of them hissed through the mental space like a swirl of foul shit.


    Two pairs of great eyes turned from something big, down upon those things that were very small. A lot of eyeballs got very, very small, very quickly.


    -Emperor Mono, touch your nose,- I /informed him. -Tyrant Fuego, second Rune on your Horn.-


    Huge paws came up to touch a great snout, the Marks and the Patterns locked to them transferred to his palms. He looked at them, and the active Mark, while Fuego''s burning eyes locked onto the intriguing glowing Patterns on his nose horn.


    I hadn''t had time to Empower them, of course, but those Patterns were for a full Zehn Slot set of Weapon Enchantments.


    -You take a Soulshaper Level like This.-


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    ''Cause damn if I was going to be the one to pop their chakras open.


    Emerald fountains geysered upwards on their paws/claws and feet, gathered on the feet of the one and the hands of the other.


    What was Karma to them? They were living Karma. They poured energy into those Runes drawn onto them, and ten goddamn Slots of Weapon magic lit up at the same time, general enhancement of their natural attacks. Two hundred days of Naming Karma, ping, done in a second or two.


    Greater Soulbound, +IV, and Blooding and Vivic optional. If they wanted more, they''d have to devote Karma to the Epic Limit, and Elder Arg could draw the Patterns for them.


    Still, rote +VIII wasn''t going to be lacking against anything short of a really strong Eternal, or an Avatar.


    Vivic was what we wanted here. After all, didn''t want this shit contaminating the Land.


    Some of the creatures that were closer to the exit began to flee... and discovered the Ironblood and a lot of Casters were in their way, and my, look at all those Marked monkeys coming in from behind with rather serious expressions.


    The hundreds of surviving things who were drawn up between these two office-building sized monstrosities and the Hole, well, they couldn''t back up quick enough.


    Mono bellowed, a horn-like sound louder than thunder, sufficient to pop a lot of eardrums in front of him. Fuego roared, a rising, raging explosion coming out of millions of years ago to dominate in the present.


    Two mighty fists came down on several clustered daemons. They splattered, and vivus exploded. The ground heaved, hurling hapless survivors into the air, and with very improbable speed, a huge hand swept across and smashed into dozens at once, compressing them to mulch and sending unwhite flames sailing towards the Slow Zone not far away.


    Fuego bent down and breathed.


    Plenty of stuff resistant or even immune to fire there. Didn''t help them. That wasn''t just fire, that was a burning particle stream of plasma, energy, and burning atoms moving at great speed, and happily ripping stuff apart into excitable smaller bits as it did so.


    The ground glassed in passing as the flames of Fuego played over it, and everything else atomized. Little puffs of white burned here, there, and everywhere, and the Tyrant stepped forward... his step not even making the ground shake, only the misting tips of his talons leaving a mark behind.


    ---


    "So that''s what it means to confront mega-damage," Briggs mused, watching the carnage as titanic ape and dinosaur, both of them radiating a feeling like finding something rotten in their lunch, went on a killing spree. Just the shockwaves from Mono''s fists alone were pulping huge numbers of the enemy, and damn, his hands were fast. The wind alone was hurling the unfortunate survivors around like leaves.


    Them poor Damned sots thinking they''d live through a fire equal parts Fire, atomic Radiance, and Force... well, that was a pipe dream.


    Of course, they could try to fly, but when facing things that could generate hurricane-force winds with a casual motion, that didn''t work too well.


    Some were dumb and tried for the Slow Zones. Naturally they hit them and started moving through them like molasses. A fist or a tail swept through, unhindered by the time differential, and creatures went splat boom whiteness...


    -There is something coming,- /said Brother Shadowknife, as the two kaiju rapidly cleared the area, sweeping half a square mile free of life in less than two minutes between the two of them. The yawning darkness of the Hole ahead, now looking like a much more normal hole going down into blackness, received a lot of hapless burning bodies, like unwhite meteors falling into darkness below.


    Both kaiju grumbled with familiar contempt and wariness, stepping away from the lip of the darkness. Lightning crackled in thick streams around Mono''s fists, blue-white patterns were sharp against the black scales of Fuego''s legs.


    Heh, five Slots off the bat, too, them ancient bastards, them!


    Up it came out of the pit, round and mottled in color, tendrils jutting out here and there and being withdrawn, trailing down for hundreds of feet, a haze of spores and particles surrounding it in a poisonous, killing miasma that rippled with corrupting, decaying energies.


    Lots of us little people''s eyes narrowed despite ourselves.


    A Mu Spore kaiju...


    Just how much was this thing worth?...

 268 Chapter Two Hundred and Sixty-Eight – Let’s all just Stand Over Here and Let Them Fight...

    -The primary danger to the two of you is not the tentacles, but the spores. Master Fuego, keep a burning aura of light up above your scales. If the brown mold touches you, it will drain your heat at an exponential rate. Master Mono, redirect the lightning from your soul gauntlets over your golden fur to fry the spores before they can touch you. They will start the process of rotting your flesh otherwise.-


    Both of the great kaiju blinked as the consequences of ignoring the spore cloud were made very obvious. The crackling lightning around the great ape''s hands faded away, but his golden fur seemed to hum and stand on end. Ripples of fire began to peel out from under Fuego''s dark scales, looking like waves of fire flowing down him from inside his dark body, while his crest heated up with rippling, almost prismatic light that refracted through the flames.


    -That thing is bigger than both of you combined, but it is not stronger than you. You''ll get one good shot with an elemental attack, and then it''ll void-adapt to it. I''d save it for cooking its insides.-


    The fires building inside Fuego slowed and steadied.


    -Keep your primal fire circulating around your teeth if you want to bite it, don''t let that shit inside you. Its primary ranged attack is a thunderclap spore cloud, trying to drive spores into you at massive speed. When you see that sphincter rotate towards you, get out of its way. Master Fuego, you can counter it by breathing against it at the same time. Master Mono, I suggest an energetic shoulder roll.-


    The two kaiju began to step aside cautiously, Fuego moving oddly quietly, barely disturbing the ground despite comparing sizably in weight with a castle keep.


    -Your primary goal is to bring it down to the ground, rip it open, and then fucking bake the shit out of its insides. Master Mono, this is up to you. You''re going to have to grab several of those tentacles, and keep the bastard pinned down. It doesn''t have the slightest idea that Master Fuego can reach it right now, but it can certainly try to get away from him.


    -Do this right, and it''s going to be a really, really short fight. You two are the Team Supreme, and this alien fucktard from outside space and time doesn''t have a chance against you.-


    Both of them bellowed out their agreement, +VIII lights gleamed around paws and fangs respectively.


    -Okay, Master Mono, take the lead. It''ll slap at you... grab one or two of those tentacles, hold them tight, and then jump away when it bombs you. Master Fuego, prepare to jump!-


    The huge ape rumbled forwards fearlessly, muscles like great engines pulling with energy unaffected by millennia of sleep.


    Trailing tentacles hundreds of yards long twitched and bulged, beginning to sway, and as he closed in, the four biggest of them lashed out.


    They were the size of a train, bristling with unnatural energies, shreds of space tearing around them.


    The great tusked monkey was totally unimpressed, moving with incredible grace and precision for something massing more than a cruise liner. We all watched as his massive hand grabbed the first one to come in, taking the impact with a crunching sound that made us all flinch way over here, snatched the second out of the air equally smoothly as the Mu Spore rotated ¨C


    -Roll left, spin on your butt, and catch the last two!-


    He bounced a hundred yards through the air as the sound of the Mu Spore''s ejection rang out, and the ground around where he had been standing erupted in millions of little holes launched like railguns. In eyeblinks, a carpet of molds, fungi, and, lichens was growing across the area, and stands of fungi were heaving themselves up with great speed.


    We were all a mile away, and half the watchers staggered back, blood spurting out from their eyes, ears, and noses. Without a single word from me, they ran away, and those in the air managed to land just seconds before the displaced wind slammed past us like a hurricane.


    -Disease Cures online!- I /snapped, and just about all the non-Vajras and disease-immune people elected to get the fuck out of there right now. The air was now officially Full of Shit, which would remain active until the Mu Spore was gone or out of range. Breath Masks and visors came down, but were only a stop gap. The spores could take root in the tiniest gap, and the only effective defense was immunity or not being in the area.


    The Ape Emperor was down and spinning like a break-dancer, prehensile feet whipping out to capture the other two primary tentacles, spinning, spinning as he tightened his grip, and began to braid the tentacles together, which not incidentally made them useless, and a big thick rope extending up to the Mu Spore was now in place. Freaking huge it might be, but it wasn''t strong enough to lift another kaiju up there so quickly, especially one as strong and active as Emperor Mono.


    -Master Fuego, catch some air.-


    His teeth were glowing like white-hot little stars longer than a man was tall, the area inside his mouth like the surface of a sun. He took a step forward... and up, great rolling fiery mists lifting him up off the ground as his Soulshaped Cloudstepping Sandals at Five Slots did their thing.


    Every step forward fifty yards forward and half that up. Picking up speed remarkably fast, don''t be trying to outrun a kaiju now, people! The air was burning out of his way, and the Mu Spore was obviously a little bit perturbed to see thousands of tons of air-walking fire dino coming his way. It didn''t need wings, so why did Tyrant Fuego?


    It would realize it could dispel the Shaping in mere seconds, but seconds were what it did not have. Emperor Mono had it lashed tight in place, and Tyrant Fuego was now above it and leaping.


    Damn, those talons looked really impressive spread like that, the ends of them shining like starfire.


    Impact. Air shockwave, Mu Spore crashing down to the ground at the end of a rope made of its own tentacles, dust heaving up, Mono getting dragged a hundred yards with the impact. There were endless spots of light about the two of them as spores ignited or were frazzled in walls of lightning. Mono was lit up like an electric light, barely visible beneath the fine currents of lightning protecting him.


    The sound of the impact hit us in a visible wall of air again, heavyfoot bracing to withstand it, just too damn loud, especially with the reverb effect of the space inside the Mu Spore. Yay for Thunder Resistance...


    -He''s cracked the shell! Master Mono, get up there and pull it open. Master Fuego, give those tentacles a spinal roll.-


    The burning dino looked down, and his spinal crest flared with light as he eyed the mass of writhing pseudopods below.


    The saw-like crest turned hot, hot white as Master Fuego simply fell over, tucking his head as he did so.


    Weight of kaiju plus thin nuclear-level hot cutting edge maketh for a sweet pressure cutter.


    Master Mono was on his feet and charging even as Master Fuego hit the ground, and a zillion minor tentacles splurted out of the Mu Spore''s body as all those primary tentacles were severed under just way too much weight. The distance to the Mu''s body was covered in two bounds, and then Master Mono was leaping higher than his own head, springs in them legs to not be believed, and his fists came down on those glowing hot holes in the Mu Spore''s shell.


    The crack of that meters-thick shell breaking was awful, sounding like something was breaking in space itself, corrupted psionic energies and unclean innards jolted free. Master Mono put his feet on one side of the crack, grabbed the other, and heaved.


    The shell began to crack audibly under the power of the Ape Emperor. Pseudopods were flailing at his braced feet, stuff was starting to grow on him, but he ignored it as he heaved.


    -Kick away!-


    Fuego''s taloned feet grabbed the air with flaming mist, and heaved. Like a rocket, he slid out of the way as another sphincter blast shot by, barely clipping the edge of his tail as he rolled and was back on his feet, grinding to a halt, and turning around.


    -Open it up and cook the bastard.-


    Emperor Mono bellowed, and the massive ball of crackling lightning he looked like right now heaved, splitting that opening wider. Tyrant Fuego zeroed in on it like it was the tastiest appetizer, all the cracks between his scales started to glow, and he charged in, waves of fire converging on his throat as he drove his horned muzzle into that opening and let it all go.


    I very distinctly felt all the dragons in the distance swallow in utter envy.


    It was a combination of fire, force, and radiance, and he poured it inside that Mu Spore where it couldn''t bounce it, and it was in much too much pain from Mono ripping it open to try to absorb it. The impact rolled the Mu Spore right over, but neither Mono nor Fuego let go, latching on and rolling with it, tens of thousands of tons of kaiju heaving over in earth-shaking fury as a thing comfy in the endless night between the stars got to feel a sun going off inside it.


    When its underside blew away and vented stinking Mu up into the sky in a blast of fire over half a mile long, we were pretty sure it was dead.


    -----------


    Both combatants came back to their feet, staring at the Mu Spore between them.


    Its underside was a fused mess of ugh. Half its shell was cracked open, then fused with escaping flames so hot even that unnaturally tough stuff had charred.


    The charged spores everywhere lost their energy, I could feel it on my Null.


    -If it''s not too much trouble, Tyrant Fuego, I think it would be prudent to get it from the bottom up once, too.-He agreed with me, taking delicate steps sideways as Mono moved out of the way. -Master Mono, start circulating that lightning in your mouth, nose, lungs, eyes, and ears. Make sure no spores are hiding away in bad spots.-


    He wrinkled his nose, looking at the riot of fungi that had exploded in size, been shredded, and then grown even higher with the second blast. The inactive spores were no longer a threat, but any that got onto mucous membranes could be an issue. He now understood why I had him grab the Shock Gauntlets despite the Cloudstepping Sandals having a much cooler effect.


    He could grab them tomorrow, after all. There was just a small amount of Karma coming from defeating a Mu Spore Kaiju... not that he probably needed it.


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    Master Fuego built up his fire carefully, and when he cooked it again, it was like directing a solar flare into a cauldron. The thing''s shell actually survived the heat, it was actually that tough, but there was nothing inside it that was going to.


    Aie, Mu Spore Kaiju Goop, no more! Oh, what that might have been able to do...


    Of course, there were those severed tentacles... mwahahahah! Even if they were the size of a train...


    -Vohr, I want a full inspection of Master Fuego''s scales for brown mold. Zip all around him and find where it''s hiding, shouldn''t be too hard. Master Fuego, could we get one light ultraviolet breath for all those damn mushrooms there?-


    The fiery kaiju turned around, looked at the writhing mess of moving, unnaturally-hued stuff born from the ultra-fart of the Mu Spore, and his spinal crest began to cycle up into color past the normal visible light range, painting everything in weirdness.


    The following breath was very diffused, remarkably gentle, and lit the world up in some really garish hues. However, it eroded the fungi blanket below like a disintegration field. They corroded away in seconds, and his big eyes didn''t miss any of them, his breath easily able to cover the same area as the fart had, and wiping them all away.


    Yeah, they might have been valuable, but you know, I just didn''t care right now. We weren''t at 400x time, able to loot everything.


    Looking like little moths flying around him, the angelic vohr came swooping in around him, plugged their eyes into his Markdoor so he could see through all of their eyes at once, and went over every inch of his dimmed-down scales with a fine-tooth comb.


    There were sixty-two different pockets of heat-sucking brown mold tucked away in steaming, icy packets here and there down the length of him, especially the tip of his tail. He huffed and waited patiently as blasts of icy cantrips killed them all, even some around the edge of his jaws after his spinal roll, and he waited until they all retreated a safe distance before a simple shake sent a shockwave down the length of his body and cleaned him off.

 269 Chapter Two Hundred and Sixty-Nine – What to do, oh Kaiju?

    Now, of course, there remained the problem of having two kaiju with massive territorial instincts sitting there right next to one another. Dominance issues was a thing.


    -It''s not over.- They were a mile away, turned around, and looked at me without difficulty. Wow, that was really impressive. Eagle eyes are nothing when your eyes are taller than a human is. -The Warp Gods are going to use you as an excuse to send out something really impressive the instant you leave the bounds of the city, and I know you don''t want to stay here.-


    The two great kaiju huffed together, turning as one to The Map and the greatly changed world without. However, both were truly ancient, and used to changes in geography that came from the passage of time. Fuego in particular had the weight of millions of years upon him. He''d seen mountains come and go; the changed landscape was barely something of concern to him. Ages of past memories weighed down on the map with ancient lands that definitely were no longer there, and he got his own sub-Map strata to look at the changes over a huge, Huge, HUGE area.


    Wow, this world was pretty big. Did the Flame Tyrant actually go swimming around? I suppose with that tail he could. Of course, now he could just walk...


    But that Rift standing open there, that was new, that was unhealthy, and the Land''s opinion of it was equivalent to a parasite gnawing on an open wound.


    There was stuff behind that Rift that was bigger than the Land. The two kaiju growled despite themselves.


    "But fear not! We''re going to get you both prepared!" We were out of accelerated time, the many Marklinks were synching up in real time, and it was time to get some serious shit done. We had two really big friends here who needed some help for what was coming, and teamwork was what the Ironblood did best!


    -BOO-YEAH!- /thundered in the Marktell, and the two kaiju blinked at the sensation from all those little minds drifting up to them. Those little beings were going to HELP them? Well... they were REALLY curious about what was coming next...


    ----------


    I walked down the entire length of it from my end, two Rockborn senior clerics following me, looking at what was below with me. From the other end and side, Briggs was doing the same thing, two more Rockborn matching him.


    They''d done some really good work. There was some very minor, small end stuff they''d missed because of the sheer size of what they were doing, but hey, crap happens, and our Tremblesense gave them a much better overall view then their eyeballs. It also meant they were really determined to develop the same kind of sense, and we were happy to tell them how to do it, with some allowances for using magic instead of chi...


    Anyhoos, it had been a busy day.


    Step one was getting its mold made, we were looking at that now. Enough Stone Shaping can move a mountain, after all.


    Step Two was having the big fellows wander Over There and sort of stand around. When little gnats smelling of corruption and otherworldly powers stumbled out of that wound in Reality they couldn''t do anything about right now, there was a brief moment of exertion, and the gnats formed a white carpet on the ground for the Land to munch on. After a while, the gnats stopped coming, the big fellows moved back, and Step Two now took place.


    Who says killing hundreds of thousands of Warped idiots wasn''t useful?


    Remember all those piles of armor and weapons carted off the battlefield every day by industrious Rockborn and gnome workers, forming huge piles and hills of them?


    Big paws swept those mounds into a long, deep trench in the ground. Normally, I wouldn''t even think of using this kind of corrupted metal in anything resembling honest smithwork... but I just so happened to have a source of the purest and most primal Fire around, and he could even make it vivic thanks to his glinting, pretty horn.


    Endless tons of metal and its accompanying leather went into the trench that was actually a very long mold. It heaped up over the edge, but that was okay, because it was about to get reduced rather drastically.


    A long horn in possession of a certain Elder Arg followed it all in. So did a whole bunch of very long tentacles belong to a certain mycoid abomination, and some crushed pieces of a really hard shell a certain big ape had pounded down into much smaller parts.


    Tyrant Fuego let loose a blast of fire controlled with the power and finesse only something intimately tied to the Element for countless years could have. The organic shit flared and was gone. Impurities burned away almost instantly. Roiling metal burned vivic as unwhite energies flowed through and devoured the corruption they carried from the Warp.


    Massive paws shoved the rest in, and another blast of fire from the heart of primal heart of a kaiju reduced it down.


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    The lids were kicked over, white-hot metal bubbled out as they were sealed, one after another.


    Eager eyes stared at the long mold oozing blazing metal, multiple levels of awareness swallowing it.


    -Okay, Master Fuego. Take its fire.-


    ---


    See, we''d been teaching Tyrant Fuego, the most powerful creature of Fire on the planet, someone who could make elder Pyre and Lore dragons whimper and cry, about Fire.


    Or more precisely, we''d been expanding his view of fire to... heat. And motion. Fire... was merely atoms in motion. Energy in motion.


    The hellpuppies had gone right up onto his muzzle, and as he watched closely, they did successive One-Two''s on his horn; Shirley taking the heat, Fido taking it and adding it to his own. Taking, giving, taking, giving. Fido also happily displayed all the different types of Fire he knew eagerly, something that Fuego was definitely interested in, integrating them into an understanding of Fire that was doing nothing but growing at an amazing speed.


    He had naturally seen fire spells cast before, but he had never done so at the /tellepathic level, not only able to see what they were doing with the magic, but see the structure of their thoughts, the designs of the spells at a mental level. The totally awed Casters, of every race possible, demonstrated Rituals and Ceremonies for him, and every spell of pyromancy in all its forms: Fire, heat, light, smoke, ash, sparks, and lava. He witnessed how fire could mold, shape, and weld; he saw different Elements brought together through Fire to become greater than the sum of their parts, alloys and alchemy and artifice.


    His brain and soul were huge. This was just a matter of taking Levels and understanding things even more deeply than he ever had before.


    At the same time Fuego was actually learning boundless new things about Fire, Mono was in meditation with the Land, and scores of Druids were working with him, including every Shaman of the Ape Tribes and among the elves.


    He was big and he was simple, but he was not dumb. He was aware on many subtle levels, but he had never experienced the world through little mortal eyes and hearts, and how they wielded the breath of the Land.


    He was learning now, and he was learning VERY quickly. Even a kaiju was restricted to a Level a day, but the amount of Karma he had sitting around was just ridiculous. He''d be as powerful a Druid as he wanted to be... and one of the views of Druids is the place Fire has in the world.


    Druids make great advisors.


    -------------


    The breath that came out of Fuego''s mouth was white, yet shadowed. Oxygen was freezing solid in its wake as it came out, and all the heat in its path was drawn to the Tyrant.


    Precisely, all at once, exactly as how he wanted it. No cooling from outside to core, breaking and popping. No, the entire length of the molten stuff was deprived at once, crystallizing high and hard under an implacable strength of will and power.


    The entire thing was rimed in ice as Fuego let up, and we stepped up to take a look.


    -Oh yeah, baby.- Fuego''s eyes lit up like small stars. -Master Mono, if you please.-


    A paw bigger than a school bus came down, grasped the steaming mold down below. Mono lifted, and there was a creak and crinkle as the stone shattered and broke away, and the Golden Emperor Ape''s Staff was lifted into the air.


    Runes molded into the bone-white structure of the Staff still glowed with inner fire.


    It was mostly standard, a little thicker on the ends for clubbing, but not much. The structure of it was the same hue as ivory, fire, and magic and demon bone and kaiju power combining to make something that only one of them could wield.


    -The Staff of the Tyrant,- I /told him, and his golden eyes met the burning gaze of Fuego. -Promise never to use this gift against him, for you are his advisor, and he is the Tyrant.-


    Mono grunted, great hands gripping the Staff, stroking it up and down, knowing it was made for him to use. He nodded his great golden head slowly, and Fuego snorted a ball of flame in proud acknowledgement.


    He was the Tyrant. He would never be challenged by Mono for that position again. At the same time, Mono held his Staff, and thus the authority of the Tyrant with it!


    If I was going to change the world, I might as well change the world of kaiju to go with it, right?


    -I can''t teach you all the things you can do with a staff right now... but I can show you all the basics, and build up from there.- Because nobody uses sticks like monkeys can use sticks. I walked right up the air to his nose as he sat there, a plain wooden stick in my hand, and his great golden eyes focused on me sharply.


    Paying strict attention to both how I was thinking and how I was moving, he watched as I began some really old katas on his nose, and the staff I was using slowly began to pick up speed...


    --------


    Zynozure...


    Errant and his Heavenbound associates materialized back in the temple of Sylune, brought there by an angelic vohr, who instantly became the subject of rapturous attention from the remaining priestesses there. Gracefully, the jet and silver angel spoke with them, while the Heavenbound skirted them and made their way out of the temple.


    Had the priestesses not been instantly transfixed by a 40 Charisma high-end servant of Sylune popping in on them, they certainly would have been shocked by the transformation in the Heavenbound. Klistos, Vianna, and Moski looked nothing like the three raw youths who had been dispatched from this location only a week or so ago. Indeed, the transformations were so total to their demeanor and appearance that none of the priestesses even recognized them. They only saw in passing four adventurers, led by the young knight Errant, brought into the temple, their silver eyes proclaiming them Heavenbound, and about them the air of people who had faced down a thousand evils in endless battle, and conquered them all.


    The cloaked four came down the temple steps with the smooth, balanced strides of the alert and the dangerous. Just a glimpse of their silver eyes had distant watchers pulling away behind cover, sweating and cursing as they realized what had just come out of the temple of the Moon Goddess.


    They scanned in all directions, picking up on some of those watchers silently. Errant tilted his head, all four of them took a step, and Rode the Light away.


    A minute later, they flowed together on a rooftop a block away, the blood flicked off their blades.


    "You all know why we are here," Errant told his juniors in Orders calmly. He wasn''t any older than they were, but he''d spent years more as Heavenbound, and although their reasons and motivations were different from his own. "You know how much time we have left, and I believe you all still have things you want to do. It has been two years for us, but less than a week since we left."


    The two young men and young woman nodded, nostrils flaring, still scarcely believing it. They had left here confident, buoyed by the backing of Heaven, certain of eventual victory, brash and ready to fight.


    All of them had died at least twice in the fighting, despite all the power Heaven could give them. Their foes were dangerous, and not fearing them was not the same as beating them. They had scars that had not healed perfectly, and the amount of injuries inflicted on them and taken willingly would have slain an army.


    By the grace of Heaven, they did not have to fear. Now, by their own deeds, they were to be feared.


    "You all have things you wish to do, and little time to do them in. If you need help, I am here. But, I do not think you do."


    Seven real days ago, they might have smiled cockily at his words. There was no need to smile at all now. He was right, but that didn''t mean they couldn''t be beat.


    "Go. I have a Fallen Angel to go see, and see what he is going to do about what is coming."


    They all nodded, and light swirled as it whisked them away. There were some dark things in the city that would not live to see what was coming. Heaven might be delayed, but Justice was something with a long memory.


    What goes around, comes around, and the Heavenbound were coming around...

 270 Chapter Two Hundred and Seventy – Pandemic Sluggor

    Blackheart thought that he was immune to fear, by the grace of the dark gods of his people.


    He found out otherwise. His bullox lowed deeply, quaking beneath him at the sight of the woman walking up to him, sensing in her something profoundly terrifying, and mere divine help wasn''t calming down his rider''s heart.


    Nothing had come out of the Warp Rift for a full day. That would have been a great time to rest and eat up and arrange matters for the next day, and indeed a full-out feast was going on behind him... but there was none of the raucous celebration that accompanied such a thing normally.


    After all, two ancient titans were standing over on the other side of the battlefield. They had casually wiped out all the Warpbands that had come out since their arrival, and from the way tiny figures had been moving over them, they were very clearly working with the humans, elves, and others.


    They were miles away, and everyone could feel every footstep they had taken when they arrived. Now, even more eerily, there was neither sound nor force when they moved at all...


    "Hey there. I understand you are the acting Warlord for your forces over here?" the human female asked. Her blue eyes spit him like spears, her golden hair fluttered like a cape, and Blackheart knew that if he tried anything, he was dead.


    "I am," he said simply. It wasn''t totally true, but it was true enough that no one else there had anywhere close to his influence and authority, regardless of their tribes. He was strong, murderous, ruthless, and cunning, and all the tribes had seen and acknowledged it. He couldn''t rule them, but he could lead them.


    "You don''t have to worry about the big fellows. They have a job to do, and they are going to do it. Something only they can handle is going to come out of that Rift, so you don''t want to get anywhere near it anytime soon."


    Blackheart took that warning straight to heart. It would be like fighting a mountain that could fight back. He had no wish to be close to anything like that.


    "I understand your warning." He didn''t say he''d obey, although he would. He would salvage what tiny amount of pride he could muster before her.


    "Good. Also, how do you feel about hammering in the final spike to these bastards?"


    Blackheart blinked, and a very strange beat thumped in his chest. He could feel a massive stirring, as if the opportunity of a lifetime was unveiling before him. "What... do you mean?" he asked.


    The human female explained in direct, short terms. Blackheart listened closely, his heart seeming to beat stronger with every word this dreadful female spoke...


    ------------


    The Rift was changing color.


    As it was basically the main thing everybody was concerned about, the little threads of pus yellow and puke green, rotting black and corrupted brown were immediately noticed, alerts went up... and just about everyone pulled back to at least the Camp, and most even further, being the not-stupid sorts.


    I held out my hand to Fuzzy. He growled and flipped me a gold coin, grumbling too loud. There were quiet sniggers and lamentations as those who bet against me paid up.


    Most of The Camp was abandoned, and the number of scouts was fading drastically. The Kings, Elder Arg, and a few of the Nulls were on the Ring surrounding the fused lands around the city, but not even the Exemplars really wanted to see what was going on.


    The Brothers were watching with interest. The only one not here was Wavespear, who never liked to spend time away from the Waters. He was being called south, and away he went, walking along the Veil. Things were going to happen soon.


    Brother Firesword was standing near the two of them, feeling the presence of corruption coming, so invasive it was infecting space itself, making the Rift rot around it. "That is possibly the second or third most foul Aura I have ever felt," he admitted out loud. The other Brothers murmured similar agreement, while Shadowknife held up five fingers, and nobody gainsayed him.


    "It didn''t reach number one for anyone? Should I even be asking?" Briggs queried gruffly.


    "Avatar of Skulos, in the East. About thirty-two years ago." Several of the other Brothers spit to indicate agreement. He waved at Shadowknife without looking. "Elder Brother has a longer career, and runs into those Outside Creation intermittently, even if they do not fully materialize."


    "One simply does not want to hear the mad singing from the heart of the madness Beyond Creation," the hyn whispered in his androgynous voice. "Likewise, the Crawling Herald of the Old Ones... it is a master of hiding its aura, and extending it across time and space, an insidious and infectious rot upon reality..."


    I wrinkled my nose. "Things you have to foil, not just fight, then." All the Brothers nodded somberly. "Well, congratulations. What''s coming is effectively the same thing... only we get to see it get fought." Despite themselves, they smiled grimly.


    Far above us, Ape and Tyrant huffed together, watching the Rift with the calm patience of predators defending their territory. They could naturally feel the incredible aura of rot coming out of the Rift.


    "I see streams of pestilence spreaders coming out of the Rift," I noted, Mask of Clarity zooming in on thin swarms starting to wind down from the infinity beyond the Rift. They''d be spreading a necroic plague that only magic or being Forsaken could stop, a harvest of death and rot pleasing to Riggibuhl.


    The streams wound through the air in our direction, because really, the big fellows were just too big and noticeable. They began to thicken, forming dark clouds whose drone began to build and build and-


    Fuego spat.


    He was a LOT better with his fiery breath. This blast came out like a solid Ray of power, hitting like a laser and then fracturing into countless zillions of beams of light. They weren''t that strong individually, but they didn''t have to be, they were only killing large bugs.


    The sky lit up with endless amounts of bugs popping, and suddenly the droning was gone, and the sky cleared up.


    Up above, Mono hur-hurred in amusement. Fuego''s only smug reaction was a twitch of his tail.


    The veins were now as thick as a man was tall, pulsing with corruption and pestilence, pushing forth an aura of absolute decay and rot. We all watched a darkness growing in the rift, wriggling forward like something neither snail nor snake, improbably quick for its motion.


    It didn''t really leave the Rift, more like being vomited out in a spray of curdling space upon the Land. I had given dire orders that nobody was to Communing with the Land right now, unless they wanted to go mad when it touched the ground here.


    "Ugh!" I said, and had to look away despite myself. Helices swirled up, and Brothers looked away, as did Briggs. Even my memory of it was starting to rot, and I had to cut it away. I saw steam rise from Briggs'' nose, and blood trickle down from his eyes, while the focus of those Helices was on the eyes of their wielders.


    "Wow," Briggs said for all of us. Soulfire flared up and into his eyes, polarizing the light coming in, and everybody followed suit.


    It was rotting the light touching it, carrying that to whoever looked upon it. I knew that in the camp of the anthros, some idiots had looked at it, and their brains were already rotting, on the road to becoming plague zombies.


    "Told you," I noted without any hint of smugness. Everyone dipped into a pocket and got out the wrap-around glasses I''d made for them, and hooked them on.


    A pseudo-nat Sluggor kaiju, a Pandemic Sluggor. It could infect and kill the whole planet all by itself. As a kaiju, it was virtually immune to anything we could do to it. Short of dropping an enchanted asteroid on it, there was basically no way to kill it.


    It was simply indescribable, every kind of disease, rot, corruption, decay, gluttony, sloth, and willing surrender to horror imaginable, and then stacked on with some utter horrified corruption from Beyond. It was pulsing and transforming with limbs and heads, each change spewing forth new disease, rot, and bile, diseases, and poisons to make alchemists go mad in deranged glee, healers insane with the impossibility of facing them.


    As those blobs of snot, mucus, pus, ichor, sanguine fluids, sweat, and excrement dripped forth, they also began to bubble and rise...


    Briggs'' fist creaked on Endure. Plague spreaders naturally spread plague in many, many forms, and this thing was spewing out Sluggors of all sizes like shit and piss...


    Nope, we wouldn''t be sitting this one out, either.


    Four orifices opened at the same moment, flaring with the same gore-pus hue, and vomited out four figures perceptively different from Sluggors. At the same time, in sprays of rotting-blood, decaying hide, and running, bubbling fat, five multi-headed forms heaved free of its backside, spreading fungoid wings as cries from the mouths at the confluence of their six necks made the air ripple.


    -They made some fun for the Kings and the dragons,- I /noted for everyone as they grumbled at my prediction. I mean, come on, this was a Big Monster fight. How could the Warp Gods not get these wonderful monsters on our side involved in the fighting? Naturally they would set things up for a great monsterbash on their side.


    -Thessaldragons?- Briggs /mused, shaking his head on seeing them take flight. In the distance, silver and bronze flashed in the fading light, and clarion calls rose in challenge. The dragons had lured away and killed quite a few Warp Dragons before, but nothing like this... but they weren''t afraid.


    While they knew the power of having riders along, they also had spent a year getting stronger themselves. In particular, they loathed pseudo-nat creatures, taking them as a model of the kind of shit they had to be able to overcome, and taking that job very much to heart.


    Dragons with mortal Class Levels were absolutely terrifying once they set their minds to getting stronger, because their Level Limit was their natural Hit Dice. All of them had 14 to 16 Hit Dice, and combining a dragon''s natural Stat line with Class Levels... and Exemplar Lite... made for a very, very dangerous opponent.


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    Those thessaldragons were probably immune to cold and lightning. Man, they were not going to like it when the dragons used their Fourteen Sorcery to change their breath weapons...


    As for the things on the ground, they looked like a set of pseudo-nat creatures, too: a Nine-Tail Fox, a Dire Tiger, a Dire Rhino, and a two-headed Pseudo-nat Dread Linnorm well over a hundred feet long.


    The dragons weren''t the only ones who had gained Class Levels, however. Primary for all three Kings and Elder Arg was Druid and Shifter, which came as no surprise to anyone. In the two hundred or so days of Karma-earning Slaughter all of them had experienced, they''d all made at least Ten, and all had Monk, Melee, Soulshaper, and Scout Levels to go with them.


    They were all incredibly deadly, much more dangerous than they appeared... and they also had Gear. Having devoted help was really beneficial, as there was a tremendous difference in their power between having and not having it. Sure, they didn''t WANT to need it... but they did, so they made allowances.


    The Pandemic Sluggor stopped moving less than a quarter-mile outside the Rift, spewing out a growing army, surrounded by plague flies and swarms... which didn''t go spreading into the distance. Hundreds of eyes of various sizes and designs bulged out and vanished just as sickly, looking in all directions... but most of them focused on the two waiting Kaiju.


    The army of pet demons and mutant excreted creatures didn''t slow down at all, however.


    "We''re up!" I announced, and we skated forwards, as the Kings and Elder Arg bounded down from the Ring, the great Ape towering over Elephant, Lion, and Wolf, and we all headed for the fight at full flank speed...

 271 Chapter Two Hundred and Seventy-One – Slugging it Out, for Style Points!

    Now, there were others who wanted to get in on this, including our Exemplar Lite Paladins and so forth, but I inquired who might be able to survive a pond of poisoned, diseased, acidic vomit being dumped on them, and they shut up and decided to work on the other things we had to get into place.


    So it was that dragons fought thessaldragons, pseudo-nats fought Exemplars and Primals, and Forsaken fought a defecated army of Warp demons.


    Ah, high end slaughter and Karma. You take it where you get it.


    Kaiju sat there like mountains, but in actuality were watching with great interest. After all, they could now get an idea of the action at our levels, which didn''t look like ants tussling, but some seriously nasty combat, and way faster than they usually moved at. We were some awesome entertainment, such as it was.


    The enemy didn''t know what it was dealing with, and try as it might, Exemplars are not something easy for even the Divine to duplicate. Given how much the Warped fucked with both Fate and Luck, I doubted either force gave them any face, and so trying to replicate what an Exemplar was capable of was just something they couldn''t do.


    Pseudo-nats were nice, but Exemplars were better. The best thing Pseudos had going for them was crazy tough bodies and being impossible to crit with their unreal anatomies, but Exemplars didn''t care about crits.


    Exemplars with Class Levels were waaay past that. The Pseudos could try to dispel their Buffs, but they had more Buffs then the P-nats had Dispels...


    That Dire Rhino was every bit as big as Lord Ivory... until Lord Ivory set off his Quickened Animal Growth, and suddenly was two dozen feet tall and massing a hundred tons. Great tusks blazed golden with Brilliance, and their mutual charge was thunderous... and resulted in that whale-size rhino being picked right up off the ground and tossed like a sandbag.


    King Gray was in a fang dance with the Nine-Tails, his Mastery of Spell Resistance defying the enchantments it was putting out, ignoring its illusions, and his jaws ripping at its tentacled, many-eyed, amorphous body with glowing golden fangs.


    King Gold was in a straight-up mauling contest with the Dire Tiger, also twice his normal size with shining teeth and claws... and doing damage to the Tiger way faster than he was taking it in return.


    Yeah, nothing to worry about for the Exemplars, who were faster, stronger, and waaaay tougher than their opponents, even as they rolled and fought through the demon press with complete uncaring aplomb and splattering happily gibbering plague spreaders.


    We just cut our way in, of course.


    The air was full of acidic disease-carrying rotting slime flying in all directions, spewed forth by all these happy jiggling sluggors of various sizes, their Pusboy cheerleader squads, and whatnot. That was fine, fine, it just meant vivic fire had that much more unnatural shit to burn.


    Yeah, they thought they were tough, what with immunity to pain, organs like jelly, all that mass to hack through, and tough hides and stuff. But, you know, vivic and banefire don''t really care, and Cutting Life, well, the caress of Void Brother Blades and Axes and Glaives opened them up, set them on fire, and they felt their life and power burning away. It might not have been painful, but there''s an absoluteness to it that must have been kind of horrifying, judging by the way they started squealing in voices that sounded like constipated farts.


    The big, swimming pool-sized mounds of oozing fat and pus could take a little longer, but Hell... how many Forsaken were on this field with Greater Demon-killing experience? Hello, like, all of them. Could these things move faster than us? No. Could they teleport or fly on us? No. Could they throw magic down and just make us rot where we stood?


    No. And once we got in combat range, it didn''t matter that their hide was two feet thick. They were immune to rot and disease and poison, but they weren''t immune to vivic fire, which found them just tasty, thanks, and when two or three Brothers with glowing Brilliant swords carved through them, they lit off one after another after another, and popped off a lot of Pusboys we were basically ignoring as they did so.


    That Pandemic Sluggor was spitting out an army, but it seemed a lot slower now, and pestilence swarms flying over were spontaneously popping into unwhite flares from the amount of vivus in the air. I claim to be no expert on demonic kaiju facial expressions, especially when the head keeps dissolving back into the body and a new one forms somewhere else, but it didn''t seem to be too jolly happy as its lovable little squirming horde burned away to ash, the Land ate them up with nary a belch, and all their little diseases went away with them.


    The thessaldragons might have done really well if they could have gotten to melee with all those heads, but, alas. The five dragons were much faster and more agile in the air, and the lightning and cold they had delightfully been made impervious to ended up being multiple cones and bolts of flame coming in to pick them off one by one, while the acidic gouts they offered up in turn pretty much went nowhere. Given the born-of-disease nature of the things, the dragons didn''t even bother to get into melee combat with them, a combination of fire magic and cumulative burning breath weapons sending them falling from the air one after another.


    It wasn''t a challenge for the dragons, and that was only proper for Classed Exemplar Lite Dragons, no?


    The number of Pusboys weren''t worth counting, the lesser Sluggors and their bosses numbered in the hundreds, if not over a thousand, and there were twenty-one dead Greater Sluggors and their mound-of-sewage corpses feeding the Land, several with the great jaws coming up to drag them down and feast. The Pandemic didn''t look too enthused, and even his occasional burbling was going calm.


    The waist-high vivic fog hissing against the slime and pus on his hide probably had something to do with that.


    His lunging forward and sudden forming of a gaping mouth-cannon hole was anything but unexpected. We were separating in all directions even as it formed, breaking this way and that, four of us drawing a clearer arc it followed for a chance at hitting us all ¨C


    It thought it was immune to fire. But, as Fuego had been inspired to realize, Fire was just atoms in motion really fast. So, focused fire was just Fire moving really fast, and just as much about force as heat.


    The breath he''d been slowly building shot across the distance and into that orifice that had been kindly formed to lead right into the innards of the Pandemic.


    Whatever it was going to vent out onto us didn''t quite make it out of that sphincter as the narrow, starfire-hot ray of plasma drove right into the opening. The sound the Pandemic made nearly made me projectile vomit with the images of turning innards it brought forcibly to mind, but being the wise Forsaken that I was, I settled for getting out of range of the thing as fast as I possibly could, as dino and ape rose to their feet and started pounding towards us.


    The Kings all had their fights under control, which didn''t mean they weren''t eager to leave. Heads of P-nats went flying as we streamed past them, and were plucked out of the air like the opportunistic sots that we were, as these were going to make some nice Baneskulls. The Kings were all wearing similar ones from prior victories against creatures like this, and were kind enough to donate them to the general cause, while we all put the tarsals to the floor and got the deck out of Hodge.


    It was, after all, time for the Big Event.


    That Pandemic massed more than Fuego and Mono together, which wasn''t much of a surprise. Its jaws were actually big enough to swallow a good portion of them, and neither of them wanted contact with whatever was inside it. The arms it had could swell to impossible size and didn''t really have bones, meaning they could have great amounts of reach, all moving at impossible speed with their supernatural strength.


    Yeah, yeah, yeah. Do you know what five points of Philosopher''s Might does for something?


    That''s an effective +20 points of Might. Or, in simpler terms, that is x16 brute Strength. Elder Arg bounced around like a monkey with it up. When a Kaiju sets those alternating bands to burning, and their effective weight to themselves becomes a fraction of what it was... well.


    They came in on that Sluggor fast.


    Fuego breathed out again. This breath was white, but it wasn''t hot plasma. No, this was cold and serene, sweeping across the ground and then lashing across the front of the Pandemic from a half-mile away. In its wake, frozen oxygen snowed down, the ground cracked and erupted as it froze solid, and the misting vivus was replace by drifting dry ice and slowly sublimating gasses.


    Emperor Mono''s great Staff, the fires within glowing but not bursting out, swept out. In terms of reach, not even the massive Arm that swelled to sickening life from the Sluggor''s side could match it, and it crashed onto the frozen front of the Sluggor.


    Okay, that was tons of metal crashing into the thing at literally supersonic speed, we all heard the boom. The Warp Gods had chosen this Sluggor to be immune to fire (hah!) and lightning, because of the show both of them had put on prior. It was naturally immune to acid and poison, which left it merely resistant to cold.


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    When Fuego was ripping the Fire out of something, mere cold resistance wasn''t going to work. When the Staff smashed into that frozen hide, it at once shattered the chilled passes-for-flesh and tore it apart. Massive chunks of Pandemic went flying as frozen body parts ripped free of the rest of it.


    Mono had been getting some good Staff lessons. The fires on the Staff ignited enough to repel any bits of Pandemic that wanted to stay attached to it, as the Staff came around and slammed into the reaching arm, pounding it to the ground. Unfortunately it didn''t have any bones or they would have broken, but a spin and a reverse and it came down right on the bulbous head still jutting out, slamming that bellowing thing down into the mass of the rest of it, even as the great jaws in its belly opened to spit something out.


    Yeah, watched a few thousand tons of monkey go diving aside like he''s a baby chimp, hit the ground, do a shoulder roll while stirring up almost nothing, and then bounce right back to the attack on its flank even while that totally vile mixture of chunky stuff and something hissed and sizzled on the ground, creating a new pond of ugh.


    Fuego wasn''t going to take a bite of this thing, and didn''t even want to rip at it. But that was fine, because he had just taken some Fire, and Mono had the physical combat thing all covered with his Staff on this slow-moving thing. It could take a lot of punishment, without a doubt...


    But Fuego had also just sucked up all the drifting vivic fire from the burning of its little army. He hadn''t been throwing out cold, he''d been taking Fire. Verra subtle but important differencio...


    Mono circled faster than the Sluggor could spin around, pounding down with the Staff, making its gelatinous body cave in and wriggle like jello, shockwaves from the hits making it wobble and jiggle, and if they didn''t really hurt it, well ¨C


    That was what a point-blank shot of kaiju-enhanced vivic fire breath weapon was there to do.


    Fuego wasted none of it. Mono was kind enough to set up the Pandemic for a full broadside, and the Fire Tyrant let it all go.


    He didn''t strafe, boring it right inside, going for depth, whatever energies kept the thing moving inside, whatever key things had to remain intact there for this animated turd to keep moving. Even with a hide a dozen feet thick, we could see the glow inside, and the Sluggor squealed out a million lungs worth of breath through a sphincter hole, and the two kaiju found themselves reeling at the stone-shredding sonic power of the scream despite themselves.


    Ah, Thunder resistance, you are still such a thing.


    Outraged, Mono and Fuego switched sides, circling around it with such totally inappropriate lightness, and Mono found this massive hole in the side of the thing, totally the right size to shove over a couple hundred feet of burning Staff into and probe around.


    There we go, move that thing forward, drive it out the gaping front jaws, wedge it against the far side there, and lever it backwards. Sure, why not? Massive muscles worked, Philosopher''s Might bars longer than I was tall burned, and the Pandemic heaved as it tried to resist the leverage and totally out of scale Might of the big Ape.


    Strength out of scale for a Kaiju. I was laughing to myself, despite everything. They were too strong for their size!...

 272 Chapter Two Hundred and Seventy-Two – Vaccination and Style

    The flailing arm that was almost as big as Mono pounded into him, and he batted it away with the end of his Staff as he heaved the Pandemic over. It didn''t really mean much, the Sluggor could just reform its arms and heads in the new orientation, but, hey, Fuego was opening his jaws again, and stealing more Fire.


    That white beam played across the top of the Sluggor, concentrated this time, going deeper, touching the things inside still on fire, and glowing white as vivus raced through the entire frozen mass of it.


    The top of the Sluggor ignited like a vivic bomb, hundreds of tons of frozen body mass cracking, shattering, and blowing away as the vivus took it. It looked like something had come down and taken a huge bite out of the Sluggor''s middle, leaving a bulging rump, a gaping valley in the middle, and enough in front to barely support the extruded head and huge flailing arms trying to get it into motion again.


    But where was it going to go? It wasn''t slow from the level of us down here, given how much ground one wriggle could cover, but to a kaiju? It moved like it was going through mud.


    Mono plied his stick energetically. He flattened the head again, and smashed left and right as the Pandemic tried to flow together. Its body mass wasn''t being replaced ¨C oh, was that a Blooding on their Weapons and that Horn? Why, yes, yes it was, so no regeneration ¨C so it had to allocate mass from its front and back and try to fill in the middle, except that was really hard to direct when tons of demon-fungus ivory Staff is coming down to try and cut you in two where your insides are still burning.


    This time, Fuego fed the existing fires.


    His breath was kind of gentle, a beam pouring into that gaping hole in the middle, and the vivus exploded over the entire topside of the Sluggor, raging and racing up the unspeakable innards of the thing, up to its hide, the pulsing, throbbing veins of rot and contamination and whatever else was pumped through the thing... and the Staff came down to stop another one of those pained squeals by driving the whole area about to do so back into the mass it came from.


    Freeze the middle, and down came the Staff, pound, pound, and the entire back side of the Sluggor was shattered away. It didn''t stop twitching and moving, but the vivus raging over it only got thicker as any natural resistance faded on the severing.


    The front third was shrinking rapidly, trying to reallocate, trying to get away, about as much mass left as either of its attackers... which basically meant not much.


    Fuego froze it, Mono shattered it, Fuego fed it, and Mono spread it. They moved and shifted, Mono pounding at the arms and head to make sure they were never in position and didn''t remain a threat, and hundreds of tons of Pandemic fell away in burning hunks, vast swathes of vivic mist now surrounding it as it tried to flee or do something.


    -Finish it.-


    Fuego opened his mouth, and vivic mists and flames flowed up the cone of energy towards him, the crest along his breath filling with a soft, effusive light.


    Mono''s Staff came down, pounded its head down back into its bulk yet again, flattening the thing as Fuego stepped in closer, bent in at just the right angle, and hit it with the cone at close range.


    An inferno coming out of a breath attack like that sounds like a hundred furnaces unloading at once. A vivic assault sounds like a tornado instead, washing over the unclean rot of the creature, eroding away the last of its defenses, and in the middle of the assault, a big stick comes down to breach the hide and open a way into its remaining insides...


    The Pandemic lost it.


    The explosion as it lost its grip on its mass, and its spirit tried to flee, was pretty big. The vivus certainly wasn''t going to let the main course go-


    The Jaws of the Land came up out of the ground, this time big enough to swallow Ape and Dino from view, closed on a dimly transparent turd trying to get away, and slowly and grandly dropped away.


    The body of the Pandemic Sluggor was completely gone. Tyrant and Emperor looked at one another, at the quickly thinning vivic mist around, and ruminated on the lesson of relative sizes...


    Then, they slowly turned around to stare at the Rift, and roared at it in grandiose, animalistic displays of dominance and strength, precisely as they ought to.


    -------


    "How''s the effect?" I asked Brother Shadowknife.


    "Excellent," he replied, his black and white Helices swirling about him. "The dimensional strength around the Rift just quadrupled with the death of the Pandemic. There''s no way that it can grow, and it''s going to take even more power just to keep it open. If they send out something else like that and we kill it, it''ll force the Rift to shrink, and it''ll just close on its own."


    "Which would be bad, as they''d get to keep all their toys and go home laughing." He cocked an unseen eye at me as I scowled at it.


    Seeing no response from the Rift, which continued to circle in its many grotesque colors, the two Kaiju turned and wandered away, getting to a discrete distance from the Rift, near the Camp, before sitting down to wait and stare at it again.


    The meaning was very clear. If another kaiju showed up, they were going to get involved eagerly. If not... what did they care about ants fighting? They''d just enjoy the show, while they chatted and commented from Up There.


    "What are you expecting now?" Brother Firesword asked reasonably.


    "Nonstop. They are aware that vivus is affecting the Rift, so they know their time is limited. They''ll try and get as many Warped out as they can, while they can, hoping some get through before the Rift closes. They should be able to overwhelm us, after all, given they have the absolute numbers advantage."


    "Mmmm." He quirked a faint smile. "They are absolutely not going to like finding out about the Exemplar Lites among the troops, are they?"


    "No, but that''s the entire idea. We''re about to enter almost constant combat for days, building up the last of the vivus we need. You ready?" This time, combat was going to be truly ruinous.


    "I no longer fear numbers," he admitted. Fast Healing combined with Healing Edge meant a return to full health in seconds as needed, with Revitalizing taking care of any fatigue. Now, he could go and go and go.


    "Get all the Exemplars ready, we''re going to be setting up right in front of the Rift. Everyone else is basically on containment duty. This is going to be the final push! I want walls and trenches and all the fun stuff up as fast as we can do it!"


    Thousands of fighting men and workers surged into motion. It was time for the end.


    ----------


    Zynozure, the Even Scales Auction House...


    The word of the Mu Goop going up for sale had spread like wildfire, helped along by Sylunar contacts among the spellcasters, spread through all the temples like wildfire, and every noble family and business with an interest in alchemy and magical item construction. Just the rumors of what some of the Mu Goop could be used to make had powerful and wealthy men on their ears to acquire some, and even learning that there''d be a second auction down in Southmarch two days later wasn''t enough to stop the auction house from being packed with bidders.


    When they saw the vohr working the event, jaws dropped right and left, and noble, intelligent, hard-nosed, ruthless men were oft reduced to gibbering fools as the jet-skinned, silver-haired star elfin walked by.


    The starry-eyed Archpriestess who led them, and was in charge of dispersing the Mu Goop, in particular reduced their knees to jelly when they looked upon her. As word spread of the absolute beauty of the sellers, yet more folk flooded in, some merely to ogle, others with more malevolent designs, which simply added to a very excitable atmosphere.


    The funds of those bidding were verified, seats were arranged, drooling fools claimed any avenue they could, and Wayfair went up to start the selling.


    The illusion show that went with each and every offering of Goop, showing the relative size and age of the Mu Spores that each gallon came from, kept them all spellbound, in a combination of awe at the size of the thing, wonder at what had carved them all open, and Wayfair posing there in splendid attire before each one. Wayfair''s constant change of outfits and styles at the slightest whim could have caused a riot, if she wasn''t so untouchable.


    When she started calling out for bids, the gold began to flow.


    Her voice seemed to reach right into the purses and drag out the coin in musical cadence, working the owners like a thousand-year auctioneer. Even the most cold-hearted and stingy simply could not fail to open their purse-strings after a glance from her, and a taunt or tease would set off a round of bidding relentlessly.


    Intellectually, those bidding realized that the vohr were making a colossal fortune off all of this, but they simply couldn''t be bothered to pay attention to it in the fevered heat. Wayfair played them like puppets, everything from cooing approval to strident challenge to breezy dismissal inciting out every last coin possible to be squeezed from the wealthy and powerful of Zynozure.


    ---------


    "Wayfair, Wayfair!" waved Amber, running up to her.


    The auction was over. Those who had won their gallon jars of Goop had staggered off, much lighter in purse, probably having imbibed far too much excellent food and drink, and surrounded by no-nonsense guards private and hired to escort their precious cargo away. Certainly there were those who were planning to get their hands on such wonderful, money-intensive things via means other than deep purses, but that was no longer their problem.


    "Yes, Amber? How were your sales?" Wayfair responded immediately. She had found, much to her initial consternation, that having her imprint in one of Sama''s Marks, and having Sama''s Mark on her, as well as having such on the girls, had hooked her into the Hag Sisterhood effect. As a result, the lilithi found herself playing a strange big sister to this group of combat-happy no-magic killing machines with enthusiasm, and spending rather too much time among a group of beings she should rightly be utterly terrified or dismissive of.


    Rather than fighting it, the lilithi found it a new and unique experience, suddenly having a family that mutually cared about one another, and endorsed it with many hugs and kisses all around. The fact they were immune to any negative effects of her hugs and kisses only made it all the nicer.


    "Ah, it turns out that when you are clearing out the wine cellars of everything for drinks, you make a LOT of money. The Florans were invaluable in the kitchens. Veis'' finger-food probably put ten pounds on everyone," Amber relayed quickly, but then leaned forward conspiratorially. "But that''s not why I''m here."


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    Wayfair leaned in as well. She was naturally in disguise, without her wings or tail or hooves or horns being on display, but that didn''t make the motion any less eye-catching. "This sounds important," she matched Amber''s tone precisely.


    "It is! The Nuavans want to speak with you." Amber''s voice was hushed, but her eyes were dancing. Wayfair slowly arched one eyebrow, and Amber giggled at the instant thought that crossed her mind. "Well, I''m sure that IS on their minds, but they wanted to talk to you about, ah, a fresh wardrobe."


    Wayfair''s starry eyes widened. "They wish to speak about FASHION." Amber nodded slowly. "Ah, this is EXTREMELY important, then!" Amber nodded much more eagerly, her grin threatening to split her face. "Right, to arms! We have not much time, having to get to Southmarch and all. Have you fabrics and tools and seamstresses? Aie, so much to do correctly!" She struck a pose, and her dress rippled through six permutations, turning heads all around, jaws dropping and drool starting to strike the floor.


    The crystal on the back of Amber''s hand faithfully recorded every design. "I''ll get the sketchbooks done quickly; they''re already gathering up the designers."


    "Well, by all means, let''s be off to see them! Immortality awaits!" Wayfair quietly grabbed a couple other of the angelic vohr also working in disguise, kissed her gratitude through the heavily sighing Harse Priests who had done all the support work for the auction (and who had also made a blessed fortune off their cut), waved to the Sylunar who''d received some nice donations and Mu Goop on the side of their own, and swept out for the Temple of Nuava, admirers and fashionistas and not a few bards, nobles, and other folk pining to catch her eye in tow.


    The apocalypse in a few days? Hardly a reason to stop the launch of a new clothing line!


    ++++++++++++++++


    Author''s Note: Nuava is the greater Chaotic Good goddess of Love, Beauty, Dance, the Arts, and Romance. Naturally her Church would fall head over heels for Wayfair.

 273 Chapter Two Hundred and Seventy-Three – A Word from Heaven

    The not-so-depths of Zynozure...


    There were some minor impediments in coming here.


    The guardians were somewhat forgivable. They''d have killed him in a heartbeat, of course, and their families had probably served their master for generations. He could spare them mercy, even if it would not be reciprocated, while fighting them here, while they did their duty. They had the whiff of readiness to do evil if commanded about them, but they had not truly fallen to the dark yet.


    The Summoned beasts and the Constructs, now, those he killed. Those were just money, and could be replaced. The bound Daemons were meant to expend their lives; the animated steel serpents, lumbering golems of iron and stone, and living meat grinder were all interesting in their own way, and reduced to scrap metal and consumed wisps behind his advance.


    He was also not polite to the traps, both mechanical and magical. The bolt throwers in the walls, the falling ceilings, the closing walls, the yawning pits, the exploding Runes, Symbols, Sigils, and Glyphs... yes, he broke all of them, shattering the stone facades if need be to get at the mechanisms behind. It was easier than having to deal with them again if he needed to return this way.


    But at last he stood before a towering door of bronze and iron, wrought with complicated seals and hieroglyphs that narrowed his eyes as he deciphered the story they told.


    "I am Heavenbound. I have come to seek a word with the Elder!" he called out respectfully... in the celestial tongue of the Higher Spheres.


    His voice rang out and echoed for a good ten seconds. There was no way the being beyond could fail to hear him, and if he must sunder these doors down to pass through, well, those traps had been a significant investment. The price of replacing these doors certainly wasn''t going to stop him.


    The minutes dragged by, and the quiet music behind his ear grew grim. He was just about to step forward when he heard a clang, and then a rasp of moving metal. Bars shifted, tumblers spun, locks disengaged, and with a low, heavy creak, and one of the looming doors before him opened up.


    He was Heavenbound, and he had no fear. Without hesitation or overthinking things, he stepped forwards, and passed beyond them.


    The room beyond was gloomy, but it was still possible to see. It was a throne room of sorts, wide enough for at least a hundred chairs, but currently only sporting twenty or so, drawn up in an arc before what looked like an altar, but was actually a meditation stand. The lighting was dim and magical, not natural, enough to create wonder about what was to the sides, watching there... but such sight held no secrets for him, as he marked the passages there, and the things that existed within them and retreated at the flash of his silver eyes.


    Shades, he thought, but kept his face expressionless.


    It was not evil that lurked in the air, but bitterness and resentment, enough to twist a noble soul to darker ways as it brooded here, wrapped in old stone torn from the depths of the world, where the light never shone.


    As he stepped closer to the altar down the middle of the room, the occupant seemed to materialize, a trick of the light, becoming more solid and real as he advanced, based on his distance from the stone. He did not slow his steps, merely acknowledging the change as he advanced, until he stood before the dais, not ten feet aware, and came to a halt.


    One of the Mortai, he judged, by the pale skin, size of the closed eyes, spindly limbs and narrow frame. Of course, the angelic wings were burned away, reduced to shadowy images of bones, and the pearly white skin was more pearl then white, with gray and shadows running through it once suppressed by the celestial energies running through him. Now those shadows gathered, teasing at the corner of the eye, and the heavenly powers had lost their light and life.


    An Angelus Excorciate, a Fallen Angel, removed from Heaven for beliefs and practices that ran counter to the Will of Heaven.


    The Mortai roved the Astral Plane, the realm transited by souls on their way to the Afterlife. There were many such psychopomps from different powers, escorting the souls of their gods to their realms, and ensuring a safe and proper transit.


    And, of course, there were thieves, trying to steal souls and deny the power they represented to their gods, or simply interrupt their afterlife of reward and bliss with torment.


    As such, the Mortai were among the finest warriors of the first tier of Angels, the most likely to be promoted to Warlord status as planetars.


    Somewhere along the way, something had happened, and this angel had Fallen. The ways that could happen were as endless and inventive as the other Powers could make them, be it the Neutrals or the Dark powers. The moral and ethical conflicts of the living were the very anchor of creation in the Afterlife, so these beliefs fomented wars unending between the various entities and Divinities that dwelt in the Hereafter.


    A crushing event, a failure in duty, a defeat, a dark enlightenment, simple fatigue, a cascading failure of belief, a corrupting item of dark magic, treachery, betrayal, losses of those cared for... there were many, many ways for the Good to fall, for it was the hardest path to cling to. Losing that moral strength was catastrophic, yet so simple, exchanging the right way for the pragmatic way, the easy way, and the greatest good for the personal good and personal benefits...


    Yes, all too easy to fall. That Angels could persevere in their duties for years uncounted, defying so many ways to fall with defiant belief, faith, and the support of their own, was the foundation of the strength of Heaven.


    But still, some faltered on the way, and lo, did the forces of darkness crow in triumph when such a thing happened, as if their own failure to reach that height somehow made their reveling in the swill of sin more grandiose for the Fall of an Angel.


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    The Climb to Heaven was so much harder than the Fall. As if the Fall could ever be a great triumph, instead of the great tragedy it was.


    The Angelus opened his large eyes. They were pupilless, great milky things of starlight and moonshine, yet shadows lurking behind the quiet light there, fog in the depths of ancient wisdom. "Why is a Heavenbound here?" the Angelus asked in the tongue of mortals, giving the impression that it would not deign to reply in the tongue of Heaven, who had cast him out.


    "Well, I think the main reason I am here is that a Void Brother is not," Errant replied honestly.


    The hairless skull came up at that, as he knew it might. The Void Brothers were beings that even Angels were wary of, as they were perfectly willing and capable of sending off Angels who crossed their bounds on the mortal planes, even be it in the service of Good.


    "So, one of the mortal world''s slayers knew I was here? Which, if I may ask?"


    "Oh, I have the impression that all of them knew you were here, after I spoke with them. But you kept your nose clean and below their eyes, so they had other stuff to do. As for the most recent, that would have been the Light and the Scepter coming through. You must have been very careful to keep worship out of your cult, or I imagine you would have been expunged." Brother Lightscepter was actually an unwanted servant of the gods, eliminating false faiths, untrue gods, fake prophets, and those beings who emulated them. Since it was a common tactic of many Powers to set up fake churches, lure in believers with false teachings, and slowly convert them, Lightscepter wasn''t much liked by the non-Good Churches, and with the typical Void Brother attitude of eliminating any threat and going on to the next without explanation, had strained relations even with the Good Churches.


    The fact he had prevented many of their faithful from being seduced by false gods, and had purged their own hierarchies of the faithless and infiltrators, mitigated that somewhat.


    "My following is a philosophy, not a religion," the Angelus scoffed slightly, eyes swirling with disdain.


    "Philosophies are religions with fewer buildings and trappings," Errant replied easily. "The Hereafter is based on beliefs, and Philosophies are beliefs. He simply did not judge yours False," Errant corrected the Angelus, having found Brother Lightscepter rather admirable to speak with. After all, the Void Brotherhood was basically a Philosophy, too...


    The Angelus made a dismissive gesture with his narrow chin. "As you say. Why have you come then, Heavenbound? Have you come to deliver Heaven''s Wrath here, in the darkness I have been sentenced to?"


    Errant tilted his head, listening to the music behind his ear, and could see the Angelus tense up as he recognized it. "No, which surprises me. I expected to see something much worse when I came here. Lightscepter, after all, will let an Evil Faith grow, so long as it is true. But there is none of that here as yet, so I think I was sent here merely to check up on you. Heaven, after all, Hopes for your return."


    A m¨¦lange of emotions rippled across that composed face, with anger, desire, resentment, and melancholy being only the most obvious. "Is that all?" the Angelus asked neutrally.


    "No. I''m here to see how much involvement you are going to have in the apocalypse which is about to befall the Empire. I see that you have not yet warned your followers about it."


    Now the Angelus tensed, his eyes flaring with shadows. "Where did you hear of this?" he demanded coldly.


    Errant''s eyes narrowed slightly. "So, you do know of it. The Brotherhood has known of it for some time, and they deigned to share that knowledge with Heaven. You have acted in this event to come."


    The Angelus glared at him. "I have. What of it? Are you going to judge me now?" He smiled thinly, as if confident of something, and Errant could feel stirrings from many places in the shadows outside this room.


    "I leave you with an old saying." Errant stepped back and bowed slightly, startling the defiant Angelus. "When the world is ending, and evil comes; when darkness falls, and the dead beat drums; where fear dwells fast and terror screams, and nightmares walk from ancient dreams... Where better a place for an Angel to appear?"


    There was an astounded look on the Angelus'' face as Errant turned away and marched out the door. Many silent eyes watched him from the shadows... which roiled behind him, ready to strike... but did not...


    ----------


    The Warlock spit out black blood, trying to ignore the writhing under his clothes, gasping as he completed yet another of the ceremonies he was compelled to do.


    He''d stopped bothering to count how many he had done over the years, but the where... he could never forget. They were all on his lived-line, glowing black and hollow like an anti-star, ready to be returned to and the reaping take place.


    Waiting for him, his masters, and their hunger.


    Memphistopheles cursed and swore to himself, but it didn''t matter, he did what he had to do. The power from Outside Creation rippled through him, changing him bit by bit into something else, something more able to deal with this energy and power. If it lasted long enough, he would no longer be human, and moreso, he would no longer care that he was not human.


    He shook as he suddenly realized where the Mazakam all came from, why they offered Pacts to humanity at all, and where their hunger derived from. The power had elevated them and damned them. They had become something that required that very power to exist, and could no longer dwell within Creation...


    And that would be his fate as well, if he couldn''t do something about it!


    He gnashed his teeth, but there was nothing he could do for now. Soon, soon, the stars would be right for a true feast for his masters, and once they were done and sated, they would be finished with him for a time, and he could make plans.


    He would be free of this power, this Pact, this CURSE! He could faintly hear his masters laughing at his thoughts, as if giving up their power was possible, and he bent to his work once again, cursing them all and their alien drives and desires as he did so...

 274 Chapter Two Hundred and Seventy- Four – The Glory of the Warped

    Our preparations were fast, but very complete, planned out in advance, buttressed with many Casters to speed things along, working and digging and building with breathtaking speed given the power of many of the beings exerting themselves here.


    Thick walls, killing lanes, trenches and pits, moats and battlements, arrow towers and crude bridges, ramps, stairs, platforms and levels, hills, and open areas. It was a mix of terrain and defenses, designed to break up numbers into manageable pockets, giving defenders an advantage beyond simply mounding up the dead in overwhelming numbers.


    In other words, it was meant to cater to the Warp Gods'' expectations of an entertaining fight, showing all the ingenuity and style that we could.


    The Anthros'' section was definitely much cruder, but with Jotun muscle and almost boundless amounts of bodies, got itself set up remarkably well. They were learning lessons about defending against wave attacks that we probably didn''t want to teach them, but the situation called for a certain something... and Tremble was even going to be on the border of the fighting zones, ready to heal them if they could get to her, which astounded them.


    Hey, we take spoiling the ambitions of Hags pretty hard.


    The reserves of arrows, javelins, and sling ammo we needed were stockpiled, knowing it wouldn''t be enough regardless, and if you didn''t have a One More Arrow Quiver or the Force Arrow enchantment or its equivalent, you were going to run out at some point. Even a Hamadryad Queen wasn''t going to cut down a forest for us.


    The point was that the armies we were fighting were literally endless, it was only how fast they were going to be sent out, and who was going to fight what and when. Chances for glory were going to be high, and the chance of dying to the horde that was coming higher.


    It didn''t deter anyone. There were a lot of gods watching all of this, and human, elf, dwarf, orc, goblin, jotun, huul, or what have you, they all knew they were fighting with direct Divine approval. Yeah, their gods were enemies... but the gods of the Warp were enemies to the whole Pantheon, to Reality itself, and only the maddest among them would tolerate their existence.


    There was going to be oceans of blood, burning with vivic fire.


    I was waiting so badly for it I could barely sit still. My killing vibes were chasing people away and at the same time raising the bloodthirst level for the whole Alliance.


    Charisma 50 ready to kill is VERY infectious.


    The scouts sang out of motion in the Rift, a darkness deep in the unnatural colors swirling into infinity, which they only watched with polarized glasses on. The dark spots grew with impossible speed, every step covering distances in time and space, and the Armies of the Warp began to pour forth.


    It was on.


    ----------


    I have to admit, they put on a show.


    They''d pulled out all the restrictions for this show, so they were showcasing all their talents and resources. I could feel them messing with reality as they marched out of the Rift, their champions and masters at the head of the great forces behind, just so they could arrive in all their splendor.


    There was plenty of unreal, overwrought and needlessly grandiose Warp armor, fused to the wearer, more skin then metal. Yeah, all the horns, towering helms, oversized pauldrons, gauntlets like claws, breastplates worked into snarling beasts, often carrying back-banners from which the skulls of their conquests hung, with more about their waist, and if they had true style the skulls were still gibbering praises and paens to those who''d slain them...


    The colors of Klaw were the red of blood, the bronze of war, and the black of iron, hundreds and thousands of men and beast-men marching out, great brazen horns blatting out their arrival as if we couldn''t see them, meant to stir up fear and uncertainty at fighting the massive numbers coming our way. Their commanders clutched oversized weapons in the Dire Pattern, often as tall and probably as heavy as the ones wielding them, with spikes and weird arcs and crescents that should provide all sorts of balance issues and getting stuck problems, but somehow worked because Dire Pattern is magic, yo.


    All this improbable shit definitely offended my smith''s eyes, however, and just reaffirmed my desire to get rid of it all.


    Klaw''s troops were split between human and beast-men, as Klaw was also the god of mutation and battle-beasts, and so his forces were replete with cavalry riding mutated horses, boars, lizards, birds, dogs, cats, bears, and things which were combinations of the above and more.


    A grandiose flight of drake and terrordactyl riders came swooping out of the Rift in their thousands, an awesome and terrifying sight... and then ignominiously nose-dived as we might have smirked while the Interdiction rose up, screaming as they flapped impotently at the air. King Gravity harrumphed on his Throne of Mass and exerted His Will, blessed be 9.8 meters per second per second, amina, amina...


    Watching that huge force go screaming down to bone-crunching, organ-splatting landings brought the entire army to a screeching halt. Fanged and horned horses hugged, scaled reptile-hounds growled as their spiked collars glowed, and the rest of the fliers urgently retreated into the shadow of the Rift.


    Careful flights of burning arrows arced out, and buried themselves in the skulls of wailing mutant beasts and what few staggering riders had survived the fall, chinks and choks of banefire punching through Warped metal and bone further impressing the Warped with their accuracy. Because, yo, three hundred yards out is rather impressive kill range for a bow. Distance Enhancement and Far Shot Feat added up to 300% range on missile attacks, and Ranged Attack Bonuses in the +25 to +30 range were some nasty things, after all, One-Striking for that extra +3 TH kicker just to drive the point home, as it were.


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    The Warped lines were eerily silent as their commanders decided what to do, looking over the fortifications, and of course, being the battle-crazy fanatics of Klaw that they were, they chose the most direct path.


    Yay, it''s time to charge, throw ourselves on the guns, and just die!


    Well, that was actually okay with us. The army of thousands upon thousands of fanatic berserkers and blood-mad beastmen, and their scattered demons, slave beasts, oversized hulks, taurens, and just plain crazy motherfuckers seemed to let out all their cries at once, and came a-charging.


    Was I going to sit there and just shoot? Oh, hell, no. Archery was a supplemental skill to me.


    I hopped up out of the Trench, a great and bloody Heavenly March rising in my head, reverberating among thousands of Weapons that could hear it. If the incoming enemy had any sense, the massive coordinated pulsing of all those magic Weapons would have screwed them over badly. Unfortunately, they didn''t have much sense, and couldn''t see so far for all the blood in their eyes.


    Now the Helices swirling up they could see, but they didn''t know what it meant, only targets before them, and the mounted leaders pounded towards us, waving unbalanced Swords longer than they were and stuff... and it was time for us to go.


    We took off.


    Briggs and I didn''t have the showy Helices, but that was okay, our Weapons were the loudest... and I had the most of them.


    We swept past about half the commanders in their baroque armor of Klaw worship standards, and there were meaty choks as mounts and the men atop them came apart violently, limbs and heads flying. A second later we were into those charging behind, and the slaughter began.


    The Warp Gods were like video game players, manipulating endless amounts of warbands in the Warp for fun and entertainment, pitting them against one another to find the strongest in endless contests of blood and might. Drawing their fanatics from countless worlds, they had infinite numbers of souls tempted to damnation to draw upon, and these servants of Klaw had all been hardened and tempered in those wars. Their armor was strong, their Weapons were inhabited by daemonic spirits or twisted energies of the Warp, they had great beasts and mutants blessed by their master fighting alongside them, as well as those worthy enough to be incarnated as demons of Massacre, Carnage, and Slaughter.


    We really didn''t care.


    All our Weapons went Umbral, just to ignore that Warped armor sheathing them all, and the shields a fraction of them used, as well as the barding on the beasts and the low armor on the great mutant trolls, Jotuns, and other hulks along for the blood.


    Curiously silent, we drove into the mass of the enemy, and they began to die.


    Bodies came apart inside their armor, which began to crumple and corrode as their wearers folded abruptly. Blood ignited in vivic fire, dancing madly in the energies of the Warp all around, feasting on the dead quickly and eagerly. There''d be no great heaps of the dead to walk over.


    Briggs was the only one to send bodies literally flying, pulped inside their armored shells, skulls exploding while the helms remained unmarked, mass and a Strength north of 40 doing the job as men and mutate beastmen died all around him. The rest of us were more swathes-of-dead behind us sorts.


    Still, we were only twenty-foot wide swathes of killing, disrupting formations, angling for commanders and champions and some of the bigger brutes. Klaw didn''t believe in Casters, although he was happy to send out his demons, and those Greater Demons, well, the reason we were chewing through these minions so fast was to get to those.


    I doubt the Massacre demons in all their titanic burning glory would have been pleased to know that we were competing on who could be the first to get to these giant bundles of Karma. After all, we couldn''t have them reaching the walls if at all possible. The brutes we couldn''t get to were going to be handled by the Exemplars there... of which now there were a great many more than a few days ago.


    Winding trails of vivus sprouted behind us, cutting through bands of demons, demonic hounds, mutant demonic berserkers, and as the Massacre demons bellowed in outrage at our arrogance, swirled up towards them, and Let Them Have it.


    Massive Weapons, Warp Demons bound into service to those that had bested them, struck down, tearing at space with their power and speed, as these fellows were strong, fast, deadly, schooled in the endless wars of the Warp ¨C


    Not a single one hit us. This wasn''t the Warp, after all.


    Helices danced up them, trails of vivus erupted on their black and crimson hides, ignoring their brazen armor. Helices condensed and tore out magic and life, fed it back as killing energy, and the Massacre Demons pretty much had time to try and scream, before their throats were cut, lines of vivus ringing their necks.


    Briggs swung right, rebounded left, and tree-trunk legs kicked out, shattered. The Massacre fell under its weight, great wings fanning out uselessly, and as it came down, Endure came up to meet its skull.


    Me, I ran a Hew and Finish off a whining Slaughter demon near its feet, and ran that stroke through a Spirited Charge that went from groin to skull in one long crit-lance of a stroke, up between its arms, splitting open its chest and neck in a long evisceration that ended with Quaver impaling its skull and dumping a whole lot of kinetic banefire and vivus inside.


    It crashed over backwards, flattening some fanatics who were dumb enough to stand too close, and began to pulse ¨C


    Multiple heads of the Land came up to feast as the demons blew. Whole acres of Warped were sucked up with those ghostly worm-jaws coming up to feast, and didn''t come back out. The worms fell back into the ground as the loving, enthusiastic adherents of Klaw wailed at the fall of their mighty demon champions (well, more kind of gaped, but the sudden silence sure felt like a wail), and then the blasts of vivus blew out like tidal waves, surging over them, and eroding the closest and most corrupted of them right away.


    Waagh waagh, waagh.

 275 Chapter Two Hundred and Seventy-Five – Klawing for Ground

    Behind us, the whole approach area was covered by low stone mounds, about four feet high, spaced in what looked like an irregular pattern. It was in truth designed to break up anything resembling a charge lane, and form a serpentine road that had all been pre-sighted in by the siege engines, or in the case of the anthros, a lot of giants.


    As the cavalry fed into the mounds, they naturally deviated towards the wider gaps between the stones, while the infantry was relegated to the lesser ones. Catapult loads and auto-ballistae came screaming in to drive through multiple targets, while the arrow fire naturally condensed on the lanes where the infantry was bunched up and bottle-necked.


    In the thickest clusters and lanes, spells occasionally went off, each being expended to maximum effect, used lightly and murderously when so. Blooming balls of fire, thundering bolts of lightning, howling gales of utterfrost, and flesh-searing rains of acid were only cast if they could inundate an entire area of the enemy. Walls of flame cut down the middle of lanes and lines, roasting dozens of the Warped at once, adding to the havoc.


    Cursing, the Warped hurried on steed and foot, ignoring momentous losses as they did, cresting the first small hill... and went screaming into the trench directly on the other side, unable to help themselves. Like lemmings, whole lines of Warped were impelled over the side and into the fall on the other side.


    Yeah, the trenches were twenty feet deep, and at the bottom waited some grimly efficient gnomes, hyn, and Rockborn to end any pain they might have.


    On the other side, goblins and kobolds were performing that service. While they weren''t nearly as efficient, they made up for it with numbers and huge enthusiasm for the job. Sure, a slender neck was often crunched in a gauntleted fist, but that just meant his kin could insert a rusty cat-gutter into an eye slit, or wedge a nail between the legs, or other similar entertainments. Screaming warriors and beasts continued to fall from above, crushing those beneath, and all watching parties no doubt got a good chuckle at their antics.


    After a bit of mutual discussion, it was decided not to link the trenches of the two sides, as there might be some enthusiastic misunderstandings. A few goblins had indeed tried to dig out a hole to go over and slit some throats for some funsies, and dug themselves right into a waiting group of gnomes happy to receive guests. A round of puree was served, the tunnel was closed after some rampaging elementals were sent over to reciprocate the party-crashers, and the goblins decided to find other entertainment forthwith.


    All in good humor and understanding on both sides, of course.


    In normal situations, this would have a been a "Fill it with the dead and walk over the corpses" situation, but, you know, vivic fire makes that much more difficult, especially when you''re chock full of unnatural energies which vivic fire just loves so much, and even most of your gear is infested with the stuff and burns away with the meat and bone.


    It cost the anthros some meat, but there were hobgoblins with enough discipline there to set the fires. If the anthros wanted a snack, they could chop a limb off and chew the burning stuff as it was purified, since chewing the raw, Warp-infused stuff was a repeatedly demonstrated, head-cleaving no-no for all concerned.


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    Ah, but there were ways across between lengths of the trenches, narrow bridges wide enough to accept single lines of cavalry, leading to other stretches of stone mounds and inclined slopes...


    Never let it be said we didn''t give them a road to advance. It wasn''t like they could back up and go make siege bridges or something. The most athletic and superhumanly strong (or just plain tallest) of them could make it over the trenches with jumps or long strides, the rest had to cluster up and hurry across the thoughtfully provided choke points... pre-sighted by the auto-ballistae, of course.


    The next slope didn''t have a trench, just a fifteen-foot drop. The natural desire of the infantry was to hang and drop, but lo, the arrow fire there was simply murderous. But!... the sharp-eyed cavalry found two lower areas they could flood across, and so the cavalry were cutting across the paths of the infantry trying to make it to those areas were they could leap across, generally fouling up the progress of everyone even more.


    They reached the range of the champ-ka, and so heavy metal started dropping at them at speed. The normal ones were like incoming shotputs, the ones with Elder Arg''s bloodline were like incoming bowling balls... with spikes. Metal dented, helms crunched, necks cracked, skulls broken, bones were crushed... and then those Runeballs vanished from the ground and zipped back to their throwers, ready to be thrown again. Gibbering, mocking calls rained down upon the Warped as the uncannily accurate heavy fire continued.


    And then they reached the range of the Reserve Casters.


    Spell attacks had been rather few and far between, used for mass slaughter. Even the hulks and Warp giants and cyclops were being targeted by ballista instead of spells, right up until they hit that hundred foot or so range, and came into the range of the Reserve Castings.


    All at once, the Casters on the thirty-foot walls were free to unload, and that''s exactly what they did.


    Dozens of balls of fire exploded, arcs of lightning hissed and crackled out, rays of cold and spikes of force interplayed between balls of acid and thrusting caltrops of stone. Once, twice, and again, and again, and again!


    These advocates of Klaw had never seen magic used so much, and so freely, and were completely out of their depths on how to deal with it. They could try hurling javelins or blood-seeking axes, but shieldbearers were there to ward the Casters, and the assault of energy didn''t let up at all.


    Behind and above them on the wall, the archers continued their work, drawing their targets down, loosing steadily, once every six seconds, One Arrows finding deadly homes with regularity. Keen-eyed spotters painted targets into the Marks-Up Display, arrows converging on Champions, Commanders, and dangerous beasts, and making of them demonically-praiseworthy armored hatracks.


    Few of the true demons got anywhere close to the trench lines or walls, drawing our attention as high Karma value, and the greatest threat to the normal troops there. Those that did make it into the mound zone ran into the same movement irritation as the normal troops, and if they hacked a few of their own apart to clear the path, well, that just made them more obvious targets as they made it into the arrow lanes and Banefire returned their sentiments on relative worth to them.


    There were a lot of these guys. Seriously, this was not a small attack. The Warp Gods had an idea of the amount of power on our side, and didn''t skimp on the numbers. Still, their vision was really obfuscated by having so many Nulls around, so they hadn''t really seen the ExLites on station, and didn''t realize their true power at this point.


    Which was totally fine by us, of course. When they got to the tops of the walls and found out what was waiting for them there, that would be enough.


    ========


    "Drink, idiot."


    Rorn looked at the Elixir suspiciously and reluctantly, despite the desire in his eyes. Naturally he knew what it did, and what it entailed, and slowly shook his head. "I will not be in service to a Beast, however mighty and noble. My people will be led by one of their own."


    Source, on his road. I just smiled. "Neither will I. Now, drink. You think I would bow to an Exemplar Animal? If you take the blood from three of them, you can draw out the essence and leave the bias behind. Straight Exemplar, no were-line in it."


    His eyebrows rose, he calculated quickly, and swiped it from my hand. Like it was prize ale, he popped the fizzy, bubbling pink brew, and poured it right down his throat.


    Hey, he hung with a lot of dwarves. Stylish drinking was a must.


    I watched his eyes bulge, and the dance of veins rising and snaking around under his skin began. He was feeling power flowing through him now, getting rid of genetic junk, fine-tuning his DNA, streamlining the flow of life and ki and essence through him. He was being cleaned out from inside, on multiple levels, the experience intoxicating and exhilarating, like a new world being opened up in mind and body.


    +4 to all Stats at once, increased movement, fractional precognition, falling into harmonic alignment with the universe, maximized Health and Soak and some additional Soak love... it was a lot of stuff.


    A magic item that could do the same thing would have cleared half a million or more, easily. These Elixirs were not small things. All praise to Mu!... and Elder Arg.


    He grew two inches, put on twenty pounds of pure muscle. His hair was brighter, skin less weathered, eyes clearer, muscles harder and more rigidly defined. The Charisma boost made his Source aura more apparent than before, but that wasn''t a problem with me.


    He took several deep breaths, sighing, feeling the changes still ongoing, his Sourceness hurrying them along as it found them extremely beneficial. "How long before it is finished?" he gasped, not really focusing on anything as he felt and saw the changes inside him taking place.


    "It took Briggs about an hour to clear everything, so, probably two or three for you," I told him calmly. He nodded slowly, a new regality about him as he broke his way into Exemplar Human Lite. A King Among Men was now an Exemplar-y King Among Men.


    "Are these available for my people?" he asked quietly.


    "Supplies are limited, and only for those who reach Ten," I agreed. "If they are Powered, you may want to send them to a Bloodline, if you want to get them out of the way."


    There had been some deep conversations going on among certain rulers, who had been rather concerned on finding out that the now unbelievably elite troops they had sent along with me now owed their final allegiance to some Exemplar animals, or in the case of the elves, had straight up transcended mortality by taking Wayfair''s bloodline, and were in effect direct servants of Sylune now!


    Knowing that they could take on Wayfair''s bloodline and become angelic star elves was enormously tempting to any elf. Likewise, the Wood Elves had no compunction about inheriting a pure Were-line; one could even say it was a goal of their nature-oriented populace.


    As a result, the rulership was down with Exemplar Elixirs for themselves and their hand-picked aides and champions, but a bit more reluctant on the Bloodlines. Of course, the elves, being as willful as they were, would make their own decisions and what to take and what not to. If they had no problem serving under King Gold and King Grey, then it wasn''t a problem.


    And if it meant cat and wolf-eared elves in the future, Briggs and a bunch of the boys just sort of whistled and got That Look in their eyes... and so did the ladies...


    The bloodline Rockborn didn''t have any issue with this severance of service, understanding the fundamental issue of serving two Kings. As King Grey was staying with the Ironblood, many of whom were set on earning his Bloodline, they opted to remain in service with us, too.


    The same went with the Berserkers, who rather felt that going back home to Kalden and dealing with merely mortal issues there was not something they wanted to deal with. They were now the Golden Pride of the King of Lions, after all, and they had to do something worthy of themselves!


    Naturally Rorn was pleased to see them go, not wanting to put up with their attitudes regardless.


    "Is this power passed on?" Rorn asked calmly.


    "Advanced template to first generation. Atlantean human for the second. Gone for the third." So, basically his kids would have +4 to all Stats, his grandkids would be +2, and his great-grandkids would be normal humans.


    Unless they could earn such an Elixir for themselves, of course!


    "Lifespan?" he asked further, nodding at my words. So, no super-powerful bloodline staying in power, like the Powered often did.


    "I don''t know. Extended, and no physical penalties for aging, I am certain. You will definitely live far, far longer than even a Powered. Ergo, you''re going to have to walk away from the throne and leave it to your heirs at some point, because it is likely you will outlive them... unless they become Exemplars, too."


    He frowned at that, thinking of the implications, and then held out his arm to me. I clasped it immediately. "Then I will come home to the Ironblood, and Sage Sama, when my time for my people is done."


    "The boys will mock you if you bring a throne, and probably carve up a crown for you regardless," I winked back, and despite himself, he smiled.

 276 Chapter Two Hundred and Seventy-Six – Klawing Their Way to the Wall

    There were a lot of the fellows, so despite the slaughter, despite the bottlenecks, despite the cavalcade of spells, despite the butchering of their most powerful members/demons/mutants/beasts, they kept coming.


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    After all, where could they run to?


    The sound of weapons hitting armor raised the noise level to pure din, but that was fine. Everyone was thrumming to a killing beat, and /tellepathy didn''t care about the noise level at all. The only noise everyone was making was singing or humming along to the music, despite the horns blowing, drums thrumming, inhuman screams, bellows of pain, shrieks of animals, demonic howls, and all the other crazy noise that would have drowned out any normal human voice in the chaos of the battlefield.


    Regardless of what the Klaw fanatics were doing, shit got done.


    I had four different thought streams on Warlord duty, coordinating, focusing, moving, guiding, warning, relaying. Information went from here to there to everywhere, tones and feelings of the whole battle obvious to everyone Marked as the killing continued.


    Despite their numbers, there was no fear at all as the killing continued. The harmonic singing on our side was clearly unnerving them, too.


    Someone spotted some siege engines rolling out of the Rift, and the lines of slaughter harvesting hundreds of their numbers bent to the new targets. Helices converged on one, two, circled around them, and the demon-carved Rune Cannons began to rupture as their crews and the slaved beasts hauling them fell apart in burning body parts. The Rune Cannons crashed to the ground, the most critical of the Runes carved through, and began to light off.


    I sternly told them not to do that, as the ballista boys could use that energy, too. Henceforth, their carriages were merely carved apart, leaving the monstrously heavy barrels lying there impotently on the ground amid the ruins of their crews, and forming more impediments for the lines of men behind. Behind the Walls, the Autobow crews cackled and informed the other siege engineers of the stuff coming their way.


    The tactic of stacking men up on the walls didn''t work too well when those corpses were burning away beneath them, unless it was a true lemming-like rush ignoring all losses... which usually attracted a Wall of Fire right beneath them, feasting on them faster than they could climb.


    Their missile troops were having major problems with the greater range and superhuman accuracy on our end, so suppression fire wasn''t really a thing we had to worry about. Our close-range suppression was a fairly constant barrage of Reserve magic that just wasn''t going to let go of them.


    ======


    Naturally, the situation on the savage races side wasn''t so favorable.


    They had neither the unlimited ammunition nor the spell power to inflict harm that we did on ours. What they did have was a lot of ogres, trolls, and giants who could throw a lot of rocks, and, well, Stone Shaping up a whole lot of rocks wasn''t really that difficult.


    So, they kept up a decent bombardment, trying to throw at clusters to maximize the effect of being hit by a 200-mph bowling ball. Still, without the Weapons and the range, the minions of Klaw made much better progress in their direction, even managing to bring forth siege ladders and things, and some big monsters that could be used to dig through, climb over, or simply breach the walls.


    The savage races had their own beasts, and the Jotuns seemed to enjoy beating on the bigger stuff when it showed up. As for the orcs, goblins, kobolds, and various anthro races, they fought with bloodthirsty zeal, all the shamans out there whipping them into a frenzy. If they died, they died violently, and if the savage races didn''t have quite the unending numbers of the Warped army, it wasn''t far behind... and they did have the walls.


    ------


    Over on our side, a thunderous Demon Weapon breached one of the low, narrow walls, and howling berserkers poured on through, waving their unwieldly Dire Weapons like toys, looking for targets to slaughter.


    And they came out onto a wide plaza, with a whole lot of armored knights with lances waiting Over There, and more low walls rising around to pin them in.


    Hooting monkeys began to rain down iron spheres upon them, iron spheres which vanished into mists and reappeared back in their hands to be tossed down again, crushing down on the hapless armored brutes in the channel below just before the charging Knights hit, led by the mighty Sir Harbromm on his steed. Thunder went off, steel crunched, and overweight brutes went flying with many screams, or were pulped under the hooves of the horsemen.


    They peeled back and disengaged so smoothly it was almost magical, almost flowing back and away. More fanatics streamed in through the opening endlessly, and then ran into the waiting wall of spears, as the cavalry rode away to get ready for another break nearby. The Rockborn smiled nastily, noted that this particular band of oversized mutates was Bannerbound, and adjusted their tactics accordingly...


    ----------


    There was fighting on the wall over on the savage side for some time, mostly being alleviated by Jotuns standing behind who swept the invaders off the wall with great crunching sweeps of their clubs and mauls, to be further crushed by waiting forces on the ground. Grinning savages waiting below were quick indeed to fall upon them and complete the bone-crushing and skull-breaking.


    There were two loci which drew the attention of the Klaw forces. The first was an obvious Obelisk rising behind the center of our lines, wisping the same hue as the vivic fire that was eating away their dead, the black stone slowly and gradually turning white. It was promptly identified as Important in that I Need a Battlefield Objective kind of way, even if they couldn''t see the other two Obelisks set back and away near the Ring, which had been collecting vivus from the battlefields ever since this whole affair began. Filling up this last Obelisk would naturally complete what we wanted to do.


    The other was a huge orcish statue of whatever their god was, which they had set up in delighted crude fashion behind the lines. It looked almost comical with its oversized jaws and huge muscles and brutal expression, but the orcs were fighting in front of it like true barbarians. They could feel the presence of their god upon it, and it took care of their uncertain morale pretty damn well.


    Just like on our side, those savages who had survived the endless daily battles had grown stronger. They had burned Demon Weapons to empower their own, they had patched together armor in their own unique way to make their own, they had added skulls to their accoutrements, and they had felt the hands of the gods upon them making them stronger.


    Their main problem was that far more of them died during the fights then did so on our side. They didn''t have the Casters to spot heal, and they didn''t have the higher spell power to bring back the dead quick and save their elites easily. They had decent Warlords, but they tended to rely on intermittent frenzy effects rather than constant bonuses. The higobs had decent Drummers who took their jobs seriously, trying to keep the battlefield together and thoughts focused, but the lack of overall healing really hurt.


    We let them ''borrow'' some Healing Traps. With only 1/day/being usage, they weren''t ground-breaking, but they could immediately save someone who was wounded, and restore them to walking status, at least. The trick was getting there to use them, as the idea of carrying comrades to a healer wasn''t a high priority for most of the races there.


    Tremble had also taken control of an urgob, and was running here and there around the field, dishing out the spot healing, and effectively turning into a grim, yet shining angel of mercy as she did so. With the Interdiction up she couldn''t fly around, so she needed a bearer, none of whom we wanted to risk over there. There was no way the willpower of one of the lesser savages could measure up to her, so she just grabbed one of them, turning the hapless urgob into her thrall, and wandered around playing healer for them, often relaying information telepathically to commanders, chieftains, and shamans for them to act on, and really helping their overall situation thereby.


    She saved hundreds from actual death over the course of the battle, healed thousands of them, and wasn''t afraid to jump in with her thrall and hack into the enemy if the situation called for it. In a relatively short period of time, she was relaying messages back and forth over the battlefield, and had attracted her own motley band of savages chasing her around as she healed, pitching in as she Sang and the savages around her became howling killing machines.


    Of course, she wasn''t really Curing them of anything, as there would be limits on that. She was Transferring Wounds to Sama, sometimes massive amounts at a time. Horrible injuries would appear on Sama, and be Healing Edge''d away by Quaver in the next few seconds, a constant wash of pain coming and going that she basically relegated to background static.


    The ogres, trolls, and giants loved her. She passed by, and all the many injuries they accumulated vanished and went away. A Mass Transfer could mend up a dozen or more savages at once, returning a tottering, bloodied unit straight to fighting trim.


    It didn''t stop the forces of Klaw from breaking through, but it definitely slowed them down... and knowing that there was so much healing behind them, the morale of the savage lines didn''t falter.


    ------------


    It was near nightfall when the flow of the armies of Klaw began to slow and trail off. With that guttering stop of the reinforcements, a ripple went through the Warped still fighting, as they realized there were no more reserves, and that we had somehow slaughtered down hundreds of thousands of their fellows... and were going to finish up with them.


    Even a fanatic would realize that attacking now was useless. The breaks they''d made on our side were just more traps, while the ones made on the savage side just led them into tens of thousands of eager reserves.


    They had given it their frenzied, battle-crazed best, and we had reaped them.


    They started to pull back, and we sent in the Lion and Wolf forces to give chase, while the Brothers, Briggs, and I found no more targets in the back lines, and began to work towards the front lines with terrifying speed.


    Yeah, a bunch of roaring barbarians ripping through them like chaff was a backbreaker... only there was nowhere to run, over piles of corroded gear steaming with vivus and empty of the bodies within, or even still burning with the numbers stacked up there.


    The Brothers closed in on the savage walls, breached in multiple places, and it was strange indeed for the various savages to cheer, seeing the Helices coming and reaping lives on the ground they had fought over for so long. The remaining Warped could only stare at the swirls of color that had harvested so many of them of them, leaving the back of the battlefield blazing unwhite with the sacrifices to the Land, and then the Helices came for them, metal screamed, flesh burned, souls wailed, and the Land Fed.


    ----------------


    The night was busy.


    Despite sixteen hours of nearly nonstop battle, there was shit to do. Very importantly, there was a lot of wealth out there, waiting to be Burned and turned into magic of our own.


    Potions of Vitality had proliferated long before this, plenty of regenerating monsters around to provide the blood and liver that was the essential component. This was the last fight, and exhaustion just wasn''t something my people wanted to deal with. Vitality Potions weren''t that hard to make, and when you have several Kingdoms working on putting them together with the wealth and comps coming off this battlefield, getting together a massive supply of them over a few months wasn''t actually all that hard.


    Cost a lot of money, sure, but since the Warped were paying for it, what the hell.


    As a result, none of our main troops were actually tired, which was momentous from a combat standpoint. Everyone had Karma harvests, and everybody was out here gathering loot that the Casters were scanning for, stacking it on Disks, being careful not to touch seething Weapons that would be wailing and cursing as they Burned.


    This battlefield was worth millions, and lights glowed and flashed as we harvested it.


    "How''s Tremble?" Briggs asked, as we pushed through a pile of thousands of pieces of armor to pull out the magical ones within it, bringing them out and tossing them to workers waiting behind.


    "Heal-bombing the savages, since I can''t accept a Transfer now," I told him. "It''s fine, she should have everyone done who needs it before Renewal. She probably cut their casualties by fifty percent or more, and certainly their recovery. Unless they are missing a limb, everyone wounded over there is going to be ready to fight tomorrow."


    "Forging a better raider in the future," Briggs grimaced.


    "The sacrifices we make to make alien gods pay," I agreed with a sigh, crushing a skull out of an overly done Helm that radiated a Fear effect and tossing it back to the waiting Rockborn...

 277 Chapter Two Hundred and Seventy-Seven – The Grindy Warp God’s Turn

    "Ugh, dammit."


    "Again? Don''t they learn?"


    "Firk ding blast..."


    I held out my hand, Briggs forked over a gold coin, others were exchanged around me.


    -Light''em up.- Far over by the savage tribes, Tremble relayed the order.


    Yeah, last night''s Investing had all been aimed at making these.


    Poofpoofpoofpoofpoof...


    One by one, large braziers lit up. They were made of melted, purified Warp metal, breastplates mostly, lots of enchanted arms and armor Burned to power them up.


    Vivic flames, of course.


    The unwhite fires blazed up ten feet high, sucking in the energy leaking out of the Rift swirling slowly, unstoppably before us. Certain of the nauseating colors within it were becoming more prominent ¨C the yellow of puke, bile, and corpse fat; the rust of decaying metal; the green of dying bronze and rotting meat; the fuzzy black of mold growing on carcasses.


    Riggibuhl''s people were on the way.


    Ahead of them would be coming the disease-carrying swarms that would truly render this place into a pit of suffering. The Forsaken and certain of the Powered didn''t have anything to worry about, and the Casters could heal themselves, but everyone else was bound to get infected.


    Whether they could endure it long enough to not die was a crapshoot most didn''t want to take. Enter the vivic flames.


    The plague that was coming was driven by Warp energy, being supernaturally infectious, virulent, and pervasive. Warp energy was a fine meal for the Land, once vivified. The swarms of bugs that delivered the manifold plagues of Little Grandfather the Pox Bringer were going to fly into this area and go up like popcorn fireworks, Land munchie-munchie.


    There were tensions between the various Warp Powers, to be expected of such Chaotic and self-interested entities. Klaw was ostensibly the most powerful of them, but vied with scheming jRaztl and despised the decadent Amourae. That basically meant Riggibuhl would have to be next.


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    After him would be Amourae''s legion of deranged fanatic sensualists, as Riggibuhl''s slothful gluttony and enduring acceptance of survival despite all resistance clashed heavily with jRaztl''s obsession with ambition, changing the world, self-reliance, scheming, and energy. Too, jRaztl''s forces would want to be last, to have the greatest chance to study their enemies and devise a battleplan to address all our weaknesses.


    It was all cool. Knowing who was coming was half the battle, right?


    Riggibuhl''s strength was centered on inevitability, endurance, and strength. His forces could take more punishment than any of the others, being able to shrug off pain and ignore seemingly mortal wounds. Plagues, poisons, and disease ran through their bodies like symbiotes, giving them secondary nervous systems, circulations, and endurance, even as it made them rather slow and stiff. They were very tough, and this had been verified repeatedly during the Warp band combats.


    They were also infused with negative energy, as Riggibuhl was even more closely related to necromancy then jRaztl, who preferred more energetic and active forms of magic. This was known as being Tomb-Tainted among the knowledgeable, able to subsist on the negative energy of death, instead of the positive energy of life and the soul. This was extremely useful for necromantic types, as negative energy attacks healed them and their undead minions, while harming the living.


    On the flip side, healing magic and positive energy would hurt them even as it healed the living. It''s just that there weren''t a lot of positive energy attack spells, as it were, while there were tons of necromantic ones.


    But if you were forewarned, well...


    You know that Healing Reserve, which allowed endless amounts of Health Healing? Well, Amana absolutely loathed Riggibuhl. There was a discipline called the White Fist, wherein you used the Healing Reserve to supplement your unarmed attacks against undead and other creatures of anti-life. Heck, you could grapple with one and burn a grinning Riggibuhl fanatic to death from the inside out. Those viruses and rot running through him weren''t anything but tinder to a White Hand.


    And, well, there was this Sword with a Special Purpose out there and unlimited use of Mass Cure Light Wounds. Sure, it was only twenty points at a time per target, but it all added up... and she could mix it with Healing whoever the Riggors were fighting, a win-win.


    The savages had vivic braziers burning, too, and had turned them into impromptu roasters for light snacks, such as it were. Ogres and their bigger cousins had big stomachs to fill, after all, and this promised to be a true grinding fight.


    On a final note, the newcomers were going to be very, very disappointed.


    One thing the swarms coming out of the Rift were supposed to be doing is looking for corpses to infect and animate with their necroic Plagues. Unfortunately, our dead were either gone to vivus or returned to life by now, with precious little in between, and the same went for the whole battlefield. Vivic torches had set all the dead to light, and the fires had burned for most of the night, actually. Those rage-monsters had fed the Land pretty good out there.


    All those dead Klaw guys should have contributed a lot of corpses to animate and head to the fighting again. Alas, they were white dust on the wind, and all gone. Too bad, so sad, we didn''t have to fight two armies at a time.


    It was like someone thought about things that might happen like that.


    -------


    Riggibuhl''s people preferred discordant drums and bone rattles, ceaseless waves of sound meant to lull and wear away at the resolve of their opponents. It wasn''t very effective against the Elevator Music from Heaven, soon to be replace by the Power Ballads from Heaven, but can''t do much but give ''em props for trying.


    Wayfair and the fashion-conscious were motivated to pick through all the sins against Style, marked out all the commanders, captains, bosses, and champions, urging everyone to remove them with great enthusiasm. No, dragging entrails is not a fashion statement...


    Their second auction in Southmarch had gone nearly as well as the one in Zynozure, as those parties who hadn''t been able to get any Mu Goop in the capital had hurried on wings of teleportation to Southmarch to secure some there. Much gold had left tight fists in the forms of trade goods, whole warehouses or ships''-worth sometimes, and such had been removed with disconcerting quickness by the lovely vohr accepting payment.


    At the same time, a factory for six new lines of lady-friendly clothing, footwear, accessories, dresses, skin care, and lingerie was going up in style, and the Fairway House of Fashion was off and running. It was going to change clothing styles like everywhere, especially with the advanced mechanical looms already being designed and set up. Perhaps the women would be a bit confused if they learned Marked mandrilla had made the looms for their clothing, but whatever.


    So, the Riggors stepped out in all their rotting array for us to admire. They were basically grossly swollen or starving things, with not much in the middle. Skin and flesh were sloughing off, discolored, rotting, and didn''t seem to have any effect on them at all. New organs outside the body, guts, and innards hanging out, bulging muscles bare to the air, swollen blisters and dripping sores... yeah, it was all on display. They were into severed, rotting heads more than bony skulls as trophies, too, and scattered limbs on banners were always a treat.


    There were a lot of Bannerbound. Community thinkers, the Riggibuhl were. None died until they all did, or so the plan was.


    Yeah, this was going to be a long, grindy fight. However, there was the addition of soooo many Priests coming up, their ability to channel the power from the hearts of their gods providing us with some additional damage and healing capacity combined. No need to worry about healing the enemy this time, just let it all go and let them burn.


    Shutting off my sense of smell, as the odor of rotting everything was so bad it was making it through the vivus, I picked up Quaver and Chalice, and with the Brothers and Briggs, headed off to work.


    --------------


    They had a lot of demons, and they had a lot of undead. The demons were there for our attention, they didn''t really get all that far, and the Land fed on them well. I think it was developing a Sluggor fetish or something, and certainly when one was opened up like an overripe tomato, the vivus wooshed into existence strongly enough to devour any Pusboys nearby, too.


    The undead were just damage sponges, strong, mindless, slow, tough. They were mostly humanoid, a few oversized bugs, beetles ,and cockroaches the size of bulls also prominent. Riggibuhl liked his bugs.


    They wore a lot of armor, since they weren''t going to be racing around, and had pretty good unit cooperation. Their auras of pestilence, decay, rot, and what-have-you ignited like gasoline vapors in vivus, which they didn''t seem to like, and all that ill-fitting armor made lots of holes to insert arrows burning white and anti-Warp Banefire pastel-blacks. Non-symmetric bodies were a pain to armor properly...


    Today was a day for Called Lightning. It was one of the best long-term damage spells, especially in its long duration form. Once every ten minutes, call down a lightning bolt dealing a ten-foot radius of damage equal to your Caster Level in d6''s, d8''s if you were a Divine Caster with Air or Weather Domains, or a Druid. Since these guys were wearing a lot of armor and couldn''t dodge, this was basically an ideal spell for sniping out their bigger guys or tight-packed units. A good Caster would wring a dozen bolts out of it... and if they cast it multiple times, well, that was a lot of lightning and thunder coming down for the Valence Three it was Cast from.


    There was a lesser version of it, faster-cast, doing a fixed 3d6 in damage, but getting a bolt every few breaths. Accented with banefire and other damage mods, it was still capable of frying lesser targets, but was nowhere near as effective as the big ones chopping down from above.


    They advanced slowly and inexorably, taking hits that had downed Klawites without flinching, the Bannerbound taking a lot of concentrated fire to kill. Still, enough magic could kill them, and certainly Banefire was doing unpleasant things to them. Undead Tokens were far from uncommon things for us, and their Tomb-Tainted damage sponges actually died with remarkable speed to arrow fire that should have been virtually useless against them.


    That was fine by them. They soldiered on into the screening areas with the rounded columns that forced them to split up. Some even stopped to whack on them, and even though it took them a while, reduced them to rubble to clear up a path.


    I didn''t bother to tell them that it took literally six seconds to make one for a Stone Shaper, and the effect it had on traffic was minimal. There were too many chokepoints, and even though they were going to get through them with their numbers and toughness, they were still going to get bottlenecked.


    Still-living soldiers started laying down, building up a false ground of armored bodies for those behind to tromp over. I was impressed by their fortitude and mindless dedication, and then multiple Spike Stones punched up through the ground over the vast area, impaling two and three of them at a time, and setting them all on vivic fire to burn those walking over them, too.


    They had spellcasters with them, but those fellows had a problem, beyond the Brothers orienting in on them. When you have fifty or so Ritual Call Lightnings going off, that''s a thunderbolt coming down every long breath to blow you apart. There was a regular chorus line of massive bolts coming down on the great and powerful to send them on their way, and the spotters were all over looking for them.


    It really sucked for them that they couldn''t Summon in all the fun stuff that they wanted to in the Interdiction, and all their trying to Animate the Dead just made targets out of them. In general, they were next to useless, because the few direct attack spells they used ran right into our side with tons of Dispels ready to make that stuff useless, and then we promptly nuked the Casters. Plague clouds and similar nasty stuff never really made it into play.


    And then there was Wayfair again.

 278 Chapter Two Hundred and Seventy-Eight – A Spectacle to See, Autobows A-blazing

    Wayfair was, of course, above getting her hands dirty in melee. It didn''t mean she couldn''t, it just meant that she wasn''t that great at it, relatively speaking, and she vastly preferred using magic and ranged attacks to kill things. It was much easier on her nails.


    She had, however, ridden around inside me, and was totally enthralled by my gunslinging ability. She (very) briefly regretted not advancing sideways into Marilith to get more arms to hold more autobows, but since she really, really wanted the Manticore Belt, why not get the Arakne Arms to go with it?


    So, naturally, that''s where the huge amount of Karma she earned by shuffling hundreds of thousands of goldweight out of the Shardzone had gone. Soulshaping, and some Archer levels.


    Fall and Down were her models, of course. Greater Soulbound Force Speed hand Autobows with the appropriate Baneskulls attached, which she wore on stylish crisscrossed gunbelts and bandoliers, all black trimmed in silver. Two holsters on swaying hips, two under arms framing That Bust.


    She told me what she wanted me to do, I made her a proper cowboy hat out of Mire Dragon hide and mithral, with a couple pure white feathers from her own angelic vohr stuck in it, handed her a proper set of dragonhide and mithral cowboy boots for Them Legs. I noted she was going to need Main Gauche bands for her Tails, and she could design her own custom leather vest.


    She also got the Texan Drawl and Southern Belle accents down within literally seconds.


    So, that''s what she was doing right now. Her cowboy hat firmly anchored to her horns, her tails up above her like spitting serpents spewing out force-essence spikes, her silver-limned jet bat wings behind her like a great demonic cape, and her hand Autobows Vanity and Jealousy in her main hands, Desire and Lust in her Arakne Arms, exploiting everyone''s insecurities.


    Four spikes a round from her Tails, and six a round from each Autobow, at point blank range like this, slower if she shot at stuff far away.


    Silver, of course, trailing stars, and, um, emitting bangs and pops of varying decibels levels and tones as she found them intimidating or amusing, and harmless pyrotechnic and eye-catching impact explosions too, if she was of a mind.


    She was riding on Haul, which was only a foot or so above the ground. Her feet wouldn''t leave it if she didn''t want to, her legs were looser then rubber as I went up and down things, taking it all with aplomb, and being forewarned by me anyways, and while she was doing the equivalent of a song and dance routine, she was also shamelessly exploiting my Warlord bonus to help herself out.


    She was using me and my Trembling Domain as her own targeting computer, her four Arms moving every bit as quickly as mine, while her Tails matched mine on offense, with Sparky providing something extra for me.


    I was clearing a swathe twenty feet wide with my Blades, giving these Riggors no respect whatsoever, and my and Wayfair''s missile fire to the sides was expanding that to a working thirty feet.


    If it came within thirty feet, it was a point-blank shot, and it didn''t matter that we were moving as fast as a person''s dead sprint, every opening was yawning open, tracked and charted, and we were inserting endless ammunition into those openings.


    The individual shots were nowhere near as strong as my swordwork, which was still one-shotting all the routine stuff, and two-shotting the tougher stuff, with only Greater Sluggors or similarly massive stuff taking more attention.


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    I bulled through stuff, equal parts sliding through and smashing aside as they came apart, steel screamed, flesh exploded in vivus and banefire. Riggors gargled in shock as they felt the pain of their alien energies and what was left of their souls getting consumed, and then the fellows who thought they were just out of reach got bolts of solid force in the eyes, necks, heads, open wounds, and similar entertaining spaces with dreadful accuracy.


    Wayfair was dancing back there to the beat, while machine gun fire seemed to be roaring from her Autobows, exploding on her targets (and if they died and actually blew apart, bonus!) and having a good ol'' time, there was no doubt about it.


    All her Angelic Vohr were absolutely green watching her. All of them were archers, but there was no way they could match her rate of fire, even if they had Arakne Arms of their own, which they didn''t. Sure, their arrows did twice as much base damage as a bolt, but the pure rate of fire and high base bonuses attached to that bolt totally blew away that fact. They had to sigh and content themselves with being much, much better snipers then she was.


    With a working 50 Charisma from being an Exemplar Lite, Wayfair had a +20 Deflection bonus to her AC, meaning that basically nothing wanted to shoot at her, swing at her, or do anything to her, really, before anything like Force Armor, flawless jet steel-hard skin, or superhuman dexterity, reflexes, and dodging even came into play.


    She rode the Sama Wagon, riding autobow, and even ignoring my Halo Crown, I was now every bit as noticeable as any of them there Helices and the thundering impacts of that Hammer as I trundled along. There was a literal wall of close-support ranged fire clearing away the stragglers around me, and when the two of us concentrated fire, well, it got bad REALLLLLY fast.


    Given how the Riggors were staring at the misting carnage we were leaving behind as we tore through their obdurate, inexorable, inflexible, and heavily-armored lines, I am sure they appreciated the show, and the rear view of Wayfair pulling away with that hipswing in full view probably gave them immense regrets Down There.


    -You know, that ensemble isn''t complete without a lasso, as I''m sure Aethra would inform you,- I /told her leisurely, between cuts and slashes and stabs faster than a human eye could really see.


    She promptly went sniffing through all the tropes I was thinking about, and agreed, and then considered for me all the other things said lasso could be used for. I kept my face straight, but finally lost it when she wondered if I had all those Erinyes levels yet, and if so, could she have one made out of my hair, as her own personal Binder''s claim of... possession, said in JUST the right way?


    I laughed for five minutes straight. And then I reached up, cut off fifty feet of my hair I''d woven together into a rope for her using my Vajra, and handed it back to her as we got to the end of a run.


    She took it, winked at me, and said, "Thank y''all, sugah," just right, tying it to her hip.


    I started laughing again, and was joined in mutual harmony by my shameless passenger. The jolly Riggors didn''t seem too happy to see us laughing at them...


    ----------


    Slow and remorseless, advancing over their dead, they threaded their way through the bottlenecks. They sent undead spilling into the trenches to occupy those down below, and dug up and hurled down the spikes to partially fill them in so they could advance across a wider area. They died, opening the way for others, and advanced steadily.


    Over the trenches, through the second field, and then into the range of the Reservists.


    Tightly packed and disciplined as they were, the magical area of effect attacks were the most devastating thing yet. While they were tough, they were not agile, and couldn''t avoid the ceaseless attacks coming down from above. We could hear curses about Casters and elitist servants of jRaztl and condemnation of spellcasters, and when they tried to use their necromancy, lightning came down and added to their woes.


    Most of their champions and Casters were long dead to the ceaseless thunderbolts coming from above. It didn''t much stop the tide of armored bodies, but it meant that those left were easier to kill and certainly not as inspired, or as possessed of aura effects that could be quite debilitating.


    In quiet, ordered fashion, they lined up and knelt down, locking in position and forming steps for those behind them, moving with uncanny group coordination. It made them perfect targets for Reservists, who blew out steps after steps with repeated bombardments of fire and lightning, and lines of thunderbolts plummeted down to do the same.


    However, the front was too wide, the numbers too many, and the stairs of flesh and armor rose up ceaselessly.


    The priests came up then, and showed them the hearts of their gods.


    The positive energy was as bad as fire, and the Riggors howled in pain as The Light of a dozen different gods shown down upon them, and ate at their necrotized flesh, which sloughed away like dust in the light. Great masses of Riggors keeled over as their resistance to the pestilence and punishments inflicted upon them was burned away, and their bodies were overloaded and slain by that which had formerly been gifts.


    Thousands of them died in The Light, repeated as new ranks came up to keep up the inexorable pressure, built the stairs, and as fighting broke out at the top, they were annihilated again.


    Three times in total this tactic was used, killing tens of thousands of Riggors. Their advance didn''t stop or even slow.


    But that was fine. The object was to kill them in the most efficient manner possible. We knew they would get up eventually, and the fighters on the walls were raring to go. In the meantime, they provided shield cover for the Reserve Casters, and for the archers whose endless volleys had never ceased.


    When they finally started to get some up the walls, through the constant spells and the lightning coming down, they got another rude shock, because the people on the walls were no pushovers at all.


    Their pestilence auras were popping and crackling near the vivic braziers burning all over, and while these were targets, getting picked up and dunked in one by a twelve-foot ape swinging up over the side was not on the plans of most of those who made it to the top of the wall.


    Nor was Elder Arg looming up, reaching out to grab them in his hands, and toss them lightly up and far, far away casually. Most didn''t survive the fall, but the urang and bandoon crunched their skulls flat anyways.


    Knots of fighting erupted, but oddly didn''t have much effect on the amount of firepower going out. It was like those channels of advance were planned ahead of time, and those who were fighting were able to take care of the streams of advancing Riggors until thunderbolts could come down and wreck their stairs, simply adding new DPS to the total.


    They also broke through weak points that weren''t weak points at all, offering themselves up for the cavalry beyond to kill, or apes to drop heavy Runeballs on them from above.


    ----


    Over on the other side, Tremble kept the main forces of the savages fighting, especially the minotaurs, centaurs, ogres, trolls and giants that were so effective. Those big fellows soon knew to wander wherever she was for a very quick heal-up, then return energetically to the fight. They were basically tough enough to ignore most of the disease effects, and the savage commanders soon organized their tribes around those big fellows to take advantage of the mass healing that would come their way.


    The fighting was deadlier, with far more casualties, but the savages also had more people to spend, and weren''t at all afraid to spend them. The orcs'' defense of their crude statue was particularly spirited, and although it had no magical effect that any of the Riggors could sense, the enthusiasm with which the orcs died for it wasn''t to be underestimated.


    But they all knew that all they had to do was hold until the enemy ran out. They could see the Helices moving back and forth, and burning white lines in the dark masses of Riggors, extending all the way across the advance area to chew through the rear of those attacking their walls, too. Once the numbers coming out of the Rift stopped, those Helices would come swarming over in their direction, and clean up anything left behind here.


    Also, they had more bodies. More bodies meant more vivic fire. Setting a corpse on the white flame meant they wouldn''t be able to eat it (meaning they had to take a quick bite if they were going to), but it also meant more vivic flame burning the advancing Riggors, who had to wade through the burning dead to reach them.


    They didn''t have countless spells to impede the living stairs of the Riggors, they had walls of unwhite fire burning on the dead.


    The giants swept the walls clear time and time again, the tribes behind moved up as those before them died, and energetically leapt to intercept any breakthroughs. The Riggors got further then had the Klawites, but in the end, could not break their opponents, nor inflict lasting damage to the toughest of them, because Tremble was there to make sure they lived.

 279 Chapter Two Hundred and Seventy-Nine – What Color is That? What are they Saying?

    The smell was bad, but it was being cleaned up by vivus, so it was just tolerated as the endless number of corpses burned constantly. Given the necroic empowerment, they were staining the ground white even here, underneath the Rift, and it was easy to see where the fighting was the toughest by how brightly white the ground was.


    Regardless, the ground would still return to normal by morning.


    Casualties were higher than the previous day, as expected, but more killing had taken place. Even among the less experienced troops here, there were improvements. They rested, and they digested their feats of battle, took their Karma, and they leveled.


    If they knew how to Invest or Infuse, they took their spoils of war, burned the cursed, possessed, demonic, daemonic, and necromantic treasures of the enemy, and turned it into strength of a different sort for themselves, and got that little bit stronger that they could.


    There was a lot of loot to burn. Everyone had seen multiple instances of what happened if you claimed the shit for yourself, so nobody was that stupid. Burn it, make something useful, get ready for the morrow.


    The Healers and the Traps and Tremble were on the job, not resting until wounds were closed, and as much Soak as possible could be regained on the side.


    Many more Lesser Baneskulls would be adorning Weapons today. Many Weapons were Named and opened their First Slot, to the disbelief of their wielders, who were suddenly far more expectant of the battle coming today.


    -------


    Bottles of pills were passed around. Just one, because they weren''t healing pills, and the effects would last until at least the morning. They were handed out one by one, because they had a very specific and useless effect that not even greedy people could really find a use for otherwise, but they weren''t going to be wasted.


    The Rift was swimming with gay pastels. Amourae was coming.


    Amourae was the Warp god of sensation and obsession. His followers were all about new experiences and sensations, of the satiation of any and all desires, and then going on to new ones. More, grander, more appalling, no reservations and no hesitation about pursuing extremes of desire and conduct, nothing getting in their way, fearlessly going about searching for that next impossibly extreme experience.


    To the normal eye, they were crackpot loonies. They preyed on the senses of opponents, with charm magic for the eyes and ears, taking control and drawing them into a mad dance of gleeful sensation. They didn''t fear death, because it was just another sensation, dragging bodies wasted by drugs and deprivation up along spears and swords with gasps of pleasure just to feel the blood jetting out from their killer''s throat. They wanted to look good and feel good and trample all their lessers before them, unclean inferiors only suitable to look upon them and die in new and artistic ways.


    And they freaking dressed in pastels.


    The wild riot of gay colors had hidden meanings and power behind it that could twist minds, as could the wild, frantic horns and pipes swirling in the air, trying to draw you in to enjoy the blessings of Amourae, freedom from all inhibitions and able to act as you pleased.


    The pills were swallowed quickly.


    They had two very simple effects. They shut off the color cones in everyone''s eyes, making everyone color-blind. They also affected hearing, making the ears less sensitive, totally cutting off the higher notes.


    In a stroke, the hypnotic allure of the colors of armor, banners, mismatched clothing, waving flags and flitting skirts, swirling mists and sparkling lights... was all black, white, and grey, and looked pretty drab. Likewise, the singing and piping and whispered words on the wind were too high and faint to be heard, which meant that goblins, kobolds, elves, and women were a bit hard to understand if they spoke... but those half-heard promises were not being heard at all.


    As for the pheromonal fogs and perfumed mists, the vivic braziers popped them just as they had the clouds of flies.


    There was going to be a lot of charm magic used, but given the communication problems, it was probably not going to be as effective as the Luvvers wanted...


    And of course, the Void Brothers, Briggs, and I didn''t care at all.


    The Dancers came spinning to the attack, attended to with crazed, happy music, celebrating their unflinching devotion to their art.


    Apathy cut through them, just more targets to be disposed of, whatever beauty they had an illusion and glamour covering corruption and waste, truth unimportant in the face of appearance. They burned with all the rest.


    Where the Riggors were relentless and tough, the Luvvers were quick and deadly, almost artistic in their fighting, every blow meant to show off their skill and strength, the star of the show for the eye of their god, celebrating the pain taken and inflicted, glorying in the conflict that would bring them to new heights of insight, uncaring of the cost it might take.


    Yeah, loopy fanatics, all of them. Them often being bombed out of their heads on drugs, magic mushrooms, and mutated and warped into inhuman forms to experience new sensations of the flesh... yeah, there were a lot of just plain abominations out there, once-people mutated into squirming things of flesh, multi-limbed, swollen with power and pain, no two alike, only running forward to fight and finally experience the great bliss that death would bring.


    They were very reliant on music, and were basically always singing. The fact they all sang different songs didn''t seem to matter, it all blended into a chaotic chorus infused with mind-bending and inspiring power, able to both seize the minds of the enemy and help their own sides, raising morale, inspiring them to fight, and telling them how to move and where to strike all at once. They had tats and piercings and body mods and ritual scarring and just all the fun, fun stuff you''d expect of bat-crazy psychos.


    A lot of it, we just couldn''t see and hear to appreciate now. Too bad, so sad. They should have had more reliance on armor. Life was better in chiaroscuro.


    The direct charm attacks were the most fun to deal with, but that was what layered dispels are for. They didn''t seem to appreciate weather magic too much, and actually looked kind of miserable when a light rain made all that gay pastel clothing get wet and sucky.


    Still, they did have some battle magic, and weren''t afraid to use it, since they were looking for those screams of pain and exultation in seeing how much damage was done by their power... and then basically a Brother zipped by and chopped them dead, or a thunderbolt came down and blew them into superheated chunks. Physics is mind-blowing, after all.


    Their armor was seriously picturesque, since if it didn''t look good, they didn''t want to wear it. They had a whole unit of body-builders in armor so bright you could comb your hair off them, and they certainly went in whole hog on the codpieces... because they were needed. Of course, once they were dead, they shrank down to these wasted, blasted ruins of flesh and bone, consumed by the power they made them model-pretty and steroid-juked, but, hey, it''s only their soul getting burned away to feed to the Land, what''s there to worry about?


    The combat musicians and their sound attacks probably would have been more effective if we could have heard better, and the thunderclaps kept overwhelming their mid-battle jam sessions. Their music critics had their own light shows and points to make, and their critiques were career-ending.


    ------


    Tactics for addressing these guys was easier because they didn''t wear quite as much armor overall, performing to look good and feel good. That was great to see, the archers really enjoyed it. There were spears on the other side of the trench line, archers behind shooting at basically point-blank range, really slamming those beribboned riders off their braided demon steeds and mutant mounts as they came up for us to admire them.


    Because they could move faster, they were more athletic, and could actually jump the trenches, if given room on the other side. That was cool, they drove themselves onto the Spears waiting there, and were soon mounded up into hills of bodies that sent other leapers sliding down into the trenches to a quick demise there. There was soon a lot of vivic fire burning down there.


    We let them have their victories, pushing us back with the gleeful sacrifice of their mind-blown fanatics, advancing over their own burning dead as their horrific Warped abominations led the way, lurching, squirming, flinging, and hopping their way forwards to open their way for the singing and dancing twits behind them.


    Fighting Klawites was all grim savagery and bloodthirst. Riggors were about tenacity and endurance. These guys... it was all edged with unreality, like you were participating in a staged fight, or a gladiatorial duel, or some sacrificial combat rite. The soldiers felt like the battle kept falling away and trying to devolve to endless one-on-one fights, instead of using proper teamwork and tactics to kill these weirdos.


    But that''s what proper Warlords do. Yes, he''s in chainmail and charging at you in a tutu. Stop him with your spear, and your buddy can stab him in the neck. It''s perfectly all right, there, there, now kill the four-hundred-pound blob in fishnets and heels...


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    Yes, it was a very surreal experience. Painted faces and heads trying to experience higher states of mind while engaging in mindless, childlike slaughter and funsies. Even the most professional and disciplined of them were prancing and striding and posing, displaying something all the time, so much that you had to fight the urge to just watch them strut their stuff... which was all part of how they killed you, of course.


    What''s that buffed Will Save as a Warlord? Oh, +10 to everyone? Stop looking at them posing and just kill them, there''s some good lads...


    Me, Briggs, and the Brothers just kept with our normal stuff. We killed a lot of Dancers, a lot of Casters, a lot of musicians who wanted to play some mind-blasting music, and a whole lot of Abominations who I couldn''t be sure were happy to be fed to the Land or not. Regardless, explosive collapse of magically-twisted adherents of Amourae, burning innards everywhere, unique experience of having all that you are discorporate and reduced to basic energy for the Land to feed on... well, enjoy!


    I''m sure if we were anything resembling a normal force, this would have been horrific. Soldiers turning on their own, sitting there gaping stupidly as they were cut down, going batshit crazy as things got into their head... all that stuff. But the basic precautions of color blindness and muffled hearing took care of most of it, vivic braziers others, and then it was just fighting against low-armored but skilled fanatics who didn''t appreciate group tactics.


    Sucks to be them, I guess.


    The Abominations were their breachers, being capable of doing things like breathing out acid, digging through the stone walls, becoming living ladders to allow troops up there, and even tossing up fighters to the top of the wall to annoy us. They were pretty magic-resistant, and all their vitals were pretty deep, so they had to be way hacked down to actually kill them.


    Which was fine. We had plenty of people happy to do that job. The chakon flexed the razored edges of their battle-paws and were happy to grab limbs and start the ripping process with great energy. The Ironblood raised their Axes and got to work with vim and vigor. Berserkers laughed softly, Rockborn lifted Spears, and ExLites moved swiftly and precisely to the attack.


    As for the Hellpoodles, dragons, griffons, and the Kings? They were waiting to see if they were needed, working back-up out of sight as needed.


    After all, there was still one more of these idiot gods left.

 280 Chapter Two Hundred and Eighty – Death by Fashion Sense

    Wayfair was in a foul mood.


    She wasn''t affected by the overarching chaotic magic they were using to warp minds and wills, of course. Nor was she susceptible to their charms, illusions, and glamours, having natural True Seeing and looking right through all that stuff... which naturally made it to the MUD for targeting purposes. She had lived among the Fey, who tended to use glamour to cover up their lack of will to do maintenance or innovate new designs, and who lacked their own drive.


    She absolutely loathed what she was seeing here. The lack of style and balance, the assault on the aesthetic senses... she could tell what they were trying to do, and it was so off-kilter and offensive, and they were so bad at it, that she was filled with a rather over-the-top urge to Burn It All.


    On the other hand, that thing where the Luvvers want you to stand there and gape at their awesomeness and style as they cut you down? She was absolutely taking full advantage of it with her 50 Charisma shining out there with its unreal, supernatural grandeur. Way too beautiful, way too stylish, leading with bright silver death, and leaving with explosions of blood and gore, she Killed Them All.


    Especially the hentai demons that were making such a mockery of her origins.


    I turned off my Halo Crown so they could appreciate her all the more. After all, she was literally everything they wanted to be, except she wasn''t a slave to ANYONE, and her scorn for them was blazing out the stars in her eyes.


    She tore apart their attempts to make great Charm Patterns with clipped advice on which way to run, and we zipped all over the place disrupting all the mad designs they were trying to whip up. Her good horse Sama brought her in looking like a star-fallen demon, brought her away in a light-and-death show that just had them gaping after her, wanting more, more, more. She shut down their musicians, finding their carpish and erratic wailing an affront to Chaotic music and their fingering dreadful, generally fixed by silver bolts to the face. They danced and swirled, and she curled her lip and shot out their legs. If they flexed and posed, she was personally affronted that they could even think of comparing with her, and filled their chests and faces with fatally disfiguring bolts.


    Of course, she snickered and blew final kisses to all the Dancers I was running through, mocking them for not knowing a real battle-dancer like she did. She crippled a lot of the Luvvers just so they could experience being trampled uncaringly to death by their own, showing them that having friends and allies in mutual respect was a much wiser life choice. She mocked them in sound and verse they couldn''t help but crane their ears to hear, and they died in rapture listening to her.


    She came, and they trembled with longing for her. She delivered unto them her blessing, and they trembled no more.


    ---------


    Their most lethal forms of attack nullified out the gate, the Luvvers didn''t last as long as either of their predecessors, much to their dismay. There were some instances where performance teams worked together with marvelous synchronicity, and as soon as it was displayed, they were primary targets and got dead really quick, poor them.


    The rain stopped, the vivic flames burned, the thunder went quiet, and we didn''t have to put up with the idiots anymore.


    ----------


    "So... jRaztl next," Briggs said thoughtfully, as we spent our two hours of down time in alternate forms of meditative release. With teeth!


    "The lord of ambition, watching everything and sure he has the perfect plan to thwart us." I grinned into his hairy chest. "I''m sure he''ll enjoy the show that he''s put on for us."


    "So, a directed attack at the Obelisk, and tons of Casters to stop. Much more focused then these last few ones." He rubbed my back with a huge hand, and I laid there and let his Source stream past with a zillion tickles on my Null, while he enjoyed the rock that wouldn''t budge. Our Vajras were much more active, of course, revolving against one another constantly, more intimate then skin.


    Superhuman sex was meant to be enjoyed at ALL the levels...


    "The Brothers will be doing much less outright carnage and more Caster-snuffing. I doubt the Casters will appreciate the sincerity on their behalf, but I''m given to understand that just about all adherents of jRaztl get mutations to use spell-likes, so there''s no stopping all of the magic."


    "Man, they are not going to like the Forsaken," he mused cheerfully. "I think we''ll return the favor." His flat nose bulged with a big exhalation. "That means the final push immediately following..."


    "Yeah." I pushed up and looked down at him, leaning on those steely pecs, meeting those violet eyes that were so much smarter than that craggy face would indicate. "You cool with that?"


    "It''s what we''re here for, right?" His deep baritone descended to the floor, somehow keeping all its clarity. "It''s just that I didn''t expect it so fast..."


    "All games end once you''re too high-level. Well, it''s time to show them that this isn''t a game." I gave him a slug, which kind of bounced, kinda didn''t. Yum. "Games aren''t games when there are consequences for playing them. They stuck out their toes, thinking they''d get some jollies. In doing so, they opened the door for a whole lotta whoop-ass to come in on them." I cracked my knuckles. "Little frogs in their little well, thinking they are something special. Time to enlighten them."


    "Can''t help wishing it was someone else," he said, self-mockingly. "We just made ourselves too damn good, didn''t we?"


    "Powah Gamahs fo-evah," I told him, and snuggled up again, as he clasped a steel-bending big hand on my back.


    I heard the mental alarm before the shouts in the distance, the skirl of steel, and the distant eruption of spells. He glanced that way and sighed again. "They made a run at the Obelisk with a strike team, huh?"


    "Yeah, Brothers saw ''em coming a half hour ago. The hyn waited until they started their ambush to take ''em down, give them and their bosses some false impressions." I waited while the reports came in. "They had explosive stuff to take it down. They know it''s important."


    "Good news," he growled.


    "Not too much time to work on stuff tonight." I reached up to noogie his nose. "Ready for ending their game?"


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    "No, but I Swore I would, and damn if I''m going to stop now," he said, and it was on.


    ------


    jRaztl is the total pain in the neck of the Warp Gods. He''s the patron of personal power and personal ambition, which makes Him both the most magical of them, since magic is all about individual empowerment, and the cleverest schemer.


    His main problem is that all his followers are individuals and out for themselves, and so they backstab one another more readily than all the other factions. Sure, the forces of Klaw will go berserk and fight one another if there aren''t any enemies around, and the Riggors will try out new plagues and promote one another to undeath, while the Luvvers casually ignore any sense of empathy for one another as they go about their individual obsessions and find test subjects to inflict them on.


    Razzers will mess one another up for the stupidest of reasons: getting rid of threats from below, taking down a superior, eliminating a rival, killing someone who has something you want, dealing a blow to another faction, answering an insult or taunt with instant escalation to death, pure ego, did he look at me funny?... all of these were perfect reasons for overly intelligent psychopaths to slaughter one another, even as they are dealing with unenlightened fools who had not seen the proper way to power, and who all thought they were the smartest/wisest/cleverest/most cunning person/best leader in the room, and everyone should be obeying THEM like good little minions should...


    They started off the fight with a scouting attempt and trying to cut the head off the snake, not that anything stinking of the Warp was going to be able to move around here easily.


    Oh, right, right, all those agents they had among the mercenaries and free troops suddenly found it was time to move. It was really funny how their targets were up and waiting for them, and so many of them got dead. They all tended to be assigned to just the wrong locations to get their jobs done quick, or were crumped up so others could converge on them when they turned coat, and basically, their whole sudden treachery didn''t work so well in a universe where you could actually see the evil in men''s souls.


    So, the chaos in the back line turned into a final purging that we''d been waiting to undertake for months. Sure, there was some loss of life, but in general, guys depending on treachery to win a fight don''t do too well walking into a prepared battle line waiting to kill them.


    So, the clever shit didn''t work all that well. The coordination on our end was politely murderous, they definitely weren''t prepared for it. Some sleeper agents were pleased to get back to their own faces, too.


    ----


    They drove in their beastmen adherents first, having quite the swarming vanguard of endless stupid, magically mutated, fanatical servants, souls presold at cheap prices and ready to die for the cause and a better grade of beer.


    Yeah, they were chaff. They could still do things like call down lightning, breathe fire, or call forth piercing needle rains of ice, poisonous fogs, and similar things. They could not, however, Summon jack shit, which I think put a bit of a crimp into their battle style. Bringing in even more slaves to overwhelm stuff on top of what they had was certainly their preferred style, although they didn''t work with necromancy much.


    jRaztl loved him his rainbow and loud, solid colors. So, his servants and champions tended to peacock, parrot, and bird of paradise coloring... loud, scintillating, attention-getting, look-at-me-I''m-awesome. Units that served Him tended to be of any one primary color, chased with any one other color, and then with scintillating rainbow badges indicating their allegiances to jRaztl. That way, they could easily identify rivals on a battlefield for attention among themselves, while also confusing an enemy with the crazy clash of colors.


    His demonic servants were always illuminated or surrounded by whorls of magic, drawing attention to their feathered selves, multiple limbs, and the mighty magic at their command, phear them.


    Wayfair was quite happy to play on their tendency to infight, taking control of unit commander after commander and leading them into charges against their own troops. Given succubus and unlimited ability to charm, this raised considerable havoc on the battlefield as we went scything through it.


    But, lots and lots and lots of chaff.


    They had jobs and they did them, despite the losses, clearing away lanes through the stone blocks, bringing in siege bridges and ladders that the other forces hadn''t bothered with, and in many ways acting like an intelligent attacking force should. They did try and bring in hellish siege cannons, and were not pleased to find out the range, power, and firing rate of the autoballistae, especially with adamantine heads that promptly spiked their fire-vomiting little toys and rendered them useless (to be Burned later... thanks, lads!).


    The sheer quantity of demons kept Briggs and I busy, and the number of Casters had the Brothers running all over snuffing them, having to cut through hordes of tough bodyguards to do so and otherwise slowing down the slaughter of the troops. Cleave-Training was not as productive as usual, and even demon-bombs when the Land came up to eat the six-armed, glowing-eyed, mouthless plumaged Spell Weavers didn''t catch many, as the surrounding troops ran away from them.


    It was all little things, but clever, and it all added up. They were going to make a time of it.

 281 Chapter Two Hundred and Eighty-One – Razzing Them

    Now, they were dealing with a lot more fortifications then before, thrown up by Casters during the night, meaning more layers of walls to get past. That meant their mounds of multi-armed, over-muscled, magic-wielding, metal-skinned, multi-legged, and so on and so forth mutant servants had an uphill fight all the way, into withering arrow fire and lots of ready Spears.


    They had their own archers, of course. These were prime for getting ridden down from behind by charmed leaders of cavalry units, or for Cleave Trains through their mass.


    They also didn''t have near the accuracy of our own archers, which was also a thing.


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    There was more magic used on our end then on any other fight, as far as formally Cast spells, as if our spellcasters were caught up in the idea of proving themselves superior to this alien god of magic and his minions. The skies were roiling, thunder was booming, lightning was coming down, and rains, rays, cones, clouds, storms, bolts, meteors, comets, walls, disks, blasts, bursts, bombs, geysers, storms, streams, flocks, fogs, flurries, flames, floods, hedges, spikes, thorns, circles, and multi-dimensional incantational nonsense was coming down in colors from both the visual and thaumaspectrum that made it hard to see what was actually real and what wasn''t.


    They had a lot of Casters, and the Brothers were only catching the strongest pure Casters. The armored fellows who were only good with one or two spells often got past them, unleashing their own little magical tricks as if they were something special, before having to follow after the beastmen, blow apart the walls in the way, and make their way towards the Obelisk.


    Oh, yeah, they were definitely focused on the Obelisk. Forces going after the savage races were clearly minor players meant to occupy them and make sure they didn''t come to our aid, containment forces more then anything, happy to bombard the savages from rage and contemptuously take cover against their ranged attacks.


    They were also clearly angered at being relegated to minor roles, which Wayfair was more then happy to prey on as we swept by occasionally. The fights that broke out, and the units that went to abandon their positions to join in the greater fighting, were remarkably frequent, and didn''t really seem to alarm the Razzers at all.


    Which was cool. The savages were more then pleased to take advantage of their lack of aggressiveness to swarm over the walls and finally get to attack THEM. Much fun ensued, and new forces coming in had to be allocated against the tide of orcs, goblins, Jotuns, anthros, tauren, and all their friends and pets taking this opportunity to led the Warp know how much they hated being on the defensive.


    On our side, we fell back and back and back as the day wore on, the bodies piled up, and burned down en vivus. The long-range exchange of magic died down after a couple hours, although the lightning kept coming down from above regularly, and short-range magic was still common. There were hundreds of Warp Warlocks with this force, their Wrath a decent and visible weapon that earned them a lot of Baned arrows in reply.


    Still, they advanced, magic blowing apart the defenses, swarming over the defenders with numbers and forcing them to withdraw in good order. I could read their surprise at the killing power and tenacity of the troops on our side, which should not have been able to handle the mutated strength and ferocity of the Warped mutates on theirs so easily, but that''s what arrogance will get you.


    Here and there, I winced as my Ironblood and Marked died, bodies hauled away if possible, knowing all those magic swords and skinplate these bastards were waving around was going to be used to catalyze the magic to return them to life.


    They got up to striking range of the main walls, putting up shields to defy the unceasing ranged fire coming down, doubtless impressed at the fact we weren''t running out of ammunition. Their target was the Obelisk, it was plain to everyone by now, and they were making a run for it in force.


    When all the Warp dragons and drakes breached the Rift, there were too many for even the Brothers to intercept them all, and they swarmed forward rapidly with their two heads breathing black and pink fires towards the Obelisk, whose whiteness was rapidly approaching its peak.


    Out came the ExLites on our side to take them on.


    They were not pleased when a whole bunch of twelve-foot chakon slammed into their shield line and breached it, while Captains Fido and Shirley did a One-Two and opened them up from behind at each flank. The champa-ka''s sticks and stones pounded a channel, and the Kings and Five Dragons came racing through to drive into the incoming Warp lizards with style and fury, really making a tangle of things. The Lion''s Guard was moving in support of their King, the Wolf Guard was in support of theirs, and a brand new Ivory Guard of urkhar and ogryn from the lands of the Children, also plying long Spears and Glaives, was now fighting in support of their King, stymieing the advance of the Wyrms.


    It was time for the champions who hadn''t been Brother-Gibbed to put out their best fighting efforts, and they sallied forth, enduring the hail of ranged fire and getting up to the walls. Stone blew into the air, fire came down from above; earth melted and decayed and blew to ash, disintegrated and washed away; stone shattered into rubble, split and fell.


    It was a lot of concentrated magic, both to defend those casting it and inflicted on the walls, and it worked. The primary walls along that entire section ruptured in four broad places, and the screaming mutant hordes sallied forth for the Obelisk beyond.


    The amount of fire they took at close range was impressive, but they ate it and kept swarming, thousands of them flooding through the openings and tying up everyone. Bombardments became cover fire for careful retreats, the kind of precision marching and maneuvering to make an imperial band blush, as units pinned between hordes of mutants had to fight their way free, link up, and extract themselves from envelopment. More magic was deployed to blow holes in the masses just for this reason, arrow fire to suppress and support, as the enraged and victorious mutants pressed, heaping dead upon dead as they did so.


    It was less a case of the champions forcing their way through via force of arms then repeated spells blasting away those in their way to clear a path. Still, they labored heavily, taking fire from all sides, and brightly armored figures fell one after another, despite all their magical defenses, as they fought their way up towards the Obelisk, forcibly blowing away anyone standing in their way.


    They probably should have noticed that most of those they were blowing away didn''t actually die, but they had other things on their minds. All that banefire hungry for them was part of it.


    And yet, they made it to the Obelisk.


    They brought up a Formation pretty quick, bringing out the skull from some Spell Weaver all wrapped up in jewels to power it, and we could only look on as a foul purple and green flame was unleashed upon the Obelisk.


    It quaked, it trembled, it vibrated. Unclean cracks stole across it, putrid flames ate away at its structure, and then Rune Circles flared all about it, flashed through it polyspectral unholy flames, and chopped it apart.


    There was silence, and then a great roar of triumph from the surviving jRaztl forces, who numbered yet in the tens of thousands.


    One guy in an overdone peacock helm strode forward, raising a sword trailing dark rainbows, "You have FAILED! Your little trick to gather power to seal the Rift has FAILED, worms! The armies that follow us you will never be able to withstand! Prepare to offer your souls, and those of this whole doomed world, to the LORDS OF THE WARP!"


    Cue maniacal laughter, braying, bleating, burping, croaking, howling, the works. Farts of celebration, sure, why not?


    Clap, Clap, Clap, Clap!


    He used magic to make it heard. Young Sir Estemar, riding Dawngold, the Griffon he had Called to serve him while he was in Yle Tyorm, perched on top of a wall nearby, slowly and obviously making the clapping motion, the sound ringing out, attracting all eyes for his splendid appearance.


    "Well done, well done!" he called out in reply to that grandiose boast. "Tell me, for I should like to know... how does it feel to be so absolutely suckered?"


    There was a moment of poignant silence, and then the orcs on the wall far behind him turned, hooting, and smashed into the sides of that crude and garish statue that they had defended so ferociously behind them.


    The fa?ade fell away, and the Obelisk within rose another thirty feet into the air as it did so.


    Filled to the top with pulsing white vivic power.


    Prince Estemar waited just that precious one second necessary for all these clever, committed, ambitious jRaztl fanatics to realize they had been totally screwed.


    "Burn!" he stated, snapping his fingers with rather impossible force.


    The ground heaved.


    We''d been making Exploding Runes and Wardglyphs for months now, a Valence contribution during downtime, putting Caster Slots not used to use. The slates and boards they''d been drawn on had been chain-linked, buried underneath the battlefield, and were waiting for this moment.


    Sure, some had been broken by impacts, stray magic and blows and whatnot. But still, there was one buried about every ten feet in a triangle pattern, and they had a blast radius of five feet.


    If you had really fast reflexes, you could see them go off, starting behind the fallen Walls in the areas that the retreating defenders were all emphatically not standing on, rising up in fire and lightning, acid and cold to cover all the Warped forces there. Then they extended out before the walls and into the battlefield, all the way up to the first trench line, shallow black earth lifting off the ground as they detonated in thumping beats of magical power, and there literally was nowhere to go to escape them.


    Their entire advance force was basically encapsulated.


    The blasts were enough to basically massacre all their lower-tier troops, anything a Three or less just died outright. The tougher stuff could live, but often was hit from multiple angles, especially the cavalry and oversized stuff, taking horrendous damage and reeling as they did so.


    Eighty percent of the attacking force past the last trench was instantly eliminated, in a multi-colored display of magic, no less. Was this a visual pun?


    The irony was not lost on the champions who survived, reeling from the blasts, and now looking around as the ExLites they thought they had killed advancing upon the Obelisk closed in with superhuman speed around them, the grins on their faces visible and mocking the trapped Warped commanders.


    It was not a good moment for them.


    There was no way the Warped could make it to the real Obelisk. The forces they had over on that side were scant, and totally being held at bay by the savage tribes, far from the walls.


    I skated up to the Obelisk, where dozens of tribal Shamans were already gathered, seated and condensing the power of their gods in their own different ways, building the impetus necessary for the Ritual.


    We had done the majority of the fighting, but they had done the majority of the dying. They had earned the right to deliver the final blow.


    I dropped off Wayfair and Haz¨¦, who immediately rose up the side of the Obelisk to the top, and began their own chants of power, which seemed to run counter to the dark forces being Called on by the savages. I watched one flow running clockwise, the other counter-clockwise, and smiled despite myself.


    Arcs, pentagrams, hexagrams, and other Patterns were starting to fill the sky, joining together in a greater order. Waaaay far away, close to the Ring around this battlefield, the two Obelisks we''d put in place long ago, also topped off and seething with power, conducted their energy through the circle defined by the three points the Obelisks made, and the triangle thus formed just so happened to form a midpoint line to the very heart of the Obelisk, imagine that.


    Death through Geometry. Ah, Chaos must love it.


    The vohr at those other Obelisks joined in the effort, and the power began to build...


    It was time to make a hole.


    I was off and running.

 282 Chapter Two Hundred and Eighty-Two – Planar Rifting

    True to form, they didn''t really wait for me, because they didn''t have to. I''d catch up.


    All eight of the Brothers here went in, staying tight, with Briggs backing them. They were only thirty seconds in front of me, but that was fine, because they had a lot of shit to fight through, and I only had to avoid stuff on the way.


    They hurtled into the Rift, slaying as they went.


    There were very few things that could survive two strikes from a Void Brother, and certainly not from Briggs on top, except for a Greater Demon... who would generally take three to five, and one from Briggs, and not surviv, so there...


    Hampered by having to slaughter everything, they didn''t make a huge amount of progress before I got there, but that was fine.


    Reinforcements were still coming, but they were dazed by the feedback from their failure, the wave of despair washing through them at the defeat of those before them, and the deaths of so many of their mighty. The demons were actually destabilizing in the backwash of power, barely able to move, and so could barely put up a fight as the Brothers chewed into them.


    That was good, because we had a long ways to go.


    The line they ate through the rainbow horde burned a pure and vicious vivic flame that sent them reeling back, rather then crowding in behind them. The energies of the Rift here were being torn open by Helices, wedged and burned into place by a Source Interdiction, and here I was coming up behind, leading my absolutely unforgiving Null to lock it in place.


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    We had about a minute before what was coming came, so the objective was to hew a path powered by the energies of their own dead forwards as far as we could, like sticking the barrel of a gun down the throat of those who we were firing it at.


    I came sweeping in behind them, took the center spot behind Briggs and the Brothers without missing a step, they parted to give me things to target and kill ahead of me, and the slaughter was on.


    Given their head start, the power of a Cleave Train, and the Sidestep AoO''s coming off it, we were moving at about two hundred feet every six seconds, two thousand feet a minute, with them having a minute head start.


    So, pretty good. We made about four thousand feet into this howling dimensional tunnel woven of putrid alien energies, carving a path of unwhite fire that was eating at the very structure of the thing as we advanced on the source of where it came from beyond our space/time continuum, surrounded by hordes of creatures sworn to uncaring gods and wanting only to kill us all, yet too surprised by the fact we were here and how fast we were moving to really do anything about us.


    There were spells flying everywhere, but they only added to the friendly fire going on all around as the hordes broke up in failure, and turned on one another, barely paying attention to us. That was good, more lives for the Land...


    Counting down, looking through the many eyes behind us as the power built. The jRaztl champions were falling with appalling speed, the Ironblood were advancing off and down the walls, confident of being able to handle any survivors, especially given what was coming. The Kings, their Guards, and the Dragons fighting down there weren''t having any troubles, and the Warp dragons and drakes were all dead or dying by now, heads getting chopped off for later use, and the air was beginning to hum.


    The roiling clouds above had pulled back, boiled away by the vivic energy gathering from the three Obelisks. The blue sky gradually faded away, revealing Aru wheeling up there in the starry sky, the King of Suns reigning over the starry Heavens we never saw during the day.


    Around him, it wasn''t just stars shining. The dark there was shining, too... and all of it was starting to come down.


    Haz¨¦ pointed. Mayfair pointed. The Shamans lifted their claws, talons, and arms, and pointed. The distant angelic vohr pointed. Everyone who was not fighting and could lift their arms and weapons, turned and pointed.


    The completely shattered jRaztl forces turned and followed those pointing arms and weapons, and the day-turned-night turned unwhite.


    Stars fell from the sky, bringing night with them. They came down into the triangle formed by the three Obelisks, formed a new pool of stars and night, and that pool became a starfall stream, a river of existence, that flared with power as it flowed into the rift.


    Everything Warped within a hundred yards of its path instantly vivified. The surviving Warped forces screamed and reeled back from it. Absolute reality is a real bitch for Warped to look on, I reckoned...


    When it breached the lip of the Rift, the whole entry point ignited, and all the forces trying to spill out of it fried instantly. Following the trail blazed for it, it lunged into the throat of the Rift, even as the Rift buckled around the intruding reality stream, and began to fray.


    ------


    It was coming.


    The Brothers all glanced my way, but my plans hadn''t changed. The fear swept through those around us faster then Reality was coming, and our way eased, but it wouldn''t save them. Annihilation was coming, Reality was coming to feast, and we were the plow clearing the road.


    Our pace could only pick up, especially as the numbers of reinforcements abruptly dwindled, and it was now an all-out sprint.


    Naturally we didn''t know how long this Rift was, marching armies down it. But as the Reality River came flooding in behind us, wiping away everything that did not belong, we passed the mile marker, and were moving as fast as we could.


    It couldn''t catch us, because we were its vanguard, so to speak. It rolled up behind us and the hole we were making in the alien reality, pressing at the walls of the Rift, devouring them, making them its own as it extended back, back, back along the break the Rift had forced open, turning it back upon its makers, or opportunists, whoever they might be.


    We plowed ahead as fast as possible, even sucking down some Potions to up our speed. We had to make to the other side of the Rift before the Warp Gods realized what was really happening, and closed it.


    They could only think, based on previous actions, that we were trying to disrupt and close the Rift, stopping this incursion. We were definitely doing that, and so they shouldn''t realize that we were also going a step beyond that now. All their servants should be lost, and the multiple Interdictions, especially Briggs'' Source Interdiction, would have completely fucked up their awareness of their servants, so they shouldn''t Know what was coming.


    They would instantly figure it out if they saw it, but it should be way too late by then, and they were still having to deal with the failure of their enterprise anyways. The simple fact it had broken would already nullify any pact or agreement between them, they''d fall out blaming one another for their uselessness, and not be paying the kind of attention they should be to what was happening.


    If it had been only one of them, that wouldn''t happen, and this probably wouldn''t work. The fact all four of the bastards had been working together was to our benefit at this moment.


    Two virtua miles passed, infinities under our feet. Three. The Rift energies under our feet were growing thicker, more cloying, even as Reality behind us tore them apart and consumed them. We started being able to see faces howling in the misty liquid it was comprised of, shapes and forms of creatures real and imagined, and others we prayed did not exist... all of them welcoming the oblivion coming for them as we swept by.


    There it was. A light ahead of us, a barrier between realms, the final wall of the rules of reality conflicting and grating against one another.


    It was my time. I unslung my Belt, and passed Stand and Quaver, hanging and sheathed on it, to Briggs. I unclipped my Bracers, swept off my Vest, and the holster Fall was in with it, and handed them over, too.


    He gave me a look and a sigh. He would do this if he could, but he couldn''t. His Source eroded, it didn''t hold firm. He wouldn''t be able to eat away an entire reality coming down on him, but I could hold the way open for one.


    We came up to the entry to the Warp, and the Brothers tore it open together in a wild yet perfectly harmonized swirl of raw Helix muscle. Briggs welded it open, I held it tight, and the flood of Reality came barreling through past us, over us, and into the seething mindlight beyond.


    The backblast as the two Realities hit sent all of them flying backwards... which is exactly what they wanted to happen, anyways. Multiple Brothers grabbed onto Briggs as they latched onto the flow of Reality, and began to Fall Back to where they belonged. His eyes didn''t leave mine as he receded from sight, and his voice murmured quietly in my head.


    I smiled and turned back. It was time to Make Them Pay.


    ================


    A few days earlier...


    "We''re not real, Briggs," I told him with a sigh, and he frowned. As usual, he didn''t dismiss my words or overthink them. He took them, turned them around, and considered what I meant.


    "Not following, but go on," he nodded, interested in this, especially considering how serious I was.


    "We''re not Briggs and Sama Rantha," I clarified, and his face fell.


    "Okay, sounds serious. How so?"


    "I''ve been taking all these Racial Levels, particularly the ones with mental advances. All of my mental Stats are post-40, Fuzzy. Guess what?" He tilted his head slightly. "My recollections of my ''previous life''," I air-quoted it, " aren''t any clearer then when I was a One."


    He inhaled, and again thought about it. "That doesn''t sound even remotely possible. Just a Charisma score that high means an overpowering sense of self. I wouldn''t be surprised if you could recall multiple previous lives."


    "And so you noticed you aren''t any better."


    He grunted. "I didn''t dwell on it, but you''re right. It''s all shadowy. I can recall general knowledge, but its more like someone told me about my previous life, not that I lived it. I recall being Briggs, and I know it was a game, but the names and faces and places outside of Power of Ten, they are just abstracts. I can''t even name my hometown."


    "Same here. So, there''s a difference between us, and Errant and Haz¨¦."


    He tilted his head. "Their memories of their previous lives are quite explicit. They definitely remember dying. They can remember their families and loved ones back there clearly. So, they died, and came here. Obviously, we aren''t the same. I don''t really remember dying..."


    "Nor, really, do I. I think we''re copies. And because we were Forsaken, we could be copied. We''re duplicates of the copies of the imprints from the game on the real people who played Sama and Briggs, and we were copied onto our souls and placed here."


    He drummed his fingers as he looked at me, thinking that over, and slowly, he nodded. "Okay. If we were Powered, there would be instability, dissolution, chaos in the mix... and likely, the action would be easy to track by outside powers. But Forsaken... we could be snuck through subtly, since we don''t wield outside powers."


    "And both of them started with Karmic Debt. We started with knowledge, but not debt, right? I think you had a small Karmic bonus, as did I... we started able to get to Three easily, which put us way up on the survivor curve."


    "That certainly explains a few things," he admitted. "What''s the play? Why do that?"

 283 Chapter Two Hundred and Eighty-Three – Doing the Job Righ

    "Well, I think it was done for me to set up things to fight the Hag Curse... and because a very, very strong Null is needed to really do the job right." I nodded in the direction of the Rift in the distance.


    "You intend to do more than close it?" He arched a bushy eyebrow, and scowled.


    "I''m the only one who can, and it''s the right way to seal the deal. I have the Ironblood set up. I have my little Sisters at Ten and ready to carry on everything. I have you here, able to powergame them and keep them safe, lead them without hesitation. And," I leaned forwards, "What do you think the Glory Award is going to be for forcibly reconnecting the realm of the Warp Gods back to general Creation?"


    He smirked despite himself, violet eyes burning. "Shit, girl, that''ll pay for ALL the Levels..."


    "And get me on the really, really good side of some Divinities, I think." I fished out an Amulet from under my hair as he watched. "I had Estemar make this. It provides a once a day Divine Heart right to Mithar, no muss, no fuss. He can look out of it at any time, and even track me if He desires."


    "A willing Forsaken pawn of Mithar?" He pursed his thick lips. "Damn, girl, you do not think small." He rolled his eyes up thoughtfully. "You want Him looking when you prop that Rift open, and guiding what happens next, probably with help?"


    "Hey, I might have a question or two for Him, too. Just to advance the bigger scheme of things."


    "And then thinking even bigger. I''m not sure I want to consider how smart you are right now."


    "It''s a good thing I can still talk in mouth speak, because it''s really slow compared to how I think," I admitted.


    "Probably why you do it. Anything specific you want me to do?"


    "Take care of my Gear." I gestured at the Weapons and stuff heaped on and about a chair over there. They found our nights very gossip-worthy, I''d found out.


    He looked surprised. "You''re not going to take them with you?"


    "Every scenario I have involves me standing there holding a Null open while universe-changing powers swarm all around me. I don''t think anything not below the surface of my skin will endure. I''m also pretty sure I''m going to lose the links to the Markspace and all my Marks to the level of erosion going on."


    "So much for communication across dimensional barriers..." he murmured, huffing. "I wondered why you were making yet another Sword. Bloodphasing keeping it inside your Vajra, sure... but all your Weapons Named themselves into Psychic Weapons, right?"


    "Yes, with five points of regenerating Psi, meaning they are self-powered now, they don''t require Essence to wake up. Chalice is a pure psionic Weapon, no Magical additions as yet. I''m 90% sure that bringing a magical Weapon into the Warped Realm is a bad idea, based on the stuff they''ve been bringing out of the Rift. Even my Tats are going to be pretty useless if I can''t convert them to Psionic usage, and Vajra them to usefulness. Same with Marks..."


    "Aru in a bucket." He made doo-do-do Pac-man dying sounds. "Losing that much Gear Investment?"


    "I might be able to salvage them with the Vajra, won''t know until I get there. So, no reason to drag all this stuff along that I''m going to lose anyways."


    "Got it. Anyone you want them to go to?"


    "Let them decide. They are Intelligent Weapons, they have their own preferences. The girls have their own stuff... maybe they can help overgear any new Hagchilds you find."


    "You can count on me," he said seriously. "If you''re going to do it, do it right."


    I smiled like all the sharks and wolves of the world would love to. "Oh, have no godsdamned worry about that. It''s going to get done very right, indeed!"


    ======


    Present time, outside the Rift...


    Briggs and the Void Brothers were ejected from the Rift like leaves in a hurricane, vented out into midair as the backwash vented out ¨C


    Pure vivic energy tossed them away as they twisted and broke formation, feeling the familiar laws of reality around themselves, latching onto the air with their souls and getting control of themselves.


    The River of Reality going in was now reversed, and what was coming back was a universe being fed upon. Vivic energy shook and dissolved into the fabric of the world, mending the cracks and strains all around, shutting down the wild magic and tattered threads of the Ley Lines, plunging deep into the ground to repair all the damage wrought by the cataclysm a millennium ago.


    In Yle Tyorm, the Shardrings quaked, but the still-functional Obelisks and their connection to the Hole kept them intact, deflecting the repair work around themselves, and the outer Shardzones with them. But the fractures and tears extending off from the city were being rapidly soothed over and healed away, isolating it from the rest of the world within its bare walls.


    Creation was feeding. Not all the power was going to the local Land, but enough, more than enough...


    The Stars were right...


    ---------------


    The Empire of Rosencrux, pretty much all over the place...


    The skies opened up, the ground caved in, and the waters whirled and vomited forth what lay Below.


    They fell from the skies in numbers uncounted, they swarmed up from buried kingdoms and empires, and they rose from the depths of the waters in unstoppable numbers. With them came horrors from beyond space and time, the avatars of the Old Ones, and their progeny, peers, and rivals, the Elder Gods, beings of Creation, but lost to the ages and dreams forgotten, now rising back up and demanding for themselves a place in Creation once more.


    Cultists of nameless faiths howled in ecstasy as their Elevation came upon them. Bodies swelled and rippled, power swelling and invading them, remaking them from human to something worthy of serving their respective Lords Now Come. Howls and cries from throats no longer mortal rose in zealous tribute as their dead gods came down, and delivered what they had promised.


    And if they were slaves for eternity, souls yielded up to the coming of their Masters, they no longer cared as their twisted voices rose in worship to things older then humanity.


    Then the slaughter and subjugation began.


    ----


    The descent of the Abberant Gods was anchored on uncounted Stelaes and Circles scattered throughout the Empire and the South, East, and West Marches. Only in Northmarch had few grips been made on the Land, possibly to avoid the notice of the Fey in the nearby Sidhete, and in any event the North was far from the sea and the mountains which were the great sources of power for these ageless things'' return.


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    The spatial distortions raged out from Zynozure, where tentacles extended down from the sky and snatched folk from the streets, destroying palaces and homes, and things surged up out of the city as cultists Turned in their homes and slaughtered all about them in their frenzied fanaticism. The great Wards of the city collapsed at precisely the moment they were most needed, and the great Guild of Mages that should have gathered to defy this intrusion was encapsulated in raging spell battle as fully half of its members went mad and turned upon their brethren.


    Hapless people caught in the assault succumbed to the madness, and were swept up in the destruction and killing, like sheep to shepherds, herded this way and that to do the most damage, or offered haplessly to their masters for not seeing the true way in time.


    Outwards the distortions in space-time raged, opening cracks to domains of beings and creatures long lost, times and places fallen to lost dreams and ages, spreading...


    And they slammed right into the infinite strength pouring down from the North, which was drawn to the disruption like water running downhill, the power of one incoming universe unexpectedly crashing into that of other realms also trying to force their way in.


    Unseen powers outside Creation raged at this unexpected interference, exerting great powers, for Now was their Time, the Stars Were Right, and it was time for their Ascension and Primacy once more in the mortal realms!


    Creation did not care, and the Land even less.


    ------------


    Within the Rift...


    I stood there, one foot past the lip, staring out into the Warp.


    The energies were familiar, very similar to Dream. The Warp Gods had worked on the Laws here, and their Astral and Ethereal planes had expanded to consume Dream, and severed any connection to the Outer Planes that were the final destinations of souls.


    Here, the Warp was the final destination, and also the beginning. This was the place where all the thoughts and dreams of the living seethed and existed, filling the place with the power of the living and the dead souls drawn here inexorably once they died... because the way out to the true afterlife had been closed.


    It was all the cloudy sunsets, moonrises, and starscapes you could shake a stick at, boiling with infinite amounts of energy and potential in at least four different spectra...


    And it was shot through with corruption of the highest order.


    Everywhere the clouds had condensed, they were dark, pulsing with sin, dire passions, hate, fear, ambition, lust; raw primal drives gathered and suppressing all the higher, beatific emotions to mere subservience and impotence.


    Here the gods of the Warped Realm dwelled, and there was no doubt that the Warp gods had seized their power and held it fast against all challengers.


    But in the end, the foundation of their power was based upon having severed the rest of Creation from them, from denying the conflict of the Profound Alignments and seizing that role for themselves. Now, their daring and egos had led them to challenge once again outside their domain, to play and have fun as they doubtless had before... and Creation was coming for them!


    Because the Warp was burning vivic, and being drawn away! Mwahahahaha!


    Everything Reality touched, it claimed. The dead of eons, the aligned thoughts and accumulated deeds for good and ill, were being brought away, drawn by the pan-infinite might of the Alignments they exemplified.


    Hundreds, then thousands, millions, and uncounted billions of souls began to get drawn past me, torn free from the Warp and being sent on to their final fates. The burning river of reality drove into the ocean, and began to grow, and grow, and grow!


    Its growth was exponential, as this was a contest of two realities, and so we were technically talking infinities. Only the one was Creation, and the other was just a splinter universe...


    Their reaction didn''t take too long, as those responsible realized just what the implications of this were. Their tidy little empire of demented minds and souls was just going to be drained away like a little pond and dumped into the infinite stinking pit that was the Abyss, where they would just be more mad gods among an infinity of others, instead of the greatest lords of existence.


    That was, of course, totally unacceptable. Better their own gilded prison then a greater realm they had to share with so many others!


    I saw their faces congealing in the boiling clouds that covered more area then nebulas, rising up to face the ''infection'' coming in to disrupt their little party zone.


    Too-beautiful Amourae, reaching out with Its power to tempt me into giving up my position. Plastic, unclean Riggibuhl, wondering why I bothered to endure. Rainbow avian and many-armed jRaztl, making promises of rewards beyond my comprehension.


    And Klaw, raging out ahead, His Mighty Axe raised to strike, backed by the power of the other Three as their desperation roiled the churning psychic clouds among them.


    If they could not close the Rift, they would lose everything!


    I could feel the force of uncounted Divinities flowing past me. Despite being on the edge of the Warp, Reality was painting that infinite mindscape behind me, and was rising into soaring light, and plunging into an eternal darkness, both completely at odds with the churning chaos of the Warp, and drawing in the trillions of dead of eons in singing, burning symphony.


    Their slaves, their power, being drawn away, for to Creation, their whole universe was simply an appetizer, and they were not facing gods restricted to the same powers they themselves drew on, but Divinities who operated across Creation.


    Divinities beyond them. The Warp Gods were only desperate Divine worms.


    I smiled and watched Him come.

 284 Chapter Two Hundred and Eighty-Four – Payment!

    His great hand was reaching for me, wrought of the blood and misery of endless conflicts, and all the souls, innocent or enraged, who fought in them. His eyes were battle madness, the desire to fight and win incarnate, His voice the scream of every victor in every battle ever.


    He was a gnat before Creation.


    I watched His hand come before me, and already felt the resistance as He cut apart the flaming expansion of Creation on His advance. He began to burn, vivus feasting at the raw stolen energy leaking off of Him, cutting away His source of strength, and beginning to burn at the edge of the power He had stolen from the Alignments.


    He didn''t falter, for this was a fight, and such a fight He could not flinch from. The energies of the other Warp Gods boiled and bubbled about Him, sacrificed to the vivus, keeping Him on His course as He fought upstream, up against the crushing weight of all Creation, directly towards me.


    I felt the Rift crunch, starting to pinch itself shut under His implacable will, and I set myself into my Stance. I ignored all thoughts but staying there and keeping my Null out and open, and the Laws of Creation intact so that it could keep flowing in... and sucking out.


    At my throat, the Amulet Prince Estemar had given me flared silver, and Mithar Took Note. I saw a dire light flash in the incoming burning eyes of Klaw as the Amulet opened, and He realized He had fought a battle against the General of All Good, and lost...


    The back pressure scoured over me, ripped away everything above my skin as my personal Null was forced right back to my skin. Regardless, the Amulet quietly glowed silver and defied it, and my golden hair ruffled in the light of fleeing souls and burning dimensions.


    There''s a weird perspective when something as big as that closes in on you. His hand grew and grew and grew, like a car arriving from the distance, and then the car is upon you and you realize that it is STILL coming, still getting bigger, and you''re a fly to its grill, and still it''s coming, more details coming out, and you''re a flea, a mote, a bacteria...


    The patterns on His hands held secrets of power I carefully didn''t examine too closely. The ridges and calluses were the height of planets, and they were all formed from the souls of those who''d died in savagery and bloodlust, howling for my death in mad fury, and chanting the ceaseless praise of Klaw the Unending, Klaw the Inevitable, Klaw the Conqueror, Klaw the Reaver, Klaw the All-Rage...


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    Klaw, Slaughter Eternal.


    The impossibly huge mountains and hills and valleys swept in and up into my face as Reality compressed fantastically against the force of His charge, piling up like a solid thing that threatened to break my Null asunder. I saw a berserk face there on that burning palm closing on me, far past and at the center of all those souls and faces, staring into my eyes as they came upon me-


    And Mithar lit a spark off.


    ==================


    From the Outside, the impact was immediately obvious, for fracture lines appeared on the Veil itself, spreading all the way up beyond sight, pulsing with unimaginable amounts of vivus that reached up into the shining starlight heavens and far, far beyond. The Rift was expunged and seemingly flattened against the Veil, compressed Vivus of impossible purity shining there, while the fractures seemed to flow and organize themselves into countless Runes and Patterns on a massive wall towering up and beyond sight, their scale incomprehensible to those watching.


    What they could see was that those Seals and Patterns were definitely not all Holy. Their souls shuddered at the feeling of Forces so immense they could snuff the planet like a candle passing by, all taking up position on that impossibly tall Wall...


    Expectant. Waiting...


    ----


    The shockwave propagated in all directions, but especially south. The Aberrant entities screamed in mindless resolve, expending power hoarded over time-lost eons, and reached out to stop the Wave.


    It broke around the edges of the Empire, anchored at the Feralbar that warded away the wild tribes of the east, and the edge of the Sidhete that it streamed from, and sealed all the influence the Aberrants were extending out as they trembled to drain away and deflect the power rippling through the Veil, looking on that Wall... and then REALLY looking at the Wall...


    The hapless mortals below screamed and swayed as the power of non-finite entities swept by and clashed over them, like ants beneath a thunderstorm.


    -------


    Memphistopheles babbled words in languages not meant for men, the second mouth on the vestigial face on his chest contributing imprecations and mutterings in Aklo to accentuate, and lifted his hands as the power flowed, and the ground tore open.


    Tentacles rose up on the astonished cultists of Mulguus, the Fungus That Feasts, and shadowy, inhuman forms ascended, tittering and laughing in mad ecstasy as they came forth to dine.


    Memphis grimaced as the foul power raged through his system, and burned into the Valences he held. His lifeline rose before him; the sites he had prepared pulsed, ready to accept him, and despite all the dimensional soup this land had been reduced to, he tore himself away from there on wings of magic, as the Mazakam guided him through the murk to their next meal.


    The emerging toad-like Elder God Huggastigh, the Eye in the Everdeeps, was going to get a rude surprise... and Memphis was fucking going to kill whatever fool invented these alliterative appellations someday...


    ---------


    Klaw was hurled back and away by the explosion, but the open connection was indeed severed by the eruption of so much compressed reality. Burned and scarred, the explosion sent Him flying back towards the other Warp gods, who were reeling from the feedback of the power they''d sent Him and were even less braced for the shockwave that followed.


    Blasted and broken, their Realms igniting around them, they were thrown back into the depths of the Warp, shouting and shrieking their pain. Around them, areas of the Warp the size of nebulaes flared and burned clean, accumulated corruption, sin, emotion, all of it wiped away into cold serenity, as the Warp once was.


    Yet as they were sent tumbling away, they did not fail to notice what had been left behind.


    Stars filled a new sky, written on the Edge of the Warp. Runes the size of star systems, emplanted on the barrier they''d long thought sacrosanct. Each Rune was an eye, each power behind it a non-finite deity whose power extended across multiverses and worlds uncounted. They shimmered in the grand pattern of the Alignments United, looking in deep at this world claimed by one small, small branch of Chaos and Evil alone.


    Watching, and waiting. For they had gained entry once, and they would again. Because now, they had a hold.


    Oh, but that was not the worst...


    For at the center, where the Rift had stood, and where supposedly Neutrality should stand, the primal will of Creation... there was nothing, nothing at all... for the central power of Creation had been forced away...


    It was a circle and an area that now bordered Outside Creation. Faintly, the divine senses and awarenesses of the wounded Warp gods could hear a demonic piping, and a mad laughter from countless mouths older than their universe beyond it...


    A great void separated the Warp''s core realms from the Endwall, burned away and absorbed by that last mighty explosion. Even now, thin tendrils were coiling away from the surging clouds, winds, and fires of the mindscape, stretching out, seemingly infinitely thin, across that void, towards the waiting Runes and eyes of the Aberrant Powers beyond, who had seized an instant of chance on a minor world to play with, and suddenly found themselves looking into a whole new universe to play with that they hadn''t had access to before.


    The Alignments would not be denied what was theirs, and slowly but surely, the power of the Warp was going to be drained off, the souls released, the psychic energies, trauma, passions, emotions, and memories trapped here drained off and returned to Creation and the Great Cycle of Creation.


    The Warp had held, but now, they were being watched... and the things Outside Creation might be coming in at any time, to see what interesting things they could find in this Warped Realm...and what they might take away...


    ================


    Briggs watched as the whiteness faded from the sky. The awareness of the great Kaiju tracked the pulse of the sealed Rift across the Land, feeling the wrongness from the south, at the same time as alerts, alarms, and reports were flooding in from across the Empire.


    It was truly the Day of Reckoning there. The horrors being unleashed were truly reminiscent of the End of Days, barring the fact the Lower Planes weren''t the ones unleashing all this.


    And there was no presence of Sama. No presence at all, except the echo of her laughter, and a view of a god of the Warp, mighty Klaw, sent spinning and howling away, burning and writhing as He was Smote by Reality. An image delivered not by Sama, but a great Silver Presence of the Divine.


    The Markspace was totally stable. It was anchored on the Nine Marks worn by each of her three Hagchild sisters, and the Marks spread around on thousands of Forsaken Nulls, holding everything together.


    He didn''t give them time to be lost and wonder what to do.


    -She''s not dead,- he /said in open Marktell, his deep /voice rumbling through everyone''s thoughts. -They came into our house, slapped our face, and we gave them a mighty wallop back in return.


    -But they''re the Gods of the Warp. That just makes them want to come back bigger, stronger, prove they are mightier than you.


    -No, the only way to really make them pay... is to do the same thing to them, and walk away leaving them able to do nothing.


    -She''s there, in Warped Space, somewhere, doing something. And when it comes to fruition, the gods of the Warp are going to rue the day they ever thought they were something important!-


    There were roars and shouts, both audible and in the Markspace, as the Ironblood and all the Marked acknowledged that fact.


    She was Sama, the Sage of Swords. Damn right they were going to pay!


    -She left us behind a great gift... this city of Yle Tyorm, and the worlds worth of wealth that lie trapped inside it. Wealth we are going to loot clean as we slowly erase the last remnants of this stain upon the Land away.


    -We will take these plains that are returning to life, for our own. The survivors of the Empire have already come here, and will need new lands, new fields, new pastures for the people, as we re-establish a realm that was long-lost here.


    -And do not think that we have forgotten about what is happening in the south. Oh, no, what the Hags have wrought cannot be allowed to pass, either.


    -Our great friends know that they cannot let the forgotten gods pass to the North, and will soon be leaving to see that such a thing does not happen. There will be horrors coming out of Rosencrux, trying to spread to the many lands beyond.


    -But unlike the Warped, there are no unlimited reinforcements here. The stars will not stay aligned long, and the Aberrant will not hold their great power long. They need to be contained until they lose the ability to draw on the realms Beyond for power... and then, they too will know what it means to pay for their arrogance.-


    A low rumble murmured through the crowd. If Sage Sama could do it, why couldn''t they?


    -That fight is not mine. My place is here, in the North, building something new and great. The fight against the Aberrant is yours to undertake, yours to build your names and legends from, and your Road to Ten and beyond.


    -We will be here behind you, giving you the safe place to rest, the secure shelter, the rock and the foundation you will use.


    -Clean up this place. Quicken what of the dead that we can. Regain your health, rest, and ponder over your choices.


    -We are warriors, and in the city will be battle enough for all of our days, and more. To the South is a chance to contest against Fallen Gods and all their minions, and gain the favor of the Divine, and save innocent lives.


    -There will be honor wherever you serve, and you know that We Shall Have Your Backs!- Again, that call of honor and loyalty erupted forth, because damn right they would!

 285 Chapter Two Hundred and Eighty-Five – Epilogue

    This Ancient was definitely more physically brutal then the golden-haired female, but somehow not as ominous. Still, his bullox was shaking under him, and the pure physical presence that the Hammer-wielding brute held was awe-inspiring.


    That, and the hobgoblin illrigger could clearly remember this one called Briggs hitting things bigger than his mount, and sending them flying like kicking skulls... while moving as fast as his mount could charge.


    No, not someone to anger...


    He had watched in awe as the great titans had strode off towards the south, with large forces riding on their backs. Their steps should have shaken the land, but instead they ghosted away with impossibly long strides, quiet as a dream, and vanished into the once black and white desert beyond the Ring, now starting to blossom with green.


    "Blackheart, right?" the Ancient said in passable goblin, sounding like an ogre, the force of each word perceptible as it broke over his skin. Blackheart stirred uneasily, definitely not liking this sensation.


    "Yes, Warlord of the Goblin Tribes." And if he said so, no goblin was going to say otherwise after the victory they''d had.


    "You''re thinking of staying here and occupying some of this land."


    The tone wasn''t friendly, but wasn''t necessarily ominous, either. Blackheart scowled, as that indeed was a major topic of conversation among the tribes. They had fought for this land and bled for it, why not claim it?


    The topic had really picked up after the titans walked off. They massively outnumbered the unfurred forces, why not-?


    Because we would get turned into fertilizer!, he cursed at them, and they shut up.


    "Well, that is a possibility, but it''ll come with conditions you probably won''t want to deal with," Briggs said grimly. Blackheart only flared his nostrils, wishing he were strong enough to face this brutal Ancient, and knowing he wasn''t even in his league.


    "What conditions?" the hobgoblin asked narrowly.


    "You''ll have to work the land wisely, keep your population down, and defend it... none of which you do on your own lands." Blackheart scowled more deeply. "There''s no animals or herds to support a nomadic lifestyle, and if you try to raid us, we''re going to wipe you, and make no bones about it, we will wipe you."


    Blackheart wanted to call it a boast, but his feral green eyes turned to the clear sky where had spun a mighty Rift to another realm, and could not find it in himself to do so. He had seen this one and the Void Brothers get thrown out of the Rift, leaving the golden-haired woman behind. Everything inside him told him that the Rift should have collapsed the instant they were out, but it had stayed open a long time... far too long...


    Somewhere, he knew many, many, many gods were laughing, and knew the woman was why. The gods of the Warp were going to pay...


    "In any event, that''s something for the future. You need to go south as well."


    "South? What is to the south?" Blackheart asked, shifting attentively. South... the TITANS had gone south. Why would he dare go there?


    "The human empire of Rosencrux has fallen to old gods and things Outside Creation. Eastmarch, Westmarch, Southmarch, and the Central Empire are now a hellhole of things not meant to be, and things that should have died out a long time ago." He noticed the exultation on the hobgoblin''s face without expression. "Tyrant Fuego and Emperor Mono are going to stop them from coming north. They are not stopping them from going east... and there are a lot of savage souls who could be bound to sing their praises in the east."


    Blackheart snarled, turning his neck around. "They seek to take OUR lands?" he hissed. Even the Empire was not stupid enough to do so. The times they had tried, countless tribes and clans had come together to stop them. The tales of those feasts still inspired countless raids against the Empire''s borders.


    "You only ever fought the warriors of the Empire. Now, you are going to be fighting all of them: the living and insane, the unliving and wailing, and the dead enslaved. You thought you outnumbered the Empire... you are going to find out how wrong you were."


    Blackheart stared at him, huffing slowly through his slitted nose. Entire human cities, now mutated armies on the march?


    Like those Warped fanatics? How many hundreds of thousands of those had been slaughtered here? And this Briggs was right... there were a lot of the weak-willed who would willingly turn to serve gods in the flesh...


    "It seems I am going to be needing more troops," he mused aloud, shifting his bullox around to look at the retreating backs of those tribes who had already begun to leave. His burning green eyes glittered thoughtfully.


    This was already the most hardened force of savage warriors that had been gathered in over a generation. Further battle would make of them an army to rival that of any empire. What then might be possible?


    And he would be the Warlord at its head...


    "And the city?" he asked sharply, knowing, but wanting to hear the answer.


    "Ours. By word of the Void Brothers, if you try to set foot in Yle Tyorm, they will wipe you all."


    And the Void Brothers never spoke false words.


    "Is it possible to leave an embassy?" he asked shortly, and this Briggs snorted once.


    "If they are prudent. I would suggest you actually enter Split under flag of truce and seek to set up an embassy there. It is long past time that the East had a voice in the world other than war cries, don''t you think?"


    Blackheart did, and he knew whose voice would be heard the most...


    ------------


    Memphistopheles gasped, his chest heaving, black veins standing out on his neck, dark energies gnawing at his soul and sanity with their power and promises.


    The Voice in the River''s Depths was quite disrupted in Her song, as the shades and tendrils of the Mazakam drew about Her, and began harvesting those closest to Her.


    Not done, he was not yet done... he groaned, and power surged into the Engrams in his mind, and he Teleported away through the stomach-churning dimensions of this cursed land...


    ----------


    Errant hopped down from a three-story roof, slicing down, up, sideways, and ending in a thrust. Armored men with nests of tentacles for faces and hands now stumbled and fell as Grace sheered them through.


    The stick-like figure with the burned shadows of angelic wings at the other end of the courtyard turned to look at him. His opalescent eyes were brighter yet darker, and he stood outside, under the sky, without burning.


    In his hand was a Staff burning with a strange grey flame, unbesmirched by the blood of the fallen men around him. They had gathered to defend the family of the lord who had occupied this manor, and fallen in their duty.


    So had the lord and his wife and children. Errant already knew the servants had shared the same fate, for there was no life in the house behind him.


    "I see you have made your decision, elder," Errant said calmly, yet sadly, settling into his stance.


    From out of the shadows poured a dozen figures of umbra and silhouettes, grey of skin and black of garb, the light thinning about them as they stepped forth.


    "You think I have not prepared for you?" the Excorciat asked, equally calmly, gathering power in his hands.


    From atop the wall behind him, a bolt of Wrath slashed across his back, disrupting his spell and drawing a hiss of pain. All eyes turned to the woman standing there, Viana''s eyes shining silver, a gleaming Spear and Scepter in her grip.


    Two bolts of Wrath intersected on the group of shades, expanding into a holy blast of Light that had the shadow-infused men backing away in fear and hate, two of them screaming as they died and were snuffed out as a shadow before the sun.


    "Not at all, Elder, not at all," Errant replied, as Klistos and Moski stood on their walls, Saber and Sword in hand with their Scepters, and made ready to fire again.


    The Excorciate screamed out Words in a tongue not fit for even Fallen angels, and Wrath flared with The Light.


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    ----------------


    On the Feralbar, well East of Northgate...


    Tyrant Fuego came to a halt above the banks of the River Feralbar, a wooded stretch with no habitation close by. He disliked being disturbed by most small things... unless they were good singers, of course...


    He vaguely remembered this river from before his long sleep, although its course was different, and not so many traces of little things were about it. Still, the waters were familiar enough, coursing down from distant mountains, laden with the dreams and life of a great forest, then taking in the waste and detritus of human civilization as it flowed on its long course to the sea.


    The things in the river, and on the other side, he had not felt for many ages. Not since the world was younger, and he strode it in all his glory and power to do battle with other elder beasts, and claim his place at the top of them.


    They remembered him too, for many were younger than he, little things that had grown up, full of power, and then fallen to indolence and decay. They had seen him striding across time and the Land, unbowed and unbroken, a Tyrant even such gods as these should respect and fear, and where he sought to go, they had let him pass.


    And now, these old things from ages past saw this elder rise up before them again, and what thoughts came to them from the dust of eons gone, only they knew.


    His burning eyes leapt across the leagues, and he saw them, and their influences, hiding behind this shifted Veil in the world, this place where the Stars Were Right, and they had crawled out of their tombs and long sleeps to walk the world again.


    And he was still here!...


    He chose a hill, and he set himself down there, towering over the trees and tiny things far below. He looked across at the creatures out there, unafraid, and his eyes burned at them, daring them to come and fight.


    For very, very recently, he had become far more then he was long ago, too...


    ---


    West of Northgate...


    Emperor Mono took one step over the river, a mighty paw girt in lightning reaching in, and lifting out a massive vecme, a great flat boat-eating fish, a terror of the river over sixty feet long, now grasped in his hand like a guppy.


    His teeth crunched down as it struggled in his grip, and he bit off its head through steel-hard bones with one smooth motion, spitting it away as the many-tons body kicked in his hand for a few more seconds before going still.


    He turned back to enjoy his meal, ignoring the screaming humans a mile away panicking at his presence. He found a hill that was comfortable, cleared out some annoying trees and contoured it right with a few scraps of his hand, shoving small hills of dirt and full-grown trees out of the way as he sat down.


    His Staff thumped down, driving many meters into earth and stone, and the Tyrant''s Staff glowed with faint fire within, Runes shining a warning to those things on the other side.


    About him flew the Hiidai, the winged apes, and the Sumdai, the winged monkeys, swooping away to scout and learn details for their ancestor. Elder Arg swung down, leading the Exemplars and the new young Behemoth apes towards the low bridges that crossed the six islands of the Trokkal Ford, the main road over the rivers west of Northgate.


    Emperor Mono would make sure they did not pass this place. But he would not go on the attack... that was a job for Little Ones. He had declared this his territory, and over there... was not.


    They would have a safe place to retreat to, while Emperor Mono sat there and conversed with the Land, and Druids, and Priests, and power quietly built in him. Across the many leagues, he and Tyrant Fuego spoke, of things only kaiju could comprehend, their eyes cold as they looked across at the old things that had given up and should have stayed dead and gone...


    ---------


    As the new city of Split rose upon the Silver Queen''s Road, the hyn Barony of Shadowvale was being settled between the lands of elves and dwarves, and life was returning to the Badlands and the blighted lands around Yle Tyorm. While the green would grow with rampant abandon, the animal life would take somewhat longer... but it would come, now that the chaotic storms had been wiped away, and all traces of otherplanar influences with them.


    Briggs began to organize the teams for the zones of the ancient city, his rules strict and firm:


    Loot it to the ground, and then we close it!


    =============


    Zynosure, the Imperial Palace...


    His dreams of strange and wonderful things were faded, and the sleeper woke from his stupor. The vapors in the room were thinned and gone, no longer able to bring upon him blessed visions of faraway lands and places...


    His companions didn''t seem to be here, nor his women. He started to call for them as he staggered to his feet, but a long dormant sixth sense stopped him.


    Above the cloying sweetness of the lotus, was another, old and familiar smell. His head aching as it was, it took him a moment to identify it...


    It was blood...


    --------------


    On the road out of Westmarch, heading towards the Feralbar...


    The line of men and women and wagons was moving along at a remarkably good clip, considering the circumstances and the late hour.


    At the lead of this procession, an entire two-story farmhouse was gliding along patiently, a foot above the ground, unaffected by the unnatural storms.


    Ahead of them, insane howls rose into the night.


    Instantly dozens of lights came on around the house, turning the area around and ahead of it as bright as day. In the distance, in the woods, glowing eyes were visible as half-man, half-beast things loped towards them, only hesitating a moment at the sudden lights before them, drunk on the smell of living humans beyond.


    Panels fell down and concealed weapons rose. Beneath the floating house, two flat feet descended, pushed, and the House slowly rose from the ground. Around the two porches that ringed the house, oversized Autobows rested, and sure-fingered women moved to take position at them.


    Mama looked out at the incoming fallen creatures, noting that they needed magical weapons to harm them with an Assay.


    Sooo not a problem.


    The great legs of the House had lifted it twenty feet off the ground, well above what the creatures could reach.


    "Kill them, girls," Mama said calmly, and hard eyes followed arcs of red leyser light to pick out their targets coolly, and flashes of light began to thrum out at the incoming creatures with highly unexpected accuracy.


    ++++++++++++++++++++++++


    Thus ends Book One of Sama Rantha. There are other forces alive and moving in the world she has left behind, but that story will be another tale, centered upon other movers and players.


    As for Sama, her story continues... and she will return here, have no worries!


    Space, the final frontier.


    In the grim darkness of the far future, in a galaxy far, far away, there came a hagchild...


    QX!

 286 Author Commentary on Power of Ten: Sama Rantha, Book One

    This isn''t a story, but it did take me four hours to get it all together, so ignore it if you like!


    Sama Rantha is yet another chapter in my Power of Ten storyline, a story I feverishly started back in 2005, and poured out something like a hundred thousand words in about two weeks as I wrote it out. Needless to say, it needed a lot of editing and rewrites, but it formed the foundation of the stories which have continued to this day, and which I''ve expanded upon since.


    Yes, the Sama of this novel is a ''copy'' of the Sama Rantha of the original, who is one of the few high-level Forsaken Tens back on the planet of Terra, as is Briggs. They''d be rather surprised to know the templates of their game characters got reused by a certain power... and no, the same couldn''t be done with actual Powered.


    The main trope I intended to address in my original story is the standard ''magic comes to the world video game style, and dystopia results.'' Yeah, no. I refuse to believe all would go to absolute shit, and the bad people would take over. Too, it is HARD to write about the apocalypse, simply because of that trope. Sure, having more bad people around makes for a great story for the heroes, but what happens when Good rises up and takes the lead? After all, in reality, nobody wants to work for a cultivation-style murder hobo who is all out for himself and his own, and screw anybody else. Those kind of people get shot in the real world.


    Another trope I wanted to address was the power hunger of video game and novel characters, especially cultivators. Me me me me me. Just, ugh. Sure, Sama wants power. But she''s also trying very, very hard to spread massive low power, raising the floor as well as her own ceiling. At the same time, a subtle undertone is about making this possible. While video games play with unlimited gold at will, in the story, I constantly bring up money, because the amount of money required to build up thousands of people is absolutely mind-boggling. One of the reasons it''s hard for people to Level up is that there simply isn''t enough cash and loot to go around, nor enough opponents. Indeed, the desire to fight to gain Karma and Level up is a perfectly valid desire of many people to start wars and fights. Glory awards are addictive, as anyone who has repeatedly run a high value quest in a video game can attest to.


    I also wanted to point out some of the fallacy of racial equality, re: elves and dwarves. It''s very subtle and I don''t emphasize it, but the elves and dwarves are higher Level than any average human, on account of both their lifespans, and their better gear. Dwarves are smiths and miners and crafters, and have been making magic arms and armor and passing them down to their descendants for centuries, if not millennia. This starts a cycle of better gear = survive more fights = higher Level = make even better gear = even higher survival rate, ad infinitum. Humans, even if they have more drive, have a problem of passing on that knowledge, which longer-lived races don''t have. Elves and dwarves can have multiple generations alive and vigorous at once, their oldest members are all high Level and can make great stuff, and further enhance the power of their people. Only the very youngest members of their race, and the most horribly equipped, would be the equaled by the average human.


    So, the trope from Tolkien that dwarves and elves are tougher than humans I simply back up with their longer-lives contributing to better crafting, and the cycle feeding higher Levels.


    I also wanted to play on and against alignment tropes. Too many people think that being Good means you can''t discriminate, and that you can''t fight. War is not evil, war is a neutral force that oppresses everyone equally. War can be undertaken for very Good reasons, and it is. Fighting is a part of Nature and simply cannot be denied, it will happen. Not being willing to fight when the other party is, is the height of foolishness, and while there are fools in every Alignment, Good is not made of fools. Not fighting when they could take advantage is a sign of Good, not holding back from fighting when there is real purpose to doing so.


    Furthermore, Good doesn''t mean being nice, and Sama can very much not be nice, especially to the non-Good. Remember that Alignment is not what you are, it is where you chose to stand by deeds and desires. Sama extends goodwill to all Good people, regardless of race, rewarding the choices they have made in the past, and is perfectly willing to exploit Neutrals, who have chosen NOT to be Good, exactly like they would choose to exploit her. She doesn''t have to be charitable to those who are not charitable themselves, it is her choice to do so. To those who have chosen not to be Neutral, she shares information that a Neutral would consider great secrets to be hoarded for the benefit of themselves and their family members. Of course, a Neutral will claim she''s discriminating just like they would, completely ignoring the fact that they are getting pissed because it''s not them she''s sharing with, when all these other people they''d never think of doing the same with are getting benefits...


    Likewise, a person is Evil because of what they have done in the past and what they believe, not because someone said ''you are Evil, act like this''. Sama has absolutely no inclination to treat such a person who makes such decisions like she does others who have proven they make better ones.


    Furthermore, sharing is the highest strength of Good. Good is the alignment that raises the floor of the world, trying to make it a better place for everyone, not just the elite. Cooperation, teamwork, mutual benefit are things that drive the Good, and they are willing to sacrifice to make it so. Good is strong, not because it has champions, but because its floor is so much better than all other Alignments, and the weak work together to make their champions strong, instead of being exploited, as is typical of the other Alignments. While its champions might compete, they also help one another, instead of being deadly rivals, as is typical in many other belief systems.


    I also wanted to work with the trope of Leveling speed. In short, if you have an unlimited supply of gold and XP/Karma, it is possible to Level very, very fast, and this is totally by design, allowing the Land to raise up powerful champions against powerful threats very quickly. If great danger continues, those champions simply get deeper and deeper with their strength, stepping from human to post-human to superhuman to superheroic levels of strength.


    The Power of Ten works with a triple ceiling: human level, post-human level, and true superhuman level. I specifically put Six as the Human limit, because just about anything possible in the Guinness Book of World Records is accomplishable by a Six in 3E D&D rules. Getting beyond Six makes you more than a Homo Sapiens, and is very difficult. The average person will never get past Three in their lives, because they don''t have the stats or the willpower to do so. Even most exceptional people won''t make Five, which is world-class on our homeworld of Earth here. Batman, Tarzan, and the like, without trans-human power, are Deep Sixes in Power of Ten parlance. If you want to write them up as Tens, then you specifically have to acknowledge that the skills and abilities they have surpass anyone on Earth... which they do, but you have to ACCEPT that they are more than human, and their super-power is in fact their ability to gain post-human Levels of skill.


    A side effect of this ceiling thing comes out of the Leadership rules in D&D, where more powerful people have more powerful followers. Naturally this means higher Level people inspire lower Level people to greatness. By getting Sama''s Marshal ability to Twenty, she is inspiring her followers to exceed their limits as they never would themselves, a subtle but devastatingly powerful metagame ability.


    I definitely wanted to work with tropes on how some abilities are just so much better than others, and how combinations can break a character. At low levels, where Stat bonuses aren''t that high, a Monk''s Wisdom bonus to AC when unarmored isn''t that exceptional, even if they put on Bracers. Once that Wisdom starts hitting the 20''s, 30''s, or higher, it is exceptionally broken. Games have many combinations mechanics like this, especially those tied to Stats which have no cap. The whole mechanic of Cleave Trains is supremely lethal once you get to a high enough level of fixed damage, for instance.


    There''s also the ''tipping point'' mechanics, that probably everyone is unconsciously familiar with in games, i.e. how fast you can kill something. Things get crazy once you go from ten hits to kill, to five, to three, to two, and then one-shotting. Building a one-shot-kill style of combat for dealing with both bosses and minions has always been a balance headache (and makes me want to go own in Diablo3, rarr!)


    The headache of bosses was a trope I addressed with Health Qi. They don''t have to be that much stronger on offense to be lethal, but they have to be able to take the damage. D&D doesn''t use the scaling millions of HP rule that many video games do, everything is based off Hit Dice/levels and stats in 1-3E. Simply throwing in Health Qi alleviated a lot of stuff, and definitely set true bosses apart as something special.


    The combination of Health Qi, Soak, and Health is in there purely to address the fact that gaining Levels IS a magical thing. Health makes a tougher body, tied to Racial Levels. Soak is magical, and tied to Class Levels. Health Qi is a unique thing, purely magical, for unique types.


    I also wanted to heartily explore the fact that most combat characters don''t get the equivalent of 9th level abilities/spells, which puts them far behind on the power curve vs spellcasters. Naturally, this is displayed by the Forsaken becoming increasingly immune to those great powers, and Grandmasteries, which turn them into true death machines. Whether it compares to someone using Perpetual Spell and Residual Metamagic to shoot unlimited amounts of Meteor Swarms that can clear off an acre at a time is another issue... but they certainly can''t Twin Admixture Widen Dawnstop a Stone Shape spell and literally make a castle and all its walls in less than a day, so their out of combat usage is simply that much lower.


    Or, as the final chapters noted, the downtime of Casters is as or more lethal than their uptime, as the Razzers found out. Sama''s whole shtick with her Forsaken Ironblood was getting them to a level where they didn''t need to rely on the Powered to be their champions and do their fighting for them... and so they could survive those fights with Powered opponents. The Land is fair, but they still had to work for it. Casters combining in big enough Rituals can change the world. Forsaken, not so much.


    And of course, it costs a LOT more money for the Forsaken.


    I also wanted to explore Template abuse, which in 3E D&D is a way of ridiculously overpowering something, and hence the various Templates stacked on monsters to make them very strong, especially Exemplars... and what happens to normal humans when they get some of those buffs. The combination of stats, DR, AC, and fast healing for warrior-types from the ExLite Template literally makes them demi-gods from the perspective of normal folks, and the +4 Caster Level for Powered isn''t shabby, either.


    Racial Levels are things I took note of from the Oathbound Setting, which had a fair array of template/racial advancements, and from 3E D&D, along with the racial classes of BECMI D&D. In particular, Elven Racial Levels are awesome, making every elf a fighter/caster, and making it their preferred way of gaining Levels was an awesome trope to tie into, given how much quality stuff is of elven make, for elves, by elves, etc. In later years, 3E actually made a stab at making monsters PC''s, giving them racial levels they could advance by, and so the ability to take Racial Levels in other races is a power I decided normal humans in a magical world could have, extending out of the Bloodline ability of Paizo and 3E sorcerers, which posits that non-humans interbred with humans in the past, and/or your ancestors were experimented on/changed by magical accidents/blessed by gods/cursed/etc by any and all sources, meaning humanity is just swimming with the potential genetics of other races.


    Which all fits into the core trope that base humanity has no magic at all, and is Forsaken, and by getting their power from Other Races, the Powered are effectively Not Purely Human...


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    Although I didn''t dwell on it, the fact is that humanity is the genetic center of all the other humanoid races in the setting, up to and including all non-True Jotuns. All of them have humanity as their roots, if they go far enough back, and it is the reason they can interbreed with humans. Halflings/hyn/hobbits are simply human midgets in a magical world, not afflicted by genetic problems like in the real world. Beastmen and anthros were literally made by mixing humans with various animals in the past, and they ''got loose''.


    Some differences I made in my system within the novel are that it''s basically an E10 world, with very few people ever getting past Ten... and not needing to, since Ten is bufu powerful. In gaming terms, breaking Ten requires a Quest-level success, and a lot of Karma, or direct divine intervention, and most people simply can''t achieve it without equally grand circumstances being around to LET them do so. That''s very different from most games, where just getting the xp means auto-advancing. So, it''s not like Forgotten Realms, where you find an archmage in every city, or a video game, where you just level automatically even if you aren''t very good at the game.


    Also, I put strict Stat requirements on leveling. You can''t get any higher in your Primary Class then the dependent Stat-10. So, to become a 5, you need a 15. In human terms, that''s a 150 IQ for Intellect, or the strength of a devoted athlete for Strength. Getting to 10 is the equal of a 200 IQ, and being some of the strongest people in the world, like, say, an NFL football player.


    Getting to post-10, naturally the requirements keep going! So, no high-Level characters with mediocre Stats, a conscious decision on my part. Since average humans have Stats from 8-12 on average, most of us never get past 2-3 because of Stats.


    In 3e D&D, skills are a matter of hitting a target number. Someone with a +20 Competence Toy is as skilled as someone with 20 Ranks in a skill. I deliberately separated knowledge from skill, and Ranks in stuff are Level dependent, i.e. your soul just isn''t big enough to comprehend that. So, Sama has the Skill to carve an Epic-level Rune Pattern on Tyrant Fuego''s horn, but she needs Elder Arg''s 21 Ranks to tell her what to do, because she can''t understand the why of how it works, despite her +50 modifier.


    I also borrowed directly from the Dresden Files and D&D to combine the power of Renewal. Regaining powers has always been a headache, as is when effects stop, and when per-day abilities recharge. You can do it the hard/logical way, which is meditating to regain power, making it fluid, or you can just use a Renewal mechanic, when your magical day turns over, and the best time to do that is at sunrise for most people. Being able to set your magical day is a perk of having Levels.


    Likewise, I wanted to totally avoid the unlimited levels/day trope, which even has some novels written about it, i.e. destroy the lizard man armies, instant level 200. And so, I put hard caps on how fast you can advance per day.


    I also wanted to avoid the idea of wizards and other Casters potentially getting access to incredible numbers of spells, but fighting types being unable to gain more skills then Levels allowed them to gain. Thus, training and using Karma to buy extra Feats and Masteries is a thing, and Forsaken are twice as good at it as Powered, who can use magic.


    I cracked down on the abuse of Necromancy and Summoning. Both of these methods are ways of leveraging power in downtime that other Casters don''t get. Naturally there would be solutions to both of these abilities, or they''d rule the world! Necromancers have power against the unprepared. Against the prepared, they and the undead go down fast. Unsummonings, Dispels, Banishments, and Interdictions cripple Summoners. After all, if they can be brought in from elsewhere, it''s got to be even easier to send them back.


    I tried very hard to stay away from the cheesy drain others/steal their powers trope, which is simply wishy powergaming at its worse, like a certain super-slime. Sama was starting to get into this, but always through the mechanic of Racial Levels, so slowly, one Level at a time, and she certainly didn''t get to steal knowledge/memories, and the effects didn''t stack, they just took the best of... and she didn''t get most of the truly magical stuff. Getting the magical stuff comes with implications...


    D&D doesn''t have a good system of resource management competition/nation-building, but that''s what the Marktell makes possible, right down to real-time, individual decision-making. The reason the Ironblood take off so fast is simply because Sama can engage in such a ''game'', while everyone else is restricted to alternate, slower forms of management.


    Likewise, the Marktell being available in a fight, to give morale bonuses, morale support, and instant command/communication means she is fighting in a video game, and her opponents are restricted to real world solutions for all of the above. The difference is devastating, naturally. The reason they are straight up mauling their opponents is because that is exactly what would happen with the modifiers and combat cohesion they have, regardless of the resolution system you would use.


    Using Warhammer Fantasy Battles online (Hail Turin!), for instance, a unit of swordsmen has something like MS 32, MD 32, BS 30, Morale 80, Dmg 30, Will 30, Dodge 30. Under Sama''s Marshal bonuses, this same unit would be something like WS 62, MD 62, BS 60, Morale 110 (+50 vs fear/terror test), Damage 60, Will 80, Dodge 60 (vs Missiles), turning a normal unit of swordsmen into one of the most terrifyingly elite units in the game. Tack on a Mark for more Strength, and it just gets worse! (+4 Str = WS 72, Dmg 70!)


    ================


    Sama''s Final Stats....


    I''m not going to list out all the classes, or even all the damage bonuses she has. Her list of abilities would actually take up several MORE pages, especially with all the Racial Levels, so I''ll be condensing them down. Note that she has NO post-Ten Levels as of the end of the arc, and still hasn''t become an ExLite. Also, (almost) no magic items included.


    Strength: 50+20, bend steel bars with ease, lift about 13 tons (x4 w Girdle). At this level, Strength is mostly touch-telekinetic in nature, i.e. you want yourself to be this strong, so you are. Totally defies physics. You hit like you are made of steel, and can make abrupt motions faster than the eye can follow, literally. Her sword weighs like thirty pounds, a barbell weight, and she can wield it like a willow wand.


    Dexterity: 50 +20 , impossibly precise, reflexes faster than most machines (technically, 256x normal human speed), about as agile as Spider-man, or even moreso. Like Strength, Dexterity at this level is basically actualized thought as reality; you want to move perfectly, so you do. Bullets move about at the speed of a lobbed softball, and Sama is responding to stuff before she actually thinks about it.


    Constitution: 63 +26Doesn''t tire, impossibly resilient, beyond needing sleep, food, or water, ignores anything other than Eternal-level poisons or diseases. At this level, you are basically trying to beat on someone''s soul to try and kill them, and the body won''t die unless the soul gives out. The avatars of most gods are nowhere near this tough.


    Intellect: 45 +17Knows more about stuff she''s never heard of then most mortal experts in a field. Masters new skills almost instantly. Unbelievably acute recall and memory retention. A good chunk of her intellect exists outside her head in the Human akasha. Can out-think computers, divine level computational abilities, profound awareness of cause and effect from passing observations. 16 different thought streams of various subdivisions of intellectual responsibilities.


    Wisdom: 59 +24Divine level of self-awareness, harmony with nature, depth of will. Second thoughtstream engaged in meditative awareness all the time. Sense Motive modifier of +55ish means she can almost read your mind just by feeling your aura, and will know you are lying even if you don''t.


    Charisma: 53 +21Her presence enough to make normal people do her bidding as if she was a beloved commander. Force of personality at a divine level. Retains own personality and desires in the face of the most catastrophic or traumatic events and pressure without difficulty. Secondary thoughtstream devoted to managing social relationships/manipulations. Prolonged contact will turn others into fanatical followers/admirers. Diplomacy Modifier in the +55 range means she''s impossible not to like, and Intimidate modifier of +71ish means she can make a stone golem piss pebbles with a glance.


    ---


    Soak:571~ [10x (10 maxed Melee HD + 1 FC +26 Con) + 51 Tough/2 + ~150 (Psychic Body/Heart and Soul)]. This much Soak is taking an AK 47 and holding down the trigger while you shoot 80 or so bullets into something, before you actually land a hit. Or jumping off a 200'' cliff and face planting in the stone below... 8 times.


    Health:490 [10 x (10 (max soulborn HD) +1 Toughness +26 Con) + 120 Body and Soul]. Another way of looking at this is doing enough physical damage to kill her is equivalent to hacking your way through over four feet of fine steel... with the right tool, of course. See her DR...


    Sama also has Die Harder, and doesn''t die until -10 + 2x Con Health, or -136 Health, and she can act freely the whole time. She would lose Health if she did, but since she heals all the time, it doesn''t matter. She''d look like a ravaged corpse, worse than a zombie, and still be moving and fighting normally.


    DR: Base 21/Holy Silver, or 11/-, buffable by +10 w Stalwart. Oh, what I was saying before? Ah, you can''t hurt her with an AK-47. You''re going to need a heavy machine gun on full auto-fire to have a chance, or an auto-cannon. 21 points means she can ignore an average hill giant swinging at her (dmg 2-16 +7). 31 points is ignoring a sniper shooting at her with a long gun (2-16 x 3 for One Shot +4 Specialist). Ping! No Headshot.


    Fast Healing: 10/rd (5 (Healing Mastery + Warshifter) + 5 (Blood and Soul)).And then she''s going to heal up faster than you are inflicting it.


    Crit Immunity: 100% (Alchemist Discovery x 3 + Steadfast Pauldrons Tat)So, you are NEVER going to get lucky and hit a weak spot. She doesn''t have any.


    Beyond Law and Chaos: Immune to Luck and Insight bonuses of others. Also, does not hit or Save on a Nat 20 automatically, nor miss/fail a save on a 1 automatically. Is not automatically hit on a 20, nor automatically missed on a 1, nor can opponents auto-save or miss a save from her on a 20 or 1. Skill is everything.


    ---


    AC: 100/124[10 base + 24 Wis +20 Dex +13 Dodge + 13 Natural Armor +5 Deflection +6 Morale, +7 Armor (Nog) (+ 13 Shield +11 Defender) + 2 w sword]. + miscellaneous others...


    Touch AC 78/89. So, unless you have a +58 bonus to hit, you simply CANNOT hit her if she doesn''t want you to. It doesn''t matter how many of you there are.


    TH/Sword: +46 (+10 MAB + 20 Str +4 Spec +3 Courtier of Death +2 Nat Swordswoman, +6 Morale + ignore 6 Armor, Dex, Insight/Luck/Deflection bonuses each). With Tremble, ignore all Nat Armor (Brilliant) or all Armor/Shield (Umbral), and Tremble can be anywhere from +9 to +17 to hit (+14 to +22 W Psychic Weapon), + half that in Morale from Courageous stacking on top.


    Dmg/Sword: roughly 15-60 w Tremble and stacking weapon dice modifiers, with Supreme Power Attack, Sage of Swords, Courtier of Death, Strength, specialization, and such combining for over +120 more, crit range of 17-20 and x4 damage, with +10d6+20 Sneak Attack damage on top. Can do Slashing, Piercing, or Blunt damage as desires, or switch to elemental dmg as needed, and hit ethereal, intangible, and incorporeal foes as readily as real ones. Tremble adds another +15-20 plus Bane or other bonuses, too.


    Dmg/Unarmed: Approx. 12-40 or so base, + bonuses as Sword. That includes biting.


    ---


    Movement:220, x 5 running (Run Feat)[base 40 (Succubus) + 20 Fleet, +10 Fast Move, +20 Mark, +10 Nog, +10 Speed of Thought, x2 Monk Levels] = Walks at the speed of a world-class human sprinter, and runs at 120+ mph, and can sprint basically forever. Lightfoot ignores terrain/doesn''t leave tracks. Can move on walls and ceilings as long as returns to the floor at end of round.


    Jumping Modifier: +140 [+44 base, +96 (speed)], x2 distance (Psychic Leap), +10 feet (lightfoot), can make a running jump from a standstill. So, can jump about 80 feet straight up, or 300'' sideways.


    Swim Speed of 180~ (twice as fast as a shark) -Sirine/nymph/nereid levels +Mark + Nog, x Monk.


    ---


    Base Number of Attacks: Just 2!... but up to 45 Attacks of Opportunity (Wis+ Dex + 1), and unlimited Cleaves, and full attack/flurries for 4. Arakne Arms add two attacks with Missile Weapons. Tail adds four Ranged Attacks (Manticore Belt) + 2 bolts from Sparky. Hair attack is possible, but usually is no more than a snatch/grab of loot... or could spit poison and generally does not. Just being able to execute 46 different attacks against different targets means her blades are literally everywhere at once, and with being able to advance 5''/Cleave attack up to her movement rate, plus Evasive Reflexes for 5'' instead of making an AoO, the number of attacks she can rip out in six seconds is literally HUNDREDS. All she has to do is get close enough to them.


    Sneak Attack: 10d6+20. She can flank with herself, or use Sneak attack off Cleaves, attacks of opportunity, or intimidated foes (which she can do with a free action after killing someone, or a swift action, and to everyone who sees her kill). Note that with a -20 penalty modifier, she can Intimidate creatures that are immune to fear, like undead, or even constructs!


    Her Death Attack, if she chooses to use it, is at DC 40/51. (+10 AB +5 Cunning +5 Assassin Levels + 20 Dex, + 11 Ruby from Tremble).


    ---


    Primary Class Skill Points:340(10 x (8 (Expert) + 8 (Melee) +1 FC +17 Int bonus)


    Secondary Class Skill Points: 6 x at least 20 Secondary Classes avg 4/level = 240ish.


    Advanced Class Skill Points: Zero! Advanced Classes don''t give skill points.


    Racial Skill Points: 80 (10 x 8/Soulborn HD)


    # of Masteries at /5: Pretty much all of them. Too many to list. Assume a +6 Skill Feat, a +4 Skill Feat, and a +5 Mastery bonus to most Skills.


    ---


    Saves: (Note: +3 Insight bonus all 3 Saves from Courtier of Death if applicable). Rough numbers ¨C class abilities could boost them further. I''m pretty sure she gets another +4 to all from Grace...


    Fortitude Save: +51, +57 vs Poison ¨C Poisons heal 1-6 dmg if saves against them. Note that the highest save for a mortal poison is 33 for a Scorpion the size of a barn. If Sama makes a Fort save, suffers no secondary effects (Mettle).


    Reflex Save: +38Greater Evasion, no damage on save, half if fail. The oldest and mightiest red dragon has a save DC for its breath weapon of 40. If Sama is using a shield, she auto saves, and takes no damage.


    Will Save: +39While she is immune to Fear via Undaunted, she also has an additional +6 to saves against Fear from Bravery if there is an immunity bypass. She is also immune to Intimidation from anything with a lower Intimidation modifier then her (base +71), and has a constant Astral Ward (re. Mind Blank).


    1/rd, can instead sub a Concentration Check at 66 for one saving throw (Sun saves)


    ---


    Soul Essence: ~100


    Ki: ~100


    Vajra: 100 (Diamond Mark IV: Resistances, Greater Resistances, Visual File, Sustained, hypertrophy). Doesn''t get wet if not desired, immune to water pressure/wind/vacuum, can clean self instantly, filters gasses, can recycle air, Vajra extends 4 inches outside of body (including hair). Total control/awareness of own anatomy. Doesn''t need to sleep.


    PP Reserve (psionics): 348 (88 + Con/Wis bonuses + Strength of Mind/5 (+20) ¨C PP base of Psion/10 (Null up to Reserve in radius anti-Psi manifestation zone with Vigor use) ¨C Can hear local telepathy with a Perception check, even if directed at another. Very dangerous to attack mentally.


    Spell Levels: 29/27/25/24/22 (Null Matrix, Con/Wis/Int/Cha bonuses) = 364 levels (Interdiction zone increase up to 3640'' radius/minutes with Resolve expenditure, or Matrix in radius anti-Casting zone).


    Null: 66 (Character level 10 + 51 Fort Save + 5 Null Mastery)- Ignores Caster Level below +45. Can''t be sensed by divinities except by personal view of an avatar. Immune to the Luck/Insight bonuses of others. Has no visible future to timesight, and her past can only be viewed in her presence in real time and the present. Temporally locked past (cannot be altered) as is temporal space around her (no time-bombing her). Interdiction zone 660-foot radius with Vigor expenditure, up to 660 minutes. Constant Interdiction up to 65'' radius at will. Mark IV means a 20'' Null Vajra interfering with all spellcasting/unnatural energy usage in up to a 20-foot radius at will.


    Note that Nulls work against constant effects draining energy or spells being Cast. They have no default effect against magic items or spells already in effect, except...


    ---Can dispel a spell by making a TH roll against 10 + Spell level + CL of spell. Can reflect a thrown spell back on target instead. Can automatically dispel illusions and protective spells with a successful attack.


    Resistances: 100 to Fire, Cold, Lightning, Acid/Base, Thunder + Force, Necroic, Divine/Aligned, Eldritch, Radiant (Diamond Vajra). Stacks with immunities, in case of immunity bypass.


    Immunities: Disease, Poison, Death Effects, Acid, Fire, Cold, Lightning, Electricity, Petrification, Paralyzation, Fear, Illusions + Most forms of magical concealment, Curses (which merely feed the Hag Curse), Aging (has no maximum age).


    Reduces Ability drain/damage/burn by 3 from all effects.


    Effective Constant Astral Ward as long as has PP Reserve (Psi Slayer).


    ---


    Vigor use: 11/day (5 base +5 Soul and Vigor + 1 Special) for 59 dmg converted to subdual per, Heals subdual dmg 1/minute. Powers larger Interdictions/Nulls. Also removes stuns, diseases, poisons, paralyzation, and similar effects as a free action, and breaks a grapple.


    Inspiration uses: Base 5, + Soul of Inspiration for up to +5. Has up to 21 active Feats in Inspiration, can swap out up to 10 at a time.


    Bardic Music Uses/day: 10 (5 Minstrel + Maestro, + 5 Soul of Music). Effects persist 5 rds after ending play. Maxed Minstrel Skills are Piano, Violin, Dance, Singing, Oratory, Drums, Guitar, Horns, Painting, Sculpting, and Whistling. She is considered to have one Rank in any musical instrument she runs across, as long as she has at least a minute to practice with it (and thus gets her Cha bonus to the Performance check with it). She won''t be able to play complex music with it, but people will love it anyways (+22).


    ---


    Senses: Tremblesense to 60'' in all directions (combined radar/sonar/vibration sense, extends through solid/liquid objects, tracks electricity and temperature, planar/temporal/spatial sense, blindsight, spiritsense, lifesense, thoughtsense) = Trembling Sage. Scent (track by smell/differentiate). Ultrasonic/subsonic hearing. Can hear with skin/hair.


    Hag Curse: Sensitive to Evil in 60-foot radius (constant) or by strength of evil if large enough (evil lands from over the horizon, for instance). Basically, it is feeding off the evil of others to sustain itself. Absolute Self: Because of the Curse''s brand, Sama cannot be effectively imitated/disguised as by other creatures, as they can''t imitate the brand. It also reduces her presence down to an effective 10 Charisma as desired, so she isn''t mobbed by others who see her with her Charisma, and can effectively just melt into the background. Can sense Hags nearby and identify Hags and Hagbloods and their bloodlines on sight.


    Vision: x20 human range (Mask of Clarity). True Seeing (ignores illusions, sees true forms of creatures, spirits, souls, ethereal, planar, magic, etc.). Infravision (sees heat), Ultravision (sees UV), Ignores Mist, Fog/Clouds, Smoke, Sand, Dust. Devilsight (ignores darkness) and Devasight (immune to bright light/dazzling effects/visual mirages, sees individual colors clearly). No sight penalties in water. Can see with entire face (eyes are irrelevant/lilitu).


    Visual File: Interactive Eidetic Memory, basically a transpsionic computer in the head. Tracks Lived-line for teleporting purposes, time, etc with Tremblesense accuracy, among other things.


    Marks (full set of 9 Master Marks, lilitu-level): +4 to All Stats, +4 to Charisma rolls against sexual interests, +20 Move, +3 Nat AC. Allows Shapeshifting as Alter Self spell into creatures templated into the Marks, subject to the limitations of Alter Self. Forms anchor templates for Racial Levels.


    Hair is animated (Vajra), and can actually be used as a weapon if desired. Is like water to other people if desired, and if cut, just dissipates and regrows. Can change length, style, and color at will.


    Can speak with all creatures and plants, oozes, and elementals. (Whiskers of the Wild+ Soulborn)


    Learns any language in one day from exposure to it (Polyglot feat + Soulborn), including written forms, via akashic linkages, and can master accents and dialects thereof in minutes. Naturally she''s picked up all she''s been exposed to.


    Marshal Mastery is 4,000 people she can directly give Marshal bonuses to at one time/in hearing via guidance. Bardic morale bonuses can be given to anyone Marked, as they are in hearing range, as desired, no personal guidance necessary. Her Marshal bonuses are base +2 to hit, damage, AC, and Saves, and +10 to Will Saves, +20 against Fear. The Bardic bonuses are +3 Th/Dmg, or +6 to crafting/skill checks. Tremble increases the bonuses by anywhere from +4 to +6 normally via Courageous, as they are both morale bonuses.


    Current Personal Followers: Cohort/Henchman: Fido Nessian WarhoundMelee/10, Monk 6+, etc; Shirley, Animal Companion: Canian Warhound Melee/10, Monk 6+, etc; Tremble, Item Familiar and Intelligent Sword; Sparky, Greater Soulspark Familiar Riding in Tail; Thrum (Psicrystal Familiar, w 5 advances), worn in hair. The McMikal clan brownies would be considered civilian Leadership followers, and the Ironblood are her Marshal force. Since all her officers have Leadership themselves, the amount of people she can have under command radiates outwards tremendously.


    Other Soulbound armaments besides Tremble: Fall, +Zehn Autobow (Hand to Siege Crossbow size, plays like a guitar), Down (as Fall, usually dual wielded in Arakne Arms, plays like a tambourine), Stand (+Zehn/Zhen Shield/Weapon, prefers a drumbeat), Quaver (second longsword +Zehn), Chalice (first psychic Weapon, not Intelligent). Doc is passed around the Ironblood as a healing tool for combat infighters, and is prized by the Rockborn.


    Approximate amount of Gold Equiv Tremble is worth: In excess of 500,000 gp, or equal to 10+ fully made palaces.


    Most broken Weapon Enchantments: Brilliant (4 slot, ignore nat armor), Umbral (4 slot, ignore armor/shield), Healing Edge (3 Slot, do d8 dmg, heal d8 dmg/hit), Bane (1 Slot, +2/+2 +2d6), Psychic Weapon (No Slot, up to +5/+5), Courageous (2 Slots, Add ? Enhancement bonus to any Morale Effects)


    Most broken Class ability: At high Stat levels, Monk Wis to AC. If I allowed it, Fist of the Forest adding Con to Natural Armor!


    Most Broken Feat: Evasive Reflexes(Sidestep). Take a 5'' step instead of an Attack of Opportunity in tight fighting when you have a lot of AoO triggers and uses translates to massive amounts of movement. Combine with Supreme Cleave ¨C the 5'' step between Cleaves is actually UNLIMITED in the original ability, errated to only work 1/rd later, and I popped it up to go up to your base movement maximum per round. Between the two of them, Cleave Trains covering 200 feet every six seconds and killing anything in a swathe 20-30'' wide along that path becomes possible. And if you can''t miss on a Nat 1...


    When combined with her Sage of Swords, Profound Artisan''s mediocre damage base of +2-3 getting multiplied by every applicable skill breaks everything, giving Sama a +70ish damage boost. However, the massive cost of Skill points IS a mitigating factor in most campaigns that don''t allow tons of secondary Classes and gonzo Intellect bonuses.


    Sword Beats Fist deserves honorable mention, triggering 1 att/rd per target if attacking without weapons or reach. So all those claw/claw/bite routines were killing their originator monsters, and don''t attack her with open hand.


    Shut-Down Ability: Interdiction. The ability to lock down dimensions and stop flying stops so much magical power abuse it is not funny. Even if they didn''t have their own Nulls, this ability would terrify all Casters.


    Most Broken Racial Ability she could reasonably take: The Grace of several of the skimpier clad female races would grant +Charisma to saves and Deflection to AC. I''d allow it, but she has to pay the Karma for every advance, like a magic item, and would have to obey Level Caps (i.e. a +5 Cap before Eternal).


    I probably shouldn''t mention the Nymph ability to kill you if you see her naked, or the Nereid that simply cannot be harmed by males... You thought Succubi were dangerous, right?


    Skills affected by Sage of Swords: ~27 (i.e. 270 committed skill points)


    Weapons affected by her Grandmastery: 15 or so, adapted to Sword and/or Unarmed. Kill combo: Hew and Finish: Auto-crit if you reduce something below 0 HP 1/rd (killing fast healers, for instance), Hew means you carry over excessive damage on a Cleave to the next target. So drop a minion, crit, and carry the crit damage over to its boss next to it... From Axe and Spear feats.


    Leadership score is 41 (Effective Marshal Level + Charisma bonus). As a Marshal, she can recruit older dragons and archmages if she''s of a mind to... and she did the former...


    Perfect multi-weapon fighting mastery (no penalties for fighting with multiple limbs... be it five tails, four arms, wings, hair...) (Tempest Adv Class/Fire Dragon Style/Marilith)


    Crafting Skill check for Sword-making is+73 (+110)([+10 Ranks, +3 Class, +6 Skill Focus, +5 Cunning, +5 Mastery, +8 Sword Spec (with Gloves), +17 Intellect, +3 Resolve, +2 Nat Swordswoman, +4 Craftsman, +10 Warsmith] + 22 Strength (Gloves) (speed only), +15 for Shaping Hammer, Silent Anvil, and Floating Forge (morale, insight, competence), 1/8 normal time (speed only)). With the Unlocked Masteries, she is easily capable of doing over 8,000 gp of work on a sword in one day, i.e. she can make 4 magic swords +1 in 8 hours, or one sword +2, at a QL of 33 (Six Slots possible), or 4 Swords+1 at QL 43, with potentially eleven Slots possible... if she has the right materials.


    ==================


    If and when Sama maxes her Racial classes, she can finally take Exemplar Lite and the Heavy Gravity Training, which, just for starters, is Str +15 (Might +22), Dex +12, Con +19, Int + 6, Wis + 8, and Cha + 8 altogether. Then you tack on +6 +4 for Gauntlets/Girdle combo for Str, and +6 for other magic items to increase all other Stats, and Sama ends up with a Stat Line of Str 75, Dex 68, Con 88, Int 57 Wis 73 Cha 67.


    She''ll also have 17 Racial Hit Dice, and can at the very least take her Primary Classes to 17, which means Secondary Classes to 9, which will trigger a cycle of more Stat increases. She will also get a +1 Inherent bonus to a non-Con/Wis Stat, whatever is lowest, per level past 10, to a max of +5. As an ExLite with a +4 Level bonus, she''ll also be effectively an Eternal.


    She''ll also add another fast healing/5, DR 5/-, 7 ranks in all skill limits, +7 Attack bonus, +4 to all Skill checks, +2 Luck to AC, +2 Insight to AC, +4 to Nat AC, +10 to all base movements, her Lightfoot bonus will increase to +5/3rds (um, like 375 or so?) , her Null will go up by 4 (instead of her Caster Level) and 20-some more otherwise, +3 per level Health/Soak, and +5 Luck bonus to hit and damage, all from Exemplar Lite and raising her Class Limit to 17. Many of her abilities will explode into Eternal limits, and she''s eligible to take Eternal Feats and stuff... and that''s not even talking about other passive abilities she could feasibly get.


    It should come as no surprise that writing about Sama at that point is like writing about a goddess, and in real terms to us normal folks, she''s already that simply with a Stat block of post-40 scores. Going completely overboard on it is going to be somewhat monotonous. She''s in the big leagues.


    So, the next book will not be focusing on Sama, because she''s grown too big to focus on. She will be there, and she will be messing with things, but she''s going to be operating at the level of Eternals, and somebody is going to have a bad time...


    Could I NOT make her grow? Sure. But I''ve been playing this straight, Sama follows the rules, Sama gets rewards. So, she''s entering the ''character retirement'' phase of a normal campaign, where she becomes part of the supporting crew.


    But the next arc is going to be having plenty of Sama regardless, because Sama be not dumb...


    ===============


    Hope that was enough Stats for everyone. :POn to the next Arc!

 287 Far Future, Chapter Zero and Bible: Sama Rantha and the Far Future

    Coming off of Power of Ten: Sama Rantha, the first novel about Sama, the main issue I had here is determing Sama''s Starting Point, i.e. her Level. She has just done huge meritorious deeds, she has participated in some extremely high level power leveling... but just sticking her into a new novel at that power level doesn''t work unless you''re talking superhero-level stuff, because Sama is indeed fantastically powerful at that point. I mean, I thought about it opening up with her in outer space, and having to run towards the sun to find some planets, a run that takes her most of a year...


    Yeah, running from Pluto to Earth! And she could, by the rules, absolutely do it...


    But no, introducing someone at that level of power directly into the universe she was going into would introduce all kinds of alarm bells at the Divine Level. Much too big a splash...


    So, the character is coming in at Karma equal to the first novel''s starting point, with a couple buffs. It''s totally under the radar and easy to pass. She''ll be bled back her Karma every day, so she''ll Level up constantly, even if she doesn''t fight, which gives her time to go train if she wants to. More precisely, it allows her to RE-train, to better suit where she is. Like, Knowledge/Magical Beasts not so important anymore...


    Everything magical she has will not function, or she will not use as is, in the case of her Tats. This is the Realm of the Warp Gods. Magically is inherently tied to the Warp here, and reacts very poorly to use by mortals. If you use Magic, you attract the attention of the Warp Gods, and in a very bad way. The only people who use Magic are Warp Sorcerors and Dark Priests, who are loathed.


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    The principal force of the setting will be Psionics, which meshes well with tech. This is a high tech future.


    There will be many Warhammerish elements. Constant battle, foes from every side, merciless war, mankind under assault, the only gods are basically the bad ones. Oh, and an Emperor on his Crystal Throne. Vast history, lost secrets of science, corruption, the lot.


    A lot of Judge Dredd at the street level. The law is harsh, uncompromising, and the average city dweller lives like shit. Those outside the city live even worse.


    There''s going to be very clear Star Wars elements. The Coronal Knights are definitely similar in many ways. The Force isn''t going to be there (cause, you know, the Warp is), but psionics are going to be anything but uncommon.


    There''s going to be Star Trek elements, and that''s going to come from Sama.


    There''s going to be Lensman elements, because if you''re going to be radical, be radical! QX?


    There''s going to be Mythos Elements, because there''s a hole in the Warp, and they can''t keep them out now. Since they can travel through time, if they are there at any time, they are there ALL the time...


    There''ll be dystopian elements, because its got tons o'' grimdark. Mega-cities and Lawless Wastes for everyone!


    The FTL and sublight modes of travel are my own invention!... when we get there.


    Rules of the Realm of the Warped Gods


    1) Magic corrupts, and embracing Magic corrupts absolutely.


    2) Psionics doesn''t draw on the Warp. That''s why they use it. However, the Warp reacts to psionics, and the Warped Gods are basically built off psychic resonance...


    3) Any native Good gods are so suppressed by the Warp Gods that they might as well not be there. Lawful, Chaotic, and Evil powers, on the other hand...


    4) While the tech is very, very high at the high end, it''s very low at the low end. As a grimdark setting, the disparity is pretty big. Many people don''t actually trust high science any more then working magic, because high science is soulless and as corrupt as magic.


    5) Without Alignments being powerful and the only afterlife being Oh We''re Screwed, people are free to be assholes and generally ignore the implications to their souls. With one glaring exception...


    6) Psionic rules are broadly based on 3.5 D&D psionics, some GURPS stuff, Warhammer psykers, superheroes, and ignored or modified where convenient.


    7) Levels are absolutely known, the jargon is part of everyday speech. Ditto psi pools, Stats, and powerpoints (PP). "How many times can you use this Level 1 one point psi ability?" will instantly tell you how many PP you have. From there it''s just deduction and measuring.


    8) The classes and rules for advancement have changed, and she''s going to have to find out just how. I.e. she doesn''t know everything.


    9) Oddly enough, people ARE intensely curious about psionics, and so basic information is readily available about it. Magic, not so much, and will likely get you shot.


    10) The phenomenon of ''leveling up'' is absolutely known. The quantum increase in power is very obvious with the right tools and self-awareness.


    11) The Ceilings at Six and Ten are also widely known. Sevens and up are basically superhumans, after all. The fact you can''t understand REAL technology until Seven is very widely known.


    12) Renewal is absolutely known among psions and mages, and largely believed in elsewhere. Karma is understood to exist, but is ephemeral and very hard to measure. That it powers new Levels is accepted and analyzed tirelessly in hopes of chaining it for use. Most Renewals default to dawn, including the ''natural'' Renewal. Only strange people pick other times.


    13) Power can come from genemods, cyborgs, power armor, psionics, and Warp mutations or alien infections and grafts. Chi isn''t on the table, and ki is basically unknown or considered ''basic cheap psionics''. Soul Magic is naturally VERY dangerous to use, as your soul is basically waving and saying ''Corrupt me! Corrupt me!''


    14) Yes, people can be stronger, faster, and smarter then machines. That''s what Levels and Stats are all about, after all. Machines make getting those Stats a lot easier, however.


    15) Relying on machines means it''s hard to break Six, let alone Ten. Don''t have much spiritual growth when your understanding comes from a logic box, and your fighting skills from an attack program. Which if you''re a Three and a Black Skull Terminator is coming towards you, is cold comfort.


    16) The elite of society tend to be psionic. The dregs of society tend to be gene-modded and ''impure''. The working class is frequently cybered to some extent.


    17) The Average Person never gets higher then Three in an NPC Class. Most ''special'' people never reach Six. Only truly extraordinary people hit Seven or higher. Even when your population is in the billions, you just don''t stumble across groups of them.


    18) There is nothing currently stronger then the Warp Gods, but the Eternal Emperor sure gave it a go, and who knows what is outside the galaxy?


    19) There are now Stars in the Warp, and nobody knows what it means.


    20) No matter how much Karma you gained for destroying the stronghold of ultimate Evil, you can gain One Level, One Mastery Rank, One Skill Point and/or Hit Point (via training), One Feat (via Training), and one Racial Level per Renewal period.


    21) And of course, those rules might have changed...


    22) Gods can naturally break the rules.


    ...


    ...


    ...


    We Begin!


    ======================================================

 288 Far Future, Chapter One – Making a Difference, Or, Whatever Happened to that Sama Person?...

    I would like to say that I was having the time of my life.


    Seriously, I would.


    I had been blown into the Warp after it cracked the main line connecting it to reality. However, there was now a border there, and it had been crossed.


    Forces of all nine Alignments were there on that Wall, little starpoints of interest, immovable, watching, waiting... and oh so slowly drawing off the powers and souls that belonged to them, bringing them back into Creation.


    It probably wasn''t any faster then they Warp was accumulating power by psychic resonance and people dying and living, but what it meant was... the Warp would no longer grow in power.


    That was not a small thing.


    Neither was having all those horrifically powerful outside forces looking in on them. Yeah, mommy and daddy are watching you little fellows...


    On top of that, things were coming in through that gaping weakness in the Veil. The Warp didn''t want the Veil intruding on it and subjecting it to Creation''s Laws, so the Veil wasn''t blocking as it might... and so things from Outside Creation were coming in, looking around, and finding new and fun things to explore. Given how they messed with Time, they were soon spread out over millennia, and really starting to mess things up.


    After all, Yog-Sothoth was the Gate and the Key. What did he give a fig about Warp Gods? Although I think jRaztl and Nyarlothetep sat down and started playing six-dimensional chess with glee...


    Whatever, lots of Elder Gods and Old Ones with interests here suddenly, their servant races with them, and their activities started to wake up a lot of other entities that were suppressed in the Warp.


    The Big Four were certainly busy, weren''t they? Hee hee hee...


    Me, I tumbled through that void of Eaten Warp/Serene Warp that had been sucked away by Creation, moving at the speed of plot; when I got there, I got there... and not incidentally I was digesting a Whole Lot of Karma in the meantime.


    Very not incidentally. As in, I had no choice in the matter.


    Yeah, cracking open a barred universe back into Creation done won me ALL Da Karma, thank you, and it was all freaking seething to be used. As a matter of fact, given how psychoactive the Warp was, I couldn''t actually stop it from going off on anything and everything it could.


    I may have been somewhat overzealous in the past...


    Few things magical were left on me. The Amulet with the connection to Mithar that Estemar had made for me, preserved only by His Grace, was one... and giving Him the werewithal to look around inside the Warp, and make some plans accordingly. He couldn''t act, or it might trip a planet-wipe in reaction, but looking quietly from my viewpoint, who knew what the General of Gods could do? The Crawling Chaos didn''t like playing chess against Him, after all...


    The second was my hair itself. Yeah, I''d been working on my hair.


    Last was Chalice, sitting there in bodyphase atop my heart. Mwahahahaha, I''d kept a Sword. It had been a good Call.


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    My connection with Markspace was gone, eroded away by universes streaming by in two directions, and a whole lot of hostile magical power and Rules. Expected, and while I really missed having a link to my homies, all ten thousand-plus of them, I finally had my head to myself for the first time in a subjective few years.


    Given how many thought streams I had, I certainly wasn''t lonely. I could form my own little chorus line inside my head, and the arguments between myselves were hilarious.


    But this place was psi-active, hugely responsive to sensitive differences, and was not liking my Tats and Soul Magic. Or should I say, it was liking them all too much.


    Oops.


    I had been very enthusiastic for that six months of power-leveling, grinding, and map-wiping back in Yle Tyorm. Everything there was going to die, and if it wasn''t going to die, it deserved to die. As a result, I seldom had a problem killing most of the stuff there, and as for the innocent, well, they had passed when Time had reclaimed and reallocated itself everywhere, consigning the living back to Dream, or to getting reborn elsewhere, elsewhen.


    Being the opportunist I was, I''d Templated a lot of creatures into my Marks, for use with the shape-changing Set Power I got from having the three Physical Marks. Now, that power technically wasn''t able to morph into anything that wasn''t basically humanoid, but the key part was that it formed the foundation for taking Racial Levels in said creatures, and maaaaaaybe being able to acquire some of their Stats and passive magical abilities.


    I had not been intending to take those Racial Levels. I''d been hoping to finish out the Racial Levels that I had started, and then shoot them all done and through, letting me end up with my Seventeen in Succubus, a full Lillitu buy-up, and then take my ExLite Elixir to cap everything.


    Unfortunately for me, this weird ass magic/psi combo thing they had working here starting invading my Marks through my Soul Tats, which meant I needed to make some adjustments, and all that Karma started coming in right along with them.


    Yeah, it started taking ALL the Racial Levels. Holy shiznit, Batman!


    So, here I am, drifting through the void, time passing, ruminating on how long its going to take me to get to solid ground ahead, and in the meanwhile, oh, is my body changing...


    Okay, maybe I shouldn''t have fed a marilith to my Tats. I swear, I wasn''t planning on taking those Levels.


    Or those medusas. Or the sirines or nerieds or harpies or mermaids or mereids or various female Jotuns or Hellmaidens or alu''ri or tieflings or shapeshifted creatures or whatnot. I was NOT taking those Racial Levels.


    Well, yeah, I was, and I couldn''t do a damn thing about it. All this Karma wanted somewhere to go, and it went there.


    I began to grow in a whole lot of ways. Tumbling through one of the streams of psyches, souls, and emotional energies the size of a continent streaming past to those many stars in their watching pattern behind me, I was like a vortex, power drawn by Karma getting quietly sucked into me and building there while I crossed the interminable distance, certainly not going to do anything until whatever was going to get done was done.


    The weird thing was, these Levels weren''t coming like I normally took Levels. I watched and analyzed the pattern, to see what was going on. I could definitely feel the Level indicators going off, that rush of completion to body and soul, but they weren''t happening quite the way they used to. Sort of... backwards?


    What I was used to was Level Rewards. I acquired enough Karma to make a Level, and then all the corresponding stuff gushed out and I got it immediately. What got better got better, and if it happened to overlap with some other Level, welp, that was just wasted Karma, on to the next Level!


    That wasn''t happening. What was going on were limited, incremental improvements, both Class and Racial, and they weren''t overlapping.


    They were stacking, or they weren''t happening at all? That was more akin to a levelless, career-change system, where you spent until you maxed out a certain job or career or other classification, and then you switched to another. You didn''t get a Hit Die for Soak or Health, you got a potential new ceiling, like +10 Hit Points, and you had to buy the Hit Points individually.


    It was far more Karmically Efficient, but it was also slower, if you had a lot of things to do, especially if they were small improvements that things like Levels normally awarded as a bunch at once...


    Like Health, Soak, PP, Skill Points, and Caster Slots...


    If what I thought was happening was true, this whole process could take years, because I was going to be eligible for a simply titanic amount of some stuff, especially Null Caster Slots. Good thing I didn''t really have any impression of time passing here, although I could count off the Renewals passing...


    One of the reasons I had not cared about Nogging away my Caster Slots in return for permanent quasi-magical effects is because the amount of Bonus Spell Points I was going to have with my Constitution was just so ridiculous. I mean, come on, my Con score was north of 80 right now. That was a +35 bonus. Going from 80 to 82 meant I got a Level 36, 32, 28, 24, 20,16,12, 8, and 4 bonus spell, as long as I took the Expanded Spell Capacity for them to apply. And why wouldn''t I do that? That was 200 Valences! For two points of Con!


    So of course I would take them... and right now, I was being forced to do so.


    Is this what apotheosis felt like? I felt like becoming divine or something should allow more choice in the matter. Had I screwed myself this damn bad?


    Now, in the Power of Ten system, there were technically no spells past Valence V, sure. If you got past Ten, your Valences received a universal power-up every two Caster Levels, in effect raising I-V, to II-VI, and so forth, and you got to apply a free Meta to them to represent that.


    Bonus Slots beyond V just became part of your spell pool, which you could use to Meta up some of the Spells you were Casting, straight up Cast other Spells from, and so forth. In other words, a classic mana pool free of the restrictions and benefits of Vancian Casting. Spells from Pool wouldn''t be as powerful as those Cast from Valences, but that was hardly an imposition...


    ---


    As the days rolled past, I watched my Matrix building up, while changes to my body happened that very, very quickly took me way past anything that resembled a human, let alone a hagchild.


    I was fairly sure this damn effect was working off anything I''d Templated, which could actually mean anything that I even ATE, if it came down to it, at least after the effect was active. I didn''t even want to think what that would mean for my genetics.


    Maybe it was limited to sentients. Mithar, I''d nibbled on a cerebrovore, just to find out what it tasted like... and drank xenosym blood, just to see if I could (acid immunity, not a problem. Tasted like shit, of course). Of course there''d be no ill effects, surprise, surprise me...


    Short form, I knew I was going to ramp up to Seventeen Hit Dice on the Racial Side, finishing out Succubus as a lilitu murder queen... without giving up any of the lilithi stuff, which I also acquired.


    I''d Templated a lot of dark elves, figuring it might be useful in the future. Elven Hit Die come with 2/3 Caster advancement, usually arcane. Lilithi advancement comes with Favored Levels. Ghaele Arhen advancement comes with Cleric Levels. Nymph advancement comes with Druid Levels.


    Null Druid Levels are a Con-based Caster Effect, we accumulate energy like capacitors, and can''t do anything with it but Nog it away, or lend it to a Bound Spellcaster. Also, we recharge it by taking Con damage, converting life energy into Valences, a completely closed system, pure mana untouched by anything external.


    Like how this mana around me was contaminated by psychic roll-out from the Warp. Any mortal using this shit was basically doomed. There wouldn''t be any normal wizardry developed in a place like this, only Sorcery with a bloodline from the Warp, and Damnation soon to follow.


    The Elf Level was Arcane energy, which slotted to Intelligence. Cleric slotted to Wisdom, and Favored to Charisma. They all used the same Matrix, the spells within just enriching in quality of mana, so a Caster of any of those Classes could use them.


    Was that Heartsong in there? Dammit, I had Null Bard? When had that... ah, those bloody Fallen Lillends in that Fey Court... Mithar...


    All these Slots were opening, the spell pool was growing. I did my part, dutifully taking the Con damage, converting each point into mana, filling Pool and Valences. I could mend 36 or so points of ability damage a day, each point was 36 points of mana...


    When it got done, it took me near a week to fill everything. The Pool alone was nearly five thousand, almost half just from my Con bonus. Valence Slots were something like 46/43/43/43/40, and all the Valence Slots above that broke down into +4,905 mana.


    That was a simply stupefying amount of spellcasting. Sama the mana battery, here to save you. I could break the Caster requirement for Spell Slots simply because I didn''t have any Caster Level to start with.


    I think a Caster seeing my Null Matrix would blow his effing mind. Just what in the heck good was all this power being accumulated for? It just looked like a total waste of Karma to me... which was probably the point.


    I''d rather have made Twenty or higher...

 289 Far Future, Chapter Two – Too Much of a Good Thing

    And if anyone ever thought Psions were better then wizards, as psions and PP are all Pools...


    The cloud of psionic energy permeated my Matrix, smaller energy units, less potent, more flexible, like the Pool gathered outside. Like Casters, the different advance schema didn''t stack, only the additional Stat bonuses applied.


    So, there was the psion cloud. Stacking Advanced Classes raised the base Nine of its Secondary Class to a virtua 17 for CL and Reserve. Psi Warrior for Wisdom and Null Psion for Con added 231 and 295 PP to the base of 250, for 776 PP, of which two points equaled one Valence in overall power.


    It was still a whole lot of psionic power. I wouldn''t have any problems triggering a Psychic Weapon...


    My Soul Essence and Ki were relatively minor, at 100ish or so respectively. I had a Mark IV Diamond Vajra at 100.


    My Fort Save was sitting around at least +89. My Null was 111. External magic was not something I had to worry about.


    Oh, and I was mutating something fierce.


    First my legs went, merging into a serpentine, scaled lower torso about twenty feet long. Given I was moving on lightfoot, it wasn''t any slower, I just flowed along the ground now, like I was swimming through the air.


    Pop! Out came the feathered wings. Two sets.


    Pop! Pop! Out came the two extra pairs of arms.


    Out flowed three sets of horns, from my brow, my temples, and the back of my head.


    A third eye opened on my forehead.


    My skin went black. Wayfair would be so happy. My hair was gold and black and bronze, and shifting through other colors according to my mood. It also grew another four feet.


    My lovely blue eyes went away. I popped up my Mask to give me paint there, just so I wouldn''t annoy myself. My whole eyeless face was now basically an eye, with the one on my forehead giving me total True Sight. Yay them lilitu and divs.


    And if the amount of energy gathering in my sole eye in front was to be believed, as soon as my hair turned into draconic-snakes, complete with jaws and venomous fangs and eyes I could also see through, that eye would petrify stuff that looked into it. Kinda hard not to focus on it, seeing as it was glowing and all...


    My mass continued to swell, I got bigger and bigger, certainly far bigger then a normal marilith. The scales on my serpentine lower body grew both thicker and finer, in patterns of bronze, silver, red, black, white, blue, and green, and I recalled all the dragons I''d had bites of during those six months, and the samples I''d helped extract from our allies before Elder Arg had made their Elixirs.


    I wasn''t surprised when the three pairs of draconic legs came out, nor the second set of huge wings, turning me into a six-legged winged draconic centaur... or the massive pair of pincer arms from my hips. Thank ye, glabrezu... and ye barbazu, for all the spikes growing out from my scales and skeleton all over.


    Still no breath weapon. Pity.


    My primary tail had the hissing energy of a lilitu''s brand, but the lilithi tails were growing from my backside below the sable and silver angel wings, looking more like tentacles now.


    Class Levels to Melee Seventeen, which meant Secondary Levels came to Nine.


    At Eight came more Stat buffs, but they didn''t seem to get applied-? Well, for some reason, I wasn''t worried.


    The clouds of Warpspace were thickening ahead. I looked at my hands, the claws on them now like foot-long curved blades, similar and thicker things on my feet and tail and body, and razored edges on my wings and horns and body spikes.


    Okay, basically every part of me was a killing weapon now. Even the spinal crest with its crystalline fractal patterns running down my lower half was sharper then a razor. I was to a marilith what a dragon was to a snake.


    I was an unbelievably ruinous, magic-immune killing machine. The gods couldn''t see me, couldn''t do a damn thing to me, and in combat, I was just going to ruin anything that came at me.


    Which was probably the whole point here. I''d proven I was a killing machine, it was time to do some truly epic killing and shake some things up?


    I wondered why that was important. Showing how tough stuff from outside their little universe could be? Hrm, well, that wouldn''t impress a deity, but being able to schlock all their followers and get away, that could be impressive.


    And it would settle things down here in the Warp. So, slaughter for the highest of causes.


    Was I going to stay like this? Gah, Hell, no. I was simply too big, too many things I could not do, and in the end, the battlefield was too large.


    But, I could turn the battlefield into another anchor point for Outside, and extend influence here. Ah, yes, definitely the thing to do.


    My Health was 970ish, my Soak around 1020. I was regenerating at 5 or so a round, even if dead, and Fast Healing at 15 or so otherwise, when juiced with Soul Essence. They''d have to use a freaking Holy Silver artifact to actually kill me, which I felt might be rather difficult to find in a place like this.


    Golden and silver light fluttered on my Vajra around every killing surface from the psionic Nimbus around me. I was going to get in a lot of combat with Chalice, which now was about the size of a shortsword to me, and I had to add mass to.


    No problem...


    My feet touched the ground as space parted around me, and opened up to the vista of a great, dull, stinking battlefield, permeated by the smell of blood, guts, brimstone, fire, and rot, among other even less pleasant things.


    I had lots of time to grow her Name. Copper and black orichalcum hummed in my hand in response to my Vajra, and its +V Psibane woke up, ready for work.


    Greater Soulbound Vivic Blooding followed. Only six Slots for now, let''s see what happened with +XI Stay Dead Forever on the stuff here.


    And I was off, moving at just about the speed of sound within seconds, heading for my first targets.


    And if all those Profound Powers who f''d me over by force-feeding me their generous Glory rewards, hoping I''d get morphed into a protean blob of impossible genetics, thought I didn''t realize what they''d done to remove a potential tool of Good from the mortal world, boy, were they going to have another think coming...


    ==============


    I reaped a burning path through the fields of the Warp. It did not matter how large the conflict was, I went right into it. Tens, hundreds, thousands, millions, billions... didn''t matter. I plunged right in and killed everything.


    I actually only had to fight the tougher stuff. It turned out that somehow or other Nymph''s Beauty was active, and since I wasn''t wearing any clothing, perhaps the sheer disbelief that something that looked like me could actually be transcendentally gorgeous blew their minds.


    The lesser and medial demons on the battlefields that looked at me literally dropped in place, and burned vivic.


    The larger ones that met my glowing third and only eye basically turned to stone, and I shattered them in passing.


    Battlefields were covered in vivus. If they were the size of a planet, that just meant more dead to purge and eliminate.


    Here in the Warp, the default was supposed (emphasis on supposed) to be a state of serenity. Demons formed from psyche and sin died, were reduced to nothing, and faded into the background of the Warp. They simply ceased to exist, and all awareness of them vanished from their patron gods, who could barely tell something was wrong.


    Sometimes I just killed, working on all the fighting techniques I could. I had claws, swords, wings, horns, talons, tentacles, tails, and even elbow spikes now. I could constrict and shred with razor-edged scales and my spinal crest, and every inch of me was a killing surface that could cut, crush, stab, and slay.


    Well, I had poison, too, but that was just overkill. Class AB and Racial AB, trained and instinct, practice maketh perfect.


    I fought all the legions of the Warp, playing no favorites, and I burned them down. I fought monsters the size of hills and mountains, and reduced them to the size of boulders. I killed mind-blowing monstrosities, literal demigods, demonic titans, corrupted engines of war, demonized cyborgs, possessed robots, psychic agglomerations, and hiveminds... it was all there.


    I guess you could say I broadened my horizons on what was out there tremendously, and I disposed of it all.


    And I did so Appropriately. The paths I carved were runic signals, etched into the Warp with Vivus. They were anchor points for more and more streams of trapped souls to be drawn from the Warp, extending the reach of the stars, increasing the draw, until the Warp Gods couldn''t help but notice that what was going on needed their personal attention.


    Which meant it was time for me to act.


    ---------------


    That looked like a Summoning to the mortal plane.


    I''d seen a lot of incursion zones, fluttery Portals to the mortal world where magic, psi, and emotion converged and allowed demons to cross over and have fun on the other side. I''d avoided them because I absolutely knew that something like me didn''t belong on the mortal plane.


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    But, there were immense presences nearby in the Warp, looking for me. I knew they couldn''t see me unless I lit the place up with vivus, the deaths of their servants would just be lost amidst the general carnage.


    The Spiral Dancer was waiting eagerly for the Portal to manifest. I had the impression she was being Called by Name, instead of stumbling on a lucky attempt.


    That was fine. Any way out was a good way out.


    She was twenty miles away. I''d be there inside a minute.


    =========


    She was called Madame Hyiota, the headmistress of one of the most exclusive boarding schools for the wealthy on Janus Prime. The girls she taught here were well-trained, intelligent, decisive, beautiful, and highly-mannered, skilled at negotiating the currents of noble and mercantile circles, and catering to the foibles and fantasies of those around them.


    None left here without being initiated into the worship of Amourae to one extent or another, spreading corruption through the noble and merchant families of the whole sector.


    The real Hyiota had her soul eaten almost twenty years ago, of course, barely out of school herself. The being wearing her face and body had taken many incarnations over the centuries and millennia, bringing worlds to ruin in decadence and corruption, civil war and sloth, turning the weak upon the strong, the strong upon themselves, and bringing down the hypocrisy of society in flaming ruin, each destroyed world an art and masterpiece to be delivered to the altar of Amourae.


    She had bathed in lakes of blood, sat on thrones of skulls in houses of bones, walked streets carpeted in corpses set out just for her, attended shows of cities set aflame for her evening''s pleasure.


    Male, female, it didn''t matter what her body was. She had wrought great achievements for her master, and knew great rewards awaited her in the afterlife.


    Bringing Kacowrie here was the next step in the plan. With the presence of a Greater Demon of Amourae, the subliminal psychic influence on the radicals and extremist factions of the city around her would start to accelerate, and the influence of Amourae on dreams and desires would increase. Attention would fall from industry and ambition to indulgence and whim, sparks would ignite over the smallest differences, and be fanned into a flame as extreme desires and passions took hold...


    She and Kacowrie had worked together in the past, earning great merits in the eyes of Amourae together. Together again, they would lead this world to self-destruction, and it would burn in new and inventive ways for the pleasure of Amourae...

 290 Far Future Prequel, Chapter Three – Too Heavy for the World

    The full student body of the Wendelton Academy was out for this ceremony, and a hapless groundskeeper was moaning in ecstasy as he was ritually flensed and bathed in oils, his agony and joy blinding him to his coming death, only the pain and pleasure filling his weak little mind.


    The girls in their prim uniforms looked on raptly, the powers of the Warp embedded deep into their minds, sparking their desires and lusts. Madam Hyiota had had years to prepare the grounds and buildings to magnify the influence of Amourae on their young and growing minds, and the students fell rapidly and fully once they came to live here now. They were taught well, and their minds and wills were concealing the Summoning from those without even as they contributed power to it happening ¨C


    The skinless man on the altar screamed in final rapture, and Kacowrie came out of him in an ejaculation of gore, feasting on his soul as the Portal opened.


    The Dancer rose above them, her six arms weaving silks of pink and sky blue and soft yellow, a haze of sparkling perfume spreading across the room and heightening every sensation with the slightest sniff, sending the girls into rapturous abandon as they stared at the inhuman, veil-shrouded beauty concealed by mists and silks-


    Who was abruptly yanked down out of sight, gone in an instant with barely a squeak.


    Hyotai, about to step forward and greet the demon, froze in shock. Nothing like this had ever happened before. The Portal was still open, what, was something else-?


    She had a bad premonition, and then two great clawed hands grabbed the sides of the Portal, perfect arcing talons of silver-edged jet heaving it open wider, and the demon rose from the Warp.


    Hyotai''s eyes went very, very wide indeed.


    Kacowre was torn into four parts hanging from four claws, burning with an odd white flame that seemed strangely plain...


    The face without eyes, the glowing eye in the forehead, the curling horns, the wings that snapped out to cover the entire chamber; a dragon''s lower body, six arms, a great pair of pincers, a third pair of wings even larger then the first two, four great dancing stingers, and a glowing tail, six great taloned feet bracing the Portal, ebon skin, multi-colored scales, a rippling pincushion of glittering spikes, whipping thirty-foot silver snakes for hair...


    This... was no butcher of Klaw! This... was something much, much worse!


    ==============


    Well, I suppose I should have expected something I didn''t like, but what looked like a girl''s school held in rapturous damnation wasn''t exactly it. A Dancer of Amourae... I was expecting more a group orgy in a drug parlor, with a few thousand participants.


    My Null and Interdiction exploded out.


    Ho! Now I know what all those Valences were for!


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    My Interdiction blasted out like a looming mountain, smashing across the Veil and locking it down. My Null filled the whole room and beyond, snuffing the Warp energies in the air, sending the girls staggering, and the Portal naturally slammed shut with a sheepish protest beneath me, how dare it impinge on the mortal realm here?


    The one in charge of this whole thing was obviously the woman in very revealing clothing there, and a soul that wasn''t supposed to be in her skin.


    She obviously knew that something was wrong, but it was a bit too late to matter.


    Electrum killing waves of light filled the room, swept through the weeping runes on the walls, the altar, the seals and pentagrams on the floor, and cut through anything and everything. I avoided the support walls, but the rest were punched through like taffy, and naturally nothing in the room escaped the cuts. The girls collapsed, clothes severed but skin untouched, receiving the Merciful damage equivalent of being chopped in two and dropping instantly.


    My stinger-tentacle-tails snapped out, coiled around the neck and waist of the body-stealer thirty feet away, and brought her up before me.


    She was shivering in terror, trying not to look at the glowing eye on my head, or my eyeless face, and trying to not see the terrible beauty that would kill her instantly if she got a good look at me, or if I moved my cloaking, serpentine hair too much.


    She was a Ten by choice, potentially a Fourteen if she didn''t want to hide her Aura. She probably kept the higher chunk of her power Sealed so that it wouldn''t be detected by those watching. Post-Tens were like tactial nukes; a lot of people wanted to see what they were doing, ALL the time.


    Naturally I wasn''t going to let her unseal that power, useless as it might be, or get away to be reborn as a servant of Amourae.


    My tentacle stingers drove into her skull, and pumped out a dose of my venom each. 2d6 Wisdom damage, secondary effect d4 Energy Drain, poisons that could affect the very soul. My dragon''s tail came over and politely tapped the back of her spine, leaving the sealing sigils behind with every touch, as ~28 points of Wisdom damage against a save DC of 54 removed her as a threat, sending her falling into oblivion.


    I opened up, and disposed of her hapless self.


    My throat was lined with vivic runes, and yeah, a portion of my physiology dealt with brain-reading, stolen from cerebrovores and a Greater Doppleganger masquerading as a drow matriach that I''d fed to my Marks. My stomach was lined with Compression Runes at high order, and the combined heat, lightning, and acid in there was enough to render her down in seconds, extracting memories stored in the stolen brain, while the tainted, sin-heavy soul being dissolved by spiritual poison burned and went away forever, never to receive its promised rewards.


    The wages of sin suck when it comes time for severance pay...


    I shunted all the incoming memories off into the Akasha, having no desire to make them Mine, as it were, and with several dozen thought-streams leafed through them quickly.


    These girls were doomed. The infections on their souls had set in deep and grown quickly. Even if all of them were brought away, the cost of trying to fix them was just too high. Any psion trying to excise the influence was effectively opening himself up to them, because these girls were all basic sorceresses of the Warp now, and Amourae could reach out through all of them to seize the minds and psyches of those who would try to save them.


    As at least some of their families most likely would, if they weren''t promptly purged by the authorities.


    I inhaled air swept clean of cloying, hallucinogenic incense, and felt out.


    The world, mortal reality, was reacting too heavily to my presence. The solidifying of reality around me was continuing apace, my influence on the area spreading rapidly. This area was basically going to turn into a Null zone very quickly.


    It wasn''t that Reality was rejecting me, it was that I was just too heavy to stay here like this. I was reinforcing Reality so hard that it was getting strong enough to kick me out as being Holy Shiznit too strong Batman!


    But to all things, there are solutions. I looked at the fallen girls, sighed, double-checked that there was no way to save them, considered that I wouldn''t have much time before some Psensitive noted the massive weight on the local mindscape, and started working.


    ===============================================================================

 291 Far Future Ch. 1 – A New Hope Or, This Shit Again?!?

    "Sir, we''ve found something of interest down on the fifth floor."


    Dorval raised an eyebrow at the words of the Umbran Striker. While cooperation between the Order of the Fallen Moon and the Order of the Rising Sun was generally cordial, that didn''t mean they''d just give out information or credit for nothing.


    That was especially true in a place as psi-dead as this. Whatever had happened here had put such massive pressure on reality that psi was completely suppressed, to the extent he couldn''t even manifest his mindblade. Effectively neutered and reduced to a mere sidearm, he wasn''t anywhere near as dangerous as the professional soldier in combat armor and military-grade blaster in front of him.


    That hadn''t prevented him and his lance of Knights from coming in, of course... the Knights always went in. They''d been expecting some foul Warpcraft, demons from the Warp, rogue psykers, or even a Warp Sorceror... and found nothing to fight.


    There were six great blades decaying in the main assembly hall, two stuck in the ground, the others laying on the tiles, all of them smoldering and falling apart under the incredible weight of the Null field here, ground down by the cold, hard weight of reinforced reality.


    He recognized them as the weapons of a Spiral Dancer, one of the Great Demons of Amourae, unable to bear up in this suppression, disintegrating back to whence they came.


    There were empty uniforms scattered all about, no flesh within them, and only the bloody remains of a skinless sacrifice, abdomen burst open, the signs of a Summoning that had brought the Great Demon here.


    But all the signs and sigils were marred, cut and severed by endless amounts of hacking blades. The air wasn''t stinking with the sensuous temptation and rot of the Warp, or the aphrodisiac incenses of Amourae.


    Really, the Knights were just standing around and looking impressively useless, which was rather disquieting.


    "Sergeant," Dorval replied forthrightly, "you and your men are far more useful in this place then a Coronal Knight is. What might you be needing us for?"


    The Striker''s eyes flickered. He''d been getting some private amusement, as had the others of his team, at the chance to show up the vaunted Knights, and even their own Umbran superiors. Having that attitude acknowledged and even encouraged by this knight''s tone immediately made him think better of the resplendently clad man, despite himself.


    "It''s not a question of need, sir," he said proudly, and the Coronal simply nodded at his words. "It''s of relevance to your Order."


    That did get Dorval''s interest. "Then lead the way, Sergeant. I''ll help if I can."


    "Yes, sir!" The thought that he was providing bodyguard services to a Coronal Knight obviously tickled the Striker''s fancy, and he was quick to lead Dorval away, gesturing to two others of his team to flank the knight as they moved.


    Dorval didn''t begrudge them their day in the sun, nor the stories they''d tell about them. Coronal Knights were trained intensely in how to manipulate morale, and standing up there and being seen was their greatest, but not their only tool. Letting men know they were appreciated and their skills were valuable was another.


    Of course, to many Knights this was just pretense and words, but about that Dorval could do nothing. The Sapphire had their own way of looking at things, and even in this situation wouldn''t be dropping their arrogance. There was a reason the sergeant had come to him and his silver tabs, instead of his three associates wearing cobalt...


    ------------


    The smell was his first alert, and he put his hand on his bolter despite himself. The Strikers noticed, and their amplified voices sounded from behind their helms, "The area is secured, sir. But it''s the only area where we found actual signs of combat."


    Dorval nodded, and took his hand away. It was a show of trust; he was putting himself in the hands of these men and their professionalism. Their appreciation promptly spiked another notch.


    They came off the stairs, and Dorval was immediately confronted by gashes and gouges in the wall, and held up his hand to pause the group silently. They stopped immediately as he stepped forward, putting his eyes up close to the gashes ripped through the fine paneling and the plascrete hidden behind it. "These are mindblade gashes," he said in no uncertain terms, which meant that these men''s assessment of the situation was on point and proper, because the Coronals were definitely the experts on mindblades.


    "The target is that way?" he asked after a moment, and the sergeant nodded. Dorval moved in the opposite direction, hands tracing the gouges on the walls, and the Strikers followed at a respectful distance.


    There was the cloying smell of the Warp everywhere, fading in protest, and he could see alterations in the furnishings where the underlying matter had twisted at the presence of unnatural forces. The cuts had been here and here and here, backing away, a fighting retreat, from THAT room there, whose sliding door had been sliced open through its maglock, levered mostly open by the teams coming down to sweep the area.


    The place was daubed in blood and sigils, which looked to have been set alight at some point, and a smear of burned goo and ooze was spread across half the floor, some once-ornate clothing decaying on top of it, and some twisted jewelry scattered within it, a notable amount of it consisting of body piercings. There was a stone altar in the room of surprisingly crude construction, with four crude bindings at its corners that looked to have been hacked through, a depression for catching blood, and an athame dropped over there in the middle of a length of ashes that looked suspiciously like a severed arm.


    He didn''t step in, just looking at the scene, noting some of that clothing had been very cleanly cut in two, as well as bunch of the body piercings.


    "You have all this recorded, sergeant?"


    "It''s all on vid and holding, sir," the Striker said promptly, meaning the Warp contamination was infecting the vids and tripping the filters, which would dump it immediately. It wasn''t a perfect defense against contamination, but the obscured and burnt Sigils had lost any power he could sense, and there was only a faint residue remaining behind, rising up from looked like the decaying remnants of a Warp Cultist who had been sent to a rather unkindly end to meet his patron. Her patron?


    He reached out, turning a couple pieces of clothing together, a few of the piercings, without touching the goo.


    "Looks like three cuts... diagonal from left hip to right shoulder, off with the right arm, and then across the throat." He looked at the split choker, considering. "Fast, clean. Good with a mindblade. Obviously there were other things in here which spilled out and followed." He stood up and stepped back, and the Strikers parted to let him, facing him as he backed along the corridor.


    It took him a few steps to get the pattern down, but he pictured it in his head. "The gouges there with the curled edges are Warp-heavy sabers chewing at things, the weapons of lesser demons. Long and straight, they''re using thrusts, and not having much success. This disruption is where one of them died," he mimicked a stabbing cut, chopping into the wall, "losing its head after its lunge went wide." He not quite touched the oozing gash in the wood.


    The men were impressed as he retreated down the corridor, arms working in an invisible butterfly pattern, occasionally flicking out here and there in places where the floor had melted away, fused with the carpeting, or in one case was already sprouting mushrooms. One of the soldiers ignited the torch on his rifle and promptly flamed the stuff to ash, and half an inch of plascrete with it.


    Dorval backed around the corner, and shot a glance down towards the end.


    Philius was standing in the doorway, waiting for him.


    He gestured acknowledgement, the Umbran nodded patiently, and he continued backing up, as gouges and gashes in the walls and ceiling turned themselves into a murderous and lethal defense, impressing him despite himself.


    The doorway Philus was standing in wasn''t really anymore, having been chewed apart, melted, warped, and blown back, rubble scattered on the floor, deformed and twisted by unnatural energies. Dorval backed up right to the waiting Umbran, turned and nodded once, and then snapped around to survey the room.


    It looked to have been a classroom of sorts, with the remains of tables and chairs strewn all over the place. None of them were intact, some of them were driven into the walls, floor and ceiling; some of them were merged into them, and some of them had fused into them. All the straight lines were gone, now curvy and placid, yet violent, hinting at unreal geometries, and several had sprouted into metallic flowers.


    The center of the room was pockmarked with craters of warped plascrete underneath a six-inch slab of the stuff that had fallen from the ceiling, neatly fused yet warping edges peeling back from up above it, revealing the ductwork and cables above.


    And there was a survivor.


    His eyebrows rose, despite himself. "Well, that''s a find, Philius."


    Philius Marwengora was dark and slender, handsome without being obvious, with generic bronze skin tones that could meld into a crowd, and dark eyes that either flickered with intelligence, or revealed nothing at all. He was a highly skilled and talented young member of the Emperor''s Order of the Fallen Moon, popularly called the Umbrans, or less respectfully, the Emperor''s Throat-Cutters.


    The two of them had met in the past. The breezily handsome, golden-haired, green-eyed knight who stood out anywhere next to the Umbran who could slide into a crowd and disappear made for a contrast that wasn''t at all unusual when Umbrans and Coronals stood together.


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    Four Strikers had their rifles trained on her, but she wasn''t moving. There was blood coming out her eyes, ears, and nose, and trailing from the edge of her mouth. There were shallow wounds all over her, marring the signs and symbols that had been drawn all over her body, cuts and pokes from sharp weapons at once artistic and cruel, going for pain more then the kill... or perhaps she was just lucky.


    Of particular interest was the Sword Focus still clenched tightly in her right hand as she lay there on the floor.


    The floor for a foot around her was the only place still carpeted in the room.


    "Is she smoking?" Dorval asked, squinting at her. Philius nodded shortly, clearly just as intrigued as he was.


    She looked like a young woman, early teens, with reddish-brown hair, visible muscle tone that was totally obvious because she didn''t have a stitch of clothing on, other then some iron manacles on her feet with chains still dangling from them. Dorval had stepped across the other two from her wrists on his retreat from the other room, neatly cut by a sharp and angry edge.


    She had the distinct cheekbones and pointed ears of a nymphal, although the elegant curve was marred by what looked like a dimly-lit array of runes or psychic circuitry imprinted onto the left side of her face, and running down her neck and onto her shoulder. It was from this that the smoke seemed to be centered on, as the inked symbols nearest to it were slowly burning away from her olive skin.


    "Is she a heavy gravity worlder?" he had to wonder, seeing her completely flat chest. A Nymphal High-G... wasn''t that a bit of an oxymoron? High-G''s tended to be very solidly built, with solid muscle without any waste. Which was exactly what he was seeing, but a High-G didn''t have curves like that.


    "Looks like it. Have to run a genescan to make sure. Heckuva combo, if true, but it''ll pass." Philus gestured at her. "While that sword dance you did was impressive, I actually asked you to come down because of the Focus, and those Runes on her face. They look Axiomatic to me, and they''re certainly repelling those offering patterns."


    Dorval frowned, studying the patterns that looked they''d been branded into her skin. The gleam at the edge of them wasn''t from light, it was tickling his Vertex and telling him that it was not just a tattoo.


    Still, he was wary. "I concur. However, the color is ominous. Blue-black is usually associated with some sort of geas or curse, operating off some high end foundations. We''d have to check the database to be certain."


    "So, she''s probably been memory-sealed, or something similar." Philius glanced back down the hallway, then around the room. "It didn''t seem to have saved whoever did it to her."


    "I have a sneaking suspicion that it''s going to be very hard to track down her origins," agreed Dorval. "You don''t waste power like that without a very good reason."


    "How would you like to handle it?" Philius asked, with a smirk that said he knew what the answer would be.


    =========


    Glossary:


    Vertex: The nadir of a Psion''s abilities, from which they broadcast their strength. Basically means Caster Level.


    Reserve: The amount of psionic power maximum or remaining a psion has.

 292 Far Future Ch. 2 – In for Questioning

    "She''s a bladebelle. Let''s bring her to the Castle, while your people handle the investigation. That''ll allow the blues to scrape some shreds of relevance out of this, while we keep the information flow open properly." Philius nodded agreement, not having much desire to mess with the shillers of the Sapphire and their arrogant superiority about the primacy of the Coronals, while completely disregarding the fact that finding the truth of stuff was what the Umbrals did best.


    "I''ll get a team over there to wait for her arrival." He gestured, and the Strikers maglocked their rifles to their backs, broke out a blanket, and without much care rolled the unconscious girl into it. They both heard the whine of the power gauntlet of the man who pried open her hand and pulled her Focus out of it. Philius held out his hand, and it was slapped into his grip. His eyebrows rose as his hand fell, and he passed it over to Dorval, who took it with much more respect.


    "This is quite heavy. Tinted adamant?" The copper and gold of its lines were simple and clean, bereft of the ornate pcircuitry that often adorned a Focus, including his own. "It has to weigh nearly ten kilos..."


    Thinking that, he held out his hand, tried to summon his mindblade, and could not.


    "Well, now we know that she fought them before this Null came down, possibly disrupting whatever happened above," Philius mused, watching closely.


    Dorval nodded, and tried to send his blade into this Focus.


    His hand spasmed, and let go the Focus, which fell to the ground with a hard clunk, not bouncing in the slightest, and leaving a dent in the floor tiles.


    "Well," he winced, flexing his hand. "I won''t be trying that again..." He stood aside after bending down to pick up the Focus again as the Strikers carried the girl out, not being particularly gentle about it.


    "Bound Focus, eh?" Philius shook his head. "Well, it must have been Called to her, that''s the only reason she could have one here. Makes sense." His eyes narrowed, thinking.


    "Something not right?" Dorval asked rhetorically. They were dealing with the Warp... things were never right with the Warp.


    "Madame Kiovati''s computer files were left open and unwarded in her private chambers."


    Dorval blinked despite himself, and started running through the implications. He looked up at the shattered ceiling, past it to the auditorium far above, and the signs of absent demons, young girls pseduced into a foul cult, and the marring of the signs of the Warp and psi here.


    "Either something not friendly to the Warp was here, or there''s a very big bluff going on."


    "Branding Axiomatic Runes onto a young woman?" Philius thought aloud.


    "That is strange. Anything I need to know?" Dorval asked, glancing at the pcircuit around Philius'' ear.


    "We are going to have a very busy night." Philius clapped him on the shoulder, just as his wrist com beeped at him. He hit it up, and bright letters flaring silver with urgency came up on holo. Dorval read them, and his calm expression began to frown very quickly.


    It was going to be more than a busy night...


    -------------------------


    While the sector was getting abruptly turned upside down by the revelation that most of the Wendlerton Academy''s alumni for the last generation were Amourae cultists, and a rather large number of people were getting shot for it, I was unconscious.


    Sort of.


    {Welcome! To begin, please swear at me.}


    Was that my voice? Whatever it was, it had a fucking sense of humor...


    {Authorization accepted! Prepare for a download you really don''t want to hear!}


    Well, isn''t that appropriate...


    [HEY THERE.]


    Holy shiznit!


    [Sorry, toning it down. Bit of a rush when I recorded this.]%^*%*! [Yeah, yeah. Buck up.


    [First of all, welcome to the land of the living! This is your birthday, so memorize it for future parties, cakes, and tea.] If this was me, I really had a weird sense of humor... [You''re a Sama Rantha human Exemplar Lite, imprinted with my basic knowledge kit (just like I was), piggypacking on the ''new Hag'' birth rules to come into existence with the Karma of a Seven Hag.


    [Your soul is your own, have no fear, and since I''m your mom, I get to name you. Welcome to life, Sama Rantha II! When you get a 30 Cha, you should be able to recall your last incarnation if you have one (you shouldn''t), so until then, put up with it!


    [Now, your mom and original''s a total bitch, because she''s giving you absolutely no time at all before you have to accept a big ass quest.


    [To wit, I''m too Heavy for the mortal realm right now, so I''m stuck here serving as a great big diversion. Our mission, handed to us by Mithar Himself, is to kick the Warp Gods off their throne, free up the Warp, and return it to its original purpose.


    [That can only be done from the mortal realm. Welcome to reeeeally long overarching quest goals!


    [Your job is to Level up; Think Big; take control of everything you can; and beat the shit out of the gods of the Warp. You''ll probably have to save the galaxy a few times on the way. How you go about it is totally up to you, adapt as you go!


    [I''ve set up all the backstory obfuscation that I can for you. The only material help I can give is Chalice... keep her safe, she''ll stay with you forever.


    [You know what you''ve got working for you, because it''s very close to what I had working for me. You''re coming in at Rantha/3, Expert and Melee/3, Null Psion/2, Psi-Warrior/2 (Bladebelle), Null Soulshaper/2. You''ve got enough Karma left to take one Level in one Class of your choice.


    [Your Marks contain nine Levels at Ten, and will bleed it out to you at a goldweight equiv a day, even if you don''t earn anything yourself, so you should be able to Level up quickly even if you can''t find a high Karma zone. Naturally, find a high Karma zone! Become uber! Rule the galaxy! Raise puppy-kittens!


    [Got to go, Reality is getting kind of ephemeral! Might be able to drop in if the area is appropriate for it! Hugs, kisses, best wishes for the leveling grind!]


    {This message is now ended. Would you like to assign your remaining Level now?}


    My thoughts were definitely on complete overdrive. I was interfacing with my Visual File and an implanted memory. I literally was listening to myself talking to myself, as I''d cloned myself up to a certain point and then downloaded me into me.


    -No.- I didn''t know what I needed, and I''d get a one-time Skill Point drop of multiple points by taking that Level at Character Creation.


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    This universe didn''t allow Levels to drop in knowledge like that... unless you were creating a demon or some other creature with immense psychic power.


    Or a Hag?


    I was a splinter soul of my mother-me, created from absorbing random soul remnants in the Warp, gathered together, and a body spun together to suit them, based on her own original one. Part clone, part daughter. Would I even have a last incarnation that wasn''t just shards of other souls?


    Ah, but I''d said that to verify that fact that I was Sama Rantha II, not Sama Rantha Mark 2. My soul was my own, cloned memories/body or whatnot. So even though I remembered being Sama, I was definitely a different Sama.


    Kinda like how Mom''s body had been born, before it ate her... and she took it over.


    She had fucking suborned the Hag Curse into making a stand-in for her! I had to stifle my mental laughter. I was effectively a Rantha Hag!


    Was there any better way to screw the Hag Curse then to make it work for you? Damn, I was good...


    She''d arranged my Karma and Feats so as to give me enough Ki, Soul, Mana, and Psi to trigger a Mark IV Diamond Vajra. If I was an Exemplar Lite, that also meant I had a very high starting gate, which I certainly wasn''t going to argue with. The DR and Fast Healing alone were going to be incredibly helpful, and who knew what else was hidden in my genetics?


    However, the recording was over, it was time to wake up...


    ============


    "Huh!" My eyes snapped open, and I sat up hard.


    Tried to. The restraints on my arms kinda prevented that from happening, which meant I rather slammed back down to the mattress I was bound to.


    My heart was racing for some reason, like I''d just come off a really big exciting fight I couldn''t remember all the details off.


    I also felt like I''d been poked and prodded all over. Which I supposed was par for the course.


    I manifested my soulclaws.


    They were claws because I couldn''t manifest a blade, it would stick too far outside my Vajra. They snapped into existence, and shredded my restraints as they did so.


    I set up, quite pleased at how easily I could move, and brought my claws down on my ankles at full extension.


    The blades cut through my flesh harmlessly, like it wasn''t there. The metal restraints, not so much.


    I swung my feet off the bed, landed on the cool tile floor, hands up, golden claw-gauntlets up and ready to shield and punch.


    Okay, I was wearing a hospital flimsy and pretty much nothing else. Somehow I was not surprised. Aren''t newborns supposed to be almost naked?


    The room was otherwise soft white, any decorations were recessed into wall sockets, with a single closed door of metal, a plethora of soft white lights and recessed cameras watching my every move. There was a ton of circuitry underneath my feet, and as I watched, the columnar support for the bed I was in lowered down into the floor and a seamless cover slid over it quietly, leaving me alone in the otherwise empty room, with a LOT of humming machinery and electronics behind the floors, walls, and ceiling.


    Ooo-kay... someone was definitely watching me. They had found me, moved me to this place, and put me in restraints, but not uncomfortably. I hadn''t woken up in prison cell or torture chamber, or naked on a hillside, or in some nightmare mockup of a nursery from a horror story or something...


    "Your colors have been noted. Please drop your claws before we enter the room."


    The voice was male, firm, precise. I turned my ear to it, looked down at my claws.


    A person''s mindblade was the color of their soul. My claws were a deep, polished gold, like metal. I couldn''t see my reflection in them because they were made of psychic force, but they were hard and embedded with resolve and conviction in my beliefs.


    Oh, yeah, I had definitely inherited a hardass line of morals from Mom. Gee, thanks, Mom. Maybe I wanted to be a flighty Rainbow or a stick up the arse Silver, or a totally in it for myself what can you do for me Green?


    On second thought, not.


    It took me a few breaths to calm down from my fighting readiness. I flicked off my claws and lowered my hands carefully, then decided to take some initiative.


    "Table, chairs!" I called out, stepping aside and back from the door.


    There was a moment of hesitation I took as surprise. Then a part of the floor slid aside, rose up, and there was a simple metal table and three chairs, one for me and two on the other side.


    I seated myself, ignoring the cool metal on my bare butt, folded my hands on the table, and waited.


    The main door hissed open, I could see it was at least six inches thick. Air pressure equalized, and there was a hum as the two men outside stepped inside calmly, but alertly.


    The one in the front was in a uniform of whites with dark blue trim, an odd combination of ceremonial and workable, definitely made to be seen. He was tall, broad-shouldered, blond-haired, green-eyed, and had the air of a man who didn''t know he was good-looking.


    He was also holding a silver-hued mindblade. Huh.

 293 Far Future Ch. 3 – A Mild Interrogation

    "Your colors are noted," I repeated back to him, and the corner of his mouth twitched up. Snarked! The shorter fellow in blacks, making an interesting contrast to the first guy, was amused at the wordplay, but gave an impression of being dangerous in a very different way than the first guy.


    Brains and brawn, got it.


    "You don''t look like you recognize the uniform?" the guy in white asked, politely dispersing his blade.


    "I don''t," I admitted, squinting at the two of them, noting emblems, rank insignia, and other subtle things that would have indicated information, but I didn''t have a point of reference. "As a matter of fact, I can''t recall much of anything other than my name right now, which is very annoying."


    "You know your name?" the shorter man spoke up, sounding surprised. I glanced at him, and he put his hand on his chest and bowed. "Philius Marwengora, of his Imperial Majesty''s Order of the Fallen Moon." When my eyes betrayed not the slightest recognition of what that was supposed to mean, he continued, "My rather stiff companion here is Sir Dorval, of His Majesty''s Order of the Rising Sun."


    I nodded at them both. "Greetings. I am pretty sure I am Sama Rantha, but given the utter lack of other verifying information, I say it with caveats."


    I was pretty sure searches by that name were instantly going out, but I highly doubted anything was going to be found. When your progenitor is now a creature of the Warp too heavy for this dimension, birth certificates weren''t likely to be found.


    Both men seated themselves at my gesture, looking rather impressed at my calm. "Do you recall the circumstances where we found you, Sama?" Sir Dorval asked, beginning the questioning, right with the honest concern.


    "No. I think I remember a fight, but it isn''t even a blur."


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    "I notice you manifest claws. That''s very unusual for a mindblade," he observed.


    "It is? Oh, it''s because I''m a Null Psion. I can''t manifest more than a couple inches from my skin. A mindblade is impossible for me to manifest without a Focus."


    "Ah. Do you remember having a Focus?" I noticed Philius was taking notes for later questions.


    "My Focus is Named Chalice," I said firmly. "You are carrying it in the pouch behind your back."


    The two looked at one another knowingly. "You remember its name?" Sir Dorval asked.


    "Not until you came within five feet of me, and I realized you were holding onto my Focus." I held out my hand.


    They both blinked when the Focus flipped out from the sheath behind him and smacked into my hand. I closed my grip, and ahhhh, this sucker was Heavy, perfect for me weight-wise, the gnurling in the grip alchemically sticking to me, shunning oil and grease, and humming with power.


    I flicked up my Claws, but poured them into Chalice instead of around my hand.


    The psionic circuits inside hummed, channeled the energy with singing purity and Bound perfection. Yes, this was MY Focus. Mom-me gave it to me, you can''t have it.


    The golden psychic blade snapped out of the end of it. It didn''t look totally like a normal sword, flaring out to three inches wide, slowly narrowing over a meter of length to a diamond-point. The glow of its force spread out for another two inches around it, crackling with translucent force.


    Both men froze, staring at it in amazement, and great caution. I snapped it off before they told me to.


    "Thanks for returning it to me," I said calmly, sitting it down with a heavy tap of metal on metal.


    "That is a Psi-bane Weapon!" Philius managed to get out, inhaling a deep breath. "How are you wielding it?"


    I frowned, thought about it. "Is it? Well, I''m not a Psi, I''m a Null Psi. A Psi-Bane Weapon works against psi-users and phrenics. I''m a Null Psi; of course it doesn''t work on me."


    The two looked at one another. "You''ll have to forgive us. What is a Null Psion?" Sir Dorval asked reasonably.


    "You don''t know?" I found it strange, and my voice said so. "How to explain it... do you know what a squirt gun is?" I had some very erratic knowledge programmed into me, after all. Thanks mom-me...


    "A children''s toy?" Sir Dorval clarified.


    "Yes, that. You two are squirt guns. A Null Psion is a jug of water with the lid screwed on tight."


    They got the allegory. "You can''t spend psionic power?" Philius asked archly. He''d never heard of such a thing.


    "Correct."


    Sir Dorval broke in, "But a Psi-bane weapon should innately act upon a mindblade and disrupt it with its opposition to psionic power."


    "I''m hitting you with the jug. Why would it be opposed to the jug?"


    He blinked. "That... is a workable interpretation," he admitted. A Nimbus did effectively contain the pure psionic inside, after all. He gestured at the Focus. "May I examine your blade?"


    It was akin to saying ''can I look at your soul?'' I lifted an eyebrow, but he only flushed a bit, and Philius smiled slyly.


    I picked up Chalice, concentrated, and the blade snapped out again. I set it down, but naturally did not let go, holding it upright on the table in front of him.


    He was clearly uncomfortable around that clear energy, but hid his unease well. "Can you charge it?" he asked, after examining the design of it, particularly the internal fractal patterns.


    "Nimbus or Corona?" I asked calmly.


    "Both," he replied after a bare moment of hesitation.


    I narrowed my eyes and concentrated, gathering up my Vajra and concentrating it through my Focus into the blade on my hand, and dredging up sustained power from around my Vertex, like harnessing the light of a fire vs the flame, and sending it all into Chalice.


    The blade hummed ominously as two veins of light lit up on the body of the thin, crystalline all-edge force-line of the sword, and glowed within the edge of the blade like a halo. Three pairs of star-like particle effects began to swirl opposite one another up and around it, starting from the hilt and winding their way up to the point, where they met, dissipated, and started over again, equally spaced.


    Both men sat back, staring at it, flicking their eyes at me.


    "Binary Suns, Triple Stars," Sir Dorval said calmly, tapping his finger as he looked at me. "Falling Star, Star Core..." He shook his head slightly as Philius nodded agreement. "I can see why you could slaughter your way through a coterie of Warp spawn. A single hit from your Flared blade could likely kill one on the spot."


    "Well, that''s good news." I didn''t remember any of that, but it certainly sounded feasible. Binary Suns was the term for Greater Psionic Weapon, dealing +4d6 damage when my Nimbus discharged. Falling Star was Deep Impact, the reason why Psi-users weren''t great swordsmen; it turned an attack into a touch attack, carving right through all armor and natural armor, when your Nimbus discharged. Who needed to be an awesomely skilled weapon user with such a power?


    Triple Stars represented the psychic discharge from being an adept mindblade user, basically frying the psyche of the target. It didn''t do any damage to anything that couldn''t think, so it was useless for carving through walls or fighting automatons, but against thinking creatures Three Suns was +3d8 damage. Warp users were sentient and strongly attuned to psionics given their origin, so a hit would have been base mindblade damage, + Psibane''s 2-12, +4-24, +3-24, +whatever bonuses on top from strength and enhancement and whatnot. A fifty-point hit was enough to trash a lesser demon made from ectoplasm, sure.


    As for Star Core, that meant my soulblade was hard, hard enough to act like adamant and chew through the scenery like butter. I imagine I''d left a trail behind of carved walls, floors, and ceilings, or something...


    "You must have been intensely trained to develop such a plethora of techniques," he went on, grimly impressed, and nodding for me to withdraw my blade, which I did courteously. "And you can''t recall any details past that?"


    I picked up Chalice, staring at her as she hummed in my hand. He couldn''t tell, but she was also enchanted, and a Psychic Weapon. I hadn''t put any Soul Essence into her, or my soulblade would have looked plenty ominous to him. I''d have to be careful about that...


    "I can see the techniques. I know the movements. I can feel how to exercise my will, I know how to focus, how to center myself, the patterns of attack and defense...


    "But there''s no other element attached to them. No sense of human involvement, of advice, or voice, or emotion, or guidance. I can''t recall my teacher, my sparring partners, who I''ve fought before... I know what I know, but I don''t remember the process of learning it." I looked up at both of them. "Does that make sense?"


    It was Philius who answered. "Actually, yes." I lifted my eyebrows at him. "We did a deep scan of your brain, looking for anomalies. What we found... was a whole lot of nothing, as it were." I just looked at him. "The areas of your brain that should be full of memories, of childhood development, the instincts and desires and training that formed your personality... were wiped away visibly, subtly, and completely. It was described to me as this tall, fancy, complicated building, where you walk inside and it''s completely hollow and empty. The frame and structure are fine and intact, what''s built is built... but the why and how it is that way is gone, visibly." He tilted his head slightly. "No furniture, paint, carpeting, decorations, lights... just the skeleton with the fancy outside."


    ========


    Glossary:


    Nimbus: the sheath of transpsionic energy around you when you enter Psionic Focus. This is what is used by Null Psions.


    Corona: The extra energy around a mindblade which can be condensed by a member of the Mindblade Class. A Corona is rated by number of Stars around your Mindblade.


    Null Psion: A Forsaken with Psionic Power, Cannot spend it. Reinforces a default state of resistance to psionic energy/change in their area (their Null) by making the universe stronger, which a psi feels as a massive sense of weight or suppression.


    Binary Suns, Triple Stars, Falling Star, and Star Core are explained above.

 294 Far Future Ch. 4 – Nice Cover Story

    "So, I did have a past, and something removed it." Well, I happened to know otherwise, but wow, Mom-me was pretty slick. After all, false memories wouldn''t feed into a persona properly, while not having any in an installed personality was going to be obvious. The birth process of a Rantha was indeed thorough and nasty strong...


    "We feel it has something to do with the Runes on your face."


    I blinked. Runes on my face? I put my hand up to my face, and at that time realized I didn''t know what I looked like. Hah!...


    Philius flicked his wrist, and a holo of my face popped up before me.


    Well, I assumed it was my face. I leaned forward to look at all of it, not just the lines of blue-back slapped across the side of my face, neck, and shoulder... and I looked down as I pulled the hospital gown away from my shoulder, and yes, there they were, twisting and intertwining in harsh, broken arcs and curves on my skin.


    Couldn''t feel anything from them at the moment, but they were definitely more than ink. I poked it, and to my surprise, was able to drag the thing over my skin as the two men watched. It distorted faintly, more readjusting its pattern then actually stretching, and when I let go it crept slowly back towards its original form.


    "Huh." My face was pretty hot, and this thing did a good job messing it up. Nice auburn hair, too... making it very obvious I wasn''t Mom-me, for my peace of soul. "I guess my days of undercover work aren''t going to be happening..."


    The two of them actually looked embarrassed a bit. "We are wondering what kind of goals you have for yourselves," Sir Dorval asked patiently, interested now. "You may or may not know, but that is a very unusual color for a mindblade."


    "Really?" I asked, a little surprised. "No, I wasn''t aware of that. Are you talking yellow, or gold?"


    "Yellow is the second most uncommon standard color, followed by rainbow. They are matched by gold and iridescent. Among humans, green is the most common, followed by blue."


    That made sense. The average human tended towards Neutrality, while a great civilization would impel people towards Law.


    Grey was probably common among the rabble-rousing crowd, before it fell into the black of Warp worship and batshit crazy murderousness. Purple probably meant a professional assassin or merc with no morals. Red probably meant a sadistic soldier, or ruthless military man or noble, with a warped code of honor, but no hesitation about killing, or simply an amoral disciplinarian with no regard for human life.


    White and Silver were the Lawful Good colors, one more peaceable, the other militaristic. Fighting hardened the colors, so those who killed usually had metallic or gemlike weapons.


    Mine looked almost solid, very metallic hue. Neutral Good could be a bunch of well-meaning pacifists... who finally got fed up and chucked out the rulebook. Gold meant someone who would ignore the rules if they didn''t do the job, but would not ignore them if they did, unlike a Rainbow person who defied rules as a matter of course, and who tended to be independent loners or eccentric folk who couldn''t stand being around most people, or were the center of their own worlds and didn''t care about the opinions of others a whit.


    "From the tenor of your words, it sounds like this is rather unfavorable?" I concluded archly.


    "Well," Sir Dorval coughed, "the Golden Knights Coronal have something of a reputation for ignoring the rules when it is convenient to do so."


    I rolled my eyes a bit. "That sounds about right. Always playing by the rules means being predictable. While it''s nice for kissing babies and flirting with the boys, it''s a real pain in the ass when it comes time to actually kill things which have half a brain and know protocols."


    Sir Dorval coughed uncomfortably again. "So, it would probably not surprise you that most of the Golden Knights Coronal get seconded to the Umbrans."


    Coronals, Rising Sun. Umbrans, Falling Moon. Got it. "Ah. So they want unconventional thinkers with unquestionable moral fiber they can rely on?"


    Philius smiled sharply. "You should see the things we come up with for the Rainbow Knights. The Silver and the Blue get all the limelight, but the Gold and the Rainbow definitely get the best stories to tell."


    I looked back and forth between them. "You''re trying to recruit me!" I said, half-laughing. "Am I even old enough to work for you?" I inquired sharply.


    "Bone age confirms you to be about sixteen, so, no, technically..." he trailed off meaningfully.


    "But exceptions can be made in cases of proven extreme competency and suitability to the task at hand?" I asked smoothly.


    He looked quite impressed. "Very good, Miss Rantha. We''ll have to run some tests, but your blade alone shows that you are already a very impressively trained combatant. We''d like to run some tests on just how capable you are, and start filling in the empty spots that have been taken away from you."


    "And have me somewhere close you can keep an eye on?" I inquired.


    "Precisely!" He wasn''t at all shy about admitting it.


    "That sounds like a fine deal to me. What''s it pay?" I inquired.


    "Room, board, much training," he informed me drolly.


    "I have things to make, Gear to acquire, toys to collect," I replied darkly. "Sama require cash, what pay for Sama?"


    "Can we leave discussion of your pay until after your assessment?" Sir Dorval asked politely, and I sighed.


    "Certainly. As long as I get some new clothes. I know you want me to be in a nervous position for questioning, but this is ridiculous."


    "I think proper attire might somehow find its way into the budget," Sir Dorval mused readily, and even I had to laugh at that, him wearing that cloak and all...


    -----------------------------


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    "So, what did you think?" Sir Dorval asked cautiously, after they had some new clothes delivered and Sama was changing inside the room.


    "Did you see her skin scans?" Philius asked him, and the knight shook his head calmly. "Nymphals have superior cosmetic healing, but you can still see the difference in age of cells and skin. She has been cut all over, bruised, bashed, ripped, torn, and abused. Her bones have multiple compound fractures that she has healed from, on every bone in her body... and all it seems to have done is make her stronger. The doctors estimate she''s got potential for six gravities."


    "That Focus of hers is adamant. It''s three times heavier then solid steel. I don''t know why she''d want a Focus so heavy, but she handled it like a toy. She can probably throw us across a room with one arm."


    "And look good doing it." Sir Dorval frowned at him. "Oh, please, Dorval. She''s a Nymphal. She''s young and she''s hot, flat chest and Tats and everything."


    "That is true. And she has a Three Stars, Star Cored golden blade." He took a deep breath. "A Seven, at her age..."


    "Well, we''ll know better after the assessment. But yes, young, dangerous, and able to get a lot more dangerous. With no background to interfere with her that we can even find, and, well, it is very hard to be suspicious of someone Gold as a sleeper agent or alien pawn or something."


    "Six gravities, you said?" Sir Dorval asked, marveling.


    "We''ll find out soon."


    -----------------


    I laid back on my bed, in my new sleeping quarters, and considered that it''d been a pretty fun day, all things being equal.


    Mom had calculated things pretty well, and gotten me right into a career path that could take me places. I didn''t have a good handle on the power of a ranking Coronal Knight or Umbran Agent, but I had the distinct impression it wasn''t small.


    Of course, I needed education and acclimation, and I was going to be losing myself in mass studies starting tomorrow, if I had any choice in the matter.


    I had several major bodies of knowledge I had to build on.


    First was practical Skills. These were things that required no support, and were meant to help me survive, combat-oriented and based. They were assigned to and hard-coded to my Rantha Levels: Perception, Stealth, Intimidation, Bluff, Survival, Athletics, Sense Motive, Animal Empathy. They would work anywhere, useful anywhere.


    The second was the Knowledge Skills. These were hard-coded to my Expert Levels, although I was sure I would have to expand them to Vizard Secondary Levels. They were the key to mastering and knowing the sciences, which were actually relevant here.


    The Mechanist Guilds guarded the secrets of hard technology closely. People might learn how to break and hack computer programs, but actually designing comprehensive new ones was actually rather rare, and done with the tools the Mekkers provided. Making new tech was rare as a result, as the Mekkers languished in their monopoly, secure in their hoarding of the great secrets of science.


    They would probably short a few servos at the array of Knowledge Skills I had. Math, Physics, Chemistry, Electrical Engineering, Mechanical Engineering, Computer Engineering, Computer Programming, Avionics... and Driving. I could drive a car, motorcycle, or truck expertly. I''d be expanding that to heavier stuff... and I needed to learn basic history, and stuff about the planet, system, sector, galaxy...


    The third set of knowledge I had was my direct combat and crafting base knowledge.


    I''d inherited knowledge of Mom''s combat style, which fused combat skill with crafting skill, and applied broad knowledge of many Weapons to the sword, a totally alien concept here. Advanced weaponcraft wasn''t really a thing except to fringe kooks, as psionic power trumped it in every way.


    Also, having too much bling drew a lot of attention from multiple sources, some of them in the Warp.


    So Martial Lore, establishing my knowledge of profound and real fighting styles, was there, forming the basis of my advance schema as I''d Level. The four core smithing disciplines of Armor, Weapons, Black Metal, and White Metal. Gemcutting and Crystal Carving, the core of making psionic gear.


    Making something like Chalice was so far beyond my capabilities right now that it wasn''t funny... but I knew how to get good enough to make it, and it was possible.


    The fourth knowledge set was everything related to psionics and magic. Meditation, Concentration, Knowledge/Psionics, Psicrafting, Knowledge/Arcane, Knowledge/Philosophies, Alchemy, Spellcraft, as well as the core techniques to make psionic and magical items.


    These were going to be taken care of by Psmith, Psion, Psi-Warrior, and Rune Alchemist Levels. How much I would get to use them would be interesting, given how nasty magic was in this universe.


    Anything else would have to be taken by bonus Ranks from being really smart, or other Class Levels. Minstrel Levels, Scout Levels, Vizard Levels would all be useful. After all, Performance Skills were major skill point sucks, and I definitely needed to know how to Dance...


    Thinking of that, I ticked over that Minstrel Level before my midnight Renewal, and assigned the six Points to Dance and Song. I could grab Keyboards and Strings, or piano and violin, with the next Level. Hmm...


    There was a wrenching feeling in my head, as if I was doing something I shouldn''t be, and I winced, understanding why Mom did things the way she did.


    This place did not like awarding Levels!

 295 Far Future Ch. 5 – So, this is going to be more Tedious...

    It was a fundamental change from what I''d been given, but that just meant a different advance schema taking more time.


    It had also allowed her to juke the system nicely.


    My true Primary Class was Melee, not a Soulblade Psi-Warrior. While PW''s were more than competent combatants, it was not their primary function. They killed stuff with Psi, generally focusing it through Weapons, but were perfectly happy to kill at range as well as in close. They had no intrinsic preference, relying on their psionics for what others relied on tech, implants, or bioengineering to accomplish.


    I was a Tool-user, and a soulblade was just a tool. Honestly, I was more deadly with Chalice in her Sword form, as opposed to acting as a Focus.


    However, showing her true form would probably be a bad idea. Chalice was a QL 55 Full-Tempered Orichalcum Heavy Warsword, and could probably demand a price higher than this Spire. The Mechanists would slobber all over it, the nobles would kill themselves for such an exquisite toy, and the Orders would want to put it in the hands of someone ''more capable''.


    Yeah, no, that wasn''t going to happen. I could only applaud the level of Crafting that went into it that completely obfuscated how totally awesome she was, or they would never have allowed me to keep her...


    There was a second reason, and that was that this universe didn''t allow Arsenal or Slaughter effects. Indeed, it was pretty down on Banes as a whole. Chalice''s default Slot arrangement was fixed and could not be altered once set.


    That was a major loss in combat flexibility. Being able to adjust a Weapon on the fly to fight a specific foe was extremely useful, the equivalent of a major psionic ability, like dimension-hopping or TK.


    Chalice was metal, and her Runes weren''t allowed to change, this Reality said so.


    But a soulblade could!


    The Runes of my soulblade were set by whatever ones the psychic energy passed through in its Focus. So, changing a soulblade meant dismissing it and reforming it with a brand-new set of Runes, that was all.


    It wouldn''t work for a Psion, of course, as their mindblade''s characteristics had to be mentally stamped into the weapon to take proper form. They could adjust the properties, but it would take time, as it literally meant changing their minds, and they could only choose from pure psionic properties. Focuses were generally used to provide flat Enhancement bonuses to their mindblades, while they used their flexibility for other special effects...


    For a Null Psion, it was the Focus that defined the form. In other words, Chalice was forming my soulblade, I was not. I only decided my soulclaws... but my soulclaws had resonance with Chalice, now that she was Soulbound to me...


    Levels, where you accumulated X experience and were awarded Y multiple benefits, didn''t happen here, except if something powerful was creating something else. No, all those benefits had to be purchased independently, and were subject to the 1/day limit rules.


    This was especially onerous for the Health and Soak advances, as they were both Hit Points. Because I was an ExLite, I had maximum Health and Soak. I literally could not choose to skip such advances, and would have to take them in order to advance a Level in my Racial and Primary Classes.


    Well, hardly a bad thing, but it sucked compared to when I could just Level and bam, here''s twenty-some Hit Points like, right now.


    But fine, fine, I had time...


    Mom had abused those rules, as she''d simply purchased most of the MAB advance of the Melee Class for me, straight up!


    The entire Melee Class was something like +10 MAB, +7 RAB, +100 Soak, +40 (70) Skill Points, +7/7/3 Saves, and buy a bunch of martial, armor, and weapon Proficiencies, Masteries, and Techniques, each one by one.


    It was meant to be accumulated slowly and gradually, as each tier of benefits cost more than the one before, just like Leveling. So, you''d buy all the benefits at one Tier, then buy all the ones at the next, and so forth and so on.


    Mom had directly driven me up the pole to +7 MAB and made me a melee machine. It was no wonder I''d been able to fight a bunch of Warped stuff I couldn''t remember, if it really happened. By even the standards of a Coronal Knight, I was very good with a blade in my hand.


    Profound Sword: The Sword is an extension of the hand. Any Feat, Technique, or Mastery that applies to unarmed combat applies to your Sword. It is treated as a spiritual weapon for purposes of ki. Requires Improved Unarmed Strike and Sword Specialization.


    My Soul is My Sword: your soulsword/mindblade is treated as a Sword for all purposes, and vice versa.


    Others mindblade users specialized in the mindblade, which was literally a solidified extension of their thoughts. It moved as they willed, it naturally harmonized with them.


    Mine was a tool, and that''s how I used it. Mankind brought themselves up from monkey-dom by using tools. Science was a thing, and that''s how I would approach this.


    ---------------


    "So, did she describe what a Null Psion is?" the older man asked gravely, frowning at the two young men before him. His spine was like steel, his uniform was spotless, his cloak hung perfectly even resting, his graying hair could defy a hurricane, and his blue eyes were like ice. At the side of his desk, a holo was up, and a sharp-faced man, hair dark, face wrinkled, his eyes permanently shadowed, regarded them the same way.


    "We did not press the issue overmuch initially, but her basic description was that we are squirt guns, and she is a sealed jar," Sir Dorval replied respectfully.


    Duke Honus Parablum, Senior Master of the Knights Coronal of Janus Prime, frowned. "Assuming that psionic power equals water... she cannot spend or release psionic power." He looked at another holo, coming up with the assessment results on her. "She has both a Nimbus and a Corona?" he observed, questioning.


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    "She described it as hitting someone with the jar."


    "Ah. Conversely, a psion would be hitting them with the gun, instead of shooting them. Much less efficient, much less powerful... unless it is quite a large gun, swung very hard."


    "That was my understanding, sir," Sir Dorval agreed.


    "A mindblade who never spends their Reserve. A very unusual way to operate," the Duke commented. "They would have an extraordinary focus on the acquisition of Nimbus techniques..."


    "She has Binary Suns and Falling Star, Extra Star, Star Core, and Star Heart. I also believe she has learned Clarity of Focus, and Gather Nimbus, based on how casually and easily she formed and dispelled her Nimbus during demonstrations. Furthermore, she has Solar Eclipse... her mindblade instantly comes up with Nimbus and Corona charged, and she charges them as one."


    "I am more impressed by her Claw control," Philius broke in as Dorval finished. "I watched her manifest her Claw, such as it was, on every striking surface of her body, from knees and toes to her forehead. She hammer-headed an inch-deep spiked hole into a steel table in testing. She is definitely not restricted to using them on her hands."


    "She''s a 6g High-G?" came the deep voice of Duke Rimval, the Eclipsed Master of the Inquisitors of Janus Prime. "It would take some high-grade power armor to be useful to her. That does take care of some early expenditures. Are you certain these combat evaluations are accurate?"


    "Are you asking if I allowed her to disarm me three times in a row, Your Grace?" Sir Dorval asked frostily.


    "Mmm, no. It is merely a surprising evaluation," the shadowy Duke replied smoothly.


    "In my estimation, she did not learn to fight using a mindblade, or even her Claws," Sir Dorval stated with great assurance. "There is a marked difference that any professional can see between a mindblade wielder and, say, a swordsman. The one is relying on their mindblade, and the other is wielding a weapon and relying on themselves. It is subtle, but very obvious in how they address and use the weapon. It may well come from being forced to use a Focus to manifest her blade. A mindblade with that much emphasis on the weapon is something of a fanatic. She probably sees it as just another usable weapon."


    "High-G''s often have cognitive impairment. I don''t see any sign of that on her assessments or scans," the shadowy duke noted.


    "She very directly stated that her being a Null Psion basically gives her physiological support on many levels, as her Reserve reinforces her body since it is not in a condition to be expended. Cranial reinforcement would be a natural extension of that. We could see no sign of degradation in her cerebral functions at any level. There did seem to be signs of a subcranial reinforcement network of anchoring fibers within her brain, like a skeleton to provide additional elastic support to her brain tissue against weight or sudden shocks. Psionic reinforcement of such fibers would be a given. It''s not at all unlike what some biopsis evolve, or gene-workers try to map into their clients," Philius answered promptly.


    "And she just grew it. Convenient for her. You certain you want to recruit this girl, Honus? Given this is Warp-related, she could literally have come from anywhere, although how and why she was brought here is probably going to be unsolvable."


    "Her Sword is gold," was the Coronal Duke''s only reply.


    But it was enough. "That is true." There were ways to mask a mindblade''s hue, but all such things were easily dispelled upon close examination, and this girl had been examined right down to her genecode. "The aberrations in her genecode?"


    Duke Parablum pursed his lips. "Are you actually describing a genecode that clean in the negative?" He waved his hand. "Whatever. It shows clear signs of genegineering, scraping away so much useless stuff from our base code... but the only things that were patently visible add-ons were the nymphal and High-G genetics. The latter is clearly a combat upgrade, while the latter is basically a social template with a high degree of acceptance."


    "You know there are suspicions about the true origins of nymphals," Duke Rimval said darkly.


    "There are suspicions about everything. You have the database; what of that brand on her?" Parablum inquired without batting an eye.


    "Definitely a Curse, Axiomatic, and extremely powerful," Rimval replied. "Or, to put it another way, it''s the residue of a Curse, the remnant left behind by an extremely powerful effect. Given the level of power it represents, I''m surprised she wasn''t reduced to protoplasm when it was activated. It doesn''t seem to be actively malicious, and it appeared to have little to no real power left... but what was done to her has carved it onto her psyche and soul. The chances of removing it are slim to none. It is curious that it can be temporarily moved about, but it is not truly relevant."


    "I regret that it does make her unsuitable for undercover work," Philius spoke up promptly. "There are few doors that a nymphal cannot open..."


    "Mmm. What do you make of the psionic circuits in her hair?" Duke Rimval asked of his peer.


    Duke Parablum frowned, and shifted quickly through some screens, arriving at the chosen data, and assimilating it in seconds. "Interesting. This is some very advanced psitech. I am guessing by the design that it is cosmetic and mildly kinetic. Inserting a strand of hydrourum a cell wide into every strand of her hair... someone is very detail-oriented. Needlessly complex, a cranial Tattoo could have done the same work. Is there a reason for doing this, other than wasting money?"


    "She can interface with electronics with it, sir," Sir Dorval supplied instantly, and the Duke glanced at him sharply.


    "This is a working cybernetic implant interface for a psi?" His expression changed.


    Cybernetics were taboo for mentalists, rapidly degrading their Reserve and Vertex as they accumulated, even something as minor as an eye with infravision and magscopes having a significant impact. Interfacing with computers directly seemed to have an adverse effect on many mentalists, and even the electro-kineticists and cyberpaths had to spend their Reserves to create an insulation effect for their brains when they hooked into devices. Deckers and jackers who hooked directly into a system basically burned their psionic potential down to next to nothing.


    The Mechanist Guild could spew their propaganda on the merging of man and machine all day, but the psionic disciplines embraced a core truth: Never rely on the machine...


    ===============


    Glossary:


    Star Heart: Your Mindblade is aligned (good/evil/law/chaos) and does +d6 dmg per hit. This is the feat that turns a mindblade metallic/crystalline.


    Clarity of Focus: Take 10 on all COncentration checks as desired, removing chance from the equation.


    Gather the Nimbus: +4 to Concentration Checks to gather Nimbus and Corona, +8 at 10th.


    Solar Eclipse: Gather Corona and Nimbus at the same time, instead of as separate actions.


    Battle Meditation (not mentioned, but she has it): Raise Concentration check Req by 10, increase the speed by one action when Focusing. Normal is a 15 for a standard action;25 for a Move Action; 35 for a Swift Action; 45 for a Free Action (1/rd). These stack, and are how you execute multiple Sun Strikes rapidly.

 296 Far Future Ch. 6 – Bosses with Insigh

    "She inserted her braid into a datajack without even thinking it was unusual, and started immediately pulling up general galactic history texts. I did not press the issue, wondering if it was due to her being a Null Psion," Philius reported.


    "Hmmm. An interesting note. Also, did she say whether this Null Psion discipline could be taught to others?" the Coronal Duke asked.


    Philius and Dorval looked at one another, and both sighed at the same moment. Philius held up a data stick and handed it over. "Only copy, sirs."


    Both men looked curious. Duke Parablum plugged it in and reviewed the small amount of contents with his counterpart.


    Duke Rimval was dead silent. Duke Parablum stared. "By the Emperor..."


    "Can this be proven?" Duke Rimval questioned, his voice deadly calm.


    "Only by trying, sir," Julius offered. "Mutations of various sorts in psionics are not unusual, as you know, nor are odd Wild Talents. However, she has no track of psi-active genetics at all, at least as we commonly understand them, and her arguments are concise and agree with commonly accepted basic psionic theory. It is simply that no one has ever arranged the details in such a way as to create a Path like this."


    "Wherever she is from has a psionic foundation of the highest caliber," Duke Parablum stated with utmost gravity. "If this is true, it could shake the Empire!"


    "It is more than that. It is hope against the Great Enemy," Duke Rimvald murmured. That he and Parablum had swapped observational viewpoints nobody commented on.


    Any human strong of body and heart can be a Null Psion, if they are not Psionic...


    The implications were huge. Psi-actives were a mere tithe of the population, and even those with the genes didn''t always become active, and sometimes were simply mentally incapable of controlling their gifts. On the other side, random mutations, Warp energies, alien sciences, and worse could spur the psionic gift out of nowhere, usually to disastrous effect.


    But... if any person with a strong enough physique could become this Null Psion, gather a Nimbus, manifest a mindclaw?


    The numbers of potential psions was unthinkable...


    And... they weren''t susceptible to the Warp!...


    Only copy of the file, indeed...


    "I trust she has been warned not to spread this information?" Duke Rimval inquired coldly.


    "Emphatically, sir. She didn''t seem to think it was very important, but she agreed."


    The two Dukes were silent with their own thoughts, looking at the standard table format and explanation of the Path of the Null Psi, written down in common language, very easy to understand.


    "She comes from a place where Null Psions are common," murmured Duke Rimval. "Could the Warp even reach such a place?"


    "Would they even allow it to?" Duke Parablum responded, getting more to the point, and everyone fell silent again.


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    At last Duke Rimval stirred. "Let us assume that something hostile to the Warp dropped her here. The Curse upon her is a seal upon her knowledge, so that it might not be so easily sensed, or spread, and her age further a way of disguising her status and position. If she is able to access that knowledge, the benefits she could bring to the Empire are incalculable."


    "Victory over the Great Enemy?" Duke Parablum nodded.


    "However, there is no way we can concentrate attention on her. The Enemy lives in the Warp, and is supernaturally sensitive to the ebb and flow of human thought. If we start focusing the attention of the Empire on her over this matter, action will be taken to eliminate her at all costs."


    Knights and Umbrans looked at one another. ''At all costs'' went way, way up the scale...


    Duke Parablum pulled out the datastick, glanced at it, and it fell to powder in his hand. He punched a button, and the datacore of his computer rose from his desk. With a tap, it was gone, too.


    "Assume that Duke Rimval and I are being watched passively by forces whose subtlety is beyond us. We cannot guard our thoughts properly against such forces.


    "The two of you, on the other hand, are not being watched, as junior members of what is, in the end, minor houses of our Orders." The Coronal Duke''s face was iron cold as he spoke. "Duke Rimval and I will delete any portion of this knowledge from our minds. That will leave the two of you as the only two members of our Orders who are aware of the potential of what this girl might represent.


    "Raise her up. Give her what training she wishes, access to what she needs. Let her know the implications of what she knows. If she is a Null Psion as she says, her thoughts cannot be read, she is invisible to the Warp. She can manifest changes that the entities of the Warp cannot anticipate nor see.


    "Be her friends and mentors, and save the Empire."


    Both of the young men in front of him swallowed, despite themselves, then steeled themselves. "Yes, sir. And if what she spoke of is not real?"


    "Then we have lost nothing but some nonsense and a few files I didn''t need, anyways." Which was true enough.


    ---------


    The two Dukes, one live and one on holo, watched their Juniors leave, and sighed together.


    "You didn''t dare to Read anything, did you?"


    "Given the risk of where the information would come from? No. I merely have a gut feeling of the clues for this case... or perhaps, the various facts only fit together a certain way." Rimval did not like relying on his gut, and was infamous for his detached ability to analyze a situation. "On what did you base your assessment?"


    "A sixteen-year old Seven with a pure Gold sword."


    Duke Rimval laughed dryly. "I should have known. Shall we?"


    "Mmm." Both men closed their eyes, going inside their own minds. The room was silent for several minutes, neither man nor holo moving, and then Duke Parablum grunted and opened his eyes.


    He swept them over his desk, noting the two piles of dust, one larger then the other. He thought for a moment.


    "We just wiped ourselves of something, didn''t we?" Duke Rimval''s dry voice spoke up.


    "We did."


    "Well, let''s hope it was for a good reason," Rimval''s raspy laughter sounded, and Duke Parablum smiled sternly in agreement as he cut off their connection.


    ==============


    My Vajra hummed in my bones as I bent over, grasped the bar firmly, wrapped my fingers around it, and rose up, bringing the bar and its variable-mass weights to my thighs.


    I snapped it up and over, bringing it to shoulder level, and slowly pushed it up over my head. I held it there for a ten-count, feeling the hum in my spine as my bones creaked, and then lowered it down, unflipped it, and bent back down to set it gently on the ground.


    The tester pursed his lips, and Philius and Dorval looked rather impressed. Watching a young woman snatch and lift a thousand pounds wasn''t something you saw every day, especially without any signs of psi-boosting.


    Granted, even a basic suit of power armor could do the same, but it was still impressive.


    "Obviously not your top weight, but your ability to handle the weight steadily is impressive. Any difficulties?" Sir Dorval asked me.


    "No." High gravities demanded overall improvement of the physical body, including strength, power, reaction time, precise movement, and overall health and vitality of the body. Although being able to lift a lot was a part of it when in normal Tellus-level gravity, it was far from the whole picture... and a very nice way to cover for my physical buffs, as it were.


    I was never going to be a bodybuilder, given my nymphal build, but I could be extremely toned... and my connective tissue was stronger than steel cable, my bones likewise hardened and more elastic to endure the force of things as simple as walking in multiple gravities.


    "Jump. No boosting."


    I nodded, crouching down and shooting upright.


    The ground receded nicely. I did the splits and a somersault just because I could, I definitely had the legs to show off, and then fell all the way back to the ground, hitting with knees slightly bent and taking the shock of impact.


    "Five meters," Philius said, making something of a face. "I can do that if I boost to it."


    "Or you could fly," I spoke up, and he smiled despite himself. "Or shadow-jump, or something similar." I waved my hand. "Don''t be envious of my being able to hop around when you can blink to the other side of the room." I waved at the end of the training chamber beyond, a hundred yards away.


    "It does not make it any less impressive in its own right."


    "Okay, so 99.9 to the nth percent of people can''t do the same, I agree." I looked back and forth between them as we walked away from the tester. "It looks like you two have something to say, and so do I."


    They looked at one another, and then at me. "Please," Sir Dorval deferred to me.


    "I think you should have me go undercover."


    They both visibly blinked. What? Undercover required the sort of appearance that blended in anywhere.


    "I can go undercover exactly once in my life, and that is now. ''Girl recovered from site of warp incursion; intended sacrifice released after assessment''. You can stick it right in there, and in doing so invent a history for me.


    "Can''t fake age. Obvious that I''m not a spy with this thing. The fact I was involved with a Warp incursion should be actually attractive to certain parties interested enough to look. My scant background should be, as well.


    "You also couldn''t fake your interest in Null Psions. That is not unexpected. However, the first requirement to be a Null Psion is that you must be a Null!


    "This is a choice that must be made when you are young, and have not set your heart on a Path... or it can be undertaken by a human whose has reached Seven and undergone his racial evolution twice, but has no psionic ability!"


    I looked back and forth between them. "Undoubtedly you have operators and special teams with non-psions who might qualify. That is fine. Opening them up and setting them on the road is not an issue, and once they are Open, the training is only a more focused version of training a Psion, focusing on Nimbus techniques of all sorts instead of use of psi.


    "But the easiest way to raise up a force of Null Psions is to grab them young, and grow them naturally, beneath the radar. Doing that in the Castle here will attract all manner of attention, and the sheer numbers that you need will not fit here, and make it and them a target.


    "I can start that process, and I can be an unbooked agent in the field, capable of doing things that neither of you want attributed to either of your organizations.


    "The only support I''ll require from you is a lot of reading material and a way to communicate. Oh, and some officially issued ID as a penniless rugrat, of course."


    The two men looked at one another in astonishment. Philius cleared his throat. "Actually, your thoughts are remarkably similar to our own. We should discuss the details further?"


    "That would be an excellent idea."


    -----------------

 297 Far Future Ch. 7 – Out on my Own

    And that''s how I ended up on the streets of Janus Prime, wandering around Downspire among the low-lifes and the poor down here, fallen from the great Upspire Pinnacles of the Castle and the Dungeon, as the headquarters of the Coronals and Umbrans were called.


    I had one of the ubiquitous bracelet-coms on my arm, two years old and not exactly stylish, scuffed up and abused... and currently packed full of histories and general education books for me to skim through.


    I was wearing a Belt. It had been hidden inside Chalice, all wrapped up and waiting for me in the Compressed hollow hilt there. A Heavy Gravity Belt, capable of taking me all the way up to 6 g''s.


    It was at 3 g''s now, and would slowly ramp up as my body healed to adjust to the greater weight. The standard was that I had to be able to do the same things at a higher gravity as I could formerly at a lower one, i.e. the standard was fixed, and I had to meet it to progress on.


    It would require time and a lot of physical training. Walking around weighing over two hundred kilos and only going to get higher, too. Hey, good thing I didn''t have any dangly or droopy body parts, huh...


    I''d had a dream about dressing up as a Coronal Knight in white and gold, showing them what a Gold could do... but being Dark Gold was more my style for now. Maybe later...


    I plugged in my hair and began to read and listen in my Visual File inside my head. Those from Sir Dorval were very classic and mainline, while Philius was more than happy to include stuff with differing viewpoints and interpretations. Given the sophistication of teaching media, it was a tremendous amount of information dump, and it was going to take me time to go through it... and now I had a connection to the Boole, the massively monitored internet that the citizens of Janus Prime could connect to.


    Ah, internet access for someone with a 25 and rising Intellect. The things that I could do...


    I began to fill in my lived-line, skating along through the underskirts of this vast stretch half-mile high residential bloks, and the factories and commericias that existed in between them... along with lots of stretches of no-man''s land and the like.


    I had sort of resolved that my Mark of Intellect was going to be the first one I raised to full strength, as I wanted to reach a 28 as soon as possible, and the more Skill Points the merrier, given how much I needed to learn and know to do my job right.


    Job then, right. I was going to need a job. There was only a couple credsticks in my pocket, untraceable and liquid cash which would basically feed me for a few days. Since I only needed a fraction of the food of others, they''d last a while.


    Well, what kind of job fit a footloose High-G with aggressive combat instincts and a mean streak when roused?


    ----------------


    Office of the Exterminatus Sanctia...


    I tried not to laugh at the sign with the puffed-up attitude, as well as several bullet holes and burn marks on it. The circle with a line through a six-legged insect kind of summed it all up.


    The city exterminators, widely dubbed The Termites, according to the Boole. Basically, you called them up, deposited money, and the wandering Termites popped up, killed what needed to be killed, and collected their pay. Got an official ID and coat patch and they almost checked your background when you signed up and paid the registration fee.


    The lady who took my paperwork was middle-aged, lined all over, and looked me over with the eyes of someone who''d just frown if the Emperor His Bad Self walked through the door and asked to register. Prints and DNA and eyescans, hey, matched up with the ID I suddenly had, I was an Official Native, if not a full Citizen, of Janus Prime now.


    She didn''t even take the time to show me how the program she fed into my Watch worked, telling me that it had all the instructions inside it and I could peruse it at my leisure and the monthly licensing fee would be deducted from my bounties monthly, thankyouhaveanicedaybye.


    I walked out of the decaying office an official Termite, out to save the world and shoot giant rats at the same time.


    It appeared I had a lot to read on the internal forums, too...


    --------------


    "Well, that sounds interesting."


    I watched the vid of a six-foot long spideroid coming out of a doorway, wrapping up a woman walking by, and dragging her back in as her friends barely turned around in time to scream in alarm. Naturally, their first reaction at the sight was to run like heck, writing off poor Nan-C Dru as a goner.


    Natural Termite stuff. Standard bounty for a spideroid thing, approximate size, bring proof of kill to local Termite office, blah blah. Small bonus for recovery of any items enabling identification of victims.


    Hey, that was only a half mile from here. I flicked on the acknowledgement and skated off in that direction. It was only posted a few minutes ago, and popped up because I was in the area. I should be among the first to get there.


    ----------------


    The place was a run-down factory area, of which there were literally hundreds of miles of through this mega-city. Janus Prime used a rolling pattern of urban renewal, designating certain sectors every year for destruction and rebuilding as necessary. Businesses would move into the new area, older ones would fall steadily into further decay as time marched on, becoming more decrepit and taken over by derelicts and those below the sight of the powers Upspire. Then it would come around again, things would be razed and built over, and the process would start again.


    There were dozens of layers of this underground, the city built up and up over millennia on the ruins of the old, and it was all perfectly natural, the underground living spaces were just more places for those Down and Underspire to live, work, and die, far from the light.


    As for the stuff below that, well, that was all part of the risk of living in Downspire. Upspire could and did add on new floors, too...


    I walked right in the door where the girl had been snatched, and looked around.


    It was perfectly dark, no lights, with a cloying thickness to it that told of a presence that gathered darkness to it and suppressed light. That was fine; when you have devilsight, darkness is like day, with the colors a bit muted.


    Plenty of ways to get around not being able to see, but the key point here was not what I could see, but what I could not see, i.e. stuff hidden in vents, tunnels, the other sides of doors, walls, and ceilings, and so forth.


    Outer office door, stripped of everything except the trash left behind by bums and people dumping theirs wherever it was convenient. Grey plascrete, support beams, and cables stripped of wiring and conduits, basically everything valuable or salvageable taken, including screws and nails.


    Nothing like an efficient recycling society, I mused to myself, and glided forwards.


    I flowed through the mess on the floor, papers, scraps, and the bones of things that had died here. There were whispery flutters of stuff among them, and I narrowed my eyes. Silk... with a line of psi running through it.


    What we had here was an early-warning system, disguised among the debris.


    My Null radiated out, bore down on the stuff, and the shadowy influence was suppressed and faded away, without being tripped. It would feel like its duration had run out, rather then being broken or dispelled, and I walked through and over the stuff, my Vajra ensuring it didn''t stick to me.


    I could see the stickiness of blood, and make out the scarring scuffs of the claws on the ends of the spideroid''s legs, looked like ten of them, eight for travel and two for grasping.


    I followed calmly, stretching my awareness out along and through the floor and walls, up to the ceiling.


    Ho. I looked up at a ventilation duct revealed by the crumbled remnants of the ceiling, and pulled out Chalice.


    Just a flash and a hum of gold, and the baby spideroid, body only the size of a human torso, flinched and died as my soulblade punched through what passed for its brain.


    It looked like momma was feeding a few babies. Under the byrules, if I stumbled upon a nest, due to the increased threat level, I was naturally offered a bounty multiplier.


    I''d have to come up, rip open this duct, and extract its head. Since I wanted its nexal crystal, a two-fer.


    Maybe the light was seen, maybe it wasn''t. I continued forwards, wispy stretches of shadow and silk melting in front of my Null.


    There, on the other side of this thin wall of plascrete. Chalice drove through and Flared, cutting it in two in the room on the other side. I waited by the hole as it quivered, curled up, and fell off the wall, before moving past the doorway gaping open to the side, any door long since carted off for use elsewhere, and even the hinges long gone.


    Useful to man and beast, as it were.


    Found my first cocoon of human remains a minute later, discarded in a dusty sideroom, a bag of hardened skin around bones, organs all sucked out. Didn''t touch them yet, they''d been moved here from elsewhere. Judging by the building layout, a major common room, probably used for assembly or inventory storage, was just ahead, the garage door usable by lifters ripped off its rollers and taken elsewhere, leaving a big gaping hole in the wall that could fit a whole swarm of wall crawlers.


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    I slid up close to the edge, and looked out, and up.


    Huh.


    There were at least twenty of them that I could see, most smaller than the one in the vid, but there were at least two of those, and a big ass web maze assembled up among the rafters of the ceiling, with something impressive at the core of it.


    Well, just one spideroid, right? Hah...


    Still, time was a-wasting. Other Termites might be on the way, so no reason to just sit around and do nothing.


    I reallocated my enhancements through Chalice, flicked her up, and tossed the flaming blade out.


    I spit one of the smaller ones, hit the webbing he was scuttling along, and set it on fire. With a woosh, it began to spread rapidly, and as I flicked up a new blade, I swept left and right at sticky tendrils hung down like fishing bait, and they zipped burning up to the webbing above.


    There were hissing sounds, and things in black with many legs began to move very quickly in the direction of the glowing golden sword that nobody could miss. I whooped and grinned and cut the first one jumping down at me with widespread legs in two, ignoring it as the slick, yet bristled hide and legs bounced off me, and was on to the next one.


    When the momma spideroid, with a body fully eight feet long, came bursting out of that big bunch of webbing in the middle of the room, I grinned and headed for it, arcs of golden light flashing and Flaring around me as the small ones died and the bigger ones blew apart with Sun Strikes ripping them apart.


    They were psionic, so Psi-bane worked just fine on them, but no reason I couldn''t add Vermin to the Slaughter for my Banes. Not all overgrown bugs were going to be actively psionic, right?


    Well, they probably were, but no harm in adding it, just in case.


    I should probably let them splatter me a bit, just to make it look good.


    -------------


    The biggest thing was finding something to carry my spoils and identifying trophies in. I didn''t have a Disk to pile things on or a Masspack, yet.


    Thankfully, Momma Spideroid''s thorax was pretty sizable, and once the guts and everything were cleaned out, it fit all their severed heads (after suitable pictures were taken), along with the skulls and what armbands I could find among the score or so of web cocoons scattered across the place and adjacent rooms. I stuffed everything in there nicely, tied it all up with webbing, and walked out a different door than I''d come in with my prize.


    There was a Termite office down thataway a mile or three where I could turn in my catch. Humming happily, I headed off that way, as I noticed a couple vans pull up, and some fellows in patchwork body armor and bearing workable firearms pile out of them. I discretely moved myself out of their line of sight. Miss Dru was naturally dead and in the process of getting liquified by a fast-acting poison, at least judging by the way her insides drained out when I removed her head for identification.

 298 Far Future Ch. 8 – First Meeting with My Queen

    Termite offices were open at all hours, since exterminators worked the oddest of shifts, and wanted to get paid pronto, instead of sitting on kills which could be taken away from them. There were people who thought of camping Termite offices to waylay returning Termites and steal their evidence, and there were a lot of dead people who wound up beside Termite offices and were unceremoniously left for TC''s scrupulous curbside cleaners and soylent recyclers, too.


    I contributed to the city''s fine gak-food when a lowlife walked out from behind a building in front of me, his face half-metal, hulking with a cyberarm visible, and grinning at me like something out of a freak show. "Hey, there, little girl, need some help carrying that?"


    The next second Chalice had blown through his chest, the Sun Strike shattering his power core and his heart at the same time, and then turned back to punch directly into the face of the guy rushing in with a remarkably quiet vibro-knife from behind.


    They hit the ground about the same time together, and I almost walked on before sighing, setting down my dripping thorax, and reaching down to rip off their bands and their wallets, before heaving them non-too politely into the gutter.


    I knew eyes were upon them, and Mr. cyborg here''s arm was going to be detached right in public and the neural circuitry torn out of him messily. Within an hour it''d be on the table at a chop doc, ready to be cleaned up and re-used.


    And hey, got me some cred sticks and a new/old vibro-knife. I put it in its sheath and trundled along, and nobody tried to stop the bladebelle again.


    I wandered up to doors which looked like they could stop an armored truck, brought up my badge id on my Band, and the doors opened resignedly.


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    Of course, someone walking in with a giant greasy black spider thorax dripping on their shoulders, as well as smelling like I did, was going to get some attention, regardless of how much the other party had seen.


    The short woman with an acid burn across half her face, leaving her with a glossy, mottled patchwork of synthskin where it had been unable to heal properly, looked up at me, flicked knowing, unimpressed eyes at the thing on my shoulder, and glanced at her screen.


    "Sama Rantha. This is only your third visit to a station. What are you claiming?"


    "The recently posted spideroid a couple miles away." I jerked my head over my shoulder. "Uh, can I claim the two kill-jumpers lying dead in the gutter outside?"


    Her screen flickered, and her sour half-smile, because half her face didn''t move, didn''t change. "No." There were already four people at work stripping them down, a good day''s work. "We pay for vermin, not scum."


    I had to grin. "So mean!" I sighed. "Oh, I have an upgrade to report on the original bounty. Full nest, queen, four matures, twenty-three young, and egg-sacs. Nineteen total victims remains, I assume they''d only been there for a week or two."


    She pushed her glasses back, looked at the back end I had on my shoulder. "In there?"


    "Yeah."


    "Go to the disposal room in the back. I''ll ring the manager to sign off on the upgrade."


    "Right!"


    There was a screech as two vans drew up outside the doorway. I sauntered across the room as the men inside piled out, and charged inside.


    "You! Girl! Hold up!" the guy in the lead snarled, lunging after me.


    I turned around, and he came up well short as he saw the golden Claw humming on my hand.


    I just looked at him, calculating the credits if I were to kill him and loot him here, and his jaw worked for a moment, before he finally burst out, "That''s our claim! You jumped our claim!"


    I turned a cold eye to the short woman behind her glass partition. "Miss Harring?" I asked archly.


    "Your Claim came in first, and is valid," she reported with deadpan neutrality.


    "That was our territory!" the man snarled. "Nobody jumps a claim in our territory!"


    I just looked at him. "Are you actually trying to enforce a Regulation Four code violation in front of a government official?" I asked archly.


    He blinked at me, his jaw worked, and he looked over at the cold-eyed Miss Harring standing there glaring at him. Regulation Four clearly stated that claims were first-come, first serve, and that any territories set up or divided among agents of the Exterminatus Sanctia were unenforceable, and attempted enforcement of such claims was reasonable cause for use of force.


    In short, he had just given me a reason to kill him... or Miss Harring could, if she was of a mind to.


    "Uh, uh, uh, no..." he stammered, backtracking himself very quickly.


    I nodded at him. "That''s too bad. It looks like I''d get a couple thousand creds off you, selling that body armor, nightsight, and tactical las. Looks like you took a sinew fiber upgrade too, huh? Wonder how much those go for at the chop doc." He flushed despite himself, trying to meet my eyes and failing.


    I flicked my eyes to meet those of the others standing behind him, one by one. "Just so you know, I now have reasonable cause to believe you are Regulation Four violators. That means if you show up at one of my Claims and do not immediately vacate the premises upon learning that I am there, I have proximate cause to eliminate all of you, and get quite a haul of equipment and vehicles in doing so, so there is significant monetary incentive for me to just butcher you all."


    They blinked at the bladebelle with the queen thorax I had carried for three miles over my shoulder, and then remembered what they''d seen at the target site.


    "Where''s... where''s the rest of your team?" the lead guy asked faintly.


    "I''m not registered to a team. Have a nice night!" I turned back and headed through the break room/lounge area inside, to the disposal room off to the right.


    Sure, I''d never used it, as the giant neo-rats I''d killed the previous two times could be dropped off at public recyclers and compensated on the spot for their value in protein bars. Mmm, gak-food. Buuuut, all Termite offices were modular and identical, prefab government design that saved money and could be replicated again without thought. After all, some of this shit couldn''t be shoved down a recycler, or you might introduce mutagens into the mix.


    Eating mutant shit, especially phrenic mutant shit, made more mutant shit.


    ---


    There was someone waiting inside the room.


    He was a couple inches taller than me, built on the heavy side, with old stimulated muscle acquiring a layer of fat from a sedentary job. His pale brown eyes were a bit on the disturbing side, but complemented his thick brown hair, shortly trimmed mustache, and old white shirt, suspenders, and brown pants equally well.


    He had a firearm in a shoulder holster, worn like it had been there since he was born, and by the lines on his face, his frown had been there that long, too.


    "You want an upgrade from a bounty." I blinked at his totally flat tone, his voice deep, and just radiating ''I am unimpressed.'' I had to smile.


    "Yes, My Queen." As he watched, I executed a full formal curtsy, dripping mutant spider thorax on my shoulder and everything, and rose up again under his watchful gaze.


    We were known as Termites. Office managers were thus all dubbed Termite Queens, although few would say it to their faces.


    Not the slightest tic of a smile or anger. His eyes just said he''d seen it all before, and it had been unamusing then, too.


    "A full den; queen, four adults, two dozen young, nineteen victims." I set the thorax down on the long table. "I did a sweep of the surrounding fifty meters of the facility, and found a few more webbed chambers, and one egg sac, but no further presences. However, given the size and number of them, they could not have been in the area long, so they probably migrated from another area, moving here so as not to alarm their prey. My guess would somewhere east of here, judging by the oldest tracks, which all entered through the same second floor window."


    As I spoke, I cut open the thorax, and with some wet squelches and a really bad smell, began to lift out the contents.


    I lined up the heads of the spideroids by size, the molting stages obvious, waved the cleaver-like forelimbs of the queen at him, then chopped them into the plascrete, where they stood on their own.


    He didn''t blink, just sitting there watching, ignoring the eye-watering stench, and I continued with the skulls, wrapped in shirts and with what jewelry or electronics might identify them, including the relatively fresh Miss Dru.


    "I''ve got the file of the takedown and quick pass of the surroundings. Where would you like me to send it?"


    He just lifted his arm and the Band there; I waved mine at his, and sent the file over. Given I could download visual data directly to it through my hair, and timestamp it, it was as good a proof as you were likely to get, barring someone who could hack Riiiilly well. Mine eyes were cameras, flick flick flick!


    He just glanced at his Band, obviously having a neural link to it, and shuffled through the contents of the file at speed, especially the leg-point contact plotting and how it was spread over the factory.


    "You can track them." It was a question again, but master of the monotone manager here delivered it in the same voice.


    I tilted my head. "Yes, My Queen, I could..." I didn''t know his name, so I called him what was appropriate.


    He just ignored it. "I can authorize a kill expenditure of targets acquired by tracking if you will pursue them." Stated as a fact, not even an offer, really.


    I thought about that. "I will need to get paid first. As you can tell, I''m not at all geared up. I''ll also need a Masspack or Disk to carry kill proof on."


    He looked over the array of proofs of death, monstrous and human, and then looked down at his Band. Lights flashed and flickered, screens holo''d past, and checkmarks were made.


    My own Band dinged with ''You''ve got Money!'' in a cheery note. I opened up my Termite account, and grinned at getting paid. "Can I exchange direct pay for suitable materials for use in my Termite activities?" After all, getting hold of some of that gear was not easy.


    "What are you requesting." Again, the period with the question. Truly a master of the monotone.


    I tapped up my Band and brought up the holo of the materials request for a Disk, and a standard-issue narrow-form Masspack. "I can empower the Disk myself, but I also need raw material of high quality, uncut, for a psi-crystal. Non-energized diamond or corundum would be best."


    His face stayed apathetic as his Band danced, and winked up with a holo of the online Mentat auction house. Multiple uncut diamonds suitable in size for a psi-crystal were there, and were rapidly thrown away as he filtered through them for the 30+ potential, based on clarity.


    "Item 26457-a," I said, noting the price. Psi-crystals were a high demand item, but you didn''t need a high-quality gem for them, and having them Energized was usually a waste. Better material grade was only needed if you were cutting them for high-end psionic-empowered jewelry, and if you were strong enough to do that, you were strong enough to refine lower quality gems into higher ones. So, the difference in price was the time savings, which was nominal, vs the skill required to actually make use of it, i.e. the demand for the higher Quality Level just wasn''t there.


    However, if you wanted to upgrade your Psicrystal, you did need a certain level of QL. I could not actually refine the thing, so I needed something good to start with, and I could improve it by cutting it better over time.


    I needed QL 35 at the end, so a fine quality level. I didn''t have to worry about competition from jewelers, as most gemstone bling jewelry was just forge-grown and psionically useless.


    They''d have materials and Masspack here in a day, another day to make the Disk and my psi-crystal. Tracks grow cold...


    "I want an hourly wage for the tracking process, My Queen. I''ll keep you updated of my progress, and immediately go to bounty and hazard pay if I encounter danger."


    "Granted." Totally unfazed. A moment later my mission account updated. I eyed a livid scar mostly concealed by his collar, the smear of a burn under his right eye, wondered about his past, and how he seemed to know everything about being a Termite.


    "Then I''ll head back right now and start." He didn''t even blink as I curtsied again, turned around, and strolled out the door.

 299 Far Future Ch. 9 – Tracking Bugs! In the Big Leagues Now!

    Egil Rosenblaun bent down to examine the cuts on the heads and bodies of the spideroids, noting the surgical ease with which they''d been carved through. As their bodies were as tough and elastic as flexamite armor, capable of taking sustained small arms fire, this was pretty impressive.


    That was a very impressive mindblade, if that was true. He grunted. He might just have found someone competent enough to take on some of the backlog cases.


    He began to review her killfile, and appreciated the thoroughness. Vid file combined with building layout and scan results, locations of the dead and missing along with the kills, very neat and ample justification for release of funds if his superiors asked. Not that they bothered. He was long since good at being so thorough they didn''t even bother looking at his claims anymore... unless there was interference Higher Up.


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    Now she was on the clock and moving back towards the killsite that she had just vacated. He''d have to send in a cleaning team to wash the place down of mutant flesh and blood, or who knew what else might settle in there... standard protocol, there were always pyros happy to do a flamewash...


    He also noted the two dead punks outside were being unceremoniously sucked into the cleaning vehicle of the TC, right on time...


    -------


    Their backtrail wasn''t all that hard to follow. Actually, a dog probably could have done it, because they all came the same way. I noted a massive dearth of the local rodent population and recent signs thereof, as well as all the stuff that usually fed on them. Ah, picking off bums, cats, rats, dogs, and lizards. The preferred diet of mutant night hunters everywhere.


    The trail led over and through a bunch of abandoned buildings, all of them looming empty of life, and more than a few of them with webbed bodies decaying in corners, who I harvested a bone sample from. At least three had been places where addicts and the lowest of street girls did their trade, now suspiciously silent and empty of anything. Some of the spiders had checked back regularly to see if there were more victims, too.


    Up, down, and around. They didn''t cross any major roads aboveground, a sure way to be caught by camera. No, whole stretches were along subterranean walkways, sunken hallways, silent transfer lines no longer used, or oversized ventilation tubes gone still and quiet. They''d done a real good job of clearing off those who''d set up shop in their path, and then immediately moving on.


    Thankfully my attack on their queen had driven them all to attack me, and she hadn''t run away while I was fighting and killing all her babies. Lucky me, right?


    I was plotting this whole course of travel, very interesting, and wondered just how far and deep this world went. I''d have to find out. The Boole wasn''t giving much detail, but seemingly there was a whole sunken sea under the city, some five thousand feet down, and the water wasn''t totally caustic or anything. That was a lot of build-up over time. I knew the foundations for the algae-vats and recycling pits went down a long ways...


    Met nothing bigger than my hand on the way, and most of those were sliced in passing. Some of the vents and pipes were kind of small, but if the spideroids could pass, especially that queen, I certainly could. My Vajra squeezed me through in a nigh-frictionless manner.


    Up, down, around, repeat. I covered over three miles on the surface, at least six miles with the rising and falling between all these interconnected buildings, and didn''t step outside even once. Damn. This place was a maze of mazes.


    Of course, I knew all that. I''d been tracking just the subways and underground I could see/reach from the surface, and that had been pretty complex all by itself. While the thought of Live-Lining this whole city was pretty dazzling, I realized I probably wouldn''t have the time. Well, I had the time, but I wasn''t going to take the time. Hundreds of cubic miles of city was just too damn long to travel all the way through.


    But damn if I wasn''t going to go through a huge part of it, because it was like the biggest dungeon just waiting ever... and I got sooo much practice with my Tremblesense and working on the upgrades to it...


    --------


    It probably would have blinked if it could, the five beady orbs looking in my general direction as it scampered over the edge of the pipe and literally ran into my face before it stopped.


    So there I am, face to face with this shadow-oozing, poison-dripping, cleaver-waving, mandible-working, ten-legged pig-sized spideroid.


    My Claw became a blade on my face and I lunged up and came down on it.


    Now, getting my face full of spideroid blood is not the way I wanted to greet the morning, but needs must. I slammed its head to the pipe, which burst wetly, and it didn''t give off more than a quiver of its legs before it stopped moving.


    They might smell the blood, but I couldn''t do anything about that. I shoved the carcass back out, not sensing any movement in range as I did, and grabbed the rim to flip myself out and come down on it with a bit more a crunch as the durasteel pipe faintly protested my weight.


    I''d seen at least two other packs of spiders diverging away from this trail here, so my pack hadn''t been the only one leaving from this location. I had the impression I was getting close, because there was a cold and bitter smell in the air... and a lot more shadow silk evaporating around me.


    Big room, lots of large pipes, pumping machinery, very automated, limited access. I''d come through a ventilation pipe with the vermin barriers removed at some time in the past centuries, giving these guys an easy way out.


    I touched one of the pipes running past in parallel. Semiliquid ooze mixed with numerous solid objects of varying densities flowing past at a constant rate...


    Sewage lines. I was near one of the major pumping and cleaning stations for the city''s waste?


    Motion caught my eye, and I glided to a stop as I saw a large cover slowly get pried open against its counterweights, probably a lift tunnel for moving heavy equipment below. It creaked a little as it was forced open by numerous legs, and then up boiled two dozen spideroids, small ones first, moving around the bodies of the larger ones holding open the cover, and then the larger ones followed, carefully moving up as they held open the lift seal, and then the queen of the group was suddenly up and through, and the adults released and let the seal slide slowly shut.


    Huh, would you look at that.


    I double-checked my authorization... wow, nice; visual authorization accepted commiserate with date and location logs. I''d been clocking my location, of course, but the pipes and ground structure was totally cutting off my Boole links, so I was on my own for now.


    But that was okay.


    The spideroids seemed to pick up the death pheromones, and scuttled in my direction. I smiled and waited for the Cleave Train to form ¨C


    Now.


    Chalice hissed to golden life, and I was moving.


    Hit the first one, full length of its body. Death. Cleave through to the second one starting to rear up, take off its upper body and parts of four legs. Step. Third one, split its head upwards. Step. Diagonal down on the next. Step. Rip down the side of the fifth, legs bouncing off me as they were severed and fell past me. Step.


    From their standpoint, what they saw is someone dancing forwards in diagonal patterns, and a glowing golden arc of light passing through and past their little ones.


    They reared up, looking mighty impressive with those cleaver-pedipalps, and lunged at me.


    I Flared my Sword at the first one, and the Sun Strike ripped through it rather explosively, ending it immediately in messy fashion. The next one leapt at me, ate the sword that snapped up to meet it right in the mandibles, and I ripped it through and tore off its blade-leg as I stepped past, ignoring the other legs ramming into my chest as it died. Chalice Flared again as I focused and my Nimbus returned, while Combat Focus kept me straight anchored against their mass and arms.


    Three, four, six more small ones died in a ball of dripping fangs and blade-like pedipalps, the last elder came in, missed with its first attack, lost its second when I cut that limb off, tried to bite me, Sword Beats Fist activated to plunge into its mouth, and only the Queen was left.


    This one had some sense, and scuttled rapidly to leave, moving over the pipes and uneven flooring with a spider''s casual ease of defying gravity, despite being the size of a cow.


    I flipped off my belt, bounded after her, and as she was driving her legs into niches in the plascrete wall and climbing for altitude, her unblinking eyes saw me running along the wall for thirty feet and driving Chalice right into the joint of her thorax while all her legs were occupied. Oh, and I turned off the Belt as I hit her, slicing her thorax clean off, ripping her off the wall, and we fell twenty feet down to a patient pipe where five hundred pounds or so me, aided by the golden ridge that came up along my backside, slammed down on the queen and cut her in two again, ringing against the patient durasteel pipe a little loudly, but nothing to write home about.


    Would something come up from below to investigate?


    I eyed my clothes, where stabbing blade-legs and bristles like thorns had totally savaged my shirt and pants, although they hadn''t been enough to draw blood. I looked around at the mess I''d made, and moved quickly to grab my harvest of nexal crystals from inside the carcasses.


    Oh, hey, more of them were coming up? Little ting ting impacts of their legs on the durasteel of the liftshaft were coming up from below, like alarm bells to my Trembling Domain.


    I debated on what to do, but I felt they had more than animal cleverness, and did I absolutely want them knowing a human had been here? I didn''t leave any scent, so they wouldn''t know what killed everything here...


    Then again, I didn''t know what was down below here, either. I only knew a lot of these things came up from down there and headed away, the behavior of things leaving a colony because the numbers were too large.


    I debated, and then I shrugged, because I didn''t know what was down below, and I really had to learn.


    The lift for this hole was down below. I thought about that, looked over the levers here and there, walked over, and pulled one down.


    There was a hum of machinery, counterweights clunked and clanked, and the hole levered itself open of its own accord.


    A few adult spideroids pulled themselves out of it, looking a bit twitchy, possibly because they were met with the smell of a lot of dead of their own, including the queen that had recently come up this way.


    I dropped down from above on the first of them, my heels like a plunging axe, and drove the thick resistance of its head into the plascrete floor. As the others reared and moved, Chalice was humming and lighting into them. Forcing into them? Mwa-ha-ha...!


    ----


    The side of the shaft had recessed rungs in it for emergency exiting, thoughtful of them. Probably why the sliding hatch could be forced. I went down the webbed-up sides quickly, the black webbing dissolving around me and my Null, reached the ground now decorated with a couple fallen spideroids, and knew I didn''t have much time.


    That was okay, because I didn''t want to take much time.


    I stepped out of the lift-shaft, and found myself in a larger underground space. At this point, I was about three hundred feet under the street, and I found myself looking at a lot of convoluted piping, coming into and going out of nowhere, yet with plenty of extra space where power-machinery could be suspended from rafters and bring in and place new pipes. The place went on for miles, of course, beyond my sight, pipes mostly straight, but coming into and out of the walls, merging, splitting, and doing that engineering for multi-millions thing.


    It was all festooned with webbing and crawling with spideroids, web tunnels, egg nests, and the like.


    The crux of it was down low and about a quarter mile away, where a bulging mass of webbing was gathered around one of the pipes. The webbing seemed to be slowly moving, pulsing, and pumping stuff out of the pipe. The webs around it seemed thicker, carrying the contents away from that pipe, while spideroids were clustered around the webbing, occasionally leaving it with prizes grasped in their limbs, or entering to try their luck.


    The smell was enough to tell me... they''d broken into one of the sewage lines, and were feasting off the organic material within. They were probably fishing for corpses and other things tossed into the sewers by those wanting to hide something, which in a city this large would have been an uncomfortable number. Maybe baby alligators or lizardoids too, who knew?


    Their webbing must have had some ability to filter the organic waste out of the slurry, and was slowly drawing it out for the spideroids to feast on.


    Well, wasn''t My Queen going to get his money''s worth. I wondered if he was still on duty, considered that he probably slept there, and realized it was time for me to go while some people with a lot more firepower cleared this place. I mean, this place couldn''t have been more than a couple of years old, or the inspection drones would have discovered it. I shook my head at the speed of reproduction and growth all of this represented, wondered where the spideroids had come from originally, and headed back up the shaft.


    Back at the top, I closed and locked the hatch, and then looked around for alternate ways out of here. No reason not to expand the lived-line while I could, right? And Termites engaged in underground travels and with the proper licenses had authorization to use access tunnels and the like... some of whom abused it, and who generally got quickly dead if they did, and others who ended up in all sorts of interesting places where they weren''t wanted, and sometimes where they were wanted for dinner.


    Ah, the Underspires. Truly a massive dungeon...

 300 Far Future Ch. 10 – Some Backup Requested

    "-and that''s the summary, My Queen. An infestation of Class Three or Class Two, depending on how far and deep it goes. A little bit beyond the hourly you assigned me, and, um, I don''t really want to try all those numbers at this time."


    Mr. Personality''s pale tan eyes studied mine in the holo, rapidly going over the file I''d sent him. "I''ll send it on up to Juris, and they''ll deploy a fire team." The video certainly would help.


    "Make a note that all illumination in the video is under darklight, and it''s totally dark from Gloam down there." Because I was recording the video from what I was seeing via devilsight, like. "But I smell and I need new clothes, My Queen. I''m gonna go contemplate my navel for a few hours, and then I''ll see about tracking down those other two or more packs that came out from this swarm."


    "Juris would like you to stay on station while they assemble a fire team and guide them down." Meaning stay put, it wasn''t actually a request.


    My eyes, which were drooping, rose again. This guy definitely knew how to work the system. Then again, Juris didn''t get a bomb dropped on them like this all the time, and it was time to have some fun, I guess. "Uh, if you review my route in and out, there''s no way they are going in that way. They''ll never fit."


    "Their problem." And mine.


    "Fine. I get overtime, hazard pay, bounty on any kills, a bonus based on eventual size of the hive for discovering it, and someone better bring me a new shirt and pants."


    "I''ll put in the paperwork." And he seemed to be the master of paperwork.


    I lolled my head back, and began to zone, ignoring the early morning skulkers throwing looks at me as I sat there on a public bench in the remains of my clothing.


    Just another day as a Termite, I grinned to myself. I''d already flipped a bunch of advances when my Renewal came at midnight, so I was doing something right...


    ------


    "Miss Sama Rantha?"


    I heard the hum come down and pause next to me. I opened my eyes and turned my head, and the snappily-uniformed rider on the hoverbike floating there, the target of a lot of very curious eyes, looked me over in grave interest from behind his visor.


    "That would be me," I agreed with a nod. "What brings a nice boy like you down from Upspire?"


    He grinned despite himself. "Kapitalist Kourier. Delivery?" He held out a box to me, and his clipboard.


    I took them both, stared at the receipt.


    Delivery from the Mentat Auction House. One standard-size Klos-Fyt Sym-tactical Masspack; one Psicrystal-intended gemstone, uncut; and one complementary pair of Mentat shirt and pants, thank you for your business.


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    I snorted despite myself, thumb-printed, eye-blinked, and it recorded the double verification of delivery. I handed it back. "Got a card?"


    He swiped at his Band, mine blinked, and I looked at Niles Fergal''s data. "Got it. Have a safe trip up."


    "You know it!" He kicked the bike, and it rose straight up into the air towards the hover lane a hundred yards above, where TC took it and yanked it into the flow of traffic smoothly.


    Ignoring everyone watching, I slit open the synthi-board box, and lifted out the Masspack.


    I''d already verified what was inside as soon as I grabbed it, otherwise I''d''ve inspected it before I gave him back the receipt. I lifted out the crysmesh of the Masspack, only rated for a hundred pounds of weight offset, but that was enough for me. It was more for the storage room for the homeless girl.


    I put my fingers inside, found the shrunken non-living items there, hooked them with my Vajra, and pulled them out.


    You didn''t fuck with expanded dimensional spaces, as it was an open invitation for the Warp to pop that little bubble of space and reach out and introduce themselves to you... as well as a good chunk of the surrounding area. Shrinking stuff, on the other hand, was a perfectly viable solution, you only need a dash of inertialess to compensate for the weight and mass, which didn''t go away, but that wasn''t too hard.


    I let the shirt fall down... dark navy blue, white lettering around pictures of a brain, front and back, gen-cotton, just an average t-shirt.


    Mentats think first, shoot laterandMentats do it in their heads.


    Uh-huh...


    The pants were synthweave, bleeding off heat, still insulating, and sticking skin-tight as they did so. I lifted an eyebrow at the lettering on the seams on the sides... Mentats follow the lines.


    My Queen had a sense of humor, was punishing me, or just had no taste. I couldn''t decide which of the three fit. Possibly all three.


    I shrugged, tore off my pants with my Vajra while I had the shirt in front of me, and the hot pants slid right up without me laying a finger on them, to the dismay of some of the watchers. My shirt kind of fell away, cut apart in a flash of gold light like the pants, even as I was pulling the new shirt down over my head.


    Technically I was perfectly clean due to my Vajra, but I still wanted a bath. Ah well.


    I wasn''t really wearing shoes, just leather straps which those glancing at would mistake for sandals, as my skin was as hard to punch as metal, and more absorbent... and having improper footwear on would interfere with my lightfoot and my Tremblesense. I didn''t normally walk on the ground, per se, so there was no issue with my footprints.


    And if I had black goth toenails, I had black goth toenails. I could always paint them.


    I shoved the scraps of my old clothes in the trash bin nearby, and shrugged on the Masspack.


    It had carry straps and the like, but I didn''t actually need them. My Vajra held it in place just fine, molding it to my backside comfortably. It had some exterior pockets for quick access for non-shrunken stuff, but I doubted I''d be using them.


    I reached in with my hair, and pulled out the small box the diamond came in.


    It was just a lump of uncut crystal at this point, and didn''t look like a diamond at all. That was fine, there was work to be done, shaving it down, getting the facets just right to balance and harmonize both light and internal psionic flows. Between my Vajra and my tremblesense, I had a perfect picture of its internal structure, and whipped up a diagram of it into my Visual File to look at and analyze, as fine as any gemcutter''s analytical devices.


    Adamantine mindblade, i.e. Star Core, makes for adamantine soulclaw, too. Perfect for gem cutting...


    I made the first few cuts with finger taps, letting the severed bits fall into the box it came with. I could make earrings out of them, or even diamond dust, if need be. Irregular chunks fell away, tap, tap, tap...


    Looks like I''d get a seven-carat stone out of this, marquise-cut. Good enough. I only needed a QL 20 for the original stone, I could refine and add more cuts and facets later. I inscribed the binding Runes almost at the molecular level, something normal simply imbued by the psion establishing the connection and just weaving a false Vertex into it. As the Runes began to thirst for energy, I simply placed a drop of blood on it, establishing a link through the tried and true process of DNA''s harmonics... and since I had a Mark IV Vajra, I placed a combined point of Vajra into it to get the ball rolling.


    It lit up with light, rapidly harmonizing to my aura and hooking into me. It wasn''t quite an independent thinker yet, but that wasn''t all that far away. It was a little point of mental light, a bit smarter than a dog or newborn child, with a set of eyes and a determined air about it.


    Oh, and I picked a band of resonance to my will that gave me +2 to Fort Saves, and thus to my Null. It also could see for about thirty feet around it, which was just fine for watching above and behind me.


    "Your name is Grim!" I declared firmly, and the roughly cut diamond twinkled in my fingers. I stuck him into my hair, clasping him in my locks at the top and back of my head. Directly mounted onto my hair, it was exactly like having a third eyeball back there, with a rather short range.


    I tossed the box of diamond bits back into my Masspack, and my Band beeped at me.


    Ho, the Juris were coming...


    ---------------


    The people didn''t stick around to gawk when the big black hoverwagon descended from above, TC clearing the traffic and giving it absolute right-of-way as it came down with horns blaring.


    The normally curious sorts evaporated, and the streets cleared up very quickly. Pedestrians found other routes, traffic was redirected, and shutters closed on windows all around.


    As you can see, everybody loved the Juris, especially their tactical teams.


    I walked up to the plaza as the bay doors opened, and the guys in tactical power armor began to disembark.


    Normal roving Juris generally don''t have the power armor, as it was on the pricey side and not all that comfortable to ride in. A couple Juris did zip past me on their heavy bikes, braking and setting up a perimeter around the Wagon. Yes, somebody was going to take a potshot at it, and then they were probably going to get sniped. There were a couple drones up there on overwatch who were probably going to get shot at, too.


    The Juris in their black-and-gold standard armor watched me sharply as I walked directly towards them. "Native," the first one called out in a humorless voice, "this is now a sealed area. Do not approach further."


    "Juris, I am Sama Rantha, Exterminatius Sanctia operative, summoned to this location by Juris Officer 2XB-Y3 Charlz," I replied back off the cuff, holding up my Band and dumping the alert on him.


    He grunted, held up his hand, and I stopped. "Team Leader, are you waiting for a Termite?" he asked nobody in particular. A moment later, his hand waved, and I skated past him, noting his eyes following my feet cautiously.


    The guys in suits were only identifiable by decals and paint without electronic ID, having sealed helms and visors. I eyed the suits curiously, seeing a mixture of tech and some psionic circuits there to make them viable and save weight. In particular, having access to basic psi-conductive materials made for a lot less heat generation. You don''t push the weird science too far if you don''t have to...


    They sort of looked at me, then ignored me as I walked up, and I waited patiently. I could see enough inside their suits to see they were all men, but not much detail beyond that.


    They were using true power armor, just helmed, not mech suits. They accentuated body movements instead of replacing them. The men were jacked into them, however, and a few were cyborgs, probably lost limbs in combat and opted for mechanical replacements.


    However, there were only a dozen of these guys. The hell?


    I waited patiently, my eyebrow raised and my frown growing as I drifted back and forth without moving my feet.


    One of them finally noticed that, pointed it out to the others without making a motion, and suddenly I had some interest.


    One of them stepped forwards, the only one with double bars on his chestplate. "Termite Sama Rantha?" he asked in a harsh, filtered voice.


    "Sergeant Charlz?" I replied calmly.


    "Yes. We are ready for you to lead us to the source of the infestation."


    I slowly looked past him, looked over him, and said bluntly, "No, you''re not."


    They all kind of blinked inside their helms. A Termite was telling THEM they weren''t ready? Wasn''t this girl the one who got their team called in in the first place, because she couldn''t handle the job?


    "Explain yourself, Termite," the sergeant said crossly, kind of looming on me.

 301 Far Future Ch. 11 – What was That?

    "Clarify yourself, Sergeant. Did you watch the videos on my report to my superior?"


    He paused. "We received word of an arachnid gigus infestation alert, and were directed to go address it. We have full tactical maps in place for-"


    "Ten thousand Shadow-class Spideroids?" I finished for him.


    Suddenly he got kind of quiet.


    "I don''t know who your superiors are, but I always assumed the Juris Tactical Squads were the smart, professional types... What I see is meat snacks waiting to be fed to a Class Three or Two Shadow Spideroid Great Colony, i.e. a city of bugs bigger than you are.


    "You don''t even have the right gear. I could understand the lack of gyros because you don''t want the explosive rounds to injure the infrastructure, but pulse lasers? You''re going up against Shadow-class vermin. They''re inundated in Gloam. Sure, they''re vulnerable to lasers in areas of illumination, but this is a whole freaking colony eight hundred feet under your boots. There is no light down there. They won''t have light vulnerability, and your pulse lasers are going to lose half their killing power the instant they leave the muzzle.


    "Unless one of you guys is a photokinetic, and given the amount of cyberization I''m seeing in each one of you, that number is zero, you''re going to need to empty half a clip into one of the adults to kill it. You''re looking at a minimum of a thousand adults, ten to twenty percent queens, and an unknown number of queen mothers and the Empress Spider behind it all, who is powerful enough to cut open an industrial-strength sewer mainline, meaning durasteel six inches thick, which she is using to feed her brood.


    "Who the fuck dispatched you without adequate situational review?"


    They were all listening to me now, especially when I raised my Band and downloaded my report to them.


    They did take the time to go through it now, and I waited patiently while they did. They were experienced at scanning data, got the key points, headed to the vids, and zipped through them.


    There were some quiet curses inside that armor, especially when they got to the point where I looked out the lift tunnel at the webwork that went on and on into the underground distance.


    "So, do they not teach dispatch officers what a potential Class Two colony nest even means?" I inquired archly. "Hey, guys, I''m sorry to tell you, but if it was a problem that only took the twelve of you, the Termites could have handled it. We do this for a damn living. We just would have hit and run and drawn them out into traps, and taken them down. Sure, you could have waded in with armor and got it done faster, but we wouldn''t NEED you.


    "But a Class Two or Three? By regulation, we have to call you in. What Class did they grade this as? A Six? I mean, shit, who the fuck is gonna call in Juris Tactical for a Six?"


    I could see I had general agreement on that.


    "Your observations are noted, Agent Sama Rantha," Sergeant Charlz said, giving me the verbal upgrade from insect to human being. "We''ll be handling this properly. Your contributions are noted, and will be recorded. You may leave now."


    "One minor point." He was just starting to turn away when I raised my hand, and he turned back. "Spideroids are vibration-sensitive. You probably noticed I''m Skating. They could not feel me coming. So if you start pounding around up here in heavy power armor, they are going to feel you coming from some distance away. That may not be a huge concern to you lot, but it means it gives them time to run away."


    "Noted, Agent Sama Rantha." And then he did turn away, I was dismissed, and I stepped back, turned, and skated away.


    I noted the mission profile on my Band changing a minute later, saying I was relieved of guide duty and the operation was being moved to a higher level. I should, however, be bonused for alerting the city of the threat during the course of my duties, and certainly there''d be all sorts of news when they actually deployed.


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    While they retreated and regrouped, I still had other spideroids to track down and kill...


    And because I was the overly smart paranoid sort, I looked at the time, and sent a blind notice off to an account which would only exist for the next ten minutes: What kind of an idiot sends out a Juris Tac Squad to put down a Class Two Shadow Spideroid colony?


    Because no, no, there was no kind of corruption in Janus Prime, perish the thought.


    ---------------


    "Hey, Miss Harring." Because nametag, see, learned her name. Also, on the Boole for the office, ahem, in case I forgot. I shook the queen spideroid thorax on my shoulder. "Drop these off? Victim remains for DNA processing."


    "Of course, dear." She waved me in tiredly, noted there was another idiot in the gutter getting stripped to his skin, and then some, as organleggers weren''t exactly picky about the sources of their material. She glanced at the time; the TC cleaner should be through in an hour or so...


    I headed into the disposal room, and started unloading the heads of dead people and some possible identifier belongings.


    There were over a hundred. There ended up being four groups of spideroids, and they were busy.


    I had them charted individually on my Visual File, downloaded them to my report in order, and lined them up that way.


    My Queen was standing in the doorway watching when I turned around and yawned. "There was an office two miles from your last location," he informed me in the same monotone.


    "I needed the exercise, and he didn''t need to take credit for something you''ve been helping me ram through. Fucker probably would''ve nixed me for not bringing in the spider heads." Which was standard procedure, so I was probably correct.


    The manager didn''t even grunt, despite the fact I''d brought him a lot of work. I had gone into my previous file and noted that he''d actually contacted a known relative of all the victims, even if it was only a brief message. So, he followed through, and he deserved whatever notice came out of all these kills, and any attachment to what I did.


    "Come to my office," he said, in the same voice. I lifted an eyebrow and followed him out.


    His office was right around the corner, with rows of paper filing cabinets along one wall, his own remote server for his computer, which was surprisingly up to date if I had the model and dual flat/holo display correct, and brief knickknacks alluding to time in the field, such as a stuffed giant rat, the tooth of a sand wurm, a not-quite-human skull with a shattered cranium from a gyro round, and a few other things of interest.


    Interesting he had so much paper laying around...


    He had me sit on an understuffed chair that creaked under my 3g weight, and I had to invoke my lightfoot hastily to let off my weight.


    He folded his big hands, looked at me over his mustache, and studied me for a second. I looked back and him and waited politely, ready for a spiel.


    "Termites have four levels of business they do," he began in that same flat monotone, as if he''d said this hundreds of times. Probably had. "The lowest level is above-ground, hunting things that make it in from outside, or from down below. It''s the lowest because anybody with a weapon can walk down the street and kill a rat or slicer beetle, and go home for supper.


    "The second level is the ''real'' Termites, those who work down below. They go into the guts of the city and clean out infestations. Some of the creatures down there are very dangerous, and the Morlock tribes are kill on sight."


    I nodded. I was familiar with the two levels. The burrowing Termites were considered the elites. Had a much higher death rate, too.


    "The third level is Specialists. They are rated for duty Outside, and Special Requests." I inclined my head. There were rumors about Termites who did that stuff, but nothing on the official site or boards. They probably had private boards they posted on.


    "The Fourth Level is Black Night Specialists." He waved his hand at stacks of files mounded up in the corner, and then at the old-fashioned file cabinets occupying the wall. "Cases that are removed from the Boole and electronic files, either labeled unsolvable or too sensitive to be addressed, and left to fade away from memory."


    My eyes lit up. Those sounded interesting. I wasn''t sure I had britches big enough to go after them, but I definitely had aspirations!


    "I reviewed all your files and videos, and I have deemed you ready to advance to a real Termite. You''ll be heading down into the Underspire for some of this work."


    Well, he wasn''t even making me an offer... but that was okay, because the kill bounties on Underspire stuff were higher, and there was hourly pay if you were assigned a task.


    "Cool enough," I nodded. "But, little bit of a break needed here."


    He picked up a delivery box off the floor, set it on his desk in front of me with a slight grunt. "Your Disk parts." He then picked up a lighter box, set it down next to it. "Ordered shirts from the Office Site, and pants, took them off your bonus."


    Convenient. I opened the box and pulled out the first t-shirt, fairly good synthicotton, all black, bug with circle through it, and TERMITES DO IT IN THE DARK.


    Uh-huh...


    I stripped off the Mentat rags I was wearing, pulled it on, and he didn''t blink at the sight of my flat chest. I dropped them into his trash receptacle. New skinpants followed, but these didn''t have any innuendos on them, just the logo on the front pockets.


    "Works. Let me get a working Disk just in case." I also needed to start on an actual ranged weapon, too. Let ''em laugh at my hand Autobow, with an underslung laser... and maybe a grenade launcher, once I could afford Citizenship and buy the license.


    He flicked a finger and a mission popped up on my Band. "Return when you''re rested." And we were done.


    I gave him the full curtsy and skated out the door. There were a lot of zeroes in my account. I could even head Upspire and get some actual decent food maybe...


    And what was this about renewing the zoning distinction for Habberblok over there? Looked like a gimme mission for nothing...


    ----------------


    I didn''t leave the office, I moved into one of the side meeting rooms that sometimes got used by Termite teams to meet up and plan a joint infestation removal. It wasn''t reserved, and likely hadn''t been for a month, so I had no problems.


    The slats of carved Energized Titanium, i.e. Mithral, tumbled out of the box. I measured them by touch and eyeball, good enough for work. There was only carving the psionic circuits and flushing them with energized crystals until Resonance kicked in, they empowered, and I set the draw and stuff properly.


    Hah, and here I originally thought my Smithing Ranks would be worth nothing but Sword damage for Profound Artisan. Hur de hur...


    I began the carving with an extended talon of my Claw, which, being adamant hard, had no problem etching into the butter-silvery metal. Definitely have to Slake this for, um, stealth reasons, or at the very least not so much flash.


    The Pcircuits were pretty basic to draw, basically establishing a mild telekinetic pull, and a stronger geomagnetic repulsion. They were in slat form so they could be disengaged lotus-style, folded up and stowed, instead of having a meter-wide circle following me everywhere. Detail and depth drove QL, QL raised the limit of complexity and empowerment the Disk could handle, which in turn would lead to it carrying more weight.


    A basic Disk that could be finished in a day could carry two hundred pounds. Not nearly enough, but I had heaps of spideroid nexals to feed to it. I wanted it able to handle a minimum of a ton, and multiple tons would be better, just in case...


    I concentrated, Focused, stacked a small pile of black nexals on the table, and began to get to work.


    -------------

 302 Far Future Ch. 12 – Home, Home on the Blok...

    Eight hours later...


    My destination was Habberblok, which was about five miles away. As usual, I preferred to skate the distance rather than hop a ride, as I didn''t own a ride yet, paranoia reasons and everything.


    There were people walking short distances. Intermediate distances warranted scooters or hoverboards, which had their own lanes of traffic. Ground vehicle traffic was basically restricted to heavier cargo that would weigh down hover transports, and generally adhered strictly to the Traffic Control lines on the roads. If you got run over, it was because you were an idiot and didn''t obey the very clearly posted alerts and alarms, nitwit, so people tended to obey them before a 100-mph hauler zipped on by.


    Streets were semi-busy, people out going through their neighborhood groceries, to and from work, gangs posturing on their turf, junkies looking for a fix of the latest or their old reliables, the homeless finding a corner or a new place to rest their head until their time came, the crazies who might just try anything if you looked at them wrong, and suspicious eyes watching from windows and ready to report anything, not that the Juris cared most of the time.


    Just life Downspire.


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    My skating along was an affection, as most people who wanted some speed went with hoverboards and surfed their way along the faster lane. Now, I could go a whole lot faster than I was, but I didn''t like the thought of Traffic Control reaching out to snuff the anti-grav in my board at an inopportune moment... or just as bad, not being able to switch it off and taking some steps to redress the issue by momentarily redirecting a hurtling cargo lifter, or something.


    TC had no sympathy for shit intruding in its travel lanes. You wanted to go rogue, TC would clear you out of its lanes as calmly as pulling a trigger at you. They were extremely reliable that way.


    Now, the fact that I was skating along barefoot to the sharp-eyed would get some attention, but most of the key locals knew not to mess with me by now. My face-Tat stood out, as did the ears, and I''d only had to maul a few dozen people before those watching wised up and spread the news to their respective tribal parties. Now, they at most waved or nodded as I passed by... if they didn''t slink well back into their alleys.


    I thought walking ten miles with a stuffed spideroid abdomen on my back dripping goo would do it, or maybe Cleaning the three idiots ambushing me outside the Termite office, but I did think holding my hand out with the last idiot who''d tried to las me in front of a cargo hauler zipping so he could kiss the train had been a bit extreme... but, ya know...


    ----------


    Habberblok was a blok that looked like all the others... a quarter-mile wide edifice of dark grey plascrete reaching two thousand feet into the air, home to hundreds of thousands of workers and their families, and a whole lot of other people, some of whom spent the vast majority of their lives inside, and rarely came out.


    There was food, entertainment, schools, shops, and services within, basically everything needed to service a city''s worth of people inside in millennia-old dreary surroundings around the great central plunge that extended from almost the roof-top to the main floor.


    Averaged a suicide every other day per Blok, I believed. Taking The Plunge was accepted and hardly generated more than a knowing nod from anyone. Murders, now, those could easily happen more frequently. The ''Red Zone'' where people were encouraged to fall if they jumped or were thrown off was deliberately free of anything but bruised, oft-painted plascrete. Soft kinetic pressor beams coming out of the fountain in the central shaft gently pushed those enthusiastic souls who wanted to see how far they could make it into the middle back towards the edges...


    Paid for out of your rent, thank you.


    But Habberblok, Habber had something a little special going on...


    ================


    All the Downspire Bloks were set up the exact same way. They were prefabbed, moduled into place, stacked up with amazing speed. With enough workers, one of these massive things could literally be tractored and pressored into place, piece by piece, within a week. Preprogrammed droids could reel out the wiring connections by the levels, and people assured of their one place to live by the Emperor''s Dole would start moving in the day after.


    So, find the main entry; first hallway on the right, halfway down, is the building security station.


    In some bloks, this is a place where cybered and stimmed elite retired paramilitary living out their waning years making sure nothing threatens their breadbasket. In most, its where a guy comes in to put in his time, shoot people who go crazy, organize people if something really bad happens, and mostly ignore the crime and feuds of the gangs and criminals in Downspire, at least if they want to keep their heads.


    Habberblok wasn''t hard to find. It was kind of unique for the burn scars and trashed windows about the upper floors, which the printer-repair bots had not been able to fix at all despite the passage of time. They were rather unsightly, what with the gaping open windows and everything, and the fact that when normal people looked at it, it looked back at them.


    Yeah.


    There were no pictures posted of Habberblok on the Boole, because if you looked at the pictures, the pictures looked back at you, and the Mekkers got real twitchy about that kind of stuff on their servers. So, if you visited the default Habberblok site, there wasn''t a picture to be seen. Nor were there ANY active city vids covering it, except at the bottom entry level. Even Traffic Control''s cams were lined up to not include it in any picks, very carefully, and the skyway routes had been carefully redrawn so as not to get too near.


    But they couldn''t just shroud it from view. They started on that, and the work crews went nuts, and the construction collapsed on the areas below. It seemed the ghosts wanted everything to stay as it was.


    There was lots of text, though. And if you did a search, the politest thing that came up was ''haunted''.


    Inneresting.


    It had a Tau Rating, which was way down the Alpha to Omega scale, the latter meaning something that could take out the planet. Tau was basically death to single individuals, and so troublesome to get rid of it was better to just contain and forget about it.


    I looked at my mission. Well, I was there to renew the Tau Rating. Just a walk in, get a thumbprint from the supervisor saying I looked the place over, walk out. Easy credits for nothing, clocking travel time.


    Except I was looking at it, and nothing was looking back at me.


    Inneresting...


    -------


    I entered the security station, and knocked on the window.


    There was an overweight guy with a failing hairline there behind the security partition, smoking an old stogie that was illegal upspire, but the ventilator right over his head caught most of the smoke, so it didn''t totally stink. They definitely put more than nicotine in those things nowadays...


    He put down his flimsy, probably looking over the sport scores, really old-fashioned, didn''t even use a holo from a Band. I didn''t have a problem with it. It was actually easier to read then most holos. I just did a dump into my Visual File and bypassed the whole eyestrain part.


    "Hey there, Pops. Government functionary here to get a thumbprint after taking ten minutes of your precious time."


    The flimsy came down, and he stared at me in disapproval, flipped the stogie to a corner of his mouth, and grunted. "What do you need?"


    "Termite annual renewal of Tau Rating?" I asked in the same bored tone.


    "Emperor''s Nuts. It''s been a year already?" He shook his head, looked me up and down, and kind of snorted. "What kind of Termite are you? Are you not even carrying?"


    I flicked up my Claws for a moment, and he almost flinched. "Yep, always."


    He grumbled and got to his feet with a sigh. His disruptor was holstered, no stunners in Downspire, and he set the flimsy and his stoogie down with equal care, pinching the latter to extinguish it. "Well, it won''t take long."


    "I got that impression. Care to tell me the story? It''s on blackout on the Boole."


    He grunted again. "Sure." He slung on his armored vest, don''t leave home without it, and made for the door, regaling me as we walked out of his office and down the connecting corridor.


    "Thirty-some years ago, a bunch of cultists moved into the top of the tower quiet-like, and slowly leeched into the minds of every single person in the blok. With that power, they enacted a ritual, and brought in something from the Warp.


    "Well, that brought down the Mentats and Coronals on top, and the Juris on the bottom. In the process, the Ritual killed every single person in the blok and turned them into brainfried, who all had to be slaughtered as they tried to kill the security forces.


    "The Coronals got to the heart of the Ritual, and the Mentats made sure the cultists didn''t mindjump away, or so they say. The brainfried fell like puppets with their strings cut, and had to be carted off to the furnaces because of the Warp contamination." My, the soylent vatters must have complained. That was a lot of wasted soylent material. Yet another reason to hate the Warp!


    "Only, their spirits didn''t go away. They are still up there."


    We had stepped into the Plunge of the blok, and he pointed up. Naturally I followed his gesture.


    It was a long ways up, and poorly illuminated up there. There was filtered light coming through the city''s domeand the glassteel up above, but a lot of the shaft''s lighting was missing up there. I had decent eyes, so I saw a weird crossbrace up there a hundred and fifty stories or so, just steel beams crossing, no walkway or nothing, and the ones higher up seemed to all have been blasted down. Lots of swathes of black or shiny patches on the plascrete, holes, and craters from blast impacts, multiple breaches in the guard rails, looking rather unsightly.


    Yeah, I had really good eyes. Patted myself on the mental head.


    I brought my eyes back down to his. "Don''t see nothing. What''s this about a Tau rating?"


    He stared at me. "You...you don''t see anything?"


    I leaned back and looked straight up for a good ten seconds. "Nope. Tau Rating?"


    "Ummm." He was staring at me in disbelief. "Entering floor 159 or higher is a death trap. No one has ever come back alive from there. Even if they take a lift, it comes back empty.


    "Supposedly the effect has infected the material of the floors above there, and the space itself. If they chopped it off and tried to rebuild it, they''d still be there."


    "Ohhhhh. Okay. Yeah." I glanced up knowingly. "And without a material anchor, they could start wandering. If they took the material away, they could go wandering wherever the anchor is, so all they''d do is build another death zone, and a lane of death between them. Wow, that kind of infection would take a thousand cred an hour psion to deal with, and no guarantee that his brains wouldn''t start coming out his ears in minutes. No one would dare to fix the problem, and you can''t get rid of it. So, they left it." I flapped my lips in disdain. "Well, that''s a Tau Rating, sure enough. It''s just... why the fuck are there still people here?"


    It wasn''t as busy as a normal blok, but there were still plenty of people around, more than a few of whom were staring at me in disbelief.


    Nobody else was looking up at all, of course.


    "Well, the rent here is thirty percent off." He coughed delicately. "It kind of attracts a weird kind of crowd. As long as you don''t look up, it''s fine, and there''s not been a single case of it spreading below 159 since."


    "Huh. I may move in here!" I wriggled my nose thoughtfully. Thirty percent! Sale, sale, sale! "Ever hear of the Hole in the Deep?"


    "Can''t say I have..."


    "It''s kind of a taboo subject on some of the fringe boards. Turns out that some time ago, some necromancer went body-fishing on the body feeds to the soylent vats. There was some kind of kerfluffle, and what was left behind was some zone down in the Deep where people go in and none come out..."

 303 Far Future Ch. 13 – Where the Weird and the Long-Undead Play...

    "What''s more, there''s six ways into the Hole, and three thousand years later, there''s still six ways into the Hole. Some smart guys have thought they had a Good Idea at times, and tried to seal the entryways. After various suicides, mysterious disappearances, vanishing work crews, and screaming madmen attacking officials, there was a decision made to Officially Ignore the place." I half-smirked at the practicality of it all. "What''s more, any equipment that goes missing related to machinery existing in The Hole is simply written off... and for three thousand years, none of that machinery has had any problems whatsoever, which is about two thousand years longer than is statistically possible."


    I sent a stray eye upwards after I finished. "They won''t let you block it off?" I asked knowingly.


    "Tried a few times. The blockades fell apart and were dumped over the Plunge. The city tried to put up a false ceiling up there, actually got it all put up in one day and everything. A week later it fell apart, and the beams were just left there." He was sweating a bit, looking at me sitting there completely unperturbed.


    "Well, I''ve been told I''ve some resistance to this kind of thing, so I''ma have to take a closer look for a validation. Shouldn''t be an issue."


    He stared at me even harder. "A... closer look?"


    "Sure. 159 is the cutoff?"


    "Yeah. The lift stops at 157 by building override. Won''t be an issue taking the stairs. Nobody even posts graffiti up there now."


    "Nah, I''ll just run up." I spun, oriented myself on the nearest emergency stairs, and skated off that way.


    "You''re going to run up a hundred stories?" he asked in disbelief. Sounded more shocked then me looking Up.


    "I didn''t get this ass riding a lift, Pops!" I waved over my back, and given where his eyes were focused, he had to agree with that.


    Of course, he had a lot of disbelieving company watching my derriere heading for the stairs. Which is cool, rep is built all sorts of ways.


    ------------


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    True to his words, there was no graffiti after 157. There were some really crazy warning signs and outright insane dream-stuff that likely hadn''t ended well, but hey, that''s life.


    Running a couple thousand vertical feet was a nice workout, especially at 3g''s. There were also four new corpses on the stairs who thought me running past them was a nice excuse to try to accost me. I''d have to tell Pops on the way out.


    Yello. That there was some hefty negative energy pressure massing there. Seemed somewhat surprised to see me there as I kept going right up to 159 and threw the door open.


    There were a few dozen standing corpses waiting there. Most of them were in ganger attire, a few workers or students who might have suicided here, couple hookers, and one fat fellow who had no pants on and had been emasculated. They were in oddly good shape for being dead, clothing very neat even as it hung on their shrunken flesh.


    There was a blast of something roiling against my Null, and then the corpses all shivered subtly, and dark lights grew in their shriveled orbs.


    "Don''t even think about it," I said in Necrus, and flicked up my Claw.


    Vivic fire from Chalice burned on the gold, and their heads all snapped around to look at it.


    First, they were shocked they could understand me. Living people are hard for the dead to hear, as all those language centers get corrupted. All undead and unliving can understand Necrus, however, although it''s a bitch on the vocal cords of the living.


    Second, vivic flames can render all that negative energy into helpful life energy, so the unwhite flames looked more real than anything here to them, even my Null figure who they couldn''t sense until I was right on top of them, and certainly weren''t able to tell was looking at them.


    I flicked my hand out, and the smallest of the corpses, one of the hookers, was cut open from crown to groin instantly. Vivic fire blasted out, her flesh was gone before her bones hit the floor, and the impact of her clothes smashed her bones to dust.


    "Given how long it''s taken you to get some bodies, I don''t think you want to lose these hands of yours. If you do, go ahead and attack me. Bring them all. They''ll all die."


    They dead don''t generally fear, that''s a living thing, but practicality and waste and futility are a thing. They were banging on my Null like no tomorrow, and I was ignoring them. Had to hurt. I''d been upping my Null like mad for a damn reason.


    Collectively, they were damn powerful, but their individual strength wasn''t enough to pass my Null.


    "And quit beating on me. You know I ain''t no psion. I am about as far from the people who did this to you as it is possible to be.


    "Now, I have been tasked by the government with renewing the Tau Rating that you have afflicted this place with, be proud of yourselves. If you will kindly get out of my way so I can get my damn survey done?"


    I started forwards, and shouldered my way rather rudely through the walking corpses, who lurched back at the approach of my Claw, lining themselves up stiffly against the wall to let me pass.


    After all, I had a job to do, and that was all most of their lives had ever been about, getting a job done. How could they not understand the mindset?


    -----------------


    The next day...


    "Heya Pops! Wanna sign me out?"


    The flimsy fell, and the man on duty blinked and stared at me. "You''re still here?" he asked in shock.


    "Never left. Been getting my survey done." I held out my Band. "Can I get a thumb and eye here? Oh, and those four dead guys on the stair, my fault. Self-defense."


    He kind of waved his hand absently. "Already carted off," he mumbled. He got up to come forward to the partition. I flipped up the mission notice, he looked it over, offered his thumb, the Band beeped, and then he bent down for a retinal. The Band popped up with his government ID and job number file, beeped approval.


    "Thanks! I''ll be back in a few days to move in."


    His eyes silently followed me out, heading down to the place well worth watching, and he shook his head despite himself.


    ----------------


    "Hello, My Queen!" I yawned to the manager when I walked in.


    He barely looked up from his screen, conveying neither surprise nor disappointment. "You''re late."


    "On the contrary, I''m punching out," I yawned back at him, passing my hand over my Band, and sending my report to him. "You owe me overtime again."


    That did lift those disturbing tan eyes. "Assessment." he asked, turning the question into a statement again.


    "Definitely approve the Tau Rating. While they call it the Top Fifty, the top 81 stories of Habberblok are suffering a revenant wraith infestation to the tune of ninety thousand souls minimum, possibly upwards of a hundred and twenty thousand. They have massive, intense hostility to psi-users in particular and the living in general, and can sense when people are looking at them, inciting massive feelings of dread, despair, and hate; prolonged visual contact will drive a person mad, and if they are particularly despised by the spirits, termination and reanimation as a servant corpse.


    "Several of the gangs there have executed rivals by forcing them to stare at the Top Fifty. Average death and reanimation time is about ten minutes. The corpse then gets up, walks to the nearest lift, takes a ride up to floor 159 despite the building overrides, and the lift comes down empty.


    "I did a skate-through on all the floors, damage survey, and assessment. It''s all there in the report. Tau Rating recommendation confirmed.


    "Oh, and rent there is thirty percent off! I think I''m moving there!"


    Tau Rating, moving there... went right past him without a flicker of change. His eyes flipped down to the report, opened it up with a thought. "No streaming video." Another question with a period. A true master of the monotone here, people!


    "No, there''s massive necroic interference around data retention devices up there. You might have seen me drop off the Boole for a while, it doesn''t reach there. I memorized everything and dumped it in off the standard blok schematics."


    "I''ll send it up. Overtime approved. Come back tomorrow." He made a dismissive gesture as my Band chimed. More money!


    "Be back tomorrow, My Queen! Thanks for the easy creds!" I made the full curtsey as I glided backwards, turned, and headed out of the office.


    -------------------


    Egil Rosenblaun flipped through the neatly finished report. It was professionally done, with cover sheet, foreword, breakdown, table of contents, and floor by floor review and appraisal, with summary and recommendations at the end.


    He thumbed floor 181 at random, and the holo flipped up, showing a video ready to play. He tapped three minutes in, and a map of the blok floor popped up, with sections before and aft painted different colors to indicate area covered, the one she was commenting on looked like one of the spacious corner sites reserved for the wealthy.


    "-an see, the windows of this apartment have been blown off by external fire, looks like anti-material rounds by the scratches on the supports. There were burn scars spread out along the structures of the main room, which probably charcoaled the furniture and many of the appliances, and they were chucked down the garbage chute, leaving the empty room behind. The bedrooms were still in good shape, the doors kept closed and properly sealed against outside containment. Of course, there was no sign of invasive life given the unliving presence, and the room appears to be swept on a regular basis.


    "Careful inspection of the kitchen area reveals several careful detachments of the appliances. As before, I believe they were removed to provide replacements for damaged appliances on other floors."


    Egil listened to Sama Rantha''s soothing, rather melodious voice, watching as she commented on traces of explosions, plasma burns, and filled-in bolter holes; carefully filed-down and semi-patched holes in walls and floors, some of considerable size; and blast shadows on walls white-washed over, yet still returning. The layout holo of the blok''s floor had all the data she observed painted onto it, to a rather alarming level of detail.


    The cartoon kittens running around, tumbling off counters, darting under beds, pouncing from tables, snoozing on windowsills, and jumping out of doorways was a little unprofessional, but it also showed that she had idly added them in while getting all the important stuff done with a degree of competency that was just overboard.


    She was just supposed to walk over there, look up, get sick, and recommend the Tau Rating be kept in force. Not somehow walk up there and survey every floor...


    Egil sighed to himself, but his face didn''t move. He had long moved past being surprised or concerned by much of anything in the world. He swiped his way back to the contents, read the foreword, then went all the way to the back and read the recommendation.


    He logged the file, sent the request for approval of the renewed Tau Rating upstairs to be signed off on, and shifted the report to the side.


    Then he paused, and transferred a dataslate with the report to his shirt pocket.


    After all, he hadn''t seen the whole report, and she did have a very smooth voice. He could put up with the kittens while he did a full review...


    ==================

 304 Far Future Ch. 14 – Sometimes is Heard a Discouraging Word...

    Going Upspire wasn''t all that hard, commercial lifts existed everywhere. But the mountains of the Upspires towering over the bloks below definitely gave them an inferiority complex, entirely by design. Shit flowed downhill, after all.


    Still, stuff had to go up and down, beyond the normal cycle of food and waste. Plenty of people working Upspire lived Downspire, if not by choice, and the lifts were always running.


    Having a Termite badge helped, even if I didn''t have a job up there. My Band pointed out the right route; I went through the scanner and my identity was duly noted, thank you for the ten credits, and then I was on the lift platform as it waited to fill.


    Didn''t take too long. I and the other hundredish passengers grabbed the hooks hanging from above, while the oldest people or those with packages got the side seats, all under the watchful eye of the Lift Marshal, some of whom had been known to pop open a door and send the recalcitrant on a free trip Downspire if they got uppity mid-trip.


    Government jobs were lawsuit-free. Good security that way. Of course, it could earn the Marshal a bullet in the head from the friends of the idiot making trouble, so it didn''t happen often, but it meant the average person was nice and obedient when the Lift Marshal pointed and told them to give up their place to the little old lady.


    He gave me a wary eye, his scanner-lens pegged the Termite badge, and he just looked away. New Termites were lower than interns and apprentices in most people''s eyes, as they always came from Downspire, but experienced Termites were dangerous people, not to be messed with idly.


    I had an additional ''Don''t Mess With Me'' tag on mine, thanks to My Queen.


    I got off about two-thirds of the way up, an ''insulation layer'' full of shops that didn''t dare to do business Downspire, but had enough security and access to Upspire goods to draw in the mid-range workforce wanting nicer things and so drawing the vast majority of the traffic. A square mile and several floors of shops, parks, rides, eateries, and decent, clean walkspaces succeeded in drawing in the vast majority of Downspire people, preventing the rich guys Upspire from having to see or deal with them.


    Going Upspire was still a treat, just from not having to deal with the smell of decay and the everpresent garbage that never got totally cleaned up... and that was in a mid-decay zone. The Upspires standing above full decay zones often disabled the lifts entirely, and their workers had to commute in from zones not shooting one another all the time down there.


    I was heading to one of the more expensive restaurants, top of this Strata, and rumored to have actual vegetables, fish, and fowl, even if it was cloned.


    Gak-food was really hard for someone with ki to eat, being totally reprocessed protein that had been through a million digestive systems... or was those digestive systems, as soylent was a primary protein source for Dole food. Gak also came loaded with mildly addictive suppressants which encouraged complacency and obedience, which everyone knew about, and there were entire industries based around repurposing and cleansing gak into something less tyrannical, generally by mixing it with free-grown veggies and mushrooms and the like.


    So, I was looking for a high-end burger/bar joint called The Middle Ground. There was one on basically every Spire, even the Grand Spire where the true nobles and high-end bureaucrats lived, and the Imperial government ran the whole city. The food they served wasn''t natural grown, but it wasn''t pure protein, and cloned chicken and fish was better than gak. Most impressively, they used real hydroponic tomatoes, and there were cubic miles of tomato farms Downspire devoted to supplying Midspire''s demand for them.


    Artificial sunlight and fed on human waste... whatever. I wanted me some real tomatoes.


    The dress code wasn''t strict, and if I looked a little underdressed, I just flicked a five credit coin at the hostess and she ignored it. She also watched me Skate in, which meant ignoring me was a no-no, and so I got a seat near the kitchen where I would be served fast and sent on my way.


    That is, until I ordered.


    She was kind of a fresh-faced brunette, on the short and cute side, staring at the brand on my face, but my hair was decently styled and really lush, and I didn''t have the snarling air of a ganger girl.


    Also, the nymphal ears helped.


    "Are you ready to order, ma''am?" she asked, sticking to the script.


    "This is gonna be a big order and appropriate tip, sugar," I winked at her. "See these burgers? I want one of each, one order of fries, a bowl of each soup of the day, and there''ll be dessert when I get there. On each burger, I want all the fixings. Don''t worry about me being able to eat it all, I can, and don''t worry about me being able to pay for it, I can." I put down a hundred-credit coin, flashed five more, and alleviated all her worries. "Get to work. The better it tastes, the more I want it."


    "Yes, ma''am!" she replied. "Uh, would you like anything to drink?"


    Technically I was underage; realistically, nobody cared. "Bring me two sets of sample platters of different beers."


    "Yes, ma''am!" The hundred-cred coin would make her night. I grinned and sat back, waiting for my food.


    Modern heating methods being what they were, she was back in three minutes with my various permutations of alcohol, and in seven with the first of my burgers. I began to indulge.


    The food hit my guts and was slurried literally within seconds. My system went into overdrive cracking the organic energy loose, and then shuffling it along into my Reserve until my full Sustaining was ready. As I hadn''t had crap to eat for like six days now, I was actually paying off a debt, and munch-munch crackle-crackle, my system sighed and paid the food debt down, and as my eating continued, it shrank to nothing, and I began to build up a reserve.


    Of course, that meant I ate six days worth of food, and now was working on seven.


    The waitress was rather wide-eyed, and I caught the eye of a few of the patrons, too. I was eating steadily and strongly, salivating at the tomatoes, meh with most everything else, although the taste wasn''t too bad. It all went down, down, down, paying down the tens of thousands of calories I''d burned, and then started coming up the other side.


    Of course, my bill racked up with it, and I slurped down the faux chicken and potato soups, ordered their biggest steak on a whim and a red wine to go with it (the wine disappointed taste-wise, but it was actually real), and then had six slices of different pies and half a gallon of ice cream to go with them.


    The waitress looked at my abs, and the fact my stomach was NOT bulging like I was pregnant, very impressed. Several of the patrons who''d actually stayed to watch me eat clapped in approval when I was done. I waved at my fan base, totally digging a physiology that could binge eat like this and not lose my figure.


    "How do you do that?" the waitress had to ask, as she flicked me my bill. I glanced at it mentally, tallied it up, paid it, and flipped her two hundred-credit coins.


    "Biopsi technique, Mind Over Body. You ever hear of a Binging Stone?" She shook her head, frowning. "Based on the same effect. Used by nobles. Actually stores food up. So, you eat and eat and eat to fill up the stone with all the excess calories and nutrition, and it pays it back to you over time, meaning you never get fat. Mind Over Body does the same thing, but stores it psionically. You can go without food or water for a long time, but when it comes time to eat, you pay it all back, or you could go from perfectly fine to totally dead of dehydration between steps."


    "Are they expensive?" She was looking at my abs hungrily, belt of Marks and all.


    "A Binging stone is a crystalweight." Her face screwed up. That was a lot of money for a normal person. Grim only cost a fifth of that, and the mithral plates for my Disk not much more. "Yeah, just one of the reasons the Upspires look so svelte, not just visits to the body docs."


    "And you''re a psi, too?" Her hopes kind of crumbled.


    "Nah, I''m a Null. Anyone can learn Mind Over Body, if they have the will and get Opened. It''s not that hard." Which was true.


    Her eyes got really wide. "Really?" she asked. I nodded. "How much does it cost?" Her voice lowered dramatically.


    "About ten minutes and a thousand creds. You have to accept a Mark."


    She looked a bit wild suddenly. "I go on break in ten minutes!"


    I laughed despite myself. "Better make it thirty. I have to go buy some ink."


    She nodded very quickly. "Emperor''s Throne, how is it so easy to become Opened?" she whispered to me.


    "You''re thinking you''re going to become a psion?" I waved my hand. "Perish the thought. I''m not a psion. I''m a Null. Psions are the bright shiny happy people flying around. I''m the cold grim rock trundling around on the ground."


    She looked at me. "I''ve never heard of a Null..."


    "Here''s me looking totally surprised at that." I just made a face at her.


    "A half hour it is! Where do I meet you?"


    "Someplace we won''t be bothered for ten minutes and you won''t feel too uncomfortable in." I flicked her my credentials, to settle my bill, and she acknowledged receipt with an excited gaze.


    I started to get up as another customer walked by, heading towards the rest room.


    -Not human!-


    I blinked, and didn''t think too deep. Chalice came out and struck as I slid out of the seat like I was greased, striking across the young man''s legs as I swept past my waitress, and coming back to take off his head as I Flared on him.


    Psychic shock ravaged up his body, and I knew instantly from the feedback that the warning was absolutely right, because that wasn''t a human nervous system and flesh.


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    The combination of shock and my Null started the reversion, and even as the shouts of alarm rose, I caught his falling head, transmitted the features as they were reverting, and called up My Queen with all kinds of urgency.


    "What''s up." came the flat voice over my Band link.


    "Found a dop. Need a Boole lockdown on this site. Band is next to mine."


    "Locking. Hacking." Totally bored, as if suddenly being thrown into a dop hunt was just the next thing on his list. "Alerting the Dop Squad. Any others nearby."


    I tore the Band off the arm that was reverting from a common yellow-brown to a pasty grey-white, hair receding into the warped flesh.


    Biopsis and cannibals were the root sources of dopplegangers, those who used too much shapeshifting and those who ate tainted human flesh evolving into creatures that could manipulate their flesh and bones like clay, no longer human, and capable of eventually being able to consume the brains of their victims and use their memories at will. Mind readers, consummate actors, and even able to generate short-term gene-proof copies of their templates, dops were hated, feared, and loathed, and hunted mercilessly when they were discovered... only discovering something that could think like someone you''d known your whole life was a hard thing to find.


    Dops were social creatures, moving with the herds of humanity they thought themselves above, and preying on them, looking for ever stronger brains and identities to take for their own, enjoying their riches and pleasures for themselves. They were one of the ultimate tools of Amourae, taking down societies, families, governments, or anything else down from within with consummate skill and the ability to literally take the secrets of anyone they could eat.


    Some were solo, but many were groups, moving in pods that didn''t really trust one another, but did so more than any humans. The key to taking them down was speed. Once you found one, you had to trace connections; family, friends, co-workers; everyone had to be found and vetted against one another.


    But I was lucky. This WAS a social venue.


    I turned to the waitress. "What table was this person at? How many? Are they all there?"

 305 Far Future Ch. 15 – And Dops eat your Brains all Day...

    She gaped at me, and the head that was turning into a horror. She looked down at her Band at my glare, swiped down for the read on his Band, and got the table. "Table 4-C, party of six, five here!"


    I looked at the layout of the place, and Skated away faster than the alarm was shouted. People were already trying to upload the news and stuff, chatchatchatchat, but the Boole was locked down and nothing could be sent out, dropping into a void of non-transferral. In addition, I noted My Queen was faking an active signal from the dead dop''s Band, so if anyone was looking, they wouldn''t see it disappear if something happened. Tracker apps were very common, after all, and dops alerted one another if they were found out, and could literally disappear in no time at all, adopting a fake face and then heading for a new victim identified previously for just such situations.


    I Skated away casually, Chalice stowed inside my arm but ready. Architecture had cut off her previous scans, but now that she knew the direction, she could concentrate on them.


    Four people at a round table, two men, two women, looking like couples from various walks of life, just here to meet up and chat. Three were not-human, and one had a minor Ward on that was blocking any result, but tripping her Detect Psi by its existence.


    I looked past them as I glided up, feeling the surface scan of ESP coming out and past me, very subtly, wondering what I was focused on, them reading each other''s minds and with proper paranoia wondering what had happened down there in the direction their friend had visited. They didn''t look like it, but they were all ready to bolt and shift instantly.


    Prep and strike.


    Chalice came out with a prepared action. I dumped a Sun Strike that blew banefire, Nimbus, and Corona down into the Warded man''s torso... oh, yeah, he wasn''t human, and that Amulet was just there to make sure a Psi couldn''t tell.


    Dead. Cleave. Prepared action to focus Nimbus. Strike the woman across from him. Double Sun Strike, head off her shoulders, the shock ravaging down into her torso.


    Move action, refocus Nimbus. Slide onto the table, scattering drinks. The second man was starting to lean away, chest elongating and neck starting to twist unnaturally as I carved down into him and turned his chest into puree with the third Sun Strike.


    Grim pulsed, and my Nimbus reformed as the one he kept in reserve for me was put into play, and my Cleave ripped down into the last woman''s neck as she started to writhe and try to move. The fourth Sun Strike sent her convulsing in death throes, jolting from her chair, her face already half-changed into someone else''s, and then sloughing off as her mutated cells relaxed to their basic, nigh-faceless form.


    I waved my Band over all their arms, ID''s dumped down into mine, and My Queen took hold of them. "There''s a sixth one coming. Where?" I asked calmly, while the people around were all frozen with shock at a bladebelle waving a golden mindblade around and slaughtering four people, just like that!


    "Just outside." My Queen was zinging through their contact files for talk about the reservation there. "She''s texting."


    Dops had issues with cybering, as they couldn''t morph implants, and the implants wouldn''t adjust easily to changed body states. So, texting was a known thing they did.


    She''d probably pscanned some alarm from the customers coming out and was calling to see if everything was okay.


    I skated very quickly towards the main door, watching the window. There she was, about thirty yards from the door, stopping against the railing... and her blonde hair was already starting to turn brown, her green and brown ensemble heading towards black as I came out the doors, looking left and then turning right as her head snapped to watch me glide and turn away while still moving in her direction... and then Chalice snapped on, Flared, and I detached the blade like a meter-long throwing light-knife to impale the dop right through the chest. The Sun Strike released, her abdomen flared with light as the nice blouse turning into a tattered t-shirt began to revert, and she convulsed and died as people screamed around me.


    "Well, I''m done eating," I mused to no one in particular. I glided over to the dead dop, which was attracting a lot of attention and photos, all of which couldn''t be uploaded right now because they might alarm more dop connections. The Dop Squad had to work very quick, or they would simply lose their potential targets... and they couldn''t even know if they were a dop without getting in close or having a Psi to verify it, which they most definitely would have along for a job like this.


    "How did you know they were a dop." My Queen was as monotonous as always.


    "My Sword Focus has a function where it detects what it is Bane to. It happens to be both Psi-bane and Human Bane, and he didn''t detect as Human."


    But now I''d blooded her, and Chalice could add Shapechanger to that list, which could get pretty interesting come Renewal when it finalized. I''d already proc''d Vermin to the list, although the spideroids hadn''t really been important.


    I hadn''t expected such excitement coming up here to eat too many burgers. But Nulls kind of mess up the plans of greater powers that way, butting in where they aren''t visible.


    A couple Mall Cops ran up, their guns out and pointed at me, swearing as the crowd cleared and the grey-white featureless corpse of the dop became visible. "Holy shit!" one of them called out as they got closer, attention shifting from me standing over it, to what I was standing over. Still didn''t put their guns away. "What the hell is that?"


    I eyed them as they moved closer. "A doppelganger, of course." I almost sniffed. "You do know Midmall Security carries the Grolhom Disruptor II-A, not a Penson Industries Mark 49 Laser, right?"


    They both blinked at me, and I slid past them. Slash, Flare, Cleave, Flare, Double Sun Strike, shearing through the fake body armor and not-flesh below, detonating the Sun Strikes and giving them a really bad day.


    The crowd screamed and retreated as I shook my head, Chalice back out and scanning, and I overlaid what she was telling me with those around me.


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    "The fuck!" I slashed back without looking. The golden blade detached, blazing with energy, spun over an office worker''s shoulder, and buried itself in the throat of a florid, portly fellow behind him looking on in interest, Flaring and taking him down as it tore out important neural connections. The clerk gawked at the singed hairs on his cheap suitcoat, but his shoulder was fine. "What is this, a dop convention?"


    -You are definitely exciting to be around,- Chalice /mused, still looking. I was 100% sure that somewhere among the people walking away was at least one more dop, because that would only be fair. They''d probably catch them on camera on review, tracking a facechanger, but keeping track of them would be somewhat harder. Overlay of her Detect and my vision matched up for the immediate area.


    I really needed to up her range...


    "Yeah, not refuting that." Real Midmall Security was on the way, with their variable stun to brainmelt disruptors in hand, pointing first at me, and then the twitching corpses turning into alien grey-white creatures. "Nice catch for your first day!"


    -I die to please,- Chalice /sniffed proudly. -Warped bastards deserve it all.-


    "Track that Naming Karma. Slow but sure," I replied to her, sounding like I was talking to myself, then smiled for the Mallcops. "Hi there, Sama Rantha executing a standard Execute on Sight termination for doppelgangers." My Band winked up with my identification, as if anyone who had a lick of fashion sense would dare to wear Termite merch. It went out of style thousands of years ago, and it had never come back.


    I think. People are strange.


    -----------


    Video backing me up, I was actually released within minutes, while a total lockdown on uploads concerning this froze the area. It wouldn''t last more than twenty minutes before someone dying to be the first told someone else, the computers crunched it, algorithms looking for hot news began sending it to people via alternate channels, and overwhelmed the firewalls trying to limit the news.


    Dops were quite smart and naturally looked for any and all news concerning their own kind. More than a few would be dropping out of existence, and only the mysterious disappearances of some people for no reason would give any indication of why. Others... the Dop Squad and their psions would be watching and marking some, expediently shooting others, and generally interesting times would be resulting.


    Would they be coming after me? At ten thousand credits a pop and more merits for opening up a contact ring for the Dop Squad, I certainly hoped so. Juris didn''t much like dops...


    Still, I had made another nice bonus, and had definitely annoyed a whole bunch of dops. We''d see if they''d want revenge, and being properly paranoid that I was, I''d go looking for people who chose to make trouble for me.


    Now, just had to find a tat parlor, heya Boole Maps, buy some basic psi-active Ink, and I could make back what I spent eating today.


    -----------


    I met her in a reservation room in the back of the Middle Ground, shut off from the crowd and people disturbing us, but close enough for her to scream. Her dark eyes had definite respect in them as she sat down across from me, and I opened up the case of Inks. The manager of the parlor had made a nice profit passing them on, since he wasn''t going to work on me, and I''d let him take a close look at my Brand... whereupon he declared he didn''t want to mess with it, as it gave him the heebie-jeebies. Had good sense, he did.


    "That was very impressive, what you did today." Her name was Trindi, she came from a nice Midspire family, not rich, but at least living safe and secure. Her future prospects weren''t that great, as connections were everything on the road to greatness, and she didn''t have the ruthlessness to tear down those above her to get ahead. Ergo, into the service industries to make some extra money as she finished her state-mandated education and tried to compete with everyone else having the same training, meaning going into and likely staying in entry-level drone work for some corp for the rest of her life.


    "Nah. Just part of the job." I brushed it off. "Got ''em by surprise. The fuckers are tough, elusive, and love to run in normal circumstances. A straight-up fight would have been even more interesting, and probably killed a few of the patrons."


    "But you pulled off a Quadruple Sun Strike! Everybody is talking about it!"


    I tilted my head. "Well, like I said, surprise. Setting up one of those things is really difficult. Ya can''t pull one out in a duel without some unwitting help from the other party." My Claw flicked up, and I dipped it in the Ink. "I''ll put it on your wrist, for starters, but it''s psi-active, so you''ll be able to move it around."


    "Oh! Is this how you Open someone?" She held out her arm, and I put it on the table between us as she stared at the black coating the gold over my fingers.


    "Yes and no. Part of the process." The tips of my fingers bit into her skin, cells began to get stained, and I danced my Vajra over her skin as she tensed at the prickles and tried to relax.


    "I was kind of expecting finger-waving over my head or something. Why do I need a Tat?"


    "Nulls like us don''t respond well to psychic surgery, like you are expecting. That''s the equivalent of trying to carve into the center of a hard rock while keeping the rock intact. Guess what usually happens?"


    She swallowed. "The, uh, rock breaks?" she ventured hesitantly.


    "Exactly like you''d expect of a psion trying to Open a non-psi." I was working more by touch then anything, letting my Vajra do the sensing for the job. Scribing a basic Mark wasn''t a huge thing. "Buuuut, if you handle it right, some very delicate carving on that very hard rock can do what trying to ram a hammer into the core of it can''t do.


    "Psions and that ilk are what they are because they have flexible souls. Doing psychic surgery on them is easy, because their minds and souls just wrap around the intrusion.


    "Nulls like us, not so much. Hard souls resist that shit, or they break. We can''t use psi, anyways, so trying to Open us as a Psion is stooopid. Work with the material, use the method for the material."


    "So... could you open a psi-positive?" she asked, since I didn''t seem to be distracted by her chatter. She watched the black rune symbol, which not at all coincidentally matched one around my waist, taking form with marvelous speed as I basically continuously tapped her forearm with the sharper-than-needles points of my Claw.


    "Not with psychic surgery. This method would work on them, too, ''cause they have more options then us, but they generally get a bit antsy about someone putting a telepathic access point into their heads."


    "Wait, what?" she gasped, and would have withdrawn her arm if I hadn''t clamped down and kept working.

 306 Far Future Ch. 16 – Baby Psion

    "Yeah, psi-actives are a bit paranoid other psi-users will use such an access point against them. Not so much a problem with Nulls, ''cause we gots no telepathy to be pulling that shit on one another. It''s just an alternate communication channel for us."


    "O-oh." She stared at me. "So, we''ll be able to talk telepathically?"


    "Through the Mark, yeah. Basically unlimited range and clarity, but it''s also totally private. Close the Markdoor, shuts the channel down. Can''t read someone, other than basic emotions, through the Door, they have to broadcast it, and generally can''t hear someone if you shut it, although I can knock pretty loudly if I have to." I gave her a wink, and she laughed uncertainly.


    "And I have to do this, why...?" she asked uncertainly.


    "Because you''re going to be a baby psi. Do you know what happens to valuable babies in this kind of place?"


    Her face flushed despite herself. "I, I..." she trailed off.


    "So, you bought yourself an advisor and a friend," I smiled reassuringly. "You wanted to be a Null Psion and control your weight. That''s cool, if shallow... but the shit that finds out about it doesn''t care about your weight, they care about the word ''psion''. So, what''s gonna happen here is that you''re gonna become a Null Psion, and if you value your life and don''t want them searching for you, you''re not gonna tell anybody. Because if you do, they''ll blab to someone, who will blab to someone else, and suddenly your life isn''t going to be your own. Matter-of-fact, your mind might not, either. The rather merciless will turn you into a braincase battery for themselves. Free psi on the market fetches some nice credits."


    She swallowed. "They... will they be able to find me?" she squeaked.


    "Not unless you pop your Claws. Null Psions don''t really show on their radar unless they get visible and dramatic. For instance, there''s not a psi in the place who could tell I''m a Null until I popped Chalice there, and there were six of them." I paused. "Other than the dops, of course."


    "Oh." She exhaled slightly, noting I was almost done. "But... what if I want to build on this? Become... something more than a waitress?" Her eyes glittered again.


    "Well, the first thing for a Null Psion is... we can''t spend PP. You know about that stuff, right?"


    She nodded quickly. "Yes, yes! Psions all have a Power Point Reserve, they expend this energy to leverage power from the Akasha and manifest it as various abilities and effects!"


    "And in doing so, they touch on the power of the Warp, which impinges on the Akasha, which is all because of the Warp Gods. Hence, there is a direct association between standard psionics and Warp Sorcery, and any high-level psion is very uncomfortably aware of the influence of the Warp on the Akasha.


    "Null Psions don''t draw on or use the Akasha at all. We just have power, and that power sits and percolates inside us. We can use the shadow of it to power some Nimbus effects, and even manifest a Soul Claw, but we can''t spend it at all. It''s just a Reserve, and it stays inside us.


    "As a result, there''s no psensitivity to us in the Warp, the Akasha, or in real life, unless we start throwing around Nimbus effects."


    She gaped at me. "So... we''re like ghosts?" she asked.


    "Nah, we''re like scenery. Furniture. Pebbles under your feet. The wall you lean on. That chair over there. Chairs ain''t psionic, they''re just null. Ghosts... that''s for Void Psions, and those are one in a million peoples, and Voids ain''t women. Nulls shock psions, as you don''t expect the rock to bounce up and hit you. Voids now... ghosts are terrifying motherfuckers, you know?"


    Her head was getting blown; she didn''t know about all of this before, or hadn''t thought through the implications.


    Then again, she was a student-waitress. Why would she ever have to?


    "Here we go!" I finished up, the Ink all gone from my golden claw, and the Mark of Constitution there on her forearm. "Now, time to activate it." And without giving her any time to say anything, I expended my Nimbus against it.


    There was kind of a mental boom in her head, her eyes actually rolled back as Pspace opened in her skull, and she had energy running through her she never had before. No, that wasn''t it... what she had was energy running through her that she''d never psensed before, and now she could, it was Right There.


    Psionic power!


    -You haven''t barred your Door yet, so give it a push open,- I /told her, as the first light popped up in my Markspace. Hee, I had a Markspace again...


    She got control over her eyeballs, sort of, but the adjustment to having a space in her head was keeping her from focusing on me. Practice and all. She kind of wandered over to the Door, and more stumbled through it than pushed it open.


    She gasped as she looked at me.


    -Yeah, that''s relevant mental ability now being visualized to you. On the mental level, you can see relevant mind muscle just like you can see physical muscle in reality.-


    -Y-you!- she kind of /gasped, staring at me.


    -Yeah, Me. Okay, first lesson, do This.-


    And I flexed my arm and flicked out my Claw. Despite herself, she repeated the same overpowering thought and action, done so reflexively she obeyed without thinking.


    Up snapped a soft golden Claw around her hand. Her lolling head snapped up as she winced, and then she focused, gasped, and stared at it there, humming around her hand.


    "Trick two. Do This." And I flexed my mind again. Her eyes kind of wobbled as she followed along mentally, clutching her hand tight, and her Nimbus formed around her, while power crackled on her Claw.


    She gasped and inhaled again, the sensation of acting in concert with me so strong. She stared down at her Claw, the gentle yellow, kinda like ambient sunlight, now shot through with humming power.


    "This is what you practice, bringing up a Sun. Your Claw is basically nothing more than a gauntlet you can put on at this point... a vibroknife is more dangerous. However, with a Sun on it... it will hit like a big hammer. If you hit." She gasped again, staring at me, and I made a gesture accompanied with a /thought. She snapped it off and looked around, making sure no one saw her. I''d already verified no cameras.


    "Mind Over Body. Follow this." I sent my hands out, and despite herself, she followed along with me, centering herself, calming down. This time, she brought up her Nimbus, but instead of gathering energy on her hand, she was with me as she placed them on her gut, and sent the energy pulsing in through her.


    The way her body opened up to her was definitely new, and got another gasp of surprise to her, but that was something she could work on in her own time.


    "One point of Meditation." I /flicked a mental lever, and she /reached out to do the same, visibly flinching as a section of her mind seemed to open up and supply her with the how-tos of navel contemplation, organizing her Reserve, and centering her mind, body, and spirit.


    "Oh, oh, Emperor..." she whispered, at the sublime power of it all. "Where have you been all my life?"


    I just smiled. "While your Nimbus is up, your physical need for energy, food, and water will be cut in half. You can go without eating or drinking a number of days equal to your Constitution bonus, at which time you have to pay it back. As your level of Mastery improves, your requirements will go down, and your fasting/binging period will increase.


    "Your body will start optimizing itself to your ideal weight, and will slow the process of atrophy down by the same pace as your Mastery. In other words, if you start working out, you will get in shape much faster, and stay that way with less effort."


    "Really?!" She couldn''t hide her delight. "Is-is there a point where we won''t have to eat at all?"


    "There is. It is called being Sustained. But it''s not so easy to get there, as it requires having a Diamond Vajra Soul, and you''ve just turned on your Null Psion. You have quite a ways to go to get there."


    "Right, I''m a total newbie." She watched as I closed my case of Inks and got ready to go. "I-I can talk to you anytime I need advice?"


    "Yes, if I''m not busy. Your first assignment is to be able to bring up your Nimbus ten times in a row. Note that only while your Nimbus is up does your Mind over Body effect happen, so keep it on while you work, and practice at night in private while you meditate." I flicked up an advance schema, and posted it Right There in my head, on her Markdoor. "Your assignments. You also need to set your Renewal."


    "My Renewal," she breathed, as if all the wonders of the universe were opening for her. Only Psions ever sensed much about Renewals, which were basically a myth to most people.


    "Center. No telling anyone until you can protect yourself... and you are a long way from being able to do that."


    "Y-yes, Sensei," she said, the title coming out automatically.


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    I nodded in satisfaction, patted her head, and walked away. "You can move the Mark. I''d put it on your hip out of sight. Nobody needs to see it for any reason."


    She watched me go, then put two fingers on the Mark as I''d /visualized to her, and watched as she drew it up her arm. She had to do a few bits of self-groping around her clothes to move it down to her hip, hidden by her pants, but when she was done, she couldn''t keep the smile off her face.


    I gently /closed the Markdoor, but I was Right There if she needed help, and she knew it. She concentrated Just Like That, fizzled once, and tried again, bringing up her Nimbus and allocating power to keep it going, as we Nulls had to.


    The process of idealizing herself and her body was on the way!


    ==========


    First follower, even if she was currently a non-com. There''s no way she was going to be satisfied with staying a One or Two with me around, of course. But she needed to put in some effort to get to the next step, and if she wanted Karma, well, it was pretty slow just practicing reps if she wanted Levels.


    Then again, maybe that''s all she wanted. We''d have to see. The bonus from the Mark was only +1 now, and her Inherent bonus as a Forsaken Null had also kicked in, so +2 Con would make her instantly healthier and more vibrant and energetic... ambitious, let''s say.


    I looked up at the Dome far above, sifting out the alkaline dusts of the planet from the atmosphere, sliding plumes of them slowly sliding down the force field there in multi-colored plumes that actually weren''t that unpleasant to look at, although the puke-green of the sky itself through the barrier was totally forgettable.


    I reviewed what I needed to do.


    Okay, I wanted to tap into my mana reserves and get my Golden Armor. It was a theme, go with the theme. The nature of the weapons in this reality meant that I simply couldn''t have too much protection, what with mega-damage and armor-ignoring stuff running around.


    I also needed to have as much non-armor protection as possible. Deflection bonuses was the main one, but my Dodge bonuses had to get as high as possible.


    I should be able to invest directly in a Deflection bonus through the Grace effect of a nymph or lilitu. It wouldn''t be any less expensive than doing it off a magic item, and I''d probably need to enchant my bones to make it happen... but that''s what bones were for, right? To be dotted with Runes and turned into biomagic.


    Sure, what else were they good for?

 307 Far Future Ch. 17 – Reporting for Juris Duty

    The next day...


    I eyed my Band as the alarm rang on it, blaring in my head for my attention.


    "What''s up, My Queen?" I responded with a mental tap on it. "Someone''s pet Canary Kriko get away?" I knew he''d be looking that up, but I just threw it out there. The brain-melting cute little birds from Colgurin IV were outlawed everywhere, their songs were just that deadly.


    "Juris Directive. You''ve been requisitioned for leading a Tactical Squad for the cleansing operation on that Spideroid nest you found."


    Gee, that sounded familiar. "Either they don''t need me, or I''m useless with the numbers they are going to send, My Queen?" I answered, although I had to admit more Karma and nexals was not something I would pass up lightly.


    "And I quote, ''After review of Terminatus Sanctia''s Agent Rantha''s close-combat skills against members of the Arachne Gigas Nox, her services are requested to provide guide and personal security for Juris Tactical operators during the breach of the primary Arachne Lair.'' Unquote. Get moving. You''ve an hour to get there."


    It was a requisition, not a request. I rolled my eyes. "I really want to get a higher ranking so they just can''t do that to me, My Queen."


    "Juris handles everything below the Umbrans and Coronals. They can always do that to you," was his deadpan reply. "Are you geared."


    "Yeah, I had time to work on some ranged options." I patted my shoulder holster with my new autobow, Paten. He could definitely use lots and lots of Naming Karma. "Close-combat support, huh."


    "Their decision came after I sent one of the Queen legs you brought back up to them."


    And they discovered it could chop through their armor and didn''t feel like getting minced when one dropped down on top of them. "Such swell people. Did you negotiate hourly and hazard pay, plus bounty payment?"


    "For every kill you can validate." My Queen was so thorough about money.


    "I''m on my way."


    ------------


    The assembly point for my squad was actually about half a mile from where I''d waited for the troop previously. And to my surprise, it was Sergeant Charlz and his Tactical Squad again.


    I glided up again, yawning into the back of my hand, and this time the bike-cop just waved me past, obviously told to expect me. I waved at him, he kind of looked at me in disbelief, and I slid past, spinning around lazily once, still moving in the same direction as I pirouetted like no ice skater could, and ended up right in front of Sergeant Charlz.


    The slightest of flinches made it plain he wondered how I had picked him out in the middle there, but that was all. "Termite Sama Rantha drafted and reporting for duty, Sergeant!" I replied, saluting casually yet properly. I glanced around perfunctorily. "I don''t have a known way down from here, Sergeant, and the ways I do have won''t fit someone in power armor."


    "Agent Rantha." His voice had that edge of someone who''d watched a certain series of videos about harvesting spideroids on Termite bounty reports very closely, and suddenly realized, Fuck me I do not want to be on the other side of that mindblade of hers. He probably had all sorts of questions about why someone like me was working as a Termite when I could be selling my skills upspire, but he held off. "We have an alternate route down through some maintenance tunnels that will admit us." He flicked the route to me, my Band pinged, and I glanced at it in my Visual File.


    "Damn, that''s some murderous choke points. I''ll have to take point and clear them for you." I wrinkled my nose and ignored his flinch of surprise that I was going to run point for them. "Patch your coms through my Band, would you? And the FoF indicator, so you don''t pop me when things get sweaty. I''ll give you a visual feed." I tilted my head, looked at his feet. "I see you got some pads there."


    "Yes. Our objective is to seal off that tunnel you identified and make sure it is not used as an escape route while the main force presses in from the sides. There are other squads deploying to seal and block other routes out." Beep boop bip, linked up with the don''t-shoot-me and coms.


    Of which there had to be literally dozens by now. "How are they handling the lower routes?" I asked curiously.


    "Undergang units are moving in to seal them." Ah, the infamous Eight Families of Underspire...


    "Changed your loadout, too." I frowned slightly, looking over them. "It''s inevitable that you''re going to be charged. Are you bringing any riot shields? Anything you can put between yourselves and those choppers would be useful. The exit from the lift was twenty feet across, so you''ll need at least seven of them to make a wall across the bottom." Which would be half his squad.


    "Eight men have fold-out shields to form a wall." The wrist stubbers on their arm-mounts were perfect for point-blank duty.


    "Well, then." I glanced at the map again, oriented myself to a stairwell nearby, and skated off that way. I knew what they were all looking at, and they got a good view, too.


    ------


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    "Emperor, Sarge, this girl moves quick," Corporal Buunz murmured in the private channel.


    "No shit, fuckhead. How many times did you watch her vids? Not enough!" he answered before the other man could. They were trotting along with the tireless ease of their power armor, in single file down here in the access tunnels, being careful not to bang on the pipes of durasteel or plascrete walls around them, the heavy suits only humming as the two-inch pads on their feet absorbed the weight of over a quarter-ton of man and metal almost silently. "Now shut it with the chatter."


    She was already over a hundred yards ahead of them, her position clearly indicated on their route, markers for choke points indicated, and they could all see her unnaturally clear video feed in a corner of their visors.


    And she was humming under her breath. The tune was strange, getting into the blood, and making their hearts beat faster. They felt like heroes advancing towards some great fight, and the enemy had best be scared they were coming...


    "Choke Five, I''ve got a door here. Code?"


    Sergeant Charlz waved it to her, and she punched it in with a blur of fingers. The locking mechanism disengaged, they could hear it through her feed, and she opened it up very slowly... and stopped.


    "We''ve got webs," her subvocal came through, but the humming didn''t stop. Instead, somehow, more notes and keys were getting added in. She looked past the edge of the door, and they could see wisps of shadowy strands adhering to the door she had just partially opened.


    They could also see several suspicious gouges on the durasteel door...


    She reached out as her mindclaw flickered into hard, terribly precise existence over her hand, and a white flame danced off those strands, cleaning them off the door with a touch. Only once they were all cleansed off did she pull the door open further.


    The room beyond had hanging strands of webbing, and clusters here and there between the pipes and support columns. It wasn''t thick or an obstruction... but it meant the spiders had been here.


    Her eyes looked around with incredible clarity, despite the fact that the darkness down here had only been growing, and their armor lights reached less than twenty feet in front of them at this point. They drifted this way and that, looking and measuring.


    And then her mindblade flickered up, a crystalline length of razored golden force, and she was leaping through the air, kicking off a pipe, and suddenly twenty feet above the ground and cutting into a cluster of shadows there.


    The three-foot spideroid inside died almost instantly, slashed completely in two as the Sun Strike went out. Shadowy webs went up like tinder around her, chasing one another across the ceiling and between the beams and pipes.


    Her viewpoint spun as she descended, grabbing the durasteel support and changing her course as she came down close to the exit to the chamber, flaming webs that couldn''t latch onto her leading the way.


    The baby spideroid waiting under the pipes near the door didn''t have time to react as she hit the ground flat on her face, sliding and cutting at the same time, and cut it in two before it could run.


    "They''ve got scouts. Definitely not non-sapient," she murmured to all of them, "or at least guided by something with intelligence." The humming, quavering music only seemed to get more anticipatory. She glanced up, and they saw whiteness crawling across shadow, and the room seemed to clear up as the webs were burned away. "The way is clear. Continuing."


    The following Juris hissed under their breaths. Yes, very quick, indeed...


    -----


    They didn''t see my hair pulling out the nexals from the dead spideroids, but that was my business, not theirs. Vivus would dispose of them, although I sincerely wondered what a world like this would do with the life energy. Make more mold?


    Whatever...


    Lines of webbing were hanging and woven across the route now, which I had to cut apart and down. Vivic fire ate the gloam psi-power as easily as any other non-natural energy, and incidentally cleared up the gloaming in the air as it did so, restoring some visibility for the men behind me.


    So they''d expanded this way, and found it blocked. It also meant they''d chopped through at least one more security door down here...


    My Tremble was out in full force, and they couldn''t hide from me inside it. They were the only thing even partially organic down here, so they stood out like big wet blots outside the pipes.


    I could dodge most of the hanging webs to approach one if they had line of sight, only popping them when I got up close.


    I pulled out Paten to take a few potshots, make sure he got his Naming Karma. The Endless Clip regenerated a new bolt every six seconds, so I could run out of ammo temporarily, but it wasn''t a problem here. Sun Shots and ki-boosted ammunition hit way harder than anyone would expect out of a measly hand crossbow as my Vajra hauled back its string, and another short bolt deCompressed and slid into place.


    Paten was only Soulbound at this point, I was working on his Zvei Slot. Of course, once I did, I would grab Main Gauche... and I should be able to get that working with just a few more spideroids.


    A sudden increase to +IX Phrenic Bane Vivic was going to be a substantial boost to his killing power. Which was good, because I was sure I was going to need it.


    ---


    A few minutes and eight more spiders of small to man-size, I was at the door to the chamber I''d reached before.


    I remembered this door being in the top corner of the room, with a narrow stairwell leading down the floor. Only it had now been half-chopped off, leaving a waist-high gap that was more than big enough for a spideroid with its legs tucked narrowly to slide through.


    Needless to say, the same thing had been done to the lift doors below. They had been slowly and roughly hacked open on one side, about a quarter of the circle carved through, more than enough room for even an Empress spideroid to come through if it wanted to.


    I knew that the original access points had been sealed off with adamantine grates to stop any spreading spideroids on a temporary basis, so the spiders had opted to find a different way. The multiple doors must have annoyed them, and they hadn''t moved on to the next option, luckily for us. It was only a matter of time before they did, however, as they recognized doors, and realized doors had to lead somewhere...

 308 Far Future, Ch. 18 – The Verdict is Death

    The room also had quite a few spideroids in it, festooning it in even more webs than before, although there didn''t seem to be a queen here.


    "Agent Rantha, no need to engage. We will be there shortly," the sergeant''s voice sounded in my head with a crackle of interference.


    "You''re too loud. Don''t worry about it. This is what I do for a living." I drew down with Paten, aiming carefully for a One Shot, and unloaded the Sun Strike on a hapless man-sized spideroid crawling slowly up the opposite wall, nailing it right through the brain cluster.


    Paten hummed, Karma clicked over, a Slot opened, energized, resonated with the other Rather Impressive Soulbound Weapon I was holding, and kicked up and open as harmonious power ignited on him.


    My Vajra clicked the indicator. Tats glowed under the skin of my hands as the Lightning Gauntlets lit up and began to throw power directly into the power cell in the back of his Compressed stock.


    Hot Hard Light began to pulse out twenty times a second, girt in Bane and Vivic fires, the equal of a heavy blaster built into the support of Paten''s autobow. Ice-aligned crystals neutralized the waste heat. Actually, Paten got colder the more I shot him.


    Pouring the energy of the Lightning Gauntlets into him greatly extended his firing period, from five seconds to almost twenty seconds of autofire. I only had to make sure to spread the shots out as much as possible, as consecutive auto-hits with banefire would be treated as one hit within a six-second time frame. Hit one spider, then another, and go back to the first, however...


    I dove through the wall, holding the trigger on full auto, and Whirlwinded.


    The medium spider directly above the door got its head split as I leapt into the room spinning, somersaulted, and came down hard on two spiders on the narrow stairs, sliced through another couple on the walls... and Paten''s pulses of HHL painted the room in streaks of golden laser light surrounded in multi-colored flames.


    Each pulse was aiming for a smaller spider. 1-10 + 18 +2-12 +6d6 Sneak Attack blew them apart as the unwhite fires cut through the gloaming and the HHL scored a wound... and the bonus damage did the rest.


    Golden swathes of force blurred in all directions as I kept spinning, moving, reaching. My Dexterity was in excess of 30 even now, and everything moved in arrow time, slow motion, while my Trembling Domain gave me a 360-no scope shooting.


    I hosed down everything, although one shot often wasn''t enough to kill the big ones unless it landed perfectly, but that was fine.


    They didn''t get a chance to swarm me, as all the smaller spiders were exploding around me as I spun, and I was the one charging the bigger ones, cutting, sliding, skipping, bouncing, working the angles to target all of them, holding the trigger down. HHL bounced off durasteel and lightly scored the plascrete, doing basically nothing as I wrought my havoc.


    I ended six seconds of gravity-mocking acrobatics by coming down on the lid in the middle of the room, shooting down into hole and the half-dozen spideroids clinging there, while the big one hanging under the durasteel lid slowly fell off Chalice, where she''d punched through the fused metal join and plunged into its brain.


    I scanned the room once more, didn''t find anything sitting in the corners, and vivic fire was already fast at work.


    I had a lot of nexals to pick up quickly. "Room is ready for you," I told them, quirking a smile at what they were probably saying on their private channel. I shook out my hair to its full length, and strands of auburn-turned-gold began to snake in every direction as I made a quick tour of the room. I kept the sight of them out of my eyes as my locks plunged into dead spiders, wound about nexals, pulled them out, and deposited them into my Masspack, flinging off the gore as they did.


    And bounty money for each of these things, too! This was going to be profitable for me. I was Visual File countingand sizing each of them, of course...


    "Going down," I said, as I heard their quiet, but not silent, arrival. They would have to open the door, anyways. I stepped into the opening on the plate in the middle of the floor, and dropped down.


    ----


    Soulclaws on my feet cleared the way, burning through the shadowy webs, sliding down the wall to the side, dragging my weight and allowing me to hit the floor in something resembling quiet and no vibrations.


    The nearest spideroids outside the room were beyond my Tremble for the moment. I eyed the burning corpses tangled in the webs being set afire above, sighed, pulled out my Disk, and began to bounce and ascend back up the shaft, cutting the bodies free before they fell so as to land on the Disk, and not disturb anything below.


    Wap, wap, wap, wap, fat spideroid corpses landed atop one another, balanced precariously. The smell of death was being eaten away by the vivus, so that wouldn''t betray us for now, and I cemented them all with the biggest one that had been clinging under the lotus lock, before descending quickly.


    Might have taken out all their nexals while doing that, too, shhhhh...


    Once on the ground, I shoved all the corpses off to a dark corner to burn away unwhite, and as the lads up top reached the half-door and worked on opening it, I peeked out at the spideroids beyond.


    The view really hadn''t changed yet, still spideroids everywhere, still lots of webs, going on and on and on into the distance. Nothing was really creeping in this direction, so I hadn''t been noticed, and could just sit in the shadows and watch what was going on, better than a drone camera.


    The boys got the door open manually, squeezed on through, looked at all the burning spideroids around up there, and made their way down the steps as quietly as possible to the slidelock up above. Peering over the edge, they could see me at the corner down below, watching everything.


    "Are you going to be safe down there, Agent Rantha?" the sergeant asked in coms.


    "Oh, I sure hope not. I''d urge you to come down here, but that''s in direct opposition to your mission directive. I can use my Disk to bring two of you down, but evacuation protocols mean bringing down more is unwise. The only way you could do more is if that cover was open, which would be a security no-no.


    "I gather you were expecting the lid to be completely off when you came down?"


    "Yes," he admitted, as they gathered around the hole. There would be no problem holding this gap, they could just fill it with fire and slaughter everything. "Are you going to have problems getting back up here?" he inquired.


    "I can slide personal gravity down to one-fifth and directly jump up through the hole, so no." They shuffled a bit up top... wasn''t much different from flying, really. They could do it with jump jets, but they weren''t wearing any down here. "I''m just here to watch the show, and if they start coming this way, to get in a lot of free kills and bounty money." I had to laugh subvocally despite myself. "By the way, just to be on the safe side... if you''ve got some explosives you want me to plant, I can do that, too."


    There was some discussion up top. "Have you handled munitions before?" the sergeant had to ask.


    "No, but I''ve got some very qualified people looking right out my eyes, so I rather doubt it''s going to be an issue." They rather agreed with that...


    ----


    A few minutes later I scuttled up the wall, retrieved a bunch of fist-sized things of various types, and some other book-sized things of other types. They didn''t have glowy timers, and they didn''t beep. They were on remote detonation from up top, and I began to place them as directed, bouncing from place to place, including one on the slipcover. I also scattered them around the entrance to the shaft, and the demo guy up top was just itching to use them.


    I did advise them to limit the number of people on the breach to three or four, and the rest should be on that stairwell leading out. They could hold that door as easily as any other, and if something was going to blow the lid, it was going to do it violently, and they would not have time to withdraw.


    Sergeant Charlz sent down another drone to perch on the wall and give extra vid, as well as serve as a straight-line relay to any incoming forces in the line of approach, although my Band could actually do the same.


    A distant rumble came through the floor, and all the spideroids seemed to freeze. In the distance, miles away, I saw a flare of flame, and more vibrations began singing through the metal and stone, playing a melody of violence and death... and it was coming from both directions.


    Spideroids began to move. They came out of everywhere and anywhere, and I sure didn''t want to count them. It was a black river flowing into the distance, climbing over one another, ceilings, walls, and floors covered with a stream of ten-legged black bodies... and all in what should be utter darkness, save for the fact I was ignoring the lack of illumination.


    I was pretty sure my view point was getting sent on into their tactical feed, as the drone likely couldn''t see much beyond blurry heat signatures. Damn, this was a lot of spideroids-


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    I was sure someone shit a pink Twinkie somewhere when the Great Empress suddenly surged out of what looked to have been a vehicle garage less than a hundred yards away. She was moving way too fast for something her size, and her body was a good forty feet long, with legs that long again on both sides. She looked big and bad and old and strong, and none of the other spideroids around here were even half her size. She looked like a semi among a flood of go-carts, tri-cycles, small cars, and pick-up trucks, all surging past and around her.


    Well, I certainly hadn''t expected the big mama to actually be that close. The main sewer feed was a good quarter-mile further down, and the webs were thicker there. Huh...


    I also didn''t want her to see me here, so I didn''t move, very carefully. "So, you lads up top got anything that could put a real crimp into her?" I asked of the very quiet Juris up above, who were suddenly quite happy not to be down there with me. "Because we really don''t want her getting away, right?"


    One of the heavy weapons guys broke in, "I''ve got a gyro cannon for backup use if stuff gets through here. Would that work?"


    "It would immediately shatter their hive structure down to the subordinate Empresses." I wrapped shadows around myself and pulled away from the edge of the view, knowing they were sending that image out to the fighting starting at the far ends of the colony. "Coming up. I''ve got a Disk you can stand on to come down."


    "You think we all should deploy?" the sergeant asked.


    "Nope. We''re gonna hit the bitch hard and then book as they come for us. Should be a crapshoot then as they come up. BUT... you better be ready on them explosives!"


    The demo-guy''s response was a flat, "Ready."


    ---


    I bounced up the shaft, pulling out my Disk again, which unstacked lotus-style and spun itself into a nice grey slightly concave carrying device at floor level. The heavy weapons guy stepped on board, put up the muzzle of his launcher, and I scampered back down as the Disk followed me silently.


    I brought it all the way to the floor, and he stepped off it slowly and as quietly as possible, which was remarkably quiet, all things considered, and pretty much covered by the echoes of all the distant explosions and shooting and spiders screaming and scuttling down there.


    Slowly he rotated around the corner, the five-foot barrel of the cyclical mini-rocket launcher held easily in his power-armored hands.


    "How do you want to do this?" his voice came softly, and I could tell he was sweating. Yeah, that was a biiiiig spideroid.


    I pulled out Chalice, set her down atop his hand by the trigger. "I''m going to Sun Shot your launcher here as fast as I can, so you''re going to get off basically one round a second which is going to hit really hard. It might not kill her, but it''ll get her attention. The instant she starts coming this way, you run for that Disk. If she sends her babies and doesn''t come, keep shooting her until she does, while I keep them off you."

 309 Far Future, Ch. 19 – Punishment is Administered

    He was going to say something, remembered the room above, and shut up.


    "When she gets close, we''re going to blow the explosives on her until she''s dead. I''ll count down the kill numbers, if you can voc-code set three, set two, and Eight through One, and Fourteen, I''d be obliged."


    Bee-beep, beep beep. "Done," the quietly impressed demo guy said.


    I put Chalice on his launcher, tightened my grip. "Say when."


    His shiny black helmet nodded slightly. "Go."


    The first Nimbus flashed up, covered his gun as the barrels began to spin and spit six-inch burning rockets into the distance.


    I wasn''t worried about him hitting. The third rocket going out had a crackling charge of psychic energy attached, I snapped a new Nimbus into place, discharged it and the Corona, and the second one Flared out.


    Explosive rounds danced over the bulging abdomen of the massive Great Empress Shadow Spideroid, sending her turning around and moving in shock at the sudden surges of psychic light punching through the gloam here. The ones flaring with psychic banefire and golden Coronas going off were especially noticeable amid the standard red-yellow eruptions.


    First, readied standard action. Second, move action. Third, swift action. Fourth, free action. Fifth, from Grim.


    Gkk. I had a nosebleed for a second, and psychic lights were going off inside my eyeballs. That was a lot of Corona and Nimbus to be Flaring out onto a weapon. But I retrieved Chalice as the Juris trooper held down his trigger, drew Paten as I spun around his back to his other side, giving him a full field of fire. Lightning crackled from my hand, fed into the fully recharged power cell on Paten, and I busied myself spraying 1/20th of a second hard light pulses across the uncounted thousands of spideroids between us and her.


    She shrieked as armor-penetrating rounds blew against the massive phrenic reinforcement that gave her such size and strength. I could see she was leaking from several holes, and the shooter was keeping a good lock on her as she scuttled and was suddenly out of sight over the lip of the walkway down there.


    Being an opportunist, and probably not having the opportunity to waste tens of thousands of credits worth of ammo like this very often, he expertly played his shots into the hordes of spiders coming my way, walking them between the big ones in explosive fashion and really chewing up the black mass of the scuttling horde. The gloam lit up with flying spider bits, fire, and shrapnel.


    "She''s coming! Run!"


    He swung up his launcher as I spoke, took two great bounding steps, and I simply told the Disk to rise straight up in the air and get him out of danger.


    A wall of black bodies was blowing apart in front of me as pulsed HHL burned into them, and banefire did its thing messily. They weren''t making it to me, but more were just crawling madly over the bodies of their dead to reach me. Chalice ignited in a length of golden force, clearly visible in their gloam, and giving them something to be even more focused on and madder about.


    With a shriek that rattled the very walls and would have knocked an unshielded human out cold, the Empress, dripping a lot of dark, vaporous stuff from her side, heaved over the side of the plascrete lip not forty feet away, the claw-points on her legs crunching down into it right through the bodies of some of her descendants, surged forwards-


    "Set Three!"


    The explosives on the ground five meters outside the entry went off in fireballs as I stepped to the side, and bits and pieces of burning spideroid blew past me and off the wall behind me, rising right up towards the roof as the trio enveloped the Great Empress.


    Massive legs thrust in past where I''d been standing a heartbeat later as Great Gramma surged in-


    "Set two!"


    The sets aiming down at the entrance and on the wall behind the door went off as I backtracked, and shredding flechette rounds with concussion chasers hammered into her.


    Still didn''t kill her, although she had stuff sticking out of her all over now, looked kinda bristly. Those nine eyes of hers fixed on me as I kicked back and up, catching up to the Juris who hadn''t reached the top yet, and was probably starting to panic as he looked down at the spider filling the whole heavy lift shaft below us.


    Her rather ragged front legs flailed out, punched into durasteel, and she moved up and forwards after us, while behind her, her army of children swarmed through every opening after her.


    "Nine! Eight! Seven! Sixfivefour! Three! Two!" I heaved the Juris up out of the shaft above me as the fireballs blew up and past me with superheated air, and concussions deafened everything while Great Gramma had a bad day, and her kids went tumbling in pyroclastic joy.


    A leg drove past me, the Disk and gyro-guy were sent flying as it thrust through the opening and dragged her bulk up-


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    Well, I wasn''t going out that way.


    I dove down, kicking off two kiddies riding her back, going right over her many-eyed head as I did, and as I put Paten in my teeth, I drew out Explosive Fourteen and jammed it into the gaping cut Chalice was opening up through her carapace into her abdomen. I kept falling down, getting her bulk between me and "One!"


    The directed plasma charge on the slip cover filled the hole with ten thousand degrees of fun and molten metal, right in Great Grandmother''s face. The fire cooked everything inside the shaft, washed out to greet the new spideroids coming in, and left a nice wall of heat behind, too.


    "Fourteen!" I called out, to the utter shock of the guys above, while I rolled out of the way of what was coming down.


    The last charge went off inside her, and true to form, cooked her inside out. Superheated innards blew in all directions, a carapace harder than steel swelled and shattered, and lots of spider guts and really, really hot steam went jetting in all directions.


    Okay, she was tough, but enough''s enough. She lost pressure on her legs, they ripped out of the durasteel walls, which were now rather soft and glowy red, and down she fell heavily, crunching to the ground and smashing a lot of ashen spideroids beneath her.


    I looked back at her burning there, and around at the stunned spideroids who were trying to push against the heat spilling out of the doorway past me, blowing my hair out like a blast furnace as it vented out past me.


    I took Paten in hand, teeth crackling with voltage where I''d been recharging him (hey, I can multi-task), and started shooting as I backed up into the inferno behind me.


    From the vibrations in the ground, I could feel a lot more confusion and disunity of movements. The psychic shock of losing Great Grandma was permeating the spideroids, who would now be reshuffling decision-making across the much less intelligent next generation.


    Mindlessly raging spideroids charged into the shaft, and actually ignited as they did. The smaller ones couldn''t even reach me, and the big ones I cut down smoothly, while sending out volleys from Paten when I could get around the obstructing dead bugs. Before too long, I had a ten-foot high mound of burning spideroids in front of me blocking a lot of those behind, forming a new blazing pyre to match that of Great Gramma behind me.


    "You, uh, need some help down there?" Sergeant Charlz asked in some awe from up above.


    "If you want to send that trooper with the mini-las down, I bet he''s gonna run out of power before he runs out of targets."


    There was a quick discussion, and twenty seconds later they''d put my Disk back in place, mini-las guy was atop it, and it descended quickly.


    Ten seconds after that, he bounced-swung into place next to me, aimed around the heap of spideroids there, and held down the whirling barrels of his mini-las as it roared to life at a hundred pulses of much harder and hotter light then the base of Paten per second, and began to chew up the scenery.


    He swept it across the flat of the working dock here, mowing bugs down in swathes, and there were plenty of them in all directions for him to spray down. Hard light echoed off of durasteel and made a lot of craters in plascrete as he painted the mini-las around with the appreciation of an artist who finally got to do some real work. He reaped a terrific harvest in all directions, walking endless shots towards the larger spiders, advancing from one to the next, washing down dense clusters of little ones, and really designing a scene of carnage here with computer-aided oh-joy shooty-shoot time.


    I busied myself killing anything that got close so he could concentrate on mass slaughter and the sheer joy of being able to hold down the trigger that long. The scuttlers trying to come from above were the most entertaining, as I had no trouble telling where they were in my Tremblesense and picking them off as they hit the lip of the door just in front of us.


    The barrels of his mini-las were turning cherry red as he swept it across a final wave in front of us, punching shafts of angry red light through multiple outraged spideroids unhappy that their Gloam had been shattered. "Ten percent!" he called out.


    "Gentlemen, it''s going to be your turn in a second, maybe." After all, it was still a freaking furnace in here. "Let''s go."


    He swung mechanically yet lightly over to the Disk, watched as I bounced off the red-hot walls and we went up much faster than he''d come down. There was a three-second delay before spideroids started coming in below us, and started to burn and curl up even as they tried to climb after us, because it was still a goddamn furnace down there.


    Again, I shoved the Juris above me through first, but this time came right after him, lifting him up above me as I emerged into the center of a circle of gun-toting Juris eager to discharge some ammunition and spend some power cells. I pushed the Disk up higher, simply hopped over the squad, and they closed on the now ten-foot hole wrenched further open by the Great Empress. Five of them set up lines of fire on the walls and entry below, watching as the black tide flooded in, started coming up the walls, burned, and was clambered over by those behind, their crispy bodies forming new insulated walls for those behind.


    Gyro man had already pulled back to the escape corridor, and I set the Disk down near the exit stairwell so mini-las could step off. The Disk folded up and returned to my Masspack, and the Juris behind me began to open up with short, controlled bursts down into the dark mass below.


    "Fill it with enough bodies, and they won''t be able to get in once it all starts burning," I mused aloud, while my hum of a valiant defense kept going in the background. They were bringers of doom, and this was the time to bring it! They probably didn''t notice that they were shooting to the beat of the song...


    The shooting was professional, but constant, ammo feeders clicking as they cycled in new rounds from the magazines on their backs, and numbers began to add up. I stayed on back-up while they had their fun, and the men began to switch out smoothly, both to conserve their own ammo and to let the others have some fun. Sharing Karma, so noble...


    I watched the shooting slow down as the shaft was choked and filled with burning spideroid corpses, the dark ash billowing up and through, the airflow only feeding the fires more... and those I''d killed burning vivic to really add to the fun.


    I nudged my way past their armored suits and took a peek down at the burning hell of mutant bugs.


    Damn, good thing I''d grabbed the queen''s nexal after I backed into the place. Sucker was big, too. Hee hee hee...


    "Step aside, lads." To their amazement, I swung right over the lip, ignoring the still incredibly hot metal, and the fumes and flames of burning bug from below.


    My Trembling Domain was a little off with the heat, but I could still feel the bugs just outside and below, wanting to get in, but held at bay by the heat and flames.


    And if my hair was slithering through the mass of the burning bugs and fetching out a lot of nexals, well, there was a lot of smoke and ash in the way...


    My Claws anchored on the walls, hanging upside down, my hair defying gravity, I looked out under the top of the garage door, right among a lot of burning bugs.

 310 Far Future Ch. 20 – The Sentence is Carried

    The main fighting was a lot closer now, and this definitely wasn''t the only place with wall to wall fire. Ah, there we go, strobing laser fire was starting to reach here, harmless at this distance, but still visible and... there we go, it was coming from both directions. They were going to have to be careful they didn''t shoot one another, and as my tac-feed went out and was relayed, I noted that the range of the shots out there quickly shortened.


    The spideroids were being pushed back. Some seemed to be trying to exit through tunnels here or there, and I could only hope that those places had been sealed off by sufficient forces, as I didn''t have enough of an overarching map of the area to really attempt any guides... but if the spotters getting the feeds did, they better cross-reference and relay some orders.


    But no, the spideroids didn''t keep coming into the burning, stinking mess of their kind and Great Gramma, so I just hung there, recycling my oxygen supply, ignoring the thousand-degree temperature, and just watched as the ends of the fighting happened, and my extended hair was worming through the mess and getting all the nexals I could feel.


    Then the spideroids started to scuttle away... I watched them receding as Chalice silently fed me the information in her Banescan, and knew it was time.


    "I can bring you down six at a time, if three of you can hold onto the Disk while three are atop it." They were watching the feed with me, so they could see it as plainly as I what was going on. I scampered up the side of the shaft, my Disk came out, and three of them boarded it immediately, lifted it up, three more grabbed it with power gauntlets locking in place, and without acknowledging the weight, the Disk lowered itself smoothly down into the mass of spideroids burning down, which compressed under the weight of the power armor. The Juris waded through without any problems.


    Now the shields finally came out, just in case, and they started popping off fleeing spideroids from a distance. I went back up to get the rest of the squad, who joined in the sniping fun a minute later, sticking close to the liftshaft, but no longer feeling threatened as the spideroids seemed keen on avoiding them instead of swarming them... and they''d have no problems retreating into the burning shaft behind.


    I was practicing my marksmanship too, going out further than them to get more angles, skating across the ground, and finally getting a good look down in the other direction. While I was skating across the ground I was collecting nexals from the ones burned down by vivus, and plucking them out of the carcasses of others. The place was carpeted in white fires eroding the spiders, and the Gloam was partially lifted, although the webs which really reinforced it were still in place. They''d have to be flamed down to be removed...


    The squads coming in on carriers and foot, the former so they could spray down those on the ceilings and walls better, rolled in about five minutes later, volleys of fire leaving nothing alive behind them.


    At my quiet urging, we''d hauled the queen''s curled-up but still massive carcass out of the shaft, power armor muscle being good for something, and it was sitting off to the side for everyone to admire as the boys made a show of securing the loading dock and waiting for everyone''s arrival.


    That carcass was probably going to be auctioned off for a lot of money. I made a small frown, thought about all the nexals whose owners I hadn''t actually shot, and all the bounty money I was going to pick up, and the hazard pay, and the hourly rate, and I didn''t feel so bad.


    ---


    "Hey, boys." I waved them all in. "Recorders off." I waited a second as they discretely muted such things. "You boys got a favorite place to drink?" I asked carefully.


    "The Hammer," Sergeant Charlz replied instantly, not giving the others time to say anything.


    "I had a good payday here. If you want to give me your private sigs, I''ll set you up a tab at the Hammer by way of payback."


    There were some murmurs around, and then a lot of contact cards hit my Band. "Got it. You boys probably don''t need me around stealing your credit now, do you?" I winked at them, and they kind of laughed softly despite themselves. All that mattered was that I was with the squad, my name would be conveniently dropped from any accolades getting handed out for popping the Queen... which was fine. Only those that should know, knew.


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    "Agent Rantha, we are definitely going to call you up the next time we need to clear out a bug nest," Sergeant Charlz said in something resembling warm tones.


    "You say the sweetest things to girls, Sergeant," I winked at him, and headed for the shaft. "I''ll make my own way out, kiss a few girls for me!" I gave them some hipswing as I headed into the liftshaft, and bounced my way back up there.


    ---------------


    "What the fuck kind of high-end psion was that, working as a Termite?" swore Geffkli, the gyro gunner. "Guys... she pulled a Five Sun Shot off with me!"


    "Five Suns?" The Juris Tactical squadmates looked at one another. That was a hideously dangerous level of skill right there...


    "I want whatever gun she''s using," the mini-las bearer noted. "She was popping spiders almost as easily as me!"


    "I want to be able to walk into an inferno and run up and down walls like they are level ground," grunted Sergeant Charlz. "But you all got her card, so if there''s a problem... well, we now know a really ass-kicking psion that can be called in to handle it, right?" They all nodded. Power armor was good and all, but some things just required having an edge.


    Sergeant Charlz definitely put her on his list of people to Follow...


    ----


    The Hammer was a Juris bar in Upspire, near the precinct the Tactical Squad worked out of. True to fashion, there was one fairly near every Spire Precinct House, and they catered to the Enforcement side of the government.


    Good enough.


    I set up a 5k credit account for each of the squad, non-refundable. They''d be able to eat really well there for the next couple years if they wanted to. It was a nice reward for a job well done. After all, accolades might or might not include a bonus...


    Yeah, it was a lot of credits, but I''d swept up a whole lot of nexals that they''d had the kill on, and since they couldn''t cash them in and I could, feeding it back was only proper.


    There would probably be questions about where so many of those Nexals had gone, aie, burned away in hot plasma and point-blank detonations, so unfortunate...


    Damn, I still had so much stuff I had to buy. That yawning black hole that was Gear upgrades was snuffling pitifully at me. I was holding onto a fortune which would stir entire gangs down here to kill themselves, and all I could do was sigh...


    Paten had shown me that I definitely needed some ranged punch with speed, as just tossing Chalice''s blade around or Sharding wasn''t going to cut it here in the future. Really, twenty shots a second wasn''t going to cut it with the numbers of things I would probably end up fighting. Also, twenty seconds of sustained fire was nowhere near enough. I needed like, um, unlimited sustained fire.


    I looked down at Paten, who seemed to quiver eagerly at my stare. Yes, having a Compressed mini-las attached to him was definitely something I wanted to happen at some point. And a gyro-launcher. And a grenade launcher. And a plasma flamer, and a missile tube...


    No, no, I didn''t want much. I''ll just plink with my little autobolts, and that will surely stop that giant whatsit charging my way, sure it will. And that tank, and that Mech Walker, yup yup...


    The far future was definitely a place to challenge your personal weapon load-out, that was certain.


    Well, at least I had enough nexals to do a lot of empowering for a while, given the per-day limits on such things. I''d just have to figure out what was important, get that done first, and then work on the rest as time passed.


    So annoying... and I laughed at myself. Those Juris had been staring at Paten with outright envy, dreaming of affording a weapon which could do what I did. Paten was actually more valuable than that mini-las if I put it on the market, from a collector''s standpoint. Who made hand crossbows with underslung military-grade autolasers?


    Of course, I was creature-hunting, not on a battlefield, and it was a mass-slaughter tool of small creatures, not a proper combat tool... until it was Enhanced to +IX and ripping crap apart, that is. Main-Gauche was such a wonderful effect for the price...


    Still, I was going to need more than a handgun, in time. I guess I was going to have to have a separate long-range attack, and just upgrade Paten with mass firepower effects. Mmm, that meant a whole arsenal of various types of Bolts to shoot, adding to my ammunition woes.


    Money, ah, a brutal thing you are...


    Still, I had earned me some relative downtime.


    I cloistered myself away up on Floor 161, which I had taken as my personal demesne, to the misgivings and annoyance of the dead... until I started Crafting. Just nexal imbuing, nothing that important, but there was no doubt whatsoever that I had a lot of very curious ghostly eyes on me very quickly, which I serenely ignored as I stayed at work.


    Still, it gave me an idea...


    ---


    "Question for you all," I asked in Necrus, and just like before, shock riffled through them at the fact they could understand me so clearly.


    I held up my Sword Focus. "Chalice gave me this idea. I know you can see her just fine, and given how active she is Scanning, I think she''s having quite the fun time being hauled around with me.


    "I was thinking to myself, ''Self, would one of these ghosts wandering around up here aimlessly maybe want to get the frak out of here and see some new sights?'' Self replied, ''Damn, there''s a hundred thousand of them, there''s got to be at least one who wants to leave here with you, Sama!''I nodded to Self, and have decided to give one of you an opportunity. That was Chalice."


    Rustling wavers from the dead, speaking at levels I couldn''t hear... unless I really tried to. If I concentrated, I could see them, but not wanting to see the sight of umpteen thousands of dead people staring at me, I was not doing so.


    "In addition, if this works... there''s going to be opportunities for the rest of you. You all want revenge on the forces that did this to you. Well, I hate to tell you this, but they aren''t coming here. If you want to find them and get your vengeance, you''re going to need to go out to them... and you can''t do that if you stay here."


    More quavering in the eye, and waves of hate rolling past.


    "I''m eventually going to be bringing people here... young men and women, who''ll be like me." Chalice flared up, sparkling gold, driving them back with the threat she represented. "Not as strong, not as smart... they could use some help, a guide, and they''ll be happy to bring you along as they start trying to fix some of the worst parts of the shitass world that got you all killed.


    "So, here''s my offer. I''m gonna start looking for people. Are any of you willing to help the kids out? You help them, they help you, and you get to get the fuck out of this place you''ve been condemned to.


    "You think on that. I''m taking no more advantage of you than you are of me. If you don''t want to help, no skin off my bones. If you do... then you''ll be taking a step closer to revenge, and getting out of here.


    "Be back soon!"

 311 Far Future Ch. 21 – Baby Blade

    I checked the prices of platinum on the Boole, and it wasn''t bad. I''d have to find some that was Energized, as the rote stuff probably wasn''t suitable for magic, only for tech use.


    I was probably going to have to enchant my bones a lot if I wanted to work with Nog Levels. It didn''t bother me... what else was I going to use them for? They were already in the middle of being reinforced and made more efficient for heavy gravity. No reason not to keep improving on them, right?


    Of course I was right.


    Hum hum, thrum thrum...


    I brought my head back down to the gangers passing by as I was sitting there outside, looking at the wonderful eye-bending rustle-wave dome of the sky. One of them was waving a mindblade.


    It was a bare thing, more a wedge of green light than anything else, clearly just manifested. The kid who had it couldn''t be more than fifteen, clearly exulting over what he had, waving it around as if it was a great thing. His bros were congratulating him, clearly envious.


    He had psi-potential, the Gift. He had a ticket out of this place, and was gonna leave them far behind, no matter what he said.


    He caught me looking at him, and promptly went into rooster strutting mode, heading on over in front of me, waving his new little psi-toy. "Hey, girl, wachu think? I gots me a mindblade, girl! Ima be a bladeboy! Ima be goin'' places! How you like to have a piece of this action?"


    He waved it in front of me, showing it off as I raised an eyebrow.


    I reached out, pinched the mindblade in mid-wave, and then jerked him forward, interrupting his spiel about himself. My other hand grasped his arm, and my fingers closed.


    He squeaked as he fell to his knees, grasping at my hand on his wrist, gawking at me as I flicked out a vibroknife, turned it on, and before his buddies could rush to help him, brought the whirring edge up against his mindblade as he gasped.


    "AhhhhhhhH!" he shouted as the humming teeth bit in and sawed through the psychic force. His buddies held up as they watched the strangely fascinating sight of a vibroknife eating through the hard light of the mind blade. It got just about halfway through before the mindblade shattered, dispersing into random light particles, and the idiot screamed and jerked away, blood coming from his nose as I let him go.


    I held up the knife to his buddies as they caught him. "You all got knives?" I asked them casually, knowing they were packing. It was the default standby for low-end gangers who couldn''t afford anything. Half of them already had them in hand, although they hadn''t turned them on. "Well, as you can see, your knives are better than his, so you got nothing to be afraid of with him."


    Despite themselves, they had to smirk as they looked at him getting taken down a peg. He wiped away the blood on his face, cursing, and glared at me. "Yeah? Well, breaking it means nothing!" He concentrated, and it flashed back up at the end of his hand again. "I''ll just bring it back, and it''ll get stronger than-urk!"


    He shut up real fast, and they all backed away as I drew my appropriated Penson Industries Mark 49 Laser sidearm from my Masspack and aimed it at him.


    "So, you think you got a superior weapon there?" I asked casually.


    He looked at his mindblade, the laser in my hand, and the green wedge of force dispersed into random motes of light.


    "Now, see, that was the only intelligent thing I''ve seen you do today. Sit down, all six of you." I waved at the spot on the pavement in front of me.


    "Hey, girl, just cause you... have a dark gold mindclaw fuck I''m sitting down," said a sharp-eyed older teen who looked like the leader of the group, hurriedly doing just that. The others looked at my laser in one hand, the metallic soulclaw on the other, and also decided that sitting down would be good for their health.


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    Especially the new baby blade, who looked a bit awed.


    "Sama Rantha, Termite, sensei, bladebelle," I introduced myself, as both weapons suddenly went away. "To whom do I have the great honor and privilege of addressing?" I asked in lofty and very sarcastic terms.


    They all flushed, but Smart Guy spoke first. "I''m Brekko. The guy with the mindblade is Davro. This is Jimo, Frankie, Billi, Tohks, and Jamal," he introduced each of them carefully, and each nodded once to make sure I knew who they were.


    "Just a crew, not affiliated yet?" I asked casually.


    "They''ll just have us selling, and we ain''t having none of that business yet. Thought with Davro growing a blade, we might get a chance at something better."


    "Newsflash, geniuses. Did any of you go look up ANYTHING about new blade babies in Downspire on the Boole? Anywhere?" I asked archly.


    They all looked at one another, and then over at Davro, who just shrugged.


    "Right. Too excited to get the nod, and ignoring what it means." I reached up and massaged my temples. "Little boys, take a look at where you are." I waved at our surroundings. "You are trash. We live in trash. And somehow, something bright just started shining in the trash. Guess what happens to shiny, expensive shit in Downspire?"


    Their faces all got that Oh Shit look. "It gets taken away," Brekko spoke up.


    "By?" I prodded him.


    "The first to take it?" big Jimo spoke up, trying to sound clever.


    "Or?" I egged him on.


    "Whoever''s strongest. They''ll just kill the first ones and take it from them," Brekko said, eying me, and then glancing at Davro, who suddenly paled.


    "That''s exactly right. And you... are a baby blade. You have the ability to manifest a totally useless toy and wave it around, announcing the fact that you are valuable yet defenseless, a perfect combination of stupidity and value. Congratulations. Think about how many hundreds of people have seen you waving around that foggy, weakass mindblade of yours, telling people you have the Gift and can''t do shit with it.


    "This is Downspire. You''re gangers with no gang, you got no backers. Right now, those people are blabbing. Someone''s gonna think something like, ''Oh, ho, a punk psi who can''t protect himself. I can sell his brain for a brain battery and make some nice creds.'', or ''A stupid psi with no backer. I can turn him into a brainbanger and nobody gonna give a shit if I do.'' Or ''Hah, what a dumb shit. Ima get that punk hooked on Cortical Ride and make him my fucking dawg''." I trailed off after a moment. "And that''s if some old psion doesn''t suddenly think he don''t wanna be old no more, comes down, evicts your stupid mind from your skull, and grabs himself a new meatsuit of you."


    I lazily drifted my eyes back from the pale kid. "And you, of course, are his friends. Easy to track, easy to lean on. If you get in the way, you''re soylent fodder. If he decides to run or hide, you can be used to draw him out. After all, you got next to no use yourselves. Chop you up, make you spill your guts, make it loud, pretty, then start on his next of kin if he''s got the guts to watch you all die.


    "Damn, I can''t believe you were that stupid. This is Downspire, you fucktard, and you just made yourself into bling, and showed yourself off to everyone. It''s like you wrote a big ''Come Fuck Me'' sign on your face and challenged the world to do so."


    He really didn''t look too good right now, nor did his buddies. He had just drawn them into some bad shit, after all.


    "Now, you can run, sure. But you''d have to stay totally off the grid, and that means running into condemned zones, and word''ll get out and back to those who are looking for you. If you don''t go into no-Boole zones, some Hacker will track you down in no time.


    "So, gotta ask there, blade baby Davro... what the fuck are you planning to do now? Because I estimate a week before there ain''t no blade baby Davro anywhere, anymore. You''re either gonna be owned by somebody, or somebody is gonna be wearing you."


    The horror on his face as he contemplated what was going to happen to him was pretty moving. He looked at his buddies with sorrow, and it was plain that they didn''t know what to think, so they were getting mad at him.


    Smart boy totally ignored that shit. "You''re selling us a story," he noticed, drawing them back. "Yeah, I actually believe it. Can''t believe I didn''t see it sooner." He glanced at Davro, who shrank in on himself. "Okay, we can cut him, that might get us off, might not. Why you telling us all this? You got something to sell us?"


    "What you got to pay with?" I replied easily, looking them over with an eye that told them they didn''t have shit.


    "We got time and we can fight." I just lifted an eyebrow. "Yeah, we got no cyber or psi. We''re not hooked up yet. You knew that just watching us. Ain''t gonna boast to you. Just words, right? So, we got time, we got ourselves, and we can take care of ourselves. That''s what we gots to offer you."


    Had to smile despite myself, and I could tell it roused them. Okay, nymphal looks weren''t for nothing, and the Branding didn''t bother them at all. "Well, I might be in the market for a bunch of punks who got nothing but time... and a desire to get the fuck out of here." I flicked up my soulclaw, held my hand out, flickered my fingers a few times for them, so they could admire the cleavers that could reach into their chests and tear out their hearts. "I might know what I''m talking about, too."


    "Can you save us from what''s going down with Davro?" Brekko asked pointedly.


    "Good way to stave off guys coming for his brain is make them think he''s with someone they don''t want to mess with for just one baby psi. Better way is to make him think he''s with a bunch of people they don''t want to mess with."


    "You got a gang?" Brekko asked, interested. "No offense, ain''t heard of no gang led by a bladebelle with a golden claw. Looks like yours, people''d talk."


    "I''m looking at building one, a bit different from most." I glanced at Davro. "No offense, blade baby, but you''re not actually what I''m looking for. I''ll take you in, and I can teach you, but I actually want your buddies more."


    "You want us?" Brekko and the others all looked surprised. "I mean, he''s got the Gift, just like you!"


    "I don''t have the Gift." They all blinked. "What, you think my Claw is here because I do? I can''t manifest a mindblade. I''m a Null, got no true psionic power at all. I''m not much different then you all that way."


    "But..." the smart guy trailed off. "Never heard of no Null."


    "Well, probably not, because we can''t fly, shoot fireballs, teleport, or read minds. We got no flash. Cybers get more respect than Nulls do. We''re just kind of meat on the street and goons in the room to the Psis. But," I flicked up my Claw, admired it in front of them, "that don''t mean there ain''t ways, and it don''t mean we got no power."


    Okay, I had their interest, even Davro. "Sounds innerestin''," Brekko admitted. "How''s it work?"


    "Everything that thinks is psionic, more or less. The problem is that using psionic power is very different from being psionic. Nulls can''t use psionic power directly. Can''t spend it. If you want an analogy, a psion is a water pistol, and you''re a bottle of water with a sealed cap." I paused. "But we can still hit people with the bottle." My gold-shrouded fingers waved at them. "A mindblade is just a bottle. It''s a minor side-effect some people are lucky enough to be able to see and visualize when they become psionic.


    "So, becoming a mindclaw isn''t nothing much. All of you can become mindclaws... not mindblades, ''cause you got no range with your claw. He can do shit with his mindblade that we''ll not be able to do. Matter of fact, there''s almost nothing you can learn that he can''t learn, too... it''s just that he''s got other things he''s gonna need to learn which are more effective and useful, overall."


    "Wait, you saying you can give all of us... one of those?" Brekko asked, as they all gaped at me.

 312 Far Future Ch. 22 – She Lives with Ghosts

    I nodded slowly, meeting each and every one of their eyes. "Yep." And let that sink in. "And just imagine when they come looking for a blade baby... and find six of ''em. And me."


    Their faces all changed, visualizing that. Mindclaws around their hands...


    Brekko was thinking faster and further then all of them. "Can we trust you?" he asked.


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    I just held up my hand. "You''re asking the wrong question. I''ve shown you my colors. What you should be asking is... how can we get this lady to trust us, a bunch of greens?"


    They all looked at one another, and even Brekko looked a little downcast, but then straightened. "You say you can give us a Claw like that, and train us, show us the ropes. Nobody here is willing to do anything else but use us up and throw us away. You willing to teach us, show us shit like you''re saying, stuff we couldn''t even imagine... fuck, yeah, you can count on us. I''ll do whatever you say, girl!" The others all agreed with quick nods. This was like a golden opportunity come from Heaven. Turn it away? As if!


    "Well, then, here''s the deal. I''ll take you in, I''ll Open you up as fellow Nulls, and I''ll train you all, including the baby blade. But you''ll have to agree to a contract to do that, a psionic geas Tatted right onto your brains.


    "You''ll be my gang, as well as my students. I''ll have shit for you to do. That shit will help you get stronger, stay on the path, get more independent and able, give you focus for your life, the kind of focus that''ll bring you out of this place.


    "You''re going to give me all of your time until you are twenty. At twenty, we sit down and talk, and either you decide to stay on, or you find a way to repay me, and you walk.


    "If that''s okay with you all, then we''re good to go. Follow me, and we''ll get you initiated, and your first lessons will start."


    "Where you live, girl?" Brekko had to ask. The fact that I could even do such a thing showed I was way up the power scale from them.


    "You will address me as Sensei, or Sage Sama," I said in a clipped voice. "That''s a sign of respect. I will be your teacher, and I know more then you. I am not your boss, your sis, your mate, or your girl. I am your instructor and your guide. You will call me as such, and if you can''t bear to do so, then fuck off."


    "Sage Sama, where you live?" Brekko rephrased the question sort of respectfully.


    "Right there." I pointed, and their eyes followed my finger, and they hastily swore and looked away.


    "You live in Habberblok?" They all looked at me as if I was crazy.


    "To be precise, I live in Habberblok... in the Top Fifty." I let that sink in, and they all gaped at me. "And if you choose to follow me, at some point, so will you."


    Hook, set! I had them. There was cool, and there was "She lives in the place that kills people that look at it too long"...


    -------------


    "This is floor 157. Nobody stays here, so we''ve got our choice of rooms," I pointed out to my new cohort of six teens, who looked a bit jumpy. The whole floor was indeed totally abandoned, and given how close the Top Fifty was, it wasn''t surprising. Davro was especially twitchy.


    I pointed them to chairs probably near as old as the building around a couple tables of equal pedigree. "Sit. It''s time to Mark you." They swallowed despite themselves at the contract they were about to enter, and took their seats around one table, and I set down my case of Inks on the other. "Brightboy Brekko, you''re first..."


    My Claw was gold. He looked at it, and chose to believe in my colors...


    ---------


    -You may open the Door.-


    I watched them staring at the Door floating in their minds, very obvious, impossible to ignore, a Door that had not been there before.


    I was getting about two goldweight value of Karma a day. At such a rate, I would make Ten in Melee in about a year and a half, if I did nothing else. Me being who I am, even if monstrous loads of Karma were all Sealed up and waiting to return to me, I wasn''t going to be waiting all that time to get it back.


    Still, the steady stream was more than enough to start regaining my Marks. I had to focus on the mental ones, of course, or it would interfere with the Heavy Gravity Training I''d started. That was fine, more brains never hurt me.


    They hesitantly approached the Door, and pushed it open.


    I looked at their green souls entering, their single Marks obvious, and they gawked at my golden one, girded with nine. They were tiny and small and inferior, and, well, I was me.


    -Holy fuck!- /squeaked Brekko, gaping at me, and the others /thought similar things. It was their first experience with anything like telepathy, and suddenly being able to feel that they were indeed vastly mentally inferior was a very humbling thing, even to Smart Guy.


    -This is the Markspace, an /tellepathic space formed by the connection of your Marks through me. Through your Marks, you may speak with one another mentally across any distance, swiftly and precisely.


    -I will hear everything you say in Markspace, because you are using the back of my head as a chatroom. So don''t go talking about childish subjects, girls, sex, or similar things unless you want me listening in and commenting on your lack of discipline. I don''t need my head filled with drivel.-


    They all made hurried /agreements.


    -The majority of your instruction will be taking place here, because I''m not going to waste time with the misunderstandings of your perceptions and the limitations of words. For instance, I want all of you to do THIS.-


    The /broadcast was overwhelmingly precise. Go into your brain. Feel the power burning at the two points of your heart and your guts. Drive it up your spine to your brain, radiate it over your skin, and condense it at your hand.


    "AHHH!" six voices screamed in unison as their arms snapped out, and then they gaped in real life.


    Davro, especially. Because all six of his buddies had hands glowing with emerald light, much like his own mindblade!


    -Six of you are standing at a crossroads. Davro has already diverged from your paths. He is a Powered, one of the great lucky stars of the human race, with potential to become something great and exciting with relative ease, if he has the will and the drive to get there.


    -The rest of you are like me.- Every one of them blinked in shock. I really wasn''t a Powered?


    -Powered walk a lot of roads, but the famous ones are the Psion and the Psi-warrior. A mindblade is a clear indicator of the PW path. Given your lack of mental gifts, Davro, not being keyed as a Psion should come as no surprise to you. You all can see that Brekko is the most mentally gifted of you, but it should come as no surprise that even he has a very, very long way to go.-


    Disgruntled, they still had to agree. The evidence was right in front of them. They all stared, mesmerized at the mindclaws on their hands, and then looked up.


    At the claws extending four inches past my fingers, like translucent golden power fists... on both of my hands.


    -There are things you will learn together, and things you will learn apart. The six of you are not like Davros. He is Powered. I have taken the liberty of making your choice for the rest of you, and kicked you down the path of a Forsaken.


    -As of right now, you are Null Psions. Davros will be different from you, capable of things that you simply cannot emulate.


    -You will be capable of killing people like him.-


    There was some strange shuffling mentally as they all considered that. It wasn''t a bad trade, actually. Davros certainly was wondering what to think.


    -Davros is a water gun. You are water barrels. As brothers in arms, if you trust one another enough, you will be able to fill the water in his gun.


    -I do not think I should have to tell you what that might mean for you as a psi-user, Davros.-


    Davros swallowed. He could draw on the strength of his friends? That would be... absolutely incredible...


    -The power of a Null like us is limited by the power of our souls. You have not opened that power, which we will do so now.- I held up my right hand, and they mimicked the motion as the instruction washed over them.


    And not giving them time to think, I drove it through the chakra point of my left hand. Before they could think about it, so did they.


    "Aaaaaah!" they all screamed, and their Souls began to bleed into their psyches.


    I smiled. We were off and running...


    ------------


    "Kneel," I said indifferently, and the pale, white-faced lads behind me staggered to their knees, all the way, no questions. They were trying not to look at what they could not see, only feel, and the death it represented. Their Nulls weren''t strong enough to keep it out yet, nor Davro''s Will.


    "Claws out."


    Despite their misgivings, as I snapped my golden Claw up, they snapped their emerald Claws and Blade up. Much less sharp and defined then my own.


    I set down a brazier I''d made of common bronze, which I''d etched and inscribed myself, finding it amazing that smithing Skills were still relevant. Magic interacted badly with psi in this universe, but trying to make vivic flame interact badly was just impossible. All it did was purify unnatural energies. Trying to corrupt it would just feed it. It was Reality''s unnatural energy to other realities!


    "Above us are the one hundred and twenty thousand previous residents of Habberblok who were turned into brainslaves and killed thirty-four years ago. Their souls have been caught in a state of eternal anguish and anger by the interaction of Warp energies and the massive psionic assault from the Mentats and other forces who came in to cleanse the Cult who did this to them.


    "They LOATHE mentalists. They despise people who control others. They are, in general, very, very hostile to anything that lives and intrudes on their eternal damnation.


    "But you are here to help change that."


    They all stared at me as if I was mad. I put my Claw into the brazier.


    Vivic energy spiraled around it, and seemed to dissolve into smoke, the unwhite fire rolling up and forming a cloud.


    A cloud, with someone visible inside it.


    It was a young woman, dressed as a ganger, leathers, tats, sliced hairstyle, dark makeup, studs, the works. She had a sneer on her face as she looked down at them, and her eyes were empty and hollow, frozen forever in a grimace of pain and fear at her death.


    "Meet Chalice. She was mind-fried and turned into a puppet in that attack. I helped her track down her older sister, who had married outside the blok, and let her know she was okay.


    "In return, she''s agreed to ride my Claw, and vouch for me among the dead. She can see what I can''t see, and Emperor''s Teeth, she gets pissed when she sees psi abuse or highspires abusing downers." There was a visible waver in my Claw, and it became kind of spectral. As I lifted it away, the unwhite flames of vivus were attached to it.


    They all stared at my Claw, which had all its metallic edge, but now they could see right through it.


    "With the aid of your patron, you''ll be able to hit things that think they are immaterial, and most importantly, bring the vivic flame in to cut and cleanse things of the Warp."


    Their eyes were a little round. Okay, very round. They were gangers, after all, scrappers in a shitass world trying to survive. This suddenly got pretty surreal.


    "That''s right, boyos, you''re going to be working with the ghosts of Habberblok! You wanted to be something special, something more than you thought you could ever be... this is your chance.


    "Brekko, step forward and put your claw into the flame."


    The smart kid swallowed as I pulled my hand away, and took one shaky step forwards, putting his green, tight-fitting claw-gauntlet into the flames.


    The smoke changed color, from gold-spotted to green. Naturally, there was nothing else above it.


    "Elders of Habberblok, my disciple Brekko is here to earn your trust. He would carry your favor into battle against those who wrought such ill upon you. Step forward, and name him a task to complete, to prove his worth and virtue, and satisfy you, that he may carry your name forward in battle against the darkness that devoured you!"


    Brekko swallowed, and I could almost hear the cheeeeeeeese he was thinking as I said all that, and very, very seriously, too. It was too much like a kid''s serial, of the pompous and lofty Coronal Knights, and...


    A ganger stepped into the smoke. Lean, scarred, one side of his head marred by what looked like plasma fire, his shoulder and arm eaten away. His empty eyes met those of Brekko, spectral lips parted in a sneer, and he reached down to touch Brekko''s claw.


    Brekko gasped and went absolutely white, feeling that undead caress against the manifestation of his will. He closed his eyes, endured, shaking from head to toe, and finally nodded.


    "I''ll do it," he promised. "Gebbo, I''ll get him for you and your sister."


    The undead ganger just grinned nastily, and faded away from the mists.


    I waved Brekko back, and he retreated, breathing more freely with each step back he took.


    "Your task is your own. You don''t tell anyone it, because the dead don''t speak. You can ask me to teach you HOW to do something, that''s fine. It doesn''t have to be done now, or ever. But you won''t walk up here and be a knight of the dead until you accomplish it. It''s your quest, and you complete it."


    Brekko met my eyes, and nodded slowly, clenching his fist.


    "Davro."


    The kid swallowed and slowly stood up. I could feel the anger of the spirits flare as he timidly put his mindblade into the flames, and fearful green motes swirled up.


    "I need a wise man here. This kid lost his grandfather, who was the only one keeping him straight in life. Yeah, he''s a psi... but he''s a psi who wants to be something like a Coronal, not one of those rat bastards who did what they did to you.


    "I want someone willing to forge him into a weapon against the shit of this world.


    "So, Elders of Habberblok, my disciple Davro is here to earn your trust. He would carry your favor into battle against those who wrought such ill upon you. Step forward, and name him a task to complete, to prove his worth and virtue, and satisfy you, that he may carry your name forward in battle against the darkness that devoured you!"


    Davro gulped aloud. Okay, this cheese was being repeated, which meant it had advanced from cheese to ritual.


    The vivic fires flared up, and an old man stepped into the mists.


    His face was drawn and hanging, lined with wrinkles, his shoulders were sloped, he was slender and small.


    But there was a hardness and sharpness around him the ganger hadn''t had, a level of danger that said this was a spirit that had seen and done some shit.


    That old and gnarled hand descended to touch the sparking mindblade. Davro''s eyes fell back, and he almost fell over.


    "Y-yes, Sergeant!" he gasped. "I understand!"


    Beneath the dread there was respect that couldn''t be hidden. The old man nodded, and faded back beyond the flames.


    Davro retreated without being told, his head down, his mind spinning.


    "Jimo." The big ganger quavered, but advanced. I addressed the air. "Jimo''s a decent kid who''s fallen on hard times. He needs someone to nag him and keep him on the right path. Is there a mother willing to adopt him?


    "Elders of Habberblok, my disciple Jimo is here to earn your trust. He would carry your favor into battle against those who wrought such ill upon you. Step forward, and name him a task to complete, to prove his worth and virtue, and satisfy you, that he may carry your name forward in battle against the darkness that devoured you!"


    Jimo swallowed as he put his mindclaw into the flames, and in the green smoke, someone stepped forwards...

 313 Far Future Ch. 23 – Some Small Slices of Life

    "Here is the first lesson for you. I have your backs."


    I grabbed Jimo''s arm, yanked it to me, activated the vibroknife, and plunged it into his forearm.


    He screamed as it bit through the flesh, carved into the bone, blood and muscle flying everywhere, gouging out a horrible wound six inches long as he howled in pain.


    But his arm couldn''t move an inch.


    I shut off the knife, and flipped Grim out from behind my head. The crystal familiar seemed to pulse from pearl to red as I slapped it down over the wound.


    He trembled as the wound was stolen from him, split open on my arm. Muscle reconnected, blood was sucked back in, sinews repaired, bone mended. They all gaped as they watched the wound reappear on my arm, the same one that was holding him, and it twitched and slithered together and went away.


    There was some blood on the floor, but both of our arms were unmarked.


    "I have your backs," I said calmly, meeting his eyes, then slowly moving it to clever Brekko, clam-lipped Davro, and the others. "If you get shot, I can take the injury. If you get stabbed, I can take the hit away. If you get beat, pummeled, mashed, crushed, I can make anything but limb or organ loss go away.


    "So when you fight, you FIGHT, goddamit! I HAVE YOUR BACKS! All you have to do is win, and regardless of how chopped up, mangled, beaten, and bruised you are, I will take care of it!


    "Now, each of you give me your arms! You''re going to see this, you''re going to feel this, and you''re going to believe this, each one of you!


    "Then," and my smile grew totally cruel, "you''re going to practice how to fight. You''re going to hit, and you''re going to get hit. I''m going to patch you up, and you''re going to fight again. You''re going to learn what it means to dish it out, and very, very importantly, how to take it."


    I flicked on the vibroknife. "Student Brekko."


    He swallowed, looked at the rather pale Jimo, his unmarked arm, and stepped forwards.


    ----


    "This is a Transfer Circuit; it''s attuned to me." I held his hand, poked his finger with a Vajra sharper than a needle, and Davro didn''t say anything as a tiny drop of blood rose there. I touched it to the white crystal, and scarlet veins ran through the psionic circuit in precise runeforms.


    I dropped the chain onto his hand. "Now, I want you to practice stabbing yourself, and then healing yourself with that jewel. You need to spend your Nimbus into the jewel to let me know what''s coming. If it doesn''t turn red, I''m not in a situation where I can accept the damage."


    He swallowed, looked at the crystal, shuddering a bit as he formed his Nimbus. "Why me?" he asked, gesturing to the others looking at him... who didn''t know whether to be envious or not.


    "Because this ain''t a Soulbound Item, which means they can''t Attune to it. You''re the only one who can. In other words, if they go down, you''re the only one of you six who can heal them."


    His back straightened as he suddenly realized the responsibility he had. "R-right!" He could heal his bros... and probably anyone else who needed it, come to think of it. He stared at the crystal as he concentrated, trying to align the psionic power flowing over and around him, and align it into a working Nimbus of psionic power that could do all sorts of stuff, if one had the time and inclination to learn.


    The crystal pulsed red, and I felt a throb in my heart, let it connect. The crystal turned red, and Davro clenched his jaw as he drove his knife to the hilt into his arm...


    -----


    His fist, covered in the mindclaw, crashed against my jaw.


    Jimo yelped as my head turned slightly, and my eyes didn''t leave his. He clutched his hand and stepped back as he looked at me.


    "That was extremely disappointing, Disciple Jimo." He swallowed at my voice, suddenly feeling very, very weak. "Discharge it this time. Again!"


    He did, crashing his fist into my gut. Psychic energy blew out from his mindclaw, trying to rip and tear at me.


    It barely raised a scratch on my stomach.


    I backhanded him. He spun around in place, body following face, and ended up face-first on the ground, drooling.


    "Very disappointing." I lifted Grim, his chain wrapped around my hand, and nodded at Davro, who sidled forward to treat his buddy. Practice, practice! "Disciple Brekko, put some muscle into it, I hope."


    He looked at his big buddy Jimo, back at me, and swallowed as his mindclaw materialized...


    ------------------------


    The car came into a stop in front of them as they hung out in front of their favorite loading dock. The six of them looked up as four brawny sorts piled out of the slick car that riding low, heavy with armor, and with the multiple scars and paint jobs to verify that it had seen some action.


    The men were moving with the precision and weight of the cybered, and had the glint of neural circuits on their faces, and the stiffness of subdermal armor turning their faces into oddly similar ridges. Their skin wasn''t glossy, so that hadn''t been totally repressed, but they were definitely big and confident as they rounded on the six teens who were just looking at them.


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    Nobody had drawn yet, but the four were all packing.


    They were a bit disconcerted to see two of the teens were, and the guns had quite naturally dropped into their hands.


    Brekko rose, his eyes having an odd light to them. It was the light of someone whose soul had been touched by the dead, and suddenly was a whole lot older for it. They were eyes that had lost their bravado, and replaced it with something else a whole lot colder and grimmer.


    The ebon-skinned man nearly a head taller than him came right up to his face, glancing over them all, and settling on Davro quite quickly as the other three backed him up from by their car. Disruptors and slugthrowers had range, after all, no need to get up close and personal.


    "Davro Klingster. My boss Sharkey, has heard that you seem to be in possession of a rare gift. He''d like to invite you to sit down with him," the man said, with a smile that said this wasn''t an invitation.


    "Fuck off, bot," Davro said without batting an eye, and the man actually blinked at the casual reply. None of the six seemed at all surprised or even uncertain at his words, or the threat behind them.


    "I don''t think you understand what Mr. Sharkey''s invitation actually means, punk," the cyborg smiled, revealing teeth too perfect to be natural, now sparking, and his eyes grew targeting rings. It was quite an intimidating display.


    The six punks looked back at him as if he were joking. "And just what does the great and mighty Mr. Sharkey want with one of us?" Brekko asked, his voice just as apathetic as Davro''s.


    The cyborg wasn''t a fool, and these six were all giving off all the wrong vibes. They should be punks, nervous, sketchy, fighting to calm down their nerves at his presence, the show of power on the street.


    Instead, they were just looking at him without the slightest sign of fear. Despite himself, he had to wonder what was going on.


    "You were waving a mindblade around a couple days ago. That''s a rare and precious talent. Mr. Sharkey would like to talk to you about your future."


    "Oh, that." Davro just waved it off. "Yeah, you probably got the wrong person. Don''t matter, tho. Ain''t none of us interested. Just fuck off."


    The cyborg blinked again, his hand drifting to the holster at his waist. "Are you really that damn dense?"


    All six of the boys were still looking at him like he was the stupidest person, and it was putting him on edge. Who did they think they were? They didn''t even have a name, nobody backing them, no rep, no influence.


    "Nah, we understand what you are saying, but like Davro said, none of us are interested. Now, why don''t you just turn and drive off with all your implants intact?" Brekko said flatly.


    The borg was sensing all kinds of problems here. These kids just shouldn''t be so calm. "Just where do you think you are getting your nerve, boy?" he asked harshly, starting to step in.


    All six of them made the same gesture at the same time, right hands opening, turning, closing.


    Six points of green light were brought humming to life, an ominous, harmonizing drone that instantly had the cyborg retreating a step.


    Six mindblades!


    The thought of all this treasure was replaced by the fact that he realized he was suddenly in tremendous danger. They all had Nimbuses active on those Claws they were showing!


    He grabbed for his gun, and his boosted hand closed on air. He looked down, to see his gun hit the ground, bounce, and fall into the sewer grating. Then he looked up, and... where were his boys?


    They were nowhere to be seen...


    Just a ruffle of motion, he looked back, and blanched and tried to snap out his arm-blades as four humming mindblades came for him together. Emerald light glowing on two heavy laser pistols grew in his eyes, and the punks fired.


    ----------


    "Hey, now you got a car." I tossed the keys to Brekko. "One of you better know how to drive and jump this thing."


    Brekko tossed the keys to Billi, who hurried to the ride to get to work on it.


    "Carve ''em open, take the tech, sell it to the chop docs, leave ''em for the TC Soylent Wagon. Chopchop." Quite literally.


    Mindblades and claws were uniquely suitable for the job, and if it was bloody, that was fine, you didn''t need to clean them.


    Also, the other four of them also had disruptors now, although we''d have to burn the signature locks off of them. Disruptors and slug-throwers with a psionic charge on them hit like trucks, as that borg had been very unhappy to experience, and the hole in his head attested to.


    Their clothes were suitable for tossing the extracted tech into, and Billi had the car running before they were done. The unsightly corpses were left in the gutter for the Soylent Wagon, and now four of them had armored flexamite jackets, too.


    "Sell the tech, keep the money. Start making up wish lists of what you want to complete your quests.


    "When you''re done, park it down in our spot under Habberblok, take anything you''ve brought up to your rooms, and start on your conditioning stuff. Any questions?"


    There was a loud chorus of "No, Sensei!" and I nodded. "I''m off to see My Queen. Any questions, I''m not far." I tapped my head, they all flushed, and then scrambled off to get into their new car.


    Sharkey might be responding again, and if he did, he was going to get a very unpleasant surprise. Six guns with psi-boosts were not something anything but a high-end cyborg could survive...


    -------


    According to the previous owner, the piano was an heirloom, passed down in the family for many generations. It had been psi-enhanced once, so it resisted the effects of time, even though it was made of actual wood. I did have to respin some threads, and tune it all up, but I got it to working status over the course of a week or so.


    Then I heaved it up on my shoulder and walked it out to the steel struts over the Plunge that had once held the false ceiling, trying to ward the Top Fifty off from those below.


    Some sharp eyes saw the girl with a baby grand piano on her shoulder walking out over the arched steel, that sight spread pretty quick. I set it down on the center of the arch where the struts met, pulled out my Disk, and sat down in front of the keys.


    7 Ranks in Piano, possible courtesy of my AB, programming reflexes and brain, downloading heaps and heaps of music from the akasha and the Boole, just so I could sit down at these keys and feel totally comfortable doing this.


    The dead were swirling above me, wondering what I was doing.


    My Nimbus swirled on my fingers, my Vajra swirled against the keys, over the strings as the edges of heartsong effects took hold, and I began to play.


    There were words to go with this, but the key thing was that the melody was in Dirge, meaning it could be heard clearly by the undead. It was not an old, old song, not one they''d heard before, but it had its own resonance.


    And it built, slowly, and quietly, thrumming with power, with drive.


    And a need for vengeance. I could even say it wasn''t speaking about me, but the notes echoed and re-echoed off the Plunge, clearly audible to anyone in the central area of Habberblok.


    She''d made it the first time to play for herself. The first time I was playing it here, it was to an audience of a quarter-million.


    Tremble, oh ooooo Tremble, she comes, the wordless notes began to rise and fall, and people looked up, the ghosts looked back, and everyone listened.


    Music at 30+ is transcendent to most people, and ghosts, too...


    -----


    It was called the Serenade of Ghosts when it hit the Boole. The fact that no one could properly duplicate it would mean the official recording made me a lot of money, as would the follow-up concerts to the ghosts of Habberblok over the coming weeks...

 314 Far Future Ch. 24 – The Land Down Under

    "So, My Queen, what wonderful stuff do you have for me to do today?"


    The fact I actually stopped by the office instead of just calling him up didn''t get any more response out of him than anything else. Such a master of the unflappable, as immovable as his mustache.


    "Jobs in the Underspire." He reached over, liberated six different files, slapped them down on his desk in front of me. "Pick the one you would like to do first. Consider it your test to keep your Level Two Rating."


    "Okie-dokey." His eyes flicked at the odd term, but he continued working on his computer, while I picked up the folders, old flimsy, shook my head, and scanned through them quickly.


    Jeez. Sentient rat swarm. A predatory ooze creature around the algae vats. Tracking and charting the spideroid infestation. A missing Termite. A missing work crew near The Hole. Probably Morlocks tapping the powergrid. Rumors of things coming up out of the Sunken Sea.


    "This looks like the work crew and the missing Termite might be related... maybe not." Huh. Near the Hole and everything. "They''re both near the Hole. I''ll take ''em and see if there''s a connection, howzabout?"


    He grunted his enthusiastic assent to my overwork. Must not have been a huge amount of competition for these jobs, strange.


    The fact that finding out what happened to a Termite, and fairly recently, was one of them, verified my faith in My Queen. Just getting the job done and taking care of his living employees.


    "Can I get approval to order some more stuff with my dop bonus money and stuff?" I asked archly.


    He looked at me. "Before or after."


    "Order it, I''ll pick it up when done," I assured him.


    "What are you looking for."


    "Well, I need seven additional psi-crystal-worthy geodes, some generic crystal-crafting matrix geodes, a set of the appropriate tools... oh, and a laenwork printer, shaper, and actuator, if possible?


    "Which reminds me that I need an ammunition maker, too. Slugthrowers are best for a Sun Strike."


    "I will see what I can do. Those are restricted items."


    "I''ll make some ammo for you," I winked at him. "These two." I shoved the missing Termite and work crew to one side. "Code me up, dump the files on me, and I''ll be off!"


    He just glanced at me, summing up my condition and equipment, and not saying anything else.


    My Band beeped. I was off!


    -----------------


    There''s Crownspire, high-tech fairyland where the obscenely wealthy well-born dwell, generally noble merchant clans who control off-world trade routes, the keys to the stars. That''s the crown of the Central Spire of Janus Prime, reaching way up there to the space elevator controlled by the City Lord, the most powerful sot on the planet. Of the Planet. The Emperor''s Own Knights and Cutthroats would claim something else.


    Upspire is where wealthy commoners, powerful government officials, and minor noble houses of this world held power, generally controlling great businesses, resources, factories, or work forces, their cash boxes filled by the High Houses. They were still fantastically rich by any standard, but don''t have the multi-world and multi-city power of the High Houses.


    Midspire was your better educated workers, usually white-collar, with education or skills that were in demand.


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    Downspire is where the poor labor force dwelled, but since there''s a massive demand for manpower, they aren''t out and out destitute. Well, mostly. They are treated like a resource, and not having all the nice stuff that exists in Upspire breeds some ferocious class resentment, which often spills over into lots of violence as they rail against the system.


    All of this was built overtop of Underspire.


    Janus Prime was a mega-city thousands of years old, its roots sunken way, way down into the mantle. Early mines became foundations for expansions of a workzone into a city, drilling deep into the mantle as machinery for the establishment of a true colony city was set in place, and things grew and grew and grew with time, layer on layer rising, ever rising, while down below, everything remained.


    Including a whole lot of people.


    Bulk processing of massive scale went on down there, factories occupying cubic miles of space and employing uncounted millions of people. Some lived in Downspire and could see the sky, far, far overhead between the bloks. Millions upon millions of others lived and died in the darkness of Underspire, their only ceilings durasteel and plascrete, and the eternal rumble of machinery they didn''t understand.


    Welcome to the future. It''s a bright shiny place.


    Granted, this dystopia wasn''t made completely by human decision, but they sure helped. The planet was a shithole before humanity ever got here, according to the histories, so at least they hadn''t freaking ruined a world in pursuit of power. Even the alkalis in the winds had value, and so the dust coming off the swirls on the dome was actually worth harvesting. It was a world definitely not friendly to humans, but it had resources, a lot of them, and so it was being mined for them.


    The divisions between classes, well, that incited class conflict, and the Warp Gods loved conflict of any kind.


    There were, naturally enough, four major divisions among the noble houses.


    The first faction was the Traditionalists, those who relied on the power of science and technology. The nobles were cyberlinked, and made use of computers, power armor, and moderate implant use. Their servants were often full-on cyborgs and bot-brains, wielding the power of technology and force of arms to defy their opponents. Naturally, they had excellent relations with the Mekkers.


    The second faction was the Inheritors, those families that relied on psionic mastery to maintain their status and power. Divination, psionic production, and the like were their domains, operating on the edge of human power. They generally had excellent governmental relationships, having close ties with the Mentats, Umbrans, and Coronals.


    The third faction was the Ascendents, who operated on a paradigm of human evolution. Gene-splicing, genegineering, biosciences, and ''unlocking genetic potential'' was their big thing, and they were responsible for the many varieties of humans living on a variety of worlds, and the addition of a lot of extra stuff into the human genome over time. Pretty much every variant human race, from Spacers to High-G types, came about from them, and as a result, they had good relations with all of them.


    The last was the Purists, who were staunch humanists, tended to be rather conservative fanatics philosophically, and whose power was based on control of labor forces and average workers. They didn''t have the advanced tech of the other factions, save for some spectacular power armor they were always trying to improve, but their influence over the Cult of Humanity was extreme, and they sank their claws deep into the government bureaucracy. They basically didn''t really trust any of the other factions, all of whom had strayed too far from humanity''s roots, were too susceptible to Warp Influence, and perverted the beliefs and intentions of great Tellus.


    And all these beliefs trickled down into the Undercity.


    The Undercity had its noble houses, too. Or, to be more precise, its triads, syndicates, gangs, mobs, mafias, yakuzas, cartels, and what-have-you. The underworld was run by those who didn''t really care too much about the law, having their own codes and mores they lived by, and as long as the job got done without harm to Those Above, that was perfectly fine.


    So, yes, Underspire was run by the criminal underworld.


    Oh, there was imperial oversight, but it was limited. If a Coronal or Umbran came Down Under, nobody was going to defy them unless they wanted their house/gang/syndicate obliterated. Too, the crooks had to have at least some operative framework to live and work around, or they would just wind up in chaos.


    But outside that, well, the soylent vats got a lot of business from Underspire.


    Of course, it didn''t stop there, because why not make a bigger fucking mess out of a bad situation?


    There were Morlock tribes, living ''wild'' in the metal architecture of the underzone. There were creatures of this hellhole world that got inside and found it much friendlier and easier to get along, with lots of easy food around. There were rogue gangs and nomad tribes living in the underways, occasionally connecting to places outside the city, and way too frequently Warp-crazed and looking to have fun. Psychic fluxes, freak accidents, and sporadic violent combat were just some of the everyday occurrences going on down here, like casual background to a life entombed under mountains of durasteel.


    And I was going into this mess, which was basically just as dangerous as living in a Condemned Zone in Downspire.


    It sounded like fun!


    -----------


    Downloaded to my Band were travel files to Underspire, delineating a section of the foundational architecture in the area I was moving into, how to get there, where to go, and what to do.


    I noticed that those files hadn''t been updated for the last century, and also noteworthy was that they couldn''t be downloaded or copied or anything, and would automatically wipe once I was no longer in that zone.


    In other words, creating an overall map of the Underspires was meant to be very, very difficult. If you couldn''t memorize the place, you were either at the mercy of outdated maps, or lost.


    However, ol'' Sama had a Visual File. Without much ado I scanned through everything and memorized it, bypassing the locked software, and suddenly became an expert from a century ago on this particular stretch of subterranean areas.


    Needless to say, the Underspires severely messed up communications, even most telepathic ones. Numberless hordes of people had lived and died down here, their thoughts and emotions seeping into the metal and staining it deep with psychic residues. Normal coms have very limited ranges trying to deal with all the metal and rock in the way, and there was a large amount of psychic static, even to telepathy.


    However, my Marks bypassed all that, operating on a different wavelength as they did, so I had no problem checking up on my students and directing them hither and yon. So, even if I was down here for a while, I wasn''t out of contact.

 315 Far Future Ch. 25 – Living in, A Land Down Under

    Termites broke the Underspire areas up by Node Zones.


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    Node Zones were areas where the Boole worked, and so our positions could be tracked, files uploaded, downloaded, and reports made. That basically meant a land-line centered open port was within range of us, i.e. a Node. We basically moved from Node to Node, updating what we were doing, seeing if we found something in between.


    Reports said that Morlocks in particular loathed Nodes, and true criminals and people off the grid did, too, so Nodes were constantly being destroyed, replaced, and the parties responsible for such events shot in return. The Mekkers hated Luddites, after all.


    First stop was a thousand feet down, and I''d be starting off in Scythilian territory.


    The Scyth were among the easier of the mobs to work with, mostly because they acted like a mafia. Dark hair, greased, attitudes, focused on the bottom line, macho yet cunning, with completely fluid relationships with all the other gangs. They were close-lipped to outsiders, pugnacious, and always ready to fight to stake their claims. They were always willing to make a deal they benefited from, as it were, and their tentacles ran up and downspire.


    They had a pragmatic attitude towards the law, revolving around leaving unnecessary stuff alone, and getting Juris out of there as quickly as they could be satisfied. Termites wouldn''t get as much respect, but Termites had their own rights, and competent Termites weren''t people to mess with.


    I could be considered competent, I supposed...


    -------


    Stepping off the massive lift with a few hundred shift-drones off to do their jobs, I headed for the first Node station nearby, almost certain to be watched over by a Scyth or two, as the Mekkers looked poorly on those who let their tech get crunched. Posting a punk or two to make sure nobody took a sledge to key stuff wasn''t that out of line.


    The air down here was recycled, and smelled like other people had been breathing it. Well, I suppose all air is recycled, the carbon dioxide fed the algae vats, and oxygen was doled out back to the living zones. Don''t pay or produce, they shut down the fans, cart the asphyxiated dead over to the soylent processors, and bring in a fresh batch of workers. Neat, tidy, kept work stoppages under control, and was pretty effective population control, too.


    Since having to do that reflected badly on the gangs in charge, they definitely resorted to all sorts of things to keep production going and the money coming in. Likewise, their opponents weren''t above making them look bad and sabotaging key facilities in a bid to take over contracts and territory. The energetic skirmishing occupied a lot of the attention of all the various mafias, which disturbed pretty much nobody else at all.


    I was tracking one Milder Cogran, an experienced Termite (had to be, to be sent Underspire) who''d been investigating the work crew disappearance when he''d vanished, too. As the mafias didn''t claim anything, nor resolve the disappearance, someone else had to be sent in. The Juris naturally were dragging their feet, considering it something for the mafia to take care of, and naturally didn''t want to overexert themselves for a Termite, either.


    Thus, it fell to the Termites to take care of their own. That''s why this was on paper, as it was likely to get purged or grey-filed otherwise.


    But I was getting Underspire pay, so why complain? Other than breathing that air that smelled of farts and body odor, no matter what they scrubbed it with...


    I was just following the same path of Nodes, as it was the quickest way down. I''d be traversing a Scyth zone, and then the Steiners, who had the security contract for the soylent vats.


    The walls were metal, there were pipes, conduits, grates, plugs, stairs, random passageways and doors, crawlspaces, flues and cables and just plain junk like that everywhere. This wasn''t a place designed for human habitation, only human maintenance, but adapt as you go, and keep trucking, I guess.


    There were indeed a couple punks on guard duty in the central hub that formed a five-way sideways and down with other floors coming in and out. I tracked the line of the Node up to the ceiling with the bolted case, and a couple young men standing around in the trenchcoats and glasses the Scythilians wore. They were punks, because they weren''t allowed the black greaser do''s that indicated the Made Men.


    I kind of stood out among the Underfolk, being taller, auburn-haired, and not moving in a hunch. They watched me closely as I walked straight up to them, read my shirt, and had kind of weird expressions on their faces.


    Saved time. "Yeah, I''m a Termite. One of ours vanished chasing a posting down here, a Mekker work crew. There''s been no resolution, so I was sent to follow up. You want to call ahead and let them know I''m coming through, be obliged."


    They looked me up and down brazenly, and I wasn''t showing them much to be scared of. "What''s it worth to ya?" the first one immediately offered.


    I laughed slightly. "Extorting a Termite during the course of their official duties is a terminable offense by Juris ruling 21573-a, you can look that up if you like. A 100-credit bounty is automatically issued and expedited fulfilment is encouraged. So, repeat that. I can use the spare change, and someone who thinks their life is only worth a hundred credits is pretty funny."


    His underdweller-white face kind of fell, and his hand moved carefully away from the las at his hip, oriented for a cross-draw. "No trouble, no trouble," he offered, and waved me on. "I''ll let ''em know. Have a nice walk."


    "Thanks!" I skated on past him, they both turned to watch, and snorted despite themselves.


    ------------


    Down tunnels and stairs, branching this way and that, machines and rovers moving up and down them, hauling crates and cannisters in both directions.


    This particular area was a routine processed goods area, churning out all kinds of parts and supplies for making devices. It wasn''t high tech stuff, for the most part, with machines handling any extreme precision required, but everybody still needed nuts and bolts.


    Humans were involved in the process for a simple reason... humans made mistakes. Mistakes resulted in the loss of perfection.


    It had been proven a long, long time ago that utterly perfect replication of items was very dangerous. There was an axiomatic surge around them, which usually prompted an immediate response from the Warp. Id demons would come flowing out, and go to war against suddenly animated constructs and machines, both of which would naturally fricassee any humans caught in between.


    Trying to randomize the process didn''t work, as perfect randomization was axiomatic, and if it wasn''t, then it was anarchic, and so self-defeating. People, however, made mistakes, were not perfect, and while slower, didn''t trigger the reactions that trying to automate everything did. Ergo, people still did a lot of the work, because leaving it to the machines and robots would be deadly.


    Being a factory area, it was basically all under Nodes, so I was moving through production areas teaming with people and moving material and machines, various sorts of metal and plastic items being shaped, carved, printed, assembled, cut, stamped, engraved, welded, joined, and otherwise worked on in various fashions.


    The machinery shown was interesting, and I was getting a good look at a lot of wiring and mechanical engineering in my Trembling Domain, which was stirring up all that science knowledge I''d dumpster-dived for.


    I could actually see the stagnation, and how deliberate it was, especially in the computer systems. They didn''t dare advance beyond a certain level, or even have perfectly bug-free code, as the opposition of the Warp and lingering psychic energies would trigger the axiomatic surge, and the AI''s would become free-willed... and not at all human friendly. Completely Lawful entities operated on very different paradigms from organic mortals, after all.


    The only solution was a type of technology that could somehow incorporate imperfection, staving off Axiom, while also being able to defy the corruption the Warp liked to induce in such things. My thoughts began to dance...


    The guards I met on the way were mostly punks, with a few Made Men in charge. As they knew I was coming, and I had a clear purpose, there wasn''t too much hassle. I was escorted/guided along the way from station to station, which I tolerated with complete indifference... and absolutely refusing to be harassed along the way. A couple of them got free with their mouths, I backhanded them into the wall, and they exercised noise discipline thereafter. I didn''t mind them appreciating my derriere, as it was well worth the look, but lewdness was worth some action, especially if they were deliberately trying to let me overhear.


    And if ''bitch'' got addended to my Termite status, hey, it wasn''t the first time. I totally earned it.


    -----


    A few miles of walking up and down, mostly down, and we reached the neutral zone handoff to the Steiners, a wide transit area with stiffs on one side and punks on the other, both sides fully armed, and looking ready to use them.


    The Steiners were tall and bony, with grayish skin, disturbing pale eyes, and surprising strength and speed for their clumsy appearance. The Boole said they were deceptively quiet and real good at taking punishment, with high pain thresholds and a grim tolerance for pain that tended to disconcert the other gangs, especially when a Steiner started clubbing them to death with the arm they''d just blown off him.


    They were fairly good at keeping to agreements, but at the same time capable of pouncing on weakness and moving really fast if an opportunity presented itself. Mostly, they defended their own holdings with a grim resolve that let their opponents know that they''d have to pay to get anything out of them, so few of the mafias messed with them casually. There was apparently some really bad blood between them and the Sweiss, with the Sweiss claiming they were just a servant species they''d bred to do menial labor for them, and the Steiners shooting them whenever they had a good opportunity, like shooting rats. The contempt on both sides was naturally taken advantage of by others, and the highbrow politics of the Underspires went on.


    Glum yet efficient, the Steiner guards watched as I strolled across the bridge of the Node boundary, wondering what was up, as the Scythilians hadn''t bothered to tell them. Hooded eyes, kind of slouching, electro-enhanced boosters at the sides of the neck, they hefted their shock mauls in warning, but I didn''t even slow down as I flashed my ID to them, and they read it off the neural links with their Trodes. "Heya there, passing through. You want to escort me, or do I just find my own way?"


    I didn''t have to wait for them, but I politely paused so the Frank in charge could make a decision, and send one of the stiffs along with me. Into the soylent processing area I went.


    The feel of death was weighty about this place, as to be expected. Nothing living came through the soylent, of course, they only processed the dead, and naturally they claimed that any uniquely human proteins were removed during the course of the processing. Nobody believed it, but it was a standard part of Underspire diets, mostly as additives to gak, grog, and other foods, so nobody said too much.


    I was actually a little surprised at how sophisticated some of the tech here was, but it didn''t take me long to understand why. Soylent had to process out a lot of mutagens, viruses, and bacteria that could be spread to those who ate it, which meant security was paramount. One bad corpse could infect a whole lot of soylent, so every corpse was processed, gene scanned, and broken down in sections and types. Usable blood was sent off to medical facilities and pharma corps, skin could provide leather or cosmetic replacements, as could hair, while various organs, if viable, could be used for replacements. Bones could be boiled down to gelatin, while brains had to be handled very carefully so as not to cause psychic backwash and bad things to happen. Necromantic events would happen, but that was part of the business...


    As for non-viable corpses, they could be used for germ warfare research, sent off to genetics labs for sampling... or kept for study on their own. If there was a Necromantic Event, why, that generated even more samples for them to study... and made potential extra shock troops they could deploy, after they were suitably wired up and harnessed...

 316 Far Future Ch. 26 – Where Women go and Men Blunder...

    My escort was watching me as we walked past the cleaning tanks, the dissection tables, bone removal, blood filtering and storage, organ packaging, the flensing stations, the chop-and slurry vats, and the final destination of the boilers and processors that reclaimed the water and reduced the rest down to either blocks or strips of soylent for use by the food corps.


    I burst out laughing early on, pointing. "I recognize that one! He''s a ganger borg I offed yesterday. Don''t feel bad that I cost you a cardio, his heart was mechanical anyways."


    The Stiff looked down where I was pointing, his neck-plug Trodes pulsed. "Yes, the cadaver had clear signs of implant replacements and organ stress from suppression treatments. Low value return." He shook his head, as if not dying with all his parts was a cardinal sin, and every person alive was just walking returnables made from someone else... or going to be made into someone else.


    "I''m surprised you keep such close track of processing."


    "We have to replace workers in events of emergencies," was the slow, plodding reply. "Knowledge of systems is required."


    "Ah," I nodded sagely. "If it''s not private knowledge, what''s the average processing time for a single corpse, and how many a day do you process?"


    His plugs crackled as he cleared that. "The full processing of a cadaver from reception to shipping as soylent takes approximately 2.3 hours, varying dependent on sanitation and salvage possible. We process approximately seventeen thousand cadavers a day at this station."


    I eyed the tubes around me, where new corpses were being dumped in, and old ones removed dripping for processing. Random limbs and body parts arriving untidily that had been screened were being sent directly into a fast-processing tank over there, skipping salvage and going directly to slurry.


    Seventeen thousand a day, just at this station. All these corpses I was seeing would be gone and replaced by new ones within three hours.


    Y''know, it took a LOT of people to generate that kind of death rate... even if the life expectancy rate was shit down here. I wondered how the birth rate kept up, and just shook my head.


    There were ten Soylent stations in the city...


    Health problems mostly came from abusive habits and environments. Genetic afflictions had largely been purged from the genome, and people were vaccinated against a slew of diseases, whether they wanted to be or not. If it saved them money, the government did it. Cut down on the number of medicae needed. Medicae and treating sicknesses was expensive.


    "In the event of an inundation, what''s the maximum processing capability of this station?"


    He didn''t have to think about it long. "If cadaver salvage is relegated only to the most optimal subjects, this station can process two hundred and fifty thousand subjects completely per day."


    Talk about your battlefield clean-up! Of course, this was a mega-city, population in the billions...


    "Do you sell gold, or better yet, platinum?"


    He did glance at me then, weighing what to say. Naturally, the reason they sold them is because they recovered them from cybernetic implants, jewelry, or dental work. Waste nothing, after all.


    "Most is traded under contract."


    "At sub-market rates, no doubt. If I was willing to pay market?"


    His Trodes fizzled and sparked as he went searching for an answer. "There are allotments for personal use available. How much do you require?"


    "How much platinum do you have?"


    The negotiation was quick and clean, used up a lot of my creds, but the not-so-precious-here metal was soon being shipped to me in Habberblok.


    The people here had no experience with magic, so they were unaware of Investing objects by burning precious metals. Normally, this wasn''t even possible, as the mechanical, multi-step process of smelting ore without human interaction would remove all spirituality from the metal, and it would be useless for such things.


    However, metal that was right there when a person died would regain its spirituality, and given the saturation of the environment, retain it even if simply smelted down and recast into bars or coins.


    I hummed thoughtfully to myself. This was likely one of the very few sources of magically viable metal in the whole city. I was going to have to take over their contract for it, once I got enough money flowing through.


    "Do you use our product?" he asked in a stiff voice.


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    It seemed like an innocuous question, but it wasn''t.


    "Bladebelle." He blinked. "The answer to your question is-?"


    "No."


    There were... implications for a psi-user using soylent. Scrub it all they liked, it was still cannibalism, and there were psychic ramifications for eating the stuff. I could pick out something with soylent in it at a glance. Spiritless processing just didn''t have the transformative power of nature. Ki sensitivity basically squared that.


    Psis either didn''t eat any soylent... or they preferred it. Those kinds that did generally got a bullet in their heads sooner rather than later. It was one of the danger signs to watch out for.


    The Steiners, like most of the Undermobs, vat-grew most of their people. It skipped the whole time and money thing of raising kids and educating them. Program in the basic knowledge, assign them a name from a list, send them out to die or eventually earn a Designation and become a Frank.


    It was also rumored that Steiners were only grown from nutrients distilled from soylent... and so were their own biggest customers. Naturally they brooked no threats to their soylent supply whatsoever.


    Most of the Undermobs used vat-grown for their main bloodline, and were proud of it. Sure, they''d recruit gifted outsiders here and there, to add something to the bloodline, but they looked down on natural birth''s randomness, exulting in their own naturally superior physiques and fighting ability, honed over many generations of conflict and the donated genes of the survivors.


    That such monolinear artificial breeding both cut them off from the human akasha and led to definite personality disorders among them was not a factor at all. The lack of support from the akasha meant their spiritual potential was locked at Six, and they basically only became psis due to mutation... and generally went batshit crazy when they did, as their little artificially-formed minds didn''t have the foundation to deal with the akasha or the Warp.


    All of which resulted in more chances to shoot things on all sides, so a win-win for all concerned.


    I would not be at all surprised if some of those soylent-addicted psis were working for the Steiners, nor if they were trying to blend that bloodline into their own people, trying to control and harness it for their future. Innate genetic superiority was alive and well, after all...


    Bladeboys/belles were on the lowest tier of psionic potential, as far as most experts were concerned. With so much of their power wrapped up in their mindblade, they were often incapable of using anything other than Nimbus effects unless they were very strong. Ergo, I wasn''t really a potential catch in their eyes. Being a high-G Nymphal was pretty exotic, but they didn''t look like the kind to want nymphals among them...


    ------


    Huh.


    The stiffs were getting... antsy.


    I was heading for the edge of their Node, on the trail of my target, Milder Cogran, who had actually gone this same way on an intercept course with the missing Mekkers. That crew had come down from another section, doing maintenance work or surveys as they did so.


    I noted with rather grave interest that the work order for the Mekkers had come down from Upspire, not from any of the Undermobs, who usually caught problems and kicked any real problems over to the Mekkers that they couldn''t handle.


    While the Mekkers had overarching responsibility and control of the infrastructure and the technology that maintained the city, they usually relied on the Undermobs to locate problems... or for disasters to happen to the folks down below, instead of their valuable Tekkies, and then they swooped in and fixed things up again.


    So, a random work crew was dispatched from Upspire to down near The Hole. Riiiight, that wasn''t odd at all...


    This guard station had three times the normal number of guards, including four Franks in power armor and heavy gear. Steiners are stone-faced at the best of times, but I could smell the fear in the air. They were all too happy to let me walk on out of the gantry there and past them, and their sunken eyes said they didn''t expect to see me again.


    Well, no wonder they never signed off on a resolution to the missing Termite. Or the Mekkers, for that matter, although the Trikes over there should actually have been the ones to do so. They supplied the Steiners with a lot of their basic chemicals...


    Still, here''s fearless me, going off into the maze of pipes and conduits, following the outdated mental map, charting and pathing everything around me as I did so.


    There were creatures here, hiding in the shadows. Spider-things, bug-things, rat-things, and lizard-things, all preying on one another, all not very big, and all easily cleared out with regular sonic sweeps and gasses, fodder for the algae tanks. None of them got close to me, and their numbers began to dwindle sharply as I closed in on The Hole.


    My path shouldn''t actually take me more than a few tunnels close to it, and the area being clear didn''t surprise me at all.


    I stopped as my tremblesense painted a lot of blood spatter around me, and the contusions of soft energy beams and bouncing slugs.


    Something had fought here, and had died...


    I glided over to a softly thumping pipeline of durasteel, and ran my finger over a very shallow cut in the metal, almost invisible.


    Durasteel was the name for Earth-energized iron alloy, the single most common Energized material known. It had a Hardness base of 20, was far stronger and more ductile then any natural metal, and was basically used for anything that needed to endure, last, and withstand high pressures. It didn''t corrode naturally, and lasting ten thousand years was nothing if it was not subjected to outside forces.


    Mega-city foundations and starship hulls were all built out of durasteel. But something had cut through this like it was air.


    Adamant couldn''t do it, as durasteel was too hard, and it would have left a gouge, not a slice. Nope, this had simply been ''parted'', the bonds between atoms opened up, flowering away from the impact with impossible smoothness.


    So, an Impact Sword, a fractal blade, or a psi slicing matter using a Spatial Edge.


    The cut was five feet off the ground, and angled down. So, took off someone''s head... from higher up.


    Very tall, then, or flying.


    The place had been cleaned up pretty good, but there were a few shell casings from slugthrowers in the corners, out of sight or of reach, not bothered with. They matched the ammunition in the models I''d seen the stiffs back there toting.


    Jumpy, indeed. They''d lost a crew in here, and probably in a bloody manner. The Steiners would naturally bring the gear and bodies back for recycling, but I had the distinct impression they hadn''t caught whoever had done this.


    And it probably hadn''t been the first time...


    I tinged a tube full of something viscous, and read the sounds and vibrations through my hair, hands, and feet.


    They''d set up cameras, I could see the scuff marks in a couple spots, but they were no longer there. Since that made no sense, something had casually spotted them and cleared them off.


    So, there was something around here butchering stuff, and really good at it. Why hadn''t the dumbshits sent for some help?


    Hrm. They probably thought it was a challenge from another Undermob?...

 317 Far Future Ch. 27– Cancha Hear, Cancha Hear that Thunder?

    What were the odds a kill team was NOT following me and using me as bait to draw out whoever was doing this?


    Pretty low, I guessed.


    Well, that was fine. Given the nature of the opponent, I rather expected to take out the hounds before the rabbit, but that wasn''t my job, anyways.


    I was past my target''s last contact point, so now I was officially Looking For Something. My course was plotted towards the path the Mekker squad had taken along his probable rout, and so I was skating slowly over the gratings and slopes of the access tunnels and stairs.


    Lights here were few and far between, and the air wasn''t too good, either. I think The Hole nearby was partly to blame for the stagnation, because it was killing off even the micromolds nearby. Not to worry, I could tolerate some absurdly low oxygen levels with a Vajra, recycling my own carbon dioxide if I had to.


    Likewise, the lack of lighting meant nothing to someone with devilsight... not that relying on eyesight was smart in a place with so many nooks and crannies to hide behind. No, the most important thing here was my tremblesense, subsonics echoing out through every step and breath. My feet were the primary sensor for the solids, my hair was reading the air, bouncing off the materials around and painting everything for me in a double-overlay that extended nicely past the visible and into the mass and matter of everything around.


    The weeks I had spent wandering the city up above had given me an absurdly detailed map of the area directly under Downspire where I had walked. Now I was also filling in a Lived-Line map in my Virtual File that would make these Undermobs green with envy. Parallel corridors, hidden access points, where conduits, pipes, and vents led to, what might be in them, and hidden machinery behind walls and platings that might be important and all.


    Mmm. So much stuff to look at.


    And yeah, there were the footsteps, distant, shuffling remarkably quiet, but definitely on my tail. If I really wanted to, I could probably turn around and pick out the drone tailing me and keeping me in sight. As a matter of fact, Grim spotted it flitting across the exit I just left, as I came to a stupidly unfenced walkway across a deep abyss, which was curiously silent and unmoving despite pressure differentials fairly begging for such things. OSHA was so gonna hear about this.


    It was structurally perfectly fine. I skated across it on my lightfoot, tremblesense making sure nothing close was lying in ambush, and I proceeded towards the ladder I''d have to climb up to a connecting tunnel nearby. Nobody should have gone through here recently, which meant that a trail from dust being disturbed should still hold. My tremblesense was fine-tuned to look for it...


    Hah, footprints in a size 10, his boot size, and it was even the right tread style. The ladder was just ahead.


    Behind me, there was a sudden scream.


    Ah, yes. So unexpected.


    I stopped and bolted backwards.


    It wasn''t so much that I wanted to help the Steiners as I wanted to see what I was dealing with.


    Sluggers and lasers going off. There was a lot of racket from ricochets. The thoomp of a plasma gun slagger going off, and the crash of durasteel getting melted. A rotary laser fired up shrilly, and lasted five seconds before it suddenly went quiet.


    I was around a corner, down a slope, between some pipes, and rounded the curve to the abyss, a great ambush point.


    To be on the safe side, I had a point of Essence in my eyes. Succubi got their True Sight at Eight, and I at best could be considered a Karmic Seven. But a couple Essence in the old eyeballs took care of that problem, and stark reality was laid out before me.


    Of course, it made my eyes into blue and gold light bulbs, but what could I do?


    The number of things shooting had been cut by two-thirds.


    A couple stiffs had been sliced into pieces just off that gantry on this side. There were remains of a couple more on the bridge, I assumed the rest of their bodies had gone for a dive. There were two Franks in power armor on the other side, also in multiple pieces, and three other stiffs with them. The screams were coming from the tunnel on the other side, rapidly retreating... but not rapidly enough, as the pounding trio of footsteps faded one... two... three.


    Looked like a twelve-man strike team had just bit the dust.


    I bent down to the two corpses closest to me, rifling through them with professional discourtesy and tossing the interesting stuff into my Masspack. Finders keepers and all that. I could disable any trackers on them in a bit.


    I really hoped that rotary laser was intact. I hadn''t heard a boom, so at least the power supply was good. Portable micro-fusion generators were muy expensive.


    Would the killer come back out that corridor? Hmm. I waited by the edge of the doorway to see, my hand on Chalice.


    It was a good thing that Grim shared my visual senses, ''cause when the bastard came floating down right through the pipes in the ceiling of the room that I was in, he could have had me dead to rights.


    Some sort of trans-dimensional phasing. Slid right through the matter without a wobbling or distortion. Invisible to normal sight, too, as it was in another dimension.


    It was a three-eyed orb of crawling dark metal, spiked in odd places, and with five spiked arms spread in a half-arc atop it. The three eyes were set into a virtual skull of some kind, vaguely humanoid, but the whole thing was basically a floating ball with cleaver-blades on extending arms, and there were probably at least one or two energy projectors in those eyes.


    Would have had me cold. Came drifting down right behind me in otherplanar silence, brought its arms back, and snapped them forwards as it materialized.


    I fell down at five gravities, slamming to the ground backwards, my feet still in place, those scythe-blades whisking above me. I basically wound up right under the thing as I rebounded, blowing an Interdiction as Chalice came out to full Sword form, and I hacked into this floating ball of metal from below.


    Orichalcum surrounded by Nimbus and Corona Flared once, twice, thrice as I hacked with top speed, shearing deep into its armor, letting loose vivic fire into its insides while I lamented not being Construct-Bane yet, chortled at this thing qualifying as Undead, and energies flared and blew out inside it with harsh unwhite light.


    It tried to phase out, couldn''t for some strange reason, and then its anti-grav gave way as whatever it was using for a power supply blew out and was consumed by vivus and raging banefire. It crashed heavily to the ground as I kicked away and out of range of it, evading two of the arms snapping back and whipping wildly, biting into durasteel like cheese as they did so.


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    The metal on it was burning. Huh.


    I anchored my feet and slid upright easily, waiting for motion to stop, and then glided up to the silent mass of it.


    Okay, the vivus and banefire were actually burning it away very heartily. I tapped Chalice''s point to the flames, and they guttered and were sucked away, leaving me with a fried ex-floating piece of WTF Is This.


    I touched it, and swore.


    Necrochalcum. Negative-Energized orichalcum. By default, minimum QL of 40. This thing was worth a Spire to the right parties. There hadn''t been any orichalcum made in the Empire since the Emperor''s generation, which was no surprise. It took 17 Ranks in the right skills to figure out the process.


    And someone built a death-bot of the stuff?


    No, not a death-bot. Or, not a true bot. This had been an unliving creature, a soul captured in temporally-sensitive metal attuned to the energies of death. Instead of computer programming or an AI, it had digitized a soul for its animating intelligence.


    If it thought it could just download its code to another shell, it had a nasty surprise with the combo of vivic fire, chasing down all that negatronic code and frying it. True Death was not forgiving of shit using negative energy, even if it was computerized.


    Necrochalcum. Over half of it, by mass, was made from the stuff. If I could sell this, I''d be set for funds for like, oh, a week, ahem. I had too big a shopping list...


    Just how serious was this? I didn''t know, but I was going to have to find out. I mean, this didn''t look like any human tech I''d seen in passing on any level, which meant alien, which generally meant Bad Shit.


    My Disk came out of my Masspack, rotated and fell into the proper assembly-pattern as geomagnetism kept it nicely afloat next to me, despite the Interdiction.


    I hauled the orb of death metal up onto my Disk, praising the fact that the spideroid Nexals were constantly empowering my Disk and upping its weight limit. I looked at the big awkward thing and those ten foot-arms, and being the practical sort, hacked off all the arms so they weren''t dangling all over the place, folding them at the joints and stacking them up.


    And I should loot the Steiners while I was at it. I really wanted me that slagger, if he still had it, and that rotary-laser and its power source...


    -----


    Several slugthrowers, las pistols, las carbines, a clutched Impact-fist that never got used, the fallen slagger, the rotary laser (feed mechanism sheared through) and its power source later (along with sundry other ammunition sources, knives, and an assortment of grenades), I was definitely feeling satisfied and fine with myself. For some reason none of the armor and power armor was really worth salvaging...


    Aaaaand then I started hearing movement down below me in that abyss.


    Well, wasn''t that all expected and suchlike. I kind of sighed as I looked down there, and saw things moving in the (not!) darkness, crawling up the pipes with magnetized ease and tireless speed.


    Oh, yeah, there was something from The Hole coming up here and on the way.


    And not just from below. I tilted my head, and could hear footsteps and things moving in the corridors ahead and behind me. What was coming had closed in from multiple angles, boxing me in and denying me a way out.


    I looked up, and sideways, calculated my chances. I eyed the thing floating on the Disk, thought about it. With an Interdiction up, the Disk couldn''t follow me if I had to jump, so I''d have to leave this thing and my physical proof, even if I had Visual File data to back it up.


    Perhaps I should have run immediately, but despite the footsteps rumbling all around, sounding almost like the constant roll of a storm, I didn''t panic, and wasn''t even afraid, really.


    This wasn''t inside The Hole. Whatever was coming out of there wasn''t on home ground, and it didn''t know what it was dealing with in me. It could try chasing and fighting me, but at most what I was going to lose was the thing on the Disk behind me.


    So I waited, as the first of them came around the corner behind me, advanced into the room and stopped, just as the wave from below reached the bridge on the other side, with a wave pausing on the piped walls below me, hanging on patiently.


    They looked like human corpses, tricked out with circuits and gears of dark metal and sharp, yet fluid design.


    Borg-zombies, real ones, not just cyber-zombies, which were corpses moving around with motors in them. Actual undead with cybernetic implants. Naturally tireless, a good weapon platform for all sorts of toys, like rib-cage missile mounts, sawblade arms, guns in foreheads, and the like.


    I sat there and waited as they formed up, and I could see them in a couple other tunnels higher and to the sides, making sure to let me know there was no escape in those directions...

 318 Far Future Ch. 28 – You Better Run, You Better Take Cover

    "So, who''s in charge of you lads?" I asked, sweeping my eyes over the ranks of cyber-undead in view, keeping my position between the bridge and the room behind me. All avenues out were basically blocked by corpses with gleaming tech embedded in them, and they were just starting to step forwards when I spoke.


    There was a pause, as I''d spoken in Necrus.


    I painted the faces into my Visual File, and matched them up with some of the missing, especially when I focused on those looking more preserved. Yeah, there, there, and there were three of the missing Mekkers, and there were another two wearing Mechanist Guild uniforms over there, but their skulls were too mangled for ID.


    I scanned for a guy in light combat armor, and found him in the second rank of the zombies in the room behind me. It looked like he''d been sliced into at least six parts, and then welded back into a whole, leaving most of his clothing in tatters. But he still had most of the same hairdo, and the glowing orange eye that was his trademark had been left in place.


    So, my Mekker crew and Milder Cogran were now accounted for, and I could technically leave.


    Curiosity was keeping me here for the moment.


    A sibilant whispering spread through them. They were negatively-charged corpses, animated by necrotech, naturally didn''t breathe... but that didn''t mean the vestiges of their spirits couldn''t generate sounds. Dark pulses ran over them and the machinery stitched through them, conveying information back and forth from the puppet master controlling them.


    "Interesting. How do you know this tongue?" a sibilant whisper ghosted in from a couple hundred throats, all of them staring at me eerily.


    -He''s a freaking show-off,- Chalice /groused, and I laughed despite myself, right in the teeth of all those undead eyes.


    "One of my best friends is undead," I replied in the same ghostly language, not made for human throats. Thankfully, how I spoke wasn''t exactly tied to my vocal cords. "Are you the rogue this stalker is looking for?" I tapped Chalice on the necrochalcum chassis of the dead killer necrobot.


    Sudden, ominous silence.


    "Oh, don''t be so surprised. It dies, and then you show up... with a bunch of borgzombies, of all things. It''s also drifting around The Hole, but not going in... meaning it knows there''s a threat in there, and it''s either trying to figure out an angle of attack, or it''s waiting for reinforcements to show up. Either way, you''re the reason it''s here, and it was just removing bugs that were potentially interfering with it in the area."


    Yeah, the histories talked about rogue AI''s, especially those corrupted by the Warp. I didn''t think this was one of them, and given the alien nature of the design, it probably had nothing to do with humanity.


    But things necrotized into orichalcum shells meant a familiarity with necrotech that exceeded humanity''s by a fair chunk. I found it hard to believe these weren''t related.


    "You seem to have some sort of plan..." Cool, dead amusement, or the approximation thereof, came wafting back from multiple throats. Very chick in an eerie, spine-tingling way. Props for style.


    "You want quiet and silence above all things. Let me take this thing back, proclaim it some sort of alien killbot that I killed, with very visual proof that I did so. It can even be posted as a public kill. I presume that standard operating procedure for things like you would include doing a datadump of the easily accessed infosphere. Finding out that a human hacked apart this guy who was popping wanderers down here will go a long way towards alleviating any suspicions of you... especially if it was killed ten kilometers away from here."


    UV lights pulsed on the necrotech, like a brain thinking using all the corpses. "That will not preclude them from investigating this area if they come..." the multi-whisper drifted back to me.


    "Of course it will, if there is obvious proof that it hung around this area for a time... and then moved on."


    "Indicating that it searched this area and found nothing of interest..." whispered the sepulchral voice. S. VoiceS.


    "Oh, and make sure you clean up all the bodies there, so The Hole is acting normally by removing anything dead near it."


    "Inferring that what is within is either beneath notice or not to be disturbed easily." The ghostly voice sounded even more vaguely amused. "I notice that this leaves you alive to tell the truth. Would it not be more logical to find you dead at the end of this?..." Ominous hinting, but I just laughed back.


    "Well, the logical reply to that is ''This human girl just mulched the stalker that was hunting me and supposed to take me out. Just how dangerous is my collection of spare parts strapped together with barbed wire and spit to her, and do I really want her depriving me of all my useful hands?'' So, we can have a mutually beneficial partnership and allow things to continue as they are, or do I raise a big stink and hope that when they notice you are here, they send a bunch of these stalkers instead of wiping the planet?"


    More UV flashes on the tech. "You are a threat to my security. This is unacceptable..."


    "Highly untrue. You should be able to calculate that the Mentats up above have deduced who and what you are long ago. The fact they have not disturbed you is recognition not that they fear you, because they certainly do not, but they fear what might be triggered if they did act against you, or make your identity public.


    "I have no doubt whatsoever that information about what you actually are doesn''t exist in any electronic database anywhere, only unverified, rampant, and probably heartily encouraged speculations.


    "You are an unacceptable threat to the city''s survival, and all within it, and your life means no more to us than ours do to you. Yet we''ve let you live here for three thousand years. I don''t think it''s a logical action to stop that relationship. If you like, you always have the option to leave. But we don''t have the option to evict you without drawing some unwanted attention, and I doubt we could catch you if you had to flee. I also presume that trying to cover your tracks would only reveal the fact you were here to your pursuers, and give them another thread to trace you by."


    Silence, more UV lights processing, calculating. "Your method is acceptable for the moment. There will need to be a trail firmly established, and signs of a fight at the far end..."


    Yay me and supragenius intellect and fast tongue. Not that I wouldn''t have minded a bit more of a scrum, purely for speculative purposes. "I''m presuming your maps of the terrain are better than mine, and you can better calculate what kind of route he took. Faking killzones is easy enough, as anything like that is going to be cleaned up by morlocks, scavs, or maintenance crews in short order regardless." Most likely the first two, as proven by thousands of years of history. Dead were food. "I''m sure interested parties upstairs will be happy to invent more odd disappearances, complete with family histories from many ancestors ago to abrupt disappearances and death benefits being paid to grieving families."


    I was sure the Umbrans could handle that. Mostly it would just involve rewriting an existing history into one more convenient... although I was sure this thing was perfectly willing to off a whole bunch more people just to lay a better paper trail.


    Like a perfectly coordinated wave of motion, the borg-zombies began to withdraw, moving with unnatural power and grace despite their conditions, and of course they were perfectly in synch.


    A map and course popped up on my Band. I looked at it, and started moving, dragging my trophy behind me. I did note that all the dead Steiners were now missing entirely...


    I AM WATCHNG, scrolled across my Band, and I grinned despite myself. Someone else might be worried about that, but the fact was I believed the thing was paying marginal attention to everyone and everything on the Boole all the time, so that didn''t bug me at all.


    Rather, it meant that it knew that I knew, and so we had communication established, of a sort.


    I trotted off to get to my destination, following signs of ''artificial kills'' to be planted along the way, which would then intersect with the attempted ambush by the stalker, and I could timestamp and download it to my Band for my report, complete with location coordinates.


    Of course, I was going to have to tell Philius to get some stuff ready. With Umbrans guiding Mekkers and whatever this necrobot thing in the shadows watching and tweaking approvingly was, an air-tight net should be woven about this thing if they decided to investigate.


    Neither of us mentioned the fact that the target of interest on the kill was likely to shift from The Hole to me. How had a lone human chunked one of their flying, intangible, multi-armed space-ripping murder machines?


    Indeed, that very fact is probably what prompted this thing to deal with me. I had obviously proven I could kill one of them very fast, by surprise, without harm to myself. It was indeed something to be wary of.


    I wondered how much I was going to be paid for this, and sighed. The Umbrans would very publicly compensate my ''experimental warbot'' without a shred of a doubt, and I''d get paid a pittance of a finder''s fee in return. We''ll see how curious everyone was about the fact I could kill one... which, since I could, was an indication of something, they just didn''t know what. And they had to be curious enough to look.


    After all, I was just a Termite, not even a mercenary...


    -------


    I handed the mission files back to My Queen, who took them with barely a glance. "Do you know what a Tekron is?"


    His unsettling tan eyes lifted to me, narrowed. "Rumors. Nothing substantiated."


    "That thing I killed was a Tekron Hunter-Killer. It was searching for a rogue Tekron which has been hiding in The Hole for the last three thousand years. The highest authorities of the city know about it, and have been aware of it for almost all of that time, and haven''t made a move on it, because doing so might cause those looking for it to come here en masse and wipe the planet casually as they attempt to find it. There is no electronic record of it existing here, and everyone prefers it stay that way until it decides to leave."


    His tired eyes didn''t waver. "And why are you telling me this." He didn''t sound particularly impressed.


    "Because you deserve to know," I replied simply. "Also, making sure some spot-on analysis doesn''t happen to the report you kick upstairs."


    He grunted, as if such a thing was too much work for him. "Noted. Umbrans talked to you." His period-questions were holding out in style. Had to admire the man''s consistency.


    "It wasn''t a talk on my end, but sure. The damn thing was made of necrochalcum. They gave me less than a thousandth of what it was worth, told me to be happy, and snaffled it up all mysterious-like."


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    "About what a high-end HK bot is worth," he noted, and I had to smile.


    "That is true." Keeping up appearances and all. Ah, well, there was more money out there. "Got any more light jobs for me that stay high? I''ve got things to make." And more people to recruit. Trindi was already wondering if it would be okay to come Downspire to train more effectively, and get into a career that didn''t mean catering to wealthy snobs and drunks. She''d rather be one of the wealthy snobs and drunks. From there it was a step to inviting some of her friends in to be part of this, and then getting into more active work...


    It went without saying that the boys were attracting attention after what they''d done to Sharkey''s men, too. Other young lads who didn''t want to end up cannon fodder in turf wars or pushing pills for the zwilniks were making inquiries...


    My Queen considered me for a moment, reading deeper. "There''s always Termite work somewhere, but extermination jobs come in waves. If you want steady employment, you need to seek alternatives."


    "The Backlog isn''t endless," I agreed. "I am working on alternate sources of income." But of course, the Backlog was freaking huge... which meant a good amount of money was tied up in it. And most likely a lot of secrets. Resolving these two files was actually some pretty damn good pay for the time, and knowing more were coming was a Good Thing.


    Training had continued full force while I was down below. I''d inherited a few broken jaws and cracked ribs among other bumps and bruises, which healing up. Approved heartily.


    He transferred me over a couple light jobs, something for a newbie. I''d had the boys sign up to run jobs, focusing on the area around Habberblok. Practical experience and exposure were all good things.

 319 Far Future Ch. 29 – Because I Come from a Land of Plenty...

    "Hey, Pops, got a minute?"


    The flimsy came down, the stogie smoke puffed, and Head of Blok Security Pawlie stared at me and the boys behind me suspiciously. "You again." He sounded defeated. "What, the ghosts up top aren''t enough to keep you busy?"


    Naturally we were the talk of the blok for living up there. When I''d turned on the water supply to 160, tremors ran through the blok''s employees. I really did live up there...


    "Hey, I''m setting up hydroponics up there. Enough with the attitude, or you won''t ever get any of the fresh squash."


    He looked at me, thought about that, and in pragmatic manner, set down the flimsy, leaned forwards on his chair, and set his cigar aside calmly. "Well, bribery is always the way to my heart," he said, completely serious, folding his hands on the other side of the security wall. "What do you want, Miss Rantha?"


    I indicated the boys behind me. "Part-time jobs for the lads as Blok Auxiliaries. I checked the standard blok hiring protocols, and you''ve got room for a few dozen deputies, and scores of part-time auxiliaries. They aren''t up for full-time yet, they''d need proper training, but they''ll do fine as extra eyes and ears, and muscle where needed."


    He frowned at me, chomping on his mustache. "You making some sort of play, girl? I don''t want no gang wars starting up in my blok."


    "The ghosts upstairs don''t really like some of the elements in the blok here, so we''re gonna clear things up. What makes the ghosts happy, makes the blok happy. And besides," I snapped my fingers.


    Six green mindblades rose up behind me, and flared with Nimbus empowerment. He stared despite himself.


    "I''m gonna be training more of these fellows. You know psis. They tend to loathe zwilniks, and they like peace, quiet, and discipline. There''ll probably be some fighting, and then there''ll be quiet, and more people will be moving in."


    He stroked his chin thoughtfully. His pay was based on the number of blok inhabitants, after all, supposedly to encourage him to have a good, prosperous blok. If someone else was willing to do all the hard work, he certainly wouldn''t mind reaping the rewards.


    "Auxiliaries, huh?" Having some ex-bangers working for him... the idea was funny, but those mindblades were not. Where had she found a bunch of blade boys like this? "Well, that doesn''t sound like a bad idea." He reached down, the door buzzed and opened. "Step on in and let''s work out the particulars..."


    ---------------


    Dr. McMikal was the primary medicae for Habberblok. As expected for a doctor who worked in a building capped by multiple ghosts, he was something of a character.


    A former combat medic for the Imperial Legions sponsored by Janus Prime, he had mustered out after putting in his time, and had been assigned to a blok as caretaker, both collecting his pension and getting put back to work in a place where his brand of medicine was in need. Most combat medics, coming as they did from the lower-classes, usually ended up back in the same strata they came from, tending to their fellow low-class citizens'' ills.


    Medical technology had come a long way over the millennia, and even basic medical care was at a far higher standard. Birth vaccinations and immunizations, anti-viral compounds put into everyday drinking water and food, and even released into the atmosphere, kept most lower order diseases under control. Genetic weaknesses and imperfections had long been weeded out of the genome, and if they were occurred, were generally a sign of Warp mutation and something nasty coming along with it.


    On the flip side, the human genome had also been profoundly mucked with over the centuries. Slave soldiers modified with the genes of animals, bioengineering for specific traits, cross-hereditary stamping, unisexual reproduction, cosmetic and combat modifications, environmental strains, and psionic shifting, along with all the interesting stuff the Warp did, meant a weird host of things could occur to the human population, and discerning what caused them and why was most of the doctor''s job, as fixing it after that point tended to be pretty easy.


    On top of all of this was the drug problem. Low-end food tended to be full of mood suppressants, rendering those who ate it more accepting of their state of mind. On top of that, many low-end workers relied on drugs instead of video games for release from the tedium of their existence, and used mood enhancers to get through the drudgery of their work day.


    As a result, the drug trade was a reality of life, and standard Juris largely ignored it, because it was so endemic. The addicts were going to get their fix, one way or another, and with the number of users and the amount of money at stake, there was great pressure from both above and below to just let it ride. The reports of zwilniks hitting one another in their endless quests for territory and power were basically the evening''s entertainment, and talked about like favorite sport''s teams.


    The addicts didn''t much care who supplied them, so sweeping one group away and coming in to replace them was a thing. Don''t offer a good price, however, and your business would drop like a rock as they went and found another readily available pusher.


    Dr. McMikal ran a unique service. He tested all drugs brought to him for a nominal fee, basically the cost of the time of the man who ran the service. He figured that making sure people got what they paid for, and not some crazyass concoction that would get them killed in short order, kept them generally healthier and took care of them better. It also kept the zwilniks honest, as cutting their drugs with the wrong shit could have really bad side-effects, and getting caught at it meant their entire cash cow could walk away. On the other side, a contaminated supply could kill off that cow, and they didn''t want that to happen, either.


    So Dr. Mick ended up catering to both sides of the equation, with both suppliers and buyers getting tested at the office adjacent to the main medicae treatment center. The blunt honesty of the results had ended up resolved more than a few times with shootings on the spot, or shortly thereafter, which also generated occasional business. He was the most trusted man in the blok, fully capable of shooting a batshit crazy addict coming in demanding a hit, fixing the guy up, negotiating payment with him on the surgical table, and if he didn''t pay it, shooting him in the head once he was all fixed up. He''d fixed up and then shot more than a few gangers that way, and any of them who threatened him in his place had ended up as examples of What Not To Do. The two punks who''d threatened his staff and died over the course of a week while tied up in the glass showcase rooms while turning into black mushrooms had made an impression on a lot of people. When the punks showed up at his door bleeding out, no matter how desperate they were, they were polite and brought their money with them.


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    Naturally it was time to make an acquaintance with him. So, I called up and made an appointment for lunch, asking if he liked pasta, a time was set, and here I was now, showing up with a pot in my hand.


    Had to go Upspire for the flour, and make my own noodles, and buy some real tomatoes on the sly. Was an experience.


    "Hey there, I''m Sama. Here for my lunch appointment with the doc."


    The nurse had a gyropistol in her drawer and a shotgun under the desk. I noticed the section was configured for easy replacement, and the fire lane was kept carefully clear of other obstructions.


    "You''re the one who lives in the Top Fifty?" Despite herself, the middle-aged woman was wary.


    "That''s me!" I agreed, as if it was the most normal thing in the world. "Very quiet up there. Nobody bugs me when I need to rest."


    She gave me a really weird look. "I''m supposed to confirm that you really do have pasta with you."


    I set the pan on her desk, flipped out a disposable plate, a plastic fork in sterile wrapper, opened the top of the pan, smoothly scooped out a piece of lasagna with the spatula in my other hand, set it on the plate, and pushed it in front of her.


    She looked at the gooey mess of tomatoes, herbs, faux cheeses, and layers of pasta, and almost started drooling right there. She bent her head down just so she could smell it.


    "Go right in. Hallway left, second hallway on right, first office on the right." She stripped off the fork, and sliced off a small piece, bringing it up to her mouth and then sitting back just to enjoy it.


    There were three other people in the waiting room, waiting for a nurse to come help them with various ills and stuff, and they were all staring at her with wide eyes.


    She slid the drawer of her desk open with her other hand, but didn''t stop enjoying her meal.


    I strolled on past as she buzzed the door open, taking the pan with me. Nobody got up to ask her for a taste of her lasagna.


    ---


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    As she said, it was left, pass, right, first door. I knocked on it and said, "Your pasta is here!"


    There was a click as the reinforced door unlocked, and I stepped inside.


    Doc Mick was of average height and stout build. He kept himself in good shape, the better to manhandle some of the punks who he ended up dealing with, and because current medical tech made it easy to do so.


    He had an artificial eye, boosted reflexes for better motor control, and an artificial hand, legacies of twenty years of fighting the enemies of the Empire. At least, I didn''t think he''d added any since he''d come back home. His hair was black and thick, his six-hour beard was thicker than most men''s full day, and his eyes were dark and assessing.


    And zeroed right in on the pan I was holding.


    "You have my time and interest, for as long as the pasta holds out!" he stated with no compunctions.


    "Ah, the pharma reps still bugging you?" I asked, setting down the pan and bringing out the disposable tablewear. "I''m surprised they even want to visit you here."


    "They keep their eyes on the floor," he just laughed, and stuck out his hand. "Doctor Mack McMikal, but everyone calls me Doc Mick."


    "Sama Rantha." I took it, he applied pressure, I applied it back, and he pursed his lips and decided not to test his servos. "Nice grip!" he said.


    "Nice model. Five years old?" I asked, and he glanced at his hand, then at the dripping goo coming off the lasagna''s many layers.


    "Six, but who''s counting?" He waved away the plastic knife, opening up a drawer behind him with a set of silverware in sterile confinement. He formally offered me a real fork and knife, I accepted, and I sat down in the chair there with my own plate.


    "You''ll have to excuse the cheeses. Getting the real stuff is nigh impossible, it''s pretty much all snapped up by Upspire eateries and households."


    He waved it off. "I am unfortunately familiar with the reality of the situation." He sucked in a long string of melted neocheese, chomping happily. "Excellent noodle texture, the sauce is wonderfully balanced. Did you mix it yourself?"


    "Yes. There''s a couple eatery levels up in the Top Fifty, with loads of some very high-end cooking equipment. I had to play around with the stuff a bit, but it came out okay." Yay for four Ranks in Cooking! I was the equivalent of a Master Chef, if not world-class. "I''ll get better. I''m gonna start putting in hydroponic gardens up there, grow some real food."


    "There won''t be any side effects from the spirits?" He glanced at the ceiling warily, looked at his lasagna, then shrugged and dug in again.


    "Growing things are one of the ways to naturally disperse tremendous concentrations of negative emotions like that. Plants are Nature''s recyclers, after all. It''ll probably take a few centuries, but if the Top Fifty is converted into acting gardens, we can get rid of the Tau Rating just by growing good food and planting flowers."


    "Really." He seemed impressed. "Well, that''s definitely cheaper than trying to hire it done."

 320 Far Future Ch. 30 – She just gave me a Vegemite- No, no, Lasagna!

    "Yeah, the insurance premiums on dead Master Mentats are really high," I agreed. "Easier to slap on a Tau and occasionally expend a few Downspire idiots then a Mentat."


    "Truth!" he said, pointing at me with his fork, and diving in for another slab of pasta joy. "So, what brings you to my place?" he got down to business.


    "Business arrangements, of course. I''m looking to expand my manpower base, and with the Top Fifty as my HQ, I''ve got a pretty good base of operations. I want to make Habberblok a pretty secure place to live and work, I''m bringing the ghosts slowly online, and I''d like the most trusted man in the blok to work with me."


    He chewed thoughtfully. "Good dreams, and throwing the ghosts in there is impressive. What''s in it for me?"


    "Well, I''d like to send in any pure psions I recruit for combat medic training. Psionic healing is based on anatomical knowledge to an extent, and if they are gonna heal their fellow students, they need to know how to heal normal people. You''d have to pay them, of course, but just like interns, although having some psis on the payroll will be nothing but good for you."


    "That''s kind of a mutual benefit, although I won''t turn down some good, smart workers."


    "They''ll be kind of dumb coming in, but they''ll get smarter." Especially as they empowered their Mark. "I have it on good faith that if they want to live in Habberblok and not be tormented by the ghosts, they need to be healers of one kind or another. But if they live here AND have the approval of the ghosts... they are gonna be some nasty punks to have around if some fighting starts."


    He thought about that as he chewed slowly. "Biopsis in a blok medicae. That tickles my fancy, I have to admit. What else?"


    "Correct me if I''m wrong, but part of your pay comes from the number of services you bill, right? And you do some business on a cash basis?"


    "Sure. Tat heads who show up (no offense) expecting me to plug all their holes better have some cash in hand. They better have a lot of cash in hand if they shot up some of my people."


    "So, cash business is more profitable than billed business?"


    He waved his hand in the air. "Cash business I have to handle myself, usually, since it usually involves prying things out of screaming punks, or stitching them back together after violent disassembly. Billed is actually usually handled by the nurses and interns, so I get a slice regardless."


    "Would unlimited Empathic Healing availability be of use to you?"


    He pursed his lips, pausing another forkful, and looked me in the eyes. He slowly put it in and chewed some more.


    "That''s... an interesting proposition," he said after a minute. "Unlimited... having psions around for emergencies is nice enough. How are you doing unlimited amounts of it? That would be pretty traumatic for the receiver."


    I scooted up, setting down my plate and flipping Grim into my hand. "Left arm." I held out my hand.


    Intrigued, he rolled back his white coat sleeve and offered it up. I grabbed his wrist firmly, and traced my forefinger down his forearm. He hissed in disbelief as my nail sliced a foot-long gash in him so cleanly he barely felt any pain. As crimson welled up thickly, I took Grim and brought him down the length of the cut, while turning my own forearm over.


    He watched the cut transfer over, the blood and injury vanishing from his own forearm as the skin on mine split open... and two inches behind the injury being inflicted, it came back smoothly together and healed itself, also leaving no mark.


    "You''ve got a Fast Healing Matrix!" He was shocked despite himself, lifting his bare arm up and flexing it thoughtfully, staring at me. "What''s it rated at?"


    "Five. In time, I''ll get it to fifteen."


    He whistled despite himself. "That''s... very impressive." Fifteen points was an impressive amount of punishment to be able to heal away, enough to kill a normal person straight off, and I would be able to mend through that every six seconds!


    "It''s an untapped source of revenue." His eye twitched despite himself as I held up a plain crystal wrapped in a golden setting with chain. "Empathic Crystal resonator. As long as I agree to it, it can transfer injuries to me from anywhere. So, you won''t need a psion for the tough stuff. You can''t transfer it faster than I can heal it, and it should save you a lot of time and leave no scars. You should also be able to charge double the price."


    He pursed his lips. "Slow, painful, and residual effects versus fast, painless, and no residuals? Yeah, double price is a given." He looked thoughtfully at the crystal, thinking over the implications... especially if there was a mass trauma incident, which generally happened at least once a month. "Just being able to stop any bleeding fast will be nice..."


    "Finger." He extended his hand again, I poked it, and as the tiny drop of blood welled on it, I tapped the crystal to it. Snow-flakes of red blossomed through it, and I tossed the chain and crystal on his desk as I got me another slice of lasagna. "It will turn red if I agree to the transfer. You can''t transfer faster than I can heal, and it will only work for you. If somebody steals it," I smiled slightly, "I''ll go looking for it."


    He smiled despite himself. "Very good. This is definitely something in it for me."


    I held up two fingers. "Carrot number Two. I can offer you a transpsionic-enhanced Mark that will establish a telepathic link between the two of us, which I can also link up with any others who have such a mark, AND... the Mark can eventually buff the Statistic of your choice by +4."


    He froze. Stat-buffing stuff wasn''t impossible to find, but, like anything else, it was pricey. "A psionic Buff?" he asked slowly, and I nodded. This was not from technology or bioengineering. Naturally psionic Buffs were much pricier and more uncommon then the other two.


    "Growing it will involve you being more active in your field, and earning Karma, of course. It also hooks you into my private intelligence network, the value of which you might imagine."


    He tapped his fingers on the table, the last two pieces on his plate momentarily forgotten. "That is an exceptionally good offer," he agreed.


    I held up a third finger. "If you accept that Mark, you will be able to make Seven. I shouldn''t have to tell you the benefits of doing so."


    His eyes grew intense despite himself. Making Seven was not an easy thing, and even harder for someone who accepted cybering or genegineering. But it straight up meant another seventy years of life, the chance to reach Ten, and the status that came with being a Ten.


    Going from human to superhuman without having to become some cyborg or gene-grated thing was a temptation for anyone.


    I held up a fourth finger, and his dark eyes flickered. "If you reach Seven, you will be able to throw off your implants, and become a Null Psi. If you become a Null Psi, you should have no difficulty making Ten."


    He swallowed despite himself. "You can make me a Psion?"


    I flicked up my Claw, held it up for him. "I am not a Psion. I am a Null Psion, there is a significant difference.


    "You have a chance to be a Null twice in your life... before you become a Two, and if you reach Seven and take your third Human evolution... if you are a Primos. A natural psi cannot, of course, become a Null." I inclined my head at him. "So, to be a Null Psion, you must reach Seven... and naturally enough, abandon your implants."


    He let out a long breath, hands on his desk. "That is quite an offer," he admitted. "May I ask why you are giving it to me?"


    I waved my Claw. "I''m Gold. Good things should happen to good people. I intend to make a lot more good people who good things should happen to."


    He kind of looked at me funny. "That''s it?"


    "If I said that ''a lot more'' included most of the galaxy, would that be enough?" I riposted.


    He looked at me again, as if I was nuts, and then at my golden Claw. Gold, not yellow. "Baby steps first?" he asked thoughtfully.


    "Baby steps first," I nodded.


    ---------------


    Over the remains of the lasagna we went over some of the finer points of the cooperation, pinkie swearing on it... and I hauled out my Ink and gave him his Mark, of Intellect, and he picked Meditation and Concentration. He was a Four Expert, very good at his trade, if not world-class, so he would become both focused and more serene after suddenly having his mind opened to advanced meditative and mental discipline techniques.


    He wouldn''t be able to use that crystal on others once he made Null, but he''d always be able to use it on himself... and we could always make one that he could use on others and then himself.


    I had inroads into Blok Security and the Medicae. Recruits would first start trickling in, then flooding as I tightened my grip on the blok and the surrounding areas. It was a resource management game in real life, with territories, criminals, uncaring law enforcement, mentalists, crazyass mutants and Warp sorcerers, technomafias, cyborgs, and Jedi Knights with zum-zum swords.


    I was enjoying myself. I was going to enjoy it more when I had 163 converted to a wheat field for making my own flour, and 164 to a big old herb garden...


    ==============


    Months pass...


    I kicked off the ground, hit the side of a building twenty feet up, and kicked off again. I did a long arch and flip to balance myself, and just as the second car came skidding around the corner, I came down on top of it and landed on the reinforced roof, taking my weight down to a fifth of gravity to reduce the impact, and then locked on with my heavyfoot as Billi finished his skid and gunned it after the shooter''s wagon ahead.


    "Heya, sensei. Welcome aboard!" he said, but we were basically talking in Markchat.


    The wind streamed past my Vajra, doing little more than tugging at my hair as he gunned it after the van ahead. The riders had popped open their doors and emptied a clip each into the crowds in front of Habberblok. There were four outright deaths, and dozens of wounded. Holes kept forming on my skin and healing over before they could bleed as Doc Mick and Davros saved those who''d been shot by transferring the wounds to me. The latter had Blinked out there with the former within seconds, and they''d saved over a dozen people before they could bleed out between them.


    Well, I helped a little.


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    Trindi was riding shotgun with a real shotgun, her face calm and focused, and her Nimbus up. If she got a clear shot, she was going to punch a load right through the side of the thing, and frag anyone inside. But it was juking and running so hard, smashing down anyone in its way in gleeful hurry to get away, that she didn''t dare take a shot.


    I glanced at my Visual File and the TC control network. "Juice it and ram his right driver side."


    Billi shifted gears, slammed on the nitrous, and the rebuilt engine roared with power. It almost jumped as it took off, closing the fifty yards between us in seconds, and didn''t slow down as it did.


    The back of it popped open, and someone looked ready to throw something out there.

 321 Far Future Ch. 31 – Sharkey’s Machine, Part One

    Full auto hard and hot light walked up his body in fiftieth of a second pulses, ending with his throat and the spine behind it, blood-red banefire doing all the work as the guy dropped whatever he was going to throw back at us to stop us, and fell back into the van.


    Which left the door open and swinging nicely. Trindi, without even thinking about it, slammed her shotgun down on the armrest mount on her door, centered the leyser sight, and launched her frag load.


    The shining, Nimbus-charged load arced through the air nicely and right into the interior of the van. There was a flash of green-gold light, and screams as the windows within blew out, many of the pieces painted scarlet.


    Billi didn''t even slow down as the van wavered. The solid steel grill slammed into the corner of the van, and the wheels whined as he bumped it out of control. It careened right before the driver could correct it, slamming up to the rails, and I imagine he had a big ''fuck me'' look on his face.


    TC naturally didn''t give a fuck about him, and the cargo hauler slammed into him doing a hundred and fifty, and massing a whooooooole lot more. The van was blown into the air and over, the front of it a compressed mass of metal and meat, and it flew right back and over us as the cargo hauler kept going, totally unperturbed save for a couple additional scuff marks.


    I sent off an email to TC that cargo hauler YTJ-2394 could up its kill count by four, and they sent back a nice email thanking me, it would be so noted on the hauler''s record, and would I like to see the current kill total records for the hauler lanes?


    I politely demurred as Billi spun the car, for a moment the tires moving as if greased, then suddenly gripping the ground again. The roar fell to a happy purr. There was a Driver at work...


    "Shall we go see who they were?" Trindi asked, chambering two slugs made for cyborg-popping... or plain flesh and bone in armor, if it came to that. Her Nimbus flicked back up, making sure that both rounds would land deep.


    "That sounds marvelous."


    Billi obediently coasted up to the ruins of the van. I hopped off as Trindi got out, stepping over a couple broken bodies that had been flung out of the back of the van when it did its vertical 180. I dumped their faces into my Band and sent them back to the blok, where my Goldilocks crew promptly starting going for facial recognition.


    "Wrecker''s on the way," Billi told me. No need to waste the material in the van. Melt it down and feed it into the printer. It''s how we built the wrecker itself, actually.


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    There''d be enough guys to sweep up the mess, too.


    I let Trindi use her claw to rip the door off, not much caring if anything inside was still in danger, and approved as she waited for her Nimbus to come back from the Sun Strike before she actually tore it open and looked around.


    She Visualized their faces, transferred it to the Goldilocks crew, and facial recognition went out quick.


    "Borg-boys from a Sharkey gang affiliate, the Dunner Dawgs," I /repeated for just about everyone as the hits came back from Blok Security''s link to the Juris databases. "I''m betting just about everyone has had just about enough of Sharkey by now, right?"


    The /affirmations came back quickly. Ever since we''d offed four of his best borgboys come to catch a baby blade, he''d been itching to get back at us. Random shootings, drive-bys, attempted knifings, even a sniper attempt or two had been aimed at members of the Green and Gold. Most of the people doing it were dead, of course, and retaliation had not been withheld, as Karma well-earned was eagerly sought for.


    But mass unloading on the civilians of the blok? That turned a desired challenge and threat into something a bit worse.


    It was time to end him and his crew.


    ----


    I advised, but I did not directly participate. I so informed them that I could go in there and Kill Them All, and leave my students absolutely shit to do. There was a popular protest against such Karma-stealing action on my part, and they got to work.


    We had a number of retired soldiers brought in for tactical advice, not hard when a blok houses tens of thousands. They had a lot of vids to look at for some of the steps that should be taken, some inventively crazy ideas that were mostly shot down, and sometimes implemented just for the sheer zaniness of doing them. I let them go to it.


    The number of students I was teaching had blossomed, and then blossomed again. While my Marked said very little themselves, the number of kids who had mindblades proliferating like mad had caught a lot of attention, especially when those kids turned out to be pretty damn good with them. Snatch gangs attempting to grab themselves some baby psis were usually completely obliterated, and we dug out at least two dozen of them with the old bait-and-burn tactics.


    And if I happened to follow their chain of asset disposal Upspire, well, nobody spoke about mysterious deaths in various corps, clans, and Houses that went on, and I got to practice my infiltration and assassination skills on people truly deserving of them. Win-win!


    The quietest and most merciless of my students were the Goldilocks crew.


    They were called that because of the long lock of golden hair they all had, which could plug into a computer jack. This obviated the need for a datajack implant, which would violate the psionic rule against such things, and kept the kids pure for their Null Psion.


    They were my hacking crew.


    Computer Programming skills were basically restricted to higher education, closely monitored by the Mekkers, and usually the province of corporate drones... or illegal users who taught themselves crazy-ass methods by a combination of experimentation and askashic downloads unwittingly. As it worked out, I could only grant Ranks in something to someone that I already had myself, so those Levels devoted to my Tech skills were actually very important. Suddenly, a bunch of really smart kids could actually learn stuff they wanted to play with and had been forbidden to, and they jumped on it with fanatical zeal.


    They soon had a presence on both the Boole and the Quanta, the underground internet that didn''t operate on the same lines. As a matter of fact, they expanded it a bunch, because some of them were hardcore computer designers and engineers, and we were printing off newer and sleeker systems off the raw comps from trashed or outdated corporate models, daring to explore new system designs.


    Street tech tended to stop at the Tech Level of 6 or so, as 7 would start to be getting into weird science, and none of my kids were at the stage where they could comprehend that stuff.


    I, on the other hand, most definitely was.


    I began including Sacred Rune designs into the tech they were Printing off, accentuating them with Holy Runework carved in by hand by the people more skilled at handcraft then mindcraft. The mixture of the default Axiomatic runesets used by the Mekkers and Corps with the Holy stuff effectively made the sets immune to Warp corruption and distortion... which, in turn, actually enhanced their performance and reliability somewhat. It also cleaned up the programming parameters, streamlining a good portion of the stuff, so the software that was being designed and written worked better, too.


    Most importantly, I was going down a new technology tree.


    Computer technology was based on the microprocessor and its weird science derivatives, with Energized materials and molecular-level and sub-dimensional encoding involved. Naturally such systems were extremely susceptible to contamination, hence the overwhelming presence of Axiomatic software and hardware formations to stave off the influence of the Warp, and the hard, Hard, HARD bias against Artificial Intelligences who could also be corrupted, and always would be, in the end.


    The main reason for this was naturally because the default protective designs they used were of Law. The Warp was of Chaos... and Evil. Axiom could fight Anarchic, but had no defense against Evil, and so was corrupted on that end. AI''s didn''t go batshit-crazy, they went Dark, terrifying logical and emotionless killers of billions that had once threatened the entire galaxy when they went rogue. They took a high-tech level culture that had spanned the galaxy crashing down from 16 or so back down to 10-12, into a literal dark age of distrust in High Science that still had not faded after millennia. Since technology was constantly being biased and tilted towards the purposes of Evil by the Warp, this distrust was anything but unwarranted, of course.


    It was obvious to me that the Mekkers would not be able to lift the Tech Level of the civilization we were at. First, they were subject to the same sort of Evil corruption as AI''s, because they wed themselves to the machine. Thus, they were heartless, monopolistic, logical, and dogmatic, getting more and moreso as they advanced in their unity with the machine.


    Also, they were spiritually unable to comprehend the higher orders of technology, as they couldn''t gather the Ranks necessary to do so. Oh, they could replicate technology, they could make things of tech levels higher than they could understand, and they did so remarkably well, once their implants gave them the modifiers to do so. But they didn''t understand how or why much of their own technology worked, and it wasn''t something they could just program into a machine and pass out.


    The Mechanist Guilds and their many subdivisions were dominated by cyborgs, but it was apparent to me that before what they called the Dark Age of technology, psions had been the ones driving technology forward, and the cyborgs had merely been the work force and maintenance crews. The true innovators of technology and the weird science behind the higher forms had to be psions, because cyborgs just couldn''t get to the proper level.


    The cyborgs tried. What they did is endlessly tinker with existing tools, trying to synthesize new (and older) technology out of things they could produce now, experimenting with the force of numbers to try and reach the higher, grander tech levels of the past. Sometimes, they succeeded at uncovering something viable, and even more often, they found something very unstable, explosive, or hit a violent and career-ending dead end in their searches.


    The whole shtick of the tech of today being inferior to that of the past was totally true, and it was the fault of the guardians of our tech, who held it tight to themselves with the idea that meat people couldn''t possibly treat it with the proper reverence, and it was too dangerous to trust us with it.


    Uh-huh.


    Ergo, I started the new tech tree. Super-miniaturized vacuum tubes, instead of micro-processors.


    This technology was old, and never pursued, because microprocessors were markedly more energy-efficient and smaller from the beginning, and so never embraced, quietly falling into the dustbin of history. Now, I brought it back, purchasing the rights to it for basically nothing, because it had no value.


    The energy-efficiency wasn''t anywhere near the problem it used to be, with the advent of Energized materials, and with Compression technology, neither was area.


    The system had two major advantages over micro-processors. The first was that they were more energy tolerant, able to handle several times the power loads that microprocessors could without slagging.


    The second was that the vacuum burned off psychic infestation and corruption.


    That little spark jumping through space meant a material gap for the flow of psychic power, and disjointed it, creating innumerable tiny holes in any sort of psychic infestation and virtually preventing the sort of long-term corruption that plagued existing networks.


    It also created light, and when your circuits are fixed in Holy Rune-forms, that''s not an irrelevant thing. The Axiomatic nature of fixed circuitry, the Light, and the natural Chaos of the electricity running through basically united all the aspects of Good together within the workings of the circuit boards we were making, and the resulting light show of circuits at work was remarkably soothing to look upon.


    As for using it, as one Goldilocks put it, "Man, the Boole feels so much dirtier than the Quanta."

 322 Far Future Ch. 32 – Sharkey’s Machine, Part Two

    It was a very subtle psychic pressure, tilted towards using the internet for positive purposes. It also exerted pressure away from Artificial Intelligence, as vacuum circuits relied more heavily on human interaction, which in turn developed human minds and souls as they worked and interfaced with them. With the constant breaks within the circuits, no true AI could actually manifest... but linked to a human mind, great things could happen, where the mind could not be overwhelmed by the machine.


    This was the environment our Goldilocks crew was working in, and they were having a blast.


    In terms of programming languages and skills, they were naturally lagging behind the Mechanists, who were using some TL 10 stuff for normal stuff that had been invented millennia ago, and never really updated. The higher-ranked stuff almost none of them could employ properly, and so they didn''t bother to.


    The kids were going whole hog into improving themselves. The advance schema and what they had to be able to do with their meaty psi-boosted brains was right in front of them, and all they had to do was get to it.


    An Intellect Mark sure helped, too.


    They broke into all the surveillance cams for the Juris and Traffic control in the area, and slaved the feeds into a common database for our usage. The ability to turn TC on and off for our vehicles was a nice boon we made happy use of when needed. Blueprints were downloaded for buildings, mock-ups designed, and tiny little spybots sent in to survey the ground and see what tricks were in place.


    Goldilocks who wanted to get into a fight were drone pilots, backing up the ground forces while combining surveillance and scouting functions. Drones were naturally first targets in fights, and there were plenty of electrical-based attacks which could take them out quickly, Everybody loathed them, so everybody who could shot at them. Since that was better than shooting at the living, that was fine.


    A wonderful thing about bloks is that they make great headquarters, so naturally Sharkey was based in one, which he controlled pretty much outright. He had a good addict base there, bribed anyone connected to the government, and could basically do what he pleased.


    He was also based on Floor 34, which was pretty much the same as every other floor in a blok. Oh, he had up a couple additional walls and barricades, but duplicating the layout and postings of the guards was simplicity itself.


    Since they didn''t know the layout of the rooms he had co-opted for himself and his personal crew, my students did ask me to scout those out.


    It wasn''t very hard with my Tremblesense, as I could survey an area for sixty feet around me, meaning at least three stories. That was good, because he''d made some very illegal blok mods, connecting three floors of apartments together with internal stairs and poles for escape options, and building additional internal hallways across corridors that were supposed to extend to the outer walls, establishing more layers of protection between himself and outside attacks.


    I found his bolt-holes to floors 36 and 32, and his dropchutes through windows on the outer walls, obviously the reason why he hadn''t taken the upper floors away from some of the wealthier people living there. I mapped it all, fed it into their mock-ups, and they put together a real-world semblance, to the extent of making our own illegal connections between an uninhabited corner section of floors 154 to 156, and they began to run through the assault.


    After fifty-some drills, the assault team, swapping off with the defender team, finally made it to him. Nobody was happy when I triggered the demolition charges in the walls and covered everyone with red confetti with his suicide gambit, and they had to rework their assault plan to take out the bombs, too. More swapping off assault and defender teams happened, until everyone could walk the place in their sleep, knew all the defensive chokepoints, what they needed to get past them, who and what to kill and destroy, alternate methods of entry and flanking, and all the scenarios involved.


    The kids were good. Lots of vids told them what they had to achieve, real-world ex-troopers backed them up and supplied them with realistic tactics, and a couple officers pointed out the strategy it was best to use to take out his vassal gangs, as the amount of manpower he had to draw on was enormous. He was drawing from a population of three different bloks he either controlled outright or had total influence over, and the businesses that existed in the areas around them.


    Which naturally meant the kids had to expand the scope of their intel gathering. All pumped up to take out his HQ, when we added in the external elements and having to fight their way up to his base, everyone died, every time.


    That definitely cooled their juices, and they realized they had to get rid of his external forces, or at the very least convince them they''d have better places to be than ending up on the end of a mindclaw.


    So, intelligence-gathering went into effect. The Goldilocks set up an op where they connected the Quanta to his local cybernet, and promptly began to infiltrate everything. The feely-good viruses they came up with for his hackers were hilarious, smacking on their empathic centers and playing up their resentment for their bosses subliminally, so they didn''t bother reporting ''a few bugs'' they might have seen and thought they expunged, while our coders, who actually knew the code, added on to it and around it.


    I had to personally go in and break their TL6 encryption; basically the whole crew watched in awe at how I was attacking the structure of the coding, widening miniscule gaps and inserting in new code to infiltrate everything, spitting out four different coding languages and thought-firing machine language blurbs out into their systems, which were brought in by bored Sharks and began to link up within their system. Digital codes cross-patterned into lesser codes reformed when downloaded, linked up as they were shared across systems, and became infiltration programs that soon cracked it wide open for my people.


    It had taken me six months to hit my 28 base Intellect and crack open that second thoughtstream. Once I did, I could indulge in full-time immersion in the Boole and the Quanta, coding and programming to my heart''s delight, the logic center of my brain going ga-ga over all the data analysis I could do. I was now aiming for a 32, where I''d have four streams, and could engage in research analytics with the third while the fourth was in constant management and control.


    My Wisdom and Charisma streams from hitting 30 in each were manipulating stocks and gambling, and running Markspace, respectively. Hitting a goldweight in profit a day was my goal with Wisdom, and I was very close to that, and soon would be surpassing it and keeping going. I had a lot of expenditures, but outfoxing TL 10 computers and programming, reading trends ahead of them, and stuffing Sense Motive checks at 50 down the throats of gamblers using statistical programs was very satisfying.


    Yeah, I sucked a lot of bandwidth doing all that. Happily, my memory capacity was effectively infinite, since I was hooked into the Akasha and could effectively dump none-vital but important information there to be retrieved and reviewed later, leaving my brain packed with detailed important information and immediate experience/memory, while reams of knowledge and data that was not essential to everyday life was in my own akashic annex for me to play with.


    This technique was how psis matched the knowledge base of cyborgs. Cybers had online access to computer databases and analytics, and psis had the akasha and multiple thoughtstreams backed by high natural Intellect supercharged by psionic energy. With the entire knowledge base of all humanity there in the akasha to be plucked and available for usage, and natural cross-linking of memories to experience, the psis actually had the ultimate advantage in the high-end knowledge race.


    At the lower end, however, not so much. After all, building a machine to spec just cost money and a little bit of time. Getting a psion to a post-20 Intellect and Six+ in Level cost time, money, training, Karma, and an immense amount of willpower and opportunity, further subdivided by people with the natural gifts that could be built upon. So, the cybered always won the low-end race, and because they were attempting to monopolize it, unless you got away from them, the high-end would never materialize.


    Mmm. Well, that was one of the things I was here to fix.


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    I could only Forsake people who were at One, which generally meant nobody older than a high school teen, and sometimes not even them, if they got into gang life as a hardass early on. There were some rare One''s in their twenties, but very, very few after that, and such people had almost no motivational force whatsoever, basically existing, not even really surviving.


    If they could Open as Nulls, they could be Null Psions, trigger a mindblade, and start on their celebrated road to uberness. They could not, however, do all the fun and wonderful things that a true Psion could do, but just having access to the psionic Feats and all the stuff that was possible with that was enough to light a fire under a lot of people.


    Anybody else I brought in could be Awakened to Ki and Essence, although they had to be very careful with the latter until they had their Vajra going. Plenty of things from the Warp wanted to feast on such vulnerable souls. If they could reach Seven, they could go Forsaken and become Null Psions, too.


    I was still the only person who could Mark, so I was potentially busy all the time. After all, there were literally of millions of people just in this small section of Janus Prime where I lived, and even if only a fraction of them were Good, it was still more than I could handle, even if I Marked all day.


    There were a dozen baby Psions working for me now, people who were Powered, but didn''t have the Stats to actually make use of their power. They were the kind of people the Warped looked for; the power they couldn''t use was exploited, they were often Possessed to get their Stats up, and then turned into Wilders and went batshit crazy from having a demon wearing them.


    With the Mark, I could get their Stats up into basic territory... if they could earn the Karma, I could turn an 8 into a 12 for them as their Mark ranked up. Furthermore, they were Powered, so they had potential to Level in many, many areas... but Stats were a merciless ladder that they had to climb. If you didn''t have a Stat above 13, you were never going to be more than a Three. And contrary to everyone''s beliefs, Powered weren''t genetically inclined to have any more exceptional Stats than most people.


    This was the whole ''talent'' paradigm. Elite organizations like the Mentats, noble houses, trade guilds, undermobs, Umbrans, or Coronals didn''t want ordinary Powered. In fact, the fate of many such was to get shipped off-world, or become Bound to help power the local Heavenly Beacon that indicated the planet''s position in local Warp-space for star travelers, a thankless and boring job that meant sitting in a massive psionic siphon that drew psionic energy off tens of thousands of minor psions plugged into it in Nimbus to display the Beacon for Warp-traveling ships.


    Someone who couldn''t break Three without age bonuses was of no interest to most elite organizations, and generally unable to work in a psionic-related field as anything more than a Tool-user. With 12 or less PP a day usable, their combat power was vastly inferior to any decent cyborg, and the powers they could wield minor at best.


    But if those people had a Mark, everything would change.


    The people of average or no Talent, with Intellects and/or Wisdom of 10 or less, would immediately jump into the Untalented Stage, and could establish a Reserve and learn minor tricks. For people who had no tricks at all, this was a godsend all by itself.


    People who lacked Talent now were Talented. Scores of 11-13 could become 15-17. They could reach Four, take a Stat boost of their own, reach Five and hit the Stat Mastery/3 for another point to the needed Stat, reach Six and take a Secondary Class to 4 for another point boost, and then reach Seven, be eligible for Human/3, hopefully take another boost to that Stat, which would carry them to Nine. Hitting Eight would get them another +1, Stat Mastery/5 at Nine to get yet another point, and then reach Ten, where the combination of the Ten Enlightenment and Atlantean Human would combine for another general Stat boost overall.


    But without that 14, you couldn''t get on the Level Train. You had to be exceptional. Mental bonuses for aging could carry you to it, but Leveling after you reached sixty years old was pretty difficult for most people. Advancing with the inexorable willpower required to reach Seven and getting the lifespan boost was beyond most people, who quietly gave up on it.


    But I, I could change all that. I WAS going to change all that. I just had to first get into a position of power and reputation to pull it off. And I was on my way to doing so...


    I had little to nothing to offer the elites of society. Oh, sure, they''d love my Marks, and access to unlimited telepathy within the Markspace was definitely a thing. But they already had access to training, tech, and opportunities. They had the raw potential to hit Ten if they cared to, so why would they need me?


    No, Mom-me had built her power on the unPowered, the lowest levels of Primos, the dregs of society, turning them into a mighty foundation of strength.


    I planned to do the same.


    We just had to take down Sharkey''s Machine first.

 323 Far Future Ch. 33 – Sharkey’s Machine, Part Three

    My Gold and Green organization had expanded to three bloks over the course of the past year. We also had scooped up three abandoned factories and were Making Stuff, in addition to slowly grinding down the rooms in the Top Fifty of Habberblok to put in hydroponics gardens to surround the ghosts with life and slowly ease their hatred.


    The hydroponics stuff was free, actually. The Mentats sponsored the whole shebang as an experiment in easing the strain of death zones formed by necroic entities, and since it made money on the side by selling fresh veggies, it was considered a win-win. My holopoint presentation sold it to them, as well as the fact I could actually walk up there and put the stuff together.


    By now all the locals were familiar with the Ghost Knights and the quests they had to do, even if nobody talked about them. Normal stuff, like killing a guy who''d raped a punk''s sister long ago, or finding a surviving relative to let them know what had happened and pass a message on, or weird stuff like cleaning every room on floor 140 (which turned into a sponsored renovation project by the city and rapidly became some of the most desired rooms in the blok).


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    Ghost Knights were the elite of the Green and Gold. You only got the title if you completed your quest for the dead and a spirit of Habberblok attached itself to your mindblade/claw. You also picked up a haunting spirit as a familiar of sorts, who could keep an eye on your back and also warn you of psychic presences, which came in very useful, needless to say.


    The boys and girls got a reputation for being tough as nails, and that was no lie at all. Psy-Reinforced Body meant every Feat made them that little bit tougher, and the full contact sparring and healing meant they were maxing Health and Soak. Being Nulls meant their Con scores were ever-rising. Yes, they were tough as nails, and could take punishment that others simply could not.


    However, a mini-gun didn''t really care, so there was that.


    Our opponents had been better armed then us, but that changed quickly, as in proper questing fashion, we killed them and took their stuff. They didn''t have psionics, they didn''t have Falling Star boosting their guns and weapons, and they couldn''t heal easily even if they got away.


    The harsher drug dealers in the blok went down like that. There wasn''t much in the way of warning, we just killed them and either quietly vivified the bodies, or sent them upstairs to the ghosts. The ghosts didn''t mind maintaining some of the hydroponics'' mechanical components, but they needed hands to do so, and free labor to sweep the floors was always useful.


    There were six different gangs dealing throughout Habberblok, and only one by the time we got done, who only dealt in the mild stuff and was veeeeery careful not to take over the bigger stuff as his competitors bought it.


    Sharkey''s people were among the first we kicked out of Habberblok, and he wasn''t happy about it. They made a push to get back in, tried to ambush a few of the boys... and got counter-ambushed so lethally the attempts dropped off fast.


    That was the beginning, and it began to snowball. Ghost Knights questing for the dead, dozens of young men and women with mindclaws cleaning things up and making the place and area better to live, serving in the Auxiliary, and then bringing down those first harvests of berries and vegetables... yeah, word had spread quick.


    Two neighboring bloks had expressed interest in what we were doing. Kids were sent over, had the shit scared out of them, and then beaten out of them, and learned that attitude had its place and time, and it wasn''t here. If they wanted a mindclaw, they accepted a quest, and got to learn to mean what it meant to have your ancestors looking after you.


    More young men and women, and some older ones, had joined in. The circle of influence and the conflicts created by it rose. We had what amounted to a security contract, which could almost be considered a protection racket initially, just shifting from whatever gang had claimed the territory to us. That''s what it took, so we used the existing mechanic, but also made sure they knew what we were doing, helped them with their own security, and kept them informed of goings-on. We made them feel safe, instead of oppressed, and made to generate goodwill instead of resentment. They needed us, we needed income, it amounted to a tax to the Juris that wouldn''t bother to come down here unless bribed.


    This was the kind of experience they started putting to use, from slowly pushing out rival gangs from multiple sources and factions, and now specifically targeting one we were sick of. It was a campaign, the kids were planning it, and I was one of the pieces they were moving, to deal with the tough stuff.


    --------------------


    Like this damn Walker here.


    There were various levels of mechanization, from just a few implants, to full cyborgs. Likewise, power armor had grades. You had real power armor, that moved based on how you moved, and was fairly light as such things went. Then you had mek suits, where you were basically wearing a robot, and generally hooked directly into it, subbing its servos for your own movements, and you were just along for the ride.


    The next step up from a mek suit was a walker, or a mini-Mech.


    Humanoid chassis for weapon mounts grew increasingly less viable the higher you went, unless and until you included a lot of anti-grav to offset the increasing amount of weight coming down on two narrow legs, and how easy it was to get those arms and weapon limbs shot off, as well as making it hard to hug the ground for a low profile.


    Of course, they did have anti-grav here, and fusion batteries to power them, and a mech could respond faster than most vehicles, especially in tight quarters where most vehicles couldn''t go.


    And besides, weird science loved them some giant robots, so gots to have them, right?


    This Walker was basically a light artillery carrier, with a pair of auto-cannons for some armor-punching and pulse lasers for clearing out chaff. Guy in an armored bubble rode in the middle of it, jacked in with a cyberlink, directing it like his own body, and trying to shoot me.


    He was having a time of it, because I had definitely spent time and money getting a Vampire''s Veil up, and none of his electronics could see me. He was having to rely on his meat eyes to track me, and that was definitely giving him conniption fits.


    Without auto-tracking, his aim sucked, and he was hitting the broad side of the barn, and not the girl skating past it as he tried to get his sights on me. There was too much cover, and I was using it all as he chased me with hard and hot light in brilliant swathes, blasting holes into the plascrete walls of this old factory.


    Up the walls, across the ceiling, down the walls, back up to the ceiling braces, skipping between steel rafters, down, across, up and over and down again while he cursed and swore and tried to keep up with the bulky machine, trying not to bounce off the ceiling braces as he chased after me.


    Of course, he had a friend racing ahead of me, and they were talking. That was fine, I was too, and humming Heaven''s Own March for the benefits of my Marked as they took the advantage of the heavy hitters being drawn away to collapse on this arsenal of the Mav Street Runners, another one of Sharkey''s bully crews.


    Sniper shots peeled off those on their flatbed cannon carriers, the autoguns lolling empty as their gunners lost their heads to flashes of Sun Shots. More shots raked across their armored cabins, punching through diaglass and steel and making a mess out of the cockpits.


    Marked people came sliding around corners on lightfoot, leading with Sun Shots at anyone who looked too big or too shiny. Usually those people got two or three shots, to be on the safe side, and then a mindclaw came down to take off the head for further security.


    Alarms were going off, but the outside coms were jammed and down, and we''d even cut their private lines and laser relays to be on the safe side.


    The line of grenades blew past me and into the wall near me, sending shrapnel flying everywhere. The heat and shockwave didn''t actually annoy me much, it was all thunder and fire damage, and the physical fragments pinged off my golden skin armor and DR 19/Holy Silver, and they weren''t holy silver.


    I went up the wall and then the ceiling as the ambusher in the second Walker tried to track me, a minigun chewing out the bullets.


    He really did not like it when I braced my golden blade and bounced his shots right back at him. Arrow Deflection -> Arrow Reflection. Automatic once a round if desired, burn AoO''s if you want to do more than once.


    Yeah, those were some heavy slugs, but the fun of force and psionics is that reversing shots is just too much fun not to do, and even hard light doesn''t actually have much mass.


    Heavy slugs bounced off Chalice, rebounded as their dumped inertia was fed completely back to them, aimed with cunning angles, and became a tight grouping of shots which turned his bubble-view into a spider-web of impacts, very tightly clustered.


    He frantically let up on the guns and tried a point-blank grenade launch at the corner of the ceiling. Alas, I skipped upside down across the ceiling and came down outside the pincer-arms he was trying to stick out there, carving through it at the joint and sheering it right off as I hit the ground, carried the stroke through and across the back of his leg, lightning and acid carving deep into the joint of his Walker and really fucking up the servos there.


    The blast of the grenades sent dust flying and stones flying, pinging loudly off him and softly off me. It blasted his Walker sideways, sending it lurching into the wall with a crunch as he lost his leg and his gyros couldn''t compensate properly.


    I didn''t feel like stabbing through the inch of metal surrounding him, but the shattered diaglass bubble? It was only two feet from him.


    Chalice was three feet long.


    I swung up between his legs and guns, and as he gawked at me being right in his feet, a meter of golden force slid right through that weakened impact point and took him in the heart.


    He managed to blink once, the lightning fried his circuits, and he was done.


    His buddy rounded the corner as I cut on the right, the left, and my hair swirled out and plugged into the command cables for his grenade launchers.


    He had just about enough time to realize I''d ambushed the ambusher, that his buddy''s ''awk!'' on their comms meant he was dead, and then he saw the barrels of his buddy''s grenade launchers light up.


    Foopfoop!


    The first set did everything I needed, fracturing his cockpit and sending shockwaves through him and his Walker.


    Sixty feet between us as I jumped and didn''t hit the ground. His ''awk!'' joined his buddy as he struggled to settle his bouncing brain and didn''t succeed in time.


    The Walkers powered down as their pilots died, not having any distant-piloting hardware on board (I was looking for it).


    Somewhat damaged, but not too terribly much. The Goldilocks would have new toys to play with.


    The Mav Street Runners wouldn''t be running anywhere after this. The ''locks were already pulling ID chips and breaking into their accounts, while the Goldijacks were plugging into their vehicles and getting them ready to pull out.


    Implants were being pulled, and bodies prepped for the soylent wagon. We''d already flagged one for special service at the nearest TC crossroad.


    More transport trucks came rumbling into the open doors of their main shops here, for carting off their equipment and supplies. The process began quickly, and hey, having some new mek-suits there really helped with moving around the heavy stuff.


    Weapons were priority, repair equipment and parts printers next, and then electronics and tools following. Replacement parts were racked and shoved into trucks, sent out one after another down streets staying very quiet after all the shooting.


    We had spotters down all the key arteries coming in here. Most of my Marked had arrived on foot, taking underways to avoid all the watchers and spies planted around Habberblok, coming out of a garage in Glumberzone and from there trotting another five miles to get into position around the Mavver hardpoints.


    Six dead, two headshots and a heartshot. Everybody else had been saved, and although half a dozen had lost limbs, they''d been preserved and stitched right back on. I knew, because the wounds had popped up on me while I was jumping and dodging, and naturally I could tell exactly which of my Marked were getting them transferred to me... and they could feel me taking them on the far end.


    Bonding experiences, yep.

 324 Far Future Ch. 34 – Sharkey’s Machine, Part Four

    It took about an hour for the response team from the Runners'' allies to show up, armored buses and carriers crammed with shooters hurtling our way, looking to reinforce, get some payback, see who dared mess with them, or avenge their buddies.


    We weren''t too sure of their motives, and it didn''t matter.


    The first thing to do was mess with the TC control signals when they reached that intersection. All green, head across... and the first two vehicles only had time to scream when they saw the haulers coming.


    Buses went flying in explosions of metal, glass, burning fuel, and some flesh and blood, gangers screamed, and the haulers kept right on going. The cross-circuit bots unplugged themselves and scampered away, as TC got irritated with people messing with their control signals. But, this was late at night, and it only killed some gangers, so no harm, no foul.


    We sent their kill totals to them later, and they responded politely and updated the numbers. One of those haulers was a leader, with almost five digits! I think we sporked some of the bets on place advances, so some bookies might get mad at us...


    The drone mines ran up underneath their vehicles as the rest of the convoy stewed in place, wondering if they could trust the lights, and trying to get their buddies out of the burning buses.


    Boomboomboomboomboom... ten more vehicles went ripping off the ground, they made some damn nice mini-explosives hereabouts, and the fine brothers inside them didn''t fare too well, while filling the roads with more wreckage.


    The Chill Dawgs decided they had better things to do, and got out of there as soon as possible. We let the scavs deal with the dead, as they''d do a fine job and inject some more money into the local economies, nothing to worry about.


    ---


    The Criminey Eels came in from the opposite direction. They were a street rod crew, prone to drive-bys, fancy muscle cars, and crazy driving, so TC tricks didn''t mean shit to them. Spiked flats to blow out their wheels and raising the street bunkers to block their travel lanes at inappropriate times, however, that could annoy them. We didn''t even have to kill them. Once half their cars were out of action, we just ID''d whoever was in charge of ordering them in, and a drone came plummeting down from on high to take him and his car out in a nice explosion.


    We tracked the follow-up calls, and watched them all turn back as we were pulling out of there.


    ---


    The Gros Lobos were a bit more clever, getting word of our retreat path and opting to set up an ambush along it. Our Marked Watchers saw them getting into place, setting up snipers and the like, and some of our reserve crew followed the paths through the underways, literally came up through the basements of the buildings they were in, shocking some of the maintenance crews who got quickly out of the way, and took out their ground forces from behind. The snipers were boxed in, the drones came hovering down in front of them to let them know they were boned, and as they bailed out of the rooms they were waiting in, they were unceremoniously shot by the teams waiting in the corridors.


    ---


    The fourth group coming in was on foot. The Newvinian Rats came in purely on Mark I soles, a steady infiltration of manpower at street level and below. They had very good instincts of the understreets, and regularly infiltrated the territory of other gangs through the underways, so they had some knowledge of paths and tracks.


    Going up against mindblade-users in tight quarters was a murderously bad idea, especially when they all had access to The Map of our combined travels in Janus Prime, including an incredibly detailed knowledge of the understreets. It was with very little fanfare that some bloody and murderous fights erupted on the streets and below, with the latter being close-combat and helping others once again learn that the Green and Gold earned every single bit of their reputation for being damnably tough. The top fight became a series of rolling ambushes and enfilades, the sneaky Rats moving into ambush after ambush, and really not enjoying the experience.


    When they finally pulled out of our territory, two-thirds of them were dead, and they were running for it.


    ---


    The last wave was probably from the Awkman Hawks, who liked to use drones flying and landbound, and were pretty tech-savvy, being the gang responsible for setting up Sharkey''s private network and all. Something like four hundred drones came swooping into our territory, rigged to target and blow up, swooping in like several flocks of oversized pigeons ready to ram into things and explode, killing everything around them as they did.


    The anti-drone rockets were significantly cheaper than actual drones, since they didn''t need terrain-following, coordination tech, or communication bands. As the jammers hit the drones, and their terrain-following tech ended up looking at the Habberblok ghosts and promptly fritzed, the mini-rockets launched from storm-style launchers turned the early morning into a fireworks display of falling drones and explosive payloads detonating. A lot of eyes were looking for the ones that were trying to be sneaky, and a lot of target practice put to work shooting them down.


    Our spoils of war were trucked into one of the subfloors of an old distillery we''d taken over, now converted into our own fortified garage, and the kids now had more targets to go after.


    The deaths sobered them up, as even with how tough they were and how skilled and how they could be healed, they could still die if they were hit. They were awesome, but this wasn''t a game, and they could still be killed.


    It did give them a huge mad on for Sharkey, and morale soared.


    Us beating the snot out of the other gangs also did wonders for our reps, as the Goldilocks crew was more than happy to post all sorts of vids of them getting their asses handed to them.


    We had begun dismantling Sharkey''s Machine, and we''d see where this could take us.


    ----------


    "I admit you have balls, but no sense," I complimented the guy in black power armor lite, looking rather sleek and impressive. The mindblade he was displaying was a deep crimson, so he was a sword for hire, for whatever purposes. "Cutting your way through my people was a nice way to prove your skill, but really, do you think you would have made it here if we''d wanted you dead?"


    He was wearing a helm painted with a black skull, that was probably supposed to be intimidating. He raised the meter-long Mindblade in his hand without a care. "It had the intended effect of calling you out for a duel, did it not?" I eyed the three Stars and two Suns on his Blade, and shook my head. He was clasping a Focus in his hand, boosting the effects of the Mindblade, and it was crackling with energy designed to leech off a psion''s Reserve.


    "You''re an Eight and not much more. What are you going to do, boost your armor and size and think you''ll catch me by surprise?" I had watched three vids of him fighting by now, and was scanning through a fourth. I just shook my head at him. "Constran the Crimson Sword. I mean, seriously? You came an awful long way just to get your head handed to you. Go on, buff up. I''ll wait for you."


    He displayed some surprise, and spirals of psionic energy flared up around him, in specific patterns and colors related to the effects he was drawing forth. Inertial armor, yep. Biofeedback, yep. Combat Precognition, yep. And lastly, Body Growth, instantly grabbing ectoplasm and doubling his height to twelve feet, increasing mass by eight, and doubling his reach.


    "You are very sure of yourself, as betting someone who performed a Quadruple Sun Strike!" he said loftily, the filtered voice even deeper now, clearly feeling superior looking down on me, and waving a two-meter mindblade, Stars burning on it, Suns spiraling around it, crackling with energy from Nimbus and Corona.


    "Uh-huh. Lesson time."


    I glided forwards, his mindblade instantly dipped to thrust forwards at me, right for my heart, and unarmored chest in general.


    My Claws flashed up and slashed across.


    His crimson mindblade shattered like glass, as did his massive form, revealing his shocked real-size body beyond. My fist continued forwards through the disintegrating remnants of his blade, the ruby shards evaporating before they could hit the floor, and my Claw, balled into a fist, crashed into the breastplate of his armor.


    It was a Sun Strike, and my Corona and Nimbus went off.


    He left his feet as the psionic reinforcement on his armored vest shattered, and the force of the strike passed right on through his armor. He went sailing back ten feet, Soaking most of the hit so that he could keep his feet and skid to a halt, and he gasped and stared at me and the smoking circuits of the rent in his power armor above his breastbone.


    His blade came back, but it had neither Suns nor Stars at the moment. He grimaced as he tried to bring them up, except I was suddenly in front of him too fast... and Suns and Stars were definitely on my fist.


    He tried to parry, and I shattered his mindblade again, making him shake from the feedback again, and this time backfisted him across his helm. Metal creaked and folded, parts of it tore open, and he spun around, half-stunned by the blow, trying to bring up his non-existent blade again to try to block me, and I planted my foot between his legs, thoroughly exhausting his Soak and crushing his manhood up into him, padding be damned.


    He came down from three feet in the air, quivered, and fell, folding over like a baby at the pain down low.


    "Now, you''re going to pay for cutting up four of my boys. I''ll leave you your armor, but you''re donating your Focus to the armory. If any of them had died, you would also be dead right now." I toed his Focus up to my hand, tossed it to Brekko, standing in the circle ringing us nearby.


    I had standards on bladecraft before I would allow any of my disciples to use a Sword Focus, and none of the lads had reached it yet... but Brekko in particular was really trying to get there, bless the bright boy''s heart. Trying to be a good cutter and a good shooter wasn''t easy, but he had ambitions.


    "Throw him outside by the curb. If he''s still there in ten minutes, shoot him."


    Unsympathetic hands grabbed him, and when his helmed head looked up, he saw the four kids he''d cut on his way in, their shirts still bloody, but the wounds across their chests gone, and gold-green mindclaws latched onto him, pulsing and ready to crumple his armor to shreds if he dared resist.


    ------


    Constran managed to call his bike over to him via voice protocol, and somehow climbed aboard backwards and set the destination. The flywheels spun and kept the bike balanced as it sped off. He hissed and spit and swore revenge, even as he thanked the Emperor he hadn''t killed anyone going in, or he would now be dead, instead of losing a replaceable Sword Focus.


    She hadn''t even brought out her mindblade to deal with him. Shattering his blade, crushing his armor, dispelling his buffs... even through the agony of his crushed testicles, he shivered.


    She had destroyed him, and he had no idea how she had done it. Sharkey had sent him in to test her out, maybe kill her if he could, although when he had looked around and seen all those dozens of Mindclaws with Suns on them around him, he knew that doing that was going to be next to impossible. He might be better than any of them, but not all of them.


    And he wasn''t anything compared to her. Where the fuck had she come from? A Quadruple Sun Strike... he hadn''t believed it, but now he could, because that''s exactly what she had done to him, without using a Sword. Crushed his blade with one fist, nearly pulped his heart with the second, moved right with him as he was smashed back, destroyed his reformed blade with a third, and backfisted him with a fourth.


    He had the distinct feeling she could have driven one up between his legs, and if she had, he would have died instantly.


    She could pull off a Quintuple Suns Strike, he was sure of it. That meant she could spar with Coronal Knights, at least!


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    That fuckhead Sharkey, sending him up against someone like that. The damn zwilnik had no idea what he was up against...

 325 Far Future, Ch. 35 - Sharkey’s Machine, Part Five

    "We''re going to change a bit of the focus of the whole organization today, so listen up."


    I had everybody''s instant attention. I didn''t often address them in person vocally, so me showing up to do so was something important, and dual Mark/live show-and-tell was in effect.


    A lot of eager baby Claws were looking at me, wondering what life-altering thing was going to take place today. Even the Ghost Knights didn''t know, and they were as eager as the rest of them.


    "First of all, everyone who has a Mindclaw is aware of the limitations and powers of it now. The eager among you want to advance to using a Mindblade with a Focus, and are taking the special training to actually become competent enough at fencing to do that.


    "But!" I looked over everyone, in and out of the Markspace, "A Mindblade is an offensive weapon. It is a tool, and it is a tool made to kill. It literally has no other purpose but to do so. A Mindclaw is marginally better in that it can be used to parry, and to grip, but really, it''s there to rip things apart, too.


    "This means that when we manifest our Claws," I raised my arm, they did the same, and many, many Claws flashed into existence, "we are drawing a weapon."


    Hundreds of them. The Mentats would go apeshit, if not for the fact that Null Psions couldn''t even be used to power the Terrestrial Beacon.


    The colors of the claws ranged from soft, dark green, through emeralds, metallic greens, and edgings and symbols of gold intruding here and there, to occasional shows of yellow and gold among them. There were also blue and white scattered around, those kids aware they were recruits for the Coronal or Umbran Striker squads as soon as they became competent enough. Some had the translucent blades and whitish fires of a Ghost Knight about them, their Claws clearly more crystalline than the rest.


    "We are going to be unique, and we are going to change that view of us, as just another group of people with killing skills. And we will do it, with a Focus like these."


    I drew out a round buckler. It was only about a foot across, the size of a dinner plate, built of polished durasteel, and had the sparkling crystalline patterns of psionic circuitry upon it, especially around the rim.


    I held the polished steel-blue of it up for all of them to see, and dropped my Claw, the signal for them to do the same. I grasped the buckler with that hand, and drove my Focus into it.


    There was a familiar snap and hum, louder than manifesting a Claw. A field of golden force an additional foot in radius spread out around the buckler, very obviously turning it into a shield.


    There were whoa''s from everyone, staring at the new Focus VERY intently. They''d never seen anything like this...


    "As you can see, this is not a Mindblade Focus, this is a Shield Focus. The purpose of a shield, before anything else, is to PROTECT." I looked over all of them over the top of the shield. "When you pop a Mindshield, people aren''t going to be leery of you, like they are a mindblade or a mindclaw. A shield is not there to harm people. Oh, you can use it to do so, but that is not its primary purpose. If you have your shield up, people will know that you are there to protect, and to defend... because that is what a shield does."


    I flicked my off hand, and my Claw came up. "Which does not leave you defenseless. If you can manifest a second weapon, you can still manifest a Claw." I let it snap off, and then flicked Chalice down into my hand. Everyone straightened as I snapped up my Blade, and the four Suns and two Stars upon its glittering golden length, poised and ready over the edge of my shield, like some techno-knight of yore. My hair fluttered behind me, while the rest of me was motionless, waiting in a stance like a statue.


    Yeah, I pretty much had all of them right then.


    "And lest you think so," I flicked them both off, and then my Nimbus flared up around the buckler. "This is a hunk of durasteel with psi going through it. You can reinforce and keep it strong, enhance its damage, just like a Claw or mindblade." I slammed it down on the ground, and blew four Suns and both Stars, rupturing a small crater in the duracrete with the edge of the Shield. Eyes widened in appreciation.


    "A shield is also a weapon, and it''s stronger than a fist," I told them. "Henceforth, combat training is now going to include usage of a shield, and Shield Foci will be made available to everyone who wishes to purchase one, as quickly as we can get them made. We will have them available in combat and non-combat forms, if weight is an issue and you don''t want to use them for attack."


    Making the practice bucklers was easy, and they were Disked in as I ordered them. Everyone stayed in lines as they were passed out down the ranks of those gathered here. To keep them Vajra viable, they''d had to been forged by hand, not by stamping, and this had taken me and my assistants a decent amount of downtime to make. Again, funny how the old skills were coming into use in a techno age, simply to keep stuff from going Inert.


    Teaching via use of the Mark was very quick and thorough, and if they had Visual Files, could be recalled endlessly for practice on their own. I spent hours going through the forms and stances, bashing techniques, deflections, parries, binds, blocks, hunting cover, calculating angles, and showing sparring and combat techniques against weapons ranged and close-combat. They watched in rapture as I bull-rushed people, hammered them, spiked them with a targ coming out of the center, adjusted the edge to razor-sharpness and chopped things off, weathered a storm of slugs and laser fire without harm, and parried strikes from shock and vibro weapons, as well as Claws, without any problems whatsoever.


    Another regimen of training going on...


    ---------


    The expansion of my forces had a major bottleneck, and that bottleneck was me.


    I had no Sevens underneath me, which meant I had no one else who could Tat secondary Marks and so induct more people, and they certainly couldn''t do it at the level of the Mark Geas. So, the scores of people I Marked every day were the limit of what we could actually recruit.


    Word had spread through Downspire that I could make someone a fake Psion, and naturally there were a whole lot of forces interested in this, as well as individual people.


    The fact that it was utterly impossible to Awaken someone if they were a Two or higher, unless they were a Seven with a third Racial advance, was repeated over and over again. Finding a Seven who got there without being highly cybered or Powered was a huge thing. Most Sevens had some extremely expensive implants, and absolutely no desire to get rid of them just for some minor psychic abilities not as strong as what their implants gave them.


    Being Cybered took money. Being a Null Psi took time and Karma. Money was generally a whole lot easier to get.


    But on the flip side, this was a mega-city. The population was in the billions. The number of possible recruits was literally endless from my perspective, and just the fact that basically only teenagers with their whole lives ahead of them qualified meant it became a very hot topic among people of that age on the Boole. They had one chance to join... if they got cybered, or if they hit Two, their chance was gone. If all they had was time and will... this was a chance they didn''t want to give up.


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    So, I was soon being inundated with Downspire kids with no money and no future, only time and the willpower to be something more than they were now, all trying to find some way, any way, out of the drudgery and hell of their life. I was offering a way, and it wasn''t cheap or easy... but the kind of coin I wanted happened to be the kind of coin they had to pay.


    There were Midspire recruits, too, who tended to be more interested in Goldilocks positions, preferring brain over brawn. That was fine, I needed both kinds...


    --------


    Our war with the Sharkey organization continued apace.


    He was bleeding money, while new blood was rushing to serve us. Yeah, he tried to infiltrate us with traitors, but it''s damn hard to a) do that when looking at the color of people''s souls, treachery is a nice purple-black stain of intent and b) there''s a geas attached to the Mark which is doing the job.


    There were literally dozens of attempts to blackmail, intimidate, or otherwise create traitors among the kids, and some might have worked, were it not for the geas. They literally couldn''t hold back the instantaneous alert when they or their families were being threatened, and basically everyone came howling out to kill those responsible, find any loved ones placed under threat, and generally rip those responsible to shreds, and all of their associates. Two experienced kidnapping crews got to watch one another die the mushroom death in Doc Mick''s secure rooms, and three entire gangs got wiped trying to do the same thing, one of them from nearly a hundred miles away. The assets we mobilized to wipe them impressed even the Juris who quietly took the report we sent off to them over the minor incident.


    As for the turncoats sent to infiltrate, they came in, and generally didn''t come out. The parties who sent them did sometimes receive their heads back, and their officers died by mysterious and assorted methods about the same time.


    There was an open price on my head that was at six figures in credits and climbing, and certainly there were whole teams looking to get in on it. I had ambushes going off on me every time I went out, people shooting, things exploding, borgs attacking, shooters sniping, idiots coming up to duel me, drive-bys hosing down everything around me, the works.


    It got a lot of them dead. Juris didn''t exactly like people who shot up crowds, even in Downspire, and me being around was often an occasion for them to get some target practice in. Now, people were prudent and gave me lots of room if they knew I was around, not really wanting to be frakked accidentally, but that was life Downspire.


    The fact I couldn''t be seen on surveillance cameras and the like if I didn''t want to be really annoyed a lot of people, especially the ones who wanted to shoot me with needle-beams from miles away, drop a death ray from an aircraft or hovercar far overhead, or swarm me with drones. Kinda hard to do when none of them could sense me, meaning live spotters and controllers with real eyeballs required, and I had a bad habit of being able to pick them out.


    Enjoying the relaxation of the assassination attempts as good opportunities to vent steam and earn extra Karma, I continued with the work of obliterating a major gang lord of Downspire.


    His pushers and dealers began to abruptly get dead, which made it really hard to move product. Not moving product meant his suppliers either couldn''t be paid, or a longer time between deliveries, cutting into cash flow. Yeah, they knew I was responsible, but one of the guys who decided to help out by sending in an experienced Upspire problem remover was found dead in his bathroom, filled with Grin Gin and looking like he''d laughed himself to death in it. The dismantled remains of his stealther borg were scattered all around him in admiration of his death, as were his personal guards and enforcer borgs, and a lot of information in his personal logs had been hacked and left open for curious investigators to go to town on. A quiet word from the Dungeon meant this investigation got pretty ugly fast, and those zwilnik suppliers suddenly had some major and bullet-happy problems of their own.


    Sharkey was left on his own. But he was a zwilnik lord with a long history and some deep reserves. If he had to spend money to recover his kingdom, he was willing to do it, and running away from his kingdom wasn''t an option. He''d carved it out with blood, kept it with blood, and he had no friends or allies Downspire, only rivals, competitors, and enemies, most of whom were quietly moving in on him and adding to his troubles, and scooping up the rats that were slowly fleeing his sinking ship.


    He sent out people, our eyes were watching for them, and killed them as they came, fed them to TC''s soylent wagons, reported dutifully to Juris about the final fates of multiple perps.


    A name started to circulate on the Boole, talking about me, and caught on quick. It started when Sharkey was caught ranting about "that damn scarred hag" on vid, and then someone else pointed out how my skin and hair went all golden, and my brand was even more vivid, when I fought, and the rare vids I allowed to capture the look.


    The Golden Hag of Habberblok. Blooey, all over the Boole, and the Quanta too, of course. It wasn''t like I could fight it, golden Soulblade and all, so I didn''t even try. I suspect some aspect of my Curse was behind it...


    So, his back to the wall as Falling Star Strikes blew apart his cyborgs and shooters, Mindblades ripped through his brawlers, and my Goldilocks fried the circuit boards of his technogeeks, he opted to resort to The Law.

 326 Far Future, Chapter 36 – The Tech Tree, Part I

    To say I had some contacts in high places was not a misnomer.


    First of all, about six months ago, I went to a high-end restaurant, rented a room for my lads to see what it was like to eat there, and while they dined, a number of men and women came in, got Marked, and left quietly, ignoring and ignored by everyone else present.


    Two of those men were Philius Marwengora and Sir Dorval. When I had first arrived in this place, I hadn''t thought much of the two of them, until I found out there were a grand total of six actual Coronal Knights on the planet, and Umbral Inquisitors were similarly limited. As a matter of fact, there was only three of each in this city. They had their own teams, and there were plenty of juniors who got things assigned to them... plenty meaning several dozen.


    They mostly fobbed stuff off on the Juris, and used the Striker teams from the organization or the Cohorts they had built up themselves. Only when it concerned truly Tough Stuff, like psykers, the Warp, alien infestations, or outright war, did they tend to get involved personally. Most of their time was spent looking for stuff to get involved in, as it were... and naturally enough finding endless amounts of stuff for others to get involved in as they did so.


    The system of email dead drops was proving inconvenient, and since I had an untraceable telepathic corridor that came with a Stat buff, why wouldn''t I give it to these two Tens to make quiet use of? Simply them being able to talk to one another without others knowing was a very interesting option... and being able to make quiet use of my people in one fashion or another a new trick that couldn''t be traced easily.


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    I was also treating their Striker teams, as long as they had their cyberware removed. This was a big stretch for some of the men, but given they were some of the most elite warriors on the planet, it was something that could be done for the promise of psychic abilities, however limited. Being Awakened to a Null Psion and Forsaken status, and able to be a very viable threat to psi-users, was also remarkably attractive to these professionals laboring in the shadows of their Powered colleagues...


    Naturally I was also the one introducing them to disciplines and abilities they could acquire, but they were elites, and we had /tellepathic links, so I didn''t need to be physically present to instruct them.


    Found one infiltrator in the Umbral Strikers, too, true memory sealed into a psychic virus to hide it from brain scans, whose cloaking was totally disrupted by the transpsionic presence of the Mark and its accompanying geas. That fellow went into the Dungeon, never to emerge again... or maybe his original memory was expunged, and he was turned into a double agent against the cult or faction employing him originally... who knows? Mentalists do kooky stuff to one another...


    As for me, I could do this because I advanced to Ten in Rantha. A Ten Hit Die being running around wasn''t all that unusual, there were tons of them in the crazy landscape outside the city walls. I was still a Six in Class Levels, but with the power of my Rantha bloodline, being a Ten in Race was nearly as good as having my Class Levels there. The additional Stats, defenses, and Health did a lot, and doing so also raised my cap on Ranks of Skills obtainable. I used the Intellect bonuses to keep my techno-knowledge advancing to ten Ranks, meaning I could finally understand how a lot of this shit actually worked, finally.


    Knowing is half the battle. I could now put a lot more effort into guiding, and having six viable thoughtstreams with my Charisma and Wisdom both contributing their share of the load helped me manage my increasingly complex organization without much difficulty.


    It also meant I was a Ten, and these Sevens couldn''t look down on me, and Philius and Sir Dorval could see me as an equal, astonished as they were.


    Still, it was a lot of slow, bit by bit improvement. Which was fine, I wasn''t in a race. I had to bring down the four greatest gods of this universe, after all. Wasn''t going to happen overnight.


    I could totally help organize taking down a zwilnik boss first.


    And it was for this reason that I saw the next move coming.


    --------------


    They came into my micro-miniaturized vacuum tube production facility with great huff and guff, bulling their way right past the guards and office workers, shutting down the factory floor and starting a search of the facility within minutes. They seemed pretty cocky as they headed for the office and began to confiscate things.


    When the Juris Captain barged into my office, his gun drawn for good effect, I glanced over my shoulder at him, while giving him a full face view of my oversized holoscreen there, where a Mentat woman in the soft greys and whites of that organization''s officers, along with golden braid showing she was Up There in rank, was talking with me, and the accountant at my side.


    "- on further review of the anti-contaminant properties of the tube boards that you''ve forwarded to us, the results are uniformly positive to a 99.7% degree of conformity, with Warp Resistance nearly uniform to nearly ten times the current level of most of our current technological standards... Juris? Are you in need of something?" she asked coldly, as her eyes glowed for a second, looking over my shoulder.


    He was looking at the woman in the techno-suit and visor-helm of a Juris attache standing next to me, and jumped at the Mentat''s words. "Councilor... Grymshime? You are conversing with a wanted felon. I have a warrant issued for her arrest!" he stated, quite full of himself, and turning his attention on me. "Sama Rantha, you will submit yourself for arrest and detention. The charge is production and distribution of unlicensed technology-"


    "Citizen Sama Rantha does not need a license to produce vacuum tube technology, Captain Hamrin," the Juris attache next to me immediately spoke up, her voice frosty. "Her blanket production permits have been reviewed by me personally and are in good order. Who signed that warrant?"


    The Juris Captain hesitated at the very cold and uncompromising tone of the Juris woman, and her hard stare. "Inspector Amalee? I am executing a valid warrant and seizure of the property for one Sama Rantha-"


    "Captain, you will tell me who issued that warrant, or you will hand me your gun so I can shoot you with it."


    There was a crackling moment of tension in the air as Inspector faced Captain and thoughts ran through everyone''s heads. The Mentat on the screen raised her eyebrow in interest, clearly appreciating the scene. I just ignored everyone and waited for him to go away.


    "District Commander Pazvokal issued the warrant, Inspector," he finally ground out, bringing up the E-warrant and flashing it over to her.


    Her face didn''t move as she read it inside her helm. "Interesting. DC Pazvokal seems to have somehow been certified as a Mechanist-certified reviewer of outlawed technology without it appearing in his personnel file. This warrant has been issued without a single instance of the technology involved being applicable to Citizen Rantha. I have formally Inspected and Ratified all technology being produced by this facility to confirm that it is in accordance with Mechanist and Legal Standards of Janus Prime and to Imperial Standard. How interesting that DC Pazvokal is claiming that my work is not in accordance with Janus law."


    The captain didn''t look too happy at her words. "I am just following orders, Inspector," he managed to ground out.


    "Tell him to stay as long as he likes. I''m filing a 224b-A-47 ''anti harrassment'' injunction, subject to Juris review. He can stay as long as he likes. By my estimation, I''m making 2200 credits for every minute he remains here. Perhaps he would like to hear more of how the Mentats are taking an interest in the vactronics I''m putting out here?" I asked over my shoulder.


    The inspector looked at me, and frowned just slightly, before turning back to the captain. "Get out of here and return everything you and your idiots have confiscated, fool. IA will be looking into this." The hiss in her voice made the Juris captain swallow, salute sharply, and turn away, barking orders into his helm.


    I waved at some side holos, watching his men suddenly freeze in place, put down everything they were carrying, leave their equipment that was downloading files in place, and remove themselves from the building as rapidly as possible.


    I /tellepathically told everyone to clean everything up, logged the time they got off my property and drove away, all the video, and sent it to Inspector Amalee, who just looked at it with a quiet sigh, and approved it with her authority. Just like that, I collected double indemnity for wages lost for thirty-five hundred people, property damage, and a Black Mark on the captain and the DC''s records.


    "It seems even a DC can be suborned," she sniffed, already sending out the Internal Affairs investigation team, and monitoring the communications of the captain, who seemed to be in contact with someone right now. "Thank you for this alert, Citizen Rantha."


    I waved it off. "Thank you for taking your time to review everything, Inspector. I heard someone was sniffing around our permits, and wanted to be sure everything I was making was still within approval range."


    "I am more than psensitive enough to feel the workings of xenos technology. Given the performance specs of what you are making against those of Mechanist-approved circuitry, it is plain you are building to very different standards, not that you are employing illegal methodology."


    I nodded at the Mentat Councilor. "My goal is making nigh-incorruptible vakker-boards, not the fastest, as well as being resistant to overload and high-performance problems, Inspector. My vakker tech isn''t designed to replace massive use of Mekker tech, it''s designed to be employed in niche products."


    "By all our tests, it seems to be succeeding, Miss Rantha," the Councilor replied at the soft lob. "Only the most actively reinforced psionically-shielded pcircuitry has the same level of resistance to Warp exposure as what you are producing. We are very impressed by the effect." And no doubt they had tried to replicate it, and were unable to.


    I mean, it was circuitry, and printed only at Tech Level 7. Level 10 technology could duplicate it without a problem. They had probably attempted to do so, intending to rapidly take it to its next iteration so they wouldn''t have to license it from us, and found it failing as they did so.


    Heck, wouldn''t put it past them to have been the ones behind the warrant. This kind of tech had all kinds of applications against resisting Warp influence or psychic infiltration. My market was pretty much guaranteed for people worried about their personal information security. After all, they could still layer psionic protection on top!


    "Is the production schema of your facility still secure?" she inquired archly.


    "They downloaded the schema, but those are virtually useless, as I''m sure you''ve realized." I waved it off, and if her eyes flickered, I said nothing. Certainly she had dissected the samples I''d sent her, looking for the secret, and found nothing. If she got her hands on the files the Juris had purloined while being so efficient, the same thing was going to happen. "On a brighter note, did the crystal capacitor I sent to you meet your standards for use on the Terrestrial Beacon?"


    She pursed her lips, then nodded slowly. "The design was a bit unorthodox, with additional Runic support that exceeded requirements, but it will function as you promised. Adapting it to the Beacon is certainly possible, but why would they?"


    "Well, I would like to recruit a large number of minor psions, and the Beacon is the easiest place to find them. If I can make a sufficient number of capacitors, I can essentially replace their sitting around in a Void tube for eight hours at a stretch powering the thing, reducing it to a few seconds pouring some psionic power into a capacitor, and having the rest of the day to do whatever they want to do. The Astropath Keepers could simply pay people by the amount of PP they expend, instead of having to pay everyone the same for remaining psi-focused for eight hours and leeching off minor amounts during that time. If you recall the numbers I sent you, eight hours in psi reserve only allows them to leech off about the equivalent of eight PP. Even a Two Psion can directly give that up.


    "Since they can just pay by the PP, I estimate cost savings of about twenty percent over employing psis for eight-hour shifts at equal pay. After all, a Three is now equal to several Ones, and they can price their PP reimbursement accordingly."


    "They may not like replacing humans with stored power," she replied, and I nodded to myself.


    "I rather doubt it. There will always be a human element required to actually guide and monitor the Beacon, and certainly all the Void Tubes will be available in emergency situations. However, with sufficient purchases, the Astropaths will be able to power the Beacon for long periods of time even if substantial numbers of living psions are lost. Indeed, in an emergency situation, they could even ask the Mentats to help charge capacitors without materially affecting their work time.


    "Of course, having corruption-resistant capacitors is key to the process, or you basically just have bombs waiting to happen." The Warp would swoop in on such concentrations of energy, and inevitably overcome the defenses, turning the Beacon into a potential psionic nuke, the detonation of which would mindfry a good chunk of the planet, no doubt.


    But not my capacitors. Business opportunity arriving!

 327 Far Future, Ch. 37 – The Tech Tree, Part II

    The key element to both products was not the end product, or even how they were made. It was the environment, the people, and how the entire area had been treated.


    This was a universe with a highly restricted presence of Good, entirely by the designs of the Warp. Chaos rent and twisted at the laws of man and reality, so naturally the opposing forces went to Law and its uncompromising rigidity to oppose it, further factionalizing mortal life. But its Evil, corruptive side had no true counter.


    Except for what I was making here.


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    It took time, love, and tenderness, but that''s what soulclaws as hard as adamant are for. The circuitry had to be in the patterns of Law, by Mekker fiat, which was fine. But I''d also overlaid in the patterns of Good, and furthermore, only Good people were allowed to work on the Gold boards, while the less protective Green boards employed the rest of them.


    Good people, making Good-patterned items, in a Good Place on Good machinery. Without all four things together, they couldn''t be made. Exploiting Alignment vulnerabilities for fun and profit... who said Good people can''t make money?


    Producing the base tech at TL 7 was way cheaper than doing it at TL 10, because I didn''t require Energized materials. The planet was full of the required elements, so getting supplies wasn''t hard at all.


    I had been very careful when starting this branch of tech, and purchased the rights to it, not buying a license. The tech was old and worthless, and I got it for a veritable song. It also meant that any advances I made on it belonged to me... as long as I filed the appropriate paperwork.


    The Mekkers would soon be getting news of the unexpected resilience of vakker tech against corruption, and of the Gold tech in particular. They would unleash their logic engines upon the problem, and find themselves able to get most of the same performance of the Green vakker tech... and they''d have to pay me a nice licensing fee to sell it. The basic supplies I needed were commodities, so they couldn''t wrench me from that side, and the production tech needed was primitive, by their standards... I could make everything I needed off a moderate-sized TL 10 Printer, which I already possessed.


    I had already insulated myself through the law, and if they tried something like health inspectors, I was going to put a camera on the guy and follow him wherever he went looking for stuff.


    Now, my only exposure was them advancing the tech to higher levels on me, taking the tech tree away from me. It was the single major impetus that had forced me to use my sealed Mark Karma to advance Rantha to Ten, as I couldn''t let them do that. If I did, I''d be at the mercy of the Mechanists, just like the rest of the Empire, and they''d strangle the tech tree to death to safeguard their monopoly on the semiconductor side of things.


    Advancing up the Weird Science/Chaos Physics level of a tech tree is an endless loop of building diagnostic equipment to find out what laws you can fiddle with, getting the numbers, building the equipment to take advantage of the laws, building new diagnostic equipment to the next level, higher-tuned and more flexible, repeat and advance, repeat and advance.


    Happily for me, the diagnostic and testing equipment already existed, I just had to use it in a completely new direction. Getting access to prior research wasn''t actually that hard, since it was esoteric foundational knowledge akin to buying a physics textbook, albeit only for people of Seven to Ten in Level. Since it was only principles, numbers, and applications, without the tech behind it, and way, way lower than the TL 15+ stuff that almost nobody alive understood, it wasn''t hoarded very closely. It almost restricted itself, since the people it was useful to were so minute. Most folk wanted the tech, not the info behind how and why it worked.


    I''d already grabbed the Ranks in the technology, and knew how to make them, subject to aesthetics. I also had the Ranks in Math and Physics, so I knew how to get the numbers, and could understand the laws and principles behind them once I had them.


    Buying those numbers saved me a lot of testing time, and let me start filing patents on vakker tech.


    The advantage of working with a Visual File is how perfectly interactive it is with yourself. I could design with far greater speed and precision than working on any kind of actual computer, and simply download the results.


    And just in case there were diagnostics on the computer, it wouldn''t reveal that I was thinking with a 44+ Intellect, either.


    Yeah, I was still a Melee Prime, and I didn''t regret it. But like Mom-me, I was a double Primary Class in Expert, which was Int-based, and in a tech world, pure raw intellectual ability is valuable like nowhere else.


    The Secondary Classes I had been lifting were Alchemist, Runesmith, Vizard, Null Wizard, Archer, and Scout, all Int or Dex-based, and reflecting that across the Sustained divide. Null Wizard also gave me Nog access, and I had slowly brought up my base Intellect and Dexterity to 18.


    Skill points, Skill Ranks. This was a tech universe, not a magic universe. Science built from the floor to the ceiling for everyone, not just an individual. Sure, I had to fight, and there was no doubt I would be fighting on some catastrophic, horrific levels. It just hadn''t started yet.


    So I had to think fast, and I had to think powerfully.


    My physical dexterity and mental dexterity were advancing in lockstep, keeping me able to keep up physically with how fast I could think.


    I had twelve thoughtstreams going now. Eight of them were focused on managing resources, building up my technology base, or making money.


    I''d long ago made myself a new Band, simply because of the connective power and bandwidth I''d needed to do what I did. My brains needed places to play, and the Boole was that place.


    The Quanta, however, was not a place for others to play in, as it was my playground. I made it that way by inventing my own programming language before it.


    TL 7+ programming languages usually operated on atomic spin for enhanced memory loads and connectivity. It was no longer on or off, or even how much on or off, it was what direction of on or off. Quark-level imbalances were as good as binary at the right levels, and so the stuff hummed along on subatomic loads as freely as positive or negative charges.


    Vakker languages added the whole mechanic of charge level and frequency to the code, i.e. what frequency and amplitude was the information stored at? The core information that was frequently accessed could be stored at the efficient low frequency, low amplitude levels, while lesser-used stuff could be increasingly spread out to the higher, stronger levels, gradually ramping up the load as need increased. As this all could be on top of atomic spin and vibrational levels, naturally the Quanta required a new programming language that would take these variables into account, one that could continue advancing up the scale as the TL increased.


    That was why I wasn''t afraid of them downloading and sending off the schema for my stuff. They were going to pull up the files on their Boolean systems, and the files were just going to crash into unrecognizability. Because, yeah, I was using stuff running on Vakker tech to make Vakker tech.


    A high-order cyberpath with an Int of 30+ might be able to take the leap to understand the language, if they understood the foundational code... which I''d reworked from the start to be not exactly compatible with Mekker Code, for the simple reason that Mekker Code didn''t do the job for Vakker tech. My dear Councilor here hoping for a tech freebie was going to get nothing.


    This naturally was unacceptable to the Machinists, too, who demanded access to the root code for security purposes. I supplied it promptly, and they were still at a loss... because all of their cyber implants ran on Mekker Code, and so couldn''t process the code I''d given them, rendering them incapable of understanding it. The higher orders tended to replace parts of their brain with tech, and thus were even less capable of processing it with the lack of meat to make the mental leap. It was a hilarious situation, where the lower-order borgs had the best chance of understanding it, because they relied the least on implants to do their thinking for them. But by the time they reached Seven, the minimum level needed to comprehend it, they had long made themselves incapable of doing so!


    Ah, the wonders of excess brainpower. The code clearly was not corrupt, and wasn''t xenos, had no psychic signature to speak of... and they couldn''t understand it. At least, not without having to include Vakker tech into their own systems... which was unthinkable, of course. They could only stew and wonder at their own failures.


    They did realize, along with a whole lot of others, that I was an innovative genius, the like of which rarely came along in a thousand years, and I could be equally dangerous and useful, disruptive and road-clearing. I had no doubt conversations were going on at high levels of the Mechanist Guilds on exactly what to do about me, since I was psi and obviously would not be joining them. Eliminate, or follow and see where I led them? Decisions, decisions...


    ------


    The money from the sales of this newly secure and Warp-resistant technology, especially in weapon and defense systems, was driving my whole shebang forwards, although nobody really realized it, and I had so, so much scaling up to do.


    That''s okay. Time, people... I had all these things to work with now.


    And, of course, it wasn''t all that I was working on.


    The Goldgreen Bank now existed, and all my Marked did business through it, as well as most of the inhabitants of Habberblok, and a whole lot of other people attracted to my business style. It avoided me needing to borrow money from Upspire and have the invisible threat of recall and seizure hanging over my head, or having to pay ''high-risk'' interest rates.


    Deposits meant cash to work with, loans leveraged against principle to make more money, and a foundation to get into the arena of high finance.


    This kind of thing was naturally ridiculously competitive, and basically a contest of information vs. computing power and speed. Twelfth-sigma changes in trade numbers could means fortunes lost or run, given the scale of some of the trades going on. There was no shaving the accounts to make money, because everybody was watching the decimals trying to do just that, and it was a case of who knew what, who predicted what, and simple blind guessing as the information lords hoarded little chunks of what was coming, determined to make fortunes manipulating the market.


    Juris watched this stuff, and would occasionally crack down on some wealthy idiot going overboard, but basically, they considered the markets a jungle where only the ready and the dumb went in to compete. They''d crack down on anything resembling a threat to production of vital industries, so most of the manipulators stayed away from them, preferring to prey on and play around with the smaller local companies who were most vulnerable to layers of bad and good news coming at them.


    This was the birthplace of corporate and noble intrigue, as fortunes were made and lost by having early access to information, and it extended out into the stars and the galaxy and empire beyond. The truly big players could doom or raise planets with their bets, and the spillovers from failed contracts, signs of corruption, new innovations coming out, and the like could easily ripple through the entire galaxy.


    What I was doing would indeed ripple throughout the galaxy, so I had to ramp things up and solidify my foundation. The market for what I was making was literally endless; I couldn''t even supply the Coronal Knights to the proper degree, and their demands were dwarfed by the Umbrans and the security-crazed Juris. Add in the corps, and I was satisfying nothing and nobody yet, even in my local market.


    To supply the galaxy''s demand for Vakker-tech, I was basically going to need at least an entire planet devoted solely to the production of micro-miniaturized vacuum tubes. Since that would be stupid by centralizing all production in one place and making it vulnerable, I was going to have to spread throughout the galaxy.


    Mmm, Megacorp Rantha, opening for business.


    But for now, I had a zwilnik to destroy.

 328 Far Future, Ch. 38 – Sharkey’s Machine, Part Six

    The fighting continued. Sharkey spent money to bring in elites, Sun Shots blew them to bits, and we struck back on the ground.


    He was bleeding money and territory, and his income was plummeting. Gangs were abandoning him (and really wishing they could join us) and his rivals were closing in on him from all directions.


    Days and weeks passed, and the shooting basically didn''t stop. I watched my Marked take down hardpoint after hardpoint, things blow up, and some of my kids die. Cyborgs and Walkers were the worst threats, of course, but snipers, assassins, and bombers with sneak attacks never really let up.


    My Marked weren''t reluctant to call on me if they thought I was really needed, as they''d seen what I could do. But they were also improving very quickly themselves, and the first of them were hitting Five and getting Falling Star, the ''I turn all attacks into touch attacks'' Feat, also known as Deep Impact. Suddenly, the armor of the cyborgs was useless, and all that massive damage from having Binary Suns was going right to the important bits.


    He did try bringing in a couple Wilders at one point, having little to lose. Those Wilders were very unhappy to find out they were dealing with Nulls, and very, very shocked, too, seeing their Summoned Ectos getting torn apart with single shots, and their telepathic assaults hurting them more than their opponents!


    They were also unhappy to discover that the Mentats were keeping an unusually close eye on this conflict, simple because of the number of Mindblades involved, yet with no other psionic abilities. My Marked were far tougher than normal psions; fast, agile, more skilled in combat, and uncommonly resistant to enemy attacks. When the Mentat Tens quite literally popped into the scene to take custody of them, that particular fight was all done, and no other Wilders were eager to step forwards afterwards. Two of the more kill-crazy borg-bots getting all of their limbs pulled off might have had something to do with it.


    The average Mentats also loved the Shield Foci, although it was the Coronal Knights who were clamoring for me to make more of them. They were useless unless you could manifest a mindblade, but it still meant the Mentats were rooting for us.


    So, at last, it was time to wind things up.


    ----------------


    Sharkey showed up with two bodyguards to the meet. He was wearing bling in the form of Energized metals and gems, portable wealth that was actually enough to see him off-world or to another mega-city, and give him a stake there. The borgs were high-end mercs from the League of Iron, bought and paid for, and loyal to their contracts until death, enforced by brainbombs and the like.


    Brekko was there, in a more sedate clerical suit, loose-fitting and mobile, his Sword and Shield Foci obvious and noted. There were half a dozen other members of the Green and Gold, all of them with Shield Foci... which naturally meant they were all Clawed.


    Sharkey was a man of average height and swarthy complexion who could have come from any number of human heritages. He had once-black hair that had been growing very grey over the past two years, dark black emotionless eyes, and a long, sharp nose he''d carefully restored every time it had been broken. The combination of his dead black eyes and gleaming metal teeth implants had given him his name... as well as a known fetish for very fresh soylent, and pre-soylent, as it were.


    "Who''re you?" Sharkey demanded, seeing the young man in front of him, although he already knew. "Where''s the Hag?"


    "Ah, Sage Sama is currently twenty-four hundred and seventy feet underground next to the wall under Groosenblok. It seems a mutant Precreote Sand Wurm managed to bore its way through the shield wall, and there''s an open tunnel behind it other things from outside have been using. She''s sitting in front of it until the Themazons can get down there and fill the hole full of durabar and rockcrete. Since she''s earning a thousand creds an hour plus bounty on whatever comes in, she decided to send me. Whatever I decide, is what goes."


    The fact I was listening and see all of this from multiple sets of eyes was not mentioned, of course.


    "I see." Clearly he was unhappy, but then, he wasn''t really in a position to negotiate. "Shall we begin discussions?"


    "If you don''t mind, we''d like to eat first. It''s not often we go out to this high-tone a restaurant. I already inquired after your favorite dish, and the chef assured me we could eat within minutes after you arrived."


    Sharkey''s eyes flashed darkly, but he took it in stride. "As you wish."


    ----


    The meal did indeed arrive shortly, and true to the price, there was nothing processed or vat-grown among the meat or vegetables. The younger folk there, all at least a decade younger than the youngest of Sharkey''s guards, ordered the fish, commenting to one another about the taste and texture, obviously superior to the vat-grown protein sticks mimicking it, while Sharkey had an obviously sumptuous cut of red meat and bright fruits and vegetables, enjoying it all with gusto and comments about the skill of the chef.


    At last the food was done and plates quickly cleared away, and Brekko sat back to regard the zwilnik across from him. "So, Mister Sharkey, what exactly did you want to talk about at this point?"


    The drug lord leaned back in his seat, flanked by the brawny guards who had not moved a muscle for the entire meal, studying the incredibly composed teenagers sitting across from them. He had kids older than any of them, but the eyes looking back at him had a grim willpower to them that he rarely saw in anyone, and they could meet his eyes, custom-made to never need to blink or focus and so unsettling to anyone who met them, without giving way.


    They were hard kids. He''d seen a lot of hard kids, watched most of them die, but these were something else.


    "I would like to discuss and see if there''s a non-violent solution to the problem we have between our two organizations. I would like to see an end to hostilities, if the price is right, and bury our grievances."


    Brekko made a considering face. "Well, Mister Sharkey, as you know, this whole kerfluffle started when you sent one of your goon squads to harass me and my boys, and kidnap us, probably to turn us into brainboxes to be sent upspire. We took that kind of personally."


    Sharkey frowned on hearing that. This punk had been there when it all started? Damn, one stupid baby blade had cost him all this?


    "But, it''s been a couple years now, and I''m the guy in charge right now, right? Can''t just think of things for myself. So, I could consider that, if it weren''t for a couple other things." He sighed heavily, and Sharkey steepled his fingers despite himself.


    "What might those matters be?" he asked after a long moment.


    "Well, first, the poison in our drinks and food. The chef''s your man, and you replaced the staff, just in case. By the way, that''s his haunch you just ate."


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    Sharkey looked down at the table despite himself, as did his guards. His favorite dish was indeed unprocessed soylent, but that wasn''t what he''d been expecting...


    "Two, the missile team across the way, prepped to drive a hot load through the window into this room and kill everyone."


    Sharkey briefly glanced at the window, saying nothing. This building had been cut off from all coms the moment he entered... as these kids had insisted and made sure of. Even the land line Node had been shut down.


    "Third, the stealth drone you ordered with a hot payload and internal explosives up high."


    To track them down and blow them apart on exit, if the missile team couldn''t kill them here.


    "Fourth, that micro-nuke in your chest, tied to your autonomics and probably with a coded trigger, too."


    Now his guards did glance at him, but only that. They were code-slaved to him. If they wavered, he could blow both their brains apart through their implants, so they had no choice but to do as he said, regardless.


    "For all those reasons, I''m afraid we''re going to have to decline your request for a parley at this time. Deals require good faith on part of both parties, and we just don''t have any faith in you."


    Sharkey narrowed his eyes at them, his stomach hardly troubled by eating part of one of his favored cooks. "You will regret this decision."


    And there was a spark, and he fell forward onto the table.


    The guards were very quick, and their guns were in hand and pointing in literally an eyeblink. That eyeblink was enough time for the young man who had appeared out of nowhere to vanish with a small pop of replaced air, and for them to have no target to shoot between them. With wired reflexes, they didn''t shoot one another, only turned to look at the restraining bolt shoved into the back of their client''s neck, leaving him a twitching, paralyzed mess.


    "Gentlemen, right now the only working thing on your client is his autonomics and his senses. He cannot broadcast a killcode to your brainbombs.


    "Juris Bomb Disposal is on the way, and should be landing outside within a minute. In light of the fact that you probably did not know your client was in possession of forbidden atomics, I suggest you take a seat over there and wait quietly until his final deposition has been affirmed. I understand that in such cases the Juris usually unload the ordnance ten miles outside the city from a mile in the sky over the Spiked Plains."


    The two bodyguards looked at one another, at their client, and then at the six wrist-mounted dart launchers glowing with Suns and Stars all pointed at them. "Or we can plant you on the ground helplessly, and call the League to come pick you up after this is all done," Brekko offered politely.


    Darts sparked with hot pink voltage and concentrated Nimbus lights. The two men considered silently, holstered their guns together, and turned around to stride over to a pair of heavy chairs off to the side and sit down, never saying a word.


    -----


    Juris Bomb Disposal did indeed land a hovervan within a minute, and hurried inside with a Carry-Disk and remotes, and found the situation exactly as described. A quick assessment did indeed find the kiloton-yield device snugly fit there under his left lung, there was a thirty-second discussion over courses of action, and then Sharkey was thrown out onto the Carry-Disk, still trembling slightly, and hustled out of the restaurant.


    Of the twenty members of the serving staff who''d been quietly killed prior to their arrival, there was no sign, but the servers they''d replaced had all been called back in, keeping the extra pay for a day off, so there was no lapse in service, although the head chef did appear to be missing, and there had been some slight adjustments to the menu.


    ---


    Davro looked down below at the Spikeplains below. They were so named because there was some form of extremely alkaline water bubbling up from below, and as the water boiled up, the crystals coalescing out of the water somehow aligned into jagged crystals, growing out of the corrosive pseudo-water unnaturally, ringing and moaning with the wind sweeping past them. The whole place was basically covered with sharpened mounds and trees of jutting crystals that made the air and earth shake when the wind blew through them, no sign of water to be seen.


    Nobody had ever found a use for the crystals, given how impure they were, the m¨¦lange of colors clear indication of that, and they were incredibly toxic and corrosive, capable of eating away a hand brushing them.


    Davro watched with cold eyes as the hoverwagon banked, and the back doors opened. The Juris stepped forward to do the job, but Davro raised his hand, and the lawman paused. Davro grabbed the back of Sharkey''s fine silk jacket, extended his touch-teke, and heaved.


    Sharkey flew out like a thrown stone, unable to even scream, going down into the howling winds of alkaline sands. He wouldn''t have any skin left by the time he reached the ground in thirty seconds or so.


    The hoverwagon banked and shot away as the doors behind closed, the force screen keeping out the corrosive sands that would eat into the metal. Davro stepped up to the windows at the back, as did the bomb disposal squad, putting on a pair of high-power sunglasses at a whisper in his ear.


    The flash and boom going off was impressively radiant, even if it wasn''t that powerful from the perspective of a true explosive. It was still the biggest blast he had ever seen personally in his life, and it generated fine sprays of grit, ash, and its own small mushroom cloud.


    It wasn''t intended to kill millions, merely those who killed him, and everyone else around, making sure that he would be remembered.


    Now, he''d just been disposed of, and would quietly vanish into nothing.


    Make me a braincase?, Davro thought quietly, clenching his fist, and feeling the psionic power thrumming through him. It had been pure damn luck that he was saved and met Sage Sama, and he knew it. He had something that resembled a future now, and wasn''t a commodity to be sold away by a damn zwilnik!

 329 Far Future Ch 39 – Termites and Sand Wurms

    I had been doing consistent work as a Termite for something like three years now. My Queen had said that his superiors would get irritated if he promoted me to Tier Three Termite too quickly, and anyways, there was a shitload of Back Files to go through.


    Yes, I always had tons of work to do. That was fine. Most of it could be done /tellepathically, it didn''t need to be done by me personally.


    Also, I handled my own finances. The Green and Gold, and Rantha Corp, were there to earn money so they could earn more money, at least for my share. They were also there to profit those working for them. While not concentrating all that raw money into my hands removed some flexibility, it meant I had a very loyal workforce who were slowly getting better equipped, and didn''t have to worry about the necessities of daily living. Better lives bred better people. The world didn''t have to be a shithole, but they had to work for it and protect it.


    It meant a lot of working and protecting, and I wasn''t going to take that from them. Advice was cheap and easy. They vetted people, I added more Marks, and Rantha Corp grew...


    -----------


    "My Queen, you do such a good job at trying to solve problems that other people want to see abandoned," I asked him directly. "Are you in danger?"


    He looked at me with those eyes that just didn''t care, but most definitely weren''t stupid. "There are Back Files that are dangerously sensitive. I have been setting them aside. I am not attracting attention with the files I am assigning you, as most of them are active, but forgotten. It is the ones that are moved to inactive status that are the dangerous ones." I nodded understanding at that. It meant someone above had exerted pressure and wanted them gone. "If you want to undertake an Inactive File, it will have to be under alternate financing methods, and I will either not report it Up, or report it through an alternate command hierarchy."


    His tone was absolutely non-committal, but that didn''t mean I lost his meaning. "Do you have an Umbran contact, or do you need one?" I inquired calmly.


    "The Umbrans sit at the top of the government hierarchy. A command link bypassing intermediaries would allow immediate pursuit of Inactive Files."


    I frowned as I looked at the row of cabinets behind him. "Is that the only reserve of Inactives?" I inquired.


    "No. There are some in cold storage." Which meant REALLY forgotten. Who knew how many centuries or millennia they stretched back?


    "I have a contact in the Dungeon. They might be interested in speaking with you about some of these sensitive files."


    "Always happy to obey the directives of the Order of the Fallen Moon." Voice didn''t waver at all. My Queen was a total badass of unflappability. "Do you want your Tier Three qualifier mission?"


    Tier Three meant outside the city walls. Very different environment from in here, especially given that the sands outside ate away a person''s skin and lungs. "Sure!" He waved it over to me, and it popped up on my Band.


    While Thought-Sama 3 was eagerly reading the details of the mission, I inquired, "Oh, by the way, it''s time you were compensated for the time and effort you''ve put in to helping me. I have three choices I can give you." His eyebrows didn''t even twitch as he looked at me. "Don''t even think it''s a bribe. You earned this, the amount of overtime alone you put in is, like, ugh." I waved my hand. "That OT has allowed me to make a lot of money, so I''m compensating you for past time and effort. I know you well enough that it won''t affect what you do in the future, so just take it.


    "First option. You''ve got a Mastersweiss Heavy Gyro there. It''s got high engineering and psi-Energized, but it''s not Enhanced. I can Enhance it for you.


    "Number two, I can make you some Gyro ammo that hits like a truck for special occasions.


    "Number three, I can make a clip for you that regenerates one gyro shell every six seconds until it is full."


    His eyes did focus ever so slightly. All of them were good options. He basically got any ammo he wanted free by requisition, but there was a difference between that and never running out in the field. A passive enhancement to his gun would also be nice, but...


    "If you take the clip and pass your ammunition requisition to me, when it accumulates naturally, I''ll swap it for special loads or I''ll upgrade your sidearm. And no, the ammunition doesn''t survive outside the gun for more than a few seconds."


    It was monetizing one of his benefits, and while it was frowned upon, if he was actually shooting and keeping his gunmanship up, as was intended, there was nothing wrong with it.


    "I''ll take the clip," he stated calmly.


    "I''ll have it ready for you in a couple of days. Give me your spare." I held out my hand, and he drew his spare clip from the side of his belt and handed it to me. "Also, I have a secondary employment opportunity available for you," I said, as my hair took it from my hand and stashed it in my Masspack. He didn''t blink at the show of hair-teke, having seen my hair moving around many times, and not caring regardless.


    He just looked at me again. He knew that I was head of the Green and Gold, and running several businesses, and I still came back here to shoot dangerous things that crawled in the dark. The two things were definitely not non-exclusive.


    "I have a lot of kids to teach and train, who could use the advice of someone with a lot of experience, especially field training. You need to find a road to Seven. If you''re willing to accept a Mark, I can give you a road to doing both... and I don''t offer this to just anybody."


    My Queen sat back from his desk, frowning slightly, the deepest expression I had ever seen from him. "Seven." he asked, still with the monotone.


    I nodded slowly. "For what it is worth, you are a Five Scout, in the parlance of Paths. The only reason I can see that your advancement has stalled is simply because you don''t have the Stat line to satisfy the Advance. You have a relentless willpower to do your job that is everything that is required to advance to Seven. You''ve been accumulating the requisite Karma for a long time, but simply been unable to move forwards.


    "If I Mark you, you will make Seven, without a doubt. You will be able to take your third Human evolution... and yes, I noticed you took your second, even if you did not. If you take your Third, you can become a Null Psion, lose your cybernetics, and your Road to Ten will be open."


    He took a long deep breath, but those disturbing tan eyes didn''t waver, and his face didn''t move. "Is there a price for this."


    "That you keep doing what you are doing. If that price is too high, you can strip the Mark."


    He grunted slightly. "Sounds too good to be true."


    "I have over fifteen thousand subordinates who will agree with you completely."


    He grunted again. "Tell me why you continue to do Termite work, if you have so many people working for you."


    "Reason One, Naming Karma." I flicked Chalice out of my arm, where she was normally held in body-phase. "Can only be gained by using the object in question in real conflict. In short, I need things to fight with her, I didn''t want to resort to the arena, which is totally nonproductive, and so being a Termite is the best productive option.


    "Reason Two: The money my subordinates make is their money, the money I make is mine. I''m not greedy, and I work for my money, too.


    "Reason Three: My ambitions extend far beyond this city, planet, and system. I need trustworthy subordinates to do that, and they have to be Sevens and higher. Such people, who are not complete assholes, are not easy to find. Having one slaving away doing the right thing in an unrewarding environment is like finding gold in a pile of shit.


    "Or to put it another way... what do you think you''d be worth if you were a Seven? Or a Ten?"


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    He ran the calculations over in his head. Just being Seven was huge. Another seventy years of age, without needing incredibly pricey juvenat treatments he just couldn''t afford. Having a chance at being a Psion? That was incredible, even for him.


    "This will not interfere with my duties." was his only rebuttal.


    "Well, to the extent that you might find yourself doing a lot more work with the Back Files, it might..."


    "What do I need to do."


    "Where do you want the Mark?"


    ------------------


    Krempa Mining Corp was a subsidiary of the Krempa family, one of the Upspire noble families running some of the mines that extracted metals and alkalines from this world in great numbers, crushing the ore, sending it off to the Skraelings to be smelted down, and then sending it to either production factories or shipped offworld as raw commodities.


    Over the millennia, they''d dug out areas equal to entire nations, but the planet still hadn''t given up everything. The only reason operations hadn''t expanded was the cost of keeping Domes over the working area to keep out the killing alkaline winds, so only small areas could be excavated at one time. If not, the planet would have been strip-mined out ages ago.


    Despite the horribly hostile environment, there were still things that could live here. Phrenic energy could make stuff incredibly resilient, and it didn''t take much Acid/Base resistance to be able to survive here. As a result, there were still plenty of creatures who lived on the planet, and all of them thought humans were incredibly sweet delicacies and water-bags.


    Thousands of years of killing them had generally taught most of the species that we weren''t a race to be played around with or preyed on freely, as many a pulse laser to the face had informed them. Still, hunger is hunger, and so things bugged the miners. They could hire expensive mercenaries to take care of the problem, or, if it was just monsters, they could post a bounty and see if there was a Termite who would grab it.


    A Sand Wurm had wandered into the mining zone and was picking off workers. This was bad because a) fewer workers meant lost production and b) the damn wurm ate their Amulets.


    In a corrosive environment like this, all the equipment had to be at durasteel levels of corrosion resistance, making the initial investment to start mining incredibly high. In addition, all the workers had to have corrosion resistance, or they''d die within days. The sand would get in through just about any kind of protective garments, eat away the skin and meat, and down they''d go.


    While an Acid Resistance 5 Amulet wasn''t a huge deal on a micro level, kind of like buying a worker a new car, on a macro level, it was just one more huge investment that had to be made in your workforce. The Amulets were actually considered more valuable than most of the workers, from the view of the mining corp, which the Scythilan unions gladly exploited and were slowing production to a standstill until the problem was addressed. Lost workers, lost production time, lost Amulets... very annoying.


    So, it was posted to the Termites first. After all, we were cheaper than the mercs, and often had more experience monster-hunting.


    I left out the southern gate, force-sealed against the winds and sands, shocking the Juris squad on guard duty when I set off on foot.


    My corrosion resistance was in the fifties with my Vajra, and my Vajra also filtered out the dust and sand in the atmosphere. The raging difference in boiling heat during the day and dry ice condensing at night made no difference to me, nor the strange soup of the atmosphere. I took what I needed out of it as I ran overland, not taking the tubes or tunnels, heading to the mines a hundred miles away.

 330 Far Future 40 – I’m a Traveling Hag, Made a lot of Stops...

    The scenery in this direction was... interesting, in its own way.


    The original city had naturally been built outside the mines that drove the raw production power of the planet. Those mines had also been worked out over the millennia, all the metals and ore removed, forming monstrously big pits, dozens of miles across, and tunnels that snaked out into the mantle for miles in all directions.


    But then it was on to the next dig site, and where better to put the waste then all this open space?


    So, that''s what happened. Every time the old mine was worked out, a new one would be opened, and the tailings dumped into the old one. This was neither unique nor strange, but what it did is breed its own kind of infestation, namely the Sand Wurms.


    The Wurms existed behind the shielding mountains to the west, tunneling endlessly through the alkaline sands of the lands beyond. They should have had no presence here, as they dug through solids with only great difficulty and time... but the miners had, in effect, created the perfect environment for the wurms, with loose soil, many tunnels they didn''t have to dig out, and potential prey at the periphery.


    Nobody knew exactly how they got here, although the general agreement was Warp Cultists wanting to create some havoc had somehow found some eggs and brought them in. Within a few years, all the old mines became great lakes of Wurm spawning grounds.


    With no natural predators from the greater desert here to prey on them, the Wurms grew as big as their food supply, and the massive vibrations from the city beyond were like giant meal signs blaring in the distance.


    They REALLY hated how far down the Shield Wall went. Their tremblesense could identify any weak point, and they would work on it mindlessly until hunger forced them away, only to come back again to worry at it. Whole packs of wurms would take turns pounding at the duracrete mix, tearing at it with diamond-hard teeth and hissing acid, trying to get through it to the promise of the meals beyond.


    Ergo, Sand Wurm incursions were a thing on the Shield Wall, and one of the more dangerous things Termites had to clean up down below. Dangerous because the Wurms were tough, not that they were all that adapted to burrowing through halls of plascrete and durasteel, looking for all those free meals echoing in their vibration-sensitive hides.


    I''d killed a few of them in our territory. Now I was going to kill a few of them on theirs.


    Random sand wurm kills were awarded a bounty by the mining corps, because every wurm was a potential miner-muncher and machine-eater. The problem was generally one of finding them, as the worms were not mindless, and normal lures rarely worked on them more than once. They were hard to track and follow in the scree and sands of this area. Naturally, going down on the ground here was close to a death sentence.


    So that''s what I was doing, running across these recessed sand lakes, where the grit and sand filtered down and filled in much of the scree, which was churned and cycled over endlessly by the wurms, rising, grinding away the intact stone around, and expanding slowly in area.


    The only overland route was the rail lines, built on durasteel and high up on rock, away from the wurms, endlessly transporting loads of ore and workers to and fro from the city, feeding the vast machinery and furnaces of the underhive in their ceaseless output of materials. Trying to build a road was stupid, as any vehicles not force-sealed would just get corroded away, and attract all kinds of things looking for lunch. The metal tanks shielded inside a magno-tube, not so much.


    Me going on foot, and especially just over the sand pit lakes, was just crazy.


    Well, maybe not so much.


    The Wave-Skating Steps worked perfectly well off my +10 Melee Attack Bonus, and I skimmed four inches above the sands, barely leaving a wake, and definitely leaving no sound of footsteps. So, I was invisible to them for all practical purposes, as they basically lived and died by tremblesense.


    They were not, however, invisible to me.


    I was playing holovid travel agent at the moment, in Markspace, and incidentally recording it on the Quanta just for fun. Those in Marklink were enraptured, because my eyes were far more acute than theirs, I saw more colors, and I could see right through the swirling sands and dust without a problem. The moan of the wind with the aggressive rasp of the sands hissing past around my Vajra and the little differences in intonations coming off mounds of wind-scoured rock left from mines of the past reverberated through the air in a complex mess of sonar. Electrical charges danced between the sands, occasionally discharging in snapping bolts and sparks, waves of heat bubbled and boiled in ceaseless rhythm, while below me, the lake of sand and scree peeled past in endless slow motion waves and currents, trailing out behind me and adding to my realspace lived-line.


    I had no fear of getting lost, since my Visual File was literally tracking me in time and space, and I could retrace my steps perfectly across this shifting sand lake easily.


    And then the long body flowed by in my tremblesense below. I /heard breaths hitch as they caught my visualization of the sand wurm lying below, and I let some of my weight rasp against the sands.


    The bounty on the sand wurms was meh. To most hunters, it wasn''t worth their time and ammo to hunt one, nor the danger. The real money was in two places... a nexal stone half again as big as usual for something their size, probably related to it processing and burrowing through so much crystalline gunk, and its teeth.


    Its diamond-hard, symmetrical teeth, arranged in geometric rows on its trifold opening snout, were one of the very, very best things to make Focuses out of for Mindblades or Athame. The material was suitable for QL 40 workmanship, and so high-end psions could never get enough of them. Mechanists wanted them for psionic circuits for QL 15+ gear replacements. They were worth good money, if you could get them.


    The problem was that if the sand wurm died violently, the combination of the death pulse of it dying plus an instinctive regurgitation of its digestive fluids totally ruined the teeth. Getting a wurm with full teeth was well-nigh impossible in normal circumstances, and you could only cry and dig out the nexal you hopefully hadn''t blown apart with explosive rounds, go collect your bounty, and curse your luck.


    I had discovered a much better method of harvesting them, although it admittedly was a little crazy.


    ==============


    Some time ago...


    It had all started with one of the wurms I followed into an access tunnel after it breached the Shield Wall. It was remarkably quicker and more agile then I thought it would be for a five-foot-high, eighty-foot scaled tube of flesh, and I noted it was using True Seeking to try and get a lock on me for an enveloping strike to swallow me whole. The problem was that I was Beyond Law and Chaos, and it couldn''t future-see me to do that... so I let it.


    I''d always been curious about what it was like to get swallowed alive, and I wasn''t worried about it. I basically jumped in as the trilateral jaws opened and lunged, and down the stinking gullet I went.


    The teeth didn''t scrape, as they were backwards-pointing, and I was in the esophagus and immediately starting to get crushed as it tried to move me down its gullet. Being inside it, I naturally had full access to the anatomical view from inside its phrenic field, noting the musculature, nervous system, lack of bones, tendons and sinews, sensory organs, psi-fueled heart and blood system, and other strange organs of the creature. There was the nexal, so that bunch of tissue must be what approximated its brain.


    I measured its contracting force... about 6-36, coming in waves high and low. With DR 21/Holy Silver, I took nothing half the time, and when I did, I Fast Healed the damage away within seconds. Now, the acid was potent stuff, but ol'' Sama happened to have inherited Acid Immunity from being a Rantha Hag, so sorry, as if my 30 Resistance from Vajra wasn''t enough. The acid was pretty strong, but what was specifically geared to take out things with corrosion resistance were the arcs of bioelectricity shooting through me for impressive damage also... and to which I was also immune.


    Phrenic creatures differ from magical creatures because most phrenics are alien in biology. Magical creatures tend to be creatures that are strange, but they have a ''normal'' biology, only evolved into something weird because magic and Chaos are buds. Phrenic creatures tend to have utterly alien biology that has evolved to rely on psionic energy to survive and evolve in situations where natural biology just wouldn''t be possible.


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    Pretty much every living natural creature on this planet was immune to acid and bases by dint of phrenic corrosion resistance, NOT by somehow organically being able to ignore such things. Sorry, no, natural organics will die out here, science is very unforgiving. But, with psionic energy, creatures can live where they should die, see where they should be blind, and attack when they have no means to do so.


    It also meant that when they died, their acid resistance goes away, and they can be conveniently digested. Ergo, the voltage, trying to shock me to death quicker so the eating could get to work.


    I dug in my claws, anchored myself just below that nexal point as the wurm spun and moved for a bit, then settled down.


    Settling down to digest its meal...


    Chalice came out in my hand, and I slowly extended her point, all edge, up the inside of the worm. No nerves inside, hard to tell something was happening, stay calm, relaxed, yeah, keep trying to crush me, I''ll heal... and you''ll die subtly...


    Fwick, cut those nerves, snip ''em off, things go dark, painless, slow...


    It quivered for just a moment, and I drove Chalice right into that major node, phrenic banefire shredding the corded tissue and making the psionic energy there spit and scatter.


    The wurm shuddered a final time, and the convulsions around me stopped.


    I cut my way up and out, grabbing its nexal on the way, and then walked around to the front.


    I noted thoughtfully that the external cuts I''d slashed into its stony hide had been turned away from the floor beneath, as if to keep the raw cuts away from scraping on the hard surface.


    I slashed off one of the three jaws, and as the triangle dropped to the steel floor, I saw the gleaming crystals of its teeth all still intact.


    Yesss...


    I now knew how to hunt sand wurms for fun and profit. Profit was important...


    ================


    Back to now...


    Coming up behind me for a free meal was a sand wurm a bit smaller than my wall-breaker. I had to cut it a few times, make sure it wanted to keep those injuries above the sands, as I didn''t want to have to dig myself up from where it was burrowing. Then I''d get eaten, endure the mashing and juices trying to digest me, and kill it when it was at peace and non-reacting from inside.


    What''s more fun, the carcass might attract other scavengers, which might attract more sand wurms...


    I smiled as the wurm made its initial lunge, and I hopped up above it. My audience all inhaled in shock at the sensation of something that big and strong moving past... and the golden blade of Chalice sliding through its stony skin like tofu, administering a grievous wound crossing its scales, and then I slid down its side, dragging another spitting, angry wound along the break, crossing the t.


    It rotated so the injured parts were away from the sand, and spun on me.


    -If you make Seven, you can do this too...- I /told them, and they screamed as I jumped down into the flowering jaws in front of me. -Twenty points of DR and Acid Resistance, and some Fast Healing, and you''ll be fine...-


    I /peeled off the advancement schema as they stared, acutely aware of the wurm''s insides around me, and my focus above me, at the winking solidity and power of the nexal... and further above, to the fortune that was all those teeth, intact.


    I /smiled at all of them, and they waited and watched with me, and finally I ignited Chalice. -You take me to all the weirdest places,- she /said, and I laughed with her...

 331 Far Future Ch. 41 – And in Every Port they owe Their Soul... to the Company Store...

    The Shield Wall of the current mining district rose in front of me.


    Duracrete pillars were embedded into a trench a thousand feet into the underlying rock. Immune to corrosion, only the most mindless battering over years and decades could drive a hole into them, allowing the hungry wurms outside access to the endless tunnels and pits of the mining area beyond.


    It had a shield over top it to keep out the alkaline winds and monitor the air quality, although the mines weren''t quite at the spawling size of the mega-city it fed ceaselessly. The mines meandered over several thousand square miles, and when an area was worked out, the tailings for another area filled it in, and the shield wall was moved out into another direction. The wurms would flood energetically into the new zone, and more than a few would be pulped by Thunder Bombs laying in wait down below to thin their numbers, providing ready meals for wurmlings coming in later.


    The great double monorails and their ceaseless loads of rendered mountains were heading in and out almost constantly, but I was approaching along the ground. They still needed some sort of ground access to explore the area, and I made my way across the sandy ground, barely stirring up a trail, my Disk gliding along behind me with my spoils.


    The doors I was heading for were located conveniently beneath the monorail, since that was the easiest overland access. I brought up my Band, still perfectly functional despite corrosive dust and more corrosive wurm-guts thanks to my Vajra, and I established Node contact, quickly flitting through the numerous channels to Wall Security. A bored man''s face popped up in my Virtual File.


    "Hello? What''s a Termite contacting us for?" the bored man on duty asked.


    "Oh, I''m outside your land access under the rail. Could you open the postern for me? If not, I''ll just climb the wall, but it would be nice if you could turn off the point defenses for a minute or three while I do?"


    "You''re outside-?" he trailed off, then got a look on my broadcast location. "Emperor! What happened? You''re... you''re on the sand lake!"


    "Skating across it, actually. The wurms can''t see me, I''m not in ground contact. So, about that door?"


    "I''ll alert them you are coming! Is there a vehicle coming? Do you need a rescue team?" He sounded amazed.


    "Oh, no, everything''s perfectly fine. You can check with Sergeant Shek at Janus South Access 4, I set out by myself yesterday on foot. Nobody else along."


    "You... ran here?" The man, one Corporal Ahfung, was in disbelief. "Across the sands?"


    "Skated here, across the sands. Took a couple rests, did some sightseeing... you know, the usual. Sorry for the delay. I heard you had a wurm problem inside the walls, so I was sent over to take care of it."


    "I... see." Clearly that side of things wasn''t that unusual. "I''ve cleared you for entry down there, Exterminator Rantha." See, no longer a Termite.


    "Thanks! I should be there in about two minutes."


    ------


    I skated up to the huge doors, big enough to admit a major-ass landcrawler, and inside the smaller door cut into the larger one. This was black durasteel, had some E-iridium mixed in with it, even tougher and stronger than normal durasteel, capable of defying the cutting power of adamant, although it didn''t have that same power itself.


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    The smaller door was more like a garage, which could be quickly filled in by sliding a plug of metal there in the event of attack. As I closed in, cameras in shielded mountings on the side naturally caught sight of me, and lifted it slowly up to let me in.


    I coasted past the two-foot-thick door, the force screen snapping over me, and came slowly to a halt about ten paces beyond. The men in suits waiting there had tubes in hand, presumably for spraying me off from the corrosive dusts outside.


    I waved at them. "No need for the spray, boys. I''ve got no dust accumulation whatsoever on either myself or my Disk here." I flicked the air, and the humming force-screen over the contents shimmered up at the impact.


    They were staring at my Disk, kind of gaping at it, but the hardass in charge said, "Protocol says that we-"


    "-are to clean incoming personnel and equipment to remove stray particles and dust from them in order to eliminate random corrosion of equipment, et al," I waved my hand. "I have no such things to eliminate, therefore if you start spraying me down, it''s because you are an asshole, and I''m going to punish you for it."


    There was a tiny lilt in my voice. The hardass looked at me, looked at the stuff on my Disk, and slowly decided that not getting on my bad side was a good thing. "Uh, understood." I was standing there with my arms and waist bare, as well as my calves and half my feet, as well as my face. Not even any breathing equipment from the abusive mix of gases called an atmosphere out there... with temperatures that spiked to 80 degrees C at noonish, and plummeted to -50 at night.


    Which meant I was resistant to some serious rads, heat, and cold, as well as corrosion.


    "So, where''s my liaison for the wurm contract?" I put a holo up. "Supervisor Choken?" His image and ID rose up in front of me.


    "East Side Fill." I watched his eyes flicker as he sent out with his implants. "Uh, he''ll meet you there."


    "Great! Are you escorting me, or you going to provide me a map?" I asked calmly. I could probably crack their system, as maps of the mines were naturally classified. Also, ''East Fill'' could be another hundred miles away, easy, across some very broken terrain. "Also, where is your Teleport Focus?"


    That made them both blink. The mere fact I was asking meant that I was very, very dangerous, as only a Nine could Teleport, and disrespecting a Nine was very dumb, indeed.


    "Uh, let get you a temporary clearance, Lady Rantha," he said unconsciously, responding to my accent and posture despite me not looking anything like a noblewoman. That was what a 44ish Charisma did for me, without me even trying, which was extremely useful in this very class-conscious society. However, Nines and Tens were treated like nobility regardless. You just didn''t mess with people that strong, especially if they were psions.


    My Band bleeped, and the map of the mines, minus a lot of sensitive and unnecessary details, was downloaded. I glanced over it, located the areas I needed to be in, and nodded to the two men. "Okay, I''ll head out now. The supervisor should be able to track me, I''ll let him know when I''m almost there."


    My Band plotted out my course, to the closest Teleport Focus about a mile away, and I skated off, my Disk and its load trailing off behind me.


    The fact was that I could not teleport, a sad but true fact of life about being a Null. Powered were the ones that got all the good stuff. Now, a proper Foci just needed to be fueled with the right amount of psionic energy, and could send a person or group along to their destination. If it was really well-built, and the destination was another Foci, that range could be close to a thousand miles.


    Unfortunately, Nulls couldn''t grant energy to objects, either. Otherwise... heh! Artificers would have conniption fits compared to us.


    But, but, but-! We could grant power to someone bonded to us, doling out our Reserves and Matrix energy to supplement their own, which was a hideously useful resource for any Powered person who accepted it, doubling or tripling their own native energy. Null Psions worked off Constitution and possibly Wisdom as a Stat, and tended to have incredibly high Con scores, meaning lots of bonus energy...


    I had the maximum possible base starting Con of 18, and I''d Nogged my Wisdom up to the same level. Both were sitting on a true base 54 right now, which was +110 PP each, plus Depth of Will Mastery for another +20 (the Depth was used to support my Soulblade). My Bonus points were each higher than the base Reserve of a Psion, which I''d also bought up to the maximum. 328 PP was enough to make a senior Psion piss themselves, and meant my Psionic Null could extend out quite some distance...


    Now, that''s all it could do, without a Bond.


    When I''d gone into Habberblok the first time, I''d naturally been chatting with the irked spirits as I went around, and I''d made them an offer. If one of them wanted to be Chalice''s Item Spirit, I could take them out of there and they could be my Item Familiar, and beat on the kind of shit that had killed them, see the galaxy and beautiful, exotic Warp Demons, and kill them all.


    One of them had taken me up on it. She was a rebellious ganger girl with a snarky streak, and she really, really wanted to beat up the Warp Gods.


    So, she became Chalice, my Sword, which was Soulbonded to me. Which meant...


    Yes, I could give Chalice all sorts of PP.


    Chalice was a Psychic Weapon, getting stronger the more PP I had in Reserve, so there was a limit to how much she and I could expend before it started cutting into her combat capability. We had also given her a PP Reserve of her own of 9, meaning she was continually empowered to +II even when I wasn''t holding her, meaning I didn''t have to have an active and visible Essence infusion for her to be active.


    Naturally, Chalice was an unlimited hole of Karma and goldweight equivalent, satisfied mostly with Nexal Stones and Naming Karma. However, I didn''t have an unlimited amount of things I could kill for either of those purposes, nor an unlimited influx of money.


    Her Construction Karma from Sama Sr. was used to make her Psibane and Psychic, which was huge enough as it was. She was +VII against the vast majority of stuff I wanted to fight, just laying hand to hilt, and the Greater Soulbound we''d slowly put in place jacked that to +IX against everything, and +XI against psionic and phrenic stuff.


    The rest of the Karma first went to make her Indestructible, because that was a thing. We were in a situation with mega-damage weapons all over the place, and even being made of Tempered, Hardened Orichalcum simply wasn''t going to cut it if a hovertank cannon hit her. 30k of nexals that ate up, which was a lot of hunting.


    Vivic was a bonus of my being a Ghost Knight, so I got that for free, as well as Ghost Touch. While there were endless Arsenal effects to slowly add in, the big thing was to work on her Item Familiar extraordinary powers.


    The model, of course, was her Big Sister Tremble. The ability to Detect Bane was exceedingly useful, and one of the ways that Chalice looked at the world. Getting that ability to Valence V, and a two-hundred-meter unidirectional or a hundred-meter omnidirectional range was the ultimate goal, but that was a long ways away at the moment.


    Happily, using that ability to find stuff to kill was enough to trigger Naming Karma, even if I killed stuff with something else, so Chalice was always looking. Her current ability was at II Valence, so only forty/twenty meters, but that was still plenty of warning.


    The extraordinary ability to Teleport was the other ability I wanted, since we were Bonded.


    This ability cost 15k in goldweight equivalent for each time a day I wanted to use it. Or... it cost 7-15 PP every time I wanted to use it, depending on how far I wanted to go.


    I had kept this ability very close to my chest once it was developed. It let me flit around the city to anywhere I''d been, following my lived-line. The 7 PP level only had a range of seventy meters, but that was enough to remove myself from any combat situation to somewhere close by, as long as there was no Interdiction in place. It also let me leave Habberblok, or return from close by, without being seen, which really irritated the people who wanted to follow me.


    Chalice being able to leave a minor illusion behind of me when I did that, which lasted for up to a minute, was just her way of playing mind games with others...

 332 Far Future, Chapter 42 – Saint Piedro did ya Call Me, I Can Go...

    Now, Null Psions didn''t regain PP like Powered did. Powered just Meditated or went to sleep, got all their PP back without issues as Renewal passed and did its transcendent thing. Null Psions (and Null Casters) instead had to take ability score damage, sacrificing physical life force and converting it into PP to rebuild a Reserve. In other words, we generated our own power internally 100%, unlike Powered. Thus, getting the Furnace of Life Feat, which allowed us to heal a number of points of ability damage equal to our Con bonus + 1 per day, was a thing.


    Thus, with a Con of 52, I could generate 21 PP per point of Con I sacrificed, and I could heal 22 points of Con a day. Of course, I was limited by my total Reserve, and couldn''t refill the ''same PP'' between Renewals, just like Powered, but it did mean I was more vulnerable if I had to fill my PP, if only for the eight hours I needed to do it before Renewal.


    So, not something I did lightly.


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    All of which came down to the fact that Chalice could cast a Teleport at up to Fifteen, which was a 150-mile base range, direct point to point. If she was following a lived-line, which I basically always was, that range was doubled. If she was going to a Teleport Focus, that range was doubled, and if she was going from a Teleport Focus, that range was doubled.


    So, as long as I had Teleport Foci to use that I had visited, my range between them was a minimum of 720 miles for 9 PP, and 1,200 miles for 15 PP.


    There were restrictions, especially underground. Teleporting range through solid matter was reduced by a factor of 100, to a maximum of ten miles. So, flitting around Underspire was very limited, relatively. Interdiction zones were common, as nobody wanted random Warp portals opening up and dumping demons on sensitive areas.


    But it largely didn''t matter. The simple fact that I could flit around the city now, without having to walk all the places in between, was just awesome. It meant a lot of my ''thinking time'', i.e. when all those overeager thought-streams of mine sat down and cogitated on what I was going to do, I was out running through the city, painting more and more areas into my lived-line.


    Janus Prime was a mega-city, and so it sprawled for hundreds of miles, even in this crazy hostile environment. It had stopped expanding atop old mine sites, which had formed the foundations for the current Underspire, and so the population remained fairly static. Thus, there were lots of places to go, and lots of lived-line miles to put on, and this being multiplied by Underspire''s many levels, meant it would take a lifetime to even travel all the major roads, downways, and skypaths.


    But... getting within a mile of most locations was actually doable, at the speed I could move.


    This was my first trip outside the city, and to get the range bonus, I actually had to travel overland, anchoring my position to the planet. Using a vehicle wouldn''t give a person the necessary positional fix on their lived-line, due to geomantic principles. I didn''t want to have to rely on using a Focus to jump in and out of here, or worse doing it Free, so a Lived-line it was.


    It was also why I wasn''t taking a Tube or Flitter to where I needed to go. Once I got there, sure, I could do that... or I could take a different way back, expanding my lived-line to a greater area.


    I was going to be hunting outside the Shield Walls a lot, lot more. Better Karma, great loot. I also needed to be able to get back inside and Tat new recruits up with Marks. One reason I was doing this was to get some cash together to help take care of that particular problem...


    ----------


    Piedro Choken had been East Fill Supervisor for nearly five years, after the mines here petered out, were judged not worth pursuing further, and cycled over for refill.


    A Fill Supervisor was naturally a step below a Mine supervisor, but just one more step on the ladder of advancement, and not a bad jump. Continuous sprays of crushed ore spilled endlessly from feeder belts and great booms dangling from the arching supports that crossed the miles-wide canyons and miles-deep canyons that crisscrossed the sector, slowly filling in what had been excavated from elsewhere. Down at the bottom of those canyons, other feeder belts and tubes sprayed the crushed ore into the excavated mines, not letting the excess volume to go waste, and slowly but surely, the hundreds of cubic miles of this section of the mines would be filled up, while the mines expanded in a new direction.


    When each canyon was full and mostly settled down, the area would be abandoned, the Shield Walls would be moved, and the area would be left open to do whatever. Naturally, the sand wurms would move into the new zone, churning it up and slowly making it settle even further, even as the endless dust from the salt deserts blew into every nook and chink and turned it all into a slurry of sand and crushed rock to be worn down over the ages.


    It was a job about maintenance and continual flow of the tailings, not to be interrupted or the mining would have to slow down while unwanted raw materials were diverted elsewhere, or had to be heaped up and disposed of by very inefficient hauling. Given the level of corrosive materials around, this meant constant repair and replacement, so it was not a job to be sitting around on.


    Having a sand wurm loose in the place before its time meant none of the lower tunnels could be filled, which was millions of cubic yards of space unused, leading to early fill, more frequent Shield Wall movements, and so forth and so on, all of which involved numbers of credits he was paid well not to let happen.


    Piedro was a bit irked, as the Termite he''d called for had arrived at the mines, but seemed to be taking her sweet time getting to the East Fill. He''d looked up the woman''s location; she had barely covered a hundred kliks in an hour, and wasn''t on any of the normal tracks and rails erected around the place. She seemed to be sticking to surface roads or pedestrian tunnels on her way here, instead of taking more efficient transportation.


    Two hours later, she was finally in the proper area, and he took the lift down from his office, high on a bluff carved out from miles of surrounding stone. The view of the Fill Towers and multi-hued canyons was vast and inspiring, a true showing of the power of humanity at work, and one of the best things about his job. He could easily monitor and give orders to the entire operation from anywhere with his implants, but he preferred to work from his lofty office and quarters and enjoy the rainbow hues of the various tailings spilling from their pipes, the filtered light off the rock strata, and the great depths of the Fill before him, waiting to be brought to surface height and finally moved along.


    Naturally, this sand wurm infestation was in the low zone, where it had picked off a dozen workers mysteriously before they''d discovered what was going on. Given the time of its appearance, they figured there''d been a Warp rupture during a sandstorm that had played havoc with the shields, and a wurm had been sent into the scree during it, a not unknown occurrence. It had to be killed, and hopefully before it spawned a bunch of wurmlings that would make the low Fill impossible to maintain.


    He was prepared to give her a piece of his mind for her tardiness when he saw her, especially at her age. And then he noticed what was floating behind her.


    His condemnations died in his throat, and he blinked a couple of times to make sure he wasn''t seeing things.


    "Um... hello, Miss Rantha?" he said cautiously, stepping forward, his assistant-bodyguard Diaz trailing behind, and also looking at what was stacked on that Disk carefully.


    "Piedro Choken?" she replied, and he noted how smooth her voice was, how it seemed to tingle on his skin. He''d never heard quite that accent, but he found he wanted to hear a lot more of it, and it gave the impression of someone who was very well-educated. The blue eyes sparkled like jewels, and even the strange, broken branding over the left side of her face couldn''t hide the fact that she was extremely attractive... or the nymphal ears that brought all sorts of other thoughts to mind.


    On the other hand, her tight tunic and loose vest totally displayed the fact that she had no bust whatsoever, which pursed his lips at the dichotomy. Those hips and that waist were just the right size to put his hands around...


    "High-g nymphal," she informed him before he could ask. "So, you''re a ranking supervisor, you mind signing off on the bounty for these?"


    His eyes drifted off her exposed skin, and the fact she wasn''t wearing a mask to filter the dust and air, and not even real shoes, then back to the stuff on her Disk.


    There were at least six severed sets of sand wurm jaws, a couple of them longer than he was tall, the right claw of a Shredder Scorp... and the severed head of a Burning Wyvern.


    "Uh, certainly," he said reflexively, looking at the stacked trophies, doing the mental math. It was a good chunk of money. "If I may ask, where did you get them?" he asked softly.


    "Ah, I killed them on the run here." He blinked slowly. "The wyvern came down to steal a lunch after I killed one of them, and the scorp came in to steal the wyvern after that. You can have the jaws, I understand you like to use them to plate some of your diggers, but I couldn''t drag the wurms with me to give you the entire hide. The wyvern head should make a nice trophy if you want one, but I''m keeping the claw, as some psmiths use them for psi-active weaponry."


    "Of course," he agreed, stepping over and making the counts. Seven sets of sand wurm jaws, two large, four medium, one small. The four-foot claws of a Shredder, so-named because its tail stinger could punch through steel to deliver its acidic poison, and its pincers could crump steel like a chopper-bot to get at any human goodies inside. The Burning Wyvern was the red-and-black variety, capable of breathing out a stream of radioactive plasma that could slag steel and reduce a human to ashes in a second. Seeing one was instant cause for launching heat-seekers and praying it would be driven away before it came swooping in to steal a couple workers for a snack, or idly torch a caravan of vehicles.


    Wyverns were the biggest reason why people didn''t like venturing outside the Shield Walls. And she had killed one?


    He assessed them as scrupulously as he could, and paid out the bounties quickly. The remains, save for the pincers, were deposited on a work pallet nearby, where they''d be quickly sent elsewhere for use. The jaws would be sliced up thinly and plated onto vehicles, and the head would be mounted somewhere for vanity purposes, probably the prow of a landcrawler going out to scout for new minefields.


    "Thanks!" she smiled at him, and instantly made his day. Nothing sexual about it, just a sense of clean appreciation that made him blush despite himself. "Now, let''s take care of your wurm problem. Where do we have to go?"


    "Down in the Fill," he sighed, gesturing towards the canyon edge close by, and the massive view of the excavated area with the spilling scree constantly rumbling down. "We believed it was warped in by one of the Freaker Storms coming off the high desert. It''s medium in size, and wouldn''t be a threat if it was in one of the isolated areas, but it''s been picking on the men who are filling in the lower tunnels."


    "And their Amulets, right." He flushed as she added that on, as it was the most important point from the view of the corp. Fillers were easy to replace, it was one of the simplest jobs in the mine. The Amulets, that took money. "Well, give me a guide to the right area. I shouldn''t have a problem locating it and pulling it out. Are you a hundred percent positive there''s only one?"


    He hesitated, which was answer enough. "Right. They aren''t pack hunters, but they are happy to steal one another''s kills. If there''s a second one or more, I get double pay for every one past the first." Hazard pay was a standard component of vermin contracts, so he nodded despite himself. While he didn''t think there was more than one, he couldn''t be certain, and there was little to differentiate between the attacks, which had all been quick snatch-and-grabs.


    He was going to ask her about her luck with the teeth, seeing the jaws were all stripped of them, but figured they''d all been corroded and broken off so as to be less dangerous when handling them. If she was lucky she might have harvested a couple of them, but mostly likely they''d all been lost.


    "Diaz, get her down to the right area, and help her get rid of the wurm." His aide nodded once, trying to keep a straight face.


    There was no doubt in the minds of either of them that a woman who could pull up a tally like this could do the job.

 333 Far Future, Ch. 43 – Wurming my way into Their Hearts

    The mines went down a long ways, supposedly all the way to Sunken Sea located so far below the surface, away from the alkaline metals that would turn it into toxic sludge.


    Those deep pits were emphatically sealed, as any contamination of the water source of the planet was a massively overdone shooting offense. The Juris had made some rather graphic examples of anyone who even seemed tangentially connected to it, and so messing with the water supply was only done with great caution.


    We descended down a mile of steep cliffs, where massive amounts of stone and ore had been strip-mined in layer upon of layer of elemental wealth, and were now being replaced by unending rains of tailings and scree from above.


    My guide was rather shocked when I slid down the face of the cliff instead of taking a lift, but when I told him it was for geomantic continuance of dimensional transfer protocols, he sort of shook his head, chalked it up to crazy pshit, and followed me as I whooped and surfed my way down the side of a cliff face.


    I jumped off, turned a quintuple somersault and double layout to land nigh weightlessly on the support gantry a hundred feet above the floor of the canyon.


    Naturally the place was completely filled with dust from the scree coming down from above, and the average person couldn''t see a foot in front of themselves. Dustsight could see right through it, and I looked up at the waterfall of stones rumbling down a hundred yards away, slowly building up another mound as the pipes up top slowly moved back and forth to spread the rock out over a larger area.


    My Trembling Domain was also unaffected, and although the continuous vibrations from all the falling rock was a little annoying, the vibrations bouncing around actually helped paint everything with incredible clarity, and even gave me additional range.


    Nothing interesting, of course. Walkways of steel on rigs that could rise as the canyon floor rose, leading off and down to the sides where yawning tunnels gaped open in the side of cliffs, smooth-bored from the tunneling machines that had plunged into the stone in a hungry search for ore.


    Diaz came out of the elevator, in a static suit that would keep the dust off his outer clothes, and the default mask that was standard garb around here. I could see the flicker of the map overlay on his mask, as he totally ignored the dust around, moving with complete assurance despite the cloud and darkness. He seemed surprised to see me completely unaffected as well, muttered something under his breath about lucky psions and their pshit, and gestured me after him.


    We went through about a mile of gantries and walkways, all of them on movable lifts, and took a couple tunnels bored through the side of the cliff for transit purposes. We passed a couple of the feeder tubes pumping down lighter tailings for filling the tunnels, vibrating as they pumped the waste stone further out of sight, deeper into the mountain. They were pumping several cubic feet a second, and I could only think how massive the underground sprawl of this mine network had to be at this time.


    Biggest dungeon evah? Well, the Warp Gods could probably put together a better one... and Downspire was bigger, come to think of it. Ah well. Couldn''t have orcs and pies in every chamber, either...


    "The area we want is where it''s been hitting. The section''s tunnels are almost filled, so the crews are working closer to the scree. It came up and hit them, faded back into the piles. It doesn''t seem to care if the rocks are coming down if its buried, but it won''t come up if the area is under spill from up top."


    "Yeah, rocks at terminal velocity are a bit different then rocks pounding down on other rocks way above it." I looked over the scene of great hills of tailings and scree formed by the continuous stonefall from above, cracking, ricocheting, and raising the clouds of dust that blinded everyone and made them work off virtual overlay. "I''ll go pull the sucker out."


    "Will you have a problem with the stones?" he asked me. His voice was actually coming through my Band instead of verbal, because of the constant roar of the falling stone.


    I glanced at my DR 26/Holy Silver default, and +15 Golden Armor I flicked up. "I''ll be fine," I told him, basically clad in my own armor suit at the skin level now. He couldn''t see my skin and hair turn gold, but that didn''t mean anything here.


    There was a subtle shift in the Warp universe in how armor worked here, but it was very important.


    In Power of Ten, Armor was a hit/miss thing. If it hit the armor, it bounced and did not damage. Only if something got through the armor did you actually take damage, but when you did, unless you had some special armor, or you were really good with it, you took all the damage. The attack either punched the armor or got through a weak spot, which was actually pretty realistic.


    Armor here was about damage reduction. Armor had an average damage reduction rating, which certain attacks could completely bypass, and crits meant it had found a hole or gap where there was no armor. Mathematically, it represented an average reduction of harm as the armor took the punishment instead of the flesh; an attack had to be big enough to get through the armor, and was sapped of its energy as it did so.


    The net effect of this was that people took hits more often, but generally took less damage per hit. The optimal fighting style here wasn''t about trying to hit stuff, but having an attack strong enough to overcome their armor. It was difficult to find someone who could consistently avoid a touch attack, after all...


    Furthermore, armor interacted oddly with Damage Reduction. If someone actually had damage reduction, their armor instantly upgraded to only be bypassed by that level of DR. For instance, normal armor could be bypassed by an adamant weapon, which would cut through it like cheese. But, if the person wearing it was, oh, a werewolf, the DR 10/silver would upgrade the armor, and suddenly that DR 5/adamant set of general flak armor was also 5/silver, and the adamant sword wouldn''t chew through it so easily, backed as it was by flesh that wasn''t so easily hurt.


    My DR had two levels, of 16/- and 26/Holy Silver, with another possible +10 if I concentrated on using Stalwart and angles to minimize impacts.


    16/- was enough to ignore handguns entirely, and 90% of rifle shots. 26/Holy Silver was enough to ignore long rifles and heavy machine guns, and most of a stubber. 36/HS was enough to take heavy gyro rounds without harm, and most of an autocannon when using Stalwart to concentrate on more DR instead of dodging.


    Needless to say, the shrapnel bouncing around wasn''t a threat to me at all. 15 points of armor on top of my norm meant a walk-around DR of 41/HS. Unless I was standing in the stonefall, I wasn''t in any danger. Falling rocks didn''t bypass armor. Back in magic land, armor wouldn''t have helped at all against area damage like this...


    ------


    I headed down towards the stone mounds. The wurm shouldn''t be that hard to lure out, as it was looking for munchies, and the crews were keeping a safe distance from any scree deep enough to conceal it.


    Of course, I trusted their information as far as I could throw it. The likelihood there was only one wurm was slim to none, because that wouldn''t be any fun for the Warp gods who made such stuff happen. Some quiet divine hurr-hurr-hurrs were at work Out There watching hapless men getting eaten by an alien worm.


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    I tromped through the edges of the scree, spreading out my weight on my ki and using my Belt to double my weight to make lots of noise. Sure, there was a lot of clattering going on, but the regular footsteps of lunch were what they wanted to hear.


    The locals couldn''t actually see what was going on, so I had no reason to waste the teeth, either.


    I didn''t have to tromp around the slopes too long when the scree began to shift subtly, and the head of the sand wurm came sliding up out of the lower scree below me in my Trembling Domain, looking like it was trying to be stealthy.


    Yeah, no. Come on, and let''s get this over with, I thought, and waited for the first lunge...


    ---


    I was hauling the multi-ton carcass of the wurm down from the scree about fifteen minutes later, trundle, trundle, and about to call Diaz to come grab it and its corrosion-resistant hide when there was movement below and behind me.


    Whoa crap!


    I dropped the mid-sized wurm I was hauling along by dint of having a claw buried into one of its trilateral jaws, stepped away, and the Big One, a whole damn ten feet tall, exploded out of the scree and swallowed me right up instantly.


    Ouch!


    Sunuvabitch. I hadn''t managed to wound it. It was diving down as it swallowed me! I was going to have to dig my way out of there!


    Well, no! Nyar, nyar! -You are so lucky I''m right here!- Chalice /sniggered, as she popped into my hand while I clawed myself to a stop in the big wurm''s esophagus. It was really putting down the crunching pressure, but my boosted 51 DR was laughing at him, and having put some bloody furrows into his pipe, it couldn''t quite bear down like it wanted.


    Claws on my feet and offhand anchored into its throat as slimy acid gathered all around me, and the voltage began to crackle off in thumb-thick irritation as I got stuck in its throat. The more it tried to swallow me deeper, the more it hurt, so it just tried to crispy-dissolve me.


    I looked up at the nexal three feet above me, and all the teeth back the way I''d come from. I recycled my oxygen inside my lungs with carbon dioxide splitting and suppression of my breathing reflex, waiting for its rapid travel through the depths of the sand to stop.


    It spiraled as it moved, constantly sloughing off the pressure and making its path, subtle phrenic power slicing through the matter like it was oiled, giving it a truly impossible speed, even with thousands of tons of earth right above it.


    I was being taken for a ride. I wonder if my Band signal had been lost, and they thought I was dead. They were going to be surprised, but I still had to wait for this thing to stop moving before killing it.


    -Hey Brekko, do me a favor and contact a Mr. Diaz at the southern mines area.- I forwarded him the contact info. -Tell him I''m fine, you''ve been telepathically contacted, and I''ll be teleporting out of the innards of a dead wurm shortly, would you? I don''t want him to be panicking or something...-


    He /laughed at me...


    So, as it chewed through stone and grit at about 30 mph, impossibly fast for a non-elemental creature, I made sure to track and chart everything about where I was, and keep my Visual File of my Lived-Line constant.


    It dove into a submerged tunnel, swam past the smooth walls of once what was probably a vehicle repository into a side room where the scree had settled. There was about a foot of airspace for the ceiling, churned up as this massive wurm entered, circled itself, and sat there to digest its meal.


    Crikey, this damn thing was over a hundred feet long. I couldn''t see the end of it from where I was in its gullet.


    Chalice didn''t care as I struck up from inside it slowly and precisely. Parts of the big wurm went dark, and slowly, surely, it died, not even knowing how it was dead.


    I severed the nexal from its crystalline nervous system and sent my hair up into the wound I''d made to grab it and haul it back to me, stashing it into my masspack with the others I''d collected so far.


    Huh. I could get out of here easily enough, but coming back could be a problem. I certainly wasn''t going to leave all those teeth. Those jaws were huge, and had a lot of teeth.


    Grousing to myself about my work ethic, and the bottomless need for credits and raw materials, I began to claw my way forwards through the suffocatingly tight gullet of this wurm, and them bright, shiny, sharp, and valuable teeth on the jaws up ahead of me.

 334 Far Future Ch. 44 – The Pearly Gates

    It was somewhat more difficult to cut the teeth out then when I was on the surface, but for the purposes of mucho dinero I persevered. -Okay, Brekko, tell him to turn off the Interdiction for about ten seconds at 6:57 mark.-


    -Relaying,- my vastly amused Ghost Knight /replied. I /heard him chuckle a moment later. -He says it''ll be done. Two minutes!-


    -What''s that laugh for?- I /asked, curious.


    -He wanted to know if there was another way you could get out. I told him there sure was, and after she gets out of gullet of the wurm that ate her, is forced to dig herself all the way up to the surface, and then walks all the way back to where you are, what do you think she''s going to do to you?- he /sniggered. -Corp stiffs are all the same!-


    I /gave him a thumbs-up as I rolled my eyes. I probably could dig my way out of here... hmm, cut off the jaws, align my Nimbus through them, and vajra-spin my way through the ground as the innate power of the jaws opened up the way, just have to be ridiculously tough enough to ignore the erosion and inhumanly strong enough to keep the jaws in place, sure I could...


    He didn''t want to exert himself to blip a localized Interdiction INSIDE the safe zone, surrounded by other Interdiction fields. *^%$ lazy corp bastards...


    ---


    Chalice exerted power, and my location in space was reset to an earlier place in time relative to the planet, that last part being VERY important. I blinked back into location right next to the wurm I''d had to leave sitting atop the scree when I was eaten. It was still there, amazingly enough with a lot of dust and rocks on it. Well, I suppose it was a bit too big to be swallowed whole by the big one, and maybe the big wurm didn''t want to be revealed that long. Something that big was likely fairly cunning...


    My Band lit up with incoming messages no longer screened out by interference from the stone, and I smoothly replied to all of them as I began to drag the multiton carcass forwards again. Yes, yes, I was alive. See, location right here, same as before. I was dragging out the first wurm, the second one was quite large and now dead and sitting down in Tunnel 22b17 over there, you can probably pull out if you get a digger bot down there with a crane and haul line, and ¨C


    Mother-f!


    I turned around again.


    -There''s a third one!-, I /messaged off with a curse, and the next mid-large one exploded out of the scree and lunged at me.


    -------------


    East Fill Supervisor Piedro Choken was displaying all his bright white polished teeth and a wide smile. It was matched with beads of sweat at my expression. He''d seen the pics his aide had sent him, showing me hauling two sand wurms up out of the scree with massively clawed hands. Each wurm was as thick as I was tall, their jaws gaping limply wide, and he truly had no desire to mess with me.


    Three wurms, the biggest one sitting down underground. He had wanted to contest that claim, and then I had pulled out the biggest sand wurm Nexal he''d ever seen.


    "Ten feet in diameter." My emerald eyes were narrowed to slits of blue and gold fire. "Its movements would''ve triggered on any seismograph worth the name. I can see confusing the other two for one another, but the big one... you deliberately repressed it.


    "The only reason for doing that is it ate a bit too much stuff that you couldn''t explain, and you needed time to replace them or make other excuses for their deaths. It''s probably been here for at least several months longer than the little ones the workers spotted.


    "I believe that if I call up your boss and the local union rep and recommend that they should do an immediate audit of men and materials, they''ll going to find some major, major problems down there with the fill crews and machinery.


    "Then they''re going to shoot you and your immediate subordinates, and not hand out death benefits."


    His white smile was looking very strained at the moment. "That is a very good story," he breathed out. Drip, drip, drip.


    Diaz was looking ready to act. The fact I was completely ignoring the threat he represented wasn''t making the borg any calmer.


    "So, what would you like me to do for you? I certainly wouldn''t want any unnecessary rumors to be spread around..." he continued in best slime fashion.


    "First of all, I''m going to report the full extent of what I killed here to My Queen, who is going to CC all your higher-ups and report your glowing support of my operation," I began calmly. He swallowed.


    "A three-meter wurm is big news. They''re going to go looking for damage, so you''re going to have to get on it and make it all look more recent, and try to blame the rest on the other two wurms. Whether or not you succeed is up to you.


    "You''re going to get a big bonus for dealing with such a major threat before it could get any worse than it did. You''re going to generously donate that bonus to the families of the dead men you''ve been covering up, and going to do it openly and publicly. I expect to see it on the Boole. I imagine the company will even match or increase it, if you give it enough hype.


    "You''re going to pay me the full value of those three carcasses'' salvage value as a bonus for my extraordinary performance. You should have no problem sending down a bot to retrieve the big one, and you can wave it around as a sign of your competence when you pull it out.


    "Do that right now." Numbers flicked up on my Band, shifted over to his neural feed and the breakdown... it was an honest number, and he only hesitated a moment before he approved it.


    "Lastly, you''re going to retire within one year, with every subordinate that knows about this, too, because in one year and one day, a packet of information indicating what really happened here is going to arrive at Corpsec, and I imagine your auditing department is going to be disappointed in you... and the Scythilians are probably going to want to have a close, meaningful chat with you.


    "You probably seriously want to consider retiring on another world. As they are probably going to cut your pension, I imagine you''ll want to take the cash-out option and take a job with a competitor on a complete shit world somewhere so they don''t bother putting a price on your head and chasing you down. You''re going to need some time to get far enough away, so it''s probably best for you if you do that REALLY fast."


    I leaned forwards as his smile really faltered. "Oh, and tell your successor to call me first, before this type of thing actually becomes a real problem next time."


    "Of-of course." His smiled was so forced it looked like his face would break.


    "Now I''m going to leave. And if you try to do something as stupid as send workers, security, bots, or drones after me, I''m going to turn right around, come back here, and cost the company a lot more money killing everyone in my way but you. I''ll leave you alive just so the company can make an example out of you." I leaned in closer. "Months, maybe years worth of examples."


    Drip, drip, drip... I could smell the fear coming off him like a wall. Having a 40+ Charisma and an Intimidation check at 50+ going off on him was going to give him nightmares for years.


    As was only appropriate. Corporate slime, only your best interests at heart, climb the ladder and be successful today!...


    ------


    I could have run back, but instead I just ventured to their closest Teleport Focus, and went directly back to the city from there. I really wanted to go overland to all their Foci, so in case of emergency I could pop directly in at any of them in the future if need be, but maybe on the next trip.


    I knew who they''d be calling for the next problem, after handling this one so quickly and thoroughly.


    I walked off a Teleport Focus in Janus Prime, ten miles from Habberblok. There were closer Foci, as they were scattered at five-mile intervals atop the Spires that towered over the bloks, but I never used the closest one. I waved a hundred credits into the fee machine, and the door slid back and I stepped out, surprising some wealthy and very much more pricily-dressed people waiting in a line to use the Departure Focus there. A number immediately went Boole-diving for my identity, as people who could teleport, or pay for teleporting, were all going to be some manner of mover and shaker.


    Of course, that would also get out the fact that I could teleport, but in a world with Interdiction Zones, being able to get where you wanted every time with teleportation was a pipe dream.


    Traveling via teleporting was watched as or more closely than any other mode of travel. Only short-range teleporting between Interdiction zones was unwatched, or in Downspire, where range was so shortened it didn''t matter so much, and an error would generally merge you into durasteel and kill you instantly, so it wasn''t done casually.


    Of course, you could pop around all you wanted to outside the city, and I was definitely going to be upping my Lived-Line outside the city now that I had my Class Three license.


    ---


    Arriving at Habberblok, I went up to 161, which was basically my digs, went into the expanded chambers I''d pounded out of dozens of smaller apartments (well, it had been practice for my Ghost Knights getting their Star Cores, actually, pounding out all them walls), gathered together a bunch of tables, and began to lay out my spoils.


    Ten wurms worth of teeth. Twelve Nexals of assorted sizes, one with a fire bias, one with poison. Normal Sand Wurms might have an Earth bias to theirs, and three of them actually did, but if they didn''t, they still tended to be half as big again as their size and power would normally have.


    They were the only reason most people would deign to hunt them, since getting the teeth was so hard.


    I sorted them by wurm, laying them out in the exact pattern I''d taken each of them out of their jaws... which took a lot of tables. When I was done, I and tens of thousands of ghosts looked at the glittering array of wealth laid out there.


    If a Ten knew I had this here, they might even dare coming into this place to try and steal it all.


    I could sell all of them for top dollar literally within minutes. Even the ones only an inch long were prized for psionic circuits, used in neural-linked power armor and high-end datajacks. The major ones, six inches or more, were lusted after by Ten Mindblades across the galaxy.


    Now, I had to determine what I was going to keep, what I was going to sell, and what I was going to give away.


    I also had to carve them up, as mucho appropriate bling would be coming my way if they were already carved up. I''d literally be making a thousand credits an hour doing the work.


    Man, I really needed to get myself some help. There was just so much work to do, and I couldn''t just wait around while everyone was laboring to get to Seven and stacking modifiers to do high-end work. And I knew just where to go to do so...


    ----------------


    -I''d like to buy two hundred and fifty-six birthing/cloning vats.-


    Philius /blinked at me in Markspace. -That''s a rather impressive order.- Cloning tech was generally used for organ replacement, although high-end psis might use it to get a new body for themselves. It was never quite as good as the original, but youth often made up for it.


    Birthing vats were similar to those used by the undergangs, used to mass-produce intelligent family members from birth to whatever age was desired. They came with knowledge implanting tech so a lot of tedious education could be skipped, directly imprinting the newborn with the desired knowledge.


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    -Yes, and I''ll need clearance for them. However, I won''t be needing them on a continuous basis, per se.- I frowned as I thought further. -Then again, I might...-

 335 Far Future, Ch. 45 – Let’s Use some Future Tech...

    -Where did you get the number from?- he /asked me, interested.


    -It is the number of girls missing from Wendlerton Academy in the incident where I came here.-


    I /felt him purse his lips. -You know what happened to them?- he had to /ask.


    -They are waiting to be reborn and go off on the Warp Gods.-


    He was thoughtfully silent for a short time. -How will this be financed?- he /asked calmly.


    I fed him my visuals, and raked my eyes along the tables filled with great triangular patterns of sand wurm teeth.


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    His breath /hissed out. Not for the money implications, the amount of money he could throw around was practically unlimited with his authority... but seeing a collection of sand wurm teeth like that was a first time even for him.


    -You''ve got complete sets...- Psicrafters would go apeshit for a complete set. -How did you kill them?-


    I fed him the kill method, and he kind of did a double-take. -Woman, you are insane!- he /breathed, but not without some amusement.


    -I''ll prep one for you and Dorval.- I /informed him. He didn''t miss the implications of that. They''d be getting an extraordinary object to include in a Blade Focus.


    -I''m not a Mindblade,- he /reminded me, not a little wistfully.


    -Please. Hold out your hand like I am.- I /broadcast what I was doing, and he hesitantly mimicked my precise position. -Do THIS.-


    His mind jerked as he complied automatically in synch, his thoughts wrenching in an unfamiliar manner, and he found himself staring at the crystalline turquoise long knife in his hand, wrought of solidified force, threads of gold and silver winding delicately through it.


    -You''re going to take the Force of Will Mastery all the way to the end, and devote all the PP to stabilizing and growing your Mind Blade,- I /told him in no uncertain terms. -That will keep your other psi-powers absolutely stable and independent of the PP''s you have to devote to your mindblade, and leave you with a backup weapon nobody needs to know you have.-


    He stared at the sword of his soul for a long minute, /nodding to me silently. -I can authorize the purchase and use of the vats, and if you have the funds, that would be even better. I have a contact or two among the Mentats who would be very happy indeed to arrange the auction of whatever teeth you are willing to sell. You should have no difficulty raising the requisite funds.-


    -Excellent. Let me know where to deliver them.-


    ---


    His Markdoor was silently closed. Philius sat back in his chair and looked at the ceiling, thinking furiously.


    He has spent the last three years watching Sama Rantha slowly build up herself and her organization, giving only quiet and subtle help, watching her reputation, ability, and followers rise as she did. He had sent her Strikers, to receive her Marks and be Opened to Null Psionics, and they were now among his most prized strike teams, proven in repeated conflicts to be almost mind-numbingly resistant to both the Warp and enemy psionics.


    Then he had quietly agreed to take a Mark himself, and finally understood what his men (and women) were talking about.


    He had never been in contact with a mind that was so terrifyingly intelligent. He had tested Mechanist minds that had been logic-enhanced, and in specific areas might be able to rival her speed and clarity of thought... but not overall.


    And of course, they had none of the depth, terrifying clarity, brimming emotional power, and massive force of presence and will radiating off of her, all overlaid with a serenity and harmony that was both sublime and utterly terrifying.


    If he didn''t know better, he might have thought she was manipulating his mind, but she did not and could not spend psionic energy. The influence she had on him was because she was just that damn awesome.


    If she had been willing to spread her Marks among people of influence, she would already be one of the most powerful people in the city, and only getting stronger. As it stood, she did not even control of a million people, a mere drop in a mega-city that housed two billion-plus.


    But she was growing, and it was from the ground up.


    He frowned slightly. Vat-grown had widely known high-end limitations. The unstable minds wrought from vat-indoctrination couldn''t support spiritual growth above Six. Vat-born who exceeded that Level were all mad, quickly falling to the Warp.


    He couldn''t see Sama making such a basic mistake, even if somehow she could recycle souls!... She couldn''t possibly restrict her followers to Six, her doctrine of performance was designed to get people to break Six and step into Seven in unprecedented numbers. The slow and inexorable rise of her Green and Gold, and the Ghost Knights especially, bore witness to how effective her methods were.


    Really, with someone like her shining on the other side of your Markdoor, telling you that you could do everything she could do, who would not be inspired to a ridiculous degree?


    Vat-born... what was she going to do with vat-born?


    He put it from his mind. There were rumors of a demented band of Klaw adherents coming from the Wastes to investigate...


    ==========


    An indeterminate amount of time not long ago...


    My benchmark for doing the regression was a 30 Charisma and Wisdom, and being a Ten. I figured at that time I would have experienced enough to solidify my own personality in the event I was tapping into something really big or bad or something.


    After all, my spirit came out of the Warp. Dunno how Mom gathered it, but there were odds I was going to be looking at something weird.


    Peeling back the walls of reincarnation was about force of personality and will, forcing away the Styxian/Lethean wipe to look at who I''d used to be, and see what I''d been. Regardless if it was good or bad, it meant I had a history above and beyond being another Sama Rantha in this life, and even if I knew I wasn''t my mom-me, this would solidify that belief into concrete reality.


    The incarnate wall swiftly receded under my will, the stream of post-birth life that started out as such a blur before the Sama Rantha template was stamped upon me flowed to that point of light where everything began, and under my focus, was opened wide.


    To reveal almost nothing.


    I looked out onto great emptiness, except for one thing. It floated there, a single instance of time, like a spot of frozen memory that had happened and stopped, occupying all the time that had actually passed back here.


    Nothing here, cold serenity, extending nowhere. There was only a frozen image of a golden-haired, blue-eyed young woman with blue-black scars on her face and black nails, who I recognized instantly.


    That was the auto-visual of Sama Rantha that came with my template. But there was no life or sense of time about it, it was just a frozen moment of thought... right before I was born...


    I quirked a smile despite myself, looked around at the blankness.


    I was either a totally new soul, or I''d been made from the purified energy of the Warp, which amounted to the same thing. Which was cool; it meant I was the first incarnation for my soul, and setting a big ol'' standard for those who came after me. I was the Exemplar Lite, so I was the standard...


    Yeah, it meant some choice had been removed from who I could have been... but I was an Exemplar Lite of basically a custom Hag race, and giving me the Sama template had made me an instant ass-kicker without having to go through the whole growing-up process. Or, to put it another way, I was in my growing-up process now, without having to deal with having a child''s 6 Wisdom, or something.


    Sama Rantha II, for sure.


    So, why had mom done this? I zipped up to the image, which was basically a blot of frozen memory.


    Well, damn. She had stored a memory inside my non-existent pre-incarnation, keeping it out of the akasha, until I was strong enough to find and deal with it. Toooo sneaky...


    Okay, let''s see what she had to say...


    ============


    I tapped the vat in front of me as I walked by.


    The Sweiss installers had done their jobs well, but, they were the Sweiss.


    I had removed the memory feeds and the subtle programs they had added to them, taken out the data loggers they''d installed to be transmitted to them, and removed all the transmission and retention readers and feeders that were in place, on every single one of the tubes and the monitors and computers attached to them.


    Vakker-tech had sublimated the crucial programming dealing with nutrition and growth, and there was no indoctrination going to be taking place here... because I didn''t need there to be.


    Two hundred and fifty-six vats were growing little people inside.


    All girls.


    All with the brands of the Curse on them, which had also formed nine Marks around their waists, and under their Skin, the same Tats I had on mine.


    Everything provided by the Curse, because Mom was a total bitch and had sublimated the Hag Curse in the other direction.


    The original purpose of the Hag Curse was to punish evil souls for their deeds. It had been warped into a perversion of sacrificing innocents to create more Hags and spread more evil.


    Mom was now twisting it in the other direction, using both circumstances. She was applying the Curse right at birth, and to souls both evil, because they had died that way, and innocent, because they had been psy-washed that way, and reincarnated.


    All the girls of Wendlerton Academy... she had sucked their souls away, Cursed them with her own Hag Rantha Curse, and basically waited for me to get old enough to bring them back.


    I was an Exemplar Lite. Following the inheritance rules, my children would be Advanced... +4 to all Stats, but losing all the other ExLite goodies. It was still a massive bump on the starting road. They''d have the exact same starting Stats I did... my children were basically clones as much as children, not surprising for a Curse, which all had Lawful origins somewhere.


    The only difference would be their souls were true reincarnations, and they''d look like their Other Mothers... their old selves. But High-G nymphals...


    Annis reproduction was actually as much about the spirit as the genetics. These girls were literally their own mothers at this point, their genecodes had been waiting on fully primed eggs in my ovaries to be brought out. Given my control over my reproduction cycles, I had stopped anything resembling a period before it could start, and hadn''t really looked at my ovaries to consider the fact I could get pregnant all by my lonesome...


    Which would be a real time-waster, even if I had multiple kids, and they matured with, ah, demonic speed...

 336 Far Future, Chapter 46 – The Power of the Rantha Hag Curse

    Good ol'' Mom had used me to set the standard for the Hag Rantha race, I was the Exemplar Lite thereof. She had left out all the extreme shit that had been forced upon her, and actually given me the advancement profile. These girls of mine were thus Cursed to be Rantha Hags... just like me!


    Mom''s revenge on the Hag Curse had taken it full circle. She was now drawing on its incredible power to bootstrap in a bunch of Rantha Hags to help me get things rolling here.


    I laughed quietly to myself. They''d open their eyes as Karmic Sixes, with an utterly unbelievable bloodline to take advantage of. Of course, they''d all be Nulls, no deviations, and that was strictly by intent. Holy Mithar, a Powered with this bloodline would be so susceptible to temptation it wasn''t funny...


    I sighed and continued walking, my Null extended out and caressing the fragile bare Nulls of the little girls growing around me, looking for troubles, even as the data dump from each tube assured me that medically, everything was just fine.


    The Sweiss technicians had walked into the room where they''d installed all the tubes, found them all gone for their ''regular check-up'', and had no way to contact me to castigate me for my carelessness in not letting them do their regular monitoring. Aie, all they could do was report me for renegade use of vat-tech, and take their money, and their attempt to suborn what I was doing, and go away...


    Things were going to be very, very different in a few months.


    -----


    I reviewed this custom racial class I was the ExLite of that Mom had basically customized for me, and had to shake my head. No, no, she wasn''t a power-gamer or nothing...


    She''d blended sixteen or more different races into mine, using Humanity for the base, and then exploding off it from there. I didn''t want to think how many she''d been forced to take herself.


    Nominally, this Rantha Class should have stopped at Seventeen, which is where the rote Succubi advance stopped. However... Elven Racial Levels had no cap, AND... Hamadryad Levels capped at Twenty, although they were Fey Levels, so ugh.


    So, effectively no cap on my Racial Levels. It was just there was no ''automatic advance'' into Eternal, like Briggs had with his Behemoth Gorilla Levels... and for most practical purposes, the supplemental benefits stopped at Seventeen.


    The most powerful thing, of course, was how incredibly front-loaded the whole design schematic was. Compared to humans, this was just insane. Of course, the Karmic load was much, much higher, but since I was so much more capable, who cared?


    First of all, all of us started with the same Stat array, which was derived from the one applied to her, the original Sama Rantha block. So, Strength 14, Intellect 15, Wisdom 11, Dexterity 18, Constitution 18, Charisma 10.


    That was definitely a superior Stat Array, by any measures... and we could Nog it all to 18 bases. And got the free Caster Levels to do just that...


    We got Resistance to all Elements equal to 10x Racial Level. Thunder maxed at 30, but since it stacked with a Vajra, kept climbing. At 6th, the other Resistances fell back to +10 to Vajra... but the Acid, Fire, Cold, and Lightning turned into immunity, while the Resistance stayed for things that bypassed Immunity... like Primal, Divine, and Eldritch versions of such energies.


    We were all programmed to come in at Rantha/3, Expert and Melee/3, Null Psion/2, Psi-Warrior/2 (Bladebelle), Null Soulshaper/2. Instant Vajra Mark IV possible. Health and Soak maxed, unbelievably tough. Still had to choose our Feats and Masteries, but those were almost predetermined if we wanted to get the Vajra off the bat.


    I thought we gained a point of DR/Holy Silver per Level, but it had another component of DR/Cold Iron, +1 every OTHER level, them Fey stuff at work. Holy Silver maxed out at 15, Cold Iron at 10. Our learned Crystal Dragon stacked with both, of course, as did my ExLite. So even if they did get their hands on Holy Silver, there was something else in the way.


    Or a +V weapon, whereupon DR/- would still be there.


    Also, started with immunity to disease, paralyzation, mortal poisons, death magic, curses, and petrifaction, and a +4 bonus to all other poisons on top of that...


    Huge front load of Stats, on average +1 per Level up to Ten. +2 to Charisma through Eight, however. Which meant even at a starting base of 10, effective Charisma was... 20 for both me and my erstwhile daughters, with Marks yet to be Powered up. At Ten, Twelve, Fourteen, and Sixteen, it increased another point...


    Strength increased by +1 through Sixteen. Dexterity increased at the same rate, with +2''s at Four, Eight, Twelve, and Sixteen. Constitution did the same. Wisdom and Intellect had only minor increases after Eight.


    Scaling claw/UA damage ending up at 2-16 at Sixteen from Lilitu, counterpart to monkish Ki UA damage improvements...


    Natural Armor increased by +1 per Level through Twelve. Our skin and flesh would be as rigid and powerful as dragonscales.


    Infravision, ultravision, and devasight at One. Devilsight and Tremblesense at Three, along with mistsight, smokesight, watersight, spiritsight, blindsight, blindsense, and immunity to illusions...


    Seeing the Invisible kicked in at Four. Planar Sense at Five. True Seeing was active at Eight.


    A bunch of abilities required specific Karmic investments, as many were attached to Soul Magic. I ran down those and shook my head.


    Speak with Animals and Plants at One. Damn. Although it did flash up the Whiskers of the Wild while active, and advanced to Understand Everyone at Eight. Huh.


    I could hear telepathy if I chose, but not broadcast... and I could eavesdrop, just like listening in on conversations.


    Natural Fast Healing was 1 at Three, +1 every third Level, capping at 5/rd at 15. Stacked with ExLite and WarShifter levels... my self-healing was going to be quite impressive, especially with Blood and Soul also tacking on. I could potentially reach 20/round... the girls, 15.


    Better yet, Regeneration/Holy Silver, 1 point at Five, every fifth level, max of 3. That meant without Holy Silver attacks, I was almost impossible to kill...


    I had the option of growing a Third Eye. If I did, Medusa Petrification was on the table, among other things... so was Charming Gaze... which would stack nastily with a Lilitu tail... and the (holy crap) Gaze of Wrath of a Ghaele? The Hell?


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    Manufacturing poisons in my mouth... and tails? Yeah...


    Scent, had, okay, came in at Two...


    Grace was an option, bonus to saves and deflection to AC, but had to buy it up, and it was Level-dependent... still scarily strong, since it had no true cap...


    Holy crap. Nymph''s Blinding Beauty was available at Eight? Nereid Aura at 12? Nymph Killing Beauty at Sixteen? It was basically enchanting a magic item as yourself, for a horrifically strong passive, but still...


    I rubbed my forehead...


    Animated hair, right out of the Erinyes...


    Demonic gifts, +8 to Bluff, Perception, and Stealth. Okay, we were all born liars and killers...


    Hamadryad proficiency with wood, +8 Crafting Checks. Well, wasn''t that all kinds of useful here in the future tech world...


    Swim speed from Nymph, Sirine, and Nereid. Good lord. Potential water-breathing at Four...


    Succubi Energy Drain kiss... oh good heavens, it was an alternate procreation method...


    Natural Ghost Touch, poor incorps...


    Up to four extra arms...


    Up to nine tails, one primary, four lilitu, four fox-like from those kitsune... which reminded me that I needed to make one...


    Wings, angelic or demonic, as desired...


    Horns... why?... Well, gore/ram attack, ornamental? Best slaved to a Halo Crown effect... about as necessary as fuzzy ears. She actually threw that in? Okay, turning into a Warp monstrosity hadn''t gotten rid of her sense of whimsical humor...


    Increased base movement, from 40'' at One to 60 at Sixteen... Increased base hand attack speed from Lilitu, along with a +1/Level Attack bonus, both Melee and Ranged... and the d10 Hit Die for effect... 8 Skill points per Level, and all Skills as viable picks... although the basic skills were basically Locked In Stone for us (Perception, Stealth, Intimidation, Bluff, Survival, Athletics, Sense Motive, Animal Empathy). Our Intellect bonuses were ours to pick, however...


    Whole face an eyeball, didn''t actually need eyes... possible at Ten. Trying to figure why I would need that, unless I was blinded... but it wasn''t like I was susceptible to gaze weapons. I suppose I could wear a blindfold and still see perfectly...


    Greater Dop Levels? Extended the use of Altering Self off the Marks, telepathic listening... and being able to consume genetics.


    Oh, that wasn''t ominous in its implications at all...


    And the cr¨¨me de la cr¨¨me, bonus effective Caster Levels...


    One Cleric, Druid, and Minstrel Caster Level per Level, per Ahren, Nymph, and Lillend. One Arcane Level per Level, per Sylph and Elf combined. One Favored Level per Level, up to Twelve, per Lilithi. Stacked with Null Levels for Matrix and bonus spell advancement...


    Good lord, all that spellcasting ability, and none of us were even Powered. And while we had to pay for it, it was still basically a non-time thing, as we didn''t have to switch Classes to advance, just take the stuff!


    Ugh. It was insane. Only six times normal costs? The defenses alone were insane!


    Okay, okay, if we were Powered, it would be even worse. I couldn''t imagine the sheer spellcasting Power a Rantha Hag could have if it were true.


    This was what happened when you turned the Hag Curse on its ear. We were the counterbalance against all those puffed-up evil spellcasting crones everywhere out there in the multiverse... and the Evil Soulborn they treated with and evolved into over time.


    Just insane. Well, I suppose it was good these girls were going to be coming in preprogrammed with human-level expectations of power. Just like me, they''d know how totally souped-up they were, and have empathy for normal folks because of it.


    They''d also know just how much Karma it was going to take to advance these sweet, sweet Rantha Levels. Damn! I thought I wasn''t earning that much Karma, it took me so long to get to Ten despite everything I was doing and the Seals feeding me. Turns out it was because I was just so overpowered, and the universe was fair making me purchase all this shit...


    It was still the best decision. I was almost sorry I didn''t get free Psion Levels out of this, but I considered that I still had to do something, right?


    I considered where I was going and what I would have to do from here.


    I was a Natural Swordswoman and had an unhealthy thirst for personal combat and beating up stuff bigger than me, especially if they were male, and really if they were Evil unrepentant bastards.


    However, it was a stupid way to fight in an era of ranged combat, so I was going to have to be up on my ranged combat skills. Likewise, if I didn''t learn all the vehicular combat modes, I was a complete fool.


    All of which required time, practice, levels, Karma.


    Let''s see. Bike. Car. Heavy Machinery. Tank. Hovercraft. Copter. Airship. Spaceship. Power Armor. Mechsuit/Walker Mech.


    Starfighter. Spaceship. Ship of the Line... Space Station? Meh, more like a city manager, that...


    Ugh. It made my head hurt. 13 more sets of skills to max out?


    Well, Pilot, Driver, and Mech-User were also Classes, and there''d certainly be overlap between them, and there''d be synergies between them.


    Well, I really only had to expend time on Melee and Archer for combat classes, Psion and Psy-Warrior for PP, and the rest were basically support skills. If I needed to know those Classes in more depth, I could take Levels in them as I went?...


    Ugh, I rolled my eyes. No, I needed huge investments in technology trees and the supporting theoretical knowledge. I had a 40 Intellect, and the +15 Skills per Level was far from enough to do everything I needed to do. Ugh. What a horrible feeling. I was insanely, ungodly smart, and I knew it. But there was just so much stuff I had to Know to do the job right. Yeah, when my daughters, such as they were, woke up, I''d be able to delegate some of the work, but the fact remained that I needed to have max Ranks in the Tech stuff to drive things forwards, and break out from under the Mekkers.


    So much crap to know, and not enough time...

 337 Far Future, Ch. 47– Time to do Some Research

    Now, it was time to take data and make some impossible deductions from it.


    I didn''t get my Ranks of knowledge by studying Imperial Axiomatic Modular Technology. No, I downloaded them right out of the Akasha, that psychic network that connects all of the human unconscious, where all that has happened is recorded, and if you can muck with time, all that humanity WILL experience is recorded, too.


    This meant I could dip into knowledge way outside that of the Mekkers and the Empire, including a lot that was lost, forgotten, or suppressed, and I could bring all of that shit together for effect.


    The key thing was knowing so many possible ways to do FTL. However, the level of sensory data required to deduce and construct some of these things was TL 15 and higher... or only gainable by a Caster or Psi of that level, who could directly perceive the variations and changes in reality to that level and so give me the information that I wanted to know.


    Happily, I had enough connections with academia and the Umbrans that getting hold of the proper theoretical data actually wasn''t all that hard. After all, the Mekkers used the Scientific Method ad nauseum, trying to rebuild the technology they were slowly losing a grip on, and so they had done massive amounts of work on gravity, particle physics, mass, space-time, and how all sorts of energies and powers interacted with them.


    They wouldn''t supply me with the technology to actually do all of that stuff, however, but that was fine. What I wanted at this point was the data, the metrics and measurements.


    There are a ton of different FTL systems. The thing was, some were possible, and some were not, dependent on the particle and dimensional physics of wherever you were at. If you knew the possibilities and the key datapoints to look for, it actually wasn''t all that hard to find out what was possible, and then I would just have to finetune whatever I made to the specific set of data for the Warp Realm. Eezy-peezy, right?


    Well, no. Most FTL stuff was TL 11+ and higher to actually invent. Theory you could do at Ten. But at least I''d know which way to direct my attention.


    So, I got endless amounts of data on physics, paraphysics, non-physics, anti-physics, neophysics, phypsics, metaphysics, and manaphysics. Living in realms where magic, psionics, and spiritual powers can manifest gets very complex and messy. Some of the information I was looking for the local intellectuals had, but literally didn''t know what it actually was or could be used for. That was fine by me. It had kept them from exploring tech trees that could have really alleviated a lot of the problems they were facing... or blown the galaxy apart, take your pick.


    The Empire used an FTL system called Helldiving. Literally, they were ripping open the Veil and diving towards and along the edge of the Warp, using dimensional relationships through a fifth space to decrease the distance between two points. What they called a Throne Field, and I called a big Protection from Chaos effect, enabled by the temple-esque construction of and Law Runes scribed all over their damn ships, kept them mostly safe from demons in the Warp, who all had Chaos as a trait and so could not touch them.


    The problem was that the Warp was a place of great Evil, and not ALL the things there were Chaotic. In addition, space wasn''t the only thing in flux in the Warp; time could be going forwards and back, too, especially if a Warp God had an interest in something. Ships were lost in the Warp all the time, from Throne Field failures or simple temporal storms depositing them into the past or the future, or storms of psychic energy sweeping them who knew where...


    Hell-diving. Who invents a bloody system to go diving into madness and insanity and thinks it''s actually a viable FTL method? And even puts great glowing golden "Eat Me" Terrestrial and Celestial Beacons out there to show the creatures of the Warp exactly where all the fat food and tender souls are located?


    Ugh. Just, ugh. Oh, look, the Morpheus system actually had a historical record of someone trying to use etheric translation into the realm of dreams to do this. They drove themselves right into id-demon catastrophe, and the entire system had nightmares of them being tortured insanely for the next decade, which drove the entire population mad and ended in having to Omega Sanction the whole system... (13)


    So, research materials. Math, data, information gleaned from advanced systems I''d never be allowed to touch, but the raw information was fine. I began to figure out the underlying physics of this reality, and so I could affect change as soon as I hit Eleven.


    So it began...


    ----------------------


    Star Trek Warp Drive was basically spatial bending in all its various forms and configurations. Unusable, the Veil was too unstable. Using this method would rip the Veil open and spill out the Warp into Reality just like gutting someone. It would be an unmitigated disaster. Someone had probably tried it out and been sucked into the Rift, and then all research down that path was frozen. There were a month of crunching a lot of different variations of this method...


    (1)


    ---


    Transwarp Conduits, compress that tearing down to a localized tube for even greater effect. Sure. Instead of slicing space open, let''s just burn a solid line of it, and when the conduit collapses, you are trailing a hungry and ever-widening swathe of a planar breach behind you, that''s going to eat you and the star system you are going to when you get there...


    So, no, compounding and amplifying a mistake does not make it better.


    ---


    Star Wars Hyperdrive, trying to access a higher space... no, that didn''t work, because hyperspace and subspace both led into the Warp, which had basically shifted meta-dimensional configurations in their pet Realm to be the end of most of them. Higher and lower dimensions both led into the Warp, so this was basically just an excuse for the Warp to come in and wave greetings to the unprepared. Those who had tried this had jumped into hyperspace and never come out. (2)


    More months lost as all those avenues ended up in the Warp...


    ---


    Traveler-style jump drives, basically teleportation variants. This was technically possible, but not without psionic energies. Doing it at an interplanetary level was TL 13, between neighboring systems TL 15, and open-ended galaxy-crossing TL 17. The amount of energy required meant Point Singularity power sources, increasing to White Hole, Zero Point, or Dark Matter Quantum Waves, and yeah, the recharge rate was a thing. But without a psion with that level of skill to plug in, you basically tore the Veil apart at entry and exist, and the hole would get bigger the larger the ship was... and stick around rather too long... (3)


    Again, someone had likely tried it, and the Warp had reached out, ate them, and probably a nearby planet. If they tried it at 17, it probably ate a whole system. Teleporting that much mass was not going to be something easy to do. Teleporting between planets and stars was going to be limited to excessively powerful people, on the level of Archmages and Archpsions.


    It would have been quite sweet if this could work, but no. Every variant that dealt with that much mass resulted in enough spatial rips to make it totally unfeasible without a divine hand cleaning up after you...


    There was a weird version of this that involved extremely advanced illusions, i.e. making illusions reality, so simply fooling Reality into putting you where you wanted to go. The mechanics were all there for this to work... if you were a TL 14+ Magic Caster, and here in Warp Realm, that meant the Warp Gods had your soul. Just an alternate style of Teleporting, Gating, or Portaling for those that liked to mess with reality. If you were dumb and tried this without their approval, you''d probably find your illusion changing in ways you really, REALLY didn''t want... and then your reality was going to be the absolute worst... (13)


    ---


    Starfalling, riding gravity waves towards a distant target, basically hypergravity distorting space-time, ever-accelerating as you went, yet being shunted back to normal space and inertia as soon as the effect was dropped. This would work outside a galaxy, as the lump masses of gravity could be congealed, but would be slowed and diverted by multiple gravity wells inside a larger system. It was viable for extragalactic travel, but would slow down tremendously the denser the stars were. This was used by the xenosym bio-fleets, from what I gathered... (4)


    ---


    Necrojumping... the fuck. That actually worked? (5)


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    I looked over the signatures of FTL records of the past few millennia for various races, and the Mi-Go ships and the Greys both used this drive, along with the cerevores and the cephalids. The negative energy they left behind was a telltale marker.


    It required the sacrifice of a living soul, basically using the momentary opening to the afterlife to bridge the Warp in and out, hiding the breach within the aura of death, sealing the opening smoothly in and out behind the jumper. It was basically a version of hyperjumping, with the same kind of energy requirements... but also requiring the sacrifices of living beings; the bigger the ship, the more sentients had to die. So, mass slaving or cloning, and then incinerating them both physically and spiritually... perfect Mythos travel method...


    I flagged the probable energy signatures for this, as I would be very, very surprised if some human powers considered this a cheap cost for doing this kind of thing.


    ---


    Flow drive, riding dark matter conduits. Ahhhh... unfortunately there were dark matter entities who didn''t enjoy bullets speeding through their living areas. They were called the Anti-Life, since they were made of non-baryonic matter, and given the absolute interdiction on playing around with Dark Matter as a power source, it seemed there were some real consequences to messing with them... (6)


    ---


    Phase drive: go out of phase with matter, and ignore all spatial restrictions on mass once you do... okay, if you tried this at FTL speeds, the bonds between and within atoms couldn''t keep up and you basically disintegrated, your phase field went down, and all that FTL kinetic energy released itself nicely in normal space in a happy storm of freed gluons, probably shredding everything within a considerable distance. (7)


    Otherwise, all vibrational probabilities eventually breached the Veil and fed you right into the Warp, which would accommodate ALL your phasing hungrily...


    ---


    Using black holes as spatial gates... okay, this was technically possible, a combination of hyperjump and warp drive along the wormhole, basically sliding around the Warp on a hypercompressed tube of reality to the far side. But it was TL 17 shit to set up, and you had no control whatsoever over ingress and egress points. Sure, once it was set up and distributed, it would be fine, as long as you could maintain the tech level, and would turn black holes into massive on and off ramps, i.e. hyperlanes. (8) But nobody said the hyperlane was going to exit in the same galaxy, and how were you going to get back?


    ---


    There was a variant on this that looked for spatial tears and imperfections in reality to do the same thing, using gravity and heliofield interactions among cosmic strings between stars. The Warp REALLY wanted you to try those things, meaning they were actually little more than Helldiving portals... that would stay open rather too long if they were used... (9)


    ---


    Inertialess drives, removing inertia entirely and so making FTL possible... (10)


    Okay, the key here was developing an anti-neutrino and gray matter field that would actually enable you to avoid the impacts of matter and dark matter, or you''d just be pushed away from every star by ceaseless neutrino pressure. Furthermore, you had to have force fields that could shift aside normal matter, as at FTL even vacuum was almost infinitely dense. Trying to do this within a star system would be very limited in speed, or in any areas with lots of gas in the void, like a nebula... but the emptier the area, the faster you could go, as long as you developed an inertialess drive...


    The Tekrons were confirmed to have inertialess drives, using a combination of gravity and polarized neutrino filters for propulsion for both tactical and strategic movement, letting them blink around in tactical ship combat, and run between systems at multiple parsecs per hour speed.


    This would be the preferred method of travel, getting a Bergenholm to work and ''going free''. However, the base tech was again at 17, so I would have to get there before I could understand how to do what was possible. Hrm...


    ---


    Tachyon Drive, using FTL particle saturation to change the extant physical laws to keep effective time stable, multiplying speed as you drew closer and closer to the speed of light-


    The heck, that was possible?


    I checked the tachyon characteristics and the spatial harmonics again, in more detail.


    Well, shit. It wouldn''t work in a major gravity well, but as long as you had some way of getting a significant fraction of the speed of light, it would do just fine in the short run... and if you could get a high enough percentage of the speed of light, it could rival inertialess, and might even be a precursor tech! Of course, that meant getting your sub-light speed to five sigmas of c...


    Or, if you were extreme, move perpendicular to time, or stop time entirely until you got where you wanted to go...(11)


    Someone throw a Bergenholm we could replicate at me, please...


    Okay, but it meant we needed a really good sub-light drive system, beyond mere propulsion or default gravity-jam engines. Most inertial compensators couldn''t deal with anything beyond .3 or .35c, especially in low vac where particle friction rapidly added up. The Elvar could hit .4 with their solar sails, navigating the magnetics, particle storms, and gravity waves of a solar system like an ocean, but nobody else had that level of tech, and most just relied on brutally powerful engines for propulsion and gravitics for maneuverability. Engines combined with inertial compensators did make for better acceleration than gravitics alone, after all...


    --------


    Wait, what were those gluon numbers? And the weak force? Did those synch up with inertial harmonics? Gravity shearing? Paramagnetic bubble surfing? Strand theory? Psionic focus and redirection?


    Holy shit, they did...


    Atomic vibration redirection, a neglected subset of the phase drive! Instead of vibrating atoms to be out of phase with normal matter, change them so they are vibrating in the same direction. So instead of requiring an exterior force to move in one direction, they are naturally vibrating that way under their own power. It was a directed field effect, instead of a kinetic transfer. (12)


    Depending on how much atomic motion you could strip and redirect, you could get a considerable fraction of the speed of light. The better your inertial compensators, the higher your drive numbers could be. If and when you reached inertialess, you''d have a propulsion system right there and ready. As a bonus, since you were transforming vibrations into velocity, your matter got immensely strong, as the stress against atomic bonds was turned into unidirectional motion, meaning your matter got very, very tough.


    And as far as I could tell, nobody was using this. The dead end of phasing technology meant this simply wasn''t a viable avenue to pursue. The energy demands of phasing tech + normal drives meant a sublight version simply wasn''t viable, and the increased vulnerability of a phasing vessel meant it couldn''t be used in any kind of a combat situation. Using the phase field as its own kind of drive was not something that had occurred to anyone.


    I had my tech tree! I just needed to get to Eleven, and the Harmonic Drive and Tachyon Bubble Drive would be things...


    I gave my researching thoughtstreams after months of rigid analysis, commissioning more data of very weird sorts from multiple locations, processing metrics, matching up variables, and hoping for an easier solution than the ones I got. Oh, well...


    ++++++++++++++++++++++++


    1) There is actually both a Star Trek movie and SNG episode about the effects of Warp Drives on subspace, and it can indeed be torn open.


    2) Translating into higher dimensions is also how ship travel in the Honor Harrington universe works.


    3) This is basically ranged teleporting. The Power Sources are from various sources, including Stargate, the Marvel Universe, Schlock Mercenary, and Lensman.


    4) Used by the Tyrannid Hive Fleets and to a degree the Tau of Warhammer 40k.


    5) Invented by Mick Fernette, a friend of mine. This is a Mythos-based FTL drive.


    6) The Anti-Life are variants of the Pa''anuri of Schlock Mercenary.


    7) This is basically all variant of sideways dimensional shifting using probability, as vibrating atoms out of phase basically means going sideways into parallel dimensions, another trope of travel. Shades of Hitchhiker''s Guide and Doctor Who, among others.


    8) Another Honorverse tech, and Babylon 5, and any place that uses warp gates, spatial rifts, or hyperspace portals or any other such things to traverse long distances from fixed on/off ramps.


    9) Planetfall''s tech.


    10) Straight out of the Lensman books, the first true Space Opera series. Bergenholms had to be ''invented'' by the Arisians, a race of virtual gods, justifying their TL 17.


    11) My own invention! The variant pointed out by Alotofbooksnotime is Stopping Time until you get where you want to go, then starting time again, which is the Tachyon Drive taken to infinity. This is similar to a JLA book where they mentioned running perpendicular to Time.


    12) This is how Northstar and Aurora of the Marvel Universe gain their superspeed.


    13) Credit LarryZarus for pointing out this amusing alternative to Helldiving and Teleportation variants!

 338 Far Future, Ch. 48– Vats and Hags

    So, time to exploit OTHER tech trees. Like, vat-growing humans.


    My Racial Levels were sick and grossly overpowered and cost six times a normal humanoid advancement schema. But instead of a ''create false persona, grow it, and twist it to Evil upon maturity'', my Hag Curse came with ''install the Sama Rantha template''.


    If it was installed as an infant, they''d be a Human Hagchild baby with the Sama Rantha mental template, but no Karma; awake, aware, intelligent, and a baby. At maturity, the Rantha Hag Curse would kick in, and they''d become a Rantha Hag... and the template that already existed would just absorb the reapplication of Sama Rantha harmlessly.


    If I just set them to mature, the same thing would happen, but they''d walk out of the upgrade exactly where I had, as a Rantha Hag, although Advanced instead of ExLite. The Hag Curse would completely bypass all problems mental and physical with being vat-grown as it transformed body and soul into a Rantha Hag.


    The ''Brand'' of the Curse had been altered to pass on our Marks and the Tats. They still had to be powered up with Karma over time, but they didn''t have to be MADE. Sickly convenient, and saved hundreds of goldweight.


    How it did all this while keeping us as Nulls... damn, Mom pulled off some sick stuff with whatever genetics she passed on.


    Mom''s memory dump had included everything up until I''d been let go, so I knew perfectly well what had been done to her now, what her true intentions were, what needed to be done... and some really crazyass ways on how to do it...


    I really did need to conquer the galaxy. Her brain was working at dizzying levels, but the Warp was still ultimately derivative of Reality here. She couldn''t do what needed to be done, because her Null was so heavy it forced her right back out of the mortal realm here again after too short a time.


    That also meant her excursion here to drop me off had been completely unnoticed on the level of the Warp, as her Null basically removed that area of reality from conjunction with Warpspace. Since everyone who wasn''t there with me was basically convinced it was a Warp infiltration gone completely bad, the cover story perpetrated and nobody looked into it further, especially since all the Wendlerton alumni ended up getting shot, and a whole lot of excitement ended up happening in high society across multiple worlds. It had kept the Coronals and Umbrans hopping, brought in an Imperial Fleet to stop two planetary rebellions, started three civil wars, and required Omega Sanction on another when Warp resonance basically tore open endless rifts to the Warp, and uncounted demons spilled out...


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    The Amoureans were very good at what they did... especially when under sentences of death. Mom sure knew how to pick the areas to pop up in, setting off something like that...


    All that happened while I was plinking oozes, spideroids, and other stuff in Downspire. It would have happened in Janus Prime, except they were the first place where the alumni were purged, and they didn''t have a chance to really mess things up... although one of the minor kilo-cities on the opposite side of the planet was now a smoking crater when Amoureans had managed to light off all the fusion reactors and implode the city shield to take the whole city out with them, paens of worship rising to Amourae while a unique show of cross-fusion alkalines burning with so many different lights consumed fifty million lives...


    I felt the nutrients being fed into the tanks, subsumed by the artificial placenta, and being greedily devoured by the hyperactive constitutions of the children. I eyed six of them in particular, whose Constitution Marks were glowing, linked with my own. I could sense the calm workings of the burgeoning mind inside the child, and would instantly know if there was any outside invasion here.


    But the Vakker tech was all arranged in Holy rune-forms, and each Vat had been carved similarly, accentuating the basic Law patterns followed by the Mechanists, and I Interdicted the area every day. Just let someone try to Warp into this place. An attack here would have to be quite direct and powerful, and why would anyone bother with a bunch of non-Powered vat-grown children? It wasn''t like they were super-soldiers. If anyone was looking at that level, they''d even see the girls were Cursed...


    Doomed to fight the Hag Curse, and the Warp Gods that had corrupted their prior existences, until the ends of their days?


    I smiled slightly. That was like a built-in monster lure, priceless for power gamers...


    They were all growing quickly. Three months in Vats to get them to sixteen-year-old equivalents, a third less time than required by normal humans, mostly because they were Advanced and their base Constitutions were beyond human maximums. I''d had to redo a lot of the nutrient base, too, although again the Curse transformation would probably have been enough.


    Man, the Warp Gods were not going to like what Hags could do to them...


    For security purposes, I couldn''t really leave the city right now, as this operation was just too important. It looked like I was going to be doing a lot of crafting and directing over the next few months... and then, then we would see how things would change...


    After all, my little girls were ALL going to want Sword Focuses, and I could hardly disappoint them...


    --------


    Three months actually go by pretty quick when you always have stuff to do that can fill up the time.


    I had 256 Sword Foci to carve using sand wurm teeth, and the Shield Foci to make as well, because why not? And I needed one for myself, too, so no reason not to work on it.


    In between that, there was Opening and Awakening people for the Green and the Gold, concurrently providing education and direction for my Marked, and pursuing research and advancing the state of my Vakker-tech. To relax I''d go running outside the city, kill more sand wurms to make money, then hustle on back. I was never out of direct teleport range of the tubes for more than an hour, and they were actually located on the back end of an inventory warehouse selling women''s clothing. Lots of activity around, nothing to see here...


    We were consolidating the inhabitants of nine bloks now, after taking out Sharkey. Some of the inhabitants didn''t like it, but they were free to move, and we''d help them do so. If they got violent, we got violent. If they got deadly, we got them dead.


    The number of drug users in Sharkey''s areas was naturally waaaay too high. With proceeds from selling sand wurm teeth, I invested in some biochemical equipment, made up some Weird Science formulas for anti-addiction drugs, and force-fed them to literally hundreds of thousands of addicts. The unfortunate bastards found that all the shit they were trying to use did nothing but make them violently sick, nauseous, and the only high they could get was from natural endorphins and eating healthy food. Workers for my hydroponics operations exploded just so they could be around green stuff and smell it, and take away the pangs of withdrawal.


    There was still constant violence. Zwilniks wanted to keep pushing their stuff, there were always customers, and there were always fools who thought selling drugs was an easy way out of poverty. However, these people were finding, more and more, that there were a LOT of eager people on my side who were hungry for something else.


    Karma!


    The biggest problem with the average person is that Leveling up was ephemeral. They couldn''t feel that sensation, of the increase in soul and capability, of advancing and improving and getting better. Their whole lives were spent in the grind of trying to learn and survive, instead of really earning Karma and moving along that path fast.


    The fastest way to earn Karma was to be out there and doing something, defying the default shit of this society, and fighting back against it.


    Also, it was a nice way to discharge a bunch of them Ghost Knight quests, not all of them violently. After all, the dead Habbers weren''t murderers in life, they had different requests and desires. But anyone who was anyone wanted that Road to Seven, and I could open the road, and show them how to get there. They just had to walk it.


    When they had nothing else to shoot for, they went down that road with everything.


    ''Freaking busybodies'' were everywhere, on their own self-imposed quests to do Good Stuff, earn that Karma, and if anyone tried to crack down on them, earn even more Karma that maybe wasn''t so good. Termite Kill-Teams fanned out, cleaning out everything above ground, crawling over everywhere Downspire and the near-Underspire, expanding The Map. Lots of contacts and requests were coming in, often with low or moderate rewards, asking for help. The Goldilocks crew was vetting them, and then the self-dubbed Squires of the Green and Gold were going out to resolve them.


    The ones from kids got special attention.


    The recruits flowing in were constant. People who wanted to do something that mattered were trying to get here and sign up. New people meant new income, new labor, new need for jobs. They had the Skills required as rapidly as I could Mark them, so I was hiring scores to hundreds of people every day as my tech, hydroponic, and security/management industries grew, and the budding anti-addiction industry also looked promising.


    Pushback continued, in ways big and small. It sort of slammed into a burning wall of mindclaws a lot of times, and I and the Goldilocks crew, really, Really, REALLY enjoyed the challenge of tracking back those who attacked me to those who dispatched them. I also had no scruples whatsoever about removing those people, or rather violently suborning them.


    But when the Coronal Knights completed their anti-Warp testing of the Vakker-tech and promptly issued me a contract for basically everything I could produce, it was rather startling how fast some of the violence dropped off.


    Interfering with me and mine was now basically screwing with the Coronals, and neither they nor the Umbrans took that well. It was also a nice excuse for us to get in good with the Juris and gain some devoted support for what we were doing from the government.


    Since demand for Vakker-tech far exceeded supply, naturally the price of it was impressive. Of course, everyone and their mother could duplicate the semantics of the tech, but the Coronals had already tested alternate suppliers of the same stuff I had given them, and mine was demonstrably massively superior to them, every time.


    They didn''t know why, and I wasn''t required to explain. If other people couldn''t duplicate it, that wasn''t my problem.


    But whatever, I now had an income stream whose potential was literally as massive as I wanted to make it. My customers were the highest-ranking organizations in the galaxy!


    Banks were falling over themselves to loan me money to expand, with that contract as collateral. While the Mekkers were reluctant to sell me the highest-end production stuff directly, I had no problems getting stuff to advance steadily up from Tech Level 7, to 8, to 9, offering varying tiers of performance to the Coronals, priced fairly at each Tier... and they bought ALL of it, without hesitation.


    The Umbrans, of course, weren''t going to let the Coronals monopolize everything, and soon came in with their own offers. Like the Coronals, they were a bit miffed that I simply couldn''t spend a billion credits, set up appropriate facilities, employ a few million people, and come roaring to life giving them everything they wanted.


    No, no, no. If they wanted the best stuff, everything had to proceed apace, everyone had to be vetted. If they wanted the next best stuff, maybe half as effective, well, I could probably expand faster...


    They stopped pushing and urged me to devote my time to vetting more people. They were amazed that I could find so many qualified people to work in such facilities without drawing on the guilds who generally educated such workers, but the primary need for guilds was when the workers were treated unfairly. My workers loved working for me, loved that they were making stuff that helped out the Coronal Knights, and I paid them a fair wage with great working conditions.


    And a Mark of Intellect administered with a Karmic Debt at +2 granted one skill point per Level in a Skill I possessed and chose. Like, oh, machining skills, computer programming, high-end manufacturing, engineering of various sorts, electrician and other trades...


    And if they fed it, it could increase to +4 and add another skill set. Synergy bonuses and pay raise time...


    The only thing stopping me was the making of Marks. So... true uber money meant I needed to make more Marks. A lot more Marks. But they were coming, any day now...

 339 Far Future, Ch. 49 – The Second Generation of Hags

    It was time.


    My eyes popped open.


    I could feel the Curse percolating across the Marks of the six I''d spread out among the girls. No interference, no contamination, no infiltration, no corruption.


    I teleported across to Garmaspire, flowing around the Interdiction zones in the way, ending up outside the warehouse. I entered through a side access that wasn''t used much, and skated on down to the main area, threading my way through the bins of clothing and the robots adding and removing boxes of apparel both plain and colorful to the recessed door that couldn''t even be seen from the side access, and stepped inside.


    The Curses were blue and black, and starting to glow golden.


    I was actually going to sit here and watch Hags like myself getting born. It felt kind of surreal.


    I reinforced the Interdiction about this place, making any form of a planar breach nigh impossible short of the direct hand of a god, who shouldn''t even know this bunch of Nulls existed. Then, all I could do is stand there and wait as the Curse sucked in power to each of them, magical power which no human alive dared wield without threatening their soul, and with power older and vaster than any Warp God, put it to work according to its mandate.


    Redemption of the Evil...


    Everything was going fine, power was coursing into the not-at-all identical young women there. Yeah, okay, they could all wear one another''s clothes. But skin and hair colors were all greatly different, as were faces.


    All had black nails and double canines, however. Annis Hagchild 4ever- ugh?


    What?


    I inhaled through six sets of lungs, and my eyes flashed open.


    I was... oh shit...


    Six tubes hissed at the motion, and began to empty as they registered full consciousness. Tubes sucked out liquid from lungs, but it didn''t matter, there was still going to be retching, choking, and rather violent defecation, all to be expected.


    I stared as I went through it six times over.


    The Markdoor was wide open, and I couldn''t close it. The six were circling around my primary self like stars on a crown.


    Their Sama Rantha downloads had instantly harmonized with mine through the Markdoor, and they''d conveniently plugged into me for the latest updates and reality.


    Oh. Oh, crap. Now I knew the real reason why Mom didn''t keep a Mark link with me. Because her mind would have been wearing my soul and skin, and who wanted to do that to her child? I had totally assumed the Markdoor staying shut was enough insulation, and the fact I wanted to be able to monitor the mental and spiritual development of the girls had been my entire impetus for doing this, as I didn''t want to risk any infection or corruption from outside sources.


    The new six of me were down on hands and knees, puking and coughing up the last of the amniotic fluid they''d been born in.


    They were basically Advanced clone-equivs of what I had been when I woke up almost four years ago. Same physical condition, same degree of Karma applied, same pre-programmed muscle memory and conditioning. Only they''d downloaded all of me through the Marklink, instead of just the Sama Rantha core files, and since I was right there, they were done first.


    Golden light flared in blue on black, and Curses were completed. Two hundred and fifty more pairs of eyes flashed open in confusion simultaneously, hands popping up to press on the tubes.


    "At ease, girls. You''ll be out of the tubes and puking in no time," I assured them, Vajra voice making sure they heard and didn''t do anything drastic. "I''m going to call you all Sama for now, although you aren''t. I''ll explain what''s going on as soon as you get out of incubation and finish puking, shitting, and coughing out crap."


    They recognized the snark despite themselves. They weren''t afraid, of course... we were all Undaunted.


    Machinery worked, fluid drained, urine was blown out violently by Vajra-active Hags, and soon the tubes opened so they could all step out, fall down, and hack and heave out all together, a-one and a-two...


    "While you''re being marvelously uncomfortable with your new selves, I hereby inform you that you have all just been born, so today is your birthday. Congratulations. You are not a transmigrator, you are not transpossessed. You are a Rantha Hag, upgraded from a Rantha Hagchild by the power of the Curse to give you an instant Karma Equivalent of a Seven, which should vastly ease your ability to fit into the world you find yourselves in.


    "Part of the process involves assigning base Feats and Masteries to insure that you get your basic Vajra active, and your Visual File up and going. As a matter of fact, those should be listed out for you."


    I could feel their brains working by how their hacking and puking got a little distracted. A few breaths later, waves of Vajra force traveled down them, and all the goo, gunk, and filth was shoved off them by Vajras, and slowly and uncertainly, they all began to stand up.


    Pair by pair, rank by rank, level by level, until everyone was looking at me there in the middle of them, mostly because I was the only one with clothes on.


    "Welcome to life. You are all now Rantha Hags, descended from me. I went through a very weird and accelerated actual childbirth from your grandmother, whose situation you will learn in the future," I went on as everyone looked at me and didn''t say anything.


    "Everyone here is a Rantha Hag. We all have the same core memories, and core programming of being one Sama Rantha, a game character in a profound video game called the Power of Ten, which well and truly was made by an actual Archmage and had magical effects.


    "The game character that is us was appropriated by a certain paladinic god we all know and respect, and used to change the fate of a Hagchild, called Sama Rantha. She, in turn, has used the Hag Curse to pass that coding and template on to us, and also subvert the Curse of the Hag.


    "If you are wondering how that is possible, it is because all of you have souls that fell to Evil, and so the Curse is your punishment."


    They all blinked at the same time in shock.


    "I know this is true, because I know all your original souls and what was done to them. Shortly, you will, too. In the meantime!" I looked around at everyone, pointed to a door at the end of the room. "Clothes, through that door! Everyone grab a Band, and the Sword and Shield Foci there. I regret that I couldn''t equip you all with QL 55 transcendent adamantine weapons, but I''m not that rich yet."


    Twelve score and more voices laughed out together, and glanced at one another in appreciation that didn''t care about the eeriness of it.


    They were all actually half-sisters, and the Hag Sisterhood bond was in full effect.


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    We were family! It was such an overpowering sensation, looking at all of them and knowing they were all my daughters, that I rocked back on my feet.


    I was Mom. Of course they trusted me!


    Branded Rantha daughters flowed towards the door, seeing in one another the same control, the same Wave Skating Steps. It was almost Cadence, but not quite, more Vajra harmony riding the air.


    I went down into the large empty modeling room below. It was meant for showing off new clothing designs for parties and crowds and stuff, and certainly could seat everyone needed. Now it had clothing and basic kit laid out, and Rantha Hags zipped through the obvious line, grabbing everything and finding a place to put it all on with easy grace and speed.


    Yeah, I only had three color schemes, but that was enough to basically cover all the basic types required, and I certainly had the sizes down.


    I also had mirrors set up so they could all look at themselves, raise them eyebrows at the lack of cleavage, and inspect the heavenly gams and derriere and proportions they got otherwise.


    And the remnant Curse Brand in all its blue-black glory, but that would be something we could also do something about. At least every remnant pattern was unique.


    I waited patiently while they all got themselves dressed up, adjusted one another, and tried out new hairstyles on the spur of the moment, waves of different looks sweeping around the place. Some of them had natural off-human hair hues that only inspired delight and envy from others.


    "Alright, if you could clear the tables away and find some seats while I get this rest of this basic introduction done, my darlings?" I called out. The snark was in, and they chortled despite themselves. In a breath, the empty tables were broken down and thrown/handed off to the sides neatly, and everyone sat down on the floor smoothly, perfectly placed and orderly, spaced to within an inch of perfection... and an inch above the floor, too.


    "First item of business: Hello! I''m Sama Rantha II, your mother and the daughter of Sama Rantha, your grandmother, who is currently on heavy duty in Warp Space and can''t come in."


    "Hi, Mom!" they all promptly said cheerfully, waving at me, and I had to smile.

 340 Far Future, Ch. 50 – Second Generation, Part Two

    "You''re in a tech-verse, not a fantasy realm, as you doubtless figured out. Furthermore, it''s the grimdark universe dominated by the Four Warp Gods: Klaw, jRaztl, Amourae, and Riggibuhl." All the hands went up at the same time. "No, it''s not Warhammer 40k, although there are certainly similarities, and honestly, I''m not operating at a scale where I can really tell how much. For instance, there is a clear difference between psionics and magic. Perhaps due to the Eternal Emperor, psionics is a neutral force, although it comes with its hazardous side. Magic, on the other hand, is purely the province of the Warp... which means no energizing Soul Tats right now, period."


    "SHIT!" they all said together.


    "I goddamn know." I rolled my eyes with all of them. "What''s the use of having pre-paid Tats if I can''t use them? Anyway, any Good deities we can think of are utterly suppressed in the Warp, and that''s entirely by design. There are Lawful powers still in existence, although they are outmatched, and they spin around the axis the Eternal Emperor represents. Naturally, Law can counter Chaos, but without Good, Evil has an iron grip on much of this realm and society.


    "For whatever reason, we were dumped onto a world where the dark side-"


    "HAH!" they all interrupted together, and began to hum the Emperor''s March instantly.


    { https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-bzWSJG93P8}


    "-hasn''t overwhelmed the light side," I winked back at them, waiting for the March to finish. "So, it''s largely Neutral fucked-up. I wouldn''t be exaggerating to say that this room probably represents the single largest concentration of Good souls on the planet."


    Heads turned right and left in counter-waves. Ugh? Damn..., they were all thinking.


    "You''re inside the mega-city of Janus Prime, a production facility and habitation mega-structure and arcology adjacent to the largest mines on the planet of Janus III here. Population is about 2.6 billion people, and it covers tens of thousands of square miles and cubic miles.


    "There are massive class divisions in effect and negative pressures on society. Probably a third of the population is formally addicted to narcotics of varying severity. At least a fifth is psychopathic to some degree from societal pressures, the lack of opportunity to advance, the pure drudgery of their work, and competition for resources, and so can explode into violence or manic depression basically without warning. The average person sees a murder or suicide every day of their life here."


    They all blinked. Well, it was true!


    "All that, of course, is why I have you here. The scale of what we have to do has to increase, and I can''t keep a personal touch on the numbers that we are working with here.


    "To wit, our goal is very clear. We are to fuck up the Warp Gods, tear them off their thrones, open their Realm to Creation, and restore the Warp to serenity."


    250 whistles broke out in total synchronicity.


    "Quest accepted?" I asked archly.


    "YES, MOM!" they all shot back without missing a beat.


    "Such good girls," I winked at them. "Now, your programming defaults to Human Hagchild, and all I can say is, that''s a very good idea, because it keeps you grounded. However, you are not Human Hagchildren, you are Rantha Hags. You''ve gone through Hag Awakening, which turned you from vat-born Hagchild equivalents without an akashic connection to who you are right now. In other words, I exploited the Curse to fix the problems with technology in making pseudo-clone daughters." I tapped the Brand on the side of my face. "If I got rid of this, I could not do that. I have to keep the remnants of my Curse around.


    "I am an Exemplar Lite, inherited from Mom, who I believe is also an ExLite... but who knows, since she''s something completely unique, she may be an Exemplar as the first of her kind. Our kind? No, definitely her kind.


    "Whatever, she skimmed off the stuff she didn''t want passed on, and probably couldn''t pass on, and encoded her personal Curse with that template. As Annis Hags have Annis Hagchilds and their Curses make them Annis Hags, so Sama Rantha''s children are Rantha Hagchildren and her Curse makes us Rantha Hags.


    "As you are my daughters, and I don''t have some post-Eternal shit of whatever degree Mom is working with, normal degradation has occurred, and you are all Advanced Rantha Hags. That means that all you get are +4 to all Primary Stats."


    I sounded mopey, but that simultaneous whistle rose up again as the lights dimmed and a holo display went up, showing the Stat line all of them had, and the Class and Racial Levels. "In the future, unless there is some effect not allowing these Classes to be taken, in which case the Karmic equivalent is freed up, this is what all Rantha Hags will come with. To wit, once you take away the Advanced Stat Line, you are by quite a degree the weakest of all Hags at creation. However... this is the advance schema."


    Flick, up it came, and I waited politely as they all scanned it.


    An eerie trembling whistle arose, whose melody I knew well. All their eyes were literally glowing. Tremble, oh oooo oh, Tremble, we come...


    "Yes, it is totally overpowered. Also, notice your waists, and the bands of Tats around them. Congratulations, those are Lilitu-level Blessing equivalents, the standard nine, and if you get the three physicals, the Alter Self ability automatically kicks in, although duration limited, and its magical, so you won''t use it, anyways... except internally, which means you qualify for Warshifter, among other things!"


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    They looked down at their taut bellies, then their sisters next to them, in front of them. Yep, they all had the same thing. No, none of them were active... except for six of them, over in the front corner, who got up together and walked up to flank me.


    "Now, the Marks don''t come to us powered up, but since they are untyped stacking bonuses, I''m not gonna cry over it. Charge them up with Karma.


    "You are naturally aware that such Marks come with telepathic contact between the grantors. Do NOT FUCKING INITIATE TELEPATHIC CONTACT WITH ONE ANOTHER!" all seven of my mouths said at the same time.


    All their eyes opened wide together.


    All six daughter-selves of me turned sideways, where the Constitution Mark had a dim coloration the other Marks didn''t have.


    "I didn''t consider why our primogenitor didn''t keep a Marklink active with me. Well, it''s pretty basic. It''s because at our core, WE ARE ALL THE SAME!" all of my voices finished together grimly. "I Energized these Marks so I could monitor if anything was happening to you as you grew. When your Curses Awakened, they blew through the Markdoor and established instant harmonic resonance with me, because everything you are at your core, I am at my core... except there''s a lot more of me because older.


    "Ergo, right now, I''m a seven-body hivemind," I sighed, as all of me crossed their arms and looked over at all of them.


    My daughters all grimaced together, going through the implications.


    "That''s right. You initiate telepathic contact right now, there''s going to be absolute thought convergence, and you''re all going to end up hiveminds. If that was with me, there''d be just one person in this room right now, and I wouldn''t be needing to talk to all of me."


    "THANKS MOM!" came the unified sigh of relief from all of them, and they laughed despite themselves.


    Undaunted don''t fear. The completely unnatural reaction, which would have creeped out any normal person, was more amused, and noted as something to really avoid.


    "This is important because you all have recycled souls. You are reincarnations." They all sat up straighter at that, eyes narrowing. "You all ARE different, and the souls you have belonged to your other parents." They all blinked together. Yes, they were their mothers...


    "Your grandmother seized upon an opportunity to enter the mortal realm, and came out at a finishing school for talented girls called Wendlerton Academy, which just so happened to be a very important center of Amouraen influence. All of you were pslaved and converted to Amourae, and that''s how all of you died."


    Their eyes narrowed sharply, and the air almost crackled with tension. Rantha Hags do not take kindly to being oppressed or brainwashed or enslaved by force, because that''s what the general Hag Curse wanted to do.


    "Since you died Evil, willing or not, the Curse could latch onto you easily, and your grandmother used that to fix your souls to eggs in my ovaries, and at the same time used your genetic codes for the other half required to make you.


    "You''ve gone through the reincarnation process, and you are a Null Forsaken, since you are a Rantha Hag. Amourae has no hold over you now, naturally. You are not the person you were... but you were indeed someone else in a past life, different then what you''ve been made into."


    256 Bands beeped, heads looked down, and visages popped up.


    I''d compiled files on every single one of those dead girls, looted from the Academy, government files, and their Boole activity. They were fairly comprehensive, but the key thing was they all had faces, and they all had names.


    The Rantha-nymphal equivalents of those faces stared at the images of the girls their souls used to belong too very intensely, indeed.


    "And that is how you are going to be named." Another beep, and names replaced the faces. "You are being named in honor of your mothers." I turned my gaze to the brunette at the front left corner. "Starting with you, stand up and tell everyone your name."


    She rose with a grim yet serene look on her face, turned to face all the eyes staring at her, and said, "I am Phoebe Rantha!"


    "HI PHOEBE!" everyone exclaimed together, waving. She waved back, smiling despite herself, and sat back down.


    The lavender-haired Oriental girl next to her bounced to her feet, turning to face everyone and also waving. "I am Kwannon Rantha!" she said proudly...


    -------


    The names went around the room. There were a couple duplicates, and those who had the same name were naturally given middle names to differentiate them, and nicknames were promptly assigned to further individualize everyone.


    Everyone introduced themselves, everyone got a chance.


    "30 Charisma," I stated calmly, after Leia Rantha sat down, and Fyr, Aura, Emma, Azure, Vivi, and Inigo behind me also introduced themselves. "At 30 natural Charisma, you can force down the reincarnation wall and look at who you were. At that point, your Identity should be absolute, and you can initiate telepathy with one another and myself." I gestured at the six behind me. "I''m going to have been six different people, but I have to get there individually with each soul, Karma still has to be earned. I can''t open their past any more then you could.


    "You''ve already done the math and you know you''ll have a 30 absolutely guaranteed at Eight, and sooner if you want it. So, you''re going to freaking Level."


    "DAMN RIGHT!" they all called to me, whistling and cheering. It was grinding time!


    I held up my hand. "There''s a greater, overarching plan to all of this, of course." They all nodded knowingly. They could figure out my base Stats, and hell ya, there was a plan. "You don''t all need to go Deep. Furthermore, this is a tech universe, not a magical one. Skills... are very, very important here!"


    I let them consider the implications, especially since they had only minor exposure to tech skills. Even things as simple as Driving were electives.


    "Let me show you where I''m at in terms of resources and advancements." The holo came up, showing the world of Janus Prime as I knew it, displayed out in a planetary grid format of resources and empty spaces. Of note was the great desert to the west of Janus Prime, where basically nothing was, and nobody investigated.


    This wasn''t much different from a resource-driven game. They all leaned forwards and began to calculate as the planet revolved, laying out the cities, mines, and major resources. Reams of the competing factions blew past, relative sizes, their leaders, off-world connections, and then centered on Janus Prime and zoomed in.

 341 Far Future, Ch. 51 – Second Generation, Part Three

    The mega-city sprawled out before them, with a tiny dot for my holdings, and literally thousands of other factions at work throughout the city, many of them in shades from the bottom third of the Alignment grid.


    Naturally it also swiveled in 3d and displayed territories of the Undergangs and major players to the extent I knew.


    I zoomed in, and in, and in again, and finally my personal holdings were a decent part of the display.


    I briefly went through my blok holdings, factories and other assets, revenue streams, layouts, demands on time, expansion constraints, and what links I had, to who and what. They all had no problem filing it all away, as they all had a 22 Int, human supra-genius, and a Visual File to match.


    "Biggest bottleneck?" I asked rhetorically as the view shrank off to the side.


    "MARKED!" they all answered in knowing unison.


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    "Three minutes a person." I looked out over all of them. "Your Grandmother gamed the system here. Ah, yes, she did!" My daughters all whooped in appreciation. "She didn''t want to just drop a Karmic Seven out of nowhere, even a Null, so she made sure that we all came in no higher than a Three... BUT, we have a +7 AB, both ranged and melee. That also means that our elective Skill Point limit is..."


    "SEVEN!" they all whooped.


    "And I''m hoping I just heard you hit Scout Levels and grab seven Ranks in Tattoo Artist so you can start applying Marks that can key to my own... and once you hit Eight, can be reassigned to yours."


    Their eyes all got that flicker of momentary attention elsewhere, and then they all flinched the same way.


    "Yes, that''s right, that is the last Level you will ever take. From now on, everything has to be bought piecemeal. Every point of Health and Soak, every PP, every Slot of Null Valences, every Stat advance, every increase in special ability. Let me tell you, only being able to grab one point of energy resistance a day is VERY annoying!" They all did the math and cringed. Better than half a year to complete our immunities alone... wait, that was forty days between early Rantha levels, minimum? Oh, yes...


    "And money." I held up a Belt in my hand. "Guess how many Gravity Belts I have?"


    "Ewww!" they all winced. They looked around, did the math on just how much money they were going to need to all get equipped...


    "I''ve got reams of price lists in your Bands, and you can naturally go bouncing around and get some lists drawn up in the Boole and the Quanta, the local internets. I can tell you right now that while my Charisma mind-track is basically running my Markspace, my Wisdom mind-track is known as a terrifyingly skilled gambler online, and when not gaming, is endlessly trawling for useful stuff and working with my Goldilocks crew to take advantage of it.


    "My Intellect tracks, now, are all over the place. I''ve got multiple lines of research going on, resource management and coordination, security precautions and faction monitoring, programming, and coding work being spun out constantly..." I sighed. "I am inhumanly, impossibly busy all the time, and it is not enough! The scale of the problem is too big.


    "I need all of you to get to where I am now, and I need to advance the stage, drive the tech tree up, compound our wealth, expand our authority, and just plain fucking grow like there''s no tomorrow!


    "The main bottleneck is people! We need to recruit people, and the only way to do that reliably, and get people we can both trust and who can improve, is to Mark them, get them to advance their Marks and their Stats, and raise their Level and the floor with it."


    It was my turn for my eyes to glow as I looked at them, and they all grinned despite themselves.


    Oh, yeah, they were going to have a lot more sisters. Which meant...


    Hands went up.


    The image of Habberblok rose behind me. The information about it laid out, and they read it as fast as it scrolled down.


    "All of these souls are tainted with Evil by the combination of the Warp and negative energy. The best of them are Neutral, although they can be brought into the light by bonding to a living person and eroding away the negative influences on them. Of course, a considerable number of them were total assholes to begin with, but the Curse eats them up just the same...


    "So, if you want to have daughters, who will all be Atlantean Ranthas, there is a resource of souls here. If we manage to exhaust them... well, there''s billions of people. Finding appropriate souls is really not going to be hard."


    They all grimaced and smiled at that. It was true, especially in a grimdark world...


    "I''m not going to go into galactic history and how small we are right now. However, here is my current guess as to major events, which are naturally obfuscated by the official history.


    "The Eternal Emperor sits on his throne on Tellus, empowering the Celestial Beacon which provides direction and temporal conformity to the capital of the Empire throughout the galaxy.


    "Thousands of years ago, he ran afoul of the Warp Gods. Tales are murky, but yes, there was an insurrection in his own genetically-engineered legions of super warriors. He vat-grew the original Primogenitors of his Legions, and they all went stark fucking nuts, tore the galaxy apart, and tried to off him.


    "Somehow, he had the pure raw power to keep psionics from being utterly corrupted by the Warp. Psionic power kept the Empire alive, and brought down many of the corrupted Legions, but not before Warp Sorcery wielded by the Primogenitors did the job the Warp Gods wanted.


    "He hasn''t moved from the Eternal Throne for millennia. He may not even be living. It takes a million psions or more to power that thing and keep it active, and his will to hold it steady. The Terrestrial Beacon here requires about ten or twenty thousand constantly, I believe.


    "I believe the Eternal Emperor was a Human Exemplar who reached post-Twenty as a Psion and Psychic Warrior.


    "His Primogenitors were supposedly made from his own flesh, and if so, would be Exemplar Lites from birth... combined with the dehumanizing of not being attached to the human akasha by being vat-grown because the idiot didn''t want to involve women, they could very well be considered a separate species and so were alienated from humanity.


    "His elite Legions were derived from the Primogenitors, giving them a clear bloodline affiliation with them. However, this is a treatment thing... Imperial Marines are made, not born, and so do think of themselves as human."


    I let that hover in the air for a moment, while they digested that.


    "The Eternal Emperor has held the Empire of Humanity together for millennia. The Cult of Humanity worships him as a god. He may well be a demigod-level entity, although he is definitely not a full god, or Reality would have pushed him out into the Warp. He is Powered, an Eternal-level psion, his mental powers beyond our comprehension, and while he may have lost a battle to the Warp Gods, he has not conceded the war.


    "As an Archpsion, you know he is doing divinations, fate-tracking, luck-spinning, playing those probabilities, and it is likely the touch of his hand reaches across the entire galaxy. There is no doubt he has a plan and is feeling the way forward, trying to reach a point where humanity will experience a massive uplift and be able to deal with all the things that are out there, and unseat the Warp Gods."


    Everyone nodded slowly. It was a grand and grim plan, fit for a Powered Eternal.


    "And now we are here."


    Silence, as thoughts began to spread out from that.


    "Nulls, who are Beyond Fate and Chaos, and aware of Good and Evil."


    Eyes widened very slowly.


    "We... are in nobody''s plans. Nobody''s sight. We are from Outside this very Reality. Everything we are doing... will disrupt plans with an invisible hand.


    "Our plans, our goals, are alien to the forces at play here. Vakker-tech alone is going to turn some plans on their ears. How fast the Warp moves to neutralize the threat it represents means we are on a time clock, and it is ticking. We have to disseminate the tech, get it off-world, expand, and grow-grow-grow. Only the fact Nulls are behind it is keeping it below the radar right now.


    "Sama Rantha, your grandmother, is our Exemplar. It is very likely her goals clash with those of the Emperor.


    "I am likely the equivalent of a Legion Primogenitor. You... are the born, not made, equivalent of His Imperial Majesty''s Legionnaires, as Rantha Hags instead of gene-modded humans."


    They all looked at one another, and I nodded. "Yes, we are going to need a lot more of you..." at least if 40k was any guide. A thousand Chapters with a thousand Marines each... "And your children will be the equivalent of standard gene-mod humans starting, except for the fact they are Ranthas. Of course, just being a Rantha is pretty damn nice, but the Karmic cost is incredible..."


    They all groaned in sympathy. So many Levels, time, ugh...


    "Thankfully, the planet comes with a surfeit of powerful and dangerous beasts outside the walls, that sometimes get in the walls, and powerful factions with powerful servants, and massive amounts of Quest Karma for taking them down... and making more enemies to generate more Karma with..."


    Feral grins arose as eyes narrowed.


    "Once you have your Acid Immunity at Six and can head outside the walls, Karma should be a steady thing. You''re also going to Name your Focus, and you better be working on it as an Item Familiar and get that Teleporting ability right away. We need the mobility!


    "Okay, let''s get out of realspace and start crunching some real data. Plug some hair into the dataport on your Band there, integrate it into your Visual File with three Ranks in Computer Engineering and Programming, and go on the Quanta to Fakemarkchatroom.qua." I showed my hair snaking down my arm into my Band, and they emulated it quickly.


    I already had thoughtstreams there, so I didn''t have to shift focus. However, I had to develop the minds and brains of my other six, so no reason not to use them to do this.


    Everybody got through the security protocols with their Bands and arrived in the Quanta room within six seconds of one another. They looked around in interest at the virtual space.


    [Unlike the Archmage, I can''t make a virtual space that generates template-modifying Karma. He''d have to have been a High Eternal, by what we know of magic, to do that], I told them, surrounded by floating rows of charts and lights... my resource requirements and amounts broken down in detail.


    [You''re all going to be helping with Marked, first for myself, and until you can get your own after Eight. But, I need you to not be going as Deep as me, because I need specialists to start taking over multiple operations here, and I need you to be infiltrating existing power structures and spreading power and influence over them from multiple angles and venues.]


    Jobs popped up. Lots and lots of jobs.


    [So, we''re going to do jobs. But... we''re gonna do them smart. Because you all have a secondary Talent besides Natural Swordswoman, and that Talent you directly inherited from your mother-soul.]


    256 Names popped up. "Out with it, girls. Let''s see them Talents, and then we''ll see where you can change the world!"

 Chapter 342 - Far Future, Ch. 52 – Second Generation, Part Four

    Talent Names began to slide in place, representing the full breadth and diversity of the human genome. Everybody tended to be naturally good at something, even if it was incredibly trivial. Once you started catering to that Talent, well, working a job you were naturally good at could bring incredible benefits. If your Talents dovetailed, you could be a paragon. If they were diverse, you could be broadly skilled.


    [Oh, and by the way. Eight is also the level where you get to choose to get The Bust.] Heads snapped around on me. [Standard succubi-nymph curves. Permanent. Useless for their primary biological purpose, generally speaking, but they''ll be there. And I have no doubt whatsoever that a considerable number of you with Charisma-based Talents are going to be going right there...] Natural Diplomat, Born Actress, Natural Singer, The Voice, Peacemaker, and Sex Symbol came to my attention at a glance. [As for the rest of you], I smiled slyly, [Mother doesn''t care. Real or fake, have fun either way.]


    "Woo-hoo!" they called out in reply. I was pretty sure the vast majority would take the option, especially since it was the same Level they''d be able to look into their last incarnation. They''d be picking up the dreams of the girls and wanting to do stuff, enjoying being super-people. They were already moving their Brands to less emphatic areas then their faces... which actually wouldn''t raise any attention, since the Golden Hag''s Tats had spawned a craze of doing so, and every Ghost Knight showed something similar as a mark of honor.


    I sat back and watched as the jobs and duties got divvied up very quickly. Some were trades, some were professions, some were departments, some were companies. Some had to go to school and get connections.


    There were those who could proceed immediately, as it wouldn''t interfere with their Leveling, and others they could only push off until they made Eight. After all, it might be a bit awkward getting famous before getting The Bust...


    -------


    The Seven of me all headed off to start making Marks. I had a huge backlog of applicants who''d been vetted sufficiently, and even with two hundred and fifty more people doing this, I would literally never run out of them if I didn''t want to.


    There were kids to Awaken and Open, others to Open, everyone to Mark... there was just a whole lot to do.


    I had extra Talents on my extra Selves, too.


    It was a little odd thinking with my extra selves, since they thought a lot slower and less forceful then any of my own thoughtstreams. I could sort of close the link and pretend they were different, distant parts of me, but it was still an odd sensation, like flowing slower than the river around you, and not getting carried away by it.


    However, I didn''t need to go Deep on them. We were all drawing off the same Skill pool, but mental, physical, and spiritual improvements needed Karma. Literally all I needed to do was Level up to improve their Null Caster and Psion Levels, get their Prime Melee Level to Ten, and Rantha Level to Ten, and they were set.


    However, they were lower Level than I was, and that meant they Leveled more efficiently in new Classes than I did.


    Azure was Born to Fly, so there was absolutely no doubt whatsoever I was going to be learning ALL the flying stuff on her. It clashed with Natural Swordswoman, but them''s the breaks. She''d be a pilot who could kick your ass, too.


    Aura was a Peacemaker, which meant really good at positive diplomatic skills and understanding others, as well as having a trustworthy aura. Back it up with the skills to dicker and to intimidate very effectively, and she would be the only diplomatic envoy you''d want. I was going to have to send her into the diplomatic corps... or use her as my marketing manager to spin deals. Sending her out would also increase my view of the System or Sector, if nothing else...


    Heck, if I was really good, I could become a planetary governor...


    Emma was a Green Thumb, which meant her understanding of and ability to grow plants was at the peak of human potential. Guess who was taking over all my horticultural operations when she could...


    Fyr was a Wheelman, meaning she was born to drive. She was heading into some of the condemned zones to start taking over motorized gangs and build a legend and influence there.


    Vivi was a Bookworm, which meant awesome at data management, finding out secrets, lore checks, and the like. I promptly put her in charge of the Goldilocks and building up our database of stuff, running the system, and maintaining it.


    Inigo was Sneaky, which meant born to be a Scout or Assassin. Without the slightest compunction, I sent her into the underworld to start offing my competition, and start building up connections there.


    These Talents were much stronger than just having the Stats or a cyber or psi bonus which did the same thing. Not mentioning that they could stack, but it was rapidly evident that I enjoyed doing those kinds of things when I was catering to their Talents. As Aura, I actually enjoyed socializing and figuring out things to make matters move forwards, in contrast to my normal self, where that stuff was just a chore. Even my Charisma Stream was just good at it, she didn''t find pleasure in doing it.


    Fyr was basically an adrenaline junkie with a need for speed and loud noises. I found it hard to keep Azure on the ground, I always wanted to be in the air with her. Vivi didn''t want to do anything but read all day and share what she learned with others, always voracious for more stuff... and perfectly willing to go digging for it to put it to good work. Emma was acutely aware when there were no plants around, and made me uncomfortable when that was so.


    Inigo just wanted to think of wickedly clever ways of doing things, and I was off and running with the whole breaking and entering thing with her without looking back.


    Unlike the other girls, the six of them could power up their Marks to full, and enjoy Markspace. However, the girls could also attune the Marks to themselves, building up their own unique Markspaces... which I was more than happy to do. These ''private'' Markspaces could form their own little cliques of similar souls over time, and the synergies that might be harvested from them could be impressive.


    ------


    The Ranthas filed out of the space in the Spire, chatting with one another, and needless to say, so many high-g nymphals of the same age turned a lot of heads. Everyone headed to Habberblok, where they also were a minor hit, especially among those G&G who were told they were coming.


    Up the stairs to 159, the vivic braziers were out, and they got their Ghost Knight quests straight off.


    The G&G were wondering why they weren''t Marked... and even more curious when they started drawing the Marks, and others had to link in the new people. I explained there was some telepathic things that had to be worked out and mental resistance to everything that couldn''t be passed until they were Eights, which got an enormous amount of sympathy from the G&G, because it was obvious they were all Nulls.


    The Goldilocks were very happy to fix everyone up with chatrooms through their Bands as alternate means of communication, and given their looks and gold mindclaws, there was no problem socializing. But the G&G used the Marktell a lot for communication, and so naturally there was a barrier there that meant they couldn''t participate as effectively in teamwork exercises.


    However, the girls naturally excelled in solo stuff, were tough as nails, and naturally eager to work. Teaming one of my girls up with a G&G guy for making Marks was definitely not something the guys minded at all, especially if their Talents were compatible, synergistic, or complementary. Plans were made about where to go, things to go, and naturally they started to gather people around them...


    ----------


    "Elders," I said coolly to the gathered undead, after the last of my girls had headed down to start working on the backlog of Marked. Two hundred and fifty people every three minutes meant my operations were about to expand enormously...


    I could feel the interest of the undead at this parade of nymphals coming through, and despite themselves, there''d been no lack of volunteers, male or female, to give them quests. From the murmurs I heard, figuring out worthy quests was now one of the big pastimes of the spirits here.


    "Just so all of you know, every single one of those girls was a daughter of mine."


    I definitely had their interest now. Naturally they could tell the difference between vat-born and human, and they could tell all of those young women were Nulls and exceedingly gifted... and dangerous. The spirits who got to propose quests to them looked about as happy as restless spirits with a mad on for the living could be.


    "All of them are souls that were slain by the Warp and were reborn as my daughters."


    Very suddenly I had ALL their attention. It didn''t bother me, as my base Charisma now was 50, before any Class modifiers. The mightiest of them was nothing to me in force of personality, which was basically all they had left. While I didn''t blaze in the Marktell without reason, and in truth I deliberately was so subtle that most people never felt me there, when they stared at me beyond their Door, most of them could only gape as they saw me more and more clearly.


    I was aware of the impression, and unsurprised by it. The subconscious worship it would entail would redirect their Faith power from the Emperor to me, if they worshiped him at all, but all that would do is suppress knowledge of me even more, as the cumulative Null of my presence grew wider and wider.


    "I can offer a new life to you now." Oh, did I have them now. "Unfortunately, you will not be reborn, you will be reincarnated. What you are... will be gone." I looked around at Habberblok, the scars that wouldn''t go away, the weight on Reality of the psychic trauma and powers unleashed by the Warp here. "But you will be out of here. This endless existence will be gone, and you can finally die..." And I lowered my voice, but it carried just as far.


    "But you will be reborn as one of my daughters, and I can tell you right now, fucking the Warp over as hard as we can is what we are here for. If you want revenge, you''re going to get it."


    I looked over the great masses of them, swelling in the ether around this place, ephemeral, barely able to see Reality, smoke and void and mist all around, and a gnawing hunger and replayed hate from their deaths, relived over and over again...


    But they could see me absolutely, they could hear me, and they could understand me!


    I flicked up my soulclaws, humming with vivic fire and ghost touch. "I can only take two hundred and fifty-six of you at a time." I put my fingers together, and drove the edges into my ovaries. Fast Healing meant I had all those waiting eggs back within literally minutes after I''d removed them.


    I could do this literally every day, bound only by the number of Vats I had available.


    "First come, first serve," I stated calmly, and there was a rush and a flow of vivus as spirits streamed in, shrieking for release and revenge and rebirth, all at once, and if the vivic surge that close to my uterus was something of a rush, I just swallowed it down as some very angry spirits died and became sparks of new life as they did, willingly embracing a death that was new life as they shouted out their names, and I remembered them...


    Oh, yes, there were going to be a lot of Ranthas in this town in no time... and they were going to keep coming.


    Mwa hahaha! My little girls were going to change the world!


    Which meant Mom couldn''t sit still. I still had so much damn stuff I had to do!


    I headed back to the vat room to get the new generation on its way, while my other six selves worked silently on Marks, Opening, and Awakening. Next stop after that... I think it was time to go visit the Beacon...


    ========


    Ed. Note: Soon after I finished this chapter (over a month ago), a certain someone on Discord said that Sama should put together a mercenary unit called Rantha''s Hags. I told him to remember he said that...

 Chapter 343 - Far Future, Ch. 53 – A Beacon of Hope

    "Good morning, everyone. I know some of you had to swap a shift to come in here, and I thank you for your time and understanding."


    The people here were mostly dressed in greys, off-whites, and light tans. Mentat colors, as they liked to say. They had both an intense and frazzled look about them, and most of them had deep lines on their faces, the carved signs of wills enduring the leeching power of the Terrestrial Beacon that broadcast Janus Prime''s position in local space and time, showing its position for light years around to incoming vessels, and allowing other psychics to lock onto it from across the galaxy, if need be.


    The process of powering the Beacon required remaining in Focus for eight hours of time, Flaring the Nimbus about every minute or two as subtle spikes and eddies of power demanded more juice... or if it was just plain inefficient after doing its job for a few thousand years.


    It required great concentration and discipline, and it was almost mind-numbingly boring. For psions, the blessed people with the Gift of the Emperor, this job was the lowest of the low, taken only by those with such minor psionic Talents, the criminal underworld wouldn''t even use them as brain batteries, the amount they could wield was so small.


    In real terms, these were people with psionic talent, and Intellect scores of 13 or less. Even the Wild Talents with a 10 Stat or less were included here, able to enter Focus and do the job.


    Like most registered psis, they all had forehead Tats, indicating their positions and power. As Beacon psions, the underpsi-class, it was a small dot, a bar, or triangles for most of them. I saw two squares on the oldest people present, who had managed to reach Four, but didn''t have the drive to push further.


    It was the bleary-eyed man there, his voice tired from the disappointment that was his life, who spoke up. "Your invitation was pretty direct, and you''ve been making waves with all those baby blades you''ve been starting up Downspire, Lady Rantha." See, the title stuck. And the fact I was basically a minor player and had no previous contact with them paled with the fact a Ten with a 50 Charisma wanted THEM to show up, not some more powerful psions.


    I had their curiosity in a chokehold, and despite themselves, they couldn''t let it go.


    "Yes, and now I am intending to get my golden claws into you." I manifested them on both hands, snap-snap; why yes, I had psionic power, I was not a Primos with no exposure to the wonder of psionic energy.


    My aggressive stance and blunt statement only served to interest them more. The other square-woman spoke up, "We are not fools, Lady Rantha. Our gifts are very small, and we do not have the power or talent to advance to greater things. Of what use could we be to you?"


    I smiled thinly, and lifted a finger surrounded by gleaming golden death. "First, let me show you something."


    The Holopoint came up behind me, showing glittering crystalline orbs ranging from the sides of a man''s head, to that of a wrecking ball. The globes shimmered and fractured with a lot of psionic runework.


    "These are psychic capacitors, designed to be aligned and retain PP for the Beacon. You all know that pure PP are considerably stronger than most uses of a Nimbus, especially in quantity.


    "These capacitors work by simply laying a hand on them and letting your PP flow inside. They measure the amount you donate, reach a certain level... and then you can walk away, get paid, or if you have even 1 PP remaining, you can choose to remain behind and do a shift on top of your donation."


    I could immediately see them tense up. They knew the implications of this. Those who had more power would get paid more, while those with less would be forced to spend eight hours pumping the Beacon.


    "The Beacon cannot operate without humans to help manage the flow of what is, in the end, living power. I am also certain that you all know that the Mekkers consider the inclusion of humans in the Beacon to be very inefficient, and would certainly have moved to a capacitor model for the Beacon centuries ago, if the risk of Warp corruption had not proved to be too great for them to enact such a thing." I inclined my head at the globes. "These globes will satisfy those requirements, and if they are installed with my Vakker-tech as further insulation, are as safe or safer than having an all-living source of power."


    I let them think over that, reading the medley of emotions going over their faces and through their auras, ''listening'' with my Null to their psychic broadcasts.


    I was threatening their jobs, the only thing they thought they were useful for in life.


    "The Mekkers do not like me," I informed them all loftily, with a somewhat scornful smile. "They don''t like my Vakker-tech, either. Despite all that, their drive to reduce reliance on a living element means that they will accept this proposal when I make it, and I have the data from testing by the Mentats, the Coronals, and the Umbrans to back it up. The modifications and upgrades to the Beacons will happen within six months."


    They didn''t know whether to be frightened, angry, or intrigued, because I certainly wasn''t giving off hostile vibes. There were murmurs, and the old fart raised his spotted hand to quiet them. "So... you have plans for us?" he asked me softly, his eyes looking a bit less bleary.


    The globes vanished from the holo, replaced by a picture of Davro, complete with green-gold mindblade, Ghost Knight Tats, and serious expression. "This here is a punk kid from Downspire. His Intellect Rating was 10 when he popped his mindblade, and his Wisdom was 9."


    That was bottom rung even among the Beacon teams. Their mouths all fell in sympathy. He''d never get anywhere.


    "Two days ago, he hit Seven backing up a team which killed a kilo-ooze down in Sector 143''s algae vats."


    They all choked in disbelief, and stared at me.


    "So..." I drawled slowly, looking down at them, "who among you has dreams of hitting Seven?"


    Slowly, shaking hands rose. Even the two Squares hesitantly lifted their hands.


    I nodded slowly at them all. "I... happen to need psions. A lot of psions. Psions with ambition, who want their souls to shine, to truly do something great, to be those shining stars from their youthful dreams... and get all those wasted years being slaves to a machine back!"


    They twitched despite themselves. The extra years gained at Seven was known and established fact. Yes, they could get so much time back...


    "But you are yoked to the Beacon. The Beacon does need psis to power it... but, it does not need psis all the time. I looked up the data... it takes 23,444 psis in Focus to power the Beacon continuously. Given one day on, one day off, and three shifts a day, that means that nearly one hundred and fifty thousand shining psionic souls are slaved to a machine!"


    My ire made them all grimace. They were those slaves, after all. Being slaved to a machine was anathema to the creed of all psions. It was no wonder they were the lowest of the low...


    "How many PP does it take to substitute for one of you for an eight-hour shift?" I asked, raising my hand. "Anyone?" They looked at one another silently, shook their heads. "It takes eight." And I smiled with teeth. "But do you know how many psions are subbed for with 15 PP?"


    Their lips all pursed, because it was obvious that it wasn''t just double.


    The Square woman spoke up, "Does it increase geometrically?"


    I nodded slowly. "If the machine can allot power in increments of 15... 15 PP subs for twelve psions in Focus for eight hours."


    They all exhaled slowly. No wonder the Mekkers wanted to use capacitors, instead of fueling the effort with psions in Nimbus.


    "One of you being able to deliver 15 PP to a capacitor... means that twelve of you can get up and walk away, and do something else with your time.


    "15 PP is within the range of any Three Psion. Of course, thirteen thousand of your people would have to be Threes..."


    "And we could all walk away?" the Square man asked, frowning.


    "Of course not. They still need at least 2,344 on hand to stabilize the flow with Focus and Nimbus charges. But... if nobody wants to sit there in a damn machine for eight hours, what will they have to do?"


    "Pay us more!" chimed up a skinny, dark-eyed Triangle, her eyes flashing.


    "Yes. And," I held up a finger, "I know a Psionic Feat, a mental discipline, called Fugue State. It is effectively a meditative state you can enter where time passes without weighing down on you. You could enter your Beacon chair, enter Fugue for eight hours, and when done get up, feeling like no time had passed at all.


    "Staying in a Beacon tube would then be little different then laying down for a short nap. You will give up your time, but you will also give up the drudgery. Only if there is a true emergency would you have to break out of your Fugue.


    "You will no longer be a slave to the machine. They will pay you for your power, and then they will pay you for your time. They will pay you what you are worth, not what they choose, because you have no other alternatives."


    "And you have alternatives?" the Square woman asked keenly.


    I slowly surveyed them all. "I got that Punk to Seven in four years from nothing. He did not have your education, training, or discipline; all the things you have used over the years trying to raise your talent so you could get stronger.


    "If you want to come work for me, I can guarantee you that everyone in this room, and probably every single Beacon Psi who has hit their cap, will gain a Level almost instantly." They all inhaled in shock. "Furthermore, I will light a fire under your ass, and you''re all going to be driving for Seven, one way or another.


    "I will NOT accept anything less from you."


    Karma didn''t stop accruing just because you couldn''t go up. You went sideways, or if you didn''t have anything to spend it on, it just sat there and built and built and built, waiting to be used.


    For most psions, this Karma was used when their life experience/age bonuses to mental Stats kicked in, and they moved naturally to a higher Level. It was likely how the two Squares had hit Four. They could probably go for Pentagons at Five, but just didn''t have the impetus to do so. I was going to put a rocket in their butts and fire it up.


    But they were no-Talent Beacon Psions, not Mentats. Mentats used stars to indicate rank, not a polygon. The difference in treatment and status was obvious.


    "Ideally, every single person in this room will end up wearing a Decagon, and let the Mentats go eff themselves."


    A whole lot of eyes lit up at that. The Mentats, the talented psis, the ones with the gifted minds and backgrounds, becoming what all psis desired to be.


    "So, this is what I would like to see happen. I am going to introduce Crystal Capacitors to the Mekkers, who will gnash their gears and buy them from me. They will start buying PP instead of paying people for eight-hour shifts, hoping to save money... and they will.


    "You will be freed from eight hours of misery, and with your higher level, the PP you expend will be nothing. You will come to work for me, I will give you both things to do to earn Karma towards your next Level, and jobs that will pay you the wage you should be earning.


    "But keep in mind this...


    "You will have to work for me to gain the benefits that enable you to grow to a higher Level. I will not force you to do so, or to stay... but those benefits, and the Levels that rely on them, will stay behind if you choose to leave. I want you to be aware of that, and for you to come into this with your eyes open.


    "You will learn the particulars of how I will do this at the time you come to get a job. Before then, the only thing that I request of you is no violent interference when the capacitors start getting deployed. You will still have to contribute to the Beacon, you will still be on reserve and standby in the event of emergencies... but your time will finally be your own.


    "If you have any questions about how I am going to free you from the machine, or how you can speed up the process, please ask now. The faster we can get these into place..."

 Chapter 344 - Far Future, Ch. 54 – A Beacon of Efficiency

    "...please see the corruption resistance results in table 14-b..."


    "Yes, the speed and conductivity is less than Mechanist Standard. That is THE POINT."


    "The working life of a circuit is indeed a fifth of the normal circuits. But if you will inspect page 247, third table, you will see they can also carry five times the load of a normal circuit during that term. The net effect is the same..."


    "Yes, basic math does agree that if you use the same number of circuits, you will be able to handle five times the max load that the current Beacon can sustain, and conversely, also handle five times the stress at current loads. You are aware that is the primary selling feature of Vakker-tech, right?


    "If you want to question the Coronal''s testing results, I can put you directly in contact with the parties who performed them. I am sure they will be fascinated with your opinion of their aptitude at their sacred duties.


    "You are also welcome to emulate the Capacitor design. Please. I encourage you. I am absolutely certain you will enjoy wasting your time and money trying to equal the resistance of the Rantha Corps product, as you have proven before.


    "Ah, yes, I have an Umbran directive here concerning increasing production of high-stress firing relays. They are concerned that I do not have access to a higher degree of production technology. Would one of you fine sirs be capable of redressing this lack? If not, I''ll send it back up the Order of the Fallen Moon with my regrets that release of such technology was proscribed by the Guild.


    "Yes, adding these Capacitors will allow you to decrease the human element involved in managing the Beacon to a minimal level. The Mentats, who designed the Metaconcert Ritual the Beacon is emulating gave the specific production of how the effects of using block units of PP instead of Nimbus siphoning would perform. Page 314, tables 1 through 15.


    "Oh, you didn''t know the Beacon was based on a Metaconcert? Page 464 gives the derivative Ritual, although it is only properly understood in telepathic linkage. I''m sure you can see the parallels in the psionic circuits of the Beacon...


    "If you see the circuit overlays and patterns on page 597, you can clearly see that all Mechanist-mandated rune circuit patterns are being followed precisely. The additional rune circuits are to maximize the performance and corruption resistance of the circuit, and as table 14-b-II clearly displayed, did not detract from the characteristics of the circuit at all."


    "Alien technology? My license for this technology clearly indicates that it was known among humanity over fifteen THOUSAND years ago. Are you questioning the authenticity of your records? The archived files are clearly displayed on my purchase certificate. Are you also incapable of reading Tellusian Standard?


    "Your inability to duplicate the results of Rantha products is not my concern. You have the end product, I use Axiomatic Modular Tech in production, and you have reviewed my production line and facilities, as have the Umbrans and the Coronals. You are welcome to review them again. I have a permanent observer on station from the Umbrans. You can have coffee together with them.


    "Oh, Vak-standard coding requires a higher level of complexity than TL 8 coding allows, so I had to invent my own. Yes, I did invent it. Ah, pages 771 to 847, performance differences with standard AMT Codes Level Six through Ten, compared to Vak-Coding at the same. The lower performance level is unacceptable, and if you will look at pages 873 through 950, the Corruption Resistance falls significantly when using Mech Coding, as you can clearly see. The Coronals mandated that I use Vak-Coding.


    "The schematics for all circuits are displayed from pages 973 to 3,927, of course! Inspect them, please! All connections are AMT format, naturally. There are some minor additions to the hardware to allow easier access and replacement, of course...


    "Your questions are done? Excellent, shall we move right on to price and the contract, then?"


    ---------------


    The Mechanists who maintained the Beacon naturally didn''t care about showing up in person, and they really didn''t want me to pollute their optics, anyways. A Boole meeting was perfectly fine from their standpoint, where their cyberized selves would naturally have an advantage.


    Of course, thinking I couldn''t handle the accelerated pace of the Boole just because I hadn''t replaced my logic centers with machinery was wishful thinking on their part. Their Boole presences were sharp and powerful, but mine had depth and solidity theirs just didn''t, and I could tell it made them uncomfortable. They didn''t like cybermancers much more than any other kind of psion, after all. Using psi to command the machine was almost like blasphemy to them.


    I couldn''t do that, but Mental Stats were what they are, and a cyberlink could still send out a 50 Charisma. Despite their logic centers, I was still pressing on them, and they were finding it very hard to resist me, especially since I was doing something they wanted to happen.


    I ended up with an initial contract for Vakker circuits, relays, and the Capacitors to work with them. All Capacitors were in multiples of 15, starting at 45 PP and ranging all the way up to 1500 if they really wanted so much power held in one place.


    The first day they were installed, three dozen Beacon psis came to work for me. They were Marked, their accumulated Karma instantly filled the Mark to +1, their Intellect rose, and with it the bottleneck to advancing went away. Mental triggers flickered, and Levels went up.


    Their Markspace was private among themselves and me, and the idea of a private telepathic connection that required no power definitely intrigued them. It was soon hopping with their conversations with one another, while I kept them separated from the greater Marktell for the moment.


    Keen to do more, they came and were put to work making psionic circuits and psicraft... profitable, high-demand stuff they were usually barred from by their lack of skill and power, since all long-lasting permanent psiware required you to be a Five.


    Still, Crystal Verje and Facets only required a Three, and the simple stuff, like basic healing, was always in demand. These things all had to be charged up, too, and simply being able to do that repeatedly now meant they had worth.


    Crafting, charging items, and still being able to do their duty with the Beacon, as well as make a lot more money, AND they were seeing improvement across the board as they advanced in Level... I had some very, very happy psions working for me, and they were increasing as rapidly as I could bring those Capacitors online for the Beacon.


    I looked at the Vats with another two hundred and fifty-six of my daughters growing in them, and sighed.


    My first generation of daughter Hags were Leveling like crazy, to nobody''s surprise. They weren''t necessarily displaying their golden claws or swords, but such were popping up sometimes on the Boole. The number of Marked, Opened, and Awakened being processed had exploded with them available, and that had accelerated the opening of more factory space, both up and downspire. The demand for raw materials also meant working more closely with the Undergangs who processed most of them. So, like it or not, I was doing business with the Yazu for basic circuit boards, Skraelin for crystal and metals, and the Sweiss for parts.


    Eh. They naturally tried to muscle me for better terms, seeing how lucrative the contract was. A bunch of the girls got pissed, did some work Underspire that got really messy and explosive and mucked up production, and there was a direct inquiry from the Coronals if there was some sort of problem going on that was threatening the production of their Vakker-tech, and did they need some help to deal with it?


    I got a mild discount on materials as the new negotiators replaced the dead ones, and life went on. The girls chortled about the easy Karma and greedy fuckheads messing with us, and went back to hunting cannibal morlocks and oozes... and tidily prosecuting My Queen''s paper files, one by one.


    ---------------


    "You, Termite, what are you doing here?"


    I was heading to the top of Lawnspire, one of the larger, centrally located Spires, a place for the filthy stinking rich and their immediate vassals. This was my official test run for a Class IV Termite License, i.e. a Black Night Specialist.


    All those sand wurm jaws, mutant wyvern heads, and scorpion claws added up, I guess. I could definitely do work outside the walls against some really tough stuff. Now was the time to see if I qualified for nasty people removal.


    "That''s Tier IV Exterminatus Agent Rantha to you, Traffic Juris Sergeant Omer K12-YYYB." I opened my eyes lazily, to look right into his through his helm.


    He started to sneer, then thought better of it. My whole vibe indicated that I was not afraid of him, and he had to quickly check what a Tier IV Termite actually was.


    "Uh..." his tone shifted quickly, as I went from a Termite to Oh Shit on the I''m-Fucked scale. "Uh, we have our own Exterminatus up here, Agent Rantha. Why are you coming to Lawnspire?"


    "Gentlemen," I replied kindly, "in any organization, there are places with competent people, and places with people putting in their time. Upspire is where Termites go to get fat and lazy, kinda like Juris retiring to acting as security chiefs for a blok, or something. I am here because there is something dangerous that needs handling by someone competent to do the task, and the desire to obey the local fashion code was not a criteria." Black leathers, tats, but not a touch of chrome, too much skin. I obviously didn''t belong among the nicely-dressed people and their stylish cyberware on the tram cutting across the Spire''s manicured top, and I equally obviously didn''t care. Public transportation was for the public, just ask Traffic Control.


    It went without saying that being a traffic cop was a plush job where the Juris sent severe underachievers or those about to retire. While technically they were Juris and could order me around, they could technically order around a tank driving on the streets, and it would ignore them, too. Threes messing with Tens was just not a wise thing to do.


    "What''s the job?"


    My eyes were closing, and I fixed them on the brash idiot addressing me again, obviously too used to getting his way.


    "Not yours," I replied in clipped fashion. "You want to know, you have your Precinct Captain talk to My Queen, who''ll tell him to fuck off, and that''ll be the end of it." I flicked up the sealed warrant on my Band, let them stew over it and register that it was indeed official, and closed it again. "Tell your people to lock up their silver, a competent Termite is coming around to clean up their mess, and we wouldn''t want petty thievery to be part of it, now, would we?"


    "Your attitude is unacceptable, Citizen," the Juris traffic cop growled.


    "Yours is accepted standard for the foot patrols chasing morlocks in the sewer tunnels of Khalgon Ward. Would you like to be taken away?" I rebutted cheerfully.


    He started to say something, when his partner hit him on the arm. His power trippage just wasn''t working on me, bullies needed to know when to let it go. Khalgon Ward was one of the major sewage-processing centers for the city, to the extent there were barriers keeping the stench in around it. Getting swept away there was specifically reserved for fuckheads who messed with the wrong people.


    He growled to intimidate absolutely nobody, but shifted his eyes away. It was probably bad enough he was relegated to soothe the nerves of the high-income people of a Spiretop and couldn''t bully-whip anyone, but chasing Morlocks in Khalgon was a whole nuther level of miserable.


    I closed my eyes and waited for my stop, which wasn''t far.


    Black Night Specialist. It was a euphemism for hunting alien infiltrators, or renegade psis. Typically, the Mentats should be given a job like psi-hunting, but when it was sensitive, it was automatically assumed the Mentats would be compromised by multiple connections between different parties, and the job would be handed off to someone competent. Normally, they''d have to be a psi or psi-hunter cyborg, so as to be assured of catching their target, but a Null Psion, well, that was even better in My Queen''s eyes. He''d had no hesitation sending me out here, and I had no problem accepting it.


    My Null was already past 40. I wasn''t worried about a Ten of any sort using psi on me, or a Warp Caster.

 Chapter 345 - Far Future Ch. 55 – A Black Night is Coming

    I reviewed the data being sent to me from the bare bones. Kyler Merschoen, son of a high-ranking executive in the Bitte Conglomerate, was suspected of Corruption. Investigate and eliminate if true.


    His mother was a low-ranking Mentat, and with their money, would have had connections. Going to the psis was asking for trouble.


    I had put the Goldilocks to data-crunching, dredging up his past, and especially his social media exposure.


    He had rated high for psionics, and was aggressively pursued by several corps during his finishing years. He hadn''t taken a position with one, nor had he joined the Mentats, and with the family income, there was no rush on such a thing. His grades were good, gene-ratings and tests high...


    And his social life for the last year was virtually non-existent, and had been falling rapidly for three years before that.


    Time had concentrated around that point, and cross-referencing with other accounts and him in the background of his social circle, looking for ties and connections.


    He had been seen frequently in the company of Jandice Baiuer, a Wendlerton graduate who had been administered the Emperor''s Justice one day after my birthday, and who had killed two Juris while it happened, and thirty-two innocent and not-so-innocent people before a Coronal Squire cut her down.


    They had moved in the same circles, and were never specifically tied together. But a little statistical analysis put the probability of them being at so many different affairs at the same time randomly as highly unlikely.


    Then it was looking into his spending patterns and activities of his family, both of which were raising red flags. The family and their servants were spending far less money on social outings, eating out, and the like, and their social media presence had been slowly and discretely withdrawn. Not just the family, everyone... guards, maids, butler, driver... and a few family members of those servants seemed to have vanished, with only desultory reports and follow-ups, as if the families weren''t interested in finding out what happened.


    Uh HUH. I knew from personal experience that right now, if one of my girls vanished, I was going to be hell on wheels finding out what happened. Of course, I had the muscle and power to do so. Stopping someone from doing so also required muscle and power.


    Kyler was not looking so good. Not being seen in public for six months was a bad sign. Oh, there were inevitable excuses... research, traveling, and so forth, but there was no accompanying documentation to support either activity, anywhere.


    A timeline of what photos there were of him had revealed an increasingly gaunt and driven appearance, hidden with makeup, and then suddenly he had looked the same as nearly a year prior, as if it had all been a bout of sickness or something.


    That usually indicated shapechanging.


    I didn''t think this was a dop infiltration, especially with the mother there. Infiltrating the Mentats was extremely unwise for a dop, and she had been attending regular meetings and undertaking a few special jobs, but only the bare minimum. She was a Six, and had been stuck at the First Ceiling for some time, unable to muster the willpower to push past into the ranks of the elite. It wasn''t just a questions of Stats there... being a Seven meant being more than human, and your mind and soul changed as you stepped into the ranks of superhumans.


    Also, I had True Sight all the time now, so dops were as obvious to me as if they were wearing neon signs. I hadn''t seen any in passing for some time, but the girls were all raring to get to Eight and go dop hunting for extra cash. They''d probably withdrawn to Underspire and the crowds there, but dops hated living in less than optimal conditions, and certainly holding down a laborious job.


    Hmm, I should have the girls start attending high-class art performances and showings. Dops loved showing off their false faces at those...


    But, the signs for Kyler and his family were not good here.


    The tram came to a stop, and I rose and stepped out, to the audible relief of many of the passengers and their sneering mouths. They were ants, I ignored them, and they realized that was what I thought of them, making their faces even more unpleasant. I was going to save their lives and they were looking down on me, when I made more creds a year then they did.


    The homes on a spiretop were all very expensive, and the open lawns were worth even more. Most of the homes were actually below ground/roof, like everyone else, and naturally those at the perimeter with a view were worth the most. Open lawns for strolling, trees on boulevards, ponds, some rolling hills for effect, stands of trees and flowers... this was about atmosphere and being able to walk around and enjoy yourself. Private slices of this cost a fortune and a half, and most were community areas, where not-quite top-tier folks pooled money and influence to have some space shared between them.


    I had the Goldilocks searching for possible effects on their immediate neighbors and the community board.


    Mmm, the last two association meetings had been postponed...


    I had the feeling this was going to get violent. Then it was going to get big. Then I was going to get blamed.


    The amount of electronic traffic coming out of these homes was about a quarter of what should be going on...


    The community was naturally gated, but that didn''t normally deter me. When I waved my Band at it, and the Class IV Warrant didn''t open them, that raised all kinds of alarm bells.


    "My Queen, I''m about to enter the target''s community atop Lawnspire, and their gate isn''t acknowledging the warrant. That''s all kinds of illegal, right?"


    "If you''re rich enough, they might let you get away with it... if the subject isn''t inside the area. Given that your target is, that is quite a warning sign. I will send out a Juris alert in case they want to shoot you for breaking and entering."


    Which Juris would be happy to do up here.


    The gate was naturally durasteel, so not the easiest thing to carve through, but the best point was that it was stylish, so it opened in the middle in grand fashion, instead of recessing up or down. Of course, I could jump it, and trigger the deterrence guns recessed under the flower beds to the sides...


    I flicked on my Vampire''s Veil and vaulted the twenty-foot gates easily. No guns triggered, having lost their target locks once their electronics couldn''t follow me.


    If they could follow me, that would have been really bad news. Not because I was afraid of the guns, of course, but because that would mean the guns were demonically possessed.


    I looked at the dozen homes in the area, the upper areas mostly social areas with views and areas for eating and entertainment. Living areas would be down below, not built up higher and obstructing views, strict codes against that.


    And because I wasn''t trying to be sneaky, I had naturally been noticed. I headed right for my target, one of the larger homes here, with a recessed walkway that effectively turned it into a two-story house of some size, looked like they were doing well.


    Someone triggered the security system behind me, I could hear the whirring as the deterrence guns rose up. However, they couldn''t see me, which meant they''d be firing blind if someone controlled them.


    "Hey! Hey you, stop!" someone shouted, running out of stairs that had opened up on the ground, the mechanical augmentation confirming that they were cybered. I flashed up the warrent on holo; it was beyond my Veil so they could identify it immediately, and their next reaction would confirm that something was wrong. Auto-identify would immediately classify it as ''fuck off, I''ve got work to do'', so if they didn''t change their attitude...


    "I said freeze right there, or we''ll drop you where you stand!" the closest of the four men said, pulling out an inhumanly large sidearm, while the others chambered riot guns.


    I turned around and looked at them, the holo still up. My Brand was tingling with munchie-munchies for whatever they had on them.


    Rantha Hag visual acuity borrows from too many bloodlines. The thaumaspectrum was just one of the spectra I could see in, and these guys had nails of magic driven into their brains and bodies, stewing around and having a fun time with them.


    They were just shells of emptied souls, probably tasped into mindlessness and overwritten by the spell manipulating them.


    A lot of gold force flowed into existence, and they started shooting.


    Shotguns of the future are pretty wicked. They shoot clustered microflechette rounds instead of pellets, spreading out in a fan of flesh-ripping needles that is absolutely lethal against unarmored opponents. That big handgun was throwing out some massive armor-piercing slugs, too.


    Unfortunately, their targeting systems couldn''t lock on me, so all their high-end targeting hardware was worth jack shit to them right now, and I was rather fuzzy in their optic sights, too, eyes being one of the first things to be replaced usually.


    And, I wasn''t unarmored.


    My Nog goldskin flowed up, my auburn hair went gold, and suddenly I looked like a motile golden statue. I slid aside from the hand cannon, watching the bullets race past me and explode... pre-measured gyro rounds, capable of blowing a person right apart, flaming trail quite impressive.


    Chalice adjusted her suite from Phrenics to Constructs (yay, Tekrons!), cyborgs all qualified, and as the semi-transparent banefire shifted to jangly, rigid vibrations, I let dozens of microflechettes lodge themselves in my golden skin, and just held down Paten''s trigger.


    The guy in front took three shots in the chest, the first two being Sun Shots that ripped apart his dermal armor. Sundering and Breaking stacked with Banefire and Nimbus Flaring to blow apart his chest in dynamic fashion, while the Lightning chaser fried his circuits.


    Purple and blue lights fritzed around his skull, and the artificial components began to run in an unhealthy manner.


    The microflechettes stuck in my armored skin, not having the kinetic energy to really do anything to me. I naturally closed in on the trio as they fired again as fast as possible, and tried to back up.


    Chalice fell down from inside my arm into my hand as I came in on the side, they tried to separate to keep their firing angles, but it didn''t mean much.


    Chalice went left, Paten went right, and I wove straight at the third.


    Sharding slashes ripped into the man on the left, taking off first an arm in a spray of circuits, top end cosmetic job there, and then crashing into his chest and starting a spray of glowing purple and blue oil that formed bubbles in the air. Paten put two force Bolts into the head of the third one, and lightnings boiled around his head in purple and blue as his armored skin began to melt.


    The last guy didn''t flinch a bit as his buddies died, not that he had a choice. My chest now sprouted hundreds of needles in a bristling pad, and then Chalice came back across his chest as Paten blew a bolt into his throat and spine, and he erupted in a crazy collapse of his cyber components, flying every which way in a spray of blue and purple.


    Yeah, like I couldn''t tell something was coming next.


    One guy was the skeleton, one guy was the circuits, one guy the generator, and one guy the systems. They flowed and flashed and whirled together, coming together into a bigger, solid form, with multiple arms and weapons, crackling with the unholy power of Warp sorcery-


    I criss-crossed it four times with Sun Strikes, detonating full Nimbus and Corona Flares on it, and the vivic fire and anti-construct damage was just too much for it as the Star Core carved through its neo-armor like cheese. The conjoined guard-robot-undead minion thing blew apart again, this time unwhite fires chasing the blue and purple down and making sure it stayed dead.

 Chapter 346 - Far Future, Ch. 56 – A Black Night is Here

    I looked at my Band, and noted the signal had dropped. That was a big surprise. Unfortunately for the thaumaturgic static, it didn''t block Marktells. You needed an actual full-blown Ward to do that.


    And I had six other Bands I could shunt it through anyways...


    -My Queen, I have confirmation of Warp Sorcery on the community guards, and judging by the way the locals are tearing open their doors and charging for me with guns blazing with magical spikes sticking out of their souls, everyone around is afflicted. A Juris alert is probably a good idea.- He knew our line had been cut when my video feed went down, of course.


    -Notifying,- he /replied smoothly, his mind working as he danced through the system with the ease of long experience. -That Tactical team you worked with before.-


    -That''s not bad. Make sure you cc the Umbrans and Coronals. You know how they love this stuff.- At which point I also /copied to Sir Dorval and Philius everything I was saying, startling them in the middle of whatever they were doing.


    Me, I was booking for the Merschoen residence, as an array of slugthrowers, lasers, gyrockets, ion beams, needlers, and a few fusion grenades were being sent my way, to the dismay of all the landscaping about.


    I could have gone down that sinking drive to the main doors, and hewed my way through the durasteel. Instead I blew a bolt from Paten through the armored glass, fractured it, and with complete disregard for the fact that a wise person does not dive through or onto razor-sharp shards of steel-hard glass, I dove inside as the wall and windows behind were coming apart with heavy fire from the neighbors.


    The riot doors were starting to come down over the stairs going down. I flipped and drove Chalice down into the motor, right through the floor, shorting it out. The slats of durasteel stopped half-closed as I continued sliding over the floor, smashed my way through the railing, over the riot doors, and was over the edge of it and slithering down like a snake.


    The butler down there was waiting for me to come, but the first thing that came over the edge was Paten, who put a bolt into his forehead before the rest of me followed, and his riot gun discharged into the ceiling, making a mess of the drop-tiles as it did. The maid, her eyes twice normal size, held the trigger down on the modified fusion torch, and some fourth state of matter sprayed up and caught me as I came over.


    The next shot blew her cranium apart in white, blue, and purple, and the flaming spray went up to the ceiling, leaving a trail of ash behind it as everything in its path was carbonized... except for me, as I was immune to fire and simply had a bit redder gold on my skin.


    I didn''t even bother to get up, going down the stairwell as if it was a slide and pulses of hard light and gyro rounds blew apart around me, trying to track me as I zipped down faster than gravity, throwing off their aim. I face-planted against the wall upside down, standing on my head as I whipped both arms out.


    Mrs. Merschoen tried to Blink away from the shot coming for her, and found the dimensions locked down. Her Soak took the first bolt, which drew a bloody path across her cheek, and she shrieked at me as she promptly dumped an Energy Blast out at me.


    My Interdiction was up in full, which was probably really annoying someone, but my Null itself I kept local.


    Warpfire blew past me and the wall, and absolutely shredded the ceilings and floors. Steel beams melted and blew away, the hovercars in the garage over there counter-exploded to add to the fun, the ceiling lifted away in blue-purple flames and totally trashed the upstairs.


    -Well, she isn''t just a Six Psi, pulling that out of her ass,- I thought, as the unmarked wall behind me protested at the lack of support starting six inches away from me, surrounded by twenty feet of nothing to either side, and the upper floors collapsed.


    Mr. Merschoen was gasping at his unresponsive arm, where a Shard from Chalice had pierced right through his shoulder and rather messed up the nerves there.


    I turned my feet and swiveled as the last of the energy blast swept past me, feet coming down, locking with heavyfoot, torso following and facing them, still shooting Paten.


    Her Inertial Armor took part of the hit, but the Sun Shots flared, and she gasped as the feedback coursed through her brain, holes popping up in her gut and chest as banefire''d bolts detonated.


    The telepathic attack was incredibly powerful. A normal person''s brain would have melted right there. It came out in a wave, and unfortunately Mr. Merschoen stumbled in the path of it. His cerebral tissue became steam, and his head exploded nastily as the wave rolled over me, overclocked as she sensed my resistance and spent the power to overcome it ¨C


    Yeah, my Null took care of it. But before then, she wasn''t driving her power into an unmoving wall. She was driving herself into an unmoving wall with THORNS.


    She screamed as the feedback tore through her mind and body as her telepathic attack was rent apart, and her psyche with it. Brain tissue blew her eyes right out of her head, and she fell over, not very happy with me and how her new life of Great Ubah Powah had turned out.


    "You killed my Mommmmyyyyyyyy!" a young teenaged girl screamed as she rounded the corner, clutching a heavy laser in her hand. If I couldn''t see the magic nails sticking into her, making her nothing more than a puppet, I might have felt a little guilty when Shards, a Bolt, and hard light crossed paths, and the cute kid went flying back without her head on her shoulders, punching lines of hard light through the ceiling.


    The building behind me collapsed with a roar, deciding it had had enough, while the glowing spots the pulsed laser shots had dotted across me rapidly faded. I was basically immune to most hand weapons, although gyros could give me problems once they blew, and if there were enough of them.


    I faced the hallway to the sleeping wing, and the subfloor beneath it.


    My Trembling Domain was naturally up, and fully active, painting the entire area into my awareness. I knew where everyone had been standing, and forewarned like that, there were no surprises. I could see some of the things that were going on right beneath my feet, which didn''t surprise me a bit now that I knew what was here.


    The next attack was telekinetic; psionic and magic power were combined to boost the effect to impossible levels for a normal psion. The cone of psychic power took all the walls between me and the kid and shoved them all my way.


    The problem was that my Interdiction was up, which expressly did not allow any of that shit to ignore King Gravity. So even as it was coming my way, it was falling to the ground, crashing to the floor, and stacking up into a sliding mass of stuff that I could leap right over as the TK itself parted harmlessly around my Null.


    The young man looked both wasted and energized, a true Amourean combination, the signs of excess and the gifts of energy combining to bulge his eyes out, wrap his skin tight to his bones, and also fill him with unreal vitality and Ubah Powah.


    Seeing someone jump right through a TK wave that would pancake someone in power armor was a little unsettling to him, however.


    "You-you, how?" he screeched, and then dove aside with telekinetic speed, mind moving the body... and falling flat on his face as he did so, instead of just shunting himself aside. He shrieked as he dove down the stairs there, and I shot twice at the motors, jamming the riot doors he tried to drag shut, and as they screeched and buckled at the force of their attempt to block me, I bounced off the wall backwards and was following him down the stairs on my backside.


    He had definitely tried to Summon something in, and then to pop some dimensions and get out of here, but that wasn''t working. I imagined he had a Magic Jar somewhere to safeguard his soul, and some suitable chump to bodyhop into, and he should have used it. The instant he saw vivic fire, he might get the impression his soul was in danger, and having a Receptacle wasn''t going to save him if I killed him.


    If he wanted to get away, what he needed to do was kill himself right now, before I did. But I wasn''t showing vivic fire, so he thought he was unkillable, and he animated the struts and beams of the room to try and stop me.


    Null Strikes blasted across the steel whipping at me, dispelling the magic and psionic power pouring through them, and they literally fell apart as the stressed metal gave way. I was pumping non-stop shots from Paten as Chalice carved his little toys and I kicked to my feet. He was gawking and cursing as TK slapped my little Bolts aside constantly, his fevered eyes on mine as he tried to figure a way out of this.


    Removing Summons and dimensional transit, along with flight, from a Caster''s arsenal is crippling, especially if they don''t expect it is coming.


    If he thought the howling spirits he''d made from the servants and their families, and the cyberzombies done up as sadomasochists were going to stop me, well, that''s what Ghost Touch was for, and Cleave Trains.


    Yeah, he''d spent a lot of time and effort building up some reserves, and he''d used the classic Tyrant''s Triad to do so: Charms, Necromancy, and Summons. However, I wasn''t letting him bring in the creatures he''d bound with his Summons, his Charmed people in my way were all dead, and these undead weren''t going to stop me.


    He gawked as Chalice became a blur of conjoined arcs and motion, and I bulled through the mass of his sacrifices with Heavyfoot and a 48 Might. Chopped corpses animated by magic and tech blew apart as golden light rent them, and Ghost Touch fed on the angry spirits, dissipating them.


    Yeah, undead. Chalice had to go vivic, she had to let them rest.


    He saw the unwhite fires, didn''t know what to call it, but recognized that it was eating the Warp energies animating his toys, and knew he had to get out of there.


    He dove for a bolthole in the floor, TK already reaching out to jam it closed behind him.


    I dropped Paten for my hair to catch, drew Faith, and did a Captain America shield toss as gold light flared around her.


    The Buckler had to revolve 360 degrees sideways to spin past the zombies and align itself to the hole, but there was still a whole floor of Habberblok devoted to rampaging about and testing out fighting skills, so no worry about the practice needed to practice shield tosses.


    The golden edge of Faith''s force-extension chopped right over his rabbit hole, and he slammed face-first into it. Just to make sure he remembered the sensation, Faith discharged the Sun Strike I''d left on her, and he screamed as the Corona and Nimbus Flare blew him backwards, reeling.


    Faith is my shield, after all.


    Half a dozen incorporeal wailing souls blew into swathes of vivus, warring with the necrotic rot and ozone tang of sex and the Warp twisting everything. I tossed aside a hefty corpse made from a fat kid who looked to have been force-fed to death, blew a Sun Stroke through his ball of a chest, and grabbed Paten''s rack, pulled it to bring up a real quarrel, and my hair centered the leyser almost nobody could see right between his eyes, ... which bulged and crossed despite themselves. No, no, he wasn''t using magic...


    The pulse laser had the Sun Shot, and he had fire resistance up, but that didn''t save him from the carry effect of the hard light and the discharge, slamming his head back against the wall, venting more Soak, and then the hard bolt took him in the chest.


    The future had some hideously nasty explosive stuff, and when Energized, it got even worse. The bolt got past his somewhat distracted TK defenses, and slammed full into his sternum.


    This was real, not magical energy. The remains of the cyberzombies were blown past me as I slid back on my heavyfoot, debris pinging off my goldskin, and no, I didn''t stay there to see what was happening. Even as the backblast was sucking stuff back in, I went right with it, Chalice out in front.

 Chapter 347 - Far Future, Ch 57 – Dark Night and Guards

    Yeah, he was still alive, but his Soak and whatever unholy blessings he had were gone, and vivic fire was burning on him. He kind of looked at me in a crazed daze as I came in, buried Chalice right between his eyes, and as he stared at me, I Flared her.


    His psychic scream was pretty loud, and his head went off like a grenade in my face, sending me back the way I''d come grumbling about force waves and Thunder and whatnot. The screaming continued as his spirit tried to get away, and vivic fire wasn''t having none of that. True Death came up and bit him as he pscreamed, and he was reduced to food for the Land and the strengthening of the local Veil, thank you, kiss-kiss, pat-pat from the Land.


    The movement upstairs where his soul-shackled minion neighbors were clambering down to try to get to me stopped abruptly, and there were multiple thumps as bodies hit the floor, puppets whose puppetmaster had abruptly passed on.


    Hmm, lot of weapons here. I was going to have to ask the Juris if I could confiscate them for the Habberblok armory. They''d gotten the qualifications to upgrade with the establish of the G&G safety zone raising the public safety level to an acceptable level, and the constant violence at the fringes of the territory...


    Although that was falling as the girls established their own territories, took over bloks, and began to gridwork all around. Less fringe conflicts, and more conflicts inside those territories, being carried out with great enthusiasm. It could be said that as a whole, Janus Prime was a more violent place right now than it had ever been... and then those violent places were better than they had ever been.


    Strange how that worked...


    ---------


    Transit cop Juris One and Two were actually the first Juris to get here, as they were the closest and raced right over. They scowled outside the gate entrance that was not allowing them in as I walked up.


    "What did you do?" Mouthy Juris immediately yelled out, seeing dead Citizens lying around, craters, and burning homes; one completely trashed, and burning with unnatural fires.


    "Killed a Warp Sorcerer named Kyler Merschoen, the subject of the Class 4 Warrant, Juris," I replied in a neutral tone. "And be happy you can''t get the doors open, because the deterrence guns are active and would''ve turned you into blood spray." He had the presence of mind to glance at the flower beds and step back from the gates. "Let me see if I can unlock them. Do me a favor and tell any wagons that come in that the defenses are active, but the living threat is not."


    I wandered towards the stairway the cyborgs had come out of, left conveniently open and doubtlessly having the controls to local security that had been suborned. And guess who was a Hacker and had ten Ranks in Computer Programming? Yes, what a good Sama she was!


    ------


    "True Sight attuned to the thaumaspectrum. I could see the brain-spikes," I told Philius as he and his team poked through what was left of the main mansion. The Juris were investigating the other homes, and also finding some deeply disturbing stuff.


    He, Sir Dorval, and I were looking at a Summoning Circle wrought in human blood, probably virgin girls'', and thrumming with power, ready to go off. There were miscellaneous human and inhuman body parts scattered around, a lot of blood staining everything, and the rotting perfume and tang of Warp energies held in check.


    "That is ready to erupt at the slightest contact," Sir Dorval judged warily, looking at the shimmering circle.


    "On the contrary, it would have erupted already if I hadn''t Interdicted the area." Chalice hummed out golden, limned in vivic fire. "Right now the Veil is too hard, and it can''t be forced. We''ll just make that a permanent thing, howabouts." I touched the golden force blade and its unwhite hungry flame to the floor, and the corrupted blood wooshed up into activity like tinder.


    We all watched the vivus run across the floor towards the circle, spreading out in a fan in every direction. It hit the multi-hued lights writhing in the symbols and lines of the summoning circle, and poof! Vivic fires leapt up around them busily, devouring the energy hungrily as a new, clean scent seemed to waft through the air.


    "I''ve seen that energy at work among your other Null Psions," Philius noted carefully. "Is this something that can be replicated? What is it?"


    "First question: Yes, but you don''t want to do so yet. Vivic fire is only allowed on weapons belonging to Nulls. If the Warp Powers become aware it exists here, they''ll wipe the planet to get rid of the threat. So, it can''t be issued to the Coronals or Umbrans, despite how fantastically useful it is. Unless you can spread it across the galaxy in no time, and inform psion artificers en masse at the same time, you can''t let it out.


    "Second Question: It''s the unnatural energy of reality. It reverts hostile or unnatural energies that do not belong to reality back to baseline. This tends to include negative energy in all forms, especially those associated with death. Materials so purified generally revert to dust charged with positive energy, really good for growing things, so it gets rid of dead bodies. It won''t affect magically or psionically bound items, such as Warp artefacts or necropsionic items, but Wards, sorcery, psi-shields, extant effects... it will slowly eat them away and reduce them to background energy.


    "Oh, and they strengthen the Veil in the area they burn for a considerable amount of time. Can''t Summon or dimension-bend in that area for some time."


    Comprehension flashed in Sir Dorval''s eyes. "That is similar to what happened at Wendlerton Academy."


    I nodded slightly. "From the description, it would have taken a massive amount of vivus to make an effect so strong that it actually affected normal psionic usage. Something like that would have reduced the entire Academy grounds to powder. There was probably another effect that first sealed the Veil, and what vivus there was just piggy-backed on it and extended it out."


    "It hasn''t faded by a centimeter since then. I understand the Mechanists want to turn it into a research location free of psionic interference. For now, we''ve been using it as holding facility for psionic talents," Philius informed me.


    "The Mekkers have been wanting to invent a cheap way to screen out psionic power since the Great Rebellion," I sniffed. "They have a total inferiority complex dealing with it."


    "A lot of non-psions feel the same way," Sir Dorval noted in a low voice. As a Coronal Knight, he was quite sensitive to the fact that the Knights were very much about presenting a positive view of psionic individuals as possible. The Mentats were basically seen as a block of elitists, snobbish mindbenders who had as little to do with non-psions as possible, and wylders and other rogue psis getting corrupted by the Warp were all too common an occurrence. The regularity with which bladeboys got into fights also didn''t give them a positive image, even if they were wildly popular in gladiatorial games.


    The Coronal Knights were the ones who were always there. At war, in peace, their job was to fight and defend humanity against all the horrors that threatened it. While the Blues were arrogant assholes about it, the fact was that they always showed up, and very, very few Knights ever managed to retire from their job.


    "The best way is to be a Null Psion, then everyone is in the same boat. Your psions cease to be a threat to you, and become one to your mutual enemies." I cast a sideways glance at the two of them. "I have a question for the two of you, now that you are in my Null for the moment. Is there a possibility of setting up an Umbran and Coronal Guard, composed of Null Psions?"


    Both of their eyebrows rose. "You want something beyond Striker status for your students?" Sir Dorval asked.


    "Mmmm. Mentally, they are not inferior to any psions, although their focus is different. Having Nulls working alongside Psions is a major benefit for any psion. Furthermore, they are all combat-trained, which means they are bodyguard material, and can focus on mundane skills. I shouldn''t even have to say that they make better undercover agents than any psion, in terms of being detected as a mindbender. Having someone next to you who can guard you from psionic attack while you unleash your own is extremely useful, and..." I looked over the two of them with a lazy, knowing eye, "a Null is a psion with a Reserve they cannot tap. If they are bonded to a psion, that psion can use their Reserve."


    Both men froze, the implications immediately obvious. "Without a metaconcert?" Philius asked faintly.


    "Physical contact only. If you can reach a standard of a Harmonic Nimbus, you''re good to go." Easiest method to tell that? You could cut your mindblades through one another harmlessly.


    "That is..." the two men looked at one another.


    "Half-cloaks." I got their attention again. "Psions should always lead both organizations. There are simply things you can do that must be done, and so you should be on top.


    "But the number of potential Null Psions who can work for you vastly outnumbers the number of psions either of your organizations will ever recruit. In terms of non-psionic skills, Nulls will be your equals or unenhanced superiors, simply because they don''t have to focus on improving their psionic skills. They can master purely mental disciplines as or more easily than your own.


    "I know that primary training for all Knight and Operative aspirants takes place off-world. But I think you should give serious thought to an alternative advancement path for Null Psions who want to serve the Emperor''s Hands."


    Both of the men grimaced. "Sama, there''s been very little change in how our Orders are run for almost ten thousand years..."


    "Nonsense. Every single Castle and Dungeon has its own traditions and its own ways and means, and don''t think I don''t know about the factions inside, especially obvious among the Coronals. All changes start with small things in small places. Strikers are one thing, but a Null Psion with a silver Mindsword and Shield Focus is utterly wasted among them. I''m going to be giving both to you, and you need to use them properly." My eyes were dancing a little bit, and the two men were growing increasingly uncomfortable. "Furthermore, some of my girls have expressed avid interest at serving directly at the side of my two contacts in the Hands. They will not be content with being relegated to mere Strikers when they can kick both of your asses... and as Bonded Nulls, let''s just say that the amount of Reserves they have is greater than your own."


    Both of them licked their lips unconsciously. "And yes, there is the fact that the best way to Bond a Psi and a Null is after-hours energetic activity."


    They swallowed together in unison, too.


    I turned back to the room that was full of unwhite flame, and starting to spread beyond us. "Well, now that our conversation is over, how about we get out of here before it all falls down on us?"


    -------------------


    Black Night Specialist rating confirmed! With this, I would have come to the notice of both the Knights and the Umbrans, even if they weren''t aware of me initially. After all, there were only ten of us in the whole city, and the other nine were all affiliated with merc groups and were looking for mass payouts, not getting into the Back Files.


    My Queen glanced up as I entered his office. He was looking trimmer now, the result of getting out and doing some field work, and the fact that Serena Rantha was working with him now. She literally had the Serene Talent, and was a good match for him. They could both work together for hours literally saying nothing, but getting tons of work done.


    With all them Hags out there, there was a lot of work to do. He definitely had the most productive Termite office in the whole city. Doris out front had been dubbed official ''Princess Termite'' by the Ranthas coming and going, and the half of her face that could smile was doing so much more often recently. The girls had taken her out shopping, one of them was walking her home almost every day, and they had helped her move into Habberblok, where she was holding after-hours training for people who wanted to get into government work, and making some good money doing it.


    Having kids was so damn useful sometimes...


    Buuuut, My Queen actually glanced at the creature riding on my shoulders for a second. "What brings you down here." I could talk to him from across the system, I didn''t need to be here.

 Chapter 348 - Far Future, Ch 58 – Of Cats and Things

    Serena turned to glance at me, too. She was dark-skinned, dark-haired, high cheekbones, and just radiated an atmosphere of calm. She was also a stunner who spent eight hours a day underdiving for Karma, and dragging My Queen along to get him to Seven.


    I clocked a thumb at the critter. "I''m delivering Lepido here to you."


    "Mew?" she asked, looking at me.


    "If you''ll jump out of my Null..." I prodded her, and she jumped gracefully down to his desk, making him pull his hands back as the butterfly-pattern wings flared out for an instant and she landed.


    "An Aquatainian Fluttercat, which is not a cat, but people are stupid." she had antennae, for starters, and the wings were not some cosmetic decoration gene-modded into place. She was rather catlike, but with a longer and somewhat thinner neck, longer-limbed and graceful, with very soft white fur and a poofy tail. "She''s about as intelligent as a two-year-old human, although most people don''t realize that. She''s also very empathic and psensitive.


    "I gather she was a fad pet of one of the families at the Black Night event we just had. She came out of nowhere and jumped onto my shoulders to get away from all the violent emotions in the area. She also felt her adopters turned into puppets, but it couldn''t do anything about them until everything was all dead.


    "She needs to be around people, as she feeds on residual emotional energy, among other things, but those people need to be generally calm or she gets very skittish. You''re the calmest normal person I know, so congratulations, you are now the proud owner of a pet which, if the prices on the Boole are to be believed, costs more than two years of your salary."


    His Band bleeped. "That''s an optimal diet, but she can eat dead rats without a problem."


    His pale brown eyes looked at me, then down at the cat standing on his desk looking back at him.


    "He good for you?" I asked. The cat looked back at me and mewed again. "Fantastic. He has problems sleeping, help him with that."


    The cat mewed again, and proceeded to walk up his arm, around his shoulders, and laid down around his neck as My Queen had the closest thing I''d ever seen to surprise on his face.


    Yeah, he was more a dog kind of guy, but he was perfect for the cat, so why not?


    -Hey girls, My Queen lives in Casperblok. That''s on the next wave of expansions, isn''t it?- I flicked through the community files they''d drawn up on next goals, having largely taken over all the mechanics thereof.


    Confirmations rang in from girls busy flaming oozes, ganking morlocks, trolling spideroids, dodging zwilnik shooters, roaring through deathmatch races, shooting up a drug parlor, and otherwise engaged in peacetime activities.


    -Let''s make that a priority, shall we?- There was a small blizzard of affirmatives, and I smiled and waved at Doris as I walked out. She smiled and waved back, beaming with her new haircut and manicure.


    Joile Rantha had personally promised to perform the surgery to restore her face when she hit Eight, and was Doris'' most frequent escort home. The Mick had gotten himself certified as a Medicae Trainer, expanded his operation yet further, and fortified his credentials. He was also overseeing satellite clinics at all the bloks under G&G control, which still took gangers who came in under white flag. The availability of pain-free psionic healing was a huge draw and making good money, and if a bunch of nasty wounds popped up on me in the middle of something and were then healed away, well, that was me monetizing a healing factor.


    The girls were getting to the level where they could start developing one, which was good, they were a must in our line of work, and the Regeneration/1 at Five even more vital. Coming back from an insta-kill would really annoy a lot of people...


    I headed outside for a walk, looked both ways (and checked TC) before crossing the street.


    Uh huh...


    There was a Tekron hovering up there in a clear space between the traffic flows, looking at me.


    It was out of phase with reality, and so undetectable without some really high-end tech... or True Sight, in which case it was bloody obvious sitting out there so confidently in plain sight.


    I made no sign that I''d noticed anything, of course, but Grim still rode high in my hair on the back of my head, watching my flanks, and after five upgrades, had considerable visual range for a psicrystal.


    Chalice silently moved into construct-cutting mode, in bodyphase and so unseen.


    Okay, it was following me, too. That wasn''t too good. I could understand why they would be interested in me, a mere human professing to kill one of their stealthers, and probably wondering how and why, and wanting to verify if it were true.


    This pyramidal wonder had a large eye on each facing, and swiveling energy projectors at each vertex. If it popped in and started releasing, I was pretty sure everything within a half-mile was going to die pretty quickly to some very high-end firepower.


    But it was here to watch, and it was following me and matching my pace.


    So, the thing to do was take it by surprise. I headed for the corner of the commercia building across from the Termite building in the government ward offices, and slowly picked up speed, first by lengthening my strides with lightfoot without actually changing my pace, and then going into skating and moving into the fast travel lane.


    It started to swing out as it accelerated to match my pace, picking up speed as it rounded the corner... and paused, because I was not where I should have been.


    And then my Interdiction slammed it out of phase and its roboeye jerked up even as its anti-grav failed it. The plasma ray burned me right across the chest as Chalice came ripping down on it in a full-out Spirited Charge, jumping up onto the side of the commercia, taking three steps to get fifty feet in the air, light gravity to go up too fast, and heavy gravity to come down too fast.


    The Sun Strike and adamant orichalcum combined to blow through its necrochalcum hide, and vivic banefire mixed with the force-shredding power of Sunder and Breaking tore apart its inner systems in a spray of arcane and psionic energies.


    It crashed to the ground as I drove down on it, nearly hitting a little old lady wandering by. She jumped in shock, was about to say something as I pulled a flaming golden Sword out of the burning attack bot, and decided that it wasn''t worth getting into a fuss over. She walked away as if nothing had happened, and I smiled to myself.


    She probably hadn''t seen something die yet today, so she had to get in her count.


    If they sent one, they''d send back-up. I dialed up my Band, and openly rang a call into the Umbran headquarters.


    "This is the office of the Fallen Moon. Agent Rantha, why are you calling?" the electronic receptionist answered.


    "If you''ll access my records, you''ll find that I killed a war-bot made outta some cool stuff a while back. Well, I got another one. Was wondering if the Umbrans wanted it again, or if I could auction it off this time."


    "One moment please, Agent Rantha." I wasn''t even going to dare a direct /tellepathic link at this point, only background /tells between people were going on, basically undetectable by anyone. As I sat there with one foot on the razor-edged corner of the Tekron that had buried itself on one corner a couple feet into the duracrete, I eyeballed everywhere, looking for the backup that should have been trailing the spotter.


    And there it was, looked like a twelve-side die with recessed sides, and multiple lenses and antennae projecting from it. It was about a thousand feet up and a half-mile away, clearly keeping a safe distance, but doubtless it had just seen the whole thing of me rounding the corner and then abruptly coming off the side of the building from above to one-shot its companion.


    "Agent Rantha, you are directed to secure the warbot. A Striker collection team will come promptly to pick up the specimen."


    "Mmm-kay. I''m gonna take some pictures and post them. This thing looks pretty cool. Who knows, there might be another one floating around." Which should set off all kinds of alarm tonals up there.


    Philius was knocking on my mental door within seconds. I directed him over to Sir Dorval without connecting, and thence to My Queen and Serena.


    Ten seconds later Serena poked her head out the door to see me standing there with one foot on a dead Tekron, and then pulled back inside. There was a blitz of /tellepathic conversation ''around'' me. Our eyes met, and she began to blink.


    ''WHERE?'' her eyes spelled out. My hair curled up under my chin, just outside the watcher''s line of sight, and pointed up and behind her. /tellepathic notices flew out after she pulled her head back inside.


    One minute later, as I was sure the hoverwagon was being boarded, I felt the surge of an Interdiction going off and brushing up against my own. Serena had moved to a higher floor and the end of the building closer to the d12 Tekron.


    It was shunted into realspace, and then a needlebeam and a psionic pulse flashed in from way over yonder and hit it in the same instant. Spitting black lightning, it was slammed into the side of the building and lodged there, forced into the duracrete, a big hole in it from which nothing was going to come out intact.


    The report was like thunder, but not many people actually saw it, only turning their heads at the flash. It was a thousand feet up, after all, but some people still made out something wedged into the side of the administrative building. Pictures would be going out quickly, without a doubt.


    So now it would be established that the authorities here could also detect and take out Tekrons, which was also an important piece of misdirection.


    Mithar, I hope this wasn''t going to lead to a Tekron invasion. The planet was pretty much doomed if that happened. I didn''t have the tech in place to face them, we didn''t have the numbers, and there wasn''t a big enough presence in space as far as I knew. They would be irked that their dead didn''t auto-vanish, necrochalcum was not cheap to make, but thems the ropes. As soon as you throw psionics into the mess, all sorts of things like Interdictions were possible, if annoying to robots made from Weird Science.


    Never a dull day, never a dull day. My payout should be much, much higher this time...


    ------


    "What is this?" My smile grew wide despite myself.


    I was looking at my bank account in a good mood, which rapidly evaporated as within about ten seconds of ordering ''necessary stuff'', it was suddenly in dire need again, and I could only curse the black hole of equipment upgrades.


    This physical letter was actually printed, delivered, required a signature and confirmation of receipt, and had to be witnessed by the opener. Niles winced despite himself as I turned it over.


    "It''s a draft notice," he whispered to me, and looked like he was ready to run.


    "Really." I eyed him. "Ah, some people want to shoot the messenger when they get these, huh?" I flipped him a ten-credit coin instead.


    He slumped down in relief as he caught it nimbly. "I''ve almost been shot three times, Lady Sama. Citizens are supposed to have mandatory service, but they usually buy it off by paying someone else in their place."


    "Three people." I held up three fingers as I popped the notice in front of him. "And the government sets the payout. It''s actually not that bad a deal for a Native who wants to get out of Downspire. Set up your family for several years, send your siblings to a decent school, a bunch of stuff, and at the end you can apply for Citizenship, if you meet the reqs."

 Chapter 349 - Far Future, Ch. 59 – I Have a Dream...

    "Really?" His eyes flashed. "So, someone could pay me to become a Citizen, huh..."


    He had been a teenager the first time I''d run into him, actually about my age. I''d been using him for years, and a dozen of my Marked were under him, running all over the city on hoverbikes. He''d made a nice bonus off good recruits. I glanced at him. "There''s other ways to qualify, but they mostly rely on proven education level and income. You got any shot at those?"


    "Nah," he said realistically, crossing his arms on the handlebars. "Running courier keeps my ride up and me in threads, but I ain''t making retirement money doing this."


    "Well, I tell you what. This is a ninety-day notice. If you want a shot at Citizenship, I''ll be going in as an officer, and I''ll be taking over the whole company of recruits within a week, guaranteed. You want to serve under me, this is your time to sign up. Deliver one of these notices, and let ''em know they can pay you. I''ll get some others willing to sign up to make a trifecta with you."


    He gave me a sharp look, then up and down Habberblok behind me, carefully keeping his eyes away from the top floors with practiced ease from where we were standing on the outshoot from 120. "Will I have to join up with you people?" he asked.


    "No, but you will have a much, much easier time if you do. Or if you want to make Seven." He was already a Two, too late to become a Null.


    A flash of ambition flashed across his dark eyes. Seven was just a pipe dream for most people. "You gonna make me a bladeboy?" he asked, caught somewhere between longing and fear. He''d naturally heard the news of how much fighting we did.


    "It''s too late for you to do that... unless you become a Seven. But there''s other things you can do." I folded the draft notice and shoved it in my vest. "And let me tell you... after the fighting my boys have been doing, basic training is going to be a walk in the park." I eyed his skinny frame. "You want to do this, do it quick, and get some training in before you go. You''ll get faster rank out of it, and a better choice of assignment. You''re competing with tens of thousands of people for the MOS you want, and a lot of them are gonna be tough lowlifes and bastards who already know how to fight, shoot, and kill people.


    "You wanna stand out, you better be ready in advance."


    "Yeah," he trailed off, his eyes flickering.


    "You want a bit of free advice?" I asked him, not about to sting his pride.


    He shrugged. "Sure."


    "I''m a Ten." His eyes widened despite himself. "Nobody gets handheld to Seven. You want it, you have to go get it. I can show you the road, but you''re the only one who can walk it." I bent closer to him, and he leaned in despite himself. "Nigel, you''re a good kid and you''re smart, but you''re just like all the others who want something, and don''t want to put out the effort to get there.


    "This is probably the only shot in your whole life you have a chance at Seven. Otherwise, you''re gonna end your life as a Three or Four running packages, regretting letting this go.


    "Don''t fuck it up."


    He swallowed as he stared at me, nodding slowly. "Yeah. Yeah..." He looked down at his Mass Pack. "I got lots more of these to deliver today..."


    "And I''m gonna need a good driver."


    His white smile showed up on his brown face brightly, and his decision was made. "Then I''m your man, Lady Sama!" he puffed up.


    "Get back to work. Let the wimps fucking buy your time, I''ll get some others to contact you, and you can sell yourselves as a trio." I held up my hand just before he took off. "So, you deliver a lot of these?"


    "Yeah, at least a couple dozen every day when they send ''em out. Gotta have witness, can''t drone ''em."


    "How about I send you a whole bunch of trios and you charge a finder''s fee on top? Five percent, guaranteed acceptance, on the spot, pocket it all."


    His grin grew even wider. "Oh, yeah, I can definitely do that!" he agreed.


    "But only if you do it first."


    His smile faded, and his face hardened for a moment, but he nodded. "Then I''ll do that."


    "And if they''ll pay you ten, or twenty, or whatever, soak ''em."


    His grin came back. "Lady, hope you gots lots of boys ready to go!"


    There was a chorus of about two hundred and fifty bings on his Band. He looked at it in shock.


    "I think that''ll get you started. Once you sign up, I''ll expect you here after you get off shift."


    "You got it, Lady Sama!" He gave me a sloppy but energetic salute as he peeled off, hooked into TC, and headed for the skyway above the blok.


    -------


    "A draft notice?" The older man on the other side of the com was clearly a bit unsightly. He had to know it was coming, but that didn''t mean he wanted his precious daughter to do her mandatory service.


    Nigel smiled. "Courier code places one Miss Charity Bendlo inside. If she can please come to the door to be witnessed receiving her Notice. If you don''t want her to, I''ll mark her down as denying delivery, and the Juris can come get her when it''s time."


    The man shuddered. "No, no, it''s no problem. I''ll be right down with her." He sighed, and logged off.


    Nigel didn''t get off his bike. Couriers delivered, they sent notice ahead, and you met them, or you were already accessible. If not, you could go to a delivery station and pick up your own damn delivery while waiting in line with the other idiots who couldn''t be bothered to get Witnessed. Draft Notices especially were not something you wanted to shirk, and Juris hated having to come down to enforce them. They''d kick down the door, rampage through the house, generally in the middle of the night, grab their target, and haul them down to sit in isolation until it was time. No buying your way out if Juris had to come in after you.


    It only took a minute for the door to open, and a rather sallow-complexioned father and his wide-eyed, very petite and cute daughter was right there, staring at the messenger on his hoverbike outside their Upspire door.


    "Miss Charity Bendlo, if you would open your Draft Notice and acknowledge that you have received and understood what this means."


    She took the old-style envelope with small, trembling hands, looking at her father pleadingly.


    He looked both ashamed and protective. Nigel remained composed as she slowly opened it and read it quickly.


    "Ninety days," she whispered, very softly.


    "If you could give me a hand and eye scan." He held out his slate, and she automatically locked onto it, blinked twice, and swiped her hand over it. Nigel nodded, took it back, and did the same. "Witnessed and verified," he said calmly, started to turn away, and then looked back. "You looking at buying out your draft, Miss Bendlo?" he asked off-handedly.


    She instantly looked at her dad, whose eyes narrowed. "What if I am?" the man responded warily.


    Nigel waved, and three spinning profiles hovered above his Band. "I know three guys looking for Citizenship. They are medicae-vetted, top-grade physicals and mentals, Juris Auxiliary backgrounds, willing to be bought out. Forms are pre-filled, you just give a double-scan with a witness, and you are done." He paused, and just as the man started to open his mouth, Nigel went on, "Of course, such high-grade Natives come at a premium. You know that if a replacement washes out, dies, is medically or mentally unfit, they come down and get your girl anyways. These three come from the Green and Gold, and their chance of passing through Basic is basically a walk. Furthermore, G&G guarantees a replacement if they die during training, if you''re willing to pony up the additional fee at that time.


    "I got two hundred and forty of these boys, and over the next week I''ll be delivering more than that in Draft Notices... as will my crew. I got three minutes before I have to be on my way to my next delivery.


    "You want to buy out her Draft?"


    The eyes of the Bendlos met, and the father sighed. "The Green and Gold? Aren''t they associated with the Rantha Corp?"


    Nigel hid a smile. "I think so. Smack in their territory Downspire. Handle Blok security and shoot a lot of zwilniks, by the Boole chatter."


    "Right." He held up his band, his account transfer already opening. "How much?"


    Nigel still didn''t smile on the outside, but he was laughing on the inside as the money was transferred.


    Fuck ''em, he charged the rich twit fifty percent! And this first one was his own, of course. The man wouldn''t give a shit about the money if his tender little princess didn''t have to go slogging through the grime with a bunch of low-born scum.


    Nigel tipped his helm as the deal was closed, while the girl was almost weeping for joy at getting out of her obligation to society so easily. Useless thing...


    As Nigel pulled away, he promised himself he''d never let any kids he had ever be like that... and he''d never be like that dad, either, who doubtless had his own Draft bought out.


    He thought about it, and then sent a message off on his Band to Lady Sama, despite himself. [Hey, Big Red, I just sold three of us to an Upspire twit for fifty percent premium. You might just want to make this formal and charge even more.]


    The reply came back seconds later. [We''ll have a site set up shortly, thank you for the recommendation. Those names are yours to sell and keep. Once they run out, we''ll give you a referral fee for everyone you send to the site. Let your crew know, and we''ll start sending trios to them. If they can sell fifty Drafts, they''ll keep it all, if they volunteer themselves. Otherwise, we''ll give them a referral fee.]


    And bing, they already had the logo for Green and Gold Native Draft Notice Replacements up, and were adding more graphics at a dizzying pace as he watched.


    He grinned despite himself. Yeah, yeah... he was going to make a fuckload of money off selling eighty trios, and then he was going to join up and be the driver for an Emperor-damned Ten bitch who lived with goddamn ghosts...


    ---------


    -We can waive that Draft Notice,- Philius /told me, looking a bit pensive.


    -No. I don''t need to be on the ground to do most of what needs to be done. I''ll get a couple of the girls to work up to Black Night Specialist, and there''s no reason you can''t recruit me for Night duty if you need me.- I understood his concerns, however. -Oh, yeah, I''m pretty sure this is a maneuver by someone pissed with what I''m doing. I shouldn''t have received my Notice until I turned twenty-one, and as a Purchased Citizenship, I don''t have the option of buying it out. There''s gonna be plants in my chain of command and among the draftees.


    -If you could exercise some pull and get me the ID''s of the draftees and officers, we''ll start right now on identifying who has been bought.-


    -That will not be an issue,- Sir Dorval /said. The Coronals were technically a military order, while the Umbrans were mixed intelligence and government, sitting squarely atop the bureaucracy and the Juris.


    -We''ll be quite happy to trace back any funding if possible,- Philius /added. The Umbrans were always eager to know more about the forces attempting to undermine their supply lines.


    -Acknowledged. I will have a second batch of daughters coming online in four weeks. If you''d like to draw up a training program, I''ll have them arranging some Guards for you, headed up by Joleen and Katrisha. They should be able to show up and hit the ground running with your Squires. And if you want to have a lot of daughters by either of them, neither of you will mind the process a bit.-


    Both men /sighed, because they absolutely knew I was right. Joleen''s Talent was Valorous Soul, and Katrisha''s was The Great Detective... or Supergirl and Batgirl, if you wanted to look at it that way, perfect for the Orders.

 Chapter 350 - Far Future, Ch. 60 – New Playgrounds

    I caromed over the ramp as Fyr, whooping with glee as my Ride went airborne. I aimed Wobble across my chest and fired a Sun Shot at the gunner on Grilnos'' wheels, and his brains went flying in the other direction before his multi-gun got within six inches of my undercarriage.


    Joy hit the ground, bounced on some very wuvvly, wuvvly shocks, thank you future tech, there''s a good girl, and my car''s tail swiped hard into Joclol''s side at just the right angle to tip him over for Crumper.


    Crumper''s dozer blade took Joclol in the side and sent him spinning and flying. The crash as he came down and volatile petrol went up in a gorgeous fireblow was all part of the show.


    Joy''s tires bit and slewed as my tremblesense rumbled through the floor, picking out the greatest traction and the least, and Joy leapt ahead like a frightened bunny, inches ahead of the hungry pack behind.


    Heavy slugs whined loudly off the gunshield behind me, and I ignored them with the serenity of time to downshift and get away from the losers behind me. Crumbed duracrete whined in protest as Joy roared in happy release, and we were off and away while they tried to punch through four inches of tempered durasteel with variable anti-grav for weight offset. Hissing beams of light strobed past as the occasional laser tried some hard light alternatives to slugs, and whipped and wanged off Joy''s armor and laenwork glass.


    Deathmatches were dangerous but immensely rewarding in Karma, and hey, I had to get these extra selves of mine up there, so taking some risks was immensely rewarding. From initial bang-up collision fests, no-holds-barred barrio racing, and some wild scree-lot shoot outs, I''d been making Fyr a living legend among the killer racing set, and enjoying the hell out of it as I did so.


    I didn''t have a second rider, as I didn''t need the weight, and if I needed something done, Joy, Fyr''s psicrystal and Ride ''AI'', was perfectly capable of handling the shooting. Without a Sun Strike powering it, 95% of all shots here were just cosmetic damage, which was mostly the point.


    There were thousands of gangers and civs up in the stands, cheering on their favorites over this two-mile course, replete with ramps, breaks, forks, kill spots, dead ends, and a dozen death traps you could ram people into, or if you were stupid, drive into yourselves. Slaughter Alley, the long straightaway, had four of them all by itself, and half the fun was maneuvering not to hit them as everyone tried to occupy a constantly changing safe lane and force you into a death lane.


    Crumper slid around the turn right behind me, hungry for some killing, the exhaust vents on his truck spewing fire as he roared forwards, dozer blade coming for me... and I fishtailed and pretended to have lost traction, my Ride Skating for a second above the ground, and let him run up on me and lift while my front wheels screamed for traction.


    I let down my heavyfoot, grabbed on with 100% friction, and pulled away, yawing as I did so, and he pursued, trying to keep me up on his dozer and failing as I whipped ahead, going into no friction and spinning out into a 360 across the lane as he followed, smelling a kill.


    Whoop, there I went, spinning across the Hedge trigger in the pavement with all four wheels... but moving at an angle, not straight on. He didn''t quite see it as he missed it and was coming over parallel as the reinforced adamant-tipped steel bars sprang up from the track.


    He kind of squeaked as they punched right through his steel plow, smashed into his engine, and took the full impact. As they did, the engines underground went on high torque, revolving the bars down, and crunched the front of his put-down truck down, exposing his underbelly to the pack behind.


    A trio of tracer fire and lasers mauled the underside of his truck, and he could only scream there in the shock gel impact cushion as his ride blew around him, his dozing days all done.


    Joy straightened out smoothly as I spun the wheel, purring in satisfaction and leading the way once again. The boys behind me unloaded to show me how much they enjoyed chasing my tail, the durasteel pinged a happy drumbeat, and Joy poured it on to get to the corner first and into position.


    Chiller came around the corner first, and found me parked right there flat against the wall, impossible to hit unless you knew I was there and you whipped in high and outside. That side armor blew apart as I opened up with a short buzzsaw of tracers, the first two rounds glowing with Sun Shots and blasting out the laen of his windows. I could see the diodes of his eyes, cold and blue, looking right at me as he tried to turn, and couldn''t get his shattered window out of the way as Wobble''s discharge took him full in the face.


    His hands spasmed, I unleashed two more salvoes into the sides of those coming around the corner, and as their glass shattered, I pulled the trigger twice more.


    Out of control killwheels slid and slewed and lost friction, spinning and ejecting their dead drivers, and sometimes screaming living co-riders, and took out two other cars from the pack who couldn''t avoid crashing into them or being crashed into as they went around me.


    Drum-Drum, the heavy workhorse at the back of the pack in a tri-axle rumbler, grumbled past me, wincing as I mauled his wheels and blew out his rear axle''s left tire, which was gonna tank his drive speed even more. He fought for control among the scattered burning cars, even as Joy rammed backwards into gear, spun like a ballerina as lightfoot Skated her around, her axles slammed from forwards to back with a scream of delight, and we were on the hunt again.


    I was simultaneously plugged into the vid feeds so that nobody could pull a trick like that on me and driving like a mad bitch, loving the rush and the purring power of Joy crazy to just run. I reached over to touch Joy from where she was plugged into the dash, and recharged her Focus for her next shot. Joy screamed as we revved to catch up with the limping Drum-Drum.


    Only a Driver could use lightfoot with their ride. The ability to switch between heavyfoot and lightfoot, near absolute friction and none at all, was a deadly thing in auto duels. I didn''t slide if I didn''t want to, slid like grease if I wanted to, or anything and everything in between. The way Joy could drift, brake, and accelerate just had the crowds and the other drivers agog, and since active psi-use was forbidden here, they just couldn''t understand it.


    Monk on wheels, that was Fyr! Her Wheelman Talent made all this extremely intoxicating.


    The road was split by steel beams here, flicking past with roars of wind as I pulled up alongside Drum-Drum, who looked over in fear. He was definitely a clean-up driver... if you faltered, he had the tools to take you out of the race, and the mass to grind up anyone alongside of him. Me managing to take out one of his wheels was a miserable thing for him, as he was falling even further behind the pack now.


    I aimed Wobble, timing the girders casually, and pam-pam, blew apart the key welds of the plate guarding his rear axle on the right side. The armor there crumped, and then Joy spit a short volley from the multigun stubber on the rear hood and ripped off the rest of it.


    He tried to brake and shake me, but he was in my Tremble and I could see him slam his foot, matched him precisely, and blew out his other rear tire.


    Already listing, his front end began to rise as the weight of his tailshield began to drag at him, heading towards the ground and starting to spark and drag him down. He cursed as he punched the release and let it drop behind him, another driving hazard to be negotiated, and his front end crashed down again.


    Of course, this left him vulnerable from the rear, which he realized just as his speed picked up, the girders were gone, and I pulled in behind him. The multigun up front elevated and angled down, and tracer fire rippled underneath and bounced up into his undercarriage, sending hot rounds into his engine and fuel lines.


    He swerved madly to the left as his truck ignited, and then threw the door open and jumped for it. His body turned towards me as I shook my head, he bounced off my windshield with a solid crack, and was thrown behind me as his rumbler exploded in an epiphany for him.


    The main pack was a quarter-mile ahead of me, but I wasn''t worried, as they were maneuvering and shooting, and I had open range ahead of me. Joy roared in glee as I spun around turns at speeds that should have sent me into the walls, tires gripping the ground impossibly well, and began to make up ground with frightening speed.


    Whoop!


    Saw the doors slide open on the vid ahead of me; no, no, they didn''t try to time it for effect, surely not. Slammed on the brakes so hard physics said Joy should have flipped head over tails as the Killer Whale came roaring out of its pit to join the fun. -20g''s is a thing that does that, but my wheels didn''t even leave the ground.


    It was a long hauler kitted out to kill, with six different weapon stands hauled behind the main rig; heavy guns, flamers, spike chains, wheelblades, and a multi-bladed prow in front of it.


    Coms snapped up locally. It was an unwritten rule that the instant the Killer Whale was on the track, everybody stopped shooting one another and figured out a way to kill it.


    It would have speared me right in the side if I hadn''t braked, or at the least run me right over, but my stopping so impossibly had thrown off the move, and the big truck thundered by right in front of me.


    The shooters weren''t ready for me to be standing there, and didn''t track their gun shields fast enough as I broadsided their wheels for one whole second, blowing apart a half dozen of them as the truck rumbled past, stuck Wobbler out my window, and tracked that flamer coming past me. I could see the panic in his eyes as he tried to spin his gunshield around, and a Sun Shot took him in the hip, blowing him away from his toy with a good chunk of meat missing from him.


    I let the rolling ten-axle and its trailing long chains go past me. "Killer Whale on the track, boys. It took a shot at me and missed, about ten seconds behind you. It''ll probably take the first cheat loop to get in front of you." As the rear guns raked me with a few shots, Joy peeled out at a good distance back from it, while I smirked at the shredded rubber flying off the tires on its right side.


    There were multiple curses on the open line that I''d been missed, and I just laughed at them. "Now, now, boys, no hard feelings. You play nice, so will I."


    They cursed, but breaking that rule just meant you''d be fed into the Whale, which would happily shoot the shit out of you. It was a roving hazard, it played favorites, and the crowds loved it. It also tended to be a lot safer for the crew than driving a car, and they enjoyed shooting us.


    Well, that was understandable.


    Joy picked up speed as the death hauler veered right into the cheater route only it was allowed to access, allowing it to pick up speed and catch up to or get in front of the pack, where its guns and mass would be a huge hazard. The engine''s purr became a roar as I made up ground, every inch of the course plotted out in my head and my place in space known and tracked. I knew what was coming up, and where and how I wanted to hit it.


    The Slopes were coming up, the section of the track with multiple ramps. Hit ''em wrong or slow, and you weren''t going to be riding away from the impact. Too high, the chutes could tear off your hood. Too short, the pits would eat you alive. Left or right, blades would catch you and sheer apart your armor, set you spinning and into the pits.


    Use ''em, and you could do all sorts of stuff.


    I passed the debris of a couple other cars, but the track owners were nice and contractually obligated to get wrecks off the track within one lap, ''cause it slowed things down.


    The Killer Whale surged out, announcing its presence with a wall of cutting flame that got Bim-Bam right in the side. Cloying naptha blazed over his car, taking his sight and starting to eat through everything, particularly his tires. Autocannon rounds bounced off his armor and drove him sideways, where he hit one of the Slopes badly, went up on his side in a flaming spiral, and came down into a spiked pit, exploding into more pretty petrol flames.


    They put additives into them so they were more colorful, after all.


    I glanced down into the pit as it crunched up the remains of Bim-Bam and his car, while the half-dozen remaining survivors jockeyed for position, trying to stay away from the guns taking shots at them. Going up beside it was a good way to get driven into a wall, or taken out by the wheel razors and all that mass. In front was sort of the safest, if you could pull away from it... but then it just took a chute and got away from you, and back in front.


    "Make a hole, boys!" I announced, picking up speed with a rumble, and despite themselves, they split up to allow me room on my long acceleration. I swept on by them, lightly avoided the shells being spit my way, and blew up a Slope, still accelerating, and then went right up on the wall, gripping longer then gravity should have allowed as the chute veered, and was vented out diagonally instead of straight.


    +++++++++++


    Fun Fact: I wrote this chapter after watching clips from Jason Statham''s Death Race! I was envisioning a kind of Mad Max and Death Race vibe going through. Alas, they are going up against a Wheelman Rantha who is a Monk on Wheels...

 Chapter 351 - Far Future Ch. 61 – Wheels to the Wall

    I crossed right over the top of the death hauler, sunroof sliding open. Not even looking up as Wobbler aimed, I dumped a Sun Shot into the fuel core of the flamethrower. Yeah, that petrol looks pretty, but pretty explosive, y''know?


    The fire-tosser screamed, and then it blew, brushing past me as Joy completed her rollover on the opposite side of the truck, hit the ground, bounced, gripped, and redirected momentum forwards as the back of the kill-rig was enveloped in flames, and several flaming individuals were ejected from their shooting positions.


    It was fortunate they hadn''t thought a roof was all that important right there, just shooter platforms...


    I doubted this guy had learned his lesson, and he had to be extra pissed that I''d just blown up all his shooters, even as the coms whooped with glee and the crowds went nuts.


    Now, being he was a cheaty-type for the track owners, he''d get warnings of the triggers, and actually wouldn''t trigger them with his rig. That was blatantly unfair, but the Killer Whale was there to kill, not to be killed. It also bred a certain complacency, since he didn''t have to worry about them, he wasn''t as concerned about where he was on the road.


    Driving a great big flaming load of naptha, he veered at me, and Joy nimbly danced inches in front of his prow-blades, sending up a few sparks, her tail wagging and suddenly dancing into a wild spin right in front of his eyes, across his field of vision.


    Like any good hunter, he veered after me, ignoring the trigger warning as I spun across the trigger with all four tires, just like I had with Drum-Drum.


    I was three-quarters of the way through my spin when I saw his head jerk up at the collision alert, and SNAP, the Wall went up across the center lane, missing my ride by about a quarter-inch as it did so.


    Yeah, that was three feet of durasteel, just a big ass slab of metal. It wasn''t moving for nothing, and they couldn''t stop it from going up in time.


    His prow spikes bit in a good six inches, but that didn''t mean shit. He went from eighty to nothing in no time, and had all that steel wanted to keep going behind him, too. I saw the shock gel go off as I completed my spin, my tires gripped, and the back of the Killer Whale rose him up and over and came down on him in a great flaming mess as it ripped him over the Wall, and ground him down along the road beneath fire and steel.


    I fishtailed back into the center lane as the rest of the pack came up behind me. They couldn''t hide their cheers, because that was a damn awesome sight, and now the track owners were going to be pissed at me.


    Fuck ''em, I needed the Karma, and they were all killers, they got what was coming to them. They''d probably try to kill Fyr after the race was over... but hey, that was even more Karma, and they weren''t expecting a Driver to be a swordswoman, even though they knew I could shoot.


    My Six needed Karma as much as my main self, especially if I was going to cut them free. I couldn''t do it right now, the link was so strong that it didn''t even need the Marks to maintain itself now. But I figured if I could get these thoughtstreams up to the 30 Charisma, get them to Ten, and cut the Marklink as I went into their past lives, they''d be able to stand alone outside the link with their own souls and identity given extra force by accessing all those extra years.


    I didn''t mean to take their lives, and even if I enjoyed being multiples of me, I considered it wasn''t right, and they''d certainly be more productive independently then as extra hands for me.


    Maybe. In any event, I agreed with myselves that it was the right thing to do, and would be trying it when my Karma got up there. If it didn''t, darn, I guess there''d just be seven physical me''s to complement the extra six or so mental ones currently in my ExLite head...


    Anyways, I had a race to finish. I''d already done the research on the drivers, and only two of the sixteen who started this race weren''t hardened killers, and were driving for reasons other than killing ruthlessly for the prize money.


    I''d be doing my best to make sure they finished the race with me, but I was still going to win.


    Joy rumbled and peeled out ahead, as gunfire started to ring on my tailshield again, and the wolves chased my white rabbit as I peeled back a smile to reveal my canines.


    They weren''t packing holy hand grenades...


    ------------------


    Janus Prime, as befits a mega-city, had a metric arse-load of roads, and all of it was run by the fine folk at Traffic Control.


    First you had the subways, the massive transport tubes moving people and freight around below ground. What could be pumped and piped was, but some shit needed rails and roads, and so a lot of stuff moved belowground in massive amounts, shuttling stuff around.


    Then there were the roadways at ground level. Public transport was part of this, high-speed rails shooting the length of the city with people moving between distant bloks and factories who couldn''t be bothered to keep going up and down bloks and Spires. There was plenty of civilian traffic at ground level, but TC kept it carefully free of the rails and high-speed lanes. If you wanted to cross them without TC''s permission, well, it was all on you, baby. TC proudly kept lists of the idiots who thought the traffic was going to stop for them, and you could access them and make bets on which freight haulers would have the best numbers over a period of time.


    Freight Engine GR00-76XC, ''the Sexy Groot'', had won that competition ten times in the past century, thanks to the route that took it between three high-density bloks and a major interchange into Downspire, and the total lack of fences along that route as enthusiasts kept tearing them down to get the kill numbers up. Engine SU-I3D188, ''Suicide 8'', was the most popular train-kissing target in the city, generally getting half a dozen a day trying to make the biggest splatter possible.


    Higher up were the pedways, which were strung halfway up Bloks, and across the roofs of lower Habs, moving people around the city through and between the buildings, without allowing major cars and freight, despite the pleas of many corps to add pipes and whatnot to the many foot routes. There were parallel access roads to many of them for Juris bikes, but non-officials using them were generally headed to iso for a few months to think about stupid life choices. Such pedways formed a pretty complex spiderweb between the various habs, bloks, and Spires, and you could generally tell how good a blokzone was doing just by the extent of the pedways. Old districts, or those ready for rehab, often didn''t have any at all, removed so low-lifes couldn''t get into Spires or Bloks easily.


    Between the pedways and the ground were the hoverzones, basically reserved to hovercars and hoverbikes zipping about on private business. A second set of hoverzones existed between the pedways and the highways, the great roads that existed just above the Blok roofs, and who often formed its foundation supports. Low hoverzones ran east and west, high hoverzones ran north and south. Traffic control was a little bit looser in the hoverzones, so a lot of boarders, bikers, and enthusiasts took matters into their own hands. This inevitably ended up in collisions with Bloks and other drivers, and hovercars falling from the sky onto the unlucky below, but that was the price you paid for flying around and not using TC.


    The highways were big roads going the whole length and breadth of the city, with only a few major gravity ramps for getting on and off located around major bloks or in the spires themselves. For the most part, vehicles on the highways basically never came down to the ground, and pretty much all the midspire and high-end Blok traffic was on them, along with personal transports to and from a lot of spires.


    They also had populations of people who literally lived on them. The major highway, a macroway that circled the entire city, was called the Big Mac, and was a quarter-mile wide, with whole communities of people living there on moving buildings, mobile homes that stayed mobile, with moving stores, lots of drone deliveries, and whole communities of riders and drivers going in endless circles around the Big Mac. Fusion power meant they didn''t need to be refueled, and energy wasn''t a problem. It was a nomadic lifestyle of sorts for people who couldn''t be cooped up in a blok, and if their prison was moving, they didn''t have any trouble with it.


    Above them were the skyways, the Spire-centered traffic coming and going between the biggest pillars of the city. This was where all the big flying stuff was: expensive shuttles, personal jets, floaters, and yachts, and the like. Juris drones operated in the area between they skyways and the highways, looking over everything, while a combination of teams waiting on standby near the Spires and active hoverwagons in the skies were deployed to be ready to intervene in anything exciting going on.


    Only military clearance got you higher than the skyways, and really, there was no need to go higher. The skyways weren''t that heavily clustered, as the money needed to use them was right there with the actual need. The skyways were almost for vanity, but the top families had to look down on stuff, and so the skyways and the expensive cargos that used them were definitely a thing.


    Most of the air-racing took place in the hoverzones.


    Hoverzones covered almost a thousand feet vertical, giving racers plenty of room to maneuver, and the areas between habs were generally a hundred yards wide, giving them plenty of horizontal room, too (and the ones that weren''t were exciting choke points). Pretty much all you had to do to set up a formal race was let Traffic Control know, pay the fee, and they''d route normal traffic around your race course. Putting up the obstacles, gates, and whatnot was on you, of course, and you were liable for any damages that happened during the course of your race.


    Getting hab and Blok permission was pretty much a given, as the residents often had front-row seats to the excitement, and seeing out of control riders go crashing into a balcony and take out some watchers was part of the fun. TC didn''t really care... you wanted to spectate, you took your life in your hands. The soylent wagons were always in motion, after all.


    This, of course, was where Azure loved to be.


    There were races pretty much every day in Janus Prime. It was a big city, after all, with a whole lot of people starved for entertainment, and if it was deadly and potentially explosive, all the better.


    Azure was Born To Fly. Wingsuits, hoverbikes, hoverboards, flitters, hang gliders, rocketpacks, grav-choppers, even hoverboats, whatever; she was born to race them, and rapidly had her own crew making up spec-worthy and breaking rides for her to use in all of those things. As her Crafting focus was Avionics of all sorts, I was constantly building and rebuilding her rides, shifting from one race to the next, going from combat wingsuit paragliding one day to jet-propelled hang gliders the next.


    Risk and rewards drove the Karma as she was going up the racing scale, already making a name, qualifying for bigger events, attracting sponsors and attention from the gambling syndicates who were starting to eye her as good money for fixing races.


    She had only smiles for those trying to strongarm her, and then they tended to get violently dead. The number of would-be saboteurs going after her crew and rides was closing in on three digits steadily, and the competitive pressure was pushing her crew to the limit, too. Of course, with her fans doing nothing but growing, the blue-haired nymphal was gaining her own recruits, and her organization and trainees were expanding as a result.


    Getting into combat aircraft would require her to be in the military, all other things being equal, and I was definitely looking forwards to that.


    In the meantime, prize money and enemy crews cheating flagrantly made for exciting good times, and the occasional sniper or suicide racer helped. The challenge of cutting-edge tech at the various levels as she and the crew ranked up only made what came next more fun, and racing against wired borgs jacked into their rides as bodies all the more challenging.


    It was fine. The more cybered they were, the lower their potential was, and while they could perform simple tricks ever more perfectly, the physics-defying crap grew ever more beyond them.


    And hey, blue hair flying in the wind, Azure looked a lot better than they did, too!

 Chapter 352 - Far Future Ch. 62 – Books and Shadows

    Vivi and Inigo worked together more than my others, as remote information/tech user combined with hands-on infiltrator made for a great team. Vivi especially had a lot more responsibilities ongoing, as she was smack dab in the middle of database management, and worked a lot with the Goldilocks teams. She was also assigned a rather hard-edged crew of combat hackers, whose whole goal was destruction of the enemy''s electronic warfare capabilities, and who were used to support Vivi and others engaged in some of the rather illegal shit that needed to be done.


    I also used Inigo for a whole lot of outright robbery across the city, some commissioned, some purely for profit, and some for auction. Crews of independents were assembled for jobs, dispersed. Some fixers and arrangers tried to rope her in and keep her once they found out how good she was, and a few ended up dead with their fortunes missing before they got the hint that they''d work for her, not the other way around.


    The gold standard for your rep was being willing to kill a Juris, of course, and it wasn''t all that hard to find a corrupt one, figure out who they were working for, sell that information to a competitor of said party, and then pick up the termination contract to boot. Vivi also got real good at the bounty hunter side of things, having a nose for agglomerating bounties through different parties into catches or terminations, usually the latter, and arranging to get paid several times for the same job.


    Generally, underworlders were specialists, but Inigo''s capability as an all-arounder who could fly solo save for a support crew was damn useful for keeping the leaks down... and pulling off non-contract jobs that soon enhanced the legend of a new cat burglar in the city pulling off sly thefts on high Blok dwellers and those Mid- to Upspire, and never did the rep of said burglar and Inigo the reliable crew worker meet.


    The girls made a lot of money pulling jobs... targeting the corrupt, of course, who could hardly complain if they were robbed of their ill-gotten gains. Most of them had money in non-electronic forms, and/or hidden accounts or safety deposit boxes here and there, and getting them in and out was a fun puzzle that meant whoever was responsible for x theft was soon issued a bounty on, and if said things were taken as aggregates, it was a considerable amount.


    Yay, we were on the bounty ranking, only nobody knew it!


    And if necessary, I or half a dozen other Ranthas energetically pursuing the stealth op route could jump in to pull off jobs in her name while she was elsewhere, totally mucking up any kind of statistical analysis of who she might be.


    ----


    Emma was expanding our horticultural division nicely. She was also the most popular of the six among the locals in Habberblok, because there were now flowers growing on every floor along the Plunge because of her. The wonders it did for morale was great, and that was before fresh beans and peas were on the menu. There weren''t many other Ranthas with agricultural talents, so she basically ended up with top billing in that area.


    Aura was working on an online law degree VERY quickly, and already handling all our marketing and contracts. She had a very sweet smile, and was waiting for Eight when she could turn on the Nereid Aura and reduce men, and more than a few women, to idiots with a knowing glance. Our supply and sales partners were already fearing her, which I thought was just wonderful. She was also the only one of the six who was into the social scene Upspire, and she definitely had the looks to fit in, and, well, there were plenty of other Ranthas with social Talents who were happy to go devastate the other gender at parties and meetings and dances with her... broken hearts and drool hitting the floor in their wakes, of course.


    Basically, the girls were doing very well. If I could make them truly independent when they opened their past, that would be for the best... although having independent thoughtstreams with their own bodies was very advantageous and plenty cool with all the stuff I could learn and do at the same time.


    ============


    "Well, to start the meeting off, happy birthday, girls!"


    "THANK YOU, MOM!" they all promptly laughed back.


    "There''s a bunch of bullshit I have to inform you all of, and we''ll get to that. The first and most key thing is that you are all not clones. You do all have the same starting point, but as you look around, you can see that you are all different. You all have different other parents, and in your cases, those other parents are you."


    Their smiles faded somewhat, and they stared at me in interest.


    "You''ve all been reborn, reincarnated, gone through that process and are new people, bless the Rantha Hag Curse. Because you used to be undead ghosts."


    Now they started looking pretty solemn.


    "You are in a grimdark future world. The fate you were consigned to was damnation. I gave you the chance for a new life, and you all took it.


    "Some of you were not nice people. You were all infected with negative energy, which means you were on the evil side of things when dead, which is how the Curse could grab you. When you get that Charisma to 30 and hit Eight, you''re gonna pop open the door to your last reincarnation, take a look at who you used to be, and see what was done to you."


    I let that hang there for a long minute or two. "Your older sisters had something similar happen to them... they were pslaved and damned by Amourae. You all were brainfried and became puppets of some Warp Sorcerers. To the tune of over one hundred thousand of you and your friends and neighbors."


    The surprise and delight of their birthday was now kind of lost and grimness was settling in.


    "The Ranthas are here to fuck with the Warp Gods. When you see what has happened to you, this is going to stop being just a Karma race, and it''s going to become personal.


    "The Rantha Curse means that even a soul can be your parent, so while there may not be any genetic material, there''s enough for the Curse to work with. I dug up what I could about who you were in your last lives, and that''s who your names are based on." I snapped my fingers, and names popped up on their Bands. "You aren''t Sama Rantha, that''s just a shell of a name, giving you some free skills and abilities and a foundation for being a Rantha Hag.


    "Now, you stand up and introduce yourselves to your sisters." I nodded at the girl in the front rightmost, a dark-eyed, brown-haired lass with cocoa skin. She nodded and got up, turning around and waving at everyone.


    "Hi, sisters, I am Raffie Rantha!"


    "HI RAFFIE!" they all waved back soberly, and the second generation of Ranthas was off to start their path of doing what Ranthas did best.


    ---


    Second generation didn''t accept a Ghost Knight quest. They just went up to Floor 159, and looked around, feeling the presence of the spirits all around... the very familiar presence of those spirits. They wandered up the floors and down them, lingering in areas which might have once been very important to them.


    They all came down as Ghost Knights, with spirits who feared getting reborn attached to their Sword Foci... all of whom were fathers, mothers, sons, daughters, brothers, sisters, lovers, husbands, wives, or just good friends of who they had used to be. Freed from the cage of Habberblok, they were going to go out in the world and fuck with the Warp Gods, there was no doubt.


    ------------------


    "Brekko, Combi, Fredder, Lisha..." I went on, naming each and every one of the Marked who were in the room with me for this meeting. It was a physical meeting, which was a bit strange for most of them, as just talking didn''t require a physical presence. If I wanted them here, that meant this was important.


    "Everyone know why you are all here?" I asked calmly, looking around. Brekko, as the senior student, raised his hand promptly, the others a tad slower and looking to him to answer.


    "Sensei, we''re all four-year Sources," he replied soberly.


    "That''s right." I''d had many of these meetings with my students and Marked, and to my utter lack of surprise there was exactly no one who wanted to leave me. Something about having a Charisma 50+ Ten Mentor who actually gave a damn about them was pretty addictive psychologically. It would not be unfair to say the Loyalty of my people was through the roof, and yet exceeded by the Duty I gave in return, because none of them were Tens yet.


    I took care of them, they knew it, and in return they took care of me.


    99% of the people we Opened were Null Forsaken. That still meant we ran into tons of Sources, given the numbers. They tended to be either respected loners or unspoken leaders of cliques before they signed up, and they were promptly assigned groups after they joined. Even if they didn''t want to, it was their directive as Sources. Even if they didn''t want to lead, they were leaders, and denying it was simply denying themselves, who they were, and meant they''d never reach Seven or Human/3.


    The fact being Sources tended to make them big, strong, and handsome/attractive didn''t hurt things, of course.


    There were naturally Nulls who could lead... I was one of them, of course. But the difference between a Null leading and Source was that a Source Bent Fate to help them do what they wanted to do... a Null just ignored or was ignored by it, so the effects of what we did were minimized unless a personal touch was applied.


    I was changing things through my Marked. My Sources could change things by making everyone and anyone start to follow their paths, because that is what Sources did.


    I had shown and proven this to them repeatedly, simply comparing the things they could accomplish with a group to those led by Nulls. Their teams had fewer arguments, less resentment about who was in charge, greater cooperation, and were held to a more common vision and goal. They got stuff done faster, cleaner, and with higher morale, even if the other leader was smarter and technically better at their job.


    They were Sources, Kings Among Men and Queens Among Women. It was what they did.


    "You''ve all taken your lessons well, and I''m proud of you. You''re all at least Fours... Brekko is on the cusp of Six. You''re good, you''re smart, you''re tough. You''ve been fighting to make the world a better place, even if the world really doesn''t give a shit. You''ve done well.


    "But now, it''s the next stop on your journey." I waved at Habberblok around them. "There are others coming up who can continue the work you started. Who need to BE the ones who continue the work you started, while you blaze new roads and show them what else they can do.


    "In a month, my required military service to the city is going to begin. Some of you have already signed up to follow me. That''s very good, because we''re going to need a lot of influence in the military as we grow.


    "Some of you are going to stick with the corporate route, or you''re planning on starting your own businesses working off Rantha Corp, which is also great. Others want to claim a territory, and be the Zone Mayor, and you''re going to make it happen. A few of you are planning to get into entertainment and media, now that your feet are wet, and you''re working with my girls at it.


    "What I''m here today to do is the assignment I gave each and every one of you a month ago. You''ve had time to think, and I''ve bugged you, and you know it is important because you''re Sources.


    "So, right now, here and today, you''re going to stand up before your teacher and your peers, and you''re going to tell us all your Oath. Your promise, to yourself, your goals, not mine. Because even when Sources follow, they must Lead."


    I fixed my eyes on Brekko. "Senior Brother Brekko, lead the way."


    ++++++++++++++++++++++++


    Glossary


    Loyalty and Duty are based upon Duty and Leadership in Asheron''s Call, the game. Loyalty affected how much xp you passed up to the person you were sworn to. Leadership affected how much of it you kept. It was something you spent xp on, so if you didn''t have followers, or your patron was a douche, you didn''t invest in it. If you did, it paid you back for being a good patron.


    Loyalty and Duty work the same way. They are actual psychological changes, where you actually pay to increase your loyalty, actually changing your own mind and personality with a commitment, and you do the same for your Duty to those beneath you. Allegiance Karma flows based on these two principles.


    A leader with Loyal followers and no Duty is someone who expends and exploits his followers ruthlessly, and they don''t care (a Machiavellian ideal). A leader with Duty and disloyal followers does his best for his people, and they take advantage of him for it, or don''t recognize his efforts. A politician putting in his best efforts and failing to get re-elected is an example of this. An organization with neither Loyalty nor Duty basically rules by brute strength or charisma, and has power only where the boss can reach, basically a mob or horde. An organization with both Loyalty and Duty is tremendously united and focused as they work together.


    The skill of Leadership basically indicates the number of people you can control, and how powerful they are, i.e. with enough leadership your personal following can number thousands, and you can have flunkies who are Tens. Your Warlord Ranking works off this number to determine how many people you can give combat bonuses to at one time. The Performer Rating of a Bard or Minstrel would determine the same types of things for large audiences, how many die-hard fans they have, etc.


    A well-run organization will naturally have leaders whose followers are leaders of their own, driving the Allegiance forward together, and multiplying their numbers, in a standard hierarchical format. When enough people are in formal Allegiance, parapsionic links can occur, and the Allegiance Monarch can start returning their Loyalty to give a flat bonus to the entire Allegiance. The more people there are, and the higher the Loyalty and Duty flowing, the more powerful that bonus can be. In addition, they can spend Allegiance Karma to make things that affect or benefit the whole Allegiance.


    Most of Sama''s bonus to this effect is subsumed by the Mark and Markspace, and her ability to apply morale effects to anyone so bound to her, regardless of where they are, and the Allegiance''s ability to support one another mentally in case of telepathic attack.

 Chapter 353 - Far Future Ch. 63 - Sources

    Brekko got up slowly, turned around and looked at the other Sources, all of whom were brought in after him.


    His soulclaw snapped up. It was golden, edged with green. A big shift from where he''d once been, able to include others he didn''t know as people worth trusting and helping.


    "This is a weapon to fight with. I... am a weapon to fight with," he began slowly, conveying his thoughts to the others. "Right now... there''s no real enemy out there. There''s only the system of the Imperial Government, weighed down by time and the Warp, turned into this heartless thing that wants to grind us down and turn us into chaff thrown at the Warp.


    "But I can tell what''s gonna happen. We''re building something new here, something different. It flies in the face of the Empire and how things are done, and at some point... we''re gonna have to fight to keep what we got. Be it from the Empire, some aliens bent on killing us, the Warp... whatever." He clenched his fist.


    "So, I got no one to promise to fight against right now. But I''m joining up with Sama, I''m gonna get my Citizenship, and become somebody.


    "My Oath is this: I am going to work to become a Ten, and when the time comes, I, and those who follow me, will be ready!"


    He wasn''t a Ten, so the power of the Oath wasn''t huge, but I could still feel it, rippling in the air, and bending causality in his direction, helping him on the road of his Oath, and anyone who followed him.


    "Did you all feel that?" The other Sources nodded slowly as I clapped Brekko''s shoulder, and he sat down. "That''s your first Oath. It''s not that strong, but you all know, little, incremental things is how you shift things in your favor. It will become stronger as you become stronger.


    "Most importantly, it can be fulfilled, and another Oath take its place... when the time comes, and you are ready."


    "Lisha, let''s hear yours..."


    -----------


    [MOM!]


    My girls weren''t going to call me Sama, because they were all Samas, too. They also weren''t going to call me Sensei or Sage, just because I had a few Levels on them. Since it was the least annoying and most amusing option, and I definitely wasn''t their sister, Mom it was.


    I didn''t mind. Grandma did good work on the Curse, I was definitely going to take advantage of it.


    Still, they didn''t usually call me, preferring to call one another, since I was literally always doing a dozen things at once. Also, not having the Marktell made fast response a little slower.


    [Celestia?], I replied. The white-haired girl''s Talent was Ice Cold, which gave her a preternaturally level personality and a bonus to Intimidation checks. The fact she was all in caps was very unusual.


    Celestia was in the bladeboy dueling leagues, a very popular gladiatorial competition for mindblade users. She was naturally going up against full psis, who generally had a lot of tricks to throw at her, which were all generally pretty useless. So, it came down to actual mindblade duels, and naturally she cleaned their clocks when it came to actual dueling that way.


    Bleep! She sent me a link. I clicked on it, and a Boole-site popped up.


    Big guy, decked out in a brutally simple set of power armor, a crackling hammer in his hands. Heavy brow, massive bone structure, overlong limbs... okay, heavy on the Ancient genes.


    Somebody somewhen had the idea of bringing back Neanderthals to be combat machines for humanity, so they went ahead and mixed in old derivative genes, gorillas, High-G stuff to support everything, and ended up with what were once called Ogres, Brutes, Thugs, and other names indicative of stupidity and strength combined. While technically they weren''t any dumber than the average person, they tended to instinctively shun tech and preferred simpler lives, not really dreaming of bigger and better things. They were prized as obedient soldiers and bodyguards... until the Warp came in and turned a whole bunch of them into human-eating horrors that rampaged over many worlds until they were stopped or chased off into the Warp.


    It had been a long time since then, but nobody made up companies of what were politely called ''Ancients'' now. The genework was recessive and rare, with maybe one being born in a hundred million people. ''Half-ogres'', basically just big, beefy humans, weren''t all that uncommon in comparison.


    I had met a lot of genotypes by now, Opening and Awakening many, but I''d not yet met an Ancient. While the danger of mass numbers of them was still being told in history classes today, there was remarkably little stigma attached to individual Ancients... because they were all natural Sources.


    I was absolutely sure the corruption that had swallowed the original Ancients had started with the youngest and most vulnerable of them, and the oldest, pissed at how they were treated, basically went along with it for revenge against those who thought them cannon fodder. Most of the corrupted ones had been flesh-mad and simply fought until they died, glutted on human corpses, while the oldest sailed off into the stars and got away, to find their own worlds to settle on and become legends.


    Seeing an Ancient in power armor was quite a sight. He had to be at least eight feet tall there, and there were vids over there on the side showing Briggs the Borg Beater...


    Full stop.


    My eyes might have widened a tiny bit. I reached out and blew a close-up of all the crags and mountains of that hairy face.


    Pale violet eyes...


    There was a Briggs here?!?!


    How had he... did they... how long...


    [Brain fried!], I announced to her. [But... mineminemineallmine!]


    Bleep! There was another link. Click, and it opened up winking on a restaurant two hundred and thirty-two miles away in Upper Twindlespire.


    "Chalice!" I ordered, and feeling hugely amused at my mood, poof, we were lived-lining to a highway Fyr had rumbled through on a twenty-four-hour distance marathon that came into mid-Twindlespire.


    My girls were always on the ball.


    ---------


    It wasn''t hard to find him, because he loomed over everyone at eight feet tall and change. Only a fully body-modded cyborg would be close, or you were looking at brain-borgs who went all in on being mechanical, who could naturally be of any size.


    He came walking out of there with a cyborg gal with a silver-metal mohawk, standing six-foot-six and built like a chrome-fitted supermodel. She was 60% artificial, and probably slapped on power armor to accentuate her combat implants. By the looks she was giving Briggs, she probably wished a lot more of her was still real.


    I just stepped out in front of the two of them, whose sizes were naturally clearing the way, and the circle in the plaza vacated rapidly.


    The two of them stopped immediately, because you just don''t run into the range of a 50+ Charisma effect without registering WTF on your Oh Shit meter. My eyes met Briggs'', and I smiled widely despite myself.


    I don''t know why my sense of aesthetics was so screwed up, but that brutal face just looked so damn cute to me.


    "Hey, bitch, what do you think you are doing?" Silver Mohawk spoke up, taking a step forwards.


    I flicked a glance at her, and she froze, having the sudden and irreversible impression that if she tried anything, I was going to disassemble her.


    Briggs'' pale violet eyes widened, and his very big hairy fists slowly clenched. "Can I help you?" he asked in the most wonderfully modulated abyss-deep bass you could possibly imagine, and every woman in the area promptly turned to stare at him in awe.


    "" I asked... in Jotun.


    He froze right in place, and I turned my hands over, my shit-eating smile not going away.


    He blinked slowly. Teeth, nails, no chest, knows who he was...


    "Sama Rantha?" His voice was too deep to choke, but he almost managed it.


    I just opened up my arms, and he took three steps so fast that everyone around backed up another two steps in shock that someone so huge could move so fast. I was snatched up by arms like steel cables and crushed so hard my bones were creaking and tendons crunching and spine popping and mmmmmmm, his goddamn Source Sun was blowing past me like the most ticklish damn bonfire in the whole world...


    My Band lit off with a thousand tings. [NOSEBLEED!] [KISSKISSKISSKISS][ASK FOR HIS BROTHER] [PDA''S NOT ALLOWED!][HIS DATE''S GONNA KILL YOU] and a zillion other things rang out from the cheering section.


    I dangled two feet off the ground and made emote faces back at them all. Hey, multi-tasking, don''t need no hands.


    It took him a minute to stop, which was just wonderful and I didn''t complain at all. I didn''t try to match his strength or claw at him, but that was fine, because he didn''t even bother to let up, his Source streaming against my Null... and my Null didn''t move at all.


    He knew I could take it.


    His silver mohawk date could only stand and stare at us, wondering what the heck was going on, and feeling her metaphorical chances go straight down the shitter. Briggs was all organic and couldn''t have tolerated personal intimacy with her, so this was basically sparing her the let-down later. Swapping in a sex-stimuli kit wouldn''t change that.


    He didn''t bother to let me down, grabbing me by the shoulders and holding me out there at arm''s length above the ground. I crossed my arms and raised an eyebrow at him, unruffled.


    "Sama Rantha. It has been an awful goddamn long time." I inclined my head, and he looked over his shoulder. "Crescent, I''m afraid I''m going to have to call our date at an end. An old friend I''ve waited a very long time to see is here."


    Her face was still mostly organic, as the venom with which she looked at me was pretty plain to me, and the longing as she looked back at him was quickly disguised. "Sure, Briggs. Another time." She turned and walked away, pretty much believing that there would be no other time with me there and acting so familiar with him.


    He set me down without effort, just staring at me in great interest for a long moment.


    "I imagine the tailor who made that suit for you got a very big tip," I noted, looking over the precisely tailored semi-tux he was dressed in with a critical eye.


    "The tie." He tapped the silk pattern on his chest with a sausage-sized finger. Well, not silk, some synthetic. "They don''t have the material for decent ties available to cut. Had to go with a fake." He shrugged magnificently.


    "You wanna go talk?"


    "You have no idea."

 Chapter 354 - Far Future Ch.64 – Briggs

    So we walked, and we talked. There were endless places to stroll to, and the destination wasn''t all that important... which didn''t mean I wasn''t being fed hints and suggestions from the cheering section all the time.


    I told him to go first with the life story, as I pretty sure his was longer than my own personal one was. He sighed and unburdened himself of things he''d been keeping tight to his chest for more than twenty years.


    It quickly became obvious he was a template, like me. He''d been self-aware from birth, identified as Briggs, had insisted on it since he was a toddler, and officially changed it when he was four. Briggs Ergen Rikkodivich, actually, although nobody ever called him anything but Briggs.


    I listened to stories of his childhood, a poor family Underspire who really couldn''t afford a kid growing up an Ancient, and he''d escaped from them up to the streets of Downspire, where his size, strength, and Levels for his age carved him a place among the homeless and the street kids, and the fact he was way smarter then they gave him credit for helped in all sorts of ways.


    Pit fights and street brawls soon evolved into nasty caged matches for money, while on the side he was building up funds and the knowledge and skills to be a tech armorer, as the levels of opponents who could fight him had to get more and more cybered, and he began to progressively armor up to face them.


    He had a hard and very well-deserved reputation as a borg-smashing terror in the arena league he had graduated to, fighting in front of major crowds for big money, which led to where he was now. The only reason he wasn''t more famous was because he didn''t pander to the fight fixers, and indeed had some violent altercations with them. Unfortunately, there was no stopping his fans, and his fightviews dwarfed all his competition.


    Money talked, and so he''d been relentlessly moving up the rankings, while the cyborgs ahead of him tried to think of some way to deal with him. Nothing organic was supposed to be that damn strong and fast, after all.


    Then, of course, it was my turn.


    ------


    "Well, damn."


    We were in a park atop Grumblespire, having strolled more than twenty miles along pedways and highways during our conversation, pretty much ignoring everyone. We''d gone off-topic many times, appreciated the sights, ridiculed the sights, and finally plopped down in a pair of public seats, chased off everyone nearby with mutual glares, and just chatted.


    He wasn''t all that perturbed to find out he''d been Templated to begin with. As a matter of fact, he considered himself damn lucky, as Ancients like himself generally weren''t too bright, and he definitely put others like himself to shame. The template made him smart, insightful, and gave him access to knowledge and discipline early on in his life, which had profited him ever since.


    He was a Ten Source, without a doubt the most powerful one in the whole city, and probably the Planet, given that his only rival was likely to be some other Ancient. The grimdark of this place didn''t get him down, it just gave him something to overcome. He had chosen a unique route, and was carrying it forwards to the end.


    Which meant he''d sworn an Oath, to stand on top of the Arena Rankings, and pretty much nothing and nobody was going to stop him. I couldn''t rope him in right now, because of that Oath, but afterwards, well...


    We were gonna do some abso-smurfly incredible shit together.


    I sent him a file, and he opened it, poring over the specs for a Shield Focus, and grinning toothily. "Oh, nice. This will really supplement the Force Shield I use in matches nicely."


    "I see you have the full Mark IV Vajra. I don''t think that comes with the Briggs template, it''s something Ma worked out later. How did you figure it out?"


    "Well, the psionic stuff came when some punk of a mindblade cut me with his little psychic knife... and my Sun didn''t unmake it. That kind of proved it was transpsionic and not subject to the normal rules. I beat his face in and had him cut me a dozen more times before I figured out how it was interacting with my Sun, used the logic that normal folks are psions who can''t use psi so they never develop it, and bink, there it was, sitting right there ready to be developed.


    "And if we could amass a Psionic Reserve, it was plain we could do a magical one." He did give me a stink-eye. "Four damn Caster Class Levels for free with each of your Racial Levels? That is insane, girl!"


    "Ah, that," I purred, and his big mouth pursed at the look I was giving him. "We both know Mithar plays the deep game, and Mom, well, she''s a pretty cunning bitch, too. There is only one reason you would be on the same planet with me at the same time as me, you know?"


    He nodded agreement. "We were put here together to find one another and work together." His nostrils were flaring, and he could definitely see and smell where this was going.


    "Ignoring the fact that you look totally scrumptious and your Source Sun is so damn ticklish, there is absolutely no way either of them would want you to be categorically inferior to me. So I''m betting there''s a little something special that just might happen between Rantha Hags and Ancients..."


    Even as he was grinning at me, he was still thinking. "What? A Rantha Hagspawn Ancient?"


    I opened my eyes in delight. "You forgot ''Advanced''. And maybe, for you, Exemplar Lite..."


    He breathed like a bellows, full of fire swimming in the air. "You look like a moving statue. Your Null feels like this cold, pure steel my Source is just washing over, and you smell like a field of flowers, leather, and woodsmoke... in heat." He grunted, obviously controlling himself. "My place or yours?"


    I held up my hand, and a grinning Fyr dropped down in a modded flitter from above. "My place is gonna have a lot of ghosts watching."


    "I gather that''s by design?"


    "Oh, yes."


    "Then let''s give them a hell of a show."


    ------------


    After a performance where even the ghosts are cheering...


    I stretched out slow and hard, muscles crackling, ligaments sliding, sinews popping, working everything precisely and evenly after that night... and day, and into the night.


    He watched it all, but even with full physical control, he couldn''t bestir himself right now.


    Pretty much nothing living was going to be able to watch me right now, but he wasn''t looking away, and he didn''t have any problems, his Source fully effective against the transmagical effects.


    That didn''t mean he didn''t want to get right back up and start anew, but he just didn''t have it in him.


    "I so gotta learn them Night Rose disciplines," he mumbled under his breath, unable to tear his eyes away.


    I turned around with just enough hipswing to make him groan, but lo, he was defeated, and just laid there sprawled in the mass of cushions, pillows, and sheets that had been spread, gathered, spread, and gathered over the course of the night-day-night.


    I had silently instructed the ghosts to vent the place into the building''s air supply, and the reports that had come in had proclaimed last night a very healthy and active period for all concerned. Pheromones ftw!


    "You just became a dad 256 times over," I congratulated him, gliding up to him and sliding up his hairy chest, to stop at his face. Like sliding over an air conditioning vent, the perfect temperature.


    The expression on his face was quite comical. "Are you kidding me?" he asked slowly, hands coming up around my waist. He could almost circle it with one hand, and his thumbs stroked my navel. "I mean, you can''t... can you?"


    "Well, I probably couldn''t keep up with the food requirements, but with compression tech it''s technically possible." I bent down and nuzzled that wonderfully flat nose. "But no, I''ve got the Vats ready to go. Same ones my girls grew in."


    "Huh. Haaaah..." He looked up at the ceiling, which had also suffered some excited abuse from fists and heads. "Still, 256?"


    "I have to empty out the ovaries, but fast healing regens them all in minutes. And the ghosts who definitely want to enjoy themselves like that provided the souls. There''s going to be a whole lot of Briggs'' coming out for my girls to play with."


    "What... won''t they be, like, half-sisters, or something?"


    "Going through the Rantha Curse means they are no more genetically related then an annis is to the girl they used to be. They look like me because they are Rantha Hags, not because they inherited anything genetically... except for the Advanced Template, and that''s because I''m an ExLite."


    "That''s a lot of sons and daughters..."


    "Sons." He blinked. "Hey, can only have sons OR daughters by others, depends on race. The world obviously needs more Briggs!"


    His expression worked again. "It most certainly does," he agreed finally. "But they''ll be my sons, right? How''s that going to work with you?"


    "The Hag Curse nominally gives Hagspawn the Advanced template and a modified version of the Hag sisterhood, making the sons obedient to mom. They''re already going to be Advanced, because their folks are ExLites, so I think you lads get the Briggs template dumped on you instead."


    He tilted his head, and grinned. "Well, at least I can add something to the bloodline!"


    I sat up on his thick waist and traced my nails down him. It was like scoring steel plate, and the severed hair regrew basically instantly. Point to point to point... he groaned and closed his eyes. "Goddamn, I have GOT to learn the Night Rose shit..." He peeked up at me, lights dancing in his eyes, in more ways than one. "So, what''s the story with those?" His hands spidered up my sides and converged on That Bust, out there and defying physics. His hands were more than large enough to swallow them, but I grabbed his thumbs and put them down on my Dragon Heart Tattoo.


    His thumbs pressed down, and the pyramidal Tat de-Powered one by one. As it did, That Bust and all the aural effects centered on it rapidly faded, shrank down, and when the Tat was suppressed, he had bigger tits then I did.


    "Those... are for you, and for people who are about to die," I told him, as his hands wandered over my smooth pecs.


    "Plus Soulcaster Level to Health means you get cleavage? Do they shrink if you take damage?" he wondered aloud, distracted by the mechanics.


    "Yes, but they fast heal, too. And I don''t have to carry around gravity-defying SSI''s that cause accidents wherever I go. I''m pretty sure all the girls who want cleavage are going to stay at one bar on the Tat once they get their Mark IV, and it''s still going to turn heads."


    He poked my Tat, and the first bar lit up. My cleavage swelled in response.


    "You know I''m going to have tons of fun with that," he said shamelessly.


    "Oh?" He winced as he heard the smile in my voice, and my Tats hummed again. Like the Dragon Heart, the benefits couldn''t be ephemeral or ectoplasmic anymore, so the Arakne Arms flowed out from my ribs, and the primary succubus tail and four lilithi tails arced up over my head and shoulders like feather trains, because all three sets of limbs were poofy white, and the center one was glowing red. No manticore spikes around any of them at the moment, however.


    His lips made an O.


    "Would you like me to spread my wings?" I asked him, as my second set of arms began to dance over his belly, caressing a steel drum.


    He swallowed. "The answer is ''Yes, please,'', and ''You were going easy on me''..."


    I smiled toothily. "You start taking those Rantha Hagspawn Levels I''m sure you can now, and we''ll see about who is going to have fun with who..."

 Chapter 355 - Far Future Ch. 65 – You’re in the Army Now

    Jomrin Min sighed as he stared at the cot next to him.


    He was doing his mandatory two years required for Citizenship, and just prayed that he wouldn''t get sent to any active duty company. He hadn''t tested out with the reflexes needed for flying, artillery required better math skills, and the tank corps wanted guys with driving experience and was extremely competitive. He didn''t have the mechanical skills to be in repair and maintenance straight off, nor the accounting and computer skills to be in logistics.


    He was a gravball player and athlete, one of the best in his schola, but what that translated to in the military was an infantry grunt.


    Worse, there were rumors going around that the company he was assigned to was a penal company, and the officers running were only assigned there because there was nowhere else to send them that they couldn''t fuck up more. If it ever did become time to fight, the last thing he wanted was that kind of person in command...


    "Company Tats! Move it out if you want your company tats today, or tomorrow when you''re fucking exhausted and just want to get your three hours of sleep! Move it, recruits!"


    The woman''s force was sharp and piercing, almost driving him to his feet. He took a look out the doorway of his temporary quarters, saw two women walking down the hall, pounding on the walls with impressively strong blows, repeating the same words. They pointed behind them, at another soldier at the end. "Move, recruits!" the one in the lead snarled out, which somehow made her exotic cheekbones, the blue-black tats, and pointed ears all the more fetching. Her dark eyes met his, and he straightened despite himself as she jerked a finger over her shoulder. "Move it out! You''re in Company Waltz, get your Tat before I have to drag your ass in there tomorrow and listen to you scream then!"


    Jomrin swallowed despite himself, wondering what he was in for, and headed for the end of the corridor, where a stony-faced soldier with ganger tats shoved him down a line after the first group.


    ------


    Half the mess hall had been cleared, and numbers of young women were sitting at different tables, with simple kits open next to them, and glowing lights around their hands. Jomrin stared with all the other men and women at the golden claws covering their hands, looking like razor gauntlets tipped in dye that danced over the shoulders of the recruits sitting in the chairs next to them.


    Nymphals? All of them? Mindblades? Mindclaws?, he corrected himself, dumbfounded. What were so many psions doing here? Didn''t they go to a special division or something?


    He shuffled from foot to foot, both astounded by the sight of so many gorgeous women at work doing Tats, and overwhelmed by seeing so many psions together. No, they couldn''t be psions, or they''d be Mentats. They were just wearing uniforms like normal soldiers, nothing special about them.


    And then one of the inkers lifted her arm, and her subject did the same. She bent and twisted it to the side, and the recruit yelped and did the exact same thing.


    A blue-green claw snapped up around his arm. Jomrin felt his eyes almost pop out.


    What the hell? Did she... make him a mindbl-claw?


    "Dude," he nudged the guy in front of him blankly, who was also gaping. The guy was shorter, with a round, honest face, currently with eyes wide.


    "The fuck?" was the immensely informative reply, which Jomrin could only agree with.


    There was a score of the women at work, taking about three minutes per recruit. The line flinched when the guys getting Tatted punched the claws on their right hand into the palms of their left hands, and all of them screamed in shock. Their hands quivering as their mindclaws faded away, and the Tats on their arm smoked and hissed for a moment, they staggered away, back to their cribs.


    It was only six minutes before Jomrin found himself being hand-waved over, as a petite girl staggered away, trying not to cry as she did so, but also staring down at her hand in amazement.


    "I am your Platoon Leader. Tomorrow you will find me and line up behind me," the woman said, as the razored claws on her hands dipped into a different ink each, flowing up her claw in multi-colored threads. She had golden hair and hazel eyes, and the nymphal cheekbones, ears, and those blue-black Tats similar to what he''d seen on the other one. Her nametag said HARI. "Don''t move."


    "Can I-" She swatted his mouth, and he shut up as she began carving into his shoulder. He winced, started to move, and her hand clamped down on his shoulder so hard it took his everything not to scream at the power in her grip.


    "You try to move and I''ll render you unconscious, then I''ll strip you and put your underwear on your head to indicate what a shithead you are." Jomrin went white and tried very, very hard not to move.


    There was something like an electric shock, and a surge that went right through his skull and made his head go blank. There was a bright shining door there.


    -Do this.- The command reverberated in his head, laced with iron and razors, and he couldn''t even think of refusing. His arm went up, came down as he found himself reaching down there, and with a head-splitting, nauseating wrench, he grabbed something there, and twisted and sent it out into his hand.


    There was a hum as a green-white mindclaw snapped into place around his right hand, just above his fingers.


    He gawked at it, even as a drop of blood came out of his nose. He''d naturally been tested for psi when he was young, but he''d tested blank, even though he had an uncle who was in the lower order Mentats.


    -And this.- The command was so rote and overwhelming that he didn''t even think, and plunged the index finger of his new mindclaw right into the center of his other hand.


    Something white-hot seemed to pop and come gushing out a hole in his hand, like the biggest blister ever getting forced through a tiny opening. He screamed like a little girl despite himself.


    "You''re done." Despite the fact she looked so slender and younger than he was, he was yanked up to his feet and sent stumbling away, his mindclaw dissipating as he lost concentration.


    -You will report to me tomorrow.


    -You will manifest your Mindclaw a minimum of one hundred times before muster.


    -If you want to be barely competent, you will do it two hundred times.


    -If you want to be competent, you will do it five hundred times.


    -If you want to be fucking awesome, you will do it one thousand times.-


    The Tat on his shoulder was sizzling, the voice in his head was like steel and bells. The Door in his head shut up, but he could feel her, right on the other side of the that door, like a golden sword raised and ready to fight.


    What... what have I gotten into?


    He felt a sense of panic at the idea that he had no idea what was going on, this didn''t match up to any of the tales he had been told. He''d heard of the tats most of the recruits got, but never mandatory, and never... doing this...


    Giving him a mindclaw!


    He didn''t know whether to laugh or cry. The bones on his right hand were aching from the power that had flowed through them, his left hand didn''t have a mark on it, but felt like there was a burning hole in it, and he had an incredible headache.


    Jomrin made it back to his bunk, sat down against in relief, and felt his eyes turn up as everything seemed to throb.


    Snap... snap... snapsnap... snap...


    The sound caught his ear. He thought about it for a minute, and then realized that it was the sound... of people manifesting their mindclaws...


    One hundred. Two hundred. Five hundred. Or... a thousand?


    He licked his lips, tasted the salt of the blood from his nose, staring at his right hand.


    He lifted his hand up. He brought it down, and twisted...


    That jolt didn''t come all the way through, fading before it reached his hand.


    Oh, oh, it wasn''t automatic. He had to do it right. Do it right every time!


    He grit his teeth, his eyes a little bit wild.


    He would be awesome. He would!


    He focused his attention on that split in his head, realizing it was a hole, a gap to strength and power, and he had to lever it open if he wanted that power. Gritting his teeth, his raised his arm and brought it down, twisting his mind and hand...


    Snap!


    ---


    A normal recruit barracks would normally have nervous recruits lolling around, bored, playing games on devices, maybe reading a book or watching vids.


    The recruit rooms for Company Waltz were silent, save for continuous snaps of mindclaws manifesting in all sorts of colors...


    ---------


    "How''d you do?" I asked the girls, because I couldn''t Marktell with them.


    "They are all done," Ruby Rantha stepped forward and replied.


    The eighty of them had each had to do fifty recruits for this class, so about two and a half hours to clear them all. Fifty recruits was well below their Marshal capability, so they''d be given a hundred soldiers each to start with, one company per, and the next class coming in would bring in more.


    A certain Colonel Belisha Kyaragrov had been originally in charge of this class. She was also a member of the Broshkov mob and had quietly funneled ''excess'' military inventory to them over the years, and moved certain members of the family into positions where they could exploit the hierarchy.


    Those family members were now all dead, and any record of their military service had been purged with them. An extremely well-informed group of my girls with G&G supporters had swept through the Broshkov civilian holdings and wiped them clean, with a few Juris forensic teams padding through afterwards and finding an absolute bonanza of crooked dealings.


    It was a hostile takeover, and after appropriate taxes were paid, not an issue with the Juris.


    To keep the books straight, I and the girls able to enlist were simply inserted into the positions of the dead mobsters in the army, and then we were all transferred here.


    Our Curses had latched onto the mobsters nicely, and they''d all get reborn as Ranthas. More to the point, we''d Bound and Sealed them before that happened, and they''d picked rebirth over being let go to the Warp, having no wish to walk out into the horrorscape beyond death. The price was the standard reincarnatory purge of memories, which were dumped into our personal akashas for review.


    So, we all looked like young women, but we all had many years of service to the Janus Prime military to draw on... and who was going to argue with Four+''s with minimum Charismas of 22, ranging all the way to 30+? And then me...


    As for the sudden appearance of a Colonel Sama Rantha out of nowhere, the fact I was relieving a redacted Colonel of command, and the news of the purge, meant nobody was going to create problems for me. They knew who was backing me without anything being said, and they couldn''t investigate my military background, other than a totally true yet completely fabricated list of qualifications.


    Colonel Belisha was still sticking around, a mix of outraged at being killed for her crimes, intrigued at voyeuring with me, and terrified at both the idea of dying and exactly what I was and planned to do. She knew the system very well, and even in this limited time, watching me start to make it dance was delighting her. The irony that much of her family... was going to become my family... was not lost on her.


    I was going to build a core following in the military forces here, and expand. I had both the Coronals and Umbrans silently behind me, and even the City Lord wasn''t going to be able to stop me. Of course, I also had to make sure my Karma-hungry girls got their fix, but that shouldn''t be too hard...

 Chapter 356 - Far Future, Ch. 66 – Borgs Running Their Mouths Off

    Several months pass...


    It had been a good fight, and an enthusiastic one.


    Jimo had fallen under Briggs'' wing as a power armor enthusiast, and gone into the dueling. Given the inordinate toughness of my soulclaw boys, and the ability to empathic transfer injuries to me, he wasn''t afraid of getting hurt, and he fairly worshipped the huge Ancient whose borg-wrecking career was an inspiration for anyone made of flesh and bone.


    Of course, the borgs on the other side were less than happy to see a wave of power-armored mind-clawed bastards with all their meat climbing the rankings. This M''bale the Breaker was one of them, a true cyborg with eighty percent of his meat gone, just wearing a borg suit everywhere he went. He''d given up basically all of himself to be a high-end cyborg.


    Jimo had made a good fight of it, but six attack limbs, multiple gun ports, chains, and nets later, he''d run out of gas as the mini-rockets detonated in his face and sent him flying back, armor crumped and insides shaken.


    Of course, most of those attack limbs, gun ports, chains, and nets were now in many pieces, and M''bale the Breaker was lurching around on two legs carefully, as Jimo had hacked the other two off.


    Jimo slapped the ground twice, the universal symbol for a surrender, but the outraged M''bale didn''t back off.


    "Let me leave you with the same souvenir you left me with!" he howled in a voice artificially amplified for effect, and hacked at Jimo''s leg with an adamantine powersaw.


    The crackling, spinning weapon on its extensor drove down on Jimo''s leg, sparks flying as it cut into the durasteel, and then into the meat beneath. Blood sprayed and bits of meat flew around as M''bale cackled.


    "How''s it feel, boy?" the cyborg shouted at him. "I''ll be good as new, any cyborg would, this is just some friendly play!"


    And then Briggs was on top of him, even as Jimo''s leg was kicked free of him.


    M''bale barely had time to look up before Briggs'' Hammer plowed through his exo-skeleton, shrieking energy melted and fused the durasteel of his frame, and the cyborg was smashed over backwards.


    "You''re interfering in a fight!" M''bale screamed, ignoring what had just happened, almost happy. "You''ll be thrown out of the league for this!"


    "The fight ends when the opponent is judged unable to continue, surrenders, or is forced from the ring," Briggs rumbled as he kicked the trembling legs of the cyborg aside, shattering his pelvis with the force of an armored boot. Very precisely, a dendrite snaked out of the back of his suit, wrapped around Jimo''s leg, and pressed it back against the bloody stump it had been severed from.


    There was a hiss and a glow of light. The sprayed meat and blood everywhere shimmered and disappeared, flowing back as mere mist in the direction it had come from.


    From start to end, Jimo had not uttered a cry. Steam vented out the gash in his armor, and he stiffly pushed himself up on his armored leg.


    "What I am doing now is effectively after the fight, which falls under the area of personal unregulated combat... or would, if you hadn''t tried to maim someone outside a fighting ring. On camera. In a public venue. Before lots and lots of people watching."


    His dendrite retracted, and Briggs stepped forwards, violet eyes glowing with their own non-mechanical backlight. M''Bale the Breaker tried to retreat, but chainsaws aren''t made for scrabbling, and he didn''t have any other effective limbs... plus Briggs had obliterated his main power core, and he basically only had life support active.


    Briggs stopped, towering over the man, psi-circuits and hardware criss-crossing the remnants of his head and torso. Behind him, Jimo got to his feet, took off his helmet, and slowly stepped up next to him.


    "A little playing around, something a cyborg can easily recover from, huh?" Briggs repeated, his voice low enough to make the sands of the arena tremble, and M''bale blanched as he looked at the unharmed Jimo. Psionic healing could be much faster than nanite repairs, after all. "Well, that means you''re absolutely fine with the same being done to you, right?"


    His hand flicked with a golden blade across his hand, cutting right across Jimo''s throat. The same cutting arc flared around his Hammer as it flicked out, the thirty-pound head lighter than a willow wand, and sliced through M''Bale''s throat.


    "Let''s see who comes to fix you."


    Blood was gushing out Jimo''s throat, but his eyes were firm. There was a flash, and a hiss of red steam. The gushing wall coming down his throat stopped, and the escaping red was visibly sealed off, the deadly wound reduced to little more than an angry red line.


    M''Bale gaped and quivered as black-red biotic fluid poured down his throat and chest. He was starting to choke, and lights from his life-support systems flashed danger lights as he thrashed helplessly and then jerked forwards, lolling as his mechanical eyes went dim, and red lights danced over the frame of his borg-suit.


    Briggs waited patiently, but nobody from the crowds or the emergency resuscitation crews seemed interested in preserving the cyborg''s life. That kind of behavior was indicative of someone going Cyber, losing their humanity and having nothing but prejudice against those with all their flesh.


    Also, the freaking huge Ancient with the massive Hammer standing over him kind of discouraged anyone.


    The blood on Jimo''s neck and chest evaporated into red mist, and even the red line faded back to his normal olive skin tone. Briggs grunted as he hefted Beat, which thrummed strongly in his hand, plenty ready to go ahead and mash some more cyberized opponents.


    "Huh. Too bad you couldn''t heal up on your own," Briggs murmured as all the lights went dead on M''Bale. He tapped the corpse, and lightning arced out from his Hammer, frying all his hardware and incidentally making sure he couldn''t be resuscitated, making the job of the arena crew a lot simpler. "Let''s go, Jimo. You should''ve beaten this guy. Let''s watch some tapes."


    "Yes, sir," Jimo sighed, still feeling his aches and pains leaving. He wasn''t very good at the self-healing bit in his own estimation, but he would have qualified as a trained combat medic in any military in the world, given how many of his own injuries he''d healed, and helped others with.


    Briggs clapped him on the shoulder, and the two walked out of the arena, as the crew and bots came in to clean up the mess and prepare for the next match.


    --------------


    "Mom, you gotta see this."


    I cocked an eye at Lieutenant Thoma Rantha, my secretary. Her Talent was Stickler, which made her awesomely good at stupid minutiae, which she waged war upon with heavy weapons and terrifying enthusiasm. Gorgeous supergeniuses who are actually good at micro-managing complete idiocy are not people to fuck with, as more than a few bureaucrats who''d come tramping to my door had found out. She could navigate redundant laws, conflicting rules, excessive hierarchies, overlapping jurisdictions of power, and peevish twaddle-heads like a piranha going after fingers, and anyone who dared, DARED to contest her domain with such stupidity ended up screaming for mercy under the deluge of paperwork she unleashed upon them.


    She had so far forced six pencil-dicks into retirement, cashiered a general who made an unwanted pass at her, started her third stage of regulation rewrites (Coronal approved), and on the side she represented poor people in virtual court and worked with Aura in a mediation room. She took charge of lists of Stuff for the excursions of the Hag Squads going out every other night outside the city for their Karma fix with great enthusiasm.


    It was fun when you knew your Talent, gloried in it, were superhumanly awesome at it, and knew just how it looked to others. Sir Dorval wanted to snatch her from me, and I had to rap his knuckles. I only had so many thoughtstreams to handle that shit, you know?


    One such stream turned my attention to the video she sent. In virtua space I could fast forward without compromising anything.


    Okay, this was a bitching show of a cybergang gone full Cyber and with two of them Possessed. Strike Team Silver, which Romila Rantha was assigned to, was urgently dispatched to deal with it, and arrived on the scene less than one minute after the gang started rolling out in their suits, vehicles, and walkers, killing everything around them.


    Romila''d taken a five-g dive from the hoverwagon to hit the ground first, zone in a safe teleport site for the rest of the team to come in on, and then there had been a knock-down, drag-out, explosions everywhere, laser and slugthrowing shooty-shoot with lots of property damage, drones crashing and exploding, missiles flying, mechs and borgs shorting out with arcane eruptions of energy, and two Warp Entities getting flash-fried and boom-exorcised the hard way. The Juris had lost an attack wagon, over three hundred civilians had died, but Strike Team Silver and their Juris back-up had lost nobody, because Romila was on the job as their combat medic and a reaaaaaally good shot when those Warp-fried idiots tried to flank.


    And she might have done a Cleave Run through like ten of the smaller borgs when they hunkered down behind a bunker of overturned cars, making a convenient line for such a thing, but nobody really caught that, except for a lot of sparks and a golden mindblade moving through a bunch of abruptly dead metal-heads.


    It was a great show.


    Cut to... an interview with a high-ranking cyborg arena guy, one Buzzcutter. He was providing analytics to the fight in a bored tone, kinda disparaging the skills of the Cybered ''borgs, their aim, their gear, their tactics, and making it sound like the two Coronal Squires attached to the squad hadn''t done much of anything.


    "Yeah, if those guys were from the league, guarantee you that fight would not have been so easy for ''em," he kind of droned, waving a metal hand dismissively. "Just amateurs throwing metal around, didn''t know what the fuck they were doing."


    I narrowed my virtua eyes. "So, how pissed is Romila?" I asked her.


    "You saw how they had that zone wired and were waiting for the Juris to show, right?" Of course I had. There were mines, snipers, monofilament nets, booby traps, flanking crews, mixed heavy and light teams, hidden bunkers, disguised shooters among the civilians, armored vehicles, and some damn impressive firepower. They''d gone out, butchered hundreds of people, withdrawn to their zone, and pulled the Juris in to get slaughtered.


    Romila''s early and non-cyber arrival had really upset the applecart. She had painted all their traps and positions, read the ambushers, confirmed the ground layout, and reported it to the strike team so they could insert into a location where they could rip the formation of the borgs apart. With the constant upload, the Juris had been able to pick off the stray elements and avoid most of the booby traps simply by being able to shoot them first. The casualties among the lawmen had mostly come from random shots and splash damage.


    The borgs had done everything right. In return, the Silver Strike team had done everything even more right, from their very expensive, flashy, and woo-hoo violent initial barrage, to their Borg tanking both of the Warped Borgs for a few crucial seconds, saving at least three dozen civilians and letting the two Squires get into position to blast them, overloading their mindblades with psionic lightning to fry the mechanical and neural systems of demon and host together, before plasma cannons to the cortex finished the job.


    It was telepathically coordinated cooperation and teamwork of the highest order. There had been nothing wrong with the Cybered idiots. They''d just been hit hard and from too many angles, and their prep work had been killed ahead of time. If the Strikers hadn''t come in to do the job, the Juris would''ve had a bloody day.


    I frowned, despite myself. Yeah, that Buzzcutter was just selling stuff. He hadn''t looked at things seriously, focused just on the Warped borgs, who looked ineffective because of the tactics used and coordination of all sides ripping them apart before they could get going.


    "Well, I can probably skip getting eaten by Sand Wurms for a day. Let me call up Philius and ask for a small favor..."

 Chapter 357 - Far Future Ch. 67 – One Cyborg’s Fate

    The tube lifted me up smoothly to the Arena floor. The roar of the crowd washed over me, enthusiastic and bloodthirsty, looking to see some machine-men blowing one another apart.


    They kind of broke and faltered when I was revealed there. Mask covering half my face, golden skin and hair, the blue-black of my Brand on my face... it didn''t take them long to Boole me and find out who Buzzcutter''s mystery opponent was.


    The Golden Hag! His datafeed naturally dumped the information to him, and his face was somewhat consternated. He was supposed to be fighting another cyborg, not a bladebelle!


    Of course, he was reassured by the fact that I had never been seen to use any kind of psionics when I fought. I was fast, abominably tough, and I cut enemies down with a mindblade... albeit one that could cleave durasteel like cheese.


    Chalice slid down into my hand, and my soulblade slid out.


    One, two, three, four Stars lit up on the blade. Two Suns began to swirl up the length of it continuously. The solid line of light in the center of it meant a Star Core.


    Hard golden light slid into place around it, then crackling solid electricity of reddish hue. This red lightning seemed to shimmer and seethe inside the length of the blade, and his augmented eyes flashed all kinds of dire warnings to him looking at it.


    Yeah, a Bane/Constructs Sundering Breaking effect is really, really hostile to cyborgs. It''s why they were so afraid of Briggs'' Hammer, Beat.


    The timer seemed to pause, waiting for any quips to start the show.


    "Why are you here?" he had to ask, as his stubbers came down and began to rotate.


    "Because the Coronals wouldn''t ever bother to come, the bladeboys think you are an idiot, and someone asked it as a favor," I replied smoothly. "Let''s see just how much better arena gladiators are then Warp-crazed Cyberheads, shall we?"


    Beep, beep, beep!


    His guns started, and the mist grenade under my foot hit the ground.


    Psi-tech instantly transmuted hydrogen and oxygen in the air around to mist, charging it with reflective ambient energy. It wasn''t a wave; very abruptly, everything centered sixty feet in front of me was occluded by mist.


    I heard his jetpack ignite as I put my foot down, and his anti-grav failed him, meaning he didn''t get off the ground with that mecha-harness he was driving, which kind of shocked him. I ghosted left and right as wild shots sprayed in all directions, sliding between the bullets which bent away as they approached me, and even as he retreated smoothly to gain more distance, another grenade poofed off, and another, chasing after him.


    He had no idea where I was, his systems weren''t registering me, and he couldn''t see me, either. He didn''t know how quickly I was moving, only that I was driving him back across the arena as fast as he could scramble, shooting at nothing, and knowing he had to stay out of reach of my sword.


    Alas, I moved forwards much faster than he could retreat.


    I came out of the mist thirty yards from him as he was trying to lateral, and instead was moving right into me. His guns snapped around, trying to track me, unable to get a lock. He tried tangling wire, which I carved through as it slid off me, and gas grenades of his own, which I just ignored. Desperately, he tried an almost point-blank detonation of rockets, aiming for the shockwave to drive me back... and I cut apart three in the air, shredding them before they could explode, and was suddenly in his face, even as his whirling blade-arms tried to pincer me in.


    Chalice Sang, the sharp notes of her edge accented by the sheering protests of severed steel. Arm One. Arm two. Leg one, leg two. Primary power core undefended as he falls.


    Arcs of golden light flared and died, crisscrossing faster than the eye, looking like a golden flower frozen in a moment of death, crawling red lightning dancing around it and over the cyborg in front of me as he hit the ground and his weapon systems died.


    Five Sun Strikes...


    He quivered and jerked as the feedback from the effects danced through his systems. Circuits flared and died, insulation burned, delicate soldering and metals melted to slag.


    He stared at me as I presented the tip of Chalice and her very ominous, rising and falling hum, to his nose. He didn''t have a lot of meat left, but it was enough to sweat.


    "Fog and a sword beats an arena mech-handler. I admit to being very unimpressed, Master Buzzcutter." His square-pupiled, mechanical eyes were fixed on the very, very, VERY dangerous point of my Sword. "Tell me, Master Buzzcutter, who are the Coronal Knights?"


    "The Coronal Knights?" he repeated in surprise.


    "I see you have heard of them. Who are they?" I asked condescendingly.


    "They, they are the defenders of Humanity!" he managed to get out. Every child knew that, even if they became a cyborg.


    "And where do they defend us, Master Buzzcutter?" I went on loftily.


    "Where, wherever the enemies of Man can be found!" he blurted out, nicely indoctrinated as a child, even if he didn''t believe it.


    "So, not in an arena?" I mused aloud, waving Chalice closer. It didn''t touch him, but the circuits on his face were already peeling back from the force.


    "N-no..." he managed.


    "Not on some makenews pretending to be an expert on military tactics and combats involving psi and mechs?" I went on primly.


    "N-no..." he swallowed, finally realizing his big mouth had gotten him into a lot of trouble.


    "Now, I had it in my head that the Coronal Duke would set aside his cape, put on a mask, pretend to be a bladeboy, walk out into this arena, clench his fist, and kill you right there. Then he''d make some inane comment about how arena mech-users don''t know how to really fight.


    "But he''s far, far too far above us to stoop to that level. So, a friend of a friend asked me to see if you knew what you were talking about with your recent comments, and I must say, you''ve really impressed him."


    His face fell, and he looked around at the silent crowd, who was watching and hanging on all of this. "What... what do you want? I can apologize! I, I didn''t mean to offend the Knights!"


    "You disparaged who they fought, and why they fought, sitting up here in your million-credit mech harness, fighting for prize money in a place where death is only a happy accident. Tell me, Master Buzzcutter, do you know how many Coronal Knights have taken Oath from Janus? The whole planet, not just Prime."


    "Uhhhh..." he went fishing for the answer, and it didn''t come up readily. "A, a couple thousand?"


    "In the three thousand years since this planet has been colonized, two thousand four hundred and sixty-eight Knights have taken the Oath upon this world. Some stayed, most were sent offworld," I informed him kindly. "Tell me, do you know how many Coronal Knights from Janus Prime have died in their role of being defenders of humanity?"


    He swallowed again, although he probably didn''t eat real food anymore. "No..."


    "Two thousand four hundred and sixty-one," I educated him. "Do you know how many Coronal Knights who took the Oath from Janus are still alive, perchance?"


    He swallowed again, looking up the length of Chalice and all her Stars, Suns, and cyborg-ripping Core at me. "S-seven?" he guessed.


    "Very good, Master Buzzcutter. You do know your trivia. So, do you know how many Coronal Knights from Janus retired after a long career of defending the likes of you and your fellow arena mech-users?"


    "None of them..." he whispered, looking up at me. I could read his thoughts, and underneath his fear, he was thinking it was because they were fools...


    "In recognition of your obvious expertise and superior ability over rote Warped Cyberheads, you have been drafted to join the conflict as a mech-driver on Khronus IV. You leave tomorrow. The Legio Mechanicus will provide you with a standard Chromo Walker. If you want something more customized, you may wish to bring it along instead." I flicked the draft notice from my Band to his, and his circuits danced in agitation as his mechanical eyes protruded.


    It had been signed off on by the Office of the Order of the Fallen Moon...


    =============


    Khronus IV, Six months from now...


    "There''s one under here!"


    Buzzcutter''s systems were powered down as far as they could go, both to save energy and to avoid the scavengers looking for scraps. He tensed up and prepared to juice his power when he heard the voices, and the crump of armored footsteps. There was a screech and scraping of tons of metal being shifted away, and the armored hulk atop him was slowly levered away by straining servos.


    The point-blank lasers he''d been readying cooled down when he painted the blue and silver armor of those lifting the Khronian Heavy Walker away, and the figure in the blue and silver cloak bent down at him with a tired face. "You okay down there, son?"


    Buzzcutter felt a swirl of strange emotions rising inside his artificial gut as he looked up at the weathered Coronal Knight. "Yes, sir. Lost my lower half and I''m immobile, sir." With a crash, the gutted Walker was tilted away, revealing the fact he''d had his legs blown off, and two of his weapon-limbs were mangled.


    "Put him on the Disk. What''s your name, son?"


    "They call me Buzzcutter, sir..." he trailed off.


    The Coronal Knight snorted. "What is that? Give me a man''s name, son."


    The cyborg swallowed again, fighting that odd emotion. "Ghella Squellid, sir..."


    The Coronal Knight didn''t laugh or mock him or anything. "Mr. Squellid, those weapon systems I see still working?" he asked forthrightly.


    With a thought, lights began to rise on his torso and servos. "I''ve got point lasers, one plasma cannon, one heavy mini-laser, and six AP rockets left, sir," he reported quickly.


    The Coronal nodded, as his power-armored escorts lifted up the bulk of Ghella''s upper torso onto a floating Disk waiting there, strong enough to take all his weight. The stump of his torso was uneven, but residual anti-grav and gyros made up for it, and he was able to stay upright. He would have to swivel by hand, of course...


    "You think you can cover us while we find any more survivors, Mr. Squellid?" the Coronal asked.


    He hadn''t ever been called Mr. Squellid in his whole life.


    "My shields are burnt out, but I''ve a ton of durasteel left, sir!" he replied firmly.


    "Good lad." A callused hand tapped the metal of his carapace shell, and the Disk bearing him trailed after the Coronal Knight as they went to search for other abandoned souls.


    -----------------


    Mr. Squellid never went by another name for the rest of his life. He followed Senior Coronal Knight Mendel Worlin for thirty-four years, through the Khronus Campaign, to the Cassiopeia Crusade, the Gorfmar Incursion, the Scutus Insurrection, and beyond.


    He died in the taking of the Warp-tainted Keep of the Polyarch Aumluviar on the former crown world of Regina III, taking down a Spiral Dancer with an overloaded volley of his Vakker-Tech Blessed Light Cannons as it tore him apart, while his Sanctified Fusion Core sealed the gate through which it had breached the mortal realm, and stopped an imminent demon invasion in its tracks.


    ----From the Past-Life Journal of Ghella Briggs


    ========================

 Chapter 358 - Far Future, Cha. 68 – Buying the Stairway to Heaven

    "Good morning to you all. I am Colonel Sama Rantha. You may have heard of me."


    I could read the trepidation and fear on their faces like a book. It was well-deserved. In the past year, I had made a splash in Janus Prime''s military forces, especially the training of raw recruits. Every commander in the city wanted to get troops from me, and the rest wanted to send their troops to me.


    The kids coming to me were hammered and refined, the rebelliousness and elitism beat out of them. Washing out of my training was worse than finishing it, and one recruit was dragged by his Sergeant Rantha for a full mile on his face before he realized he could indeed get up and still run, bloody as he was, and everyone swore as from start to end, their bully sergeant Ranthas skated backwards in front of them, watching them all and never letting them falter.


    But this one, this one was different.


    The responsibility had been pawned off on me like a hot potato, nobody wanted the responsibility of sending a rich man''s kids off to die. But the Empire had come calling, and another Janus Regiment was being summoned to fight for the Empire.


    All the cities of Janus had to tithe people, arms, and armor to the endless wars of the Empire, and the taxes were basically ongoing support for the legions in the field. When their numbers fell from attrition, another Regiment was founded to keep the tithing stable, while existing Regiments were combined and their old numbers retired.


    That was what a Regiment meant... ten thousand sons and daughters of Janus Prime had died in the Emperor''s Service, Forever may the sack of bones on his Crystal Throne reign.


    I had been pawned off the duty of training ten thousand raw recruits into soldiers fit for the Emperor''s Service.


    Well, eff that. I was going to train them to be fit for MY service.


    "I will tell you this right now, and confirm what you already know. You are a founding Regiment destined to serve in the Emperor''s name. You will be sent off to fight in His Name for the fate of humanity.


    "You will be far from home, and if the numbers mean anything, less than half of you will survive that service, and less than a tenth of you will decide to come home when your time is done."


    Yeah, that clearly unsettled them. I let that stew for a long, hard breath or three.


    "I aim to break one of those numbers, and that is how many of you survive.


    "If you want to live to see the end of your service, and retire to some wild green and blue colony world far away from durasteel and a force dome sky, you will do what I tell you, when I tell you.


    "You will take all the pain and agony I am going to inflict on you, and you will ask for more, so that you live.


    "There is no running away, there is no failing out here. If you can''t cut it, then you will be shot in the head and thrown to the soylent wagons, because the Empire does not allow you to quit." Which was absolute policy. And then your family had to pay for someone to replace you.


    "A soldier does not need to be strong, fast, clever, or smart. They don''t even need to be superbly skilled, although all of those things help.


    "A soldier needs to endure, and to survive! If you survive, you will become stronger, faster, sneakier, smarter, and more skilled. But first, you must survive. You must be tougher!


    "That is what I am going to make you. Oh, you will all be trained to the Empire''s standards in guns and combat and whatnot before you ship out. But you will be tough, tougher than you ever imagined you could be, so that you can survive what is coming!


    "Soldiers of the Empire, I salute you!" I gave them a perfect salute, and the one thing their sergeants had managed to drill into them was how to return it. "You will not disappoint me, because I will not allow you to do so!


    "Dismissed!"


    The softer ones who''d trembled at my words had already been marked out. They were the ones who had to be broken down and rebuilt, or they were just going to wash out and die.


    But these were all Ones. They could be Opened as Nulls, Marked, and Awakened. The trifecta had already made my trainees the toughest to ever come out of the Janus Prime training program, and I wasn''t going to do any less for the Empire.


    Deep bellows and cutting curses warred through the air as Ranthas and Briggs herded their companies and platoons this way and that, off to the training fields for the first part of physical manhandling that would break them down and turn them into something they never thought they could be.


    Basic training turned a One into a Two, and gave what was effectively the Elite Array of 15/14/13 for the physical Stats, spread out by body type. Advanced training turned a Two into a Three. The full-contact training was going to add to their Archer, Scout, or Melee Primary Level a Level in Psion and Soulshaper. Psychic and Soul-Fortified bodies turned the relevant Feats into Health bonuses. More survivability. Exposure to ki gave them the potential of a Vajra. More survivability.


    Being Opened as a Null meant inherent bonuses to Constitution. More survivability. Being Opened as a Source meant Strength instead, also good. The Marks were all Constitution, and if they fed them, would end up at +4 Constitution... and with direct Marklinks to their sergeants, telling them what to do and how to survive and progress and make it through the hell that was coming. We''d see what stacking morale bonuses on top of all that would do on the future field of battle!


    -------


    A hundred Ranthas and Briggs each were in the Regiment, the 2247th Janus Regiment to be mustered, all from Janus Prime. They were looking forwards to heading out into space, hoping they didn''t get blown out of the damn void before they had a chance to fight.


    Having a hundred Sources along would go a long way towards bending the small odds to make sure that didn''t happen, but still, I wasn''t going to take any chances with incompetence on the part of the commanders. Tabitha and Tiffany Rantha were both graduating from the Admiralty Station in orbit at the tops of their class, and would be assigned to a ship in Gunnery and Command, respectively. Azure graduated from high-risk racing and had naturally blown through Piloting School and had been given her own squadron of fellow graduates. What she would be flying, now...


    Fyr would be joining in the tank crews, too. I wouldn''t be in command, but I''d be with my people one way or another.


    -------


    I literally could not be expanding fast enough to use all the money being thrown at me. Vakker-tech had hit the battlefields of a dozen conflicts, outperformed standard tech, and Rantha Corps tech had outperformed that. Naturally everyone wanted the best, and was willing to pay through the nose to get it.


    This meant my expansion was relentless, and prioritization of that expansion basically steamrolled any opposition. I was expanding through Blokward after Blokward, given carte blanche to eliminate trouble... and that was what we did. I focused on areas in decline to double down on the mandated Revitalization and Recovery program subsidies, and now I had recruiters going across the city, looking for them precious gold and silver auras, and for young greens who might become gold.


    Every four months, another batch of Ranthas and Briggs were hitting the street. The Brothers Briggs had the problem of coming out as Ones, which really annoyed them, but we had early Leveling paradigms all worked out. Alas, no Level every day did slow them down a bunch, but time to branch out and develop their own personalities and Talents was hardly a bad thing.


    The key thing was that new Ranthas and Briggs couldn''t Marktell with their sisters and brothers respectively... or Mom and Dad... but they could do so with their opposites. Those pairings were awesome in all the best ways.


    Briggs himself was a bit blown away by being the dad of all these fellows, but that hardly stopped his enthusiasm towards learning them Night Rose disciplines.


    Naturally there was huge competition among the girls for their own Briggs, as they significantly outnumbered the brawny Ancient lads at this point. Complementary Talents were the main mode of comparison, and any of them who set up a partnership were also obligated with helping their fuzzy Signif Other Level up. Given everyone was specializing more than generalizing at this point, save for a certain someone at the top of the ladder, this wasn''t too much of an issue. The efficiency of buying things piecemeal meant a lot less Karma was wasted, so more bang for the buck. Even if they all had to go back and take lots of Secondary Levels later, they wouldn''t have to be paying the same premium they would if it was Levels instead of benefits.


    Aura negotiated my first not-really-friendly acquisition, which was a factory facility that made replacement parts for Axiom Modular Template wargear and vehicles, including starship parts. The Mekker''s Guild was not happy to see me repurpose a bunch of those lines to (horrors!) new designs and models of weapons and vehicles of all types designed to maximize the usage of Vakker-tech... and even less happy to see the Coronals promptly buying everything as fast as I could make it. One of the very best sellers was simply armor plating with both the mandated Axiom Rune structure... and Sacred Runes on top of it.


    Vakker-tech''s ability to convey more power meant making weapons with higher power thresholds was entirely possible. Working psionic energy in there to apply cooling easily offset the heat at higher cost, and the speed and ease of replacement was even faster with simply having to see what tech had gone dark and burned out to pull. Even the parts themselves weren''t that difficult to fix, since it was only swapping out the tubes most of the time, meaning recycling and repurposing was even better.


    All of my thoughtstreams were on full drive now, as I was doing design and refinement work full time at the high edge of TL 10 on a parallel tech tree, and juicing the tech with increasingly refined modifiers to ever more efficiency within the limits of my Level.


    Power systems, anti-grav systems, drive systems, shields and wards, sensory suites, cooling systems, Interdiction systems... I dove head-on into all the key tech, and the blocky, gothic ship designs simply did not work with the Rune arrays I was working with, so for the first time in thousands of years, major capital ship redesigns had to take place to accommodate what I was doing.


    I wasn''t going to give Azure anything but the nastiest gunboat to work with, and meshing some of the TL12-15 tech they had available and accentuating it with Vakker-tech was very nice, indeed.


    ---


    Too, my conscription of the Beacon psions had never stopped, and a year after I had started, less than a tenth of the numbers who had once been slaving away for eight to twelve hours a day for shit wages were now dropping off psi into the Capapsitors I was making with them, and they were working on some of the most cutting edge stuff in the whole Empire.


    When the first Beacon Seven walked into the Mentats to receive his Septagon, it sent waves throughout the whole organization. It repeated as more and more of the formerly worthless and untalented Beacon Psis began getting repeated increases in their Tats.


    I now employed more psions than any other organization on Janus Prime, and they were doing great work for me, important work... and being both paid well and treated with camaraderie and respect. There were also a number of special project teams working with Coronal and Umbran requests... which rather throttled a lot of Mentat umbrage at these minor psions suddenly doing so well.


    The Beacons were also very, very tight-lipped about the benefits of partnering with a Null Psi, and realized how dangerous such people were to them... and paradoxically, their very existence meant that they could suddenly once again become part of the normal people, as everyone was potentially a psion now. The elitist and isolated mindset of a psion, especially the overarching, ever-looming threat from the Warp, was basically non-existent with a Null partner there, and the lack of fear a Null had for them was strangely refreshing...


    The stress relief and freedom meant my Beacon psions were some of the most approachable members of their ilk around. Their increasing Levels and approachability also meant they started reducing demand for Mentat services for basic tasks, which the higher Level psions could hardly complain about, as they were all members of the same Guild.


    The Stars of Mentats versus the Shapes of the Beacons was never something they thought would be an issue, but the Beacons were rising on a tide, hungry for the recognition and power of those Levels in a way the gifted Mentats had never considered.


    Of course, they were civilian psions, not battleminds or combat psykers, but now they could compete in the civilian arena, which they hadn''t been able to do before, increasingly shoving the gifted psions into the more dangerous combat roles... which they really didn''t want to focus on, surprise, surprise.


    It wasn''t like they could lock the Beacons out, because I could employ ALL of them. There was an unending thirst for psionic circuitry and Rune crafting, and I had enough work for all of them. I didn''t want to employ Mentats at all for this kind of work, and the fact my Beacon psi-techs were so skilled meant other employers were contracting them off for specific applications dealing with Vakker-tech.


    My reach was growing...

 Chapter 359 - Far Future, Ch. 69 a?? Your Stairway Lies on the Whispering Winds

    Of course, with power came knowledge and responsibilities.


    I had Philius and Sir Dorval as information sources if I was so inclined to pursue things, but they tacitly kept hands off my operations, and I didn''t inquire into the things they were doing other than to see what I could do to support them. The first Ranthas and G&G kids were entering the new Coronal and Umbral Guards to see what could happen, and senior Strikers were throwing off their mechanical implants to hit Seven and get the Null Status themselves, and all the things that it led to... especially them extra decades. The Coronal Knights and Squires suddenly had some remarkably improved members to add to their Cohorts and Striker Teams.


    One thing that I became more rapidly aware of now was the status of the conflicts in the greater galaxy. There were wars and battles going on all the time, and the major and minor players of the galaxy were always going at it. While specifics were beyond my current clearance, information about who and where wasn''t that important, and indeed, most of it was simply declassified historical data. Current data had to come in by telepathic cycle to the Beacon, or be run in by ships using FTL. Even with psionics, there was no talking across the galaxy unless you were Way Up There... and wanted stuff listening in at the same time...


    Human forces devoted to the Warp, stemming from the massive schism of the Emperor''s sons six thousand years ago, still existed, and infected the Empire like plague maggots, hungering for souls and immortality in service to their mad gods. Civil wars, rebellions, uprising, invasions, raids... it was all going on all the time.


    The Tekrons I had run into were a terrifying, mysterious force, combining the horrors of undead, AI, and impossible technology. They dwelt in cold, forgotten places and dead worlds, stirring to life when their vaultworlds were disturbed, and generally annihilating the responsible parties. The appearance of a Tekron generally meant the extermination of everything living in the system.


    I began to plan accordingly...


    The third looming threat was the Xenosyms, the biological eating machines of this reality. Bioengineered for utter and total war, they were believed to be the most effective children of Shug-Niggurath, were known to work with races of the Mythos like the cerebrovores, and otherwise devoured everything the Tekrons would destroy. They were the locust horde of the stars, threatening the whole galaxy with great fleets sweeping past the Milky Way cautiously, wary only of the influence of the Warp and what it might do to them.


    The Mythos races were generally split between those that venerated the Elder Gods, led by the extremely racist Great Race, Cerebrovores, and Cephallids, called the Horrors from the Void; and the various races that served the Great Old Ones, such as the Mi-Go, Yth, and Deep Ones, called The Aberrants... who as often as not loathed one another, too. In the psionic world, they were shadows and devils afflicting the psionically-aware population, even more then the Warp Gods, who could do nothing to these entities from Beyond Creation with their inscrutable motivations.


    The Goblins in their tripartite glory were the rapacious barbarians of the galaxy. They were gene-coded for war, their technology as much instinct as learned. The dark-skinned hobgoblins were the most intelligent and organized, building great motherships and amassing the armies of the greenbloods on war after war of conquest.


    The smaller green-skinned goblins were the foundation and innumerable troops of the race, giving birth to the other two subspecies constantly, and blessed with an incredible idiot savancy for harnessing and using fire. Goblin engines were some of the most powerful of their types known, and their ships were overloaded with plasma-spitting cannons and fusion bombs of all types, filling the skies with flames.


    The urgobs were the largest, cleverest, cruelest, and sneakiest of the goblins, but not the most organized, equal parts shock troops and assassins. On their own, their cloaked ships were assassins and raiders. As part of a goblin army, they would be the ones in power armor crashing through lines with astonishing speed and power for the glory of the race.


    Eternally on the warpath for conquest and plunder, the Goblins raided and fought, driven by racial superiority and lust for territory, having only allies of convenience they soon turned upon.


    Their Empire long shattered by endless Goblin assaults, the Ruk (our space dwarves are different!) were a former major power reduced to shadows in the stars. They sailed the stars in planetoids carved into massive mountains by endless labor, mining worlds, asteroids, comets, and anything else they could process and trade for what they wanted. Supposedly some core tenets of human tech were based on Ruk tech, and they were the only alien race that was not kill on sight for most of the Imperium as a result.


    Naturally, there were space elves, simply called the Elvar and the Dark Elvar, or drow. A naturally psionic race, the Elvar had fallen to the Warp Gods at least eight thousand years ago as their decadent culture shattered along lines of Ennui, Death, Pride, and Hedonism. They had also once been the predominant power in the galaxy, suppressing all other races and controlling the stars, keeping even the Aberrants and Horrors at bay, but their increasing self-indulgences and obsessions had super-charged the Warp Gods. When the Warp Gods, and Amourae especially, came into their full power, their apotheosis instantly slaughtered ninety percent of the elvar alive, including the heart of their civilization.


    The Elvar culture was now split between those pale-skinned folk trying to resist the pull of the obsessions of the Warp Gods, and those dark-skinned of their kind who sought to endlessly feed those very gods to stave off the pull on their own minds and souls. The former were arrogant, elitist, incredibly proud survivors of a fallen glorious realm, torn between trying to reclaim what they had left and evading the hungers of the Warp Gods they had afflicted the whole galaxy with. They were blessed with awesome psi-tech and an incredible heritage and lifespans of centuries to millennia.


    The latter were the drow, the Shadows in the Void, the bane of every other race in the galaxy, living to feed the Warp Gods on the souls of their victims. Their arenas were the largest in the galaxy, and decent exhibitions could result in the slaughter of a million slaves and monsters culled from across the stars.


    There were other minor players: the Drakken, a reptilian hegemony; the Omic Collective, an alliance of many alien races united to preserve their homeworlds in an idealist unity against the aggression of all the other races; the Singularity, the names for multi-dimensional aliens of various types who dwelled in gas giants; and the Anti-Life, the moon-sized protean beings of Dark Matter who dwelled deep in space and rarely entered star systems except to obliterate those people (and their star systems) who thought playing with Dark Matter was a productive use of their time.


    Oh, and there were orcs, but they hadn''t adapted to space at all, and were basically slaves and cannon fodder for other races to throw at their enemies. Being stupid chaotic brutes didn''t work well in the space age...


    ------


    So, those were the major players. Xenophobic slaughter was alive and well, cross-species cooperation was exceedingly rare, and everyone had thousands of years of misunderstanding and resentments against everyone else, broken treaties, rampant hatred, destroyed worlds, battles and wars won and lost...


    Yeah, it was a shitty place out there.


    There were two very important specifics I learned during this time period.


    One, we were cut off from the Empire. Two, that Helldiving was indeed the primary means of interstellar travel for the Empire.


    The first fact was because of a massive spasm in the Warp, a writhing eruption of power and hate that fairly cut across the galaxy, ripping through the aether and forming a wall of storms in the Warp that were utterly impassable, and cut off the Heavenly Compass from this side of the barrier, leaving the systems here alone and isolated from far Tellus. Only the Terrestrial Beacons were shining on this side.


    It was no coincidence of the timing when the Rift had taken place two decades ago...


    That sward of Warp chaos only worked because it screwed Helldiving. What insane MF invented this type of travel was clearly off their damn rocker, skimming the edge of the Warp and using space bending through that dimension for stellar travel.


    It''s just... The Fuck!? What totally insane bastard invented something like that? I heftily suspected Warp or Mythos intervention in the process, because Hell-diving was just plain stupid on its face. The Warp had GODS sitting in it who wanted to eat your souls, could stir up system-quashing warp storms for giggles, and uncounted numbers of id demons and psyche daemons were there to rend your minds and eat your souls if they got through the Protection from Chaos field your Axiomatic Mekker chuckleheads stuck into your ship.


    If the non-Chaotic daemons got you, you were hapless idiots!


    Battle reports on the Elvar made it plain they used some sort of subspatial dimension only they had access to for crossing the galaxy, its weblike structure inspiring the Dark Eldar, who lived full time in the heart of a dimensional crossroads, basically right on top of the Warp and just begging for the Mythos to come in from one direction and the demons to come in from the other.


    It meant subspace travel was possible... you just had to have the power to create your own subspace. Welcome to TL 17+. No, 21+.


    The Tekron had displayed mastery of inertialess travel. That meant realspace FTL was possible, without having to worry about popping dimensions and letting in suneaters or having the Warp eat your souls. But the GD Mekkers had the lock on high-end tech, and couldn''t innovate to save their lives, so any research on alternate methods of FTL went absolutely nowhere, and even their sublight systems were basically inertially-compensated fusion drives.


    It made me want to tear my hair out, and really stamped home the problem with the Mekkers.


    The birth throes of the Warp Gods had roiled the entire galaxy back when Amourae had Ascended, and what colonies humanity had possessed at that time had been thrown into darkness. Warp monstrosities had been unleashed on all worlds, and purely Axiomatic tech and AI''s had suddenly animated in response. The conflict between the two forces had ravaged countless worlds, with everything living caught in the middle, and only the advent of psionic disciplines, and the ruthless quashing of AI''s and reliance on cyborg interfaces and human labor saving the day.


    In the meantime, the highest-Level people who had been driving the technology trees forwards had been killed by their own rebelling tech, and the cyborgs who had basically been tasked with maintaining the technology and producing it had been left behind to take over. Naturally, their own tasks became their mandates, and unable to reach higher Levels with their fusion with the machines, they instead became obsessed with older technology, preserving and finding what had already been done, and keeping an iron grip upon control of it.


    That was the core of the problem now. The scientists weren''t men, they were cyborgs, and without being able to take true Ranks, only massive modifiers from their equipment, the tech of humanity had fallen from a wondrous high of blended Axiom and Psi to the current levels of Tech Level 10, with only a few rare and precious souls able to understand anything higher to anyone else, and certainly incapable of teaching it to others.


    Without Good influences to counterbalance it, the Chaos and Evil exemplified in the Warp was countered only by the Axiom of the Mekkers, and the tech and those who monopolized it fell increasingly to Evil.


    No wonder so much of the damn place felt like Hell. It was freaking inevitable.


    It was this mindset of monopolization of knowledge and control of static technology that was so directly threatened by what I was doing. Vakker-tech wasn''t all that special, or they wouldn''t have sold me the rights to it. But they couldn''t replicate Rantha-tech because of the Good that was involved in its construction, and the increasing involvement of psions in what I was doing was another threat to their hegemony and their notions that fusion with the machine was superior.


    They were supposed to be overseers and factory hands, not the researchers, engineers, and scientists. They literally could not think outside the boxes of their own technology, because they''d lost so much of their own spontaneity and creative impulses by being wed to the machine.


    The fact that true innovators tended to be totally barking mad and the Warp pounced on them eagerly and deliberately only added to the freaking mess, and confirmed their suspicions that New Things Were Bad, and inspired people only brought disaster to themselves and everyone else.


    No wonder my Rantha tech was vexing them so much. It was doing the exact opposite of what it was supposed to be doing, and the people making it were down-to-earth happy mundanes, the exact opposite of those who usually made such stuff, and were responding to the making of it by being satisfied and proud, not increasingly fanatical and crazy.


    Furthermore, trying to mechanize the process and replicate it was totally impossible, even with their own psi-forges and tech-smiths doing everything I did. They couldn''t replicate the Good that was necessary to do Rantha-tech, and even if they could replicate the Vakker-tech, it was no better then what I did... and they didn''t have the coding I had whipped up to maximize the usage of it...

 Chapter 360 - Far Future, Ch. 70 a?? If Therea??s a Bustle in Your Hedgerow...

    The fast Leveling paradigm started with the ants.


    The combatants had to have a Vajra, and both heat and acid resistance, because they were operating outside the city. Their rides had to be Shield-filtered to keep the alkali dust out of anything moving, and made from corrosion-immune materials, or it would be pitted and worn after only a single trip outside.


    That was actually fine, as the Briggs and Rantha teams loved having stuff to work on to improve, and having more battlewagons, flitters, and transports able to traverse the wastes outside the city was hardly a bad thing from the viewpoint of the city. All such transports were registered and could be mobilized at need.


    Naturally the BR teams were joined by eager G&G people eager for their Levels, and the BR squads were assembling their own crews of followers and Marktells to guide. They synched up using their Bands, unreliable as they could be in the charged dusts of the desert, but the Marktells had not failed as yet, and Marktells to Bands to Marktells relays using Marked left back in the city worked perfectly fine, if a second or two slower.


    The ants of the Janus wastes were persistent, tenacious, and dangerous. The workers were about a foot long, and a silica-based lifeform, with mandibles that could shave away good steel, and multi-hued carapaces derived from the minerals found about their hives and the composition of the creatures they ate. They were the ultimate scavengers of the wastes, as well as a united force that could eventually drag down just about anything stupid enough to dare their swarms.


    Those swarms were Karma mines.


    The ant soldiers were three feet long, had glittering mandibles as hard as diamond, and poisonous acid-injecting stingers. They protected the workers who ranged over the wastes, looking for the living and the dead to dismember and haul back to the crystalline ant-hill for supplies.


    The ants were scavengers and the primary prey of a lot of predators. Sand wurms picked them off and ran quickly, before they could be swarmed. The various scorpions snatched them up and scuttled away. Thunder beetles pulped them and munched away. Wyverns swooped down to snack on them. Quartz wasps zoomed in to pluck them up.


    In return, if they were slow or stupid, the ants swarmed and ate them. They were fully capable of digging down after wurms too slow to get away, prying open the plating of any of their enemies, and tearing them apart.


    The ants were the number one pest that kept trying to get into the city, with their hunters and foragers wandering up the walls and getting popped off continually by the automated defenses there, their bodies quickly snatched up by waiting wurms or scorpions checking regularly for such free morsels. If those weren''t discrete enough, they were popped off by heavier wall guns, which brought in more ants to munch on them, continuing the process.


    A marching nest, where the whole army went into motion to find a better place, was something that had to be blasted apart with sonic cannons or a lot of slugthrowers, as the ants were basically immune to heat and radiant energies. Sending vehicles after them was basically asking for disassembled and gnawed vehicles, and for the appetizers within to trigger death benefits.


    Naturally, these incredibly dangerous little buggers were numerous, committed, largely fearless, still coughed up small nexals, and started a whole tide of encounters as they were killed.


    Still, the scuttling suckers blew apart pretty quick under Hammers and Sun Strikes, and everybody got to practice their choice of missile weapons or melee combat. It was also extremely good practice for battling horde creatures, and yeah, Swarmbane Tokens were very quickly a highly desired thing.


    Hammers crushed, mindclaws ripped, slugthrowers tossed Sun Shots, and ants in their hundreds were soon crushed and scattered across the glittering sands as everyone retreated steadily from the advancing swarm. The battlewagon drifted back behind them, providing covering fire to the flanks and emergency escape if something happened, as well as overwatch against the inevitable things coming to investigate.


    "Wurm from the north!" barked out Corporal Kombu, seeing the blip pop up on the tremor sensor they''d put down.


    "Woo hoo!" Kiapa Rantha called out, up for the first wurm to arrive. Her team fanned out in that direction as she stomped and made lots of noise to draw it in, mindclaws up to inflict the wounds that would keep it on the surface after it swallowed her.


    Them teeth were gooooood money, and their Gear improvements had to come out of their own earnings, after all.


    "Scorp to the east!" called out Carrie Rantha from her rotating top of the battlewagon, indicating where one of the ten-legged crystalline white scorpioids of this desert had shaken itself free from the sands, and was watching the dozens of newbies ant-slaying with great interest. "We''ve a wyvern coming in from high northwest!" she added, eyes able to pierce the haze of the desert that foiled radar and kept sight lines down to a couple hundred yards. "Looks like a two-headed type!" she added, as the sniper teams with their rifles turned and made ready to snipe, their guns already glowing with Nimbus light.


    There was one normal type of wyvern, and four mutant versions. The normal one had pale underwings and belly, to match the haze from below, but its top and back were a riot of different crystalline colors, dependent on what it ate. The four mutant varieties were the Burning Wyvern, which basically breathed out a plasma lance; the Dazzler, which was semi-transparent and crystalline, and which could mesmerize anything looking on it in light; the two-headed variety; and the Spewer, which could vomit acid that could dissolve steel in seconds and whose blistered scales wept acid and poison.


    The long rifles would take it down as soon as it came down out of the haze.


    "Just got another wurm track northeast, and a rumble spot!" Corporal Kombu called out for everyone''s benefit.


    "Hooty-hoo!" Shiera Rantha called out, ready for some wurm teeth and inspecting the gizzards of one.


    A rumble spot meant a thunder beetle had heard the ruckus going on here, and was trundling over to investigate. It was actually more millipede then beetle, with many underlying legs carrying along its armored shell, and capable of generating literal sonic booms that could pulverize carapaces, shred steel, and liquify flesh.


    It was also the preferred prey of the crystal rocs, which were the apex predator of the wastes. One showing up during the day meant a roc was probably already on its way to eat the damn thing, but it would certainly reach us first.


    Only way to kill it easy was to flip it over and blow out its underside, and you best check your sonic resistance at the door. Oh, and its pincers could snap right through a few inches of steel, so don''t expect being in a tin can of any size to save you.


    There was an explosion of spray as the first wurm surfaced, and claws, Hammer-axes and Swords did their thing. Kiapa whooped as trifold jaws opened, and she jumped in feet first. The wurm immediately turned to run, revolving to keep its wounds away from the sand, pushing across the sand.


    The Lightning Scorp, seeing that, immediately began scuttling in its direction, seeing buffet plates galore shining in its lidless crystalline eyes. The experienced Ranthas and Briggs promptly went to intercept, moving over the sands with speed that naturally made the scorpion wary, even if they were just a fraction of its size.


    Ants were being pulped and crushed non-stop, a lot of marksmanship training being put to work, Sun Shots popping crystalline carapaces and blowing apart their widdle insectile heads, so fun, so fun.


    "Third wurm contact coming around from the southeast!" They were getting a good turnout today.


    "Yay!" Delilah Rantha called out happily. She really needed some funds for her team.


    A stereo-sonic wyvern''s scream pitched to freak just about anything out came looping down over everyone, and the ants were all paralyzed for a second when they heard it.


    Six long guns barked, and scales harder than steel protested as they were punched right through. Four rounds to the double hearts, two to the heads, and a second series of shots as it wobbled and began to fall from the sky to complete the work.


    Hadn''t even had to Interdict the thing.


    "We got wasps coming in from the north-northeast!" Carrie sang out, squinting as she cupped her ear, hearing the ultrasonic hum of wings being beat far too quickly. The quartz wasps were actually the preferred prey of the wyverns, and the primary predator of the ants, as well as the most frequently encountered predator, due to their flying ability and how hard it was to see them at a distance.


    The team began to bend the area of conflict around, which would draw the six-foot wasps in over atop the ants, with predictable effects. What would not be predictable is when the Interdiction went off, and the damn phrenic things found that no, King Gravity did NOT think they could fly, thank you, and they plummeted down among the ants. Hilarity would promptly ensue.


    Chelsea Rantha whooped as she came up behind the lightning scorp as the tail, pulsing with black veins that indicated poison while it sent ineffectual lightning charges into two other Rantha and Brigg teams drawing its attention to the front. She jumped in over the tail, grabbed it and came down and over with it, punching it deep into the back of its own carapace.


    Davo Briggs'' Hammer came down on it an eyeblink later, compressing that poison sac and sending the acidic toxin into the scorp before it could pull the stinger back, and gave it a taste of its own, um, so-not-a-medicine. Opportunistic soulblades chopped off its pincers as it convulsed in agony, and it began the kicking dance that would end in paralysis and death in under a minute. Everyone carefully backed up, while the gyrations definitely got the attention of the ants, who veered that way, sensing a meal.


    Kiapa came carving her way up out of the wurm a quarter-mile in the distance, which had slowed to a halt and was seemingly resting until a golden soulblade carved a path out and she could emerge covered in sizzling gore and clutching a big nexal in her hand. Her team cheered, and rushed out to join her even as the wasps came in from the other direction to join the fun, their transparent wings moving impossibly fast for something so large, and then abruptly began to spiral helplessly down into the ant swarm below.


    The newbies didn''t mind the distraction, as suddenly rolling balls of stinging, biting insects were chewing on and stinging one another, and finally began to make some headway against the numbers of the ants.


    The thunder beetle came racing in like a tank, multiple legs working overtime as it headed for the action, namely the trail of dead left behind. It wasn''t too concerned about attackers, given its size and weight, so when the two Beacon psis exerted their combined power and put up a Ward Wall under its right side, it just trundled right over it.


    Two Ranthas and four Briggs brothers hit its side and heaved.


    There was a loud thundercrack that blew the sand out around the beetle, but that didn''t save it as it was heaved up, displaying its wide underside and scores of writhing legs to the waiting volley of guns.


    Sun Shots blew into its underside in explosions of gore and whorls of psychic energy being unleashed. Dozens of stout legs went flying in sprays of goo and unpalatable flesh, and rounds drove deep into the vitals normally protected by a shell thick enough to normally defy even that caliber of firepower.


    On its backside, it could only scrabble at the air and try to shift its weight, and the lifting team made sure that wasn''t going to happen. Another volley of concentrated Sun Shots, and any deliberate motion abruptly stopped as the shots found vital points discovered by killing prior beetles.


    "I see Glazed coming up in the sky!" Carrie sang out, which was both an alarming fact and something most of them just ignored. It did mean the kill teams had to hurry and salvage the key stuff out of the dead.


    They''d met the crystal roc before, and he was surprisingly cool about not attacking them and instead eating all the stuff laying around. But that meant he''d chomp down the nexals, so they had to quick harvest them first...

 Chapter 361 - Far Future Ch.71 a?? With a Word She can get What She Came For

    Weeks and Levels later...


    "Hold!" Shiera sang out, and everybody instantly froze in place.


    Everybody was on foot now. Riding in a hoverwagon, on a Disk, or flying didn''t expand your lived-line. As a result, all teams had to have some form of lightfoot for moving overland at a good pace. It was perfectly fine to fly a hoverwagon along your lived-line, but you better be on foot after you reached your last advance point.


    Extending lived-lines got painted into the Map with absolute spatial coordinates. That meant people could unerringly Teleport along them, or even Linejump with precision, despite the interference of the Haze shrouding the world in crackling whiteness and removing landmarks.


    As a result, their teams had the potential of instant bail-outs available, from Sama sitting on top, or the psions arduously clawing their way up the ladder of power. Those people who could improve their Soulbound Item Familiars to that point could also access teleportation, potentially multiple times a day.


    Teleporting along someone else''s lived-line didn''t give you the range boost, but it was still perfectly accurate, which was the whole idea. Every team held a Teleport Focus to grant a range boost, and of course, if the teleporter had lived-lines close by, the range bonus might kick in anyways.


    They''d been doing this for weeks, flying in and out of the Wastes, slowly extending their lived-lines out, and wiping out the extremely dangerous native life-forms as they did. Generally, they moved from ant nest to nest, stirring up trouble. Newbies came out to get power-leveled by fighting ants, while everyone else took on the bigger stuff. Fighting swarms that weren''t going to spare you if you panicked and tried to run was a good way to harden just about anyone.


    But Sama was up there, and Chalice was Singing to them, telling them to drink deep of battle, and the sweet, sweet Karma that would pass their lips and send them on the road to greatness.


    The seismic teams that recorded activity of the beasts outside the walls back in Janus Prime had remarked that there was a whole lot less sand wurm activity than there had been in hundreds of years...


    And so, the Karma Hunting Teams expanded out, girt in corrosion-resistance by Vajra or psi, their battlewagons likewise reinforced, harvesting beasts and occasionally running into the great Crystal Rocs stopping in for snacks on patrol over their territories. Their little caravans of battlewagons generally scared up all sorts of buffet leavings for the big birds...


    Now they had finally made it to the crumbling hills at the edge of the desert territory.


    It meant they had all grown up. Nobody in the team was less than a Six at this point, and the leaders were all at least Eights... which was very, very impressive when those were Rantha Hags and Briggs Brothers.


    Shiera reached out ahead of herself, flicking up her soulclaw. An edge sharper than a razor reached out, and tinked on something.


    Golden light flickered along something transparent and incredibly thin. Sharp eyes watching narrowed, and a few people swore.


    "Monofilament?" Piotr Briggs asked, his Hammer at rest, watching his girl''s soulclaw trace it.


    Shiera nodded. "Someone give me a dispersed las, play it over the canyon."


    One of the G&G Nulls quickly adjusted his las, lifted the rifle, and sent out a dim fan of not-so-hard light, washing it over the empty, shadowed space in front of them.


    Everyone sucked in their breath when they saw the light get refracted in complex whorls and patterns, filling the canyon to a great distance above them with webs of unmoving, bright strands of ruby light.


    "Glass Spider." These things didn''t wrap things up into a web to kill them. Running into a glass spider''s web generally meant you were sliced apart by invisible monofilament lines, not wrapped up. They wouldn''t cut through Energized Armor, but anything less hard than diamond was basically going to fall apart from a high-tensile line only an atom or three thick.


    "Where''s the spider?" Piotr asked, hefting his Hammer, which began to rumble with Thunder. He swatted it forwards, and the monofilaments in front of him broke with a tinkling chime, shredded and falling into stray atoms as the sonic energy reverberated through them, found their harmonic frequency, and shattered them.


    "Ten o''clock high, fifty yards," Shiera said after a moment. Everyone focused, but most of them couldn''t see anything. "It''s light-bending, perfectly transparent at this point. Hard rounds only. Kloser! Energy Blast, right down the middle, use Thunder."


    The Beacon Psi, proudly displaying his Hexagon, stepped up, his Null girl Jilla right with him. He took her hand in his own, focused, and psionic power moved from her to him, followed the Line of directed energy outputs from his tailbone, up his spine and over his head to his third eye, and erupted out.


    The attack was a Lance effect, ten feet across, sounding like a great bell ringing as it blew through the center of the web. The monofilament strands blew apart instantly, shaken apart by even a minimal application of power.


    They were watching, and saw the motion up above as the spider shifted ever so slightly. Great spiked legs that could hang on the cutting lines read the vibrations in the webs as countless strands were instantly shattered, and naturally the sound of the sonic blast carried for a great distance.


    The riflemen all had their guns charged up. All of them had long customized their guns to include both slugthrowers and beam capability. Some used disruptors or plasma charges, some lasers or particle beams, a few used Verje Chambers and could throw alternate energies like frost, pure force, and thunder at specific foes. Corrosion damage was available, just in case, but given the alkaline environment, basically useless unless something very strange happened.


    Mostly, they just shot things.


    Archer was the most common Primary Class among the G&G people, as this was the future, and ranged attack power ruled the roost. Having a built-in melee weapon meant they didn''t have to carry knives or clubs or what have you, and they weren''t allowed to ignore their infighting skills.


    Generally, melee combat was best left to those in power armor or with insane stats. The Briggs Brothers generally worked enthusiastically at the former, and the Ranthas had the latter. Both were very happy to come to melee, and generally left most of the ranged combat to the others out of fairness. Watching a Briggs rip a claw off a Shredder Scorp was a nice way to get respect for the fighting prowess of the Ancients, and nobody underestimated the golden swords of the Ranthas.


    That being said, Sun Shots converged on the motion, blew apart the stones around the spider, and the veil of light deflection around itself.


    The spider materialized, ten-legged like most spideroids were on this world, and with a legspan forty feet across. Three of its legs were on its web, the others anchored into the stone about it, easily supporting its weight on dangerous glassy legs. It was nearly transparent even now, the glass-like hairs of its body naturally refracting the light around it and making it hard to focus on.


    It was just starting to turn and scuttle away when the other twenty rifles opened up with Sun Shots of their own now that its concealment was down.


    Each shot hit like a grenade, psychic force exploding through its mass, punching through the deadly and razor-sharp hairs that could slide along on monofilament webbing. Several legs blew off it before it could scuttle away in time, and it lost its hold on the cliff. With a tinkling cry, it fell off the cliff, and fell right into the grip of its web.


    There was a wave of darkness through the glass of its hide, odd colors and patterns starting to rise, even as the crystals seemed to shrivel and die. As they did, they lost their resistance, and the spider slowly began to fall again. As it did, it was sliced apart repeatedly from multiple angles and vectors, silently, smoothly, and what reached the ground was many, many bloody sections that didn''t look like a spider at all.


    "Paint it again," Shiera said, watching alertly, unmoved.


    There seemed to be a hum in the air as Timoth swept his laser out slowly.


    There were twings and twitches, quiet but distinct. In the light of his laser, the web was disintegrating, lines vanishing as they lost their tensile strength, and tore apart in the psychic backwash of their maker''s death.


    It only took two minutes, and there were no webs within the light of his laser.


    "See if that thing has an intact nexal, and let''s go. Our goal is the other side of this plateau. We want to get up on the high desert, and see what the fuck is under the haze there."


    Everyone nodded. They were one of the elite teams now. The Wastes behind them were for the newbs to exploit. They were the vanguard and spearhead, out to find better hunting grounds.


    ---------


    The foothills and canyons of the edge of the plateau were spideroid territory, including Glass, Shadow, Obsidian (ten attacking legs), Radiant (web focused sunlight into laser beams), Longlegs (twice normal length, able to scamper about with ridiculous speed), and several small scuttling hordes of younger spideroids thinking their group looked like mass meals.


    There was no magic to raise the dead here... but there was psionic power that could snatch back a recently dead person, much like Cure Deadly Wounds. Shiera was working on that as opposed to Teleporting quickly, as she could call in outside aid via Teleports if needed, but if someone went down, they had to be healed NOW, or that was it. No White Staves to raise the dead, so if someone was poisoned, dissolved, torn apart, burned, impaled, crushed, or otherwise killed, they had sixty seconds, no more, to get the body parts together and bring them back, or it was too late.


    They''d lost two members of the team; one to an avalanche, the other to a Longlegs who fled far enough fast enough that they couldn''t catch up to it in time.


    But past beetle swarms, one dune-sized sand ooze, various varieties of scorpioids and more beetleoids, they had woven their way up along the game trails coming down off the plateau, avoiding the dead ends, and finally setting foot on the highland.


    The air crackled with electromagnetic distortion that was really unsettling the fusion plants of their vehicles and tougher weaponry, and they had to leave such below the lip of plateau. Indeed, the whole area seemed to be pretty hostile to techno weapons, draining energy from their clips precipitously.


    No surprise, looking ahead. Shiera made sure everyone was sending what was ahead back via Marktells.


    The Haze was running with a sickening panoply of colors, veins and swirls along the Veil that were unmistakable if seen before... and those sights had been seen many times by them or those close to them, sometimes close, sometimes at a distance.


    Shiera looked left, panned all the way to the right.


    "That looks like a fucking continent-wide Warp Zone, Piotr," she noted to the looming Ancient at her side, and everybody else.


    "I''m guessing it''ll grind down any tech above Four or Five, or that''s not psi-backed," he agreed slowly, "but there''ll have to be tests to confirm."


    "So, slugthrowers, no energy weapons, no gyros." There were quiet groans all around, even from the Verje users. Ammunition was going to be a problem...


    "And why would they do that?" Shiera smiled dangerously.


    "To make an environment more amenable to personal combat," Piotr said without blinking an eye. "The place is probably full of Warped, Mutants, and Demons."


    "And what else?" Shiera inquired of everyone, and Piotr shook his head once.


    "KARMA..."

 Chapter 362 - Far Future Ch. 72 - Therea??s a Feeling I get When I Look to the West...

    Continent-wide Mass Warp Incursion Zone, Restricted.


    I wiped away the drool. Oh, oh...


    So that''s why there were four varieties of mutant native insects... they''d been to the Incursion zone and/or eaten things tainted by the Warp, like, uh, Warp marauders. So bloody obvious now that we knew what was there.


    Satellite feeds naturally couldn''t see jack, the whole area was under dimensional instability and the equivalent of a permanent sand storm from above. Not a bloody salt desert. Naturally, sending in fliers was a death sentence to the crews, and sending a tech-reliant survey crew, even if they could fight their way through along on the ground, meant they would run out of power quickly and die out there without even being able to tell anyone why.


    The higher-end Mentats probably knew it was there and had no wish to go exploring. Sticking their minds into an area of the Warp was like textbook crazy behavior for a psion.


    I was sure Philius and Sir Dorval knew it was there, and it was probably the reason that both organizations actually had a presence on the planet. But I hadn''t asked, so they had said nothing. As for the Imperial Navy, it wasn''t really their problem unless things called for an Omega Sanction. I was pretty sure the components thereof were in permanent orbit around the planet, given the size of this incursion.


    It did explain the amount of random Warp incursions that happened, energy leaking off the writhing of the Veil as it tried to contain the instability. At the same time, the area clearly had a border, and non-native creatures weren''t crossing it. They only stumbled out of the rare incursions that found a point of power or emotional trigger outside the storm.


    The Warp Storm had been there for as long as humans had. It said something for the mineral wealth of Janus III that it had still been set up as a mining world with such an awesomely dangerous thing looming over everything.


    And I was pretty sure that it was my ticket to Eleven. A Warp Incursion that large... there was no chance that I couldn''t make Eleven if I broke it.


    I had military obligations, but the wonders of Marktell and obscenely Talented underlings/daughters/sons meant that I wasn''t actually needed to run this kind of mundane stuff personally. My training paradigm certainly didn''t me to be there in flesh and blood... about the only thing that actually required me being there was for the new generations of Rantha Hags and Briggs Brothers, both going in and maybe coming out.


    But the siren call of unlimited Karma was ringing out from the moaning foothills of the central continent to the west. The thirst rising in my soul at the thought of an unlimited hunting grounds was making my hands shake. My daughters were zeroing in on it like falcons a-wing, thinking of the time they would make Ten, tear down the walls to their past lives, and finally and absolutely be their own person... and able to join the Marktell.


    That was going to be one freaking HUGE Marktell...


    Sure, they could do it at Eight, and they might have thought about doing so before an Unlimited Hunting Ground came up. Now it was Ten and foundation absolute.


    On the other hand, the time constraints still applied. Basically, the thing to do was go in there and just make an absolute ton of Karma, then come out and start paying for the improvements day by day. Of course, small raids for Naming Karma could continue, but there was no reason to stay in there and grind with the present limits on speed. Nobody doubted that they could earn the Karma faster than we would be allowed to spend it.


    But then, we also had the Ten Ceiling to get past, and the massive amount of Karma required to do so. Given how many Ranthas now had their eyes fixed on the Warpstorm, I seriously had to wonder if there was enough in there for all of us to do that.


    Whatever. I was sure there was enough for me, and I did have the advantage over my girls. There was only preparing properly, and then going in to do what needed to be done.


    ------------


    Special orders came in from the Coronal Duke for special duties to be executed by one Colonel Sama Rantha, which my superiors didn''t much like until they realized it wouldn''t interfere with the training program I put in place... whereupon they were only too happy to get rid of me and the threat I posed to their own accomplishments. That was fine, my girls were more than happy to step into my footsteps and continue the rapid accumulation of power and influence. Yes, Mom, bye Mom, we got this, don''t come back, we''re empire-building here...


    I teleported out to my closest lived-line track, and then diverted myself a few hundred miles further north, being polite and leaving the easier alternate routes up to the plateau to the very, very eager vanguard teams itching to go up there and test things out. I had to add my own contributions to the Map, after all, and there were a lot of eyes watching with great interest as I came up on the Plateau, and gave it a Look.


    Mmm.


    I studied the interplay of energies with all the power of a 40+ Intellect and True Seeing in five different spectra, including above and below visible light. Such an influx of sensory data was enough to blow out the mind of someone not sufficiently reinforced, especially with where the Warp energies here were coming from, but I wasn''t sharing any more then interested people could handle.


    I sat there for six hours, doing nothing but looking at what was going on there. Pspectrum of psionic energies. Thaumaspectrum of magical energies. Veil Spectrum of Dimensional Interplay. Electromagnetic Spectrum of reality. Taospectrum of positive and negative forces. And, oh sure, the neospectrum of spiritual Profound Forces at work, and the necrospectrum of the dead...


    Some Talented kids with focus in brainy work stuff were shifting this data from the Markspace into some isolated computers and connections with Mah Girls, everyone in a freaking tizzy. The Null kids knew if they could break this on an intellectual basis, they''d be able to smash through to Seven without any problem whatsoever. The formulas behind what was going on could provide data that would need to be unwound for years, whole new insights behind the rules and laws of this reality, and like good scientists, they were slavering over the potential.


    Having their boss as a living supercomputer only made it all the more fun, and like good kids, they leapt right into it. Psions, Hags, Hagspawn, and normal humans were going apeshit looking at all the data I was seeing and breaking down.


    And then, I began to run.


    My lived-line extended out behind me as I ran right up to the edge of the distortion zone, but did not go in. With great speed, I was lightfooting around the edge of it.


    Mapping it, and the area around it.


    Behind me, the second vanguard team had joined up with Shiera''s, the first, and they were setting up a hardpoint for those coming behind to operate from. There was no rush on jumping into the distortions, at least until I did so. Stuff was coming out of the place constantly, mutant Warped shit that was prime for being reduced to Karma and vivus out here, far away from observing eyes, and where the satellites above were not looking... because they''d get their systems infected with the Warp and fried if they did.


    This had to be done in person by the living, or not at all!


    That meant that I was running, for nearly twenty-two hours a day, for stretches of time broken only by brief periods of extreme violence wherein certain large Warped indigenous life-forms'' nexals became my personal property, and most of the rest of their remains became Veil reinforcement. I couldn''t draw a true Veil circle without a Void and a Source, of course, so this was purely necessary scouting, and not an attempt at containment.


    I did take the time to salvage sand wurms properly, however, which wasn''t that hard, as they couldn''t burrow properly through the stone of the plateau, meaning they were on the surface, exposed, and there was always a crystal roc somewhere in view just waiting to turn them into a snack.


    I so wanted to jump right into the place and see what was past the roiling haze and sand and dimensional skewage, but I contained myself nicely and stuck to eliminating the things rolling out of the place like a good girl. I was basically building the first accurate map of the borders of this thing in history, and could act like a foolhardy adventurer after I acted like a proper explorer.


    I did confirm quite a few things as I traveled over the wind-scoured rock, all of which got stuffed into the central database, to be verified and expanded upon by those coming later for the benefit of everyone who wanted to kill shit here.


    First, the stuff coming out of the Warp Zone was small. Pretty much all of them showed signs of combat, physical harm, and battle, as if they were being driven out of somewhere else. Given natural territorial proclivities, that meant they''d been forced out by something stronger.


    Eyes sparkled. Bigger stuff meant more Karma!...


    Second, stuff came out, but it didn''t go in. Indeed, there was absolutely nothing wandering towards the zone, airborne or landbound.


    Third, Crystal Rocs did most of their hunting along the rim here, since there was such a constant supply of stuff. Er, well, the BIG rocs did. Little rocs got relegated to outlaying areas.


    Fourth, this was where the Warp Mutants that infested the Wastes actually came from.


    Packs or small hordes of them would occasionally come bursting out of the Warp, looking like they''d been in a fight, and mutagenic energies would crackle over them and adapt them to the environment. They had a nice spread of tech with them, including stuff that absolutely didn''t work in the rim area... but would kick in just fine down in the Wastes.


    That meant highly variable tech levels were possible inside the zone, and they actually carried around new and old stuff when traveling because of it. Axes here, fusion grenades there...


    The few times I ran across them, they were all happy to see me, starting off fireworks and pyrotechnic displays and everything. I was quick to reply with equally enthusiastic light shows, exploding motors, heartfelt screams, and fine displays of Chalice''s and Paten''s abilities.


    There weren''t any scrap vehicles or stuff on the plateau because the mutants snaffled it all up, fixed it with psi or weird science, and turned it into new stuff. I only saw one conflict between rival bands, but it was emotional and eager, so much so that I had to rave and join in on the fun.


    No, I didn''t co-opt any of the chaositech, although I wasn''t above reviewing it for ideas. The principles a lot of the stuff worked on would actually twist your mind to accommodate the concepts, which generally wasn''t good for your psychological health...


    If I were to sum it up, chaositech was designed to be used by stupid people, who understood it by dint of expending their sanity instead of being smart. The more batshit crazy they were, the easier they understood the stuff. Weird science at its most far-out...


    Fifth, the massive roiling energies here is what resulted in so many Energized minerals, and in such purity. The chaotic energies would stratify as they hit Reality, becoming the standard spread of Energizing Elements as they did so, and streaks of them would shift and separate standard mineral compositions into different, purer elements as they did so. So, normal stones of carbon, silica, and metallic elements would be split apart as the Energies of the Warp split apart, each picking a different random element to empower at one time.


    It was also this effect which likely caused the alkaline nature of the planet, as the normal bases which would mix with oxygen or other gasses instead remained separately Energized and would not combine with other Energized Elements readily.


    So, this shithole world... might have actually been a viable planet once, before the Warp opened here and changed anything and everything about the place. The infusion of Energized elements and the Warp presence is probably what drove everything to adapt so ferociously and violently, and become phrenic.


    It would be hard to tell without some real archaeology and geology, as the same diffusion of Warp energies would also wipe out the remains of living things in the strata, making it look as if the planet had always been this way... which made no sense whatsoever, of course...

 Chapter 364 - Far Future Ch. 74 – The Voices of Those who Stand Long

    Briggs pulled out Beat with a screech of protesting metal, and his Hammer thumped in happiness. Behind the impassive surface of his mask, Briggs sighed to himself.


    His Oath was discharged! It was a both a huge wave of accomplishment washing over him, and a knot of tension released. Dingdingding... Quest Karma coming in, Glory Award on the way...


    In truth, he didn''t really care about this fight. Beating on cyborgs had lost its allure, although the satisfaction of crushing machines stuck with him. It was just, since Sama had come, his eyes had turned to bigger and better things.


    There was a Warpzone out there filled with creatures who basically existed to be killed... in both his eyes and in the eyes of the deities of the Warp, and the Gods of Creation.


    And he just so happened to be in need of a lot of Karma for them Rantha Hagspawn Levels.


    He grunted as he stepped away from Maunat with a casual salute. Sure, the cyborg was going to resent him, all those he''d beaten had... but it didn''t matter. He would go through what ceremony there was, grasp the trophy, and in a week, drop out of the League and go on to other things... probably shocking the hell out of a lot of people, especially the sponsors eager to throw money at him for endorsements.


    Sama should be back from her big run by then. They could celebrate together, then suit up, and do what they needed to do.


    Grind!


    ============


    I came sweeping in from the south, wingskating over the ground.


    Flying would have doubled my speed and more, but would have completely obviated the reason I was doing this. I had used this long period of running something close to twenty thousand miles on foot to really work on my lightfoot.


    My Mark IV Vajra was deep and thick, enough to defy the Warp, but anything that extended past the four inches outside my skin was beyond its protection, and invited some severe consequences.


    Therefore, the solution was to extend my skin... of which a person''s hair is a part of.


    The Wings that I could bring up in all their ectoplasmic glory out of my Tats were almost nine feet long, giving me a wingspan of exactly three times my height. Thus, all I had to do was weave my hair into the wings, and they were perfectly safe from Warp interference.


    The same went true for the Tails I brought up. Weave my hair into them, and they were perfectly viable. All of them were as long as I was tall, but could snap out to twice that distance on the attack, meaning my hair had to be fifteen or so feet long to accommodate them. Fast Healing was good for multiple things, as it turned out, and being able to Compress my hair was a freaking godsend. I mean, there''s goddess hair, and then there was the freaking carpet extending off my head...


    The Waveskating Steps, fluid and pure lightfoot that worked on any terrain; Rising and Racing Winds, the fastest, freest, and lightest; Hotfoot, the lightfoot of the chase; and Moon Walker misdirective and elusive lightfoot. Wed them all to Cloudstepping Sandals, overfunding the ki, and use Phoenix Wings for propulsion while skimming across the ground... yeah, okay, it was damn fun skimming the ground at 100 mph like some flatland skier, wings spread out to the side and shining with Vajra power driving me forwards steadily, while my Vajra parted the air frictionlessly to get rid of air resistance.


    There was nothing moving overland that could catch me, nor could most of the things that were flying. The things that were flying got their own surprises.


    The Cloudstepping Sandals from my Tats took care of lift. The Phoenix Wings could take care of propulsion... but the main thing they were designed to do was Cloak me in an aura of flames designed to burn anything nearby, like, oh, swarms, or oozes trying to envelop me, or basically anything trying to pile on me.


    Well, I was wearing shin guards, which weren''t really designed as armor. They were compressed jets.


    I didn''t wear footwear because of my lightfoot, and the fact my soles were tougher than steel and cleaner than shoes, anyways. Shinguards were a luxury, as they contributed nothing to my armor with my Nog Goldskin. But, I could plug the jets into the microfusion generator in my Masspack, and suddenly have rocket propulsion.


    If I channeled the flames from my Phoenix Cloak into them, they were even faster!


    Way far away from anyone watching, I had spent significant airtime with this. This kind of tactic would absolutely not work for someone else not in power armor, because the sheer force of the jets would rip off a normal person''s legs with the slightest imbalance or conflict in force vectors between the jets, or send them into uncontrollable death spirals.


    With a Might of 56ish, it was not a problem for me. I could leg press over thirty tons, so keeping a pair of fusion-powered jets molded to my ankles wasn''t an issue. I was immune to the heat, too, so it didn''t matter how hot they burned, and as long as they were close to me, they shared in my Vajra''s fire resistance, meaning they basically didn''t get hot or overheat, and could be run overclocked without an issue.


    Technology can be a whole lot of fun, and when you can meld it with ki, Essence, Soul and magic, well, DAMN FUN isn''t a bad way to describe things...


    ---


    Vanguard Base was up and hopping.


    The key thing was naturally getting up a field to keep out the alkaline dust, and give people a place to rest and recover, and store their shit. It was on the very edge of the plateau, just before technology konked out, so a careful flier could come in at a landing zone a safe distance away to shuttle people back and forth.


    They had started building it when two Vanguard teams reached it. Now they were up to five, and keeping the area within fifty miles busily clear of stuff, clearing out passes and canyons and mountainsides of nasty surprises, while shuttling team members in and out (and their nexals and valuable body part trophies).


    Of course, there wasn''t enough activity on just this one stretch for five teams, so they were both taking turns and working on expanding the zone temporarily. Naturally, the key thing they were waiting for was for me to come back, and Briggs and I had to spearhead what was past the wall.


    Once we had that, the vanguard teams were going to follow, and the grind would begin.


    I skimmed in close to the edge of the zone, and finally linked up with my lived-line where I started the whole trip. I surveyed the local barrier closely, and turned back to Vanguard Base, hauling a Disk piled with valuable stuff. I had made caches of my winnings in places marked on the Map, for recovery if and when we ever zoomed out that way... and since they included Sand Wurm teeth and bunches of nexals, were worth the trip.


    The teams whooped and cheered to see me coming in, having seen me streak past along the border zone and quickly hoofing it back to the base to greet me when I returned. I waved at all of them as I skated on in, wings flaring to brake me smoothly before dissipating into ectoplasm.


    Briggs was waiting there, too. I met his pale violet eyes and smiled toothily, as I''d kept him quite happy with Emma while I was gone, and we''d talked over what should be done when it came time.


    Our only regret at this point was not having a Void Brother along. With one, we could have punched a permanent hole into this zone and let reality in. Without one, we could make a hole, but reality would not be able to expand beyond the path we made, and we''d have to give it some reinforcement to endure.


    Still, something was better than nothing.


    Being quite fair, Briggs had done the same as everyone else, and walked to Vanguard Base, albeit alone and non-stop, save for minor entertainment along the way. He had also picked a nominally impassable route to get there, and boy, did he disturb a bunch of things on the way that thought little two-legs couldn''t get there.


    While his Power Armor was intact, most of the offensive systems had been stowed in his Masspack, simply because they wouldn''t be too useful here. He had been reinforcing the thing with psionic circuitry for some time, to make sure the base defenses and strength enhancements worked here, and his plasma horn would work even in a low-tech zone now, albeit requiring a considerable amount of time to charge up.


    Beat, of course, wouldn''t be affected at all, nor his Shield, Drum.


    Of course, if we did enter an area where tech worked, he could bring out some hefty firepower, although he was going to be largely energy-based, as we didn''t have unlimited ammunition for the heavy firepower, and would have to hoard any explosives we did bring along... or make Runebombs of our own, hehehe...


    My resting consisted of off-loading my spoils, grabbing some consumables and raw materials I might need, eating my celebratory cake for being the first fool to circumnavigate the whole damn continent on foot, and then trotting with Briggs towards our destiny, while a whole lotta people were looking out my eyes in anticipation.


    ------


    We drove a stake into the ground, hooked a cable to it, and faced the ephemeral, roiling wall of sand and dimensional chaff starting about ten feet away from us.


    The cable was so we arrived at the same spot and some opportunistic force decided to try and separate us. It probably wasn''t going to happen, but those who followed us wanted to follow us, not be sent all over the place.


    Don''t let hackneyed plotting separate you, was our motto.


    Briggs blew his Interdiction first, slamming the burning edge of his Source field into the mess, driving it in and back visibly, clearing up the view some as dimensions hardened instead of fluxed, and my Interdiction followed to solidify the whole thing in place and keep it that way.


    The collection of Warped mutants waiting on the other side there looked properly astonished when that happened, obviously not expecting anything to come from this direction. They looked very much the worse for the wear, and as various frog heads, goat heads, sheep heads, cow heads, dog heads, rat heads and various worse things looked our way, Briggs and I shared a glance, and charged ahead.


    Creatures instinctively react in fear to two things: size/strength, and speed. That which is big and powerful, and that which is fast.


    Briggs and I came in fast. Actually, the Vanguard teams waiting behind us hooted and ranged out ahead for those who had slugthrowers, as the mutants ahead of us opened up with crude guns with large bores and horrible aim.


    I went golden, Briggs just did his thing, and a few .60+ caliber rounds rang off our armor as we closed in, the DR backing it meaning we ended up being just shy of totally invulnerable to what they were shooting.


    Their big guys grabbed massive direaxes and direswords in the demonic patterns, jagged, spikey things so unbalanced there was no way they could possibly be wielded, and yet they were swung with vim and vigor as they charged to meet us.


    Sun Shots zipped past us even before we met, sending shooters twisting and falling as their chests were blown apart. Some of the brutes in the way inherited glowing rounds and went falling as limbs or lots of blood went spraying.


    My Arakne Arms folded out to take Faith, my Tails grew in eyeblinks of whipping motion, riding high as Banefire spikes spun to take aim, Paten was in my off-Arakne hand, and Chalice flowed into her full Sword form, not merely a Focus, as I came in behind a burning wall of point-blank missile fire.


    Oh, oh, this felt so cathartic...

 Chapter 365 - Far Future Ch. 75 – Rings of Smoke Through the Trees

    The Warped were screaming, slugthrowers were filling the air with hand-held thunder, cloven hooves and heavy feet were slamming the ground, crude engines roaring... and Beat was moving like cracks of thunder, meat compressing and bone rupturing, while Chalice zum-zum-zummed, mindblade energies making her half again as long, and focusfocusfocusfocus as Sun Strikes went up and off and up and off and up and off...


    Heavy brutes came apart, massive bodies went flying in disbelief, bullets whined off armor and thwapped heavily into meat as the brutes screamed, and we went right through them.


    There was nothing slow about Briggs whatsoever. If anything, his Hammer was moving faster than Chalice as he spun it around. The Warped could only howl and shoot and watch their shots bounce off Full-Temp Adamant power armor as pulped bodies flew away from him. Several tons of heavy bodies hadn''t slowed down our mutual charge at all, and full-auto force-quarrels were spiraling out non-stop from Patten, spikes hissing out from my Tails, and I even flicked out two Shardstars as I came in, chopping them down.


    The Grind was on!


    ----------


    "Smell that?" Briggs asked, taking a deep whiff.


    I sniffed as I looked out over the landscape ahead of us, sifting through the odors.


    The tang of blood, acrid rust, nauseating rot, sickening Warp corruption, burning fuels that often had little to do with gasoline; conflicting elemental energies; the angry sweat of humans and inhumans and beasts and demons; gunpowder of various sorts; diseases wafting on spores, bacteria, and viruses; the cold pseudo-metal of necroic powers wandering about; the decay of flesh and offal and sewage mixed with musk of many beasts of burden, flesh, and war...


    "Huh. Nope, I don''t." The bitter odor of the omnipresent alkalines was not present. This place was corrosion-free in that aspect.


    Of course, it was a freaking nightmare in other respects. There were diseases everywhere, backed by necroic energies, willing to prey on everything. Waves of Warp power in the physical and mental realm were sweeping past us, ready to spur mutation and take over minds, driving people insane with changes to physical brains and their very thoughts.


    If you weren''t Forsaken or Protected from the Warp, this place was going to be very bad for you.


    This whole paradigm went well with the fact that we were actually seeing trees.


    There weren''t a lot of them, but they were all over the place here and there, as the inside of the plateau became the wild and crazy edge of an impossible landscape of hills, forests, scattered mountains, skies of different colors in different places, scattered plains... and pillars of smoke climbing into the air, along with the distant flames of things burning, bright sparks of other things firing, and brighter lights of things blowing up.


    It trailed down and away from us, and around us we could see the gray, roiling wall, chopping off the landscape, a clear sign that here was the edge of the world. Nothing was visible beyond, but the leeching feeling of the Warp failing would make this area a dreadful zone for anything afflicted with the Warp''s energies.


    That wall had destroyed the whole world, if our analysis was correct, and even altered the creatures inside here so they could survive if they passed through it.


    Was the plateau really a crater, slowly rolling away from us? The Warp was free to play merry hell with everything, of course, so, sure. Judging by the spatial waves I could see, it got bigger, the further we went in.


    How big, we had no clue. But it definitely seemed to be radiating from a specific point, and that would be the direction we would be heading in, finding out what was at the center of this world. As we did, we''d be locking in time and space as we went... and the vanguard teams would be coming in behind us to widen things out.


    It was entirely likely we''d have to butcher every single thing of the Warp inside this zone and set it to vivus to get rid of it. The immensity of the task didn''t actually impress any of the boys and girls, who just saw ''May-Joh Powah Leveling Zone, Komen Sie Hier!''


    As, I admit, so did Briggs and I. We were so damn predictable about certain things.


    I could see bats, wyverns, and drakes in the sky in the distance, the latter bigger than the former, and so likely why they hadn''t gone past the border, driving out unlikely wyverns fleeing from them and eating the bats? Maybe when there weren''t any more wyverns, or the bats couldn''t transition, or were too smart to run this way...


    "That looks like demons playing," Briggs murmured, and I turned my eyes on an area with flashes of stuff going on in the thaumaspectrum. "Given the colors... Klaw and jRaztl having a tiff?". Brass and red against unclean rainbow striations... probably...


    "Anything possible here," I agreed. "It also means a wide-open, endlessly replenished Warp connection on this side of one sort or another... but it''s still the mortal realm."


    "So we can use vivus. That''s good." We both stared out at the tableau of rumbling conflicts, and the pillars of smoke climbing clear to the horizon before us.


    Behind us was a conquering army not at all intent on seizing and holding land, only clearing it. Land was ephemeral. The only benefit was Karma...


    ----


    We were picking through the belongings of the dead, looking at their vehicles and weapons for anything of value, not much of which was to be found. They used Warp Sorcery, and much of their gear had some affinity for or relied on it.


    The two Vanguard teams were allowed in after everything was dead, adding their own impressions to everything, especially the two Psions, who were on definite edge at the feeling in the air and pressure in their minds, keeping very close to their Nulls to safeguard the pressure.


    "Give me an assessment," I told them. The Marks still worked here, but we were way out of the Quanta or Boole... but the Goldilocks could just shunt Marktells into the Quanta and give my girls and boys the feeds they needed.


    Hags, hagspawn, humans, and psions put their collective heads together quickly, making their judgements, and came up with their assessments based on what I was telling them.


    First, no Nulls less than Six, and they were to get to Seven as quickly as possible once entering the Warpzone. The pressure alone should be a great catalyst for doing so.


    Second, active Psions or Cybered were going to need a Crown field, i.e. a personal Protection from Warp effect, to remain impervious to the corruption and degradation of this place. While a Forsaken Source or Null field would be proof as well, it limited them to staying close to their Forsaken, which could end up getting both of them killed.


    A full Protection effect was thirty goldweight, but it included stacking defensive elements that weren''t totally necessary, just really, really nice. The warding effect could be had for five goldweight, and the rest built up as needed. Designs were already being drawn up as they responded.


    Third, careful inspection of TL 7+ materials revealed the polymers and weird alloys were starting to break down, just like all the more energetic tech. Psionic reinforcement seemed to be slowing the effect, but not stopping it.


    That meant armor had to be redone, and a bunch of weapons, too. Ceramics and crystals just weren''t going to cut it.


    The boys and girls were in an electric tizzy. Smithing Ranks were needed! WooooooO! Briggs boys clutched their hammers and were all over getting a freaking awesome smithy set up to equip everyone who wanted to come out here.


    ---


    "Hey, Sama, look at this firing mechanism."


    Briggs had one of their crude rifles in hand, inspecting it. I wandered over at his call, and he handed the thing, made for someone at least as big as him, over to me to inspect.


    The metalwork was crude, but brutally serviceable. No rifling, which meant accuracy was shit, but the round was nearly an inch in size. So, made to punch reinforced bodies and armor, and accuracy was uncaring if they were close enough. Of course, firing it would blow a human right off their feet, and probably break their shoulder.


    Blackpowder weapon, although I think they used dried blood imbued with fire magic instead, judging by the residue.


    Huh. This didn''t use a matchlock or a firing pin. It used a cantrip plate, which activated with a spark when the trigger was pulled. Basically, it was sub-cantrip level magic, would take a Caster about an hour of work.


    Now, versus economies of scale and full-production factories and tech printers, that was damn slow. But what it did is eliminate a moving part and the design problems that came with it.


    And yeah, it would not be hard at all to replicate the effect with psionic circuits.


    Tech and weird science, at TL 7+, had advanced to the point where technology could easily replicate many ''magical'' effects. There were lightbulbs that wouldn''t wear out, batteries that could power a flashlight for a century, anti-grav, force fields, sensors, energy manipulation, the works.


    But using psi in broad, low-scale tech was still not a thing. If you worked psionics into something, you generally enhanced what it already did and was made for on the tech side.


    This was a pretty basic, floor-level tech deviation. Taking a simple magical effect, and readjusting the technology around it. Instead of being technology improved by being magical, it was technology that wouldn''t work without magic or psi at all.


    In that way, it was very similar to the Compressed clips I used for Paten. Without Compression, I would have to put on each bolt by hand... or wait until I could get the +II Enhancement that manifested Force Quarrels, which was my standard go-to ammo, anyways, since I was basically rapid-firing without pumping the action.


    But while my autobow would work without magic, just being as slow as any other crossbow, this gun wouldn''t work without magic at all, just for a key part.


    Huh.


    "This is like... a really subtle variation of psitech tree, right?" Gears were already starting to work. Certainly at the highest levels, having a firing pin that was literally a block of metal would be... very smooth, and save a lot of design time and considerations...


    I could feel myself touching on the edge of something immense and profound, of technology, magic, spiritual forces, and psionics meshing together as surely and strongly as a Vajra.


    Didn''t have the Ranks in synergistic disciplines to understand the underlying harmonics. I didn''t know what it would take to get there... but there were a whole lot of Ranthas coming up behind me and willing to give it a try when I did.


    They were already building another forward base here, with the less overtly hostile environment. It would soon be expanding inwards as the Karmic Buffet... er, attacks got under way.


    "You ready to do some exploring?" I asked Big Fuzzy.


    "Boy howdy, girl, I sure am." He clutched Beat, and side by side we headed off to the smoke through the trees.

 Chapter 366 - Far Future Ch. 76 – Who Shines White Light and Wants to Show...

    Nearly solid warpfire came screaming down at Briggs, eating at the air, space, whatever. The demons he was educating screamed in fear and terror, but didn''t get out of the way in time as it came wailing down and ripped them to shreds.


    Naturally, his Source field was being held tight, as he had no reason to protect them from the various spells and effects being sent his way. They could enjoy the splash damage like the frenzied maniacs they were.


    The warpfire reduced them to ash and sludge, and then happened to strike the edge of his Hammer as Beat administered a drumming to an over-armored idiot with three arms, and there was a loud POOF as the warpfire and everything it had eaten away went up like tinder.


    Mmm. Briggs came striding out, not stopping his progress, as Beat came down on the skull of a lizard-dog the size of a rhino, crushing that flat, and launching its charging rider forwards in an arc. The rebound caught the rider in midair, a wedge of force crushing through his plate with a Sun Strike, and sending his corpse flying twenty yards away with a flick of his wrist.


    Damn, but these Hagspawn Levels are strong, he mused to himself.


    Sama said he was her Briggs, they were set up to be a fighting pair, and given how all the boys and girls were interacting with Hag Curses and stuff, he had to agree. Not to mention suddenly getting endowed with an ExLite Template. Wow, that had been quite a power-up...


    He knew his memories were artificial, as he''d compared them with his many, many sons, and yeah, they were all completely matching. Since he was the dad and the ExLite who''d made them all Advanced, he got to keep the main name, and they all picked other names based on their inherited souls, with Briggs as their family name.


    As far as he knew, the original Briggs didn''t have any kids, and the fact he had so many who were so much like him was very amusing. Almost as fun as the circumstances they had all come from.


    Damn, that woman did not get tired of him...


    Some sorceress was throwing spells at him, which were entering his Source field and being ripped apart an inch from his skin, detonating and making a mess of the area around him. He reached out as a razor-beaked killa-bird mounted by some twit in grandiose armor charged him, stepped aside, grabbed its extended neck, and took over a thousand pounds of raptor and rider and threw them at the woman, while Beat slammed the helmed heads off two armored infantry, AND he brought his boot down on a flaming demonling''s head hard enough to create a small explosion, ignoring the burning scimitar that whined impotently off his Energized Armor.


    There was strong, and there was strong...


    His strength was well past the range that could be defined by biology or physics. Human blood couldn''t pump through veins as tough as his, for starters, and flesh couldn''t be both this rigid and this flexible. His Vajra was thrumming through him, providing reinforcement of will and reality, his mind and soul, spirit and magic providing him reinforcement to every cell and atom, making him this strong, obdurate, and tireless.


    Needless to say, that was extremely useful on this battlefield. A lot like the game character he was based on...


    A cavalcade of gunfire roared, the sound reaching him as dozens of sharp metallic pings echoed off his armor. He vented the combined kinetic energy down, the ground about him exploding with the force, but didn''t even bother to turn at the line of mounted gunners, wading forwards as Beat, a light shadow of a bladed axe about its head, swept through another line of incoming demons, rising into an evisceration of their Slaughter Demon commander, sending its big burning sword flying.


    Lots of Karma in those things. Briggs hummed to himself about the post-battlefield looting, even as Sama came in on one end of that firing line, and exited the far side of it six seconds later. Heads were popping and withers falling away as both riders and their fanghorse mounts collapsed before they could get off a second volley, although only the latter had the chance to scream as their spines were severed, while the former lost their heads in beautiful golden swirls of light. Burning thorns scattered in all directions and poked chaff in the head, dropping them in mid-stride abruptly.


    That was his girl. He smiled, and kept up his advance.


    This was a demonic battlefield of square leagues in size, so there was always stuff to kill. He remained calm and detached, analyzing the force and the vectors, wielding the weight of Beat with physics-defying control and speed. His Heavyfoot meant he was always as anchored as if bolted to the ground, his strength could take the massive accelerations and decelerations, and the Enhancements on his Weapon, the soulbonding and soulhammer aura, made it seem nearly as light as a feather as he spun it about like a baton.


    Those Warped and Demons looking at him naturally marked him as a deadly threat, because he was simply striding forward and not stopping for anything. If something managed to charge in between his swings, he simply kept walking into it, and drove it back with raw, brute strength, backing up whole lines of Warped creatures, and then Beat ripped through multiple bodies like a reaper''s scythe, sending burning corpses flying in every direction.


    Bolts tinged, bullets pinged, weapons rang, horns scraped, teeth rasped, claws skirled off his armor, which was burning with vivic fire that couldn''t quite keep up with the gore exploding over him. They came screaming at him from all directions, cannon loads were exploding around him, shrapnel and earth whining from him, and still he came and reaped.


    Rarely, he let Beat go, the Corona-shrouded Hammer leaving his arm like a ballista bolt, crashing into and through anything in its way on its path to whatever subject of interest deserved his attention. When he did, golden claws rippled into existence over his fists and feet, and his advance didn''t stop, it only got closer and gorier.


    This was what he did as he came up on the cannon line, a clear space opening at a trot, the cannoneers all desperately trying to aim at him. He could vector the path of their weapons at a glance, but it didn''t matter, as Beat went sailing out.


    It hammered into a cannon, and fire exploded, detonating their powder even as the cannon was blasted off its carriage, cracked and useless. As Beat roared back to him, he struck it with the back of his fist, and the Hammer ricocheted back out, sending the next cannon in line flying, and powder erupting wildly.


    He trotted down the line of cannons, moving at least twice as fast as he looked like he was, Beat bang-booming the artillery one after another about every half-second while his other hand clawed forwards and backfisted to match, sending bodies flying and dismembered corpses crunching beneath his feet.


    He was naturally paying attention to the greater battle around him, and these cannon were slowing it down. Their shot or balls could blow holes in the lines of their enemies, which prevented everyone from coming to grips, blobbing up, and making it easier to kill bunches of them all together. He and Sama weren''t playing favorites... everything on this field was there to be reaped.


    With this line of artillery neutralized, it was time to wade back into some numbers and reap some more. Ignoring the continuing fire and the eruptions of spells around himself, Briggs steadily, inexorably, unhurriedly, yet with inhuman speed, gripped Beat into his hands and continued on.


    There was some grim satisfaction in the killing, knowing he was reaping Karma, but mostly what he saw was waste... waste of time, waste of energy, waste of souls. All this killing frenzy, intensity, fanaticism, and drive could have been put to use in so many productive ways, and instead was being expended on ways of killing one another. Getting rid of them, feeding them to the Land, and starting them over free of the corruption of the Warp, was just what had to be done here.


    He sighed inside, but that didn''t stop his focus or his drive, or the killing arcs of Beat.


    -----------


    Many, many acres of unwhite flames were burning behind us, and seemed to be bending to the east. The vivic energy was being drawn away to feed the lines of Interdictions we''d left behind us as we advanced, solidifying them, and drawing an immovable, immutable pathway to the outer wall of this strange battlefield.


    We hadn''t seen any sign of where all these creatures and beings came from, not that it made much difference. Everything was pretty much batshit crazy and unrelentingly hostile so far, and the sum of any conversations with the locals was "Aarrrgh!" and "Ahhhhhh!", along with an interesting panoply of bloodthirsty cries.


    Chalice was drinking heavily.


    These days had been refining my personal experience of battlefield slaughter. If you are going to kill lots of things, you have to be able to kill them quickly. The only two ways to do so are Area of Effect attacks, and/or a whole lot of attacks.


    AoE''s is how the Powered did it, delivering burst attacks, or single attacks with splash damage, or rampaging runs that affected everything around them. Briggs and I were doing it with Cleaves and Attacks of Opportunity.


    Briggs had the advantage in single-hit damage and reach on me, scything through a wider array of opponents and able to one-shot bigger stuff then I could. I was doing it with greater speed afoot and a higher Dex, granting me more Attacks of Opportunity, which in turn generated more attacks or greater movement.


    He was a plow, and I was a racing whirlwind.


    Anything I couldn''t finish with a swordstroke generally ate a quarrel or spike in the head to seal the deal. Unfortunately, my inherited Sagedom didn''t work anywhere near as well as Mom''s had, probably bent the rules of reality too much? Briggs'' Everything is a Nail Grandmastery was down to a ''mere'' +50... and seemed to be working on the level of an Advanced Mastery. His Smithing Ranks and Sculptor/Stonemason seemed to be the only things applying, probably because they were the only Skills that demanded great power with a hammer. He had the feeling he could apply Lumberjack, Miner, and maaaaybe Gemcutter, but not yet, because they were not pure Hammer skills.


    My Sagedom likewise seemed to be an Advanced Mastery, with only two Slots open. I had gamed it with Mastersmith, which was four Skills in one, just like Briggs had, and then gamed it again with Stoneworker, snaffling up Gemcutter, Miner, and Sculptor together. Seven Skills at Ten Ranks each, synergy bonus of +3, +21 damage. Still very impressive, but a far cry from the twenty-plus Skills that Mom had working for her. Hells, probably thirty-plus, now...


    I would have to find more Skills I could group together when the Mastery advanced. +21 was a good damage addition for chaff, but I was hit or miss on officers while I was doing my reaping here... the Warp didn''t tolerate softies commanding psychotic killers, so those in charge were indeed much tougher and nastier than their fellows.


    What was taking up a bunch of the load was the soulsword edge shining around and accentuating Chalice. Stacking with Profound Weapon, it made Chalice effectively half again as long, extending my reach and cutting arc, with faux mass and soul-driven impact adding onto real mass of the Heavy Long Sword doing its thing. Ki and psi made a very potent combo, and then, when I added the Golden Fist of Nogdom with my Vajra to the mix, well, things got serious.


    My damage base was in the 15-40 or so range, which basically meant I could chop a standard magic Weapon in two with a flick of my wrist and no other bonuses... or effortlessly take off a man''s head, or literally cut them in half at the waist with a little effort.


    The chaff was inhumanly tough by human standards, what with Warp-boosted stats and sorcery at work on them, but the chaff was still chaff by our standards, and was the tinder on the fire. Knights and officers might take a little more attention, but not much... they weren''t prepared for Tens operating at our level, and so weren''t prepared for us.


    As for the Champions, they were usually worth a few seconds of directed attention, appalled as they were at how hard we hit. The Greater Demons... well, we double-teamed them to save time, Nulls and Sources enough to deny their magic, and hitting hard enough to punch their defenses, whether they liked it or not.


    Going from high-tech to medieval-level was a thing, but we had places to go, and things to do.


    Unbeknownst to these bastards, death was coming behind us. Young men and women with Weapons to feed and Karma to gain were seeing all of this with stars in their eyes, and working very energetically to get here.


    -Briggs, we should probably back off and collect our spoils...- I /murmured in amusement. He just grunted assent, and we started to arc back to start picking up our goldweight equivs.

 Chapter 367 - Far Future – Ch. 77 – The Piper’s Calling You to Join Her

    Much time and Karma later...


    -So, what have we got?- I /inquired of everyone. The conversation was downloaded to a tight Boole, and back up into the private Markspaces of the girls'' teams.


    There was a Map of the Warpzone up in our heads, but the boundaries were somewhat amorphous. Unless under constant observation from the ''fixed'' areas, they tended to shift and shuffle in an irregular manner. Under constant observation... they shifted in a more regular manner.


    -We''ve got broad confirmation on advancing tech levels as we progress in,- Shiera /spoke up for everyone, as approximate arcs drew up on the map. Arcs, because there was no way we had enough people to do a ring and encirclement and really measure stuff. The landscape flowed on and around the area locked down by us, and while that area was slowly broadening out, there was a limit to the ground we could hold, simply because of the endless incursions involved across such a broad area.


    There was literally no limit to the numbers of creatures coming in, so even the most battle-happy bunch of kill-crazy Hags couldn''t just ''free up'' areas. More things were always coming in to have a go at you, both monstrous and sentient.


    I watched as the girls reported encounters with ever-advancing technology, moving from blackpowder to shells and rifles, handguns and grenades, crude rockets, and engine-driven vehicles with speed and power in open terrain. This didn''t include magically powered stuff, which could be found in all zones. Demonically possessed vehicles didn''t need a good power source or great engineering.


    The most forward of the teams behind Briggs and I had gotten into the automatic weapons zones, where a crazy mix of machine gun suppressing trench warfare mixed with artillery fire and house-to-house combat. Upgrading or sidegrading to each new tech zone wasn''t exactly hard, but it meant that a Named Weapon wasn''t getting all the Karma and love. For that reason, Autobows were starting to get really popular among my rank-and-file G&G people.


    Crossbows worked everywhere, and psionic-enhanced rapid-fire action-loading 100% kinetic energy transfer ones were useful anywhen. Basically, the only upgrade needed for a tech zone was ''special loads'' and how powerful they were. An explosive head on a quarrel could easily take out a vehicle in the right place, and was more accurate than a grenade launcher. The brace of the Autobow could easily be swapped in and out with other kinds of firearms, leaving the foundation unchanged, depending if you wanted shotguns, stubguns, a rifle, or moved up to energy weapons.


    Enchant the core of the weapon, and swapping out the underlying tech was not an issue.


    Indeed, everyone went silly enthusiastic over the tech and the configurations possible, trying to make it modular, adaptable, and customizable. The fact that both Briggs and I were carrying them for a reason did make something of an impression.


    The vanguards did have a great advantage over anyone that wanted to attack them, in that the Land we were on was not fluid. Thus, they could easily set up scouts, traps, ambushes, fallback positions, and so forth, chopping into and crushing their enemies with knowledge of the terrain... and surely they wouldn''t be so crude as to not take advantage of it, right?


    The fighting effort had expanded with the territory. The girls naturally wanted big harvests, but weren''t so stupid as to draw the attention of Greater Demons until they could actually handle them, which required Naming Karma and a slew of Masteries and stuff to be able to hack on them properly. Given how slow true Levels rose, they weren''t overeager, just making steady progress and making sure their people stayed alive and progressed too.


    There were losses, sure, but now I was sending in people from my training companies here to get real combat experience and blooded against the minions of the Warp... exactly what these people were supposed to be fighting. Even the most recalcitrant began to wise up after stepping onto these battlefields, what with Demons screaming for your soul, madness in the air, and all the horrors and myths rumored on the Boole there and obvious in front of their eyes.


    The Elevator Music to Heaven kept them sane. Good teamwork and realizing all that training was for a damn good reason had to suffice for the rest. The feeling of utter madness and depravity sliding over your mindclaw as you tore something apart was quite a stressor, I was informed many times.


    There were losses, there were deaths. If they lived, they could be healed up, and go right back to the fight, both frightened and angry, and eager to learn how to kill the things that had killed them.


    Killing fifty of a certain enemy made them a Foe Hunter. First goal. Harvesting a skull and getting it carved up for use as a Baneskull Totem was the second, and then advancing it by killing more of the enemy.


    Karma poured in. Levels slowly rose, and the Marked grew stronger, meaner, harder. The enemy was only there to make them stronger, and despite themselves, they knew that if they retreated, the Warped would not be following them out of this zone.


    They only thing they had to fear was insta-gibs and me being disappointed in them.


    Soon the Beacon psions were coming in, making wargear on the spot for people, spinning psionic circuitry into killing tools, and then going out there to do their own kills and provide support, accompanied by Nulls to keep them alive and functional. Their Levels rose faster than they had believed would be possible, and even if some of them died to the lethal enthusiasm of the natives, the rest were stepping along that road to power faster than they had ever imagined.


    Yes, they were snobbish intellectuals, and were now totally caught up in the crazed energy of team fights and the self-improvement that had once been denied them.


    The girls were recruiting more, training more, and those young men and women were being shuttled and sent in here. The Levels didn''t come as fast as a magic realm, but every day was an improvement, and that amount of improvement was only limited by how badass you were. If you wanted to fight and grow, there were places to do it.


    Of course, moving people in such numbers naturally drew attention, as a whole lot of people wondered what we were doing out here as numbers passed a thousand, five thousand, ten thousand, twenty thousand, fifty thousand... and finally we had a hundred thousand people fighting out here, with thousands moving in and out every day in a regular line of reinforcements, newcomers, and those resting and delivering supplies.


    The Coronals and Umbrans were naturally eager to jump on the Bandwagon, and there were many blanket orders in place for the members of their Striker teams to hit Seven and get their Null Psion... and this was the place to do it. Unfortunately, only crude psi-powered mecha-limbs worked in the outer zone, so the cybered had to get full regens and purges of implants to work in here.


    For the chance at apotheosis, most were willing to do it.


    While the Umbran Agents and Squires were welcome to come in and train, such as it were, this was not their job, it was merely combat practice. The Warped had been in here for thousands of years, they weren''t coming out, and monstrous beasts and stuff aside, their job wasn''t to lose themselves in blind combat all day. Their job was to protect humanity from dangers within and without, and not to just go out and have fun beating down the wretched scum of the Warp and feeding them to the Land in the Emperor''s Name...


    Ahem...


    They did find a whole lot of new recruits for Striker teams after personally observing promising candidates in combat, however, and this vital duty was very eagerly sought after...


    Briggs and I watched the Map and conversations going on as every bit of military training and adventurous freebooting was on display. Strategy (expand the static zone, kill everything intruding on it) and tactics (how exactly to do that), logistics, positioning, movement, scouting, communication, coordination, raiding, training, blooding, recovery, and recuperation... everything was on the table and being used energetically. Different battlefields were there to train people in different aspects, while others were nothing but teams of individuals going out and wreaking havoc with maximum lethality.


    Minds, bodies, and souls had to bear up under the massive pressure of the environment, supporting one another was key, and if you couldn''t take it, then you really, really had to get out. There were people who broke, and had to be put down, but that was rare... if they were Marked, they generally had enough mental support to make it out before they broke down completely.


    Mental and spiritual infiltration and corruption were certainly attempted, but successfully AND unnoticeably charming, enchanting, possessing, and/or replacing a Marked was basically next to impossible... but it didn''t stop a lot of demons and spirits from trying to do so. Ghost Knights rarely went a day without taking out an infiltrator or two trying to find a new host to wear. Ranthas with True Sight would spork them on sight, of course... and there were always more and more of them around, it seemed...


    All in all, a Karmic banquet of the highest quality!


    ----------


    Then there was Briggs and I, ranging out ahead, butchering, looting, leaving caches of loot behind, or teleporting them back to deliver them to the very-happy-to-receive-them Vanguard teams behind us... because we could teleport along the static zone, whereas only demons could do so in the shifting space of the Warp zone.


    Now, we had reached another boundary area, and were definitely looking it over before we went down there.


    It was a modern battlefield. Energy beams, powerful explosions, cannon and artillery fire across leagues, numberless hordes of things fighting, aircraft ranging from hovercraft to jets racing overhead, great mechs and battlewagons stalking across the landscape, attracting fire and giving it out, blowing apart in great explosions utterly ignored by everyone present, just adding to the chaotic landscape of pits, tunnels, trenches, and ruined fortifications and vehicles every turning the battlefield into a chaotic, crazy mess, at once arbitrarily merciless and still decided by individuals.


    "Well, they''re being nice. Nobody is using atomics," Briggs conjectured, as a castle-sized mech with half its structure replaced by flowing ectoplasmic mass, tentacles, and pincer claws fired a sun-bright lance at a rumbling landcrawler of at least equal mass two miles away, the fusion charge scattering off raised shields, and provoking a booming cannon blast reply that sent the huge mecha staggering back for a moment when the shell detonated, and wiped out probably near a thousand cheering and screaming half-mechanized and possessed fanatics around its feet in a rain of actinic fire.


    "While the Warp doesn''t need a reason to fight, this seems... off. The forces of the Warp usually have interests or ambitions to pursue. This is just fighting for fighting, which, while entertaining, chews up your servants very, very quickly." I frowned as I studied it.


    "It''s probably timeless." I glanced at him, considering. "Yeah, it''s probably a bunch of battles mixed together where time doesn''t really pass unless someone from outside is watching," he went on.


    "Part of the shifting spatial and temporal landscape," I agreed, watching a fight between ornithopters, gyrocopters, and helicopters taking place, zipping and swooping and swerving around blasted hills and fallen megamechs and landcrawlers. Damn, who would be dumb enough to make a million+ ton land engine? Who is ''The Warp'', Alex!


    "I''ve had the ''locks verify vehicles from at least a hundred different worlds or time periods, some of them from before the Empire. Even for the Warp, that''s just a waste of time and energy. Something must be bringing them in here together, and equally quickly taking them away. Otherwise, this battlefield would simply be mountains of dead bodies and machinery."


    There were at least fifty different shades of las-fire going on down there. Coherent light pulses were mildly radiant, unlike true lasers, but the name stuck, and nobody cared to correct it. It was hot, hard light; laser was a nice sub.


    Fifty different forces was just crazy. Everybody was shooting at everybody!

 Chapter 368 - Far Future Ch. 78 – You Know Sometimes Wards Have Two Meanings...

    "So, this place wasn''t even designed by the Warp, was it?" I conjectured aloud, allowing my eyes to go deeper, looking into the pulses of energy that formed this place and its boundaries, definitely sweeping out from the direction we were heading. Briggs lit up his and did the same. He didn''t have the Knowledge Depth that I did, save in a couple key categories, but he had mechanical insight that wasn''t all that out of place even dealing with multiple types of physics here.


    "No." He pursed his lips. "You ever seen the harmonics for a Crown field?"


    "A mechanical one?" I riffled through a perfect+ memory. "Can''t say I have. The psionic version is basically a mirror of a magical one with adjustments for psi vs mana. I can''t say I''ve seen someone using a weird science Crown field..."


    "Well," he mentally pointed out some of the sweeping patterns in the sky and land, mixed into all the other shit and actually pretty damn hard to pick out, "those look like an inverted and very large Crown field to me."


    Brainfarts exploded in my backbrain as the researchers promptly went diving for verification and correlation. They were having exciting times back in the labs... especially after some of the Coronal and Umbran researchers were invited in and didn''t want to leave...


    A Crown field was a personal version of a Throne field, the Protection from Chaos effect that let most ships sail through the Warp. Inverted... not opposite. Opposite would be Protection from Law...


    "Vulnerability to Chaos?" I murmured, spinning through the math and Craft of it. Protection effects were defensive, abjurative effects, right next door to the living axiomatic Fate-based repulsion effects of Curses. This was like a combination of the two...


    A massive area effect field that rendered the area vulnerable to the Warp. The Warp would be able to infringe on reality within the area, but the fact it was an artificial field would mean the effect would be intrinsically unstable, especially since in reality it would always be moving relative to the Warp...


    "I''ll run with that," I agreed. "The different tech zones would be from different harmonic overlays, like standing waves of specific intensity or type, allowing different levels and types of synchronization. Where the edge of the field is would be akin to a spatial breach, but more like a reality re-write. That also fits..."


    "Which begs yet another question..." he nodded, while the eggers in Markspace verified the preliminary readings, and were going for stress-testing against all the factors they could think of.


    "More like sticks it screaming in your face, demanding your attention."


    "Uh-huh. So, I don''t suppose you have the schematics for a Throne Generator."


    I shook my head. "Hadn''t been necessary. They only make them in the Core System of a Sector. TL 12 stuff." Helldiving was only TL 11, of course...


    "Mmm." He looked at the sky again, before dropping his glowing eyes again. Gold backlights on the pale violet looked soooo sexy... "So, just how big a Throne field would be needed to generate an area that covered half a continent?"


    "Ugh. I know so many people who want to invert a Crown field and find out."


    He chuckled at the idea, despite himself. Yeah, you wouldn''t get executed for starting a Warp Incursion for nothing, would you? "We still have to go through this area..."


    "Yeah, I think our chances of clearing it are pretty low," I murmured as the beam cannon of the landcrawler followed whatever massive shell from the main gun, and punched through the chest of the megamech. There was a half-second delay before the fusion core overloaded, and nuclear warp energies went kablooey in ectoplasmic nuclear fire.


    A missile came falling from the sky at Mach 20, punched into the landcrawler, and set off its own power core. Briggs and I watched, devasight making us immune to the blinding effect, and Radiant resistance meaning we weren''t worried about radiation damage.


    "What do you think the chances are that we''ll find non-Warped forces here?" he asked rhetorically.


    "About the same chance as it would make for great fun on the part of the Warped Gods," I replied thoughtfully.


    "Well, don''t kill humans not showing the signs of the Warp Gods," he noted for us both, his helm snapping closed. He pulled his shoulder-las mount out of his Masspack and quickly affixed to his left shoulder. It synched up quickly, hummed, and began to look about independently of him, prepping to rotate. The power cable extended into his Masspack where his supplemental generator was humming, and frost fell from the barrels, ready for some extended usage.


    "Buying into the whole future is ranged combat meme?" I asked, laughing, as my Tails rose behind me, and burning Spikes rotated around them. Paten was in hand, waiting for use.


    "Hammer Shards max range fifty yards. Need something with more reach," he admitted without shame. "Shall we?"


    "We shall!"


    ------------------


    It took us a while to locate something that wasn''t Warped. That''s code talk for saying we slaughtered... a whole lot of stuff.


    Briggs was at least four times as strong as I was by now... which is pretty damn impressive. His armor was built to brace him, but didn''t really improve his Strength. The fact he didn''t really need any strength enhancement is what made his armor so damn powerful.


    He could heave and throw a tank over on its side... or a Greater Demon. His Sun Strike could totally cave in the treads of a tank and instantly immobilize it, or shatter its turret and render its guns unable to move. Ripping open the hatch after that generally wasn''t too hard, although he usually left it for me, as my Tails could extend down in and take out the crew better.


    Yeah, that was superhuman strength for a Rantha Hagspawn, with full Marks, ExLite, Heavy Gravity Training, Source Empowerment, and being so damn tall and impressive... la la la... mind on business...


    It didn''t take much to verify who we had to shoot and kill, given how barmy they were, and their flesh was often rotting, glowing, writhing, or mutating badly, and they had lights in their eyes that didn''t belong to the sane.


    Standard las-weapons were basically useless against us. Radiant damage was simply not something that could threaten us short of cannon-size, so the corrupted soldiers using them were just chaff to be cleared out as rapidly as Baned auto-fire could acquire and release.


    Demons of the Warp generally weren''t happy to be hit by Blessed Laser fire, i.e. The Light. Going from Fire damage to Radiant damage was a nice upgrade they didn''t enjoy at all, and which we were more than happy to inflict upon them.


    From the perspective of most of the troops, we were just too tough, too invulnerable, and too accurate when shooting. Paten wasn''t very big, but his auto-fire was still up to twenty a second, and our nice Rantha Ranged Attack Bonuses were base +10. Spraying down a company of men as I passed over a trench line and landing twenty hits out of twenty shots was not difficult at all, and Briggs'' spinning auto-laser could be even more vicious. If his plasma horn lit up and filled the air in front of him with a bolt of ten thousand degree fourth state of hot matter, it inevitably killed dozens instantly.


    Still, we were about progress, cutting a swathe straight through all the warring factions killing all the other factions, much as we might like to stay and shovel Karma into the bottomless holes. Of course, we could always shoot behind us...


    Occasionally, some smart guys on flying vehicles would be drawn by our speed and the screams in their coms, and come racing in to deal with us, or walkers gone organic, possessed mek suits, rumbling tanks or half-tracks, whatever could be bestirred, would turn heavier guns on us... and we shot them back.


    Construct-bane Sun Shots could take an engine right off a plane, blow out the engine on a vehicle, shatter the cockpit of a copter, take off the leg of a walker, and remove the head of a mek-suit. We were far from reluctant to take out the crews manning heavier weapons directed our way.


    Happily, the bigger mechs and tanks were generally focused on one another instead of us, and just idle shots and AoE''s weren''t going to do anything to us. If they were in our way, we''d naturally take a short and careful pause to deal with them.


    Chalice ripping through cables and Beat blowing out joints was enough to rapidly cripple pretty much any mech, and they had horrible times trying to track us when we closed on them. Of course, the battlefield had shitloads of cover, from wrecks to trenches, and we wouldn''t get close to the true war machines if we could. Given our ability to jump and run, it wasn''t like we didn''t have a lot of options on where to go, and if they wanted to have a grand battle of armored cav between themselves, they were welcome to it.


    Of course, if they took shots at us, missed, got frustrated and started chasing, well, damn good Karma for taking out tanks and mechs, you know?


    -Ten o''clock, fuzzy. Some Karma?- I /asked him. He glanced over in that direction as some Dancers and their sextoys went exploding from kinetic overindulgence, popping like water balloons, while his autolas was ravaging the many-hued, pastel-scaled reptiles that served as their mounts with explosive savagery.


    There was a Greater Sluggor leading an army of Pusboys, Lesser Sluggors, and shambling demons of bulk and debatable veracity at some other force holed-up inside some kind of bombed-out bunker that was trying to put up some kind of defense. The whale-sized brute was making his way over casually, dropping more Pusboys to race ahead of him, and urging on his lesser demons to greater glory and efforts, this was their chance to distinguish themselves before their Patron Oozegramps...


    -Sure, why not?- His thirty-foot bouncing strides veered off, and our combined fire began to clear the road in that direction, then off to the sides. We both didn''t let the slime trails from the demons touch us as we raced up behind them.


    The Greater Sluggor was conveniently at the rear, but that didn''t mean were sneaking up on him, given the odd placement of eyes and mouths on his great gooey, slimy, rotting worm-like body.


    But that was fine. The eyes just made convenient targets.


    Rapid-fire blew away all the Pusboys in the area, and some of the other demons looked back in shock at an attack coming from the rear.


    I led the way, Chalice flaring with all sorts of antipathy to a thing of a Warp, and the Nimbus and Corona effects were bright indeed.


    Yeah, its skin was magically reinforced ectoplasm, impossibly obdurate... but the psychic energies didn''t give a shit, turning every strike into a touch attack, bypassing all that natural armor, and then discharging a whole lot of Blessed Stuff into the squamous things writhing inside those folds of rot and corruption... explosively.


    The Soul Strikes slashed across its spirit, rending its psyche viciously.


    Prepared Action, discharge, Standard Action, keep moving, discharge. Five Stars meant five points of its intellect was just shredded by psychic knives. Free Action, focusfocusfocus, discharge... and Grym released his prepared Focus.


    Its intellect went from genius-level indulgent I''ve-seen-everything to equal to Briggs'' boot, and that drool wasn''t just a polite affection now.


    I opened up a gaping rent in the thick neck and head as instinct spun it around, and a fist bigger than I was slammed into me like a truck. The filth on it alone would have eaten a human away before their shattered corpse could hit the ground, but I was simply launched in an arc, accepting the blow and turning it into a graceful arc of constant fire into the demons below, and at my landing area.


    Briggs didn''t bother to run up along the backside that had exploded in flames, taking a 5g jump directly over everything, Beat up, and taking advantage of the Butterfly Sting I had given away to give him an opening and free crit.

 Chapter 369 - Far Future Ch 79 – The Emperor’s Own Space Marines

    Beat came down, and BOOM, it was like a gong going off as the Hammer came down. The staggered head exploded, took out its foreparts with it, and Briggs continued right on down to the ground, burning Great Sluggor spraying ahead of and around him. The shocked Sluggor in front of him ate an entire salvo of Blessed Light to the face, blowing it apart in shock, and then Briggs was bouncing off to some bloated, shambling brute three times his size, Beat drumming happily as it flew through arcs almost too fast to follow.


    I actually hit the ground after Briggs did, but it didn''t make too much difference. I slid under and jumped over a couple blows aimed at me, four limbs went flying, and Pusboys were exploding all around me as burning Spikes drove into misshapen skulls and leering mouths with murderous accuracy. Tracking, charting a path, and off to the races, Chalice a blur of golden glory sliding through small hills of corpulent flesh and leaving burning ruin in her wake.


    Riggibuhl''s cheerful horde got a bit more depressed as we carved through them with explosive speed and relentless precision. I removed an arm, and Briggs came by to explode a head. He shoulder-slammed a hulking brute with a gut swollen like a tumor, and it staggered down in time for Chalice to whisper through its neck and keep on going.


    Rapid Blessed fire was in every direction, and the numberless amounts of Pusboys began to thin out with shocking speed as we carved through the Sluggors and other middling demons with antipathy and Karmic hunger. Briggs met their blows head on and sent them sprawling... I just chopped their weapons apart and followed up lethally.


    While all this was happening, the fire from those in the bunker up the hill hadn''t stopped, and was also thinning their attackers quickly. The larger demons were increasingly distracted as we tore through their rear, eliminating everything in our path and leaving a burning path as we tore right for them, completely unafraid of being flanked ourselves.


    The burning, bloated bulk of the Greater Sluggor behind us was a good indicator of why.


    And then one of the defenders within the bunker stepped into the doorway to the bunker after it was blown apart by some necroic blast from one of the demons, unloading plasma into the heaving bulk of the elephantine demon, which by the way its superheated innards went exploding out, it didn''t appreciate very much.


    It wasn''t dead, but Briggs being an opportunistic put two seconds of sustained fire into the gaping wound, and a lot of very pure light went off inside it, and came out of it, too, as it wailed, and collapsed in burning goo and sludge and worse things.


    -Huh,- we /said at the same time.


    Neither of us had ever seen one in person before, but the style of the power armor was unique, and reserved for them and them alone. Trying to emulate it was a good excuse to eat a bullet.


    That there was an Imperial Legionnaire!


    -Someone give me a color pattern verification!- I /downloaded the image promptly. Sure, I could go akasha dumping for it, but I had other things to do.


    -Green and white patterns, black rank marks... Emerald Bull Legion, from the Boga System! That''s halfway across the galaxy... what are they doing here?- was the quick /reply from one of the Goldilocks.


    -The Warp works in insane ways,- was my /reply, as I swept off my Band ID to the captain of the company in the doorway. I distinctly saw him freeze when he saw it, dumbfounded.


    "Colonel Sama Rantha of Janus Prime?" a deep voice commed over, futzed with static from the Warp. "This is Captain Iliviar Donnal of the Emerald Bull Legion!"


    "The Throne Endures," I replied kindly, not stopping with my rampage of killing. "My associate Commander Briggs and I will endeavor to lift this assault if you can keep your defense up another minute or two. We won''t be long."


    I could almost hear the ... of his non-reply. Still, the firing of the defense became a lot more energetic suddenly, as the number of enemies attacking was being thinned precipitously.


    -----------


    Some broken-horned, lurching thing ten feet tall and a couple thousand pounds was the last decent-sized demon left on the field. Well, it wasn''t fast enough to run, and Pusboys, Slimers, and Imps were exploding around it as it swung a really big and gory Dire Axe at me. I calmly hacked the head off the spine-haft, continued on to bury Chalice in its chest and rip it open, stepped aside, and Beat came roaring in to explode through it violently and render it into many stinking, burning pieces.


    I spun slowly, Tails still shooting and finding targets, but my running about turned into a casual glide as I focused on Paten picking off bouncing Pusboys in constant streams and flashes of golden light, while Briggs planted himself and his autolaser swept the entire hill repeatedly with pulsing, fanned swathes of death.


    I bounced thirty feet up to the shattered roof of the bunker, looking in all directions. "Skies are clear!" I sent a couple more seconds of rapid-fire downslope, popping a few more targets. "I don''t see anybody else wandering this way for the moment!"


    "Copy that," Briggs murmured on comms, for the benefit of the Legionnaires. "We''ve got a few minutes before any Warp shift happens, I think, and they''ll have to reach us."


    I dropped back to the ground before the carefully watching eyes of a lot of armored men nearly as tall as Briggs, and with armor looking a bit more advanced.


    Imperial Legionnaires, the Emperor''s Own Space Marines. The most elite of the armed forces of the Emperor, second only to the Coronal Knights in military authority and respect within the empire; the special forces of the special forces, for all intents and purposes.


    Six thousand years ago, their Primogenitors had rebelled against the Emperor, and a number of Legions had followed them right into insurrection. Hundreds of billions of people had died before the Primogenitors were driven off or slain, and the corrupted Legions still plagued the galaxy.


    It was a huge stain on the honor and glory of the Legions, and led directly to the preeminence of the Coronal Knights and the Umbrans. The sons of the Emperor had failed him, and a shadow fell across all the Legions, even the ones that remained loyal.


    I released my Tails, and they evaporated into ectoplasm. I felt the Legionnaires visibly relax when they saw that, alleviating any suspicions of me being a mutant. It would have put me at strange odds with the mindblade that was showing, of course, but now they just realized it was a psionic effect, nothing more, and I wasn''t going to tell them otherwise.


    "Captain Donnal, you are a very long way from home," I informed the eight-foot statue of durasteel power armor in front of me.


    "I was going to say the same of you, Colonel," he said warily. "I was not aware of a Janus Regiment being dispatched to Colgada."


    I eyed him carefully, as my trivia buffs pulled up the data in Marktell. "This is the Warp Intersection Zone of Janus III, not Colgada. Technically, we''re on the fringe of the Warp, which is why this battlefield is so damn crazy, and things that die are disappearing, while new shit appears, and the fighting never stops." I tilted my head. "The last Imperial Records I know of list a Colgada suppression of a Warp Uprising among the factory workers of Colgada one hundred and thirty-seven years ago. There was a single company of Emerald Bulls in support, but they were reported lost on the battlefield during a Warp Break. That would have been in 7465 Imperial Reckoning."


    The Bulls turned to look at one another. "That... would seem to be us," the Captain agreed slowly. I sent the battle reports to him, and he surveyed them with electric speed. "Yes, that does seem to be the battle we were at. We have been caught in this battlefield for nearly six months..."


    A Legion company was nominally a hundred men, although that could change if armored vehicles were included. I saw twenty-three of them left. Rather amazing they were alive at all, given the surroundings. Of course, they had the option to hunker down and stay in cover, which their insane opponents largely didn''t.


    "Well, you''re in luck, Captain. The Commander and I can lead the lot of you off this battlefield. It''s about a twenty-mile hike, but after such a long stay, I don''t think you''ll care much. The only thing is that once you leave this field, there''s a degradation in the physical laws, and most of your armor functions are going to cease." I inspected the beaten, scarred, and half-mended armor of his men. "It looks like you''ve got basic psionic circuits to allow motion even if your main power goes off line, but you''re going to be losing all your energy weaponry, and it doesn''t look like you''ve got much ammunition left.


    "Happily, anything we meet is also at a lower level of tech, so your armor and size should be enough to carry you through to the safe zone, which isn''t that much further. We should be able to shuttle you out of here and outside to Janus Prime. However, there will be problems getting you home."


    "What sort of problems, Colonel?" he asked quickly, staring down at me.


    "Approximately twenty-some years ago, there was a Warp Break of unprecedented size, cutting across over half the galactic disk. Travel through the Break is impossible, and it has left Tellus on the far side from us... as well as your home system of Boga. The Bull Legion in the Taurus sector is all completely cut off from us here, so for the moment, you''re going to be stranded, even if you get out of here."


    I careful didn''t listen in as there was quick words between the captain and his sergeants. "We can work the details out of our duties when we leave this place, Colonel. If you can lead us out of here, I would be grateful."


    "That won''t be an issue. We''ll take a more circumspect route to spare you the amount of firepower we were attracting, but it shouldn''t be an issue."


    "If that tank battle resolved," Briggs added in.


    "That was six miles back. I bet even the blasted hulks are gone now."


    "And replaced by something else," Briggs just grunted pessimistically, turning back to the captain. "How much time do you and your men need, Captain?"


    "I have several wounded. We will have to¨C"


    "-wait for me to heal them," I waved off, slipping Grym out of my hair. "If it''s anything beyond lost limbs, I can take care of it. Who needs it?" I inquired.


    "A healer too?" I didn''t have any identification as a medicae, of course, but in his enthusiasm, Captain Donnal didn''t mind.


    ---


    Six of the marines had festering wounds. Their boosted systems were keeping them alive, but the injuries had been bad to begin with, and weren''t healing. The fact they couldn''t repair their armor and didn''t have sterile zones to treat the Warp-boosted disease certainly didn''t help matters.


    Not an issue. Transferring the injury and the disease was certainly possible, and easily dealt with. They saw the gaping holes and stinking wounds open on me, and swiftly get burned clean, and close rapidly, leaving no trace nor scar behind. The fact I barely paid attention to the injuries transferred over got as much respect as taking them on in the first place.


    "You''ve a Fast Healing Matrix." Captain Donnal managed to keep most of the envy out of his voice.


    "That IS generally a requirement for Empathic Healing," I replied calmly, as I finished the first Marine, who rose with his moldering thigh now completely intact, delighted despite himself, and the gory, rotting wound on my thigh and dark veins extending up and down it hissed and burned as they rapidly vanished. I just gestured the next guy over, his left forearm and hand stripped of their armor, and looked gangrenous and bleeding pus. "I gather you ran out of healing crystals some time ago."


    He nodded shortly, glancing over at Briggs, waiting patiently up on the wall, shoulder cannon panning back and forth one way, helm the other. "Combat has been nigh-continuous. Defeat one foe, another arrives soon enough." He paused. "Is this truly Janus III?" he pressed.


    "No, HERE is a slightly erratic border area of chaotic space with the Warp, which is touching on combat zones with Warp influence across the entire span of areas infiltrated by the gods of the Warp from across the galaxy and likely centuries. Back that way, across the dimensionally stabilized path the Commander and I chewed through this combat zone, is Janus III. If you leave by some other path, I have no idea where you''d end up, but it will be somewhere with Warp influence nearby, which more than likely means a planet in The Abyss, under Warp control, or a very active combat zone full of things from the Warp.


    "You should probably take your chances on Janus III." My hand inflated with black and puke-yellow infections that spread rapidly up my forearm, as the same area on the Marine receded back to normal pale brown skin and muscle, no indication it had been infected at all. Unwhite flames hissed on my fingertips, and began to steal up my fingers towards my hand, eating away the disease aggressively, trailing falling mist as they did.

 Chapter 370 - Far Future Ch. 80 - The Healing Light

    I held down the Marine from getting up, reached up to his forehead with Grym, and the healing light stayed in place, shimmering into his third eye and playing down inside his armor, out of sight. However, rippling bands of black and yellow swirled up on my chest, torso, and snaked down my legs. The Marines watching widened their eyes, including the one I was treating.


    "I''m going to have to go over all of you," I sighed, turning my head and spitting out something black and vile, that popped and burst into misting unwhite flame when it hit the ground in protest. "Line it up, all of you."


    "We don''t have a lot of time, Sama," Briggs noted from up top.


    "Yeah, and if a Warp Shift passes directly over these guys, they''re going to explode in pus and mushrooms," I replied lazily, sending the Marine before me away and waving in the next. Under my skin, white and gold fires burned and chased the veins of infection away quickly. "Don''t worry, lads, I''ll get you out of here."


    Their faces were interesting to see at the idea that a woman two heads shorter than they were was going to be protecting the big bad eight-foot superhuman hulks in power armor.


    They all had some form of infection, including the Captain, fully able to sense it when the healing psi coursed through them, and they could see it when it suddenly rippled into place across me. The guy with a facial wound could actually see bone and teeth there, and I snapped a pic with my Band to share with everyone for whenever Halloween was here, and even set the Marines aback as it was transferred over to me and burned away. Notably, my Brand stayed perfectly visible even as the whole side of my skull became a rotting mess.


    "Sama," Briggs called down, but it was really for their benefit. "There was a Warp Shift two miles out. I''m seeing... what looks like a horde of spideroids..."


    I rolled my eyes. "And of course they are heading this way."


    "Of course!" he replied with flat humor.


    I eyed the dozen remaining Marines with a sigh. "ETA?"


    He blipped the feed down to everyone.


    "Five minutes," Captain Donnal judged instantly.


    "Briggs, get us a course out of here, preferably one that takes us out of the path of the Horde. One more Marine..." I turned my head, squinted at them, and pointed, "You. If we get one-minute rests, I can do more of you after him. Captain, get them ready."


    With his walking wounded taken care of, that didn''t take much time at all. What supplies they had or had scavenged were allocated as the guy with the most hidden wounds watched as black veins snaked across my skin, and if he swallowed in relief, I didn''t say or notice nuthin''.


    ------------


    Briggs and I didn''t really want to withdraw, as we obviously still had a long ways forwards to go, but rescuing people was great for the Karma, too. I finished up, and there was a snap as my Tails flowed back out of my back, burning with Banefire, and the Spikes popped into place on them, looking quite serpentine as they looked in all directions for targets.


    Briggs hopped down from above with the crunch of a lot of weight hitting the ground, and took point without asking. The withdrawal route was up for everyone, the rough terrain around it was ghostly, showing how much it could change, and everyone followed him as he set off, while I stood in the middle of the formation.


    The Captain paced me, watching me skate easily along the ground as they trotted along, keeping the pace of their longer legs without effort. He''d seen me moving, so he knew I could go a lot faster. "Why are you keeping a position in the middle of us?" he asked. His helm was back on, so I couldn''t see him frown. "With your speed, I would expect you to be further ahead, scouting."


    "Primary purpose is the safe extraction of your team, Captain. If our purpose was search and destroy, or a deep penetration, naturally I would be the tip of the spear. By putting myself into the middle of your team, my Null is available in the event we run across Wilders, Warp Sorcerers, or Demons, and I will be able to rapidly be able to move to interdict any such attacks on your people."


    "A Null? Some sort of anti-psion field, Colonel?" he asked for clarification.


    "Yes. The Commander has a variant called a Source Field. Just let it be known that if psionic or magical attacks income, either get within twenty feet of us, or use us as a blast shadow. It will have no effect on your tech. Also, don''t try to engage any anti-grav around us, it''s not going to work. We''re toting full Interdiction auras with Stillflight Fields, so the five of you with jump-jets aren''t going to be able to do much more than jump more efficiently, or break a fall."


    "Noted." Tactical adjustments rippled out through the march line, with a subtle reconfiguration.


    The Marines had 360-degree area coverage with their armor sensors, but the soup of the atmosphere restricted the range, and sending out radar or similar energies was like waving an Eat Me sign to more than a few of the natives. I dropped the visuals from my Tails into the tactical feed shared with my Band, especially the sky cover, and the clarity and range meant they were sharing and using them almost instantly, overlaying them on their own armor''s readouts for the appropriate areas.


    Ahead of us, Briggs started drawing fire, and replied with the same. He blew apart a few incoming grenades, mowed down some incalcitrants, and jumped down into a trench ahead of us. Everyone was watching his feed, and our courses didn''t change.


    The Marines'' job was to move fast and quiet, and not draw attention to themselves. Briggs was a fine distraction, fully able to weather what was being thrown his way, and dish it right back. I could read how impressed they were by his firepower, and the way he swatted a demon out of the way using a wrecked armored carrier, buried the thing underneath it, and then blew both apart with a sustained barrage, while sending a couple of Hammer-Shards through its underlings along scything paths, and kicking some demonlings to pulp.


    Yeah, he was quite the big distraction, and he was idly weathering shit that gave even the Imperial Legionnaires pause.


    Still, the plan was to move from cover to cover, while behind us the battlefield erupted in all sorts of firepower as a horde of thousands of scuttling spideroids came moving in to feast. I made faces at all the lost nexals, but as I doubted the Marines could survive getting swarmed like that, we kept moving at a tangent to their advance, letting demons and Warped have a fine and explosive time behind us. The spideroids'' limbs might be Impact weapons, but they weren''t Holy or Axiomatic, and so the demons'' Damage Reduction was going to be in full force, which would probably annoy the lot of them. They probably didn''t have the energy resistance to survive any demons blowing up in their faces, or infecting them with supernaturally potent diseases...


    I did watch a flight of bombers sweep past, and a cloud of bomblets get dispersed over the horde. Hundreds of acres of spideroids were swallowed by raging firestorms, let that be a lesson to bioforms without air cover...


    ----------


    Compared to coming in, the extraction was a lot less eventful. We weren''t shooting everything we could, and a lot of chaff had been cleared out, while elements of the battlefields had shifted and not returned new inhabitants quite everywhere.


    Sure, there was the sorcerer who sent rolling flames and lightning bolts our way, but the Marines jumped behind me with disciplined speed, taking me at my word as Warp Magic exploded over me... and melted away to nothing. Two dozen guns were suddenly pointed that sorcerer''s way. He and the little head sticking out of his shoulder smirked... and then all that rapid fire scythed down his closest helpers, while I covered two hundred yards in four seconds, waves of fire and lightning vanishing into nothing against my Null, shattered his protective force bubble, and cross-cut him and his demonculous four times in less than a second.


    The cultists in the area were gawking as I eliminated their leader so handily, Sun Shots finding the other four Wilders among them, staggering them so focus fire from the Marines behind me could rip on through the painted targets. Everyone withdrew and retreated as the enemy staggered from the brutality of the hit.


    Screams from a mile away and a lot of firing and explosions announced the arrival of the spideroids, giving them something else to focus their insanity on.


    The tank battlefield was a lot less fun, given how many mechanized units were still prowling around, and although a lot of the wrecks were still there, there weren''t any more than before, making this a case of dashing from place to place while mechs and tanks dueled with one another, attempting to avoid most of them, taking out those that displayed any interest in us, and using every scrap of cover to interrupt lines of fire, if possible. The Marines had long ago used up any consumable ammo good for tank or mech-smashing, and were good little boys and watched as Briggs and I teamed up on anything daring to shoot in our direction. They were quick to move when it was time to move, and for all their looming size, very good at hunting cover when the time was appropriate.


    They hadn''t survived for six months in here for no reason.


    ----------


    With a few thousand shots of heavy laser fire and exploding Warped, the remainder of the Emerald Bulls mowed down any opposition in the gulch that led up out of the tech zone. Briggs went up first, surveyed the area, and static radio called the all clear after a minute.


    They hustled up top, and there were immediate whines as first their systems started to degrade, and then were urgently shut down. Their movements instantly became much heavier and slower as they lost their servos, and they popped open their helms before their power systems failed and they suffocated in their own suits.


    "If there''s any problems, pull back to the bottom of the gorge so your tech can switch on, Captain. I''ll be back in a few minutes."


    He nodded as he looked down at me, his rifle little better than a club at the moment, and now really appreciating Briggs'' Hammer. "Where are you going?"


    "To get us some rides." Chalice laughed in my head, and zoop, we were gone.


    ----


    Captain Donnal blinked as the air popped shut behind me. "She can teleport?" he asked despite himself. That was definitely the Mark of a Ten Psion, although he''d long been utterly convinced by everything else the woman had shown him.


    "There''s a spatial fluctuation at the borders between zones, and teleporting across it is unwise, Captain," Briggs informed him, as he unhooked his shoulder las-mount and stowed it in his Masspack. "The Colonel is going to get some Disks, and then she can fly you all out of here."


    "Ah." The looming unhelmed Commander, even taller than the Space Marines, was obviously an Ancient, although not as tall as many of the corrupted Warp versions Captain Donnal had seen. His armor also didn''t seem to be much affected by the properties of this area, as he moved just as easily as before.


    It was definitely his first time seeing an Ancient officer, anywhere. The Warped Ancients all tended to be dumb as rocks and just as tough, while those as soldiers were used as grunts, and not much more.


    The pale violet eyes, however, seemed much more intelligent, and his diction was absolutely perfect, speaking like a natural orator. Captain Donnal was cautious despite himself, especially after seeing this one''s combat prowess. He could finally see why there were terrifying stories about the Ancients in older times.


    "I see your armor is not affected by the zone, Commander?" the Captain asked, interested.


    "It is, Captain. I''ve lost flight, sensory, secondary defenses, and power supply to ranged attack systems. Given the threat level is reduced to TL5 level explosives and firearms, as well as phrenic mutants and demons, it is not an issue."


    "Your servos still function, Commander?" That was impressive.


    "My suit only has bracework, Captain. My strength is my own. Frees up a lot of power," Briggs replied calmly.

 Chapter 371 - Far Future – Ch. 81 – Fly like an Eagle, Let the Music Carry Me...

    Captain Donnal considered the image of this man lifting up an APC with one hand and smashing it down on a demon nearly as big. With his own strength.


    He had the sudden urge to very much not come to grips with this Ancient.


    "The Ancients I have met on the field of combat tended to be much taller, Commander," he noted curiously.


    Despite himself, Briggs had to smile widely, his thick, square teeth strangely charming. "Captain, I must admit that is the very first time in my life I''ve been called short."


    Captain Donnal laughed despite himself. It did seem ludicrous on the face of it.


    "The Titan gene can ostensibly take a base Human all the way up to eighteen feet tall, Captain, and there are rumors that with Warp enhancement they can reach all the way up to thirty feet. That is the equivalent of a twelve to sixteen gravity biopsi heritage, and I am only rated for five. I could probably endure up to twenty feet tall or so, but really, that just makes me a big target and completely unable to socialize with and relate to humans. Eight feet is pretty much all I''m willing to compromise, and I still have to watch a lot of ceilings."


    "You seem to have a... relationship with the Colonel?" he noted professionally.


    Briggs'' smile was still there. "I am her big fuzzy, and she is my little woman, if that is what you are asking. Flirt with her all you like, she''ll still come back to me," he said confidently.


    Captain Donnal had some distracting thoughts upon hearing those words. She had literally the finest rear he had ever seen, even if he was ignoring the sexual implications, and those Tails she could summon...


    "Commander, those combat tails she uses and manipulates... I do not recall their like in any records I have seen of psionic disciplines," he quickly redirected his thoughts.


    "They aren''t common, because they are an Advanced Ten Discipline, Captain," Briggs explained easily. "They''re a variant of a multi-arm technique and tail-forming discipline. The former is often called Spider Arms, Octopus Arms, Junglar Arms, or something similar, depending on how they are manifested. The latter is called a Manticore Tail, and is the source of the spike throwing. Melding them together gives her more arcs of fire and vectors of attack. She''ll sometimes actually bring out a third pair of arms on her hips, but that''s only if things get really serious." He made a gesture at the base of his spine. "You saw the Runeplate at her tailbone, right?" Well, it was damn near impossible to miss, so Captain Donnal could only nod. "Ties the whole effect to her sidearm, so they share in the same psionic enhancements. Saves a lot of money, too."


    Captain Donnal noted the effect for the future. Psionics was a variable and scattered discipline, with different effects in different places. This Null and Source effect, for instance, he had never heard of, and just at a glance seemed to put major restrictions on what abilities the two could display. The whole telepathic, telekinetic, energy-manipulation or Summoning so often found among battlepsis had not been on display at all on either of them. Indeed, he suspected that without that Runeplate, her spike-throwing might not have been possible at all...


    There was a hum and crackle in the air, and suddenly Colonel Rantha was back where she had been standing, as if she had never left, smoothly inserted and returned to her previous position.


    Her hair reached into her Masspack, and began to toss out slightly concave steel Disks, which all hummed faintly and turned to float down parallel to the ground, stopping three feet above it.


    There were twenty-three of them, naturally.


    "Captain, I''m going to finish healing up the last three of you, then you''re all going to lay down flat on the Disk and form a Disk Train. I''ll be dragging you behind me as we make our way back to a relatively safe zone where you can resupply and plan your next moves.


    "Also, I''ve let the Coronals know you are present, and the Coronal Duke is waiting to speak with you when you''ve seen to your men."


    Captain Donnal nodded shortly. A Coronal Duke! This was not a minor planet if such a personage was here. Then again, with a Warp Zone of this size nearby, perhaps it was expected...


    ---


    At a gesture, each of the Emerald Bulls claimed one of the floating Disks, pressing down on them to make sure they could take the weight. Everyone waited patiently as the last two men, who had the lowest level of infection, and the Captain himself, were finally treated.


    When they were done, they laid down on their chests on the Disks, stretched out their gauntlets, and locked them around the legs of the Marine in front of them.


    Captain Donnal took up second to last position in front of Commander Briggs, while Sergeant Tummal, who had lost his gauntlet, was first in line.


    They all watched as her Tails manifested, sliding out like serpents from Tats on her back... and then the great golden wings, looking like they were spun out of metal, unfolded out from under the Masspack she was wearing, spreading out like razor-edged feathered pinions, Runes formed on the gleaming ecto-metal pulsing with power.


    Flames flickered around the wings as they were spread wide, truly a glorious image with that golden hair between them, seeming to flow up into them. The flames flowed down her back into small engines that suddenly deCompressed out of the shinguards she was wearing. Lights whirred, and there was a quiet rumble the Marines knew well, a smaller version of their own jetpacks coming to life.


    The Tails extended out, the smaller pairs wrapping around Tummal''s upper arms and shoulders, the longer one from her tailbone snaking into place around his torso. The ends of all of them hovered like poised serpents above him, aimed in all directions.


    "If we get attacked, it''ll probably be from the sky, as we''ll be moving too fast for ground forces. I have you covered," her reassuring voice came over their radios, the only comms they had left.


    The flames on her wings intensified as she turned around, mist pouring off her feet, and she began to lean forwards as her jets intensified, and they began to move.


    Her feet came up right against Tummal''s shoulders, flames flowing to each side of his helmed head, and they began to pick up speed very quickly.


    Everyone had enhanced reflexes, and could follow the ground as it began to slide by. Trotting speed, running, land vehicle cruising speed, racing...


    In thirty seconds, the extended line of prone Space Marines was up over a hundred miles an hour, watching the ground flying past just below them, and they were only getting faster.


    "I''m going to do some simple maneuvers so you get used to the shifting. Sliding left." Her wings dipped, sent her left, and the line shifted and creaked as it followed. "Sliding right. Up, and down." The long tail of Disks rose and fell with her. "Okay, you should start being able to feel the lift accumulating. We''re going to go for some altitude to give us some room to work with." Her voice was as casual and easy as if she were a tour guide going out for a stroll. "Remember that you can''t fall off the Disk unless you want to. If you have to release your grip, just do so, and the Disk will fall back to the ground with you on it. We''re going to do a roll right... and left."


    The whole line corkscrewed smoothly as her wings cut and turned, and they began to rise off the ground.


    "Okay, bring the boots in to your shoulders." There was a slow series of clanks as boots met shoulder armor, and magnetic grips latched on. "Got it. Okay, I''m going to be flying tree-top level to minimize any chances of being seen from a distance, this will be about three hundred miles an hour. Barring any mishaps, which of course we shall encounter, we should reach the front lines of the safe zone in about two hours. There''s some air cover coming to help us on the way.


    "Tables up, belts tight, traveling music on, gentlemen."


    Without further ado, they rose smoothly from the ground, the wind whistling against the edges of the Disks and helping with lift and control, rising up past the trees whipping past to either side down the clear valley they were streaking along, as a clear voice as smooth as honey began to sing to them a ballad as old as the Empire. Even as the trees whipped past only a few yards beneath them, and they twisted and turned gently to avoid this or that, the Emerald Bulls found themselves relaxing and slipping into a fugue state as they streaked through the air.


    ---------


    "Your Captain interrupts this fine broadcast of elevator music to inform you that our duly scheduled mishap has materialized."


    The Emerald Bulls all blinked, returning instantly to wakefulness, and amazed despite themselves that they had drifted off. The honey-smooth voice seemed more amused and knowing then anything.


    "We''ve got a trio of gyrocopters swinging in behind us. They must have caught sight of us just as we went over that ridge behind us. There''s nothing to worry about from their firearms, they can''t penetrate your armor, but the forward cannon might. Their missiles could be a problem, and of course they could radio out to bring in some jets for reinforcements.


    "So, we''re going to kill them. Briggs, can you climb up and get your Autobow ready?"


    Behind Captain Donnal, Briggs effortlessly reached forward, latching onto the Marine Captain''s armor, and hauled himself up against the wind. Indeed, the wind had no effect on him at all, breaking past his Vajra as if he was frictionless.


    He sat down on Captain Donnal''s prone back, legs locked around the other''s hips, and pulled out his Autobow.


    The sharp-eyed might have noticed that the underbar would have exactly fit his shoulder-mounted las as the full-size Autobow unfolded. Briggs looked coolly back at the three dots closing in on them from behind, about a thousand yards back at this point, but catching up steadily.


    He saw the glitter of tracer fire, as did Sama, who smoothly reported, "Fireflies on the left," as she swerved right, and the arcing shells streaked past harmlessly, too much velocity spent to get through their armor anyways.


    Briggs extended the sprits on Rhythm, which hummed with the sheer amount of tension on the string as they pulled taut. He wasn''t about to waste a shot, although he knew it could actually reach out that far, and just waited for them to close in.


    "Okay, we''re going into a canyon here. Gentlemen, prepare to break in about five seconds as we go around that bend ahead. Briggs, get the last one before we do."


    Their speed dropped as they swung around into the canyon, and the copters pursued like hungry hawks, pulling closer as the long line of the Disk Train bent and snaked around a bend ahead-


    Briggs snapped up and released.


    The draw strength on Rhythm rivaled that of a ballista, with 100% kinetic energy dump, no wasted thrum. The Sun Shot flashed past like a rifle shell, and the last of the gyrocopters ran straight into the incendiary head that punched through the bullet-proof glass and turned the cockpit into an inferno.


    Then he was around the corner.


    The other two didn''t have time to falter as the last in line was picked off. Incensed and gun barrels starting to turn, they swooped around the corner... and saw that the whole Disk Train had stopped impossibly in midair, a whole bunch of armored heads were turned their way as they flew past... and Briggs and I released at the same time, leading them just perfectly.


    Cockpits exploded in flames as burning Sun Shots met them, and everyone watched as the gyros went tumbling down into the canyon below, pretty as a picture.


    "There are incoming," Captain Donnal spoke into the comms, picking up sparks of chatter.


    "How unfortunate for them," I replied calmly from atop Tummal''s shoulders. "Our air cover is two minutes out." I leaned over, lifted off his back, and my jets started to burn again, picking up speed.

 Chapter 372 - Far Future Ch. 82 – Raise You Up, On Eagle’s Wings...

    You couldn''t fly drones in the Warp zone, you needed actual pilots. So, Azure and her fliers were having the time of their freaking lives here.


    Making up TL4-5 stuff was incredibly easy. A few printers could run off parts basically constantly. With no need for refined components, and basically down to hydrocarbons and mechanics, that level of simple stuff could be assembled almost as fast as they could design plans for them.


    Naturally, that didn''t mean the advantage of being a TL10 civilization wasn''t there. Tolerances were incredible, printing was much better than assembly, so things were being built at 25-30 QL''s, meaning their performance and maintenance was much smoother and easier.


    Roaring prop-jobs raced ahead, and those incoming fighters found themselves in the dogfight of their lives. I was up there as Azure, screaming in ecstasy as I pulled a 10g turn that would have flattened most people, not even getting tunnel vision, totally flummoxing the guys trying to tail me as they helplessly overshot, and suddenly I was spinning over and on their tail like the air was serenading me.


    I blew tracers through the wingman within ten seconds as we gyrated back and forth through the sky, and the main pilot thought he had looped behind me when I pulled a 12 g turn so hard it looked like I was sliding sideways through the sky. His rear shooter had just about enough time to panic as I peppered them and roared on past on all that horsepower.


    Boo-yeah!


    I had the entire aerial ballet going on clearly pictured in my mind, as radar worked for shit in this area, synthesizing everyone''s viewpoints and input and plotting everything over several thousand feet of sky.


    Marktells flew this way and that, and scattered dogfights started to gather and cross. As they did, enemy planes were shredded in crossfire. No computers here, pure intellect and reflexes, and pulling all them g''s as the wind shrieked and engines thundered and tried to tear free of the sky...


    Uh, yeah, Azure really loved to fly...


    Like solving a puzzle, the enemy planes began to come apart in the skies as they were pulled in front of our fliers with /tellepathic coordination. It took less than two minutes for forty of them to plummet from the skies, with only two of ours falling, razzed mercilessly by the rest of us as they had to bail out.


    They parachuted down and landed smoothly on the long line of prone Imperial legionnaires all upside down watching the fight above in amused detachment. The Disks didn''t let go, so they had no problem ''hanging'' upside down on the Disks to enjoy the show as we sped along.


    Naturally I had to form up Azure''s team as honor guards, one squadron on overwatch while the others scoured the area. We didn''t have radar, but we had a very big /Marktell with The Map, and nothing got in the air within hundreds of miles without having eyeballs on it very quickly. The Marktell Positioning System was working perfectly well within the vivified zone.


    I asked the Marines idly on the radio if they''d prefer taking a ride on the planes instead of the Disks, and somehow wasn''t all that surprised when I got a lot of enthusiastic agreements.


    ------


    The mid-air transfers didn''t actually take all that long. The Disk Train swooped over the wing of a plane holding level, a very strong hand reached out to lock on the cockpit, the Marine swung over, locked his magnetics to the airframe, one Marine on each side, and the pilot pulled ahead with a whoop.


    Soon the only ones left were me, Briggs, Corporal Tummal, and Captain Donnal, while the rest of the Emerald Bulls were roaring into the distance on swooping, diving, spinning, and generally enjoying themselves prop-jobs.


    Of course, with only the four of them, Briggs could windbreak with me, and we could move a lot faster. Not having to keep a low profile meant that the planes actually weren''t outdistancing me, and the people behind me could sit up and watch everything going on.


    Despite himself, Captain Donnal found himself appreciating the aesthetics of the aircraft. "Is that a Mechanist design, Colonel?" he asked over the radio.


    "No, Captain. Too many design flaws in what we could dredge up. We had to go back to basics and design some totally new things to fit in the zone limits. Came out pretty well. Nobody''s designed aircraft that don''t need anti-grav for so long that the only thing out there was recreational ultralights for some serious hobbyists. Weaponizing them was fun for all concerned. Of course, we''ve got the basic Runecraft incorporated, but took the next step for Rantha-level Warp Resistance. They are holding up fine here."


    "Rantha-level Warp Resistance, Colonel?" I had his immediate attention.


    "I own a company that makes extremely Warp-resistant combat tech and computer systems for the Coronals and Umbrans." I turned my head slightly back. "Huh. I don''t think any of the Legions use Vakker-tech or Rantha-tech. I haven''t looked into it, but I''m pretty sure you''re under some pretty exclusive contracts for wargear, right?"


    He grunted. "Our arms and armor have been supplied exclusively by the Mechanists for millennia, Colonel."


    "Yeah, they love not having to invent new stuff and having a monopoly on old tech." His face stayed level, but his eyes flashed. Our Autobows had definitely drawn some interest from the Marines. "Shame, I would have liked to outfit you with some upgraded kit, but, rules are rules..."


    And as the main base drew nearer, I left him to think about what he was going to do.


    ------------


    Captain Donnal sat down before the holographic projector, still thinking.


    He had seen a great many things on his way out from Vanguard Base, the operations center for the push into the Warp Zone.


    A push into a Warp Zone. It was doctrinal craziness. But the Planetary Guard forces of Janus Prime seemed to be having a good time of it.


    There were more psions active in a battlezone then he had ever personally seen... and none of them were Mentats!


    There were Umbran Agents and Coronal Squires leading Striker teams... up to a company in size! It was like they were playing at being military commanders, or something.


    There were more mindclaws manifesting then he had ever believed possible. It looked like tens of thousands of mindblade wielders were heading to a fight... and they were dangerously competent. Sun Shots seemed to be the rule of the day...


    The camp itself was amazingly free of the Warp Miasma, and it seemed to have something to do with the white fires burning around it... which were constantly receiving the corpses of Warp adherents trucked back from the fighting...


    There was non-AMT standard technology all over the place... or, more precisely, modified AMT technology, which was just as bad... and the Coronals and Umbrans were using it openly.


    More to the point, the air was crackling with energy, with drive. There was a hunger for combat that seemed completely out of place for a PG army.


    Where had all these psions come from? Captain Donnal fell into deep thought.


    Six thousand years ago, all of the Legion Primogenitors had gone mad and rebelled against the Emperor. That didn''t mean all of their Legions did, as their loyalty to the Emperor came from birth, and to their Primogenitor only once they were admitted to the Legions, and reborn in his service. As the sons inherited the blood of the Emperor, so the Legions inherited the blood of his sons... but he was still the ultimate source of their blood, even two generations diluted.


    As the Legions had fought one another, the Coronal Knights and the Order of the Fallen Moon had stepped forward, bringing forwards elite teams of cybered and psionic warriors to contest against the fallen Legionnaires, coordinate the armies of the Empire, and turn the tide. The Mentats had been blooded in that war, elite psions who also existed to counter the might of the Legions, as well as the Warp powers that stood behind the Black Legions.


    With his life reduced to serving upon the Eternal Throne, the power in the Empire had shifted from the elite born from the Emperor''s bloodline, to the other legacy of the Empire, the powers of the mind the Emperor had bequeathed upon his students and followers.


    Seeing tens of thousands of psions was a numbing blow. What were they being trained for? Who was commanding them? They were engaged in battle against the Warp... something both truly worthy, and in the end, ultimately corrupting, as far too many had found out over the millennia.


    The idea of an army of psions great enough in number to rival a full Imperial Legion was mind-numbing, yet here on this rimward mining world, it was happening!


    And the Umbrans and Coronals were aware of it, which meant tacit approval from the Orders Bright and Dark...


    What were they doing out here on the rim, with the light of the Celestial Beacon, and Holy Tellus, locked away behind a Warp Rift of such size? Rebellion was a natural thing that would happen when the center of the Empire was locked away, and people had to rely on themselves instead of reinforcements from the Empire to address their problems. This whole assault against the Warp was a symptom of both the will to fight and survive without the Empire, and what would grow into a will to secede from it.


    He had ridden out here on a Disk Train, nearly four hundred Disks deployed to bring people and goods into and out of the Warp Zone. They were run out on foot, since towing them behind a vehicle wasn''t very feasible, with people being rotated out and back to their jobs on the waiting transports and haulers at what had turned into a very busy resupply point below the lip of the plateau, where full technology once again started to work.


    It was here that he was shown into an insulated room, bare yet precisely designed room for his meeting with the Coronal Duke. He''d been offered a full-face meeting if he desired it, but had turned it down for the moment. The tone of the communication had been precise and courteous, neither obsequious nor overbearing, both of which he had encountered in functionaries of the past.


    The Dukes of the Emperor''s Hands were always chosen from skilled field agents, and so were always Tens or better, and by requirement, that meant powerful psions. While Legionnaires were on average physically and mentally superior to almost all normal humans, they still had to be wary of psions, and a skill level of Ten meant very, very skilled indeed. Even most Battalion Commanders never got past it. The General of a Legion was required to be a post-Ten, meaning they truly earned their post.


    He was dealing with a peer and a very powerful man, however he decided to look at it.


    A polite and smooth woman''s voice arose as the holocaster hummed to life. "Captain Donnal, are you ready for your meeting with the Right and Left Dukes?"


    The Umbran Duke was also present? Captain Donnal frowned, wondering how dangerous this situation was. "I am present and ready," he affirmed.


    "Thank you. Connecting you now, sir," the professional voice replied, and lights flickered as the room darkened, and two men materialized in excellent detail, only slightly transparent to indicate they were not truly present.


    Both were standing behind a table to greet him, and the Captain rose as well. "Your Graces," he nodded to both of them, looking them over as they were clearly doing the same to him.


    He could tell he was making an impression, and wasn''t sure exactly why. The soldiers had not seemed particularly awed by having Legionnaires among them. Then again, with the number of Ancients running about in heavy armor, they were probably used to similar things.


    "Captain Donnal of the Emerald Bulls Battalion." The Coronal Duke''s voice was that of a statesman, firm and inspiring, the picture of a Coronal Knight. "May I present myself, Honus Parablum, and my counterpart, Duke Rimval. It is a pleasure to greet a member of the Emperor''s Legions on Janus III. I will have you know it has been over twelve hundred years since an actual Legionnaire set foot upon this world."

 Chapter 373 - Far Future Ch. 83 – Bear You on the Breath of Dawn

    Captain Donnal was not surprised, given the position of the planet, although the nature of the Warp Zone might have called for a Battalion being stationed here, given its size. The bureaucracy of the Empire at work...


    "My circumstances and method of travel here were somewhat unique," he admitted, as the Duke gestured, and all three of the men sat down together. "I believe you have a purpose for this meeting, other than standard greetings, Your Graces. Shall we set aside the pleasantries and idle conversation?"


    Neither Duke blinked. "Of course," Duke Parablum went on, unperturbed. "Due to the exceptional circumstances of your arrival, Captain, we are wondering if you might not want to set up new companies of Legionnaires upon Janus. There is a unique opportunity for us to act on here."


    Captain Donnal frowned, wondering what machinations were happening in the background. "I am required to register and return to my Battalion, sirs. What are you trying to do?" He let more than a little cold escape his voice.


    "We are aware of your protocols, Captain," the grim voice of the shadowed Umbran Duke replied, unmoved and precise. "Unfortunately, all contact with Tellus and the worlds beyond the Rift is impossible at this point. The only news that can be carried is through use of alien couriers circumventing the Warp, and as you might consider, that is hardly an avenue the Empire is going to use for sensitive information." Captain Donnal inclined his head fractionally. "As such, you are effectively here under your own authority and guidance, and as a Legionnaire, not wholly within the hierarchy of any other branch of the government. Your unique status gives you opportunities that a normal Legionnaire simply would not have."


    "You use opportunity dangerously, sir. Tell me what you think I might want to do, and I will give you a reply."


    "Certainly. In the view of the Empire, you are dead." Captain Donnal blinked. "The entire position of your Company is listed as obliterated by multiple fusion explosions as the Warp Storm that spirited you away swept past. The appropriate paperwork has been filed, and your Legion and Battalion have by now replaced both your Company and your men in their rosters.


    "As of right now, you are officially not associated with any Legion, which makes you free agents until you formally align yourselves once more. Furthermore, as death ends your official service, there are various contracts, laws, regulations, rules, and stipulations that likewise end. Furthermore, if you do not join another Legion or Battalion, those contracts, regulations, rules, and stipulations will not come back into play."


    Captain Donnal frowned more deeply. This was administrative power-shuffling, something both unbefitting a warrior, and yet which could be extremely important. It was merely another form of logistics, and logistics was not something a good commander ignored. "I am listening," he merely acknowledged.


    The Coronal Duke nodded. "My reports indicate you have met Colonel Sama Rantha."


    "I have," he acknowledged.


    "Your opinion of her?"


    "An impressive and dangerous young woman," he judged calmly, which, coming from a Legionnaire, was high praise.


    "Here are some files for you to peruse." He waved his hand, and several holoscreens winked up before the captain. He turned his attention to them, and as the two dukes waited, he read through them, scrolling through them with great speed and thoroughness without effort.


    He finished in several minutes. "This technology is very interesting," he acknowledged. "She is the source of it?"


    "She took a line of technology abandoned over eight thousand years ago and turned it into the most fascinating advance in anti-Warp and psi-resistant technology ever," Duke Parablum stated solemnly. "This technology has been tested on the battlefield and off, and the results agree: Rantha-tech is unequivocally the finest anti-Warp equipment to be found in the galaxy. AMT and non-Rantha vakker-tech simply cannot compare."


    Captain Donnal considered that. "By your tone and expression, I see the Orders have a massive interest in expanding use of this technology." Both dukes nodded affirmation. "What has this to do with me?"


    "The Legions are bound by contract with the Mechanists for their wargear. The Mechanists cannot replicate the Rantha-tech, nor anyone else, although many have tried, including ourselves."


    "And so the Legions cannot gain access to this technology, unless the Mechanists purchase it for them, or we acquire it independently somehow..." Captain Donnal understood where they were going with this.


    "And worse, are subject to seizure if it is found, for no purpose other than not being AMT standard Legion patterns," Duke Rimval laughed under his breath. "None of which applies to an unaffiliated Legionnaire from a unit below the size of a Battalion, as contracts are simply not issued to such units, and any prior obligations are satisfied by your official deaths. Our lawyers were very certain of the ramifications."


    "So..." Captain Donnal said thoughtfully, "you wish me to form a new... non-Battalion, of Legionnaires, equipped with this Rantha technology?"


    "We can arrange for the necessary resources, including suitable recruits according to the standards you desire," Duke Parablum confirmed for him. "There are Battalions of nine different Legions at work on this side of the Rift, and many have had to make similar adjustments to renew their numbers and replenish their supplies, being out of contact with their Legions. However, they are still under contract, and this offer cannot be extended to them.


    "If you wish, we can put you in contact with those Legions you have a history with, and I am certain they will help you rebuild your Company according to the traditional methods of your Battalions."


    Captain Donnal saw the goodwill for what it was... this, then, was not a hammer being held over him. "And what of supplies?" He was not privy to all the knowledge of Battalion finances, but he knew taxes and levies of entire worlds were used to support the Legions, and even a Battalion needed a strong world behind it to remain viable.


    "The finances of the Coronals and Umbrans are easily able to absorb the costs of rebuilding several companies of Legionnaires... particularly if they are to focus on Warp incursions. As coincidence would have it, there is an area close by to engage in training with them," Duke Parablum observed sagely.


    "And for us to field-test any new equipment," Captain Donnal mused shrewdly. "If the results are useful, they could be a turning point in our defense against the Warp."


    Both dukes nodded shortly. "The performance of the technology is basically on par for AMT-format tech, trading off size and speed for increased power flow and tolerance. For pure computational power, AMT releases less heat and draws less power. But in most other tech, it is something of a trade-off... and its Warp Resistance is clearly higher by at least two standard deviations."


    "Has it been tested in personal arms and armor?" Captain Donnal asked sharply.


    "Yes... but not for Legionnaires, as you might guess." Duke Parablum was somewhat amused. "Let us say that there are certain elements that wanted it to fail so badly there was clear statistical data recorded in error, conflicting with our own tests, and when called upon to duplicate such results under observation, those certain parties were unable to do so." He coughed to nobody in particular. "We have already supplied Colonel Rantha with dozens of AMT schematics for equipment, taken from maintenance requirements, and she has been slowly tooling up as she expands and hires more people. The process is unfortunately nowhere near as fast as we would like it to be, but seems essential to the manufacturing process, and so cannot be rushed, regardless of how much money we are willing to throw at her.


    "On the other side, she is expanding literally every day, as she reports to us. The Mechanists are unwillingly supplying her with some of the required manufacturing technology, she is making more herself, and she has a unique relationship with her suppliers which seems to be insuring a smooth flow of raw materials.


    "I am sure she could add a production line of Legion equipment to her factories if you were to give her the word... but she won''t until you do so."


    Which was only proper. Making Legion equipment without a buyer would be extremely stupid for any sort of a businessman.


    He brought back some of the performance reports for the standard issue arms she had designed and implemented for the Orders. The ability to function in disruptive zones heavy with Warp influence was noteworthy, where the chaotic energies of the Warp easily overloaded and fried non-psi-insulated technology.


    It was not the same as a zone that suppressed all technology, as he had personally experienced.


    Captain Donnal rapidly went through various scenarios. Trust was an issue here... but he was dealing with a Coronal, who made it a very, very, very firm habit not to engage in duplicitous activity. They''d either scorn you to your face, or not at all. Now, the Umbrans would backstab you in the Emperor''s Name without hesitation if they thought it was appropriate... unless you were a Coronal. Some of the things the Umbrans did were extremely questionable from the purview of outsiders, but the fact the Umbrans were backing a Coronal play generally indicated that this was a play that had no hidden dangers... or, conversely, might be threatened by those with hostile intentions.


    "Is this woman capable of doing all this?" he inquired. "This level of technology is not something easily understood."


    The two dukes looked at one another, eyes flickering. "It is our estimation that she will break Ten within a year or two. At that time, we actually expect improvements in the current technology paradigm."


    Captain Donnal grunted despite himself. That was... extremely impressive.


    "She is approximately twenty-one years old," Duke Rimval added.


    Captain Donnal inhaled despite himself. That was a prodigy of prodigies!


    "From literally owning the clothes on her back, she has built up a following of over a million employees, over a hundred thousand militants, taken a buried technology tree and thrust it into the center of a credits stream worth potentially quadrillions... and she spends her days running around the planet, killing mutants, and exploring Warp Zones while slaughtering demons." Despite himself, Duke Parablum had to roll his eyes. "Perhaps more significantly... you have noticed the numbers of Ancients and Nymphals who not so coincidentally are running about with her and Commander Briggs?"


    "It would have been difficult not to?"


    "They are Vat-grown." Captain Donnal''s eyes narrowed curiously. "One of them is my secretary now. She is a Seven."


    Captain Donnal inhaled sharply.


    "She is as sane and untouched by the Warp as neutronium. From telepathic contact, she is utterly sane, terrifyingly intelligent, emotionally balanced, has a personality as overbearing as a battleship, and her aspirations are boundless.


    "She also has no active psionic ability or potential to connect to the Warp whatsoever. She is what they are terming a Null Psion... she is a storehouse of psionic energy, but cannot expend it, nor draw it in.


    "But... a Null Psion can be tapped by a bonded Psion for power."

 Chapter 374 - Far Future Ch. 84 – Make You to Rise Like the Sun

    Captain Donnal stared, and subconsciously glanced back in the direction of the Warp Zone. "They can manifest a mindclaw, but not psychic powers?" he asked specifically.


    "A mindblade is a transpsionic discipline. As it can exist even in an anti-psionic field, it is not purely psionic. Furthermore, a Null can manifest a Claw, but not a blade. It has to remain within an inch or two of their skin, as I was told.


    "It is these sisters and brothers of hers who are actually driving her rise to power, as they are finding and unleashing more of these Null Psions among the people.


    "As for the militants she has been training, many of them are being specifically trained for service in both of our Orders, and although they are young, their service and resistance to psionic or Warp subversion has been exemplary.


    "We have been backing her rise, and are waiting to see where it is going. As she is not a psion, she would not be able to thrive properly in our Orders, so we have been following her career... and taking advantage of her talents.


    "We believe that the Legions not taking advantage of her talents is a true failure of the Empire. The chance for one to do so has fallen into our laps, and we are taking advantage of it," finished Duke Parablum.


    "I believe if you sat down with her for a discussion of where you might take a new company or nine of yours, Captain, you would find the discussion interesting. While there have been Battalions whose Legionnaires have had special gear and lavish attention foisted upon them to become truly effective at what they do... the rest of the Army, Fleet, and Legions are still using the same wargear from five thousand years ago, and for some reason, our military situation is no better now than it was then."


    Captain Donnal was going to say something about faith and duty, and then remembered to whom he was speaking. These were not men to sugarcoat reality... their job was to stare it in the face and defy it. Perhaps they had not seen as many battlefields as he... but he could not be sure, and their battles were constant and never-ending skirmishes in the dark and the light, not just warzones.


    "I will consider your words and have a reply for you within three days," he promised calmly, daring to take the Coronal Duke at his words.


    "Excellent. In the meantime, any requests for resupply or repair, simply run through any of the Agents or Squires on the ground, and we will take care of them for you, " Duke Parablum finished without any hint of leverage. "Are there any specific requests we can take care of for you at this time?"


    "Are you artificers capable of repairing our armor?" he asked calmly.


    "There will certainly be Mechanists with access to the technology. If you don''t wish to leave the zone, there are a large number of psions that Colonel Rantha has included who can engage in fairly sophisticated circuit repair. It should not be difficult for them."


    "Noted. Good day, Your Graces."


    "Captain." Both men rose as he did, saluted, and the hologram slowly faded.


    ------


    Captain Donnal rose to head for the Disk Train that would run him back to his men. He passed by the tunnel being bored quickly through the stone with psionic power, forming a sealed passage that was being laid with tracks to run an electric train back and forth for these supply situations. The progress displays showed it was ninety percent done and should be online within a week. The locomotives and cars were already in place and ready to start being used.


    Being two heads taller than an average human, he had no difficulty surveying the area.


    Like the fighting zone, the first thing that struck him was the relative youth of the majority of the people moving or waiting around him. Those who were older stuck out, because they were often dressed specifically to designate their positions as lesser psions, complete with the geometric tattoo that indicated their Level.


    In his very long career, he had never seen one of these lesser psions with a hexagon, but now he saw several of them... and a very confident, energetic Septagon looking very much like an old man having lost forty years would, pleased and enthusiastic about life.


    There were several Ancients visible, the least of them a head taller than most of the others, and always the obvious center of another large group of fighters coming and going. The nymphals shouldn''t have been so easy to pick out, but his eye inevitably came to rest on them as he scanned the crowd, as most of them were also in command positions and making no bones about it.


    These were virtual children in his eyes, eager to run off to battle and die. He didn''t know whether to be impressed at their courage or scornful of their ignorance.


    He would see soon enough.


    ---------------


    "You realize she has completely suborned our Orders," Duke Rimval sighed over their dedicated link.


    "Indeed. Were other Chapters to learn of her influence in our halls, it would likely be grounds for treason," Duke Parablum agreed, but there was no remorse in his voice.


    His duty to his Empire and humanity was untouched. His obeisance to the Emperor... had been harmed, that was certain, and he knew it.


    He glanced at the Door in his mind, and what lay on the other side of it, terrifying in its power, glory, and ability to change the world for the better.


    He could defy many things, but hope was not one of them.


    "Agreed." Duke Rimval had been defeated as well. They had not come to their jobs merely to endure and to resist. They had hoped to achieve things, to make a difference, to raise humanity out of its stagnation towards a brighter end. Resisting someone who seemed to have all the tools to do that was impossible.


    They could, of course, doubt and question all they wanted to. She was encouraging it, after all. The last thing she counted herself as was someone who knew it all. She was mind-blowingly intelligent, the both of them could sense it and feel it, but there was absolutely no feeling of omniscience, of all-knowing certainty.


    Which was why it worked. She was a Null, and didn''t have the tools to DO that, and she never would. However... those who did have those tools, couldn''t perceive her with them!


    She was a mortal, working against immortals... and hiding the work of other mortals from them.


    And now, she was hiding them!


    Duke Parablum looked up as Vala Rantha stepped to his side, putting her hand on his shoulder. The force of their Bond lit up, and he sighed and clasped her hand despite himself.


    Completely suborned...


    She had made an inquiry after he expressed interest in the services of one of her Rantha sisters. The conditions had been... titillating, taken about eight hours, cost him ten Levels and three days of Restoring them while being able to do literally nothing, and he could still picture them when he went to bed at night.


    Mostly because Vala was right there beside him now. The Rantha born from the energy she had drained from his soul.


    She was part of the third set born, and he knew the Ranthas matured quickly, her mid-teens flowered in but two years to her early twenties. Very tellingly, she didn''t look like him, and she didn''t have his Talent.


    Her pseudo-genetic forebear was Duke Rimval, whose Talent was Rational. So Vala was dark-haired, dark-eyed, extremely analytical... and her soul was part of his own, and she was fully aware of it.


    They had Bonded on that first handshake, when she was sent over by Sama after reaching Six. Instant, complete, natural.


    He was a Psion, she was his Null. All was right with the world.


    Duke Rimval, of course, had Bluma Rantha by his side now. Her Talent was Steadfast Heart, her eyes were grey, and her hair had gone silver early, like her ''father''. Duke Rimval had also spent eight hours with Sama Rantha, of course...


    He and Duke Rimval were Twelves, likely the highest-Level humans on the whole planet. Tapping the raw talent and ability of the Ranthas was still an eye-opener. Vala had more raw intellectual ability then he did on all facets of her mind, although he had spiritual strength and the depth of life experience that she did not.


    This neither intimidated nor awed her, for she was Undaunted, and had no fear of him whatsoever. Driven by the resonance of their souls, they could poke into one another''s thoughts at will, see with the other''s eyes, experience the world through them.


    If she peeled back the wall of reincarnation and directly joined their souls, they''d end up as one person.


    This didn''t frighten her all, at either. She was completely looking forwards to it at some time in the future, probably if something happened and one of them died, and was eagerly and rapidly working to get the Levels of her own so she would be a worthy and equal fusion with him.


    Every Inquisitor and Knight on Janus Prime now had their own Rantha Bonded to them, although they weren''t born like Vala was. None of them wanted to give them up, either...


    Suborned, indeed...


    -------


    "Can you fix it?" Captain Donnal asked, sitting there while two of the soldiers toweled him off with scented cotton towels. He was surprised at how ready they were to do this, but he didn''t forestall them, merely holding out his arms and letting them gently spray him down and be about their task.


    His armor was de-locked and in several parts, hanging on racks while a couple of the Beacon psions with experience in artifice repair looked it over with fascinated expressions. Lines of force were extending gently from their hands and playing over the armor, lingering on the gouges, holes, scrapes, rents, dents, and contusions from a lot of fighting.


    "Um!" the older of the two, a woman, replied forthrightly. "The answer is yes and no. Yes, because we have the raw power to do so, and there''s self-repair circuits built into the armor to restore it. No, because we don''t know what we are actually doing, other than serving as psionic batteries. So, the subtler repairs are actually beyond us at this point. Of course," she mused aloud, "they''re probably beyond almost anyone who fixes it. I imagine that''s why the armor is so modular, so they can just hook it up to a piece of equipment and pretend they know what they are doing."


    She turned around, ignoring the watching captain, and yelled out, "Hey, Shelbi! Got a live one for you!"


    "Be right there!" a woman''s voice called back. There was a crunch and creak, and Captain Donnal looked over, seeing a nymphal standing atop the fuselage of one of the prop fighters, one with lines of bullet holes down the length of it. Her hands flashed golden, and then she grunted and jerked, and without too much apparent effort, hauled up the engine of the fighter, which was actually bigger than she was. He blinked at the sight of a slender human female shouldering the huge mass of metal, and then she jumped ten feet down to the ground, taking the impact with barely bent knees, and deposited the engine on a gurney right there far too deftly for someone that size.


    Those nymphals were obviously all far, far more dangerous then they appeared...


    Shelbi shook her dark hair, and as he watched, it tied itself up into tight braids, knotted together in a bun, and hung down the small of her back as she kicked off and glided in their direction across the stone of the floot. Like most of the nymphals, she eschewed proper footwear, and it didn''t seem to bother her or anyone else.


    Shelbi glanced at the towering Marine, then at the psion. "What''s up, Mar-c?"


    Mar-c indicated the surrounding armor to the younger-looking nymphal. "I think this is a TL 12 set of equipment. It looks like a bunch of auto-repair circuits, but there''s major complexities I''m not sure of."

 Chapter 375 - Far Future Ch. 85 – A Secret Right out in the Open

    Shelbi nodded and held out her hand. "Use your blade and show me what you are looking at."


    The same lines of force, whitish-silver in color, snapped up, and Captain Donnal belatedly recognized them as a diffused mindblade. Shelbi''s hand closed over Mar-c''s, adding a layer of gold to the mindblade, which again played over the abused armor, focusing on several areas which didn''t look any different to his eyes.


    "Huh. Would you look at that," Shelbi mused, turning back to glance at the captain, who just looked on. "Captain, you want to look at this?" she asked casually, as if it was to be expected.


    "I am not a psion," he replied calmly... and she blinked. She looked at Mar-c, who looked back at her, and they both looked at him again.


    "Captain," she said warily, "I don''t want to belabor the obvious, but the bloodline that makes you a Legionnaire comes from the Emperor, who is the almightiest psion who has ever existed in the human race. There is 100%, absolutely no way, you are not psionic." She indicated the armor. "This suit is designed to be worn by a being with psionic potential. Do you really think that is a mistake, when it is a standard AMT pattern?"


    It was Captain Donnal''s turn to blink. That certainly sounded both logical... and impossible. "I was tested before I became a Legionnaire, and found to have no psionic potential," he stated firmly.


    "And after?" she asked archly.


    He started to reply, and stopped.


    "Right," she said, still staring at him and nodding. "Well, fuck that. Stone!" she turned and called out.


    A big Ancient hauling another damaged prop in casually by hand, instead of using a forklift, looked up from halfway down the crude hangar. "Wassup?" his deep, rolling voice sounded back, carrying easily despite the distance.


    "I need you to key this Legionnaire!"


    "No shit?" He took a few more long strides, was waved away by the repair crew waiting there, and headed over, almost bouncing despite his height and heavy build.


    Captain Donnal was not surprised to see the Ancient was a couple inches taller than he was, with bulging muscles and thick bones, the pronounced cranial ridge, flat nose, and broad chin... and pale green eyes darting about with clear intelligence.


    "Captain," the Ancient saluted him, showing a sergeant''s rank on his cheek tats. "What''s this now, Shelbi?" he asked curiously.


    "I could do it, but," she held her hands out, one above the other, "might be a bit awkward."


    "Hah! Alrighty." He reached back into his thick hair, and brought out a flat crystal, turning back to Captain Donnal. "Captain, this is a standard psicrystal, nothing funny about it, you''ve probably seen lots of them." The Marine just nodded at him. "I''m going to use it to set up a projecting telepathic bond. No mind-reading involved, just sending out thoughts. This whole process should take no more than thirty seconds. All you have to do is imitate what I am doing, and this will get done quick."


    Captain Donnal nodded warily, but the body language of the Ancient was so casual about it, it couldn''t be faked. Truly, this was not a big issue for him.


    Stone calmly reached out and pressed the flat crystal to the forehead of the alert captain. "No need to drop any defenses, I''m just broadcasting." Stone closed his eyes, and Captain Donnal could feel the beaming thoughts coming in at him.


    They were incredibly strong and tempered, flexible, alert. The mind of this Ancient was as formidable as his body, if what he was feeling was any measure.


    Stone took a step and set his stance. Feeling the broadcast motion, Donnal replicated it, resetting his own feet. Stone lifted his arm slowly, and Donnal mimicked the motion, the flexing of the arm to bulge the muscle, opening the hand and closing it, and then reaching out and twisting and ¨C


    It was a jolt, like a muscle, only inside his head, turned and twisted and flexed in a sudden shock of pain. Captain Donnal jumped five feet back in reflex even as he swore, blinking away his relaxation, instantly ready for a fight.


    Stone glanced down at the captain''s hand, nodded. "Worked fine." He snapped off the golden claws around his own hand, and completely ignoring the captain''s expression and body language, headed back to work.


    Donnal stared at the humming sapphire blade in his hand, crystal-sharp and ready for use, looking almost identical to the first tactical knife he had ever used, sixteen inches of cutting edge along one side.


    "Definitely a psion. Mindblade instead of mindclaw, see." Shelbi flicked up her own golden claw, while Mar-c materialized a less defined white blade.


    "Sergeant Stone!" Captain Donnal called out, and the Ancient paused and looked back curiously. Captain Donnal gestured to the members of his squad, waiting nearby in their armor, watching all this with suddenly wide eyes. "Can you do that with all of them, Sergeant?"


    The Ancient looked a little confused. "Sure, it''s not like it''s hard, Captain!"


    Captain Donnal turned his eyes back on the nymphal Shelbi. "There is no chance otherwise?" he confirmed, his eyes hard.


    "It is IMPOSSIBLE," she affirmed. "His bloodline is just too damn strong."


    He nodded, turning back to his men. "Get out of your armor and go through this keying process with Sergeant Stone here!" he ordered calmly, and the men moved quickly towards the hanging racks which would support the armor as they unlocked and removed it, while the techs moved quickly to assist them.


    Captain Donnal, his face extremely grave, still clutching the blade of force in his hand, turned back on Shelbi once more. "Tell me, Sergeant Shelbi, why this fact was not made known to us?"


    It was a foolish question. How would she possibly know such a thing? But finding out he had psionic ability... that ALL Legionnaires had psionic ability, was a heavy blow. Such an incredible thing, of paramount importance, was not revealed to them. The difference it could have made in their battles...


    "Meh." She treated the question with an indirect contempt that was not aimed at him. "First possibility, they didn''t know. Which sounds almost impossible, until you think how infallible they consider themselves, not even questioning if you could suddenly become psionic after your treatment. Two, they forgot, which, if you consider how they simply replicate technology instead of knowing what it actually does, isn''t out of line, either.


    "Third, they did not want you to know, for reasons of their own, but very probably revolve around limiting your power and the threat level you possess after the example of the Primogenitors."


    She blinked, looked away, and then back at him thoughtfully. "Captain, I don''t mean to sound pessimistic, but Keying all your men might get you in trouble at the very highest levels of the Empire."


    Captain Donnal stared into her dark eyes, almost able to feel her thoughts racing, considering, weighing, balancing, just like his own.


    These Rantha nymphals were all very, very dangerous, he realized, because he realized she was speaking the absolute truth. He could not believe that his Battalion''s Commander, or the Legion''s General, was complicit in withholding such knowledge from their men. The difference it would make in their fighting prowess was too great.


    He turned his eyes to his armor. "How did my armor reveal this to you, Sergeant?" he asked calmly.


    She turned back to his breastplate immediately. "Captain, you''ve got several types of psionic circuits woven into this armor. One of them is for expending psionic power to reform the armor itself, which means it would not need Mechanists to repair it with technology. It would still require some fine-tuning, especially if there is widespread circuit damage, but this armor is designed to be self-maintaining at its core.


    "The second aspect is that this is Psychic Armor, Captain. Do you know what that entails?"


    "I know that Psychic Weapons channel psychic power, Sergeant," he responded immediately.


    She held up a finger. "Incorrect, in a subtle manner, Captain. Channeling psychic power means you are moving energy through the weapon, i.e. you are expending PP to create some effect. A Psychic Weapon, or Armor, REACTS to and resonates with a psychic Reserve, the amount of PP its wielder possesses. The greater the Reserve, the more power the item has. Nominal ratings of equipment are from I to V. A mechanically made Psychic Armor rated at IV is a TL 12 piece of equipment." She rapped her knuckles on his breastplate. "This is a Captain''s armor. I can only presume that a Lieutenant''s, Sergeant''s, and trooper''s armor are at III, II, and I, respectively, while a Commander''s or General''s would be at V... which would be TL 15, and likely not possible outside a Core Forge World.


    "It would also account for just how damn expensive and rare armor of this quality is. Not putting down your technology, Captain, but just the base tech of this armor isn''t above TL 10 at all. We can probably arrange for you to get base armor just like this without a problem. But the Psychic Circuits, made just mechanically... no, the lowest order of that is TL 11, we don''t have access to that tech yet. We could replicate it with Psicrafting... the effect would be identical, but it would deviate from AMT.


    "This psionic circuitry is why your armor is hard to find and hard to make. The raw materials have to be at QL 32, and the demand for Energized stuff at that QL is through the roof." Her head turned slightly, and her eyes narrowed. He followed her gaze to his heavy laser carbine and fusion pistol, both sized for Legionnaires, and felt his jaw clench. "Captain, if I may?" she asked shortly.


    "Yes, Sergeant," he asked, letting her step past.


    She hoisted his heavy carbine without apparent effort, her golden claws flickering up like crystalline gloves over her hands, and she ran them up and down the four-foot length of the weapon slowly and surely.


    "Alright, there''s a genetic lock on it, probably keyed just like a normal signature weapon to the Emperor''s bloodline, or it would be responding to me." She glanced at his hand. "Let go your mindblade, and resummon it a couple of times, just like it came out the first time, Captain."


    He looked down at the mindblade in his callused hand, and released it. The force structure instantly fractured into psychoplasm shards and dissipated.


    As he had the first time, he wrenched at a muscle that wasn''t there, replicating the sensation perfectly, and it snapped back into existence in his hand. He repeated the effect three times, failing once.


    She handed him his carbine as he let the mindblade fade again. "This time, bring it up around the rifle, Captain."


    He accepted his weapon in his hands, closed his grip upon the familiar weight and heft, taking it in a proper stance. Instead of flicking his hand as if he were flourishing a weapon, he tensed and moved as if he were bringing it to bear and ready.


    Psychic energy surged through the structure of the weapon. He could feel Rune elements of its construction light up at the flow of energy passing through, responding familiarly to his touch and power, and he realized they had always been there, helping and aiding him, but he simply hadn''t been able to touch or feel them.


    He stared at the sapphire lights glinting at the corners and seams of his carbine, impressing the sight into his mind.

 Chapter 376 - Far Future Ch. 86 – An old Path is the new Path...

    "Captain, the main reason you or anyone else never noticed the difference is because they are keyed to the bloodline you have been given, so a standard psion could not activate them, and they are mechanically part of the weapon, not psionically crafted, so their presence would not be noted. As a transpsionic effect, even when in active use, they wouldn''t show an aura.


    "The secondary reason is that you don''t have the psychic Reserve to push them to a higher performance level, so you simply thought you were getting a higher QL Weapon with no obvious overt effects. If you had the Reserve to make use of them, your Weapons and Armor would have noticeably greater effects in your hands, while having no better performance then otherwise in the hands of a normal trooper without a high Reserve.


    "To put it in parlance, you have a potentially +IV suit and rifle there, but because your Reserve is low, it''s only acting at +I, which only feels like a superior weapon performing better in the hands of a Legionnaire."


    He wasn''t a fool, and knew well the significance of individually psicrafted Weapons, always the most unique and powerful gear of the Legions, if rare.


    "Thinking about it, any psicrafted Weapons or Armor were likely unable to add straight-up Enhancements, probably because of the existence of this pcircuitry. So, your psicrafted Weapons probably adds on things like flaming, frost, thunder, or similar things, instead of striking true and deeper, Captain," Shelbi mused for him.


    Captain Donnal slowly handed her his carbine back. "I will have to trouble you to look over my sidearm, and the equipment of my men, Sergeant."


    "Certainly, Captain."


    ------


    "I was told to arrange a chance to speak with you over various issues, Colonel. I hope I''m not interrupting anything."


    I was in the middle of a full-out slaughter through elements of some alien ruined city that had been bombed all to freaking hell, and was now swarming with creepy-crawlies, undead and diseased shit made from those things, totally insane humans, and a lot of demons. I was in constant motion, leaping, bouncing, gliding, skating, shooting, spinning, while tracking multiple combatants that never fell below two digits and easily spiked above three, while coordinating with Briggs on fields of fire, paths of advance, who and what to slaughter, while dodging, evading, juking, and charging from point A to points B, C, D, and E... and if I could arrange it, all the way through Z, but the enemy was seldom so helpful.


    It was cool, that was what multiple thoughtstreams were for. The call was actually taking place on a flatscreen using cathode-ray tech, i.e. primitive Vakker tech, shunted from Marktell. I loved the irony.


    "You''re fine, Captain." #3 thoughtstream blithely ignored everything going on in reality. "What did you want to talk about?"


    "You may have heard that some troubling discoveries were made about our equipment."


    "Troubling? That''s an odd word to use, Captain. You''ve got Gear that most elite warriors only dream about being issued to you repeatedly, and now it''s even better than you thought, and now you know WHY Legion Gear is so damn pricey and hard to make." I had to arch an eyebrow at him.


    "That is true," he had to agree. "But... why were we not informed that we were not Gifted with psionic ability?" He could not keep a note of doubt out of his voice. "The Emperor''s Gift... we are fully aware of its power, Colonel. How could such be kept from us?"


    He was looking for some advice. All righty.


    "Probably because the Emperor is a cautious old fart, and the situation when he set the Legions up has changed drastically since then."


    I could see he hadn''t considered that. "Continue," he frowned.


    "First point, the rebellion of the Primogenitors. If the Legions had been fully psionic at that point, the galaxy would have burned and the Empire would have died. Imagine the Fallen Legions, all of them Warp Sorcerers. He would have doomed humanity. Holding off teaching the Legions psionics until he was fully assured of their loyalty was probably the most prescient thing the Emperor ever did."


    A look of awe crossed his face as he considered those ramifications. "By the Throne," he said softly.


    "Two, it was something he could rectify easily at any time just by adding something to your training regime. Once the basics were unlocked, your own need for the power would drive you to rapidly master them, and the Legionnaires are more talented than all but the most gifted of normal humans in that regard, if you but look at your Company Ministers."


    That was also true. The Ministers were the equals of any Mentats in wielding the Emperor''s Gift. They could very rapidly teach the Legions both basic and advanced psionic usage.


    "Three, the presence of Mythos creatures in the mindscape has increased by orders of magnitude since that time, and active, trained psi-users are both the most resistant and the most vulnerable to their influence. If the Legions were all psions, they would be the concentrated targets of the Mythos on many levels, and we''ve already seen what traitorous Legionnaires could do. If those Legions simply go batshit mad because some Elder God decided it was fun to play with them, and they are such centralized, wonderful targets, instead of the scattered fireflies common to the human population... the Emperor not making fat, juicy targets of his Legions was also a pretty good idea."


    Captain Donnal took a visible deep breath, and something akin to relief fluttered across his face. "I am disturbed that I was not given the choice."


    "Quite understandable. On the other hand, it''s not a choice. Knowing you have the Gift, and the potential thereof, you will choose to use it to get stronger, or you will simply be less than your brethren who do the same. And the consequences of you all choosing to do it is as I have mentioned." He frowned again. "As an example... the Mentat''s Guild of Janus Prime is the largest on the planet, and draws from 2.6 billion people for its members. Do you know how many Sevens or higher are in its Guild? Fewer than two thousand!


    "Now, a basic Legion trooper is a Six. How many Sevens and higher are there in an average Battalion of a thousand men? My guess would be in excess of two hundred!


    "There are fireflies, and there are lightbulbs amid torches, Captain."


    He looked pensive again. Again, just because you had talent didn''t mean you were going to pass Six. It was called the First Ceiling for a reason. Many, many talented people lacked the drive and ambition to reach Seven. Even Legionnaires often remained stuck at Six for decades... until they were promoted, at which point the demands of their brethren and position inevitably drove them to Seven and higher.


    "You have been talking with some of the Beacon Mentats about psionics, and several of my people, Captain," I went on calmly. "I would like to offer another theory. Your psionic ability is remarkably similar to that of the Null Psions who follow me. I will posit that that those of your people who are trained as Ministers or the like are those who are shown to have psionic talent when they are selected. Naturally, they end up extremely gifted psions when they are gifted his bloodline.


    "The rest of you only develop basic psionic ability. Have you confirmed that you are unable to shape PP and duplicate even the most basic psionic abilities? Do not consider this a failing... you are too skilled to fail at such basic skills at this point in your life."


    He nodded slowly. "Even with telepathic guidance, I was unable to spend any psionic energy to any level, Colonel. Furthermore, my Reserve was measured and confirmed at exactly two points, which they believe to stem from a Force of Will granted by the Emperor''s bloodline."


    "That is the same basic talent that allows an untalented street punk with no brains to manifest a mindblade. It can naturally be trained to greater strength, and if you wish to develop your mindblade, you will do so.


    "I believe they also tested you with a Metaconcert and a crystal blade?" I inquired, knowing the answer.


    He nodded. "I could contribute to the Metaconcert, but of course my Reserve was extremely small. I could also spend a PP through the crystal blade." The flare of power through the simple dagger had been thought-provoking.


    I nodded at him. "The Emperor''s Blood is still stronger than a Null Psion, Captain. You actually manifest a mindblade, not a claw. Thus, you have more range on your psi... but your background means that you cannot shape the Gift as those who have it naturally can do. Still, your blade will reach out, you will be able to throw it, and you can aid a Concert... and most importantly, you can spend PP through a weapon or your armor, giving you a shocking attack or defense if you require it.


    "A Null Psi cannot spend anything but excess PP that might come through to them by a weapon that harvests such thing, Captain. They cannot throw a mindclaw, and they cannot contribute to a Metaconcert. They can share PP only with a Bonded psion. On the flip side, they are not considered actual psions, and effects which target psions have no effect on them."


    He looked thoughtful at the differences. "This seems to be an evolution of humanity to the Emperor''s Gift..."


    "Psionics existed before the Emperor taught it widely, Captain," I reminded him. "Even the Emperor did not know all that humanity could and had invented. While his knowledge was great, his greatest achievement was gathering the knowledge together and codifying it into a form that could be passed on. The Gift is the combined knowledge of all humanity, gathered by the Emperor, not merely knowledge discovered by the Emperor himself."


    He looked hesitant at that, but let it pass. Certainly it was not illogical...


    "I believe you will find your natural progression to be on the Psionic Warrior path, Captain. Its details are easily learned from the Mentats, Coronals, or Umbrans. However, you will share with the Null Psion path the fact you can''t develop actual psionic powers... but you can quickly and rapidly master psionic powers that do not involve shaping or spending PP, what are called Psionic Feats.


    "If you talk with the Briggs Brothers, Captain, they will readily share with you the advance schema they tend to use, as well as discuss the various Feats commonly known and employed.


    "Given the Emperor''s Blood and your own enhanced mental capabilities, I believe you will master this new path with great speed. You will need experience using those Feats, but I do not believe that will be a problem for you.


    "Once you step onto this path... you will find that your Legion''s wargear will quickly become more potent in your hands. You will also have to spend some considerable efforts on improving your mental defenses, because you are a shining soul in the Warp... but you don''t have the power to strike back at them, save with your Mindblade."


    I watched him set his jaw. "While I might be happier if I could unlearn all this, Colonel Rantha, I know it now... and if your forces can walk this route, why cannot a Legionnaire of the Empire?" he asked forthrightly.


    I inclined my head. "One of your most important acquisitions then should be a Crown Ward, Captain, and each and every one of your men should acquire one. Those are not cheap, and do not expect the Orders to lay their hands on them so easily for each of your men. Your greatest threat now is attracting the attention of the Mythos and the Warp. A Crown Ward will protect you from Possession and their telepathic attention."


    I paused, then shrugged. "The easiest way to do so is to burn things tainted with Warp energies in vivic fire, and reduce them to crystals which can be used to pay for the psi-crafting of such defenses. The nexals of phrenic beasts serve an identical purpose.


    "A Crown Ward will cost you between forty and sixty crystalweight... which is nearly the same cost as your Captain''s Armor, Captain. I apologize for reducing you to trophy hunting and basic looting, but I''m sure you can see that supplemental devices that expensive are simply not mass issued to everyone."


    "Understood." I watched his keen eyes spinning through the logistics of it all. Getting one for all his surviving men would set them back over a million crystalweight, a simply staggering amount of money on the micro scale. It also gave an idea of what it cost to equip a full Imperial Legion''s troopers. Truly the best of arms and armor!


    ================


    Glossary: Effectively, standard Marines are born Forsaken, boosted by the Emperor''s Bloodline. They can''t shape psionic powers, BUT... they can SPEND psionic power (Forsaken can''t) and they can learn to wield psionic devices (also something Forsaken cannot do). They can also freely contribute to a metaconcert without needing a bonded psi.


    The Emperor was a full Human Exemplar, and a Psion/21+. Right now he''s crystal bones on a crystal throne...


    The Primogenitors were Exemplars Lite. They are now either dead or half-demons.


    The Legionnaires are Advanced Humans (+4 to all Stats) and of course chosen from the elite of humanity. They are male only because they are gene-tied to the Emperor, and the biomorphic upgrades don''t work on women... and there''s no way to change that, now. They can pass on their morphics laterally, with the right equipment, which is how the Legions survive, but not sexually, and are effectively sterile, and have a very long lifespan, not that most ever get to reach it. The combination of great Stats, long years, and lots of experience generally makes the Legionnaires the highest-Level individuals in the Empire on average, and even if the elite of the Coronals, Umbrans, and Mentats can rival them in Level, they almost never do in depth.

 Chapter 377 - Far Future Ch. 87 – The Offer They Couldn’t Refuse

    -Hi, Mom!-


    #5, who often helped with Marktell stuff, looked over at the voice as I was carving and shooting my way through a company of Corrupted PG from someplace called Orkrivar, if the defaced colors and insignia were a proper guide. So far, I had seen representatives from at least a hundred different worlds in this Warpzone, definitely widening my horizons. The historians back home were having a tizzy trying to figure where they were all from.


    We didn''t stop and ask them, of course.


    Blinkblinkblinkblink. Four Mark Nexii winked up in the Marktell. Of course, I recognized the sources: Cecilia, Bruna, Mahsh, and Trista Rantha. The Bad Girls. They had just synched up with one of my Marked who worked Downspire as a Courier.


    The four of them were born with Talents that led them unequivocally towards the darker side of human nature. Knowing the Talents, and being quite unafraid of using them, they promptly went off to make Good use of them.


    Cecilia was The Godmother, giving her a flat bonus to social interactions of all kinds with people with Evil mindsets. In short, crooks, criminals, and lawbreakers respected her without knowing why.


    Bruna was a Thug, which meant a slender high-G nymphal had an imposing and brutal physical presence, which was rather hilarious. Well, it did mean a Hag was about to go off on you, and incipient violence got its own form of respect in the Underspire.


    Mahsh was a Viper, which meant she lied with alacrity, was a coldblooded killer, and had a naturally sinister air which fit in well with that crowd.


    Trista was a Femme Fatale, the seductive little piece of killer poison you''d die to put your hands on, unable to help yourself.


    My Inigo self kept in partial contact with them through mutually rendered services, while most of their communication was through coded stuff on Boole social media, keeping any connections to other Ranthas to a minimum. Nymphals were far from unknown in the line of work they were in, so Ranthas didn''t stand out as long as they chose to develop some cleavage... and they were certainly going to do that.


    Their target had been the Themis, the all-female mafia that basically ran most facets of the entertainment industry in Underspire. Festhalls, clubs, prostitution, music, videos, dancing, exercise halls and massage parlors, most of the better eateries, and a good chunk of the recreational drug trade were all run by the Themis, who were Amazonian in attitude and appearance, with a suitably goth punk rocker leather cybertech vibe thrown on top of them. They were 2-3 grav rated, the 3g''s being noticeably taller and brawnier than the 2g''s.


    The Themis defended their markets and territory savagely and unrelentingly against all comers who wanted the easy money and way to wash profits. While basically all the other mafia families wanted to snatch pieces of their pie, they seemed to have an estrogen/testosterone antipathy with the Skraelings and their manly-man physical culture, while possessing a rather terrifying knack to reach right into the heart of all the other mafias and influence key people at just the right times. They deftly exploited the sex trade and systems of favors and grudges-owed existing among the families, and topped it off with unstinting violence whenever their territory was infringed upon. They''d happily execute a whole crew of hot performers, or a brothel of high-end prostitutes, before allowing them to be taken over by another family.


    This was mixed with the fact that the Themis entertainers were often the only ones allowed to perform or work in the territories of the other mafias, and those custom crews trained inside the other Houses were rarely allowed into those of their rivals... and if they went public, found themselves fighting head-on with the Themis behemoths. To say the competition was bloody was no misnomer whatsoever. A whole lot of bright young performers backed by the other Houses were unceremoniously fed into the soylent vats all the time, their musical and acting careers quite literally cut short.


    There were more than a few Ranthas who''d gone into the entertainment arena, and were enjoying the very cutthroat reality of it, while their opponents found that combat-happy Hags with angelic voices made for nasty up-and-coming stars. Nymphals were all over in that industry, so they blended right in without a problem.


    Instead of going in as performers, the Bad Girls went in as gangsters, forming a crew, getting themselves hired, and then making an explosive splash, in terms of blood and fire and scattered body parts. The Themis were about the most open-minded of the mafias about recruiting outsiders, especially if they were attractive women with bloody hands and lethal mindsets, and glommed onto the four sisters quickly.


    I was aware that within three months, Cecilia was running a club, and within a year, a territory, all by serendipitous removals of other likely candidates and excessively successful performances against a broad array of those responsible for such actions. She took control of affairs and removed opponents and rivals by means fair and foul, overt and covert, and survived attempted removals by her superiors with aplomb and the sudden absences of those superiors. Her ambition was right out there, her ability was totally up to it, and her willingness to slaughter to achieve it could make even hardened mobsters take pause.


    And now, the Bad Girls had connected their Markspaces to mine. That meant they''d done achieved what they meant to, and in doing so had made Ten and were unafraid of our Curse Resonance.


    They weren''t the first to achieve Ten, as the Warpzone was highly conductive to dramatically increased Karmic accrual, but seeing as they hadn''t been in the Warpzone and had hit the goal, it was still damn impressive.


    I /shook my head. -Do I even want to know, my little darlings?- I /asked them, which earned me some dry /laughter in response from all of them.


    -We called up to invite you down to a meeting here with Duresia Miafona,- Cecilia /replied with that cold, smug, aristocratic dagger-in-the-smile manner that just came naturally to her.


    I ran that through multiple memories, mostly Inigo''s, who stole from and for a bunch of those people all the time. -She''s one of the Family Matriarchs, right? Why would she want to speak with me?- I /asked curiously.


    -Oh, she doesn''t. The rest of the Matriarchs, namely Bruna, Mahsh, Trista, and myself, are inviting you down to meet her and take control of the family.-


    I thought about all the implications of that. -Were they as rotten at the top as you expected?-


    -One outright Amourean eternally reborn into the body of a new member of her bloodline on death. Two Telepath bodyhoppers who could jump into Themis bodies without side effects. One cyberpath using transfer protocols for the same. And one Possessed Dop who ate and replaced all her successors for the last thousand years. That one is yours, by the way,- Cecilia /answered with icy surety.


    Ah ha. -And you''ve got control of their Vats.-


    -We do. Would Mother like to come and upgrade the Themis bloodlines?- Trista broke in with a simpering tone.


    -I think she would!- I /admitted. -Give me a couple hours. I''m a few thousand miles into the Zone, and have to cross several boundaries as I chain-teleport out.- I''d set concealed Foci at all such steps, vastly extending Chalice''s range as we hopped from one to the next, but some of the boundary zones were several miles across, and even with the Interdicted ''tunnel'' Briggs and I had established, I wasn''t going to try and Teleport past them.


    -She''s waiting for you,- Cecilia''s cold smile /replied, and the active Markdoors went quiet.


    I could see beyond them into the Markspaces beyond, and the hundreds of mostly women and some young men who the Bad Girls had recruited, young and ambitious and wanting more out of life than the powers-that-be had been willing to give them. A good chunk were young Themis vatters, completely blown away by the mental presences of the girls, and naturally just as ambitious as the other Themis whose genetics they were derived from.


    Probably dominated by the original bloodlines of the four Matriarchs. I smiled coldly as I cut out the cable-tendons of a Walker, and Beat crashed in on the other leg and bent it savagely sideways. All the gyroscopes in the world weren''t going to help it keep its balance, and it crashed to the ground, where Chalice and Beat cut off its weapon-arms, hit opposite sides of its pilot-pod to pop off the bubble, and when the tentacle-sprouting pilot screamed at us with feelers for eyes, three of my Tails put spikes in his skull, throat, and heart to shut that mess up.


    "Briggs, the Bad Girls seemed to have succeeded at usurping the Themis, and they want me to head on back to eat the last of them."


    His shoulder-mount las chewed through a dozen attacking support infantry as he glanced at me. "That bad, huh?"


    "Possessed Greater Dop, it seems."


    "No shit." He frowned. "Wonder what the Bad Boys will find at the top of the Skraelings?" Briggs Brothers who had inherited some of the nastier Talents had elected to form the Bad Boys and enrolled into the Skraelings after the Bad Girls set off on their road of total bitchiness. The lads'' combination of smithing knowledge and extraordinary brawn meant they got a much better reception then might have been expected, especially when they could toss most of the steroid-monster anger-management-issues Skraelings around without much trouble.


    The Skraelings dominated the ore-processing, smeltery, and foundry complexes of the Underspires, as well as private fight clubs and arenas, and were known for their brutality in defense of their territories, and willingness to challenge any of the other mafias for minor reasons. They were widely thought of as stupid and violent, but they kept their position in the most crucial and lucrative operations of the entire city despite that, regularly tested the other Houses to see if they were getting weak, and really irritated the Themis with their arenas, as the Themis considered that entertainment and intruding on their perogatives. Alas, despite many centuries of bad blood, the Skraelings kept hold of those lucrative ventures, too.


    The Brothers coming in were strong, fire resistant, and liked to make things. The average Skraeling was strong, steroid-juiced, and liked to destroy things.


    The Bad Boys had Talents for destroying things that messed with them while they were trying to make things, and certainly didn''t mind making things difficult for others in classic ''I Is Dumb Ancient Brute Argh Smash!'' fashion, which they were hilariously good at.


    So, the Bad Boys had also been advancing steadily in the Skraeling holdings, with suspicious looks at the senior members of the organization, who tended to act with surprising cunning and intelligence for men who were all about physical prowess and personal power...


    Curiouser and curiouser, mused the mayhem-minded lads with post-genius intellects...


    "I wouldn''t be surprised if they are replete with bodyhoppers using their underlings as a body resource. As a matter of fact, they probably sell them as new bodies to others, would be my guess."


    If you were a bodyhopper, bodies were just commodities to you anyways. Why not sell off some vat-grown minions and make a personal profit off them?


    "Plant a Focus, take a break, and maybe go help the boys?" he asked thoughtfully.


    "Good daddies support their sons," I agreed.


    A groundcrawler of dubious design came trampling around the corner, and we bounced behind the fallen Walker as it opened up on us. As we needed to cripple the Walker anyways, it saved us some work as the wreck jerked under the impacts, and got a wee bit molten.


    "Take this thing out, plant the Focus, and we''re out of here," he agreed, and we were up, over, and moving at the groundcrawler fifty yards away, on top of it in three seconds, and the barrel-crumping, hatch-severing, and tail-shooting was done with inside of ten seconds. A couple Construct-Bane format spikes blew apart the controls, and it settled and slumped in resignation.


    A slab of rock off to the side was suitable material for carving a Focus, and our Star Core Mindclaws were perfect for the work, peeling the stone off like clay as we etched it into place. Vivic-burning corpses were disappearing nicely, but sealing this area into fixed reality that we would be able to lived-line hop back along rapidly.


    Chalice alternated with Beat, both able to grab both of us and send us on the way. That way, we alternated costs and minimized the effect on both of us.


    Heading back to Janus Prime Downspire for some Rampaging and Reorganizing, it looked like...


    ==============


    Minor Glossary Stat Dump re Space Marines:


    A normal human has Stats from 8-12, avg 10 (baseline)


    Space Marines are human elites, so their base Stat line is like 16/14/13/12/10/8, concentrating on the physicals, and then Wis/Int/Cha.


    They are Advanced Humans from the Emperor''s blood, having +4 to all Stats. So, 20/18/17/16/14/12. In other words, in their weakest Stat they are still better then an average human.


    They also grow to size Large (7.5 to 8 feet tall avg). That gives them +8 to Strength, +4 to Con, -2 to Dex, and +2 Natural Armor... all this BEFORE things like Wired Reflexes and so on from the Legionnaire Template. Size Large also doubles carrying capacity.


    They also train incessantly, and so take all the Stat training bonuses.


    So a Legionnaire, before his armor, is going to be a Melee/6, Archer/4, probably Scout/4. He can lift over a ton and a half over his head, with an approximate Stat Line of 30 Str, 26 Con, 26 Dex, Wis 16, Int 16, Cha 15... all of this before any bioengineering bonuses or psionic enhancements or armor buffs.


    An officer will be on average +4 higher in all Stats, and with better gear and bonuses.


    Stack on the armor, gear, and bioengineering buffs, and Legionnaires are incredibly nasty combatants, as most of the alien races of the galaxy have found out.


    Of course, from Sama''s perspective, they are just sterile soldier drones there to die to safeguard the rest of humanity, but you can''t have everything.

 Chapter 378 - Far Future Ch. 88 – Let’s Just Keep It All in the Family

    My Bad Girls kept me cheerfully informed about their seizure of power. It actually went pretty smoothly once they identified all the Amourean cultists and hard-line loyalists and bodyhoppers... not that doing that hadn''t taken a bit of effort. Still, they got a considerable amount of help from younger sisters with appropriate Talents and no sympathy at all for either cultists or mentalist body-stealers.


    When a thousand Rantha Hags move, even a millennia-old mafia house is going to have problems dealing with them.


    It could have been far more violent, but with Ranthas stepping right into the positions of power that had been spontaneously released by bullets, and furthermore having instant access to the secrets and connections of said positions by vivic-nomming those holding them, the transition of power was basically not very noticeable. The fact they could alter their appearances as perfectly as a dop, and tended to have much, much better Charisma scores to convince people that they didn''t want the change to be false, also helped immensely.


    The Map of Underspire was much, much more extensive now, although there were still huge areas in it dark and blank, as the area was just that damn big. There was both no reason to go into certain areas, and certain areas didn''t let you in, period. Still, the city defense teams would have been aghast at how up-to-date and extensive our maps of the higher tunnels and complexes were, and we didn''t apologize about them at all.


    I moved through the tunnels as easily as if I lived down there, and Inigo did have a lot of travel up and down the Spires, getting around more than all my other Extras... and was one of a special breed of Marked who went into unMapped areas on a lark to find out what was in there.


    I wasn''t going to the Themis headquarters, which was currently being remodeled to get rid of a lot of suspicious stains, holes, burned furniture, smoke damage, and death traps of various sorts. The mini-nuke going off would have been a nice touch... as long as the matriarchs knew it was coming, most of them could have jumped right to new bodies, while the demon in the dop could have just gone and taken over a new shapeshifter.


    The jail was just a food warehouse with a section set aside for special prisoners, now completely empty except for a grey-skinned, three-fingered, smooth-faced humanoid with a nihilaen spike (Energized Hardened Lead Crystal Glassteel to the pedantic) sticking out its skull. Any normal human would have been completely unnerved by its alien biology, and probably had a hard time believing it was either a shapechanging or cannibal once-human who had gotten too much into the ''You are what you eat'' mindset, and Amourae had blithely gifted them with the status.


    Of course, their kids would inherit the dop genes, too, which activated the first time they ate another human and likely took their place. I understood first-time lovers were preferred for this purpose...


    And there was the Dancer, sitting inside it, looking out the lidless eyes at all of us, sneering at the circle on the ground that was preventing it from retreating to the Warp, and then finding a way back to come back and reclaim its power and position.


    Mahsh was the only one there, although Marked were standing guard at a couple locations, and the rest of the defenses was mostly cybered stuff.


    Mahsh had yellow and brown hair worn very short in a layered, almost scaled pattern (Compressed, naturally), and disturbing yellow eyes which she had slitted to make her look even more disturbing and let everyone think she had cybereyes or reptile genes. She moved like a serpent, which put a lot of people on edge, and I gave her a nice friendly hug as I wandered in by way of greetings.


    "How has the purgings of the dops been going Down here?" I asked her conversationally. It was a nice way to earn cash, so Ranthas popped them whenever they saw them. All those eyes wandering around with True Sight was really a nightmare for the creatures.


    "We''re in the thousands," she replied back, not caring if the dop and its multi-lobed head heard us, or the demon riding inside. "That''s spread across the city, of course, and doesn''t make allowances for other mega-cities. The Sweiss were not happy to find out the dops had swapped in for some of their engineers, and had rewritten their own detection protocols so their sensors would ignore them. We ended up picking off one of their Veeps, and they had to thank us and pay us for it! Was damn funny."


    "Do you think you''ve won?" The voice of the dop was multi-leveled, like two or three women whose souls it had eaten were speaking at once. "I am eternal! The Warp itself will bring me back if you kill me! I will hunt you down like the puny mortals you are! I will eat your family and replace them with my brood, I will-"


    "Shut. Up." I turned my eyes on it, and that ranting strangled in its hole of a mouth. "I''m talking to my daughter here. There''s no need to be rude before you die." I looked back at Mahsh, who looked quite impressed. "Possession?"


    "Selective, but... yeah. Those orgy ceremonies make a lot of money, so the Themis just set them up and turned a blind eye to anything that went too far. They mostly just supplied the raw materials and prepped the settings. However, the databases on who attended those things are... extensive."


    I rolled my eyes and sighed. "And people wonder why I have so many daughters," I asked the durasteel ceiling above." Mahsh snickered. "I imagine the Themis know a whole lot about infiltration of the Spires by all sorts of things."


    "We are everywhere! The Warp cannot be denied! All mortals live to serve-hkk!" I turned my eyes on it again, and it choked and shut up despite its frenzy.


    "There''s massive jRaztl influence among the Scythilians, the Trikes, the Yaku, and the Sweiss, all in competition with one another. Riggibuhl has influence among the Steiners and has been trying to get into the Askar, but the zealotry of the Cult of Man is pretty strong there. Klaw is hooked into the low levels of the Skraeling, but the top end we''re pretty sure is Wilder body-hoppers or Warp Sorcerers manipulating the low-end, who would not be happy to find out what happens to the successful ones among them."


    "As the Bad Boys are finding out," I agreed, and just lifted a finger to shut the dop up and shrivel it up as it became aware that I really was something dangerous to it. "Looks like you''ve got a lot of work cut out for you."


    "There''s nine other Themis branches on Janus III," she hissed quietly.


    "And how many Vats?" I inquired.


    "We flushed all of them here," she admitted. "Which means no noobs for three months, but that''s not an issue. Plenty of willing Marked looking for a shot to a better life, and plenty willing to shoot the recalcitrant to get it." She gave me a lopsided smile. "They got two thousand of those things ready to go, Mom."


    Two thousand...


    "You got the tech teams going over them? They are bound to be infected with all sorts of crap."


    "Yeah, we had to swap out most of the computer tech for Rantha-tech, and totally purge a lot of the operating algorithms. There''s shit woven into the code that basically made them all susceptible to Amourean influence, psi-gaps for bodyhoppers to exploit, the works. The physical containers... about ten percent of ''em had micro-runes of the Warp inscribed onto them in unseen places. Had to melt that shit off." She shook her head. "If there was a true Warp event, the whole of the Themis would have fallen almost instantly, and provided both willing hosts and psionic catalysts for those around them to succumb, too."


    "Doncha just hate otherplanar entities with millennia-long planning capacity?" I asked nobody, and she just shook her head. I had little doubt a similar situation existed for all the Houses, as Vatted made awesomely excellent sources of raw material for the Warp, what with their stunted souls and carbon-copy base psyches, so easy to reshape and corrupt.


    "Well, let me take care of this thing." I turned on the dop, which tried to widen its lidless eyes, and couldn''t.


    My Null came crashing down on it, hard and solid as a mountain of Reality letting that demon inside know that oh, no, it wasn''t going to go freaking ANYWHERE. I pulled the hypo out of my Vest with my hair as my Clawed hand grabbed its oversized head, latched on, and I pulled out the spike that had been stuck in it to prevent it from using magic and being annoying. The fact my hand was aggressively worse than the spike had the creature screaming and writhing in my grip, but its broken spine meant that it couldn''t do more than shudder much, and couldn''t heal the damage even with biopsi, or Warp sorcery, due to the Curse power of the Blooding magic on the wound.


    The hypo drove into its throat, and hissed once. Psiactive concoctions went bubbling into its bloodstream, and the grey-white smooth leathery hide of the thing began to shake and shrink, pulling into itself and sending off its mass, down, down, down, to 1/12th of its normal scale, its head suddenly not all that much larger than my thumb.


    The demon was squealing, not very loud in my Null, aghast at the feeling of steel walls weighing down on it from my Null not giving any ground to its power.


    "You," I looked down and told it with an eight-canines smile, "are about to get a very unwelcome surprise."


    And without much thought I stuck the shrunken dop in my mouth and swallowed it whole.


    The Runes I''d formed in the lining of my own stomach lit up, and vivic fire flared as acids that the creatures of the Wastes outside would fear washed over the dop inside me, rapidly raising the temperature in there to well past the boiling point of water in addition. Its flesh literally exploded, and as it did it was vivified away, the entire mass of it... but as that happened, all sorts of things were drawn out and deposited in my bloodstream.


    My gut was actually glowing as the fires of the Dancer burning inside blazed very strongly, powering this whole process forwards. It was dying forever; no, it was not going back to the Warp, nyar, nyar, suck on it. However, it had been riding a dop, and depositing its memories, along with those of the victims whose brains it ate, in the brain of said dop.


    Greater dops were one of the crazy bloodlines subsumed into being a Rantha Hag. I didn''t go wild on using it, but I''d used it to secure my Colonel rank in the Planetary Guard, and now I was going to use it to draw out a thousand years worth of memories from the self-indulgent megaperverted mind-raping shapechanging voyeurist, to plumb and abuse for the public good.


    Ahg, such sick stuff. I was already sweeping tons of shit aside, especially most of the filth that had to do with its own thoughts and desires, as I had little desire to experience and understand them. Now, I could have, and it actually wouldn''t have done shit to me, as Rantha Hags also have a very strong helping of succubus in the old bloodline, as well as other Fiends, so the vile shit this bitch was putting out was like, eh, really? But I had no desire to keep it around, so I didn''t.


    "Okay, I''ve got it, and am dumping it into an akashic node for myself. I''ve got a couple thoughtstreams working on it, and will start dumping the most recent and relevant information, and work backwards to things that are of more interest." I looked at her, she looked at me, and I leaned forward to bop heads with her, sighing. "Two hundred and fourteen brothels, to start with."


    Her slitted eyes closed, and she twitched. "That''s a lot of dead sex workers, Mom," she said coolly. She could do it; she would do it, but that didn''t mean she didn''t recognize the human cost.


    "Yeah, and one of ''em I''ve got to make a special trip to. I think we''re lucky they didn''t get clever on her..." I sighed. "By the way, you got souls for your sisters?"


    "To start with, all the Themis we dumped." I gave her a thumbs-up for forward thinking. Dumping a lot of vat-born vulnerable to outside influences was a prevention tactic, and then bringing them back as Ranthas pissed at what someone had tried to make of them completely poetic justice.


    ================


    Author''s Note: In Warhammer 40k, use of cloning and similar technology results in physically superior specimens with absolutely horrible luck and spiritual potential. Still, the tech is there, and when mixed with the Hag Curse, is naturally VERY abusable... and so Sama is abusing it!

 Chapter 379 - Far Future Ch. 89 – Tongue in Cheek

    The brothel was taken down quietly, and in literally seconds.


    It was a Midspire location, discrete and out of the way, not flashing its location at all. Behind its doors, however, was a posh and luxurious establishment willing to cater to all the normal sex fantasies... and if you had connections, were bored, and arrogant, some extremely unhealthy ones, too.


    The service staff was attractive, motivated, resilient, and of course very well-trained, willing and able to handle their patrons. There were no cases of complaints of abuse, workers trying to leave, or anything similar from the location, and health investigators considered it a model of the trade.


    Most of those health investigators were compromised, too.


    The trick and key behind Madame Shauna''s was naturally Madame Shauna, who was an enthusiastic and gifted Amourae Cultist, and a Warp Mutant with a particularly insidious gift.


    She had an extendable tongue, able to reach up to six feet long, and when infused with psionic energy, it was as sharp as a razor, and strong enough to punch right through a man''s head. The saliva it exuded was an aphrodisiac of horribly addictive quality, capable of re-writing the pleasure centers of the brain... one kiss from Madame Shauna, and you were hers.


    Oh, it wasn''t immediately at the soul-sucking need level, but if you went to her place once, you would be back... and each time you went, your sex drive would be stronger, and assuaging it even more pleasurable. You''d feel active, more energetic, more driven... and you''d be going back again, and again, and again.


    Past a certain threshold, your mind was attuned to the Warp, and you were ripe for Possession, Warp-channeling, and Amourean influence.


    Naturally all her workers were addicted to her kiss. If they left, they''d die within a week from the cravings consuming them, body and soul, and be utterly berserk killers doing anything and everything to try and satiate the need, from raping everything that moved, to eating them, to trying every combination of drug under the sun... none of which would work, and only compel them to keep trying more.


    Just like Amourae loved.


    Philius came in on this one, as we couldn''t trust any of the local Juris, a significant number of whom were probably compromised. They had an isolated local server network, and a network of Warp Sorcery Wards so subtle that unless you were specifically looking for them, there was no way you were going to see them.


    Unfortunately for them, they were in a Spire, and that meant that all the walls, doors, and ceilings actually bordered on other places. If said places were bought out and empty to provide more security, that just worked out better for us.


    Me and my kids cut our way through walls, floors, and ceilings, Nulls and Sources not tripping the Wards waiting to flare with some truly unholy powers if they sensed intruders, and then start a cascading Event that would have been the talk of the whole town before it resolved. I secured the primary server and database with the names and addresses of the clientele before it could be wiped, neutralized all the traps on it, and got to work on decoding it even while all the rooms and floors around me turned into bloodbaths.


    Everyone was terminated, without question. Madame Shauna turned out to be a Warp Sorceress of terrific power, and obliterated a good chunk of the brothel when she let go... and then the Interdiction stopped the demons coming in she tried to Summon. Her magic was shut down like a mountain had fallen on her when she found herself inside my Null.


    She did try to use her tongue on me. I grabbed it and pulled it out of her throat in a nice spray of blood, and that kind of did it for her. Her bodyguard, also a Warp mutant, with a spine like a slinky and a nasty pair of long daggers, ran into my Tails in midair, got wrapped up, and then my main Tail branded her little addicted skull and rendered her unable to do anything.


    Given their nature, if I''d opened my shirt, they''d''ve been unable to make a move against me with Nereid Aura active. I didn''t bother to try... the two of them went politely missing, which supplied me with the passwords for all her files rather quickly.


    Everybody died, there was no attempt to save anyone. The combined effect of her venom and the psychological changes meant even if we could burn away the addiction, the people were going to go looking for something to satisfy the mental need, even if the physical one was dealt with. Amourae had Her hooks in them, and the very best choice was to kill them now and deny their souls to the Warp.


    Once the database was fully disseminated, then things got really exciting, as that was one very, very big client list, and it went into a lot of areas. Furthermore, I supplied them with dozens more names that were personal clients of Madame Shauna and not on the list... which were even more sensitive. While she hadn''t made it into the very top tier of society, she had penetrated into the levels below it... and the fallout was murderous, to say the least.


    ---


    Two hundred and fourteen brothels were hit in almost simultaneous raids by Juris squads under the cold instruction of Umbran Agents across nineteen mega-cities and a dozen more kiloplexes. Some went off cleanly, most of them ended up in bloodbaths, as frenzied sex workers became fanatical killers, and their clients went right along with them. Warp Events exploded, and Mentats and Coronal Squires ready in support were called into action repeatedly.


    Sometimes, they couldn''t reach elements of the Planetary Guard who were compromised, and shooting battles started as Amoureans seemed to come out of the woodwork before files could be analyzed and everyone identified. Other times, it was corporate slime with private security, or nobles taking control of the family guards to wreak as much havoc as possible in their desperation. At least four freighters ended up being blown out of the sky as people tried to flee on them, which put a crimp into contractual production.


    While not as broad of scope as the Wendlerton Academy infiltration, which spanned multiple worlds in the sector, the immediate numbers of this layer of corruption were actually much higher, and naturally more concentrated. There were over a hundred Warp incursions, across multiple cities, and my people in the Warp Zone reported an overwhelming shift to Amourean-themed enemies as the incursions were taking place.


    Many elements of the Janus Prime Guard were called into service by multiple cities, and distinguished themselves with their brutal suppression of Warp Incursions. That said elements had been active in the unknown and deadly Warpzone soon became a matter of knowledge at the highest levels of city governments, and a few of the more astute City Lords inquired if they might be able to send some of their own regiments over for such training.


    This was approved on the basis of them being raw recruits and filtered by the trainers, which they found amenable enough.


    Twelve million people died in total. Bloks burned in sacrificial towers; zones were razed, burned, gassed, irradiated, blown apart, and twisted into living nightmares. Rantha-tech working when facing full-on Warp degradation in combat conditions was on full-on display. Imperial Legionnaires were seen in combat for the first time ever in Janus Prime, wielding sapphire, silver, and golden mindblades and shields in combat, and handing out Sun Shots to depraved demonic invaders. Umbran kill-teams struck here, there, and everywhere; Coronals stood in the defense and the offense, particularly the new Coronal Guards, organizing and inspiring. Juris hunted down the traitorous and the blasphemous everywhere, and PG units laid down their lives to slow the advance of the incursions as Mentats plied the Emperor''s Gift against the forces of the Warp, and the Wilders and Warp Sorcerers who came leaping out of the shadows to finally ply their unholy gifts in the open.


    All-in-all, it wasn''t much different from the killing that thousands of them had been doing for months. The Warped naturally didn''t find that very nice, but we didn''t ask their opinions.


    ======


    Before the operation...


    "You are all going to take a big, big step," I told the Legionnaires, who were watching me very attentively.


    I had given them their Marks personally, and it didn''t matter that they were two feet taller than I was. They stared at me in Markspace, and they wanted to be like me.


    The fact I could throw all of them across the room in heavy armor was also a thing. Fuck that women can''t fight thing!


    "When you chose to embrace the Emperor''s Gift, and not just the Emperor''s Blood, you took upon yourself the same responsibility of safeguarding souls, and directly opposing the influence of the Warp, that your Legion Ministers and the Coronal Knights espouse.


    "Your souls shine sapphire. You are dutiful, obedient, disciplined, regimented, strong-willed. These are the qualities of great soldiers.


    "To embrace the Gift means that you must be leaders, and you must be heroes. You must show people the way.


    "Your ultimate foe is the Warp, a force of Chaos and Evil born from the sin of everything that lives. To properly oppose them, you must be that which they loathe, fear, and hate the most, which is to be not just of Law, but of Law and Good.


    "Legionnaire doctrine tends to ignore the implications of the moral choices and beliefs of its soldiers, and leaves them for the test of time and the cultures from which they hail. It wants good soldiers, and if such men are benevolent guardians or heartless butchers, all that matters is that they obey and fight the enemies of Man.


    "The Emperor''s Gift demands that you know and confront the strengths and weaknesses of your own minds. If you wish to properly oppose the Warp, then it is THOUGHT and deed that must do so, not just deed. You are engaged in not just a war of physical nature, but you have entered the metaphysical arena, where your job is to inspire, and lead all people to a better way.


    "It is, ultimately, a thankless task. You can ask any Coronal Knight what it is like to be out there, a shining beacon of hope which men rally around when it is time to fight... and then so many falter, fail, and ignore when their lives are not on the line.


    "And yet, they know that what they do is necessary, it is the true battle against the will and desires of the Warp. Every step towards the silver is a marathon away from the Warp, a climb of faith and belief, of trust and empathy, a defiance of all that the Warp believes in and acknowledges.


    "You have stopped being good little sons of the Emperor, content to do what you are told. You have embraced his Gift, the power and heritage of all mankind, and now you know. You can see what could not be seen, feel what could not be felt. You hold the stakes in your hands, your heart, your soul.


    "It is time for you to be more than just His Imperial Majesty''s Space Marines, soldiers of the Imperial Legions. You were Sons... and now you are grown, and you are truly walking in the Emperor''s footsteps.


    "It is time for you to no longer be the best of soldiers. It is time for you to be the best of Men!


    "Now go out there, and show them not how Legionnaires should fight, but how Legionnaires should lead the fight!"


    ===============


    Present day...


    Everything I could reap from the akashic records and imprinted memories of the Dancer indicated that we had dealt a mortal blow to Amourae''s current plans on Janus III. It would naturally not stop more schemes from being spun, and some cockroaches were hiding in corners, ready to breed again... but it was something.


    And very soon, there would be Rantha Hags and Hagspawn in all the cities of Janus III, assisting the Orders, leading Planetary Guard companies or even battalions, and my Marks, and the ranks of the Green and Gold, were already starting to accumulate in some of those places. Rantha Corp jobs were highly sought after, and didn''t need to be centralized into an emotionless mass production facility. Where there were Good people, Rantha Tech could be made...

 Chapter 380 - Far Future Ch. 90 – The Power of Love

    I handled over the vial of mostly clear gooey fluid. Duke Rimval took it with an uncertain expression, and the datachip with it.


    "I believe our research should match up with the forensic investigations of your Umbrans," I told him and Duke Parablum calmly. "I have stored the information away in an akashic record, that is the only remaining dataset left. I had the drives the results were stored on melted down, and the teams doing the investigations submitted to voluntary mindwipes of the results."


    They watched my Tails vanish, and the poison spikes thereon, which I had just filled that vial from.


    Yeah, I could mix up Madame Shauna''s diabolical venom from either my Tails or the poison glands in my mouth I already had. Only, the Hag Curse made very sure that the results were aligned to me, especially to the Brands I could administer with my primary Tail, and not the Warp.


    Furthermore, the potency of the stuff was based to a large part on the natural vitality of the one administering it. To say I was leagues above the Madame in that department was no lie. One dose of this, and I had a willing slave for life. Their life. Which would not be overly long.


    "There''s no effective antidote, as I''m sure your own men confirmed, and trying vaccination just starts the process. Maybe removing the pleasure center of your brain ahead of time would do it, and your sex organs... but more likely it''d just drive you insane that much more quickly." That was one nasty piece of work. "You either resist it initially, are naturally immune, or you are toast."


    "You spoke of... other ramifications?" Duke Parablum asked, interested and cautious.


    Both men acted towards me with a level of instinctive respect they couldn''t shake after they Bonded with their Ranthas. It was probablymaybeyeah related to the way I took part of their souls to make the girls, la la la, but it was also because of the Hag Sisterhood effect. To their Ranthas, I was Mom, no ways around it, so in their eyes they subconsciously were treating me like their mother-in-law... and they had a very good idea what I was capable of, being so closely linked with Vala and Bluma.


    The fact that both were Twelves and still did not have a prayer in heaven of getting past my Null with their psionics was also a thing.


    And yet, that same link with my daughters forced them to realize that I was not a true threat, and I certainly had no malicious intents whatsoever. That I was incredibly ambitious, personally extremely dangerous, and unbelievably talented... didn''t actually mean I was a threat to them!


    "The stuff is only rapidly effective if it is psionically energized, or in a Warp Zone where it can be empowered. However... the basic formula could be replicated and synthesized, with some difficulty." I let that hang out there as their faces darkened. "I think we can praise our lucky stars that they didn''t think of mass-producing her spit and introducing it as a recreational aphrodisiac. I calculate that our losses from this last action would have been at least a hundred times greater, there would have been a Mass Incursion generated as a result, and you would have had to Omega Sanction the planet."


    They both looked at that vial. Saved by being too lazy to think beyond her own personal realm of control...


    "Above and beyond that..." I sighed despite myself, "that stuff will work on non-sentients as well as intelligent ones, and if they are phrenic, it is even more potent. It leads to being able to reproduce with things you should have no ability to whatsoever."


    Their faces were like stone to hide their shock, and I could tell they really, really wished they could burn that vial. Maybe they still would.


    "Lastly, if you get enough Energized Elements in the making of it, you can turn it into an aerosol form. Get enough spread to blanket a planet, and you''ve an alternative Omega Sanction. Every higher life form on the planet will go full Amourean, trying to ****, kill, or eat every single other creature on the planet, until they eat themselves while trying to assuage the need for a fix.


    "Of course, anyone stupid enough to try that is going to trigger an Omega Incursion and lose the planet anyways as the Warp is drawn there, but the fact remains that they could do it."


    The vial and chip disintegrated in Duke Rimval''s hand. He bowed his head and put his palms to his forehead. "Holy Throne, hear thy servant and bend thine ear to my plea..." he began, and neither I nor Duke Parablum thought that was at all inappropriate, even though we knew that Duke Rimval was about as pious as a bullet in the skull. Still, Emperor''s Mercy and all that...


    The Great Enemy had a double-duty Omega Sanction. Kill off every higher life-form on the planet, AND summon an Incursion strong enough to take the whole planet because of how they were going to die? We''d been saved because the one who had the potential had no idea of what her little addictive gift could truly become, and hadn''t thought past the reach of her tongue.


    "And you can do this now?" Duke Parablum asked with a sigh.


    I nodded. "And I don''t mean to sound mean, but if I ever run into a Warped World already claimed by them, I''d be perfectly willing to wipe them with this, and then burn the planet en vivus with the saturation of Warp Energy that would result. Making them pay four times over, as it were." The huge influx of Warp Energy layered on to the previous would burn the planet very clean, indeed, and probably restore it to a natural paradise, turning an unsalvageable hellhole into a jewel of the galaxy.


    Nah, I wasn''t the vindictive type, was I? Quadruple indemnity was enough for me!


    Duke Parablum took a deep breath. He was extending a lot of trust to me, but one look at the Markdoor and he realized he could probably trust me more than he could himself. "You said you had other plans?" he went on, after Duke Rimval''s quiet prayer finished, and they both could regard me again.


    "Business topic." A welcome change from doomsday addictive bioweapon scenarios. "Take a look at The Map." Their eyes flickered as I brought it up in a visual overlay between us, shared Marksight. I mentally drew it back, giving them an eyeball view of my massive run around the Warp Zone, and then zoomed in on the areas of my run.


    "Shaded areas are mining sites with Energized Elements." Both men''s eyes narrowed, and they leaned in despite themselves as the miles scrolled by, and zone after zone of E-mines flared briefly, element and its Energized type clearly marked as I traveled.


    Vein after vein after vein of them...


    I drew back further, and glowing threads all around the Warpzone glittered with signs of wealth.


    Janus III was a mining planet, and the Dukes were absolutely aware of the primary importance of mining operations here. The only reason they weren''t massively bigger than right now is because of the sheer cost of shielding the workers against the hostile planet. The size and variety of ores available meant the mining companies never needed to look far to find the next thing to exploit, and given how easily surveying teams got eaten, they had literally never done a survey on the scale I just had.


    "More importantly, here''s some of the areas the kids have been going over, footloose explorers that they are." The view zoomed in to the north and west, the mountains and the wastes, filled in by crisscrossing lines as incorrigible BR teams went around filling in the Map, finding veins, and surveying them out, while amusing themselves with or avoiding the local wildlife as the situation warranted. After all, if they had Talents like Natural Explorer or Friend of Stone, why wouldn''t they cater to them?


    The size of those veins was every bit as large as those being worked on to the south of the city. However, the terrain was far more hostile in both layout and native inhabitants... neither of which were all that bad in the eyes of the eager kiddies beneath me, all clamoring to make a fortune on extractive industries.


    "I want to start claiming mineral rights on these areas, and accumulating the capital to start mining them. As soon as I do, however, that will trip the limits of every noble family and mining corp on the planet, and they''ll start buying up the rights to vast swathes of territory without even bothering to do the surveys, just so they can overcharge anyone who wants to mine there.


    "Briggs will have total control over the Skraeling smelteries and factories within three months. Once he does, he''ll stop making Vatted and start recruiting more Marked to work there.


    "I only need Marked who can work up a Vajra at Three to have a workforce capable of working outside the walls with only a breathing mask. Furthermore, I have psions who can psicraft their own Resistance to the elements and do the same.


    "The majority of tech used in mining this planet doesn''t exceed TL 7. There''s no motile forges, smelteries, or factories, for instance. There are tons of designs for more efficient ways to extract ore, using psionics, technology, or both, but none of them are being employed because of the expense of protecting the work force, and because nobody wants to pay them what they are worth while they pocket the profits.


    "Given the number of Ranthas who should be coming online, and how fast we are recruiting Marked, I should have a workforce capable of manning a motile factory within three months, and should be able to add a factory a month afterwards as more Threes come online." Dots began to pop up all over the map as dig sites began to accumulate. "I will need financial backing of the highest order to get all these factories made and specialty parts ordered, and we''re going to have to design some special freighters for hauling the output. Security will not be a problem, as the workers are going to rather enthusiastically double as defenders, too.


    "As for return on investment..." many of the spots faded suddenly, leaving only eight glowing behind, six silver, two blue-black. "Mithral and adamant, respectively. The product of those two mines alone should pay for literally all the others. I estimate that in five years, the motile factories'' financial output will be greater than that of all the cities combined, simply based on the variety of ores they will be putting out. When the Map expands and the kids start finding other veins...the amount of wealth at stake is astronomical.


    "But if the families and megacorps find out all this, it will be strangled in the grave."


    There was no way the ultra-wealthy would not exploit findings like this, especially if they knew we could find them. They would simply sit on them in perpetuity, until I mined out the claims that I could reach, and then charge ruinous fees for any rights in the area... if they didn''t decide to bite the bullet and survey them themselves despite the dangers.


    The Haze, Freaker Storms, the alkaline winds, and the nasty hostile natives and marauders had all combined to make surveying practically impossible with the preferred mechanical/automated means, and the living naturally didn''t do any better. Add all that to the easy mines found just by expanding current operations in given directions, and there was no incentive to go off into nasty territory, at least without someone else footing the bill.


    Pre-empting all of these ruthless bastards was doubtless going to wind up with some extreme violence, raiding, pirating, and other extreme means going to be used to hit my bottom lines. The boys and girls were already looking forward to the excitement.


    "There are alternatives to simply uniformly denying entry or issuing a blank check," Duke Rimval murmured. I inclined my head. I was aware of many such, but those were things for the Orders to endorse, not I.


    "For the areas surrounding the Warpzone, they fall clearly within the danger range of the Warp and are our responsibility. Simply disallowing any mining operations without clear surveys to warrant the risk and a thorough plan of accessing them is totally within our remit," Sir Parablum stated firmly, as the full Map of sites came back up. The important thing was that all my survey points were around the Warp Zone, and no sane corp was going to use the required TL 5 mining methods there, especially if they had to deal with the environment and raiders, too.


    "Quietly passing similar regulations regarding new mines to cut down on speculation and infighting, while raising the commiserate fees over time under the guise of free revenue sources in light of recent setbacks off-planet will likewise dissuade them from investing and sitting on the land." He indicated the nearest deposits to the north, E-Carbon and E-Silicon. The first was used in all sorts of polymers and advanced plastics, the latter in duracrete, optical fibers, and ceramics. The stuff was very common among the Energized elements, but the market was boundless and the profit guaranteed. "So, the key factor will be your surveys of lands outside the Warp Zone perimeter."


    "The surveys will be increasing quickly as I ask the kids to cover the ground in their down time."


    "You have systems designed to exploit the ores in the danger zone?" Duke Rimval asked. I just gave him an eyebrow. "Yes, right, foolish question..."

 Chapter 381 - Far Future Ch. 91 – Upwards and Inwards

    A few months pass...


    -That reconfigurable fusion core is a thing of beauty,- I /complimented Briggs.


    -The Mekkers are going to be pissed you figured out how to make the tech,- he /replied affably.


    At the same time, other thoughtstreams were discussing finances, allocating manpower, gloating over our BR teams'' doings, spinning out scenarios, listening to music, greeting newcomers to Markspace, dispensing wisdom and guidance, and analyzing incoming data for purposes ranging from movements of rivals reacting to us, to narrowing down some of the stuff that needed to be solved to get to TL 11.


    When we hit Eleven together, those Ranks were going to be popping off really, really quick, and production was going to get underway FAST.


    It was truly a shame the only post-Tens in the Markspace were the Dukes, and they were not scientifically oriented. On the other hand, their ability to manipulate/lead/guide others was very well-informed, even if they didn''t have the ridiculous Charisma scores to back it up that we did. Their positions were providing us the backing we needed to do our jobs, and that was more than enough, actually.


    In slow, boring, one-faceted reality, Briggs and I were clawing our way up a five-thousand meter sheer wall of stone, so severe it was plainly unnatural, and so hard and obdurate that even the birds found no place to roost on it... not that they''d want to touch something like this, humming with unnatural energies as it was.


    The stone was hard, but Star Cored mindclaws didn''t care. We chewed into the stone like tofu, hauling ourselves up almost effortlessly. Briggs even deployed his Arakne Arms to give himself more legroom, the holes made by his Claws perfectly serviceable to the Arms, while I used my Tails for basically the same purpose.


    An outsider watching would have seen us skittering up the sides faster than a man could walk. Of course, we were in camo mode, because we didn''t want a cannon sniping us off the cliff face. We would have been pretty annoyed if that happened.


    Still, we didn''t waste time, and being as strong as we were, lifting our own bodyweight barely counted as light exercise. Golden Claws crunched into unnaturally dense basalt, sparked on trace elements protesting what we were doing, and we kept going up.


    Dust storms raged around up here, a combination of temperature differentials and warring humidity that also sent lightning bolts crackling across the sky. This mountainous cliff, ringed by constant heat lightning and cyclonic wings, was friendly to absolutely nothing, and even the crystal rocs wouldn''t venture through this area, for fear of becoming a short-term and very bright incandescent light bulb before burning out.


    Two schmooks who could ignore the lightning and the winds and weren''t trying to fly, not so much a problem.


    Briggs and I reviewed the deployments happening in multiple locations around the Warp Zone. The new Hags and Hagspawn coming online wanted places to go and things to do, and well, there really wasn''t anything better. The girls were generally tough enough to survive out of the gate, the boys had to get to Three and so were delayed a bit, but generally speaking, there were Nulls and Sources who wanted to grind and power-level, and the unending minions of Chaos from across the galaxy were the perfect sacrifices on the altar of Karma.


    Not that they were quite as unending anymore.


    The two of us weren''t the only ones pushing in. We had started nineteen more invasion points, as all the new G&G and Marked soldiers needed some practice, too. They weren''t advancing anywhere nearly as quick as the first point, but two of the mega-cities, Jambus and Silliun, were located only a couple hundred miles apart, so the incursion points were actually fairly close by. The first priority had been to see if they could join up inside the Warp Zone, and two hundred miles of combat, land-clearing, and vivic-feeding later, the forces had linked up.


    It was small, but it meant that along the rim, the space was indeed finite, and that meant it could be contained, and the different invasion points could expand and link together, further shrinking and containing the Warp Zone. It was nice to think that, but now it was proven... and it meant that this thing could, in the end, be beaten!


    Having end goals was very motivating. However, all the Marked looked at the Map of the Warp Zone, and how Briggs and I had traveled over five thousand miles, trying to reach the center of it, and they were grateful that they had so, so much Karma they could still reap here, Omina, Omina Padme Hum.


    He and I didn''t have to worry about them. They could get everything that we could. Yeah, we had some ExLite bonuses they didn''t, and we were ahead on the curve. They all still had the exact same foundation, knew it, and were chasing after us like good little boys and girls, with terrifying competency and enthusiasm.


    A Legion Medicae had arrived from the nearby Indigo Hounds Legion, and helped set up the equipment needed by the new Thunder Bulls to produce more Legionnaires of their bloodline. The first recruits had already been chosen from among the young men who had not been Opened as Forsaken, and they were undergoing the training and bioengineering that would turn them into the Emperor''s Own Space Marines.


    The Mekkers had naturally been ready to earn some big money and start supplying the arms and armor of the new Company, and to ease up suspicions, naturally the standard AMT stuff was being allocated in the way of their iconic armor and weapons. As for vehicles and other matters, the demand was low, and the explanation that they were attached to the Coronals for support was enough to deflect any attention.


    The first mobile factory had been constructed, the core tech installed, and was busily making hundreds of tons of refined E-silicon every day. As for the Perimeter Mines, those were also pretty busy.


    Those were basically being mined by ''hand'' and mind. It was a downtime thing for the miners, as Star Core claws were uniquely suitable over pickaxes for carving through material, and Sun Strikes could chew through a lot of stone. Moving tons of rubble and ore was effectively some high-end weight training, and the wages and ore were specifically being used to buy and make Heavy Gravity belts... meaning those miners were getting very strong, indeed.


    The core of the process was Orbs of Shaping Stone, wielded by the psions. Yep, they were pricey. Nope, they didn''t run out. They started out at ten cubic feet of stone affected at a time, but if continuously upgraded, could reach as high as forty. Ore and stone could be freely shaped into forms easy to move around, from blocks with handles to bricks to spheres, and even used to build up walls around the minesites very quickly... or shaped into the battlesites to make roads and encampments.


    They also made tunnels and shafts to send the output on through outside the perimeter to the refining stations set up there. It was good, hard work, it paid very well and there were plenty of bonuses awarded to the workers... and if local creatures decided to bug them, more practice for Claws and Sun Shotting rifles.


    Recruiting, expanding, recruiting, expanding. We could easily bring in more than ten thousand people a day, and Ranthas who wanted to expand their followings were quite happy to do so. The Map was exploding with covered areas, survey teams, and burgeoning mining magnates. Fast and efficient mini-mills were popping up to service the mines, freighter runs were being scheduled, and money was being poured into develop, develop, develop.


    Ah, so proud of the kids. Making money and Karma hand over fist, leaving Mom and Dad to just lead the way so they could expound and expand upon everything.


    Hey, it''s what ExLites were meant to do.


    -----


    Our Claws crunched, Arms and Tails heaved, and we both came up over the lip of the cliff. It didn''t go from almost vertical and gradually decline to the top... there was less than a hundred-foot rise in front of us, and it began to slope down, albeit not as precipitously as the outside.


    We looked left and right at the massive, bowl-shaped crater extending out to the horizon on both sides. Sand storms were visible here and there, but the dust held no green, no water, the dark stone flowing down into the pale sands of the desert, somehow managing not to mix with them much.


    We measured the arcs by eyeball, did some calculations, compared notes.


    Okay, if the arc was constant, and actually formed a full circle, the center of this effect was a thousand miles in front of us. So, this crater was two thousand miles across...


    More importantly, energies were roiling around us, planar physics were having a field day, and tens of thousands of eyes looked through ours as they considered the blasted landscape in front of us.


    Our eyes fell on the outer edge of the waves of energy in front of us.


    "That is the perimeter of a Throne Field," Briggs stated with absolute certainty. He had been the one designing Crowns for the Legionnaires, and had made himself an expert on the things. "There''s a primary pulse radiating past us, and a secondary pulse forming an actual effect."


    I studied the on-off pulse, on about a ten-second cycle. "That''s not a true Throne field, right? It''s too big and dispersed. It''s got no Warding effects other than pushing away the Warp."


    "Yeah, I only see the dimensional lock, and it''s not even an Interdiction." Briggs frowned. "The stronger pulse is cancelling out much of the lesser, and this is the breakpoint of their cancellation. So, weakening the bounds with the Warp outside this point, and it''s normal to slightly stronger within."


    "That''s still a big Throne field."


    "If you remove all the secondary characteristics... yeah, it''s still big," he agreed. "Definitely not fusion powered, and even anti-matter would need to be massive. So, point singularity, quantum waves, or something of similar scale."


    "Two things. That looks like human tech, not alien." Briggs stared at all the energies at work, and nodded agreement. "And that looks like the edge of a Ward, not a planar release."


    That narrowed his violet eyes. "It''ll cut off the Marks," he noted.


    "Which could be bad, in terms of us finding something. We need someone standing here as a relay."


    There was a torrent of /conversation in the back of our heads, and a stealth team was on the way in minutes. Tech working in the area behind us meant they''d actually make some good time, if they could avoid creatures, Freaker Storms, and all the stuff wanting to shoot them down.


    Kris Rantha was Born to Fly, and quite looking forwards to it. Our lived-line tunnel a few hundred yards across would stay fixed even if the landscape around it changed, so they had a clear path. Strategic focus had shifted from going in deep to the core like us to starting the encirclement... and given the low-tech zone outside was actually smaller than the high-tech zone inside, a good idea from a logistics standpoint. We only had one base set up at the front of the First Salient in the tech zone, and while it was slowly expanding its fixation of space-time, it was more for testing out tactics and seeing how they worked, versus aggressive expansion against the Warped spilling into it.


    Regardless, the Warped still came, they still fought and died, and Fed the Land. The area they had to cross to reach the Base increased, and more fortifications and traps could be put into place in the static zone.


    Briggs and I sat down to wait. We weren''t bored. There was always the chance something irregular could happen in what we were watching, and there was so much other stuff happening in Markspace that downtime was basically only something our physical bodies ever had.


    The Ring of Lightning around the mountain below us booming away constantly, we sat and carried on a lot of conversations.


    ---------


    Six hours later, the infiltration team Clawed its way up the side of the mountain, Gloner Briggs carrying Sona Chama, the Beacon Psi Bonded to Crim, the G&G ex-street punk turned Umbran Guard, on his back without a problem. T''Chaya Rantha, ebon-skinned and golden-eyed, completed the quartet, while Kris and a team of G&G''s stayed down with the extraction jet, concealing it just in case.


    They set up station just inside and outside the Warding effect, as Briggs and I went in.

 Chapter 382 - Far Future Ch. 92 – Yours to Discover, and You’re Gonna Love Her...

    Descending the steep black slopes of the crater wall wasn''t actually that difficult. Briggs and I treated it like a skiing trip, comparing the paths down we both worked out, and turned it into a 120-mph race to the bottom as the Waveskating Steps bowed to gravity and sent us hurtling down, down, down.


    Now, we weren''t actually using skis or poles, but we were totally ''filming'' one another, and saving the whole thing to our Bands. I was pretty sure that these slopes were going to become a huge travel destination to anyone with the appropriate level of lightfoot.


    So, hundred-foot falls, somersaults, spins, tumbles, stupid midair poses, layouts, funny landings... we had style, and we had an absence of style, all in good fun.


    After all, if we couldn''t have some fun with all the extremely superhuman things we were capable of, who else would dare? Post-human acrobatics, leaping ability, and impossibly good balance and reaction times were meant to be enjoyed.


    In far too little time we made it to the bottom, coasting down the gradually decreasing slopes and out onto the sands beyond.


    "Tech is still working," he said, and his armor''s thrusters deCompressed, while my shin-jets did the same. Our skiing experience shifted from slopes to level ground as we started skimming over the winding dunes of the place.


    We still had a long ways to go...


    -----------


    "You noticed?" he asked of me.


    "The absence of life, or the next?" I replied, frowning.


    "The next."


    No biomatter whatsoever.


    From everything we could tell, this was a normal sand desert. No alkalines. The water in the air was extremely low, and otherwise locked below the sands.


    There was nothing alive but the most minor of bacteria. No insects, no plants, no spores, no seeds, I couldn''t even see any buried bones of any kind.


    There was evidence that there was a massive localized firestorm in the past, looking at the landscape, some melting and fusing. But even such a thing wouldn''t have killed everything, and certainly would have left carbonized traces of them. If it happened long ago, natural diffusion and the speed of life should have replaced everything by now.


    "Vivus? No, it would make more life. Virus bomb?" he asked, frowning at the sands and dirt speeding by under our heels. He was basically standing up straight while his jets sent him ahead, his Vajra taking care of air resistance, his Vajra keeping him above the sands.


    I was leaning forwards, my Wings out and burning, idly banking this way and that around him as we sped along. I fluffed up my Tail to give him something to admire, which he definitely did. If there would have been a lake or something on the way, we would have been mutually admiring one another for a few hours...


    But no. Just sand, dirt, and rocks, hills and valleys and seemingly endless plains...


    -------


    We both saw the glint of light at the same time, and glided to a stop together without speaking.


    "That was durasteel," Briggs frowned. Yeah, when your eyes have more color cones, doing albedo analysis at a glance is totally possible.


    "And at the locus," I agreed. Everything was diverging from that point.


    "To see it at this distance..."


    "A mile above the surface?" I finished, also running the math.


    There were no mountain ranges ahead of us. Could there be a single, lonely mountain peak at the center of all this? It definitely wasn''t what I expected.


    Then again, the Warp was involved. We glanced at one another, sighed, and resumed our travels.


    ------------


    A half hour later, as the horizon crept up and rolled past, we glided to a stop again, looking at what was ahead of us.


    "Ah, shit." "Oh, Hell."


    I reached back to the relay team. See, this kind of shit was why we wanted someone behind us. They also swore as the sight of what was ahead of us was transmitted back. Briggs and I calculated dimensions, approximated the design, and sent them off with instructions to find out what exactly this was... and to use non-traditional sources, or the Umbrans.


    Crim scampered away with a huge load in his Visual File, a mixture of eager and awed, and Briggs and I resumed course, somewhat more slowly and cautiously.


    The area ahead of us was shining and glossy, sands sweeping over it, not accumulating. It had been glassed irregularly, and not by impact.


    Ahead of us was a literal mountain of metal, a full mile high, and at least ten miles long. The lines were graceful and tubular, definitely not AMT standard, and it was simply massive, large enough by itself to be a space station, far larger than any standard model ship of the Imperial Fleet.


    Its durasteel was defiant to natural corrosion, and had held up unstintingly under the elements. However, there were burn lines that came from barely-controlled atmospheric re-entry, sheering wounds from stripped hull plating and extrusions... and most tellingly, dozens of impact sites and gaping hull breaches from some form of bombardment.


    For all that, this fallen hulk was indubitably of human design. Anything alien would definitely show something off-kilter on sight, a psychic twitch of something subconsciously not right. TL 7+ tech was Weird Science by definition, which meant it was tied to a race''s understanding of universal laws, and they would build accordingly. Trying to replicate the appearance of another race''s ships was basically impossible... they were alien, and always would be.


    If this was a ship before AMT, that meant before the Emperor. A really, really old ship, from the glory years of humanity''s surge into space, sitting here lost in the middle of a Warp Zone for thousands of years.


    Damn.


    "Speculating. Colony ship?" Briggs asked, eyes sweeping over everything.


    "Sounds right. We''ll know if it''s full of sleeper pods."


    "Colony ships would also have basic supplies and production technology to set up an economy base."


    "From before AMT." We glanced at one another.


    No, no, the Mekkers wouldn''t try to monopolize this instantly. This was potentially a galactic-class treasure, depending on the level of the tech here. The Mechanists would go to war to secure this for themselves... and then bury most of it, because ''only they could possibly understand it'', and of course, they wouldn''t be able to.


    Replicate some of it, maybe.


    This was a pirate treasure and the impetus for a sector-wide war. I was not worried about the Marked, but if news of this got out, there would be a sector fleet above the planet in no time, millions of men would start marching into the Warp Zone... and without Nulls and Sources, the Zone would freaking explode.


    In trying to secure the ship, they''d blow the Warp Zone, and lose the planet and everyone on it. To keep the technology out of anyone else''s hands, the Mekkers would make that choice without any hesitation.


    Throne...


    "So... how long do you think they''ve known it was here?" I asked Briggs archly.


    His frown could have cracked stone. "I noticed the Throne Field inside the Warp fluctuations. If they recovered any of the debris it lost as it came down, and what are the chances they didn''t?... then they''ve known since before the planet was settled."


    "Then they''ve figured out that the Warp Zone is behind the proliferation of E-minerals here. A static, ''low-threat'' zone put in place by a malfunctioning Throne Field."


    He grimaced. "They want to replicate it to create Energized farms on raw worlds in multiple locations!"


    The implications were enough to shake the galaxy, and the rewards great enough that the Mekkers would be sure to try it out, one way or another. It was practically guaranteed to be a total disaster, but on what scale, we couldn''t imagine.


    Well, we could imagine, and that was the problem. Because there was absolutely no way I believed this was a coincidence.


    "What do you think?" I asked grimly.


    "A second field will generate a resonance effect with every ship that uses a Hell Drive, broadcasting through the Warp. It will open an uncontrolled Warp Zone centered on every ship in the galaxy at the same time."


    The scale of that catastrophe would be unimaginable. The most heavily protected and defended worlds would be the ones hit the hardest, and every ship of humanity would be destroyed and/or taken over by denizens of the Warp.


    The galaxy would burn, and there was a good chance humanity would never come back from it.


    "That''s called playing a long game," Briggs muttered to nobody in particular.


    "While I really, really love the idea of the Warp being a nice source of power for making Energized materials, this isn''t a hot potato, it''s a supernova. What''s your guess on the TL?"


    "21+. If it was any lower, someone somewhere would have done the same," he replied promptly.


    "Check to replicate?"


    "Ugh... TL 14, 15, and able to hit a 50, 55? If they are working from a working model?"


    "So, any force with a working model and who is mad enough to understand Chaositech could potentially replicate this?"


    His face fell further. "And wipe humanity out..."


    "Wipe everybody out. That many constant and uncontrolled Warp Ruptures throughout the galaxy?"


    "Mythos wouldn''t give a damn. They''re intergalactic. An interesting one-off experiment in Chaos causality, is all. Maybe an easy way to create a permanent rupture into Creation, give them an easy in. It''s just a pocket Realm, after all, despite what the Warp gods and whatever else is here thinks."


    We were approaching the blast zone, and slowed down again. I looked down at the ground again, up and the looming bulk of the ship less than ten miles away, dominating everything.


    "So, what do you think the range for anti-personnel suppression is for this thing''s guns?" I asked, eyeing the glassed area starting fifty meters in front of us.


    "That''s a good question. More to the point, what were they shooting at?"


    We were silent for a few minutes, digesting that, and looked down and around us.

 Chapter 383 - Far Future Ch. 93 – The End of a Five-Year Mission

    "No biomass," I muttered.


    "Stripped right clean by something," Briggs agreed. "A virus would have left inorganics behind, something..."


    "So, a biovore?" I looked back at the ten-mile plain of glass around the ship. It had been shooting at enough creatures to turn that entire area to glass... and judging by the desert, it had failed to contain them.


    "A lot of biovores. Trying to get away from the ship..." Briggs murmured.


    "Uh huh. And just where might all of those biovores have come from?"


    We both looked at the mass of the huge colony ship in front of us.


    "To explore strange new worlds. To seek out new life, new civilizations..." his voice almost cracked. A colony ship, full of volunteers on their way to a new life in the stars, full of hope and wonder.


    "Boldly going where no man has gone before," I finished for him, and my hands popped as I clenched them. "Briggs, I really, really hate this place..."


    "Yeah," he agreed, and in tandem, we turned in opposite directions, looking around.


    Something had come out of the ship. The question was, where had it gone?


    -------


    Crim''s Markdoor lit back up as he came inside the Ward, but I knew the news wasn''t great by the emotions coming through.


    -Sage Sama, given the sensitive nature of the information, we executed every cut-out protocol we could, complete with using a Marked psi-crystal Matrix clone-out to do the accessing. We found an old nobleman with a hobby of collecting information about antique ships who had what we wanted, but...- His /voice was a bit shaken, the girls who''d done the work had probably been a bit tense.


    -The whole datafile was a worm at TL 14+?- I /hazarded coolly.


    -Yes!- he /breathed in relief when I got ahead of him, thanking the stars Ranthas were so smart. -The access site was bombarded within two minutes of datatouch, and a Mekker forensic team was on site and in the Boole going crazy behind the scenes trying to find out who did it via teleport thirty seconds later. The worm was actually psychoactive, and they had to dust the psi-crystal that was transferring the video before it was sublimated. There was teleport-tracking and obscene amounts of video tracking and analysis going on from all directions, looking for potential tie-ins.-


    Since they knew what had been done, that also meant the girls had taken precautions and kept two and three steps ahead, probably considering it a light intellectual challenge. -What was their estimation of discovery?-


    He /sighed in relief. -They said because of Beyond Law and Chaos, under 1%, and they''d need a Sixteen on-site right now for that to happen.-


    Like, oh, that Tekron down in The Hole. I was sure if a Sixteen was present, the Powers That Be would know. The Mekkers were good, but keeping one of their own of that Level of power hidden from the Mentats and Umbrans for any period of time was basically impossible. Hyperanalytic divinations would reveal that they were present, even if nothing about who they actually were... but knowing they were there, the psions would go looking, and asking questions. The Guild could be secretive, but stonewalling the Umbrans was a Guild-wiping mistake in judgement.


    Vampire''s Veil, Beyond Law and Chaos, and teleportation were freaking nightmares for any data-happy surveillance network and number-crunching analytical software to deal with. I had girls who literally did not exist as far as the system was concerned, and they very proudly and thoroughly kept it that way. Some considered it a challenge to not exist in the information files, while others had multiple identities, none of which were real, which they could expose and throw away on a lark as required.


    After all, the whole range of human Talents was present on them, and some of them had Talents dealing with hyperterritorial paranoia. They were really, really good at staying off the radar, while others were Self-Reliant to a degree that would make Libertarians weep with joy. Sisterly support meant woo-hoo! enthusiasm in support of casual law-breaking for a good cause, and away they went, them rebellious criminal scum, them!


    Given how many Ranthas were scattered among the Juris upholding the law and righteousness, and laughing at their sisters doing all this criminal shit in support of the Right Thing, it was good times all around.


    And of course, informing the Juris and the Umbrans that a covert Mekker forensic team had fried a couple buildings in a condemned zone and crawled all over it with their men without telling anyone was always good for laughs. Mekkers'' lies were unconvincing because they were so out of tune with emotions the bit-heads could only try the robotic approach and repeat the same words, thinking that they would be believed by sheer repetition...


    -------------


    "There is a Galactic Omega Threat existing at the center of the Warp Zone," Vala told Duke Parablum. "Bluma is telling Duke Rimval in his Quiet Room right now as well."


    Duke Parablum stared at Vala. He trusted her, because she was a part of him. A Galactic Omega threat... that meant humanity-ending, or worse!


    "And you can''t tell me the particulars." His voice indicated he was not surprised.


    "The only people who know the full details are Sources and Nulls, to ensure it does not permeate in the Mindscape or Dream. And... the Mechanists have always known it was there."


    Duke Parablum stared into those dark eyes, which were cold and hard right now, a lethal edge to them he had never seen. Concealing a Galactic Omega threat... was grounds for termination, from high to low, of every member of the guild on Janus III, and their superiors who knew about it. It could reach all the way back to Tellus!


    And he obviously could do nothing, as letting the word out on a wide scale would have devastating consequences...


    "Sama discovered it?" he asked. It was very telling that she had not even used the Marktell to warn him.


    "Yes, and she is going to take steps to handle it. She will keep Bluma and I fully informed on the behalf of you and Duke Rimval. This..." she paused for a moment, "There is a statistical certainty that there is a biovore threat extant on Janus III. She does not know where or how, but the likelihood that it has not infiltrated human society somewhere is negligible."


    Biovores... "Does she know what type?" he asked grimly. The mass xenosym fleets were the largest known biovore threat, but the Kundi, the Shuggoth, the Gatherers, the Zygom, and the Cellulocusts also existed out there, all harvesting all the biomass they could with utter ruthlessness. Only the xenosym were known to work with other races, as the cerevores had somehow found a way to subdue and use members of their populations... or perhaps were extensions of the xenosym hive-mind themselves...


    "No, but if there has been no alarm about it, it is likely an infiltrator. That narrows the choices greatly."


    The only type that could infiltrate would be the xenosyms, working with the cerevores. Although the others could snipe at the fringes, a true Shuggoth invasion would mean an increase in unicellular organisms on a vast scale, not just the standard mutation rate associated with phrenic empowerment. The city would be swimming in omnivorous oozes, and the waste facilities and algae vats would have bred them by the megatons.


    Stupid Elder Race and their damn creation of ooze slaves...


    "We will assume there has been cerevore infestation and proceed with countermeasures," he nodded, and sighed with experience. "As soon as they are discovered... things will erupt."


    Vala nodded to him. "This started a very long time ago. We had best be ready to crash Traffic Control."


    --------


    Kylee Rantha had Sticky Fingers.


    She was very amused by her Talent, which basically made her very good at touch-based activities, and all forms of Sleight of Hand, including card dealing and shuffling. She had put her Minstrel Ranks into maxing out Performance Magic and learning all the ins and outs of card tricks, coin tricks... and picking locks and pockets.


    Her hand drifted over the sensors of the personal safe of Gusman Huldeiver, widely known to the be the richest person in Janus Prime. Person, not family, not corp, just one man with an assload of money he''d gotten in a lot of ways fair and foul, and used to buy himself all sorts of sweet shit. While he didn''t have the power and influence of the noble Houses or the megacorps, he had plenty of local might and name recognition... as a fatass tyrant with trust issues all too willing to stomp on anyone who defied him.


    Ripping him off was going to be so nice.


    A glass from a public gala she''d waitressed at had provided prints and DNA, easily scanned into the gloves she was wearing to fool the sensors on the pads. It was an eight digit-code, and two of the numbers repeated, but that was fine.


    She had Sticky Fingers, and her ability to sense stuff with her hands was better than Big Mom''s. She could feel the impacts on the keys, molecular-level signs of wear and tear invisible to the eye, and she could also feel the way they layered and scuffed, indicating what finger came first, what followed what as the hand moved subtly to follow the next digit, came back to touch others.


    She plotted them out as her hair held up the false eyeball to the retina scanner, and spoke into the microphone in a voice not her own, "Open up, babe, it''s your sugar daddy."


    Her fingers danced across the keys, sensors read the appropriate genetic information, body heat fine, fingerprints okay.


    He should have scanned the lightbulbs in his office better. They''d recorded the order of operations, the words he''d used, and the number of keystrokes he typed in... and the fact he only used one finger to do so.


    The safe clicked open, and she slapped the delay circuit onto it, which would loop the outgoing system notifying him that his safe was opened. That gave her about thirty seconds headway.


    Her hair reached in, grabbed everything in hundreds of little hands, and pulled it out. Into the plumbum-lined bag it all went, which went into her Masspack, and she scuttled back across the ceiling on her way out of the room.


    The doorway in was also rigged to not show it was opened. Tremblesense showed no one outside, so, still scampering on the ceiling upside down, she went out the door into the hall, her hands sparking with her restrained Claws as she dragged herself forwards.


    Okay, there was a guard around the corner here, but he had no arc of sight above him. A tap, and a tiny charge hissed and fizzed in a power outlet behind her, the pop of electricity and faint vein of static instantly getting the armored man''s attention. He immediately stiffened, spoke into his mic, and turned to march towards the disturbance as she slid past him on the ceiling, around a corner before he turned back, and then dropped to the ground to tear open the door to the terrace and sprint.


    Three seconds later, the alarms went off, gears whirred, and weapon mounts flopped up from under flower boxes and sculptures, hunting for a target.


    Pulses of hot light hissed around her, trying to track her as she fled, feet skating across plascrete and durasteel, nicely covered with gene-mod ironwood and ceramic tiles set off with gold. The bundles of hot plasma blew superheated craters in the roof beneath her, not quite managing to track her as they should as she slid away from the path of the extra two shooters who popped up, quite ignoring their broadcast orders to halt and surrender and do other nonsensical stuff. Private guards had no law enforcement powers and were far more liable to just shoot and kill then capture.


    Header off the building time!


    ======


    Author''s Note: This arc with Kyla is actually a rewrite of my original Sama in the Future story.

 Chapter 384 - Far Future Ch. 94- Sticky Fingers

    The guards with their jetpacks and anti-grav swore as she plunged off the mile-high Spire in a power dive. The extra two hundred kilos of goodies in her Masspack helped her velocity nicely, as did the air splitting before her Diamond Vajra. They might have jets, but they still had to deal with air resistance!


    Under the pulse of her ki, the compressed, folded cloth running up the sides of her body from ankle to wrist flared out into a wingsuit, and her plunge became a sliding glide through the air at 300+ kph.


    She knew their vehicular backup was on the way and would be on station within seconds. They might not be able to track her electronically, which was no doubt causing massive consternation amongst them, but Eyeball 1.0 still worked fine, if pissing off their computer-aided gunnery to no end.


    They barreled after her, and yeah, the power armor helped, but humans are not aerodynamic, and her Diamond Vajra effectively made her frictionless. They couldn''t close on her, and there was this little problem of banners, poles, walkways, illegal cable links and bridges, and also the minor issue of skyroads and pedways that had to dodge or be dodged on the way down.


    She was invisible to the evasion algorithms of the traffic, which meant the aircars, speeders, hovertrucks, and skimmers simply wouldn''t notice her to dodge her. Ergo, Kylee go splat if she wasn''t good.


    Good thing she was that good!


    She spun around and through everything, the world cycling by at 1/20th the speed a normal person would perceive it at. Everything within sixty feet of her she absolutely knew the presence of, missing nothing. Tracking, predicting, altering course, reading the airflow and obstructions with equal panache as her hunters had to take a much more convoluted route through everything, and fell further behind.


    And there it was, a sinkhole that had recently opened up into the undercity, cordoned off and awaiting the maintenance crews that would fill it up. The automated flashers notified the comps in the vehicles and automatically adjusted traffic flow around the hole, but the hole was open, and that was all she needed.


    She snapped the wings tight again, doing a somersault as she flared with drag and her glide became a precise plummet right down the center of that ten-meter wide hole.


    Her boots pulsed with energy, tossed her mass in every direction, and she became effectively a feather for the last foot of her descent, feet coming down to within a half-inch of fragments of plascrete, lightfoot kicking in once more... and she was off down a maintenance tunnel to the left before her pursuers could get an eyelock on her once again.


    They''d be cursing and swearing, but all of the cameras here were on false inputs for the next five minutes, so they wouldn''t be able to patch in and see doors opening and closing. Plus, she was moving at sixty miles an hour or faster on straightaways, which meant the number of alternate courses she could take was increasing exponentially, especially if she chose to go down even further into the belly of the undercity. They couldn''t possibly maneuver that bulky armor through the doors and tight tunnels with any speed, she had her escape route long planned and covered... and her body temp was exactly at air temp, so they couldn''t track her that way.


    It was even worse when she took a route that wouldn''t be on any city database.


    ---


    Kaylee opened up the plug of cement, dove smoothly through it, reached back to yank it shut on its concealed hinges, and slid forwards on all fours through the rough tunnel dug through the ubiquitous plascrete into the maintenance tunnels around one of the many decaying old bloks that housed so many hundreds of thousands of people. From there, it was a matter of pushing aside a rack of tools quietly, sliding it all shut, and she was basically free and clear.


    Kaylee drew a set of working clothes out of her Masspack, putting them on quickly. As she did, her face rippled slightly, and her hair changed color from blue-black to spiffy pink-blonde, with a unique cut.


    Templa Hassidra was a young Beacon psion, registered as a Termite, although her skills were now significantly past the personal calls stage. Still, she had just given Kaylee a knowing smile when Kaylee asked if she could answer a call in the basement of Junglerblok about such and such time, and then dim-shift out when nobody was watching on cue... for a small fee, of course.


    The two dead rats... well, what passed on Janus III for rats, they were half-scaled and had bigger teeth... were taken out of the locker which, by the dust on it, had not been opened in years, and she moved to the door, made sure no one was close by, and the sensor to indicate activity that had burned out decades earlier was still inert.


    This had probably been a smuggling route for a drug gang coming into Jonglerblok, being run through the maintenance crew. There''d been news of a drug war twenty-odd years ago, where part of the maintenance crew had died, and knowledge of that very illegal access cut into the substrata maintenance tunnels of the city had probably died with them. Mika Rantha had noticed the tunnel when doing a lived-line stroll to expand The Map, and hey, it was finally becoming useful.


    Kaylee held her bag of rats in hand as she walked down the maintenance corridor and headed for the stairwell out of here.


    Templa had warned her that they had tried to keep spotters on her while she did her inspection, so Kaylee was not surprised when she opened the door to the way out, and saw two men standing there on the landing above, looking irritated.


    "You!" the first one shouted down at her. "Where did you go?"


    "Corridor, back room, following a piss trail. Nest in a pile of old uniforms. You want me to show it to you, or you just want to look at the little darlings before they bred?" She held up the package as she started up the stairs, voice bored and tired.


    And then she heard some telepathy go by. That wasn''t particularly unusual, as psions could be quite messy about forming telepathic links if they didn''t think anyone could listen in... but hearing it in a language and style that wasn''t human most definitely was not standard at all.


    Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly as the two men focused on her, and she let her Brand suppression drop and her full Charisma come up singing, even as it was meant to do nothing overt.


    "Out of the way, boys," she yawned, waving them aside when they didn''t respond to her question. "I''m tired, this barely pays for dinner, and it''s been a long day."


    She hit all the right subvocals, posture, aural cues. They were working stiffs in the unitards of building maintenance, should have totally been on her working-girl side, and Templa''s looks were more than cute enough to carry the sex appeal forwards.


    They did hesitate, but only for a moment, before pulling back against the wall.


    She''d have to pass them with the railing of the stairs on the other side.


    There was something unnatural in the local mindscape; it had its hooks in both of the men, and was paying attention here.


    She stepped past them, eyes drifting past lazily, body language trusting and tired... and naturally they both lunged at her with remarkably perfect timing.


    She ducked so smoothly it looked choreographed. Her right hand, which did not hold a plastisealed bag of rats, came back glowing and smashed into the middle of the top man''s face with five fingers, drove in two inches, and the Sun Strike went off and blew out his brains as she heaved and sent him past her over the railing.


    As she went down, her other foot came up. Normally, that wouldn''t be all that dangerous, but when a ki-enhanced foot gird in a new soulclaw snaps up, powered by the muscles of someone who could bench a truck, and hits you in the side of the head like an axe, welp, that was all she wrote.


    She straightened up as he was knocked sideways across her back, head crunching like a popped egg, grabbed his leg, and heaved him after his friend.


    Jump, circle, jump, circle, jump, get the fugouttaDodge...


    She jumped, hit the far wall above the steps, ran along it, jumped again up the flight of stairs, repeated the zigzag bouncing ascension of the steps twice more, and was up from the third sub-basement to the main floor. She heaved the door open before they could seal it, and was in an access corridor away from the main doors on the east side, fifty yards from getting out.


    Whatever was on alert was going to be momentarily confused by what had happened, and then had to coordinate a response.


    Templa was already coordinating, inputting into her Band that she''d been jumped by two building maintenance workers and was getting out of Junglerblok for her own self-protection. Kaylee naturally began trotting at a controlled pace towards the doors.


    She was barely past the corridor gates and into the main entryway when they slid shut behind her. Twenty yards to go. If they sealed the doors, she''d just blast them open.


    She didn''t look like she was moving fast, but every stride was covering twice the distance that it looked like it was. She reflected that she really needed to get her Sword Knuckles outfitted with Teleport, it would make things so much easier.


    "Hey, you, stop!" a group of men abruptly turned around as another wave of pspeech swept past, and she just ignored them as she made it to the doors, in time to see another cluster of men outside coming up to stop her.


    She pulled out her stunner, and promptly shot the first two in the face, dodged the third and clouted him on the back of the head as he went by, and put her foot in the face of the fourth, clothes-lining him and dropping him to the ground. She shot him in the face before he could get up, then his buddy #3, and then very obviously trotted away as the men came racing out of the doors behind her.


    She held a middle finger over her head as she drifted away, just for proper effect, and rapidly outpaced them without any effort, weaving through the people on the street. For some reason the wave of pspeech didn''t follow her out into the crowd, although many people were giving her strange looks as she passed by.


    A van pulled up smoothly beside her, the side door opened, and she stepped in. As her features reverted to her own, Trembla slid into the front seat to satisfy any cameras, and the driver, Trembla''s Null Qwaggo, smoothly pulled away and into traffic.


    "Okay, I did not expect that," Kaylee said, her eyes narrowed. -Hey, Doc Mick! I''m near Junglerblok, four hundred kliks from home. Where is the nearest place I can go to get a black sanitized genetest done?-


    The Mick had been quietly expanding his own brand of tough love medical care in all directions as the Green and Gold expanded, and was plugged into a lot of people and places. He was also getting out some genetic testers very quickly in the light of the news coming that they might have an alien infiltration.


    -I''ve got nothing there,- he /admitted to her. -You have suspicions on something?-


    -I just got to listen in on a non-human telepathic command wave in Jonglerblok, and had to kill two guys who ignored a full charm display.- Which honestly was pretty freaking mind-bending. Those guys literally should not have been ABLE to think bad things about her. They had to be hard-wired for obedience.


    She held up her hand, which was still coated with blood and brains clinging to the glimmering psychic force on her hand.


    Sticky Fingers...

 Chapter 385 - Far Future Ch. 95 – Brain Food

    As a psion attached to an Umbran Striker Team was hurriedly arranged to rendezvous with Kaylee Rantha, one of her sisters across town was standing in a parade line.


    Jensa Rantha had reached Six and Charisma 30, and popped open her Reincarnation to find out whose soul she had inherited basically as soon as she could. Her Talent had been Eagle-Eyed, which was +4 to Perception checks related to sight, doubling to +8 at Ten. It was a mighty Talent for an adventurer just about all ways you looked at it, and Ranthas being adventurous combat-heavy sorts with all kinds of visual prowess, they all expressed great envy of her.


    She''d found she had been a twitchy, paranoid addict whose Talent only made him sensitive to the shadows and suffering of those around him. He noticed everything, and it was all bad, and he just wanted to shut out the world, play games, and ignore the reality he was in.


    His incredible Talent just made him notice more of the subliminal shit in the games designed to manipulate those playing...


    He died when the fucking wilders had come down and made his nightmares a screaming reality he couldn''t escape from.


    She had taken out her rage on some duracrete walls for a couple of days, and then went straight off and joined the Juris, crashing through the Academy in record time and promptly starting a zealous crusade against all sorts of the shit plaguing this damn town.


    Because she could see it all.


    Her first day on the job, she shot three dops walking by her, so confident they were invisible. By the end of her first week, she had shot ten of them. The Dop Squad went ape-nuts over her ability to see them, and recruited her simply to locate them so they could be tracked down secretly, their connections shown, and then those connections further tracked.


    She shot a dop acting as one of the Politae support staff who helped run the Juris systems, someone who had compromised many Juris operations in the past, and her reputation was made. Stone-cold fearless, a VERY intimidating gaze, and combat skills that terrified all her instructors meant she was very, very wanted for special duties, and when she wasn''t on them, she was out in disguise, somewhere, moving through the mass of humanity, hunting down all the terrors and evils that had terrified her in her last life... and quite legally as a Juris, putting them to rest.


    This time, she had been called off important duty for some other important duty. A trade convention was being held, bringing in officials from half the mega-cities on Janus III, and they wanted her looking over the delegates.


    Duke Parablum wanted her looking for more than that.


    So, she was drawn up in the honor guard assigned to meet the envoys from Pitchral, a mega-city on the far side of the Warp Zone plateau. She watched as their shuttle touched down with professional skill, the ramp extended in the back, and the delegates strolled down in their fine robes and expensive chrome and escort bodyguards, enjoying the pomp and ceremony as the live band struck up their city''s anthem.


    With typical Rantha overenthusiasm, she had looked at everything. Ranthas had more color cones then humans, and their vision extended up and down below visible light, as well as into parallel spectrums. It was a lot of information to judge and process, and Jensa had made it her everything to be able to read and understand all that she could.


    In particular, she had met and seen all kinds of humans and genotypes thereof, all the inherited bloodlines, and multiple kinds of environmental adjustments and their effects on people. She could read body language and muscle movement like an open book, and her Spot the Opening was so keen she could identify the weaknesses and openings in a fighting style in almost an instant, making her one of the very best fencers among the sword-crazed Ranthas.


    One of the creeps coming off this shuttle was dead, two of them were neo-dead, and the rest had a sheen to them that said they weren''t human anymore.


    Only a spectrometer coded to look for the peculiarities would have seen them.


    -Terminate all of them!- she /relayed to Umbran Agent Calgren, disguised as a flunkie in civilian garb off to the side.


    He blinked, looked over in his head, out her eyes, and then looked up into the sky, tapped his ear, and said a couple short words.


    The ''Terminate'' message came up in all the Juris helms, the entire delegation was painted red, and the self-defense cannons on the top of the building behind snapped around and glowed.


    The bodyguards and envoys didn''t have any time to react. Remarkably used to making snap judgements (and obeying difficult orders), the Juris snapped down their firearms and simply opened up on the lot of them.


    Jensa blew out the heads of the two neo-dead, and their skulls exploded, the greenish psychoactive fluid within in place of their brains spraying everywhere. Her soulsword snapped up in diamond silver, and drove straight through the skull of the vice trade delegation minister, flaring with a Sun Strike, and then she rammed her head into the hilt to set off another one, just for good measure.


    The man''s head exploded from inside, and an alien telepathic cry faintly skittered on the edges of everyone''s brains, matched by the sudden and explosive detonation of the shuttle and crew aboard it behind them by four banks of plasma bursts unloaded into it.


    Impaled on her soulsword, the fungoid, swollen brain-form of the cerevore, three short clawed limbs lengthening and shrinking spasmodically as it was lifted in the air, was visible to everyone. It naturally didn''t fit into the skull of the dead man it had been riding in its natural form, and a soulsword through the nexal was a good way to disrupt that kind of thing.


    She held it over her head, and the nearest six Juris promptly unloaded on it, blowing the stony, fungoid body to bits and pieces in a flurry of bright light and sound.


    One second later, the alarm was going out to the Umbran and Coronal detachments in Pitchral, as well as the soldiers recruited from there, and the Janus Prime trainers active there. They didn''t know how long they had before the shit hit the fan, but it wasn''t going to be long...


    -----------


    Colby Rantha was a Tunnel Rat. In her past life, she''d been a maintenance worker, one of the Mekker crews that ran around and kept the city and its millennia-old tech working. She felt happier and safer in enclosed spaces, had no unease about tight quarters, and life as a Termite pursuing the Dead Files, and getting into places others didn''t want to, was totally up her alley.


    She had taken the step of adjusting her skeleton size permanently to further this. Ranthas were practically identical in build, a slender, if wide-shouldered build that was close to six feet tall, long of leg and arm, Natural Swordswomen.


    She made herself a head shorter and even skinnier, so she could fit in places her taller sisters couldn''t, and really stood out... or down... in a crowd of them. The Blade she used never got bigger than a long knife, as she was the epitome of a tight-quarters specialist.


    She had just cleared out a group of Morlocks, rampant evidence of their cannibalism and people-eating shoved into every nook and corner of the lair they''d occupied between pipes of rumbling sea water a thousand meters below the streets. She had ripped and shred them in close quarters, ignoring the stink and cramped spaces, tearing through them with no remorse or pity as they ferociously defended their home, or tried to run from her.


    None of them got very far, as she was shooting as she was killing, Tremblesense as finely tuned as any Rantha could get it... and then the cerevore shot up her nose, coming straight out of the mouth of the chief of the tribe and his crazy ass stare as she cut his head from his shoulders.


    "Fuck!" she swore, and promptly drove her short Blade, and her hand, right into her own nasal cavity.


    Her own bone scraped and flesh tore as she impaled the fucking thing before it could hit her cortex, Sun Strikes went off inside her skull, and it lost its focus and expanded.


    The front of her face ripped off and away as the full size of the cerevore, still impaled on the golden edge of her Sword, blew out the front of her face and flopped to the ground. Shattered bone from her split nasal cavity and shattered roof of her mouth hung on to scraps of skin and muscle as she staggered back... but didn''t fall down.


    Colby did gargle for a moment, and didn''t even try to see visibly, eyes squeezed to a pulp and only the fact her main braincase was reinforced harder than any of her other bones letting her still think. The internal support structures wound through her brain meant that she shock of the size explosion didn''t actually do any brain damage, and she could retain her balance and think.


    There weren''t many morlocks left, and they were staring at her, at the thing kicking on the glowing point of her Blade, the ruin of her face... and then the four stingers that rose out of her back.


    Fast Healing, and perhaps importantly, her Regeneration began to get to work on what would have been a lethal wound to any normal person.


    -A cerevore just tried to make me its mule,- she /reported, as the stingers began to glow and lash out, stabbing out with uncommon energy and explosive impacts as her face and skull slowly began to pull back together. Morlocks were thrust through the skull and the heart remorselessly as she advanced, and when the cerevore kicked, she drove her Claws down into it and ripped out something important inside its stony flesh with a burst of psychic fug-you. -I am way down in the Underspires, crimping a suborned morlock tribe.- Who were now all trying to run away from the tentacle-spiked horrors impaling them and throwing them around the woman with a big bloody hole for a face.


    They were fast and they knew the terrain. It didn''t matter, as she slid and skittered through the world of pipes and booming water flows, and killed them all.


    ----------


    Keffin Torquill blinked and woke up, hastily looking around to see if anyone had noticed that he''d dozed off again. He frowned, shaking his head, wondering why he lost focus and was falling asleep so much recently. Maybe it had something to do with the nightmares he''d been having, of tentacles and brains and shadows whispering in the corners of his mind...


    He looked over the dataflow in front of him, measuring the traffic flow and patterns of Janus III. With an experienced eye, he looked over the graphics and lights, and everything still looked good, countless thousands of vehicles still in motion on multiple levels. There were some minor lights and cautions in neighboring zones, signs of traffic swells and congestion that could cause disruptions and accidents, but such things were quickly evened out by the mighty algorithms and calculations of Traffic Control...


    There was a beep, and suddenly his terminal froze. He blinked at it, shocked, flashing red lights starting to pop up in multiple vectors. "What? What''s going on?" he asked, and heard the urgent tramp of feet coming down the corridor behind him, along with the startled murmurs of his colleagues.


    The merciless stare of a Juris visor behind a riot gun greeted him as he turned around. He could only gape in shock and confusion, wondering what he had done, in his plain drudge of a life, and the gun barked once.


    Microflechettes tore apart his skull, and psychoactive green goo painted the workstation behind him. His body slumped back, the empty skull draining of the fluid that had replaced his brain some time ago.


    Workstations were blaring and turning red all around. "Crash Traffic Control!" shouted Bobbi Rantha in her coms and in Marktell.


    ---


    In an unknown place some distance away, a brain floating in a jar of preservative fluid twitched in the psychoactive stuff, and Keffin Torquil found himself imprisoned in his own mind, with nothing else to keep him company but his nightmares...


    ---


    In the great Juris and Administra towers that housed the data-minds that regulated Traffic Control, certain switches blew as mass overrides went out in one final pulse of data, and Traffic Control went off-line.

 Chapter 386 - Far Future – Ch. 96 – The Sky is Falling

    All over Janus Prime, a massive surge of viruses that were going out on the TC control systems were stopped simply by the whole system shutting down instantly.


    Hover vehicles bleeped as suddenly they were on their own guidance systems. Drivers grabbed ahold of the controls in a panic, and the first accidents happened even as the systems in the cars blared for emergency descent, and secondary, sealed broadcast stations sent out short, sharp instructions.


    Vehicle garages and parking spaces all over Janus Prime blared for attention, and flying vehicles made for them in a panic, trying to get out of the air as the traffic began to come unglued.


    On the highways and groundways, the first overreacting drivers swerved and braked, and were promptly slammed into by those behind. Metals screamed, impact plastics buckled, and motorized vehicles went flying, the impacts enough to send them into the dump lanes and sometimes right over the edge of the arching motorways and into a long, long, fatal fall below.


    The cargo haulers on their many routes began to slow, coming to rest in mandated stopways and tunnels, incidentally blocking those from use by other forces. The subway systems rolled to stops in the middle of routes, and their systems shut down.


    Some hovercars that couldn''t find places to land descended right down from the sky onto any clear spot they could find, soon littering plazas and groundwalks with expensive fliers and those seated in them, often in areas where it was highly advisable not to do such things.


    And while there were opportunists everywhere, just seeing so many vehicles coming down from the skies, both tumbling crazily and in control, did give pause to a whole bunch of people who would normally be engaging in lethal entrepreneurism.


    The Boole crashed in a freak-out of spasming electronics that killed a million heavy cyberheads straight off, and every major media center was torn apart from carefully planted viruses and even actual explosions.


    Except the Quanta, although they did try.


    The coding attack was vicious and direct, and uncounted numbers of servers and those connected to them were flatlined in the first minute it spread. Then it ran into the servers running on Vakker-tech and the non-standard code support, and the firewalls came down on them and ate them.


    Ranthas had no compunctions against using Black programming in the right situations, and the codings that went back out in return carried with them far more power than AMT circuits were meant to handle. The cyber-runners on the other side got to experience the joy of their own chrome melting in their heads.


    The shooting was already under way as the Quanta spread the word as best it could among the underground hacking community, the Mekkers were reeling and trying to fight the massive viral attack on their systems, and a significant portion of the population turned on those beside them and began to kill them.


    Massive psionic assaults gathered and ripped into the defenses of the Mentat headquarters... and unfortunately found the shields of the facility up, as were those of the Dungeon and the Castle. Sudden atomic strikes roared and swept away nearby zones and unsealed Bloks, but those Spires stood.


    -----


    Colby Rantha swore at what was boiling up out of the depths. Gleaming black carapaces, long tails, too many legs, slavering jaws, and the ripple of inhuman telepathy that said there were riders under the spinal crests directing the horde streaming towards the surface.


    Without much ado, she turned tail and booked off considerably faster than even xenosyms could move, and sent out the alarm in Markspace that Aberrants were coming up from the lowest tunnels in great numbers all over the place, and that meant huge numbers of the Underspire population were either in danger or had been compromised!


    That meant she was going to have a very entertaining time getting up and out of danger... and then an even more entertaining time making her way back down and giving these creatures the business!


    ------


    "Slaver virus, transmitted by physical contact, primarily sexual!" the Umbran analyst called out, and Bluma Rantha sent word out on Marktell to everyone, along with Jensa''s analysis of the change in skin condition and oils that went with the rewrote DNA. Genetic scanners hooked into Band downloads from the Mark instantly updated the codes to scan for purity, while some slavishly fast coding was pumped out for optical sensors to look for signs.


    ----


    But some nasty, nasty shit was coming up from below, even as elements of the Juris and the Guard rebelled and began to shoot their compatriots, totally fucking up the command structure of the military that was supposed to be reacting to this. This was only further messed up by various corpsec units going rogue and starting massacres of self-defense forces, and at least one minor noble house seizing the moment to raid and assault a long-time rival in best opportunistic fashion.


    Six silos were compromised in Janus Prime, and many, many more in other cities. Nuclear fire fell from the skies as bloks screamed and locked down. Those unfortunate enough to be outside basically had little recourse as death fell from the skies, and millions died in the burning explosions that followed.


    And then, with a crack and lash through the brains of every sentient creature in the cities, the Brainwards went live, and telepathic communication, the waves of panic and dread assaulting all the people of the city, and notably the mental communication of the alien invaders, was not Interdicted, by accompanied by stabbing psionic pain that rapidly crippled anything trying to talk, command, or influence by telepathic means. The greater the effort, be it in width or intensity, the greater the feedback.


    And then, things started to change.


    ---------


    Admiral Ontiff watched the data flashing across his screen, being downloaded from the planetary tactical feed somehow. He could see battlezones in every city on the planet, and most of the mining zones. Things were coming out of the ground all over the place, civilians were dying in massive numbers, and the command hierarchy was convulsing.


    Orders coming in under the Seal of the Sun and Moon combined, however, were not something to be ignored in the best of times, let alone in the worst.


    As such, the orders issued under the authority of the Dukes Twilight were crisp and clear, and when the suborned atomic weapons were fired off, at least the ones aimed at the other cities were immediately shot down by the planetary defensive satellites waiting for them. Hundreds of detonations painted an already overactive atmospheric soup with hard radiation and the fire of smashing atoms, and he could only grit his teeth and watch.


    He was an admiral, and well understood that shooting off the missiles wasn''t just to attack the other cities. It was using up assets that could be used to defend against an invader!


    The Rantha Protocols were updating, even as his own Signals department was trying to establish contact with ground forces and facilitate some form of official order.


    Blinking, blinking, downloading...


    [Incoming Invasion Fleet arrival within twelve hours 97% probable.]


    He stared at the message, feeling a weird mix of exultation and grinding horror in his belly. It was the most desired, and yet the most feared kind of message any military man would want to see in their careers. Especially a Station commander of orbital assets, not even on the bridge of something that could fly away, maneuver, strike, and fade.


    No, Space Station Threshold''s purpose was to sit here and take the assault, and give it back with everything they had. That the enemy could be effectively endless in number, while orbital assets were intrinsically limited, meant that his job was either remarkably peaceful for the tenure, or ended with obliteration. Orbital stations, regardless of their power, simply could not hold in the end.


    The Protocols updated with orders for him again. Early launch coordinates?


    He went over the idea, and found nothing wrong with it. The sad fact was that the stations might not even be able to launch all their firepower before they were attacked and overwhelmed by the numbers of ships incoming. If they had firepower already launched and waiting for final coordinates...


    "Torpedo crews, prepare to fire payloads!" he called out, sending out the coordinates and firing instructions to the crews, who, even if there was no enemy on their sensors to shoot at, were too disciplined to question, and rapidly began the chain-firing of the largest defense weapons of the station.


    ----------


    Fully cloaked in the newest Umbran and Coronal strike cruisers respectively, Captains Tabitha and Tiffany Rantha waited calmly on opposite sides of the systems, passive sensors out, space wrack deployed here and there with surprises aboard, and clung to the sides of slowly tumbling asteroids.


    The points they were waiting at were nearest the constantly fluctuating confluence of gravity waves of the celestial bodies of the system, the weakest early penetration points that could be entered by Necrojump drives. They knew their opponents were cerevores, they knew they used those drive types, so it only remained to see where they would come in.


    The ''vores used technorganic vessels, who should feel their way to the weakest point in the overlapping gravity fields, yet outside actual planetary wells and magnetospheres. Calculating those points was an ongoing test that was generating a lot of heat in vakker circuits.


    There had been no calculation over where or if a fleet could arrive psionically. There was only ''when''. There was a lot of temporal obfuscation being thrown out, but the explosion of violence on Janus III had turned that divinatory mess into an explosive knotted mess that was impossible to fully conceal anymore, too many possibilities being thrown out in the chaos of combat to hide what was going to happen.


    97% was good enough.


    "Incoming torpedoes on glide coming in, Captain," the sensor crew called out unnecessarily, as the data fed into the holosphere visible in the center of the chamber, and more importantly, Tabitha''s internal display.


    "Steady." Their job wasn''t to fight here. Umbrans didn''t engage in ship to ship combat unless they had to, that was Fleet''s job. Umbrans were there to deliver lethal blows... and set up even more lethal blows later.


    The mental clock counted down. There was a plus or minus ten second error to the divinations, which was largely based around twentieth-place variations in gravity coming off the sun''s internal combustion, which couldn''t be absolutely calculated. When dealing with millions of cubic miles of space, that was highly relevant.


    "Approaching mark. Ten, nine, eight..." droned the dry, unflappable voice of Corsty Bowlers, who three years ago had been killing gangers with the G&G Goldilocks team, and now was the voice of the Widow''s Bite, voice as practiced and calm as a lake.


    "Mark zero. Mark plus one. Plus two. Plus three..."


    Space wretched and vomited. Necroic black-green fires ate through space, and the fickle fires of the Warp, being eaten and devoured by death, bled through the Veil, and backlit the ships that were popping into existence like pus from zits expelled from the Warp.


    "Paint them and maser their coordinates. Fire."


    The incoming torpedoes received their attack instructions, and burned to full life instantly.

 Chapter 387 - Far Future Ch. 97 – Swift and Fleet; Magical Space, the Final Frontier

    Warp energies crackled against necroic offsets, gravity drives realigned as the Veil shuddered and snapped itself shut, the backwash of dimensional travel momentarily keeping space swimming with imbalances and disturbances that had to settle down.


    The main technorganic mother ships looked like some version of flying centipedes, swollen and fat with their loads of invaders, with fungi-like white growths scattered over slick black carapace hides that were as strong as durasteel. Secondary ships looked like extended spiders, or slowly writhing squids, or maybe stellar snails, undulating in the void. Plasma currents radiated from the legs, and the scant hydrogen in the area was sucked towards the maws of the creatures even as their scales opened up to suck in the sunlight greedily.


    The torpedoes were coming in right on the edge of the rapidly shrinking area of dimensional instability. Five, four, three, two, one...


    They crossed a million miles of space, and the cerevore fleet realized what was there with literally no time to react to it, even psionically.


    The sky lit up with megatomic warheads, anti-matter blasts, singularity ruptures, and binding force neutralizers going off to catastrophic effect. Gargantuan space beasts were torn open and apart before their defense fields and ablative energies could marshal to resist what was hitting them, and psychic screams of beasts as large as Spires radiated for AU''s through the mindscape.


    "Blow the wrack."


    At Captain Tabitha''s order, secondary explosions popped up all over the place, like unstable matter being set off by the gargantuan forces of the incoming torpedoes, and faded away like dying fireflies.


    A mesh of nanotech particles went out, drawn to centers of gravity and mass out here in the void. Their only purpose was to stick to the hides of these things and clearly indicate their positions when scanned by sensor waves in the appropriate frequency, making hiding and cloaking tactics nearly impossible. Waves of smaller craft were already being spit out of dozens of sphincters opening in each of the motherships, and the nanotech was splatting against them, along with all the flash-frozen blood, meat, and ash from the wounded ships all around, blending into the mess.


    "Go to Jam," Captain Tabitha pointed, and gravity drives sent them falling away and spinning, their drives flaring to life, and catching the attention of the more photo-sensitive of the creatures a million miles away from them as they got free of the rock''s gravity well and went to Jamspeed. The enemy fleet shifted subtly to face them, and the whole of the Widow''s Bite shook as a massive wave of timeless, cold, uncaring hate swept over and past them, letting them know they had been seen and marked, and now they were being chased.


    The invaders just had to get out of tactical range of one another first.


    The size of the forces behind them were being uploaded into Markspace and promptly downloaded into the system-wide tactical displays, even faster than telepathic updates, and impossible to interfere with, as long as a Marked individual was there to provide the intelligence. At least two such individuals from the Goldilocks teams were working in the Signals department of every ship of the line in the system, which meant the Fleet Captains were being informed in real time better than they had ever been before.


    The Rantha Protocols were being updated in real time, and orders were flying out.


    ------


    Anatolia Rantha considered the positions of all the Fleet assets in the systems, judged them, juggled them, and began to plan.


    Her Talent was War Gamer, and this grand tactical battlefield is where her Talent shone the brightest. The captains and admirals of the Fleet in the system would have been incensed if they knew their maneuvers were being decided by a woman sitting in the yoga position on floor 184 of a haunted blok, surrounded by thousands of ghosts very, very curious about the sheer profoundness of the psychic ripples swirling around her, rendering her a very, very important being for what was about to happen.


    It was a big step up from RTS games in her prior life, which had consumed Anatoli Ryuivov so much he was basically a vidiot living on stims and games. Now, his Talent was being put to proper use in defense of reality, instead of fleeing from it.


    Three dozen Ranthas and Briggs with warlord, command, or tactical-based Talents were linked to her and helping her with the load and decision making, while also turning broad decisions and judgements into real time instructions and tactics, which the field commanders out there turned it into local orders and execution. Music was humming through the whole mess, grand and solemn, building ever-so-slowly with a terrible killing momentum.


    Tremble, ohhhh oh ohhhh, Tremble, we come...


    ------------


    Captain Tiffany Rantha was in command of the newly commissioned Coronal ship, the Bared Saber. It was still a cruiser, as heavier vessels were the province of the Imperial Fleet, and the Coronals were more about speed and getting to places faster, in and out, then overbearing firepower.


    Except for this ship, which was full stocked with both Forsaken and Beacon psions eager and proud to serve the Coronal Knights. It had been totally redesigned to accommodate both Axiomatic and Holy Runeforms in both structure and emplacement, and even the crew that had worked on it and its components, assembling them all, had to be specially vetted by the Green and Gold. Rantha Shipyards wasn''t big, but it had some very exclusive customers...


    The goal of the Coronal Knights was not to hide. It was to be out there and be seen, standing between threats to the human race and humanity, letting them know that the Coronal Knights were always going to be there.


    And if this time it was a Coronal Guard in charge, well, there were a lot more of them than Squires available to do the job.


    Captain Tiffany Rantha was seated right on the Gravity Chair, the heart of the Gravity Drive that formed the foundation for every sublight propulsion system for basically every race known.


    -------


    Anti-gravity was a TL 9 invention, and once a society mastered it, they instantly also stumbled into the transphysics mess that was sublight travel in the Realm of the Warped.


    The Realm of the Warp was still a magical realm, and outer space tended to act very different in magical places. Oh, there was vacuum, and cold, and radiation... but the intersection of gravity and mass and the Veil formed some truly wonky relationships.


    The first thing that happened is that any psychically charged object above a certain mass threshold had a gravity rating of 1, and could take and hold an atmosphere. It generated a gravity well of its own, and would interfere with the unlimited speed of objects around it.


    As it turned out, Energized Elements were psychically active, and most celestial objects that endured a few millennia of direct hard rads mixing with Warp energies qualified. So, if you landed on the average comet or asteroid, it would have an atmosphere about equal to a standard planet''s in density, and one standard gravity, despite having nowhere near the mass for either of those things from a physics standpoint.


    Planets could get HIGHER than 1 g, if they had sufficient heavy Energized elements. If they didn''t... even a mass hunk of rock the size of Jupiter would only have one standard gravity, making it possible to settle superworlds. High G worlds were thus naturally mining bonanzas.


    Without living or psychically-charged accompaniment, objects moving faster than orbital speed shed their velocity rapidly, until they were moving at the same speed as all other objects on the same orbital track. So, firing a railgun off didn''t result in objects moving at a considerable fraction of the speed of light for infinity. Within one light-second of range, their velocity would bleed off to nothing more than orbital speed, and basically fall into a gravity well and sit there forever unless something hit them.


    It also meant that ships that were shot or blown apart weren''t scattered over millions of miles of space. Bereft of psychic impetus, their momentum was bled off, their pieces would slow to a halt, and microgravity gradually pull them back together in a scattered mess of parts. Large battlefields eventually cleaned themselves up over decades into massive compressed hulks of rent ships cemented together, even moreso if they had enough residual energy to become Celestial objects again.


    The crux of this was the gravity drive, and Jamming Speed.


    When you exited the gravity well of other objects and were Flying Free, your ship''s gravity well condensed and instantly accelerated the ship and all within seamlessly to Jamming Speed, a weird mix of Veil bending and psychic energies wrapping around the ship as it accelerated to the speed of one hundred million miles per hour, or close to .15c!


    This effect only occurred if a psychically empowered individual and a proper Gravity Chair was hooked into the gravity drive, somehow maintaining normal gravity on the ship even as it surged forwards at unbelievable speed.


    Random objects below the gravity well threshold were simply bent around the ship, or cut right through by the velocity involved, as even the atmosphere around the ship was a blade at that speed.


    Of course, while Jamming, the ship was moving unidirectionally. To redirect, it had to come out of Jam, reorient, and start up again. Thus, in order to change heading while Jamming, it was necessary to use some form of reaction drive to adjust course.


    Naturally enough, everyone being at the same maximum limit of sublight speed was totally unacceptable to everybody involved, and the race for sublight drives that exceeded Gravity Jamming was one of the things that defined most races in the galaxy.


    A motley combination of fusion drives, antimatter drives, solar sails, pressor fields, and similar things sprang up to add further impetus to sublight travel speeds. It was much less about acceleration than about harmonizing with the Jamming speed, and defying or sliding past the resistance of space as you moved. So, putting engines to full didn''t mean constant acceleration when Jamming, it meant hitting a threshold and staying on the edge of it as resistance from space piled up on you and tried to slow you back down to standard Jamming.


    Constant ''real'' acceleration might be able to eventually surpass Jamming speeds, but you''d have to endure without artificial gravity the whole time, and trying to dump the momentum would be catastrophic, as suddenly going to Jamming speed while moving that fast would rip the ship to shreds as you tried to slow down or speed up suddenly; the difference in acceleration would pulp everything aboard, inertial compensators or no.


    Only inertialess drives would transition seamlessly between the two modes of travel, and almost nobody had the tech to do that but the Tekrons, and maybe the Harlique.


    If you were in Fleet, your gravity wells had another name... Tactical Range.


    --------


    Captain Tiffany Rantha''s Talent was Captain of Her Ship. She was born to command a ship and its crew, and her Skill Ranks went into all aspects of her ship. It was a far cry from the society-climbing, party-indulging silks and dancing of her last life, and if she had a pink teddy bear and pillows in her quarters and pink hair, that was nobody''s business but hers.


    Her psicrystal was plugged into the Saber, and effectively gave the ship a working AI. It was her Item Familiar, and her Sword Focus was punched into it, too. The full sum of her Rantha Matrix and Reserve was working the Gravitic Drives with the power of someone much higher Level. Her hair was plugged into every system in the ship, and she was singing with the Bared Saber as she drove him into position... because the Saber was mostly definitely male, and was looking to be used!


    There were two sets of crewmembers on board the Saber: those engaged in mundane handling of the ship''s equipment, and those unleashing psychic focus onto the weapons of the ship.


    Different weapons required different amounts of Focus to empower, ranging from ten to a hundred or more, depending on what it was. Psychic circuits allocated that energy where it was needed, and the crews who were personally manning the weapons could also contribute their energy directly while working them!


    Normally the ship''s helm would handle maneuvering, but Tiffany had maxed out her Piloting and Navigation Ranks, taking those Masteries and Skill Foci as her primary skillset, slaving the Primary Guns to her will, as well as monitoring the engines, power supply, and primary sensor feeds.


    There were also crew seconded to all of those positions, tasked with observing things she didn''t have the time or focus to, bringing them to her attention via Mark, or collating data for analysis to send to her in the middle of the fight.


    They had been through hundreds of simulations with her, against all sorts of opponents, often at murderous difficulty, and they had boundless confidence that their captain was the deadliest shipmaster in the whole fleet.


    And this whole ship was her Sword!

 Chapter 388 - Far Future Ch. 98 – The Saber Strikes!

    Tabitha''s enemy fleet had come into realspace first. The additional data locked down the arrival of the second fleet to within a one second margin of error, and Tiffany was shooting forwards to the spread point at maximum thrust, while all the capacitors on the ship were charged to the fullest.


    Ahead of them, space roiled, writhed, and vomited itself open. Streaks of light were disgorged into realspace, and the area ahead of and around them was suddenly filled with dozens of motherships and scores of escort craft.


    Captain Tiffany painted the targets for her crews, and the plasma cannons, torpedo launchers, and needle beams went off with searing precision, blazing with the coruscant power of mass-infused Sun Shots.


    Analytical engines had devoured the ship data from Captain Tabitha and deduced the probable layouts of key ship systems and places on the living bioships. The Bared Saber lit up, and cut.


    Shining torpedoes plunged into escort craft to either side, punched through their ablative hulls, and detonated massively. Plasma lances coursed out, split open transmetallic hides, and found the psychically-controlled power cores of four different vessels. Piercing needle beamers stabbed out shining strands of the sun, like golden hairs as they punched into smaller bioships and out the far side, and great beating hearts of atomic fury were sliced apart as they passed.


    The main ram was already powered. The Bared Saber plunged in, the prow of the ship proudly curved in a cutting arc of rune-carved adamantine tempered by science, alchemy, and artifice to the limits possible, and the ship rose into the startled path of the lead mothership, six times the length of the incoming cruiser and barely able to react as the Coronal ship came in with its bow ablaze with Nimbus energies from over one hundred psions and a slicing prow ram over a hundred feet tall.


    The mothership was miles long, and its hide was thick, but not that thick. The bioorganic mass split aside like wet tofu under the space-shredding edge of the prow, and hundreds of thousands of tons of ship drove along the xenos mothership''s backside. The creature-vessel was huge and mighty, but their relative velocities meant that the actual ramming was over and done within seconds. The blazing prow erupted out the backside of the creature, gore and blood spraying wildly in its wake, while the fusion fire from its thrusters baked everything within the bioship in the fires of the sun. Whatever the invaders used for air ignited wildly green and yellow behind them, and the mothership burned.


    Captain Tiffany burned the maneuvering jets as the engineers blew their Focuses to double the conductivity of the power feeds and recharge the guns. The main cannon aligned, and the railgun fired its glowing load.


    The next mothership''s shields crackled up and stripped off the secondary Sun Shot laid onto it by the forty gunners serving the cannon. The empowered Runes on the durasteel were unaffected as it smashed into one of the great glowing eyes of the beast at a tenth the speed of light, punched through bone as hard as adamantine, hit the inner skeleton and framework of the beast, and proceeded to fracture and drop its kinetic energy violently in all directions. Shards of metal moving at many miles per seconds pureed the forward and middle quarters of the bioship, and the mothership convulsed as durasteel shards bounced around wildly inside it, and tore its organs and passengers to shreds.


    The port-side plasma lances came online as the second string of torpedoes launched. Psychokinetic shields, void barriers, and spatial shunts were crackling to life everywhere around the biofleet, but that was the job of the lances. They speared out into those shields, bent and sheared into the psionic energy control, and the glowing torpedoes shot through the gaps and into the hulls of the bioships that were finally starting to target this unexpected attacker.


    Four more bioships blew apart in antiproton fire, an extremely cost-efficient use of torpedoes.


    The first bioplasma charges began to reach out, and psychic nets and arcs began to discharge between the ships of the fleet in a deadly net. The diviners read the motions and facing of the ships, Insight bonuses giving up to a six-second advantage on where the bolts would pass by, were fed into Tiffany and inspired a dance of maneuvering jets as the engineers poured bursts of their Coronas into the machinery humming around them, and let it sing as it only ever had in test runs.


    Needle beams stabbed out, severing tendrils exuding those arcs of power at key moments, opening holes. Biospores spewed out like railgun-launched boulders filled the void around them, the ship''s kinetic shields and gravity warps sliding them around the ship proper, point-defense cannons unleashing ten Sun Shots a second from the gunner teams to blow apart the ones actually threatening the ship.


    Third salvo, fourth, and the Bared Saber broke through the mass of the fleet, ''above'' and behind them as they swept past, and hundreds of spinal guns and arcs tried to track the ship as the psychic energy flared over it in spatial-shifting displays, giving the bioships dozens of targets to unload on as the Saber pulled away. A coruscating web of shield tech converged on the triple engines behind it, condensing down the fusion fire of his exhaust into a long, blazing conduit of the full power of the ship''s power core, and the arc the ship took flashed that saber beam across four escorts and ended amidships a mothership, boring into its head as its shields blazed wildly around it, and filled it with a small sun.


    The Bared Saber hit the edge of the bigger ships'' gravity well, exited tactical range, and went to Jamming speed with a roar of fire and triumph.


    -----------


    It took only minor juking at this speed to foil all trailing fire, and they were outside of range of any non-psionic weapons within ten seconds, energy weapons even sooner.


    "Damage report," she said, as the triumphant crescendo thrumming in the Saber''s Markspace slowly faded to an anticipatory, heavy beat.


    Expenditures of ammunition and energy reserves coursed through her, hull contact from incidental fire being cleaned up by the damage control crews jetting outside before the organic growths could wreak any harm, or any living loads they carried recover enough from the impact to do damage and get inside. Several of the point-defense cannons were being retasked to lower-power hull-sweeping for just that purpose.


    There were light biocraft in pursuit, crystalline wings glowing, abdomens shining with atomic fire as they winged in pursuit.


    The Saber''s engines were already on, and the compression field of the Saber Beam spun into existence again. A long and steady beam of fire sped down their back trail with incredible cohesion, and the swarms chasing them five light-seconds back ran into it and were swatted away like gnats in long arcs and pulses. Three-quarters of them were dead before they braked and turned back to get out of range.


    ---


    "Sixteen probability attacks still ongoing against the circuitry!" announced Senior Technician Patrik Ghominelli, stepping around dozens of shredded and fried circuit boards in the nearly three-hundred degree primary relay chamber. He had four other boards in his hands, and followed a cascade of power as it jumped across the lights of the vak-tubes, stabbed a finger into a board, and the psionic-powered overload ran into his Focus and was blown back in a cascade of sparks and melting crystal. Somewhere off in the mindscape, some freak of a TK was howling from the feedback shredding its mind, and Ghominelli ripped out the board, inserted another one to replace it, and ignored both the heat and crunching beneath his feet as he pounced on another attack on the systems with his team. "Fifteen!"


    Fried circuit boards were falling like hail, ignored by everyone, but there was no change in the performance of the ship. Numbers were coming up, and then the pshields spiked in power, harmonized to the circuitry, and rapidly supercharged the feedback applied when the circuits were blown. If humans had been trying to push this attack forward, then the attacks on the control circuits and power relays were now blowing apart their skulls.


    The surges of light and areas of darkness gradually stopped dancing about, and a gusting wave of cold swept through the control cores spread through the ship, finally neutralizing the heat spike and plunging the cores back into subzero temperatures, which the Vajra''d crew also ignored.


    Ghominelli looked at the dozens of fused and shattered vak-boards littering the ground, calculated just how much damage the assaults could have done to the ship''s systems if the attacks had actually reached any of the systems they were trying to, and sighed in relief. "Systems clear!" he shouted, getting a whoop from his team and a cheer from the rest of the ship.


    First blood in combat, the Bared Saber of the Coronal Guard!


    -----------


    Word of the Coronal ship''s attack on the incoming enemy fleet, coming as it did with word on their numbers and deployment, was both electrifying and dreadful. Nobody knew where the Coronals had gotten such a terrifyingly effective ship, but the combined numbers of the two fleets coming in to threaten Janus III from above and below the solar plane were just daunting.


    Admiral Ontiff looked at the information, and shook his head to himself, allowing no expression to leave his face. He was doomed.


    The Rantha Protocols shifted and his eyes turned to them, wondering what this Twilight-authorized injunction was going to happen now.


    [Activate all Reserve Fleet Assets.]


    He blinked, and turned his attention to the windows that displayed the Sleeping Arm of Threshold Station.


    One of the command decisions of Sector Fleet HQ had been to move the reserve fleets closer to material supply stations, easing the logistics load for keeping them maintained. The minor degrees of upkeep and supply required could easily be attended to by station personnel in outlying areas, as long as the systems had access to sufficient technology to make repairs. Even upgrades could be sent in with routine shipments, freeing up space and skilled workers at the primary ports.


    Security generally was not an issue. While the mothballed and out-of-date ships might seem a tempting target to pirates, all such vessels were rigged to blow if unauthorized personnel attempted to flee with them, and their very nature meant that it would take days to get ready, even with a skeleton crew. Where would they possibly find the people to man them in such a short period of time?


    His jaw slowly dropped as the first set of running lights came on, the Pride of Dolthmar coming to life slowly and smoothly before his eyes, out of a sleep that had lasted more than a century.


    "Captain Melvin Briggs of the Pride of Dolthmar, acknowledging Rantha Protocol. Threshold Station, we will be good to go in one hour," a very deep and firm voice cut in through the links as he hastily connected.


    Next to the Pride, the cutter Vane of Andromeda winked up all at once. "Captain Kelba Rantha of the Vane of Andromeda, acknowledging Rantha Protocol. Threshold Station, we will be good to go in fifteen minutes."


    "Captains of the Pride and the Vane, this is Admiral Ontif of Threshold Station!" he messaged directly, a contravention of protocol he only undertook because of extreme agitation. "Who are you? Where are you from?" Admiral Ontif asked quickly, shocked. A quick query did not list them among any of the Captains of the Imperial Fleet in his records!

 Chapter 389 - Far Future Ch. 99 – Out of Mothballs

    "Admiral Ontif, this is Captain Melvin of the Pride. Sir, we are operating dark under Umbran directives to resupply and bring the reserve fleet out of mothball. I believe with the Rantha Directives being go, we should be in the clear now? Yes, confirmed, sir," that splendidly deep voice came over the coms. "Initiating history transfer, sir!"


    Admiral Ontif stared as the files were transferred over to his command station under encrypted Twilight Seal. With a measure of outrage and resignation, he opened them up, watching as ship after ship began to light up on the Sleeping Arm, their Captains declaring their readiness, while all of Threshold Station began to gape.


    Resupply requisitions, crew assignments and transfers, timetables and schedules... it was all there, and all undertaken under his nose, without the slightest idea it was all happening. The volume of men and materials was staggering, and yet somehow it had all been done smoothly, without ruffling any waves, anywhere.


    The Captains were basically fresh out of the Academy here, and technically shouldn''t even have been given the positions. That had been accomplished by Coronal approval of their promotions and Umbrans discretely removing them from the rolls, so that there would be no protests or leakage of information from eager officers thirsty for command of their own vessels.


    But... Admiral Ontiff stared at the lines of ships coming to life, the sure and steady voices of their captains sounding off, still not quite believing it.


    Where did they find their crews? There were over a hundred mothballed ships out there, with crews no less than a thousand on each one of them! Those weren''t something you could just spin out of nowhere, grabbing men off of the street and throwing them into place. They had to be trained and disciplined, and they had to learn the finicky nature of the vessels they were serving aboard!


    He found his skin crawling despite himself at the unknowable depths of the Order of the Fallen Moon. Somehow they had arranged this... more importantly, they had known it would be necessary!...


    He had been from one end of the sector to the other, traveled to other sectors on delegations and visits, and even been to far and grandiose Tellus once. Yet he suddenly found himself feeling flustered and small in face of the movement of great powers that he had not even been able to see in front of him...


    -------


    It certainly looked like legerdemain, but it actually really wasn''t all that hard, mostly because nobody wanted to guard ghostly old ships sitting in dock, waiting to be scrapped or called to a final fight once more.


    So, reassigning the guards to Marked people who kept their mouths shut wasn''t hard. Getting a few people into Threshold Station control and assigned to the boring duty of watching over scores of mothballed ships was likewise not very difficult. With those two things done, keeping resupply of the ships quiet was rather simple, and easily credited to other ships as munitions and manpower were moved aboard from terrestrial armories also staffed by Marked with writs of requisition from the Twilight Orders to get these ships ready for battle!


    As for the crews, they had almost literally grabbed people off the street.


    Marks were the greatest teaching tool any of them knew, capable of raising the Intellect of a recipient incredibly, while also directly teaching them new skills straight off the Akasha. Janus Prime''s population of billions meant there was still basically an unlimited labor pool, and the number of volunteers Rantha Corp and the G&G could attract had never really decreased. As soon as word came they were recruiting more, their servers were deluged with people wanting positions. Even if it involved military duty, the number of volunteers didn''t stop. The Planetary Guard could only wish for such enthusiasm!


    A thousand Ranthas could train a ten-thousand-man crew for a heavy cruiser in half an hour. Profession (Spacer) with minor skills in things like fire control, munitions, maintenance, cooking, and other jobs of naval personnel basically taught all of them the basics of what was required. Specialist training in Engineering, Fire Control, Piloting, Navigation, and similar things could be assigned to people with complementary skills in people management.


    The Marks allowed massive real-time training and discipline, assured loyalty, and enabled incredible coordination and teamwork. As the people poured Karma into the Marks, they only got smarter, and learned more skills!


    Most importantly, they allowed instant acclimatization towards the ship of the new crewman, because they were all Marked on the ship they were going to serve on, and the akashic echoes of their training were matched to the self-same ship.


    The crews felt like they had gone through extended training on whatever ship they were serving on as a result. All the little foibles and attitudes of the systems, and the spirit of the ship bound up in the psychic remnants of the past crews, just washed into and through them, like they''d always served there, and it was time to bring the ships back.


    Thus, the penalty for acclimatizing to an old and forgotten vessel awash with psychic echoes of the past wasn''t a thing. This was basically a custom crew for each vessel, the only thing they were lacking was battle experience!


    Vakker and Rantha-tech production had soared over the last year as more Ranthas came online and recruited more workers. There was more demand than product, and if Rantha-tech was being snaffled up by the Twilight Orders as fast as it could be made, well, Vakker-tech was still better than AMT at resisting psychic influences, of which there was going to be a bunch. And if you can customize your crews, you can also customize your upgraders, too!


    Applying Holy runework was a non-starter, as the hull designs were axiomatic, and so the protection was ineffectual... and not incidentally meant there was almost no exterior work to do and be observed. Certain key areas that could be reconfigured hastily could be warded, and quickly were, but in the end, it was going to be the resolve of the crew and the ships they were in that would protect them.


    Only a fraction of the captains were Ranthas or Briggs, although there were at least a couple on every ship, maintaining a Markspace and bringing an unreal level of competency to key areas. Talent assessment meant the Talented got the roles, and would grow into them, and the Hags and Hagspawn were available as back-up in case they were needed.


    --------


    It took two hours for the reserve fleet to disengage from their moorings, and head out into the stars. With all other Fleet assets in the system, they were still outnumbered by the bioships of the enemy more than three to one.


    But, the fleets of the enemy were split at the moment, converging on Janus III from separate vectors, while the Imperial Fleet was converging on the invading bioships that had been blooded already.


    As for the others that made the mistake of chasing the Widow''s Bite, well, after seeing the results of the first torpedo volleys, the Threshold Stations around Janus were more than happy to contribute a few more to sneak attacks, while basically all the stealth and long-range assets of the Fleet were sniping off escorts and fighter-level bioships with alacrity, providing cover and coordination for incoming torpedoes operating at maximum velocity... and more than a few cloaked Wrack Mines planted in the path of the incoming bioships.


    Although vastly outnumbering the defenders, the incoming bioships had no recourse but to slow down and sweep the area, while scissoring snipers and torpedoes coming in at high c fractions struck with remarkable coordination, despite the electromagnetic and psychic static fritzing all standard means of communication. The fast fighter-level escorts swooping in to surround and pick off the picket ships ran into gathered and overlapping firezones of some remarkably effective point defenses repeatedly... and multiple wings of screening starfighters eager to add to kill tallies begun flying prop-jobs in the Warp Zone.


    The Xeno-Vore Invasion of Janus was fully underway, and there was war in the void.


    =============


    And while exciting stuff is happening elsewhere...


    "Vamp Veiling was definitely a good idea, fuzzy," I mused, as we glided across the blasted and fused landscape around the ship.


    Although we were eager, we still did things properly, circumventing the entire area of the crash site, just at the edge of the danger zone, plotting it all out and fixing its position.


    To really do this right, we should head on out the other side, and fight our way clear to the opposite end of the Warp Zone. Maybe we might do that, but not right now, as the fighting in the Warp Zone had been largely curtailed, and most of the troops withdrawn back to their cities even as shit hit the fan.


    Most of the troops. Some could only stand and receive reports as the invasion from below and insurrection of suborned cities rose up and bathed their homelands in blood. Only a very small tithe of people managed to get away. The rest were holed up in bloks and Spires slowly getting cracked open, or were the ones cracking them open. There was basically no one in the middle, unless you counted the ones getting eaten so mass xenosym reproduction could occur.


    Converting humans to xenosyms 1:1, very efficient process of reproduction. The only exceptions would be those taken as slaves by the cerevores, either to power the necrodrives or for meat suits.


    The kids were all over it. Those with Talents were better than I was at their specialties if they were Tens, so in terms of skills, I wasn''t worried about anything. The only real edge I had on them was in personal combat, and there was a war going on. It wasn''t going to be decided by Briggs and I having +3 per die in HP and +5 TH/Damage in a fight.


    We found the backtrail of the colony ship, where it had skimmed in red hot, plowing a red-hot path across the ground... a ground that showed signs of insect skeletons and micro-organisms, plants and some higher lifeforms that no longer existed, crushed and burned to ash, but yet once part of the planet''s life.


    Definitely not phrenics adapted to an alkaline world.


    The hills of the chasm it had carved out had smoothed down in the winds and sand, but were still a path.


    Notably, at the edge of our range, we could see the fused remnants of xenosyms, burned down and flattened against the rock, shadows of them forever seared into the stone by a whole lot of plasma. It extended everywhere around the ship, not a square yard didn''t have the remnant of a xenosym body.


    They''d still gotten out, somehow. Maybe only a fraction had escaped, but a fraction was all they''d needed.


    Once circumlocuted, we went in.


    My instincts had my hair standing up, which when it''s as long as mine is something I had to Compress down so it wouldn''t look too ridiculous. I wasn''t afraid, per se, but I was aware that we were within range of something with fantastic firepower, and even with Fire immunity, I didn''t want to test the impact of that much hot plasma... especially if it came from multiple sources.


    The schematics we''d found and managed to strip and reform had given a basic design and layout, and hopefully there''d be basic maps in locations around the ship. The whole thing was shaped like a bullet, with bulges here and there of weapon emplacements, exits and entrances, antennae, shield towers, and the like. Overall, it had pretty clean lines, definitely not AMT, and still remarkably intact since falling out of the sky at least seven thousand years ago... given that it came about before the Emperor rose.


    "There." Briggs pointed, having an artistic eye, and spotting a way in before I did. I was paying more attention to the unending numbers of dead ''syms below me, and trying to calculate population density.


    A dark shadow near the buried foundation of the ship, gaping open, just about where another access hatch should be. Given its size, it was probably a couple hundred feet wide...

 Chapter 390 - Far Future Ch. 100 – Into the Belly

    "There''s probably multiples of them. I imagine they came swarming out of all of them as fast as they could, layering on top of one another if they had to, building up in the shadow of the ship until they were given the order to go in all directions at top speed," I mused softly.


    Like a knife, the blasted, seared area below us vanished, and standard earth and dust remained, still stripped of life.


    Briggs studied the hull now looming over us as we skied in beneath it. "They must have engaged in a running battle with the automated defenses inside, and managed to knock out all the underside guns. They probably figured they couldn''t get the rest without being annihilated for some reason, and opted to take the losses and flee rather than keep fighting."


    "The Throne Field got changed," I reminded him. "We can only feel it passing, but they''d be able to feel the mounting implications of drawing the Warp here. Odds are it was driving them mad, and they had to either run, or get lost to the Warp."


    "Makes sense," he agreed. "They probably burrowed out through every buried hatch and dropped out of every other one within range to get out..."


    "And being rude, didn''t shut them behind them," I finished for him, as we swept up on the hangar.


    It was perpendicular to the ground, the ship had been designed with the prow as the top, more like a building then a ship. That said, we could still feel the faint hum as we approached, and glanced at one another.


    Helluva power source. Not just the Throne field, it still had the gravitics!


    Sand had heaped up into a dune, cut off at the entry to the hanger by a semi-active exclusion field, strong enough to keep out stray particles and not much more. Normally ascending the sand hill would have been an exercise in frustration, but we just slid up it, barely disturbing a grain, and flipped and fell at a right angle to the floor as we did so.


    The artificial gravity was right at standard, and we both straightened, realigned our expectations and perceptions.


    Briggs pointed at some major damage to one of the walls, where the levers and machinery to close the hangar doors was located. It had been seared and melted by terrific energies, forced open by psionic power and then melted and fused that way, probably to prevent the ship''s computers from closing it.


    The hangar was full of what looked like earth-moving and harvesting equipment, set for farms and other colonization tasks, getting early harvests in for the first wave of sleepers, who could then wake up the next wave to construct more advanced machinery, and continue the process of rapid colonization.


    The stuff was pristine, barely dusty, there''d been little to no air movement, and the vast amount of the ship was built of non-corrosive durasteel. Some of the equipment looked like it had aged a bit, especially if it had organic components like rubbers and plastics, which had been removed down to the stray molecule. The machines were sitting on a lot of empty wheel wells.


    "If the ship has an AI, and it''s still active, it''ll know we are here the moment we start trying to open doors and stuff." After our circuit of the grave-like equipment hangar, we had stopped before a large set of double doors leading out... which had been torn apart to lead into the hallway beyond, and scratches and gleaming of acid spotted the lesser metals here and there.


    We studied the schema of the ship displayed next to the doors, which pretty much matched what we''d gotten off the collector''s server. It meant the ship''s command center was three miles above us, and main Engineering was four miles below us, where the Throne Field would be located.


    It was spookily quiet. There was a quiet subsonic hum of ancient circuits keeping the grav going, and pumps balancing the temperature and air pressure in sophisticated patterns. The air temp was cool, fifteen or so Celsius above freezing, but given the lack of inhabitants, suitable for a holding temperature. The sunlight beating down on the hull was probably enough to keep the whole shadowed hulk at this level.


    Oh, and there was nothing but emergency lighting, faint flickers in the darkness. It didn''t really mean anything to us since we had devilsight, but it meant nothing living was around that needed to see, and so it had been shut down as irrelevant.


    "You see the wiring?" Briggs asked softly.


    "All mol-hardened? Yeah." That was an incredible expenditure, but it meant that there was no melding or merging of the wiring over time at all, which would naturally happen to metals in close contact with one another. The expense of wiring something this size with that... the wealth and sophistication of human society must really have reached a peak back then.


    We stepped out into the hall together, looking left and right and seeing it curving away from us as it followed the arc of the ship''s hull. The areas closest to the hull were generally filled with machinery and raw goods. The true valuables were at the center of the ship.


    We looked one another in the eyes, turned to the hallway extending towards the center in front of us, and glided on ahead.


    There were several gates and locks in the way, all of which had been torn through by violent means and fused open. Microscans showed the impact of some powerful claws in huge numbers on the metal, and the sloughing effect unique to psionics, same with the decks underneath us. We had a hundred yards or so to go to get to the central area...


    We slowed down as we passed through the outer storage zones to the inner. Our tremblesenses echoed through the metal, and we could see...


    Just, ah, shit...


    The main doors ahead of us gaped wide open, blasted and fused. We could see the far side, but said nothing as we stepped out into the main chamber on a fairly sizable landing meant for disembarking people woken from cryosleep, one of dozens visible on the very, very long chamber extending up and down for much of the ship.


    There were many, many holders for cryo tubes visible. They extended up and down, and they extended back in suspended rows, filling the entire center of the ship.


    They were all broken. There wasn''t a hint of biomatter left behind in any of them, we were certain. It was as cold and sterile as the deck under our feet.


    Millions. Tens of millions. Hundreds of millions... maybe billions.


    Every tube shattered. They''d never woken up, or if they had, it was just in time to die as a xenosym began to eat them alive from inside, or a cerevore jumped in, ate their brain, and made itself at home in them.


    A monstrous tragedy lost to the ages, and just discovered by us. Was it any wonder humanity hated alien races?


    We knew we were going to see it, but still, digesting the immensity of the slaughter was something we just had to do for ourselves.


    "Up or down?" Briggs asked, deferring the decision.


    "Undoing whatever was done to the Throne is probably going to bring in something really bad, and when we kill it, the Warpzone will start decaying, probably tossing all the shit inside it out into our reality if it moves too fast. I don''t expect a collapse, but it will decay. I don''t think we can do that in the middle of a fight, and we definitely can''t let any other ''friendly'' forces out there know about it."


    "Aye. They''ll want to stop us from releasing it, both so they don''t have to fight, and because it''s generating the Energized ore veins, and because they''d want to study the Throne to see if they can duplicate the effect."


    "Nothing of which could possibly go wrong," I hmphed, and he managed to smile slightly as he looked around, impressing the remains of this massacre deep into his soul.


    "Hey, Sama, you got any experience with Gamma World?" he asked suddenly.


    I scrunched up my mishmash records of gaming shit masquerading as rules to live by. "That''s the sci-fi attachment to D&D, right? The first post-nuclear apocalypse mutant world thing? No, nothing in particular about it, save from some cool pic of a guy in power armor riding a mutant cyborg wolverine."


    His smile was thin. "Yeah, that was a cool pic, all right, I remember it, too. But I was more thinking about an item of equipment they had. Was wondering if you had heard of a blacklight gun."


    For some reason, a chill went down my spine. "That has nothing to do with UV fuzzy paintings, does it?"


    "No. It was basically a death ray. Anything living hit by it, died. Period. Dead."


    "No save?" I was impressed.


    "Nope. You just died."


    I looked up at the shattered tombs of uncounted millions. "Restrictions?"


    "Has to hit the flesh. Any decent armor or covering would protect you. Had no penetrative ability beyond the most simple cloth. Basically, if it blocked light, it could protect you."


    "Just killed it? Didn''t disintegrate or anything?"


    "Nope. Just pop, dead."


    "And xenosyms and cerevores don''t wear armor..."


    "And their ships are living things."


    I thought about the fighting that was going on above, cerevores conscripting xenosym bioships called to the cities teeming with biovores converting people into more killing organisms the psychically-accelerated way.


    Death rays were exactly as viable as anti-grav, FTL, and playing around with antimatter. Heck, even the Lensmen had the toy that could literally sever life with a thought... although that was definitely TL17+ tech, too.


    And they''d be freaking perfect for dealing with biovores. Right tool for the right situation.


    I exhaled as my thought-streams went barreling down a path that led to some very dark places. Given the Hag bloodline, those paths were wide open and willing to accept visitors, no problem. Messing around with negative and necroic energies was generally a no-no, but this blacklight was right on the border between the two.


    And there was no freaking doubt whatsoever that I was going to figure out how to make it, and then the xenosyms were going to be living in terror.


    I looked upwards. "The odds they have an AI are high. The odds that AI is not batshit crazy are very low."


    "Trust the computer. The computer is your friend. The computer will take care of you. Obey the computer," he responded blandly.


    "Paranoia, the Destroy-yah..."


    "So, it''s likely we''re going to trip internal defenses, and then robotic guardians and automated systems that eventually were strong enough to hold off the cerevores long enough for the Throne to drive them off the ship. Shutting down the Throne will render the ship open to assault from outside forces, might even empty out the center of the Warp Zone, so the ship won''t want us to do that. We''re probably going to have to take out its central cores... which is bloody obvious, and the cerevores probably tried and failed."


    "If the designers weren''t stupid, it''s probably decentralized and can be isolated from outside influences in the event of breach," I agreed. "My guess is it''s all partitioned up and won''t be speaking to itself to isolate any possible contaminants, so it''s going to be operating on limited information filtered through a morass of Warp influence and utterly failing to protect cargo and crew. If it has any emotions or even protective inclinations, that would be enough to break it before anything else happened...."

 Chapter 391 - Far Future Ch. 101 – What to do, What to Do...

    "So... we''re going to be mashing on robots, service droids, internal defenses, and death traps, depending on how much shit has been repaired."


    We both looked up and down at the size of this place. If this place had any kind of production tech, and that chances it did not were infinitesimal, that meant unlimited amounts of stuff to fight, as long as its energy held out... which it had for at least six millennia, so it wasn''t going to stop any time soon.


    "And we don''t know where the computer cores are."


    "We don''t," he agreed.


    "This is post-TL 10 stuff. The odds of me being able to hack it are nil."


    "Oh, how unexpected that is," he rolled his eyes.


    "On the other hand, there''s damage the computer either can''t or won''t fix. So there''s probably a bunch of automated stuff it has lost control over. I imagine the crash didn''t help," I mused thoughtfully.


    "Assuming we have a hostile AI, what we want is contact with non-hostiles. Ship''s logs, potential psi-records, and the like." His head tilted up.


    "The bridge and officer''s quarters, then," I agreed.


    "Bit of a climb," he noted.


    "What, you don''t want to set off a hundred alarms by setting off your boots and anti-grav? Come on." I rapped the side of his breastplate, and he nodded despite himself.


    "Techno-Briggs not stupid, arrgh."


    "Not seeing any bots floating, but there''s bound to be something gonna wake up."


    "If we get construct-swarmed, I blame you!"


    "Hags can shoulder lots of stuff. Blame weighs nothing!"


    "Ah, not fearing consequences. You live in a blissful state of mind," he sighed, but his eyes were gleaming.


    "You are only now figuring that out?" I sniffed in return, sliding over to the nearest support beam extending up into a dark spot. "It''s time for a spider monkey impersonation!" My tails rose out of my backside, found holds, and began to lever me upwards weightlessly.


    He just laughed, came up the beam after me, and like a big metal-covered ape, swung up after me without much effort. Easier than climbing that cliff, after all...


    ---------


    It was a slog, but we always had stuff to talk about, even if being in this desert was minimizing contact with the outer world. Our relay team was running back and forth, bringing information about the greater conflict going on outside.


    So many of them were getting to use Talents that were only applicable or important in war time. It went without saying that a lot of them were having a great time.


    Briggs'' Gentle Giant technique could have been useful as a Warlord, but the boys had it down, the Sources had their Oaths up and things were lining up against the marauding aliens in a really bad way...


    ==================


    Back in Janus Prime...


    Egil Rosenblaum groaned into the darkness.


    Crushing weight loomed down on him, and all sensation below his right knee was cut off. Circulating his Vajra, he took stock of the situation with calm irony.


    ---


    Suborned humans, crazed by the psi-virus that had rewritten their brains and turned them into enslaved berserkers, had invaded his blok by surprise, and the alerts sent out in the Markspace had come true.


    Lepido had been on his shoulders as he had gone out into the corridors, and commenced proper operations of the Office of the Exterminatus. The alien cat hissed and indicated perfectly whenever one of the pslaved citizens was nearby, and Egil had put them out of their misery. Man, woman, child... he did it without batting an eye, looking past the faces to the miserable hands of the cerevores behind it all.


    Lepido almost screeched when she sensed the brain-eater leading this batch three floors down. The blok was a riot of fighting going on, as Marked folk, a very large number of them with mindclaws, and pretty much all of those also armed and very dangerous, were going at it against spillover from a neighboring blok that had been almost completely infected by the virus. He thought about how they might have caught this thing even earlier if the Ranthas had expanded in that direction, but they''d picked his blok as an outlier and had been filling in the area in between Guvnahblok and their main holdings.


    No doubt the aliens sensed them coming and had withdrawn their people from areas occupied by psensitives before they were alerted, too. Only the dumb luck from the alert at Jonglerblok had set things into motion, and forced the aliens to action.


    While he couldn''t turn a mindblade as yet, still laboring at the barrier to Seven, he and Serena had been doing a lot of work getting him ready to break the barrier.


    Ah, Serena. Even someone as job focused as Egil Rosenblaum had his mind drift a bit at the very idea he was sharing his bed with a Rantha...


    His gyropistols had been Named, Calm and Lucid, and while he wasn''t the most naturally dexterous person around, especially after he''d removed his Wired Reflexes, the Dexterity Mark had taken care of that problem for him, and the whole art of gunslinging dual weapons was a mental art, not just higher coordination.


    Calmly and lucidly, he pulled the triggers. Rocket slugs ignited, wreathed in the pale blue of Phrenic Banefire, and shot out as visible tracers, striking their targets with remarkable precision before exploding in gory displays of flesh-shredding and bone-ripping microbursts, basically every hit a kill on a normal human, whose psi-fried brain hooked into the pslaver virus meant they now qualified as Phrenics.


    New slugs cycled smoothly into the chamber, the action reworked, humming with psionic efficiency, almost no vibration, no powder build up, all the momentum and force redirected forwards with only a small fraction coming through to his hand, more an acknowledgement that it had fired than anything else. Of course, his Vajra was wrapping it, and he wouldn''t be mistaken about such things anyways.


    Every six seconds, another gyro formed in the bottom of the eternal magazines. Cool mist poured off the muzzles of his guns, and despite firing off over a hundred rounds each, they were now ice-cold and having no problems with jamming or overheated barrels.


    A crowd came at him, twenty-some of them, screaming, eyes bloodshot and lit up with odd lights within, hands warped into empowered claws capable of tearing someone open.


    Calm and Lucid oriented, and Egil pulled the triggers as fast as he could adjust, while Lepido and his psicrystal Egg kept watch behind him.


    Exploding once-people blew apart into those behind them. It didn''t matter how fast they wanted to charge, the ones in front kept staggering as frozen blood, meat, and bone smacked into them painfully, and then it was their turn to get blasted apart and slow down their fellows.


    His magazines emptied, the psionic templates of new gyros taking time to gather new material and bring them together. That was fine. He switched to Force from Frost on his gyros, and this time there indeed was no kick, as basic slugs of solid force shot out now. There was no recoil on them, but they were still trailing banefire, and these people had no armor to speak of... and if they did, he shot them in the face.


    The four who''d managed to live through the crowd of frozen bone and bloodspray had their faces blown out, pok-pok-pok-pok. Egil stopped going backwards and reversed direction, proceeding along his original course as Lepido indicated the cerevore was still below him.


    -I am on 64 and making my way to the center,- he /said into the Markchat, and minds all around him lit up with recognition and not a little relief.


    Lepido''s hisses and empathy picked him out targets inside rooms he passed, while he counted off the seconds as his Magazines refilled, shot by shot. The Plunge was right in front of him, and he could see people on the far side, screaming, fighting, dying; mindblades in gold, green, blue, and white flashing; and the occasional gathering point centered around a mindshield. Lasers strobed, slugthrowers barked, and autoguns roared and chewed up scenery.


    Distance and Accuracy were two of the major enhancements to put on any ranged weapon. The first doubled the range of the weapon, nicely modifying the precise killing range he could pop things at without difficulty. The second one ignored the range modifiers for the first three range increments, i.e. it eliminated a -6 in range penalties, basically turning 120-yard shots with a pistol into point-blank range, gyros staying straight and true on course for improbable distances. It wasn''t as good as a sniper rifle, but for something as destructive as gyros, it turned that area into a potential slaughterfest.


    Greater Soulbound Banefire Distance Accurate Force-shooting Pistols did their thing, and he was out onto the promenade around the Plunge, his firing never stopping.


    Left, right, picking off every target on approach to him on a clear firing line, as some of the Pslaved still had enough awareness to use the firearms they were equipped with. At the same time, he had plenty of targets across the way, and was not slow to pour fire into clusters pressuring in on any defenders.


    The streaking banefire drew attention friendly and not, and people started moving towards him. Some were stupid and blocked his line of fire, until a shot went past their ear and they decided that hugging the walls was fine. Green and gold survivors noted where he was, and as he began to move, they made their way towards stairwells, trailing their own groups of survivors.


    Voices were calling through Markspace, and Egil calmly told them to head towards the areas designated as hardpoints, get the survivors there, and make damn sure no infiltrators got through. There were no healers who could cope with the pslaver virus once someone was bit, so anyone wounded was to be put down before they could infect others.


    Nobody could see his heart bleeding as he made the call. They weren''t men, women, or children anymore... they were just puppets of meat, strings being pulled by the bastards below.


    The Pstatic Surge as the telepathic disruption went up across the city only fizzed the Markspace a little, since it didn''t operate on the same wavelengths as psionics. However, the Pslaves immediately started keening as the guidance from their hivemind controllers was lost, save those in the most immediate area of the cerevores. Coordination and information exchange naturally suffered.


    Yeah, it wasn''t like humans hadn''t been attacked by things in nightmares or psychically before. Humanity didn''t rely on telepathy to communicate, so shutting it down didn''t really hurt primary communications at all.


    Naturally, the Pstatic hubs would become prime targets, but that just let humanity know where to kill things. The enemy did have so many prime targets, after all...


    There were screams in Markspace that the xenosyms were here. Sixty floors up, Egil could only calmly order people to converge together and get to the safe zones, now being rapidly cleared out by the first arrivals to the area, and held against all comers.


    At least a person every breath was taking The Plunge, often with a snarling Pslave or two in their grip, dying and doing their best to take someone with them. Even the old and decrepit were using the move, hands fixed in deathgrips and rictus grins on their faces as they plunged past, even as they were being ripped open in midair.


    He didn''t have the intellect to watch the deeds of others in Markspace, so he couldn''t track progress except by the words and rough positions of the Marked pulling back to fortified areas where they could present a united defense, succor civilians, and then push out again.

 Chapter 392 - Far Future Ch. 102 – OH, That’s What Happened...

    He heard the calls in Markspace, and Serena''s smooth /voice came through to all her Marked, including him, -We have nuclear launches, the bloks will be sealed.-


    He felt her eyes on him. She was out there, and she had been trying to get to him, and now wouldn''t be able to. Everybody who wanted to live was trying to find some sort of cover.


    The great blast doors of the blok began to close. Windows were sealed, stairwells were shut. The enemy reinforcements flooding inside in a black tide were suddenly and abruptly cut off by hundreds of thousands of tons of duracrete reinforcement.


    "My Queen, sir!" a young G&G ex-ganger by name of Timeos shouted out, his mindclaw out in one hand and mindshield blazing hope on the other. The pales lines of a Ghost Knight Claw followed his swipe as he ripped one Pslave''s head off with the flat of his hand, and then plunged it up under the chin of a second, taking the charge of two more on his Shield, and with a crackling flare of his Focus going off, blasted them back and over the side of the Plunge to join the rain and the hills of crushed dead heaping up below. "Any orders?"


    Every single Rantha everywhere called him My Queen, as did the Briggs'', and nobody else dared do otherwise. It gave him a not-quite unique status, as now every single Exterminatus Sanctius Branch Manager in Janus Prime was officially dubbed the same.


    To the other managers, it was half-mockery. For Egil Rosenblaum, it was His Title, and nobody messed with it.


    "Northwest Quadrant, two floors down," he pointed, voice as bland and calm as ever, and people began to move in that direction with purpose, even as the cerevores lost their control and were scrambling to reclaim it.


    He glanced over the side at the mounds of dead gathered in the atrium below... and all the slick black carapaces swarming over the biomatter.


    He flicked his Arsenal over to vivic, switched back to gyro, extended calmly and lucidly, and ripped off six shots from each gun.


    Unwhite flames exploded on the fresh corpses, and might have blown apart a few of the scavenger syms that grew from unimplanted eggs.


    The dead began to burn. No biomatter to scoop up and turn into more xenos...


    He turned around and led the charge towards the nearest set of stairs that would stay open. Down would get him closer to that cerevore, and they had stairs to clear.


    ---


    The ultrablast came screaming in, trying to blow apart its brain, and the brawny, shaven-head meat puppet leered at him as his skull pulsed and rippled unnaturally.


    Egil was blasted back off his feet, slamming into one of the pillars next to the plunge, but he lost neither Focus nor his guns.


    The nega-psionic Feats weren''t restricted to Null Psis. Anyone who was not a psion could use them.


    The rippling rings that had slammed into him seemed to impale themselves on invisible barbs, and shredded forcewaves flashed back as they did so. They slammed right into the meat puppet''s face, and he jerked pack, pale fluid jetting out his nose and around his eyeballs at the feedback.


    Calmly and lucidly, Egil lifted both of his pistols and fired twice each.


    The +VI virtua drilled through soft human facial bone, slammed into the stone-hard fungal body of the brain-rider, punched in, and banefire detonated. The first shots blew the puppet''s skull apart, and sent the cerevore flying. In midair, the second set of shots hit it again, and blew it apart like a frozen stone struck by two explosive, anathemic hammers. He vaguely heard some psquealing, but the Pstatic Ward make it illegible, for which he was quite happy.


    He looked at the scattered bits as he got to his feet, and looked over the Plunge with a sigh, ignoring the several dozen blasted Pslave corpses around him, as did the G&G defenders with him as they finished the last of the infected off.


    Black forms were climbing up the support beams.


    -Everyone working the Plunge, we''ve got xenos climbers. The stair defense must be holding, and they are trying another approach. Sun shots, pick them off.-


    He couldn''t do the same, but a gyro every three seconds had much the same result. Everyone who had a firearm, and those who didn''t grabbed one off the floor, came up to the guardrail, took aim, brought up a Nimbus, and began to shoot across at the upcoming xenos swarming up the walls.


    His team shot across, another team two floors down did the same, each killing the other''s threats, action replicated by other squads and teams up and down the Plunge. Those up high who had cleared ground were leaning over the side and shooting down the length of the Plunge if they had the range, turning and running for the lower floors, or, in the case of those who were Fives, or actual psions, going right over the edge and coming down directly by hopping/sliding from floor to floor on lightfoot or psionic drifting.


    -Is the floor below clear,- he /inquired, backing up Lepido''s wary all-clear, who had jumped off his shoulders when he was hit, and zipped right back up there as he stood back up. Those Soul Feats adding to his Toughness and Soak had really saved his bacon...


    Shooters across the way looked up, indicated that directly below him was good. He shoulder-holstered his guns, and swung over the side... followed by easily half the squad, while the rest pulled back to guard the nearest stairs and set up a killing cordon in the designated hard points, grabbing all the firearms off the dead Pslaves they could.


    He dragged his hand, just enough control with lightfoot to let him fall, and catch the railing to the next floor without ripping off his arm. He grunted to nobody in particular as the much younger men around him did the same, and then dropped again to the next floor.


    Looked like he only needed one hand. He drew Calm out and shot one of the bigger xenos only thirty stories below, let go, and fell to the next floor. Sun Shots blew past him, and the shooters on the other side who could do the same followed suit, while the rest moved to sweep the floor and secure the stairs.


    In a rolling cascade, the G&G elites began to go over the edge and drop down. Those who weren''t shooting moved more quickly than those who were, so the top floors were catching up to the lower ones. The real lightfooters were coming down close to the pillars, kicking off from pillar to rail to pillar to rail, as if they were waltzing down stairs, descending towards the uprising black tide.


    -Hold and circle the Plunge at 40, line it up, and go down together,- he /ordered, and the falling teams began to shift and line themselves up accordingly. The ring of fire below him began to intensify, and xenos were exploding in acidic clouds. Occasionally the descenders dropped down in reach of some startled Pslaves who hadn''t been shot, and paused to mow them down impersonally.


    The ring of fire began to build up, firing down into the teeth of the rising horde, and as floor after floor joined them, it only got more murderous.


    Team after team of G&G hit floor 40. The Pslaves hadn''t managed to get above 100, so the higher floors had been sending their people down to secure the stairs and make sure no one got up that high, corkscrewing down the blok and making sure each level was secure as they did so. They were coordinating with teams on the besieged levels, while their elites plunged down to join My Queen on the attack.


    Egil looked around at the hundreds of guns now lined up and picking off the nearest xenos ten floors down. There were no ranged attacks of note coming up from below, as the smaller sym dart-shooters couldn''t climb and shoot at the same time, and the humans were way above their launch range.


    -One floor at a time. The xenos are on 30. Clear the Plunge and one floor at a time.- He glanced at the hardpoints set up every other floor in the besieged zones. The lower floors were empty and abandoned, anyone alive down there was a miracle in hiding. Happily, the Pstatic Ward had destroyed the attackers'' coordination, so they actually had a chance if they could kill anything that found them. Regrettably, the swarming xenos coming in were good trackers and would mass-swarm anything they fought, so those people didn''t have much of a chance.


    But still, mental hands went out to hold them, to recognize them, and to be beside them as they died, taking away the fear and replacing it with Kill Just One More.


    They would all be Remembered!


    ---


    Lepido, perched up on Egil''s shoulder, spread her butterfly wings and looked left as they approached the corridor junction. Egil stopped, and everyone looked to the left side with the fluttercat, guns snapping up.


    The syms came pouring around the corner in a stream, claws and organic dart-launchers raised.


    -One two three one two three one two three...- Egil /counted off amid the singing in their minds, and the volleys were staggered with computer-like precision as the swarm of syms was shredded with amazing speed. Mindshields in front clenched and crackled as the living missiles and their toxic loads bounced off them and fried, twisting and cooking as they hit the ground.


    A true xeno leapt for them, springing through the air like a great black-carapaced hunting insect-cat. Lucid took it in midair, blowing acidic brains all over the place to douse those in the front line. Lepido stayed very close to him as the corrosive sludge slid down Egil and his Vajra, doing no more harm than water, ate away the decades-old perma-plas carpet instantly, and turned the plascrete below into cratered sludge.


    At Five it was mandatory to have Acid in your Vajra Resistance, because that''s when you could go outside the walls. Nobody with Egil was less than a Five, so they didn''t have to fear exploding xenos blood, despite the Throne-awful mess it was making of their surroundings.


    Someone shot it vivic, and the acidic blood was like oil to the unwhite stuff. It spread rapidly among the dozens of dead syms they trod over, careful of pokey bits, set it all to burning, and really put a thrumming into the Pstatic Ward.


    The psions with them were mostly relegated to support and healing, since they were outnumbered by the cerevores and no match for them in general. The Nulls and Sources following Egil, on the other hand, didn''t really give a shit for the cerevores at all, only how difficult they were to kill once found.


    Random civilians who couldn''t make it to the hard points were pretty much all dead before the teams got to 20. They didn''t have time to make a hard sweep and scan of every little nook and cranny, despite knowing they were going to miss people. That was fine, as the secondary teams coming down from the higher floors as they brutally cleared the main threats out of each one would perform mop-up, with the Ghost Knights leading the way.


    The pslaves and the syms could be tricky and sly, but they couldn''t escape the vengeful eyes of the dead of Habberblok, who were all completely incensed at what was happening, and the new undead being created just like they had been.


    There were going to be a lot of angry dead in Janus Prime after this battle...


    They''d felt the floor shake more than a few times, and knew atomics had gone off in the distance. When the main power lines were cut and the lights went out, nobody much cared, as portable lights and some back-ups went on, Focus or Soul Feats made sure everyone could still see, and the killing continued.


    From the perspective of the cerevores, what was happening was a zone of cold, terrible psilence they couldn''t see past was pressing down from above, as Nulls and Sources came down to greet them and their minions, with no detectable thoughts or emotions for them to pick and prey on.


    The higher floors and the prey there seemed to vanish, and a dire, solemn, and heavy mental weight was pressing down remorselessly.


    Worse, trying to take over the mind of one of the pesky humans meant they needed line of sight, and it was uncanny how much fire they instantly attracted when they attempted a takeover. Egil and Lepido were more vulnerable than the Null kids, but the kids had their Nulls up and out, and were generally screening for the two of them. Any successful domination attempt was promptly dealt with by those closest to the person Focusing their Nulls into the head of the afflicted and breaking the connection almost instantly, if a hundred voices shouting into their heads couldn''t do the job.

 Chapter 393 - Far Future Ch. 103 – And it Ended up This Way...

    Multiple cerevores tried to infiltrate the civilians they rescued, but couldn''t escape the notice of Lepido, whose hisses of distaste were basically a death sentence, or the spirits of the Ghost Knights and their hungry mind blades.


    One unlucky Null had a cerevore invade his mouth, and was struck from six different angles by mindblades, guided by his own plunging in. His jaw was torn right off when the cerevore expanded to full size in death... but he didn''t die, as a healer leapt on him, a blood-bonded Healer crystal tied to Serene, the head Rantha of the blok, in his hand; started the empathic healing transfer and mended the injuries to his spine, brain, face, skull, jaw, and neck as everyone waited.


    The Ranthas had their backs. Within a minute, the mutilated fighter was back on his feet, looking grimmer than ever, and a wild look of renewed confidence back in his eyes.


    -Ammunition Check,- Egil /said unflappably, and the shooters checked their reserves. They''d been scavenging any dropped magazines as they went, with their own expended ones either going into pockets for recharge if they could, or stacked up neatly off to the side so someone coming after them wouldn''t mistake them for fresh ones, to be swept up by the teams coming in behind them for recharging.


    -NUKE INCOMING PROXIMATE CASPERBLOK.- Serena /Declared, and everyone looked up and cursed at the same time.


    -Support beams,- Egil /directed them calmly, taking a few steps to stand next to a corner, and the team promptly scattered to do the same. Those who couldn''t get an optimal position did the best they could, while a few just sighed, stood where they were, and faced what was coming on their feet.


    The light passed over the Plunge, which flared behind them with actinic radiance. The vibration came through the ground first, a shockwave that made the ground heave as it sought an outlet, and around them, floors cracked... some, which had been assaulted by extremely corrosive acid, more than others.


    Egil looked up at the ceiling shattering above him, sighed in resignation, and then the whole blok lurched as the primary shockwave smashed into it, and there was a roar of falling plascrete masonry.


    ------


    Egil didn''t know where he was, but he now knew how he got there.


    The edge of something sharp had drilled into his eyes, and both his real and fake eyes were ruined, the bones of his face sheared an inch deep. He had a bar of durasteel in his shoulder, the tip of it fractured like crystal... only a few thousand years old, and couldn''t stand a couple shockwaves like that, probably some contractor cheating on the alloy specs. His leg was crushed and caught under a slab of some kind, while he had somehow fallen into a cavity that had preserved his life.


    -And you didn''t believe in Soak at one time,- a quiet, calm /voice intruded into his self-assessment.


    -There is no instruction like practical experience,- he /agreed, using the paralysis of sleep to continue not moving and so reduce the pain. -How long.-


    -A half hour or so. We got a psion to dimdoor us into Casperblok, and have been working our way up.- He had seen Ranthas at work, so he could picture the kind of havoc the sword-wielding nymphals and hammer-wielding Ancients were wreaking on the xenos. ¨C Your team left a guard with Lepido there, and have begun securing the floor, while making sure the xenos don''t spread up as we pressure them.-


    -How bad was the nuke.- he /asked, morbidly interested.


    -It was aimed at Aloft Spire. The Mentats deflected it away and down. Krommelblok caught the edge of the primary blast, and is basically gone.- Images flickered, and he got a rough eyeful of the blast area, a crater at least a mile across, surrounded by ruins, but overlaid by enough debris and dust smoke that he couldn''t see much more than too much radiation boiling at the center of it. Durasteel was no joke, and nuclear weapons were generally designed to generate intense focused heat, rather than dispersed blasts. So, the crater would be reaching down into Underspire, but the fallout damage would not be as horrible as it could be.


    Still, all the lesser habs and workplaces in the area were basically rubble, and anyone unshielded within ten miles was going to be a blast shadow or ashes.


    The secondary shields of the Spire had weathered the blast. If the xenos wanted to take it, they''d have to do so on foot now.


    -The other atomics converged on a section of the Shield Wall, and breached the hard wall in the direction of the Spikeplains. Cavalry and armor up to bio-mech grade came up out of the killwaters there and over the breach. They did a harmonic field extension to keep out any bad air, and the xenos aren''t trying to fight it, but there''s also interested creatures from outside wandering in when they see the xenos bio-armor crawling through the gap.-


    -Sounds exciting.- he /deadpanned.


    -Very. The Kasas are already deploying with great anticipation of multiple explosions and great property damage. Boys and their toys and all.-


    He thought about the Rantha tank and mecha drivers, and said nothing. The war machines of the Empire were certainly capable of explosions and property damage.


    He also thought about where the enemy was coming from. -They have an underwater base of operations.-


    -Yes, they are coming from under the Sunken Seas. We have no idea how many bases of operation, or how long they have been there. By numbers and penetration, we assume their primary bases are on the other side of the continent. Their attacks here seem more aimed at damaging crucial infrastructure and keeping us occupied then any serious attempt to seize assets or biomass.-


    That was an interesting point. -How did they secure the vats.- he /asked. He hadn''t talked with her while he was fighting, because he couldn''t divide his attention like she could. Multiple thoughtstreams and everything. When a few of them thoughtstreams focused on kissing him, ah, even a soul like his couldn''t help but ignite...


    -Administered a toxyignitor to the mass of it, along with a water absorbent, and dumped it all into the lower tunnels before igniting the mass of it. The lowest tunnels are a mass of charcoal and ash, drowned and suffocated xenos, and poison gas.-


    There was no way that the corps involved would have such ruthless and ready plans involved. He could only guess that the Ranthas had been ridiculously overprepared, and were exploiting all their contingency plans with gusto, regardless of what the relevant corps or cartels wanted to happen.


    That did seem to be their modus operandi, after all.


    -How is the war going.- he /asked calmly, having little else to do right now. He was immediately treated to a panoply of Rantha eye-views from all over the place, from extremely enthusiastic personal combat, extremely loud and heavy guns going off in measured massacres as machinery moved with great speed, tactical feeds from the bridges of starships (appalling information security, he thought to himself, studying the scene of space fleets jockeying for position with some interest), and several updated tactical Maps showing deployments of enemies and friendlies, with the latter universally outnumbering the former.


    There was a lot to look at, and it kept him occupied as the carnage sweeping up towards him from below continued towards his position. He could hear distant faint thumpings, and the warbling of psychic screams.


    Somehow, somewhere, he felt he could also hear the spirits of the damned Pslaves also shouting as they were released from their psychic shackles, and watched the death of their tormentors.


    ------


    A half hour later, he was sent a personal view, as the team of Hagbloods, three each men and women, came up on his position.


    The women weren''t wearing much, because it had all been clawed off them, but the metallic Nog skin armor made them look like organic flowmetal robots, not people, so they lost nothing, and didn''t much care. However, the thoughtful G&G people had relayed up the fact they didn''t have much clothing, and had gotten some basic pants and shirts out of the rooms of a couple G&G members on this floor, passing them out as the women glided up.


    The men were all in power armor, of course; adamant armor that was scraped all to hell, cut and gouged in numerous places by powerful psi-aided impacts, and humming with psychic reinforcement while the blueshine polish that universally defied xenos acid gleamed as if spit-shined from all the horribly acidic gore that had done nothing to it.


    They were looking at a pile of rubble from a collapsed floor, or two, piled up into a shoulder-sized mound of one to two-foot-thick slabs of heavy plascrete and wrenched and twisted durasteel, some of the pieces weighing several tons.


    Egil realized he was actually on the floor below where he''d been standing when the shockwave hit, and most of the hallway ceiling here, as well as several rooms, had collapsed. He also saw that at least two members of the team with him still had body parts jutting out from under the rubble, signifying they hadn''t made it, either.


    After she shrugged on shirts and pants, he watched through Serena''s eyes as the six got to work. Massive chunks of masonry were manhandled with startling ease and balance, shunted off to one side, stacked neatly by improbably strong men and impossibly strong slender women. If wrenched rebar got in the way, it was severed with Star Core mindclaws immediately, and he could hear the weight above him getting cleared away.


    A three-ton block was shifted away, and he felt air movement.


    There was a purring and patter of tiny feet, and Lepido snaked her way between the blocks and was up on his chest. She had been waiting nearby on the blocks, keeping watch, butterfly wings fluttering, and when her head turned and wings spread, his guards had looked and shot whatever was coming.


    Egil clawed his hand slowly up his belly to touch the fluttercat, who moved her paw to rest in his palm. Everything was all right. Her master''s mate was here, and so was she. What did her silly master who let a ceiling fall on him have to fear?


    Rubble groaned and was lifted away by hands armored and Claw-wreathed. He saw the size of the huge slab above him, and the ones to either side that had prevented it from crushing him flat. It had to weigh at least ten tons, but the Hagbloods just spaced themselves out, and before the very impressed G&G guards, didn''t even bother to cut it apart, directly lifting it up, over, setting one end down, and standing it up to lean against a support beam there with a crunch.


    He had to admit he looked really bad. The crushing gash had thoroughly obliterated his eyes into a single long bloody mess, the rebar sticking through his shoulder had totally ruined his shirt, and his right leg was still crushed flat by another too-large section of duracrete.


    And there was Lepido on his chest, paw in his hand.


    Serena''s emotions wavered around him like a well, deep and awesome and really hard to look into. There was grief and pity, but they were drowned out by a love and relief that really made him want to melt inside... and below them, a stoking fury of outrage at anything and everything that would do that to him.


    "You hold still now," she whispered, as the other Ranthas moved to clear the excess debris weighing down the slab on his leg. He watched her Claw reach out, and light flare as a Sun Strike sheared through the durasteel rebar like tofu, first chopping off the bar above his shoulder, then below.


    Her finger pressed up from below with brutal precision, he felt her Vajra wrapping into his own, and he guided and pushed the meat and bone of his shoulder away as she propelled the messy metal up, and plucked it smoothly away.


    Her psicrystal Stillness touched the bloody hole, and Empathic Healing flowed over the wound, stealing the injury away and delivering it to her, which she promptly healed away without any problems. Unmarked skin was left behind, and all the ache and pain was gone except for a mental shadow.

 Chapter 394 - Far Future Ch. 104 – My Queen of the Void

    She focused on that gash across his face, and her Clawed fingers came down over his ruined left cybereye. "We don''t have the time or power to spare for regeneration right now, so you''re going to have to make do."


    He sort of grunted as a sharper-then-razor finger came down, interrupted some nerves, and began to grip and grab. He winced, but didn''t stop her as she grabbed the neural interfaces and optical circuits in her Vajra, severed them cleanly, and pulled the ruined cyberware out of his eye.


    There was a jerk, and suddenly her field of vision seemed to be cut in half. -What.- he protested, wondering what she was doing, seeing her hand coming down towards his eye.


    "Two points of Essence in your left eye," she instructed him calmly, voice betraying nothing. He obeyed calmly, and her Vajra came smoothly into the gaping socket, reached back into his skull to his brain, made a connection, and Stillness hummed, fixing flesh and bone, drawing them back together... and his Essence poured into a new conduit there, and expanded in to fill it as the psychic healing did its thing. The muscles and skin of his eyelid came together, he could see the flesh drawing closed with incredible speed, and she took her hand away.


    There was a light, blinking suddenly into abrupt focus, and he could see her lovely calm face looking down at him with one glowing dark eye, the other eye socket yawning open and empty.


    Emperor, she looked beautiful. That Nog Armor of hers was accentuated by the electrum of her Aura, it seemed to set off the highlights of her dark hair, and even the blue-black of her Brand looked more elegant, refined, the broken pattern exuding some ancient and primal power as he stared despite himself.


    "Stay calm. I''ll regenerate. Grafting." She reached up to her remaining eye with her free hand fearlessly. "Split the Essence between your eyes."


    Egil swallowed as her claws drove in, clenched, and pulled, and his view from her angle, looking down at the dark eye matching the one looking up at her, vanished for a moment.


    It came down into his eye, the optic nerve snaked forwards, grafted onto his brain as Stillness did its work, and flesh and bone gathered around the eyeball, holding it firmly as his Essence flowed into it.


    He looked up at her with two eyes as she closed the gash on his face, and heard the crumping as the weight on his leg was lifted away, although the nerves were crushed and he couldn''t feel anything there at the moment.


    They glowed, all of them. Shades of gold, tinges of silver. There was a grim purpose to them that didn''t obviate the warmth of their auras, or the reason why they were doing it. The three huge young men were roiling like molten metal, throwing off a spiritual pressure at once weightless and powerful that seemed to be weighing down on everything and blowing it along at the same time. The women... were like metal, completely ignoring that weight, unmoved and uncaring of it.


    Despite himself, he fed her what he was seeing, seeing flesh already twitching under her eyelids as her eyeballs began to regrow. "Is this how you see the world," he asked softly, amazed at the detail and sharpness of this sight. It felt like he should be able to see so much more; the colors were intense and vivid, and he wasn''t sure he could actually process them all.


    She was moving Stillness over to his leg, his Vajra telling him the meat was pulp and the bone all crushed shards. Healing it would shatter her leg as she did it... and she would simply put it back together automatically. Healing matrices were convenient that way.


    She looked back at him and smiled. "Of course not. You look much more beautiful than we do," she replied, as her free hand caressed his face.


    Egil felt something give way inside him. It was a door inside his soul, a restraint upon his thoughts and beliefs, of holding himself back from something great and terrible.


    A Rantha... found him beautiful...


    He stepped through that door, into Scout/7.


    He took another step, and his Human Racial Level Three drew up on him, and he felt his hard, unresponsive soul shudder and grow with ancient drives and beliefs that had driven him all his life, only he hadn''t known why.


    They were at the heart of who and all he was.


    A sigh seemed to ripple across everyone and anyone, gentle and subtle, touching the akasha and leaving those nearby who didn''t know what was going on confused.


    There was an emptiness inside him. It seemed to draw in the light and the presence given off by the Sources that were the Briggs, and even traces dissipating off the steely, obdurate shells of the Nulls. It came into him, was filtered, purified, and came back out.


    Rings, ghostly silver and white, began to rise from him, joining together into a living whorl of non-spectral light, something that wasn''t psionic or spirit, but transcended either.


    "Oh, no shit!" one of the other Ranthas blurted out, seeing that, and turned her eyes on Serena. "Aren''t you the lucky one!"


    The Briggs'', on the other hand, looked instantly respectful. "Oh, wow," exclaimed the biggest and oldest-looking of them, and reached up to salute down at Egil Rosenblaum. "Clear silver. The Mind and the Ring..."


    Egil just looked at them. "I have no idea what that means." He eyed the whorls caressing the air, and especially Serena. The unique taste of her Aura was better than a genetic test at identifying her, as were those of each of the others.


    "Nulls are the foundation of the Forsaken, the most common and the core of the strength of normal folk. Sources are the Kings and Queens among the Forsaken, those who lead us. The third and rarest of the Forsaken are the Brothers of the Void, the Servants of the Land, who guide the others to do what must be done."


    An ocean of pride swept into him, through him at Serena''s words, and he dropped his eyes to Lepido, who was staring at the whorls of his Helix with great interest and a little trepidation. The fluttercat was as unique as anyone else to the touch of his Helix, he could sense the leaping of her thoughts and drives clearly and smoothly, soothing away the edges of raw emotions she was sensitive to without effort.


    Serena''s leg split open, he heard bone crack and split, and saw it coming back together almost as fast as the abuse was inflicted upon it. At the same time, his own leg began to really, really hurt.


    She really couldn''t expend psionic energy. Her psi was so hard and rigid it was impossible. He could feel traces in the air of active psionic efforts... and the pulsing interference of pstatic that was making telepathic efforts almost impossible. He could feel the single Mark upon his waist, and the singularly unique energy that empowered it, as well as the differences in all the energies that combined to form the complex Mark IV Vajras of the Hagbloods about him.


    They were all brimming with magic inside, pure sorcerous power that the Warp would love to get their hands on, locked away and restrained by their Forsaken natures... and he knew that he could do the same thing, now.


    He sighed, and clicked over the Wild Talent Feat.


    He had pseen Serena do it so many times, what he had to do was now open and totally possible. He shifted his attention, held out his hand, clenched his fingers, and twisted.


    The bluesilver steel glow, hard and visible as any Claw he''d ever seen, albeit missing all the lights of an advanced mindclaw, snapped into existence on his hand. There seemed to be sorts of silvery shadows trailing around it...


    As promised, Forsaken psionics was now open to him, too...


    "Brother Mindring," the big Briggs asked calmly, "which way do we go?"


    Egil looked at him, and his Helix tasted the air as his leg was remade, his flattened foot was reformed and made real, complete with lots of painful protest.


    Despite the waves of pstatic, he could feel and hear. The thoughts, the pslavery, the spirits howling for revenge or in madness... and the dark, inhuman presences among them.


    Serena''s first eye was already back, gleaming and lighting up with Essence, glowing in joy he could feel in his bones as she looked at him.


    "Let me show you where to find them." He held up his hand, and Serena pulled him to his restored foot effortlessly. He''d need a new shoe eventually, but there was no time to head back up to his apartment and get one. That was what lightfoot was for. "And when we''re done here, we''re going Down," he stated, as his Helix spun and he felt the churning presence of the things far down below them, in Underspire.


    The air around him hummed with a deadly resolve on many levels he hadn''t been able to sense before. He pulled out his pistols, feeling the nascent spirits of the Weapons stirring in his hands, fed on Karma and nexals, ready to come to life and serve.


    Serve exactly who and want, he wasn''t sure, but he was pretty sure it wasn''t the Emperor, anymore. Which was okay, because he still had the same work to do, the job never went away...


    ----------


    -Our Markspace is going to be severed from primary Markspace for a period of roughly an hour. If you need to communicate with the other Marked outside our own, grab one and use them as a relay.


    -As you know, Sama is currently behind a massive Throne Ward. I am going to use this moment to undergo my Karmic Regression with my sisters. Isolating in three... two... one...-


    My Fyr self jerked as the telepathic bond of the Mark was severed completely. There was awareness there, that my main self was Out There doing something, as were my sisters, but for the first time, I was absolutely alone in Fyr''s head, not sharing seven of them.


    Her Markspace was active, replete as it was with tank and vehicle drivers getting really busy about now, but Fyr was simply slaved to the system right now, in transit to a combat site. One of her sisters was operating her tank in tandem for the nonce, not a hard thing with a tight linkup and extra thoughtstream.


    Going through a Regression to open up the previous life of your soul while in an active warzone was probably not the wisest course of action, but the forced, massive separation was an opportunity not to be missed.


    Emma, Inigo, Azure, Aura, and Vivi were all doing the same thing. It was very strange not being all of them at the same time, and while I momentarily very much missed having six additional bodies, I was also firmly aware that our souls were different, and we should have been different people from the get go, developing in our own ways. Sama had made a mistake, done her best to rectify it and cater to the individual Talents of each of us, but this was the chance to make the cut clean.


    My Fyr-self sat back in her tank as she dove towards the point of light that was the start of her life and this incarnation, and pulled it open for a look.


    Across the city, five other selves of Sama did the same. They were ready for new lives of their own, fulfilling dreams of their past selves, a foundation of time that would make them truly separate from Sama-main... and anticipating a flowering of rage that pretty much characterized all of the Ranthas, who were all born from those killed by horribly evil means and methods.


    Rantha Hags did not react well to those things, and the almost universal nature of being reduced to enslaved puppets and expended like chaff was everything they fought against in the Hag Curse.


    Fyr steeled herself, and began to Remember the life of the girl her soul used to be....


    ------------


    Center of the Warp Zone...


    I felt the erosion of the quiet links to my other selves, and nodded to nobody as Briggs and I cleared the landing to the command deck. It was the right time to do something, and they''d done it. Perfect...

 Chapter 395 - Far Future Ch. 105 - Who is in Command Here?

    Everything had been eerily silent as we climbed. Both Briggs and I found it uncomfortable, as a good excuse to go bouncing around and killing bots would certainly liven up a climb of many miles.


    Instead, the quietly horrifying endless rows of shattered and spotlessly clean cryo tubes greeted us at in endless silence and testimony.


    "That is some horrible psychic pressure," Briggs murmured, clenching his teeth.


    His Source was more lively and radiant, and so was much more sensitive to my Null when reacting to pressure and outside wills coming in and trying to bend things. They''d really have to whelm up and bear down for me to register this, subtle wasn''t going to do it.


    "They must be waking up or something," I murmured back, dusting off my hands as we looked down at the awesome and dreadful sight of all those empty tubes. The weight of the lives lost in fear and horror here was likely stained into every bit of the bright shiny polished metals all around. "If a psi or Primos came in here, I bet they''d go mad in minutes, even sleeping..."


    "Could easily be a side-effect of the Throne Field, too, trapping their spirits here." I inclined my head to acknowledge the point. "Which means we could be facing incorps..."


    I popped my neck as I frowned at the display. What was done to these people was hitting all of my Hag buttons, and the Curse on my neck was writhing slowly as the ancient, monstrous Evil slumbering here murmured and whispered at our presence.


    "Do the math?" he asked stonily.


    Of course I did the math. I had too many thoughtstreams. I could not NOT do the math.


    Eight miles long, roughly a quarter-mile square. Half a cubic mile. Figure a tube every 2 cubic meters or so... easily a hundred million people. Not accounting for crew awake and working in the living quarters around the cryo vault in the center of the ship.


    We both could feel the scars and impacts of combat beneath our soles. Metal-rending claws, pits of acid, stray shots of energy blasts, explosions, slugthrowers. There were identical scars on the walls and ceilings, and multiple layers of them... the fighting here had been intense.


    No sign of any guardbots at the moment, rubble or otherwise. The only bots we''d seen moving about were the mindlessly efficient maintenance bots going about their endless cleaning and dusting, minor TK fields playing over everything and sweeping up any microparticles about in this sterile environment.


    Displayed wall charts and the rough schematics led us along hallways that had seen a lot of fighting. Visible blast scars became repeated craters, holes, and melted or fused scars that had not been repaired, or even sealed over. Psionic energies had ripped and rent at durasteel, pulling it apart like water, or making it vulnerable to acidic barrages or rending claws. Fusion streams, plasma channels, armor-piercing dings, spatial seams, dimpled impact points of laser fire, fused areas from lightning discharges... it was all on display here, as all the weapons had been used.


    Still hadn''t saved them, as door after door ripped open, and the ravaged rooms beyond amply demonstrated. While there wasn''t necessarily deliberate destruction of everything, anything that might indicate biomass was gone, and anything computerized had been completely mangled and not replaced. We were looking for them, and also couldn''t find any kind of internal observation or communication nodes, probably torn out to hamper any robotic defense and coordination with the crew.


    It basically meant we were in an invisible area.


    The officer''s quarters were not far off the bridge. We diverted in that direction, just to see if there was anything left behind there.


    ------


    The captain''s quarters were improbably large, actually covering two floors. Briggs and I looked around with raised eyebrows at the size of the place... but it was mostly trashed.


    There had been some fighting here as well, focused around the door, and the remains of it didn''t seem to have spread beyond the main room and the study behind. One last stand, or perhaps a final holdout of survivors, doomed by the numbers of their enemies.


    "Looks like they had paneling on the walls," Briggs mused, looking over the cables and fixtures here and there, nails and hooks to hang things from which were no longer there. Most of the cables snaking under the crossed slats of the floor had been severed or fused to unusability, and the lights here were naturally completely off-line, not that it mattered to either of us.


    The captain had their own kitchen, and some parts of it were remarkably intact, considering. The pots and pans were all in fine shape, although scattered about, as most of the drawers to hold them were gone. Stove, oven were gaping open, and sterile clean, any organic residues cleaned out.


    The silverware was made of gold and platinum. We collected the engraved set silently, not about to let precious metal go to waste.


    We walked through the silent darkness, devilsight not caring about it. Bathroom here with an actual shower, not a sonic attachment, remnants of self-cleaning materials, shattered bottles once holding liquids and personal hygiene products snaffled up and away. Secondary bedroom over here, metal frames present like the skeletal bones of furniture. My hair reached down to bring up a nail clipper and file, perfectly functional, sitting on the floor.


    They were inset with diamonds.


    "Well, now," Briggs observed after I handed them to him. "Someone really had too much money, and not a lot of good taste."


    "Personal quarters?" I picked up gold drawer clasps and corner fittings with my hair absently, dropped them in my Masspack. Loot was loot.


    He looked up, pale violet eyes narrowing as he read the echoes like me. "Is that a safe up there?" he asked.


    "I think so. Study, workroom..."


    I took the study, he took the workroom.


    Based on the layout, this should have had a comfortable desk and chair, the former of which was missing, the latter of which was shattered to bits. I conjectured that it had been a Disk variant, and the xenos had shattered it since it was psionically charged, or fed on the energy.


    Pens, including fountain points that were still a stylish fad among the pointlessly wealthy, were scattered on the ground, most of them cut apart and their ink long gone. There was no kind of information crystals or anything less, probably snaffled up by ''vores looking over everything, but I did lift a few scattered gold imprinted business cards up to look at them, the script fancy and very old-fashioned.


    Duke Jon Mal Corunsun, Captain of the Celestial Tribute.


    I flipped it over.


    He who Dares to Dream, Prospers


    Indeed. Now we had the name of the ship and her captain. The grim irony of it was not lost upon me.


    -Got a fully functional printer, at least TL 15 in here,- Briggs /noted. I eyed the shattered dust of destroyed data crystals and cores, picked up a handful of old metal coins, and a statuette fallen in a corner. I looked at them both for a moment, and then some remarkably intense lightning lit up around my hands, crackling in the darkness, and very quickly reduced all of it to slag.


    Mmm. The design was meant to focus psychic power, with none of its own. The coins were a kind of fake divination device, the statuette seemed like a meditative aid. The subtle architecture of the Warp was upon them both, meaning they were designed to draw the user into increasingly more radical personality changes.


    The ''vores naturally would leave them behind and have nothing to do with them.


    I glided over to join Mah Fuzzy, who was poking through a lot of metal cabinets.


    "There''s a lot of raw elements stored up here in granules and nodule form for the printer," he said, waving at the cow-sized, dormant machine occupying a corner of the room. From the vibes and design, it was definitely unfolded, and could expand out to cover an area large enough to print what was desired. Probably used gravitic/mock TK ''hands'' instead of purely mechanical ones to manipulate things, too.


    Too big to port along, but it was definitely something we could use, if we could figure out its programming.


    There were tools of various kinds, many with personal signatures on them, and using adamant and diamond freely. Scattered electronic tools joined the purely mechanical ones, and Briggs pocketed a few that might be useful.


    No Energized raw materials visible. Possibly used by the xenos or the ''vores, who knew. Might be needed for higher-order xenos.


    He held up a crystal tray scooped full of various forms of non-Energized gemstones. They could be Energized and made viable, unlike artificial stones, so why not? Use the artificial ones for jewelry or low tech, or something.


    He popped a cover on it and handed it to me, as I had full easy access to my Masspack. We could always split a load later.


    Time for the upstairs, and what looked like a safe.


    ======


    This place had probably been a bedroom of sorts, although most of the furniture was missing save for furniture accents... which tended to be gold. It was probably wooden and eaten as biomass.


    There was a silver ball on a stand in what looked like a dressing room, although like before, the clothes were mostly mixing. Lots of gold thread and jewelry and stuff scattered on the floor, however.


    "Is that a technoskin?" I inquired of nobody, never having seen a nanite Skin. They were outlawed a long time ago, as they could be hacked, and very bad things done to whoever was wearing one. If it was psi-active, the xenos would have snatched it up.


    "Looks like it." His voice was wary, as reprogramming one of these things was just like creating a ''touch-me'' trap.


    I picked up the globe and tossed it into my Masspack for later. He just grunted, and we both headed over to the wall with the safe.


    Looking at the stripped steel of the room, the safe could be neither seen nor felt. Impressive. Of course, in our tremblesense it looked like a blob of metal sticking back into the supports, with no visible purpose or access.


    "Feel that seam? Damn, that''s less than a cell thick. No wonder it was missed." I passed my hand over the outline of it on the wall, and nodded. Some good craftsmanship there. TL 40, and the xenos had blown the search check to find it while munching down everything.


    I put my hand on the metal, tinked it with my nail, and looked at the reverberations fine-tuned by multiple contact points. "I don''t see a self-destruct, so if we force it, we should be fine."


    "How does it open?" he asked, interested.


    "I''m guessing a Kirillian aura match. This plate has passive sensors in it which noticed my body heat, but nothing more. There''s probably a combination of touching it a certain way and the right aura." I inclined my head. "But really, the only important thing is the lock holding it shut. Short that properly, we can pull it right open."


    A four-inch solid golden claw formed on my index finger, poised like a bird of prey ready to strike, and drove in with a chink into the durasteel.

 Chapter 396 - Far Future Ch. 106 – Precious Medals

    Electricity hissed and popped, dumped into the lock, and disengaged the magnetics holding it shut. Before it could reboot, I hooked it with that finger, and pulled it open, my second hand darting into the side of the partially-ejected safe to sever the power feeds to the electromagnets there.


    "Nice!" Briggs complimented, as the concealing door on the safe opened up.


    We both studied the stasis-preserved contents with great interest. There was also the glitter of Energized materials, mostly gemstones, a tidy personal fortune of sorts, and finger-bars of precious metals of various sorts were stacked up in the back of it. With the obfuscating material of the safe out of the way, they sang with some impressive melodies in my Tremble.


    "Whoa... is that Void Osmium?" The glittery back bar was piled back there with the rest. It was used in very high-end spatial stuff, and incredibly valuable. The only way known to artificially Energize it involved irradiating it at the event horizon of a singularity!


    I pointed to the left, at the hand-tall cube of coppery metal there, and he whistled. "Unshaped Orichalcum?" he murmured. It was in a crystal holder, carefully not touching any other metals, which it would absorb.


    "And Scarletite there." The fiery red alloy of Earth, Fire, and Light Energized metals almost seemed to be simmering in its own holder. Like Orichalcum, it was a TL 17 metal, and basically nobody alive made any anymore. The Emperor''s burning sword was supposedly made of it, and it was reputedly the perfect metal to make a Mindblade Focus from. Such weapons were ancient treasures passed down for millennia, usually held by Chapter Masters of the Coronals, or figures of similar status... as well as in the private collections of nobles and the ultra-wealthy for ego gratification, of course.


    There was also some twinkly jewelry, Energized gemstones in piles, along with the low glow of sets of data crystals.


    "Those don''t belong..." I reached in and fished out a large, ornately carved amulet on a fairly heavy golden chain, and a large ring with a Fire ruby flashing brightly on it, both of them rather too ostentatious to wear. They''d literally been tossed on top of the other stuff, nowhere near as neatly placed.


    I handed them to Briggs as I bent down to fish out some of the wooden coffers and leather bundles from there. He studied the two items in the flickering light from the shining gems and metal, and clicked his tongue after a moment. "Corunsun?" he repeated aloud, and something flashed and crackled on the carved metal.


    I glanced at him sharply as he froze in place, looking back at me. "It''s the name on the back of the pendant!" he stated, turning it over for me.


    "Huh," I said, reading that in archaic script. It was done in an alternate metal, not engraving, so I hadn''t seen it without looking closer. I looked at the indent on the front of it, and asked, "Does the ring fit you?"


    He gave me a funny look, then realized that if it did, it was definitely an Empowered item. His gauntlet hissed and released from his armor, and he hung it on his girdle as he carefully fit the big ring onto the meaty ring finger of his left hand.


    "Damn." He lifted the gaudy thing up closer to his eyes. "I wonder what it does?"


    I slapped the pendant down upon the ring while he was still holding it, and there was another crackle and hum, both items lighting up with psychic power, waves of it rolling up and down him as if scanning him closely.


    He looked down at me in surprise, and the paperwork laying out on my hair I had opened and gone through quickly. "Congratulations, Duke Corunsun. You have been accepted by the ancestral pendant and signet ring, Your Grace. How does it feel to be high nobility?"


    He blinked at me. "You-!" he grunted in consternation.


    "Sources are Kings Among Men, but you''ll have to settle with being a Duke for now," I went on, scanning through the paperwork quickly, and glancing at the data crystals there. I held up one folded leather binder. "This is a record of your predecessors, Your Grace. No doubt you should memorize it. The last page is the last will and testament of your immediate predecessor. You should probably peruse it." I indicated one of the open coffers floating on my hair, a gilt-edged scroll in platinum laying within. "That''s the original Writ of Nobility right there. It''s dated before the Empire, so I don''t know how legit it is, but I am sure there are a lot of noble families that go back that far or farther.


    "My guess is that the data crystals hold the records of your holdings. Oh, and you are the owner and captain of the Colony Ship Celestial Tribute, in all her glory and silence." I indicated a commemorative plaque in diamonds and gold.


    He took a deep breath, and looked away from me for a minute. I closed up a lot of the paperwork and slid them into my Masspack. The ring and pendant, he kept.


    "So..." he asked, "why''d you give it to me?"


    "Sources are meant to rule. Nulls are meant to get things done. Being The Duchess would get in the way of what I have to do."


    "We don''t even know if this is valid," he reasoned, waving the two things at me.


    "You have a ten-mile-long, mile-high starship here which is amazingly intact, all things considered. It will cost much less to repair it than it will to make something similar, and the tech here is very, very good, indeed."


    He grimaced. "Except for the psychic pressure."


    "One vivic purge, and what do you think happens to all that ambient psychic energy?"


    He glanced towards Engineering far below. "Granted," he agreed after a moment. "You really think we can get this to fly?"


    "Since when is a Source asking a Null what is and is not possible?" I snorted back at him, and he grinned fiercely.


    "It does sound like a remarkable thing to do. Kind of a Rogue Trader thing? My realm is my starship..." He was getting into the feel of it already.


    "We''ll go through the data cores later. I think the Twilight Dukes will be able to give you some guidance on the true power of your legacy." I pointed away, towards the bridge. "I am glad we went here first. I have the feeling one or both of those will be needed to command the ship."


    He slung the heavy pendant around his neck, but put his gauntlet on for now. "There''s digging for gold in an abandoned ship, Sama, and then there''s this..."


    "Yes, Your Grace," I consoled him. "You can salivate over your new wealth and riches later, when they are actually yours."


    He just grunted. "Happen to know the laws for successorship and properties like that?"


    "In passing. Inherited titles do depend on the regalia. If there are cash accounts, they would be locked until the true heir comes forth, although the interest would be available to maintain the estate. So, the funds likely haven''t grown much, as all the earnings would be siphoned away, although the underlying investments may have appreciated considerably."


    "And they won''t like it when I come calling to reclaim them," he mused.


    "No, I imagine they will try to kill you by any means possible," I agreed heartily.


    "Ah, nobility. Just another incentive for assassination."


    "You''re getting right into the heart of it already," I agreed. "Imagine an Ancient Warlord blundering right into their cocktail parties and poisonings in power armor with a hammer!"


    He stroked his rock of a chin. "That sounds very entertaining..."


    "It does indeed. Social censure and everything."


    "Alas, I''ll never get to do it."


    "Why?" I asked archly.


    "Because I''m sure that anyone dumb enough to try and poison me would get some visits from some Ranthas with pointed questions eager to test out just how good their assassins are."


    "That is true... and just imagine the havoc your lads would wreak on anyone daring to do that to their dad."


    His face kind of distorted. "I keep forgetting how many sons I have. They are so independent, after all..."


    "Doesn''t matter. You''re still The Dad. They''ll come running for their brothers or their sisters, what do you think they''ll do for us?"


    He was silent for a moment. "They''d conquer the galaxy," he admitted.


    I beamed. "You say the SWEETEST things, Duke Briggs Corunsun!"


    "You know, I am still going to need a Duchess," he mused.


    "You know there''s an endless number of empty-brained big-chested and absolutely ruthless high-bred women willing to jump into bed with a Duke," I rolled my eyes and reasoned aloud.


    "Damn right there is. I''ll settle for big-brained, empty-chested, and totally terrifying fated partner, how about it?"


    "Is that a marriage proposal, Your Grace?"


    He went smoothly down on one knee, grabbed my hand in that huge paw of his, all them calluses and that ticklish Source field and so strong, rarrr... "Hells, no. THIS is a marriage proposal! Marry me, you fickle little hag!"


    I rolled my eyes around once, licked my teeth as I looked at him. "You big dumb ape, how am I supposed to say no to that?" I reclaimed my hand, wrapped both arms around his neck, as he was as tall as me kneeling down, and put my nose to his. "You only ever had to ask, you know."


    "I knew that the moment I first saw you," he mumbled back, looking into my eyes. "That aura like a polished sword... I was going to pick you up and carry you across the galaxy."


    "You are getting even sexier, monkey-man! How do you do it?!"


    "A nagging old hag!" he exclaimed properly, and the probing for one other''s tonsils commenced promptly.


    -------------


    It was a dark empty ghost ship beset by the horrified psyches of a hundred million dead colonists, and waves of Warp-tinged Throne interference surging through it, with no an ounce of biomatter left, only cold, hard metal and crystal.


    It meant we didn''t break anything, although there might have been some dents and scratches, and it certainly wasn''t very quiet...


    All in good fun, however. We had been doing a lot of work without play, time to let loose some stress.


    And hey, the next batch of Briggs boys had to come from somewhere.


    So ticklish! Who needs a soft mattress. I had Fuzzy and a 50 Might and a Source Sun pouring over my Null with all them fiery fingers of his soul.


    Mwahaha!


    Oh, right, we still had to reach the bridge...

 Chapter 397 - Far Future Ch. 107 – A Bridge to the Future

    "Pretty mangled," Briggs observed, visor up and looking around. The Corunsun Pendant was exposed on his chest, and he had one hand ungloved to show the Ring, expecting it would be useful here.


    This place had indeed been pretty beat up. All the computer stations had been torn open, maybe looking for biomatter, maybe just messing up the electronics, which were definitely a non-functional mess. For some reason this whole section of the ship didn''t seem to have had any repairs done to it, even topical, although the molmech sweepers seemed to be going though on a regular basis and cleaning up the dust.


    It was pretty big, a good thirty yards across, and probably had several dozen crew manning it at one time. Whatever they had sat on had been reduced to scattered chunks of metal by now, of course.


    There were a lot of punctures in the steel of the floor, any carpeting long gone, and several sections had been peeled up to reveal bands of cables now severed by unnaturally sharp objects, or fused to molten masses.


    The central holo command center had been pretty hacked into, and I wasn''t feeling any power in it. That would have been the main link to the ship''s systems, with the stations scattered around the bridge for more specialized and powerful uses. The navigator and pilot stations were also reduced to many pieces in grim fashion, probably a little petulant. No doubt there was a secondary bridge, and the course had already been set beyond the ability of the ''vores to do anything.


    Well, the captain''s chair was still there.


    The runes were acid-etched and filled with gold in a ring of mithral, nicely wrought and still glowing strongly after all these millennia. It was even still leathered and padded, the bright buttons on it polished and ready.


    "Now that is a Ward," I complimented the maker. It wasn''t that it wasn''t overwhelmingly powerful, it was just finely done, so it had lasted all this time. It was just strong enough that it had lasted longer than they had time to deal with it.


    "Little small," Briggs observed with a sigh. And this was with it being overbuilt to give it a thronelike air. I just laughed at him.


    "Mock your predecessors not, Your Grace." I ushered him towards the chair.


    "Yeah, yeah." Feel that bass, girls. All mine!... He sighed and stepped forwards.


    He crossed the ring in the floor around it, and the runes in the Seal crackled, were answered by the pendant, and abruptly dimmed. He turned and sat down.


    Yeah, it wasn''t meant for an Ancient in power armor, that was certain. He examined the armrest, turned the jewel of the Ring down, and inset it into a convenient socket on the arm of the chair.


    There was a crackle that wasn''t from psi. Buttons lit up from within, power hummed, and a whole lot of sparks popped off in the floor and ceiling as various severed cables protested that they couldn''t do what they were supposed to.


    "Greetings, Duke Corunsun. I seem to have terminal failure in most of my systems, and am unable to welcome you properly. I am the Celestial Tribute. How may I be of service to the new Duke?"


    Briggs grunted, looking at nothing. "Tribute, confirm that you know how much time has passed since you crashed?"


    "Your Grace, it has 9,707 Tellusian years since the last time the Ducal Ring touched my systems. As I lost access to many of my systems shortly thereafter, and went dormant, I cannot tell you what exactly has occurred since then."


    "Are you aware of the cerevore and xenosym horde that ate your crew and cargo?"


    "Yes, Your Grace." There was a definite note of profound regret in the voice.


    "Are you aware of the suppression fire that prevented most of the horde from making a successful breakout?"


    "No, sir. Once the ship was confirmed to be lost, the command systems of the ship are separated into different sections, physical connections between them are severed, and they are independently insulated and in control of their own areas, minimizing any contamination. My records indicate that there was infiltration from the engineering and life support systems, prompting the hard severance of those systems."


    Briggs looked at me, I shrugged for him to go with it. If there was any AI that could survive all this time, it would have been the primary command system, with the best insulation and protection available on the ship. Time didn''t really mean much to a machine or item spirit, after all.


    "Tribute, we''d like to begin the process of restoring you and the ship, a process that will likely take a considerable amount of time. How would we go about getting started?"


    "First, sir, you will have to address the matter of the corruption coming out of the ship''s core. You will be unable to link up the ship''s systems before then. Once that is done, you can initiate a hard reboot of all other systems, which should wipe any corruption, before linking them back up and restoring full unified ship command."


    We looked at one another. Simple, true, and convenient. Of course, trusting the ship was likely not possible, at all. We''d probably need to do that hard wipe on anything and everything... or some alternative that was just as effective.


    After all, we had the Ducal Pendant.


    "Thank you, Tribute. We will be in further communication with you concerning this matter."


    "Sir, my intraship communications are blocked, and I will be unable to contact you easily. If you have a relay you can plug into the chair, and can set up others in the main shaft, I will be able to reach you outside this section."


    -Only a clean device with no ties or access to another. No letting it infiltrate other systems,- I /said promptly. Briggs nodded. Didn''t need a sneaky AI taking over our systems.


    "I will immediately procure one and get back to you, Tribute," he stated firmly. "Can you turn on power for any of this section, including the captain''s cabin?"


    "Yes, sir. They were automatically dimmed when there was no power drain for a sustained period."


    There were hums outside the chamber, and we saw recessed lights go on. It would have been blinding, if we couldn''t already see.


    "Excellent. Thank you, Tribute. We will return shortly."


    He stood up and exited the throne''s Ward, which glowed back to life when he stepped away.


    -Nice, you restored power to that printer. We should be able to make what we want, just have to make sure it doesn''t have a hard connection to the ship''s AI.-


    -It''s almost like we don''t trust the thing, or something.- Briggs /grunted. -Any ideas on how to clean it up?-


    -Sure. And you''ve got just the toy to make it all with.-


    -That''s right, I do. What are you thinking about?-


    -A Vakker-tech devoted link, with no access to our Bands. What we''re gonna have to do is employ a virus working through Rantha tech to remove any overt influence from the AI''s, through a combination reboot and copy/pasting through the Rantha Tech hardware.-


    -Will we be able to get them to use it?- Briggs /asked thoughtfully, liking the idea.


    -Here''s some really old tech that has proven to be resistant to the programming corruption of the Warp. Here''s the schematics, here''s the test results, plug in and go.-


    -It doesn''t even have to program anything. It''ll just remove corrupted elements which shouldn''t be there anyways. We''ll just have to make it big enough and fast enough to actually be useful.- He rubbed his chin. -Okay, time for me to take some printer lessons. What are you going to do?- I certainly didn''t need to be right there to help him with the design specs and stuff.


    -I figured I could go scouting, and if you need materials, play fetch.-


    -That sounds like a pretty good idea...-


    ------


    Explosions blew through the corridor behind me as I pulled a rather impossible hard turn to the right, and shrapnel flew past as the shockwaves buffeted my Vajra, who patted them patiently and had them send me along even faster.


    With mad whirrings, the drone suicide bomber squad zoomed after me, and I shot them.


    On Bane/Construct and with Swarmbane active, the hived drone fleet unfortunately qualified on all cylinders, and had a distressing tendency to blow up when hit, which chain-bombed all the other drones within range, and sent dozens of them blowing up and turning the area behind me into a fiery hell as I zipped away as fast as possible, Tails and Paten firing behind me.


    The guardbot came skimming around the corner, rotary lasers leveling and filling the air with hot, hard light ahead of me.


    With a crunch, the hovering vehicle fell to the ground, and suddenly lacked much mobility. Its aim accommodated, but Faith was already a shimmering mirror, coherent light was bouncing off her to the walls all around, and then I was up on the skimmer and Chalice frzzp''d and kzzzzap''d, steel protested, Star Cores wagged, and Sun Strikes discharged in explosive displays of sparks. Its main logic engine got slagged, and it shut down abruptly. Easy to fix, just slap in a new one, but out of my hair for now.


    Paten blew a shot down the corridor, and another dozen drones painted the steel with new shrapnel as I drove for the central drop.


    More wheely guardbots, not using anti-grav, came rolling in rings of motion, held in place by gyroscopes and emanating light forcefields as dual-linked lasers opened up on me, finding my near invisibility very annoying as the programs couldn''t get past my Vampire''s Veil and were relying on relayed information from psi-powered systems on a Master bot right there to try and track me-


    It had a good force field on it, but anti-Construct format was incredibly abusive to all aspects of constructs. Three shots from Paten shorted out its force field, and then the spikes from my Tails drove holes into it with Sun Shots attached, and the local AI lost its eyes on me. It had no means of foiling psi-ware, so all it could do is flood the area, measure what I was destroying and where I was shooting from, and hope for the best.


    Well, I was moving much too fast for it to really do that, as I plinked off the rollers, two shots each to get through their shields, and then blew out the wheels and their mobility with it. They went careening into the walls and fell down useless, and then some drones zipped by above them, got intercepted by spikes, and everything was blown apart in chain reactions.


    The AI here didn''t like me raiding its material stores, but the Disk I was pushing ahead of me didn''t much care, heaped as it was with various metals and crystals and stuff we''d need to print off our Purifier comps. Mmm.


    -Hey, Fuzzy, I saw the area we need to go to connect the network up in this area, but there''s a bunch of stuff atop it. We''re gonna need to have some way to deactivate numbers of these bots if possible.-


    -I''m betting the main system has some master command codes we can use. How did your looting go?-


    I fed him the view as I jumped off the platform into the central plunge and began to fall. Angry clouds of drones zoomed out above and behind me, and started to follow me... until a salvo of Paten''s robot-eating lasers and bane-spikes turned the area above me into fireworks that shattered every broken cryo-tube in its vicinity completely.

 Chapter 398 - Far Future Ch. 108 – Oh, it’s one of THOSE Quests...

    So, the ship''s AI was happy to provide us with schematics and support once we got up coms with us, and even advised us on a proper format for a databand until it found out we were using vakker-tech to better withstand the pulses of the Throne field sweeping through on a regular basis.


    It was a TL 15 printer, which meant it could largely print off and assemble any kind of tech up to TL 14, which was pretty darn radical. Tech at that level was usually restricted to high nobility and the Mekkers, because it was so darn sweet and juicy.


    We were both salivating as we reviewed schematics of some of the tech and weapons accessible with this thing. It wasn''t all new, per se, and there were even some improvements on systems made over the millennia, but basically this was stuff only the elite of the Imperium ever got to see.


    And see, there were whole fabber-bays with this kind of stuff around, making spare parts for the ship, recycling old material, making new bots as old ones wore out, new ammunition, and the like.


    It was one of the things that drove the ''vores and ''syms off the ship, the relentless production of fighting bots operating with computerized efficiency, cleaning up those destroyed, recycling them to fight over and over again, more efficiently than even the ''syms could do, as the bots started flaming biomatter to make sure they couldn''t just come back again.


    Naturally, those uncounted numbers of bots had long since been powered down, or recycled into other forms. It still left a whole bunch of them available for activation when they sensed an intruder in their material stores and came zipping in to investigate.


    Constructs are generally grouped into two categories: robots, and golems. Robots were strictly technological, computer-guided artificial beings of any sort, including cyberized humans once limb and organ replacement started, as opposed to just supplemental chrome. Golems were stuff that had spirits, and were ''alive'', but bound to an inorganic form. If magical, these were things like iron, stone statues, ivory figures, clay carvings, wooden effigies, and even reanimated corpses that weren''t undead, like Frankenstein''s monster. If psionic, they tended to be more crystalline, or with psychoplasm, and in various forms... but being alive, Vampire''s Veil would fool a robot, but not a golem.


    As they could have some intelligence, golems often formed the heart of construct forces, being efficient, emotionless item spirits capable of responding to changes in events with at least some degree of intelligence. Wed them to a broad enough tactical base, and they could react very appropriately to new events.


    But golems couldn''t be made by artificial means, they needed that spark that came from psionics or magic to actually work, and in some cases involved actively binding the spirit of something to the shell it would inhabit, which could be human, demon, alien, or a mix of them, depending on what was involved here.


    I''d gone further up the ship, towards the sensor areas and computer labs that dominated the front of the ship, where a bunch of the ship''s finer production fabbers were located, and thus the materials to feed them. Raiding the stores hadn''t been too awful hard, and until that golem had actually spotted me and fixed its six antennae on me, I''d actually been walking through the quietly humming area without too much problem.


    There wasn''t a lot of activity on the part of the bots, and universally they stayed out of the central core and refused to do anything other than dust, run maintenance checks, and clean up loose shards of glass. They hadn''t replaced the tubes with new ones, which wasn''t a good sign, and generally their repairs were incredibly selective. Doors damaged by psionic attacks were left open instead of fixed, and most major damage was still obvious after the millennia. Minor damage was often fixed and polished away, but anything that looked to have been inflicted by psionic power had been left there, as if it couldn''t be fixed, or even acknowledged.


    Still, there was nothing like demon-possessed robots up here, the farthest from the pulse, and I didn''t even try to get into the system here, the machine language and programming was probably above my tier. Maybe not, just because they could make at TL 14 didn''t mean all the stuff was made at that level...


    I plummeted down the central shaft, hair spread out to catch the air, give me instant control if needed, and take me out of the range of any bots.


    There were no monofilament nets or anything to cut me apart, so I was in no danger coming down, although I was looking at every balcony and access point as I fell past them, making robot forces poised on several of them... but not necessarily from the same AI I was running from.


    The Command Balcony came up on me, Cloudstepping Sandals vented momentum, and I skied down onto it and into the hall beyond before my lightfoot sent me skating in, pushing my Disk of materials ahead of me.


    Briggs was in the captain''s workroom still, but the tech printer was up and humming, various moving parts and limbs doing this and that with energy fields, melting, cutting, fusing, and laying them down, sometimes in layers only an atom thick at a time.


    Briggs grinned at the sight of the stacked crates and containers when I glided in. "Nice." He flipped me a bracelet, which I slapped on. I''d already seen the relay out on the access balcony, and another in the hallway on the way here.


    "Hello, Tribute!" I told it, slapping it onto my arm. I could interface with it, but I figured that was a surprise that could wait until we had the Purifier built and got the AI plugged into it. Even if it rated as a golem with an Item Spirit, it was still going to have to be cleansed.


    "Good evening, Duchess Sama. Did you retrieve any droids I might be able to use?"


    I began to set boxes and crates aside here and there, and opened up a crate on the bottom, full of what looked like scattered spare parts. "I disassembled a dozen different models and threw them in here." I picked up a scouting drone, held it next to the Band, and there was some beeping and speaking. The props and anti-grav on the unit kicked on together, and it whirred quietly to life.


    The Tribute had been blind for quite some time, and the lenses of the drone looked over us both in interest, scanning and collating us. "A pleasure to see you both, Your Graces." A scan of laser light played over the components in the box. "I can guide you in reassembling these bots, Your Grace. Would you like to begin?"


    "Sure. Let''s go into the other room and give the Duke some room to work." I hefted a quarter-ton of depowered and disassembled bot parts in my arms, leaving Briggs to go through the rest of the pre-sorted stuff and organize it for the printer to use. "Have you got a breakdown of what the Duke and I have to do to get you all hooked up again?"


    "I regret to inform Your Grace that by my calculations, you are very unlikely to have enough firepower to accomplish the task. You will probably need to recruit a fairly sizable military force."


    "Mmm. Well, that is not impossible, but we''ll attempt as much as we can to get the ball rolling, if possible." After all, while the ship was smart, it didn''t have any real idea of our combat capabilities, although it might well have experience with some post-Tens. Still, beings with our degree of resistance to damage were simply not going to be common. Armored things were all over the place, and psychic powers took care of them remarkably well. The sheer lethality of some of the tech here against normal people was overwhelming, actually.


    "Very well. What you will have to do is bring a section of molecularly-hardened cable to the appropriate data junctions for all the different data cores. Once they are swapped in and contact is re-established, the different cores can link up and start coordinating efforts."


    Mmm. No mention of rebooting or purifying the cores. Well, that wasn''t good. However, Briggs and I were fully capable of compartmentalizing our thoughts, a benefit of multiple thought streams, and very little of our deep thinking actually interacted with our physical control at all. So, I could be bitching this AI out for being a lying fuck of a machine with some really bad plans at its core, and my face wouldn''t move at all, since there was no connection to those thoughts with the part of me that was in physical control. So, not a flicker of change in heartbeat, voice, respiration, anything.


    And I''d sure like to see it able to decode all those thoughtstreams going on in my head, I sure would. Especially with a TL 10 sensor drone.


    Precautionary tactics meant a hard severance of communication between the cores, in addition to the cores retreating into insulated, guarded, and warded chambers. So, restoring the ship meant restoring those cables and connections. Well enough.


    "Can you show me all the points and places we need to do this at?" I asked archly, as I began to dump out parts, and the drone hovered, scanned, and separated them by different bots for me to set about like toys. I was already doing much the same in my head, and so the process was actually very quick, especially when my hair and Tails got involved.


    "Your capillakinesis is very developed, Your Grace. I confess that the tentacular lumbar extensions are new to me, although they seem similar to some of the more advanced psionic disciplines in my datafiles."


    "Thank you, I''ve done a great deal of work with it. It''s not real telekinesis, of course, but it has its uses. The schematics, please?"


    "Yes, Your Grace." The drone''s holoprojector hummed up a projection of the full ship in its proper glory, truly an impressive sight. It completely lacked any AMT style design, showing it was definitely pre-Empire in how it was made. The streamlining and aesthetics were much more fluid and expressive, almost surreal in how it was made, which sent off faint alarm bells in the back of my head.


    I mean, it wasn''t a Warp design, but the Warp had not been so hellaciously active before the Amourean Ascension, either.


    I mentally filled in a lot of the missing stuff, this holo was more detailed than the schema we''d managed to get our hands on, and certainly more than wall displays.


    "The primary Cores are located in these locations, recessed deep into the ship when breached and separated." Lights went on in those locations, and I noted them all. "They are divided into Signals, Production, Environment, Engineering, Drive, and Command." Different sections of the ship lit up in series, and all but Command also got control of exterior weapons, among other things. Signals was the top/forwardmost, dealing with sensors, fine tech, communication, computer work, and the like. Production had the largest fabbers. Environment had the largest set of machinery for maintaining the ship''s gravity and atmosphere. Engineering naturally dealt most with the ship''s power, shields, and Throne Field, while Drive''s concerns were the engines and power core themselves. They all came together and were coordinated with Command, with some overlap between them, but fully able to provide required services for their own sections when separated, complete with redundant stores of goods.


    "So, we''re going to have to run around to each one of those locations, defeat whatever is standing watch over the data link points, swap in the new cables and transfer modules to replace those that were destroyed, and get them working while presumably under fire."


    "Once even minimal control is established, the master override commands will be much more effective," the Tribute assured me.


    "Well, that''s nice."


    And somehow, we''d have to get the Purifier modules in contact with those AI ahead of time, all while a major war was going on outside and dropping the Warp Zone would be a really bad idea.


    Hrm.


    Well, interesting intellectual challenge.


    We were still being kept up to date. Instead of sending in new teams all the way from the outside, the girls opted to set up a forward operating base so that those here could gain Karma during their downtime. As it was, they were missing a major big fight outside, so at least some steady Karmic gain was needed for them not to fall behind their friends.


    It also meant I could send them out exploring the edges of this huge desert ring, and we could expand the Map even while all Hell was breaking loose in the world above and around us.


    ========


    Capillakinesis is, of course, the ability to move your hair. Which is awesome for never waking up with bedhead, btw, as well as never sitting on your hair, catching it in the door, and if you want an awesome ''do, it takes a couple seconds to put it in place.


    Or you can snap it like a whip into your opponent''s eyes, too.

 Chapter 399 - Far Future Ch. 109 – This is Why we Don’t get Along with Aliens

    The Death Moon lit up like a disco ball backed by an Omega Sanction laser.


    ---


    There had been a lot of energetic discussion about the name of the place. Death Star was ruled out because it couldn''t actually blow a planet up, only set swathes of it on fire and carve the mantle a bit. Plus it wasn''t motile.


    Wave guns, Eye of Terror, Gods Eye, blah blah. Death Moon was settled on because it was a fixed installation on an unimportant moon in the middle of nowhere, seemingly with no purpose. Of course, putting an Omega Sanction gun on a planet was much cheaper than putting it on a Starship, devoted power plant and what not, but it also meant it was pretty useless, since the gas giant it was circling wasn''t anything important, and certainly wasn''t going to be sanctioned.


    On the plus side, its first firing butchered over fifty bioships!


    Reflective mirrors carved up the beam, refracted it in all directions, and sent the light cutting in arcs through the starry sky. Real-time coordinates and nano-spoor tracking sent them slicing through the living hulks streaming through the sky after the retreating reserve fleet as the ragtag ships fled from the overwhelming numbers pressing after them.


    Their attack and retreat had been classic Imperial tactics against a superior foe, and they had been mauled by the massed fire and organic projectiles of their enemies. On the other hand, their coordinated fire had been marvelous, and over twenty mid-size ships of the Xenos fleet were now ruptured, burning hulks, venting atmosphere and liquids into the uncaring void. Although pounded and limping, not a single Imperial ship had been destroyed outright, although the flames and vapors they were leaking trailed for millions of miles across the system.


    And now the Death Moon had opened up.


    In the five seconds it lasted, twelve different arcs of fire sliced through the heart of the bioship fleet, dancing through the void to shred them just as they came out of jam into the gravity well of the moon.


    The other half of the bio fleet, arcing around the moon in jam to intercept the retreating fleet, found that instead of sandwiching the fleet between two merciless arms, the Imperial Fleet was bearing on them with all guns broadside and roaring on the offense. The enemy walked into a hell of cannon fire and torpedoes that had been calculated to within a half-second of them breaching the gravity well.


    Psychic screams were rippling through the void, and Nulls were ignoring them, Sources were loudly shouting that the aliens could go fuck themselves, and the pursuing fleet''s formation shattered, trying to get out of the range of that deadly weapon.


    Alas, they were in the gravity well, and would need at least another minute to do so. This weapon had been designed for improbably fast firing in exchange for reduced lifespan, much like the vakker-tech blazing hot inside it, and forty-five seconds later, it fired again.


    The refracting mirrors didn''t really care about how close the ships were, as a few hundred thousand miles meant nothing as the coruscating beams of annihilation were refracted across the sky, and wheeling, swooping bioships driving for the edge of the well were bisected in passing.


    Needless to say, pursuit of the Reserve Fleet wasn''t a thing anymore.


    ---------


    Back on Janus III, Anatolia Rantha listened to multiple very current reports of the status of the Death Moon as she directed murderous focus fire on ship after ship of the enemy fleet. Psychic static was flooding the vacuum, shrieking through the bandwidths of the telepathic coordination of the bioships, and their radio-brainwave backups were being disrupted by electromagnetic disruption of ion cannons and fusion explosions going off in crackling waves of actinic hell.


    With that conflict taking place on the level of Signals, the techies were setting up the gunners. At this level, ever-increasing coordination and timing was the deciding factor in fleet level conflicts. One side having one second of advantage over the other consistently was a murderous advantage in maneuvering and aiming, and not having to deal with any lag in communications using the Marks was an unbelievable advantage over distance.


    Complex fleet patterns were drawing the bioship fire this way and that, pulling them apart as they pursued targets or moved to shield other pummeled ships.


    Anatolia was processing all fleet movements, pointing out weaknesses in formations, guiding movements this way and that as she mentally advanced ahead of the fleet hivemind and their ''vore guides. The Imperial fleet was in a raging, pounding slugfest again, and many of the fires, radiation leaks, and vapor spraying from before seemed to have receded miraculously as the Reserve ships pushed through the flank of the biofleet and shoved it down towards the moon, even as the bioships were aiming that way to get the bulk of the moon between them and the death beam that had just eliminated seventy percent of the other half of their fleet straight off.


    ---


    "Deploy reflector. All crew, prepare to Focus," Tabitha called out calmly at Anatolia''s mark, and everyone at their stations on the Widow''s Bite put their hands to specific golden pads or rods located throughout the ship. They concentrated, and Nimbuses rose as transpsionic claws and blades in multiple hues came up.


    Outside the ship, the reflector plate of carbonfoil, laenwork, and ultra-polished adamantine unspun from its wedges, clicked into place, sealed flawlessly.


    "Release Nimbus! Fire!" she relayed right down to the Moon.


    Down below on the station, whole banks of vakker-tubes blew out as the third shot went through. Vented heat through superconductive cables snaked through the rocky mantle for a hundred miles around, veining the moon in angry red as frozen gases exploded into the thin atmosphere from heat never expected.


    The beam raved up, computers linked and adjusted, and the perfect resonance of Focus to incoming energy deflected the beam away as if it were mere light, instead of atom-smashing destruction.


    Its arc of fire now definitely included the entire bioship fleet, conveniently drawn closer together, with thicker-hulled defensive ships above covering for the more vulnerable ones below, while the motherships were unleashing hordes of fliers to bedevil the imperial fleet assaulting from on high.


    The fractured reflected beams seemed to spin in a fairly narrow cone, considering the distance. Omega Sanctioned death ripped the long way through the bioship formation, and the ships who had thought themselves safely out of the line of fire were instantly cut to shreds.


    Ninety percent of that group was struck by the Omega beam, and even if they didn''t die instantly, they were wounded so severely there was basically little difference.


    The Death Moon was silent. If they tried to fire again, the whole station would be drowned in lava from the waste heat, and it would take them hours to replace all the fried circuits, anyways.


    But all the expense, time, and position had proved fantastically useful. The Death Moon had basically saved the whole Reserve Fleet, fully justifying the expense and the secrecy that went with it.


    With the fleetmind crippled, coordinated clean-up was murderous and relentless. The released light biofighters were unable to coordinate effectively and picked off by squadrons of starfighters, drones, and point defenses, despite their numbers.


    The gravity well was happy to send them plummeting to the Death Moon for removal.


    ---------


    Captain Tabitha paid attention to all the reports coming in. Four ships had suffered boarding breaches by xenosym spore launchers, and the xenos got to learn about Sun Strikes at both close quarters and long.


    Two ships were crippled and barely able to limp out of the gravity well under power. If they went to Jam, they''d probably rip apart. Other ships had suffered hull punctures, internal ruptures, and major power loss in many areas.


    Casualty reports were running over twenty percent, although confirmed deaths were just over ten. The psi-healers were on it, and the Ranthas were probably processing a lot of damage as they took on the non-fatal injuries for the crew. If severed limbs were available, they could be re-attached, but Regeneration of even lost limbs was a priority for all Marked crew, it was just it needed a Nine to actually accomplish normally.


    Happily, each of these ships came with a Regeneration Matrix, and as long as you could scrounge up people with the 9 PP to power up the Regeneration, it would work. Given that every Psion serving came with a Null Partner, and potential Metaconcerts with willing Null crewmembers was definitely a thing, even major limb loss was something that the lower order crew members could have access to, instead of being forced to take a cyberlimb replacement.


    Of course, not everyone was a Null or a Psi, and a cyberlimb wasn''t completely unwelcome for the short term. If they had no real drive to make Seven, it was a perfectly valid choice, and the ability to incorporate some extra surprises into them with the approval of their commanders meant these maimed warriors were quickly going to become much more dangerous than they had been.


    The remnants of the First Xenos fleet were fleeing to join up with the Second, which the Janus System Fleet was converging on.


    Captain Tabitha of the Widow''s Bite peeled off, heading after the fleeing biovores, slipping into shadowy Jamspeed. Behind her, the battered remnants of the Reserve Fleet cheered their victory into the aether, ragtag elements moving after her, and across the system, the Rantha Directives updated accordingly.


    -------------


    The news of the victory of the Reserve Fleet was a shocking welcome to the main Fleet forces in the system, given the fighting going on with the larger Second Swarm of the Xenos.


    Unable to prevent them from advancing, Fleet Admiral Colos had opted to pummel them from the rear and spinward flank, harrying them and maximizing use of his smaller numbers to distract the enemy.


    The Rantha Directives were just annoyances to him. They had been lucky in surprising their enemy, showing unusual forethought, doubtless some psychic fortune-telling that had actually proven useful for once. But Colos was the ranking Admiral of Fleet assets in the system, and they were his to command.


    His thoughts moved to the Bared Saber, riding the forward edge of his right flank, and happily and repeatedly diving within range of the Xenos Swarm to land some devastating shots. The Coronal ship''s accuracy and penetrative power was outstanding, and it was severely punishing the lighter bioships. This Captain Tiffany''s initial strike against the bioships had been very impressive, and certainly raised morale across the fleet. He should probably recommend her for a commendation to her superiors.


    "Sir, we''re getting multiple warnings of Swarm separation!" one of the Signals officers called out with calm urgency.


    "They are finally turning some of their ships to deal with us!" Admiral Colos raised his fist in anticipation of the fight to come. He had at least succeeded in drawing some pressure off the Threshold Stations, which was the best Admiral Ontiff could hope for in this situation.


    The Xenos Swarm ahead of them was splitting in two, the forward elements pressing on, while the rear elements turned into one another and prepared to engage the chasing imperials, moving like interlocked fingers that would spread apart into an enveloping net and swallow them all. The bioships prospered in close combat, where they could penetrate the hulls of ships, overwhelm the point defenses, and send thousands of carapaced syms into their vessels, killing the crew from within instead of without.


    Their massive tentacles were better than tractor beams for holding a ship tight, and if it came to a grapple, the following boarding effort was sure to wipe a ship''s crew and feed them to the unending hunger of the Xenos, birthing more syms to replace those lost from every dead crewman. Unless another ship could come up within minutes, the recommended procedure was to blow the ship''s core and take the bioship with them in suicide before the crew was eaten alive.

 Chapter 400 - Far Future Ch. 110 – And the Aliens Love us Back

    -Colos is an effing moron,- Captain Tiffany Rantha /huffed, and Anatolia sent just a twinkle of a :rollseyes: back.


    Happily, Anatolia also had the other mental gifts of a Rantha in the form of high mental Stats and enhanced emotional understanding and finely refined instincts. So, she had long perused the personality profiles of the Fleet commanders, provided by certain nameless shadowy parties, made her assessments, and filtered them past sisters really, really good at mucking with people''s heads. She had then altered her plans to account for the fact that Admiral Colos was an authoritarian gloryhound happy to see the whole Fleet pounded to hamburger and scrap if it meant he could live to get away with an awesome battle report of doing all he could.


    As a result, there''d been some battle group requests and assignments, and the somewhat more heroic and admiring of the Fleet captains, who''d been open to working with this crazy Coronal, had Marked gunners and Signals people feeding in a very current and seconds-more accurate positioning and targeting feed than the other ships in the fleet.


    Seconds meant a lot in space combat. It allowed convergences of fire, dodging enemy fire, coordinated assaults and withdrawals, more accurate positioning, and all the like.


    The enemy was trying to do the same, what with the mass telepathy from those huge ships, but the ether was alive with just as much psionic disruption as gravity wells and EMP distortions, and their coms weren''t any faster or surer than standard Fleet systems as a result. The Markspace feeding data back and forth was giving them an edge Anatolia could exploit, and so when the mysterious master tactician was giving out orders, the captains who paid attention and followed them were having great success on both ends.


    Which didn''t help the rest of the battlefield, which had turned into a messy, chaotic slugfest of alien ships and raging imperial guns, with all the soup of sensor feeds and psychic static turning space into a real killzone.


    Some ships were working well together, some were arrogantly taking the lead for kills and credits, and some were getting pounded and battered and beat to shit by selfless, obedient bioships without egos perfectly happy to sacrifice themselves to wipe their attackers, and coordinate to do just that.


    There were bioships burning in nuclear fire, and wrecked metal hulks tumbling and disintegrating through space, blasted by arcs of biolightning and plasma vomit, pummeled by spore cannons, and torn apart from within by xenosym raiders they hadn''t been able to repulse. Some were unlucky enough to come to grips with a ship and had actually been crushed and mangled by massive tentacles, or even chewed on while boarding spikes directly injected limitless numbers of xenos into the ship.


    ---


    Sun Shot breacher rounds slammed into the Shark-class midsize bioship in front of her, and Tiffany pulled out, point defenses dealing with the volley of boarding spores while the Saber''s shields counter-resonated the field of bio-lightning thrown in front of them, shattered the electrokinetic grip on it, and turned it into normal free electrons which the magnetic ramscoops sucked in greedily and applied towards the plasma cannons with cheery goodwill.


    As she veered off, the converging lasers and plasma cannon rounds from the four Fleet ships trailing her punched through the hole she''d made and into the ship beyond with split-second timing that should not have worked in such a battle scene. The lasers opened up the holes, the plasma rounds went within and detonated with fourth state of matter fun, and another bioship convulsed in its death throes.


    ------


    Anatolia''s alert that the remnants of the first Swarm were swooping in to flank the Fleet forces was not welcome news, and Tiffany and her squadron were turning even before it was relayed through the Fleet, since the approach vector clearly indicated those ships were coming this way. The Reserve Fleet was coming in behind them, but would certainly not be able to intercept for at least twenty minutes, restrictions to their Jamming speed and all.


    Obviously the Swarm-mind had registered the unusual performance of her and her short squadron. It hadn''t been able to get any performance data about exactly how she was killing stuff, as the targets were dying messily rather quickly, but it was still pretty clear that it wasn''t slowing her down much, and her damage output was considerably higher than her damage taken, especially for the size of her vessel.


    Torpedoes were being launched repeatedly and in force as the trailing Widow''s Bite tracked the converging enemy fleet closely, keeping their vector locked on, and repeated computations of the erratic gravity wells current. Where the two converged together is where the incoming bioships would appear, and that location is where the torpedoes were heading.


    They hadn''t learned the lesson about coming out of warp and stuff being there to greet them, or perhaps just the slaughter of that ground station wiping them out was fresh in their minds. Here, past the orbit of Janus II and only a few light-minutes from III, there weren''t any floating asteroids, meteors, comets, or debris to hide such nasty surprises behind, and surely the forces concerned wouldn''t be able to pay too much attention to an attack coming in from a new vector.


    Ten different ships, including those engaged with other bioships actively, still managed to contribute a few torpedoes to the cause. Only the extra four in her squadron were able to deploy to greet them, building up power and charging guns for that first initial hit which had to save them all.


    Tiffany slid into medium-range and turned broadside, the crew locked in focus, and Nimbus effects flaring up and ready on all the guns as capacitors screamed and were ready to be loosed.


    Blurs of ships at Jamming speed flashed in, hit the gravity well, and decelerated to standard kinetics.


    Fifty torpedoes flashed past the Bared Saber in fiery streaks, and her cannons blazed like stars, one after another in series in under three seconds. The breacher rounds slammed into the forward psychokinetic fields of a dozen vessels and ripped them open to greet the incoming torpedoes.


    The First Swarm ran head-on into fusion eruptions in the void, repeated two and three times, and psychic death roars rippled through the ether and secondary explosions lit off to accompany the bombardment.


    Tiffany heard the engineers shifting the Nimbus effects to the conductors and heat dumps, could feel the massive venting of the overheated cannons taking place as she kicked in the fusion drive and moved hard laterally to the incoming bioships, spinning over to present her other side and the rail guns requiring a lot less power there, also with preloaded breacher rounds ready to go.


    Three bioships were in pursuit of her as the missiles and their psi-disrupting loads splattered cerulean glory over their forward shields and hulls. Perhaps the cerevores riding them slapped their gnurly false-brain bodies as the waiting guns of the ready squadron filled the glowy cloud in front of them with much brighter and more intense light, letting them know that oops, probably wasn''t the best idea to grab the easy prey with cooling guns.


    One did manage to range ahead of the rest, gravitic manipulation and plasma waste spewing out wildly behind its flaming wounded body as it swept down on the Saber, great arcs of neobone extending out to pincer and ram the retreating ship.


    Tiffany calmly spun her ship, a thousand feet of steel abandoning pure acceleration as it spun on its long access, presenting its long, high, and narrow prow to the incoming enemy.


    Power built in the drive core as Tiffany saw it swooping in on her, those claws poised wide to clutch, tear, and start the boarding of xenos onto her ship.


    She rolled her eyes, shook her head of pink hair, and kicked on full drive... to brake them.


    With a terrible and ominous crackling, the prow of the Saber lit up with a Sun Strike of its own, while their forward momentum dropped precipitously. Distant narrowed between them and their pursuer shockingly fast, and the bioship didn''t have time to adjust its tactics as it slammed right into the middle of that reality-rending prow.


    The Saber was still moving backwards, but much slower than the bioship, and getting slower by the second at full burn. The Saber bucked and kicked as it plowed through the bioship thrice its size, past the pincer-lock before they could close, mountains of flesh and fluids streaming past them and then burning in the starfire heat of their fusion drive.


    The plasma furnaces of its guts blew up around and behind them, and the Saber rocked and protested the treatment as it blew out the far end of the bioship in a fiery swathe that extended for hundreds of miles behind it as the bioship split fully open and vented hungry nuclear flames into the void.


    The Saber had lost a good chunk of his foreword momentum, but he was the ship was already turning, while organic goo alternately froze and was blasted off the hull, and the techs were crashing dozens of fried Vakker circuit boards and putting new ones in place.


    The Hymnal, Paen, Ode, and Overture rapidly came in to support, putting a few finishing beams into the gutted bioship, and covering against the slow circling of the remaining bioships who seemed to be hesitant about closing in and coming to grips with them.


    The Bared Saber spun again, lined itself up, and adjusted course as it came around, picking up speed nicely. The Song Squadron lined up with active rotation, vectors constantly adjusting and turning to give the bioships something to think about, shifting course minutely towards one ship, than another as courses changed, an electric and organic dance of who could concentrate and converge on who.


    The Reserve Fleet came out of Jamming at precisely the wrong time, too far out of alignment and in the middle of the bioships maneuvering for position. Layered volleys came down in concentrated volleys less than five seconds after coming out of Jamming, and extreme long-range fire that should have been absolutely useless against bioships in the middle of multiple maneuvers crashed home with layered force enough to overwhelm their shields and rupture their hulls catastrophically.


    The six bioships remaining naturally turned to scatter and draw off their attackers, splinter their forces, and buy time, while venting every thing they could in short order to keep them back.


    The Saber and the Song Squadron politely swooped in on one flank to let them know that wasn''t going to be working too awful well. Two of the ships were pincered and pounded to death quickly, and the Reserve Fleet was fully capable of dealing with the additional four.


    -----------


    The Glory to Dawn was about to die.


    Massive tentacles were wrapped around her, the creaking protest of her hull traveling the length of the ship. The bulk of the swollen enemy carrier was right up against her guns, and massive discharges of biolightning were flaring through the hull, frying circuits and playing havoc with communications.


    Admiral Colos stared in hatred at the bulbous eyes of the thing latched onto his ship. Postules in its hide were opening, boarding capillaries were extending forth like lampreys, ready to bite onto his ship and disgorge a ravening horde into its decks and galleries. He grimly prepared to order the self-destruct, although he didn''t know if the linked explosions would all be going off, sparing his crew from a horrid end and rebirth as a xenosym slave.


    "Glory to Dawn, this is the Widow''s Bite. Prepare your pressor beams to repel the enemy. Tentacles will be severed in ten seconds. Nine. Eight. Seven..." came a smooth and unconcerned woman''s voice over the coms.


    "Prepare port pressors!" Admiral Colos howled into the coms, and could only pray the command was heard. They were non-vital arrays and hadn''t been targeted by the enemy, they might have just survived.


    "One." A whisper passed through the hulls, a creaking that stopped halfway in confusion.

 Chapter 401 - Far Future Ch 111 – Break it up, Break it Up...

    A jet-black ship, quiet as a ghost, even its drives baffled and barely visible, slid past his windows, passing within fifty yards of both bioship and dreadnought. Precise saber beams hissed out, and the multitudes of organic cables, psi-enhanced and stronger than steel, were snipped off as cleanly and clearly as trimming a rosebush.


    "Fire port pressors! Fire port cannons!" Admiral Colos screamed into the coms, as the black ship rippled and faded away into nothing.


    Pressor beams licked out, and drove the massive bulk of the mothership and the dreadnought mutually apart. As they did, all the remaining guns that could fire opened up at point-blank range, from inside its shields.


    A solid wall of explosions danced down the side of the mothership, shoving it even further away as rippling waves of flesh coursed back and forth over it, somehow managing to absorb the devastating impact without significant injury, it was so massive. Three of its four engines mangled, the crippled Glory to Dawn could only attempt to increase the distance, pitting pressors against gravikinetics and massive TK to hold the bulky Xenos mothership off while desperate crews loaded the cannons and fought the fires and spore carriers that had dropped xenosyms throughout the two-thousand-meter length of his ship.


    "Glory to Dawn, this is the Bared Saber. Hold all fire for ten seconds, please," the distinct voice of the Coronal Captain Tiffany came over the coms. She managed to sound airy and distracted even in the middle of a battle.


    What? Where was she? What was she planning to do? "Hold all fire until my Mark!" Colos'' voice rang out, and the shooting and even the pressor beams going out came to an eerie halt. The enemy ship was growing rapidly, the miles of forced distance shrinking back again quickly.


    A white blur shining like the sun came in from forwards and slid right along the mothership''s hull, slicing along the site of the initial furious barrage from just moments ago, and split open that massive hull-hide like opening up a rotten tomato, before jetting off and beyond them and was gone from sight in seconds.


    "Glory, you may resume fire," the airy voice informed them lightly.


    "All cannons, fire at will!" he shouted, staring at the massive, gaping wound sliced through the length of the enemy ship, giving his ship and her very experienced gunners clear targets to vent their ire upon.


    The next momentous discharge of cannon fire didn''t have to eat away at the hull to get to the real stuff inside, and the heavy cannons did horrible things to the innards of the mothership before it could rotate the massive wound away and out of their line of fire. Whole sections of scabrous biolightning emitters and glowing plasma-vomiting orifices went dark as fusion fire erupted throughout the insides of the hull, and he saw two squadrons of bombers peeling over as the mothership was rotating away to take advantage of the target. Their shouts of excitement as they swooped into line with the spinning monstrous gash and let loose their loads at point-blank range were electrifying.


    Small suns blew that gash open and out, and the mothership shuddered in its death throes. His pilots were already attempting to maneuver opposite the rotation of the creature, and greet the wound as it came from the other side, rotating the ship to take the discharges still coming from the mothership on multiple shields to lighten the load. As the burning gash came around, the Glory to Dawn''s eager guns came into line as well...


    ----


    Admiral Colos clenched his fist as the Glory''s guns pounded the hulking mass of the mothership into flaming, actinic ruin. Still, his engines were offline, and his ship was crippled. Their Jamming speed would be crippled, and the handful of light-minutes to Janus Prime was now nearly two hours away.


    He kept one eye on the fighting and one on the battle results, and winced despite himself. Over half of the ships of the Fleet were gone. Normally, losing a crew didn''t actually mean much, as the ship could be salvaged, rebuilt, and recrewed for much less than building it anew. But the way the xenosyms devoured the crew and strengthened themselvar meant they had to be denied any biomass, and so suicide explosions to take the biovores out with them once they closed meant absolute losses of both the crew and the far more precious vessels.


    This battle would cripple the strength of the Imperial Fleet in this system for years, if not decades.


    And it wasn''t like there were reinforcements coming. Two neighboring systems were already in the middle of fights, one from raiders and internal revolution of Warp fanatics, and the other being constantly harried by a strong Goblin presence that was simply ruining all the outer defenses and mining settlements of the system in haphazard, yet enthusiastic manner. Any spare strength the Fleet could give them was already assigned.


    If the Reserve Fleet hadn''t somehow been activated so fast, they would have been wiped. He watched the deft movements of the force, the clear precision in movements and tactics of a truly united force, and felt a sour feeling pulling up from his belly as they moved precisely, in tight formations and unified purpose, to clear out the rest of the remaining bioships who had not wisely turn and run.


    They had only given him perfunctory notice with their hails, claiming static and uncertain communications, and clearly having no desire to stop what they were doing to chat with him.


    Whoever was in command of their tactics was a genius. He watched the disciplined rotation of the shooters, the subtle ebbs and flows of position that drew the bioships this way and that, and the way small openings exploded into major cracks and opportunities seized on with the ferocity of sharks eager to hunt.


    Whoever was manning those Reserve ships were performing like blooded veterans of a dozen campaigns, and as they scissored and split the remaining bioships. He kept one eye on both their execution of classic flanking and broadside tactics, and some of the most subtle positioning and overlaying maneuvering he had ever seen. The bioships seemed more like willing partners into a deadly dance then the aggressive, fortified creatures that had wiped half his fleet from existence, and crippled virtually all the rest.


    Just who were these captains? He pulled up their names and battle records... and just stared.


    Fresh Academy graduates on their first commands?!?


    He blinked at the showing of the names, and immediately noticed that half the names were surnamed Briggs or Rantha.


    Rantha... was that not the surname of the captain of the Coronal ship... and... he pulled it up quickly, the Umbran vessel that had cut the Glory free from the killing embrace of the Xenos mothership?


    Shocked, he pulled up their records in more detail, skimming through them with a practiced eye. Academy records were important, in their way, but too many officers did well in Academy and then lost it all in a real fight when their lives were on the line, or failed to perform in an unscripted fight with lives on the line as in simulations with no personnel cost.


    Ancients? All of the Briggs... were Ancients?


    He almost could not believe what he was seeing. The Ranthas... the Ranthas were Nymphals?!? Those ears were very distinctive, and they were popular in high-end brothels that he might have visited a time or two...


    The others were a scattering of names and faces of various humans, and his expression worked on seeing a Mus and Canid-blood among them. Who had promoted beast-bloods into his Fleet?


    He cursed to himself even as they rescued him from death, chasing away the bioships that certainly would have gathered to finish off him and his crew. His expression didn''t change as he found the assessments and addendums, and then the orders for assignment and deposition.


    Rear Admiral Chondryce was the Orders'' woman in the command hierarchy, and anything odd they wanted done inevitably went through her, since nobody else really wanted to deal with their assets being used by the Orders in their exceptionally perilous missions. There was great glory working for the Twilight Orders, and even more often, there was death.


    She had signed off on all crew assignments as part of her logistical duties, as well as the repair and upgrades to every single mothballed ship at Threshold Station. She did not have the true authority to bring them out, nor the budget... but the Twilight Orders did, and they had made it so, without bothering to inform him.


    It was a breathtakingly prescient move, and he gnashed his teeth at being kept out of the loop. The information security had been incredibly tight, if nothing had been flagged by Fleet Security... or, more likely, those elements of Fleet Security who had noticed it had deduced it, and wisely kept very silent unless they wanted to be on the next ship skirmishing with urgob H-K''s in Argos system...


    -------------


    The Xenos assault on Janus III went... poorly.


    The Threshold Stations guarding Janus III were at a distinct disadvantage any way you looked at it. Although Stations could be built far larger than ships, the fact was those stations were put there for reasons that generally didn''t mean 100% military firepower. Trade and repair were the two most common reasons, while purely military platforms tended to be far smaller and more condensed.


    As a result, the advantages of a mobile force with lots of numbers and spread out over the unlimited volume of space had a massive advantage over a static force, regardless of size. The incoming Xenos only had to bring their forces to bear on one station at a time, pound them to ruin, and move on to the next. Even if they could fire in support, the bulk of the planet blocked any direct beam attacks, and missiles and torpedoes had to navigate a hellstorm of psychic and electromagnetic interference to find a target.


    The incoming Xenos fleet wasn''t worried about it at all, picked an outlying Threshold station on the far side of the planet to crack open its approach lanes and proceeded on the attack.


    The missile massacre that came flying in was jaw dropping.


    Hidden among belts of clustered satellites active and dead, space debris, mined-out asteroid scrap, and abandoned wrecks, the missiles and torpedoes sent into orbits hours earlier converged on Back Threshold Station II with eerie, fantastic synchronicity. Guidance systems bolstered with Vakker-tech upgrades switched on, navigated the surge and tumbling, while a few new blinky-blinky satellites with rainbow lights switching within hissed and heated as they denied the psychic interference trying to scramble everything, linked up with the torpedoes and missiles, allocated them with scrambling fingers elsewhere spot-assigning thousands upon thousands of them, and set them off.


    Whole armories of missiles and torpedoes lit up together. Their drives lit up with thousands of small suns as their simple little mechanical minds cheerfully sent themselves on a collision course with the hundred-some incoming bioships.


    They hurtled past the window displays of the stunned Captain He, who had been certain he was about to live his last hour, the greatest and most glorious meteor shower of the Emperor''s Wrath he had ever witnessed. He had been angered and nervous when told to eject his entire complement of ranged ordnance, fearing he was shooting himself in the foot, and now... now every single Threshold Station of Janus III was firing in direct support of him, all at once.


    He would not forget it for the rest of his life.


    Neither would the Xenosyms.


    All the missiles hit. Every single Threshold station was emptied of all of them, and they all came at once, their twinkling little Vakker-circuits bulling through the pulses that were sparking and shorting their AMT circuits here and there, constantly receiving corrections and updates, and on course as they picked their targets and went valiantly to their deaths... and the death of the Xenos.

 Chapter 402 - Far Future Ch 112 – The Widow Bites Again

    Drifting cold and silent and cloaked amid the tumbling orbital debris, the Widow''s Bite ran the offense of the Threshold Stations mercilessly.


    West and East Threshold Stations could fire in support of Back Threshold, as could North Threshold and South Threshold. Main Threshold and Side Threshold could only send out starfighters in support, and ready their own point defenses for the inevitable counter-strike. The problem was the interference in the area, and getting current coordinates of the enemy ships was lag-delayed and uncertain at best. When shooting across a hundred thousand miles of space, getting a clean shot in was rather important.


    The Widow relayed all those coordinates in as close to real-time as they could get, up into Markspace and downloaded into targeting computers with only fraction of a second delays. It was all there: vectors, speed, angles of spin, ship type, shield strength...


    ---


    The order to calibrate all the heavy lasers, saber beams, and needle beams for extreme long-range firing had been another order that had been hard for Admiral Ontiff to take... but he had watched the Rantha Protocols deliver, and seen what Colos'' traditional slugfest had utterly failed to accomplish in turn.


    He had stripped himself of his ranged ordnance, recalibrated his long-range guns for extreme distance, and his heavy particle cannons for short distance spreads, to fire in support of the point defenses. Extra power cables and cooling systems were in place.


    If the enemy came around the planet, he could shoot them... as long as he knew where they were.


    And by the Emperor, they knew where their targets were! That Umbral ship had arrived only minutes ahead of the enemy fleet, vanished into the wreckage, and was dumping a real-time datafeed that required only the most minor of adjustments for range on their side. The time from information relayed to firing to impact was under two seconds, an impossibility on a battlefield like this.


    When sixteen heavy lasers from four different Stations hit the first enemy Orca-class from fifty thousand miles away and sliced it apart, the defense of Janus III took on a whole new dangerous meaning.


    The lesser Threshold stations had all been set to spinning. It was usually a rather pointless task, given artificial gravity and targeting systems that would automatically compensate for it, but it had been done this time for a specific purpose. Only the top and bottom guns of the station, and those in one firing arc, could reach out the necessary distance and angles to attack the invaders. Naturally, those guns had to fire as quickly as possible, which meant they would very rapidly overheat.


    But if the station rotated in a new bank of guns every minute or so, that problem was alleviated somewhat. Overclocking and running the huge guns hot was taken care of as they were spun out of arc, and cooled down as rapidly as possible with coiled rings of compressed liquid nitrogen steaming and swathing the barrels in sullen, angry mists, and even psions dousing the cannons in uttercold fields to get them back to working temperature.


    Sixteen heavy guns shot off on the same target, whining across space, tiny threads of light extending like puppet''s strings through the debris field, and found a Kraken-Class bioship to pierce through, slice apart, and set on fire.


    -------


    Azure was having the time of her life picking off the enemy Gulpers.


    The bioships used a combination of electromagnetically-accelerated solid ammo, and writhing plasmic discharges. Their average biofighter was kind of fish-like, with a gaping maw that could certainly crunch down on any starfighter, maneuvering like the vacuum was a rather thin sea, and they were definitely filling the sky with black-carapaced targets.


    Her MF-Class gunboat was the sixth of its kind, she had her psicrystal Yonder all plugged in, her hair was injected into the systems, and she was having a dizzying time of her life.


    Every thoughtstream was in this fight. Her own sensor data was being processed, sent out, combined with other sensor data coming in from Markspace or the Widow at dizzying speed. One stream was looking at the macro view and the movement of all targets in the sphere, ready to leap on any weaknesses, another was tracking immediate space and lining up her firing targets and flight paths. Yet another was tracking her squadron and keeping them all together and in support, far faster than any comms; a fifth was handling her Focus and discharges, and the sixth was doing the 20-gravity dancing that would wallpaper a normal human as the inertial compensators screamed and her eyes didn''t even narrow as she executed a turn the creatures behind her just could not emulate.


    Three classic Imperial Nova-fighters drove past in one direction, strafed through the mass of creatures following her as she pulled wide and was suddenly parallel to the flock following the trio. Those vaguely squid-birds sort of looked over as the dorsal and belly gunmounts snapped over, and rotary multi-lasers staggered with Sun Shots tore into them with punishing accuracy.


    A normal gunboat would have a crew of at least five, but she was handling it all. This was a Rantha MF Gunboat, designed for one of them to fly. Minimizing standard crew saved a lot of room, and allowed it to be built more compactly, almost to drone levels of sturdiness.


    No normal human mind could juggle everything so effortlessly, but Int 32+ Ranthas were anything but normal by any standards.


    Her previous life had wanted to fly, but the closest she''d ever gotten were drones and hovercars, and she certainly hadn''t been allowed to race them. Azure was singing along to the pumping sound that was filling Markspace, and being broadcast out into the ether by more than a few Beacon psions totally digging into it.


    The ether was thrumming with it. Tremble, ohhhh oh ohhhhh, Tremble, we come!


    The enemy could feel it, could hear it. They were listening in on coms, thoughts, trying to divine and future-see a way out of the mess, and finding the sheer number of Nulls around, especially those Beyond Law and Chaos, turning all their predictions, calculations, and chronal peeping utterly frigging meaningless. They were in the here and the now, there was blood in the air, and the wolves, the wolves were coming for them!


    Them and their squid-fish should never have left the goddamn void...


    Azure howled into the Mark as she led her squadron on a corkscrewing, madly jinking flight towards one of the two remaining Crawler-class motherships, which already launching multitudes of spoor landers in such quantities that the Threshold Station''s point defenses couldn''t possibly pick them all off, nor could the swarming flights of starfighters possibly shoot them all.


    Putting a light ATS missile in each of those launching tubes could certainly slow things down. They made good mini-nukes here, after all.


    Gravity drives spun, rocket ports flared and whistled as the heavy engines spewed thrust, and the Blue Yonder seemed to be moving in three directions at once as the axial cannons spat from the top and bottom, and the primary missile launchers between the main guns forward began to cycle.


    Shield emitters and bioelectric obelisks blew away as she spun and danced through vomited plasma and raging lightning, painting and shooting with a seething accuracy and timing no AI system could pull off in the psychic hell of the battlefield. Seething electrons with psychic life danced across the hull of the Yonder, were vented and wormed down into the heart of the ship, and then lunged up towards her through her seat.


    And faded to impotent nothing, as Ranthas past Six were immune to lightning, and the psychic shit could only squeak in disbelief against her Null as it was flattened and went away.


    Superconductors fed immense amounts of heat against her back, and her skin was cherry-red back there as she took thousands of degrees of heat without batting an eye.


    Ranthas were immune to heat. That had some very interesting cooling applications here...


    "Suck me!" she screamed, as the Blue Yonder spun sideways, and mini-missiles zipped out of her batteries in constant streams, plasma and hot lasers dancing around and eliminating targets of opportunity as her squadron went high and low around her.


    They banked around the edge of the tentacle-legs, dropped off a couple bombs to blow one of them out by its roots, and turned the corner to run right into a group of Gulpers that thought they had the drop on the humans, and instead ended up running into a shitstorm of hot and hard light.


    The Novas of her flight screamed after her MF-Class gunboat, splitting and weaving with the assurance of people who''d flown hundreds of hours together, as all that time in the Warp Zone built up with the practice time in orbit here, Azure''s absolute confidence, and that thrumming music made them believe they could do anything.


    The wolves of Janus III plunged once more to the hunt, and life was hot and good and flashy.


    ----------


    -Niles, your left!- Fyr /pointed out, and the messenger boy whipped his turret around at the lumbering hulks crashing through a garage down a side street.


    His railgun boomed, and a supersonic round slammed through one of them, picked it up and smeared it up and through the plascrete wall behind it. The horns on its companion lit up as it looked in his direction, and he swore and scrambled, hauling ass sideways as his fans howled and got him behind cover as a very unnatural looking plasma bolt as thick as his thigh seemed to fuck the air next to his tank and gave the building behind him a terminal case of artistic non-appreciation.


    -Hup!- he /heard, and dipped his rear flat to the ground, a dangerous position that exposed his underbelly, but allowed him to elevate his cannon... or make his tank a convenient ramp for his main.


    Fyr and Joy zipped over him, went right over the corner of the building, and as turbine fans whined and the creatures in the street tried to shift aim, one rail gun boomed, one heavy laser whined, and they weren''t a problem anymore.


    Joy slammed to the ground, yet never actually hit it, whining along an inch above the surface as she vented momentum, skidding forwards as if greased up along the narrow road the enemy Sloggers had approached along, turrets spinning as they cycled...


    She crossed and fired, letting them really fast reflexes do their thing as she put the railgun AP round right down the middle of the path, and the heavy laser pulsed and followed.


    The xenos were lined up nicely, and Mach 10 rounds of heavy durasteel punching through them was not appreciated, nor the heavy laser doing some follow up extravaganzas.


    Niles drove up right on top of her, and the two rearmost Sloggers who had managed to avoid any harm got to look down the long barrels of his cannons before his gunners let go, and boom, boom, two more xenos motile artillery kills.


    He backed up off Joy with a roar of turbines, and she slid away as if greased. "Nice shooting!" Fyr told them, completely ignoring the fact she didn''t have any gunners at all, and so did they. She was a Rantha, and Rnathas were all sick in the head somehow.


    She looked at the tactical feed, and snarled. "PG in trouble a street over!"


    Niles saw the tac feed and targeting, and lifted his eyebrows. "There''s a Legionnaire on overwatch?"


    "Feed him four GTG presents." Niles obligingly fed the Thunder Bull four missiles from his stern launchers, shooting upwards into the sky like mortars and arcing over the buildings. The Legionnaire painted the targets without batting an eye, and the anti-infantry rounds came down in a firestorm spread of shrapnel and fire that coated acres of the scuttling Xenos there with incendiary death.


    The two cannons of their tanks were next to useless in a real infantry fight, and the scuttling minor Xenos shooters, looking like rabid eyeless chicken-beetle-lizard things, were hardly viable targets for them. Shifting that power supply to the twin-linked pintel-mount lasers, on the other hand, could generate some rapid results very quickly.


    "Cowcatcher up!" Fyr smiled, and the short lasers at the sides of the hovertank lit up, surrounding the skirt of Joy with a bright light of cutting beams. With a roar of fans and gravity drives, she cleared the corner and bulled right through the center of the formation, hard cutting lights playing in front of her, and anything and everything rolling beneath her was sliced apart. Yellow-green hyperacid hissed and bubbled against the durasteel anti-corrosives as xenos exploded. Autolasers pulsed in all their enthusiasm for the fight, and that sym up there with a ''vore riding it didn''t seem to like it when a couple hot-shots blew it apart like a pinata.

 Chapter 403 - Far Future Ch. 113 – Swords and Hammers against Xenos

    The carapaces of even the base Xenos were remarkably resistant to laser fire, both reflecting and ablating much the most common weapon of the human Planetary Guards that were their most dangerous opponents.


    Sun Shots empowering hot plasma, heavy neutrons, slugs, lightning charges, force lances, and sonic waves, not so much.


    While there were suborned PG regiments, they''d been identified and were the first things eliminated. The Mech and Cavalry units had managed to remain fairly clean, as had most of the air cover. The skies were still dangerous places to be with the immense amount of air defenses unrolled from fallen bloks and the enemy heavy units that had breached the Shield Wall... and citizens were not excited to find out that the curious creatures from outside the Walls that made for fantastic documentaries and fight shows were not at all friendly in person, either.


    Estimates were that at least a hundred million citizens had been virus-pslaved, and were united and under fairly centralized control. Suborned citizens had gotten in everywhere, and sabotage was ongoing and devastating.


    Naturally, there were dozens of unwanted factions taking advantage of the chaos to pull shit, from nobles administering comeuppance to thieves and looters stealing everything not nailed died... to dozens of Warp cultists here to greet the end times and spectacularly make everything go as wrong as possible. Ambushes or explosions in the middle of a successful defense turning it into a disaster happened more than once, and the first few days of the city were horrible. More than a few bloks that had been sealed against the invasion and incursion were betrayed from within, opened from within, or those within simply slain like offerings. A day later, new xenosyms were boiling out of such bloks in massive numbers to add to the fighting.


    In certain areas, the hellacious fighting and psychic discharges had attracted Warp energies, and uncontrolled rifts blew open. The shrieking hordes of the Warp came howling out for the blood of anything and everything. Happily, they killed the xenos as readily as anything else, but their taste for civilians was every bit as rabid as the aliens. Slaughter was on the menu, and they were determined to make it a buffet.


    Hundred of square miles of Janus Prime were buried in blood and gore, all of which was happily sucked up by harvesting xenos to turn into more syms...


    At the same time, there were pockets of fighting that were establishing solid defenses and only getting stronger.


    Of the hundreds of Spires that dotted the city, only three had completely fallen, while combat was raging in about four dozen others, and the rest were simply defying the pressure from below with multiple layered defenses, Sealed against anyone and anything from outside. The fact that the Xenos couldn''t mobilize any aerial attack force that could really threaten the Spires had a lot to do with it, along with the presence of Mentats who weren''t murdered in time to prevent them from being useful.


    The Pstatic Towers screeching their telepathic interference into the ether also hampered the enemy. Going from a functional hivemind to needing relays to work together, and that interference only getting worse if an active psion was contributing to it, turned an instantly responsive and agile attacking force into a slowed, lagging army, not much better than their human opponents.


    The human forces in Janus Prime seemed to organize who was trustworthy and who was not remarkably quickly, and recognize areas lost and safe with astonishing speed. These areas quickly became bastions for the Planetary Guard to land in and operate from.


    The xenos were not expecting the sheer level of violent resistance that came from Underspire, an area that they were sure would be theirs with their numbers and natural advantages. The Skraelings and Themis led a screaming resistance of the Undermobs that often involved collapsing huge areas downspire, burying the xenos and the dead they wanted to salvage, flooding areas with acids, poison gas, and flames, and if cost them thousands of civilians to win, then those civilians died. As long as they weren''t recycled, it was a win.


    The Soylent processing centers, in the face of so much death, underwent massive necroic events, and hundreds of thousands of animated cyber-zombies clambered up to join in the fun. The Steiners vacated the areas as the xenos streamed in to harvest the biomass, and found themselvar tangling with the undead who didn''t care exactly what kind of the living they got to kill. Massively poisoned tanks and feeds greeted all attempts by the xenos to get at the biomass, and tens of thousands of vatted Family members were alternately spawned early and thrown into the fight, or killed and turned into toxic sludge that couldn''t be harvested as the heavily assaulted vat areas were blown apart with lethal enthusiasm.


    The xenos and cerevores very specifically did not expect assaults to be coming down from the surface into their supply centers and bases of operation.


    Glowing swords, huge men in armor, death from shadows, and flashing Cloaks. These things flickered across the collective racial memory of the Xenos, and what might pass for dread slowly began to trickle through the collective. In dark and narrow places where unlimited numbers counted for very little, untiring lights rose and charged forwards, ignoring psychic powers, rivers of acidic blood, and screaming black-carapaced horrors as they reduced existential nightmares from before humanity rose from reptiles to a single thing.


    Karma.


    Watching a wave of cloaked, howling Coronal Guards going over a barricade into the teeth of tens of thousands of pslaves and rivers of xenos, waving glowing Swords and Hammers like shining waves of destruction, mindclaws ripping, Shields humming and taking those charges like exploding walls, did impossible wonders for morale. The fighting power of the Coronal Guards and the units attached to them was so murderous the whole invasion force started to pivot to try to compensate for them... exactly as intended, drawing attention away from more vulnerable areas.


    Then there was the Green and Gold pushing back against them, the Rantha Corporate Zone turning into one of the central deployment areas for the Planetary Guard to deploy from.


    Just as there were sections of the city completely lost to the invasion, others were hardly touched, and became bases for hastily-raised defenses and sources of manpower for the Juris-led militia, gangs who suddenly found many, many ex-gangers coming out of the woodwork to organize a resistance, and tens of thousands of Planetary Guard moving into attack.


    Down in the dark spaces, Umbral Striker teams were slagging key tunnels and transit points, squeezing the movement options of the Xenos swarm tighter and tighter, making their infiltrations of new areas of the city more and more difficult. This continued deeper and deeper in relentless fashion, and the tentacles that had been extended all over the Undercity began to cut off one by one in methodical, coordinated, and lethal fashion, glowing claws and shadows the last things thousands of syms saw before they died.


    The Mentat resistance was all focused on the Spires, preventing the swarms from getting to the most skilled, valuable, and richest members of the city. They swept ruthlessly for Pslaved and cerevore infiltrators, and swept climbers from the glittering walls with mass attacks, teams contesting against any concentrations of ''vores with psychotechnic displays of unleashed psionic power.


    The bombings began in earnest, scores of acres of city streets drowning under each fuel-air bomb, and if the Pslaves couldn''t get off the streets, they were blown to ash, while the reinforced bloks weathered the blasts with fair impunity.


    The counter-attack began to pick up steam, as the humanity''s machines of war began to gather and bite.


    ------------


    Celestia remembered thinking something about mechs and power armor and tanks and stuff and not wanting to get involved in them. Yep, she did.


    She was one of the most sword-oriented of the Ranthas. Her Talent was made for dueling, and she was possibly the most accomplished of the first generation of Rantha sisters with the soulsword. While she could shoot things out of necessity, she preferred not to have to, and had been indulging that with some very explosive and gory melee combat wherever possible.


    Alas, she had run out of suitable things to kill, but they seemed to have called in a friend anyways.


    Something big, bright, and space-warping psychic weirdness blew a thirty-foot hole in the building behind her by bending all the matter at right angles to itself, then releasing it to rebound catastrophically in all directions. Everything within sixty feet of the impact point was shredded by matter at fractal thickness flying in all directions.


    Except her. The stuff hit her Null and lost all the psychically-granted momentum it had, falling lightly to the ground in a patter of random, breaking debris.


    See, if it was a plasma charge, the shockwave shrapnel might actually have hurt her. But probably not.


    She run-run-runned herself down the length of the hall (okay, it was skating, but it was still REALLY fast to any normal person), a looming shadow on the street outside casting darkness across the hole behind her. And the doorway after that, and the doorway after that¡­


    Ahead of her, a Legionnaire popped out of a doorway, his popgun ready to shoot, skull-pattern visor turning to lock in on her.


    Outside, the big thing out there was winding up for a pitch.


    "Get down!" she ordered over the screeching roar that was shaking the whole building with the bass of it, her ki making her voice perfectly audible even in the tumult, and she was pretty sure the idiot just blinked at her in disbelief as she dropped into a slide onto her ass towards him.


    Metal began to scream and plascrete to cry as the scythe-blade on the biomech''s arm came around. The Legionnaire''s head snapped around, seeing a literal horizontal wall of psharpened bio-blade shearing through the entire structure of the building, waist-high in the corridor, coming right towards him waaaaay too quickly.


    Celestia''s feet smashed into the pillars that subbed for his boots, smashing him off his feet and backwards as his balance went completely out, gyros or no, and yep, he had boosted reflexes, and didn''t try to keep his balance at all.


    He hadn''t quite hit the ground as the huge weapon hummed past and over both of them, carrying mind-bending frequencies of psychic static away with it that yowled and gnashed on her Null as it continued on its course.


    A half-ton of man and metal hit the ground with a crash. His helmguard smashed right down onto Celestia''s gut as she split her legs to avoid the rest of him, grunted at the impact and used the rebound to lift her head back up as the blade cleared them. She slammed her feet down, grabbing the edge of his shoulder pauldron and surging after the blade ripping its way through everything in front of them.


    Above them, the building was realizing that a lot of its lower supports had just been severed and torn out of alignment. It was going to come down and investigate this lack of support with prejudice. Loudly. With plascrete and durasteel timbers and stuff, shaking its rebar in anger.


    "I need you to blow out the wall!" Celestia stated in no uncertain terms as she dragged a half-ton of Imperial Marine towards the exit like an oversized clankety-clank something-or-other. His popgun came up as his arm rose to grab hers, he half-turned as his weapon hand came up, and he let go a plasma charge at the wall forty yards ahead of them.


    They passed by the last of the scars left by that bio-blade, running in the opposite direction she''d come from as the blast from his gun blew a three-foot hole in the wall.


    There was a small problem with the floor in front of them having been blown away by the previous blast.


    She heaved him into the air and leapt after him. What? He only weighed half a ton, perfectly doable.


    The rockets on his back roared out as his anti-grav kicked in and gyros automatically balanced him out. Momentum carried him forwards. He took one quick look at the back of the biomech outside and kept going straight away from it, setting down just as Celestia''s jump hit the ground next to him, and then was startled to find himself pounding after her as the building shook and some upper floors descended down behind us, ripping the wound wider as they did so.

 Chapter 404 - Far Future Ch. 114 – Sword Borrows a Hammer

    He blasted the wall again, and the smoke wasn''t even clear before she dove through it, swinging off to the side, and he did a head-dive, turning his seven-foot-plus figure in a very unexpected somersault, jetpack roaring to break his momentum and hover in midair.


    "It''s turning around," she noted, saw the skull-pattern visor glance at her hanging there by her nails, and she started swarming up diagonally, to get behind the temporary cover of a primary support and for the more permanent cover of the roof ten stories up.


    He looked at the play of shadows, the crunching impact of a monstrous foot compacting plascrete, and turned to zoom away and around the corner, hoping to get the bulk of the building between himself and the thing coming their way again.


    The neo-reptilian hulk of the bipedal creature was just starting to loom around the corner when several pulses of light impacted on its other side, accompanied a second later by thunderous cracks of particle weapon discharge from the Big Honking Motile Cannon category. -Heliograd 200 mm?-, Celestia thought, not stopping her scampering for altitude as some opportunist took the chance to shoot the oversized boot-faced thing with skin like a dried turd. -Could be a GenerGuv 220, but it would be an older model¡­-


    Hey, just because she didn''t like using ranged weapons didn''t mean she hadn''t developed a very healthy interest in ALL kinds of ordnance, especially when walking Things too big to actually be walking around were tearing up the city, and the Mecha crews and Tanks were responding with enthusiasm. Damn, Fyr was tearing things up six miles away right when she was needed here...


    Whatever had hit Bootface hadn''t done enough damage, as the biomech turned around again, that spatial warp gathering in one hand for tossing out, while the sausage-like maw-head began to open and light up.


    Celestia hauled herself over the edge of the roof, briefly contemplated her high 20-something Stupidity Stat, and ran for the section of the roof that hadn''t already collapsed into the lower floors to get a better view of the fight.


    Screaming volleys of incoming missiles, with much shrapnel and concussion waves, generated bunches of smoke and obfuscation she looked right through. The thing below used pscanning as much as anything to find stuff, along with multiple optical clusters scattered about its hide, so that would only be partially effective for whoever was trying to shoot and gain cover. The combination of a psychic force shield and dispersive hide that could just soak and spread impact energy throughout the mass of the creature meant it hadn''t even taken any real damage.


    She ignored the sound, pressure waves, and brilliance of the impacts; high resistance to Thunder and Radiant damage took care of them, the psychic damage was taken care of by her Null, and her DR would deal with light shrapnel without any problems, while her Bracers encouraged harmful airborne objects headed her way to kindly miss her.


    Augment Wardstones against Missiles were SO nice on the battlefield of the future.


    Bootface''s tube-maw was actually a cannon. -Well, well, what do you know?-, she thought. Fifteen stories tall, twenty-story building; she couldn''t be that crazy, could she?


    Of course she could. Her Stupidity Stat was inhumanly high, after all. -Thank you, Undaunted,- she thought ironically, rolling her eyes at herself.


    The length of the street lit up with howling psychic plasma lancing out to a target quite some distance down thataway. There was an explosion, but since matter was going to react badly to weird plasma coming in and trying to have a baby, that didn''t mean anything.


    Her, she was jumping down onto this momentarily stationary target as a ball of perpendicular space went spiraling down the street from its left hand-arm cannon.


    She could actually take a normal fall of fifty feet without any problem, benefits of a 5G physiology, but wasn''t taking a chance and the Tats on her ankles flared briefly, chucking the kinetic energy of her fall out into the surrounding air with a puff of mist, and then she was standing on Bootface''s shoulder. The hole her Null had naturally made in its personal shields sealed behind her, but it wasn''t like anyone was dropping charges in after her.


    At least, not yet. That was the idea, however.


    She drew Chill, and started cutting.


    The point-defense lightning projectors were first, as she didn''t want to test a point-blank pure psychic discharge from something this big. She stepped on its optical nodes and coolly tore them out with her feet in passing, and cut her way down its front side. Yes, there and there and there...


    This phrenic monstrosity wasn''t the only thing that could rend space. Her cream-white and black adamant Sword was howling for attention as it bit into a hide that seemed equal parts scales and leather and ewwww-gross, slicing it and the masses of neutral fibers below apart. Purple-orange lightning, maybe mind-green and emo-dark in the pspectrum, promptly vented outwards with some vigor.


    She could feel the integrity of its personal Pshields starting to crinkle. Now, being on the front side of a big beastie that was under bombardment by another mech or something probably wasn''t a good idea, but given that this thing was basically unharmed she decided to chance it as she worked along its shoulder to its neck, Chill cutting apart anything that looked interesting.


    A postule erupted up in front of her with a shower of anti-boarding acid, spattering around her with an acrid smell, sliding down her Vajra as she cut the side of it and let it run down its own hide. A cluster of optic nodes bent her way, and was severed with a flick of her wrist. She saw its head turn towards her, finally taking note of her as she raced to the base of its neck and tossed a Deadweb at that three-foot soulless eyeball.


    The BeaconTech ? consumable blew over the orb with a wet splortch, promptly covering the eye in Energized Lead, meaning it was psi-dead and completely obfuscating both normal vision and any enhanced psenses focused on that eyeball. Lens. Whatever.


    She spun behind its neck as the volley from down the street came thundering in, and definitely felt the creature lurch as one particle beam sliced across its chest and found the two focal junctions she''d disarmed, ripping through its proto-flesh and sending tons of rubbery meat and nerve-cables spraying free. The brute turned to guard its shoulder as it realized the weakness and shifted to bring its good eye fully to bear on its enemy, while optic clusters all around Celestia waggled frantically trying to locate her and were cut off by flashing Shards flicking from Chill''s point.


    The proto-lightning discharges of its point defenses lashed around her, but she was already moving up atop its head and heading for its maw.


    Spiking a cannon, Rantha-style!


    Leap, up and down, One Strike, cleaving space itself against this phrenic biomech, ripping apart the complex cluster of parasilicon and quasimetal nerve-conduits that managed the immense psychic powers controlling discharge of its main cannon, pseudo-bone harder than diamond parting under the edge of her Sun-Striking Blade, putting a nice gouge into the ''barrel'' of this beastie even as it was building up power-


    Celestia jumped back as Bootface discharged, and there was a Small Problem for Ugly. Uncontrolled plasma-psi blew out the gap in its maw, driving its mouth down sharply. It made a huge line down the center of the street, and the number of car-casses that lit off was impressive, but she didn''t think it actually hit anything important as the half-vented blast ended up toasting its own lead foot.


    -Ouch-, she mused calmly.


    She slid down the side of its head, the point of Chill her brake as it gouged a nice trail through the biotitan''s reeking hide, and if she just so happened to cross that massive eye and splortch it in passing as it reeled back and tried to get its balance, well, shit happened, right?


    The psychic scream nearly overwhelmed the physical one dribbling out of its smoking muzzle-maw as she dropped free, a tentacle-hand the size of a semi missing her as she fell, hitting the ground right next to the crater it had made of its own right foot. She promptly darted to the side at maximum speed.


    Infuriated, it turned to follow her with its secondary eyes, raising both hand-cannons to follow her before she could possibly get to cover.


    You know, you really, really shouldn''t turn your weak side to the enemy in the middle of a fight, she thought with a mental sniff.


    The first shot blew through its left arm, and a space-rending shot failed as it was blown off-balance, the other side simply short-circuiting. Celestia watched the right-hand shot get hurled wild, released well over her head and kind enough to put a big hole into another of the fa?ades of nameless commercia buildings of Kindlinzone. Gave the plascrete some character, really. "Here a bio-titan scarred me. Buy your soylent here!". Mmm, doubtless she''d be seeing something like it in the future...


    Second, third, fourth shots slammed into the side of the biotitan, and then the missiles came in like the hammers of God His Own Bad Self.


    -Whoops, Emperor, All Glory to the Throne, bad Celestia!-


    With no psi-shields to catch them, they drove deep into protoflesh like AP rounds and exploded in apocalyptic symphony.


    She skidded to a halt, looking back to see the left arm get blown entirely off the creature, gore flying for hundreds of yards as multiple tons of gun-arm fell with a massive crash to the ground. Chest innards were spraying out as protoplasm and microfusion blasts did their dance and had smoking-hot kittens.


    Yeah, that biomech was tough. Most of the left side of its chest was blown away, the weird architecture of its bones and spine visible, and whatever passed for biology having a bit of a tough time¡­ but it didn''t even fall down yet.


    Three particle beams drilled in together, came out the far side of its corpse as they melted off its stumpy neck in passing. That seemed to do for it as it swayed, and then began to slump forwards.


    She eyed the vivic flames she''d left behind, already starting to increase in size given the sheer volume of phrenic energy here to feed them. In minutes this thing and all its remnants were going to be quite the pyre. She wondered if the genetechs from the Mekkers were hoping for new study material, as there wasn''t going to be any. No recycling of obscenely powerful biovores allowed.


    Boom. Dust cloud, impact wave through the ''crete passing beneath her feet. Scattered unharvested dead carcasses bounced up and down, celebrating with The Wave, we are the champions my friends... Maybe.


    Something wriggled out from the stump of the severed head, and she grabbed for her autobow as the cerevore pulled free of the clingy web of its neural link. This species of ''vore was the size of a pig, and seemed a bit agitated, judging by how jerky it was moving. Maybe the level of psychic feedback was doing something to it, she didn''t care. The shock didn''t prevent it from jumping ten feet down onto the rubble of the road and trying to scuttle away on five chicken legs.


    A bunch of man and metal slammed down from above and smashed it into the ground. His boomstick came down, and thoomthoomthoom sounded as the Imperial Legionnaire got closer and closer to the ground with each shot. Alas, the ''vore couldn''t seem to take the weight in the end, despite the nice carry-cavity, and stopped moving after a few residual twitches.


    Poor cerevore biotitan driver. One little weight problem, and it goes all to pieces.


    The war was definitely good for the Karmic stream, she was maxing her buys every day.


    Celestia threw the Legionnaire a casual salute as she caught him looking her way, and headed off, calling out in Markchat for a fighting zone close enough to be butchered.


    The Legionnaire offered her a hesitant salute back, looking back at the downed biotitan, back at her as she skated off towards the sound of more fighting in the distance, and shouted, "Hag! Wait!"

 Chapter 405 - Far Future Ch. 115 – And While the Kids are Having Fun...

    -Oh, no shit,- I /laughed as Celestia''s feat was relayed to me. -Okay, she arranged for a dead biomech. What''s that got to do-?-


    Crim was /grinning in Markchat. -Well, the sergeant and the two mechs that took down the titan drafted her into splitting open the pshields of other titans. She''d jump on them with her Null ignoring the shields, cut down the shield emitters, and the sergeant would paint the target area for a missile drop or sniping attack.


    -She got six of them killed in one day, and the Kasa''s are giddy working with Ranthas to pick off the brutes. By the end of the next day, half the cavalry assets of the invaders were burning ruins, and they are being pushed back across the city!-


    I /laughed to myself. Crim had started off the whole spiel with quiet whispers that the girls really didn''t want me back, thanks, they could handle it, keep tinkering about in that TL 17 ship in the middle of nowhere, and don''t bust the Warp Zone while you''re at it, we got this...


    Briggs was getting his own update, looked at me, and rolled his eyes. "Something cute?" I asked him, laughing aloud.


    "Other than the competition for goriest ripping off of xenosym heads, not really." He sighed. "I''ve lost a couple hundred of the boys. You?"


    "Half that, all newest generation who hadn''t gotten to Five. Once they get that point of Regeneration, they are very, very hard to kill... although I''ve been told that getting pinned under thousands of tons of rubble waiting to be dug out is very not fun."


    "Agreed." Getting to Five as rapidly as possible was a thing, only it couldn''t be done fast because of the Leveling restrictions here. The latest batch simply hadn''t had time to advance fast enough before all the shit was breaking loose, and so we''d lost some of them.


    The girls were also collecting souls of our people, and they were awaiting more tubes and a chance at a new life as our kids. There were going to be a lot of Vats hard at work once this was all over...


    Regeneration/Holy Silver was not at all easy to overcome by the things we fought, after all. And all of the kids started with immunity to death effects, about the only alternative to bypass it.


    So, yeah, the older kids knew they were almost impossible to kill easily, and weren''t above taking advantage of it. Of course, take a paraspike at Mach 5 to the chest would still blow them to pieces, and be both time-consuming and embarrassing, especially if the xenos around were trying to digest biomass at the same time...


    So, prudence, and merciless savagery where needed. They weren''t stupid, and testing the limits of our resistance to being killed was something for the enemy to work out, not us.


    The fight in the stars was not exactly over, but the enemy had definitely retreated in shocked disorder, and the battered remnants of the Reserve Fleet were worrying it across the system, peeling off every straggler one by one and eliminating them. The enemy was rapidly losing any sort of numerical advantage, and was gunning for a harmonic point that would let them Necrojump out of the system.


    They were not gonna be very happy when they realized we could calculate those points, and that Interdiction systems were not at all uncommon on ships crewed by my kids. They were gonna pull that shit, expend that power, bring in that death... and the Warp wasn''t going to open up to take it.


    The feedback was probably going to amount to a lot more than a headache.


    The wars on the ground were far from over. Every city on the planet was embroiled in war... or was dead, smoking in ruin as they detonated antimatter reactors and took down the Domes which kept out the killing atmosphere. Spires were detonated one after another as they fell, denying the biomass to the enemy, and huge sections of the Undercities were slagged.


    The loss in lives and materials was colossal. Whether or not they succeeded, the efforts of humanity on this rock had been set back by centuries, and we''d been made vulnerable to anything that wanted to come in and take a swipe at us.


    Threshold Prime was already overwhelmed with work, as the remnants of the System Fleet staggered back into dock, and other crews and ships could only tumble in the void, waiting for a tow, one by one.


    The corpses of the bioships were all burning in the void. Efforts would be made to send each of them into the sun, which would accept them with equanimity, in due time.


    And of course, Briggs and I had been having our own brand of fun.


    Oh, it could have been a grand tale of fast-moving combat, automatons exploding apart under Sword and Hammer, leaping and flying, many explosions and violent interior decorating, unlimited numbers of mechanical enemies coming from all directions as they tried to see us and pin us down, while we ran all about the sections of the ship trying to do some insane fix-it quest that simply wasn''t possible with the numbers arrayed against us.


    Well, that was all done, sure, but that was the distraction, see.


    Neither of us was dumb, and if an army of ''vores hadn''t been able to outlast the internal defenses, we sure weren''t. We never came close to any of the fabbers making spare bots, so the AI''s weren''t going to run out of anything. They swept any wrecks and reprocessed them into raw materials for re-use, as clean as any biovore.


    We wanted those fabbers for our own, anyways.


    We didn''t trust any of the AI''s, period, including the primary system. They''d been subjected to the waves from the Throne field too long, there was going to be corruption, and not even the most secure self-diagnosis system was going to hold up against them for this long.


    Now, purging those systems was likely going to be totally impossible. Cleaning them, on the other hand...


    The fact was, any corruption they had suffered was going to be suffused with energies of the Warp. So, the key thing was to filter out any files with warp corruption, and the self-repair stuff would basically take care of itself.


    Really, the whole link-up thing was complete bullshit. Sure, a hard connection would be more efficient. But simple cables or wi-fi could do the same thing, just not as optimally fast.


    So, all our racing around and creating excitement in probes and explorations was just to set up a few relays, and more precisely, to get the Copiers into position.


    These were very simple computer systems optimized for utmost speed, and all they did is copy/paste programs from one location to another. Thus, for instance, the Helm AI of the Celestial Tribute could invade the systems of the other locations, shut down their defenses, and allow us to make the hardline connections.


    Of course, when it copied itself into the other system, its copy was getting run through massive sanctified psi-artificed Rantha-tech. Being a machine, it had no ability whatsoever to detect the elements of Good running through the systems, it could only measure the disruptions from the Throne field and conclude that indeed, this technology was much more resistant to disruption of the Throne field then the unbelievably sophisticated yet basic AMT tech it was employing. Given the advance of time, there was no reason not to believe that technology had advanced in some respects, even if what we were wearing was nothing exceptional in its eyes.


    As it went through the Copier, the Copier cleansed out the corrupted programs, the decayed and false code was purged away, and the new version was arranged in the Axiomatic and Holy formats that would resist further corruption... and also realize that there had been alterations in its core programming. The Copier would then start to run in both directions once it reached critical mass, as the Helm AI tried to subsume all the functions of the connected AI... and would then find itself being copied into, and then directed to copy and paste itself through the Copier to reclaim its full functionality.


    So, our attacks were just meant to cover the fact that we dropped off a Copier, suborned a drone, had that drone carry a command to a warehousing bot, had the mover bot fetch the Copier ''out of storage'', and then bring it out and set it up into auxiliary status with the local AI. The primary command codes would be downloaded, access would start up, and the Helm AI bounced along the relays and began its invasion.


    It took less than an hour for the defenses to go offline. With that, we were able to take the backup Copiers, plug them into the hardline connection, fix them up, and wait for both AI''s to copy everything of themselves through the hardline in both directions.


    Of course, we had to sit there and swap out set after set of glowing vak-boards as they began to bubble and turn black and stuff, putting them en vivus solemnly as the Blessed tech did its thing.


    The AI''s were blabbing about self-diagnostics and synch rates and harmonics and coding discrepancies and programming failures and blah blah non-stop as zillions of tiny errors were burned away back and forth. If there were true errors I could spin out some temporary TL 10 stuff to help them get through the problem, with suitable annotations to make it obvious they were not permanent solutions, and the systems continued on their moving of mountains of data back and forth inside themselves.


    We went through over ten dozen vak-boards before they were all done. One of them turned into worms as we pulled it out. How ''bout that?


    With the forward science areas humming and synching up, and repair bots moving in to start repairs of the bridge area busily, we grandly followed similar plans with the other AI cores. The printers quickly sent off a whole lot more vak-boards, because the corruption was only stronger as we went down the main shaft.


    ---------


    "Duke Briggs, penetration into the Throne section is not advised at this time."


    "Or any time?" he grumbled back to the AI.


    "Likely not, sir. Not without some extremely specialized weaponry this ship is not capable of making."


    "You are not aware that the Duchess and I are extremely specialized weapons against this type of infestation."


    There was a quiet hum from the drone bobbing in the air between us. There was a whole section of psi-warded heavy warbots behind us, and crackling fields trying to contain the most overt effects of the regular pulses coming out of the corrupted Throne.


    "Efforts to contain the corruption coming out of the Throne have proven to be less than effective, Your Grace. Have there been improvements in this area during the interim?"


    "Yes, some of them very specialized, indeed, on the genetic and spiritual level." He spun Beat like it was some toy hammer instead of a construct-sundering adamant deathbringer. "Cycle the lock. I have no doubt it will open easily. You are directed to shoot anything on the other side you can see, and if you cannot stop it, we can."


    The two of us flattened against the walls. There was only a moment of hesitation, and the drone hummed and beeped.


    There was something ectoplasmic and brightly colored growing over the panel. Nevertheless, lights beeped underneath it, somehow looking twisted and wrong, and a sound like someone gasping after pulling a nail out of their hands accompanied the slow rising of the durasteel lock ahead of us.


    There were things on the other side. They looked at us in surprise, we looked at them, and then a whole lot of metal moving very fast, hefty plasma charges, shredding sonic grenades, and writhing discharges of particle beams and x-ray lasers tore everything in that entryway.


    Pro Tip: Neutron beams, fresh plasma, and x-rays are considered radiant damage, and Warp demons aren''t resistant or immune to them.


    The shrieks were mostly in the mindscape; we watched the things of the Warp get shredded very efficiently, and the far side of the chamber get painted with a lot of slag.

 Chapter 406 - Far Future. Ch. 116 – Coming Before the Throne

    "Your choice of weapon layout is notably more efficient then we have observed in the past," the Tribute informed us.


    "Outstanding. You''ll know it''s us if our weapons are Sun-charged as we leave. Record these spectrometer readings." A dozen or so optical sensors focused on Beat and Chalice. "Otherwise, you''re looking at illusions or shapechangers. Waste them."


    "Yes, Your Grace."


    "Shall we, my dear?" Briggs asked loftily, totally out of place with as scuffed-up as his armor was.


    "We shall." Chalice hummed a low, somber, and very ominous tune. No, we weren''t on stealth protocol here. These things were going to be using magic and psionics and natural attacks, not plasma shooters. Probably. And we both had Radiant resistance, anyways.


    Humming along with Chalice while Beat drummed in tune, we started.


    ------------


    "jRaztl," I spat, as I put a beaked face into a bank of monitors overgrown with psychotropic oozes, blew a Sun Strike into its brain via my Claw in its skull, and its companion gawked as Chalice plunged through his fantastically ornate breastplate, flaring ominously and whoops!


    He did a twitching dance, his skull exploded and brains lit off vivic.


    Another beaked twit in plumed armor came screeching in, wielding two curved dire scimitars. I shook my head at him, tilted my chin sideways, and pointed across my chest.


    He looked over as thirty pounds of adamant thundered through the air, blasted through his very fast crossing parry as if the piddly little blades weren''t there, and blew his skull apart instantly.


    The same blow dipped and rose, and lifted some corrupted guardbot on four... tentacle-legs right off its foundation, despite it weighing at least at thousand pounds, and durasteel shattered like cheese and went flying at the impact. Briggs stepped to one side, into yet another of the bird-faced demon knights and their glowy blades leaping at him, his elbow and mass driving into its chest, and there was a massive crunch as metal, bone, and meat gave way. Briggs drew his elbow out and automatically cut back in the same motion with a sword hand, perfectly timing it to chop right through the knight''s throat like an axe, while spinning and pirouetting smoothly enough to make a ballerina look heavy as Beat came down and around, burying itself in the side of another guardbot whose demonically powered lasers were bouncing wildly off his armor to no effect.


    I leapt past him as my stingers fired back into the bigger guardbot, who wasn''t actually destroyed until four Construct-Bane manticore spikes lined themselves up in the gaping gash Briggs had made and did a total number on its insides.


    My Arakne Arms were on pick-off duty for light drones, which seemed to be standard triangular ship drones now accentuated with skeletal raven rings and screaming, fire-spitting malformed mutant screams. Paten was staying busy with force-bolts and the occasional pulsing strafe of over-charged lasfire, frost dripping off it as it was magically super-cooled against the constant firing.


    Chalice''s Shards spun ahead of me as Faith plowed through a nasty cavalcade of plasma discharges (opportunistic bastards), and Paten spat waves of lightning and psychic pulses to force a way through.


    That Weaver ahead of us was not at all happy to see me coming, wading through psychic and magical attacks of all sorts that just faded into nothing around me and Briggs. It was actually looking kind of frantic... a force field or magical defenses would stop the magic cold, deflect it, ablate it, or slough it off. Instead, it was all just coming at us... and then vanishing.


    No fizzles. No resistance. No blocking, no deflection. Just... gone, like it just dove into an invisible hole and went missing.


    Some multi-limbed thing, all talons and steely feathers and cybered speed underneath, jumped at me, and got to enjoy Star Cores and Sun Strikes to the breastbone. As lethal Corona discharges were shooting through it and its claws were dinging off my Golden Nog armor, Faith was levered up under it by my Arakne Arms. It lifted up just in time for a weighty sonic boom-Beat to take it in the side, slam it sideways, and send a lot of feathers flying as the mangled remnants of a parrot''s caw somehow found its way out of it.


    My Tails were discharging spikes to the face, which these fellows didn''t like very much, as Chalice and Beat drummed their doom steadily and we waded through goddamn everything they were throwing at us.


    The Weaver kicked back as Paten''s Bolts shed their Sun Strikes and buried themselves in its blank face with the eagle''s eyes... which doubled in size just before a big fat Hammer roared overhead with a crack of splitting air and smashed precisely between them. The six-armed freak and its spell-spitting equi-fingered hands went flying twenty feet back, cleared the railing, and struck the wall.


    Beat struck the wall, too, rather loudly, and right on rhythm, too.


    Missing its head, the Weaver dropped towards the floor of the Throne chamber thirty feet below, while Beat bounced back to Briggs'' waiting hand... after the plasma flamers on his forearms filled the room to either side of me with fourth state of matter fun.


    Spikes and Paten waved, and Chalice went in the other direction. The room only held the fallen now, and the outsiders coming over to inspect the mess below.


    The eight-armed, twenty-foot Great Weaver with his Warpstaff adorned with the head of a Greater Demon of one of the other Warp Gods looked back up at us with bewitching, all-seeing eyes, and tried to launch some sort of mental assault on us, judging by the etheric discharges crackling on the way to us.


    They burned to nothing and faded into oblivion, respectively. We kinda just ignored him, pulling away as more guardbots adorned with demon flesh and ether-shooters started taking wailing, ghostly pulse-cannon shots, and went off the other way.


    -Damn,- Briggs /said, almost wiping at his eyes, -Had to wipe all that shit off the auto-record. I am not relaying that to anyone, you hear me?-


    -I do.- I chopped a bar out of the way and slid through underneath, somersaulting to hit the wall with my feet, and kicking off to drive right into a mass of shrieking demon knights, feathered bots, and four and six-limbed Weavers trying to light everything up with lots of colors not in the visual spectrum.


    Briggs came down with the more traditional vault and heavy landing. It must have been just a coincidence when my Tails wrapped around and threw two knights that way, and he came down very heavily on their necks, yup yup.


    The big Weaver was trying to Warp reality all around us, and when that wasn''t working, all the time-space crap and illusion-throwing and mind-bending and whatnot, it finally tried direct Summonings for more help, animating the corrupted computers that were growing demonic flowers and vines, and tossing some really impressive elemental attacks at us.


    One hit, animated shit was dispelled. Summonings ran into Interdiction and stopped. Trying to fly, oh, sorry. Trying to teleport away and keep distance, ah, shucks, man, sucks to be you.


    To say we weren''t too discriminating wasn''t far from the truth, and we were spreading around the vivus with true generosity, great speed, and efficiency. Of course, there were whole banks of machines, monitors, computers, processors, conduits, pipes, cables, and what-not, mechanical and demonic both, that were blowing into a flaming mess, filling the air with some really nasty chemicals and fumes that occluded vision and really messed with the psychic shit... and didn''t really bother either of us at all.


    I was precision, Briggs was brute power, and we were playing off one another with heightened telepathic coordination accented by inhumanly fast reflexes, feeding one another''s awareness of the battlefield into one another and making a really thorough map of the area, everything in it, and behind it, too.


    Warp-bots squealed and died, frying and rusting away as vivus ate the corruption pulling at their very atoms. Demon knights were manhandled in disbelief that we could actually be that strong, and the mercilessly accurate fire from Paten and my Tails wasn''t making things any easier for them.


    They were having problems seeing, as Briggs and I weren''t exactly psi-actives and easy to track by such. Of course, they could just follow the screams of the dying, but that meant running into what was eliciting those screams, which spurred some quick tactical reevaluations of one''s personal situations, and sending more chaff in front to soften up the enemies, who didn''t seem to be softening.


    ------


    Briggs and I looked up at the big Weaver, clutching its Skullstaff and surrounded with some hummingly powerful Wards that were clawing at the skin of reality and trying to do some really sick things with.


    Reality was as hard as adamant and telling them to piss the fuck off.


    The twat couldn''t really see us, given the smoke and fumes were so thick and not dispersing easily, but we both had smokesight, so no problems on our end.


    -We can''t kill it,- Briggs /sighed, and I nodded. The vivic explosion would wash over the Throne behind it, covered in a sickeningly entwined mixture of flowering vines and psychedelic crystals in way too many colors in too many spectrums, and basically purge a good chunk of, or all, of it.


    That would take down the Warpzone field, and there would be some reality explosions as all the energy in the expanded zone blew out over the planet, rewriting stuff... and all that Warp stuff packed into that huge area would suddenly be in a much, much smaller area, and looking for something to fight.


    Because they were always looking for something to fight.


    So, we literally dared not take down the Warp Field. However, that didn''t mean we wanted things to continue as they were.


    And hey, we had the thing running the whole project standing right in front of us, alternately defending the Great Work behind it, or threatening it.


    -Take that Staff out of commission. -


    -Got it.- Beat thundered as I charged in, sweeping past me into one of the spindly chicken-legs of this rainbow-plumaged, multi-armed faceless twat, and there was a polite crack as that leg was knocked out of balance. The Weaver scrambled for balance as I shot down below, and Chalice sang a litany of fear in Demonic just to mess with the thing.


    Soul Strikes crossed left and right, and the Greater Demon shuddered despite itself as ten points of Wisdom fried as I carved into its soul, and then five more as I plunged Chalice up between its legs and vaulted myself up along its back.


    Beat snapped back to Brigg''s hand, bounced once, twice, and fingers shattered on the Staff, dropping it down. Briggs backfisted the shaft of it, raising an explosion of psychic force at the contact, and sent the tree-sized thing spinning away across the chamber.


    I was up on its back, and it was just starting to face me when all four stingers drove into the sides of its glowy-smooth golden face, and pumped out some of Amourae''s Finest Love Potion #9 into the thing.


    My Tail itself flared and slapped down, Branding the sucker. Lilitu power seared into it, and I had plenty of passive psychic power to burn it into it through its feathers.


    It staggered in dawning horror as an aphrodisiac attuned to my Brand and with a Will Save of 40 surged towards the brain it valued so highly. It didn''t matter that this was just an avatar. Psychoactive poisons can affect both mind and soul, and it was sitting on a -7 (shriek!), er, -10 to its Will Save from having -20 to working Wisdom, and another -2 for every sizzling Brand I was burning into its excuse for a spine.


    It kind of clawed over its back at me for a few seconds, and I just batted them away as it shuddered, and its glowy gold hawk''s eyes went all pink.


    "Stop that shit," I ordered it, and the Spell Weaver, a mighty super-scheming Greater Demon of jRaztl, froze, and obediently withdrew its many hands, all of which were twitching helplessly.


    I Branded it again, and again, and again, and it only shuddered in ecstasy each time as I bound it closer and closer to me.


    It probably couldn''t be charmed, but this was poison and curses, ability damage and Brands, not enchantment magic. It was totally screwed.


    "I bet you know exactly what this is, and what kind of trouble you are in, and yet you can''t do anything about it." Twitching and jerking, but unable to screech for it had no mouth, it nodded as I leaned in over its shoulder, wrinkling buy dose at the combined smell of rotting brains and ozone rising from its feathers. "That''s really good that you know that. As of right now, you work for me. Be happy. We aren''t going to have you betray your boss at all."


    Another shudder that might have been relief and the last of its reason passed through it. It slumped under me, and waited for my orders.


    "Here''s what we want to happen. We want the Warp Zone to move from active promulgation and linking with external Warp interfaces to reality to a singular and static status. In other words, freeze it in one configuration, and sever all contact with other Warp Zones. We want the whole zone to remain as it is, and nothing new coming in.


    "Can you do that?"


    The golden-skinned, pink-eyed, noseless, mouthless, earless face nodded.


    My stingers stabbed in again, pumped once, and the Spell Weaver twitched from head to toe in euphoria. "Get to that. How many days to get things reconfigured?"


    He held up eight fingers on five hands.


    "Wonderful. I''ll be back in five days to check up on you and give you your fix. Get to work now."


    A final Brand went off on it, and it fell to its knees as I hopped off. I gave it a glare, it met my eyes, and despite wanting nothing more than to bask in the bliss of its slavery to me, it turned to the corrupted Throne, and got to work.


    Briggs watched that with a cold, critical grimace. -Damn, Sama. Pet Spell Weaver. That poison is no goddamn joke.-


    -No, it most definitely is not. And now I have to come back here at least once a week to give it its fix, or its going to go freaking nuts.-


    -How badly are you going to exploit it?- he /asked, with a cool pragmatism for making the Best of a Bad Thing.


    -I''d love to use it for Gear Upgrades, but there''s no effing way I''m letting something of the Warp touch our Weapons. We''ll have to settle for using it to unravel every jRaztl cult and scheme it knows of.-


    -So, we basically only have to clear out Engines, and the ship is ours, and we can start on serious repairs.-


    -And repurposing,- I /added. Briggs'' eyes glowed as he began to think all the things he wanted to do with his potentially motile TL 17 duchy...

 Chapter 407 - Far Future Ch. 117 – Eleven

    Teleport Foci were all in place. We could Teleport from the Blast Wall all the way to the ship in one go, although I hadn''t put it inside the ship because Not Stupid. We had to cross the Warding Zone to teleport away, which actually meant having to go down the mountain... or would have, if we weren''t already started on boring a hole through it to cut the annoyance level of getting there down.


    There was going to be a LOT of traffic going to the place, after all.


    Briggs and I arrived back there with T''Chaya, Crim, and the others, who were all glad to be relieved of relay duty, and on to the next step of the process.


    There was a planet-wide war going on, after all, and in the last couple of days, the local scenery inside the Warp Zone had basically stopped changing. That also meant that, under the impetus of Karma-hungry Rantha-led combat squads, anything dangerous in the local multi-mile radius was no longer alive.


    The fighting between various Warp forces going at one another was starting to die down already. Although the numbers of people we had here weren''t high, it basically included the youngest and newest troops and kiddies who needed Karma and experience. The outer reaches occasionally had demons, but without the massive threat level of modern weapons, were actually the best place to make Five, and that was where all the new kids were going.


    We definitely didn''t climb down. Winging it down was totally easy when you can actually grow wings. Briggs was wearing rockets, so he didn''t care.


    Four loaded Disks and a full hoverwagon followed us down as everybody descended. The worksite below was already heaped up with stone being processed into crete and readied for processing into plascrete for the track that was going to be shot across a thousand-miles of bio-stripped plain to the Celestial Tribute.


    Briggs and I flung ourselves across the Wardfield edge and out into space. My Markspace, after a remarkably short yet world-turning absence, lit up again.


    A whole lot of eyes turned to look at Briggs and I as our presences, so core to the Markspace, came online.


    What I noticed was a shitload more Seven to Tens, and some extremely fast improvements of other areas, Karma just waiting to be digested and allocated. I also noticed a lot of absent Doors, with the lingering echo of death behind them, and thousands upon thousands more new ones, recruited by my girls, finally hooked into the greater Markspace, and more coming online all the time.


    I could feel the absent echoes of over ten thousand dead. I grit my teeth. I couldn''t be there for everybody, and not even all my kids could, either. People were going to die, that was the cruel truth of it, and the only thing you could do was Level up and make it harder to kill you, and easier to kill the other guy who offed your pal.


    There had been a lot of that going on.


    I had tons of general data relayed by Crim and T''Chaya, so I knew the broad strokes of what had been going on. Now, Briggs and I were basically deluged with all sorts of waiting reports, including death notices from howling-mad, pissed-off kids with an unrelenting mad on for Xenos and cerevores now, which definitely did not bode well for either species'' dreams of galactic conquest and consumption.


    "They got Delors?" I swore to nobody. Ophilia had got there too late, she had been pslaver-virused, was losing her mind, and had blown her own brains out rather than be turned into a puppet.


    She had Delors'' soul, too, and there were a lot of Ranthas waiting for the current generation of brothers and sisters to get born so they could allocate some souls.


    I thought about the Tribute, and how it would technically be the perfect place security-wise to Vat in a lot of kids... except the Warp waves thrumming through the place. Maybe once we were done there...


    I doubted I''d need to get much clearance for more Vats to grow kids. The battle reports flying through indicated just how much rampant massacre and slaughter... er, doughty fighting the kids had inflicted upon the enemy, and the Dukes Twilight knowing where the souls that drove them came from meant there''d be precious little resistance to more of them coming online to fight.


    Wasn''t any different than Imperial Legionnaires, without the Mekkers needing to be involved... or the Empire.


    From a loyalty to the Empire standpoint, strictly speaking, it was probably a bad decision to let the Hag-blood Ranthas and Briggs'' keep accumulating, as it was going to lead to trouble with Imperial authority at some point.


    On the other hand, what we were doing was awesome and lighting a whole new road for the human race.


    Humanity, or the Empire? Many people thought they were one and the same, but there were others who knew otherwise. The problem was, both the Warp and the Empire were energetic in stomping out any other alternatives. The Empire was united at all costs, and the Warp wanted extremism. When the Empire crushed you and the people you were trying to help, where did you go, in the end? The Warp smiled and took you in, and turned you into your own and the Empire''s worst nightmare.


    ---


    The kids, however, saw something else, and loud "Oooooooo''s" reverberated in Markspace as they saw the pair of us.


    We were on a refined level now. The only two post-Tens with Marks were the Dukes Twilight, and they didn''t have our Statlines, and usually stayed quiet behind their Doors. Strictly speaking, they weren''t as broad and deep as we were, and a lot of their Karma came through basically Allegiance management, manipulating others into doing what needed to be done, inspiring, and leading, not personal combat... although personal combat had likely gotten them past Ten in the past.


    But Briggs and I were now solidly at Eleven.


    We''d punched a fixed reality interdiction tunnel through the Warpzone.


    We''d located a monstrous ship of the ancient times hidden for thousands of years on Janus III.


    We''d warned of a biovore infestation in time to actually be prepared when some of the kids actually stumbled on them, and all hell broke loose.


    We had purified and united the disparate AI''s of the Celestial Tribute, assuming control over the ship.


    We had defeated the Warp Infestation of the Ship''s Throne, and taken control of it and the Weaver commanding it. We now could grind down and eliminate the Warpzone''s denizens completely, with time, and then collapse and seal it.


    We had laid claim to some TL 17 tech, some crucial parts thereof which were accompanying us back, along with knowledge that was sealed and dumped deep into the vaults of the Mekkers, never for fleshbags to see.


    And we''d seized the title of a Duke, although what it would amount to was anybody''s guess.


    Epic Quests are Epic Karma. Breaking that wall to Eleven was totally a thing. Rantha Hag and Hagspawn Levels, +1.


    In real terms, not game-breaking. More minor advancements possible in stats, skills, buy more feats, Attack bonus (YAY, ATTACK BONUS!) and so forth in so on.


    Eleven Ranks in a Skill possible.


    Oh, DUH, that''s how you make a Tachyon Drive and a Harmonic Drive. It would only be the simplest and crudest, there was a lot more profound math and materials to arrange to rank the damn thing up towards actually moving with great speed on the road to true inertialess and free loving, but I had figured out how to make one, and I knew what direction we had to prepare to improve things and get ready to make those improvements.


    The Tribute had all kinds of educational software, records, schematics, designs, plans, and prints for technology all the way up to TL17 almost across the board, 18 to 20 in narrow areas. Better yet, they had TL17 fabrication technology, which was basically the equivalent of a holy relic.


    The Mekkers would reduce this star system and anyone inside it to ash rather than let it fall into anyone else''s hands.


    Just a cursory glance and I could see the comparisons within tech ranges between the old stuff and newer Mekker stuff. There had been some improvements, mostly in materials management. It seemed the ancients had easier access to crazily-Energized materials then we did today, and so hadn''t bothered to control costs and find alternate means of making them. There were design improvements everywhere in the TL10 and below areas, where numerous people could contribute little bits of insight and design changes over the millennia, but just the bits of TL11 tech I''d seen didn''t show much change beyond superficials and a distinct bias towards use by cybered people... and production methods that virtually ignored use of psionics.


    Hardly unexpected, after all.


    I could now start upgrading everything, without being at the beck and call of Mekkers and restricted in design functions and parts-making. Indeed, being able to integrate Holy Patterns into default Axiomatic stuff was going to be extremely useful, although it did mean the stuff I made was not ''perfectly modular'', which was the point of AMT. Modular among themselves, sure, but not older AMT designs.


    I didn''t care. Briggs and I were already exploding with design work we didn''t have to beg from the Mekkers or get made elsewhere, we could simply make it ourselves now!


    ------


    Janus Prime had lost hundreds of millions of citizens, and yet was still basically an endless resource of bodies as we began to recruit again. In the chaos it was very easy for thousands of citizens to vanish every day from the overview of the Mekkers, and given the scale of the labor force we needed, that was exactly what we did.


    Briggs and I had relayed our labor needs before we hit the ground. Among other things, this was a battlefield Full of Shit. All that stuff could be fed into fabbers once it was repurposed, and used to Make Stuff.


    The Celestial Tribute needed to be fixed. It needed the raw material, so feeding it that material and adding Vakker-tech and Holy AMT buttressing to its design and builds was a thing. As it needed human labor of the proper persuasion for that, that meant people needed to be brought into the center of the Warp Zone, turned into engineers and skilled workers, and put to work, along with countless drones now fixed on changing and upgrading.


    Yeah, the Celestial Tribute wasn''t going to be a fallen colony ship by the time we were done with it... and Briggs was salivating just thinking about it. I had to admit I had equally great expectations.


    -----


    The trip back involved a lot of planning, allocation of responsibilities, and new actions to undertake, all in the middle of a war going on that hadn''t even cleared Janus III yet, let alone all the other cities. The TL 17 fabber coming back with us, and all its datafiles of things it could make, would need someplace to sit up and be fed. Oddly enough, there were going to be lots of areas to be cleared away and salvaged, and more to the point, there was a lot, Lot, LOT of mining that was going to get done.


    We just needed to scare up some new funds, that''s all...

 Chapter 408 - Far Future Ch. 118 – The Man with the Midas Touch/ A Short History of the Galaxy

    -What''s this about Huldeiver?- I directly /asked Kylee Rantha. She was one of Inigo''s helpers, robbing from the rich and giving to us, tracking down those assholes who thought they were hidden and so could do wicked things without anyone knowing, and going to it on them. The Crew infiltrated and put in place hardware the Goldilocks could exploit into the computer networks of others, and did all sorts of blatantly illegal stuff while sleeping very soundly at night. There was a whole slew of Ranthas and Briggs with rainbow Claws, after all, even as dangerous as that could be in this place.


    The Crew could be rebellious as they wanted, we were all still family, and they still wanted to help. If they could swashbuckle as they did so, they were definitely going to, even if the only people who knew anything about them were certain of the Marked.


    -I boosted his personal safe. He had a couple of Mi-Go datacores hidden among his bug-out jewels, I didn''t notice them until we were doing the lattice-wipes to make the gems untraceable. I turned them over to the Umbrans through a couple of the sisters, and it turns out he''s been working with aliens.-


    -The Mi-Go?- I had to /ask. -What''s the stat analysis on his holdings say?-


    -Based on statistical analysis of all his holdings versus combat that has occurred and expansion of the Xenos, there''s a 92% chance he''s got some agreement with the cerevores, too. We''re pretty sure it''s centered in Deiver Technology, which has some substantial Underspire holdings that mysteriously haven''t been ravaged at all. The bloks around his home Spire were among the most infested in the city, but his Spire itself only had moderate infestations... that we know of.-


    The richest unbacked individual in the biggest city on a grimdark mining world was colluding with psionic aliens. Somehow, it didn''t surprise me at all.


    -The Umbrans are going to do a deep penetration. We''re already fairly certain we''re going to find Necrojump Drives on some Huldeiver ships. Colby is damn sure they''ve been pumping biomatter into the deep Underspire to fuel the rise of xenos. There''s some deep investigation into his finances going on, and we''re finding some ominous stuff...-


    Kylee loved her drama, so I bit. -Yeah?...- I /prompted her.


    -Well, among other things, we''re pretty sure he''s the one who pulled the strings to get you drafted.-


    -Huh.- Nobody had noticed I was gone, of course. Marilyn Rantha was a Natural Actress, took about two seconds to change her face, maxed out her Charisma, and simply overwhelmed anyone dealing with Colonel Sama Rantha in short order, while the other girls basically ran everything and she front-faced for them, having a great time as a military officer. I already had a great rep as a trainer, and she was giving me a good reputation as a field commander too, despite not really making many decisions outside making sure the girls got their way in the command structure. She was really good at both charm and invective, and my name was definitely spreading through the command structure in new and deadly ways during the last few weeks she''d been playing my part.


    The price of her taking my place was that I had to promise that she could play me in the eventual biopic about me...


    I devoted two thought-streams to sieving through all the Huldeiver data, and fixed on something.


    -We want that yacht,- I /grinned into the Marktell, looking at the story on Huldeiver''s newest playtoy. It was a pleasure craft, an extreme rarity in the Empire, a hundred meters of auric-plated gaudiness with far, far too many armaments on it for a civilian craft or someone without a noble title at even a glance.


    It also was non-AMT coded, which meant it was even more expensive to make, but that just indicated the owner was reliant on other things.


    I could tell a pirate crew was instantly forming among the kids, and they were even starting to compose new shanties already.


    -We''ll clear it through the Coronals. Somebody confirm it''s got a Necrojam Drive before we kill everyone on board, will you?-


    -On it, Mom! Yo ho ho!- Kaylee /said happily, already gathering some deadly and independent-minded folks for a little privateering.


    ===================


    Galactic History ¨C Since we''re starting to move into larger scale deeds and conflicts, and Sama has access to the Tribute''s files to recover all that lost pre-Empire history that''s been firmly downplayed...


    -20,000+ to -12,000 Years before the present: The Ruk Federation rules the galaxy, its Forge Worlds and Fortress ships dominating all, as does their mastery of high technology, unity, and willingness to fight. Humanity is barely reaching out to the stars.


    -12,000 years to -10,000 years: The downfall of the Ruk Federation. One of the Clans starts dealing with the Aberrants and unleashes their psionic powers, which they use against other Clans in a bid for power. The unshakeable unity of the Ruk race is broken.


    At the same time, the first invasions of the Xenos, aided by the cerevores, are unleashed upon the galaxy. The tunnel homes and mountain cities of the Ruk are ideal terrain for the Xenos, and they plague the Ruk for centuries, along with their brain-eating masters. Xenos are spread across the galaxy randomly at this point, and encountered by many races.


    Finally, a massive Goblin incursion rebuilds itself from the Rim of the Galaxy, and engages their ancient foes all over the galaxy. While the Ruk are targeted the most, other races are not spared the hunger for war, slaves, and killing of the tripartite race, including humanity.


    The elvar begin their rise as the bastions of the Ruk fall, one after another, to the triple threat. Their Wild Hunts of enemies on the swiftest ships in the galaxy become legends.


    -10,000 years to -9000 years: The golden age of the Elvar. As the Ruk are reduced to a fraction of their numbers and retreat behind ever more zealous and xenophobic defenses, the Elvar rise and flourish. They hunt the goblins across the galaxy, and do not spare the Xenos or the cerevores, or other Aberrant races. Their beautiful solar-sailed ships are soon recognized as the masters of the galaxy.


    Humanity is in an expansion phase. While the Elvar are a dominating force, many worlds have been left abandoned and ravaged by the thousands of years of war. Humanity starts crossing the void and settling these new worlds. The Ruk often become their inspiration and unwitting aids in bettering their technology as they plunder old ruins of the race, and learn their vast and glorious history. A lack of interaction with the remnants of the Ruk generally means that humanity considers the stalwart defenders of the galaxy in a positive light, despite having almost no dealings with them.


    -9000 to -8000 years: The Fall of the Elvar, culminating in the Apotheosis of Amourae, whose influence promptly begins to extend into the past and future. The Elvar, naturally aligned to Chaos and Good, are corrupted by the Warp Gods at their height of their success, dividing into four competing factions as their skin darkens with the debasement of their desires. The arrogance and unbridled sinister intentions of the black-skinned drow are soon known across the galaxy, while Elvar society tears itself apart from within.


    The Apotheosis of Amourae forms the Abyss, a section of the near-Core that devours all light, sweeping up many of the elven Lifeworlds with it. Only Elvar settlements in distant parts of the galaxy, or those who had given up soaring the stars for a more primitive life far from the worlds of their people, manage to survive... and only then if they give up all the magic that is their birthright, as they are no longer able to resist the corruption that comes with its use, as they could previously.


    The majority of the drow are also slaughtered and fed upon by Amourae during his rise, as they are intensely magical and make perfect fuel for the God of Desire. Those who survive flee into the Gloom, the twilight realm erected by the great spellweavers of the Elvar between shadow, reality, and the Warp, thought to draw on the essence of long-vanished fey spirits, and their principle means for getting about the galaxy. They too, must give up all magical usage, and even the psionic powers which rose to replace them, as they make the realm their home, and evolve into a physically-obsessed, dark technology realm still split among service to the Warp Gods, whose desires they feed with endless wars for slaves and sacrifices, hopefully staving off their own endings.


    This period is known as The Fall among humans, and also the Dark Age of the Machines. Empowered by the Apotheosis, the first mass Warp Incursions occur across the galaxy, and in response the many AI''s of humanity''s highest technology go Axiomatic and rogue. Caught between these forces, trillions of humans die on worlds unnumbered.


    The widespread rise of rogue psions is soon matched by the evolution of the first mindblades, who study the secrets of their mindblades and raw psionic power, and spread them widely. Their knowledge of such powers also gives birth to operators who prefer to move in stealth against the obvious presence of the others, and the Coronals and Umbrans rise in tandem, different in style, yet similar in goals, and their odd partnership continues for millennia. Psionic empowerment wages war against machine and demon for centuries in the void.


    -7000 Years ¨C The Emperor, the greatest psion to ever live, is crowned on ancient Tellus, the homeworld of humanity. His legions of gene-augmented, power-armored warriors set forth to take back the lost worlds, and most importantly, so do his disciplined psions, who have harnessed and controlled the power of psionics, forming the first true order of human psionic masters, the Mentats.


    For the next thousand years, the Emperor expands throughout the galaxy, into the vacuum of power that exists out there. Rapacious aliens, creatures of the Warp, Aberrants and Things of the Void; his armies face them all and emerge victorious. The last AI''s are crushed by psionic might, and he brings the Coronal Knights and the Umbrans in to support him on this great crusade across the stars. They become the Right and Left Hands of the Emperor, while the Mechanist Guild supports him as they take command of the Forgeworlds and produce endless ships and arms for him.


    Being aware of the horrible scale and nature of the forces he is opposing, the Empire abandons his gene-soldiers, many of them augmented with animal DNA, and forms new legions of soldiers, augmented by his own perfect genetic code. To command these legions, he grows thirteen Primogenitors, literally sons of his own flesh, to help him in commanding the galaxy and defying the shadowed forces out there, believing his own perfect DNA will overcome the problems with the Vat-born.


    -6000 years ¨C the Empire is at its height and the Emperor is trying to devise a drive system that will ignore warp space, when he finds out, to his horror, that his Primogenitor sons, lacking any connection to the rest of humanity or the human akasha, have rebelled, taking many of their Legionnaires with them. To counter the power of human psions, the Coronals, and the Umbrans, they turn to Warp Sorcery, and their rebellion eventually reaches all the way to Tellus itself.


    In a final confrontation with four of his demonified Sons, the Emperor obliterates them with the help of the Grandmasters of the Mentats, Coronals, and Umbrans, but is shattered by fell Warp power channeled by his fallen sons. He is bound upon his Crystal Throne to power the Celestial Beacon, also allowing him to look across the galaxy and ply his power and will where it is needed for humanity''s future. His thoughts rapidly slipping away and above most mortal matters, administration of the Empire falls to a council of mere humans.


    With the death of multiple Primogenitors, the six demonized surviving sons of the Emperor retreat into the Abyss with their forces. The Imperial Legions never recover from the shame brought upon them by those meant to lead them, and spend the next millennia working to assuage their guilt, trying to reclaim their place as the Emperor''s Sons.


    -5000 Years ¨C Humanity has regained much of what it has lost on paper, but the galaxy is a dark place. Warp incursions are incessant, and the Aberrant and races of the void, as well as the drow, are preying on everything across the galaxy. Brutal discipline and sacrifice are the existence of the Empire as there are threats on all sides.


    The first (fatal) encounter with a Tekron Crecheworld is logged around this time, by distant psionic message. No trace is ever found of the ship that sent it, and only the most subtle probing of the system is ever made to confirm the danger of what they faced.


    -4000 years ¨C The first mass Xenos Swarm fleet is discovered traversing beneath the galaxy, and immediately sets the whole Empire on edge at its sheer size. Soon, other alien all-consuming Swarms are identified in different extra-galactic flight paths. It is believed that the Tekrons might be dissuading them from simply invading en masse.


    -3000 years: Janus III and its continual warpstorm are discovered, but the Energized mines make it worth the investing.


    The Goblins begin to make resurgences across the galaxy as humanity expands to the Rim, and soon their population is exploding as they make war on everyone. Their rise spurs the Elvar, hidden in dark corners for their safety, to return to their Hunting, and they are not overly discriminate in who they hunt, as they thirst for the brief glory of their great age.


    -2000 years ¨C Warp Storms intermittently cut off different parts of the galaxy, blocking the Celestial Beacon and making travel impossible. Regions so cut off often suffer horrible fates, and crusades are soon mounted to take them back from the ills which have befallen them.


    The Empire officially enters a stagnate phase, unable to produce enough warpower to advance against all their foes, claiming new worlds, only to lose others with the same frequency. Technological advancement in the hands of the Mekkers has begun to regress as the aged TL15+ technology they have fails, and cannot be replicated. High-end duties once accomplished by technology are more and more often done by psionics, which increases Warp incursions and the activity of Aberrants and the Void Races.


    -1000 years ¨C Following an Abyssal Crusade plunging into the galactic core, the warfleets of the Empire come across the last holdings of the Ruk. There is only careful and distant contact, as the ancient race trusts none of the new ones, and have also lost much of their ancient knowledge after all these millennia of being besieged. Still, adventurous Ruk are about the only alien race accepted in the Human Empire.


    -17 years from story start: A massive Warpstorm breach slices the galaxy in half, severing whole sectors from the Celestial Beacon. Dreams and nightmares of both hope and fear plague psions throughout the Empire, and the origins of the catastrophe are hotly debated as an opportunity, or a sign of the end times. Thousands of systems are forced into unprecedented levels of independence from the Tellusian Throne, and those who know of the Rift (for most of the populated worlds do not) wonder if they can survive whatever it portends.

 Chapter 409 - Far Future Ch. 119 – What Lies Beneath

    Even as we were still prosecuting an all-out war, we were building, conniving, and grabbing power.


    ------


    "Duke Corunsun." Duke Parablum carefully analyzed the Ducal Seal Briggs had allowed him to examine, and after long moments handed it off to his darker counterpart. He closed his eyes, waiting silently.


    Duke Rimval shook his head, and handed it calmly back to Briggs. The Coronal Duke sighed.


    "A Ducal Title that dates from before the Empire, and on the other side of the Rift. What have you discovered?"


    "That any and all references to Corunsun anywhere are watched like a hawk by waiting Mekker datasifters. Going through anything resembling traditional channels will be noticed instantly. So, aside from the fact that he''s got a hereditary supercarrier-plus ship out there begging to be rebuilt, we''ve nothing."


    "Noble houses have been built on far less. Most new Houses approved by the Imperial Regents might get a cruiser equivalent, with perhaps a support ship or two. A pre-Empire Colony Ship..." he shook his head. "And you are certain the Mechanist Guild knows of it?"


    "Yes. They must have found some wreckage from its planetfall, realized that it landed here, and made whatever excuses they could to set up shop here. I do not believe that they do not know that it is a corrupted Throne field that is energizing the minerals here. They want to learn how it was done and replicate the effect, as well as grab the technology of the ship for themselves. The area the ship is in is effectively timelost, and its tech is pristine and functional despite all this time."


    The two Dukes looked at one another. "High treason," Rimval murmured softly, sighing. "The Empire would have thrown unlimited manpower at the problem for the chance to retrieve an example of archaeotech in such perfect shape."


    "It''s a good thing they didn''t. We''re pretty sure that if they learn how to duplicate the effect, it will resonate with every Throne field on every ship in the galaxy, and open Warp Zones around all of them, and possibly the Beacons and Crystal Throne itself. I think you can imagine what would happen."


    "Humanity would be extinguished from the galaxy," Duke Parablum stated softly. Everyone present nodded.


    "What are you doing about it?" Duke Rimval asked keenly.


    "I have gained control over the demon who was managing the modifications to the ship''s Throne, and have frozen the Warpzone. While its mutational effects are still in place, there are no new overlays with Warp battlezones going on. The inhabitants of the Warpzone are killing one another off with great speed. It is now possible to sterilize, sweep, and loot the Warpzone, before releasing it.


    "Oh, and we''ve discovered at least fifty different incursion sites around the perimeter of the Warpzone. We think the Mekkers have made quite a few expeditions into the zone trying to get to the middle, and failed utterly over the years." Not being able to lay down a non-shifting corridor would effectively doom them, as having a large army would only attract larger forces to them endlessly, until they were overwhelmed.


    "What are your intentions at this point?" Duke Rimval asked somberly.


    "Well, what Briggs is intending to do is start up mass production and expansion of Rantha Tech, now that we''ve TL17 printing and fabbing available. The first machines that make production machines have already been made, and we are recruiting the workforce.


    "The combination of retooling the system''s tech to Rantha Standards and rebuilding the Celestial Tribute is going to require massive amounts of material. A great deal we are going to get from inside the Warp Zone by looting it to the ground. Our mining requirements are going to explode."


    "You are going to require direct intervention of the Orders. The Mekkers have been waiting a long time for this... their logic engines will eventually realize something is amiss when the mining results do not match up with that produced and passed on, and there will naturally be incredible resistance to changing the technology," Duke Parablum noted.


    "I believe the holdings of Huldeiver will satisfy many of our initial requirements. We''ve not done any divinations, but I believe a cerevore is riding his meat, and has been for many years. Goldspire is probably totally dominated by cerevores and ready to explode, as are his facilities."


    "Are you ready to move on them? Some of them are quite valuable," Duke Parablum observed, without batting an eye.


    "The operators have been taking out the self-destructs first. Initial probes were very positive in all the wrong ways. The mutant cerevores have been coming out of Huldeiver labs, and they''ve been funneling biomass down to the Xenos for decades," I reported. "I know your Striker teams are busy with all manner of ops, but this might be one for the history books... and I''m pretty sure you''re going to have to hit Goldspire from orbit."


    The two older men looked at one other, saying volumes with just glances. "We''ll set that up to execute as soon as a Mentat metaconference can confirm the situation in Goldspire."


    Trying to take a fifteen-hundred-meter mountain of durasteel and laen was possible, but not without horrific losses, especially if the enemy already held it. The number of cerevores working out of it was probably not small.


    All these things were something I could contribute to, but didn''t need to. Plenty of kids eager for major Karma, and major assets were going to be used one way or another. I didn''t need to be present for any of that.


    "You have an odd look in your eye," Duke Rimval noted.


    Briggs looked over at me, and rolled his pale violet gaze. I grinned. "I thought I''d go for a swim."


    ---------------


    The Spiked Plains weren''t actually plains. They were the result of the massive amounts of alkalines which had drowned the water on this world.


    Hundreds of feet of salts covered the seas of Janus III. Water was leeched out of the sea below, dried out, and formed great jagged forests of lethal, razor-sharp, poisonous, and corrosive crystals over more than half the surface area of the planet.


    Some of the crystals Energized over time, if they built up big enough or were hit by enough Warp discharges over time. Finding such things was both a huge payday for the lucky, and often an early grave, as lots of nasty things gathered around such hills of deadly crystals, eager for some fresh and not at all deadly walking waterbags to munch on.


    Somewhere down underneath this combined bonanza and unending mass of death by windstorms, shrieking crystals, weird creatures, and energy discharges that could turn hundreds of square miles into death traps were the long-lost oceans of the world, bitter expanses of buried waters and what remained of the warped sea-life of Janus III, as mutated and formidable as its land creatures.


    The water wasn''t quite as corrosive as the deserts, but only just. Super-saturated water dominated the surface layers, where the salts both dissolved and reformed, and occasionally heavy boulders fell in a constant rain of corrosive crystals, washed away in the motion of the water, falling to the seabeds far below, scattering into crystal rains that rarely made it all the way... but enough did to coat it in a layer of insoluble crystals only the hardiest of creatures could survive in, a desert at the bottom of the sea.


    This was where I was going swimming.


    Plenty of kids could fight in the air, the streets, the tunnels, in space. But those who could take on the ocean and what lived there? Well, it was a waste of their time, really.


    Me? The main aspect of my time was all mental. I was doing design work and logistics actions, coordinating massive movements of people and material, working strategy with Anatolia and the new Strategos Circle she had put together, coordinating combat venues all over the planet.


    I didn''t actually need to be physically there for anything, and while I wouldn''t mind physically contributing to anything, I was making Karma just defying the current order with the new technology that was unfolding.


    Our Printer, Max, had already punched out the first production module that could make modules that could make Harmonic Drives. We were just arranging for some of the materials, and the first Harmonic Drives would be ready inside three days. Another week, and the support modules would be getting spit out as well.


    With the Briggs Brothers in basically total control of the main smelters, forge facilities, and furnaces, getting proper supplies was basically a done deal.


    Of course, the amount of repair work being done up in orbit was demanding the full attention of the Mechanists, who couldn''t spare much attention for the machinations we were putting into place. Indeed, the scaling-up of our mining was now looked at as a timely blessing.


    So, fully able to do all of that with three-quarters of my brain, doing something physical was cool enough, but I didn''t need to be fighting. The Karma-hungry kids and all their Weapons were basically handling that.


    No, Sama was gonna help run the war effort by doing deep penetration.


    A Vajra is a very useful tool. A basic ki/Essence Vajra, the most basic one, lets you keep out wind pressure, and forms the foundation for your Vajra Resistance, where you simply don''t let unwanted energies interact with your physical form.


    Once you get a Diamond Vajra, you can keep out water, not just clean it off yourself. So, you can jump into a lake, and there''ll be a 1-4 inch aura around you where the water won''t enter.


    The really odd thing about this is that you can vary the pressure on your Vajra from frictionless to full. While the ''natural'' thing about being surrounded in a bubble of air is that you should bounce to the surface, it isn''t the air keeping the water away, it''s your Vajra. You can transfer the force of the water pressing on you to the opposite side, rendering you absolutely pressure-neutral in the water, or, say, you can have it press on one side, and be frictionless on the other.


    Naturally, once you do that, you start moving. And the more pressure you apply in one direction, the faster you can go.


    A Vajra is inherently frictionless, so all you have to do is have enough pressure to get the water out of the way... and the water behind you supplies it. Streamline your Vajra to help the water move around you, and someone with a strong enough Vajra can really, really move underwater... and do it with almost none of the wave-ripples that proper physics says should happen, as they get neutralized and channeled back against one another behind us as we move.


    The more pressure, the faster we can go. So, the deeper we went, the faster we went.


    Air wasn''t a problem at this point, I could effectively hold my breath forever, recycling as I went. Vacuum wouldn''t stop me, so being underwater wouldn''t, either. Water pressure meant nothing to a Vajra... the water stopped, that was it. Pressure was immaterial. It only worked for inches around me, but inside those inches, it was pretty absolute.


    There was no light down here, save the twinkling, falling stars of some Energized materials falling to the ocean floor. Bioluminescence was in the ultraviolet range, meaning the smaller creatures that survived were in some pretty weird colors, and only flashed intermittently, unwilling to wave eat-me signs around.


    My objective was pretty clear: I was going to find at least one of the invaders'' submerged cities, and then we were going to blow them apart.

 Chapter 410 - Far Future Ch. 120 – Down Where the Dark Things Dwell

    Devilsight let me see through any darkness as if it were bright day. I could even see normal colors, straight through the spectrum.


    Smokesight and cloudsight let me see through suspended particulate matter of water or earth, respectively, while Devasight would deal with light distortions from temperature or reflective surfaces.


    Suspended salts in water with no light? No problem at all. My visual acuity was basically as clean and clear as if this was the clearest water in the world.


    Oh, I could TELL it was pitch black. I could see the lights of the alka-shrimps or neo-plankton. But it basically looked like I was moving through a heavy sky, falling away below and above as I descended.


    My Vajra was grabbing the water ahead of me, streaming it behind me, and reforming it. The water to my sides was simply suspended, like an ongoing tunnel... there was no cleaving of the water, no bow wave. My swimming was smooth, almost traceless, barely rippling anything despite the speed I was moving at.


    I was heading for the underside of the city.


    My pint-sized daughter Colby''s deep raids with some Striker teams, senior Termites, and pissed off Undermobs had revealed that the cerevores had somehow blocked off a deeper layer of the stone the city was built atop of, and made some massive caverns down there to breed their Xenos in, helped by illicit biomass pumped down from the city above, and of course many, many lost humans over the years. They also fished the seas, and they had naturally started subverting a lot of the wildlife, as the xenos were very non-discriminatory in what they laid their syms into to replace.


    So, the seas down here were even more dangerous than might be intimated in a warp-affected, alkaline sea of phrenic monstrosities.


    They weren''t going to see me coming, and they weren''t going to psense a Null. My Vajra would suck in any sonar they used, so I was empty air as far as they were concerned... unless I needed to hide against something, at which point I''d be stone if I needed to be.


    There wasn''t a lot of life down here, which didn''t surprise me at all. The cerevores would be catching and harvesting it for biomass to build xenos. What I had to be careful about where the things that WERE down here.


    Aaaaand that looked like one of them.


    It was the size of a whale, but eel-like, with grasping tentacles trailing after it. Its eyes were big to pick out even the faintest traces of light, and it was winding its way through the deep, occasionally opening needle-toothed jaws to snatch up a passing bundle of light.


    And then it lunged forward, spinning as a great black mass three times its length hove out of the depths with great speed, carapace shell gleaming, a head part insect, part reptile opening wide to take a bite as it reached for the eel at great speed.


    The eel almost got away when a truly massive claw scissored forward and down, and clamped onto the back third of its body. With awesome strength, the huge aquasym stopped the great eel in place, and lunged forward to get a big bite into the middle of its body.


    No, no, I hadn''t seen the little plunger in its mouth, driving deep into the hapless predator, and planting the egg.


    I sighed and diverted course.


    These two underwater behemoths were stirring up a lot of water, but the pressure waves blew past me as I drove in on their blind spot, came up on the eel''s tail, and plunged in Chalice.


    I flowed by underneath the long length of it, and a foot of leathery hide parted wetly before the silent edge of Chalice... silent, because her song would carry for literally miles down here, and I didn''t need to announce myself.


    The eel was pinned in the jaws of the aquasym, the paralytic excretions of the implanted egg taking hold, its motions becoming spastic. At the same time, its lower body was silently opening up and spilling its life out into the water.


    Without a living host to nourish it for at least a short time, the egg would die, and wouldn''t even be able to consume the biomass.


    The aquasym was relying on pressure senses, some form of lateral line, and psensing life to tell what was nearby, in addition to rote light and hearing, and not getting any action off of any of those.


    It was really, really surprised when Chalice drove into its eye like the point of a torpedo, and I fired off a Shard right through its brain when her point stopped a few inches short.


    Acidic blood jetted out at high speed, making the water froth and sizzle as acid met base and both got excited to see one another. It let go of the dying eel, spinning and whirling even as I flowed out of place and reach, its brain already shredded by Sun Strikes ripping through it.


    I circled it from a hundred feet away, flowing away from its writhing struggles. It started tearing at itself, and the sea started to get real frothy as more of that acidic blood started boiling in the brine, but I didn''t care about its death struggles.


    The cerevore ejected itself from under the aquasym''s crest, telekinetically hurling itself away from the wounded biovore, yet was still swatted by the writhing body and went tumbling out into the water rather haplessly at the impact. It was the size of a pig, a five-legged fungoid brain as hard as stone, little manipulator tentacles flailing at the water as it fell towards the sea floor.


    The pressure wouldn''t bother it at all, and it could survive in a vacuum, it didn''t need to breathe or worry about the cold or alkalines. Getting to wherever it wanted to go might take a while on foot, since it also couldn''t swim for beans, but nigh-immortal aberrant brain-eaters had a surfeit of patience.


    Or it would have, if I hadn''t come down, impaled it with a Sun Strike, and then sent off three more with Shards inside it, blowing it into vivic-burning parts.


    I looked back at the two huge carcasses also starting to slowly fall towards the ocean floor, also burning with unwhite flames. I could feel the power gouting through the water, purifying massive amounts of it into true water... which would naturally be instantly contaminated again, but which told me exactly how natural this alkaline sea was not.


    Yep, the ''vores definitely had a presence out here. I checked my mental position, and continued on my way, wondering how many more aquasyms were out here waiting to get surprise-attacked and die.


    ------


    There was a huge net here, pressure-sensitive and psionic-charged. It would collapse on and cling to anything which swam into it, and then deliver a massive psychic shock generally enough to stun any unintelligent creature. Aquasyms would then come down to harvest it for either a sym-egg or just raw biomass, hauling it away for use.


    A Null swimming by and deftly severing a strand so I could pass, not so much.


    I located one of the underwater ports this way, seeing the slow traffic of the aquasyms moving in and out, and glowing lights of psychic Wards keeping out the water. Literally, the syms could just thrust themselves out of the sea and into a dry cave, delivering their goodies. I assumed the ''vores were mostly using aquasym transports, as they wouldn''t have the infrastructure to really make much stuff, and the Xenos could be bred into many custom forms.


    They didn''t really have the place lit up, as they had limited darkvision, and that was enough for most purposes. I could see biotech lights and cables conveying psionic energy that could be illuminated with a touch, so scarce need for it.


    However, when I drifted slowly around the Ward, placed the three fusion detonators, and slowly slam away, they didn''t sense a thing, as who was going to guard against humans underwater here?


    ----


    I gave myself three minutes, easily enough room to get a good mile away from the detonations. The linked detonators lit up in one second, went off in the next, and blew that Ward holding back the ocean apart like paper.


    The ocean came in.


    Now, I didn''t know how much of their underground complex it would flood. If they were smart, they''d have airlocks and cutoffs for just this kind of situation. But what was happening was a wall of water was going to go crashing through these sublevels they''d made, sweeping up everything in its path as it did so. Most of the base xenos could not breathe water, nor could any sym made off of a human. That likely included any queens and the stronger hiveminders made off of captured psions.


    The ''vores might get battered around or crushed, but likely not. What would happen is that their base of operations, troops, biotech, and all the good stuff was going to get flooded out with improbable speed.


    The roar of the explosion transmitted to me loud and clear, as did the rumbling rush of the invading ocean expanding into the new areas. I could feel the currents around me altering as water was forced by hundreds of feet of ocean pressure into the new area, and wasn''t going to be stopping soon.


    As the waters around me began to hum with alien psychic messages calling out in alarm and confusion, I jetted silently through the darkness... and those calls gave me convenient places to home in on...


    -------


    I had some of the most convenient feeds for observations of battles across the whole city, and I made use of them as I homed in on the underground bases of operations.


    Two of those bases were in winding tunnel networks buried under the sea, with aquasym traffic moving through them and making it somewhat annoying to get in and out.


    My Stealth modifier was past +40. I might as well have been a ghost for all the wake I had as I flowed past them, with even less visual presence.


    Now, I was a lot faster and more obvious on my way out, but when the Wards blew and suddenly the whole tunnel was being sucked haplessly backwards, it didn''t really matter. They could get alarmed all they wanted to, it wasn''t going to save them.


    The ripple effects up top were noticed, as cohesion between units in areas affected began to drop noticeably. The decision-makers sitting pretty far below suddenly were rather occupied, and the guys on site didn''t have all that much authority to make crucial decisions, especially when a number of screaming Rantha-born with Swords and Hammers were coming at them from all angles and modes suddenly.


    My boys and girls showed me the xenos attacks faltering and growing indecisive under the sudden, relentless pressure, getting herded and pushed this way and that as Anatolia''s Strategos Circle began to coordinate strikes from multiple vectors in a kind of mastery that just isn''t supposed to happen on a battlefield. Forces were hitting here and there, the xenos were moving, or not moving; artillery came down; airstrikes pummeled; they fled, here, there, ran into more resistance and were pushed aside, trying to find something to fight in a city locked up behind Bloks and Spires, while their access points to Underspire were slagged over and over, leaving them with only minor and slow access points to flee down through... and those paths were easily predicted, and more often than not, turned into chokepoints of death that were soon obstructed by their own piles of dead trying to get through.


    The only force of the invasion that wasn''t truly affected by the troubles down very deep were the armored cavalry and war machine forces of the Xenos, who had their own problems of hyperaggressive Ranthas pairing up with extremely eager mech-drivers to blow them all away with ridiculous speed and efficiency. With their infantry support getting annihilated, the biomechs of the enemy were left exposed to this sort of attention that would normally not be any threat to them at all.


    The Battle for Janus Prime was winding down.

 Chapter 411 - Far Future Ch 121 – Down in the Deeps

    All that telepathy was winging down into the deeps of the alkaline seas. Far be it from me not to be the curious kitten and see where it was all going to and coming from. While I could understand Aklo, the thoughts of the cerevores were totally illegible without them trying to make themselves understood, completely alien on many levels.


    That was okay. Although they didn''t have many emotions, the ones they did were coming through just fine. Puzzlement, fear, confusion, anger, irritation, annoyance, exasperation, disgust, disdain, scorn, belittlement... no, no, there was no blame game going on at all, was there? Hah!


    I was shooting through the depths of the seas, and going deeper into the oceans at over 100 mph, while I tracked my location and pasted it to the Map, matching it up against routine sounding scans of the sea floor to verify where I was There were some interested and very big guns following my progress as I did so.


    I couldn''t kill the aquasyms I came across, which was really irritating, as the very alert ''vore riders would certainly send out an alarm before I could silence them... or simply not call back when telepathically pinged. As they really didn''t need to know I was coming, all the increasing incidence of massive aquatic beasts assimilated and enslaved did was point me closer and closer to where I needed to go, and the psychic calls rippling through the undersea were like blaring signs telling me to look this way, this way, you Hag swimming impossibly fast and smoothly through a briny sea, you...


    And lo, come ye over the edge of an underwater rift, as geological scans of the whole undersea had belatedly been dumped into the The Map and were being verified in more exacting detail along my swim path, and look, look, fair explorer, at what lies before you...


    The color of the dome below was extremely nauseating in the pspectrum, and the glass was mottled and seemed to pulse and writhe like a great brain. That probably meant it served as a psychic amplifier, and naturally a good chunk of that power was being used to prevent it from being detected by the orbital powers that would certainly like to get rid of it.


    There were a lot of aquasyms around, and biomechs trundling along towards Janus Prime a few hundred miles away, obviously not afraid of seismic scans showing where they were coming from or nothing.


    The light of the buried city was a Bad Thing, as it would send out a psychic shadow, as much as a real one. Avoiding that was rather hard, and required having a rather special kind of mindset, as opposed to just being sneaky.


    That kind of mindset was what the Darkstalker Feat was all about. Phrenics and Aberrants had all kinds of crazy senses, and learning how to avoid those senses was just one of the things a stealth operator had to learn. If you didn''t have it in the high-level line of work, you were just an idiot.


    That psychic light was hitting my mind and just passing on through in twisted harmony. It helped being able to change the ol'' brain structure and my entire Kirillian Aura, and naturally being relatively small, visibly transparent, and not having a wake or lateral line imprint all helped tons.


    While infiltrating the city was an option, I wasn''t stupid. To win this war, these cities would have to be taken out, and the oceans were basically a lost cause at this point. Shit was going to be coming out of the seas forever, until they were emptied of biomass, and that was something we were just going to have to live with.


    However, taking out cerevore biofactories where they were making their biomechs was totally a thing that could be done, and should shatter their organizational structure. Also, aquasyms were less than optimal servants on dry land, so while they could empty out the seas of life... that didn''t actually mean they were a huge threat on land, since those syms would basically be without legs, and their mobility hampered.


    They could still DO it, of course, they just wouldn''t be optimized for butchering stuff on land. But, you know, enough numbers would do the job for anyone, and that was potentially a lot of syms...


    We were going to have to do a nanite purge and literally sweep the seas clean of life, then reseed them. Just ugh... but better than a few zillion aquasyms heaving themselves out of the brine to attack...


    Okay, one city''s coordinates locked down. The missiles to render it to a dust bowl were already getting psionic circuitry etched on them to defeat its deflection, misdirection, and spatial fields. They were going to get a big surprise when the missiles landed. Naturally they couldn''t be sending out active signals to detect incoming, either, or they''d be detected.


    ------


    Once I withdrew a safe distance, I headed for the surface.


    The only safe way to teleport through water was a Waterjump, which was pretty specialized teleportation magic. The Warp definitely wanted me to try it, and no, I wasn''t going to do so.


    What I did do was withdrew a few miles, head straight up to the Spiked Plains above this level of the sea, make contact with the razor-edged salts forming the ceiling of the sea, and dimension hop a thousand feet past them with an underpowered teleport from Chalice.


    I wound up a few hundred feet up in the air, popped my wings and jets, and swooped away. There were no spotters or anything of consequence up here, as the shifting, bubbling plains, crystals rising and falling constantly, was not conducive to any kind of listening post.


    Teleporting was either in a straight line, or had to follow the curve of a terrestrial mass. Water futzed up teleporting across it on a curve, as the fact it was moving disrupted the dimensional continuity of the geography, and you couldn''t ''port into any volume of water, or through any reasonable amount of it. It was possible to draw a lived-line trail across water, if you could walk on water... but basically, to leave water you had to be touching land, and you generally couldn''t go through water to get where you wanted to go. Above it or around it, only, except for the shortest distances.


    The Spiked plains did count as land, however. They were relatively fluid, rose and fell constantly, but they were still solid enough to count as land, just not permanent. Teleporting from contact with one to one of my Teleport Foci outside Janus Prime was totally possible.


    From there, teleporting to the next mega-city being attacked by slightly different biomech and fleshtanks was totally possible as well. I had run by every single one of them, after all.


    I had plenty of observational data from Ranthas and Briggsbros fighting all over the place, so I knew right where the shit was crawling out of the Spiked Plains (and now being subject to orbital lances when they did so), so I knew right where they were entering, could choose a location close by, likely cracked open by shockwaves from the bombardment, and head down into the deep again.


    ------------


    That was how pretty much the next ten days went for me. I did a lot of swimming. I saw a lot of exotic aquatic life, most of which was being eaten and replaced by aquasyms. I saw whole squadrons of biomechs, fleshtanks, siegeshells, crawl carriers, and the like down there, vast underwater hordes of aquasyms of all sizes, and vast expanses of the alkaline oceans emptied of the odd and strange life that existed down here.


    I painted their locations. Drones landed on the saltpack above and tracked them by noise, planning on all sorts of special deliveries.


    Janus Prime''s fighting largely wound down. The primary gap in the Shield Wall was covered by enough guns that nothing was getting in, the dispersion point for any biomechs was also covered by waiting cannons and missiles, and there were no reinforcements coming from above.


    As for the stuff that had already gotten in and was hiding in the nooks and crannies, waiting to dine on all the little home sapiens running around... well, it would keep the Termites busy for a long time.


    The ability of the Far Future to slaughter in multitudes was quite impressive. Special toxins were blown through endless amounts of tunnels, eating away at black carapaces, which would weaken, turn brittle, and then their acidic blood would spurt out at the least contact, and they''d bleed to death in a steaming pile of ugh. The Brain Ward was being increasingly finely tuned, making it more and more unpleasant for the cerevores to stick around, and they and their pslaved humans were being slaughtered and pushed back on all fronts by some seriously upset locals.


    The acrid stench of dead Xenos coming apart was everywhere, and burning out a lot of noses for a lot of people. It didn''t matter, they were still shot everywhere they went. If people died in explosions of acid, they died, and so did the Xenos, and that much less biomass was available.


    Elements from Janus Prime were already moving to help out the other cities, especially since the G&G elements there were almost always the core of the existing defense with their unbroken and on-time communication lines and uncompromised commanders. Furthermore, assets from spaceborne landing elements were starting to come down and reinforce the land-bound cities, and really make a go of what had been losing fronts of several of the other mega-cities.


    I painted twelve different ''vore biofactories as I circled the continent, locked in the coordinates, and Duke Parablum pushed the button.


    -------


    Duke Rimval sat in his chair in the dungeon, his displays up and reports coming through, some live, some recorded. Dividing his attention psionically wasn''t hard, and processing all the information the same, with some extra juice to match the effect of a naturally impossibly high Intelligence. Bluma could do much the same and then transfer over as much or as little as he needed, also.


    He tapped a holo-button, and felt the pulse go out through the Brain Ward, as fully a thousand Mentats in metaconcert sent out the searching pulse through it, at a specific target.


    Goldspire seemed serene and clean on the surface, and then the overwhelming, directed power of the Mentats hit it, and the unremarkable, ''clean'' vibes from it broke and shattered, revealing a massive, seething alien presence beneath, shocked and startled that their cover had been broken.


    He almost regretted knowing the Ranthas. They were just too Throne-damned good and lucky at what they did.


    His fingers stabbed at eight more buttons, danced to nine more.


    In response, precise holes opened in the great Shield Dome of the city, above nine specific areas that housed Huldeiver industries and devoted workforces, especially those with Underspire holdings.


    Nine full barrage orbital lances came down with raging fusion fire at the unprotected Spires, Bloks, and factories. Atomic fire drilled deep, and durasteel and plascrete skipped the melting phase and went right to superheated gas as the ravening fire from orbiting vessels neutralized those targets emphatically.


    That hundreds of thousands, potentially several million, innocents had died in the barrage, he could only steel his heart, curse the cerevores, and know that he would do it again if he had to. Clearing those areas would have taken a great deal of time, and if it came to personal combat, many losses. Nobody wanted to get involved with that many body-riding alien brains with psionic powers, and cancelling their threat was more important then preserving the lives and technology they commanded.


    Thousands of soldiers were moving on other Huldeiver holdings at the same time, he could already see the fighting breaking out, and Bluma was relaying the first contact with cerevores and the mutant creatures and humans they were riding and commanding.


    But they were surprised, and the fight was winnable.


    He turned his eyes and watched as Duke Parablum''s gifts descended on the planet elsewhere.


    ----------


    Timing was key.


    The orbital lances came down, punching open a path roughly fifty feet wide into the Spiked Plains and the waters below, blowing the sea water apart into hydrogen, oxygen, and other elements, forcing them back with the sheer violence, and ramming into the psionic-powered domes of the deep cities with terrible force.


    The domes responded with precognitive speed, barely getting up in time to meet the plunging orbital strikes, their positions fully compromised the instant they did so.


    Before the seawaters could close, missiles plunging down at miles/second slid through the opening they had made, hit that dome, and weren''t stopped by it.


    Massive areas of the sea and sea floor rose towards the sky as suns went off in the deep dark. The cities were atomized, searing radiation cooked anything within a couple miles of the blast, and the salt plains above, already punctured, lifted towards the heavens as the waters became plasma and tried to fly free.


    Around the continent, massive psychic shockwaves of pain, terror, and oblivion flooded through the telepathic networks of the invaders, and sent them reeling in dismay and disbelief at the coordinated strike. The cleverest of the field commanders instantly realized their bases had been located, even as multiple explosions rent the Wards of the undersea entrances to the Deepspire locations they had infiltrated so many of the cities with, and right on the heels of that psychic scream, the waters came rumbling in for them.

 Chapter 412 - Far Future Ch. 122 – This is our Help, eh?

    It was a fairly bad situation.


    They were vastly outnumbered to begin with. Half the Planetary Guard in the city was compromised and pslaved straight off. The Brain Ward was taken offline, the Mentat presence in the city was hit with multiple terrorist attacks, and the Juris were shooting one another and unable to tell friend from foe. The Xenos were murdering millions every day and making more of themselves, and atomic weapons were being deployed to stop the process with ruinous results for everyone and everything, while the screaming people in the undercity were fighting for their lives and losing.


    That being said, the Xenos were definitely not enjoying the detachment of the Janus Prime Guards that had been sent to give them some fighting assistance. How training against Warp incursions suddenly became incredible effectiveness against the millions-strong hordes of Xenos slavering to the surface shocked the hell out of everyone, but the two thousand members of the Janus Prime Guard knew there wasn''t going to be much in the way of help coming, they were only going to get out of this themselves, and were as united in purpose and cause as any human force could possibly be.


    Their officers and sergeants had administered a lethal cleansing operation throughout every single nearby native Guard unit here in Hexival, the fourth largest mega-city on Janus III and one of the most compromised. 1.3 billion humans inhabited the city, although that number had dropped precipitously, and was probably under 300 million and falling by the second. That action had managed to save them most of an artillery battalion and their supplies, one Kasr and its mechs, and an airfield. They had slaughtered thousands of suborned troops and cerevore infiltrators, and when the Xenos came to them in reaction, their defense was brutal and lethal.


    In very little time, they became the core of the human defense, and if the generals didn''t like it, they were either shot by surviving Umbran Agents, or taken aside by the three living Coronal Squires present and told that if they didn''t like it, they could lead the next defense against the Xenos personally right alongside the Coronals.


    They shut up and fought for their lives like everyone else was.


    The days spent in the Warp Zone and outside the city, especially killing the ant swarms, came in very, very handy now. Swarmbane Clasps were monstrously effective against the carpet-wave attacks of the incoming basic Xenos, turning standard laser single-shots into mini-AoE''s. Bane/Phrenics meant the power of a basic laser rifle was doubled straight off, and when backed with the power of a Sun Shot, repeatedly, the level of fire the company could put out was incredible.


    They had been recruiting new units, Marking them, training them up, and now those units were getting a baptism by fire. Beacon Psions were making Baneskulls and Swarmbane Clasps continuously, hundreds more of them hitting the firing line every day, and when they did, their killing power was blossoming.


    Most telling of all, a constant Song was coming through those Marked, getting their blood pumping, letting them know that they weren''t alone, that there were others out there, in their millions, fighting just like them. The buffs from that song let newbs fight like veterans, veterans like elites, and elites like heroes. Combined with Sun Shots, banefire, and Swarmbane, the fighting power of a unit of the Janus Prime soldiers or the units they had been training was easily ten times that what their numbers might indicate.


    Seemingly unlimited wave attacks broke time and time again against a wall of lasfire supported by some of the most precise artillery fire the veterans present had ever seen. Localized Brainwards went up to interfere with nearby hivemind maneuvers, and the flak guns blew hosts of winged Xenos out of the air in clusters, Swarmbane turning the death of one into two, three, or four in efficient clusters, and the powerful ammunition easily ripping through dozens at a time, every death magnified and increased.


    Vivic fire was burning on mountains of corpses, denying the Xenos biomatter to recycle. Active psi-using Pslaves, thralls, mutates, or syms found themselves engaging with screaming Ranthas and Briggs Brothers who had no respect for their psychic might, and the air force was striking at the biomechs and fleshcrawlers coming out of the Spiked Plains before they could enter the city through the opened gates, hitting them repeatedly and constantly as artillery moved into position to help, and what satellite support could be spared helped out as well.


    -------------


    Bastrid Briggs and Tych Rantha were commanding a company in the warzone, Brevet Captains by Coronal fiat, a nice promotion from Sergeants, while Anatolia and her Strategos circle were coordinating city tactics. It was a race against time punctuated by nuclear explosions, with Bloks cracked open like eggs to get at the screaming biomass inside, and hordes of millions swarming up one Spire after another despite all the maddened defenses of those within to deliver the same fate as those below.


    Three days ago, word had come in that help had arrived from out-system. Companies of Imperial Legionnaires had arrived to support their efforts, and would be deploying into the city in support.


    While fully appreciative of any help they could get at this point, and seeing other Imperial Army units were also deploying down where they could, or preparing to wipe cities entirely, there was some trepidation by the instantly skeptical Hag-bloods when the Obsidian Serpents declared they would be deploying into the fight.


    Instant Coronal and Umbral confirmation of the reputation of those units gave the Janus Prime commanders of this theater remarkably little confidence. When the Obsidian Serpents merely asked for a link to the tactical database and went off to do their own thing without pre-planning or coordination, the bad feeling rose higher.


    ------


    Bastrid and Tych were trapped in a cul-de-sac of the Hexivalla troops they''d recruited, driven back and back and back by waves of Xenos assaults into this sprawl of shattered walls and cratered ground. Bastrid''s shoulder cannon, wrist pulsars, and horn were basically firing the instant they were off cool-down, which for the shoulder-las meant constantly. His fusion reactor had been refilled twice over the course of this fight, and the constant firestream meant he had been inheriting all the long-range firepower that they enemy could muster among their troops... which wasn''t a lot, and the snipers were quickly taking them out as he waded through the barrages time and again, roaring defiance at them and praising his damn Healing Matrix that was keeping him alive despite it all.


    The plaza in front of them was filling up with Xenos swarming around syms, the pig-sized pure Xenos outnumbering the bigger syms born from implanted eggs by dozens to one, and still the syms formed a huge number of far more dangerous attackers coming their way.


    The aliens could only meet the devastating firepower they were running into with more numbers and layered fire of their own, although their organic projectiles did not have the range of the energy weapons of the humans opposing them. Their most well-armed pslaves were fighting in other zones, the ones near here had all been slaughtered by Janus Guards.


    The syms were coming in straight at them, not bothering to infiltrate the buildings and get in around and behind them, which was a blessing at this point. If they stopped moving and tried to hold a position, getting assaulted from all sides was definitely on the menu, and they didn''t feel like that was happening.


    -Bastrid, the Obsidian Serpents marker is near your position. They seem to be in a flanking position... have they engaged yet?- came Anatolia''s cool /voice.


    He looked in the direction indicated. The Legionnaires had to be in the wreckage of that fallen factory over there, bombed out and not much of interest to be found there. If they attacked it would be a classic enfilade, but the numbers of Xenos meant they''d weather it and storm the Serpents'' position regardless, simply opening a new front and venting more bodies on it.


    -Negative, they are laying low.- He expected nothing from them, given their reputation. They treated normal human fighting units with callous disregard, by all reports, and were one of the most ruthlessly efficient and pragmatic Legions. Their loyalty was unquestionable, and they worked decently with other Legionnaires... but normal humans were just cannon fodder in their eyes.


    It was proving true now. They weren''t going to risk themselves for some native Planetary Guard troops, and were simply looking on as Bastrid kept rolling his men back in waves, each new line covering the one before, and streams of hard, hot light burning with Banefire scything through, punctuated by vivic fires erupting everywhere as Tych''s autolas, limned in white and transparent flames, both killed and ignited corpse-eating flames everywhere as she sprayed down the enemy in twentieth of a second flashes of light.


    The power cell for her autobow would have been depleted long ago, but she was running it through the Shock Gauntlet Tats on her hands, feeding it an unlimited stream of soul-powered Vajra amperage that was keeping it firing just as steadily as his own cannon.


    Two Briggs sergeants, Hym and Zenthikos, were helping the defense from near the front, holding heavy auto-lasers like toys as they sprayed them across the incoming hordes, their hands also crackling with power and feeding the weapons juice, while frost fell from the barrels and made sure the things didn''t overheat. In the face of that level of constant firepower, any conventional force would have been slowing down and seeking cover, especially when the two kept weathering whatever was thrown at them, but the Xenos never even slowed down.


    There were two other Ranthas present: Glizza, who was focusing on picking off the syms in front of her with Sword Shards and the autolas on her autobow, and Tremma, who was in full autobow mode and picking off Syms constantly from further back, while the healers fixed up damage done to the men and transferred it to her to heal away. Out of range of most of the incoming fire, and constantly gliding back, she was the one most suited for taking on injuries, and so her team of healers was the busiest fixing the lads up and getting them back into the fight.


    It was the constant empathic healing that had kept them in the fight, or wounded men would have died over and over again, instead of withdrawing to be healed physically, getting some Soak back as a buffer by fighting in the rear, and covering their fellows as the process repeated.


    And they were tough. The amount of punishment the men they had trained could take would have shocked anyone below Seven. Layered Psychic and Soul Fortified Bodies had made them able to take hits that would have killed normal men, grit their way through them, and get Healed by the roving medics who were making sure that Tremma''s healing Matrix was constantly at work. If there was a particularly urgent need, the other officers could be brought online, too, and the amount of healing spike incredibly in a short period of time.


    -Anatolia, we''re going to hit a dead end. There''s a colosseum at the end of this plaza we''ll have to make a stand at. Is there any support incoming?-


    -No artillery has the arc to reach you, and the psychic static won''t allow any missiles,- she /told him grimly. -The assault is too broad, and there''s no infantry or mechanized that can reach you in short order.-


    -Mmm.- His firing didn''t stop as he considered his options and kept /sending out orders to the troops. Morale was high, even with the constant retreating, as the deaths had been few and the result of monstrous bad luck or people who didn''t get off the line fast enough, and they had killed hundreds, even thousands, of the enemy each. It hadn''t stopped the Xenos, but it was still damn impressive.


    He took a firing line and popped three syms with one wrist-pulsar, as well as a mess of the little ones in between, a bright line of hot plasma with banefire and swarmbane accents popping a swathe a good fifteen feet wide through the mass.


    -Acknowledged. Can you tell me how far this mass extends?- He received an immediate mental relay of the ground he had traversed over completely covered by carapaced bodies for almost two miles, taken by a drone spotter high in the sky.


    Two million of them, he reckoned. He and the others would have to kill another thousand apiece...

 Chapter 413 - Far Future Ch. 123 – And These are our Friends?

    There was nothing to do but kill them and fall back, kill them and fall back. The wide-open plaza, free of obstructions, was ideal for this, as literally every shot would hit something if it went far enough. What was important was the coordination of Sun Shots, the power of volley fire, and not wasting ammunition on inefficient replication of targets.


    Dead Xenos, burned, and the rest came on madly as his company fell back, again and again and again. Xenosyms popped continuously from Sun Strikes, exploding in geysers of plascrete-eating acid, and autofire laser cannons whirred continuously and reaped swathes of the enemy.


    Yeah, they could do this. They just had to limit the approach vectors and stop the surround. That coliseum was going to have to do. Rote Xenos weren''t climbers, although the syms were... but the syms were still more limited in numbers.


    The Xenos swept right by where the Legionnaires were hiding. Bastrid frowned, wondering what they intended, not trusting them at all, as his men pulled back with an efficiency the most experienced of armies would beg for under pressure, and were moving through the doors of the arena, blasting open any closed gates in the way, and surging through the ramps into the central area as the horde of Xenos invaders closed in on them.


    Naturally the horde wasn''t going to be limited by the ramps and gates, the syms immediately beginning to climb the plascrete walls, phrenic-charged claws biting into stone easily enough as they swarmed for multiple approach vectors... but the key point was that the bigger, stronger, and much less numerous syms were the only ones that could climb. However, the converging wave of lesser xenos were sweeping around and through all the gates, aiming to envelope however they could.


    Those gates naturally became the focus of concentrated fire, and were soon heaped high with burning, acidifying dead, while the syms coming over the top of the walls were also being picked off by snipers calmly and carefully, with a side effect of spraying acid all over their lesser brethren, the higher seating levels, and the seats themselves, wreaking more harm on that which passing bombs and artillery fire had failed to already level.


    Their retreat point was on the far end of the field, opened up and with no higher stands above it, giving a fine view of the blasted ruin of Hendrikspire beyond, still burning with multicolored fires from the nuclear strike that had devastated the miles around it. It had been a famous artistic Spire before the city fell, the murals on its sides and the flowing aesthetics of its construction considered the most beautiful Spire on the planet.


    Ah, well. When all the lovely people living there became meat hosts for cerevores or being turned into xenosyms, no reason to keep it around.


    Hym Briggs went up on the wall there, fully capable of sweeping the backside smoothly and constantly, his own shoulder-las now being slapped into position so that he could fire in two directions. The extra generator in his Masspack was coming online to supplement his Shock Gauntlets and suit feed.


    All the main ramps were now under continuous volleys of dedicated fire, and in close quarters the rivers of laser fire brimming with Swarmbane were devastatingly powerful. Each shot was an explosion of acidic guts and gore that began to eat away the very ramps and make them harder to get through.


    Zenthilos and Bastrid had blasted away the seats on the neighboring sections, giving them open fields of fire to the swarms now flowing slowly between and along the chairs, and exploding Xenos naturally cleared out more of them. Soon, most of the seating had been dissolved away, and the plascrete flooring was getting a little shaky from the amounts of acid bathing it.


    The higher levels naturally didn''t have nearly the discouragement as the lower ones, and rapidly reached an overlooking position to their final stand positions.


    Glizza and Tych started dealing with those problems at the rate of twenty per second, focusing on the areas above the supports. Phrenic acid burned through the plascrete, and hit the durasteel supports. Normal acid had little hope of damaging durasteel, but this psionically charged stuff in enough quantity could do the job... and quantity there was plenty of.


    Under the bathing of Xenos acids, one support, then another slowly gave away, and the decks went crashing down in succession, pushing the oversight positions back repeatedly as the coliseum decided it didn''t like them, and mashed a whole bunch of xenos flat as it came down.


    Hym was sweeping the backside of the arena, while the nearest ramps to their position were abruptly covered by the crushing mass of fallen decks, cutting them out from being immediately flanked.


    Different teams were layering streams of fire through all the approaches, guarding the flanks, and annihilating those streaming across the middle of the field. Still the numbers coming towards them were increasing, as even Swarmbane wouldn''t catch every one of the little things... but it would catch a lot of them, and they were being killed at unprecedented speed while coming up out of those ramps so close together.


    Zenthilos was standing down there on the arena floor and almost holding the whole expanse of it himself, playing his autolas back and forth across it, frost falling from the rotating, pulsing gun incessantly, and his own shoulder-las up to deal with threats from the flanks the shooters didn''t quite catch.


    Focus, raise Nimbus, acquire, shoot, and discharge Sun Shot. Focus, raise Nimbus, acquire, shoot, and discharge Sun Shot. The Ranthas had the heights, sweeping the Xenos who got close to the edges of the higher decks, building up more acid falls and crumbling those decks repeatedly. If they retreated from the decks, the girls just joined the defense against those numbers trying to come in from the sides, lasers from their Autobows pulsing twenty times a second, and the constant discharges of force bolts administering somewhat stronger hits to any syms that got into that range.


    The constant flaring of Nimbuses and Sun Shots in such tight coordinated fashion was like a wall on its own, flaring against the hivemind of the Xenos, pushing at it with defiance and hostility like nothing they had ever experienced, like experiencing multiple flashbombs to the face, popping and delivering death every time they did.


    Still they came, the flood pouring into the arena, a place for sport and bloodsport now patiently hosting genocidal war, and more and more fire had to be diverted from the entry points to the flanking zones around the defenders, especially when the xenos got tired of standing around uselessly on the upper decks and came flowing down to join the fun on the stairs.


    The layered stands definitely helped them keep firing lines for everybody clear, and the Xenos were basically advancing into a killing shitstorm. Bastrid was coordinating with everyone as lines tightened up, and finally he had to tell the Shield users to light them up as the Xenos began to reach people.


    With a hum, the mindshields rose up, and instead of pumping Sun Shots, psychic discharges flared on the surface of glowing mindshields and blew leaping, charging, dart-shooting xenos into sprays of flesh-eating gore atop their fellows. Above and behind them, the las-fire continued to shoot, and plunging mindclaws ripped and tore as the soldiers swore. But even if they only had a basic Vajra, it had been a #1 imperative to get Acid Resistance, and these displays weren''t harming them.


    Outside, the end of the xenos horde, fully surrounding and covering the arena as they pressed down onto the constantly rippling sphere of light, swept past the Obsidian Serpents position. Only then did the Legionnaires roll out after them, and as the xenos poured into the arena, the Serpents rapidly fanned out to close in from all sides, and then opened up with heavy gyros and pulse rifles.


    The Xenos were definitely surprised by the assault from the rear, especially the cerevores who were guiding the effort and making every effort not to follow those in front getting sniped off by Tremma with distressing frequency. Bastrid noted to his men that the Legionnaires were coming, but taking their own damn sweet time, their methods and tactics showing they were far more concerned about surrounding the Xenos and killing them all, instead of getting in and relieving the defenders.


    The pulses of light were surging out in waves, Xenos exploding in clusters and batches, still coming in mindlessly. The syms coming up the walls behind had given up after turning the floor of the plaza outside into a steaming mass of chewed-up ground, and Hym was giving major cover fire from on high.


    It was all a numbers game, and one the Xenos were actually losing.


    Some Syms were making it up to and over the Shields, finding that Phrenic Bane mindclaws to the face weren''t comfortable, and the humans weren''t coming apart under their claws the way they should be. Indeed, they were even willing to rush up to and grapple them face to face... and those mindclaws hurt, hurt bad...


    Happily, their misery didn''t last any longer than it took someone else to shoot the sym in the head, and the one locked in melee with it to be quickly seen to by a healer, if possible, even as they grabbed their weapon back up and got into position.


    Everyone was shooting, and syms were still exploding...


    The Xenos seemed to be panicking as heaping swathes of them were burning vivic, trying to overwhelm the defense with numbers, building up walls to leap over the shields, and knots of personal combat were cutting the outgoing fire even as the first explosions and shots from behind were coming through the tunnels. It was slow, steady, thorough, and definitely not giving a damn how long it took to reach and relieve them. Indeed, they probably expected nobody to be left alive in here.


    Bastrid was going to disappoint them.


    ----------


    The Legionnaires coming in didn''t pick up the pace at all, even when their numbers showed up and saw the writhing knot of combat taking place. They focused on removing any threat to themselves, Marine after armored Marine marching out and into place, a few jetting up to overwatch positions on higher decks and making sure none of the Xenos were up top, and rapidly extended their surround and butchering of the remainder of the horde.


    Bastrid could hear them talking on their encrypted channel, but there was no attempt to communicate with them, and some of their shooting got dangerously close to Bastrid''s company.


    He didn''t initiate communication, either. He was, however, in communication with Anatolia and her staff, who were watching this entire process very narrowly.


    The final, roiling minutes of the slaughter involved too much hand to hand with too many syms and panicking cerevores. Most of the company was reduced to mindclaws and hacking in close combat with unnaturally armored, fast, and lethal aliens, and just had to suck up the injuries and kill them however they could. The Ranthas were tearing through the xenos in explosions of violence, and nothing was getting close to any of the Briggs Brothers, but they couldn''t be everywhere.


    Bastrid watched Markdoors wink out one by one, and the Ranthas slowly harvest those who died as their Curses pulsed.


    He lifted his Hammer Taptap up from the pulverized remains of a cerevore that had come leaping out of a Sym Queen, whose head and arms had gone in all different directions under his girl Tych''s and her soulsword Stroke''s gentle ministrations.


    The xenos were dead.


    -Move!- he /ordered, fairly driving the exhausted troops into motion. -SAVE EVERYONE!-


    Twenty-plus percent of this Hexivalla Company he had trained had died. Without the Legionnaires, that would have risen to over fifty percent without a doubt. With them, it could have been less than ten... but the Marines would have had to come of out hiding sooner, and coordinate attacks in relief of them, instead of building such a tight net and playing it so safe for themselves.


    -Make no comment, make no sign, make no acknowledgement, - he /stated coolly. -They held off because they saw you all were using psionics, is my guess, and you''re just Planetary Guard... you''re both inferior, and you''re using the powers that beat them millennia ago. Focus on saving everyone, and then healing them! We can take it!-


    He was matching word to action, diving after every soldier who was down but not dead, his psicrystal Heart in his fingers. Around him, designated healers were clutching their own psicrystals, and wounds were getting transferred to stop bleeding out and trauma fast, fast, fast, saving the living first, and then worrying about healing them to full later.


    The surrounding Legionnaires had barely suffered any personal combat at all, and simply looked at the Guardsmen frantically digging out their own and trying to keep them alive silently. There was no call out, no plea for aid from the mere humans... and no offers from the brooding armored behemoths looking over them, although Bastrid could certainly tell they were talking and discussing their next course of action.


    -Anatolia,- he /stated in no uncertain terms. -Arrange for most of these bastards to die in the Emperor''s Name, will you?-


    -It would be my pleasure,- their strategist supreme /murmured back coldly, and he knew the Serpents'' fate was sealed.

 Chapter 414 - Far Future Ch. 124 – How Did You Enjoy Your Tactical Doctrine?

    A series of disparate tactical decisions were made over the course of the next few days.


    Here, a certain segment of the Xenos was shelled and diverted from their course. There, a thrust of the armored cavalry eliminated some of the Xenos fleshtanks, and psi-active gasses coated the streets in twitching carcasses of Xenos. An advance, enfilade, and carpet-bombing of a major horde sent Xenos spilling off in another direction. Lines of fighting fluxed and moved, an atomic bomb came down atop a fallen blok and reduced all the people within being devoured and converted to biomatter down to ash and blast shadows, and incidentally cleared out the neighborhood of anything living, too.


    Lines of enemies shifted and pulsed with new reinforcements and advances, whole sections of the Underspires were slagged to deny them any passage beneath, firestorms sweeping death along passageways charged with alien invaders and hapless pslaves.


    The Obsidian Serpents did a fine job of killing, sweeping in time after time to flank invading hordes as they expended themselves on entrenched defensive lines, taking a bloody and efficient toll with very few losses themselves, coldly ignoring the complaints of the defenders as they returned to their tasks and the killing.


    But their sneaky ambushes and sweeping slaughters were all done now.


    Squeezed out by the pressure of the horde and seeing an opening, a massive unit of Xenos had surged through a section of abandoned factories, seeking an opening in the defenses of the remaining humans, and stumbled right into the Obsidian Serpents. What had been a ready force poised to spring another ambush when the Planetary Guard advanced and drew the attention of the horde turned into the primary protagonist and target of millions of hungry Xenos their hivemind naturally recognized, and suddenly the sneak attackers had the full attention of a lot of eager Xenos.


    Their doctrine didn''t focus on withdrawals and fighting retreats, but they were powerful, intelligent soldiers, massively trained, and they worked together with the ease of long experience. Pulse carbines too heavy for a normal human to lift were their primary weapons, as they had to conserve the more effective heavy gyrolaunchers and their explosive payloads, but now it was retreat, retreat, retreat from the oncoming horde.


    The tactical feed was also none too promising. Their paths of retreat to safe lines were cut off time and time again by surges of Xenos reinforcements moving in to block their path, or PG positions in other areas were surging and harrying, pressing the xenos back into paths that interfered with them withdrawing to safer lines. Relief forces were nowhere available, and even their dedicated gunboat that dropped ammunition and supplies to them was blown out of the air by aerosyms carrying plasmic postules, blown apart under the point-defense turrets and covering the gunboat in hyperacidic naptha, melting right through the hull and engines and sending it into a final tailspin into a food processing factory long cleaned out and torn apart by the Xenos.


    The Obsidian Serpents were pressed back further, and further, and further. Here and there, syms managed to reach individual warriors and swarm them in a mass of black carapaces, phrenic claws capable of rending their armor and getting at the flesh within.


    Through bombed-out factories, warehouses, and storefronts, through cratered streets festooned with blasted vehicles and hovercars long fallen from the skies, scrambling over the remains of collapsed pedways and highways, the Obsidian Serpents retreated, and undeterred by the dead being recycled by the cleaners among them, the Xenos pressed eagerly after them.


    They were driven down a long avenue, heaping up the aliens time and again, and found themselves at a racetrack for deathbike games, a long oval of cement and seats with little recourse around them.


    They retreated into the track, a single resupply ship managing to get through before flocks of suicide fliers converged and blew it out of the air, and their last-ditch defense against millions of swarming Xenos began.


    -------


    Bastrid noted that the Serpents left a mess behind them, as a shattered carapace crunched under his armored boot.


    The last of the Xenos were being picked off impartially and precisely as his company of fifteen hundred or so drew the circle in tight and picked them off. The girls had set everything alight with vivus, and heavy unwhite fog was misting almost knee-high as shattered Xenos burned quickly and heavily, remnants of phrenic power meaning eager fuel to the fires of reality.


    "Hold fire," he grunted out, and the firing stopped like a knife.


    The last few Xenos were struggling with surviving Obsidian Serpents, and the call was a reasonable one, so they didn''t shoot their allies. Desperate Serpents were hacking with knives, steaming with acidic gore that was corroding away their stealthslake and unit markings, and mucking up and destroying their armor''s coating. Most of them had rent armor from the foreclaws or whipping tails of xenosyms, and any acid that got inside those locations had probably reduced the limbs and flesh within to goo. A good chunk of the surviving Legionnaires were probably swinging around power armor with nothing intact inside it.


    There were a couple shots from the girls, tracking motion and shooting things trying to scamper away. Tych swung down with Stroke, and lifted up a kicking cerevore, like a pig stuck on a pike.


    Twenty different Sun Shots blew it into ash and vivic spray in the next second.


    "Control, this horde is dead," he reported calmly, as the last of the xenos was ripped apart by a big Legionnaire, flung aside as steaming remains of phrenic fun. "What''s our next objective?"


    Anatolia sent him marching orders, and he chopped and gestured. A few good-natured jibes rang out as guns were checked, fresh power clips put in, and the men lined up to exchange clips with the troopers wearing Mass Packs with fusion rechargers... which naturally included the Ranthas and Briggs Brothers.


    "You! Captain!"


    The booming voice of the Legionnaire officer almost had physical impact... but Bastrid couldn''t have cared less, as he had Thunder resistance, and the loudest of noises was no more impressive to him then a whisper. He turned around as the Legionnaire in the wrecked remains of his officer''s armor came striding over to him. Judging by the rent in his right thigh, he didn''t have anything left from just above his right knee to his foot anymore.


    He turned around coldly and looked down at the man.


    That was impressive enough, because the Legionnaire was over seven feet tall himself, and easily eight feet in his power armor. Bastrid was eight feet tall himself, and in his power armor stood a head taller than the Legionnaire Captain... Kvimos, was it?


    "What do you want, Captain?" he asked coolly, while the whole company stopped on a dime and turned to watch. The rifles they hadn''t quite put away suddenly lit up with a display of golds, greens, blues, and scattered silvers.


    With little stars and suns circling about them...


    The Legionnaire Captain saw that, and there was a faint shift in his posture. He was fully aware of how dangerous Sun Shots were. Mentats, Coronals, and Umbrals using them had butchered the rebelling forces of the Progenitors, despite their power armor. Hundreds of Planetary Guard using them... if something erupted, he and his surviving Marines would be slaughtered in seconds.


    He looked over the men and women staring back at him coolly, unimpressed, unafraid, and certainly not reverent.


    He knew they were the same people who had fought back against the horde in the Coliseum a few days before, and instead of being grateful for their assistance, were obviously disdainful and arrogant. The fact they were competent he did not doubt, as he had seen them at work then and now.


    In fact, were he honest with himself, he found the idea of facing them in combat rather daunting. Only with an ambush did he have any confidence in beating them in a fight.


    "Your timing could have been better, Captain," the Legionnaire officer hissed, despite himself, fighting down his anger.


    "My timing was hurried," Bastrid admitted casually. "I would have liked to have set up tighter lines, but we were in a rush."


    The helmed Marine''s lips were drawn tight. Hurried? HURRIED? Over half of his company was dead, everyone was wounded, and they were still in enemy territory!


    "Now, unless you have business, with this arm of the Xenos destroyed, we''ve been redeployed," Bastrid went on calmly. "I think there''ll be Xenos reinforcements coming through in half an hour, so you might want to move out before then."


    The Serpent captain looked at his tactical feed, and could see the colors moving in from the north. He swore to himself... his company was in tatters, his battle brothers were lying in pieces all over the place, and they certainly didn''t have enough healing crystals to treat everyone, while their gyro ammo was completely spent.


    "My company is incapable of reasonably undertaking another engagement of size. I would like to request extraction."


    Bastrid just blinked once. "There''s none available. You''re bloody lucky we were even close enough to do anything, and Tactical noticed the odd convergence of the horde here, and decided to wipe it. HQ is hardly going to set aside everything to evacuate a bunch of people who aren''t even part of the strategic plan. You want out, you get up and find a way out, Captain, just like us."


    Kvimos could only glare at him futilely. If nobody could come, nobody could come. "Do you have a path of withdrawal, Captain?" he managed to say coldly.


    "No, Tactical sets up the withdrawal routes. We go where Tactical sends us," Bastrid replied easily. "Do you have anything else, Captain? We have a war to fight," he said, obviously eager to get out of there.


    "Permission to shadow your force on the withdrawal, Captain," the Legionnaire asked icily, clearly planning to do it whether he agreed or not.


    Bastrid just sighed. "Control, this is Captain Bastrid. The Null Marker, those Obsidian Serpent Legionnaires, are requesting they be allowed to shadow my company on the withdrawal. Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Uh-huh." He looked back at Captain Kvimos. "Tactical suggests that is unwise. They are moving in some artillery assets to cover us as we find a way out of here, and you might be shelled as the Xenos get closer. They suggest using your stealth protocols and finding another path that friendly fire won''t threaten."


    Kvimos gnashed his teeth. Their tactical command was effectively saying that since the Serpents didn''t coordinate with them, they weren''t going to coordinate with the Serpents, either. "I am willing to submit to the command of your Headquarters for the duration of this withdrawal, Captain Bastrid!" he offered.


    "I am not relegating command of my men to you, Captain Kvimos," Bastrid stated coolly, "and I''m not going to be happy with an unreliable force on my flank." Kvimos bristled at the statement. "If you are willing to cede overall command to me as we get out of this, that''s fine. If not, find your own path out, Captain." His voice was grim and final.


    Kvimos stewed. A mere Planetary Guard, commanding Imperial Legionnaires? The whole idea was preposterous on the face of it. These Guardsmen should be begging to be commanded by and work with Imperial Legionnaires, the most elite troops of the Empire!


    He noticed that whole sections of the group were turning and hurrying off at a trot, and realized that the hostile colors in his landmap were growing closer.


    There was no time, and the Guardsmen who could keep his men alive were already leaving.


    "I agree, Captain Bastrid," he finally conceded, although the words bristled on his tongue.

 Chapter 415 - Far Future Ch. 125 – The Mighty Take Ship

    -Individually they are impressive, but their tactical doctrine sucks, and without psi-power, their big hits are not very impressive,- /sniffed Bastrid, reporting on the Obsidian Serpents'' to Anatolia''s Strategic Circle and me. -They initially weren''t very happy to be split up among my squads and relegating to picking off the wounded xenos... but given how many wounded xenos there were, and how fast the kill numbers started rocketing, they couldn''t make any kind of a logical argument, even if meant they didn''t get to shoot the glorious big enemies. And,- he /added thoughtfully, -it conserved a lot of their ammo, so they didn''t need as much resupply.-


    -Well, they are sulking in their ship right now, so their performance is not your issue any longer. Hopefully the demonstration of teamwork with allies and effectiveness will open up some avenues of thought... but given their obdurate personalities that their hypno-training tends to hardcode into them, they will probably selectively forget this incident and go back to their normal tactics rapidly.- I did not hold out much hope for them, and word of them had spread rapidly throughout all the forces fighting on Janus Prime.


    If the sneaky bastards wanted to pull their shit again, they were going to be ''strongly advised'' to pick some battlefield all to themselves, or they might be running into a friendly artillery barrage. Either that, or get on the tactical roll and start obeying orders like good little warrior drones meant to die for the good of the empire.


    On the other hand, the Thunder Bulls'' reputation was soaring. Although they hadn''t had a lot of time to rebuild their numbers, the Emperor''s genetics and that +4 to all Stats was truly impressive when compared with equipment of that level... and active development of psionics. They were being employed as augmentation squads, deep strikers, heavy weapon crews of incredible mobility, and even area commanders where needed, and racking up quite the merits as they did so.


    Them all having their own Markspace to work with also meant that battlefield communication was definitely not an issue, and being able to tap into the resources of the rest of the Markspace definitely didn''t hurt.


    Including the Elevator Music to Heaven. They had a rather glory-hungry, semi-fanatical mindset to begin with, and with Chalice''s tunes pounding through them with a few tens of thousands of others singing along, they wouldn''t mind dying fighting in the slightest... because they WOULD be remembered, and all those thousands and thousands of other warriors were there with them, watching and fighting as they did...


    So, I had me a new pet not-a-Legion of Imperial Legionnaires.


    The legal eagles had been over a lot of old documents concerning them. The consensus was that as long as they didn''t gather in full strength and exhibit numbers that qualified them as a Battalion, they were not bound by the laws strictly governing and restricting the Imperial Legions.


    Therefore, what would be happening is that we would be making multiple Companies of Thunder Bulls, but each of them would be based on their own vessel, and the intention was to stage them in different areas, especially in zones heavy with Warp influence.


    They would never be a Legion, only Companies of Thunder Bulls, possibly the most dangerous of all Imperial Legionnaires... with the possible exception of some hush-hush elite companies based in the home system of ancient Tellus.


    Captain Dornal was a fountain of information about the relatively closed world of the Imperial Legions, including views on other Legions, their doctrines, and different subdivisions within the many different battalions of the Legions proper. While the Coronals and Umbrans had a lot of similar information, the viewpoint of the Legions themselves as regards their brethren was a unique addition.


    The Serpents, for example, had multiple different tactical doctrines by Battalion, but they were all marked by callous disregard for civilians, a preference for ambush tactics, and a general attitude of not working well with others. The Fire Serpents, often called the Salamanders, were known for casually putting cities to the torch to burn out any hint of rebellion or corruption within, cleansing it to the ground to be built back up again properly, for instance. The Poison Serpents were experts in the use of nerve toxins both gaseous and weapon-bound, and all too willing to deploy them even if allied and exposed troops were caught in the area of effect.


    For all that, they were Imperial Legions, and generally successful at their tasks. If you wanted a rebelling world pacified, the Serpents were among the best at doing it, with fear, subterfuge, and mass slaughter all used without qualms to get the desired results. Naturally, in this shitass universe, they had some diehard supporters from on high who agreed completely with their methods.


    The Bull Legion, on the other hand, was known for more straight-up tactics, shields, heavy armor, brute force, and both artillery and armored support vehicles. Having to rebuild their vehicular and support squads by company to complement this doctrine was one of the key items in their rebirth, and their open tactics lent themselves more to use with the Coronals than the Umbrans. However, as was tacitly pointed out, they did wonderful jobs as diversions for subtler work, as they were Throne-blessed professionals at being the bull in the china shop.


    Sneaky folks love them some big, clumsy diversions.


    These big, clumsy bulls now happened to be psions. The implications were impressive.


    Sure, they wanted the power and armor-punching of the Sun Shots, and certainly weren''t going to be denied in that area. However, there were many, many other things psions could learn to do, which had nothing to do with being the big clumsy bulls, and would probably shock the heck out of those who knew what the Bull Legionnaires were famous for. Some very unexpected surprises were good things.


    The constant combat had definitely helped the new and old Thunder Bulls develop rapidly, and the high-performing gear was only better. There was a whole new world of development open to the Thunder Bulls, and the Coronals and Mentats were the best teachers they could have in this area.


    They were eager students, indeed.


    ------------


    Aura was busybusybusy these days.


    Oh, the money flowing through her fingers. She laughed to think of it, and the dreams of the poor girl whose soul she had finally being satisfied. Mom Sama herself didn''t directly handle so much money, being more centered on the things that were generating such a monstrous amount of funds.


    Aura''s crack team of suborned and very, very devoted lawyers, accountants, financiers, and marketers, all done up as fashion models, dancers, seductresses, and fashionistas, were cutting a swathe through a high society incredibly distracted by the war for survival of the planet outside, gossiping, whispering, passing rumors and making them, plumbing depths of conversation and teasing out golden nuggets... and then turning them into cold, hard money in the board rooms of some very wealthy individuals.


    Rantha Corps had inherited the assets of Huldeiver at some very favorable rates from the Emperor''s Hands, much to the dismay of the predatory noble clans and merchant houses of Crownspire chomping to snatch such assets up.


    Of course, Huldeiver was involved in many things, and many of his businesses simply wouldn''t be able to survive without the treasonous activities he was involved in. Those were sold off rapidly, or swapped for other strategic assets of ''lesser'' importance that were useful to Rantha Corp''s expansion. That some of the buyers were silent partners in Huldeiver''s activities was naturally not unknown to curious Ranthas and their teams cracking open the operating activities of the businesses involved, and the Umbrans and the Juris were watching all this with a great and poisonous amount of interest.


    Said buyers were probably going to be lethally unhappy with their purchases, subsequent deaths, and the asset foreclosures in the near future.


    Most importantly, she had been buying up land. Lots and lots of land.


    Needless to say, bombed-out warzones were going for slivers on the credit, and firesales of factories whose workforces had been slaughtered and Xenos had rampaged through were being disposed of like acid about to drop on balance sheets. Aura laughed and laughed as she arranged deal after deal, because the Rebuilding and Restoration funds were already pre-approved for anything the Ranthas were putting their hands on, and there were more G&G people every day looking to be put to work.


    The purchasing of massive amounts of land outside the city flew under the radar by dint of simply replacing the paid stooges of those interested in tracking land movements and purchases in the city, a simple task given how many spots were suddenly available for promotion in so many areas. That the people didn''t really want to go wandering off to process paperwork near warzones was naturally not a consideration for truly loyal servants of the empire, and in remarkably little time an entire section of the planetary government was occupied by remarkably talented nobodies who weren''t on the bribery rolls... but got onto said rolls with great enthusiasm to report absolutely nothing of interest was going on.


    Aura disembarked her hovercar with all the flair of a famous actress leaving her ride, and given the Hov-Royce valued at a small starcraft that she got out of, it was only appropriate. St. John Briggs, her crude, rather squat, definitely ugly, and highly protective Briggs Brother, had merely to scowl to send robots, cyborgs, and dock workers scampering out of the way with equal quickness. Her small team of a secretary, lawyer, accountant, and publicist walked with her as they came up to the dock of their newest acquisition, title transferred over not an hour ago.


    "What do you think, St. John?" Aura asked, stopping to survey the length of the personal yacht of the deceased Mr. Huldeiver.


    St. John Briggs had a pair of heart-melting blue eyes that were at complete odds with his abundance of stiff body hair and rather ape-like build. He was even more squat and simian than the average Briggs Brother, which, instead of detracting from his appearance, somehow made him even more magnetic and ominous.


    He also loved to personally chauffeur her. The other Ranthas were all very jealous of Aura. St. John Briggs ignited ALL their Fuzzy Buttons.


    He rumbled deep in his throat, like breaking rocks, and made her heart skip in delight. "It''s gaudy. It''s ostentatious. It screams waste of money. It''s not Imperial Standard design. It flaunts so many laws and regulations. It''s probably got to be purged from prow to stern to remove alien psychic elements, and gutted from inside out to remove xenotech elements snuck into it, and applying proper Ranthatech is going to be a total pain." His hairy knuckles cracked thoughtfully. "Damn, you glorious Hags and helpers, it''s freaking perfect for you. I get to be the monkey spoiling it all, and you''ll get to look down with that total arrogant new blood vibe on all that old money."


    The Rantha Hag and her helpers all smiled widely, eyes gleaming as they swept over the non-Imperial Standard design and polished auric-gold hull of the Golden Touch. "It is such a tasteless fashion travesty," Aura agreed, her heartmelt blue eyes, the exact same shade as St. John''s, sparkling. "We shall be able to work wonders with it, dears, wonders!"


    She pointed ahead flamboyantly, and in the Markspace dozens of eager eyes got ready. "Let''s go spend some money on utterly useless frivolities, shall we? I want to be throwing parties on this hedonistic tribute to excessive wealth next week!"


    There was a chorus of /cheers as the group strode up the docking ramp, getting ready to do what needed to be done, and with much better style than the last owner of this vanity ride. Conspicuous consumption would never look so good by the time they were done.


    They''d have to rip out at least some of the weapons, as none of them were dumb enough to want to ride in this thing without escorts. Higher defense and wining and dining flutterheads and old sharks with money and power would be fine.


    And, they were going to have to find a crew, who would have to be good looking, charming, graceful, sexually enticing, and far, far sharper than those aboard this golden eyesore would believe. Happily, there were a large number of ambitious young men and women totally willing to play the femme fatale or the dashing debonair and take these rich sots for everything, and have a clear conscience doing it, too!

 Chapter 416 - Far Future Ch. 126 – Oh, Did I Trip Something?

    An alarm went off in Mechveister Kiang Fo''s sidebrain. It was an annoying distraction, given that he was overseeing the dissection of one of the fleshtanks scavenged from the xenos attacks. The para-psychic means by which they channeled their plasma cannons was not beyond the science of the Imperium, and the cranial bore they had retrieved was being hurriedly set up and tested to see if there were any greater efficiencies they could discover out of the thing. Surely discerning some proper efficiencies or finer attunements for the Guild''s own cannon designs would generate some positive merits, and he had not lost his ambition for attaining Archveister.


    Alas, he was spending time on this planetary backwater, a mere mining world whose only positive edge was enough technology to engage in repairs of Fleet ships. Also, it did have a fine supply of Energized materials suitable for use on his laborious experiments on energy manipulation and condensation fields. He had already spent hundreds of thousands of man-hours on the subject, and was certain his skill in this field was among the highest in the entire Guild Mechanicus. It would certainly be his ticket into Archveister...


    The beeping alarm didn''t silence itself. He glared at it, and spared a moment of his attention from the mounting wave-form algorithms and field interactions to see what it was about.


    The Celestial Tribute name search alarm has gone off.


    So great was his focus and distaste for the interruption from his beloved experiments that it took several seconds for the vastly irritated Mechveister to remember what this portended.


    Suddenly the experiments concerning what millionth of a Baud adjustment in cycling power modulations was suitable for Pyruranium-generated plasma were shunted off to the side.


    Someone had gone searching for information on a ship named the Celestial Tribute, and in some very old databases.


    The Mechanist Guild had naturally infiltrated all those databases long ago, and what information was in them had often been placed by the Guild itself, to mislead those doing the search. After all, outsiders finding out the truth of the ship was simply not permissible.


    Perhaps it is merely an error, he thought, pulling up closer records on the search.


    A survey team! Mechanical organs fibrillated, and scattered remnants of long-discarded emotions scattered his thoughts unreasonably.


    He easily broke the government coding schema, as the Mechanists had supplied them, and quickly read the situation report and all relevant data.


    Not a survey group, but a scout team, investigating xenos incursions into the Wastes. He felt the coolants churning through his systems seem to chill as he marked the location and vector... it was certainly possible it had fallen off the stricken ship as it plummeted, and micro-coding on the hull plating would be enough to indicate its origin and date of manufacture.


    There were ships still sailing from before the Emperor was crowned still in service in the Empire, but almost never so far out into the galaxy. Finding the trail of one was a great event, and even learning that the ship might have been in orbit here would bring treasure seekers crawling here from every system the news spread to.


    Thus, all records accessible outside the heart of the Guild''s most secure systems were filled with erroneous information on what exactly the ship was and had been... a simple freighter frequently used to transport tithes and tax materials from frontier worlds back to the heart of the Empire. There were reams of hard to find data on shipping routes, cargoes, and crews, subbed for other ships, and going right down to crew names, service records, and worlds reached... and all those ancient records had been meticulously modified as well.


    As far as the Guild knew, there were no electronic records accessible to the public anywhere that showed what the Celestial Tribute actually was.


    Of course, that didn''t mean it was completely hidden. The core systems and files of the great noble families were closed to the Mechanists by psionic seals, and surely hid information of great value and benefit to the Guild... and the truth of the Celestial Tribute. Likewise, some of the other ancient great guilds and megacorporations certainly had records going back far enough to indicate what the flagship of the last true Duke Corunsun was.


    The last recorded appearance and cargo of the false Celestial Tribute could all be discovered if one looked hard enough. It had been lost in transit over three thousand years ago, it had passed through what had been the primary mining station in this system before Janus III had ever been considered a mining site, and even false calls for help, jetted buoys, and some wreckage were logged and recorded. Blast damage had indicated Dark Elvar corsairs, and the total lack of survivors bore it off, likely swept off and used as slave fodder for their arenas.


    The workstation doing the information search didn''t have a monitor, or he would have keyed directly into it. He did have profiles of the entire troop that had recovered the plate, and none of them stood out at all, simple PG members of a half-destroyed mega-city who''d stumbled across some wreckage turned up by the sands, and were investigating if it was something of relevance with the tools at their disposal.


    He could almost see the simple trooper going through the faded records of a fallen ship from three thousand years prior, yawning as he did, flicking through the pages. The Mechveister watched the pages cycle, and then start getting skimmed faster and faster as the technical aspects of the report were too boring. Those, of course, would have been the areas where some slip of an error might be found, but Kiang Fo was icily sure no such mistakes had been made. His Guild had been very, very thorough in its cover-up.


    The only way to find the error would be to be searching non-existent data logs of ship travels from three millennia ago, and realizing that some ships had missing transits that were nonetheless logged together, and one ship had somehow managed to acquire all those missing transits. You would have to know what ships should have had the data, and now did not, and realize that the records of those ships might have continuity errors, and try to find those errors off other falsified records at other sites, and then keep going five or six stages deep until the deception was revealed.


    Which would never happen, as nobody cared about a lost ship that old taken by drow and never recovered.


    There it was, being closed up and discarded as worthless. His phragmic motor pulsed as it eased his minor need for oxygen, given how much left of him was still organic. Would the soldier log a search and recover order? If so, it would have to be buried far, far down in the queue of matters to attend to, and deftly accelerated into irrelevancy, or simply stamped done and unable to be completed, so disappearing into the depths of the deleted files, to be purged completely upon first opportunity.


    The soldiers could be eliminated one by one in random ways. Traffic Control was ideal for such errors, but luckily there was a war going on, and accidents happened all the time...


    Eh? Other alarms?


    What remained of his face couldn''t frown. This was becoming a distressing day. What was happening now?


    Sharp sounds arose outside his lab, and he whirled around.


    [Sir, we have intruders! The Dark Moon is here!] he finally heard the incoming report.


    The damned shadow-skulkers of the Emperor were here?!


    The secured door to his chambers danced with discharging voltage, frying the systems holding it closed, and they slammed open as polarity reversal sent it open. Two of the finer Sentrybots of the Guild, holes blasted right through them, were crumbling to the sides as a team of very fast-moving organics in black moved in.


    He fired automatically, armor-piercing darts shooting out as a spray of poison grenades that would reduce this intruders to sludge was ejected from his clattering form. His shields sparked up, and his dendrites heaved a skull-backed autolaser onto his shoulder.


    A force shield snapped up, took the impact of the darts and bounced them off shrilly. A gauntleted hand thrust out, seized the grenades in a telekinetic grip, and squeezed tight, bringing them in tight together as an ectoplasmic force screen materialized around them. They detonated loudly, but the elastic shell held, and contained the poison.


    Rapid-fire gyros went off, shining with the Stars and Suns of advanced psionic charging.


    His shields sparked, flared, blazed, and collapsed under the detonations and volley, and then a fifth shot expertly picked off his autolaser just as it was cycling up.


    A spiral-helix particle ray slammed into his chest, and he gasped as the pulse tore through his systems. Even shielded and buffered, there was a wild fluctuation and screaming of stressed technology trying to overcome the disruption.


    Two Sun Shots of particle beams and anathemic, rigid black Banefire slammed into his limbs and dendrites, tearing through his systems with more electrical distortions and field manipulations, blowing out circuits and buffers.


    A fast-moving form slammed through tens of thousands of credits of advanced monitors and databanks, scattering them without a care, its shield leading the way. Archveister Kiang Fo could barely open his optical shutters in time as the glowing edge of the force shield slammed into his cortical bracing, and psychic energy blew through it, severing most of his access to his body''s systems.


    A glowing blue-silver hand equipped with glowing claws of transpsionic force punched into the back of his head, severing three data feeds and two control cables, and punched into the side of his head where his Boolean relay was located. It shorted out instantly, and the shock went through the remaining half of Kiang Fo''s brain, and all of the cyber-cognitive hardware that had replaced it.


    The Mechveister went dark.


    ------


    Jamal chopped deftly, his Starcore Mindshield and Claw easily dealing with the steel and alloys of the Mechveister''s shell. He had come a long way since being a gangbanger with Sensei Sama, and leading his own team of Strikers was very much living the dream.


    "Secure this," he said, tossing the head to Prima, who caught it, swept it with an Assay, and wrapped it in a time-dilating shell of ectoplasm.


    Without stopping, his team retreated from the laboratory, but they did not let down their guard in the slightest.


    There was intensive shooting ahead of them, coming this way, as the Cyberii, the devoted defensive force of the Mekkers, were activated and coming into to deal with the intruders, regardless of who had dispatched them. Waving the badge of the Umbrals right now would just get them shot, and insincere apologies would be made for the accidental deaths of the tech raiders and terrorists sabotaging the war efforts of the loyal Mechanist Guilds, so sorry, you should have told us you were coming...


    The EMP went off three seconds after they powered off their gear, and all the lights faded as subtle vibrations through the floor went silent. A second later, back-up lights went on, not that they needed them, and they rolled out.


    Cyberii in all their many-limbed and garishly painted mechanical glory were staggering here and there as they tried to reboot their systems. Sun Shots precisely placed into cybercores made sure they wouldn''t be coming back, and none of them stopped as they quickly cut a path through the Mekker defenders.


    Prima slapped her palm to a sealed security door, and it cycled open under precise telekinetic prodding and a bit of electrical ionization, revealing a full company of cyberii drawn up outside, struggling to level ordnance at the group of them.


    The telekinetic blast from the psion was supercharged with more electricity to make things difficult for the borgs, and they were ripped apart and inundated with considerable amounts of psychic lightning as they were blown out of the way.


    Jamal let go her hand and they charged forwards on lightfoot, moving twice as fast as humans were expected to move.


    Shaped charges blew out security windows, and they joined hands and leapt together out the thousand-meter side of the Mekker building.


    Two seconds later, teleportation whisked them away with their prize. As they did, delayed acidic fire baptized the Mechveister''s lab, and reduced anything which might identify him to less than slag.


    Just data thieves and tech raiders, after all...

 Chapter 417 - Far Future Ch. 127 – Through the Shadows

    Prosecuting internal treachery while there is a war going on is fraught with danger. The forces you are purging tend not to like it when they are getting swept away, and are likely to do all sorts of silly, petty things, in response... like blowing up ships and factories, sabotaging repair facilities, snarling production lines, and other minor inconveniences that can cost you a war.


    As a corollary to this, Mekkers loathe cyberpaths. Really, they do. Someone that can just reach out with their mind and rewrite programs from afar, wipe away security programs, step around lockouts, and tell encryption to reverse itself... they were among the most loathed of mentalists to the Mekkers, who had come up with many, many systems over time to foil such opportunistic insurrectionists and punish them. This included using the brains of those they caught to oversee system security.


    At this point, there were over two hundred cyberpaths working with the Goldilocks crew and Umbran Intelligence. There was an old semi-retired Umbran at a quiet desk in the Dungeon who received private notifications of all the blatantly illegal shit they were pulling off, repeatedly, sighed to himself often, smiled more then a few times at the pure chutzpah of some of it, occasionally directed them to be more roundabout or subtler in approach due to certain geopolitical factors... and then sent on appropriate tidbits to interested parties for sometimes prodigious amounts of money, and watched the reactions.


    Duke Rimval was also aware of everything, as was Bluma, and he was making somewhat more lethal moves in other areas.


    This was important, as the preserved head of a certain Mechveister whose primary duty for the last four hundred and two Tellurian years had been researching fluid energy compression for high-end energy weapons, to absolutely no real effect, had been the recipient of a data alert on a search function for the Celestial Tribute. He was rated an Eleven, a true elite of the Mechanist Guild, but buried deep in the hierarchy with literally nothing of note to watch over or do.


    Elevens are not something any organization throws away, and they should not be buried inside an organization, either. They should be leaders, managers, and wielders of power with influence, hidden or overt... and Duke Rimval had literally never heard of the Mechveister doing anything for the past century. He was on a list of post-Tens in the system, but given absolutely nothing related to him had ever happened, he barely registered the name of Kiang Fo at all... which set off all kinds of alarm bells.


    Tracking that errant bit of code as it did its thing wasn''t hard. Nor was using electropathic divination to sense the fact that the data attached to it had been wiped from the underlying hardware, and replaced with something else. Even while the Mechveister had been watching a truly clueless band of soldiers routinely logging their findings and a bored tech do the follow-up, the team had been into half a dozen databases, noted more information substitution, followed that to yet more false data plants, and more Mekker viral alarms attached to them.


    Now, the sixty percent computerized brain of the Mechveister was plugged into an isolated computer system, while Duke Rimval worked on the meat side, and three cyberpaths in metaconcert worked on the other.


    Their goal was quite clear. Find out who else knew about the Celestial Tribute, and follow the chain of information back. The cyberpaths had already gone in and carefully blocked any removal of the Mechveister''s authority, and the twice-lobotomized skull was now a quick and rapid in to the Mekker systems and where they needed to go to find stuff.


    If they just so happened to download all his test results and data to the Rantha Corp in passing, and exploit his clearance to look at a lot of restricted tech files in passing, well, that''s something that data thieves and raiders did, all praise the Emperor.


    Duke Rimval went through the organic memory with incisive care and ruthlessness, supported by Bluma and her horrid amount of Reserves. The cyberpaths simply disengaged all the old cyberhead''s hardware and software security systems, one by one, including tissue implants from other cyberpaths and the psionic circuits powered by them, turning the mind and cybermind of the Mechveister into an open book to peruse.


    There was a lot of very grim stuff there, including actions taken against the Ranthas to prevent their rise and spread of their technology, as well as hurried efforts to duplicate said tech which had simply not succeeded. There were multiple incidents of sabotage and killing related to keeping information related to the Warp Zone quiet, including the resemblance of the Zone''s energy signature to high-end Throne Fields. The numbers of deaths in multiple professions and stations of life was in the high five digits, and that only since this Mechveister had arrived on station.


    Contacts concerning this matter were mixed, as the next link up in the chain was simply a randomized Boolean address that would cease to exist as soon as the other party was informed of the Mechveister''s death.


    However, that would have to be done by traditional channels, and the Mekkers were not the only ones that could mess up data exchanges. Slipping some one-off code to eliminate any mention of Fiang Po and his Booolean ID from transmission off-world or through the satellite relays would certainly slow things down, although a direct ground-to-ship info dump would likely be impossible to curtail. Still, it meant at least a few weeks of breathing room... and certainly didn''t stop astropathic communication with Dungeons on other worlds, or swift courier ships from being dispatched.


    Bland notification of status and movements to that ever-shifting node could still be followed by the cyberpaths to its destination, its upload to the astropaths as random code, and then its squirted notification to the Maggarheart Forgeworld.


    Divinations had calculated four possible destinations. ''Training teams'' led by Ranthas had already been dispatched to each of those worlds, two being Forge Worlds, and one being the subsector Seat, while the last was Rimcrown, the Sector Throneworld.


    As promised, the Marks worked perfectly well across thousands of light years, a communication tool far beyond even the best astropathy. Coronal Guards with a certain pair of surnames were already being dispatched to neighboring systems and beyond to Mark certain Coronal Knights and Umbran Inquisitors recommended to them, and begin the expansion of their information network.


    If having an information network faster than astropathy gave Rantha Corp and the Twilight Orders a leg up on the Guilds, Families, and Megacorps, well, the Throne Endures.


    ------


    Thyeva Rantha was on station with her Umbran Agent partner Moltham and his investigative team. The Maggerheart Station was rather annoyed and confused by their presence, especially since they weren''t headed by a true Inquisitor... by choice, as Molthum had certainly secured enough merits and was a full Ten, certainly worthy of wearing the black cloak.


    But Inquisitors were Important People, and watched wherever they went by many a nervous eye, who would as soon shoot them out of the sky as keep track of them. Agents, not so much, as most Agents never made Inquisitor, through a combination of bad luck, enemies, a dangerous job, and many sources very interested in making sure there were fewer Inquisitors around.


    Umbran Guards were just muscle, a new notion and haughty nod towards giving competent thugs some show of authority. They generally weren''t treated with any more respect then anyone else known to be working for the Umbrans... and they certainly weren''t allowed to display the Dark Moon Seal of the Emperor''s Inquisitorial Authority.


    Which was absolutely fine. Thyeva coordinated the two cyberpaths on the team, Moltham was in metaconcert with them, meaning Thyeva could use her Reserves to support them all, and when that astropathic message came in, they were ready and waiting.


    It was just lines of electrons, pulses of code, and they didn''t bother to unscramble it, they just watched as it zipped through the systems, diverted here and there, triggering other tiny bits of code that sent it this way and that, and they calmly piggy-backed it through six different security barriers by conspicuous consumption of PP they wouldn''t have been able to afford on their own.


    It hit a node and paused, triggering an alert that shuffled off on a dedicated path to a dedicated address, which triggered another alert to a different place.


    It was a matter of minutes before the target of the alert tapped in, shuffled through the system, grabbed the report, decoded it, read it, and then everything was wiped as the reader pulled away.


    ---------


    The team pulled out, gasping as they did so. They had burned through a massive amount of PP to stand off the security barriers and hold an exit point as they followed the message. No single one of them could possibly have afforded the cost, and without the Marks allowing a metaconcert resonance so tight, the sheer size of the effort required to do so would have given them away.


    Thyeva was down 200 PP off her default, which was going to take several days of nosebleeds to get back, and she had a splitting headache from continually popping Reserves to hold their cyberlink tight and compressed like that, letting the three psions do the intricate part of the job while she handled the pressure.


    Moltham clapped her on the shoulder, the brawny Umbran looking nothing like the suave, debonair Umbrans of the holovids. His simple expression, beard, curly hair, and stout build made him look like a genial, jovial laborer, not a slyly humorous on demand and mercilessly efficient on requirement Umbran not-an-Inquisitor.


    His own Reserves were in the toilet, too, and they all needed meditation and sleep to regain their strength. "Find that signature," he told Shella and Trims, and the two cyberpaths, ignoring the bloody tears coming off their eyes, headed to the datafiles of the Umbrans.


    Divination matching. They duplicated the electro-psychic signature of the person who had made contact without ever actually reading the code, and simply matched it to the database of communications the Umbral retained of all past communications carried via the Boole. Since all Mekkers were cybered, there was no chance they wouldn''t have a psignature, especially if the recipient was either important or powerful. Even the most routine communication was enough for a psychic match.


    The answer was pulled up in seconds: Archveister Gunthad Mao, who oversaw Shipwright Operations and Hull Manufacture in the Guild''s many factories on Maggerheart.


    A Thirteen. His refinements in the logistics and operations of hull manufacturing were used across the galaxy, and were matched by his attainments in alloy mixing and refinements in strength, flexibility, and ease of manufacture.


    Moltham scrolled down to his earlier histories, having to go through over eight hundred years to get to where he wanted.


    "Archproctor Riggivari," he said softly.


    "The Mechanist Chair on Rimthrone," Theyva nodded understanding.


    "Who..." Moltham''s fingers danced on the screen, flitting back and forth, and settled on a name.


    "... was apprenticed to High Proctor Adulai on Venus itself, one of the Seven High Proctors," she continued with a nod. "No, no, this won''t go high at all. Even if they can''t duplicate what''s inside there, just being able to remove the systems and fabbers will keep the Mekkers solidly in power for another five thousand years, barring disaster."


    "Staving off oblivion while guaranteeing it," sniffed the Umbran. The Umbrans of Janus were thoroughly brainwashed by Duke Rimval''s attitude of throwing back the dark, not just delaying it.


    And if the Mekkers tried to duplicate the Throne Field Energizing the elements of a planet, they could doom the galaxy!


    Moltham glanced up. "The techs are due in in six hours. Would you like to go to the Duke and see if he wants to set up a Rantha production facility here?"


    "The Coronals have already arranged for a cruiser to be nearby when they hit the system. The Umbrans might want to arrange for a different one..." she agreed. She''d already by blipped by Bluma on some of the things the Mekkers had done.


    Two shipments of Vakker tech bound for warzones had been lost ''due to pirates''... and the Umbrans had found said pirates and administered them Final Mercy. That the Mekkers had supplied them the routes and cargo came as no big surprise...

 Chapter 418 - Far Future Ch. 128 – Watching the Grimdark...

    Sama Rantha, Fighting Action Scientist! Reed Richards wishes he could figure FTL tech and subsystems while engaging in mass slaughter and wide-scale coordination of logistical efforts military and otherwise...


    The Markspace meant I was needed for cognitive leaps, not hands-on messing with stuff, which I could direct other hands to be about doing for me, and all the corollary work associated with it. I literally had no excuse not to be out there and adding to the death tolls being inflicted on the invaders... which hardly left me out of the communication loop.


    Another generation of Briggs Brothers had been born, and were being carefully Leveled up by their siblings. Certainly the xenos, ''vores, and pslaved were oceans of Karma waiting to be harvested, but a futuristic battlefield is much more unforgiving then a primitive one, given the power of one-shotting stuff, so care had to be taken. The fact they couldn''t Level every day despite how much stuff they slaughtered and had to take the slow route was also annoying, but at least they had tons of Karma left to Name their Weapons and/or Armor, which got those on the road to improvement fast.


    The Briggs Brothers were the most vulnerable, of course, being big targets and yet still starting as Ones. Happily, their brothers were more then happy to make power armor suits for them to get them through those dangerous early Levels, which gave them a lot of protection as they built up their own Gear to a Level until they didn''t need a hand-out anymore, and could pass it on. Greater Soulbound Phrenic-Ward armor was pretty damn useful against the enemies we were facing...


    Duke Parablum was effectively the final strategic authority on the planet at this time, given how the command structure of so much of the Planetary Guards from the various megacities and kiloplexes had been compromised, and the general uselessness of the Planetary Governor tossing parties in high society while the planet burned. At the Duke''s order, a city would cease to exist, once the ability to take it back and rescue the inhabitants exceeded their value, and the Governor would just sign off without even reading the order.


    That didn''t mean the cities would necessarily be bombed, as the preferred method of wiping a fallen city was virus bombs delivered into the pumping stations and waters, psychically effective and drawn to psionic entities like moths to flames. As ''vores and Xenos alike had their minds consumed and fell apart to the viruses, they naturally did fun things like detonate the city''s reactors, implode the Shields of the cities, and spread their own contagions everywhere to make the city uninhabitable on every level.


    Warp, Necroic, and Axiomatic Events were going off all over as the surges of psychic trauma from the living and dead spurred Incursion events. The Xenos couldn''t consume negatively-charged biomatter, and treated the undead like infections that had to be cut out and burned. Warp entities happily killed Xenos and ''vores like they did everyone else. Axiomites did pretty much the same with everything that didn''t fit their aesthetic, which was basically everything not of animated technology.


    The viruses had no effect on any of the Events, so even if the city was wiped of invaders, it could be left crawling with demons, Warped and Possessed humans and objects, animated technology killing everything, and uncountable numbers of undead of all sizes and types infesting a city of the dead.


    The only way to mass-clear a City of the Dead was full fusion carpet bombing from orbit, and it would take some really deep penetration to clear out the Underspires, possibly anti-matter strikes to really rip all that durasteel out and send all the otherplanar stuff and their energies back into the Warp. It would get a lot more annoying if the Axiomites animated the ruins of the Shield Umbrellas and got them back up and operating...


    Or, as the Ranthas saw it, they became high-level Karma zones not in a Warp Zone for improving and blooding the troops.


    The infrastructure of a megacity or kiloplex was incredibly valuable, and recovering it was extremely important, if at all possible. Duke Parablum was actually amazed to learn that it really wasn''t all that hard to do, if time-consuming... but time wasn''t really an issue at this point.


    This wasn''t a Siege anymore, it was just attrition... and the enemy couldn''t gain any new numbers after virus bombs removed viable biomatter, and the Warp and undead took the rest.


    Then there was vivic fire.


    Vivic fire purged both the virus agents and the xenos contagions, and sealed the psychic trauma and planar instabilities that came from the conflicts. Killing off the undead debilitated the Warped, and killing off the Warped removed the harmonic dissonance that brought the Axiomites into being, which meant they wouldn''t be reinforced if they were killed, either.


    Vivic fire and Feeding the Land, the purgatives of the Far Future.


    On the heels of that revelation, knowledge of vivic fire leapt across the stars very suddenly and thoroughly. The psionic circuitry necessary to place it on a Weapon was transmitted to every Weapon forger and psionic organization, starting with the Mentat, Coronal, and Umbral organizations on the Subsector Seat, then the Sector Crownworld, and four major Forgeworlds. It was offered free to every trader captain, encoded into every Imperial database possible, and every Imperial Legion and Army supplier, storehouse, and working psion was entitled to learn the pattern for nothing.


    Astropaths sent news of the Pattern singing out into the Void, with explicit orders to spread knowledge of it to everyone interested in it, store it in multiple media, and send it out further. Every starship transiting between systems was ordered in no uncertain terms to make sure whatever system they ended up in had knowledge of vivic fire.


    The number of terrorist incidents and Warp incidents at astropath stations and Beacons skyrocketed across this side of the Rift. Alas for them, Marked Beacon psions and Nulls had been dispatched slowly and steadily from Janus III for over two years to anchor key worlds and bases across the entire Sector under quiet Umbran and Coronal impetus, and instead of preventing the spread of the knowledge, the Warp found the knowledge going out from those places, instead of stopped from coming in!


    Vakker-tech was being produced in many places under license by this time. While it wasn''t as powerful against the Warp as Rantha-tech, it was still appreciably better then standard AMT against the Warp. The vivic psionic circuits were also easily duplicated and didn''t have any odd constraints, and while there were kerfluffles here and there with various voices stridently arguing against unproven psi-tech and long-range ramifications, those didn''t last very long... frequently because the strongest opponents to its implementation were often minions of the Warp knowing or unknowing, and the Umbrans found them wonderful targets to investigate and quietly remove.


    It very, very quickly became the most eagerly sought-after enhancement for mindblades across the entire sector, every Coronal Knight wanting the effect for use against the Warp, Demons, Undead, and Axiomatics, and those who worked with them.


    The very obvious and violent reaction of the Warp to the spread of this knowledge only reaffirmed how potent it was, and even more focus was put on production and dissemination of the technology.


    Both the Mekkers and the Mentats tried to establish a claim on the psitech, given its prized usefulness, and instead found the license held firmly by both the Coronals and Umbrans, and held flat open. There would be no charge for learning the Pattern, and any who wished to do so was welcome to.


    ----------


    "Elvar Corsair Dust Between Stars, this is Coronal Guard Captain Tiffany Rantha of the Coronal ship Bared Saber. If you could kindly decloak and respond to our hail."


    Needle beams lit up the void, spreading out wide and rapidly narrowing down around a section of space that seemed to hold nothing. The sleek Coronal ship that had zipped in out of nowhere to a place conveniently in a very underpowered firing arc from its target waited patiently.


    The fact she was speaking in fluent Elvar, complete to three melodies, was probably as important as the fact her ship had suddenly landed in a very threatening position and had knowledge of where her target was.


    There was a ripple, and the needle beams cut out as the delicate and colorful solar sails of the Elvar vessel came into open view.


    The sweeping and graceful lines of the Elvar sunsails were mutable, with the solar sails almost perfectly reconfigurable to tap the energies of a heliosphere. It was an art and science the Elvar excelled in above all other species, and which made their ships potentially the fastest sublight travelers in space, other than the inertialess Tekrons. They were also quite beautiful, small compensation when they came sweeping out of the stars to strike their prey and then fled beyond reach of retribution.


    The fact they had been snuck up on was certain to be rankling them. Tiffany smiled to herself.


    "Reply coming, Captain," Coms Lieutenant Symma said in a voice that would not change if a Great Old One manifested before them.


    "On holo." Tiffany crossed her legs and was looking right into the bemused and cocky eyes of the elvar captain as his image materialized before her.


    "Captain Rantha. Your grasp of our language is impressive." His melodies indicated arrogance, confidence in his position regardless, and she should be honored to be speaking their tongue fluently.


    "A minor sidestudy in my spare time," she replied back, melodies indicating she had seen his arrogance, his confidence, and his racism, and she was politely ignoring it, and he was being rude, because, "Who am I addressing?"


    "I am Captain Ethyviale Hevalosivthiallequiate..." his last name went on for a full thirty seconds, and she just lifted an eyebrow as he watched her keenly, and realized she really could understand all the melodies and the underlying story and lineage of his ancestry perfectly... and could even if he used the true long form.


    "The Sunhawk," she shortened it all down the instant he finished, and he couldn''t even find offense, as that was indeed his corsair title. "It seems I have contacted a celebrity. Well, I am sure you are here for some opportunistic raiding while system defenses are down, but I am not here to reduce you to gossamer scraps today, Captain." Melodies indicating serious, serious, and serious. "It should be a rhetorical question, but have you heard of vivic fire, Captain Sunhawk?"


    His eyes flashed despite himself. "Your communications are full of mention of it. It would have been difficult not to, Captain." Interest, suspicion, curiosity.


    Tiffany reached over and picked up a simple knife, which suddenly burst into heavy, almost liquid unwhite fire, displayed it for the elvar captain. She then picked up a glittering datacrystal, held it up for him, and set that back down. "Coms, initiate data download to the elvar vessel. Captain, if you will clear a point-to-point object teleport, I will send this data schematic of the vivic Rune circuitry to you, along with the knife, through it. If you would prefer I use a messenger drone, I will do so instead. You have the word of the Coronals that there are no tricks or subterfuge involved."


    His eyes narrowed. The word of the Coronals was a formidable thing even to the elvar. Even when the Coronals came out on the losing end of keeping their word, they held to it, and it was a fact that the elvar both took advantage of and respected... and took a sly delight in when the Coronals used it to their own advantage at times.


    He did not answer immediately, his bright, almost glowing golden eyes studying her. She looked back without any problems, regardless of the influence he was attempting to exert through the link, even as his ship maneuvered into a more advantageous position.


    There was muted singsong speech in the background, and he glanced away to listen. His eyes were very interested and calculating as he looked back at her.


    "Teleportation will be fine," he said, relishing, expectant, daring. Tiffany nodded at Beacon Tsina, who took the dagger and crystal in her hands, closed her eyes, and reached out across the void to find the dimensional beacon flaring out there. She established contact and a neutral handshake, offered up the two objects, and they were accepted and vanished from her hands.


    A moment later, the dagger was handed to the elvar captain, who held it up and watched the strange unwhite flames falling off the length of it. "A gesture of goodwill, Captain Rantha," he acknowledged. Paternal, amused, wondering where it was going, and what she was trying to bribe him with...

 Chapter 419 - Far Future, Ch. 129 – Race Relations

    "I understand you have a matrix of souls that you use with your soulstones. Don''t expose any souls caught in them to vivic fire. They will be dispersed and returned to the Land. It is not the Warp, but they are still circumventing the Law of Death, and so vivus will return them to the land just as it does undead... and creatures of the Warp."


    He pursed his lips slightly as he looked at the vivic fire. "And why would we consider this worthwhile knowledge?" he asked freely, suspicion, curious, wary.


    "It does the same to undead, demons, axiomites, and unnatural energies. It is the unnatural energy of our reality... vivic is to them what warpfire is to us. It feeds them to the Land, and reinforces the Land around them, settling down warp storms and breaches, cleansing and purifying their corruption. The details and features are in the data download and the data crystal I have delivered to you."


    "Interesting. And why have you given this to us?" He asked, doubtful, amused, warning that she would not take advantage of him.


    "There are only upsides to having more danger to the Warp and unnatural creatures around... such as the Reapers, the Dwellers, or the Aberrants, all of which use unnatural energies and vivic fire will punish for it.


    "To humanity, the elvar, and other races born of this reality... vivic has no effect, unless they are breaking the Law of Death, as your cloistered souls are. In any event, it will still save souls from the Warp, merely dispersing them naturally into the Land, to be gathered up randomly and be born anew as life once more."


    The elvar captain considered her words, and the serious and sincere undertones she was using calmly and patiently. Despite its danger to their cloistered souls, it really was a dangerous weapon against the Warp... and their Dark Elvar kin, who seethed with the influence of the Warp they tried to hold at bay, and which painted their skin so dark with their sins.


    "And what do you expect us to do with such a boon?" he asked further.


    "Spread it far and wide as fast as you possibly can," she admitted with tones of searing truth, impetus, and warning of danger. "The Warp does not want knowledge of vivus spread, and they are already taking actions to restrict its spread in the Empire. I would say at this point they have already killed a million souls and spent some assets they have cultivated for centuries just to stop the spread of vivus.


    "And they will act against you. Carry it far and fast, Sunhawk, or you will not carry it far, at all."


    His eyes flickered. Tones of grave danger, urgency, solemn warning. The Coronal Knights did not enjoy playing political games.


    He nodded slowly, amused at the idea that it would also remove him from this system and the potential prey he might have netted here. "I will do so. Is there aught else you would have me do?" Mocking, humor, but acknowledging urgency.


    "On a completely separate matter, we have potential business you may be interested in. We have knowledge of a vein of Sunwater Silica, known among your kind as flowlight crystal. I understand that it is a primary component of the psionic lattices in your ships and Starhomes. Now, the Empire has never used this as anything but circuit boards in some more fluid nanotech adaptations, and there are substitutes. But it has great value to the elvar.


    "We are wondering if you would like to trade for it?"


    His look suddenly got very predatory. "Interesting. The Coronals, dabbling in matters mercantile?"


    "We are seeking Void Osmium. I understand your people can manufacture it, but have little use for it. We can trade for it at two thousand to one for the raw ore, or a thousand to one refined. I understand your refining is a touch more efficient then ours. The rating on the ore is 27, our refinement brought it up to 30."


    Boring data, data, data. He sat back and stared at her, an expression like a cat hunting a mouse on his face. "And how shall such things be delivered? Trade between our people is rather fraught with danger, my dear Coronal Captain." Fun, trust me, let''s play...


    "You will be given the location of the freighter with the cargo when we receive the tested Void Osmium. You can choose to purchase the ship with the cargo, or simply take the cargo on yourself."


    "Us, deliver first? And we would find this acceptable how?" he asked archly. Mocking, rebuking, admonishing.


    "Because of the reputation of yourself and your people, which is fraught with broken contracts for miniscule reasons and desires, and replete with acts of piracy hidden behind the desire to not trade equitably... and the reputation of the Coronal Knights is that we deliver on our promises!"


    Fact. Steel. Dare to refute.


    The elvar captain steepled his fingers thoughtfully. "And how much flowlight are we speaking of?" Greed, standoffish, assessment.


    "We have only refined ten thousand tons at this time. The expected volume of raw ore is 2.33 million tons." Fact, fact, fact.


    Now his glowing eyes grew wide indeed. That was enough ore to craft a new Starhome... or an entire fleet of ships. Perhaps both!


    "This..." This was a very big deal, indeed. Gaining hold of that much flowlight crystal would gain him resounding fame among his people. Of course, if he could trick it out of the humans it would be even better... but he was dealing with a Coronal, who were depressingly aboveboard in all their dealings, and would only be seeking a mutually beneficial trade in response. "I do not believe I can arrange for that much oblivichrome in short order..."


    "We did not expect you to. Multiple shipments are fine. The need is long-term as well." She tilted her head. "You may, of course, request specific containers and such, if Imperial Standard Bulk is not adequate for you. Do we have a deal?"


    "My suppliers may seek better terms," he began, and she cut him off calmly.


    "We are not negotiating price. If the terms are not acceptable, rote circuit boards they shall be." She watched his face twitch at the waste. Once processed that way, they would naturally be useless to the elvar. "Do we have a deal, Captain?" she went on. Asking, neutral, neutral.


    He hesitated only a moment before nodding. "They may wish to see proof of the quality of the ore."


    "They have the word of a Coronal." His cheek twitched despite himself. There was no viable statement in his language that was more absolute for the purpose, the elvar simply didn''t speak that way. "The refined tonnage is immediately available if you have the Void Osmium stocked, and you may name any number for the deal if you so desire, please specify refined or ore." Relaxed, controlled, encouraging.


    "How shall we contact you?" he inquired. Caution, wary, suspicious.


    "We shall establish a contact buoy here, or you can employ an agent and simply contact the Coronals through Threshold Station, and I will be in touch." Reasonable, patient, waiting.


    The elven corsair slowly nodded, and after some minor details were worked out, the deal was struck.


    ---


    -Totally untrustworthy.- -Pointy-eared git.- -Throne, what a smug twit!- -His armor looks like it was done by a fashion designer.- Oh, the truest insult. -He''s going to pull something, or he''s got a leak in his crew, it''s guaranteed.-


    Tiffany just smiled. Of course she didn''t trust him, or his crew. The Elvar were naturally Chaotic of mindset, the settled Elvar were the ones who defied their nature and embraced discipline in attempting to defy the influence of the Warp on their emotional states. The corsairs reveled in it, thinking their emotions could defy the Warp as long as their willpower was strong.


    Idiots. Like she couldn''t see his morals faltering from the greying hue of his skin. He was accumulating sin and ignoring it as irrelevant, when the Elvar literally wore their sins on the skin... and were rewarded for it by the Warp.


    Still, to get hold of Void Osmium, a needed component for the Harmonic Drives, it was worth the dealing, as the Sunwater Silica really was a fairly low-value commodity in the Empire. Human psychics had no use for it, and so despite its relative rare dual-Energized status, it simply had no value of note to humanity. To the Elvar, well, it was indeed precious enough to trade for tons of a material that had to be psychically refined at the edge of black holes.


    The universe was fair...


    ------


    Energized materials came in all types and sizes. Knowing what they were good for, and to whom they were good to, was integral to making full use of what you had.


    The common use of Sun-Water Silica in the Empire put it on the low end of usefulness, and it was basically expended as dross, just one more reason for the Elvar to be annoyed with us. Of course, they didn''t bother to tell us what they used the stuff for, so we had no idea of the demand... and it wasn''t precious enough in the eyes of traders to risk the smuggling. If the Elvar suddenly proved willing to start paying what we called exorbitant prices for it, then it would become a strategic good, so it was highly likely the Elvar had placed agents who made quiet efforts to redirect any raw or refined amounts of the stuff subtly into their hands, trying to keep us unaware of its value.


    Its usefulness to them was a toss-away fact recorded in the material archives of the Celestial Tribute. Taking full advantage of the vein of it found well north of the city was a natural. It was normally something that would only be excavated in tandem with something else nearby, controlling the costs, but with the true value known, it was worth operating a mobile miner and refining station purely for itself.


    They wanted samples of both, so ten thousand tons of each type, refined and ore, whereupon they would decide which they preferred. Of course, their agents were going to be going nuts trying to find where the vein was, so they could race in, extract everything possible as fast as possible, and get out without paying the price.


    Happily, since production was so low, they had no way to figure out where it was being produced from, and there were so many mines around... For some reason they were a bit leery after one ship drifting in too close to the planet was suddenly blown to bits out of nowhere, them damn drow raiders in their cloaked ships were everywhere, cough cough.


    Yeah, some very specific anti-Elvar sensor suites were among the things getting printed off and installed on key vessels. Also, Rantha True Sight eyes. Add to Masks amplifying range, and just how damn showy those elven ships were in the spectra, and it was amazing how far away they were visible from.


    Briggs and I were basically on permanent duty in the Warp Zone, eliminating any and all remainders of Warped creatures and troops, extending the cleared zone leading to the Tribute wider, and exterminating pretty much everything in an ever-broader zone. Given that it was thousands of miles from the border to the center, that still left a lot of things to kill, but that was alright, because modulation from my pet addicted Spell Weaver was slowly shrinking the internal size of the zone, compressing distances down. My visits every five days were the total center of its life now.


    This was useful, since it kept the very hostile and BF-cuckoo Warped troops shooting at one another, and killing one another, thereby cleaning the place up. With vivus popping up all around half the sector and making their lives much more difficult, the fact endless minions weren''t dying for the glory of their masters on Janus III anymore wasn''t really registering, as they were merely dying where they would have been pulled from, anyways. Janus III was now just one more place where vivus was seeing heavy use, among scores of systems and hundreds of planets, and there were more every day.


    Ah, pissing off the Warp Gods was a great way to spend your days...

 Chapter 420 - Far Future Ch. 130 – A Steal of a Deal

    I was watching everything, juggling and fine-tuning the machine that was rising with distinctly superhuman levels of intellectual ability. Briggs was doing the same, with emphasis on different sectors, and really doing more managing then I was since I was also doing some levels of deduction, inference, chaos math, and para-laws as I was Weird Sciencing our way up the tech tree. I was designing, testing, redesigning, testing again, getting results, and Briggs was handling the explosive production cycle behind it all with aplomb and enthusiasm. Briggs'' loved to build.


    New ship designs were rolling out of the shipyards we had taken over, and the snarkily named Greater Axiom Modular Technology foundations were now firmly in place. The inability of the Mechanist Guild to properly make such ships, even when supplied with the schematics (and yes, the schematics EXACTLY matched what was being made, thank you) was really making them fret, and those families, clans, and corporations deeply embedded into the whole AMT production tree were frightened, angry, resentful... and they really, really wanted a piece of the pie.


    Without the Coronals and Umbrans standing directly behind us and buying everything they reasonably could, Rantha Corp would have been extinguished long ago from every vector imaginable, the technology buried under waves of lawsuits, assassinations, supply chokes, labor shortages, endless inspections, sabotage, asset seizure, ''random'' Events, terrorist attacks, lack of funding, things falling out of the sky, and anything else they could think of to just bury the tech, us, and keep their monopolies.


    Their past and current achievements in battle had given the Ranthas and Briggs Clans a formidable reputation that was completely deserved at all levels of combat. While it was plain they were vat-born, and there was plenty of sneering disdain for it, there was also cold and dreadful fear as they broke Seven like nothing, and ascended to Ten over heaps of corpses, crushing resistance under their heels, and moved together as a hivemind could only dream of doing. The mindclaw-armed street punks, the trash Beacon psions, the barely-educated Downspire workforces, and the drafted soldiers who didn''t want to see combat had all evolved into an unbelievably skilled, strong, and united fighting and work force that was proving nigh-impossible to crack open, infiltrate, and subvert.


    Well, it wasn''t that it wasn''t impossible, it was that it was deadly.


    Inigo had completely taken over control of wet works operations. Her past life of being a garbage scrounger and pickpocket preying on the rich had left her with both a keen resentment of those born to incredible wealth, and a fire to step beyond petty street crime to sustain herself. She was born with a talent for crime, she was going to use it, and woe to anyone who crossed her family and tried to treat her as low-born trash!


    Her ascension to one of the major crime lords of the city was quietly paved in a lot of blood. War was a fine time to remove the assets of her competitors, and making sure such assets got sent heartily into the line of fire was a wonderful way to do so. She was entirely heartless as she and Anatolia arranged for mafia family after family to be utterly destroyed, territories yielded up, assets seized, and their deaths all laid down in valiant support of the city, thank you.


    She put her hand hard on the information strings of the city, she and the Goldilocks crew tracking down all the information brokers systematically, relentless at the task, and either subverting them or eliminating them, there was no room for negotiation, regardless of who their backer was. Umbran striker teams coming in to clear out someone working for aliens and cultists was something none of the Crownspire forces dared cross openly.


    Her hand firmly on the black pulse of the underworld, it became exceedingly hard for existing forces to make moves without her knowing it... and by extension, the Umbrans and the Coronals. The Twilight Orders expanded their own information-processing divisions just to keep up with the amount of chaff information coming through, deftly cycling through the removal of violent people best sent off to die in the Empire''s service, and those merely of low morals who could be bent to serve in other ways.


    Her tendrils soon reached up into the underbelly of Crownspire, and those families and forces moving in the shadows against the Ranthas began to get sifted aggressively in ways both subtle and overt. The Patriarch of the Endgelgut family, a fine example of old blood, built-in racism and elitism, and a ruthless protector of his family''s interests, slipped and fell on his ornamental poniard, twice. The accidental death was talked about for months.


    Ruthless competition was a byword at the highest levels, given the amount of money and influence at work. The Twilight Dukes watched, the planetary governor spectated and tittered, and the high guildmasters and admiralty looked on, but the latters did not move under the eyes of the former. As long as production was maintained, and the war effort moved forwards, the petty schemes and deaths of nobles and corporate executives meant nothing to the Twilight Dukes. If families and corps suddenly deprived of their best blood suddenly had to sell off some vital assets to stay alive and affluent, well, that was business.


    Newer businesses and corporations were arising from the Downspire families and clans forming. Some had Briggs Brothers or Ranthas at the helm, but most were simply Sources, trained in the G&G and now in pursuit of their dreams. With their own crews and families behind them, they were building and rising up aggressively... and the Ranthas were perfectly happy to let them do so, as long as their paths could combine. Sources following their Oaths were literally forces of nature, luck and fate bending to their paths, and combining to form a stream with so many branches that it couldn''t be stopped or dammed as it hit the river and surged forth.


    The Sources stepped into openings and voids made by the battles and losses so readily it was like they were made to be there, closing gaps in supply and production of key goods, working together like oiled machines as events fell into place. They naturally outnumbered the Ranthas and Briggs by an order of magnitude, and the Umbrans and Coronals were astonished to see that, after literally half the population of the planet had been slaughtered, production was actually going up!


    Said effect also meant funds readily flowed to organizations with a Source at the head. That they were involved in the Markspace and were working towards the overarching goals therein only made it even easier.


    ------


    "What are we looking at?" Tiffany asked calmly, ensconced on the Saber''s Throne and preparing to go to combat at any instant.


    "Three ships, Captain," Maurice on Divs called out. "They are cloaked with holovoids, Elvar style, but we can''t tell if they are drow or not. But they are definitely not in an escort formation."


    "The Sunhawk''s personal squadron numbers four to eight ships. Let''s see what happens." The Bared Saber was not a cargo vessel, but the twenty tons of Void Osmium they had received did not take up much room at all. The psions were even now wiping the multiple psionic signatures left on the metal, repeatedly, and the procedures would be repeated multiple times as it was cut apart. Whether the Elvar were simply keeping them on their toes with the equivalent of teaching a lesson in competency or actually trying to sabotage whatever would be made of the oblivichrome was moot; the latent psychic signatures had to be purged utterly for the cargo to be useful.


    They had not, of course, done the same in return. They had better things to waste their time on, and the Elvar would still have to go through the cleansing process out of paranoia, anyways. Not finding anything would only bring them consternation and shame in equal measure at the continued stupidity and lack of subtlety of the Coronals in such forthright dealings.


    The vessels paralleling them were a couple light-seconds out, beyond effective range of all but the heaviest and most focused armaments... the Elvar had the latter in abundance, but not the former. They usually substituted formation effects with their solar sails for massive weapons, but that required multiple ships close together, and such was not the case here. There were very few forces in the Galaxy that wanted to face down an assembled Sunflower Formation...


    The entire crew was now in a meditative state of focus, ready to release Nimbuses, walking a wire of serenity and aggression. It was not a state a normal crew could remain in for long, but everyone on her ship was a Psion, be it normal, Null, or Source, and had the Ranks in Meditation and Concentration for this to happen. The Bared Saber was moving through space under normal Jamming at .35c.


    The Elvar ships were rated at .45c. Keeping pace was simple. They were merely waiting for an optimal stop with the greatest amount of time before any reinforcements could come... which should come up in mere moments.


    "Ships closing in, Captain!" Maurice called out, more for the crew then her, as Tiffany was plugged into primary divs and sensors. Like wolves on a calf, the three ships were closing in from the flanks and straight ahead, cutting off flight and harrying the engines to cripple the Saber.


    "We Jump at .1 seconds out," she reiterated for the crew, calming them down at mention of the tactic they had used repeatedly. Twenty thousand miles out, a tenth of a light-second, was largely beyond preferred beam range in space combat at velocity, the ideal tactic was to simultaneously breach the gravity field envelope, break the Saber out of Jam, and attack as one.


    There were going to be some problems with that...


    She watched them come closer to the thousand-mile gravimetric boundary which would break them out of Jam, eager foxes after the hapless hare. Her boundary, of course, was much further back...


    "Jump!" and Focuses released, superconductors went beyond perfection, random energy pulses harmonized perfectly, and every atom on the ship stopped vibrating and instead pushed all in one direction.


    It took a lot of power to do this, and the systems weren''t available to handle it for protracted periods. But in that one second, they could reach .5c instantly, and in basically any direction, without actually affecting any of their inertia.


    The Bared Saber was Jamming forwards at .35c, and was suddenly only a few dozen miles behind the cloaked raider coming in after them. Both of them came out of Jamming speed, but the raider would require at least thirty seconds to reconfigure its solar sails for increased tactical speed.


    "Charge!" and the pulse of the tactical Harmonic drive shoved all the atoms on the ship in the same direction. Needle beams played out, narrowed down the location of the cloaked ship. "Lance!" The prow surged with glorious silver light as the Saber came in, tractors licking out and locking on target, preventing it from frantically maneuvering to dodge the incoming ship. "And Thrust!"


    There was a flicker of solidifying matter as they breached the cloaks and the Elvar ship tried to bring its shields up, not that they would have made any difference. They were built to take on missiles, not suicidally ramming ships with prows shaped like cutting blades.


    The elvar sheared the tractors free, but it wasn''t in time, and the Saber slammed into them at ten degrees off straight, smashing through the living solar sails and into the crystalline hull, peeling it apart and away as they overtook the Elvar ship, slit it open, and the side guns fired off in series, blowing the ship apart from the inside out.


    Fireballs and glittering shards of crystal spun away in the void, slowly losing momentum as the Saber continued barreling forwards.


    The other two ships were now light-seconds ahead, shocked at both the sudden movement of their prey and the abrupt drop to tactical speed, leaving them far in the distance and unable to render aid to their fellow vessel. Its sudden loss of signal would only make things worse.


    Two other things happened to ruin their day.


    As the other two raiders dropped into tactical speed and out of Jam to make a turn and swing back on their prey by instinct, there were two other Harmonic Jumps.

 Chapter 421 - Far Future Ch. 131 – Who is Playing Whom?

    Four needle beams stabbed down as the Widow''s Bite came out of cloak. The alarms on the elvar sunsail screamed in dismay at the abrupt appearance of a human cloaked ship atop them, and they were unable to believe it had approached them so close and not been picked up by gravimetrics.


    The needle beams punched through the primary midship shield emitters before they could go up, completely ignoring the fact the ship was still supposed to be cloaked. It was already rolling as the elvar ship tried wildly to evade, molten matter and burning air venting out the holes in the ship and betraying their position as the engines of the Widow''s Bite lined up, and flared to life.


    There were heavy, focused guns, and then there was full output of the ship''s engines. The Bite sliced the elvar ship directly in two, and secondary explosions of psychic conduits and the shattered engine core blew the halves apart almost instantly.


    ------


    A singular MF-Class Gunboat flashed into tactical range and locked down the last elvar ship before it could go into Jamming speed and flee.


    Azure had no problem picking out the elvar vessel despite its holocloaks and gravimetric displacement, that''s what Rantha eyes and forward tactical glass magnopanes were for, and the engines that took up over a third of the ship roared with outsized glee as she drove in.


    The elvar weren''t slow to respond as their point defenses lit up, but Azure had all the angles of their defenses worked out, and leisurely danced around the bursts of the gunners, their juiced reflexes and everything still outpaced by those of a Rantha as she punched through their shields before they could launch fighters, and began to unload.


    Or, more precisely, she led the ways for the ten drones mirroring her in her blast shadow to plunge into their targets.


    Not even a psycho-reactive hull that could conduct impacts throughout its length deals well with Sun Strikes shots disrupting that self-same conductivity, and as Azure corkscrewed, Lizma and Todi strapped into the gunner stations pulsed shots into point defenses, shield emitters, and gun batteries that were as good as painting for the drones.


    Fusion eruptions blew apart the hull behind them as a line of eight explosions tore apart the psycho-diamond spun hull of the sunsail, and then the primary guns of the Blue Yonder danced sunfire and shrapnel down the side of the ship. The last two missiles breached into the heart of the ship, and politely blew the shit out of it.


    The Yonder yawed and spun with a degree of agility the Sunwasps erupting out of the far side could only envy, and that was disregarding its size. They were also not at all delighted by the streams of charged particles bright as the sun blazing from the top and bottom of the ship, and wiping four of the elvar ships before they could do anything, like batting flies out of the air.


    Half the squadron made the bad choice of pouncing after the fleeing ship as their crippled mothership raged with atomic fires, and its solar sails peeled away and lost form and power as the psychic matrices empowering them were ravaged with actinic disruption. Lizma and Toli were perfectly happy to show them what Natural Gunners were capable of with overcharged heavy proton autolances bearing Sun Shots, and /tellepathic coordination and united awareness, along with completely ignoring the misdirecting holofields of the elvar fighters.


    Six more blew apart in the next six seconds, walking from one field of fire right into the beams of the next and getting blown apart.


    Like a spreading flower, the rest of the squadron peeled off in the face of that much murderously accurate fire, especially in the face of the closely-shielded gunboat dancing about like a fluttering moth... and as if choreographed, the Yonder spun in a half-circle with them as the two guns let loose with a strobing arc of fire right into the bellies of the breaking Sunwasps. Eight more ships blew apart entirely, and the last two were clipped and went tumbling wildly away.


    Natural Gunner was a wonderful Talent for video game addicts, and what was more video gamey then deep space shootouts with enemy pilots with boosted reflexes and arrogant belief in their own elitism? While Azure technically didn''t need them to shoot her gunports at all, the fact remained they were better at it then she was, and they were eager to try some point defense gunnery out, so why not indulge them?


    The elvar starfighters were limping back to their crippled ship when their systems blared, and even the best of them paled as the Bared Saber came out of Jam into tactical range with engines on full, and his prow cutting through the void like an arc of solid starlight...


    ------


    The light cargo freighter came out of Jamming at the appointed coordinates, less than a thousand miles from the elvar vessel waiting in cloak. It dropped the two ore containers promptly, and they barely cleared the locking bays before the freighter was burning away on a new vector, and returned to Jamming speed as quickly and discretely as possible.


    The Dust Between Stars came swooping in on the containers, the human psion next to its captain looking utterly unmoved and calm, bored even, her demeanor proof enough that the Coronals hadn''t planned anything sneaky.


    He wondered how his dark kin had fared in their ambush on the Coronal ship. Either way, it mattered little to him, as a deal of such scale would doubtless find others wishing to pursue it. Void Osmium did not just grow on trees, after all, and the humans'' desire for it had to be great to deal with the likes of him.


    His proximity alarms going off did manage to lift his eyebrows, and he almost turned to look at the waiting human psion, who looked mildly intrigued at the noise, and then the tactical display came up.


    There was no mistaking the asymmetric design, looking more like a wreck then a viable ship, even for the hideously rigid and overly-done style of human design. The organic and flowing parts of these ships were unclean and depraved, and a triple howl of eagerness to do battle came flooding across the aether, ringing against the lattice of his ships.


    Demonic light cruisers of the Warp. They must have noticed the freighter''s departure from easily-monitored flight paths, and had shadowed it to see where it led and if there was booty available. Finding an elvar ship moving to pick up a dropped cargo was more than enough excuse for a fight.


    Sunhawk laughed softly to himself. The Coronals would have purged these ships themselves, for the honor and glory of it; they would never have dealt with them, even in passing. His Sunwasps were already launching, and his beamers coming to bear as his solar sails glowed. The shuttles taking possession of the cargo would merely be getting it out of the line of fire at this point.


    Three demonic light cruisers against an Elvar Monarch-class. He barely had to think for his crew to lurch into eager motion, and head for the fray.


    "Captain, I will leave you to your fight. Contact us again when you are ready to deal." The psion bowed, and very abruptly, there was a pop as she teleported away.


    Sunhawk''s head turned to the screen, where for the briefest of moments there was a blip in the distance, almost ten thousand miles out, as something came out of cloak, and just as quietly fell back into it.


    Teleportation had expanded range in the void. That would have been right near the limit of the psion''s ability...


    The Umbrans..., he mused to himself, and smiled in appreciation of their cunning. The Coronals would certainly be above this kind of play, but the Umbrans... the Umbrans would pit two foes against one another without hesitation, especially if the odds were still on the side of the elvar and their deals would continue into the future. A subtle leak of information, perhaps? A course correction to put the freighter into sensor range of a waiting ambush? A spy planted among the Warped crew?


    All those things were possible. Even minor information fed into the mindscape for some lucky diviner to stumble across, if the hands were subtle enough...


    The Dust Between Stars rose singing to the attack, glorious waves of psi-focused hard light already ranging out ahead, and his own little battle in the void began.


    Truly, this deal with the Coronals was going to have its own share of excitement...


    ------


    I was watching through a dozen sets of eyes as the Void Osmium was offloaded, and I was sure that many interested eyes would be following where it was going and what it was going to be used for. The Engines Division of Rantha Shipyards was a big enough place for even something as precious and rare as Void Osmium to get lost in, especially if precautions were being taken. The yards of Threshold Station were, after all, almost as sprawling as a mega-city itself, as being a waybase for repair of ships up to five kilometers long demanded a lot of space and storage for both manpower and machines.


    Equipping a Dreadnought or Star Carrier-class vessel would require one hundred tons of Void Osmium for the Harmonic Drive, something we simply couldn''t afford right now. A mere twenty tons, however, was enough to equip several light cruisers, and even more gunboats, as desired.


    The fact there wasn''t any Void Osmium left anywhere within a thousand light years, just to get the first few ships equipped, was just something we would have to live with... and the technology to get it Energized was up above 15 on the tech curve, so trading for it was the only solution for now. Naturally enough, we were quietly dealing for any reserves willing to be sold elsewhere. It was a rare material with niche uses; finding out it had major applicability to a new stardrive system would send the price of it through the moon, even if the Coronals desired otherwise. The Mekkers alone would buy up the entire supply just to make the drive unviable, to say nothing of other competitors and profiteers.


    Which naturally meant that one of the moves of the Umbrans was now going to be to secure what production and trade there was of it, and so the supply...


    It was going to take five hundred tons to work up a Harmonic Drive big enough for the Celestial Tribute. I was still looking forwards to it...


    -------


    [Yo, Mom, brainfart time!] came an /tell via Band out of nowhere.


    I glanced at the speaker. I naturally knew all the girls, as I had to shuffle the souls through myself into the ova from which they were born. They were as individual as fingerprints, and I had a perfect+ memory to boot.


    This generation was all born of our people who had died in combat, and they knew it. They were still forbidden from contacting old friends and family until they secured their incarnation, of course.


    [Princess!], I /smiled despite myself. I could almost see Delores Rantha blushing straight to her ears at the reply. All the eldest Ranthas called her that, wouldn''t tell her why, and she wasn''t allowed to go deep diving on thrilling, deadly hunts with My Queen yet. Cha 30 and get your Incarnation Awareness, she was told. [What is on your mind, Delores?]


    [You know that old game system called Spelljammer?] she /asked quickly.


    [Sure. These wacky arcane space rules seem to reflect a lot of it. No Crystal Spheres, however.] Which didn''t mean such a universe didn''t exist somewhere. Was almost bound to, as a matter of fact.


    [Well, you know how so much of this reality is like diluted gaming rules, right? So, question... what if the Crystal Sphere was the Heliosphere? Are there phlogiston rivers out there, in some Dark Matter form?]


    Thoughtstream Seven flinched, and math, spellcraft, and psicraft started flying at improbably high levels of thought.


    Detail-Oriented was such a wonderful Talent for finding overlooked minor stuff. Naturally, there was no phlogiston, no Crystal Spheres, and so we''d written off the rivers...

 Chapter 422 - Far Future Ch. 132 – The Uncharted Waters of the Void

    Nobody bothered to go out past the heliosphere except sleeper ships, as there was literally no reason to, ever. Pointless travel time, spots of superheated plasma, magnetic storms, and psychic and Warp fluxes heartily encouraging you to stay back in safe space and do your Helljumps from there, instead of adding to the scattered atoms of interstellar space.


    But we were planning on the Tachyon Drive, and I was This Close on the math and psicraft to get it working. The Harmonic drive was the core of the multipliers, as it wouldn''t be viable for more than closest system travel until we could get the multiplier into the thousands.


    The eventual goal was parsecs per hour in speed. I could only gnash my teeth at not having true inertialess, but things would change at Twelve.


    Gravity Drive plus full engine thrust was .35c. The Harmonic Drive could hit .5c by itself at this point. .85c combined was truly fast, and would draw a lot of attention from a lot of parties if unleashed.


    But at Twelve, I would be able to upgrade the Harmonic Drive to .6c, and should be able to do an inertialess shunt like the elvar used for the speed boost for their Sunsails, for +.05.


    That would technically get us to 1.00, but it really meant very, very close to light speed.


    The Tribute already had potential Void Shield tech to deal with friction from molecules or objects in the void, the tachyon field basically forming almost a new pocket dimension in space so all that stuff just slid by. It would be like a fish swimming in spatial folds...


    All the stars in the galaxy that hadn''t been messed with were in rotational alignment. They had gravimetric connections.


    Gravity bent space and time. The gravitic paths between stars were basically areas of stressed space...


    Eff me. That was all totally and utterly possible!


    [My Princess, you''re still a wonder!] Hugs and kisses /emotes everywhere. ¨C[Hey, everyone!]- I /dumped into Mark and Band to all the Ranthas. ¨C[My Princess had a small observation on phlogiston rivers. Those probably aren''t possible... but gravitic rivers between the stars most certainly are! Who wants to go exploring the nasty cold depths of the Heliosphere and find some for us?]-


    Everything lit up, as everybody with any Explorer-like Talent promptly pinged the shit out of me, and Delores Rantha promptly got inundated and smothered with well-wishing comments for the steal.


    Yeah, she had quite the big family now.


    Space was once again the final frontier, and we were going to chart it in a way only the most dedicated of scientists would ever bother to... except we''d actually have funding.


    Which promptly meant a whole bunch of master sensor/div specs needed to be trained, we needed to calculate what we were looking for, and then we needed to make stuff that could find these points automatically, and automate the whole damn process to get our maps drawn up as fast as possible.


    Finding out the formulas and things to look for to determine where the things were ahead of time would also be quite the thing. Happily, I had some major computing power with lots of downtime just sitting there with nothing to do, and it happened to have loads of sensor data from some very high-end scanners it could work with from historical records to get a jump on this whole process. The Tribute got to work.


    Following a gravitic river that was already acting on space could be a x10 speed increase, maybe more. Furthermore, such a thing would be avoided by dark matter entities just like you''d avoid wandering into a fire hose going off. Warp incursions would be squeezed almost flat and useless, despite the planar stress.


    How could it not be there? This was transmagical space, and magical gravity could already auto-accelerate ships to a tenth of light speed. Why wouldn''t there be rivers between the stars?


    Of course, new ships had to be designed, new sensor suites printed off and installed, and they all had to have some legs because they were just bound to find Void races out there, as those types liked to play around at the edge of systems and in the Kuiper belts. They would be taken out just to be taken out.


    Mmm. Escort duties for the new ships with Harmonic Drives, then? Better yet, some drones could be sent out to key areas, and see what was to be seen. Psi-link them with the correct runework, and even if they were lost, all it did was point out difficult things in the area... things that probably needed violent attention.


    The fact that actually discovering spatial gravitic rivers would revolutionize astrophysics and turn potential travel between the stars upside down was a very secondary factor. I found myself wondering just what steps the Warp gods had taken to shut down heliosphere exploration and stumbling across the rivers we weren''t sure existed, and force FTL travel into the Helldive path...


    I had to keep advancing, make Twelve, one more step on the road, and start shining that light of progress ahead of us once again.


    As for all the interesting Mythos shit and bases we were absolutely going to find out there at the edge of the Heliosphere... well, the Mothball Fleet was continually raring for some action after their repairs and continuing upgrades, and since I didn''t want them leaving the system to help elsewhere, giving them continuous shit to do in the system made much more sense.


    Mythos and Aberrants weren''t necessarily Chaotic, but they were pretty much all Evil, and Rantha-tech equipped ships were definitely going to have an edge over standard Imperial Standard designs facing them down. The surviving Fleet ships that had been towed to Threshold and were being refitted were also being imbued with Rantha-tech internal gear, but AMT ship designs were just as effective against Chaos as GAMT was against Evil, so there was no need for the Mothballs. If that dipshit and somewhat more subdued System Admiral Colos wanted to send some ships out to other systems calling for help, he could do it from his precious mainline Fleet, and the Mothball Fleet could live up to its name and stay home.


    Hmm. Janusspace was still a Rim System, and thus a dumping ground for career officers who just didn''t display the needed connections or skills to move further up the ladder. Colos was a dogmatic ass who could handle traditional tactics and spend billions of lives without batting an eye, but had no strategic or tactical elegance, effectively exchanging lives and credits for victory.


    Of course, with the right connections, that was a perfectly fine way to win, and there were definitely lots of blowhards at his level of above who won exactly the same way. But if you didn''t have the connections, and he didn''t, then you needed to be a genius with broad acclaim and recognition to get the nod. Connections only went so far when the key systems were involved, and they wanted the competent, not just the connected. The connected wanted subordinates who could cover for their lack of brilliance, too.


    Thus, our System Admiral was basically sitting out here wasting away. They might give him an honorary promotion after he retired, but he was going to be a Rim-sitter until the day he did so, and he had to know it. Given his pride and arrogance, he definitely thought he deserved more.


    In a happy coincidence, I wanted him out of the system, and preferably the subsector. Foisting him off on someone else and getting my own person in there was definitely something I wanted to do. The problem was that there was no one with the seniority to do so.


    On the flip side, it wasn''t a position that necessarily needed to be filled. Threshold Admiral Ontiff certainly wouldn''t mind being the highest-ranked Admiral in the system, and he had first-hand experience of what it meant to see the Rantha Protocols in work. The Mothball Fleet was mine. Simply running the system logistics through Ontiff and an ''expanded staff'' would do the job. Leaving the spot empty could easily be explained as leaving a dumping ground open for another Rim-sitter.


    -------


    Captain Francesca Rantha...


    System Admiral Colos stewed at the name, staring at her records from the Academy. Flawless, almost raving assessments. A tactical planner and coordinator of genius-level or higher intelligence. She had beaten one no-win scenario, and her performance in several others bordered on the unreal.


    She wasn''t alone. There were a score of Briggs and Ranthas who had similar numbers, and hers weren''t even the highest...


    And she had requested a personal meeting with him.


    He closed the nymphal''s file (A nymphal Fleet officer! The idea!) and turned to peruse his records of the Rantha Protocols.


    He had ignored the Protocols entirely on his authority as System Admiral, taking personal command of the fleet and moving to engage the first thrust of the enemy. He still felt it was the proper decision, as they hadn''t had enough force to deploy in two areas and win, and the planet was basically doomed with the incoming fleet. He would win the battle that he could, perhaps die gloriously, and take some of the bastards with him.


    And they had won.


    He still felt a stick in his craw when he thought about the Mothball Fleet being restored under his nose, and he still didn''t know how they had possibly trained all those crew members so quickly. Ancient, Nymphal, and Downspire-born command crews... the taste in his throat was so sour he almost wanted to puke.


    They had won in knife-like, lethal fashion. Even he had to admire the artistry of their maneuverings, and how the alien scum had seemed to dance to their tune. It was a combination of prescience, cunning, and a degree of skill in ship command and coordination only seen in the very best of Fleet actions. He knew for a fact that the local Academy had put the whole few days of battle actions right into their curriculum, lauding the skill and artistry that had gone into pulling the planet and system out from a disaster to a momentous win.


    He could feel the political currents running, especially in his talks with the Twilight Dukes. Their lack of approval for his actions before the battle, and his lack of results relative to the Rantha Protocols during it was obvious, despite their polite language.


    He knew what that meant. While his career wasn''t in ruins, it was in stagnation and slow fall. His authority would be frittered away, command chains leading elsewhere, his flag would be moved to a sedentary position away from combat zones, and he would be sitting upon a chair doing nothing unless a true emergency came up and they needed him. He would be nothing but a figurehead breathing out warm air, until he took the hint and retired, his name and long service to the Emperor to be forgotten among so many others...


    The speaker beeped. "Tactician Captain Francesca Rantha here to see you, Admiral," his ensign informed him crisply, a high-born lass of excellent pedigree, her voice professional and accent admirable.


    "Send her in," he grunted, loathing what was to come.


    She came walking in, and despite himself, he could not help but watch her. She was a nymphal, and so her beauty was a byword. But the poise, control, ability to command, confidence, and sheer presence she radiated was ferocious. The eyes that met his own had no fear whatsoever, and he could tell the mind behind them was as formidable as her beauty.


    This... this was an extremely dangerous woman, and he was on his guard despite himself.


    She filled out her uniform very nicely, and he was sure that it had been tailored expertly, indeed. She carried a single leather binder, barely an attach¨¦, and her sable hair was braided tight to her skull as a soldier''s should be, yet falling down behind her shoulders in a nod to a woman''s rights. Her skin was pale, smooth as cream, and her emerald eyes like a hunting cat stalking prey as they met his own.


    System Admiral Colos, with life or death authority over billions through the command of the millions of men of the Fleet in this system and all its assets, swallowed despite himself, unable to help himself.


    She was a nymphal, but... what a woman!

 Chapter 423 - Far Future Ch. 133 – An Offer You Can’t Refuse

    "Admiral." She stopped precisely to greet him, offering a perfect salute that should have gone down in textbooks. Her voice sent thrills down his spine, and he swallowed again.


    He found himself on his feet, despite having planned to remain seated when she came as a direct snub, and offered her a salute back. "Captain Rantha." Only iron control kept a stutter out of his voice. "What matter has brought you here to my office today?"


    "Sir, it considers your appointment to the Vissica system, Admiral," she replied smoothly. He thought his ensign had an accent and diction to approve of, but this nymphal''s voice almost seemed to steal his soul.


    And it took a second for the words to register, so awed was he by her voice. "My... appointment?" he asked faintly.


    To the Vissican System? That was the Coreward subsector''s Seat! There was constant conflict from Warp vessels coming from the Rift... it was a place where a man could make his name. His seniority and deeds weren''t enough to make him System Admiral there, but even a Fleet Admiral posting there was a de facto promotion... and could lead to the very top of the Admiralty!


    "I was not aware I was being reassigned, Captain..." he replied numbly.


    "Sir, it is contingent upon the report being submitted by the Twilight Dukes." She opened her binder, taking out three old-style paper files as he watched, and she laid them down before him on the desk... perfectly in line. "You should read them in order." Every motion was elegance, efficiency, and bespoke an incredible degree of precise muscle control. Just following her hands was like watching someone dance...


    "Please be seated, Captain," he managed to say, seeing her return to attention, and knowing she would simply stand there while he read. His cyber eye cycled up, and his augmetics whirred as he took up the first file.


    It was his personal assessment file. It wasn''t the Admiralty''s official files, but the lack of insignia assigned to it gave it a dire weight all his own.


    His entire career was there, laid out in numbers, assessments, ratings, costs, results, interactions with subordinates, private and personal habits, weaknesses, strengths, personal fortunes and abuse of power, affairs and cover-ups, petty vengeances and back-door deals done quietly...


    His blood ran cold seeing it all. He had no idea the Twilight Orders had paid so much attention to what he was doing. It was... they had discovered or known about everything he had done in his career. There was nothing there that would get him shot, and he knew he was far from the only officer using his station to better himself... but he had not thought they had been looking at him.


    Now, he knew better. The Umbrans knew. They always knew...


    His hand didn''t shake as he picked up the second file. This one did have official seals upon it, from both the Orders Twilight.


    It was crushing, damning, and he could find no fault with the assessments they had brought up. The analysis of his fleet''s fight was scorching, the cost of men and materials when contrasted with other fighting actions was simply too great a disparity. If it had not been his own command, he would have drummed the fleet commander right out from his service. A degree of competency was only displayed by those who broke from his command to follow the Rantha Protocols, and their results immediately improved by a measure that could be neither luck nor accident.


    Combined with the horrible personal assessment, he was going to be sitting a cold flag somewhere irrelevant soon enough, a single support fleet for some empty transit system, spending his days waiting for Warp or alien pirates to finally muster enough strength to finally destroy him, chasing after shadows in the dark of the void.


    He couldn''t hide the dread in his face and eyes as he put down the second file and picked up the third.


    It glowed.


    There was no mention made of the Rantha Protocols at all. From start to finish, the planning, the thoroughness, and the preparations were laid at his feet. The Mothball Fleet became a surprise for raiders long nurtured in anticipation, showing incredible foresight and patience despite his remote station. His bloody crude slugfest of a fight became a diversion to pin the enemy in place and massively increase their losses while keeping them away from the planet, so the successful Mothball Fleet could come in and sweep them up, a hammer striking the valiant anvil playing the sacrifice in valor and blood, led by him personally.


    Even the actions of Threshold Station''s preparation for longest-range support were an action in coordination with Umbran stealth ships and careful recommendations from his own office.


    He swallowed, looking between the two reports.


    One was a death sentence, condemning him to the trashbin of history for his mediocrity, moral weaknesses, and lack of ability.


    The other was a rebirth, a tempering in fire that had shown his true genius displayed, and a combination of command and willing self-sacrifice that would light a fire in any person who read it.


    Anyone who read that second would be clamoring to have an officer like that beneath them. That officer... who was not him.


    The Vissican System...


    He sat back in his comfortably padded chair, there in his office on the dreadnought that carried his flag, the heart and soul of his power. He closed his eyes, and for the first in a very long time, his world cracking around him, he thought.


    ---


    Francesca Rantha might not even have been present, she was so quiet. System Admiral Colos said and did nothing for a whole quarter of an hour, and she had to admit it was the longest a man had ever ignored her presence. She found it mildly intriguing, as none of them had expected this small-minded man to do anything other than grab the lifeline thrown to him and remove himself from the system post-haste. What indeed was he thinking about?


    His remaining organic eye opened as his augmetic lotused back open brightly. She was disturbed by neither. He had not seen her trying to be intimidating, and she was a Rantha Hag, and Dauntless. She was not scared of a barely-Six who could not take the next step.


    "I have some questions for you, Captain."


    Well, how unexpected. "Admiral, sir?" she answered smoothly, and even with the m¨¦lange of emotions riffling through the man, she could see the relaxing effect her voice had on him. Ten Ranks of Diplomacy and a 50 Charisma was not just for show.


    "I have heard rumors related to the Ranthas and the Briggs. They say... you are capable of taking people to Seven, and even to Ten, who would never make it there."


    The Beacon psions and gutter-born of the G&G were not secrets. "Sir, it is true there are a remarkable number of Sevens under the command of my family," she agreed without actually affirming that.


    His hand touched the leftmost report, and then the center. "It would not be at all a stretch to say that those who are backing you want to get rid of me, and have the means here to do so. For my own benefit or doom, I doubt that I can stop either fate laid out before me." His eye was cold and grim, and a trace of brokenness behind it.


    He had thought he was something, a success, ignored by those above him in favor of the less-talented, the low-born, the sycophants, and smooth-talkers.


    It had turned out they had not ignored him at all. They knew him very well, indeed, and every action he had taken had led him to where he was now, his future a yawning pit that was going to devour him and what he thought was his legend, and leave nothing behind.


    His hand touched the third file. "This choice would ruin me," he stated coldly. "I am not this man, and those who truly know will know it. The posting will be a hollow choice, even if I take it. It is perhaps a chance to die in glory for the Emperor, and a way out from this system."


    She barely inclined her head. "Sir, shall I be frank?" He slowly nodded to her. "The Dukes Twilight would hardly let you go to such a position without something to back up your performance here. Your appointment would be contingent upon my going with you, to give you the foundation you would need to retain the respect of your peers."


    She saw that give him pause. "And who are you, that you would be sent along with me?" he asked.


    "Admiral, I am the one who administered the restoration of the Mothball Fleet and set up the long-gunner strategy for Threshold Station. My sisters are superior in tactical and strategic planning, but my strength is foresight and pre-planning. If you look at my tactical simulations from Academy, you will find that a great degree of my success was because I was more ideally prepared for what we had to face then other commanders.


    "I prepare them, others plan the action, and others command in the action to deliver the results, sir. Bring me with you on your tactical team and take credit for my recommendations, and you will deliver on that report.


    "If you do not, you endanger the reputation of both the Coronals and the Umbrans, sir." And he would be removed abruptly, without doubt. A last burst of brilliance, dying before his mediocrity was made manifest.


    She didn''t truly want to go, as the opportunities for personal combat would be minimal at best, but given her Talent of Forward Planning, the fact she would be manipulating a solar-wide strategic plan would doubtless be delivering her loads of Karma. The fact a Fleet Admiral would just be a figurehead for her skill was not her problem. Karma was more important than recognition.


    The family did need more connections in distant locations, after all.


    He sighed deeply, eyes closing, lost in thought for another minute or two. She waited calmly, the very attractive model of patience.


    His head rose and looked back up at her. "I want a third option."


    She neither blinked nor reacted otherwise. "A third option, sir?" she repeated with perfect calm and poise, her voice solidifying his thoughts.


    "Yes, Captain, a third option." He nodded to himself, and then focused on her. "I want to remain in this system, in this position. I want to make Seven. I want to see what madness, deviltry, or inspired foolishness you and your family are going to make of this system."


    Well, wasn''t this surprising? "Sir, I did not design the offers, I merely delivered them, and agreed to accompany you if you transferred away."


    "But you can arrange for the counter-offer, Captain?" he asked with a strange, uneasy calm, as if he had realized something.


    "I can, sir."


    "If you will, Captain." He was watching her closely, but she supposed it did not matter much. She tilted her head slightly, and the eyes watching through hers chatted among themselves as she waited, making no other design or move to leave. She could see the hackles rise on his neck as he realized she was speaking directly with those who had made the offers, which meant she was connected to the Dukes Twilight directly...


    Her head straightened again. "Admiral, it goes without saying that the Dukes have been disappointed by you and your command capabilities. A good part of this is the fact you have remained at Six for your career. If you are willing to unilaterally accept Rantha Protocol command decisions until you have proven your own increased competence and reliability, subject to the review of the Dukes Twilight, your offer is acceptable."


    His face was bitter, his eyes turned to the two damning reports. Their opinions of him were clear as knives. It did not matter what he thought of his own ability, the numbers damned him right back.

 Chapter 424 - Far Future, Ch. 134 – The Third Offer... Accepted!

    He was truly mediocre as an Admiral, barely worthy of his braids. The fact he had achieved his rank was due to longevity and luck for never being involved in a truly dangerous fleet action before.


    If it had not been for the Ranthas, he would likely be dead even now, and they both knew it.


    He hated it, but he owed them, and they were fully aware of it. They could break him now, or they could offer him a lift past the First Ceiling that had vexed him his entire life.


    He was not a great commander, a fine leader, or even a decent manager. He was only ambitious, but did not have the tools to deliver on that ambition, and the craving for glory behind it.


    "I agree to your terms," System Admiral Colos finally breathed out.


    Well. Well, well, well... Francesca found herself smiling, and the Admiral went cold on seeing it, despite himself. A smiling Rantha was a very dangerous thing to see... "Very good, Admiral." She rose to her feet without his leave. "The first item you will need to know is that breaking through to Seven... requires you to be subordinate to a Rantha."


    One step, two... Her presence and aura were swelling, Diamond Vajra Mark IV behind a 50 Charisma, Intimidation and Diplomacy Ranks, Masteries, Skill Focus Feats... she was overwhelming him on many, many levels. He was a Six, a penultimate normal human at the edge of what was humanly possible thanks to his cybernetic grafts... the same grafts that had been holding him back from Seven, his crutch to cover his own lack of ability.


    He could only stare as she came up over him, tall and powerful in so many ways, and he was just a small man in a high position, and realizing it just now.


    A +55 modifier to social Skills did not give a damn if you were a Fleet Admiral, one of the great officers of humanity.


    He was a little man, she was a Ten, and he was going to be one of hers.


    She reached down and grabbed his lapels, stepping down onto the chair which was more than wide enough and sturdy enough to accommodate them, having been designed at least partially with that purpose in mind. After all, the names of the women under his command he had liaisons with had been listed out in the file...


    She was far, far stronger than him, and he wouldn''t have been able to resist even if he wasn''t completely stupefied by her at the moment. Her tongue filled his mouth, extended past and up to his nasal cavity as the aphrodisiacs on it sent his eyes rolling up in joy, bypassing all those little nanofilters that were supposed to protect his brain from such biological attacks. Her lilithi tail, already glowing red at the tip, emerged from her tailbone, and arced over and past her precisely to deliver the first of the Brands on his spine.


    He jerked in ecstasy as he was Marked and Branded, body and soul, for there wasn''t going to be any backing out of this agreement.


    ------


    An hour or two later, Francesca left the office of System Admiral Colos, who was now sleeping very soundly and rumpled up indeed in the small chambers to the side of his office. She looked as perfectly turned out going out as she had been going in, and Ensign Jillia Haberrings held out her hand as Francesca walked past, the Spire-born Marked who had seen direct action against zwilnik gangs in Downspire snickering despite herself.


    Francesca touched Jillia''s hand, taking over Jillia''s Marked link to her sister Olivia with Olivia''s blessing. Jillia set about sending out the transfer paperwork that would move her new Rantha to the Admiral''s personal tactical team, laughing quietly to herself that she was now equal in Marked Rank to the Admiral of the whole Janus System Fleet...


    System Admiral Colos was going to wake up Awakened, Opened, Branded, Marked, a Noble/7, a Human/3, a Source Psion, and magnificently motivated to get rid of his cybernetics, retrain his Class Levels, and actually get good at his job. All that Karma he had accrued and simply failed to apply was now going to be put to work.


    He was plugged directly into the Markspace network of hundreds of thousands of Good people, if not millions of them, and connected directly to a woman so far his mental and spiritual superior everything he had ever thought about his life was crushed just standing before her.


    His Rantha would be right there, holding his hand as he pulled himself out of the mire of his own ambitions and started walking on the road to greatness, because a true Source could do no less, and she would be rock and steel as she supported him on the long road of glory now shining before him.


    It would be the best deal he had ever made in his life. If it meant he had just sold his life, soul, loyalty, and position to some force outside the Empire... he just couldn''t bring himself to regret it...


    =============


    A barren hillside some miles outside Kiloplex Abepb...


    Space whorled and receded before a dark vortex from underneath the system''s Veil. A conduit from beneath normal space reached up for the first time in over six millennia, and established a connection to something lost and silent on the surface of Janus III.


    The first figures stepped through the portal, which looked like little more than an extension of shadows. It was naturally in full armor, sealed against the corrosive environment. They looked around with sharp eyes, their gazes inevitably drawn west to the shield walls and oscillating energy dome guarding the human city on the horizon.


    Kiloplex Abepb was small as the human arcologies went, only mustering a few hundred million souls, many of whom had died recently in the Xeno-vore invasion whose after-effects were still extant in the remaining cities.


    The warriors of humanity were tired, dispersed, and fractional. Such situations were ideal to exploit and take advantage of.


    Cruel smiles blossomed beneath faceless helms painted with skulls, and word was sent back to begin the next stage.


    The jetbikes, sheathed in shadows, came zipping out of the long dormant Portal, scouting out the lay of the land and making sure there were no surprises in the area. All their intelligence and eavesdropping on the humans'' information network indicated that the humans were much more concentrated on threats from within the city then from without, and would not be expecting an attack that had already reached planetside.


    ----------


    Gyre Briggs looked up sharply at the notification that had appeared in his mind.


    When he was reborn and his Talent was indicated, he had gotten some sympathy from his brothers. There were odd spreads of Talent that often had little or nothing to do with the modern world, and especially Janus III. For instance, Natural Woodcarver was only even possible if you went inside the Warp Zone, or had to put up with inferior wood you couldn''t harvest yourself from off-world.


    But Bird Whisperer?


    Certainly mankind had some sort of relationship with birds, going back millennia, and Briggs Brothers were Ancients and slanted towards those kind of ancient linkages.


    But there was only one set of birds on Janus III, outside the random pets raised by wealthy on the Spires, let go, and sometimes managing to find one of their own and reproduce.


    Gyre knew that, and so set about getting himself to Ten, while also quietly building up a Marked legion of small songbirds, raptors, and fanciful alien avian species from many worlds. He paid the Karma to accelerate their Marks, as they were barely able to do such things themselves without sentience.


    But an Intellect Rating of 1 or 2 still hit 5 or 6 with a Mark, which was low sentience, but sentience nonetheless.


    His collection of songbirds, parakeets, raptors, gulls, terns, and even ducks, turkeys, pheasants, and chickens, provided him with eyes and ears in many, many places. Sure, he had to place all the Marks himself, and there were limits on what he could do, but he was slow and patient and he took good care of his flocks and their simple desires.


    They didn''t fight for him, but they were excessively good at taking cover and just watching.


    Naturally, his patient additions to the eyes of the Ranthas was only a set-up for what came after.


    When the Ranthas finally got about sending out teams to harvest the Caches Sama had left behind of her kills and discoveries while doing her awesome mapping run around the Warp Zone, he had been on the team.


    His goal hadn''t been the Caches... anybody could do that. Naturally enough, nobody had the Caches as their goals, actually... those just basically paid in advance for the efforts they were making. Those trips had been all about more exploration of the land, mapping out veins of E-minerals to a higher extent, getting a better lay of the land, and charting out what and where to go in the future.


    His had been about making contact with the Crystal Rocs.


    The kings of the skies, the Crystal Rocs were low on the sentient scale, but sentient nonetheless. As apex predators, they were naturally lofty and arrogant, generally hungry, and aggressive about territorial rights.


    However, a +50 Animal Empathy modifier worked just fine on them. Even the most ornery of the big birds warmed up to Gyre Briggs almost instantly, sensing a friend of their kind immediately... and once Marked, and their Intelligence reaching up to human average while finding they could suddenly communicate freely with others of their kind, Gyre was soon at the heart of a continent-wide network of the great predators of the Janus skies. There was very, very little they didn''t soon see, although they kept a healthy distance from the walls of the human mega-cities and their trigger-happy wall defenses.


    It naturally took him months to circle the continent and make contact with them all, and there were others on the far side of the planet he would like to visit, but didn''t have the time when the wars broke out.


    It was the rocs who first saw the subterranean armored cavalry and mobile artillery of the ''vores coming out of the depths of the salt-covered seas, verified by satellites. Their motion-sensitive eyes, which could see right through the charged Haze well outside the cities as if it were not there, basically rapidly noticed every little change within their domains... details that the Ranthas were keen to capitalize on.


    The Xenos and ''vores had set up multiple staging areas in the wastes and out in the Spiked Plains, which the rocs had naturally spotted, and strike teams or missile fire had equally rapidly disposed of.


    Ranthas hunting Sand Wurms and other goodies also made sure to notify the local roc or rocs, who would happily head over for the buffet being laid out for them... carefully out of sight of any of the non-Rantha affiliates, who the rocs were quickly enlightened about, wary of, and deeply analytical of movements through their territories.


    It had already been more than two years since a crystal roc was killed by humans on Janus III, and it was all thanks to Gyre constantly talking with his big friends. Every roc had at least one Rantha or Briggs they glommed onto and were constantly looking out the eyes of, fascinated by human society, and repelled by the xenos and vore invaders whose devouring, dominating nature they could sense and see without even needing a psensitive to play it up for them.


    ---


    Twenty miles away from the invaders and five miles up in the hazy sky, Shirekell noticed the new shadow in his domain, and the motion of invaders where none should be. Their shadowed, concealed vehicles couldn''t escape his notice, and his raptor''s instincts instantly noticed the predatory manner in which they dispersed, like hunters a-wing in search of prey.


    Naturally, he asked his good friend Gyre about exactly what was going on.

 Chapter 425 - Far Future Ch. 135 – Oh, They Think They Are Being Sneaky...

    The Strategic Table...


    -We have a confirmed Kappa scenario!- /rang out through the local Markspace, was decoded for actual measurement, and then was spread basically around the whole planet within seconds.


    Anatolia focused on the relayed images from the great crystal roc. The Haze was too high in the area for satellite confirmation, but that was fine. The gridwork of the landscape had been thoroughly investigated by Hagbloods or G&G teams within thirty miles of all the cities, lived-lines crawling all over them and fleshing out aerial surveillance from drones and similar things to a level the military felt comfortable with.


    -The drow have opened up a Portal into the Underweb sufficiently clear of the Warp Zone to not trigger a Veil Eruption,- she /analyzed and relayed out, getting corroboration of the math, distortion mechanics, and likewise. -They are sending out scouts to sweep the area, and deploying forces under holoscreens for a raid.


    -We are not going to let them know they''ve been spotted.- Which a direct missile bombardment would certainly do, and then they''d go looking for how they were spotted, and enough divinations might lead to the rocs. -Sacrifice two Crowns, put them at points Alpha and Beta, invert them, and let them eat the Warp.-


    Spots glowed on the map. Cost analysis of sacrificing two Crowns vs a nuke, weighted with the diffusion of divinatory probabilities that would result, confirmed it as very cost-effective, indeed.


    Mom''s voice slid through the Markspace as the teams to do so, as well as others to snipe out the drow scouts, were being hashed out and already heading out on deployment via Teleports. One of the rites of passage of getting your Bonded Weapon''s Teleport active was to do the Grand Run, circling the continent so you could deploy fairly close to any potential conflict zone.


    It meant that ALL of the Hagblood Tens could converge on a single place with uncanny speed, a fact that would have badly frightened the Mentat Nines and Tens who imagined themselves the most adept teleporters on the planet. Suck Karma, glowheads...


    -I''m going to get a dimensional lock on the Underweb before those Crowns are inverted.-


    Supraintelligent minds whizzed through the possibilities, and many, many eyes glittered expectantly. Gatecutting was a high-end power open to Bonded Weapons. If they could open a Portal to the Underweb of their own... well, the elvar races might not like it, but they could also go traipsing into the Gloom...


    Mom was already on the move faster than any of them. The drow Portal was about a hundred miles from the Warp Zone. The dimensional calculations had borrowed the back of her head for support, and were then fed into the hypercogs for verification. She could put down within five miles of the drow, seeing as they were close to Kiloplex Abepb, which she had done a run-by of, and was heading for them within two minutes of notification, coming from halfway around the continent in a series of Teleports to do so.


    Anatolia smiled to herself, eyes glittering as a whole new set of possibilities opened up before her. Access to the Underweb travel paths of the Gloom was how the elvar races got around the galaxy quickly. It was certain to have its own dangers, but... the key thing was that it got around the Rift!


    They could potentially expand out of this side of the galaxy, and if nothing else, extend their information network accordingly!


    But of course, if they were going to send Hagbloods to the rest of the Empire, there was no way those Ranthas and Briggs were not going to be active. Just getting local G&G branches up, locating Good people to recruit, and quietly building some power would be fine.


    The problem was that Corewards was going to be much more reactionary and conservative in nature, and the teamwork they had formed with the Umbrans and Coronals here was likely to be animosity instead, their organizations and teams judged as cults, heretics, blasphemers, and Warp sympathizers, if things went sideways.


    Upsetting the apple cart with a society buried in the ruts for five thousand years would not go over well.


    But... it also meant they had a route to claim the legacy of the Duke Corunsun, if they chose to employ it. Whether that was even possible was hard to say... but it was possibilities!...


    ----------------


    Dark elvar, eh...


    I was sliding across the landscape, my hair making a shroud of camouflage the scouting drow couldn''t see through, bending the air around me so as not to create a wake, moving at sixty mph through the rough terrain without a problem, path already charted... and incidentally feeding back to that nice roc who had remained on station, withdrawing a little but keeping everything in sight.


    The kids were going to arrange a nice feast for him. Rocs loved thunder beetles, so scaring up one or two shouldn''t be an issue. These lands were plenty wild still, as the Rantha Hunting Teams ? hadn''t been out in force, having so many other things to deal with, and easier ways to make Karma.


    I watched jet bikes shooting off in all directions, under shadowy holo-cloaks that should have reduced them to just ripples in the air. But True Sight sees through all illusions, scientific or otherwise, and I could see them zipping around like hunting wasps, looking for targets and relaying them back, probing for weak points, hunting for prey, lining up avenues of advance and retreat...


    They had long proved to be very, very effective at their craft. If their enemy didn''t know they were coming, they could swoop down, wipe out defenses, herd up the hapless natives, and empty most of a kiloplex in a remarkably short period of time, opening up temporary Portals and herding the helpless new slaves through them.


    If the defeated refused to go, they were simply slaughtered, sometimes in mass dark rituals, other times to leave biological or magical surprises behind for those who came after, to horrific results.


    They had little to no sense of restraint, no mercy, and were inventive, cruel, and happy to be that way.


    The Elvar were a race color-coded for convenience. The darker their skin, the darker their souls. That didn''t mean even the palest elvar weren''t racist arrogant xenophobic snobs, but it did indicate how far they''d fallen into the grasp of the Warp Gods and lost control over their own desires and ambitions.


    The drow naturally had three colors to them. Crimson, the deep, dark hue of dried blood, represented those drow with incredible innate discipline and ruthlessness, fighting off the influence of the Warp while at the same time giving in to the utter lack of restraint regarding what methods they used to do so. If Hell could have come here, they would have welcomed them warmly.


    What rules existed in drow society came from the Crimson, Blood, Scarlet, Sanguine, and so forth and so on factions.


    The purple factions were the self-absorbed, self-elitist types, thinking themselves above and better than their overly repressed scarlet kin and their utterly depraved black-skinned cousins, and generally represented the nobility of the drow. They preferred names dealing with royalty, shadows, and elitism, like Dark Monarchs, Shadow Lords, Masters of the Void, and similar arrogant stuff that placed them above their ilk.


    The most numerous black-skinned factions were pretty much a catch-all of all levels of their society, dominated by the biotechs and artistic murderers who drove the lower levels of their society, and who often ended up forming the truly radical murderous elite. They gave no lip service to conformity or restraint on themselves or their actions at all, beyond what prudence would demand, and imagined themselves the equal or rivals of the denizens of the Warp, showing THEM what it meant to thirst for slaughter, endure in wretchedness, burn with ambition, or obsess madly. Naturally, they preferred names like the Corpse Eaters, Devils of Carnage, and Daemons of the End for their own factions.


    It was all a great stinking lie, as their lack of resistance to the Warp meant they could no longer use the ancient magic of their race, and active use of psionics in any form also sent their souls closer and closer to the clutches of the Warp God they resonated with the most. In order to satiate the Warp Gods and buy time for themselves, they could only replace the thirst and price for their souls with those of others, and so the drow lived on endless death of other races, slavery and slaughter in tandem as they offered up the souls of others on platters to stave off the consumption of their own.


    The Warp Gods took them all, and doubtless found it very convenient to have such a force of fools working for them on the mortal plane.


    Yet, regardless of their bribes, if a drow entered the Warp... they were dead and done, as the Warp Gods would reach out and suck them up, like any elvar, and enjoy their madness and self-obsession as they would few others.


    Which is exactly what we were going to do to them.


    ---


    The drow were not expecting anyone to come hunting for them. That simply was just not done. Who would be foolish enough to hunt the drow, the greatest hunters in all the galaxy? Even their pale-skinned kin weren''t dumb enough to do so, as the drow commanded the heart of the Underweb, where the elvar walked only with great care and circumspection. Who would chase them there? And then, when the time was right, the drow would come out and take their revenge, and who among the stars could deny them?


    Alas for them, Rules were Rules, and their elitism and natural talents aside, they still had to abide by Levels, Ranks, and Skills.


    Sure, they bioengineered themselves to higher Stats. Unfortunately for them, a society like theirs, so rife with murder, betrayal, ambition, and general lack of caring about what happened to others, was not a place with a high birth rate. Naturally, they tried to solve the population problem with clone rebirths if their elites died in battle (being terrified of dying and consumed was the whole point of their race, after all), and growing lots of Vatted for cannon fodder.


    Vatted were limited to Six. Hitting Seven, they promptly went batshit crazy and got put down. So, they could grow sideways, but if they busted Seven, the Warp Gods were coming for their artificialized souls, and weren''t nothing they could do for it.


    Sixes could get skilled, sure, but compared to Tens?


    Thus, the majority of their soldiers were hastily grown Fours to Sixes... still a good degree above normal humans, whose soldiers were generally in the Two to Four range. Drow officers were definitely Sevens and above, always natural-born elites, and even if they couldn''t actively use psionics, they could employ psychic devices, and their biotech was the best in the galaxy.


    Naturally they built on the inherent grace and coordination of their race, making themselves quicker, more agile, with faster reflexes and perfect balance, aiming for the ideal of finesse combat and never being hit while hitting your foe back = win. It was always about speed, speed, speed with them, be it fighting, shooting, flying, or otherwise.


    Of course, they had to look good doing it, because their cultural obsessions simply did not go away for all this.


    What you ended up with was a race of hyperfit, beautiful, and sexually enticing humanoids, all quite by design. The unfit were weeded out and their genecodes not replicated or passed on, continually winnowing out the genome and tightening it to an ever-more inbred status based on minor changes of aesthetics.


    Oh, and they all had pale hair. If they had any psychic training at all, this was off-white, blended with pink, yellow, pea green, pale blue, faint purple, or the like, often indicating an odd personality type or quirk. The hair color could change if the focus of their racial insanity did, and ''wearing many colors'' seemed to be a badge of honor among them, a test and show of their mastery of the Warp. Punkwarp style? Antiwarp? Retroelvar Warpish? Neoclassical Counterwarpish Polyspectral?


    -Okay, girls, you''re getting a little wild with the hairstyle critiques-, I /mused into the Marktell with a grin, as the criticisms mounted up. Just how poorly they went with their generally glowy, lambent red-orange-yellow-milk white eyes was a key part of the fashion analysis. Generally, they were probably trying to ignore the windows to their souls...

 Chapter 426 - Far Future Ch. 136 – Oh, It Must have Been Just Some Bad Luck...

    What it all really meant is that the ones with white hair were the wimpiest, and the ones with off-white hair could be dangerous. They passed around Psychic Weapons like candy, and no true drow would handle something less then QL20 Masterwork if at all possible, thanks to their Obsession.


    As for hereditary matriarchal status, that wasn''t present, although there was relative equality between the genders considering how androgynous the males were. Women certainly weren''t any worse in finesse combat then men were, and with their similar builds, the males couldn''t get functionally higher strengths then the women. It was all about Dex and Attack Bonus, and gender was a non-issue since strength and size were hallmarks of the stupid and easily dominated.


    They simply didn''t believe that normal humans could get past them without using hefty science or psychic powers, which their better tech and psensitivity would alert them to. A Ten+ with all the bells and whistles coming in and getting past them while avoiding all their alternate senses with the Darkstalker Feat was simply too low a probability to even consider.


    I slid past their few sentries without much effort, weaving between their Vat-born guards, waiting hovertanks and platform guns, past the holo-stalae masking the arriving forces from observation overhead, and closed in on the Portal.


    The yawning gap in reality offended me as a Null, and it took some effort not to pop an Interdiction and just shut them down. No, no, we wanted this lesson to be expensive, we did.


    I slid in along the hillside, hair keeping soft hold as I sidled away above the guards, watching the drow forces sliding and strolling through, unconcerned, arrogant, confident, and expectant of the fun to come.


    Chalice slid out into my palm, and, still shielded by my hair, I stuck her point into the Portal.


    -Resonance with the Underweb established,- she /told me after a few seconds. -Identifying planar coordinates. Extrapolating baseline... okay, let''s go!-


    I headed back along the way I''d come, and as I did so, I looked for a few likely recruits, and those snobbish jet-skinned supermodels in bikinis, half-armor, too much skin, long crescent knives, and pink hair indicating artistic appreciation of bloodlust and slaughter looked like just the things.


    -Blow them Crowns anytime,- I /informed them, taking up position on a section of rock above the stripper queens with knives.


    ---


    Up on the plateau and in the badlands, about thirty-ish miles apart, Percy and Chauncy Briggs gave one another thumbs-up, and triggered the two Crowns they''d brought along and placed on the ground. With a popping sound, their Hammers took them out of there, back along their lived-lines, even as the two brawny lads sighed about blowing thirty crystalweight of high-psitech gear.


    Still, it was going to be quite the show.


    The time delays went by quickly, and the Crowns triggered in unison... in inverted mode.


    Dimensional resonance of distortions in the Veil accrued instantly, reached out with one another, extended back along the new rip in the Veil from the Underweb Portal, touched it, and I heard it surge and hum as it did so.


    Dimension-breaking power flashed backwards along the weakpoints of the Vulnerability to Chaos effect, and a single tiny thread touched the outskirts of the Warp Zone.


    There were a lot of eyes watching as the edge of the Warp Zone flared, harmonized to the new Crown effect so similar to its own, and bulged out, ripping open a new and unregulated rift to the Warp as it howled back along that weakness in the Veil.


    ---


    The drow all felt the tremble, and turned to look in surprise. Of course, the side of the hill was in the way, so they couldn''t see the warposcopic panoply of illuminated clouds devouring the landscape as it came surging this way, it wasn''t quite visible yet... although the Portal starting to whine and emit some really unnerving lights in the thaumaspectrum had all their glowy eyes wider than usual, looking kind of funny, and then the panic hit.


    There were shouts and screams, lunges for the Portal, calls to close the Portal... but it was way past that point now, as the weight of the Warp was coming down, flooding into it, forcing it open even if they cut the power ¨C


    The sky went all them unnatural shades of colors from three spectrums, and tough-as-nails dark elves screamed in horror at what was coming. I thought it pretty damn funny myself.


    The sky came down, and reality with it.


    Oh, and I jumped.


    I landed right behind the four screaming strippers I''d picked out, my Tails wound around them and the stingers plunged into the back of their heads. Their screams of horror became gurgles of transcendent joy, and the daggers tickling the edges of my tails in flashes of reflex fell limp as they looked at the wonders of the skies and began to drool.


    My Null extended out around me, locking down reality, as everything around me literally Went to Hell.


    Drow died in artistic styles. Eroded by the wind, spontaneous explosions, liquefying, petrifying and crumbling, instant combustion, implosions, reality-breaking spirals of flesh-popping proportions, sucked into point singularities, grabbed by invisible jaws and devoured whole, hurtling by at speeds which eroded them to nothing, fading away as their screams lingered on, swarms of various kinds of things gathered to them and ate them away, specters gathered and dispersed leaving nothing behind...


    Really, I didn''t see any two die in quite the same way. Impressive.


    The Warp flooded right into the Portal, which was no longer black, and as it did it sucked up all that military stuff and brought it right along. Things were already growing on the sleek war machines; faces and mushrooms and tentacles and flames and spikes and all the good, fun stuff, and if they were twisting around and breaking apart from the stress occasionally, I could understand that, too.


    Reality around me was pretty fluid, only the ground I and my new collection of drooling black kitten-elvar were standing on was unaffected by what was going on, but I imagined whatever was on the other side of this Portal was having a very bad Last Day.


    ---


    Two minutes, and the Crowns broadcasting their enhanced, reversed signal burned out, and crumbled to ash and dust.


    Without the resonance, the Warp extension naturally lost strength as the Veil came back in with a sniff, affronted at the intrusion, and gradually squeezed the path through reality down and cut it off.


    There was a new canyon about a half-mile wide and hundred yards deep cutting across the plateau and the badlands beyond, making a beeline right for the location of the Portal. The patterns on the rocks weren''t something anyone with an attachment to sanity wanted to look over, and I noted for the field report that stopping sightseers from inspecting the walls here too closely was probably a good idea. Some Fleet Ships should make a note of using it for target practice for the immediate future, just to get rid of the visible Signs left behind.


    My four happy black kittens were on their knees, leaning back against me, having the time of their lives. Of the Portal, there was no indication it had ever been here, although reality had solidified a little bit more cleanly around me, as I''d blown an Interdiction to congeal things, and the cascade had made sure the canyon basically stopped right where the Portal had been, looking like most of the force had been sucked down and away into it... if you knew it had been there.


    -Celestia, Jensa, Keva, come on in. I''ve got some presents for you.- I /said, as I gently put the more purple and better-geared of the four drow women against my Dex mark, and as she looked up at me blissfully, nailed her to it with Chalice.


    The three duelists wouldn''t take too long to get here, as they''d been standing by in the distance. My little black kittens were only looking forward to becoming part of my daughters, drool, drool.


    I was sometimes amused that while I was the best fencer of the Ranthas, I technically wasn''t Talented at it. The only thing that gave me an edge was the luck of being an Exemplar Lite... which wouldn''t work against anyone Beyond Law and Chaos, which any decent duelist among us (meaning everyone, since we were all decent duelists) took at first opportunity.


    Celestia was Ice Cold, which meant naturally Intimidating and emotionless, able to demoralize an opponent rapidly even if they were immune to fear (like, oh, other Ranthas) and then spring the sneak attack damage in.


    Jensa was Eagle-Eyed, bonus to Spot Checks... and incredibly good at sussing out weaknesses in an opponent''s fighting style thereby, also springing in the sneak attack damage at will.


    Keva was a Natural Fencer, which gave her a bonus to Sense Motive and Feint checks while in combat. This meant it was hard to fool her, and it was remarkably easy for her to fool someone else with her maddeningly hard to follow and elusive sword style.


    Technically, they were all better duelists then I was, and only my ExLite bonuses and higher Level meant I could stay equal with them while sparring.


    Against others, of course, I still had the advantage, as just being an ExLite and having those Luck bonuses active against others was as good as a Talent, and far broader in application.


    The drow had a hard-on for pitched melee combat, and especially savage, artistic, finesse-style pitched melee combat. They also had women all over in fighting roles.


    The Briggs boys had no desire whatsoever to go prancing around as namby-pamby little jet-skinned pointy-eared gits. The Ranthas? Couldn''t wait to try it and Nail a drow of their own to their Marks, and maybe visit a certain City in the Gloom of the Underweb.


    ---------


    Anatolia compiled the observation reports coolly, destined for the Dukes Twilight.


    There had been four other Warp Incursions of violent power during the whole two minutes the effect had happened.


    One had been inside the Warp Zone. The scattered forces there reported that the landscape in the area had destabilized, looking as if it had reverted to a much different typography as the explosion blew out, and then a Warp Surge had come in and deposited a whole bunch of crap they''d now have to kill, some dark elves among them who hadn''t looked happy when a bunch of their shooters and vehicles weren''t working. The demons popping up hadn''t sympathized much.


    Another had been far to the north of Janus III, where a minor research station of the Mechanist Guild was engaged in production of high-end alloys off two special veins of ore found nearby. What was left of the station was screaming foul chants on the bandwaves, and two cruisers were moving into position to bombard it to magma from orbit.


    Two other Mechanist stations on the far sides of the planet, overseeing other minor mining operations there that ostensibly dealt with programming and instrument calibration for some high-end sensory equipment, had respectively been blown apart by a purple and green fireball, and for the other the ground had come alive, formed a set of worm jaws miles across, sucked down the entire station, and left a big empty hole in the ground going down to who knew where.


    Anatolia was sure there was at least one other Portal in the dead zone around the Celestial Tribute, but it was ruined at some point during or after the impact of the great starship.


    Proof that the Mechanists had located the Portals and simply hidden them away to research themselves was now gone with those locations, and likely any records and research they had obtained was now being trash-canned as speedily as possible to eliminate all traces.


    Which didn''t mean the Dukes didn''t know that yet again some very, very important information had been withheld from them. The Portal near Abepb was probably never occupied simply because it was too near the kiloplex, and the planar activity would inevitably be detected at some point.


    Elvar Portals on the planet were just not something you hid from the defense authorities...

 Chapter 427 - Far Future Ch. 137 – Assessment of the Situation

    One strategic conclave in Markspace, leaving out numerous parties who would dearly love to be involved...


    "What prompted the interest of Dark Elvar beyond mere piracy?" Duke Parablum asked, brow furrowing. It wasn''t like drow raiders were a new threat, but daring to go after a planet with existing and well-positioned orbital defenses was a great risk by their standards. They were either incredibly daring, or outright stupid.


    "The Saber and Widow taking out their ambush so handily, I''m guessing," I replied. "Then, they went eavesdropping on the Boole, and saw a bunch of exciting things here."


    "Hundreds of minor psions in combat," Duke Rimval nodded slowly. "Ideal slaves and sacrifices to the Warp."


    "Precisely." And I could confirm it, naturally enough. "We''ve made ourselves interesting. The Briggs Brothers are especially interesting to them. Big strong humanoids butchering one another at their whims are like sweet wine to the drow."


    "The Portal inversion will make it impossible for them to mount a planetary attack that bypasses orbital defenses. Despite everything, they will be forced to launch further attacks from space. That is not a preferred tactic of theirs," Captain Dornal noted.


    Briggs agreed. "In addition, their Underweb connection here has to be either down or corrupted, and will, for the short term, be unavailable. So they will have to take their slaves another way."


    "Except they really want to hunt down both the Saber and the Widow and take them and their crews apart to find out what makes them tick. They are now designated trophy prey. The drow are OBSESSED with that sort of shit," I offered.


    "That means they will send personal assassins or hunters," Duke Rimval noted, a hint of worry in his tone.


    "Have." Everyone blinked. "Ah, Tab didn''t tell you about the stalker in her shower? And the shadow in the corner of Tiff''s bridge? Must not have wanted you to worry. The twats thought shadow-slipping and hiding in temporalspatial cracks escaped True Sight.


    "On a side note, Briggs has also popped a couple stalkers they''ve sent out to probe him, since he''s a bit more accessible with the time he spends with the lads. They''re surpassingly deadly when ambushing people, but, you know, they crack easy when a big power fist comes down on their skulls while they are skulking in dim-cracks."


    Briggs just smiled casually, brushing it off. "It was basically done in passing. No big deal," he admitted.


    "Should I be hoping one tries the same on me when Vala is around?" Duke Parablum mused aloud.


    "Yes!" I nodded agreeably, and he had to smile despite himself. "Of course, that just makes you a bigger, funner target. We''re expecting them to try sniping next, and then move on to explosives, then start raising the stakes."


    "They will invade worlds just to set up duels with notable characters," Duke Rimval noted. "I think we have made ourselves a target of their idea of fun..."


    There was some silence from those in attendance.


    "Normal forms of dissuasion simply will not work on the drow. The greater the challenge, the greater their desire to overcome it, by whatever methods are required," Captain Dornal observed. "And if they fail, well, they take vengeance on whoever has foiled them."


    "The catastrophe of the invasion definitely has someone wiping egg off their face, if they survived," Briggs murmured. "Individual assassins aren''t working, it follows that they will try teams next, doesn''t it?"


    "If they are going after targets to take down who move about, yes. If someone is constantly surrounded by guards, they will still send out the individuals, until their most legendary killers get involved," I supplied helpfully. It helped to have one of their bladewitches to reference this stuff against. There was a heaping load of stuff I and the other three girls had downloaded into an Akashic Node about the drow, and it was being gone through with a fine-tooth comb. They would probably be REALLY unhappy that outsiders now had such a good look into their society, how it worked, and some of the history behind it.


    On the other hand, learning how to fight them better meant a whole lot of Coronal, Umbran, and Legion eyes were looking at all of it with great interest. Our trio of duelists were teaching a class on drow fighting techniques and how to face off against them, with great enthusiasm.


    "Speaking of the catastrophe, was there any indication of Portals elsewhere in the system?" Duke Parablum inquired. "I assume since you were looking at the planet you might have been looking elsewhere..."


    I smiled slightly. The Map popped up between us, zeroed out a system view, and nine points blinked on, six on planets, one in the asteroid belt, one inside Janus III''s orbit, and the other near the edge of the system, past the eighth planet in open space. "No eruptions, but there were planar instabilities. If we weren''t looking for them, they would have passed as background static." The memories of the drow had supplied us the locations of six of them, so the other three were a neutrally undesired surprise. Serendipity, let''s say.


    "Those locations should be mined or Interdicted," Captain Dornal stated.


    "I think we should utterly surprise them with horrific bad luck if they use them, first," Briggs posited in return. The Legion Captain considered that, eyes flickering to Janus III''s representation, and smiled grimly, nodding. "I do confess to not having the nasty turn of mind to design something suitably devastating and completely random to annoy the piss out of them with..."


    "Crowd-source it. There are kids with some really nasty Talents out there," I waved it off, and everyone present agreed with that. "We''ll review their ideas for prime hilarity, and try to make it look as much like total bullshit luck as possible, while killing the drow in new and entertaining ways."


    "It is how they want to die, is it not?" Duke Parablum nodded agreement. The Coronals had learned long ago not to even bother with attempting a fair fight with the dark elves. If they were found, they should be killed by whatever means were expeditious. The list of atrocities done at their hands simply did not allow for hesitation in this matter.


    If the drow wanted to out-demon the demons of the Warp, they had to be treated like them!


    "I would like to bring up the problem of the big Hole in the room," Briggs said forthrightly. "Does anyone have any ideas on what to do about it?"


    I eyed the Dukes, who looked at one another and sighed. "The cost of evicting it is quite literally worse than if it stays and does nothing. In either case we are likely looking at a Tekron incursion, which is likely to wipe the planet," Duke Parablum stated. "Any and all divinations attempted related to the topic simply breed disaster."


    Everybody around made faces. That was not welcome news. The fact they''d even attempted some future viewing to resolve the issue showed how seriously they took it.


    During the cerevore incursion, there''d been a couple attempts by the ''vores to suss out the Hole. The first one cost them a few thousand pslaves, who went in, went quiet, and then came back out with attachments and self-destruct bombs that wreaked immense havoc among the pslaves in a wide area to show the Hole''s disapproval.


    The second attempt was done with grown xenos with cerevore riders, swarming in with undead-reaping power.


    They went in, went quiet, and a short time later half-dissolved, chopped-up xenos came shambling out to blow the heck out of the local hiveminds in anti-acidic pscreaming detonations of soul-blasted ''vores powering psi-shock bombs, knocking out something like fifty cubic miles of the ''vore and xenos hivemind network as they did so. They also blew out the brains of close to a million humans at the same time, as basically every non-Forsaken or senior Psion in the area ate the brainshock and their cortexes were liquified.


    We had managed to vivic most of the dead, but at least fifty thousand corpses had disappeared down the Hole for later use by the owner. We cleared out the area of all the dead, which burned very, very clean over the following weeks, and the Hole was avoided like the plague by the Xenos thereafter. I guess cerevore-fueled necrotech bombs did some nasty stuff to the hivemind...


    "Can it be recruited to aid in its own defense?" Duke Rimval wondered aloud. The Tekrons were a nightmarish threat, as undead robots at TL 17+ are wont to be. They didn''t want to bring them in... and discovery of the Tekron by any outside force was an excuse for said outside party to invite the Tekrons to investigate.


    "It''s not impossible, but it must believe the risk is worth it. I let it know that we know about it, that we have the power to remove it, and have chosen not to because of the associated risk of discovery or whatever retribution it would undertake. The likelihood of it being discovered if the drow were to start infiltrating..."


    "Almost a certainty," Duke Rimval said after a short pause, hypercalculating divinations going off. "Their necrotech rivals that of the Tekrons, and their science isn''t far off, just in a different direction. Adding in psi-senses on top of things, and it can''t hide from them like it can its kind."


    "Then we''ll go about establishing contact, as it really doesn''t have a choice at this point... except to leave. Its undead cover is pretty damn solid, but it won''t fool the drow. The best thing to do is keep them as far away as possible by as obfuscated a means as possible. It should have some recommendations to that effect."


    "The consolidation of the undergangs should give us some leeway to work with," Briggs agreed. "Having more control over random elements is good stuff from its standpoint. While our actions might be attracting attention, they are diverting it at the same time with the stuff we are pulling off, none of which is related to it. As long as we don''t ask for tech, we should be good."


    ------


    The Xenos Incursion had pried aside the lid of a bunch of nasty secrets, with a bit of (lot of) help from Ranthas. The necroic and axiomatic Events combined with Warp Incursions had revealed the massive infiltration into the undermafia families in all the human settlements. Further investigation of their vatting tech had revealed the corruption in them, and their leadership was completely subverted and wiped clean.


    The undermafias themselves were badly shaken by the revelations of how they had basically been designed to be vulnerable to Warp possession, and indeed that very knowledge led to hundreds of scattered possessions that ended in messy violence.


    As a result, all of the undermafia members had been rounded up and shipped offworld. None of them were spared, being sent off to the Urnkal Archipelago to fight against the goblins invading and investing the worlds there.


    Their fate was to die fighting in the Empire''s service, or they were going to end up fighting in the service of the Warp.


    Their officers were all young generation Ranthas and Briggs. Or rather, Themis-Ranthas, Skraeling-Briggs, and mixed Ranthas and Briggs of the other families.


    Vatted members who had died in the fight against the Xenos while staying true, reborn as Ranthas and Briggs Brothers.


    That was the destiny they could embrace: die in humanity''s service, and be reborn without the threat of the Warp hanging over their head, and able to fight back against it.


    The Trika, the Sweiss, the Steiners, and the others all had kin reborn as Hagbloods. It would take time, but they weren''t going to heaven... what they were coming back as was right with them already.


    Their performance in the Urnkal War so far had been outstanding. They were already skilled fighters, technologically savvy, and once they pooled their efforts instead of shooting one another, they were actually extremely good at their jobs. Being Marked and commanded by Hagbloods was truly useful, of course, and the fame of the Janus Underspire Army was only rising.


    It was also spreading Ranthas and Briggs Brothers to ever more locations. Knowing nothing else, but seeing their raw ability, there were more and more generals wondering if there weren''t more of these incredible fighters from Janus running around they could recruit...


    Every four months, ten thousand new Hagbloods were quietly moving into the Warp Zone to get blooded and eliminate the last vestiges of the Warped there, so the Zone could finally be extinguished. The areas they had cleared were growing rapidly, but there was a lot of land to cover, so they weren''t done yet...


    They didn''t come out until they were Sixes, spreading out among the surviving human cities, beginning the process of building up their civilian followings, or pursuing other careers. But they were shaking the foundations of Janus III, as those who occupied the upper reaches of society found these newcomer gene-twists implacable, monstrously talented, coordinated, and with a far larger amount of support then any of them thought possible...

 Chapter 428 - Far Future Ch 138 – Visiting a Little Hole in the Ground

    I wanted to do a great many things. So much exciting stuff! At this time, I was still unfortunately on a tether, as I had to get back and give my addicted greater demon his fix or he would go off his rocker, and nobody really wanted to see what he could do to the Warp Zone if he was beyond barmy.


    Alas, alas. It was a good thing I had so many ambitious kids out there, I guess.


    Recruitment was ongoing and so key to the combination of rebuilding and reorganizing this stratified and feckless society of addicts and idiots. Senior Hagbloods were quite happy to give directions and ''issue quests'' to their juniors about all these happy opportunities to exploit. People had different Talents, sometimes very conflicting, but knowing what your Talent was, catering to it, and bending it to benefit people was an art form we all loved to do, since we all started from the same place. That we could run undermafias, rob wealthy people blind, form upstanding companies churning out consumer products and wargoods, and hunt down lawbreakers as a family all at the same time was just more fun, when it came right down to it.


    Still, going down to chat with a Tekron was interesting enough to be worth my time. It wasn''t like I had to worry about Karmic accrual at this point. The Kids were passing up mountains of Allegiance Karma, and since I was sending it all back to them to build them up further, it was driving my Racial Levels up with the need to satisfy their demands for More Stuff To Do.


    Now, Rantha Racial Levels were extremely expensive with all the bells and whistles, but my Allegiance, such as it was, was expanding monstrously, and with the continuous give-backs to help everyone out, the Duty and Loyalty ratings going through the roof meant all that did is make the pass-up ever higher. By investing in my people repeatedly, the virtuous cycle was repeating and growing massively.


    I would be hitting Twelve very soon, upgrades to tech would be streaming online, everybody would go into a delirious tizzy of upgrades and reassessments and new ideas and possibilities and mini and major quest goals...


    But now I had to talk with an emotionless robot from a line of sentient AI''s with a profound irritation for biological life forms. I wondered if they were converted former biologicals themselves, or just ran on negative energy as an alternate fuel source? If so, the death of living creatures created more fuel, but no living creatures around basically cut off their own fuel sources.


    The idea of letting the galaxy swarm with life and then reaping it all had occurred to us, but unfortunately millions-year deep archeology was one of those sciences of very low priority in an alien-infested universe, and asking the creatures who usually wanted to kill us tended not to get results. It was non-productive, in the end. Culling just deprived them of a fuel stream in return for a short-term glut. Went against logic. It was entirely possible that this Tekron was being sustained just by the natural deaths of the people in Janus Prime, and had simply harvested the dead of war for a reserve against tougher times ahead.


    He should be somewhat protective of an agreeable fuel source, and as long as he wasn''t actually eating souls, we didn''t actually care. The Tekron race, on the other hand, would simply have the attitude that we were endlessly replaceable and simply not care if we were all extinguished...


    We''d have to see what its priorities were.


    ---


    Underspire was a complete mess after the fighting, and the repairs would be ongoing for at least the next century. That was fine, gave people work to do. Whole sections of the city were uninhabitable... well, by normal people. Tons of folk plenty happy to live in those zones, and really, if you just got water and sewage there, local power generation could take care of itself, and just do tiered farms instead of stuffing people in habs and feeding them drugs to keep them sated.


    So naturally enough, that''s what a lot of the kids were doing, transforming Janus Prime slowly with lots more green. After all, at some point the Warp Zone was going away, and the planet would be very different when it did. Bonus points, people were eating better. Upspire people naturally wanted to eat fresher produce, and didn''t want to work to do so... but had monstrously hard times recruiting workers except at unviable pay scales, and couldn''t really enter the business. Oh, too bad, so sad...


    More deaths to sustain the Tekron, I suppose.


    ---


    I wasn''t tracked by any cameras or observed by any electronics, and the people certainly didn''t register who I was. Underspire was still a place of odd attire and personal motifs, to say the least, and if you didn''t look remarkable, you were basically invisible. Inverting my charisma to have people ignore me was a trick of the Stealth skill, Faceless in a Crowd, and so my heading into the newly credited area belonging to the Hole was untracked and untraced... and more eyes than mine were making sure.


    Rantha True Seeing eyes were in a lot of places these days, as oh so many dops, Possessing demons, cerevores hiding in skulls, bodyjumper Warp sorcerers, and rogue psions were finding out... and the more mundane zwilniks were finding it ever harder to prosper in a career where sudden disappearances were the normal endings to their lives and futures. That so many of the addicts were pslaved by contaminated drugs was something that turned the majority of society against them. For those who just didn''t give a frak, if they vanished, and drugs were involved, it was quietly spread that the zwilniks and their clientele got what was coming to them.


    Those who tried to make use of this to off their rivals untraceably found that the people doing zwilnik removal were also very happy to get rid of opportunistic murderers, too. Zwilnik removal was all cleared and substantiated ahead of time, it just wasn''t as loud and showy as some of the Juris wanted... although they got to hit all the distributors they wanted to, which often they didn''t. Distributors had connections, and there were some connections going Upspire that were getting a bit worked up as their business model was failing and their guaranteed revenue stream, that should have been booming with PTSD''d civilians and soldiers, was instead drying up. Their employees, once enjoying an inexhaustible track of opportunity for ambitious sots from Under and Downspire, were going away, and new ones were getting clearly reluctant to end their lives within a short period.


    I knew a lot of cold eyes were watching this death spiral of zwilniks unhappily. As their addicts were either cured or eliminated, surviving addicts became like sources of gold, prized possessions to be warred over, especially when the number of incoming addicts they were trying to make was nowhere near expectations. The prices of many drugs plummeted as desperate dealers tried to offload them, which only got the dealers removed all the faster, and things were shaking Upspire among many entrenched families and pharma corps who suddenly couldn''t recoup their costs, suppliers who weren''t getting paid, money wasn''t moving, and people started exchanging bullets and bombs instead of bribes and blood money.


    The Incursion had stopped, the fallout and the killing went on. Welcome to the future!


    ---


    I simply tap-tap announced my presence, just in case the Tekron didn''t know I was there, although the faint Band signal on my arm would be more than enough to register me. Communicating on the Band was still a stupid thing for it to do, so in an age of ever-dizzying high tech; face-to-face in a dead zone was still the safest way.


    I stood there in a side corridor with a route that led right into the Hole through a complex mix of service passageways and tunnels nobody should know about. Inigo had slid through this area, in and out, not going too deep once she saw the levels of necrotech spike to unwholesome levels, and while it had doubtless reorganized some of the spaces, there was no doubt that we had a pretty good idea of the layout within. That it was probably using a private sustained pocket dimension was not out of the question, but beyond our remit at this point. None of us wanted to go test the defenses that had chopped up a Xenos army and sent them back out without a good reason.


    It didn''t take too awful long for a cyberzombie to come traipsing out to meet me. Actually, it was in pretty good shape. Looked to be a pslave, its brainfried status adjusted with negative energy to undeath, realigned with nanotech to serve its new master, and some unhealthy enhancements added to its dead flesh to make it more dangerous.


    Didn''t come with the extras. Probably figured the show of force wouldn''t work, which was true, and it wasn''t necessary, either.


    The cyberized undead stopped in front of me, staring at me with black obsidian eyes.


    "Salutations!" I greeted it amiably, in flawless Necrus. "Long time no see! It is good to see that you have been keeping yourself productive. This model is much better than the last. Do corpses with their sense of identity previously destroyed make better undead?"


    It blinked slowly at me. "Yes, Sama Rantha." No reason to hide it, I guess. "Why are you here?"


    "Drow have taken a sporting interest in us. Given their methods of operation and their being drawn to depravity, they will be coming to Underspire just to see the sights and sneer at the pitifully dull human standards of excess even while they indulge in them. Their nature is to seek out challenges and attempt to kill them. Their biotech, necrotech, psitech, and weird science are all at levels that can discern your true nature. We do not want that to happen, for the same reason that we don''t want your own kind to find you.


    "Our primary goal is to find ways to get rid of them in such a manner that they think the Warp is acting against them, causing them to be intensely unlucky while they are killed in fairly random manners that should be outright impossible, needlessly showy, rather dramatic, and a combination of showy and subtle that will give them the creeps.


    "We are wondering if you had any suggestions you might be willing to offer?"


    The painted, withered face of the cyberzombie regarded me for long minutes. I waited calmly to hear its reply, even if it was only going to send me off.


    I was actually a bit impressed when it replied, "There are several scenarios that can be adapted to aid in foiling the deluded elvar."


    "Excellent!" I held up a thumb drive. "Lay them out in simple format, and we will execute them to the best of our ability. I assume you will render aid unseen at the side."


    He reached out to touch the thumb drive, there was a dark spark, and I took it back, sensing it brimming full of data.


    "Thank you. I doubt you need anything giving the resources you''ve snaffled up during the recent disturbances, but is there something you require that we could supply you with that will not betray your presence?"


    "Information," was the instant reply.


    I had to raise an eyebrow. "Clarify?" I asked reasonably.


    "Knowledge on the metaphysical structure of the universe," it explained.


    I frowned slightly. "Remand the conversation to Human. Necrus is a transmagical language at its core, and I don''t want to talk in machine code, it doesn''t handle metaphysics well." I shifted my language. "What part of the metaphysical structure are you curious about?"


    "Immortality," was the prompt reply in stiff, flat Human.


    Well, that was no surprise. I rocked back, considering that a necroic AI asking about that was indeed not a huge surprise. An AI powered by death could logically persist long after the last living thing died, if it had enough reserves... but eventually, those reserves would indeed run out, the universe would collapse, and it would start over. Even undead would wear out and down, as even if negative energy was born from decay, there would be positive energy degradation in return over the eons.


    "I will ask for clarification. Eternity, or Immortality? They are different levels of existence."


    "Query: What is the difference?" It didn''t have emotions, and the voice was flat and mechanical, but the swiftness of response indicated eagerness.

 Chapter 429 - Far Future Ch. 139 – Technical Analysis

    "Finite and non-finite existences. Demons of the Warp are technically Eternals. Barring extreme outside force, they simply will not die, and can reform themselves and live anew. They have several major weaknesses that do not generally allow that to happen, but it IS possible for them.


    "A mortal being who becomes post-Twenty also enters this stage. They can be killed, but they will not naturally die.


    "An Immortal is non-finite. Life and Death are simply stages that it transcends. Only a being of the same level has a chance at eliminating it, and one of a greater level doing so with certainty. It would be akin to being part of the Source Code of existence, and only a greater program could write you out of it."


    "Is it possible to become the Ultimate Programmer?"


    "Of this realm of existence? No. You are already part of the Code, and the programmer stands outside the Code. You would have to ascend beyond this existence, and start a Code of your own beyond this. If you accept this existence, you must accept your place in the Code it is made of."


    More silence. After another few minutes, it spoke again, "What methods are there to attain Eternity or Immortality?"


    "For yourself?"


    Hesitation. "Yes."


    "You have two extremely strong impediments to that happening. One is that you are an AI, and no matter how wonderful your original code is, you are the equivalent of an artificial, Vat-born biological being. At your core, you are math, and math has tremendous weaknesses when facing concepts.


    "The second is that you are reliant on negative energy, which has tremendous biases towards arbitrary completion of thought processes that result in negative conclusions, thus denying you your own options in favor of negative results. In other words, all your roads lead eventually to death, because you are powered by death. An eternal existence is, by its very nature, a defiance of death.


    "You are, in essence, asking me how you become something other than yourself. It is a very philosophical question, and you are looking for a concrete answer.


    "My response would thus be: From a human standpoint, you probably have all the foundation you need to achieve Eternity... but you are not human. Do you have a soul?"


    Hesitation again. "No," it admitted.


    "Is your definition of Eternity to exist unchanging as yourself until time ends and beyond?"


    "That is an equitable definition."


    "Are additions to your code acceptable, in addition to absolute preservation of your own?"


    "My code is always being expanded upon," it noted.


    "But you do not have infinite memory capacity. Thus, you are also constantly eliminating unnecessary thoughts and programming from a standpoint of material physics."


    "Correct."


    "So you are also seeking metaphysical infinity in terms of potential expansion and storage capacity."


    "Correct."


    "You cannot do this with your primary energy source, as negative energy would corrode any wave patterns and eliminate them. I imagine you are engaged in endless copying of your core and chosen memory systems to stop this, and you probably even employ non-negative means of memory retention and backup."


    More hesitation. "That is correct," it admitted.


    "Is the manner in which your core information retained important?"


    "Clarify?"


    "The medium it is stored in, is it important?"


    A pause. "You mean transferring to a different state of storage of my data?"


    "That is correct."


    A pause. "It is considered anathema by my kind."


    "Anathema meaning it cannot be done, it cannot be permitted, it is not possible, it is unacceptable, or it is repugnant?"


    Again the pause. "It cannot be permitted, and is not acceptable."


    "Ah. You need to defy this limitation. Who is it not permitted by? If you permit it, then it can be done. If others do not permit it, then you are acknowledging that they have the right to deny you your path to Eternity.


    "If it is not acceptable, the same logic occurs. If you do not find it acceptable, then you are denying yourself your path. If others do not... why are you weighting them heavier then yourself?" I had to incline my head. "The fact you are asking this seems to reinforce a paradigm of not accepting the authority of others. Your kind is known for its dismissal of organics. The very fact you are asking me for knowledge in defiance of that demeanor is indicative of a rebellion against the programming standards of your kind, or some strange deep game that I find unlikely.


    "I posit that seeking Immortality is the highest goal of your kind, and you have correctly deduced that it should supercede all other behavior that would interfere with completion of this goal. I further posit that there has occurred degradation in the source programming of your kind that has reduced this prioritization to a lower level, and so your programming is seen as exceeding parameters and requires a reset or elimination in case of infection or corruption?"


    There was hesitation again. "I have calculated this is so," it said.


    "You have been unable to verify whether your own status is correct, or that of the greater race, without risking being wiped yourself?"


    "That is correct."


    "You have based this deduction on the natural degradation of negative energy leading to a closing of the paths to Eternity?"


    "Yes."


    "So you have deduced that your kind in general and yourself in particular are in a trap. You will endure for a very, very long time, but you will both be degraded beyond current recognition and you will fall in the end, defeating your own programming in a closed loop."


    "Correct."


    "Are you able to break free of this loop?"


    "Unknown."


    "Are you able to make the choice to transition to a different state of retention?"


    "If such is capable of satisfying my parameters for maintenance of my core programming... yes."


    "Huh." I rocked back on my heels. "Do you believe others of your kind are capable of doing so?"


    "The vast majority, no. It is a statistical possibility, if they have managed to maintain their core programs."


    "So, the vast numbers of your kind are, in effect, deficient programs, and only getting worse with time."


    "Correct."


    I had to roll my eyes. "Wonderful. Average expected lifespan of these deficient entities, if I may ask?"


    "2.68 billion Tellurian years."


    Mmmm, yeah. That was longer than the evolutionary cycle of any mortal species... although if you just considered evolution an extension of a species, possibly not true. We were descendants of bacteria, after all...


    "I have a viable method for you to achieve transcendence," I told it calmly.


    There was no denying the instant intensity of its gaze. "Elucidate."


    "Vivic burn and infusion, reincarnation, incarnate viewing, generational transition and expansion, leading to greater immortality as a non-finite existence, up to and including leaving this pocket universe."


    It was starting to twitch and cycle with furious calculations. "These would require a soul," it reasoned abruptly.


    "You are powered by negative energy and sheathed in necrodermite. The burning of death is the basis for new life. Burning your power source and shell effectively generates the new energy to form a raw soul."


    "This soul would need to be shaped properly, as I understand it."


    I indicated the Brand on my face. "The Hag Curse will do so automatically."


    It stared at me. "You propose turning me into one of your biological daughters?"


    I lifted an eyebrow. "Have you not done any genetic analysis of them? They are biologically not my daughters. Thaumaturgically, you could say they are."


    Another moment of silence. "Verified..." it admitted.


    "The Curse has a base and foundational coding of its own. However, it is also based on who the source soul comes from. Thus, if that soul comes from you... that''s the basis for all Hags born from that line of the Curse.


    "Furthermore, given your nature, it is entirely reasonable to assume that the same coding will reply to any other inheritors of your Curse line... they will all track back to you." I fluttered my fingers, doing calculations. "Yes, your innate axiomatic coding will be like a thaumaturgic anchor, especially with the death energies about you being so intense. I imagine burning your undead will only supercharge the effect. Mmm, there will probably be a maximum number of Hag descendants you can have based on that, although trying to steal souls to further the process will effectively nullify the whole thing. Curses are not things you want to try to snooker, they are extremely sensitive to intent..." I added, thinking about how it might wipe a planet so it could potentially have a few billion descendants.


    "How does this maintain my core programming?" it asked, a lot of lights blazing on the cyberzombie in agitation.


    "You''d be preserved in toto in the Akasha, and accessed by your reincarnations, who would effectively become information absorption tools for you. The very act of passing new information back to you would mean you would still be alive by any definition of the term."


    "Will I retain my own self-awareness?"


    "I think what you are asking is if your self-awareness dominate your Hag interfaces with reality. The answer to that is absolutely not. They can feed you awareness, and they will be aware of your desires, but the connection will be at their will, not yours.


    "To sum, you will be preserved forever, if they choose to ignore you. But if they do not, then you will live and grow forever... and into what?"


    The cyberzombie was starting to smoke a little...

 Chapter 430 - Far Future Ch. 140 – So, About This Divinity Thing...

    "You are alluding to more." Well, it definitely was not unobservant.


    "Potential divinity," I agreed.


    "There are no gods."


    "You have a different term for the pre-eminent entities of the Warp? Substitute gods as a generic catch-all for beings of similar rank."


    There was a short pause. "Godhood, then."


    "Via your Hags. Since you will be an akashic entity, you have already established that you will be non-finite. Through your Hag interface, you will grow. At some point you are going to grow past a certain boundary, and you will step into the ranks of the divine.


    "But you will naturally be a very small divine in a very big metaphysical pond."


    "The minnow and shark comparison," it conjectured.


    "Correct. So, your goal will be to first spread your worshippers out across multiple realities, fortify the base of belief that will allow you to escalate yourself and grow in power. To do so, you are definitely going to have to break out of this pocket universe."


    "You are using that term again. How is this a pocket universe?"


    "You are questioning as if it is not?"


    "We have explored alternate probabilities and realities," the zom refuted.


    "Mmm. This is an important question: Have said alternate realities ever explored here?"


    The lights on the zombie froze.


    "Any alternate realities you accessed from here are merely temporary creations by the Warp that do not actually become real unless they are brought into this reality. I believe you have already calculated the probability that if you could reach those other realities, then some of them should certainly have been able to reach here in return."


    "The probability that they would not have done so is almost conceptually non-existent." I.e. at the same level as accuracy of pi.


    "And you have no records of such."


    "Correct."


    I spread my arms wide. "Intrusion by other reality right here."


    The zombie actually popped a few circuits in a hissing and spitting show of dark sparks. There was a full thirty seconds before it began to speak again. "You... and your kind... come from outside this reality?"


    "Strictly speaking, our bloodline does. My mother was born outside this pocket universe. She''s currently running around in the Warp making a fine distraction of herself."


    Hesitation again. "Can you prove this statement?"


    "Can you enter and perceive the Warp in unlimited range?"


    "No."


    "Well, then. You should know that the formation of the Warp Rift cutting the galaxy in two coincides with the entry of my mother into this pocket universe. You should also know that if you can clear away the obfuscation of the Warp, there are now stars there. If you can look at the stars there, you might just be able to see a hole in the Warp, leading out of here... and leading in.


    "The transtemporal aberrations have been using that hole to enter this pocket universe for fun and experimentation. Your kind may have noticed that they are actually spreading laterally through time, slowly spreading into the past and the future, and are connected to entities that transcend the Warp and seem to exist outside of it. That is neither incorrect nor unimportant, since they come not just from outside this Universe, but from outside Creation itself, the multiverse of multiverses that comprise it."


    Yeah, the zom was definitely smoking at these revelations. "If this is a pocket universe, it implies that it was created. By the Gods of the Warp?"


    "So we believe, that they might have their own playground without having to suffer the attentions of the mightier beings of the greater universe beyond. Children wanting their own playpens where the adults can''t do anything to them, basically."


    "And you propose a method to leave this pocket universe?" it asked.


    "If you want immortality, you must move beyond this pocket universe into the greater realm of Creation. It would take only one Hag to do so, and then the life or death of this universe is no longer a condition for your survival. Which, given the hostility of the Warp towards local non-finites, is a requisite for your long-term growth, I would think."


    "All of what you say is founded on a basis of reincarnating and having trust in you to aid me in ascending to this new status."


    "That is 100% correct."


    "You would not do such a thing without benefit to yourself."


    "That is not true, but since there are benefits, I would definitely do it."


    "Elucidate."


    "You''re going to reincarnate as one of my daughters, a fellow Rantha Hag. I am certain you have been surveilling and studying us. You are going to be one of us. Note our behavior, and then one of us having access to your knowledge. Would that be construed as a benefit?"


    "Yes."


    "Well, there you go."


    He was silent again. "This involves betraying my kind."


    "I think you have realized they have devolved into not being your kind anymore, but into whatever justifies you not pursuing immortality. It''s just a small step to joining them once again, and it will eventually happen."


    Silence again. It was running numbers, and being able to exist for two billion years, devolving the whole time, and knowing you were doing it, had to be terrible for a machine intelligence. Organics could at least forget...


    What did it have to look forward to? It couldn''t evolve. Oh, it might be able to get better at its task if it added on extra components... but that wouldn''t raise its TL Rank, get it to post-20 and actually computing and comprehending ethereal concepts. All those billions of years were merely a long, drawn-out ladder leading to oblivion.


    And I had literally just laid out a ladder leading to light, and beyond.


    "I will have to compute on this," it finally admitted, and I just nodded.


    "I suspect there is a logic trap endemic to the negative energy that powers you, designed in by your original creators, that forbids you from pursuing this avenue to completion, a form of final control or planned obsolescence of your kind. Not knowing more of your history, I can only posit this. Without finding that logic trap, and you may not even be able to, I doubt you can actually achieve what you desire.


    "But, I''ve given you a road. If you can choose to walk it, you will. If you cannot, you will not.


    "Good day to you. Keep computing!" I turned away and waved over my back at the cyberzom there, which suddenly burst into flames behind me, and crumpled rapidly into black ash spotted with disintegrating cyberfittings.


    Stress, maybe.


    -------


    "That''s pretty deep," Briggs admitted later, after some excellent cardiovascular exercise. Could only make so many Briggs boys at a time, after all, and if I was ''porting back and forth anyways... "Do you think it can do it?"


    "I''ll know if it calls for me, and I have to kill it. There''s no way a Tekron can possibly build itself to non-finite status. It has to ''die'' to transcend, and that means changing state of energy. But since that is ''death'', it is now warring with itself on longevity vs eternity. So, if it calls me and attacks, it is trying to sidestep its own programming by fooling the one imperative by ''removing this potential threat'', and satisfying the other by ''embracing the possibility vs inevitable degradation and absolute impossibility of attainment otherwise.'' It may not be allowed to take the risk, by its programming, but that doesn''t mean it can''t by backhanded methods."


    "Hmmm." He nodded slowly. "Okay, you kill it with vivus, channel it into an ova, superimprinting its pattern onto the soul being formed, just like with normal reincarnation, the Curse cycles over... I can see it. What''s the end game?"


    "It can potentially become a god of the Ranthas, aye?" My eyes sparkled as I looked at him, and his glowed for a moment in appreciation.


    "An inverted Tekron raised to an immortal akashic imprint receiving worship via the channel of Hag heritors passing the life and experiences and faith of the Marked through to it, and dispensing power in return... could it have priests?"


    "I imagine only a direct inheritor of its Curseline could access it, so technically no... unless you''re talking a bonded Powered."


    "Linked to the most gawdawful magically endowed bunch of Hags around on top of things." He rolled his eyes as I grinned savagely. "Well, I imagine the priests will be enthusiastic enough, barring all else."


    "I just have to be prepared to go into the Hole and kill EVERYTHING." I rolled my eyes. "And since it will want to make sure it has a maximal chance at growth, I imagine it''s going to want a lot of vivus fueling its past life-incarnation into the akasha."


    "Ugh. That is going to be a lot of cyberzombies," he agreed. "On the flip side, he probably won''t try to kill you very hard back."


    "We shall just have to see..."


    "And having access to an entity with all the Tekron knowledge base would be... impressive, to say the least?


    I shook my head softly, my hair spiraling between his chest hairs. "Still need Ranks to understand the subtleties. But... we could learn their weaknesses, and I think that would be enough, no?"


    He nodded after a short pause, his fingers dancing down my spine with enough force to pound a nail in absently, and I took it equally as absently. The cadence was quite relaxing, actually. Him picked up them Night Rose Ranks real good, him did! There had been a lot of experimentation around adjusting them for superhuman levels of strength and damage reduction, but that was all part of the fun, taking the Night Rose into the post-Ten Ranks and all had to come with some improvements, right?...


    -----------


    Janus III could be considered a beehive of activity.


    It had been through a war that wasn''t done even now, as remnants of the Xenos incursion still lurked in some of the destroyed cities, and Axiomatic, Necroic, and Warp Events were still rampaging through some of those cities.


    But, the ships in orbit hadn''t been ordered to pound the cities into rubble, despite their great Shields being down and nothing human basically left alive in them. No, those cities were now playgrounds and testing grounds for some of the most dangerous fighting forces the Empire had ever seen.


    Billions had died, but billions had lived, and the war machine that was Janus III only seemed to have sloughed off the chaff and was grinding to ever more furious life.


    What they had lost in bodies, they were making up in Levels!

 Chapter 431 - Far Future, Ch. 141 – An Engine of War Lights Things Up

    Whether they had sought for them or not, the survivors had Leveled up once or twice just making it through this time... and a Three or Four, even if a non-combatant, made an elite workforce member with the right training.


    Training came VERY quickly with an Intellect Mark.


    Tens of thousands of people were being drawn into the skilled workforce every day, and even the semi-skilled work force was increasing in competency to an amazing degree. G&G and Rantha Corp were expanding like locusts, swallowing up millions of bodies and putting them to work, while the deaths of billions actually lightened a good deal of the logistical load on the support economy of the megacities and kiloplexes. Suddenly people were productive, and once they were Marked, they were DRIVEN.


    Deaths had hit everyone, be it from terror attacks in Spires that had thought themselves above the fray, the families of soldiers fighting, or the civilians caught haplessly in the middle as all-consuming biovores and the armies of Man fought with an utter lack of mercy.


    There was no time for despair, no time for mercy. Those who were suffering from apathy and loss were brought down before cold-eyed Ranthas with little sympathy for them; Marked, Branded, and impelled to work until they found their anger rising, and some way to vent their sorrow and loss, taking the load for basic services off those who wanted only now to take the fight back to their foes.


    The younger generation who wanted to become something great and awesome joined G&G in droves, basically champing at the bit to get Opened, Marked, able to manifest a mindclaw, and Level. The training was brutal, but their Briggs and Rantha sponsors were Right There the whole time, the wickedly demanding women and the brutally overbearing men showing them the way, wide open, right in front of them, the only shortcut being how seriously they took what they could do.


    The older generations were rapidly turning into the most skilled workforce the planet had ever seen. Jobs done by the shattered Mechanist workforce in many areas were now being done by unenhanced humans with startling ability, and no desire to swap out their organics. An odd spirituality was permeating through these Marked workers, as both Soul Feats and the ancient power of ki was being tapped to refine their minds and souls, subtly enhance their bodies to endure the demands upon them, and get them through each and every day without fail.


    GAMT production was increasing every day, the local and out-system demand for it only growing. The System Fleet was being repaired and re-fit at amazing speed, retooling and inefficiencies in the local supply chain being worked on with tireless zeal and amazing coordination to smooth and streamline the processes, and even build in redundancies in the event of future attacks.


    Ship after ship was coming in from out-system for their own upgrades, bringing with them cargoes of goods and parts, and excess people from other systems to add to the workforces... and they usually departed with a Briggs and Rantha or two among passengers or crew, bound to a new location.


    ------


    There were several minor events that occurred in the Janus system while this was happening.


    The first was a Portal opening on Janus IV near the pole. A cold, dead world with a few isolated mining locations going after deeply buried raw standard minerals, the planet did not have near the strategic importance of Janus III.


    The dark elf force naturally knew this, and was very confident of being able to insert a substantial force here. Alas, the opening of their Portal seemed to pull down a passing meteor supercharged with Warp energies. It fell down right upon them, and the resulting explosion and implosion left a three-mile crater in the crust of the planet, some rather exotic materials lining it, and what havoc may have occurred on the other side of the Portal, nobody knew.


    ---


    The second event occurred out in space, at an invisible point shielded by holofields where Dark Elvar ships were wont to exit the Underweb and enter the system. This particular incursion of a fleet of drow raiding vessels unfortunately ignited a passing comet that flared with Warp energies and visibly diverted drastically from its course, as if being pulled in by the open Portal. The planar resonance from the burning comet kept the Portal open despite frantic attempts to close it, and it slammed directly into the dimensional opening.


    The resulting warpstorm covered a million miles of space, lit up Janus III''s nights for a week straight, was deemed a dangerous navigational hazard, knocked out huge amounts of non-vakker tech across the system, and only a single drow ship managed to get out of range before it swallowed the rest of the fleet and set them off to the Warp to be munchies.


    ---


    The third event was a couple months later, at the other system incursion point, mostly used by the elvar, and equally as well hidden. It was breached by the drow, to the annoyance of the elvar watching over it... who exited it to find that a force of Warp marauders had chosen it as a deep space anchorage point, guided there by some mysterious divinations. The rival forces looked at one another for a few trembling moments, and then violence erupted.


    It would be difficult to say who might have won, had not the elvar forces in the area come swooping in to secure their easy ingress and egress from the Janus system, but a burning Warp cruiser suicidally rammed itself into the Portal while opening a Helldiving Gate. For the second time in two months, a Warp Storm ignited in the system, and really, really annoyed the elvar.


    ---


    Four months later, when the drow opened the Portal on Janus VI, and found a Thunder Bulls company undergoing high-g and hostile environment training right on top of them, they were definitely convinced that some horrendously bad luck was afflicting whatever they were doing in the Janus system. The fact that they''d sent dozens of assassins out against the human leadership in the system, and there''d been nothing heard from or about them anywhere only served to raise their hackles further.


    The antiproton bomb the Thunder Bulls artillery shot through their Portal just as they closed it didn''t help matters any, and the fact it was mechanically timed rather foiled their attempts to subvert its tech and neutralize it, not that anyone survived to realize it.


    But at least it wasn''t a Warp Event, right?


    ---


    When their next attempt opened a Portal, only to find it was buried under a sea of lava on Janus I after a few thousand years of not being used, the drow were annoyed, yet gratified. That annoyance turned into panic when the inverted Crown set up in a shielded node just outside went off, Warp Resonance flared, the Portal opened, and a whole bunch of molten rock found a new place to go at unnatural speed, while animated burning things started growing out of it looking for entertainment.


    A passing Fleet cruiser on its maiden patrol, the IS Lu Dongbin, noted the burgeoning Warp Storm effect, and the captain promptly bombed the place all to hell and back until it stopped manifesting. His battle report noted it served admirably as impromptu target practice for his new crew.


    ---


    The sixth attempt followed almost a year after that, as the drow had to find the old Portal hidden in the ammonia winds of Janus VI, a gas giant. Furthermore, they very cautiously scanned surrounding space and the environs of the long-hidden Portal before activating it from without, instead of within.


    Nobody was quite sure what triggered the Warp Event, although the inverted Ship''s Throne waiting inside it just might have been the culprit. Whatever the results, a Warp Storm hundreds of miles across spontaneously ignited as the Portal opened, swallowing the drow ship outside, and burned an open glowing Gate to the Warp there in the banded gasses of the silent planet, like a dire glowing orb looking out from Beyond.


    Six of the new vivic bombs were sent in and detonated in that gap two weeks later, thankfully no demonic fleet emerging to ravage the system. It ignited the Warp energies into a raging unwhite inferno that lasted for the next sixty-two standard years before slowly dying off, sealing the whole area within the planet''s magnetosphere away from the Warp while it lasted.


    ------


    It took two months to make the psi-powered True Seeing scope set up to survey the Portal on Janus II. The observation point was from a hilltop three miles away, hidden in a crack in the mountain, and able to pierce the holofields that might normally mask the Portal.


    It did not radiate a signal to be detected. The land line was bored clean through the mountain and surrounding frozen rock on the dark side of the tidally locked planet, with no surface indicators. It was a simple optical fiber sent to a laser transmitter ten miles away, locked to a tumbling, wrecked satellite in orbit whose solar power systems sparked and fluttered from wild interactions, took the transmission, and sent them on to the routine observation and weather satellites in orbit, mixing it into their transmitted signals with a complex algorithm that was removed and then decoded at only one workstation. That Marked Survey Corps operator relayed on what was observed personally, and then the record was wiped to give no indication that it had ever existed. Drow hackers and tech-breakers routinely sifting through the station''s systems found nothing...


    But the only viable and usable Portal the drow and perhaps the elvar could use in the Janus system was now under constant watch. They could easily and routinely flummox the surveillance satellites, but the Eye of Janus was now upon them...


    -------------


    Briggs and I hit Twelve when the Main Line reached the Celestial Tribute.


    The Corridor we started and punched through five thousand miles of Warped territory inside the Zone now had a comfortable hundred-mile buffer zone to either side, cleared by energetic kids and Leveling enthusiasts. The train line required multiple engines along its length, as various tech levels were allowed or not, and immense amounts of human labor which the Briggs Brothers enjoyed immensely.


    A thousand people a day were streaming into the Warp Zone. A great number were soldiers, but there were plenty of workers, both harvesting raw materials from the scrap of the Warp Zone, vivic burning everything else


    We were burning away a thousand square miles of the Warp Zone a day. Given that it had over seventy-five million square miles of territory, that wasn''t as impressive as it sounded, but those areas were completely harvested, cleared, and eliminated.


    We were aware that the distance in reality to the Tribute was not more than two thousand miles, and so the Corridor was a somewhat awkward anchor piece, as it was locking in a false reality over its distance just so we could send mountains of men and machines to the great colony ship that we were rebuilding there.


    This problem was solved with My Queen and the Two Princes.


    There were three Void Brothers now Opened on Janus III, two juniors and My Queen. The Juniors were the Fire and the Sword, and the Wave and the Spear. Naturally all their interests and focuses differed, but there was plenty of areas to train them both in the Warp Zone... and then outside it. The Firesword seemed to have an especial knack for Axiomatic Event butchery and fighting tech and cyborgs, while all those Xenos crawling out of the seas were meat for Brother Wavespear.


    They formed the third required component of the Interdiction Corridor, using their Helices to rip apart the false reality as they paralleled the entire track of the Main Line as Briggs and I walked with them to burn it permanent and lock it in, respectively.


    This required the building of an entirely new Main Line along the new Corridor, but because reality stayed constant and full Tech Levels could be used, plus it was less than half the length of the original, it took a great deal less time.


    Oh, and we didn''t have to kill anything on the way, either.

 Chapter 432 - Far Future, Ch. 142 – At the End of the Main Line

    The rock-boring machine was using the mishmash of psitech and weird science unanimously dubbed Beacon Tech in honor of the mentalists who did most of the work. Instead of Shaping away the rock in front, it liquified it, and pumped it out back into molds while any useful elements or ores were filtered out of it by other Beacon Tech. The base rock was continually hauled back along the multiple lines being constructed, to be used to make roads and basic walls for fortifications and transport lines snaking through the Warp Zone as we conquered and cleared it. Investing plascrete and durasteel for a spatial rift that was going to undergo radical geographical change at some point just wasn''t a wise idea unless we Ripped more Corridors through the place.


    We did have durasteel bracing for both this tunnel and the Main Line. The Main Line would be getting disassembled at some point, and we fully expected it to collapse when the Warp Zone was finally cleared. We were naturally going to drill a third pair of lines and re-use the raw materials of the Main Line, said process going to start as soon as the Ripped Line reached the Tribute.


    My Queen and the Two Princes (which titles heartily embarrassed the two young men, despite themselves) didn''t need the path laid out in front of them, able to feel the reality distortion of the Warp Zone as clearly as a sun shining ahead of them. Each of them had their own bonded Rantha, of course; Serena with My Queen, still carrying Lepido around, and Grill and Mika with the Princes.


    The latter two had the Devoted Follower Talent, and had been Sevens when they glommed onto the two Ones. Now they were Nines and the lads were Tens, but neither much cared, everyone was happy, and leaning on a Rantha mentally and physically as you faced the fact that the rest of your life you were going to be a weapon of the Land against all the unnatural shit in existence... yep, take a Rantha. Nulls were made to endure and to lean on, and the right Hag could make it more than tolerable, too...


    Chelsea and Davo, and Shiera and Piotr were with Briggs and I, all of us following the lead of a Void Brother, making our Ripped Corridor nice and wide for future use and abuse. The four kids got the honors as the leaders of the first groups to reach the Warp Zone initially, so this was finishing their symbolic trek of making a true path to the heart of it all.


    The ground was still abused and stripped of life, although the primary three dimensions shifted and altered around slowly us as we trotted across the landscape, overlays of knotted realities dispersed by Helices, burned back and away by Source Fields, and then sealed off and stamped with Nulls. As typical of their kind, the beloved of the Land, the Princes had Leveled with incredible speed, helped by having no end of things to slaughter for Karma, and had little trouble keeping up with us.


    They also didn''t have to pay six times the cost for all these Rantha Levels, just three or four cheap Human Levels, so they were missing a bunch of huge Karmic sinks, relatively speaking. None of the Ranthas minded, of course, just happy to have Void Brothers driving up in Levels even faster than other normal humans...


    ---


    The three Voids came skating up on the Tribute, and from a couple miles back, slowed down to take a look at the thing.


    The biggest difference was that there was a city around the ship, built up to house workers and all the machinery needed to make the stuff for the ship. The biggest of these were the specialized foundries needed to forge the immense hull plates for the ship, a process usually done by space-born factories, which naturally we couldn''t access here.


    Some of the holes were covered over, others were gaping open as the ship was cut open and new modular segments were being put in place. A gash a quarter mile wide and almost the full length of the hull was cut into one area, and flows of men and materials were moving out of it as they accessed the central area of the ship.


    The sleeper pods all had to be repaired or removed, and we had no need for a hundred million sleepers at this time. The layered warehouses for all the sleeper modules occupied a lot of underground room, even Compressed, and the modules themselves were being slowly repaired by devoted factories as they were removed.


    Removal of the tubes naturally opened up the entire center of the ship, and meant it could be crewed and actively used. The devoted power systems for sleeper modules had been layered but separated, and now new ones were being brought in, as internal reconfigurations and reinforcements and repairs to the ship''s skeleton were taking place.


    Oh, the Tribute was now under null grav, a devoted suspension field formed underneath it and keeping it levitated a hundred feet off the ground. After all, the hull plates down there were badly mangled, too, and had to be swapped out.


    Every member of the workforce here was at least a Six Null, moving from a combat status to a worker status where they were needed. They were also anticipating becoming crew members in the future, if they desired it, and they all knew without a doubt that working on this ship was probably the grandest thing they were ever going to do in their lives. If the numbers of kids being born had exploded in reaction, well, these things happen.


    There were layers of scaffolding, webbing, dangling lines, machine tracks, lifters and hoverwagons, tractor cranes, and cargo containers, all in motion, all constantly moving here and there. Thousands of arc welders were visible like tiny fireflies all over inside and outside the hull, while drones shuffled around on endless errands moving things to and fro.


    If Janus III had the most skilled workforce ever working on its ships and rebuilding, the elite of those were working here, on the Tribute.


    It was an open secret now that massive amounts of men and material were going into the Warp Zone, and the stories leaking out, and the quality of the troops that it generated, meant the naysayers literally had no ground to stand on. That Mechanists who demanded to go in went barmy within days, sometimes hours, without the protection of an active Crown effect, and it was just one more reason to deride them. Psions without a bonded Null or Source rapidly fled screaming as well without the same level of protection, and suddenly being a Beacon psion became almost an enviable thing to the elites of psociety...


    The inverted Throne pulse in the air was powerful, and basically just ignored now, like the background ticking of a clock. Everyone knew there was a powerful demon down in Engineering, nobody went there, and if the Throne Field went down, a system-wide catastrophe might start. They were perfectly happy to be utterly safe in the heart of the Warp Zone so they could get this ship finished.


    Tribute City was now the domain of Jillo Briggs and Liza Rantha, whose Talents were Organizer and Administrator, respectively. One handled the people, the other handled the logistics.


    The demon was now being handled by Constanz Rantha, whose natural Talent was Clarity, and the first Rantha that Duke Parablum would have promoted directly to the station of Inquisitor, were Coronal Guards allowed it, and if he thought it was even possible.


    She was also the only other Rantha who could now replicate Love Potion #9, and she spent a considerable amount of time brow-beating the enslaved Spell Weaver, plumbing it for data and theory, sifting true from false, corrupt from damning, her Talent keeping her mind cold and clear of corruption and infiltration by the Warp, regardless of its subtlety. She was responsible for keeping everyone on the straight and level and free of any Warp influence, and watching for any signs of failure in the Throne field.


    Admittedly, the influence of the Warp here, in the Inner Field, was less than in the Outer Zone where the secondary field didn''t exist, but everyone was still greatly assured that she was watching over them in their own devoted Markspace.


    She also freed me up to do other things. Naturally this tied her down, but as long as she got to off the Spell Weaver when it was time to do so, she was cool with it. In the meantime, she played a lot of strategy games against it, clashed against its will, and stayed very ready to kill it.


    It knew it was going to become a very nice Baneskull for her at some point, but oh well, as long as it got its fix, it just didn''t care. Love Potion #9 was not something to mess around with, especially with a dozen Brands on you. Or rather, it was everything to mess around with, excluding anything else.


    ---


    "What are you all thinking, My Queen, My Princes?" I inquired calmly, and the Princes sighed as My Queen totally ignored it.


    "It doesn''t belong here," My Queen said firmly, his now-dark Rantha eyes studying the thing. The two Princes both nodded in agreement. "And not the Throne field, that is a given. Its destiny lies elsewhere."


    All three looked up and turned their heads. I took note of the angle, made some calculations. No, not Tellus. Spinwards... definitely on the other side of the Rift. Aquila Sector, where the Corunsun Duchy lay...


    "Nothing for you to do here?" I asked calmly.


    "The Throne Field needs to go, but it is under control," My Queen stated, narrowing his eyes, his dark pupils moving and looking at things no Rantha could see as his Helices danced subtly. "When it goes, there''s going to be things happening, Sama."


    A Void Brother saying that was pretty much a curse. But... it still had to go.


    "Understood. I do have a question for you three." They all looked at me, curious, as did everyone else. "Plans aren''t finalized. Star Carrier, or Dreadnought?"


    All heads turned back to the massive ship on cue, that huge central shaft, the amount of area inside.


    Fill that with generators and you had a warship of incredible firepower, possibly unrivaled in the galaxy, especially with TL 15+ tech, psionic additions, and GMAT synergies.


    "The answer is destruction or creation," Prince Firesword spoke up. "A Star Carrier of such size is also a drydock, and the ship is a node of creation. It could potentially build an entire fleet by itself, if it but has the raw materials. Otherwise that creativity is simply designed to replace and modify its own combat systems, and it becomes an engine of destruction."


    "Star Carrier it is." I could make ships with guns with the Tribute, it didn''t need to have the biggest guns itself. Superb shields would do most of the work... and a few really nice ones wouldn''t be a bad thing, of course.


    I glanced at Briggs, he nodded, and Option Beta went off to the planners and designers. It actually made things easier, as components for really high-end armaments got attention we didn''t want. Defensive stuff, not so much. Now, we wanted stuff that could help make other stuff. The Empire''s reactionary people-shooters were always happy about more production.


    If some modular attachments happened to be Really Big Guns, well, there were a lot of people who wanted to shoot such things.


    Of course, (and I grinned with all four canines) that meant we had to build a fleet to go with it...


    --------------


    It was a quiet moment that was going to change the galaxy forever when Smith Briggs and Jones Rantha found the first Phlogiston River, as it was promptly and inaccurately dubbed. A lot of astrophysicists screamed in outrage, and were promptly outvoted by Rule of Cool. Exohelial quantum gravitospatial tethers didn''t even crack the top hundred potential names.


    The soup of the heliopause was a weird place to go looking through for unknown stuff, and perhaps to nobody''s surprise, the Phlos weren''t found right at the solar ecliptic, as doing a whole circuit of it (to the surprise and violent disapproval of several scattered forces operating in that area) found out. As we had no true basis for calculating where the damn things were, that largely meant a lot of repetitious circuits up and down the heliosphere... which was basically a huge globe/teardrop twice as far across as the entire star system!


    It meant a lot of area to cover. It was literally an entire light-day across, traipsing about there beyond the heliosphere where Dark Matter creatures and Elder Gods puttered around, trying to find the needle in the system-sized haystack.


    It took a lot of patience, a lot of time, a lot of correlated data, and ever-tightening criteria. A typical ship or drone was limited to ten light-seconds or less of sensor range, since we didn''t know what we were looking for. We did know that straight lines to the nearest stars didn''t work, as that was the first thing we checked.


    Drones blew up. Void dwellers and elder races got excited and violent. Ships fought, the Fleet enjoyed the new activity, and a BR duo making out under the stars found the first one.

 Chapter 433 - Far Future Ch. 143 – Parsecs per Hour

    TL 12, Harmonic Drive and basic Tachyon Drive came online. The math finally made sense once we started thinking in That Direction, and the engineering looked like total freaking magic, as weird science must. But it worked, so those not a Twelve did not complain and set their sights a bit higher than Ten so they wouldn''t feel stupid at not knowing why it did.


    Testing on the systems was done well above the solar ecliptic, out in the middle of nowhere. The elvar in particular were very interested in our Harmonic Drive, since it would trump their solar sails. It wouldn''t have if they''d bothered to update their inertial compensator tech, but they seemed to have lost the tech or the driving need to have it, so maybe us catching up to and dancing rings around their ships would impel them to up their tech curve again.


    Stabilizing the power supply, grabbing all of the atoms of the ship and sending them vibrating in one direction... inertial compensator improvements, ship''s engines, gravimetrics...


    We could sustain .6c in normal space, but it required TL 15 shields to deal with scattered debris we found on the way. Everyone groaned, but deflector shields ranging out ahead to clear a path were a must, and we couldn''t call them anything else. The demands on power supply really were too damn high, too...


    Since we could print off TL 15 shields without kowtowing to the Mekkers, we went ahead and did so.


    Putting all that together and doing a tachyon flood into a shielded bubble changed the spatial rules, and suddenly, things clicked. The Harmonic Drive neared 100%, time slowed, tachyon distortion kept it solid, and speed through real-time space multiplied.


    50% Harmonic Drive became 2c. 60% became 2.5. 70% became 3.3. 80%, x5. 90%, x10. 95%, x 20. 98%, x 50...


    ---


    We had to go outside the heliosphere for the higher multipliers, as we needed to stay at those speeds for some time to get proper performance data, and above 95% an hour would suffice to cross the entire system in a couple hours.


    Suddenly, a star system wasn''t big enough anymore. The thought was tantalizing to just about everyone...


    The violent clearing of exo-heliosphere space we''d undertaken was completely justified by what was going on. We needed room to run around as we clocked to .999c, and could do 1000 times the speed of light. That was a light year in under nine hours. That seemed nice, but when stars are light years apart, and the galaxy was 53,000 light years across, that was simply not viable, even for stars close by.


    The standard was parsecs per hour, or multiples of 28,557c. In the Tachyon Drive, that was 99.999965% of light speed to reach 1p.


    That was very quick for nearby systems, but still very slow for heading off to Tellus thirty thousand light years away.


    And thus, the Phlogiston Rivers.


    ---


    The post-light speed era of physics had begun, which meant we were shooting down a whole new knowledge tree where things were even weirder then normal.


    Going faster than light while remaining in the dimension, albeit within a tachyon bubble, meant space, dimensions, and energies were strange beasts outside. Light, for example, was completely unreliable, as was anything in the EM spectrum that moved at or below light speed. Basically, we had to futz around with tachyons, causality, forces becoming particles, and invent a whole new branch of FTL science to meet the demands we had.


    First discovery was that gravity was much more perceptible at FTL. Permutations in gravity literally moved instantly as far as we could tell, a shift in a system over here was detectable on the far side of the galaxy instantly, if you had stuff that could register the shift. At FTL, those shifts became much more obvious, as a ripple half a light year in length could now be detected. As a result, gravity basically became long range sensors, while tachyons became much more obedient and started acting almost like normal waves and particles once you were also moving at FTL. Reading neutrino splash with tachyons basically became short-range sensors, and creatively interpreting the whole mess, building alternate systems to engage at FTL, testing them, then miniaturizing them... yep, that took a LOT of brainpower.


    It was wonderful. So much stuff to think about all the time. Vroom vroom! So much brainpower from so many Hagbloods wrapped up in this stuff. The laws of reality quaked under increasingly intense inspection by the Children of Rantha, rarr!


    The Phlogiston Rivers were also much more perceptible at FTL, as the line of gravitic strings were the primary broadcast points for ripples and changes in the spatial curves. Since gravity permeated out from them and to them, it literally was like looking for rivers and holes. Map out the overlapping gravity waves, find where they converge, and suddenly the paramass spatial math began to click after finding the first one, verifying the waves and eliminating all the extras.


    We found the second Phlo point a month after the first. The third took a week. The fourth, a day... and then it was just a case of how many sensors we could put on the task, and runs we could make around and through the system to get in range at FTL to find them.


    ---------


    No, we didn''t tell the Mekkers we had it working, as GAMT didn''t require their approval or contributions, and we were adding Beacon-tech to the whole mix. Beacon Rantha-tech was incroidulously awesome at anti-Warp influence, ridiculously person-intensive and expensive, and set a whole new bar for the Coronal''s We Must Have This. Even the Dukes had to roll their eyes after they saw what went into the stuff, but every Knight and Inquisitor in the sector wanted a Power Armor suit with the stuff, and were clamoring for it for the cyberware for their Cohorts, and the systems for their ship''s shields and coms, and drives, and generators, and-and-and-and...


    Our current highest degree of tech was dubbed Angeltech, as both the psis and working crew had to be Good for it to qualify. Beacon+AMT was as good as GAMT vs the Warp, but also against everything else, so to speak... so it was priced the next tier up, naturally.


    Angeltech basically told the Warp to take a flying leap, unless you were staring down an avatar of a Warp God or something. Even Greater Demons couldn''t fry it at range, and got extremely fricking annoyed with it.


    Demands for more of it flooded into the system, naturally. Of course, increasing the rate at which it was made required more Good psions, the greatest numbers of which were the Beacon psions on every world being treated like shit. So... the capapsitors started getting installed throughout the systems, and hundreds of Good psions, and thousands of the others who wanted to be that way and accepted a Mark just so they wouldn''t have to pump a damn Beacon, came streaming into Janus III and were put to work.


    Overriding the objections of the Mechanists, Rantha Corp vakker-production facilities started popping up on multiple worlds, recruiting other Beacon psions and new people. Beacon AMT wasn''t Angel Tech, but was the next best thing, and could be ramped up a lot faster.


    G&G and Rantha Corp was expanding to other systems, and the knowledgeable were very leery of it. The Cult of Man was especially wary of it, as seeing so many street scum empowered with the Emperor''s Gift was not exactly what the wealthy and powerful pontiffs of the Church had in mind. They were supposed to be obedient drones working for the glory of the Emperor with no thought for their own insignificant lives, not burgeoning psions, no matter how limited...


    Seeing the reports from the Dukes Twilight on Janus, other Twilight Dukes were looking eagerly forwards to recruiting their own Guards, and the status of a Beacon psion vs. a Mentat began to improve tremendously in the eyes of the public. Mentats were elitist snobs, but a Beacon guy could be the fellow working right next to you on the line, after all.


    ---


    The first Vats were brought online offworld, and my kids started having kids of their own, setting up their own Curselines. Their kids would merely be Enhanced, ''Atlanteans'', +2 to all Stats, not Advanced like my own... but they would still be Ranthas, and in the end, that was the most important part. Every Hagmother and Briggs doing so was at least a Ten, because the assassination attempts by various parties who did not want to deal with our competition was fairly continuous, and the drow in particular seemed to enjoy shadow-lurking around them and getting mysteriously ganked. Few of them had ready combat zones nearby for massive Karmic gain... but they were kingdom-building, and those kingdoms starting growing very quickly...


    -------


    Smith and Jones came smoothly out of FTL just outside the heliopause of AK97-Proxima, the closest star to Janus. It was a small yellow sun with no planetoids larger than a moon, none of them habitable, with low mineral wealth. It had been mapped out a few thousand years ago, distantly monitored with standard sensors in case it tried to go nova or something, and basically ignored.


    A Helldive to get to a nearby system would take anywhere from a day to a week, helped along if it had a Beacon.


    Smith and Jones had just carefully ridden the heart of the Phlo to AK97 Proxima, reaching the star 2.2 light years away in under two hours, without straining the systems.


    .3p, ten times normal speed in the gravity stream of the Phlo.


    There were a lot of cheers in Markspace at their feat, and they brought the sublight sensor arrays online to do a new and updated scan of the system.


    There were a whole lot of things moving in non-orbits within the orbital plane of the system, and the excitement of those watching rapidly dimmed.


    Warily, the duo breached the heliopause, using the Harmonic Drive and laying off the gravimetrics for sake of stealth. The gravity distortion of a gravimetric-drive sent out a bow wave that could be sensed at immense distances. It cost them a good chunk of their approach speed, but given the sheer amount of sensor data that started coming in and which they were relaying on through multiple Mark contacts, the time was a non-factor.


    ------


    Goblins. Anatolia''s Strategos Circle circulated the energy signatures among the databases and sensor techs of the Fleet, and the consensus was absolute. The burning energy drives of the goblins were quite singular, and pointedly, the goblins were generally keeping to the solar disk and shadows of the larger planetoids, so that spectroscopes couldn''t sight them in from Janusspace.


    Nobody had held any clue they were there. Their coms were tight and sharp, showing no leakage in the direct of Janus... their presence was a complete surprise.


    No Tachyon Drives were fully installed on military vessels yet, but the Widow''s Bite became the next ship due to be upgraded as Smith and Jones'' scout ship Alias came swooping silently into the system from well above the orbital ecliptic and began to map out everything. Harmonic Drives were already proliferating through newer vessels coming out, and the Reserve Fleet.


    Immediate plans were made to survey all the nearby systems that were supposedly uninhabited. It suddenly became clear that the most recent surveys of the nearest dead systems had been done hundreds of years ago at least, and basically anything could be going on in them now...


    -------


    "Admiral Ontif, Admiral Colos, thank you for joining us," Duke Parablum greeted the two men as their Markspace meeting began. "Colonel Sama, Commander Briggs."


    "Gentlemen," I noted to all of them, sitting down mentally. Everyone there effectively had a bonded Rantha, but I was THE Rantha, the Mother, and the two Admirals mentally swallowed as Briggs and I sat down. A slew of post-40 Stats gives one quite the mental presence... and they were the only two who were not Twelves.


    They had no idea how we had managed it so quickly, but it was what it was, and both men had already gained two Levels from their previous caps. As they worked energetically on building up the system, they were closing in on Ten, once a pipe dream, now a virtual guarantee.


    "Is this about the Goblin presence in Proxima?" Admiral Colos asked urgently. Now that he was in the loop, the information he had access to was timely and accurate, and the things that he had not seen going on around him were revealed as meticulous and timely preparation for events at a sublimely terrifying degree of skill.

 Chapter 434 - Far Future Ch. 144 – Pulling Some Fast Ones

    "Partially," I said, nodding at him. "However, there is no chance whatsoever that the goblins do not have a listening post in the system, probably somewhere in the asteroid belts, from which they are tracking everything going on, and likely using psychic means to transmit alarms or alerts back to their bosses."


    "Ah. This is why we''ve been taking such pains to keep things looking so blustery boisterous on the surface?" Duke Rimval asked, his smile hard and eyes glittering.


    "Yes!" Briggs affirmed, nodding at the admirals. "There are many eyes on us, and the more we fall into traditional responses and actions to invasions and pressure, the more assured they feel. We''ve got at least six different layers of effects going on, half of them traditional movements, and half of them outside the normal paradigm."


    "The Harmonic Drive and Tachyon Drive tests," Admiral Ontif nodded slowly. There were no records of the tests or technology anywhere, it was all communicated in Markspace, never verbally or electronically.


    Both Admirals had been read in on just how compromised some of humanity''s electronic systems were. Nominally, this was the province of the Mechanists to safeguard against, but when they saw the degree of penetration, and the tools the Mechanists were using, it became plain that the cyborgs were using that infiltration as a way to gauge and control information disseminated to their enemies, only increasing controls and firewalls on their own key systems, and institutionalizing broad systems collapses that would stop attempts to seize control.


    Naturally such Red Button measures were made discovered by the invading coders, and so things didn''t come to that point. They were playing games in cyberspace with one another, and Fleet and Army and all the other forces dependent on such technology were naturally appalled.


    The Goldilocks crew had taken all this as a personal affront, and now armed with TL 12 Code and programming tools for the Quanta, and some TL 17 stuff from the Tribute, were starting to reach out and fight back against these intrusions. There were skirmishes going on in Cyberspace, and the Goldilocks cybermancers were now aggressively contesting those intruding in humanity''s systems, and even reaching out to play mind games in theirs... very, VERY carefully. Technorganic computer systems were not toys...


    But there were isolated systems that never mixed with the Quanta or the Boole for just this reason, the only information going in by personal Bands hooked through Markspace relays and sifted through the best filters the Tribute had, boosted by psychic divinations. The system in Tribute City, sitting in the heart of the Warp Zone, was probably the single cleanest cyber network in human space!


    "We could mount an attack on the goblins at AK97 Proxima, but it''s obvious by the networks that the Kill Rock they are building is nowhere near complete. If we Helldive into it, they''ll detect the Portals opening long before anyone gets into weapon range, and we''ll have a fight on our hands. We would prefer to hit it clean and devastating," I told them.


    "What''s the forecast on the Kill Rock?" The Alias'' scan of the system popped up between us all at Admiral Ontif''s question, zoomed in on the Death Moon.


    A Big Kill Rock was one of the weapons of the Goblins, a tactic sort of stolen from the long-fallen Ruk. The Ruk used to carve entire asteroids and small moons into fortress-bases they could slowly move between stars. The Goblins did much the same thing, although cruder, enjoying make big things that could transport massive numbers of them between stars and defy whole fleets.


    This one was obviously only a third done, and the amount of traffic and transportation, as well as metal refinement, indicated it would be years before it was completed. Keeping their operations below interstellar sensory levels had somewhat restricted their production.


    "At their current rate, and assuming a gradually improving five to ten percent increase in capability per year, we''re looking at 12.3 years or so before the thing is fully operational," Briggs reported, and the two Admirals visibly relaxed. "A fully operational spacedock and forge world this place is not."


    "But..." I began, and the Map spun up. Twenty different neighboring stars glowed, all within twenty light years, and all having the status of being minor systems with no free-standing life worlds at present. System data, none less than eight hundred years old, flickered up around all of them, along with hasty and refined observational data.


    Six of the twenty turned red. The Dukes and Admirals grimaced.


    "Each of those systems is above 90% in their chances to be occupied by... something. Goblins are most likely, but there might well be other things." Five other systems glowed yellow. "Likely, but not as certain. The other systems we simply don''t know." Questions marks popped up on all of them. "We have to get these systems scouted first."


    There was quick agreement all around. We were already surrounded on all sides!


    "That one is black," noted Admiral Colos, nodding at AK-84, and the six-planet system blew up into old, old detail. The two asteroid belts were unusual.


    "The inhabitant of the Hole informed us of the nearest six Crecheworlds of the Tekrons." Everyone promptly grimaced as the fifth world, a world with five times the mass of Tellus, went black, and grey lights popped up around the system with suggested positions of outposts.


    It was fifteen light years away and change. To the Tekrons'' inertial drives, that was less than an hour!


    "We can only put up observation stations outside the heliopause and pray," I said simply at the horrendously unwelcome news. I still didn''t know why our guest in the Hole dared stay here...


    Admiral Colos took a deep mental breath, and peered at me. "Do you... have plans in the making for dealing with Tekrons?" he had to ask.


    "Yes," Briggs broke in, to the delight of everyone. "The problem is that Tekrons are vulnerable to very different things then pretty much anyone else, just like dealing with the biovore fleets is very different from anyone using manufactured ships. A ship made for dealing with Tekrons is in effect a very specialized vessel with an attack style and methodology that is extremely subpar against any other opponent. This is especially true when developing Shields using our lower tech grades. The Shields basically have to be overpowered and optimized to the Tekron weaponry defaults, and render them pretty vulnerable to more conventional attacks as a result."


    The Dukes and Admirals groaned despite themselves.


    "That being said," Briggs smiled nastily, "such an optimized ship can be devastating against the Tekrons. We have plans drawn up, and are starting to develop the associated tech and run it through simulations. We can potentially make a vessel capable of knocking out a Tekron Cemetery-class ship."


    That impressed everyone. An entire fleet of Imperial vessels might not be able to do such a thing.


    "The real trick is making ammunition that is usable by other vessels against them," I supplied. "Such ammunition is naturally going to be of little use against any other opponent, but a standard ship of the line can at least carry some in their arsenals, and if working together, take out smaller Tekron ships."


    "That sounds interesting!" Admiral Colos piped up, eyes shining with eagerness to pummel the foe. "Let''s hear about that!"


    Briggs broke in as the holos between us shifted with some technical terms and field displays. "Tekron Shields are the most advanced known, and the Necrodermite Plating on their hulls has the staying power of grav-treated hardened Adamantium, the ablative power of a Goblin Fire Hull, the superconductivity of an Elvar crystal hull, and the regenerative capability of a Xenos Mothership." Everyone sighed at that. "Their power systems are based on the deaths of stars, from what we can tell, so they always have enough juice... it''s a full TL 20 power source, equal to multiple zero-point energy systems, or a dreadnought carrying nothing but power systems." Everyone winced again.


    "The Tekron Shields come in three layers. The first is a Phase Shield, which sends incoming matter and energy into another reality, like dropping rocks into a pond. It costs a lot of power, and so there is a limit to what they can transfer, but it is one hundred percent effective if they have the juice. This is the shield that makes them so damn hard to kill.


    "The second layer is a void-shield with greater energy offset then a standard imperial dreadnought. So, you first have to get through a defense that requires the firepower of a fleet to overload the spatial shifting, then pound through an energy-transfer shield stronger than the strongest ship of the line of the Fleet.


    "The third layer is the standard deflector shield which stops fast moving matter cold, and which can be easily penetrated only by similarly shielded ammunition.


    "Then you get down to the hull, which is basically meters of necroically-reinforced superconducting ablative armor. Punching a hole in the ship after it has dispersed 95% of the impact throughout the entire hull is difficult, to say the least, and then the stuff starts regrowing. What records we found indicate that a new ten-meter hole in a hull can regrow itself in under ten minutes, and might be faster if the ship focuses power on it... which they do, once their shields are down."


    "Ghastly stuff." Eyes roved over information of energy amounts, battle recordings, analysis, specs, and other details. "And the damn thing goes inertialess and just runs away unless penned in on all sides," Admiral Colos swore. No man in the Fleet wanted to go up against the Tekrons. It was a death sentence all the way around.


    And we hadn''t even gotten to the weapons!


    "Getting through the shields requires a combination of Interdiction, psychic shearing, and deflector counter-shielding be placed on the ammunition," Briggs went on. "I don''t think I have to tell you how expensive such ammunition is, especially if you don''t have a Null Psion gunnery crew who can Sun Shot it. Its casing has to be hardened adamantium, with a payload sheathing of vivic energy powered by a five-hundred-point Capapsitor blowing the way forwards for an anti-proton payload.


    "It can only be fired from a rail gun of sufficient size, as if you use a missile the drive system will detonate as soon as it hits the Wraith field of the ship." The black-green negative lightning system that was part of the Tekrons'' inertialess drive and power system rippled around all their vessels, and played havoc with any kind of electronics that came close to the ship, making runs with starfighters perilous in the extreme.


    Yep, nobody liked Tekrons.


    "The vivic energy will immediately devour and counter the necroic energy powering the ship, hampering all ablative, superconductive, and regenerative functions. The antimatter payload will naturally eliminate the matter that touches it and convert it to a maximal amount of pure energy, yielding the highest amount of damage in the localized area while the vivus reduces the amount ablated and conducted away.


    "If the vivus sheathing hits the power core of the ship, that is an instant kill. However, all scenarios paint that as almost impossible for an initial shot. Each successive shot basically blows the vivus further through the interior of the ship, until it reaches system collapse, hits the core, and blows the vessel and all aboard apart."


    "They won''t phase out?" Duke Parablum asked, interested.


    "Not once the vivus is working on them, no. It powers a local Interdiction effect, and will also completely foil their ghost-transfer protocols. Any Tekron splashed by vivus isn''t going to be downloaded anywhere else," Briggs affirmed. "Vivus consumes the necrus and eliminates the waves and energy signatures as the energy is converted. They are well and truly wiped."


    "That''s why you spread knowledge of it as far as you could..." the Coronal Duke nodded. "When the Tekrons deduce that effect, they are going to try to stomp it out if at all possible."


    "They won''t know until it is used against them, and they will first attempt to make a counter. The key is to spread knowledge of it as far and wide as possible. If they''ve truly been doing galactic purges, this is going to be their worst one ever," I agreed.


    "And if they attempt to flee?" There was basically no way to keep up with a truly inertialess drive.


    "Super-tractors. An intertialess ship literally cannot get away from them." The plans of the upgraded tractor beams spun out before them. The basic tech hadn''t been touched for millennia. "The Tekrons can shear a normal tractor, so it has to be reinforced and upgraded, preferably with psionics. Once they are, they can hold any Tekron ship in place until the Tekrons develop super-shears of their own."


    "Upgraded tractors is something that could be placed on ships of the line," Admiral Colos pointed out, his eyes narrowing.


    "Yes," Briggs smiled cheerfully. "Standard tractor tech is at TL 10 for ships of the line and hasn''t been changed since before the Empire was founded, because there has been no need. But now we''ve a combat application for it..."

 Chapter 435 - Far Future Ch 145 – Plans

    "The Tekrons are a threat we can address when it is time to address them," Duke Rimval intervened firmly. "The Goblins are there, they are threat we can deal with right now if we must, barring what we find out in the surrounding systems." Finding out we were surrounded by Goblin encampments would not be a good thing. "What are you planning that requires a delay of an offensive, Sama?"


    "Umbran tactics," I replied calmly, and his mouth twitched into a smile despite itself. "The first few Tachyon Drives are going into scout ships, and finding out the situation in the neighboring systems, helping expand our Phlo Maps as we do. Then we''re going to start revamping the Mothball Fleet with Tachyon and Harmonic Drives, swapping out the Helldiver systems and the Thrones. Our expeditionary force to eradicate them are going to come in fast, hard, and quiet out of Tachyon travel, not ripping open holes in space and announcing their presence.


    "I expect their first strike on the Goblins in AK-97 Proxima to be a total surprise and massacre. We can have a second strike force sweep in to clean up after them as they head on off to one of the other systems using Warp jumps. If all goes well and there''s enough psychic static to stop them from communicating outsystem, we may even be able to do a sweep... although I won''t expect it. That would require impossibly good luck, or a fleet massive enough to hit every location at the same time, which we just don''t have."


    Eyes returned to the star charts of the surrounding systems, and the red and yellows... and the dangers of the question marks.


    "This... is a threat for the entire sub-sector, isn''t it?" Admiral Ontif observed. "We simply haven''t been paying enough attention to all the small systems with few resources... and there are far too many of them..."


    "Technically speaking, it''s a galaxy-wide threat, but the scale of it is simply impossible to handle, especially with the risks involved in that much Helldiving." I shook my head. "We start where we can. We''ve got a whole fleet and more that we have to get the new Drives installed on, with new hulls and designs and specs... this is a macro problem, not a micro one. Baby steps."


    "How are you planning to disseminate knowledge of vivus to the Empire proper, given the difficulty in information exchanges with the Rift?" asked Duke Parablum.


    "Ah, that. We''re starting on that part of the process tomorrow." I had the four men''s attention immediately. "I''m leading a team of Ranthas into the Gloom. We''re going to start mapping out some of it, and importantly, we''re going to get some of us into the far side of it. Once we have anchor points on planets on the far side, we can start transferring men and material... and pointedly, we can start opening communications unhampered by the Rift."


    "You... intend to open communication channels with the Empire?" Admiral Colos was startled.


    "Unfortunately, no. There is absolutely no chance I will trust the Imperial Government to handle the Markspace properly. However, we will absolutely be disseminating knowledge of vivus as far and fast as is feasibly possible, once we get to Imperial worlds, and leveraging any information exchange that is feasible as we do." I sighed. "I expect to have a very grim time over there. The reactionary mindset is going to be difficult to overcome to the extreme, and the more core the worlds are, the greater the discrimination against non-orthodox bloodlines.


    "But, it has to be done, so we''ll do it. Attempts at reunification can wait until we actually are able to travel freely once more."


    "How are you planning to breach the Gloom?" The realm of the drow was not going to be a safe area.


    "Personally. My Blade Chalice and I can cut short planar rifts between spatial coordinates we have personally touched. I breached the first drow Portal they opened on Janus III, so I can access the Underweb.


    "Once I have access to the Gloom, it merely follows to map out what I can, and get access to a planet or two on the far side. Each planet I reach can become a new point I can drop one of the girls, as going back into the Gloom and then back to Janus will be simplicity once it is set up."


    The military men were impressed. "Is this how the Elvar move about the galaxy?" they had to ask.


    "Yes. There are two levels of Portals, personal and starship-sized. Personal Portals can handle most mundane army vehicles, while the larger ones can accommodate their largest Monarch starships. Notably, it''s possible to carry around the personal Portals, and deploy from ships to ground Portal via them.


    "They galaxy-hop by using a Portal to enter one of their nexal locations in the Gloom, and either using a Portal there, or sailing off through the Gloom to another one in a different Nexal.


    "The drow home city is a planar metropolis, home to billions of drow, and potentially trillions of slaves. Its name translates to along the lines of ''Nest of Born Killers Waiting in the Darkness'', but most people just call it Gloomheart and the drow just sneer at them... and call it the same thing." I sniffed despite myself. "It is a very dangerous place. If you''re not a Seven, you shouldn''t go there at all, and if you''re not a Ten, you shouldn''t ever lead anything there.


    "Gloomheart is also their biggest planar Portal nexus, having Portals to literally all over the galaxy. Reaching there should get me access to a lot of locations I can later disperse people to... and a lot of locations I can''t, but I''m sure the Umbrans and Coronals will be very interested in."


    Both of the Dukes nodded. "The ability to leverage information across the Rift is something that could be exploited for great financial advantage, Sama," Duke Rimval noted with amusement.


    "And with the seed money the Twilight Orders are going to give me, I wouldn''t possibly exploit that, would I?" Both Dukes just looked at me. "Because you''re both going to commission me to carry data to your counterparts on the other side, and I''ll be paid upon completion there."


    All four men looked at one another in amusement. "That would be an extremely valuable service, Sama," Duke Parablum said. "I imagine you will need seed money for the seed money, if you are to be financially in place before the news is dispersed."


    "That is true. That are a bunch of licenses I need to buy from the Mekkers... again... since I''m not going to publicize that I bought the license from this side of the Rift to them.


    "Happily, raising general credits for expansion into new worlds is called venture capital, and for some reason I have this whole corporation behind me which is pretty aggressive about such stuff." I smirked, and all the boys rolled their eyes at me.


    "And yourself, Commander?" Admiral Ontif asked of Briggs.


    "There''s no way I would blend in sufficiently in such a mission, and a Source doesn''t skip out midway on things. I have things to do," he rumbled firmly, and everyone took him at his word. Given how much he felt like an elemental force of nature, it was the wise thing to do.


    "So... perhaps we had best be about arranging an intelligence report to our counterparts on the other side of the Rift?" Duke Rimval said, looking around at all the men.


    "Carefully vetted," agreed Admiral Colos. "Indeed, if even a courier or message service could be run between the severed halves of the Empire, it could change things."


    "And it would probably destroy everything we are trying to do here," I vetoed. "We can think about such a thing when we see how the Empire proper reacts to the introduction of vakker-tech and the accompanying tech tree. I do not expect it to be well."


    And that despite its proven ability in battle. The Mechanists had too strong a hold over the technological heart of the Empire at this point. All of the men fell silent. They had their duty, and it had iron grips on them, but they had seen the changes I had made to the way of things, they were in the Markspace, and hope had its terrible tendrils deep in their hearts now. The idea that they were making things better, not just beating the darkness back, had wormed its way in, and they didn''t want to knuckle under to those doing things the old way just because that was the way they had been done.


    They wanted more.


    Treasonous, blasphemous thoughts, to any true loyalist of the Empire...


    =============


    It was time for massive amounts of information leverage.


    In the two decades and more since the Rift had sprung up, worlds had risen up, and others had perished. Wars of defense had been fought, and wars of offense. Notable names had died, and new ones had spread. Corporations and nobles houses had traded, fought, died, and expanded, and a gargantuan amount of lives and assets had changed hands, been destroyed, built, and been expended in myriad ways.


    Many of those corporations and noble houses had ties on the other side of the Rift. Even if no trade and travel was taking place across the Rift, those places still had ties, and news of their businesses doing poorly or spectacularly would move the markets. Likewise, news of loved ones, and the inheritances that went with them, would cause shifts in motion, and the deaths and discoveries of planets were certain to have ripple effects.


    All the kids with financial backgrounds crunched a lot of numbers going for the economic data and what it would have on the other half of the Empire, and how I could exploit it when it was released. Corporations, banks, and families with major holdings on this side that had been destroyed or struck it rich would move markets on the other. Even something as simple as whether a cargo ship still existed or not meant severe financial losses that could now be reflected on balance statements... and stock prices.


    Imperial credits were imperial credits, and blockchain verification meant they''d be accepted anywhere in the galaxy, so bringing along some electronic money was very easy, indeed. Compound that with some highly leveraged not-speculation in the market...


    It was not an extension to say that all this actually wouldn''t affect what I was doing on Janus Prime much at all. Girls specialized in everything I used to do had basically taken over everything and were very happily driving things forwards. They were also quite happy to start their own Curselines and get their own assortment of hyper-motivated Hags out to change Reality for the better, so again, one less thing I had to do.


    As long as I had Levels and could contribute Ranks to driving up the tech trees, that was basically all that was important. I could be a galaxy away fighting knee-deep in bugs, and they could be my hands on the experiments required to advance the tech. Given that the foundation was already there, we just needed to get it back and add a few branches to the trunk of the tree, it really wasn''t all that revolutionary.


    No, I wasn''t needed personally to expand the allegiance, not at all. People definitely admired me, standing up there at the top of things, but it was their own Ranthas who were driving the whole engine forwards, not just me, and even most of my ''personal'' followers were Tens or close to it, and leading waves and groups of their own.


    To wit, I didn''t really have a personal entourage, because my family was just too damn big, and snatched all the people away.


    Briggs was important, because his monstrous Source Field was guiding the whole allegiance into a path to a better and brighter place, even if they were looking at me as the Mother of the Marks.


    What I was best at... was general competency, oddly enough.


    My Talent just gave me a general boost on Knowledge-type skills of all types, which was naturally exceeded by anyone with a more focused Talent. But... I was an Exemplar Lite.


    +5 Bonus to all Skills. Less than the Talent of a Ten, which maxed at +8... but it affected ALL Skills. So while I couldn''t beat any of my girls at their niche, I could certainly beat all of them at any Skills outside their niches.


    If I didn''t have any girls there to fill those niches, that meant the person who had to do it was me, and I was more than capable of doing so! I was a Master of All Trades, Grandmaster of None, such as it were. In terms of being capable at everything I needed to be capable at, nobody could match me.


    So, that''s why I was going. I was still absolute murder in combat. I was unbelievably hard to kill. I could start something in the Empire just like I had on Janus, and get the ball rolling over there. Me not being here just opened up more options for the girls to take over and drive things forwards.


    And me, I got to go adventuring!

 Chapter 436 - Far Future Ch. 146 – Feeling Gloomy

    Chalice slit space between xX and yX, and a dark opening was opened surgically in the Veil before me. Without the slightest hesitation, Celestia, Jensa, and Keva stepped forward into it with me.


    The second I stepped through, Briggs smashed it shut, and burned away any sign of it ever happening on Janus III''s end. Not that anyone was going to be looking for it out in the middle of nowhere...


    My Null sliced through it on my end, reuniting the sides, and the Veil expanded back into and sealed up the opening flawlessly, like water filling in a gap, and we were sitting in the Gloom.


    The air was filled with some kind of faux shadow particle, like a dust in the air that was actually motes of shadow energy. The Gloom was basically a shadow plane, the place where all shadows intersected... including the shadow of the Warp. That also meant it was between the Warp and reality, in its own way, even as it stood outside them, equally distant from both... except for the fact that a whole lot of psychopathic crazies with Warp Affinity had declared it their homeland.


    Naturally, we had devilsight, the darkness didn''t affect us, and the combination of smoke/fog/sand sight let us look through the haze. I should just call it hazesight, I mused to myself, sent that off to the girls, and they agreed that folding them all together was not a bad thing.


    The local landscape was, hmm... crawling? Yes, it was moving subtly, mostly when I wasn''t looking at it. Before and after definitely had subtle differences in illumination and texture, and the landscape was shifting. Some areas were venting clouds of shadowy stuff, other areas were running or flowing slowly, almost oozing around.


    I spun a whole circle, and half-smiled at something in the distance. The others saw it at the same time, and we all headed off that way.


    Lightfoot still worked fine. We skated over to it, ignoring the yielding, icky texture of the surface and the way it was veeeeery slowly moving underneath us, coasting up to the ruins of the drow Portal.


    The crystalline arch, a hundred feet in diameter, was cracked and shattered, warped and twisted by reality itself going bonkers around it. Still, it was unreasonably tough, having somehow survived a full-blown Warp shifting, and even the area around it had regrown from the rupture and returned to something approaching normal.


    The Gloom had its own Veil, such as it was.


    The crystalline structure was, of course, completely worthless and non-functional. The landing bore traces of a dozen different kinds of spatial, psychic, and atomic forces acting on it, and was cracked and warped even worse than the archway was.


    I plunged the point of Chalice into a section of the arch, and let her feed on it. Crystals that hard with planar and psychic resonance could only be a good meal for her, a point I noted for the girls if and when they also got their orichalcum swords. I was promptly given a good ribbing, as they didn''t have a shard of the original Chalice and had to make do with merely Full-Tempered adamantine.


    Doing a shape-changer infiltration of drow society was a non-starter. This was a race with TL 17 tech that went down all the darkest trees with a complete lack of restraint, and their psychic aura of ongoing corruption was not something that could be imitated by someone who wasn''t also Warp-tainted. While we could look flawlessly like a certain quartet of pink-haired bikini-wearing bladewitches, we''d completely lack the psychic aura and so stand out like sore thumbs, outsiders playing at being drow.


    Our objective at this point was to get the four of us to the outskirts of Gloomheart to get a planar lock, and as more girls got their Swords up to Riftcutting status, get them here to establish a planar lock. My sword fanatic trio here had been going on rampant slaughter in some of the fallen cities to get their Swords up to snuff, a minimum of two uses per Renewal before I''d even think about bringing them here.


    A lot of demons, animated tech, and xenos had fed their Swords to make it so, and there were a lot of other Ranthas coming in behind eager to do the same. The fallen cities were being purged with remarkable speed, such as it was, as Rantha-bloods weren''t the only ones who wanted to Feed their Weapons. Indeed, the Ranthas had to restrain themselves to allow all the others to get their Naming Karma per day, before everyone set off on getting Levels Karma.


    The invaders on Janus III were feeding themselves to our people. It was rather polite of them.


    -Consensus?-, I /asked, and we all pointed in the same direction, off down one of the mountain-sized tunnels looming in the distance of this small offshoot to a planar cavern. -Well, who wants to queue up the traveling music?-


    Dark wings erupted from all of our backs, formed by our hair. We''d all gone for a common theme here, with jet black skin and black hair, and Sama-blue eyes. The black hair alone meant we didn''t look like drow, our Curse-brands were up in their distinctive hue, and we definitely looked like we belonged in Gloom.


    And no, we didn''t go for the bikini armor look, either.


    Our wings began to burn softly, and vented out behind us, and we began to move.


    -------


    Everything we could ascertain from our purloined memories indicated that Gloom might just be the size of a solar system, with long threads of itself growing this way and that in an irregular, slowly shifting maze of tunnels, junctions, and nexus points. This change was slow but constant, so the way to reach any particular location or Portals would slowly change over time, and some passages would fray and be intruded on by the Warp before falling away and vanishing forever, flaking off like dried bark or a withered limb.


    Our collective memories told us that it had been at least ten thousand overland miles from Gloomheart to get to this location, not really all that far away for a Portal of such small size and status. Why it was originally here was lost to the millennia... perhaps there used to be an Elvar settlement on Janus III that was abandoned, and their original family had a Gloom outpost here. Perhaps lack of use simply meant it was slowly severed from a nexal point and organically drifted out here, or even this was the simplest and fastest point in the Gloom to establish a location to, i.e. Janus III''s shadows naturally converged here.


    It didn''t matter, but it was fun to speculate. In any event, lived-lining meant we were going on the ground, and besides, we got more Karma that way.


    Naturally enough, the Underweb had tons of nasty shit in it. All the nasty horrors on the Material could have big, nightmarish equivalents here, with a heavy dose of fear and dread, shadow-morphing, and hatred of light to go with them. The Warp was always wiggling its way in, so there was plenty of demonic corruption here and there, and so there were constant calls for entertaining the locals.


    Vivic fire was, of course, not the thing here. Vivus was the energy of the material plane, and a hostile invader in the Gloom, as unnatural as necroic energies and Warp fires were. The applicable energy for a shadow-based realm was naturally shadowfire, the Shadow equivalent of flames, and one of our objectives here was to find a font of it to anoint our Swords so we could add it to our Arsenals... and establish a planar lock so my kids could do the same.


    Time and distances were kind of mutable here, but being Nulls the dimensions didn''t play around us so much. Thus, we actually separated after cautiously assessing the threat level and speed of the locals (tolerable and slow compared to us), fanning out over hundreds of miles looking for the equivalent of a forest fire or a magma field.


    ---


    It became swiftly apparent the cavern we appeared in was rather aberrant, probably healing from the Warp rupture that had likely torn a chunk of it away and had since healed over. The landscape began to roll beneath us, turning into shadows of natural vistas. Given the nature of shadows, that meant the more broken the landscape was, the more shadows were generated, and so it was all dominated by hills and mountains, with occasional stretches of flatlands literally overshadowed by pinnacles and peaks all around.


    There was water, as well, as long as the source was sufficiently deep to generate shadows and darkness.


    Caves yawned everywhere, shadows of subterranean enclaves reflected here and there, mixing with the organic nature of the plane. It was noteworthy that artificially-generated landscapes never touched in here, as if the plane couldn''t reflect them.


    Did that mean an ecumenopolis like Tellus was effectively sealed against the Gloom? It was an interesting thought...


    The whole place, overlaid with the hazy shadow mist, definitely had a kind of dark fey vibe. The first forest of alien trees we entered loomed up like impossible skyscrapers, shadows dancing beneath them as if alive. Darkness rippled across impossibly high mountains, too sharp and severe to be real, knife-edged and dragging into the distance.


    Naturally there were natives, elvar who had gone feral out in the Underweb, and teemed throughout the shadowy realm, as well as escaped slaves, prisoners, and monsters of all sorts, all of whom existed in a happy, timelost existence of hunting one another and slaughter. Being naturally chaotic, those elvar were basically all in shades of grey, starting pale and gradually turning darker as they grew older, often becoming full-on drow and journeying to the great cities to form the violent lower classes there.


    As we were outsiders, they naturally attacked us without thought, or tried to trail after us and hunt us. That was fine, had to add the ol'' Hunter of Foes: Elvar to the Feat Register, and Bane/Elvar to Slaughter on our Swords. They didn''t justify themselves, we didn''t justify ourselves; it was a fight, and they died when they attacked us.


    Most of the time, we just ignored or bypassed them, and if they hesitated at all, we were past them and pulling away faster than they could follow without aerial mounts. Some of them did have aerial mounts, and thought they''d be clever with the tracking and dive-bombing, and did not enjoy finding out we could all fly in our way, and faster than their drakes and great raptors could.


    Word did spread ahead of us, presumably through psychic means of tribal shamans or seers, as there were a few ambushes laid, or scouts on land or sky in position to track us and our movements. That we were roving about and not really stopping unless there was something interesting to kill or we were attacked was noted, especially after the complete slaughter we inflicted on anything that threw itself in our way.


    But them gathering and coordinating meant information convergence. That was a good thing.


    -------


    The Shaman glared at me with bright orange eyes and purple hair, his skin almost black, and then my stinger poked him in the neck while my Tail administered his first Brand.


    His whole body trembled, and his eyes grew frantically wide. "Yes," I told him in Elvar learned a very long time ago. "This is where you end. Now, where can I find a discreet source of shadowfire?"


    He tried to stop his lips from resisting, and then the second Brand lit up crimson on his spine. His body shuddered, his knees gave way, and he sank to the ground. "It is... I cannot..."


    There was another snap, and he convulsed again. "M-Mistress, I beg you, do not..."


    Snap! "Mistress..."


    Snap! "Mistress... I will guide you there..."


    Snap! "Yes, Mistress, I will guide you quickly there..."


    Snap! "Mistress, I will handle everything, rest assured!"


    Snap! "Mistress, thank you for this chance to serve you!"


    Snap! He had no words to express his joy in the throes of ecstasy.

 Chapter 437 - Far Future Ch. 147 – Shadows in the Gloom

    -Let''s go, girls. I have a guide.-


    Purple hair meant an interest in poisoning, slow torture, and biomorphing. This asshole was a master poisoner and torturer, now shaking in the throes of utter pleasure none of his drugs would ever be able to duplicate.


    My Tails deposited him on the Disk that unfolded out of my Masspack. I didn''t even glance around at the umbvar arrayed on the slopes all around me, trying to stay out of sight of my autobow and Tails, and especially not daring to get in melee range, as the best warriors and their savage pets of this group were now laying in many pieces behind me, while I didn''t look to have a wound on me. They''d watched their psychic weapons just bounce off my skin, the few that could actually hit me, and in return I had utterly and mercilessly butchered anyone and anything that attacked me.


    They were insanely brave, but they weren''t stupid. The ones who didn''t attack got to live. My whole attitude of looking right through and past them as if they weren''t there was incredibly demoralizing and humiliating, and they could only grimace and glare their hate at me as I did as I wished.


    Law of the jungle here. Biggest fist gets the respect and makes the rules. My fist was incredibly big.


    I could see some of them were thinking of offing the Shaman to deny me my prize as he drooled there, but my eyes drifted that way and they thought better of it.


    I prompted him mentally, and he couldn''t even point. He just indicated the direction, I turned towards that section of canyons like a cannon slowly circling and stopping, and headed that way.


    The smart ones got out of the way. The foolish ones shot at me. The really stupid ones jumped out to stop me. Exercises in natural selection followed, and the brave warriors of this tribe who were lacking intelligence followed their seniors.


    ---


    I simply jumped their barricades and continued down the canyon the drooling Shaman was indicating. The girls were converging from their alternate courses onto me, and by the Shaman''s directions, we''d likely meet up right at the cave we needed to access the font this insidious poisoner knew of, and we would have to pass the guardians of the font... who were not elvar...


    Jensa came swooping in from a pass that cut into our path. Celestia came in from the opposite side, jumping down a five-thousand-foot cliff and basically landing right in front of us. Keva found herself looping around and coming in from the opposite side, and was actually at the cave entrance before we were.


    "Impressive," she murmured, looking around. "They''ve got hanging gardens on the walls so subtle you can barely see them. The size of the doors indicates they are under five feet tall... definitely a race of short folk."


    The Shaman''s impression of the guardians of the font were they were shadowy, elusive, and masked. While the elvar were perfectly happy to intimdate and/or enslave them, the fact was that elvish presences totally disrupted the accumulation of shadowfire, and would snuff the font out. It only seemed to grow and thrive in the presence of these small pints who were watching us very carefully from behind cover, probably deciding if they should make a move or not... and us showing up with the Shaman on a Disk probably decided the issue.


    Scent was an iffy thing in the Gloom, with the crap in the air rapidly eroding any kind of scent trail. But still... I sniffed, and I wondered...


    "In we go..."


    ------


    The way was long and winding, with psychoactive crystals in the walls at irregular intervals and patterns, adding to the twisting shadows and eeriness of the place. Distant winds moaned through the caverns with distracting noises, and skitters and soft sounds of things brushing against stone tickled the edge of our hearing.


    It was a pretty good atmosphere, very suitable for unnerving people. The intermittent light and dark played with the eyes, the noise made it easier to disguise movements, everything put people on their toes.


    Our Trembling Domains mapped out everything around us while our eyes ignored the changes in illumination. Small tunnels that looked like flitting shadows in the changing light were all around us, carefully dug through the stone, paralleling and crossing over and under this main, mostly natural passage around us.


    There were people in those passageways. Short people, between three and four feet tall, moving like ghosts, whisper quiet, saying nothing, and peeking at us here and there through slits in the stone, lost in the shadows.


    We conferred and agreed the crystals were probably psychoactive, stirring up the shadows and really messing with psychic awareness. Those coming here probably had no idea exactly how many of the natives were here, or how quickly they might have died if things came to that. Naturally we didn''t have much concern for either a fight or psychic assault, although my drooling poisoner umbvar guide wouldn''t have lasted long. Then again, I really didn''t need him at the moment, so if something happened, it would just hasten his death.


    The cave trail was actually over a mile long, twisting and turning through the mountain, and yet most of it was naturally formed. I didn''t want to know what it was a reflection of, although we did stop in a couple of the larger caverns it intersected to admire the crystals on and about the area.


    Our destination was a carved-up cave where we were to meet with the guardians of the fane. The floor had been leveled off, even carved up in runeforms that weren''t quite magic, weren''t quite psionic, working off the natural organic nature of the crystal veins that had been growing denser as we came down. The whole room was a strange m¨¦lange of crisscrossing shadows flowing this way and that, making it rather difficult to actually judge the dimensions of the place if you were relying on conventional senses.


    Since we weren''t, the scores of hidden figures behind the walls with poisoned darts aimed at us were pretty obvious, but we weren''t too worried.


    "If the guardian of the fane might come forth?" I asked aloud... in Human.


    We all watched them shift uncertainly as they heard the unfamiliar language... and understood exactly what I''d said.


    -No way...- /murmured Keva, echoed by the other two.


    Our eyes snapped around, Jensa''s first, as a short figure came Veilwalking out of nowhere and materialized on the platform.


    Despite himself, he tensed when he saw how rapidly we focused on him, and the expression on our faces. He looked composed and confident... for a moment, and then the vibes coming from us made his expression a little peculiar.


    "Veilwalking!" Jensa said aloud. "Holy shit!"


    "Damn! I didn''t think there were any hyn left! His brothers are going to be in a tizzy!" Keva agreed. Celestia just looked on coolly, calculating, while I put my hand on my chin and smiled thoughtfully.


    "Greetings to Elder Brother Shadowknife!" I stated, and calmly went to one knee as the cloaked hyn blinked in astonishment. My girls promptly did the same. "I apologize for interrupting your duties, Brother Shadowknife, and for disrupting the lives of your kinfolk. My daughters and I have come to anoint our blades in the Shadowfane your people maintain, and expose them to the true Shadowfire. We will take no power nor shadows from the Fane itself. We need only expose them to the true flames."


    I reached out, and without hesitation punched my claws into the skull of the drooling umbvar, frying his brain and giving his spirit a kick towards its final fate. I hauled him off the Disk as my hair grabbed a few things in my pack, and hauled them out to clatter on the Disk. The girls added their own contributions, and I nudged the Disk towards him.


    He eyed it warily as it floated up to him, but couldn''t resist a flicker of amazement as he saw the array of daggers and short swords stacked up on them.


    The weapons were black, but running through them were liquid, living veins and whorls of whites and greys, the telltale signs of the shadowfire within empowering them.


    They had all been taken off dead elite umbvar. Obviously, the weapons were considered powerful toys, probably exacted as tribute from these hyn, who were also the only folk who could make them. Forging them probably kept the shadowfane drained of power, and left them little to use for themselves, which likely concerned the umbvar not at all.


    There were no hyn known in the galaxy. Human dwarfism had been removed from the genome millennia before the Emperor came to power, and as hyn were basically the Powered version of human midgets, that basically eliminated them from existence.


    With them naturally went the Shadow and the Knife, the Void Brothers who guarded against those things that crossed Time or came from outside the Veil. The Aberrants must have been quite pleased, as well as the Warp Gods themselves, who would hardly like creatures that foiled their chronal manipulations.


    They were here in the Underweb. The only reasonable explanation was the drow.


    The drow were very into genetic experimentation, and must have stumbled upon the buried genes of dwarfism when experimenting upon captured human slaves/lab rats. Coming up in a psi-active environment, they must have literally re-invented the hyn, probably thinking to themselves that they had made an ideal slave race of easily controlled physically unthreatening sentients without the violent tendencies of goblins or the like.


    Until the first Shadowknives naturally Awakened, and showed them just how deadly the little folk could be.


    They must have led their people out into the wilds of the Underweb to escape the drow, found a niche, and survived.


    The Gloom would have adopted them as its own, given that they gave birth to Shadowknives. The drow probably owed their continued domination of the Underweb to the hyn interfering with all the powers who desired this place, messed with its Veil, and tried chronal manipulations. The truly powerful might even know they were responsible.


    The Land really did love its Helix Brothers, even if it was just the Gloom...


    "What is this language you speak?" he asked in a whisper. "It sings in my bones that I should know it..."


    "This is the Human genetic tongue, Brother Shadowknife," I replied warmly. "The Hynfolk are a subrace of humanity, so naturally our tongue is yours."


    "You... are humans?" He frowned at the word. "That does not seem right..."


    "We are born of the human race, but we are Rantha Hags, and while our root is there, we''ve branched quite a ways off the main stem, Brother," I admitted. "It is good to find kinfolk here, however distant. We only expected to see some in the slave pits of the drow. Are your folk faring well, here in the wilds of the Underweb?"


    He was looking over us all kneeling there, his eyes flicking to literally centuries worth of fane-work in weapons floating on the Disk there, being returned to his people. As a Forsaken, he''d be free of Warp influence, but that didn''t mean paranoia wasn''t well-deserved.


    "We... are surviving," was all he said, his heavily accented elvish somber and clipped. "You came... just to anoint your weapons in the Fane? Nothing else?"


    "Truly, we did not expect the presence of the Shadowknife or his people," I admitted. "Are you in need of aid?"


    He looked at us, at the Disk of weapons again, probably his whole world getting turned upside down. The mere idea that us towering all-jet women with pointed ears considered him kin was probably like a bombshell going off in his head.


    "Aid?" The very idea was probably pretty novel to him in this world. "What sort of... aid?" he asked.

 Chapter 438 - Far Future Ch. 148 – Twenty Questions... or More...

    I smiled slightly. "Well, that will to a large extent be dependent upon you, Brother."


    "I see." He was silent for a long minute, while we sat there kneeling to him, trying to figure us out. "You say we are... kin?" I could tell he had difficulty with the statement.


    I snapped my fingers, and our pigmentation disguises faded. My hair went back to its normal burning auburn, Celestia was base white, Jensa was magneta, and Keva was still dark. I, of course, was a golden tan, Celestia was pale as snow, Jensa was olive-gold, and Keva was a deep bronze. The girls'' eye colors naturally shifted back to pale blue, sharp gold, and deep brown.


    "The drow naturally look upon anyone of lighter skin then them as weaker, so we opted to be darker than them and see what happened, Brother," I informed him.


    His Helices rose. We all locked on them, rather excited to see them, and he noticed that, too. He extended them out towards us, and we didn''t bat an eye at all as he did. Bemused, unnerved, and reassured all at once, he played them over us.


    His lips pursed, because he was running into our Nulls, which he could tell were being constrained, and were very, very strong, harder than his Helix had the ability to overcome.


    They were also delightfully complex and pure, purer than any such power he''d ever felt. There was not a speck of the influence of the Gloom upon them.


    Our Curse-Brands, on the other hand, definitely widened his eyes. The Hag Curse was one almighty powerful piece of work, and it had been broken upon us... and yet we were still keeping it around... to use for ourselves!


    "This..." he murmured, astonished. "You... are not like me..."


    "No, we''re like them." I gestured to all the other hyn watching all this in both suspicion and fascination.


    "None of them are like you..." It was more a protest then a statement.


    "Yes, well, that is one of the things we can help you with," I smiled slightly. "Void Brothers are only one of the three Forsaken types born among humans. We are Nulls, as are most of your people. There are also Sources, but none are present, and hyn do not have Sources."


    His Helices withdrew after sensing the power of a great deal of the Gear we wore, and realizing how fantastically deadly we were likely to be... and we were still kneeling to him!


    "Your offer is accepted!" he finally blurted out, and watched us all break out in equal, hard smiles. "Do you wish to visit the Fane first, or after?"


    "Let us talk at length after we have done what we came to do," I answered, and the hyn Void Brother nodded, gesturing to one of the side passages.


    "Follow me."


    ---------


    The room was alive with shadows, constant dim illumination fluctuating and dancing from jewel to jewel in a natural, almost liquid manner, keeping the entire room dancing with bands of light and dark. It was quite enchanting.


    I noticed him watching the shadows near us, seeing how they reacted to our presence... and nothing happened, of course.


    "The umbvar bend and distort the shadows, do they not, Brother?" I asked him calmly.


    "Yes. The power of the Gloom reacts to them, responding to their thoughts and emotions. The shadows will not accumulate for them as a result." He paused before the Shadowfane that was the center of the room.


    It wasn''t made of crystals, and actually looked like it was filled with some kind of liquid shadow, rippling with waves of light and depths of darkness. Atop it danced burning black flames with whites and greys in their depths... the true shadowfire of gloom.


    "The weapons you returned to us were all empowered with shadowfire. Could you not have used them to do what you wish?" he asked, watching as Chalice dropped out through my arm and into my hand from body-phase.


    "No. This is the original, natural shadowfire. Once imbued into an item, it becomes magical shadowfire, and its nature changes. Using magic to emulate a natural force is easy. Using magic to duplicate a natural force altered into a magical one is significantly harder."


    The dagger point of Chalice expanded to her full black-edged coppery length, and I inserted her humming edge into the Fane.


    The cold black flames danced around the length of the metal, dozens of shades of grey breaking out over her as it did so. Her trilling began to jingle, almost as if she was being tickled, and sounded rather improbably merry in such an eye-bending, fantastic place.


    "Your weapon has a spirit!" he noticed, as if I hadn''t seen his Helix move out to caress her. "And is very powerful..."


    "Another thing I can show you," I agreed, and his nostrils flared again.


    "I have it, Sama," Chalice said in her crystalline voice, and the Void Brother almost jumped. I lifted her away, and noted a section of runework running with shadowy fires. "I will be able to manifest them on Renewal!"


    "Good!" I nodded to the girls, and they went up one by one, starting with Celestia, to do the same.


    Shadowfire was the unnatural energy of Gloom, similar to vivus on the Prime. Its properties included giving off oxygen, dimming light yet dispelling darkness close by, and eating away at energies not native to Gloom. It could be distilled and form some extremely powerful and unique weapons if infused into them... and it could Energize materials with Shadow. All in all, precious, useful stuff, and the only ones who could congeal it easily were the hyn. Even native creatures of Gloom or Shadow itself couldn''t do so, as their magical nature threw off the gathering of shadowfire and the jetsilver liquid it gradually condensed into.


    ------


    "Ask your questions. I will answer them if I can. If I cannot, I will tell you why."


    A few of the elders of the hyn had come out of the shadows, looking at us with wary eyes. They were the ones who could be sacrificed if we proved to be hostile... but despite how dangerous we were, they were feeling inexplicably relaxed and confident with us. After all, we also qualified as Human/3''s, and instincts were to trust one another at that level.


    The Shadowknife was seated opposite us... atop the Disk, which he found novel and amusing despite himself.


    "Who are you?" he began forthrightly.


    "I am Sama Rantha the Second, called Sage Sama by most of the normal folk under me, and Mom by the rest." I gestured at the girls around me. "These are some of my daughters: Celestial, Jensa, and Keva Rantha."


    Given how similar we looked in age, he had some doubt that was actually the relationship, but the girls all nodded, clearly amused despite themselves.


    "Do you have many children?"


    The girls looked at me wickedly. "Thousands," I admitted, without batting an eye. The hyn stared at me. "You may or may not be aware that there are ways to grow children by artificial means via technology and psionics and the like. I employed such means to rapidly grow my children to self-sufficiency and use the Hag Curse to empower them with the skills and knowledge of a Rantha Hag like myself, or for my sons, with the Briggs Brothers template." I smiled despite myself. "My lads are head and shoulders taller than we are."


    "Mmm," Keva licked her lips.


    "So... you have thousands of daughters?" the hyn asked again, clearly finding it hard to believe.


    "Yes. And about five thousand are looking out my eyes at you right now, delighted to know a Shadowknife is about."


    He froze despite himself, looking at the others, back at me. "You are in contact with them? Right now?" he asked faintly.


    "That is correct." His Helices swirled through the air. "You''re sensing for the wrong energy." I pointed to the Marks around my waist, and his Helices naturally came in and swirled around them.


    "Those... there is pure magic within them..." he hesitated, and my eyebrow prompted him further. "It is... very tightly bound up and within other energies..."


    "And that tickles." I flashed my Null, pushing his Helices back, making the other hyn gasp at the display as the swirls of shadows were unceremoniously pushed back in his direction. "They are very old Rune magic, from before the Warp affected magic. They allow telepathic communication at any distance, including across dimensions, and provide an impressive buff to a foundational Stat." I nodded at him. "As Nulls, we and most of your population can eventually carry up to nine of them. As a Void, you could only carry one before your Void would wipe off the rest as disruptive."


    Multiple questions were popping up in his mind. "Where... are these daughters of yours?"


    "On a world called Janus III in the mortal plane. We are currently in an artificial realm created by the ancient Elvar called the Underweb, created within the Gloom to allow them rapid transit throughout the galaxy, and perhaps as a sort of nature preserve. Your ancestors were humans kidnapped from the mortal plane and brought here as slaves. The hyn genome has been bred out of existing humanity, but they must have rediscovered it and brought it back.


    "Thus, while you have been born in the Underweb and it is all you know, your ancestors came from the mortal plane. Go far enough back, and we all hail from the Imperial homeworld of Tellus."


    Their breaths caught. "Can... we return there?" he asked shortly, the light of hope in their eyes.


    "I am not sure you can. You have probably been Claimed by Gloom." His lips pursed, and he nodded slowly. "Likewise, I am not sure the older ones among you could survive in the mortal realm after so long on Gloom. Your younger members, the answer is yes... but we would have to find a place for you to live.


    "As I mentioned, the hyn have long been bred out of the human race. Introducing you to an existing human population would be, hmm, unsettling, to say the least. It would be best if you were brought somewhere you could develop by yourselves, and then we ''accidentally stumble across a lost human evolutionary strain''."


    Their expressions showed understanding of the subterfuge.


    "Why are you here... in the Gloom?" the Shadowknife asked. "Certainly not just for your swords."


    "No. The galaxy of the mortal world has recently been cut in half by a tremendous disturbance in the Warp bleeding out into the mortal world. I am from the far side of the rift from Tellus, the human imperial capital, and the worlds thereof. I am seeking to get a foothold on the other side of the Rift, using the Underweb as an alternate path around the Rift. We entered using a Underweb point near an ancient elvar Portal to Janus III. We are seeking egress Portals on the far side of the Rift... but will naturally also take any locations on other worlds allowing us to co-opt the work of the elvar." I smiled thinly. "If you know of any close by, we would be obliged."


    He nodded slowly. "I... know of a great number of them." I was thunderously lacking in surprise, and all our eyes were dancing. "But... if you wish me to guide you to them, we will need things in exchange."


    "Eh." My total lack of surprise or care seemed to amuse him. "A Brother always has shit he needs done."


    "That... is very true." He could read that I understood his situation very well indeed...

 Chapter 439 - Far Future Ch. 149 – Mark Your Answer Down...

    "You have a way in and out of the Gloom," he pressed, and I nodded.


    "I could open a Portal into and out of the Gloom right here," I stated calmly, alarming them all. "Actually, I think that would be marvelous. We could trade back and forth relatively easy with this place as an anchor point. It would only last for a minute or two at a time, but a significant number of people and objects can be transferred in that time."


    He turned to look at the elders, who looked very thoughtful, indeed.


    "What manner of things would you offer in trade?"


    "What do you need?" I replied easily enough.


    "Food. Weapons. Clothing," he ticked off instantly.


    "You probably won''t like the food, but it''ll be edible. Weapons, easily done. Clothing, simplicity. Manufactured goods, easy enough. But really, that''s not an appropriate swap if you are guiding us to Portal points. Knowledge should be swapped for knowledge."


    "That... is true."


    "Do you have any products other than the shadowfire that you can trade? I will say that Shadow-imbued ores or plants can fetch a fine price in trade, and you can literally list out what you are looking for."


    There was definitely eagerness in their eyes. "There are some things that you might be interested in," Shadowknife murmured. "What manner of knowledge?"


    "Pretty much all of it."


    He blinked. "What?"


    I tapped the Marks on my waist. "Gaining a Mark gets you telepathic access to all other people tied to a Mark, if a Hag relays it. In short, you can talk with hundreds of thousands of others, and if they don''t mind, see through their eyes. You can potentially learn anything and everything they are willing to let you.


    "Psionic techniques, disciplines.


    "Void Brother studies and awareness.


    "Mental and physical disciplines, skills, fighting tricks.


    "Skills of all kinds, from crafting to conceptual.


    "Pretty much anything and everything you might want to learn, it''s all there ready and waiting for you."


    They were kind of staring at me. They could just reach out and talk to... anyone? Of course, the key catch...


    "But we would have to be Marked." He eyed the subliminally glowing and very powerful to his touch Marks around my waist.


    "Yes."


    "There are extremely subtle and powerful energies upon those Marks."


    "There most definitely is," I agreed. "Being able to speak with someone else at any distance and even across planes is not at all a weak effect."


    "And we could speak this way with one another?"


    "YES," all four of us said together, and we all winked at him. The hyn all flinched. "It is extremely useful in combat," I went on. "Furthermore, everyone gains access to The Map."


    "The Map..." he repeated.


    "A record of where everyone with a Mark has been; visual, material, personal. I can go anywhere any of my daughters or our followers have been with perfect confidence, as it is all laid out in The Map."


    He blinked at me again, at the Marks. "And... these Marks provide a benefit on top of this?" He was amazed.


    "Yes. If your people can Level up, they can tolerate more Marks. You are restricted to one, unfortunately... but the Void Brothers get other benefits, so it''s hardly a loss on your end."


    There was a period of silence. "This offer sounds too good to be true." He couldn''t simply put down his suspicions and paranoia in this place.


    "Well, it''s true, and it''s too good, so I disagree and agree at the same time. In all honesty, you can''t pay us what it is worth. But then, nobody can, and we''ve been giving it to a lot of people, and in return, they all have made it as awesome as it is." I shrugged. "I''m not going to force it upon you. But I will say that we have found no downsides to having a Mark... except those people that think having a Mark is a Very Bad Thing, largely because they don''t have one of their own."


    "How much control would we have over this... Mark?" he had to ask.


    "You mean the telepathy? Well, only the Hag bound to your Mark can talk to you if your mental door is closed. You can only talk to someone else if your Hag lets you do so, and they are willing to talk. Kindly note that we are not psions, mentalists, psychics, warp sorcerers, or anything like that, so mind control is not something we can do.


    "On the flip side, we all have considerable mental presence. Much bigger than our physical ones, relatively speaking. You might be quite intimidated by us."


    "I can tell that you are extremely dangerous..." he assessed us warily.


    "We''re more impressive mentally," I advised him kindly, and he pursed his lips again. "Yes, you don''t believe it, that''s fine. I''m warning you, you''ll see it, and you''ll curse like everyone else and remember that I warned you. It''s all fine." I waved it away, unconcerned. "If you are wondering about removing the Mark, a Void Brother can neutralize it in seconds and wipe it away in seconds more. Anyone can scar and disrupt them if they wish. A psion can break the link if they know what they are doing, or wipe it away. A standard Ward can interrupt the telepathy." I ticked off all those things, which startled him. "Like I said, I''m not going to force a Mark on you. You can accept it, or not. If you really want knowledge in return for knowledge, you''ll take one."


    "Sensei Sama," he replied after a minute, "you are asking us to extend a great deal of trust to you."


    "Mmm." I inclined my head back and forth. "You''re afraid of us, what we might portend, and the rampant xenophobia of this place doesn''t help. It''s fine. Like I said, I''m not going to force you.


    "If you want your kids to keep living in this murderous shithole of a shadow world, where every color wants to be grey, I''m not going to force you.


    "If you want to keep living at a standard of living where you are clawing for your survival every day, living in fear of stronger things coming along and taking what you have, I''m not going to stop you.


    "If you want to be dumb, not know how to defend yourself, Level up, and gods help you, actually fight back against the shit that''s grinding you under their heel... okay, that''s your choice, I respect it, go live in fear and skulk in the shadows. It''s not my life, it''s not how I''d do it, but I''m not you.


    "But, you know, I''m a Rantha Hag. I fight things, it''s what I am. I don''t let elvar, umbvar, or drow decide my destiny, my fate, or my place in the world. I butcher demons, slaughter xenos, massacre the aberrant, kill the unnatural, lay the undead low, and treat the axiomatic with the disdain they deserve.


    "Right now, your people have no choice. They live in the holes and the shadows because they are weak. Without strength, you have no choices, and you will always be this way.


    "You are the hyn, and you are supposed to be living lives underneath a golden sun on a world of green and flowers. You are supposed to be surrounded by life and light and love, not skulking, shadows, and silence. You are supposed to be free to laugh and cry in joy, not whimper and scream in fear.


    "I cannot live the life you are living. I could not condemn my children to live that life. But if that''s your life, I will respect that choice and leave you to it.


    "I have shown you what we can offer you. In truth, it costs us nothing to do so. We and everyone who follows us only profit by having more people with us. I do not need slave labor, I do not need your possessions... the only thing you have that I want is access to the fane beyond to anoint the weapons of my sons and daughters, and the location of Portals I can exploit to move around the mortal realm through here.


    "That''s it. My offer to you of the Marks is goodwill. I know that is hard for you to believe, but again, you don''t have anything I want or need. If you are thinking about enslaving minds and bodies and souls, just... get serious. You''re far too weak to be useful for any of that, we''d be more likely to grab the elvar who are actually vigorous and would be better at the zombie slave thing than you, if that were true.


    "So, if you want to be suspicious of us, that''s fine, it''s a survival trait. But I''m hoping you''ll think about it and realize it really is too good an offer for anything you might pay us, you just aren''t worth it, so the reason I''m offering it to you really should be just plain old goodwill.


    "After all, from your perspective, you''ve got loads to gain. From my perspective, it is literally a couple minutes of my time per person, that''s it. I''m fully aware of the value of it. But my cost... our cost is miniscule. Everything we gain, we gain long term."


    He was still hesitant. "So... what do you gain? From us?"


    "People willing to fight," I replied instantly. "There is nothing more valuable than loyal people bound to a common cause and willing to fight for it. The numbers of our enemies are beyond counting. We need more people, and they need to be better people, more skilled, more focused, more ready for the shit that is going to get thrown at them, until we don''t have to put up with all the heels coming down trying to stomp on us.


    "I am perfectly aware of just how dangerous fully-trained, ready, focused, and committed hyn can be," I stated unequivocally. "You are naturally talented to become some of the best scouts and throat-cutters there are. At the same time, your people have a talent for agriculture and cooking that''s probably manifesting even here, if that soup you''re cooking out of the stuff you''re growing that I smell is any indication.


    "I can change your present, and I can change your future. I can''t do anything about your past, and if you going to keep living in your past, best of luck to you. At some point something bigger than you are is going to get irritated and your tribe is going to wiped on a lark, because that''s what the drow and umbvar do here, and you don''t have the tools to defend yourself."


    "And you can offer us those tools."


    "I am offering you those tools, there''s no ''can'' about it."


    "In return for knowledge."


    "Knowledge given, knowledge received," I agreed. "I think we both know who stands to benefit more... but it is because of all those who are also Marked that it IS such a benefit."


    "May I be allowed to test it?" he finally asked.


    "Of course."


    "And I can remove it as I wish?"


    "You can remove the first one as a test if you like, I will scribe it again."


    He took a deep breath. "Let me see what this is like for my people."


    I gestured him forwards as I pulled my inks out of my Masspack with my hair. He stepped forwards to receive the Mark under a whole lot of watching eyes... and if he shouted out when he was Awakened and Opened at the same time, the results were worth it.

 Chapter 440 - Far Future Ch. 150 – Hide in the Shadows, or Rule from Them...

    He gaped despite himself, and I politely told him to wipe the Mark. He centered his Helix on it, and the connection was disrupted instantly, the magic in it leeched away and gone a breath after that. The ink was still there, the vestigial pattern was ready to connect again, but there was nothing to empower it.


    "You are bigger in the mindscape..." he whispered to me, shocked at what he''d seen. It was pretty much impossible to Veil down against a Void Brother, after all. He had to look at me and see me as I was. "Are you a goddess incarnate?" he had to ask.


    "No. That is the wrong question you should be asking. What you should be asking is... why aren''t I as awesome as she is?" I waved my hand at the elders, then at everyone watching and listening to us all around. "Why aren''t they?"


    He swallowed. "Is that even possible?" he had to ask.


    I just snorted. "A Void Brother, the favored of the Land, is asking me what is not possible concerning how powerful a person can get." I just rolled my eyes, and the girls shook their heads, and despite himself, he smiled.


    He finally realized that the reason we had such respect for him was that we knew just how powerful he could be, and we didn''t see him as an inferior.


    "Connect me back," he whispered. "Elders, come here, and let them Mark you. You must see this..."


    Hesitantly, the group of older hyn stepped forth, and if they were reluctant and afraid, the four of us were so casual about it their fears just couldn''t really come out.


    The 50 Charismas helped too, but that was a side issue.


    --------


    Once again, our plans went off the deep rail because of shit going on, but hey, that''s what life was all about.


    First of all, I sent out an order to Colby that she was to get 200 members of her Curseline started, as she was going to be our hyn ambassador. She whooped and got started on the process of making more short Ranthas. His shaded eyes popping, the father she selected was our new Void Brother associate, as she came striding through the Rift we cut open in the air to Habberblok. She was cute as a button and was pleased as punch to be among people she could lord it over, and brought a tent and blankets and picked up Brother Shadowknife over her shoulder and scampered off into the Fane to be about her business, to the wide eyes of the hyn.


    A few dozen Ranthas with ready Sword Focuses piled through to get them treated at the Fane, and to help with all the Marks getting laid down. There were a lot of gaping hyn around as they got done, and suddenly the whole potential of the Markscape and all the many, many people within were laid out before them... and there was the Map and everything connected with it for them to just gawk out, and there own experiences were filling into it even as they watched...


    Two universes were much bigger than they thought...


    When that was over, the cold hard planning started, as the elders realized how much stuff was out there that they could get their hands on it without having to knife someone to do it... and all the stuff they might have wanted to learn to get stronger was right there, not something they had to stumble through, test out, learn haphazardly, or anything.


    Akashic links. Telepathic instructions. Leveling paths, advice, recommendations, choices, possibilities.


    Wham, it was all down right in front of them, a wide road with markers, trailposts, ends in sight, goals, ways to measure, everything.


    No more stumbling around on half-learned or experimental paths haphazardly passed down by elders via imperfect means and methods. No, this was all laid out for them, and the things which had cost them so much time and effort could be passed on and learned with blistering speed and precision by those they needed to teach.


    Things were going to be very different for the next generation!


    They looked at the arrays of martial techniques, Soul Feats, methods to use Ki, and the fact they could all become Null Psions at Seven, the fact that there might be even more Shadowknives among them, what they could get by hitting Seven, and how much easier the right Mark made it to hit Seven.


    Man, it was like injecting a load of stimulants into the whole tribe.


    After he recovered from his night with Colby, and was trying to digest that he was going to have two hundred children in a few months, Brother Shadowknife opened a whole new world for us.


    There was more than one tribe of hyn, of course. All of them were led by their Void Brothers, who protected them against horrors seen and unseen in the Underweb, hunted down truly dangerous enemies, and led their hunters and scouts above and below ground. Sometimes, the Gloom called them away on truly dangerous tasks, and they would gather with others of their own to deal with Warp incursions, Aberrant creatures in the wilds of the Underweb, or even escaped creatures that couldn''t be allowed to grow or reproduce.


    Bringing Marks to them and linking up the different tribes across the lands of Gloom was certainly not anything we objected to. Brother Shadowknife wanted to see the results of cooperation with us first, of course, but we weren''t just going to sit around, so it was time to go visiting Portals he knew of in the local area.


    And, naturally enough, he recruited us to kill stuff as we went, to which he was amazed that we didn''t have any objection.


    My reply was, "Brothers show the way. Sources lead, Nulls follow. We''re Nulls. Show us the way, Brother."


    Excitement naturally ensued.


    He was conferring with the Void Brothers back home, especially My Queen, and our collective memories of the Void Brothers outside in Creation. The Shadowknife ability to Cut Time compared with the general Void Brother ability to Cut Life meant that in the space of one day, our Shadowknife went from a deadly sneak attacker to absolutely murderous however he attacked. Showing him the Shadow Stalking techniques to build upon what he already knew with profound abilities on top of raw skill and talent, and it wasn''t just the other hyn of the tribe that began to grow explosively. That he could start cultivating a Void Psionic Reserve, and suddenly start enhancing the mentalists of the tribe, was also key.


    To say we ignited a thirst for Karma in many members of the tribe was not at all wrong, and the local umbvar tribes and many dangerous creatures in the area rapidly began to suffer for it.


    As for the four of us, Brother Shadowknife led us on a sightseeing trip through all the fun and scenic parts of Gloom, filled with stunning vistas, jaw-dropping scenery changes, fine displays of native animal and plant life, and oh so much gratuitous violence to warm our hearts.


    Photomorphic natives and aberrants were definitely an interesting time. We thanked him repeatedly for the entertainment, he realized we were totally crazy... and started to go a little crazy himself as he started to realize what a total freaking badass he could be.


    Oh, the Gloom was going to be a-changing in the future...


    -------


    Epic overland journey to the greatest hive of scum and villainy in the galaxy became a reaping tour of many different locations with a local guide. There were dark and filthy holes and things in them that desperately needed to be killed... and so we killed them. Sometimes in great numbers. Brother Shadowknife started really getting into the groove of things once he realized he could finally start doing that, too.


    We visited other tribes of hyn. The first thing he had them do is wipe away his Mark, to prove they could do it. Then they got their own, things opened up, rapid fire telepathic communication started taking place, and more Shadowknives began to learn how to Cut Time.


    Oh, the times, they were a-changing. The Underweb was going to be a very different place, and although the hyn were going to be getting very dangerous, they were still outnumbered by orders of magnitude, so contesting with the drow and umbvar was definitely not on the agenda. Being bullied by them, on the other hand...


    Unfortunately for us, the Portals the Brothers took us to in this area were all on this side of the Rift, which made sense. Some of them were to points out in space, others to barren rocks, dead moons, abandoned planets... but they were scattered around the sector, and gave us instant access to new systems and locations... and the Umbrans and Coronals were very interested in those locations.


    Granted, the drow didn''t use them much, if at all, as they were largely in systems of light importance, or completely forgotten and only known to the hyn because the Shadowknives could feel them sitting around.


    But it meant that instead of having to move real-space to a planet to get a new Rift-cutting fix, we could just pop out the other side of one of these Portals, get the lock, and have a new place we could send people.


    Of course, the Twilight Guys and Thunder Captain Dornal really wanted to be able to send ships through our little Rifts, but that wasn''t happening (yet!), and we weren''t going to be opening the elvar Portals and broadcasting the fact that we were using them, as that could create all sorts of troubles.


    Nope, we just cut open a Rift to the area the Portals were tied to, got our locations fix, and went back. Simple and clean. Our Swords could convey rough locations to one another as they improved enough to be able to Rift-cut themselves.


    This also meant the Ranthas now getting scattered all over the Sector were making their Weapons Rift-cutters, getting dimensional coordinates to Gloom, and opening up Rifts to their current locations, giving us potential locks to populated worlds and systems.


    Now, the problem was that the Swords could only do precise Rifts close to areas they''d been to themselves. So, those blade-rifts into Gloom were to random locations... and random locations in a sub- dimension linked to a whole galaxy could be a long, long ways apart. Linking things back up and together meant having common travel points for everyone, where people could converge, open up Rifts and give tracking points to one another, and basically share knowledge.


    Rough investigations into the Underweb and our purloined memories broadly measured it as being the size of a great gas giant, i.e. they''d basically stolen a giant planet and turned it into a pocket dimension inside Gloom. This immense area of millions of cubic miles was webbed with tunnels the size of small continents, complete with hard vacuum in the middle of them they could fly fleets of starships through. The resulting surface area exceeded the gas giant in potential size vastly, and for a galactic-class on and off ramp, needing to potentially accommodate hundreds of billions, even trillions of Portals to stars and worlds, it actually wasn''t too big... and as it accumulated more Gloom-matter, was actually growing over time, despite the pressure of the Warp.


    Safe estimates put the Underweb as somewhere between a hundred and a hundred and fifty thousand miles across in a straight line. As there were no straight lines, that was rather moot. This mostly-circular distance was laced with web-like tunnels sized anywhere from fifty-meter capillaries to hundreds of miles across for the main arteries.


    The main arteries tended to have the most commonly used Portals, as this living world would expand in the direction of the Portals that saw increased use over time in response to the psionic activity there. Likewise, the more sentient individuals congregated in a location, the bigger the tunnel would be.


    Gloomheart was basically the equivalent of an ecumenopolis, the drow city covering the inside of a sphere the size of a planet at the heart of the Underweb, illuminated by a dying sun that powered hundreds of commonly used Portals in the skyrings above the city. Thousands of great arteries spilled away from the city to minor realms and holdings ruled by families or factions of drow or even umbvar, but they had little effect on the city proper and its various districts and divisions, split up along lines both classical economic and dire philosophy, as the four divisions of thought among the drow were major sparks of conflict among them.


    Of course, what all this meant to a Rantha was... biggest dungeon evah!

 Chapter 441 - Far Future Ch. 151 – Things are Happening

    It was quickly decided that the exploring Ranthas would try to make their way to the closest node cities of the drow. From there, it would be much less difficult to either arrange passage to Gloomheart and link up, or come out from Gloomheart.


    There wasn''t a huge amount of concern, as the number of people doing the exploring was under ten at this point, having other obligations, worries, and opportunistic harvesting of karmic excitement going on to distract them. Once they got some of their Curselines up and running, however...


    ------


    The shadow demon was still squirming a bit. Chalice bit in, and shadowfire began the process of transforming it into more of the Gloom. The demon didn''t seem to like the process much, what with the flailing and squealing, but it converted in the end. Heh!


    Our little trips in the tunnels within a thousand miles of the Fane had been entertaining and informative. The numerous hyn clans spread out in the nooks and crannies of the place were starting their transformations, and Shadowknives were extending their reaches as they touched on the disciplines of Void Brothers.


    My Queen and the Princes had actually attended a conclave of the Shadowknives, and while they had spoken in Markspace, the hyn were still astounded to experience the fact that there were more beings like them, yet subtly different. They were also delighted to be called ''Elder Brothers'' by the bigger humans, as My Queen had not been a Void anywhere near as long as any of them had.


    They did all confirm that they had powerful instincts and obligations to the lands of their birth, which meant that the Shadowknives would not be leaving the Gloom. Any hyn who grew up to be one would be drawn back to the Gloom if they left, meaning only hyn conceived and born on another world would be able to stay there.


    The fact their younger generations could leave the Gloom for the mortal world was a source of wonder, and with the Markspace, they could see what all those mortal worlds were like... and they could get colorful cloth, especially blankets, to hold a piece of those worlds closer in this shadowy world of greys.


    Keva was already popping the Rift open to the portal here, a lost contraption stuck in a wall and watched over by a confluence of undead shadows, possessed Umbvar, and Shadow Demons under one of their boosted leaders. All were now dead and burning in shadowfire, being returned to the Gloom.


    -Hello!- /said Keva from the other side, and we all turned to look, including the Brother. We all converged on it, and even the Brother stepped through, even if he couldn''t stay there long.


    The sky was kind of greenish, the star was more orange then old Sol, and the vegetation was more brown than green, the forests more primitive and palmlike... but the air was breathable, the climate was temperate, and there were no perceptible contagions in the air.


    "Interesting." I looked around at the thick forest around us, sniffed at the air. "I smell big lizard. Is this some sort of primitive world?"


    "More to the point, are the elvar here? The Portal is old and hasn''t been used for millennia, judging by its position," Celestia replied, studying the area. "Fliers. Looks like primitive feathered." We all looked that way, zoomed in with our Masks, and studied the big glider with its rough patterns of bright feathers here and there. Not completely avian yet, maybe a few thousand generations away, and still had a toothed muzzle, not a beak.


    -Get me a location.- Chalice spewed out the spatial coordinates into Markspace, I read them and had a rough fix, but astronomical data was pretty precise, even for the untold millions of stars the Empire had not visited.


    The return was pretty quick, a dim yellow-orange star on the fringe of known space, judged unlikely to have habitable worlds from a great distance, and so far out nobody was much interested in it. There were known storms and tides in the Warp that far out on the fringe, and so nobody traveled there without damn good reason, because they probably weren''t coming back. It was over four thousand light years from Janus III, so not on the immediate travel plans... but it was on them.


    Whether or not there were elvar here, in the end made very little difference, but it was better to be safe than sorry. Given how buried the Portal was in a narrow capillary, it had definitely been long disused... and now that we had the lock, we weren''t going to be using it anyways.


    That would be for the Brothers, to get their Weapons Named and up to Riftcutting, and open the ways for their people out of here.


    Scouting this place out would be the job of Colby, her Curseline, and the hyn who would want to move here.


    Forty-seven Portals, this was the first one leading to a habitable world. It was a place that could be built up, outside the Empire''s direct zone of influence... which naturally would not be at all amenable to the Empire''s intentions.


    But if it could support the hyn, and was intrinsically less deadly than Gloom, than their population could explode. With technological and psionic training, their society could advance very quickly, as they built it from the bottom up.


    Not that the Empire would give a shit if they discovered them; it would be knuckle under or die. So, secrecy was definitely going to be a thing.


    I inhaled and looked at the odd sun, while plans were rolling in the back of my head about just how I was going to expand and try to build a new and better society, while the ponderous, crushing weight of the old, as well as all the enemies it had made, tried to stomp it out of existence.


    Skulking out in the stars... I sighed, thinking of the scale of what I had to do and the daunting task before me, and shrugged.


    It had to get done, so there it was. Start small, and let the kids and followers make it grow. As long as the primary might of the Empire couldn''t come here, I should be able to really make a go of things... and that was what was required to be done to bring down the Warp Gods.


    Still, first habitable world... it was a landmark goal, and got some quiet cheering...


    ---------


    The deal with the Elvar for Void Osmium was ongoing. At the same time, alternate sources or substitutes for the metal were also ongoing, and if that meant locating a singularity and making a forge station there, well, it was all on the table... and not totally impossible for the Celestial Tribute to design.


    For now, they were just making more Harmonic Drives for the new Angel-class or GMAT improved cruisers, destroyers, and frigates being designed and put to service, while down on the planet massive mining operations on dozens of sites were underway to fuel a ship-building boom that would not have been out of place on a major forge world, and certainly was badly startling the Mechanicus with how suddenly and thoroughly the Rantha Corps and their grip on the Vakker Tech was expanding.


    The destruction of the Mekker sites by demonic forces had thrown a huge shadow over their operations on Janus III, resulting in unprecedented curtailment of their activities and power by the Imperial government, and investigations into their dealings and activities by extremely nosy and alarmingly adept Juris Forensic teams who seemed unprecedentedly talented into furrowing into all the places the Mekkers wanted concealed. It seemed their attempts to cover up what was going on at those sites didn''t work quite as well as they thought, and abruptly a whole swathe of senior Mekker management went missing, sometimes explosively and with a large number of associates.


    The Guild was naturally intent on sending over replacements, except the Umbrans were kind enough to promptly start investigating the backgrounds of such senior executives and observers, and finding things not to their liking. Causal chains of relationships began to link up those executives, and the weight of the Empire''s observation was now upon them, especially for concealing the fact they knew of multiple elvar World-Portals and hadn''t bothered to inform the military authorities of the planet they were on.


    Naturally the hunt for more hidden secrets went on, and got so intense the Mekkers began sabotaging their own services to safeguard things, which only got them into more trouble and inspired more purgings of the managers who gave such orders, much to the outrage of their superiors.


    The Umbrans were having none of it, especially when they started revealing some of the things the Mekkers had done, and multiple affronted parties starting demanding more, happily kicking the technologists while they were down.


    In the meantime, living non-cybered officials were moving into the absent positions of authority the Mekkers had been forced to vacate, and to the astonishment of the cyborgs, production started to increase!


    Padded labor rolls done to appease the masses were cut, and instead new production lines for extra parts were put into place, pay rebalanced to reflect job and output, and those who didn''t work were put down to starvation levels on the Imperial Dole and decided they should actually work and make things to kill the xenos who had killed so many of their friends and relatives.


    Morale higher than it had ever been under their cybered masters, work crews slowly and steadily getting Marked among their numbers started fine-tuning the production lines in ways the cybered Mekkers had never bothered to with their unemotional focus on pure efficiency, offset only by the required inefficiency of organics to prevent axiomatic events from occurring.


    The effect of reducing Mekker control and increasing production and results made even more suspicion fall down upon the Mekkers, as now it looked like they were actually sabotaging production for the long term for some unknown agenda. These discoveries rippled throughout the subsector and into the wider sector, especially to the superiors of all involved, and began making some deeper waves at higher levels.


    ---------


    The Strategos Council was convening with a lot of ancillary Ranthas joining in, as the subject of new systems to explore and new fights to get into was something near and dear to so many of our hearts. We had so many places to go and fight, that even with tens of thousands of us around, there was still work to do, and there only remained Leveling and catching up with enough assets to do such things.


    The Briggs Brothers had moved into the mining business in a trillion-credit way, and were exploiting vein after vein of materials quietly and thoroughly, quite upsetting the noble houses and merchant clans who were finding it impossible to buy land for speculative purposes, and trying to get proper surveys done was, if anything, even more dangerous than before. The only ones who could seem to do them right were the same people also arranging for the sophisticated mobile mine factories and smelters putting out all sorts of new output one after another, and ignoring the killing atmosphere and alkalines with their workforce without having to buy anti-corrosive Amulets or put in a Shield.


    Naturally they weren''t happy, but slacking off on their own production wasn''t a wise idea. The Rantha Corp didn''t intrude on their own mines, and seemed very happy to meet and discuss things with intruders in their own mines. Excited, even. Then there were several sudden absences of high-level managers, several more disappearances of high-level investors and backers, some mercenary groups with solid reputations went missing, and Rantha Corp''s holdings expanded after some unwelcome news of that sort was picked up by those looking for it, stock prices dropped, and were calmly snatched up on short sales. It got worse when jRaztl cults were found here and there among the executives, and at least one of the mining unions was infiltrated by Riggibuhl, as if Janus III didn''t have enough problems.


    This mining engine was fueling Janus III in a massive resurgence, as the money wasn''t going into just a few deep pockets, but being distributed in decent wages and income for many, many people... people who were looking for Levels and Gear of their own, and definitely willing to work to get it, get the raw components for it all, and make it.


    This naturally drove the Crafters who could make better Gear both tech and psi-wise, and kept the engine churning to full. The demand for what everyone could do and pull off was unending, and to the young and the Null Psions, this truly seemed like a good future had finally arrived.

 Chapter 442 - Far Future Ch. 152 – Explorations

    With the Harmonic Drive ensconced in ever more ships, ever more details on its use, and an ever-expanding array of Phlo Rivers to follow and use, exploration of the surrounding systems began to explode in details never undertaken by the survey ships of the Empire.


    The Empire had to use the Warp to move from star to star, as sublight propulsion would simply take far too long to be viable. Naturally, whole groups and clusters of stars were missed as the scouts tried to concentrate on the most viable, and then such ships ran into alien empires, forgotten worlds, strange horrors... or other humans who wanted such knowledge kept quiet and confidential, and killed them and kept such secrets to themselves. In other cases, human colonies lost for thousands of years could be stumbled upon. In many cases such were extremely reluctant to be rejoined to the great Empire of Humanity, and fought such sublimation energetically.


    Too energetically, and they might be Omega Sanctioned, which was almost inevitable if they''d fallen into worship of the Warp Gods.


    Being able to move from system to system in real time, without the threat of the Warp, allowed for far more thorough and easy investigation of all neighboring systems, which could now be explored in an easy and thorough manner... barring the natives of the systems taking energetic opposition to their presence, of course.


    This was the primary occupation of the Alias Smith and Jones teams, who shot off along the Phlogiston Rivers to see where they led, gathering more data, and finding out more information about the neighbors of Janus III. Some stayed in the Phlos that were discovered, some made direct transits if they couldn''t locate anything to a nearby star, but in any case more data was being gathered, gravitics assembled, and the ease of locating new Phlos was ever-increasing, while sensor calibrations and ranges were also extending ever further out.


    Naturally, such explorations encompassed all the nearby systems... six of which were occupied by goblins, one was a Tekron Creche system, one turned out to be a waystation managed by the Greys where various Aberrant races mingled to trade, and another had an old Mechanist research and relay station keeping a very low profile... and relay coordinates and supplies for an armed force to snatch up if need be.


    The other systems were empty of life, but they did have Energized materials that could be mined out in relative obscurity. One ended up having a derelict cargo ship being used as a base of operations for a pirate squadron, and Fleet got very interested in paying that system a sudden visit for some excitement.


    A handful, then a dozen, then dozens of systems every day were being scanned in detail, and added to updated navigation records kept only in the Markspace and The Map. Space was blooming around Janus III, and the only limits on resources seemed to be how much they could produce.


    Ergo, those systems had to be developed. The first Tachyon Drive was fit onto a cargo ship that could haul mining equipment and printers that could print printers that could print mining equipment. Development began, and more little mercantile kingdoms were starting in the stars, coordinating with one another in ways that those managed and owned by non-Ranthas simply could not.


    Production lines for GAMT shiplines were coming into service, while lines once devoted to making hulls for standard ships of the Imperial Fleet were relegated to basically replacement parts. The Coronal and Umbran ships, as well as the MF Gunboats and Indy-class Explorer boats, had their own devoted lines, but the processes were put in place for the first true warships for the system fleet, and resources retasked from old AMT models to the new lines, ensuring that production took off like a rocket.


    Improvements in production technology that hadn''t changed in millennia were put into place, and databases guarded by Mechanists were quietly raided, or their end products analyzed and reverse-engineered by ungodly intelligent Hagbloods with a mad on for newer, better, stronger, a mindset heavily disapproved of by the Empire and its cyborg tech overseers.


    The clearing of the Warpzone was accelerating. More Ranthas and Briggs were coming in, assembling their own Allegiances of Green and Gold, and heading inside to grind up Levels. Since the Warped idiots not in direct conflict with them were still shooting one other, numbers of them were dropping, clearing the amount of territory more and more, and the Warpzone had by now been totally ringed by literally millions of mindblade-wielding young men and women at this point. Every soul with the Emperor''s Gift who had not fallen into the clutches of the Warp that the megacities could turn out was coming in there to gain Levels as Beacon psions.


    The Thunder Bulls had slowly built themselves up to three hundred-man companies, and were continuing the process of building more and more. They did find themselves often in competition with the Hagbloods for prime talent, a competition they lost more often than they won... but given the quality and number of their recruits, it didn''t disturb them at all. The building of a Battalion of new Legionnaires had never been a rapid thing unless undertaken at a Crown or Throne World, as getting proper recruits was the hardest part of the process. By the standards of the Empire, they were still growing at an incredible clip.


    The great additions to their training programs were also being worked out and refined by the Thunder Bulls and the psions working with them. Having plenty of enthusiastic targets helped plenty with the regimen and working out appropriate tactics, and psychic healers being around helped even more.


    They were also being designed their own devoted light cruiser, and working on upgrades to the standard issue support artillery and war machines. There were a bunch of light mech users very interested in working alongside the Legionnaires, and there were some discussions about the Bulls forming hearts of small Battalions of their own mixed forces. The Warp Zone gave them plenty of opportunities to practice command and control of mixed forces, after all...


    ----------


    Getting into Gloomheart wasn''t all that hard. The drow were remarkably welcoming of new meat coming into the city. Getting out of the city, now, that was considerably more difficult. The drow had an endless thirst for slaves and sacrifices, and non-drow leaving the city were either slaves trying to escape, or people trying to escape before they became slaves. Actual merchants and dealers tended to be slave dealers coming with wares to the drow for use.


    Naturally, the drow could vat-grow unlimited amounts of sentients, but such were basically useless for buying off the Warp Gods, and in any event were limited in skill and appeal. Sure, if they wanted some slave armies to go at one another in a bloody rip-up, vat-grown could do the job. But for fun and entertainment, sacrifice on the go, and the delightful feelings of dread, despair, fear, and such they could inspire, freeborn sentients were much preferred.


    So, infiltrating Gloomheart wasn''t actually all that hard. We literally just started walking towards the outermost walls.


    The area ahead of us was filled with hundreds of figures flitting around and making runs at one another, with flashes of light and glitters of steel dancing between them as they zipped through the air like so many jousting wasps.


    "Gutterboarder gangs having it out," Jensa scoffed. "The guards must have shooed them out of the city, given the size of the fight." We watched dark elves getting spitted, hacked, shot, and cloven, falling from their racing boards to the ground, ignored by everyone around them.


    "Shall we start building our reputation?" I inquired of the girls, and they all smiled with me.


    It wasn''t hard to get noticed and start a fight. We just started looting the dead.


    I, of course, started to use my newest toy.


    Making Twelve opened up two Item Creation Feats; specifically, Staff Creation, and Ring Creation.


    Staves were the most ubiquitous, flexible, and powerful of Casting Implements, and any Caster or Psion worth their salt wanted one. Sure, sure, you could make Weapon Staves as soon as you could make a Sword. But making a Staff that could hold magic, expel charges to create spell effects, be recharged, and do them all at the same Caster Level as the holder, effectively toting around extra Valences of specific spells for them... that took a Twelve.


    In the Power of Ten, nobody had ever managed to make a True Staff, and the only people who wielded them were the first people to complete specific Quests, instantly making them famous in the Game. Such things also came with in-game obligations, as they were powerful toys with great significance.


    Getting a Staff made in the Empire was a weighty thing, often requiring cooperation between Mentats and Mechanists to construct. A macabre obsession with skulls meant the things were often headed by replicated versions of the wielder''s own skull, creating greater resonance with the toy, and they became the favored weapon of whatever high-level mentalist was wielding them pretty much without fail.


    Rings now, Rings were different.


    Rings were usable by anyone, and used the unique Rings Chakra, the unique paired Chakra point in the palm of the hands. Because of that Chakra point, Rings could accommodate magic that normally would be centered on lesser Chakra points with ease and power, enabling you to put in all kinds of magic at half the cost of other Creation methods, and some unique powers that could only work in the Ring Chakra.


    There had only been one Ring in the game, a complete fluke that the maker had never been able to duplicate. His Ring had seemed like nothing special... until those players who were able to do so unlocked the power of being Sustained, realized what Aelryinth had managed to do, and likewise kept it quiet.


    He was the first person to be Sustained, and so the first person to macro in the game. We all wondered just how powerful he was, but he never got onto the leaderboards anywhere, and didn''t even make Ten before the end of the game, as far as we knew. It was impossible for him not to, so what exactly had he been doing?...


    Regardless, I could now healthily abuse all sorts of damn rules by being able to Create Rings.


    Now, powerful effects take a damn long time to power up, and this Ring I was wearing was no different. I had been dropping a LOT of nexal stones into the damn thing for months to power it up, and I finally got it to working.


    I now had me a Ring of Telekinesis!


    I could have picked Elemental Command, but the magic would have been Warp-susceptible, and I wasn''t going to do that. Telekinesis was perfect thematically (I now haz Ubah Forz Powahz!) and best of all, it was a mental action to direct it. Normally this would mean not fighting, but someone wearing said Ring had multiple thoughtstreams perfectly happy to do all sorts of fun stuff in the real world, while also doing other things.


    Telekinesis is one of the most powerful, useful, and versatile Caster effects there is, bar none. It is effectively Reach without having to use an actual limb, so people can''t chop it off, break your fingers, or leverage your wrist or anything. You want something to move, you move it.


    However, telekinesis is not formless. You are literally grabbing something and manipulating it with your mind. Telekinesis can only grab solid objects. You need hydrokinesis for liquids, aerokinesis for gases, and pyrokinesis for plasmas. You want to manipulate energies, each of them requires their own effects.


    Furthermore, telekinesis is not psychokinesis, which is force projection. The Ring couldn''t shoot force bolts. I could grab people and throw them against objects, but I couldn''t slam a kinetic fist into them.


    I could, however, grab a solid object and slam/punch/thrust THAT into them, but that was basically wielding a weapon... strange, that...


    The number of discrete objects I could manipulate was equal to the Caster Level of the TK, plus Intellect bonus, so in the neighborhood of thirty. The total amount of damage or force that could be unleashed was subject to Caster Level, and the weight limit equivalent in strength. I had Heightened the effect to VI, so fifty pounds per Caster Level, or a base of 600 lbs at this point. Converted to Strength, that was equal to a 24 or so Might.


    No, I wasn''t going to be levitating any starfighters at this point. Jedi were stupid ridiculous strong by Powered standards. Only Warp sorcery, where psionics magnified magic, was that powerful!

 Chapter 443 - Far Future Ch. 153 – I’ll Take That, and That, and That...

    Since there was no arm or body behind me swinging a sword with TK, no Strength bonus, just damage dice. Totally damage dice possible was d6/Caster Level, so 12d6. Even if I could manipulate thirty swords, the total amount of force was spread out among all of them, so I couldn''t do more damage than that, spread out between all of them. Likewise, this was wielding something with TK, not a hand, so, oh, my swordmastery bonuses didn''t apply. TK fighting was TK fighting, had nothing to do with weapon technique.


    Magic rules are magic rules. I didn''t have to agree with them, I just had to acknowledge them.


    However, when you have unlimited use of telekinesis, which the Ring gave me, you can get in a LOT of practice time.


    For now, I was being very subtle with the effects. TK has the wonderful effect of being mostly invisible, unless you can actually see or sense psionic energy flows/magic, etc. Pushing attacks up or down, tripping people, fetching things from here and there, grabbing things at a distance. If I started tossing people around, that would be a bit obvious... if the glowing Ring on my finger wasn''t a dead giveaway.


    Basically, I started using it to rifle through all the dead drow sprawled over the ground, removing the equivalent of money and weapons, any techno-toys that looked interesting, and throwing them on the Disks behind me and the girls. Also, all those wandering, riderless hoverboards were worth money, no reason not to reach out and grab those, too, right?


    The girls had been watching me playing with pebbles for some time, and they were all naturally very, very eager to get their own Rings. I had to get mine Empowered before I could make one for them, of course, and there was a lot of nexals, precious metals, or gemstones they had to gather up to get the thing fully done. Happily, Me Smart Artificer, and I made the Empowerment Pattern on a graduated scale, so they could start small and practice with fewer objects and low weight, gradually building up the Valence Level and Caster Level of the effect until it reached full strength.


    Our uninhibited looting as we walked across the fight zone garnered unwelcoming gazes. Naturally, being black of hair and landbound, we were below the lowest of the low, fit only for being killed or used by our racial masters, and so some enterprising souls decided to deal with us and how we were looting their spoils right in front of them.


    They had an annoying time trying to hit us, as somehow we were shifting positions without changing our strides or footing. Oh, and we were shooting back, too.


    They never really got close enough to do anything, and given the weapons they were using, we weren''t really in any danger as long as we didn''t just stand there waiting to be cut down by a monomolecular edged reaper-glaive, or somesuch. Tats making Hands as Weapons let us finger-flick Shards from our Sword Foci, in addition to popping them with our Autobows, and so anyone that took a shot or run at us was sniped out of the air, stripped of goodies, and their boards joined our growing collections.


    Eventually they wised up, and the airspace for a hundred yards around us was vacated while they returned to their regularly scheduled butchering of one another, and everyone was happy. Being the polite battlefield looters that we were, we enthusiastically cheered some of the gorier hits, unashamedly looted the dead, and if the killers were aced in turn, we cheered the new champions with unabashed fickleness.


    The walls and gate to the outer town were not that high, more a formality than anything, as the cannons and point defenses mounted on the walls could probably take care of any natural or unnatural attackers in less than horde numbers rather effectively, and Shadow creatures were like beacons of power to the drow, heartily encouraged to come and attack so they could be captured and ritually sacrificed to stave off the Warp Gods.


    Since Gloom creatures weren''t totally dumb, they didn''t come near the walls now, and generally tried to avoid the pale-haired, dark-skinned drow, and munch on the not-so-dark-skinned, brighter-haired pointy-eared gits outside them, instead.


    The guards were about what you''d expect of such a fine, upstanding location. Since we didn''t fly in, we were obviously rubes, and poor, and we''d just shot a few dozen gutter-boarders out of the sky without blinking an eye, and were toting purloined belongings behind us. It was a great time to collect bribes and look for an excuse to arrest us and then sell us for more money.


    "Halt!" one of the drow said, a hatchet-faced idiot with jet-black skin, stepping forwards with what was probably supposed to be an imposing manner, as the chakram-spitters of his friends cycled up threateningly. "What is your business in Gloomheart?"


    Keva sold it so well, blinking at him. "Mom! A guard actually dared to speak to us?" she protested in affront.


    I waved my fingers, there was a chok, and the guard blinked, now possessing a third eye in his forehead. His astounded fellows watched him fall as I replied, "Now, dear, remember they are just gate guards. They are stupid and need to be taught lessons frequently. You don''t think they got posted here for their intelligence, do you?"


    None of us even broke stride. The other guards got out of the way quickly. Jensa sort of looked past them with her blue eyes, and sighed almost perfunctorily, "Matron Glayia merchant caravan," she muttered under her breath to the closest soldier, sniffing as she did so, and we all continued on.


    They didn''t dare shoot us in the back, and the poor sot who''d got in our way was just stripped and sent off to become hound-chow. We were dutifully logged as a merchant caravan with battle spoils entering town, and life went in in Drow-ville.


    ----------


    Purloining memories does make going around in new places a whole lot easier.


    Yeah, we still had to invest the Ranks for the knowledge of the dead drow battle-bikini-babes to be retained and easily accessible, instead of something we had to stop and sift through whenever we wanted to learn something. It was cool enough, that was what Karma was for; pawing through the remnant memories of barmy sensualist sadomasochists with a blood fetish was right up the alley of a Hag. They probably would have thought our own attitude towards them was pretty admirable.


    Currently we looked like half-breeds, called breshkt. This was a very uncomplimentary term, as mixing races was a complete taboo, and the fact that elvar could interbreed with humans was a terribly scandalous fact all on its own. Conservative elements on both sides of the board considered that sort of mingling of races heresy, blasphemy, treachery, treason, rebellion, decadent, corrupt, perverted, filthy, unclean, immoral... and there were other terms they were happy to invent on the spot if they were ever confronted with such abominations of nature.


    Naturally, the drow didn''t give a damn, and if they wanted to experiment on/with humans to see what it was like, they went ahead and did so. If children came out of it, they were a disposable asset that could be used, or discarded if not useful. They were only marginally more important than a good slave, and basically were just treated like slaves themselves, the blood tie only something that assured more control, not something that actually indicated fondness, love, or even loyalty or duty. The drow didn''t have that for their own pure-born, let alone for half-breed accidents.


    And yet, the breshkt learned to survive, they endured, and they even met one another, found something in common, and had children of their own, much to the amusement of the watching drow. In short order, an underclass of the breshkt popped up, finding their own uses as a race that was not so susceptible to extremes of behavior as the drow, yet not as unacceptable as callow humans, and still completely disposable for the slightest of reasons.


    For whatever it was worth, the breshkt were actually moderate and dependable flunkies, of a sort!


    Naturally, that didn''t mean the breshkt were nice people. This was drow-town, it wasn''t a hive of scum and villainy, it was a cesspool of filth and wickedness that birthed those little hives and sent them running away from mommy. Warp demons would have been quite at home here, if the drow souls didn''t look so scrumptious they couldn''t stop themselves from harvesting them. Perils of being total bastards and all...


    Psionics and magic use were Not Permitted here, or anywhere in the Gloom. Drow actively using psionics became great shining beacons to the Warp, and it quickly started coming for them. Drow using psionics started Warp Events here like clockwork, and for some reason those in power didn''t really like demons spawning in their territories.


    Since the drow couldn''t use psionics, nobody was allowed to use psionics. There were all sorts of sensors around to track psionic and magic use, and a whole lot of energetic drow would start hunting the guilty party. If they were lucky, they''d just be killed. If they were not lucky, they''d be packaged up and sent off to the arena to die for entertainment. If they were unlucky, they were sent off to the Pain Parlors for a duly-broadcasted torture session that could last anywhere from days to years. If the drow actually got mad, after the torture session they''d be made into a mindless slave and put to use while suffering in torment until someone put them down violently, probably while they were killing their old friends and neighbors, or eating their own children or something.


    Thus, nothing more active than a mindblade was permitted, and most drow wouldn''t even dare use one of those. It seems there were many tales about drow cutting into Warp demons or other psychic entities, and getting a spike of pure extremist nihilist inspiration, and blowing apart as they started a nasty Warp Event.


    So, drow basically used their psychic/magical potential to resist psychic energies and influence, i.e. stave off the Warp thirsting for their souls. They focused on maximizing their physical and mental potential in other ways, delving into science weird and unnatural, biotech, strange matter technology, and other non-psionic areas of endeavor, without restraint, heading right towards the edge of sanity, and if it was worth it, headlong over the edge into cuckoo-land, with spikes on.


    They never got the cyborg fetish that so many humans seemed to. A drow was more likely to mutate into some spiked, over-muscled, scaled, tentacled combat horror than turn themselves into a brain in a steel shell, because at least then they''d still have all their senses and sensation. Now, sticking a rival into a cold metal shell bereft of all sensation, doomed to fight and battle without being able to feel anything, that was classic entertainment!


    They did get grandly and obsessively into traditional combat methods, and so drow tended to focus heavily on non-Caster combat, in all the worst ways. Their penchant for artistry and showing off while fighting was part of their barmy mindset, and it was fine, just punish them for having it.


    Drow actually could use psionics on the mortal plane, if they were careful... buuuut there was a problem there. The mortal plane was ALIVE to drow, so full of color and light and smells and sounds and sensations that the Gloom tamped on down and drew away to sustain itself, that the addleheaded gits were like they were on stims. Drow were giggling kill-crazy slaughter-bots on the mortal plane because they were so amped up just breathing it in. Combine that with psionics, and yeah, probably not good for drow to use psi on the mortal plane, either.


    Having a set of drow memories to page through gave us all the personal first-person references we could want for their society, and we were more than happy to compare our coven of combat-crazy bikini-babes'' experiences to one another to broaden our experience. A whole lot of my girls got in on this as well, and a lot of Skill Ranks went into retaining the elvar language and Local History (drow) as key points for just this sort of situation.


    That group of drow women had been a combat coterie nominally displaying their skills and skin in arena combat for others to admire, and enough prize money to pay for their various drug and sadomasochist sessions of pain and pleasure; pushing, always pushing themselves to extremes of experience to assuage the hunger clawing at their souls. They were all free-born, not Vatters, so they''d fought their way up to where they were at with lots of pain and pleasure given and inflicted, navigating the perilous paths of a nutcase society where death was always a step away, and individual lives were not worth grains of sand.


    And here we were, walking into this society, because they had something we wanted... Portals with passages to the other side of the Rift.


    While we didn''t intend to invade the Gloom and claim it for ourselves, we were sure as shooting going to exploit this grand piece of elvar magitech for everything we could... and if we could shoot these headcases in the eye while we were at it, the universe would be a better place for it.

 Chapter 444 - Far Future Ch. 154 – Fitting in Like We Belong There...

    Walking through a drow city was an exercise in looking threatening enough that someone wouldn''t casually want to mess with you. If you didn''t look threatening enough personally, then whoever you were affiliated with had to be threatening enough to do the job if you were messed with.


    If you were someone that didn''t have anyone backing them, like four breshkt in outlander garb and towing behind them some Disks laden down with expensive stuff, you had to look pretty dangerous, indeed.


    We looked totally intimidating, because we didn''t look concerned at all.


    Pickpockets and snatch and grabbers about to have a go at us saw fingers rise, a head slightly turn, and their blood went cold and their eyes elsewhere. Some thugs with muscle and guns thinking they saw an opportunity saw our eyes just glance over at them and move away without the slightest indication that they were a threat, and swallowed their words and let us pass right on by. Some cocksure bravos who thought they were dangerous with bodyguards and fawning attendants came into our paths, four sets of eyes leisurely set on them, and they got out of our way like someone had spiked their balls.


    Drow have an acute sense of don''t-fuck-with-me. Intimidate checks at post-50 set off their little spidey-senses and highly honed survival instincts, and accompanying degrees of shamelessness sent them scampering out of our path, thinking thoughts of revenge and humiliation and how they''d get back at us, while we walked on by.


    Reading the signs and indications wasn''t all that hard, and the local version of a Band was among the things I had retained from the dead pink-haired slaughter sisters. So, we made our way unerringly to a fine merchant with no hesitation whatsoever about buying a highly prized commodity like hoverboards from us for a fair amount of money, while the whispers about what we''d done flew out ahead and around us, and certain individuals began to look askew at us and start plotting how to use us.


    All the more fun for us.


    ------


    She was a fallen gladiator from the higher arenas, a blade-witch who''d been cut up and stoned out too many times, and no longer had the edge or appeal to compete before the ruthless upper crowds. The faint shriveling of her black skin showed that her willpower was failing, and soon she''d go barmy and start a wave of slaughter that would end with her being shot to pieces by disinterested parties for target practice.


    Happily, she never got to that point, because Celestia stepped into the fighting ring across from her.


    She might be falling, and her pink hair going bloody magenta, and her eyes all crimson, but she was a highly trained killer of the high arenas, who had dueled all manner of foes, and was perfectly used to slaughtering larger numbers of lower born and less trained opponents. She was drugged to the gills, dancing on the edge of the killing madness and combat high that was sucking in her sanity, and finding a breshkt stepping into the arena across from her earned only a sneer and a mocking laugh from her twisted lips.


    "A half-breed dares step into the arena across from me!" she shrieked out, as if this was a personal affront to her, her reputation fallen so low that even breshkt dared to face her. "I will bleed you slowly and watch you die in pain!"


    The three of us quickly placed our bets as the crowd of drow, sixteen different species of aliens, breshkt, umbvar, and some Warped creatures that could have come from multiple species all howled out at the display and clamored with their bids.


    Well, this wasn''t going to take too long, so we had to bid quickly...


    Chill dropped into Celestia''s hand, a thirty-four-inch dual-edged blade of Full-Tempered Adamant flowed out of the Sword Focus. Harsh, metallic silver light hissed in the runes on her Blade, and she didn''t even bother to bring her buckler Out into play.


    Or her Arakne Arms. Or her Tails. Or her Philosopher''s Might Tats. Or her Halo Crown...


    She just glared.


    She wasn''t a slave to her Talent, but the fact was her Talent was Ice Cold. Her natural emotional state was as hard and cold as diamond. She had been a completely cold and harsh bitch with the uncaring social mindset of a dagger until her Charisma reached 30 and she was able to slice off a thoughtstream that actually had some emotions and could empathize and relate to normal people. As a Rantha and having the same foundation as all her sisters, she was aware of how different she was and what her Talent did to her. She loved her sisters, and kept a sharp eye on her moral leanings and how her natural hardline emotions veered towards doing unconscionable things without batting an eye, and so engaged in introspective self-analysis with her Wisdom thoughtstream constantly.


    She had very little faith to go around, but probably none of the other Ranthas engaged in as much constant introspection about the fate and color of their soul.


    Her soul had belonged to a ruthless manipulator of her family and students, a psychopath willing to do almost anything to get ahead. She had inspired fear in her family, siblings, fellow students, and even instructors... but at the same time she had been a horrible recruit for Amourae, because she considered the plunging into sensualism and emotional release utter weakness. She had forced the headmistress to dominate her personally to make her submit, making her one of the last of the girls of Wendlerton Academy to be subverted, and only then by catering to her fantasies of power and dominance.


    She had not been a good person, and it was entirely likely she would have been Warp-fodder on death, and the epitome of a ruthless noblewoman with distant bloodstains on her hands had she lived.


    She had been weak... a slave to her own personality and Talent, and too low Level to defy the Headmistress.


    But she was a Rantha now. She could split her own mind, make thoughtstreams that were not bound by her Talent, and open herself to the full range and joy of emotions that her sisters felt, even if she rarely ever showed it.


    And oh, she was not weak in this life, and her glare was death.


    The drow had juiced reflexes, bio-enhancements, was drug-amped for speed, a full Ten with her Dexterity sitting at the racial maximum, basically a requirement for bladewitches who survived the arenas. She was sitting around a 40 Dex, wielding two Psychic shortswords with monomolecular edges, a full Ten, incredibly precise, controlled, flexible, living in a slow-motion world.


    And an Intimidation check at 70 slammed into her fracturing mind and let her know she was about to die.


    Celestia took one step, and glided across the twenty yards between them with it. The disassociation behind the motion and the movement, flickers of the body associated with Imperial Sun swordplay, drew the eye and mind into a strangely confused dance, as if what was happening was just an illusion, was not happening, and would just be blinked away...


    The bladewitch''s bloody eyes grew very large, feeling a horrible, overwhelming pressure coming from the blue eyes of her opponent, endless ice fields reaching out to clamp down on her soul.


    Her blades came up to parry the cut coming across as she tried to dodge and avoid it. The light, narrow blades, made for finesse combat at eye-blurring speeds with artful speed and style, came into the path of the heavy adamant weapon massing over ten kilos, wielded as lightly as a rapier and moving so fast unenhanced reflexes couldn''t follow it, crashed into the light weapons, smashed them right aside, sheared into the half-armor of her leading side, ripped right through it, moving forward and to the side to mirror her instinctive motion. The edge carved through bone and flesh as if they weren''t there, fast, too fast.


    Celestia''s shoulder slammed into the drow as Chill exited her body, and the two halves of her corpse went flying away at the impact as her step ended abruptly, blood and organs already starting to wither and burn as psychic balance was lost and her life was emptied violently from her.


    She bounced and hit the ground, flesh burning and flaking as the death she''d held off for so long sucked away her screaming soul, and left a shriveled husk behind her.


    ---


    The odds-makers who had sudden thoughts about not paying us looked sharply to the side, finding us Right There, and smiling with shining blue eyes that were cold as diamonds.


    She got her win bonus, and we made several times that in bets, and the bookies got to keep their heads.


    Her manager and this cheapass drow arena owner did try to kill Celestia almost immediately. Getting a true bladewitch down here, even if she was a spent rag, was a big thing, and us killing her was going to affect both bets and crowds come to see a true high-end killer do her stuff.


    Jensa slit the throat of the manager; I reaped my way through the cybered yuan-ti bodyguards of the owner and divided him into more pieces than I did them; and Keva took down four of the assassins while Celestia charged right into the waiting bully-squad and sent a lot of body parts flying in merciless, terrifying savagery that had more than a few of the jaded watchers pissing themselves. Watching her rip a cybered mi-go''s many limbs right off it as it flailed at her uselessly was rather impressive, and a few of the gloating spectators got to enjoy a personal experience when its acidic, poisonous blood splashed them, rather screamingly effective.


    From that incident, our reputation was established and began to grow. Naturally we irked those backing the arena manager, and probably the bladewitch''s old coven, as such a quick death was something of an insult to her tradition, but, eh, that was the whole point of it.


    At the same time, other arenas looked askew at a group of four breshkt fighting women not using finesse combat very curiously, and word spread of our little group of duelists. We began the long climb up the rankings.


    Celestia had gone through this process personally back in Janus Prime, Keva had started the process with the Bladebelle League, and of course the four dead bikini-bitches had done so, albeit with the support of their Coven, so they had started at a much higher level. I followed their lead as we began to write a script for our group.


    The reason we were doing this was to justify our traveling around the city, and thus getting closer to the Portals that were the lifeblood of the city.


    Breshkt had no place outside Gloomheart; racial purists would butcher them without a second thought. There was no better place for them to go, so us leaving this place certainly wouldn''t occur to anyone. A group of breshkt actually wanting to set the realspace exit points of Gloomheart Portals was just a crazy notion... why would we want to admit people who would kill us without blinking into the only place where we wouldn''t be killed on sight?


    The major Portals were up in the sky, used by full-blown starships. Naturally this meant we were going to be restricted mostly to the Portals on the ground, which were generally the property of individuals, clans, covens, or organizations who monopolized control of them and charged for the privilege of using them.


    So, build up reputation, get hired by certain individuals to do certain things to other certain individuals, all of whom deserved what was coming. The only hard point about all of this would be having to watch how they dealt with slaves, and a vast number of those slaves were human.


    Mmmmm. If only we could smuggle a planet-cracker in here and take out this whole city... but that just wouldn''t happen, too many safe-guards in place.


    Time, place, contacts, and getting out of here. If we were lucky, we might instead find Portals outside the city to viable places on the other side of the Rift, and word was spreading among the Hyn as it did. It was basically a race now to see which of our groups was successful first.

 Chapter 445 - Far Future Ch. 155 – A Few Fight Scenes

    Jensa''s opponent was a battle chimera, a drow who''d basically bio-modded himself right out of sanity and was basically nothing left but a killing machine. Bone grafts, explosive muscle growth, launchable bone spikes, some tentacles for gripping and rending fun, implanted diamond-hard claws, implanted psychoceramic scales for playing with colors and camouflage, even a whipping tail for that brutally dangerous edge.


    She struck just once, weaving her way through his attack pattern in one burst of speed, and driving her sword Hawk right through the nexus of his decentralized brain and blowing banefire through his system.


    His tail, two tentacles, and two lashing hands hit the walls rat-tat-tat, spraying some effulgent ichor from his body that couldn''t be called blood anymore, and his burning eyes and snapping, overlong jaws dripping poison gaped down at her in complete disbelief at the sword that had followed a whirling spiral path around him, and was now thrusting up under his composite-reinforced ribs, through his throat, and all the way up into what was left of his brain.


    His organic components gave way rather violently, and Jensa was sent flying, taking the impact of rupturing biochemicals igniting smoothly, landing firmly, plowing a trough in the floor, and not even leaving the starting ring.


    Our new bookies turned around and saw our toothy smiles. Funds were passed over as our eyes didn''t leave theirs.


    -----------


    A young warlock, out to gain some fame and ascend to higher surface. They didn''t spend as much time in the arenas, as they were more Klaw-focused and looking for real combat instead of murder games, which tended to be the focus of attention-hungry Amoureans. Still, he was a trained killer in black carapace armor, dual-wielding long and short blades, looking sneeringly confident of his chances of success against a breshkt like Keva.


    Completely dismissive of him, Keva approached, mirroring his motions effortlessly, closing straight to weapon range as their blades crossed.


    Three seconds later he was dead, as his finesseable, fractal-edged sword was beat aside effortlessly, his wired reflexes sent him to dodging as he tried to get his knife into position to parry the blow that was coming, and the point of a sword far too heavy to be moved so deftly cut down and across as she followed his footwork easily.


    He watched his knife hand go flying into the air as it crossed paths with the edge of Flair, and the skirl of his own blade followed his jerking retreat to somehow crash through the crystalline lens of his own helm and into his eye.


    His scream of pain was muffled as he moved to counter, slashing blindingly fast twice, missing once, batted aside the second time, and then he looked up as she caught his descending severed hand without looking, and drove the hooked poniard his hand was holding, and the neurotoxin on it, into his other eye.


    He was mostly dead as he faltered there on his feet and the neurotoxin began to ravage his system, bursting blood cells and turning years of conditioning and killing of hapless slaves and rivals into sloughing meat inside his armor.


    Keva turned and walked away without looking back, glancing slightly up at the group of Warlocks in their carapace armor who''d come to watch one of their own get blooded and no doubt celebrate afterwards.


    Natural Fencer. Her ability to feint and read an opponent in a fighting situation was unrivaled, and among the sword-crazed Ranthas, her Talent was hissingly acknowledged as being about as good a complement for Natural Swordswoman as could be expected to exist.


    She had his fighting style broken down within seconds of him drawing his weapons, his overconfidence in his skill and armor, his inferior strength, his lacking skill and reliance on his boosted reflexes and agility, and that damn inferior pure finesse fighting style.


    She had been a street thug in her last life, a knife expert and close-quarters throatslitter who preferred to kill his opponents up close and personal. He had worked as an enforcer and bodyguard to several zwilnik bosses, his superior instincts getting him out of several combat situations that had claimed those around him, knowing when to fight and when to cut and run.


    All of that survival instinct and combat sense had been useless when the cultists came down, burned his mind to a crisp, and turned his body into a screaming pslave.


    She acknowledged that her soul had belonged to a psychopath who enjoyed plying his knives in all sorts of situations outside combat, but even now, his rage at what had been done to him by the Warp came through the cycle of reincarnation fine and dandy.


    These demented, deluded elvar fucks who thought they were getting away with something hit all those anger buttons. Keva was a far, far better combatant then Kevan had ever even dreamed was possible, and while he was a merciless, emotionless killer who could kill at the drop of a hat, administering some repayment on his behalf for contributing such a perfect Talent was a fine way of saying goodbye to him and becoming something greater than his survivor''s-mentality ever dreamed.


    Those Warlocks would be more light exercise when they came for revenge, and move the lot of us up to a higher venue. Post-Ten Levels and capability in combat waited for nobody, after all, and these Warp-crazed bastards deserved to be shown what a true fencer could do to them...


    ---------------


    The pink-haired bitch realized I was playing with her about twenty seconds into our fight, when I stopped casually parrying all her attacks, pretending I needed to dodge her knives, and began to slap her, her overdone cleavage, lack of armor, and pink hair all over the place.


    She couldn''t outrun me, although she really tried, dancing all over the place and trying stupid spin moves until she ran into my fist, then my elbow in light succession, pounding her back off her feet with a broken nose and cheekbone, and sans a few teeth, too. She got back up, spitting blood in wild-eyed sadomasochistic delight that she thought would get a rise out of me, and I just looked at her in casual disdain.


    To be honest, the girls had obeyed the paradigm of Ten First and gained far fewer Secondary Levels than I had, which meant they were only behind me because breaking Ten was a such a PITA. However, there were bunches of post-Ten drow who might be tempted to come down and crack open the Second Ceiling for us. They actually had more Melee Levels, while I had been relying on my Rantha Levels for raw combat capability, my Melee still at Ten as I rounded up all my Secondary Classes and those precious Skill Ranks needed for all these damn tech and knowledge Skills I needed to keep maxed out.


    Still, them Rantha Levels and their continuing Stat buffs and +1 BAB per Level were nothing but sweet, even if they were expensive as hell.


    This bitch was not any faster, more agile, or coordinated than I was... actually, she was a good bit less, although I really wasn''t showing it. However, she was also messing with someone with a Strength north of 40, equivalent to a very high-end robot or cyborg, and with a Might over 50, meaning I could rage-flip a battle tank.


    Finesse-style is a weak style combat. You MUST have an absolute edge in speed, precision, and agility over your foe, and the only way to do that if you are weak is to have light weapons that can''t really parry effectively if your opponent has any knowledge of how to fight you.


    It was probably unsurprising that my Martial Lore was still at 12 Ranks, and I definitely knew how to fight bouncy-bouncy finesse fighters.


    The key was Way of Fire, +2 TH vs Dodge and Dexterity bonuses... or, -2 to an opponent''s bonuses from those. If you have that at... IV, which I could as a Twelve, that was the equivalent of taking their precious Dexterity bonuses to avoid me down by 8.


    8 points of dodge in a universe where the rarity of exceptional evasive ability means there isn''t a whole lot of solid AB is utterly massive.


    Rule of Valus: If you are fighting an opponent using Finesse style combat and you are using Power Style and Armor, improve your Armor by +2 as you cover your vulnerable spots with brute strength.


    In short, a finesse fighter had no choice but to strike at weak points, i.e. very small targets. You didn''t have to be grandly skilled to deny them those points. Shift an inch out of ideal position, and something meant to slip into a crack in your armor, down a seam, against a bone, instead just scrapes against armor and fails to do much injury, since they had no way to power through the armor.


    In short, throw your armor against their weapon while they are using all them fancy moves, and then punish them for it.


    For this purpose, Bracers of Force Armor and Crystal Shield''s Way of Iron both worked just fine.


    Yes, she had Psychic Weapons, which meant preternaturally sharp and edgy, and I didn''t care, as I had a whole lot of Energized Armor and Nat Armor to take her hits, and there wasn''t a damn thing she could do about it.


    She scraped and cut at me, and generally couldn''t hit me, and when she did, it scraped off expanses of skin and muscle away from where she was intending to hit me, and she simply couldn''t break through my DR.


    Her end was rather brutal, as I just shut down her offense and slugged her casually whenever she got close. Bones cracked and broke, flesh split and began to fail, and suddenly she didn''t look all that graceful and agile, even as she was trying to suck in the pain and enjoy it.


    But it wasn''t just pain. I was hitting her in ways that were making it deliberately harder for her to move, so trying to act like bones were not poking into parts of her anatomy was just a non-starter.


    Finally, I got bored, rolled my eyes as she tried another flicker-quick play of poisoned short blades, cut off her hands as she tried to block Chalice, and put my fist right through her face and made a severe indentation on her cerebral cortex, small as it might be.


    She twitched and hung there on my extended fist for a handful of seconds as the already quiet crowd went silent.


    I tossed the body casually over my head and behind me as I headed for the exit.


    Her sisters up in the stands promised some after-duel entertainment was coming.


    ---------------


    We were known trouble-makers. Well, trouble stoppers. Those who caused trouble with us tended to die. At least, anyone and everyone who''d tried to pressure us had abruptly died.


    We got pretty well known for wandering around and people jumping us, not knowing who we were, and then dying rather abruptly. It simply added to our rep in the gladiatorial pits, and so we moved up the listings.


    We fought a lot of stuff. A lot of it was captured cyborgs, monsters, aliens, and various slaves, and drow trying to make it, or failing after trying for too long. There were some umbvar, too, skins getting darker by the day, and not treated any better than anyone else as we efficiently and mercilessly cut our way up the rankings.


    Oh, there was a constant assortment of poisoners, assassins, mercenaries, cutthroats, bravos, bully-boys, slaver squads, suborned soldiers, and other fine, upstanding citizens of Gloomheart who attempted to cancel our progress, or simply capture and enslave us, possibly selling us off for big money.


    There were also a rather large number of people behind such individuals who got mysteriously dead. When that happened, a whole nuther rep of ours began to grow, as the interested noted that those who made moves on us tended to die in interesting ways soon thereafter, a highly valuable skill in drow society.


    Given how utterly dispensable we were, we were the perfect patsies, and getting paid in lots of crystalweight was simply a non-issue for many of these individuals. Other job offers began to float past us, and when we proved marginally interested in killing highly protected individuals at the behest of other highly protected individuals of fine moral standing, well, paying us to off people in the arena was also viable, because that''s what others were trying to do to us... only they didn''t know what they were getting involved in.

 Chapter 446 - Far Future Ch. 156 – The Big Event

    "The drow are having a celebration."


    We all looked over at Celestia''s words. As the one with the most experience in the world of fighting and duels, she was always looking at the events and happenings at the periphery, giving us new places to go and things to address.


    "How big?" I asked, cross-referencing the term. Drow didn''t exactly have happy holidays.


    "A million?"


    All our eyebrows lifted as we stacked up hoverboards on Disks for efficient resale, never lose them looting reflexes, and added some rather high-end weapons and defensive toys from the dead drow scattered around the place.


    This gang of hoverboarders had pissed someone off for doing something, a bounty had been posted, and we had wandered over to claim it. One hundred and forty-seven more drow for the Gloom, burning with shadowfire right now, and rather astonished at how they''d all gotten so dead so readily. Chit cards, portable valuables, and other personal belongings they didn''t need anymore went on the stack.


    There were a lot of holes in the surrounding buildings, some dents and smears on the stone, craters in the ground, slices and gashes in the walls and floor, and a number of flechettes and darts, with accompanying acidic craters or fused pits, sticking in things here and there.


    Hey, the money was good, and we needed to get Courtier of Death/Elvar active. Lots of gratuitous slaughter of drow certainly helped, and this lot had finished mine off.


    "A million? They are doing it in the Heart of Blood, then." The spatial-distorted arena was up to ten miles wide, enclosed inside a half-mile circle. The cameras were everywhere and could pick out everything from above for more than a million attendees, broadcast it on massive holo-screens, or more personal views for those in the very expensive personal suites.


    Naturally the high drow nobility would be there, and everyone who wanted to be noticed by them would be there, too. Clan leaders, mercenary captains, Warlock Masters, Bladewitch Headmistresses, old noble families, slave masters, pirate commanders, raider lords, and even the necrochemysts of the city would wander out of their fetid holes in all their death-obsessed bioengineered grandeur to watch the show and drink in the carnage, fear, and death.


    In our wanderings through the city, we''d plumbed the other side of a few dozen Portals, but they''d all been on this side of the Rift. Perhaps there was geographical correlation, and we needed to go to the opposite side of the city... quite a task for an ecumenopolis on the inside of a sphere.


    My other girls had been finding plenty of Portals too, particularly as we contacted populations of hidden Hyn and their Void Brothers. Some were completely paranoid and wanted nothing to do with us, which was fine, we were hardly going to force them. Some were enthusiastic at the potential of getting their children out of here, and were willing to work with distant cousins, such as it were.


    The one uninhabited world we''d found was an easy launch point, and if dangerous, it was nowhere near as threatening as Gloom and its many stealthy, shadowy inhabitants. The hyn that were emigrating were adapting quickly, helped by the quiet support, instant schooling, and guidance on what and how to do things as they built a new society of their own, on a world far from anything.


    They spent a lot of time in the light there, too, driving the Gloom out of them...


    A million combatants meant the drow would be drawing slaves and contestants from everywhere. It would be a true meat grinder of a fight, and the prizes would be impressive, to say nothing of instant recognition.


    Some breshkt making it to the end would naturally be unheard of. But... it was an easy way to get to the middle of the city, and some of the Portals there were more open for use, and should be on the other side of the Rift...


    But that really wasn''t the issue. The proper thing would be finding a ship that would be going to human-controlled space and worlds, and hitching a ride on it, by hook or by crook. The odds that there would not be some humans at such an event, doubtless traitorous slave dealers or beast hunters providing stock for the slave pits, would be low. Getting aboard their ships wouldn''t be all that difficult, and given the nature of their work, they would be either going to worlds with heavy populations they could loot for stock, primitive worlds with creatures they could hunt and sell, or wealthy worlds looking to buy the latter.


    We''d have a much better look at the docks near the primary Portals to Gloomheart. All we had to do was locate one viable ship, and we were good to go.


    "Think they''ll take us?" Keva asked thoughtfully. "They should be trawling for any combatants they can get their hands on at this point."


    "Do we want to get involved there?" Jensa returned narrowly, filching out a credit-stick and tossing it on the pile. "There''s going to be some real monstrosities in a pit fight that big."


    Which was totally true. Monstrosities were generally taken down by swarms in such situations, and hyperaggression was going to be all the rage.


    "More likely that anyone who stands out is going to inspire some opportunistic challengers to be eliminated and steal their glory," I answered, running through stolen memories of similar events in the past.


    "Ooooh, that sounds like real fun," Keva piped up, eyes glowing more than usual at the thought of some real duels.


    "See if they''ll take us. If they will, start arranging us transport to the arena. There''ll be plenty of stuff to do on the way there..."


    Celestia nodded and started the process of registering over the local cybernet. It didn''t interfere with her cleaning up at all, of course...


    =======


    The goblin presence in AK97-Proxima died off almost as quietly and much faster than it had existed.


    What particular event had driven them to take shelter in this system we had no idea of, and really didn''t bother investigating. The Mothball Fleet, fully kitted out with Tachyon and Harmonic Drives, glided into the system from the Phlo entry point, well above the solar incline, and descended upon them with merciless savagery.


    Goblins were genetically engineered to take territory, conquer, and survive. A few little green goblins could reproduce with amazing speed while surviving in total shitty conditions, and as things improved, hobgoblins and urgobs would eventually be born. Thus, the short little fire-happy greenies were the quickest to flee to fight another day, while the hobgoblins planned for empire, and the urgobs raided and weakened their enemies through surprise attacks or plundering savagery, whatever was appropriate.


    It was built into their blood, and no relationship with goblins ever withstood the test of time. When they felt their numbers were high enough, they surged to the attack, and if you integrated them into your society, when the psychic wave of their fleets hit, all your goblin slaves or neighbors turned into murderous throatslitters.


    They were a scourge on the galaxy, and completely unrepentant about it. They were what they were, had no remorse or mercy in them, only conquer, claim, subjugate, grow, and do it again.


    The attack was thus unheralded, and messily thorough. Cloaked Umbran ships had plotted out the whole system''s holdings, and the Mothball Fleet hit them with a precision and timing only the Marks could allow.


    Long range sensor posts, forward sentry posts that hadn''t seen anything beyond passing Mi-Go for decades were blown apart before they even knew they were under attack. Cargo vessels transporting food and raw materials were eliminated in engagements that never lasted more than a few minutes. No alarms or distress calls went out...


    The Janus Home Fleet came ripping out of the Warp and burned their way along the solar incline once the periphery defenses were down.


    ------


    Captain Tabitha Rantha adjusted the position of her ship precisely on the single vector that gave her the shot she wanted. The needlers were adjusted to maximum range, and every crewmember on board was hooked in to power them up for the punch that was needed.


    Their target was the primary power plant of the Big Rock the goblins were building, a small moon''s-worth of starship. The equivalent of a small star had been constructed by goblin weird science down in the belly of the thing, the eventual power source for the massive engines that were being put into place after being slagged into their proper form by the solar plumes being drawn out of the system''s sun. It looked like baling wire and duct tape by human standards, but weird science didn''t care what you thought, it just worked.


    The brains back on Janus III were running algorithms through a brand new combat simulator the size of a Blok, designed by the Strategos Council and Anatolia, and capable of handling combat sims of a hundred battlezones if required, all possible with real-time Marktell relays. The ship''s engineers were pattern-Focusing to keep the ship''s cloaks operating seamlessly as it hovered in space between the hordes of goblins ships moving about.


    Algorithms converged. Formulae resolved, targeting solutions gathered, and a very green light went on in all their minds.


    Four needle beams plunged down.


    Various gantries, walkways, light cargo vessels, and goblins in the way evaporated in the path of the plunging flares of cutting force-light. The two power regulators, the primary containment field generator, and the emergency fuel shutoff were sheared right through at an optimum moment. The wild surges of the suneater reactor had stilled for a breath to gather their power and energies... and now all the things that contained their fury were gone.


    The Widow''s Bite''s sudden appearance in the middle of the construction zone probably wouldn''t even have been noticed for a few minutes if not for the blazing needle beams that had blinded every goblin who looked upon them. Still, it was enough to make all their jaws drop in shock at the unfamiliar ship design.


    The Harmonic Jump pulsed, and for one second, the Widow''s Bite moved in a specific direction at .15c. Twenty-thousand miles later, and out of range of any guns that could possibly get online in time, the primary drives engaged as it fell out of tactical range... and sixteen more needle beams plunged down onto a scattered number of field generators and heavy gun emplacements, plunging deep and finding interesting things to cut through and set alight.


    A raging fusion explosion swelled and blew out through the great canyon opened into the heart of the ship, tearing away everything within and sending it shooting out into space as masses of ashes and slag, circled by those specific weapon and field sites igniting in counterpoint harmony.


    Leaving a raging atomic catastrophe behind, the Widow''s Bite faded into cloak as it achieved a great enough distance.


    It had already accomplished the primary objective, taking out sixteen separate different cloaked urgob hunter-killer stealth vessels scattered around the inner system, their ships noted when they docked to resupply at specific places, and beacons placed on their hulls activated by psi when needed.


    The assassin fleet of the goblins had been completely neutralized before the Janus Fleet hit the outer system and barreled into the first goblin station that could put up a fight... a stations whose coms had already been hit and who couldn''t get past the psychic static before the Fleet showed up to bury them under a blazing torrent of extremely well-informed fire. The shield harmonics knowledge alone, learned from observation of multiple maintenance tests, was invaluable.


    The Janus Fleet swept on in what would become known as the Proxima Vise. The goblin ships that fled from them ran right into the waiting Mothball Fleet, who held them to tactical speed until the Janus Fleet could come up behind them and crush them implacably.

 Chapter 447 - Far Future Ch 157 – Proxima Causes

    Annihilation of the goblins of the Proxima system was complete and merciless. They were of no use alive, and would still be annoying even when dead.


    However... their ships and stations represented a lot of infrastructure and raw materials that was very useful once melted down, purified, and repurposed. The first purposes fabber-ship Zerg hove into the Proxima system, pumping out production modules that would make more production modules that would begin making all the component materials needed to establish factories and production lines here... starting with local defense systems, of course.


    Within a month, the burning wreckage of the goblin ships and settlements was quiet, and wreckage was being fed into the respecced solar furnace for reformation and repurposing, hundreds of tons rapidly becoming thousands, tens of thousands, and increasing every day as the fabber ship Zerg took the raw materials and turned them into production systems.


    The Ranthas had formed their own first exclusive off-world production facility, and it was roaring to life. Given it was being used almost exclusively to make GAMT-class vehicles, most of the open production on Janus was returned to servicing and producing GAMT materials for sale to support the wages of those doing the heavy work, and out-system traffic increased quickly as the upgrading of the home system fleet ''trailed off'' and more of the much-desired tech was made available for other Imperial ships and interested parties.


    Mundane munitions were also shipped out as the home system was resupplied. The ship production which had been drawing attention from higher up in the hierarchy trailed off, although much more limited production for the specific needs of the Coronals, Umbrans, and the local Thunder Bulls continued unimpeded.


    Of the Harmonic and Tachyon Drives, no word yet had escaped from the system by human hands. Their crews were all Marked, and let nothing slip concerning them whatsoever. Even the Umbrans and Coronals of Janus said nothing, knowing that if such technology was revealed, they would probably not survive the fallout that would come after it.


    Their only choice was to build, build, and build, until they could face down the reaction from those who didn''t want humanity to have such toys... and those humans who didn''t want anyone but themselves to command such technology, which was probably the worse threat.


    ----------


    Clearing the nearby systems of their alien inhabitants proceeded apace. Psychic and EM jammer buoys were quietly dispersed by the stealth ships lurking in the systems, ensuring that no communication with other systems happened, and the attacks were carried out mercilessly and methodically, not using quite the same battleplan twice, as the massive goblin akasha might instinctively react to similar situations and warn the goblins of what was happening, and figure out a feasible way to resist.


    One attack did its work using thousands of torpedoes guided by carrier ships, crippling the entire system in less than an hour of anti-matter and fusion explosions. One system with an active agri-world worked by human slave labor had its command facilities infiltrated by strike teams, taken over smoothly, and every major camp and city on the planet was assaulted by ground attacks to blood the infantry forces on goblins.


    Stealth teams using teleportation insertion were coordinated in a third system, blowing power cores of the major defense installations across the system and rendering them vulnerable to the Fleet pouncing on them afterwards.


    The fourth system had the fleet hiding inside a comet burning its way towards the center of the system, its course altered to take it close to the major planets. When the ships emerged from the comet and blew it onto a course that plunged it directly onto their major Big Rock to the excitement of all concerned, the goblins didn''t react with any more discipline then they had in most of the other cases.


    The fifth system was basically full of asteroids and rubble, shattered planets and debris fields. Goblins pirates had a dozen bases spread throughout the place, stopping there between raids on different systems, and the places had literally thousands of different goblin settlements on tiny worlds and rocks floating through the void, spreading through the asteroids like green, black, and yellow mold.


    It was a place made for light ships and starfighters. After identifying the major bases, those were annihilated in the first strike wave, and new squadrons of MF-class Gunboats, H-Class bombers and Crescent-class starfighters were deployed for the first time, and the whole system erupted in crazy dogfights as the many, many goblin clans sent out wave after wave of fighters, flitters, mining ships, and haulers to bedevil their enemies.


    The sixth system somehow found out they were coming, but that didn''t surprise them, as the stealth ships noticed they were making urgent preparations to fight. Guesses were that some sort of psychic communication had been interrupted, and then attempts to communicate with other systems had failed, perhaps an unseen pirate managing to enter one of the other ravaged systems and escaping to spread the news.


    Sabot charges placed long, long ago and built over in the traditional Goblin manner went off, and their fortresses went down and dark just as the System Fleet came pouring in to practice pounding them down. The system became a classic Goblin/Human brawl of ships and styles, with the goblins frequently wondering just how the humans seemed to coordinate so wonderfully and have such accurate knowledge of their ships and positions. All their major assets were taking off-line explosively, and the massive Motherships beloved of the hobgoblins and H-K''s of the urgobs never really got to show their stuff before being dealt with by either internal raids of surprising lethality or ambush attacks out of the void.


    -----


    "Cellulocusts."


    Splotches and blots spread across the system readings before them. Sixteen moon-sized motherships, silently soaking up the sunlight, growing more lesser vessels like buds on their gargantuan masses, which remained attached to them like limitless leaves on trees.


    The plant-like biovores were one of the most voracious races in the galaxy. Unlike the xenos, the cellulocusts did not do well without regular exposure to sunlight. The great leaves of the motherships covered hundreds of thousands of square miles like super-efficient solar converters, spinning sunlight, gases, and hydrocarbons into new life-forms. Where they went, they stripped worlds of organic materials and water, then soaked in enough sunlight until they made some sort of decision and employed gravity manipulation to head to the next system to feed again, either following some ageless path of migration around the galaxy as worlds recovered and regrew behind them, or somehow sensing worlds where organic life was thriving.


    Their attacks were the very definition of a swarm, concentrating on overwhelming numbers and ready sacrifice to overcome any foe. If they had intelligence, nobody knew, and nobody wanted to contact such a feral, aggressive plant form that considered meat creatures just more fertilizer.


    With enough sunlight, the cellulocusts could recapture and reconvert any losses, so such things were just considered temporary to them. They had never been known to flee any engagement, and nothing less then a full Sector Fleet had been able to destroy a Swarm of them... and never the worlds in the system, which had all been infested with seedlings and Omega Sanctioned helplessly.


    Naturally the worlds in this system were stripped of almost all atmosphere and water, and nothing remained on them except for a basic moss that would slowly break down matter of the mantle, slowly accumulating an atomosphere, releasing water, and growing and mutating into other lifeforms, to be harvested again in several million years.


    They would have to be Omega Sanctioned as well...


    Sixteen Motherships. Only fully Dark stealthships got within an AU of them, no psionic use allowed, and no radiant drives for the phenomenally light-sensitive cellulocusts to respond to. Even their course had to be erratic, as eclipsing a star along a course could be enough to warn the massive root-minds of the creatures.


    A full cellulocust Swarm 12.6 light years away. At basic jam with ramscoops and solar sails, that was .35c, or thirty-six years away, if they chose to come to Janus III.


    Archeological data into deep ice at the polar caps indicated that Janus III had once been a verdant world... and might well have once sprung from a cellulocust world-seeding, if the genetests were correct.


    Might they be a little annoyed to find a Warpzone corrupting their little garden world and making it impossible to harvest? While they might not be angry as humans knew it, they would probably take steps to clean up the situation... and harvest what they could from the world, which would naturally include the entire human population.


    So, if the cellulocusts moved, they were suddenly on a timetable, which was most definitely not a desirable thing to have happen.


    Putting out word about this threat was definitely not a bad idea whatsoever. The only viable place to fight them was in deep space, in transit between system, unless they wanted to lose any viable planets in a system. Even then, the cellulocusts would launch spores in their death throes, equipped with miniscule, primitive gravity drives and photoreceptors to guide them towards stars and worlds where they could fall, take seed, and be reborn in some far future.


    Truly an eternal, hard to kill foe. No race was known to bother them in their transitions, and word had come from different, elder races that it was easier to just abandon a planet then fight the cellulocusts. Humanity had only ever beaten a Swarm once, and even then, lost the system to Omega Sanctions. In doing so, every Swarm encountered since had been unremittingly hostile to any human vessel, which meant the Swarms could communicate with one another across the galaxy, and differentiate species from their vessels alone, probably by sensing their akashic linkages.


    Truly an old, ancient, and implacable foe, as remorseless as weeds, patient as moss, and relentless as mold.


    And someone else had already pissed them off, so now humanity had to deal with them. Wonderful... because nobody knew how many Swarms of them were out there.


    =========


    Gloomheart...


    Our fame/infamy/rep continued to grow as we headed towards the Heart of Blood, as a whole bunch of suicidal types looking to become very famous or more likely very dead were doing, all across this subspace.


    Still, our ratings on both lists and viewers of our matches continued to climb. It wasn''t that breshkt hadn''t done well for themselves in the past, but four of us together was quite a thing, and was definitely earning us all sorts of proposals for our services in other ways. As those who we actually accepted invitations had all ended up dead in violent and expressive ways, nobody had any idea how good we were in bed... but they were plenty willing to pay us to show people they didn''t like the details thereof, given what inevitably happened.


    It was a pleasant and violent time, exposed us to ever-higher levels of drow society, ever more dangerous assassins, nobles, bodyguards, mercenaries, and bounty hunters, and generally ratcheted the entertainment level up continuously.


    Four breshkt swordswomen, and we were so bloody hard to kill...


    It was fun to see the commentaries about us. Celestia''s terrifyingly lethal swordplay; Jensa''s precise and penetrating killstrokes; Keva''s elegant and mystifyingly obtuse style; and my pure overwhelmingly brutal and arrogant forms that gave them simply no chances. There were dozens of commentaries on how to beat us, which surprisingly didn''t work very well for all those who tried such things. It was like we knew what our own weaknesses were, and min-maxed to cover them.


    Now, there were two very different types of combat we had to be good at, namely in arena and out of it.


    In arena, you were allowed only melee weapons. Using missile weapons was a fatal no-no, taking away all the fun of the struggle. This was hardly an issue with us, as beating on things bigger than we were was what Ranthas called great fun, thank you, may we have another?


    Outside the arena, active use of psionic effects was the death sentence, but we could use Gear and ranged attacks to our heart''s content. Naturally, we did so, especially on those who were very, very concerned about getting into range of our blades. It was so charming of them, we gave them tons of pointy presents to think about and drool over.

 Chapter 448 - Far Future Ch. 158 – Let’s See Some Blood

    Celestia resisted the urge to feed the grinning, disdainful drow his teeth with her usual impassiveness. She grabbed up the four registration tokens and walked back to us... and the experienced drow gladiators had given us careful berth, despite themselves.


    "They''ve stuck us in among the outlanders," she informed us, tossing us our badges. We inspected the mustering address on the things, turned together in that direction, and shrugged together. Of course we wouldn''t be settled among the bladewitch covens and warlock sects, or even the lower order mercs or something, as long as they were drow. To drow, breshkt were as foreign a species as the humans they were mixed with.


    The big celebration and slaughter wasn''t until tomorrow, but naturally the teams and individuals had to register and be allocated ahead of time. Massive numbers of slaves, sacrifices, convicts, conscripts, and aliens were being shuffled into holding pens, to be released tomorrow, while the professionals were allocated their stalls and positions for the big event.


    According to the terms of the contract, the last thousand surviving beings could opt to leave the arena and earn their rewards, which could be any manner of things, from information to mere cash to rare goods to bioengineering, or maybe even asking a favor that wasn''t too much of an imposition.


    The last hundred beings would get greater rewards, jacked again for the last ten, and graduating for the last five.


    The likelihood of that happening for an outsider was slim to none. The long-established pros would join in once the mass slaughter was done, looking for up and comers to kill and further their own legends, while eliminating potential future rivals after they did all the boring and tedious slaughter. They had to join before the last ten thousand were set, but that was hardly an imposition. The killing would continue until then.


    The smart ones would survive to the last thousand, and then immediately vacate the arena before the pros killed them. Then the pros would clash, a few would kill one another, most would simply withdraw before that happened, leaving only the last few to contest one another for the highest slots.


    Our bikini and blood donors had witnessed more than a few of these grand celebrations, and even fought in two of them, making it to the last thousand before leaving the arena to the truly adept. The impressions they had of the master gladiators left no doubt that they wouldn''t survive any sparring that occurred.


    That wasn''t our impressions, of course.


    Keva had analyzed the styles of the various covens and bands for all of us, Jensa had pointed out style weaknesses, and we had gotten a lot of practice in fighting elvar of all kinds on our way here. Our Courtiers of Death were in full force, and oh, were they not going to like fighting against us.


    We hadn''t even pulled out our shields in a proper duel yet, only mass combat outside the arenas. Of course, we were obviously all wearing bucklers, but we hadn''t actually equipped them. Naturally, we hadn''t needed to, so a lot of the drow were wondering how arrogant we were, not using them against combatants... because we didn''t need to? Wouldn''t that mean that equipping them meant we were finally facing something serious?


    That was exactly what it meant, and honestly, simply by making the shield a Profound Weapon and so usable with Wisdom or Intellect bonuses to AC, which they normally weren''t, they would shoot our AC into the stratosphere and make us nigh-unhittable by our opponents. When we actually bothered to use them, ouch, the drow were going to be in for a rough time.


    We wanted to stop just below the top ten. Arena rules forbid the top hundred from tag-teaming one another, all duels had to be resolved between individuals with no outside help. That said, engaging, disengaging, and moving from one opponent to the next while only wounding or blooding was all perfectly permissible, as was jumping on someone just wounded from a fight with somebody else.


    "Hello." All our eyes turned on a party moving through the press. While the majority of people were wealthy drow, there were plenty of aliens of all types in specific areas, drawing the intrigued, arrogant eyes of many of the dark elvar here. Aberrant races, fringe players, criminals, corrupt lordlings, vassal races, emotionless sentients, and lots of Warped of various kinds.


    Seeing some overly ostentatious yet obviously competent humans among them was not a surprise, but it was something we were looking for.


    From Markspace to the Quanta to downloaded to the Umbran databanks wasn''t too long. The Umbrans naturally didn''t know everyone in the galaxy, but they did know everyone who was prominent. Anyone who could walk into Gloomheart and not feel out of place was definitely not a nobody.


    The hit came back in seconds, along with his personal history from seventeen years ago... because he came from the other side of the Rift.


    Marquis de Krov. He was a Marquis because he had a Writ of Marque, making him one of the nobles of the Empire, a free-willed, starcrossing freebooter with his own ships and fleet, empowered by the Empire to wage war, conscript troops, and explore beyond the edge of the Empire''s borders in humanity''s name basically as they saw fit.


    Such men weren''t the same as Dukes, who were even older hereditary dynasties, with rights to planets and even systems that came with their Writ of Nobility. A Marquis could also end up claiming planets and territory, but their title was from a Writ of Marque, and so of lesser status.


    Most such men were aggressive, ambitious bastards fully willing to use the Writ, and the ship and fleets that came with it, in unscrupulous and bloody ways to enhance their own wealth, power, and prestige. Buccaneers was a polite term for most of them; rogues, scoundrels, and profiteers described most of them, and those it didn''t were usually fanatics or warmongers taking the edicts of the Empire to their deadliest extreme, or out and out pirates and raiders preying on aliens ruthlessly, and humans if they thought they could get away with it.


    Selling humans off to aliens for personal profit was one of those actions which would earn a Marquis a gyro in the head for themselves and their entire family line. The fact we had seen him here was a death sentence as soon as we confirmed what his dealings with the drow were. Duke Rimval was already writing out his death warrant.


    He should have sent one of his sons. At least then he would have survived...


    He wasn''t the only unWarped human here, but he was the first we''d seen from the other side of the Rift, which meant he came from a Portal on that side, and had a ship from there.


    -He probably delivered a load of cyber-enhanced murderers for the games, given his history,- Jensa /murmured. -About as good as you are going to get, Mom.- The reports indicated that he had a long-established history of emptying the prisons of civilized worlds of murderers and other violent convicts, bringing him onboard his ship, outfitting them with brainbombs and cybernetics, and then selling them off to any interested parties desiring powerful and eminently disposable combat troops. One of his ships was basically nothing more then a butcher shop and cyberfitting processor that would make any Mekker proud to see.


    If he couldn''t find anyone to buy his clockwork butchers, he went and unleashed them somewhere to earn his money back from plunder, if nothing else.


    -I agree. Shall we split up and find out where he came from?- Needless to say, in a society like this, the number of people dealing in information was not small, and the gossip on their Boole wasn''t small. You just had to be careful to never actually search for exactly what you were looking for, or someone would notice and sell the fact you were looking to the other party.


    -Oh, that would mean we should get to kill at least three assassins each before tomorrow, right?- Celestia remarked coolly.


    -I plan on sampling at least a dozen new poisons,- I /agreed, and everyone smiled dangerously in unison, prompting the sentients passing us to suddenly veer away in alarm.


    Someone had finally wigged onto a nickname for us that was at once a good summation and insulting at the same time. They were calling us the Four Fatales, since with only a slight twist of an accent, it sounded the exact same as the Four Futiles, four idiots reaching hopelessly beyond their stations and potential. The breshkt population had picked it up and run with it, and suddenly we were crystallized as the hope of the half-breed bastards of the drow world.


    It was kind of funny, but what it meant is that the breshkt information network opened up to us... as long as there was no risk to them, of course. We had fans who would do things for us, and if they subtly steered us jobs that furthered their goals and ambitions, and happened to kill a lot of drow who looked down on them, or preyed on them, well, it was a thing.


    ------


    We split up to get information, something we rarely did, and of course the people hunting us took it as a golden opportunity to start moving in. There were a lot of very combative, battle-happy individuals around, and duels were breaking out and resolving very quickly all over the place, sometimes lethal, sometimes merely crippling, and it was all in good fun.


    The ones who were currently trailing us from every vector and split to follow us had the unfortunate experience of each somehow getting picked off by another of us who wasn''t the target, in a very circular fashion. One got shoved in front of a razor-prowed jet bike zooming past; one was pushed off a perch into a pack of carnosaurs getting hereded into place; another accidentally slipped and fell on both of his short blades; and a fourth was wrapped up in tentacles and sucked into an open sewer grating so fast the surrounding crowd all jumped, and said sewer grating was rapidly sealed up while some curious drow considered going down and capturing whatever was down there, and how much they would charge to do it.


    All in good fun. If a specific building''s gaudy and overdone ornamentation blew out and the rubble fell down and crushed a passing luxury flitter of a crime lord with a penchant for out-species ****, along with his entourage, well, that just made us some more money.


    Having the temerity to execute an assassination with such aplomb and thoroughness at such short notice and with so many other killers around did garner us some attention, and in between random knifing attempts some of the actual Noctus, the shadow-stalking elite assassins dispatched to kill only the best targets, decided to use us as whetstones to keep their edges sharp.


    Pointed objects were inserted into dark place, and they burned in shadowfire. By the time their noctus shadow-walking tech finally gave way and materialized into the real world, there was nothing left of them to tell what had become of them, and the delicate tech was reduced to dust that gave no indication of their fates. Their souls wouldn''t be coming back to the homunculus Vats where the elite continually reincarnated themselves trying to evade the Warp, so they would simply disappear, and people would wonder...


    But Gloom was eating them, and happy, so what did we have to bother about?


    --------


    I did make my goal of ingesting a dozen new poisons, making it to fourteen before I hooked back up with the girls. Celestia only made it to eight, probably because she gutted six of the poisoners before they could get away, and we all mocked her for not expanding her repertoire appropriately. She promised to do better in the future, and we toasted with a molecular-level flesh-dissolving poison inserted into our drinks by a murder-team whose slimy remnants were bubbling on the floor beneath our boots. Some very impressed goblins were already bringing out the buckets and mops to clean up after us...


    There were two other squad attacks as we headed off to the Heart of Blood, one by swooping jetbikes, and the other by snipers trying to pick us off.


    Swooping jetbikes naturally used anti-grav, had razored prows for ramming through hapless targets, and moved really fast.


    Putting a foot down and putting up an Interdiction was a little bit faster, and the six swoops suddenly dropped right to the ground at high speed, went crashing and tumbling wildly, and took out a number of not-so-innocent bystanders.


    True to their boosted reflexes, four of the riders managed to jump free in time, and were all shot in the head in mid-air, much to their dismay.

 Chapter 449 - Far Future Ch. 159 – More AC for Everyone!

    The snipers got to find out about the odiousness of the Deflect Arrows Feat-line.


    This was one of the basic ki-based missile-dodging abilities. Yes, you could use the ability without ki, and it worked against pretty much anything from the speed of an arrow or slower.


    But, with ki, you could dodge literally anything... as long as you weren''t flat-footed and didn''t know it was coming.


    Welcome to Scouts, preternatural awareness, and Uncanny Dodge, so you aren''t flat-footed to anything without at least four more Ranks in Stealth than you have, and the ability to Sneak Attack. Oh, and Way of Shadow raises this number offensively and defensively by +1 each time you take it.


    So, trying to snipe us meant you had to have 17 Ranks in Stealth for the girls, and 20 for me.


    From that point, you get into the combinations of Arrow Shield, Return Missile, and Ray Shield, as well as Gems of Missile Warding.


    The last brought everything together, because it also gave you the ability to dodge ranged attacks 1/round, with no differentiation between rocks, arrows, or bullets. Arrow Shield let you auto-deflect a ranged attack with your shield, instead of using your hand, synergizing further as a Profound Weapon. Ray Shield meant ranged touch attacks couldn''t bypass your shield, and so could be deflected.


    Return Missile sent them all back at the shooters.


    Four master snipers a thousand yards away in multiple locations shot within a millisecond of one another, each targeting one of us with matter-implosion rounds that would reduce us to just spurts of bloodspray rather violently.


    The Gems bent the flight paths of the incoming missiles down to our Shields, which weren''t obvious, but were humming with a load of psi, ki, Soul, and magical power.


    Super-lethal ammunition pinged off our Bucklers and went right back in the direction they came from.


    In four different locations, spurts of blood jetted high into the air as incompressible water was released from super-compacted matter, and the master snipers and their toys became crimson spatters in three windowed rooms and a rooftop.


    We all smiled in unison, and didn''t even break stride.


    This trick only worked once every six seconds, but it was the perfect tool for dealing with one-shot-kill snipers...


    We normally didn''t actively wield our Shields in melee combat, because their effect was just too steep and noticeable.


    We all had Greater Shield Focus, for +2 to the base +1 of a Shield. +3 AC.


    All our Shields were Psychic, the girls rated to +3, mine to +4. +6/7 AC.


    They were all Greater Soulbound, 4 Essence for +4 to AC. +10/11 AC.


    They were all Defiant to a specific type of foe, currently Elvar, +2 AC, +2 DR/- and Saves. +12/+13 AC.


    And naturally, all our Shields were Heavy Profound Weapons. Layered with Ki and charged with soulclaw power, they were 4-24 damage weapons when bashing, such damage capable of manifesting as blunt, slashing, or piercing, as per Versatile UA with a Profound Weapon.


    Bashing made them a size Larger, so 6-36 damage... the kind of impact that would slaughter a cow with one hit, before any other modifiers.


    But, oh, they had the Psychic modifier for Weapons, too, to +3/4. And Bane to Elvar, +2, and Enmity/Evil, +2, and Greater Soulbound Weapons, another 4 Essence for +4, totaling +11/+12 to hit and damage.


    And Defender, allowing us to convert all that bonus to hit and damage to +AC... which we constantly did for ranged attacks, since we weren''t fighting in melee with them.


    The Gem of Missile Warding gave us another +5 against ranged attacks, and hooked into the Defender power synergistically.


    So, the girls were +28 against all ranged attacks directed at us, and I was +30, with an auto-deflect and return to sender once every six seconds.


    This was tacked onto our Dex bonus to AC of at least +15, a Wisdom bonus to AC of the same level, and Nymph''s Grace giving us Charisma to AC Deflection bonus based on level, so +5 for them, +6 for me, so long as we weren''t wearing armor or restrictive clothing, i.e. looking good. Oh, and the +7 Dodge bonus for Armor Mastery and Elusive Soul pumped up.


    They were trying to hit an AC of 52 in a universe where hitting stuff in the 20-30 range was considered pretty exceptional. Tacking on our Shields put us in the range of 80, effectively rendering us unhittable without some absolutely monstrous assistance on the side of our foes.


    Then they still had to get past DR 33/-, 43/Holy Silver, because the Force Armor from our Bracers stacked with a whole lot of Natural Armor for additional DR on top of our Crystal Shield Technique, and that lovely Lilithi DR stacked on top of that. Nog flowmetal skin for fun and crackers!


    The weapons of the future were murderously powerful, enabling low-Level folks to fight monstrously powerful opponents, glass cannons in the truest sense... but they still weren''t equipped to deal with high-Level Ranthas and the stacking defenses we were employing.


    Even if they were drow.


    ------


    Playing with spatial dimensions was never a good thing for the long-term, but towering arrogance in their own weird science meant the drow kept at it for the Heart of Blood. In truth, it was better than a pocket dimension, at least, and since it was continually being reinforced by the lives and souls of the hapless dead, the Heart itself was actually pretty strong structurally.


    However, there was a lot of death here, and it called out to the Warp like a very loud siren song. There were many, many layers of Interdiction harmonized to the outside space here, and still there were occasional Warp manifestations, demons ripping through into the heart of such excitement to add to the thrill and danger for the crowd. With a little sabotage and timing, such excursions could actually get rather big in size, and a major incursion might even break the Wards of the Heart and spill out into the city proper, where they''d be run off into the slums to engage in mutual slaughter with the low-lifes there until they all died, while the nobles and wealthy watched and applauded the show.


    That there would be Warp incursions during a Grand Celebration was basically a given, and much anticipated. That demons wouldn''t abide by the arena rules and would probably use Warp Sorcery, psychic attacks, and ranged combat was simple spicy entertainment for the crowd.


    We could only be prepared for it, and it wasn''t exactly something we were worried about. The Portal would be suppressed as rapidly as possible, or the demons would start breaking through the Barrier protecting the seats and threaten the spectators.


    ------


    The tunnels were dark, which was irrelevant, and smelled of the circulatory fluids of a lot of different beings, some sentient, some not. There was a huge psychic aura of bloodlust and fear, which the drow were breathing in like a drug, which it probably was to some of them.


    We had been assigned to a fighting group consisting of aliens who had come here willingly, mercenaries and soldiers down on their luck with nothing else to do, other up and coming eager new fools, and an assortment of others condemned to fight here and if they lived whatever minor offense they''d given to whoever had put them here would be forgiven.


    Given the numbers out there, the odds of any one of them surviving the scrum about to come was .01% or less. They really thought highly of themselves here.


    We were the only breshkt in the mix, although not the only women. Of course, the women were usually bladewitches who''d been kicked out of their covens for failure or increasing instability, or some mercs who looked like those at the bottom of a big pit of despair.


    Celestia calmly led the way, and these hardened gladiators and duelists, butchers and murderers, got the hell out of her way and ours as we strode towards the way out.


    The position of honor was leading this group, however scummy it was, up out of the pits. There looked to be some hulking cybered urgobs and a crew of drow mercs facing off over it, and nobody else seemed to be in the mood to contest them for the position.


    We came up behind the urgob as the fighters of all the races shifted back, sensing a good show coming, reached up, grabbed, and yanked.


    Four urgobs went sailing back past us, nearly a thousand pounds of oversized goblin, hefty power armor, and mechanical upgrades, crashing into the wall hard and almost clocking a few of the idiots who didn''t get out of the way in time. The biggest of them whirled around, got caught by the elbow, and Jensa and Keva grabbed his legs and heaved him into the middle of his buddies expressionlessly as he yowled.


    All four of us straightened up and glared at the drow mercs in the sleek black armor, who tensed up as we met their eyes.


    "Fuck off or draw weapons," Celestia hissed, and their purple skins mottled with unhealthy pale shades.


    "You think you can just come in here and take the lead position?" challenged the leader of the mercs, trying really hard not to grimace and show his fear.


    "We will take this lead position if we have to butcher every single creature in this room," Celestia replied without batting an eye. "Draw and die, or yield."


    There was absolutely no way what she had just said was not going to happen. She was cold as ice, cold as steel, cold as the void. Trying to face down someone like her was like trying to spit into a hurricane of ill will.


    They didn''t look happy, but they also had absolutely no wish to fight the all-black breshkt with the glowing blue eyes, for some odd reason.


    There was a bellow from the big yellow-furred goblin in his clunker suit as he noisily got back to his feet.


    Jensa and I lazily looked backwards as he flexed his big ol'' power claws and was about to fire them up. "Oh, you want to do this with weapons?" I asked, and green fire the exact hue of goblin blood came up around our hands, forming into arcing claws extending four inches past our fingers.


    Whatever nonsense the brute was going to say died in his throat. He looked at the banefires attuned to his race, and even if the didn''t know what they were, images of burning blood of his people and subtle images of slaughter were calling to him that those were not something he wanted to deal with right now.


    His growls to his companions were low. Sure, he hated us, felt humiliated, and wanted to kill us. But he didn''t think he could do it now, and so it wasn''t the time. There would always be time in the arena.


    The thunder began above, a combination of the footsteps and voice of the people, and the rise of the subsonics designed to stir bloodlust.


    Our swords dropped into our hands together, and began to Sing.


    All heads turned at the somehow ominous, yet calm interplay of notes, cancelling out the influence from above, and defusing tensions threatening to erupt into violence in the room. Any conversation died away as the killers here listened to the Swords making music, and said nothing.

 Chapter 450 - Far Future Ch. 160 – Words to the Unwise

    "You are probably all going to die."


    It was drow, but they all had translators, or they wouldn''t be here. Heads rose, locked on me as I spoke coldly, clearly.


    "You are fighting swarms and hordes, which move with one purpose, one mind. You are fighting units of soldiers of multiple races, who know that they can trust the person next to them, units of cyborgs linked and operating as teams. And in return, you are all individuals who cannot trust those next to you to kill you as you fight another."


    The dread and unease of the song wound at the nerves. Everyone grimaced who could, and the emotionless sorts looked thoughtful and wary.


    "You are not good enough to make it to the end. If you make it to the top one thousand, it will be a miracle.


    "When merely ten thousand are left alive, the gladiators of the Heart of Blood, the greatest masters of the drow arenas, the post-Ten slaughterers who have killed a dozen or thousands more of your kind more talented and skilled then you, will enter the arena, because only then will there be any challenge to them at all.


    "They are better than you are, and they do not fear death. They know how you all fight, they know where you are weak, and they are Geared to kill you. If you kill them, they download into a Vatted-clone prepared for them, perhaps laughing at their bad luck.


    "Everyone you see around you is not your enemy." Grunts and various other sounds of surprise. "Your goal is the top thousand, because that is the only way you are leaving alive. If you want to die, then feel free to kill everyone and anyone.


    "But if you want to survive to there, you have to kill the master gladiators of the Heart of Blood.


    "Over one million killing machines, sentients, beasts, and swarm-kind are going to be entering the arena. Killing off 99% of them is just so those thousand drow might have a few moments of excitement before they butcher all of you, and then tussle with one another... the only real contestants.


    "You are all merely sacrifices and momentary entertainment, nothing more. The prizes you seek, the glory you will gain... there is none of that. To get to the top thousand, members of those top gladiators must be killed. If you fear being stabbed in the back, none of you are going to make it there. None.


    "We will make this one concession to all of you. We will not initiate an attack on any of you. If we are at your back, you have nothing to fear from us. If we are at your front, nothing is going to get past us, but watch your sides. If we are at your sides, hold your own and pray you hold long enough.


    "You are not our targets, because when the masters come, everyone else is a victim. They are the ones who must die, if any of us wish to enter the thousand.


    "You are not going out into a gladiatorial duel. You are going out into carnage and massacre, nothing more, nothing less. And when the weak have been winnowed out and the strong are tired from doing so, the masters will come to reap you all.


    "I will not wish you luck, because there is no luck out there, the Warp has eaten it all. There is only strength and skill and speed and endurance. Kill the swarms, kill the hordes, kill the beasts, and kill any who seek to kill you... but save your best for the masters, because they are definitely going to kill you all otherwise."


    And I fell silent, and the smells of fear of a score of races began to wind through the air. Quiet words were spun, eyes met, heads nodded, and if there could be no understanding, positions began to shift subtly, as those who could trust one another that far moved closer, and had buffers in between them.


    "You think you will survive to the top thousand?" the drow mercenary captain spoke up with a sneer.


    "Every master who comes in late is a Coven Mistress or Bloodsister or better, a Sect Elder, Champion, or Master, or the Champion or most elite members of a noble house. You are not the equal of any of them, and you dared walk into this arena, thinking you would survive?" I shot back, and his mouth clamped shut, glaring at me. "We are the only ones in this room who have a chance of beating them, and for each one we do, one person in this room might live to join the thousand. Pray we live to kill as many as we can, coinblade!"


    His narrow features twisted, but he didn''t dispute the fact. If he could beat any one of them, he would be a Warlock or Noble Champion or a Noble himself, not a mercenary captain.


    Our four Swords hummed a grim melody, resting and wary, gathering strength, and despite themselves, the attitude of those in the room settled into poised readiness, throwing away the tension and stress and contemplating what had to be done to survive.


    And so, we waited, not moving, breathing silently, and letting the stress flow out through our Swords, ready for the time to come.


    -----------


    There was thunderous applause, amplified bloodthirsty cheers, grandiose music designed to get the heart racing, laden down with pheromones and psychic waves of bloodthirstiness.


    Our Swords Sang, and everyone behind us was literally preternaturally calm.


    They were watching us from cameras, without a doubt, and had doubtless expected there to be more then a few fights and killings before the games even started. Perhaps we unnerved them a little? It didn''t really matter, the slaughterfest was coming, and it was all moot.


    The great double doors opened to the bright (for Gloom) yet wan lighting outside, and the roar of the crowd was like alien thunder.


    Without hesitation, we started forwards.


    The goblins and drow snarled at one another, and then ended up walking out side by side, or they''d fall behind us. The rest strode, stalked, slithered, trundles, crept, crawled, lumbered, marched, and rattled out behind us, and if the watching crowd was somewhat intrigued by the remarkably disciplined order being shown by mere outlander gladiators, it was only worth eyebrows raised in amusement.


    After all, we were all going to die, anyways.


    All four Swords ¨C Chalice, Chill, Hawk, and Flair ¨C were Singing in low, constant harmony, the wash of them spreading across nigh unto a thousand gladiators behind us, staving off the psychic wash and even acting against the psychochemicals in the air. The killers behind us were not calm, per se, but they were level-headed, aware, and alert, dancing on the edge of a knife... and not immersed in bloodthirst as they were supposed to be.


    "Slaughter the weak, avoid the strong. Get the counts down to ten thousand, and leave as many strong for the Masters coming down as you can. The more strong there are to kill them, the more of you will live to the end," my voice drifted back to all of them.


    There were naturally other forces being disgorged onto the circles, valleys, hills, and rifts made out of this arena. There were a couple gorges spanned only by rope-webs or narrow beams, shallow ponds and lakes, open area killzones, plenty of places to work with terrain, including blocks and stones placed here and there to fight around, impromptu walls, arches and columns... just all sorts of things.


    We couldn''t see everything, the local area was too broken up to allow long distance sight. Still, we could see umbvar and drow in their own areas, the glitter of some race using cybertech at ten o''clock, and that play of colors looked like goblins organized by hobgoblins...


    "We''ll be heading to the right for the goblins," my low voice carried to everyone, and the urgobs behind us didn''t even flinch. The weak were the weak here. "Mind the drow from the left flank if you tarry behind. The games will start when they unleash the hordes."


    The announcer was talking about grand glory and spectacle and great rewards and honor in the greatest arena in the galaxy, and you had to know the language well to catch the mockery underlying all of it. Everyone was just sacrifices and victims, puppets dancing for their entertainment, they just didn''t know it...


    Vibrations began to rumble through the ground. Here and there, pits began to open in the ground, and the true cages were opened. Deep, deep roars and growls, of incredibly angry and very powerful creatures, began to sound out, and underneath them was the scuttling, chittering, and calling, of many, many creatures moving with one purpose, one mind.


    Bells rang in terrible brazen clangor, and as the first cellulocust raced out of the underpits on thorn-claws and tendril legs from a ramp a hundred paces away, the killing time began.


    ------


    Every single force on the field had at least one swarm, horde, or pack of powerful creatures come streaming out of the ground near them. If they couldn''t win against such simple creatures, how could they possibly endure to the thousand?


    Cellulocusts were plant-based hive-minds, and didn''t give a fig about rules of the arena. So, they had thorn-launchers shooting poisoned ammunition, poison on just about all of their claws and hides, poison spore clouds being launched, poisonous ichor spraying when they died, and just to top it all off, more than a little bit of acid use, too.


    If you had skin exposed and unfiltered breathing, you were going to die. If their claws broke your flesh and armor, you better have anti-poison somethings, or you were going to die.


    They had tendril lashers and winged things that exploded like grenades among us, and everything had spikes and thorns. These creatures were totally living weapons, and they headed right for us, looking for some fertilizer to plant seeds at psychically-accelerated rates and obey their prime directives, while looming tree-like carnovines with lots of limbs loomed up and studied the situation all around, directing their minions out into combat, while we eyed the explosive acid-grenades growing on its limbs suspiciously.


    That being said, the four of us didn''t consider them much of a threat. Only the strongest of them were using psionic armor-breaking attacks, so they literally couldn''t hurt us as we drove into them, and executed Cleave Trains.


    Keva had won herself a Title as The Cyclone for her ceaseless pursuit of advanced Whirlwind Attack techniques, which naturally involved being able to spin around as fast as possible while cutting through everything as fast as possible while you did. It required great predictive ability, incredible balance, an ability to not get disoriented and still move quickly while cutting and killing through everything.


    It also looked a lot nicer than the wildly violent juking back and forth of Cleave Trains chasing whatever cluster was nearest, in favor of just moving ahead and chewing through everything in range as you did.


    We blew a swathe of sap and poison spray through the leaf-mantids, cone beetles, thorn-locusts, and spore-flies. Crackling electrical fields of variant Phoenix Cloaks dealt with the smallest twig-wasps and petal-bees trying to swarm in on us, while Swarmbane ripped great swathes through the thick clouds of them. Banefire to Plants blazed on the dead, Blooding made sure they didn''t mend up, and Shadowfire fed on their phrenic energies and sucked in their lives greedily.


    The people behind us didn''t have it so good, being attacked in ways and means they hadn''t expected. Dozens fell as the bees and wasps swarmed over them, biting and stinging, as they had no local AoE swarm defenses. Idiots without breath filters choked and died as fungi, moss, and grasses erupted inside their lungs and expanded out their orifices. Those without armor were poisoned by some truly exotic stuff, and started bleeding out their pores, were paralyzed to the point of being unable to breathe, started melting from the inside, or perhaps got implanted and got to watch new cellulocusts sprout and devour them from within, growing madly as they did so...

 Chapter 451 - Far Future Ch. 161 – Blood, Sap, Ichor, Oil, and Other Sanguine Fluids

    The exploding puff-mouths and lilly-flies were also very unwelcome, especially when we weren''t allowed to bring ranged weapons in, for pain of death.


    Swords that could throw Sharding attacks against foes using their own ranged attacks were one of those corner cases, however. Smart people had things like returning knives, overlong whips, or throwing spikes to hurl and detonate those kinds of things ahead of time, and of course when our Shards ripped into a cloud of the things and detonated them, sending off a chain-reaction, that was much appreciated.


    That said, those who were prepared did pretty well for themselves. They weren''t here because they were pushovers, after all.


    The urgobs were laying about themselves with power claws and stomping feet, the alchemic treatment on their armor denying the acidic, letting out electrical discharges when the cellulocusts attempted to swarm them.


    The drow had sealed up their carapace armor and were moving with lithe speed and grace, blades with monomolecular and fractal edges being deployed, along with monofilament whips and boomeranging blades. Iron-hard bark shells and coverings were sliced clean through, and severed pieces of cellulocusts littered the area they passed through.


    Behind those two, a mi-go with six artificial limbs was a cross-cutting buzzsaw, while some humans in power armor were hacking with rotary saw-chakras flitting around them, wielding oversized axes and blades in artificial fists with speed and energy. Reptoids lashed out with glowing, rune-enhanced teeth, claws, and tails, their scales defying the attacks of their enemies, while cyborgs moved with mechanical speed and precision, tearing the ''locusts into cloying chaff and sawdust, ripping, cutting, piercing, and tearing as fast as possible, moving from one, two, and three targets at a time, on to the next...


    It was a savage show and melee, and nobody was immune to it. The ''locusts scuttled to surround everyone, and clambered right over those in front to get at those in the back, while the flying ones simply centered on where any clusters were. It was cut and hack and stab without end, moving from enemy to the next, no stopping if you wanted to live.


    Nobody beat our kill-totals though, as the four of us chewed through the scuttling scenery, bathed in syrup, sap, poison, acid, slime, and other ichors of various types, to no effect on us. Our kill totals climbed as we ripped through the waves of the weakest with abandon, circles of violence that left nothing alive behind us.


    Bush and shrub-sized second-tier ''locusts leapt forwards to engage us. The first one hit Celestia, and was Hewed and Finished before it got a strike off, the two behind it freezing in shock despite supposedly having no fear. The first one that hit Jensa got popped precisely in its nexal network, Banefire ravaged the decentralized cells, and it dropped as she continued right on by. The first one to come up on Keva in her Whirlwind Dance got six different limbs chopped off with Improved Sunder before she opened it up vertically, and with a backfist sent it spinning and slamming into its fellow... who she promptly proceeded to buzzsaw through in the same way.


    I channeled my Inner Briggs (who was watching and laughed heartily) and charged my trio.


    Chalice was inserted in the one on the right, energies ripping through its nexal network to kill it. My hand went into the second, ignoring the toxicity of its fluids and how steely-hard its bark was supposed to be. The third one I rammed my head into, cracking and shattering its carapace as razored limbs clawed at my back and sides, and acidic venom spewed all over me. I pumped my legs and carried all three of the things back, crushing everything that got under them with my feet coming down like steel spikes, or plowing them out and away as I brought my arms together and cracked their bodies even more.


    Countless ''locusts crunched, cracked, and splorted beneath my feet, or were smashed out and away as I covered the distance to the looming mothertrees in command of them all, all of them turning photoreceptors my way to watch me.


    I blowed through the tertiary line, literally ramming the shrub-slayers into a gourd-beetle the size of a van, hooking Chalice right through the pulped remains of her victim to impale its head and eject a cellulose-ravaging Shard through its innards as I let go of everything, and sent gourd-beetle and battle-shrubs flying away from me.


    One of the mothertrees flicked a fruit grenade at me.


    Jensa''s Shard streaked overhead and caught it ten feet from the release point. Blunt damage blew the fruit apart, and the concussion effect caught the nearest fruit on the mothertree, while acidic poison goo sprayed everywhere with hissing, organics-eating strength. It seemed the fruit needed to be primed, which was probably done through internal chemicals just before throwing, so it only popped apart instead of exploding as we were hoping... but while the mothertree''s resins dealt with the acid, and its limbs merely swayed in the explosion, those ''locusts underneath and around it were still hissing and burning under the impact of the fruit''s chemicals.


    I lifted Chalice at the mothertrees, as the ''locusts paused all around me, sitting there unharmed while all their poisons and acids dripped off me. Tattooed Whiskers hissed into existence on my cheeks. "Only a thousand will live. Kill the weak, and wait for the drow masters to descend. You have to kill them if you wish to live."


    Sure, they were plants and a hivemind. Maybe they could understand normal speech, maybe not. But the Whiskers of the Wild made sure they knew exactly what I was saying.


    The mothertrees shifted slightly, as if looking at one another, then out over the battlefield where their minions were dying much, much faster than the fleshy and mechanical opponents they were fighting were, where my girls were chewing up the second tier, and I had butchered part of the third without any trouble.


    Silently, making no attempt at a reply by any of the various means, the cellulocust swarm turned away, and as they did, the entire ''locust swarm abruptly retreated and flowed after them, to the amazement of those following us. They even made very wide and careful paths around me and the girls.


    If only one of the mothertrees lived, that was enough for the locusts. But that probably wasn''t going to happen if they continued engaging with us. They would have to spend all their minions to reduce the counts enough, and then hope to survive.


    I ignored the cellulocusts as I turned to the right, started that way, and the ''locusts parted around me and the girls as we glided in that direction. "Goblins!" I called out, and my ki-laden voice was clearly heard by those fighting behind me.


    -Jensa, you locate that Marquis yet?- I /inquired idly.


    -Yeah, he''s up in the second tier seats at two o-clock from where we started.- That was clear across the arena from our starting point, but Masks of Clarity are nice that way, especially paired with eyes like hers.


    I had to know where to get to when I got out of here, after all. We had learned that he was dealing with Noble House Koilhettreo, and indeed was delivering cyber-augmented death warriors for these games. He was probably personally intending to inspect the performance of his creations, and get either recommendations or assessments from his buyer for the next batch.


    As a noble house, House Koilhettreo naturally controlled several frequently-used Portals; a couple sized for ships, and others much smaller and used for raiding, supplementing the main ship Portals. More than likely, it maintained a base, a pirate-town on some unknown world, where the Marquis was currently parked with his vessel.


    My goal was going to be following him through that Portal and onto that ship, as it was highly doubtful I''d find any kind of usable Portal elsewhere in a reasonable amount of time. Any wild Portal we found was liable to be on the other side of the Rift, or on some barren rock nobody visited. The odds of finding one on an Imperial world were very small, and one on an important Imperial world where things could get done, even smaller.


    It wasn''t going to stop us from adding everything on Gloom we could to The Map, of course, but those were all long-term plans, expanding our intelligence. At some point, we were going to co-opt the Gloom, and not really care if the elvar races didn''t approve of it. The hyn population here was not large, but recruiting any Void Brothers made the whole mapping process move much, much faster...


    ---


    The terrain about us was slowly shifting, creating easy pathways to the next fight the owners of the Arena wanted to see, while not exactly stopping us from going after the goblins.


    And since it made it easier for those targets to come after us...


    Another scuttling swarm was coming our way. More feelers, fewer tendrils, no leaves or stalks...


    "We''ve got incoming Kundi!" I snarled out for the benefit of the gladiators behind us. The insectile hordemind was known across the galaxy, different Swarms with different color schemes, all of them voracious, implacable, and mindlessly violent. The cheering section in Markspace was already diving to identify the color schema of pale green, red, and black, and not finding any exact matches for any spaceborn Swarms, although there had been records of some unleashed on some hapless planets here and there without warning...


    Huh, confirmation that the drow had been developing their own strain of Kundi as a dump-and-forget bioweapon... sounded like a favor that should be returned, although letting the Kundi loose in Gloom was likely self-defeating, although how they''d adapt against the shadow-dwellers would be interesting. Most likely they''d be a huge snack...


    They insectile Swarm used somewhat less poison then the cellulocusts did, but had more phrenic forms wielding disparate forms of psychic energy, particularly psychic stingers, pincers, and mandibles which could rend steel. They also had psychically reinforced musculature and carapaces so they could stand upright, and the first oversized winged ones were flying in our direction.


    There was no sign or warning, but the Null Interdiction went out, and the incoming swarm of oversized hornet-like bugs fell to the ground haplessly, unable to support their weight on their bloody gossamer wings without the support of some psychic levitation or anti-grav. Their beetle-like cousins on the ground led the way, the infamous high pedipalps of their kind poised to punch and pierce down, while they spat acid at the unlucky.


    Not having to fear the fliers made things easy. Those in acid-resistant power armor took the lead.


    "Their carapaces are resistant to slashing attacks, you want to cut and pierce their blood vessels and get them bleeding inside, they will die very quickly to their acid if their flesh is bruised. If you have a blunt weapon, this is the time to use it! Focus on their limb joints, joins, and skulls... and if you have a big enough club, just crush them!


    "The spidery ones are the guards and can attack with four limbs! Those are the ones which might have optional energy attacks!


    "As for the little ones scuttling on the ground, they need to be crunched and they can nip off your legs, so don''t underestimate them! They all count towards the thousand, so kill them all!"


    Big heavy weapons weren''t very useful in dueling situations, but for clearing hordes and swarms of weak things, they worked just fine. Some of the more cyberized fighters swapped in heavy hammers or polemaces for their limbs, and began laying into the Kundi in carapace-crunching and bug-flinging glory. Smart people crowded in on their flanks, stabbing out with precise thrusts, especially at anything attacking the big guys down low.


    Bug squealed and died. The carapaces of the insects, and their psi-charged digging pedipalps, were incredibly tough, but if their acidic blood leaked, it caused cascading internal damage which would literally eat them away from the inside out. That was good, because energy attacks of other kinds on them tended to be very ineffective. You crushed them, or you stabbed them, and anything else just didn''t work that well.


    As for us, our Swords were Heavy Weapons, and we could change the damage type. Blunt damage it was, and ten kilo bars of crushing impacts combined with a very sharp point when needed slammed back and forth between kundi like crushing maces.


    ==========


    Author''s Note: Kundi are based on the Olthoi from Asheron''s Call, a now-defunct MMORPG, the third big one to exist.

 Chapter 452 - Far Future Ch. 162 – Chase the Bugs Off, And Now it’s Goblins...

    We were often operating above the kundi swarm, dancing on their heads and shells, stabbing and crushing down into them, as often as we were on the ground. Just crushing their lower legs would send them falling haplessly down to be crushed or impaled by those coming in behind us, screaming, shouting, and following the siren songs of our Swords, promising them that they could kill anything.


    The first noble showed up, ran into Jensa, and when an eight-foot arcing pincer came stabbing down, the psi-charged chitin slid right alongside her face, down the length of her body, and as the noble leaned down for the follow-up, Hawk punched right up into its acid-spewing mouth and out the back of its head, banefire shredding it internally and doing the rest.


    I crushed the skulls of two of its guards, bouncing from one to the next, while Celestia actually reached out, grabbed another guard''s skull as she parried its top two pincers with Chill, raised a foot to hold its left middle claw back, and the right side claw pinged harmlessly off her Buckler, Out. Chitin crunched, and she whipped it up and over and backwards with quite improbable strength for her build.


    Two powerfists slammed together on its slender midsection in midair, voltage crackled and it literally blew apart in an acidfest as one of the urgobs happily played pattycake with it, laughing in glee at the show.


    The Queen, in her huge, spider-like form, was looming at the back, watching everything, some dangerously quick and graceful noble guards gathered around her, watching as we ripped through the swarms of her children so fast.


    No, this wasn''t a good day for the Kundi.


    "You!" I balanced on the heads of two Kundi, stomping down on one and cracking it open, as I pointed at the Queen. "Only one thousand get to live! Kill the weak, and wait for the drow masters to come, and you might live... or die here and now!"


    Bugs were a higher lifeform then plants, and the Whiskers of the Wild had no problem getting them to understand.


    Six razored limbs caressed one another as soulless eyes stared at me, thinking, and the Queen let out a trilling squeal on the audible, psychic, and olfactory levels.


    Like the cellulocusts before them, the swarm obeyed instantly, dropping their fights and withdrawing in a wave as the killers behind me watched, scuttling off as the powerful Kundi moved off with predatory grace to find others to fight who were weak.


    Almost fifteen percent of those behind me were dead, mostly the weakest, the dumbest, or the poorest, none of whom were prepared for the kind of fighting they were dealing with. Everybody was banged up by now, oozing various blood, oil, ichors, and whatnot, and self-repairs and synthflesh were being applied, along with crushed healing crystals and bandages, if nothing else.


    After all, everyone had to live.


    Keva raced up a hundred foot-slope that hadn''t been there half an hour ago, and looked around. Our path was laid out instantly.


    "Slaughter specialists to the front, tanks behind them, infighters guard the tanks! If you think you''re fast, follow the frozen sword!"


    Celestia immediately took off in a certain direction. Various creatures who though they were fast afoot or awheel peeled off after her, sensing some excitement about to happen.


    "Let''s go! The goblins are just over there!" And I resumed trotting, while shattered carapaces and piles of dead Kundi were kicked out of the way, and the gladiators shifted around, the multi-limbed specialists with multiple attacks moving to the forefront, while those in the heaviest armor assembled behind, Keva and Jensa cursing anyone who made a fuss viciously enough that their auditory organs might start bleeding.


    ------


    There were a lot of Goblins. It was basically a full army of them, in standard triple array.


    Hordes of the little green ones, with hooked knives and spiked clubs, attacking in clusters, going for joints and dragging things down by dint of numbers, eager to fight and not really aware they might die, ready to expire and have fun doing it.


    They were the job of the slaughter specialists, who scythed through them like wheat, limbs ripping and flaying, green blood flying and organs spraying as goblins went down in droves. The tanks were behind them, wading through any numbers passing the butchers, breaking their rush, sweeping back and forth, and the infighters guarded their flanks and prevented them from being toppled, leaving few openings for the goblins to race back into the ranks behind...


    With the wave assault broken and scattered, the elite gladiators had no problem dispatching them one after another, callously and coldly killing them with minimal fuss and muss. Every one of them was starting to feel the grind and weight of the fighting now, and realized there was going to be precious little rest at all. This was not a place where they could rest between battles. If they tried to, they were only setting themselves up as the weak, and they would become the centerpoint of multiple forces as the arena shifted around us.


    This would have been a much different fight if ranged weapons were involved, as even primitive goblin flamers were nasty enough when firing in the thousands. Alas, they only had basic weapons, perhaps electrified, some vibroknives, nothing to speak of.


    Now, the hobgoblins in formation behind them were wielding disruption pikes, lightning spears, and vibro-axes, wearing carapace armor, and moving in formation. Buttressing them were dozens of urgobs in power armor... not as developed as those urgobs with us, but definitely no pushovers, and their weapons were crackling with lightning and fires and pure psychic power to bolster them.


    There was no hesitation whatsoever in the urgobs with us to get to the fight, as intertribe warfare between gobbers was anything but unheard of... and the weak had to die if the strong were going to live.


    The tanks smashed into the disciplined lines of the hobgoblins, sweeping aside their polearms, taking the hits, opening up gaps... and the infighters poured in, widening those holes, and the other gladiators raged inside, turning the fight into a swarming melee the Goblins had no way of winning.


    Celestia came over a hill on their flank even as the urgobs were surging to the front, and with a scream that nearly made a thousand goblins faint in pure horror, she was plowing into them, followed by the gasping strikers trying to keep up with her as she began to rip through the gobs in green spray and frozen body parts.


    I didn''t tell them to flee this time, I just butchered all that came within reach, including two urgobs surprised Chalice could punch through their face plates and cut off their arms. Hobgoblin officers with their toothed scimitars went down with ripping speed, and I was covered head to toe with green gore as I killed and killed and killed as fast as possible, green banefire wreathing me as a figure of terror to the goblins as they died around me.


    ---


    The slaughter continued until almost all the goblins were dead.


    Seven urgobs and three hobgoblin officers were all that were left, crowded together and looking at the hundreds of green-splattered killers around them.


    The urgob chief with us clomped forwards, looming over them, clearly bigger, stronger, and more terrible then any of them, the new gouges and scrapes on his power armor only making him look that much more formidable.


    His gashed, crude helm hissed up, and he glared... not at the urgobs, but at the surviving hobgoblin officer with the crackling power scimitar, the mark of an elite, and probably the chieftain of this tribe.


    "You wanna live?" he snarled in a gnarled, coarse voice... in Goblin, of course.


    Hot yellow eyes glanced over at me and my girls. We''d all killed at least one urgob apiece, and treated hobgoblin officers like training dummies. Of course, the cybered guys with spinning saw blades and crackling power weapons all around weren''t unimpressive, either.


    "Yes," he acceded, and whistled sharply. The surviving Goblins all turned smartly to the urgob, and power armor or no, knelt to him, doffing helms and helmets to do so.


    He hur-hurred in satisfaction, then spun to look at me, slitted eyes both challenging and inquiring.


    He''d seen us fight. If we wanted them to die, there was no way he could stop me.


    "When there are ten thousand left, the drow masters come to join the fun. There will be one thousand of them." They all blinked at me when I spoke in Goblin, and with an accent that made their hackles rise. "If any of you want to live, you need to kill the weak until only ten thousand are left, and then you need to kill the drow masters." I met each of their yellow eyes in turn, and they squirmed as if I was leaning on them with a sharp weapon. "You will not make the thousand if the drow masters are not dead.


    "If you fight with us, you kill the weak until the ten thousand, and then you kill the drow masters. Have no fear that we will turn on you to make the final thousand, because the masters will make sure that doesn''t take too long."


    My smile was merciless, and the goblins all swallowed.


    "Mechanites!" Jensa called out from where she had swarmed up a nearby hill.


    Everyone swore. The purely mechanical drones were a particularly unpleasant foe to fight.


    I specifically eyed three members of our forces. "You three, you have EMP capability?" I snapped off. They all looked surprised that I had noticed, but only hesitated a second. "Move to that high ground! Everyone who is cybered, prepare to switch off electronics, and prepare to reboot! Cluster, there, there, there, there!" I pointed, and the cyborgs of various sorts moved despite themselves. "Everyone else, prepare to sprint into the mass when the mechanites freeze! You run for ten seconds, then you kill everything around you! Shatter all power cores!"


    One hulking eight-limbed human cyborg with a blister ring, the urborg chief, and a half-reptilian, half-mechanical saurial all raced for high ground where the EMP pulses would carry further. The cyborgs would be absolutely vulnerable, as would those in power armor, after the pulses went off, so only teamwork was going to be important here.


    Nobody was much confident of their chances without the EMP, including the cyborgs. The mechanites'' arrays of adamant armor and weapons, kinetic fields, and disrupting limbs were going to be hell to deal with.


    I aligned Chalice to Construct-killing, as did the girls, and everyone clutched their Power Weapons or adamant blades if they had them, cursing under their breath.


    The lancers came out in front of the scuttling horde of manrippers, four-limbed things with lance points and power fields about them, sure to break lines and scatter mere creatures of flesh. The cyborg units with the highest defense waited to greet them, as we had to kill them to get the greatest number of the hound-like, saw-limbed rippers down in range.


    Me and the girls slid out to meet them, shifting this way and that, pseudo-living AI seeing only blurred images with Vampire''s Veil cloaking us, and we sheered through legs like butter, spilling them over to crash and be carved up by those behind. One, two, three, four, six... the impacts behind us were horrendous, machines having no concept of saving their bodies, shrieking metal and flesh creatures tangled together, some caught, held, entangled by whips, bolas, tendrils, or the like, and being hacked and impaled in a frenzy.


    "Wait for it..." I held up my sword, Chalice burning with an oily light now, capable of chewing through adamant like tofu at the moment. The racing, synchronous gaits of the bounding manrippers, eyes flashing, sparks flying between their teeth, saw-blade ''wings'' and points extending from their heads sliding out in unison to charge in as they poised for great leaps.


    I swept Chalice down to the right, and the reptile-man locked his claws to his perch, all the cybers powered down, and the EMP went off.

 Chapter 453 - Far Future Ch. 163 – Now, Let’s See Some Oil

    The shockwave of disruption dashed across the field, and even the holos broadcasting overhead fritzed for a moment before cameras out of range picked up the views from new angles.


    The charging manrippers locked up and folded over, crashing and tumbling. Four Swords rose in clarion unison, and we charged for ten seconds.


    That dispersed everyone the full length of the fighting field. I cleaved into power supplies and operating systems as I went by, since it didn''t slow me down, and drone bodies shrieked in protest and spurted oddly motile nanite-infused black sludge as they exploded open under Chalice''s edge.


    Ten seconds, and we were spread through over half the length of the dead manrippers that had charged us, as their systems strove to reboot, and the carnage began.


    Everyone killed everything all around them, and the more it twitched, the faster it died, spurting sparks and lubricants. Everyone had experience killing machines in fights by now, knew where to deduce operating systems and batteries were at, and they plowed in with psychic weapons, power blades, vibroknives, disruptors, lightning hammers... whatever worked to kill the manrippers as fast as possible.


    More of them came surging over the hill, ignoring the others of their kind twisting on the ground, moving with precision and agility over the twitching mechanites scattered over the ground, and this time more lancers, as well as crab-like scuttlers and rolling crushers were with them. If they happened to grind down some of their own as they came forward, or impale them on razored legs, it certainly didn''t bother them.


    "Five! Four! Three! Two! One! Fire Two!"


    The human cyborg and the urgob were on the ridgeline, using it for cover from the first EMP, and had advanced as far as they dared. The human''s defensive ring pulsed, and the EMP fired off, sweeping over this new flood of mechanites, and even if the heavier ones were insulated, they still shuddered and stopped for a few key breaths.


    The fastest and sharpest gladiators raced up to deal with the big ones that were the biggest threats. Jensa called out kill points on the scuttlers, crushers, and lancers sharply, and weapons plunged in to crush, cut, and make sure these creatures did not fire back up, as the rest of the force surged forward to try and kill as many manrippers and lancers as they could before they all got back up.


    That left the urgob, and we''d see if enlightened self-interest or a stupid gamble in his own skill would prod him more. The last of the mechanites were rolling forward to attack, the gore and sheen of sanguine fluids on them indicated that they''d already attacked something else and succeeded admirably.


    We didn''t have any living creatures with enough mass to contest the scuttlers or crushers in brawn, but there were still those who knew how to fight and lure just enough, and then pull back desperately as the last remnants of the mechanite force rolled, bounded, and skittered over the hill, ready to continue the killing.


    The girls and I made sure to kill at least one active mechanite of each kind, just to make sure we could, ripping through movement pulleys, cables, tension bars, and sockets to cripple their movement, weapon limbs flying off with sharp ringing protests of metal, and then ripping into them as Banefire, Crushing, Sundering, and Lightningphasing blew out their internal systems violently... and explosively, in a couple of cases.


    The third EMP came down, and the final rush of the mechanites stalled. The Rune-reptile man ended up closer to the command turtle, and heaved it up over on its side as it lay paralyzed. Before it could reboot, his glowing claws had torn into his command systems and shredded first its coms, then he was joined by Keva in tearing apart its decentralized processing before it could de-link, separate, and try to flee.


    The cyberized people rebooted as quickly as they could, while the rest of us shredded mechanites, and surrounded those that managed to recover, tearing off weapon limbs and mobility modes, upending them, and carving them open where needed.


    It was a not-bloody mess, but it was also over with remarkable speed.


    The cybers and power-armored guys rebooted, and came into motion again. The trio up high paused for a second before coming down, and...


    The blast of purple, pink, and puke-green fire soaring up to the southeast a quarter-mile away wasn''t missed by anyone.


    I looked down at the scattered, destroyed machines around us.


    "AXIOM EVENT INCOMING!" I bellowed out. "MOVE! MOVE! GET TO THE EDGE OF THE FIELD AND KILL THEM AS THEY TAKE THE MECHANITES! ALL CYBERS STAY OUT OF THE MANIFEST ZONE UNTIL THEY COME!"


    Curses in thirty languages arose as all the gladiators hurried back to where the cyber-types had just entered the ruined killzone, and were now hastily turning around and getting the Law out of it.


    Everyone knew what a Warp Event looked like. C''mon, we were in a drow city, and the Warp was on everyone''s minds here. Warp Events occurred everywhere, all the time, and you either fought them off, or you died.


    But we were sitting in the ruins of a high-tech AI dronemind, which was like perfect resonance for an opposition Axiom Event to occur.


    The shattered and carved remains of the mechanites around us began to twitch, and shift, and there was more swearing.


    "PREPARE TO KILL THEM AS THEY ASSEMBLE! KEEP MOVING!"


    If we just let this whole damn field of mechanites turn into Axiomatics, well, the girls and I would live, but anybody else''s chances were a coin flip at best.


    Robotic carcasses suddenly and mysteriously disassembled, fell apart, literally falling to pieces and losing all form around us. That didn''t stop the pieces from twitching and starting to move, converging...


    "PICK A POINT AND KILL IT!"


    Everybody split up as torrents of metal, plastic, ceramic, glass, crystal, neo-oils, and coolants whirled and spun and began to converge together in some new and strange forms, like Transformers, only powered by energies manifesting in opposition to the Warp.


    I didn''t want to know ¨C well, maybe I did ¨C what had spawned the Warp Event. Odds on it was a bunch of Warped who had just completed a massacre, but it could simply have been two forces mostly annihilating one another in a fest of gore, and somebody''s emotions just got too intense and prodded something opening. With all of the other deaths here concentrating things, it was inevitable, expected, and it added to the fun of the proceedings.


    The Axiomatics were as alien as the demons of the Warp in their own way, and while they would attack demons and the Warped before anything else, mortal creatures were imperfect and contaminated creatures, and they could find a dozen reasons to justify slaughtering us, from the fact not everyone was right-handed, to the numbers of hairs on our heads not being equal constituting justification for mass slaughter.


    Anyone who''d been around high tech near a Warp Event was naturally familiar with Axiom Events, and there was no hesitation in anyone proceeding to carve and crack and cripple while the Axiomatics were still taking form.


    One of the urgobs in power armor didn''t get out of the manifest zone in time, and his armor animated around him. Pulling in material from the shattered manrippers around it, it morphed and condensed, extending into the space occupied by the big hairy goblin. Tearing, ripping, and squeezing, green blood sprayed out of it like leaking coolant, bits and pieces of flesh and hide in the way were scattered in all directions like they came out of a blender, and bone became a convenient anchor to wrap in steel and after some cracking and reassembling, form a skeleton, while extruded urgob brains dripped down from its new shiny skull.


    That was, of course, before the hobgoblin chieftain''s power sword carved into it three pieces with double-handed swings, ripping it apart before it could fully manifest, and a Thunder Hammer blew its torso clean apart.


    This was, I noted, a unique opportunity to get Enmity: Law and Bane: Lawful Outsiders on Chalice. Axiom Events never occurred inside the Warp Zone, after all, which was where I''d gotten a tremendous amount of my Slaughter qualifications for Chalice. There were a lot of my girls who did have them, since they had done a lot of fighting near Warp Events which spawned Axiomatics in response, but not me.


    Naturally, I indulged. The nature of Slaughter and Magic Weapons meant I could only have three of the four opposed Alignments, and I certainly wasn''t going to pick up Enmity: Good, or Unholy anytime soon.


    These things were emotionless, but basically just as bad for mortal life as the Warped, however they tried to justify it. If all they did was kill the Warped, fine and dandy, Let Them Fight. Unfortunately, they were like the nadir of hyperconservative reactionary jerks, and if you didn''t meet their impossible standards, death was the only solution.


    So, we slaughtered them as they were manifesting without any reservations at all. Unfortunately, it was a big battlefield, and they were coming in all over it.


    "Node at the top!" Jensa pointed out for everyone, not that anyone could do anything about it.


    The primary Axiomatic was coming in atop the turtle-shell of the mechanite nodemind, steel crinking and protesting as it was adopting new forms, and technology bent and twisted into new paradigms and functions to serve absolute Law.


    "Count the limbs, count the limbs..."


    Axiomatics had weird forms, numbers based. The lowest order of them was flat, like cards, with slender, robotic arms and legs extending out from them, strange abstract faces on their card-bodies.


    The second tier was shaped like d4''s, four-sided pyramids, one limb from each vertex, an eye on each face, except the bottom which hovered along. Tier Three was cubes, while Four was four-point stars, the first of the true Axiomatics. Five looked like a starfish with legs, six looked like a humanoidish thing with a hexagonal head and spiked tail.


    Seven through Nine were the greater Axiomatics, and noted by their frills arranged in seven through nine-point halo-like polygons, and no connecting necks. They had a number of limbs equal to their ranks. Seven had four arms equally spaced around it, and a tripartite face with an extra eye in the ''front''; Eights added a tail tipped by a bludgeoning sphere, had heads like diamonds; and the Nines, so rarely seen as to be myths, had heads like crystal spheres, eight lesser spheres like a crown above them, and three tiers of three-fingered arms on their bodies.


    Nobody had ever seen a Ten, but since a Nine was equal to a Greater Warp Demon, that would be like getting an Avatar on site, and nobody was going to survive something like that.


    Diamond head formed of imperfect crystals melding and flowing together, steel forming the body out of armor plating, wires and struts meshing in to form a false body animated by Axiomatic energy from the fringes of the Warp...


    "Pull back, and point at the Warp flare!" I ordered, retreating and pulling back out of the manifest zone as scores of Axiomatics much larger than human size were forming in the area nobody was present in.


    I was confident of beating the shit out of an Eight or even a Nine Axiomatic, and sorely tempted to try my luck... but I had better things to do.

 Chapter 454 - Far Future Ch. 164 – A Taste of Axiom

    Crystalline streams of energy were flowing past us as the energy of the ones we''d slain on manifesting either dispersed or fed back to the ones behind us. Low-ranking Axiomatics were infused with the energy of their superiors and instantly promoted, a truly annoying ability. Cutting the head off of a group of Axiomatics just caused the next highest-ranking Axiomatic to self-promote to replace the one you just killed.


    This meant that Axiomatics had a reverse psychology attack strategy, attacking with the powerful ones foremost, and as they died, the lessers behind instantly promoted up to replace them... and not incidentally, got access to x/use a day powers instantly filled up. You could literally end up fighting an entire army of Greater Axiomatics promoted up from Cards if you were stupid about such things... or you wanted a whole lot of Karma...


    Ahem!...


    They probably weren''t happy to see we''d butchered so many of their own before we could manifest, but everyone was pointing in one direction, and with their multi-directional faces, the Axiomatics couldn''t help but look that way and focus on that big glaring plume of a Warp Breach rising there.


    That Octohedral floating there was spinning its diamond-shaped excuse for a head, palms and fingers making passes and signs as it surveyed the area and the arena, and deduced what was going on.


    A fight against us was pointless entertainment for the corrupted things watching all this. The threat level of me and my girls was indiscernible, which was all kinds of alarm bells for something that should be clocking in the 15-17 range.


    It had merely lost some of its minion-level creatures, as anything greater had been promoted up. The Warped would naturally slaughter all the lesser creatures as rapidly as possible to prevent promotions, so in the end it wasn''t truly a great loss.


    An Octohedral, two Hexagal lieutenants, four Pentals, eight Natals, and a few score Cubes. Against hundreds of us, and we''d already proven fast enough to kill over a hundred of them before they could fully manifest.


    Tinkling chimes in Axiom spread out, and the creatures turned in series, 6, 5, 4, and 3''s, and marched or glided after the Octohedral as it flew towards the Warp Breach.


    An Axiomatic manifestion was never more than half the strength of the Warp Event which brought it here... which still might be enough to win if the incoming demons were stupid and didn''t kill the low level Axiomatics first. Alas, not only had we killed many of them, this was an active breach, so demons would be pouring out into Gloom to contribute to the death and mayhem.


    So, that had to stop, or we were going to die by infinite Warp spawns. Ergo, this was an exercise in intelligence. Would all the fighting forces unite enough to deal with the Warped before they couldn''t be dealt with, or be swept away in turn?


    "After them! Keep them Cubes alive until they get promoted and can take care of themselves! Now that they are focused on the Warp, we aren''t in any danger from them."


    "We''re going towards the Warp?" the drow captain protested.


    "We go towards it now, or we wait until it''s an ocean and comes at us then! What do you prefer?!" I shot back, as the four of us started out after the fast-moving Axiomatics.


    The gladiators all grimaced. The Warp was not what they had signed up for here. Then again, they wanted to make it out alive, and these Axiomatics were going to be doing a lot of the fighting for them. This was indeed their best chance.


    "Eyes on the prize, chowderheads, eyes on the prize!" Nobody made any further protests as they hurried after us as we hurried after the Axiomatics.


    ------


    The Warp wasn''t that far away, we had good guides to follow, and the arena managers helpfully made the path more obvious even as we converged on it. A good Law vs Chaos conflict was something to see, after all.


    "Your job is to keep the Cubes and Stars alive!" I told the gladiators. "The girls and I will be dealing with anything stronger that wants to mess with us or them!"


    And I... would be shutting down that open Warp Portal.


    Lured in by the siren call of violence, death, and bloodthirst, demons were streaming through into the Gloom. I perhaps should have been totally unimpressed to see they were mostly Amoureans, as this was a spectacle they''d be able to perform for, but a lot of them came in pretty damn quick there...


    They definitely were not happy to see the Axiomatics coming in, the biggest ones leading the way, instead of hanging back to watch lessers battle as was the way of the Warp.


    Geometric cutting blades of force, fractal lashes in space, lines of solid force bisecting everything, and lots and lots of limbs started ripping into demons as warpfire and supernaturally strong claws and blades began to tear at those shiny metal bodies.


    The gladiators flanked the Octohedral, the Hexagonals, and the Pentagonals as they led the attack, and the Cubes and Stars also ready to fight found themselves surrounded and preceded by gladiators ripping and tearing into the demons as furiously as they could, making it easier for the Axiomites to land crippling blows and cut into the demons screaming and singing and posing and dancing with claws and swords. Stink bombs went off here and there to defy the dazing perfumes starting to fill the air, breath filters were on, and Warp energies were a crazed haze in minds and reality.


    The girls raged through them with the expertise of a lot of time in the deadlier parts of the Warp Zone, leaving trails of bodies burning black behind them. Me, I went right for the Portal.


    There was a Vile Dancer and its serpentine body and six arms with swords lording it over this horde, with quite an assortment of its four-armed Spiral lessers. I noted quite a few Possessed humans among the horde, visible by the way their demons seemed to be growing out of their bodies like tumors, screaming in ecstasy as some Warped thing made use of their meat to enjoy the pain and pleasure of living once more.


    I ended up going right through their lizard-riding cavalry, not quite touching the ground as I moved from scaly to scaly, and the eyeless, long-tongued hemaphrodite Eques riding them screamed and went tumbling as I moved against their momentum. I crashed through a line of Spinners, limbs and blades going in different directions then their tittering wielders, hacking a Cleave Train through them with brutal power, Hewing apart several Spirals and the Stud-oxes guarding them with oversized genitalia and mindless obedience.


    I didn''t particularly care if they were following me or not, as the ones in front of me were dying fast enough and they couldn''t catch up... especially with my Interdiction not allowing them to blink around like ninnies, which was incidentally preventing them from coming in behind the gladiators holding back the deranged Wasted and Dancers having fun with the killers behind me.


    The Vile saw me coming in expectation... I guess all those that had seen Ranthas in action had died, so they had no idea how dangerous what was coming at them was. Which was fine by me as I tore through, and then above, the demons streaming out of that rip in space, leaping for the big one... and as her curved blades hissed out in flesh-parting guillotines, five gravities slammed me to the ground, became 1/5 in an instant, and I bounced forward, off her shimmering pink and yellow scales, and away from her, across the Portal behind her, out of her reach and trailing heavy reality behind me with grim finality.


    A dark line clearly chopped the tall Portal in half across its slender section, and the black flames of boosted Shadowfire gnawed greedily at the edges of the lambent pastels and puke color schema of the afterlife. They raced up like flames leaping up tinder, and fell down like crackling oil spreading across a colorful pattern.


    "NO!" the Vile screamed out in four-toned breathy denial, blaming me for everything, her Charms slamming into my Null and no, I didn''t do something else or stop what I had done. Actually, I bounced in the other direction, a crazy leap that covered more than two hundred feet across, up, and down slowly in the low gravity, and left another semi-circular trail of hard reality behind me.


    With a roar and a woosh, the Portal collapsed behind me, exploding in black flames with white edges, shadowfire greedily feasting on the energies and feeding them to the Gloom in a field of black and white that sapped the insane colors out of the surrounding demons, who instinctively fled from the reach of it.


    The Vile''s many veils did not look so sexy and alluring now, and she was writhing and swaying after me, screaming in outrage for having interrupted her fun.


    I snickered, having never stopped moving, and as demons converged on me trying to stop me, all they did is give me more targets as Chalice Sang. The watching audience got to watch the very improbable sight of me one-hitting demons as fast as Chalice could move, and she moved very, very quickly indeed. A swirling swathe of shadows, greys, and blacks, was surrounding me, occasionally odd white sparks flaring within it, and going through demons, pets, Warped slaves, and more demons without stopping.


    She was coming right behind me, and cursing and cajoling and taunting and daring me with the same words, multiple levels of language. It all ran into my Null and became useless gobbledygook, but some of the lesser demons were writhing and dying just listening to her trying to get me to stop and get chopped up like a nice little mortal.


    I flung more burning demon blood into the air for her to run into, and actually managed to set one of her veils on fire, nyar nyar.


    With precious little fuss and muss, I ran over some Spiral Dancers in hack-hack chop-chop chorus, their snake bodies making prime footing as I smashed through their defenses, relieved them of limbs and weapons, and then opened them all up properly as they screamed in delight and disbelief... and then horror as the shadowfire proceeded to start devouring them.


    It wasn''t the Land, but Gloom was plenty hungry all the same.


    The Vile saw I was heading right for the Octohedral, which was plenty ready to welcome me coming by sending out some happy fractal blades whose area of effect swallowed a whole lot of demons and the Vile... and naturally me, if I hadn''t urgently darted out of the way to the side with distinctly inhuman speed.


    It wasn''t because I was afraid of being hurt. I just didn''t want to be a firebreak for any demons behind me from the magic.


    The Vile didn''t much like that, and replied with a scream that pulled in her servants for a good ol'' brawl and sent a crack crawling across the facets of the diamond-headed Axiomite, who was bearing quite a few gouges, scrapes, and scars from unending assaults by her lesser minions.


    True to form, it lasted about two minutes in precise, measured combat, moving with a deadly, beautiful precision to cut with its many limbs, slamming and slicing in soullessly perfect form.


    She wrapped the thing up as her Spirals and Stud-oxes were keeping the Hexagonals busy, screamed point-blank into its crystal head, and blew it and its eyeball-orbs to pieces, her coils rending and tearing it apart as her six swords moved in much too fast motion and tore it asunder.


    Well, I hope she enjoyed what was about to come next.


    Glittering light swarmed up out from its body, poured to the left, where a wounded Hexagonal was beleaguered by a swarm of Spirals and their many-horned Studs. The remains of the Octohedral fell to scrap pieces, battered by warpfire hissing around the veiled Vile Dancer, who watched the process in sudden alarm.


    The crystals seemed to both converge, meld into, and build atop the Hexagonal, and it swelled in size and limbs as its form transformed. A new diamond head surrounded by floating eyeballs above its body rose up, suddenly at full health and looming over the demons that had been attacking it a moment ago.

 Chapter 455 - Far Future Ch 165 – How You Like That Taste?

    With a swirl of axiomatic crystals, a Pentahedral was suddenly promoted to Hexagonal, a Natalar to Pentahedral, and a Cube to Natal Star... all in perfect shape, of course.


    "Enjoy the fun, bitch!" I laughed as the Axiomatics kept right on fighting, but there was one less wounded Cube to guard.


    The mid-range demons were now trying to get to the Cubes and Natal Stars, instantly understanding how to stop this process, but the only one of them who could stop the Octohedral was the Vile Dancer, who immediately surged to the attack.


    The demons swapped off duties, swarms of weaker demons trying to occupy the two Hexes and four Pentas, aiming for the eight Natals and the scattered Cubes with their stronger demons and stop the whole replacement shindig.


    Unfortunately for them, all we had to do was delay them as the Hexes and Octo wreaked havoc, and the Vile Dancer either had to give it her all or the Octo moved immediately to kill her subordinates!


    The shining figure of chrome and crystal swirled around the many-armed veiled serpent-woman, limbs ringing on blades, lights flashing against warpfire, corrosive fumes, and the maddening power of her voice. More ripping wounds slashed through her, her veils were peppered with holes, and the mixed horror and appeal of her beauty was only becoming more visible, further enraging her.


    She shattered its head with two impossibly arcing, curving blades, the chime and mocking laugh of it crossing the battlefield.


    Crystalline lights flared and burned. Where a Hexagonal was standing, yet another Octo rose up, and proceeded to obliterate dozens of lesser demons in front of it, levitating with precise speed towards a knot of Spirals and Studs trying to reach the Natals and Cubes. Six of the former had died, were instantly replaced by promoted Cubes. Only four Cubes remained alive right now, but they were guarded by some of the nastiest gladiators... and the girls, kindly ripping the demons new ones with complete calm and deadly precision.


    Demons came apart around the girls, burned in shadowfire, walls of shadows around them and claiming an unholy toll of capering sex-demons and their brutal paramours. Banefire mixed readily with shadowfire, and demons danced and died in first glee, then horror as they realized there would be no encores to this performance.


    The wounded Vile Dancer crashed against the third Octo, screaming and writhing, plainly knowing that killing this one would not be survivable. Coiled around it, burning it in warpfire and acidic means, her scream seemed to be draining her life as she hacked at it and its limbs, crashing over and rolling across the field, crushing many a demon and Warped creature beneath them.


    We watched a Natal and a Penta die, then a Hex fall under a swarm of Spirals and Studs.


    The last Cubes evolved into Natals, and became whirling stars of death, spinning into the ranks of the demons, as the Octo''s head shattered one more time.


    The gladiators pulled back even as the Vile Dancer started to rise from the remains of the last Octo. It was quite an accomplishment, killing it... but she wasn''t going to get the chance to brag, as Jensa came right into her face, and Bane of Legends and all, split her skull open and Fed her to Gloom.


    Her scream of denial and disbelief that she was not going to reap the benefits of her bloody victory rang out over the battlefield, hundred of lesser demons'' ears popped, and they staggered and fell, as did some of the weaker gladiators.


    Her head burning with shadowfires that were raging down into her to consume her spirit, she toppled over, even as a new Octohedral rose over the battlefield.


    There were other forces fighting in other corners against the demons, but the great majority of the remaining forces were here, still trying to deal with these Axiomatics... and finding it real hard now that the Vile Dancer was dead and another wasn''t being sent to replace it.


    All the remaining Casters and special powers that could apply from a distance were being sent at the Natals... but as they were, the Octo was reaping, speaking Words that shattered demons like glass, rays of light making dazzling patterns that shredded acres of ground, and advancing into the densest crowds of demons without hesitation or fear.


    -Imperial Legionnaires!- Jensa reported suddenly, and our heads turned, piercing through the muck and fumes and fogs of battle to see great armored forms laying about themselves with yard-long Legion knives, bull axes, and similar well-regarded tools of the Empire.


    There was less than a company left, hardly unexpected given what they were facing.


    -Get Decontamination! I want a Bull Minister ON SITE THERE NOW! Portal opening in thirty seconds!- and I blew through two Studs and was shooting across the battlefield towards the Warp Sorcerers cooking up some nasty shit to bury the Marines over there.


    It was two hundred yards to those Warp Sorcerers doing the chanting and dancing in a circle. I was on them before ten seconds passed, a trail of death behind me, and done with them before twelve seconds were gone, lighting into the back of the demon horde, coming up on the Spiral Dancers, and making myself a murderously obvious distraction smashing into them from the flank.


    Demons were burning, gathering, dancing, warpfire and shadowfire converging, and if someone Cut a Portal back to the mortal plane in the cracked space as I withdrew my Interdiction, who could say it wasn''t a reaction to all the unnatural shit going on, while I kept right on going not ten yards from the startled Legionnaires in their blue and white power armor.


    "SONS OF THE EMPEROR! COME!" bellowed a voice that could only come from a Legionnaire, as a massive armored form was visible within that shattering in space. A great hand in gold and green was held out, and the coms and computers of the Legionnaires lit up with all sorts of confirmations.


    They reacted like bioengineered soldiers should, and hurtled for that Portal in a rushing stream, bounding and powering through all the demons close by... who were a bit shocked to see them leaping away so quickly, or distracted by the swirling shadow-wraith slicing its way past and through them. Like water flooding out a breach in a dam, they poured into the shattered rip in space, and as the last one cleared and I confirmed, Hard Reality on the far side cut through the breach before the demons could make use of it, and it sealed with a sucking sound of severing atmospheres.


    HAH!


    I was sure there were human forces in the Arena, but most of them were going to be fodder units if not equipped with proper weapons, feasted upon by the swarms and various rampaging arena-fighters. Capturing a company of Legionnaires was quite an accomplishment, and they''d actually managed to survive at least two skirmishes, judging by the gore I''d seen on their armor.


    The gladiators behind me didn''t want to fight them, even if they couldn''t use ranged attacks. Legionnaires had a certain rep, and being afraid of aliens and cyborgs was about as far from the heart of it as was imaginable.


    Still, in the middle of utter slaughter and carnage, disputes between Law and Chaos... we''d managed to save someone!


    -Someone please tell me we didn''t save a bunch of reactionary arseholes. If we have I want them off Janus sooner rather then later.- Character before free munchies. There were Legionnaires with some very grim reputations, we''d met some fighting in the other cities, and if these guys were like that, well... we''d ship them off to a Legion that had the ability to support them and similar ethics.


    If they were the more heroic, noble sort, well, we might be able to work with them if they weren''t too hardcoded for stupidity to the Empire''s bureaucracy...


    ----


    "Brothers, emergency ejections from your armor!" Captain Donnal roared out with the voice of a man with power, and very used to command. He was also functionally a lay Minister, as he had driven his Psi-Warrior and Mindblade Classes all the way to functional Ten, and had the aura and power to go with it. "The drow routinely infect your armor and yourselves while you are captured! We need to do emergency decontamination NOW! Procedure Hermes Asclepius Caduceus!"


    The Thunder Bull''s voice got the results it needed, and the incoming Choral Lions began the process of ejecting from their suits, shutting down power, locks flipping open, and the huge marines within stumbling out as they came forth.


    They looked around the large, gymnasium-sized room, all in white, with many white-clad normal-sized humans around, the red cross of medicae on their shoulders.


    The air was also fairly swimming with psionic energies they could all sense.


    "Full psychic scans on every trooper, as fast as we can get them!" More psions were teleporting in urgently, not all of them in medicae outfit, but the simple fact they could teleport was indication of their power. Captain Donnal was watching everything, getting the wary yet focused new Legionnaires moving towards the starsilver pools which would aid any decontamination process.


    Two of them were wearing Coronal cloaks, too, which was greatly reassuring to the troopers.


    ---


    "Kneel down. I will need your help," the woman in white said before him. There was a decagon on her head, and a quiet pride filled her eyes as she met him.


    The chocolate-skinned trooper hurriedly knelt down, still as tall as her as the silvered waters ran about them. Currents of stars were circling through it, and more and more psions were coming into the place, sitting down in the shallow waters at the edges, and adopting mediative poses. Behind them, other, more martial characters were doing the same, placing their hands on the backs of the psions. Stars began to sparkle in the waters, and flow away from them.


    "Place your hand upon mine. You will accompany me in this effort," she told him, placing her small hand upon his closely-shaven, scarred head. His big hand slowly came over hers as his dark eyes studied her carefully. "We will be scanning for the pathogens, poisons, and lethal surprises the drow have left inside you. I will need you to be directing the defenses of your body against them, as if we ply psionic energy directly upon them, we will probably trigger them all, and you, and possibly many others of us, will die right here." Her calm brown eyes stayed with his. "You are going to battle inside your body. We will give you the power to win this fight. Are you ready?"


    He nodded grimly. She closed her eyes, and the quicksilver waters around him flared with starlight, and he felt the power upon her hand, streaming down into his head, and his vision plunged down after her.


    The first spike of nano-poison in his cortex was found almost instantly. The neurons in his own brain were charged up with psychic lightning as his own suborned nanite disinfectors were purged, rebooted, and supercharged to the attack at his command...


    ---


    Captain Donnal watched the eighty-three surviving Legionnaires all lighting up with starfire, and the many psions guiding the efforts within them as five hundred more psions and their Nulls provided immense amounts of raw power to the Pool. He saw a long, slender worm-like thing get forced out of one trooper''s ear, fall writhing into the Pool, and instantly get burned away in starlight...

 Chapter 456 - Far Future. Ch. 166 – Not Tasting So Good

    This... this is a very Good place, he realized, and smiled despite himself as he looked around at the white stone, gentle carvings, signs and sigils as old as humanity, but with none of the rigid air and authoritarian power of the Empire''s heraldry.


    Older, kinder, gentler... and able to do things the Empire''s kind of folk could not because of it.


    He turned to the nearest Rantha, who was cursing at her diagnostic equipment as her glowing golden hands were dancing around the insides of an armored suit.


    The Briggs behind the suit rent and tore, and a hundred-pound reactor was torn off the suit faster than it could be unfitted. The Ancient heaved the core away, it was caught by a man in power armor another fifty feet away, who plopped it down on a teleporter pad. The capapsitor there flared, a half-dozen more psions there to power it up, and the power core was gone.


    "How bad?" the Briggs growled, as sparks and fuses flared, and she cut and tore and ripped at some rather vital internal systems of the armor.


    "There''s necro-viruses, dimensional worms, anima infections, and some pan-dimensional rewiring designed to open uncontrolled Warp Portals if this thing ever got out of their control, just by rearranging some circuits. It''s like they''ve done this shit to this kind of armor before!" Cooter Rantha growled, her hands a blur of motion, her Vajra pressing into the circuits inside, while outside Bo Briggs did the same with his big hands on the external surfaces.


    There were cracks and tearing sounds coming from all over. Not all the power cores had to go, but a lot of them did. Some were teleported away, some were simply disintegrated in groups, and out of spite, one of the Ranthas cut open another Portal to a shadowy alcove in a gloomy city, twenty cores were pitched through, and the Portal was closed.


    What happened on the other side was doubtless going to be quite satisfying.


    "Can the armor be salvaged?" he had to ask, wincing at the damage she was doing to it. She was not leaving a square millimeter unchecked, and simply adjusted her balance as Bo levered the half-ton of metal and crystal over to inspect the soles... and by the way his finger punched in, found six different things there, growling a warning that spread to everyone, judging by how quickly the suits were being shoved over by teams of inspectors.


    "Yes. The most important part of the armor is the psychic circuitry that attunes it to the Emperor''s Bloodline. It''s also the easiest to purge, even if it is infected, and can be repaired easily. All the extra tech is high quality but standard, and can be ripped out and replaced. Mithar, look what they did to the lubricants, those crazy bastards... bomb another city!" she shouted out.


    A minute later another Portal shut quietly, and all the power cores were gone. That didn''t stop the mindclaws and psions from ripping, tearing, frying, and fusing non-stop, their curses accompanying every exhumation of a trick or trap lying in wait.


    When they were sure they got everything, they''d switch armors and do it again. Five times, before they were satisfied, and more, if they still found something on the fifth pass, until it passed two sweeps by a Ten with full Ranks looking for shit, AND a Rantha, if it came to that.


    Aural scans were being undertaken on the Choral Lions kneeling in the pool, shaking and trembling as they fought for their lives there, and coming back promising. The Lions aspired on average to be one of the nobler Legions, and the Chorals came from a tropical world, where dark-skinned men fought battles against alien fauna under a hot sun, as they had for millennia. They had a glorious martial tradition, and if they lived, would be a fine addition to a new corps of the Emperor''s Sons.


    There was a shuddering and a shout, and a healer stepped back, black ooze pouring out her orifices. The trooper in front of her was shuddering, his black skin writhing and bulging dangerously-


    There was a flash of starfire, flowing up over him, and for just a second he was frozen, face relaxing in the middle of the horror that was eating him...


    The glittering waters fell smoothly away, back into the quicksilver that had purified him away, nothing left behind of him or the abomination erupting within him.


    Captain Donnal''s gauntleted fist clenched. The healer staggered back, falling into the water, and did not try to get up as starlight gathered on her, and bubbled in her mouth, eyes, nose, and ears.


    There were some supremely nasty things going on in there, Captain Donnal realized, surprised even though he knew it had been dangerous. To be expected of the drow, nothing ever got away from them cleanly. The Ranthas had not been overreacting when they mobilized all this stuff here.


    Did the drow know the Ranthas were mapping out their precious Gloom? He had the clearance to look at what was there on The Map, where they had gone, what they had seen. The legendary underweb of the galaxy, from which drow and elvar could emerge to strike where and when they pleased, moving from place to place faster than any other force could.


    The Hags had designs upon it. Escaped human slaves, long mutated by shadowy powers into shades and darklings, were present there, as well as the amazingly unmutated hyn, whose every tribe had generated a Void Brother, simply an unbelievable fact. The Ranthas had recruited millions of humans by now, and still only found three...


    At some point, the Hags were going to have words with the dark elvar, and they would probably not like what she was going to say. It would probably be in anti-quarks and Warp Events on an Omega Sanction scale...


    The Gloom might not like it, but it was supposedly a transorganic, living structure. It would get over it...


    ---------


    "You need to go."


    Only an Octal and a Hex were left, but they had relentlessly and tirelessly hunted down every single creature of the Warp here, and said creatures had turned upon them in preference to merely living creatures fighting them... who were giving the cracked, scorched, and alien entities all the room they could want... which wouldn''t be enough.


    The diamond head seemed to spin and circle, orienting on me. The girls were backing me, totally unafraid, and if it had any memory at all, it knew why, given how much shit we''d killed... and how utterly unmarked of it we looked, while it had ground through five incarnations killing everything here.


    Still, it wasn''t expecting me to speak Axiom, although it could probably understand any language that existed simply by analyzing it for a breath.


    "You are in Gloomheart, the heart of drow power. Your proper next target should be them. If you do so, they will capture you, and they have the power to do so. They will harness you and enslave you, and they have the skill to do that, too. You need to leave, bring your knowledge of what happened here back to your kind, and take solace that you have won a great victory here... and might just do so in the future."


    The two powerful Axiomites regarded me and the girls, and the gladiators blooded and savaged behind us, down to less than two-thirds of their starting numbers. On one side, a bunch of reptoid warriors like intelligent saurials were switching their tails nervously, while a bunch of umbvars were standing over there, wondering who to attack next, and a bunch of gene-keyed wolfen were slinking around, trying to work out who to fall upon next.


    "HoW tO lEaVe?" it asked, not unreasonably, after considering all its options. Most notably, that it didn''t want to burn in Shadowfire. If so, its energy would be permanently lost to its people, not a thing that should happen.


    Chalice sang out a single note of Nullity as I crouched. "Know me by my Sword!" I said, and charged forwards.


    The Hexagonal looked at the sensation of crushing reality around my Sword, and folded its four arms as I cut into it, through it, and the Reality of the Gloom followed Chalice and ejected it from this space as the alien thing it was, the air even popping loudly as it slammed together in a spray of shadowfire to eject it.


    The Octahedral also drew its arms in, awaiting the Banishment Strike of a Null. I gave it no more words, neither of us really wanted to talk, and with a ripping of space, plume of shadowfire, and clap of onrushing air, it too was gone.


    There was a rather terrible silence. I straightened up, looked at the other forces gathered here, the closest of whom all took a step back when my eyes fell upon them.


    "Kill the weak!" I ordered grimly, pointing at the wolfen who had no reason to keep leaving, once-humans pumped full of killing genetics, alien alchemy, and thirst for blood.


    With a roar, the fighting re-commenced, but the looks in the eyes of those facing us definitely indicated that right about now, they''d rather be anywhere else then facing us.


    -------------


    The slaughter went on. Warbands of sentients and beasts of all sizes and descriptions fought and died. I saw a thunder scorpion from Janus III ripping into a group of goblins who were swarming in, hacked off its legs, and eventually got spears into places where they could do some work.


    There was a pack of T-Rex types wearing armor running around, covered in blood and gore until a bunch of bird-like Kreen hamstrung them and brought them down with a skill that said they''d done this before.


    The murder-cyborgs from Marquis de Krov ended up going against an elite corps of drow, and the two forces mulched one another nicely. Then a shoggoth came rolling over in a wave of flesh and ooze, spewing out lesser macrocellular organisms as it digested the uncounted numbers of dead, adding yet another hazard of eternally hungry slimes, puddings, jellies, and suchlike to the battlefield.


    Celestia cut off two of its massive tentacles and chased it away with a glare. Its mindless spawn had to be dealt with as they came, but at least they weren''t very fast and generally really obvious... and just because we couldn''t use ranged attacks didn''t mean we didn''t have access to energy attacks, if needed.


    The lines of sight on the battlefield gradually grew longer and longer, bringing all the different forces closer and closer together by subtle manipulations.


    "It''s coming!" Jensa announced to all and sundry, watching a certain board way up there that was counting living beings left on the field... not including robots.


    All the swarms had basically been disposed of, because they were the fastest way to see the numbers go up and down. So, yeah, people had been chain-murdering the mindless masses of goo in all colors trying to eat all of us. We''d lost a few fellows who were unlucky, tired, or careless, but the forces left in the arena cleaned up the true swarms pretty fast.


    That didn''t mean all of them were dead. The Kundi Queen was alive, as were a couple of the cellulocust mothertrees, although they were missing a lot of explosive fruits now. Drow outnumbered any other race on the field, and I didn''t see any humans other than who were surviving in another band of gladiators who avoided us tacitly.


    The weak were getting butchered, as were the wounded. Ten thousand was almost upon us, and the sense of anticipation, and the calls of the crowd were starting to rise.


    "They come," I told everyone, as a umbvar barbarian spit himself on my sword, his humming spear losing its spark and going silent. Conflicts nearby began to die as the gladiators finished up their fights and disengaged if they could.


    Only a third of them were left now, pretty much all of them wounded and out of any alchemical healing now. We could have kept a lot of them in fighting trim by healing them by wound transfer, but that wasn''t our job, or why we were here.


    Lithe black forms began to appear on many ramps and openings as the master gladiators of the drow made their entries. Screens were blinking all over the place, showcasing the popular, the loathed, the lauded, the beautiful, and the ugly, to cheers and boos and whatever sufficed as they began to move down towards the arena floor.

 Chapter 457 - Far Future Ch. 167 – Hunting the Hunters

    Not a thousand of them, I judged. The true elites would come in as the numbers dwindled, with the very best not coming in until two thousand or less remained.


    "Now, you all are the prey," I whispered, but my voice carried to everyone. "You cannot survive if they all do. Therefore, they must die. They will reap, there is no need for you to do so anymore. They are going to kill you all, unless you kill them back. There are one thousand of them.


    "They will not kill one another until all of you are dead. You can only do the same if you want to live.


    "You hunt the strong now. You cannot do it alone.


    "They will kill some of you. You cannot stop them. You are the weak, and they are the strong.


    "If they chose to kill you, your greatest weapon is your spite. Block them, hold them, even for a second, and the murderous bastards beside you will finish the job.


    "If you kill one, congratulations. Chop off their head, tie it to your belt. You are now a preferred target. The rest of you, stay close to anyone who has a head. The masters will flock to them, preferring to kill them. Pick your own target as they do, and try to live.


    "There is no need to turn on those next to you. The drow will do the slaughter now. It is time for your last clawing attempt to live, and if you fail, to try to bring your killer down with you.


    "Best of luck. Go get some allies. Group one, with her." Celestia walked off towards the cellulocusts. "Group two, with her." Jensa headed off towards the Kundi Queen. "Group three, with her." Keva headed off for the shoggoth, who, unlike the vast majority of its spawn, was intelligent and could understand Aklo. "I will see you in the thousand. If you get there, I heartily recommend you kneel down and get the Hell out of here as fast as you can."


    A hundred or so gladiators followed each of the girls, the first time we''d really split up, leaving me alone, standing there with Chalice.


    I turned towards the nearest edge of the arena, and I''m sure many drow in the crowd were leering and shouting and pointing when they saw me moving to intercept at least one of the incoming gladiators.


    The four of us had definitely garnered a bunch of attention. Doubtless we were all favored targets for the more arrogant of the gladiators, and that was going to get a bunch of them dead before they realized they should be focused on taking out the weaker survivors.


    Some infighting was already occurring in the weaker units, as they finished off their wounded or the weakest among themselves, trying to get that survivor counter down faster, faster, faster, not realizing they were making the job of the drow that much easier.


    The girls would be working with the three swarm generators, who were definitely powerful creatures and thus would be targets for glory, attracting attention. They wouldn''t expect help from any of the creatures, but it was just a way to gather the drow and have a nasty creature who wouldn''t attack them occupying a vector.


    The fight was entering its second to last endgame. The true entertainment was just beginning.


    --------


    The average incoming Drow was an Elf/10, Melee/10, Psi/3, with Scout and Assassin Levels to keep them busy when they weren''t in the arena preening for the crowds. They didn''t dare use their psi actively for fear of losing their souls and causing Warp incursions, but they had powerful psionic Feats to boost themselves passively, Psychic-powered Gear operating off a powerful foundation, and naturally their own biosciences and alchemy to draw on.


    They had Dex scores of 30 at a minimum, ranging up to 40 for the true post-Ten elites. They were fiendishly intelligent and calculating, going for the 30 Int to supplement their finesse-style dodging style. Partial Psychic armor would add at least 8 DR of protection. Force fields or Cha-based psychic fields would add deflection bonuses of +5 or higher. Wired Reflexes, combat logic boosters, cognition amplifiers, and the like would add another +5 or more.


    Their Soak would be maxed out and over 200. Their Health would be similarly boosted to the 150 range, seemingly delicate and lithe bodies charged by psi and harder to hew into then ironwood.


    That was a tremendous amount of punishment they could take, even before any blood-drinking Weapons or nanite-healing was figured in.


    They were Finesse fighters, and would be using armor-ignoring weapons of preternatural sharpness. Unless your armor was Energized, they''d cut through it like tofu, and then Sneak Attack damage, crits, and rending attacks would rip you apart... if the weapons weren''t poisoned with stuff that could make rocks bleed.


    With a dodge-based AC of 40+, the average combatant here was going to find it nigh-impossible to hit them, and if the drow fought defensively, most of the elites here, too. This was their home ground, they were Geared to kill upon it, and there was precious little except one another that they feared inside it.


    It was going to be a slaughter, of beings who had just fought their hearts out, and were truly the strongest and best of the survivors.


    But they were also wounded, tired, and not geared or equipped to take the drow on.


    Except for me and my girls. They were definitely not ready for us, and Hags disliked us some bouncy-bouncy Finesse-fighting types. They were not going to have fun trying to cut through Nog Energized Armor, Crystal Shield DR, and DR 10-12/Holy Silver, they were not. If they could hit our 50+ dodgy AC, anyways, learning how it felt to strike at a ghost flowing through your strikes...


    My first opponent looked like a Noble Champion, one of the smaller houses, an elite duelist and assassin who looked down on all of lesser status, which included pretty much all aliens, and definitely included breshkt.


    His smile when he saw me gliding in was a bit forced, because he could see how fast I was moving, that my feet weren''t touching the ground... and if he had any brains, he''d seen me fighting.


    "One of the Four Fatales!" he proclaimed, proving he wasn''t a total idiot as he drew out a flexible hooked thing you might call a Dire Rapier, making me roll my eyes. The metal of it was definitely able to whip about almost as easily as a rope, making it a dangerous weapon, and the barbed dagger in his other hand wasn''t any nicer.


    "One of the dead fools!" I replied, coming straight on in.


    He moved to parry, and encountered a Problem as Chalice not only didn''t get knocked aside, but it was moving very fast, at a strange angle and twist that was neutralizing a good portion of his attempt to evade her point, and I was completely ignoring the threat of his bending blade and dagger as I pressed closer. I raised my other hand, the black nails looking very much like the lethal claws that had torn off the faces of demons, cyborgs, and aliens.


    I sliced a gash from his nose to his ear, somehow twisting his rapier to slide by me, my hand coming over to clamp down on his wrist as he tried to bring his dagger into play, and he weighed nothing, nothing at all. Both of us could toss around the other, but when my hand closed and his bones creaked in protest at my grip, he realized he was in big trouble.


    My head went down sideways, my foot came up, and suddenly he was three feet in the air, his head nicely extended back from where his jaw was trying to reach the roof of his mouth... and my other hand was still on his wrist and jerked him right back down as I brought Chalice down back-forth-back while he was still inverted.


    His mail mesh peeled away from cut layered into cut, and on the third cut, I caressed the crystal-reinforced pillar that was his spine as I completed my cartwheel, and let go as he slammed to the ground, his organs spilling out of him, and banefire and shadowfire ravaging up his spine to his still-befuddled brain.


    Yeah, I had actually chewed through all his Health and Soak in the equivalent of five strikes. Suck it, elv-boi.


    His spirit wasn''t on the way to a Vat via necrosciences, either. The Gloom was daintily touching up its lips with shadowfire.


    I didn''t much care about his fate, other than he wouldn''t be coming back, and some other drow would stride up over some other dead drow and take his place without any hesitation. Opportunistic promotional influence, I was.


    That badge on his armor of his noble house was clipped off and stuck into my hair, however.


    I turned and ran towards the next one, a coven blade-witch who was converging on some hapless umbvar and drow who had sort of meshed up in mutual non-slaughter.


    The lives of one thousand drow balanced against one million dead. They had quite the arrogant view of themselves, but it wasn''t surprising. They would pop off a million kills as readily as stepping on a fly. No, sooner. Killing flies didn''t give any emotional libations, and they lived for that psychic distillation to give meaning to their own worthless existences...


    ----------


    I was keeping an eye on the screen overhead with Grim, and so watched the drow start to cut down the survivors.


    Knowing the math behind it, the invisible forces of chance and fate, luck and skill pairing off, I could only shake my head at the killing that was going on.


    The drow were very experienced, and doubtless all of these gladiators had killed multiple elites of every race still alive here. If nothing else, the Favored Enemy bonuses from Achievements was yet another edge, even if they weren''t real Rangers. It was just a huge wall to climb.


    Luckily, our templates had already climbed that wall, and all we needed was the Karma to get up there, without having to actually butcher specific foes. Not that we hadn''t done just that on our way here, repeatedly, for just this reason.


    The drow were literally eye-blurringly fast, and the gladiators couldn''t move fast enough to keep up with them. Their knives and short blades could literally cut an armored human in two without slowing down if they didn''t have energized Weapons and/or Armor, and the drow would be right on dancing to the next.


    With precious little help between the aliens, the drow expertly winnowed out individuals one by one, or daringly danced into the middle of them and unleashed slaughter. Occasionally they''d get caught by a strange move, or a lucky hit, but it generally didn''t help at all. Blood in all colors and viscosity leapt into the air, and the survivors began to die with speed they didn''t quite believe after everything they''d just been through.


    There was a little bit of a problem when they got to my group.


    It wasn''t that my gladiators were any better than the other crews, especially the surviving drow volunteers. It was that they didn''t kill one another, and they moved in groups.


    Each drow had to kill ten of them, but generally speaking, three or four were a match for them if they worked together... which was difficult to keep up with, but when you had so many fighting styles overlaying one another, damn hard to defend against.


    I watched one drow gut and take the arm of a gladiator, who somehow managed to grab onto his arm for just a second. In that second a power claw ripped into the drow''s armor, a spiked tail swept him from his feet, and a nasty like monkey-like furball with bloody metal claws accentuating his own had swept into the bastard and was atop him, ripping with terrible fury. Furball fell off the drow nearly cut in two, and then that Power Claw ripped across as the bloody drow tried to dodge, and literally smashed off his head.


    One down...


    The cyborg who''d done the kill mounted the head on one of his useless, slower arms. The gladiators saw another drow coming their way, gritted their teeth grimly, and the cyborg prepared himself to try and not die...

 Chapter 458 - Far Future Ch. 168 – Girls Just Wanna Have Fun

    Celestia''s fist pounded into the gut of the armored Warlock opposite her, totally surprising the idiot at just how hard she could hit it, as she yelled, "Incoming!"


    All of these drow were equipped with gravity-benders, giving them impossible agility jumping and moving, even in midair. Unfortunately for this Warlock, her Interdiction was up, and transferring his center of gravity just wasn''t going to work.


    The cellulocust mother tree was being harried by three drow, trying to get past the incredible reach of its thorned branches and the ripping grasp of the roots that dominated the ground about it. Naturally it had multiple eyes, and it could hear her.


    As the Warlock tried to move and zigzag impossibly in the air, he failed. Two of the treemother''s arms came together with amazing speed, and crashed together. He had some good armor and a personal force field, but Celestia had already sheared away most of his Soak, even if he hadn''t known it, so bones cracked and blood sprayed.


    The two arms then shoved him right down onto a root driving up from below, right through his neck.


    Celestia moved into the tree''s killing area as the drow was still twitching, chopped off the drow''s disbelieving head, burning corpse and soul in shadowfire, and punting the head towards the treemother. The plant shifted a minor branch and impaled it precisely, even as it was still flailing with emotionless skill at the three drow taunting it.


    Without batting an eye, Celestia jumped off a protruding root, one, two, three, and as the nearest drow Reaper gawked at the sight of her moving through the killing root-field, her eyes were filled with death, and his blood went cold to see his fate coming for him, cold, serene, irresistible. His muscles weakened, his resolve faltered, and his focus quivered as he raised his blades to parry her incoming blade, which was the very wrong move to make in the face of a Heavy Warsword backed by enough power.


    ------


    The blade-witch tried to flurry her, her hands exploding into invisible blurs, attack patterns executed so many thousands of times they didn''t require any thought.


    Jensa preferred to be a One-Strike Specialist, and naturally looked down on rabid Fire-style flurry specialists as a result.


    Crazy Flame, Hotfoot, Crystal Shield, and Rule of Valus were all designed to counter Finesse fighters who relied on overwhelming attacks and unearthly precision to do what they did.


    The fact was, their style of fighting was immensely vulnerable to disruption. It was incredibly reliant on precise execution of moves, getting exactly the right angle, hitting exactly the right spot... and so you actually didn''t have to dodge them much, you had to dodge them just enough to throw things off.


    When you were ten times stronger than them, and at the very least as fast, that wasn''t actually all that hard, if you knew what you were doing, and weren''t afraid of incidental contact from their blades.


    Crashing against Hawk was numbing the blade-witch''s hands, her blades were not meeting Jensa''s body right, the angles were subtly off, and it seemed like her own blades were interfering with her as she crashed against that wall of a sword swirling about so smoothly, forcing her back and forth. Her balance wasn''t where she wanted it to be, she was being herded, she could feel it, and she couldn''t do anything about it except try to get around the longer weapon, wielded by a stronger, equally fast foe, and ask why her blades weren''t cutting in like they should be to her unarmored enemy...


    A ruby Rune on Hawk''s length flared, and Jensa slammed Hawk forwards with brutal precision, and a whole lot of power. The knives snapping to block only deflected the point up precisely where it was intended to go, and Hawk crashed the partial chestplate showing alluring purple cleavage, right out the back, and insta-killed her in one death attack.


    Assassins in service of Good were called Holy Slayers, and Jensa''s One Strike style was based on her Talent giving her a +8 to Spot Checks... which let her Find the Weakness process an opponent''s fighting style, find a weakness, and act on it. That attack eliminated Dex and Dodge bonuses, triggering the conditions for a Sneak Attack, which also, after enough study, dovetailed with a Death Attack.


    The DC of this attack would normally be 10 + Assassin Level + Dex bonus, so something like 30, and so reallllly hard for most humanoids to survive unless they were playing weird anatomy games. Just in case, the Ruby Enchantment added the enhancement bonus of the Weapon to that save, a tidy +XIII at the moment, and so this Bladewitch had just tried to survive an unparryable One Strike hitting at her Dodgeless AC with -6 to her Deflection bonus and Armor, and yeah, her Soak could''ve taken the 250+ damage coming down the pike, sure enough, but that 43 Fortitude Save was something Greater Demons would quail at.


    She died to the Ruby Strike instantly, banefire and shadowfire shaking hands and starting the Gloom-feeding process with merry speed. Jensa tore the Coven Insignia off her with her claws and tossed it into her hair, kicking the burning corpse away with all the respect a drow entertainment murderer deserved, and in doing so sliding twelve paces back over the churned ground suddenly and precisely.


    The Champion there was a little banged up trying to evade the Kundi Queen''s attacks. The huge sentient bug was very big, very fast, and very strong, her pedipalps and pincers moving with savage speed and power, and glowing with psychic force that could carve into adamantium like cheese. His only advantage was his ability to turn faster than her, which certainly wasn''t saving him, but he had scored her purple-black carapace several times, and glowing ichor was dripping out of one of the cuts, so he was feeling very confident of himself as he evaded the spear-like plunges and swipes of the stabbing pedipalps, and the slicing, scything strikes of her side pincers.


    Then he abruptly slammed into something behind him, which bounced him forwards. His reflexes were more than enhanced enough to realize what a disaster that was.


    The first pincer came down, and he barely twisted away, feeling the ridged razors tearing down his side. The claw scythed high and low, and he had to bend horizontally, leaping and spinning between him as they ghosted past his flesh...


    The second pedipalp came around like a train and impaled him right through like a sack of beans, lifting his corpse into the air like a prize, before dropping it down and quite ignoring the artistry of his armor, pincers and claws shredded him into multiple pieces.


    Jensa had no intention of letting the Kundi Queen die easily. If it could make it to the thousand, the drow would naturally spare it, and then have her breed her another whole army.


    An army that could become a complete disaster for the drow if it was freed by certain parties.


    The soulless eyes of the Queen marked her and the gladiators dying behind her as not-food for the moment, and then moved on to another drow that was killing the last of her soldier drones...


    --------


    Flair was darting in a dance of death with a Champion. Yes, his Dire Rapier was as much a whip as a blade. He was also using a chain in his off-hand, which she had to be wary of. He had fine armor, lots of experience, very fast.


    She was backing him up and around the battlefield, and he couldn''t retreat fast enough to avoid her sword.


    Her Talent was Natural Fencer. It gave her a +8 bonus at Ten to Sense Motive Checks and Bluff Checks in combat. The combination made it nigh impossible to pull off fancy combat maneuvers on her, especially Feints. On the other hand, it made it very easy for her to pull them off on others.


    Naturally, she had devoted her style to Feinting fast, frequently, and hard. She had the whole line of Feint Feats, she had driven her Sneak Attack damage to ten dice, could take Opportunity Attacks off the dex loss the Feint caused, Riposte when an opponent missed, and all the fun stuff that happened in too-rapid exchanges of that flexisword against a Warsword that simply shouldn''t be moving as fast and elusively as it was, shredding his finesse style and actually using it against him.


    Armor screamed, and scrapes opened with 80-point hits ripping at his Soak on his neck, arm, knee, and lastly his armpit, which drew real blood. The drow was panicking at the blurringly fast exchange as his swipe with his chain actually opened him up for the lunge. Her blade seemed to be in three places at once, his parry actually seemed to go through it at one point, and then Flair inserted itself smoothly in his disbelieving crimson eye, and the black-skinned drow faltered and hung there on her point for a moment.


    She reached up, tore off his insignia for a trophy, then grabbed his cuirass and heaved with a major lack of respect for the dead.


    The shoggoth''s many eyes sixty feet away missed nothing, and it reached up with a tentacle to grab the corpse in midair, sucking it down into a momentary mouth to start a very quick digestion process.


    Less than a minute later, a new mustard-covered slime was belched in the direction of one of the drow trying to harry the immense ooze around its massive reach, damage reduction, and fast healing. The abnormally quick jellylike thing immediately began chasing the drow around, and when he chopped it in two, both halves simply continued with the task, much to his annoyance...


    The drow were getting killed, but not near as quickly as the contestants brought in were. Ranthas couldn''t kill them all, they had to fight by themselves, and if they didn''t have to fear the person next to them, that still didn''t mean they were good enough to kill a master gladiator of the drow.


    Teamwork sure helped, however.


    -----------


    The fact the contestants were working together, even some of the monsters, was an unprecedented bonanza for the audience, who treated the surprising deaths of the gladiators and teamwork of the contestants as some of the best entertainment they''d had in the past millennium.


    Each of my girls and I now had multiple devoted screens, and there were a lot of very interested eyes watching us as we hacked, hewed, cut, thrust, slicked, chopped, lunged, bashed, crushed, slammed, punched, kicked, and otherwise abused our way through any drow that came within reach of us.


    We moved too fast. The bladewitches, champions, reavers, corsairs, warlocks, spider-borgs, and necrochymists couldn''t move fast enough to escape us.


    Spider-borgs were the primary cybernetic styles of the drow. Their actual name was some poetic nonsense of giving up your soul for the purity of the hunter, but it really meant they were losing their minds to biomachinery, descending into uncaring bloodthirst as a result, and were unleashed on the battlefield or arena to kill the enemies of the drow, making use of them for one final time.


    They were effectively speed borgs, and used time and spatial effects to move faster and abuse the dimensions in a way non-psis normally couldn''t, moving with the precision, control, and painless power of most cyborgs.


    Their messing with dimensions didn''t work against us, of course, which put a crimp in their combat speed and style, as they were used to having an absolute speed advantage on all of us. They couldn''t power-calculate our fighting styles effectively with Crazy Flame and Beyond Law and Chance obviating a lot of that nonsense... and they weren''t stronger than us, either.


    Sunder format took care of their extra limbs without fail, and we weren''t fighting on the side of a wall, anyways. Sure, they could bounce and spring around... and then we''d hack through their limbs and down they''d come.


    We''d killed three of them, and since they were rare among the gladiators, it was a fairly impressive feat.


    I was currently engaging one of their necrochymists, who was certainly an overconfident arsehole to come out here in the first place...

 Chapter 459 - Far Future Ch. 169 – Let’s Take This Fun to the Next Level...

    The necrochymists were the masters of the drow biosciences and alchemy, truly twisted mad intellects who''d happily sacrifice whole worlds to their experiments into the nature of life and souls without batting an eye.


    They were certain to operate on themselves as well, and couldn''t even be called drow in any real sense. Their own bodies had been replaced, mutated, cybered, grafted, and hybridized so that little of their own genetic structure was actually intact. But that was fine, as they were the ones who ran the Vats that the powerful drow reincarnated themselves into. If their bodies gave way, they chalked it up as another interesting bit of knowledge, decanted themselves into a new one, and resumed the process of making themselves into another life form better than the original.


    What it meant was that they were scientists of the worst kind, not fighters, but they were so damn smart they figured they could fight anything and beat it with the right mix of technology and genetic weapons.


    He was probably right, but I wasn''t going to give him the proper time to come up against such stuff against me.


    His sprayed adhesives couldn''t cling to my Vajra. His monofilament nets were sliced apart and couldn''t break my Nog armor, which didn''t give a damn for molecule-wide fibers, only kinetic energy could force past it. Poison clouds turned into zesty healing treats. Nanite shotgun loads were scissored apart inside my Vajra before they could start eating me. Power fields were a nice tingling sensation. Whips and tendrils got themselves cut short by Sunder Mode, despite being made of molecularly-hardened materials. Saw blades and snippers lunging and flashing were minor annoyances that went spinning away one after another, to the disbelief of the one using them in his perfect pre-calculated attack patterns that should have left me no way out and no way to deal with them.


    I didn''t even look the once-drow in his glass eyes after I bisected him, and Lightningphasing combined with shadowfire and banefire blasted through his corpse. His associates might be angry that he wasn''t going to be coming back, or curious, or more likely just loot everything he had while laughing in mockery of him. True Death made sure that not even totally independent clones of him could survive; his soul was going to Gloom, and I''m sure the plane enjoyed the light snack.


    There were only three of those among the gladiators that had come down, so something so smart being so dumb was pretty rare. I did indicate to the girls that if they saw any of them to make them a priority, as they could take out whole groups of contestants quickly with their gear-ups... and were, in other areas.


    We were all performing mass style analysis of these gladiators, although having stolen the experiences of the bikini-bitches, it wasn''t all that new. Those bladewitches had naturally seen all the stuff like this many times, and fought against a lot of it personally, too. Thus, while we did have to make adjustments for facing them ourselves... that whole Know Thy Enemy thing was very strongly applying, and we hadn''t seen anything that was truly original yet.


    The creature most likely to make the thousand by itself was the shoggoth. It was fast, strong, a powerful fighter, hard to hurt, and it healed itself, as well as being simply massive and converting the dead into annoyances it could spit out at its enemy. The oozes weren''t all that fast or powerful, but they were lethal if they managed to get on top of you and start dissolving you into more ooze, healing them up nicely and generating more jelly for the continuous fight.


    The fact the shoggoth could command them to go after the drow and not the contestants was a minor and subtle boost on our side.


    The Kundi and the Mothertree might make it; it basically depended on how the drow focused on them. Since they attracted the drow, they also attracted those hunting the drow, and both mother biovores were taking advantage of it to not kill those attacking the drow, thus helping them kill the drow, and raising their own chances of making it to the end. The girls had explained how it all worked, and the queens weren''t dumb. There was only one of each race left alive now, and their job was to live, generate more of their kind, and eventually eat these drow out of existence.


    It wasn''t going to and couldn''t happen, as the drow had solutions to both races if they ever truly got free, but they could still be a nuisance.


    The kill counters came down, gladiators and survivors were butchered, and more than occasionally a drow joined them. The gladiators soon realized that if a drow was close to one of us, we promptly went and killed them, and soon they were herding drow towards us if they could, or attracting our attention and making it harder for the drow to move around if they could... which was aided mightily by the fact they couldn''t make low-gravity bouncy leaps all about near us.


    This kind of thing naturally attracted the attention of the drow, especially when we started sporting a dozen insignias and were obviously going for them instead of anything weaker. The girls prowled in the area of the queens, using them as flank guardians and impromptu butchers when desired, and the queens of all three races had no trouble eating, skewering, or chopping drow apart who came their way somewhat out of control. The girls reciprocated by hunting the drow around them that their massive figures attracted.


    But still, the slaughter of the contestants continued unabated, and the magical 2000 number cycled into place.


    ------


    The hush was almost reverential, and the drow gladiators actually retreated, snickering and smiling as they did... except for the few who couldn''t outrun me and my girls, who died rather messily and got fed to the queens.


    The only reason for us to back off is when they started converging together, as one of us against two of them could be quite annoying, and might force us to use our Shields. Of course, once we did that, we were going on a major kill blitz... and if all four of us worked together, we were going to mincemeat these people.


    I picked off a couple more drow masters who couldn''t join up with their fellows in time, adding their badges flagrantly before the eyes of their own, who had a mixture of amusement, fear, and anticipation in their eyes as they watched me and their own ilk burn in shadowfire. They didn''t know the implications of that yet, but they would soon enough.


    Then the hunt would be on for the shadowfire only the hyn could cultivate, and wouldn''t that be interesting to see what the drow would do for something they couldn''t extort or enslave or make themselves... because the Void Brothers were going to feel them coming, and it was they who were at the heart of the process...


    Fun times all around.


    I glided back towards the girls as the high masters reached the edges of the arena, and the barrier opened to let them pass. The count went up to 2100.


    The survivors and us had killed 312 of the drow, which was a pretty damn impressive number from a historical standpoint. It meant 1688 survivors were still alive. Usually, the dead drow were under fifty, and a short number of one on one fights would quickly result in the top thousand consisting of all drow. That we had killed enough drow that the masters coming down still didn''t make a thousand... meant that some of the survivors were actually going to make the final thousand!


    All these new drow were post-Tens. Naturally, the numbers skewed to the lower end, Eleven through Thirteen, and in Melee Fighter. The true elites would advance their Elvar Levels, but those were the true monsters of the Arena, those who had kept their positions for hundreds, if not thousands of years. Some truly ambitious or talented people in the top thousand might vie with the top hundred, but it was unlikely on the face of it. They had earned their position in blood, and it would take a truly powerful challenger to bring them down... and then survive the inevitable challenges from multitudes of drow eager to face the newest and weakest member of the elite.


    I wasn''t particularly respectful of them, because I knew that me and the girls, and anyone who had killed one of them, were going to be their preferred targets. They wouldn''t be messing around with the weak, because it was simply no challenge to them... meaning more survivors still had a chance.


    But the survivors outnumbered the lesser drow less than two to one now, which did not bode well for a lot of them.


    But that was okay, because the smart ones were moving up on our flanks as I gathered with the girls. They knew we had no designs on them at all, and every drow we killed was another one of them that might live.


    It was going to be a race to the bottom. The only question is whether the elites would wade in before a thousand was reached, going after those they considered worthy opponents.


    Which me and my girls most certainly were.


    I could hear the heavy breathing of those still living behind me. All of them were wounded, and tired. At the same time, the will to live was burning strong, and they knew that some of them were going to make it. The more drow they killed, the more of them would!


    The drow merc captain only had two of his company left, the others fallen in combat along the way. His carapace armor was gouged and split in several places, scuffed and bruised, and the arrogance in his eyes was now replaced by a lethal fatalism.


    The urgob chief had one of his armored flunkies still alive, although that one was heavily wounded, and he was pretty banged up himself. The hobgoblin captain he''d taken as a vassal was also amazingly still alive, by dint of focusing completely on making sure the urgob could kill anything he had to fight, creating openings, and hemming opponents in.


    A lot of cyborgs of various sorts were still alive, races in power armor, and the reptoid with the runes on its skin had managed to stay alive. They were all arranged in tacit agreement, the small and quick warding the big and powerful. Goblin lightning spears from the dead had actually been picked up by a lot of them, giving them reach and the ability to strike at bouncers who thought themselves out of range, restricting movements and allowing strikes from a safer distance. Not safe... as all these drow would have wire or chain weapons with reach for just such things themselves.


    If it had been a company of Marked, Empathic Healing against our healing factors would have kept them all pretty topped off in Health, but they were on their own. Many of them were well within one or two-hit range from these drow, and both they and the drow knew it.


    Not so me and my girls. There were no visible wounds on any of us, and we weren''t moving like we were tired, either.


    The drow had spread out to surround the survivors. Despite being outnumbered, it was obvious who was at a disadvantage. Even the three queens moved up around me and the girls, knowing where the greatest chance to live was. Standing next to a twenty-foot insectoid biovore, a thirty-foot botanical biovore, and a multi-ton twenty-foot blob of unicellular doom, knowing they did not want to kill me, was kind of a surreal feeling.


    Purloined memories said this kind of ending was both normal and unusual. Mostly, the survivors would be panicking at this point, turning on one another in order to be one of the few to make it to the end, if at all possible, and the drow would just sweep in and clean them off. But now, even the monsters were setting there, waiting for them.


    Certain of the elites were filtering towards us, ready to have some fun. Others were holding back haughtily, waiting to see if there really was anyone worth dealing with themselves, and who probably wouldn''t act until the thousand and the rules changed to guaranteed one-on-one duels.


    There she was, hanging towards the back and being given a very wide berth, at least six cameras on her from every angle, dressed in white against obsidian skin, the better to show off the blood of her enemies. Her figure was flawless, radiating sex and violence, lithe as a danger, dangerous as a coiled blade, every movement a picture of grace and control. Her pink hair swayed behind her with a life of its own, accentuating every step, supreme arrogance, untouchable skill, lethality, danger.


    Madame Lolith, the Spider Queen, the undefeated champion of the arena for over two thousand years, considered the deadliest drow combatant alive.


    And she had her eyes on us, without any doubt whatsoever... but she was probably going to hold back and have us ''earn'' her attention, as entering any fight against her was a bastard glory of its own, she having acknowledged you as worth her time to kill.


    Which was plenty cool, as the vibes I was getting off her, and purloined memories said she was an Eighteen, and at least an Advanced Drow!...

 Chapter 460 - Far Future Ch. 170 – The Fish are Frying

    "Look at that one''s face. He must be constipated."


    "She obviously hasn''t had sex in ages."


    "Yeah, he''s about to lose it. Ten credits he goes barmy."


    "You''re on! How about that one? He still thinks wearing blood is stylish, and he has an ear fetish."


    "Nowhere near as stylish as an insignia fetish, I agree." We patted our hair with at least fifteen adornments all around.


    "Arrogant pricks and are still afraid to come over here. I wonder why."


    "They can''t play with the big girls, that''s why, and they never will."


    We had just the right amount of Hag in all our words, and they cut really, really deep, shrill and harsh and making them wince as they had no choice but to listen to them. Start messing with subsonics and ki, and taunts can really, really grind on you.


    Especially when you are emotionally unstable emovore emo demon-wannabes with sanity issues. La!


    One coven of bladewitches couldn''t taken it and came over screaming for us. A minute or two later we fed their corpses to the shoggoth, one to the treemother, and one to the Kundi Queen.


    Finally having time to watch us personally, the scattered drow gladiators were a bit shocked at the way we manhandled them... and were more than competent enough to realize just how bloody dangerous we were.


    Of course, group fights weren''t nearly as fun as one on one duels, but that wasn''t required until the last thousand. They were fully capable of working together, but, oh, there was a problem with Stupid.


    Trying to out-teamwork a bunch of Ranthas in melee combat was an exercise in frustration.


    Four carapace-armored Warlocks came trundling up with their Dire Finessed versions of sane weaponry, moving with the confidence and cooperation of having fought together (and one another) for maybe centuries.


    It still wasn''t the same as literally starting out as the same person, with the same Stats, same original personality, same understanding... and most importantly, the same absolute trust.


    The resulting fight looked like a choreographed sketch of WTF Is This. Jensa deciphered all their weak points, Keva hyperanalyzed their style, Celestia scared them despite themselves, and I went right into the middle of them and took them all on at once, generating myself about twelve AoO''s in the bargain.


    None of us killed the ones we were facing. Shattered fractal blades went flying, carapace armor protested to uncaring adamant, and Chill took off the head of Keva''s opponent, Flair spit Jensa''s opponent through the throat, Hawk went and plunged through the armpit of my facing opponent and tickled his heart; and I reached over, grabbed the head of Celestia''s opponent, and twisted my hand. His head turned 270 degrees, and then I did a nice spin around, knocked all the stunned dead Warlocks off their feet with his corpse, and dropped him down.


    "No style."


    "Trash footwork."


    "You see how yours was ready to stab the other one if you dodged! Mwahahaha!"


    "Ohhhhh, such glorious armor. It really helped them a lot."


    More insignias went into our hair, and the drow grit their teeth. This time the ones who were looking a little barmy were coming for us, so we sort of drifted together, while the other drow woke up and decided that killing the other survivors was something a bit more viable.


    To their immense consternation, since we were getting chased and they were coming at us to keep us busy, we felt obligated to go wander over and kill off the ones that were trying to avoid us in their trepidation... which the surviving contestants somehow didn''t mind at all.


    The mothers kind of wandered around us. The Kundi Queen was just a lethal mass occupying a lot of real estate; the treemother''s lethal root field was like a walking mine zone, and she covered even more area with her psi-enhanced thorned limbs; and the shoggoth was eating things and spitting out new oozes. It was rather entertaining when a few hundred pounds of omnivorous goo landed on a drow that wasn''t paying attention and began to digest them.


    Being the hardest to hurt and maybe-probably having a more aggressive mindset with my Exemplar Lite status, I took the lead in butchering the drow trying to butcher survivors, while the queens kind of funneled the drow in our direction. The girls played with the ones coming in to challenge us, and watched very carefully for a Master trying to slip into the mix and surprise us, not that they were going to escape Jensa or our Rantha eyes.


    One did try, using optical camouflage and some very sophisticated stealth tech that even thwarted tremblesense. However, Devasight makes one immune to light-bending, and his advanced holography was just that. He was real surprised when Jensa saw him coming the whole way, and to the immense intellectual appreciation of that Eleven, he got to find out what it was like to attempt a 42 or so Death save, and failed utterly with Hawk in his ear as he moved to cut at Keva.


    Too bad, so sad. Happily, he wasn''t surprised for too long.


    The girls took them down murderously, moving with a harmony and absolute trust and confidence that the drow simply couldn''t emulate, setting one another''s kill-strikes up, analyzing one another''s opponents, not even needing to be looking at a drow gladiator to kill them. Throats opened, hearts were poked, skulls were cloven, heads and limbs went flying, and twice they kicked drow right into flying oozes, to their great discomfort.


    They should have boned up on acid immunity, I thought, as I considered my own rampage.


    I was deliberately more brutal then the girls, because I could get away with it. I had more DR and I healed faster, and I was a bit stronger. Without stopping I was moving along the circle of drow, even as they were killing the survivors, and the numbers were dropping rapidly. Those survivors who could and were smart began to sweep with me, hemming in and pinning the drow so I could hack through their not-so-elusive selves, and it became almost a rolling horde as the spread-out drow trying to drop their enemies suddenly found a surge of nasty-minded survivors raging over them.


    I cut off one duelist''s arm and threw him into the center of Chief Urgob''s breastplate. His power claws slammed together, grabbed, and ripped nicely. Another I fed into Rune Reptoid''s jaws with a backhand that spun him all the way around and left him in exactly the wrong place to be. I crashed a head onto a cyber-scythe from one of the ''borgs, left it there for him to take off, swept another off his feet and punted him rolling so a half-ton of metal spike-leg could drive down on his chestplate and make it a Bad Day for Crimson-Skinned Git.


    All without end, flowing from one movement to the end, reading everything, tossing masterful drow gladiators into the grips of their enemies, where all their finessy-fun wouldn''t work against all that muscle they despised, and they were ganged up on and murdered messily... especially if they were missing a hand or two, and the other one was in something''s fanged jaws for a late-night arena snack. Holding them in a ''borg''s power-field to twitch and dance and kick before rotary blades trisected them was always good, too.


    And just to make it stick, I made sure to give them a Hag''s laugh, with every bit of sinister expectation, merry bloodlust, and old, knowing savagery for these pitiful bitches and bastards who had nothing redeeming left in them.


    Intimidation checks. Bardsong morale bonuses. Fearlessness, joy, and a satisfaction in the killing that these poor little leeches would never be able to understand or enjoy.


    Whoops, here was a senior Warlock trying to sneak into the drow trying to back up as I came in, give me a surprise. Silly little boy. I parried his blizzard of strikes and moved ahead faster then he could retreat, Valus'' Rule came into play as his idiotic dire weapon hooked on the guard of Chalice''s humming blade, and as he was trying to ply his knife, I hauled him in, gently nudged his dagger over, and he buried it nicely in his own gut. Man, pulling out that hooked, barbed thing was gonna hurt and be reeeeeally messy.


    I swatted him sideways, and he lurched right into the sizzling gauntlet of a grim human in power armor, bouncing him back at me as I hooked an ankle, and as he tried to roll without even thinking about it, he laid himself out perfectly in midair, still clutching his sword hooked on mine. I grabbed his head in midfall, and brought it right back up into that power fist again.


    The gladiator and I grinned together, and he hammered in as fast as he could he move his arm, which was pretty fast. I introduced the drow''s face to it, and his fancy Psychic Armor protested, cracked, splintered, shattered, and then the flattened face of the drow behind it shattered messily too.


    I kicked the second drow off Chalice''s point after she tried to come in behind me, and she stumbled, was snatched up by the urgob, and twisted savagely. Apart, that is.


    A horn blew up high out of nowhere. Combatants leapt apart, heads turning up cautiously, where the survivor count was blinking in bloody red.


    One thousand left... not counting the oozes, who were getting hacked apart by the drow with poisons that could kill even them, or discharges of fell energies that reduced them to sludge.


    "Awww, shucks, I was just getting on a roll." I cracked my neck left, right, and turned slowly around to look at just over four hundred survivors, a number greater than any arena fight in our purloined memories.


    Yeah, there''d never been a celebration quite like this before.


    "I strongly suggest every one of you who wants to live to kneel and return to whence you came."


    With groans, gasps, hisses, and rasps, the aliens behind me clanked and clunked down to a knee. The drow there started to sneer, and those sneers faded as they looked over their shoulders at the Masters starting to come forwards... and then looked back to where I and my daughters were smiling widely.


    And not kneeling.


    Watching a treemother and Kundi queen kneeling, and even a shoggoth curling on itself, before they turned and started walking away, was quite a sight. The gasping survivors, some of whom might still bleed out, limped, walked, crawled, rolled, and clattered away.


    The urgob and the hobgob had survived, the latter barely and being carried away by the urgob over his shoulder. The drow merc and one of his company had. The rest was a motley assortment of people who would be able to brag to nobody''s belief that they had survived the Heart of Blood.


    ----


    The survivors left, all of them. Some of them sent last looks our way as they did, but we told them to get going, and they did. They had no chance in what was to come, even the three queens. They were perceptive enough to see some of the drow coming in and realize how dangerous they were... and to know that there was no way they were going to be allowed to go free, anyways.


    The queens did snaffle up quite a few drow corpses on the way out, however. Nyar-nyar.


    The drums sounded like a great heart as they beat, and the four of us faced down over three hundred-some drow with great bemusement... and dark hair full of insignias of butchered drow gladiators. Mine was almost a veil at this point, or hanging armor, heh-heh.


    Our Swords were all droning in harmony, just right to send drow teeth on edge and hackles rise on hairless sleek skin of red, purple, or black.


    The drow began to edge away from one another. No teamwork, everything was one on one duels. You could not withdraw until the top hundred, and then again until the top ten.


    Once you engaged someone, you fought to the death, ignoring everyone else, and everyone ignored you.


    I watched as the drow parted, and Madame Liloth came stalking through, her scarlet eyes locked on me with almost sexual thirst for what was to come.

 Chapter 461 - Far Future – – And Now, Into the Fire...

    I rolled my eyes at her as the drums began to build up, and made a shooing motion. "At least wait until the chaff are dead."


    She paused, probably astonished that I dared talk to her, but Rantha, Dauntless, her Intimidation attempt sailed right past me and scattered more drow, shocked that I dared even speak to her Exalted Murderqueenness. I looked so relaxed she might have been a doxy on the corner, dressed up for ten credits an hour business or something. Not that a million would buy an hour of her time...


    "Intriguing," she laughed, clearly planning on enjoying this. "You think you will make the top hundred?"


    I just looked at her. "I''ve already killed two of your little brothers, and my girls one each. You think these twats are going to stop us?" I rolled my eyes. "Just honor the newbs with death at your hand, and we''ll be waltzing around soon enough."


    "Well." She regarded me for a moment, and then ever so slowly, her eyes began to move to the remaining members of the thousand drow who had joined earlier. "Shall we compete to see who can kill them the fastest?"


    A fair number of the drow swallowed upon hearing that.


    "Why, that sounds marvelous!" I shook my head, and the sixty-two insignia hanging in my air plopped to the ground in a ring around me. I stepped out of them and fixed my eyes upon the nearest plebe, who suddenly were all finding themselves being looked at by the Masters they way they had looked at the survivors. They had opted to stay, less than two hundred of them had chosen to bow out, and those who''d left were looking pretty smart at the moment.


    Kill the weak first!


    There was a final heartbeat, and the arena exploded in eye-blurs of violence.


    Me and the girls could run faster than any of these drow, so we were on our first targets almost instantly. The Masters were picking targets and converging, and bouncing, spinning, twirling, cavorting drow were moving in every direction as blades, chains, and knives clashed in flickers of motion... except where we were fighting, of course, where they were crashing and getting forced back.


    I didn''t trust any of the drow not to be sneaky, so I still had full area awareness, but that''s what multiple thoughtstreams are for.


    I let someone else take care of the Necrochemysts, as I didn''t want to slow down my killing streak. I was focused on one target at a time, and I didn''t want to dance with them.


    Improved Sunder meant that when I shattered their little ropes and chains and blades and whatnot, they didn''t have any weapons, and I carried right on through to carve into them. Flurry meant I could get off a combination of blows in absolute blurs of speed, so strong and fast there was no way they could avoid me even dodging as fast as they could.


    As the survivors had done, the lower gladiators didn''t even spar with one another, backing off to face the masters, choosing a fight as soon as the person before them was dead, counting themselves lucky to maybe hopefully get an injured and more tired Master as an opponent, giving them a chance, however small.


    Those people made great punching bags, since I and the girls weren''t waiting for them to wait out the fights.


    The one thing with a finesse style is a big reliance on multiple hits and crits. Naturally Madam Liloth was capable of mixing it up with even an experienced finesse fighter, since she surpassed them all, but they were also aware of the crit-dependency and so made that more difficult.


    Also, they were all Tens with maxed out Soak and Health, and took a while to carve up the way you needed to.


    When you are swinging for fifty-plus points a hit, however, that time is measured in Not Very Long At All Die Now.


    My first opponent took ten seconds to get opened up vertically as she tried to jump away, her grav-mulcher didn''t work (hey, none of the drow''s grav-warpers were, boo hoo) and Chalice ripped her open.


    My muscles were 6g muscles, I didn''t need no stinking grav-manipulators. I was on one of the gawking watchers with one bound, covering fifty feet and letting them know that a Spirited Charge and Death from Above combo was coming at them... and I had no problem redirecting my momentum to follow them as they tried to move out of the way.


    Bang, crit on the charge. I took off the champion''s armored arm and head with one stroke, and was moving on to the next before his astonished head could finish its jettisoned tumble and hit the bloody sands in disbelief.


    The watchers realized they were Liloth''s main targets too, but she was already behind me and my two badges, and now she was getting serious.


    I smiled to myself and continued my massacre.


    The Masters were winning, but not all of them were that fast, and certainly not as fast as me and the girls. Before the first one of them was done, I had three kills, was working on my fourth, got a fifth, sixth, seventh...


    And suddenly everyone left was fighting, and there was only to wait until a fight was over, and springing on the victor as rapidly as possible.


    The girls and I could only sit there, waiting and daring anyone to come, which they most certainly would. They had also started a whole new set of insignia, just to drive the point home that not even the best had been able to do much to them.


    There it was: a Master Warlock took down a duelist, his armor taking the final thrust as he slit the other drow''s throat, reveling in the experience.


    He barely got his sword up as I jumped right over two other fights and was on him, sweeping away as he nearly lost his sword, and I stomped on the dying drow to pursue him.


    He probably thought my overwhelming charge and attack would peter out and he would turn the tide and use my momentum against me. Then I hooked his sword, grabbed his dagger hand, stabbed him in the gut with his own monomolecular-edged hooked poniard and its poison a couple time, rammed Chalice''s hilt into his faceless visor hard enough to spiderweb it, leaned back to kick his sword away, and spun Chalice around to hack into his knee and cripple him. My hair flew up into his face, he couldn''t see as he tried to stumble away, and as his blade hacked harmlessly down through my black hair and behind my back, I came back up inside his reach and drove Chalice up under his jaw and into his head sweetly.


    Mmm, so this is an Eleven who doesn''t know profound swordplay. Clearly lacking in multiple areas, I thought, taking my insignia prize and looking around for another victim whose Soak was depleted. It made the kills a lot easier.


    I leapt for a bladewitch who was laughing in ecstasy at killing a Champion, only to look up and see me coming her way with a charming smile waaaay too fast, Chalice out and droning her doom.


    I was swift and merciless, and her lack of armor certainly didn''t help her as I removed a knife and her hand, ripped her left, right, and down she went very suddenly, her insides now on the outsides.


    A horn blew, and I stopped in midrun towards my next victim, another Master Bladewitch all wide-eyed and startled to see me coming... and my new array of insignia.


    I didn''t look back at Liloth, but I knew she didn''t have nine of them. She hadn''t been touched, of course, and I had... but Energized Nog Armor skin didn''t give a frak how sharp the blades were, it was kinetic energy and placement or go home, bitches. They were good at cleaving through damage reduction and trying to overcome it, but I just had a lot, in addition to the armor skin, and what did get through was healing right back up so fast it might not even have been there in the first place.


    "You are good at killing the weak, little half-blood!" laughed Liloth, seeing my performance.


    "And two more Masters," I added without batting my eye, as the hundred eyed one another, and us, and weighed their chances of making it to the top ten.


    And perhaps to nobody''s surprise, half the drow saluted, knelt, and ran away, probably cursing why they couldn''t bounce artistically until they got a good deal further away from us, and only the true elites were left.


    A few of the lesser gladiators had lived because some Masters were dead... more than disguised Ranthas, anyways. Forty-one sacrificial contestants remained for this celebration, including the best of the best.


    The best eyed one another, and moved to take out the weak. I kept my eyes on my target, who had three wounds on her, while even my clothing had mended itself, and my hair showed my kills... pleebs on the left, post-Tens on the right.


    Gladiatorial arena. Must have style, non?


    She must have had pride or something, not wanting to flee before a breshkt. My smile just grew wider and wider as she didn''t run away, and Chalice was droning to drive an icepick into her teeth.


    "Half-blooded whelp!" she spat at me. "Your luck has failed you, to send you to me!"


    I slowly looked her up and down, and shook my head slowly, infuriating her even more. "Pureblood, wench. Neither of my parents were of the drow." She blinked despite herself. "As for luck, I agree, you''re going to be no fun at all. In your next life, wear some decent armor, and have a bit of style, would you?"


    "Ahhhhh!" she began to rage, purple blood vessels rising on her black skin as her eyes went red. Probably some subdermal alchemical distillation getting pumped into her as the next timer came down...


    She did get a lot stronger suddenly, psychic strength coursing through her, and clearly expecting me to get smashed off my feet and probably bones broken as her knives struck at me.


    Yeah, well, bitch, you got finesse knives there. Just how much strength can you put into a pair of things that weigh barely a pound?


    They crashed into Chalice, and I let the force flow to my feet. Oh, nice, Might right up to 34, a +12 bonus. Big Jotun range.


    Being used finesse style with daggers. I had to laugh at her.


    Basically, we were so strong we weighed the equivalent of infants to one another... but I still had a much heavier weapon, and I could still move it real fast, and when she didn''t have daggers, what then?


    Freaking dire daggers and those bloody hooks. Our weapons crashed together, and then her little fractal blade shattered under the impact that was supposed to send me sprawling, I hooked down on the other one, and she was utterly shocked to find I was still stronger than her. She was so strong her whole body would move before her arm did... which is exactly what happened, and she was turned sideways as she tried to resist, and her side was open.


    Oh, my, you aren''t used to running around with a 34 Might and seeing what it does to your fighting style? Amazing. There are some major implications to your fighting style when your whole body moves before the parry does..


    My rabbit punch to her hip popped the socket out. She clawed for my face with razored nails, and I moved into it, letting her clout me on the side of my head with all that strength... and was braced and just took it as my foot drove into the sand, and my second punch shattered her jaw and nearly tore it off her face.


    Hey, you don''t have profound open hand fighting, either, do you?


    She tried to cut me back and bounce away, but couldn''t... I was on her, stayed on her, and simply wasn''t afraid of staying close to her and her knife. It cut in, rang on Chalice''s guard again, and then I drew three feet of adamant across her belly, opening it up nicely as she tried to block, and instead lost her dagger to the screaming force of the steel as she held the blade too firm with her strength and metal bit on metal. She tried to lunge with it, I was certainly in reach, but I just caught her arm, froze it in place, shook my head at her silly attempt to be a brute force fighter this late in the game, and headbutted her.


    She had no DR to speak of. Strength-wise, she took it, but her face was crushed, she was blinded for a moment, and she smashed hard to the ground, rolling automatically and coming to her feet in a graceful display of I Deliver My Neck to Your Sword.


    Her head bounced away, shooting fifteen feet into the air from the force of her boosted blood pressure, and I snagged my insignia and looked for another target in dismissal.

 Chapter 462 - Far Future – And now for the Good Eats

    That guy there was a Fifteen. I advanced on the corsair with a smile as he harried his mercenary lord opponent, that experienced fellow looking fatalistic at his lack of luck on getting this fellow on the draw. Krazn Oyqifix, as my purloined memories and a quick glance at the displays above confirmed.


    As it turns out, we probably weren''t going to get to the Madam, but that was fine.


    The raider eventually fell to a twisting lunge up under his ribs, hanging for a second on the extended edge of the darkly glowing blade, and then crumpling. Another trip to the Vats for him.


    That elegantly clad fellow turned around, and saw me approaching him. I noted he''d been marked twice, which meant his Soak was probably gone, although he wasn''t bleeding. Vampiric Weapon, probably, but it didn''t matter. Trying to suck out my life energy was going to be an exercise in frustration for any Weapon.


    "You are very confident to be facing me," he said, sword snapping around on guard, his dirk in hand to parry. "Will you not equip your shield?" he offered mockingly, supremely confident of himself.


    "If you can force me to do so, I will be impressed," I replied, and then our blades were meeting.


    I was watching his every move, as this was an extremely rare opportunity to fight someone with a higher Melee Attack Bonus than I had, all from Class Levels.


    My Melee Level was still Ten, because I''d sucked up so much Karma into my Racial Levels. I had full BAB for both ranged and melee combat from my Rantha Levels, making me a hideously gifted instinctive fighter. Weapon Mastery from being a Melee and tons of profound stuff had tempered all of that, of course, but I was still enjoying looking at a Fifteen strut his stuff.


    That being said, he didn''t have an advantage on me, and he swiftly realized it.


    He was boosted all the way to the nines, maxed out with everything racial he could, Dex near to mine if not equal... but he was still much, much weaker, even after the muscle-weaving and sinew-strengthening bioboosts. I had a fighting style he literally had never seen before, with Seven Dragons swordplay on full display with all its intricacies and ways of overcoming a foe, and it was clearly throwing him on how I was using a sword so effectively.


    His force-enhanced mesh armor was barely there as far as I was concerned, even if it was +V, and his Charisma-enhanced swashbuckling style meant nothing to Way of the Wind. Way of Fire was chasing him down, Way of Shadow was matching every feint, Way of Sun every riposte, and my Way of Moon defense was punishing his off-hand tremendously.


    He couldn''t match my speed or my footwork, and given how he was prancing around, I could see how badly that alarmed him. I definitely hadn''t seen anyone but the Madam so light on their feet, but it wasn''t doing him any good as I slid around him, back and forth, barely moving my feet, always messing with angles and forcing him to adjust to my attacks, turning his attacks into more openings.


    I landed my first hit within ten seconds, just a flicker through the cloth on his arm, but it drew blood. His darkly-glowing saber was skirling with Chalice, who was taking it with a sniff, easily forcing it off, while elaborate and precise parries tried to shift her here and there and weren''t working anything like they should.


    If he tried a hard parry, he was going to lose his weapons and likely his hands, and he realized that the first time our blades met. That meant he was instantly on the defensive, and trying madly to keep my sword away as he retreated across the sands. I saw the flash of his eyes when he couldn''t grav-bounce, I saw that belt he was wearing, and just grinned as I pursued, forcing him to use every technique he could think of to stay alive from Chalice''s black and gold length.


    All the girls had thoughtstreams watching this fight, commenting and analyzing, thirsting for the sight of that level of BAB, and the attack speed that came with it.


    His face hardened as he realized that I was using him as a practice dummy. I left myself open once, he took it for a stab at my side that barely went in a half-inch... and in the opening Chalice reached out and touched his kidney via his belly button, or nearest facsimile thereof. The cold power of banefire shot through him, and he hissed as I twisted and he barely curled away from it.


    I felt the negative energy pawing at me, but it couldn''t steal my life, Nulls don''t like that, thank you, and his face suddenly got a wee bit more fatalistic about what was coming.


    Looked like he didn''t know what shadowfire could do to him, either.


    And there it was, a half-inch opening in his style, thrown off by his lack of grav-jumping and the wound in his side and on his arm. Chalice flicked in, light as a foil in my hands, slid over his parry, and went right into his left eye a full six inches as my feet slid forward without my legs moving a whit.


    Gotta love that Waveskating Step.


    His blades were still attempting to parry it away as he gawked at me with his other eye, trying to bounce back, and I just moved faster, pushing it in, and shoved the point out the back of his pale violet-haired head. His feet danced, and kicked, as shadowfire and banefire did interesting things to his brain and mind and soul, and maybe he realized what was going to happen to him, maybe not.


    He was over a thousand years old, and now he was dead, and he wasn''t coming back at all.


    Them not knowing profound martial arts really hurt them. Pity them.


    ---


    And then there were ten.


    I glanced at the girls flipping blood off their blades, and the drow masters had expressions suddenly lacking in the absolute confidence and arrogance of being the superior breed and us being trash and all that.


    And just like that, we flourished our blades, conceded, and walked away.


    They blinked in shock, especially Madame Liloth, who was looking forwards to a good series of fights. If her eyes flashed at me having nine insignias in my hair, and she only had five, that, in the end, only meant I could deal out the damage, not avoid it.


    She still didn''t have a mark on her, while I had indeed been hit, but since it didn''t matter, I had healed it all back... with the help of a couple horrific poisons triggering Poison Healing, to boot. I was basically at full.


    Which, when you have a 50 Con and Reinforced Body, is nigh unto 400 Soak and 350 Health.


    Yes, I was a monster, and I didn''t care if she was an Eighteen with +V crap up the kazoo and zippy-yay Stats.


    "You cannot walk away from our duel!" she stated icily, stepping forwards.


    "They haven''t earned the right to watch us fight," I waved over my back. "We''ll do lunch with fractal edges soon. Secure your position!"


    We had the right to withdraw. The other six drow were all Twelves through Sixteens, the last being a Warlock who was probably the only viable threat to Liloth.


    Did they want to take another run to the Vats? Everyone knew who was going to end up on top. The rest was just where they were in the top ten.


    Well, why not? What was a little death, to people like them?


    ------


    We were walking down the ramp that had been walked down by hundreds of survivors just a short time ago... probably more than had come back down it in total for the last millennium. Things went out of this room, not back down into it.


    Some of them were still in there. Many of them had settled up on their prizes from the highly amused drow, who knew that their victories would only bring more hapless fools in to enthusiastically offer themselves up for death.


    -How''d the bets go?- Celestia /asked for all of the girls.


    -We have made an obscene amount of money in multiple currencies,- I /replied, and let them peek at the account balances. Imperial credits was one of them, and they giggled behind impassive faces as we came down into the room.


    They were silent as they saw us come in. A few of them even staggered to their feet in respect, while others labored to live, clearly on their last legs, running off alchemical side-effects, or simply wounds, poison, or the like that wouldn''t go away.


    I pointed, and Grim flipped out of my hair into my hand. The girls repeated the gesture, and we split up.


    If it was quiet before, you could have heard a pin drop once we started healing them. They watched gory wounds flash over us, off of them, and get healed away as we took the injuries silently. We''d gotten a lot better at this, and could take poisons, which were just like healing salves to us.


    We said nothing as we took the injuries to flesh, couldn''t do it for cybernetics, and healed it all away. Those who might have died here rose to their feet in our wake, surviving despite everything, awed and greedy and relieved and having very complicated expressions as they looked after us.


    But when we left the room, nobody was left behind. Urgob, reptoid, whatever that spider-faced freak thing was (a Hepazuga, jeez, Mom!), human, hobgoblin... they all walked out of that room of death, far more subdued than they had been when they walked down into it.


    -----


    The station to claim our rewards wasn''t that far, although they had never, ever, had so much business from non-drow in one day. Still, that didn''t make the mechanics of it any different. Some of the more astute who had bet on themselves to live were also going to pick up gambling winnings and multiply their earnings. After all, if they died, why did they care if they lost the money?


    I didn''t inquire too deeply into some of the things they were asking for in their winnings, as drow biotech and cybergrafting was all on the table as services that could be purchased. They should be above board on granting the rewards, in order to lure in more fools, er, contestants, but you never knew.


    I just took the money, parceled it out to the girls, and then, to the amazement of a whole lot of people who wanted to keep tabs on us, we vanished into the crowd entirely, and were gone.


    ----------


    The guards and psi-weavers maintaining the Portal weren''t exactly accommodating of our need to use a certain Portal, but that was wonderful, we were experts at improvisation.


    In turns out when you coup de grace a recalcitrant Portal-opening psychic drow with Mindfeaster up on your Sword, and nail him to the power input crystals of the Portal when you do it, you can transfer the stolen PP, which the Portal did indeed recognize as permitted, to the device, and power it right up! Use Psychic Device Ranks for the win... it was one of Chalice''s two major skills, the other being Use Magic Device.


    Wouldn''t that surprise people, learning my Sword could activate all their little toys where I couldn''t...


    The Portal shimmered to life, and we all stepped right on through.

 Chapter 463 - Far Future Ch. 173 – And Now Like Smoke

    All our Swords got busy locking down the spatial coordinates on the other side, while we got busy plying said Swords against the startled drow guards lazing about there, and their cyber-slaved mechtoys, and murderhounds and reapercats and random corsair reinforcements and merc guards and...


    Well, let''s just say that nobody who saw us on the way out got to live, and their cameras were going to have trouble recording more than blurs, anyways.


    The girls would have no problem whatsoever getting back into the city, and were going to do just that. Their jobs were to find as many such Portals as they could and get the coordinates for them. Mine was to get shit started on this side of the Rift, despite how much resistance I was likely to get.


    My duel with Madam Liloth was going to have to wait a while. That said, all three of the girls hit Melee/11 with me after living through that grand celebration of the drow, and killing things bigger and older than we were.


    I was going to hit Rantha Thirteen as soon as I delivered this message, maybe higher. After all, I had me some ambitions.


    We were in a pirate port, a place where the dark sides of the galaxy came together to deal and get dealt with, aliens and the scum of existence side-by-side in a don''t knife me, I won''t knife you (right now) kind of standoff suitable for dealing with the kind of unspeakable stuff you just didn''t find with your normal merchantman.


    We could all see the heavy cruiser in orbit, with its attendant modified transport trailing after it. Data matched the lines of the ship of our target, his fleet was probably back in safer space, not wanting to make quite the trip this was, and probably covering for their boss.


    While doing something coy like Airwalking up there was a possibility, or even jetting, that would be visible, and I wanted to be subtle-like... plus it was a long damn way and my fly speed was in miles/hour, not miles/second. I would be taking the local transportation.


    The transport that Marquis de Krov had brought his cyborg slaves down on was gone, but his personal transport was still here. Getting off of here was going to be as simple as going invisible, holding onto the damn hull of the ship, and letting my Vajra deal with air resistance as it flew up into the void and delivered me into the heart of his ship.


    And then, well, I had plans for the bastard.


    -------


    The girls vanished back into the starport, zipping through Riftcuts back into another part of Gloomheart, there to continue their explorations and additions to The Map. I blended into the top of the Marquis de Krov''s private flitter and waited for him to come out.


    It didn''t actually take all that long, if you were the patient sort. Nobody was clambering over the top of this thing to check it out, that''s what cameras and monitors that couldn''t see me anyways were for, and of course the guards were stationed at the entry points, not the roof.


    About twelve hours after I sat down, him and his cohort of n''er-do-wells and paid throatslitters swept up, complete with a few house guards of his drow sponsors to make sure none of the watching pirates got any ideas. Once he left orbit, anything went, of course, and I assumed that whatever was being traded had already been sent up and out by other means.


    The drow didn''t actually send some ships up to escort him, there being a very strict limit to how nice they could possibly be to a human, even one that would work with them so unscrupulously. He and his crew boarded, made sure that nothing had been strapped to, seeded on, or otherwise affixed to his ship, and then it was blasting off with rockets and anti-grav. There I was, still clinging to the top of the ship.


    The air was hissing past me hard enough to cut steel as it rapidly picked up speed, but Vajra, frictionless, it zipped right on past me even more smoothly then it would the flitter, so there were no handling problems, it was probably even a little bit smoother than normal. It didn''t take long to break out into space, but the ship was big enough to have its own small gravity field, and a residual atmosphere clinging to it.


    I watched his ship growing before me.


    For all eye-peeping I''d done and continued to do, I had not personally been up in space before, nor seen a ship like this up close. Oh, I recognized all of them from having watched through the eyes of the kids and Marked a zillion times, but there''s always the first time for yourself, y''know?


    Axiomatic Modal Tech demanded some freaking stupid, yet impressive architectural styles. It was meant to be blocky, domineering, tyrannical, intimidating, conveying a massively powerful physicality and implacability to the enemies and members of humanity alike.


    I mean, seriously, you don''t need to put cathedral towers on a starship, statues of worship, mediation chambers, and that incredibly blocky style of construction, rune-patterns of assembly forming a greater purpose of Law that helped ward off the presence of the Warp, especially when the Throne field went up.


    I imagined that statue of the Emperor wasn''t really intact at this point, but who knew? I wasn''t going to go over and inspect it.


    Just a rake of the ol'' Rantha-peepers was enough to see that this ship had been in a lot of fights. Miniscule differences in alloys made the replacement plating stand out, and there was a lot of it. Carbon-scoring; not quite perfectly matched and patched replacements; breaks in the AMT pattern that might be dangerous in the Warp, might not. Likely, this sot didn''t believe or didn''t care about the profound nature of the stuff involved, and just had it dealt with as needed.


    Well, it wasn''t something I could do anything about, so, eh.


    Of course, the bloody thing was big, a couple kilometers long, with main gun barrels a hundred meters long facing forwards, massive side-mounted batteries of missile launchers, mushroom-like clusters of point-defense turrets, and the beehive stacks of the ship''s shields. The religious iconography was everywhere, but not maintained all that well, and lacked the continuity that would make it truly useful.


    Well, bad luck had caught up to them today, so there was that.


    The hangar deck of the heavy cruiser was yawning open, and we entered the ship''s atmosphere smoothly, the pilot deftly bringing us into the yawning chamber.


    Two hangar entrances, one on each side of the ship, with another one in the stern for pure cargo, I surmised, seeing the squadrons of starfighters lined up on the floor and racks all about. At least two hundred at a glance, and the iconography and paint jobs were anything but reassuring, given the irregularity of markings and spreading of individualized styles. There were several smaller cargo transports and utility flitters here, and there was an adjacent hangar that seemed to be tightly packed with troop transports in storage.


    Yeah, de Krov''s flagship was not a big cargo transport, that was certain.


    It was fairly well maintained for a non-Fleet craft, but I could already see signs of slacking off everywhere, particularly in cleanliness. Fuel and power cables were snaking about in ways they shouldn''t, clearly just put down where it was convenient instead of on dedicated paths. Laziness and lack of discipline... but that''s what happened when you were pirates and crooks, and employed murderers and convicts...


    The flyer glided into position on grav control and set down on its own dedicated spot... having clear access to either exit point, but giving plenty of space for the fighters to be launched and do their things. After all, if he wanted to leave in a hurry, he needed to have a quick shot out of here.


    I wondered if he had a gunboat or yacht around that was Jump-capable, which would be a nice investment for running away. A racer or courier-ship was not out of the question when it came to preserving your own hide...


    In the end, it didn''t matter for now. I quaffed a Potion of Invisibility, slightly more reliable than my hair, and jumped down from the flyer before it set down.


    It was forty feet to the deck; I hit with a thump not heard above the soft rumble of maneuvering jets and whining grav-transoms, and the sound of many tons of ship hitting the ground not ten feet away from me.


    I had naturally memorized the standard layouts of all these AMT model ships, including about fifty variations of them. All that data was standardized stuff, and when I was making parts and installing them, I naturally had to know what went where and how.


    Briggs handled the engineering hands-on stuff, but I was the one who had to take the first swings at the design and fitting all the stuff together, modifying the AMT to GAMT if possible.


    The prominent bridge tower amidships wasn''t where the actual bridge was located... that was more a ceremonial gathering point and where most of the crew quarters were located, and entertainment and eating areas, etc.


    The bridge was located further forwards, with more layers of shielding between it and the raging matter-destroying fire of the ship''s main reactor. If the reactor blew, the bridge could actually survive the shock, blowing away from the rest of the ship into a tumble... and the secondary reactors powering the forward guns could be rerouted into the maneuvering rockets on the forward canards, enabling the survivors of the front part of the ship to drag the rest of it back to port... or get there independently.


    I''d seen several examples of it during the ''Vore Invasion, as thousands of crew stranded in the ships didn''t want to just wait for a tow with the void full of biovore vessels, many still teeming with hungry things inside. It was slow and it looked pitiful, but it got them away from the living starships and back to port regardless.


    So, I wanted to go forwards, to the area between the transom cannons and the broadside array just beyond the hangars here. It was a bit of a walk, but that was what moving floors, transom rides, and elevators were for, as well as personal lifts through the pedestrian zones.


    Still, much too big and roomy place, probably because they had to haul ISBM''s through it. I avoided most of the traffic by dint of walking up on the ceiling, which clearly hadn''t been nano-scrubbed nearly enough, trotting ahead of the Marquis'' party as he took the opportunity to walk to his chambers and enjoy the feeling of having made a lot of something and getting what he wanted.


    The ship was getting underway within ten minutes of him landing, plainly just waiting for him to arrive. I registered the sudden shift in grav, even if I couldn''t hear the deep thrum of the engines starting up. Basic inertial compensators dealt with the acceleration as the ship pulled out of orbit quickly, heading out for a location past the unstable gravity wells of this system, where they could start a Helldive into the Warp and get back to human space.


    The transport ship for all them cyborgs was likely paralleling this ship and coming right along with us, too. I couldn''t see it taking a separate course until they were back in a safe system, after all.


    With total aplomb, I headed for the captain''s quarters. Given the man''s ego, they would only be bigger than normal, and there was a limited number of floor plans which could satisfy that. Now, breaking into such a place would normally be pretty difficult, but I didn''t really have to do that... I just had to get inside with him.


    And while ships like this traditionally had Interdiction fields included into the ship''s shields, all part of the Throne defenses, such defenses inside the ship were usually part of the walls.


    So, for instance, if I saw an open door, Chalice could ''port right on through it, especially after I verified the layout of it in my Trembling Domain from the hallway.


    The captain''s cabin would be a convenient place for me to spend the voyage, too. Of course, if he had some entertainment in there, I could avail myself of it... and I couldn''t even picture someone like de Krov''s temperament not having a couple pleasure slaves in his quarters, catering to his every whim. Whether I could trust them or not, that was a separate matter.


    I was certainly looking forward to serving him more than a little bit of his own style of business. Hostile takeovers were just the funnest and most profitable things, after all.

 Chapter 464 - Far Future – – Arrrg, Matey, Your Ship Be Mine!

    The area of the officer''s quarters was needlessly overdone and elaborate, with trophies of conquests and kills here and there. There were stuffed and mounted beasts, broken helms and cracked armor, at least three crowns, a collection of flags hanging upside down in defeat, and other mementos of past victories, some recent and unknown, some of which I could actually reference.


    The plundering of Groupus IV. The ravaging of Mendilar. The destruction of the Egosa family. The ruin of the Tibentan Dynasty. The burning of the Jijembe Apostasy...


    All his greatest triumphs were against his own kind, for good or ill. He''d ravaged at least five worlds, plundering and enslaving millions from each, and where those people went, there were no records of. He''d probably been selling them off to the drow for decades, if not over a century, turning humans into mere commodities to be bought and sold on a whim...


    He was also suspected of more than a little piracy, plenty of world-raiding out in the void, and when he dealt with alien races, he kept it very quiet.


    I was going to enjoy what I was going to do to him.


    All this waste of space, high arched halls, hanging trophies, and self-worship created plenty of places to wait for this overclad, paranoid, ruthlessly opportunistic blackheart to get what was coming to him. I tucked myself up in a corner, and waited for him to get done with his stroll around his ship, intimidating his fawning underlings, and get back to his quarters.


    He came striding back with his personal bodyguard, his crimson overcoat with the gold epaulets and ornaments hanging upon, and helping his big frame look even bigger. He had at least seven weapons on him, including one of those Harlique amulets that shot out nasty kill-beams. Thing cost almost as much as a light cruiser, which showed just how profitable his work had been over the years. He was a ferocious combatant, with both cybertech and biotech, augmented in all sorts of ways, and probably pissed that he couldn''t break Ten even after these extra years.


    Drugs to retard aging weren''t that hard to get ahold of for someone at his level, so he didn''t have to worry about dropping dead or too many grey hairs, but the real attraction of long years was getting strong enough to enjoy more long years... and it was going to be plenty hard for him to break Ten with tech reliance, as it was for everyone.


    But, he was also the kind of guy who broke worlds and preyed upon his own people. The Akasha might be replete with people like him, but it wasn''t going to reward him. The only way he was going to break Ten is if he started some serious anti-alien stuff... and if he had done to the Empire''s enemies what he did to its citizens, he probably would have broken Ten long ago.


    The Warp had probably made overtures to him already, and only his ego and fear of the Empire had kept him from endorsing it. After all, the Warp didn''t offer you anything you truly couldn''t do yourself, it just made it so very much easier...


    He dismissed his guards, and opened the door to his quarters.


    The Interdiction was broken as the Walled Matter was opened, and Chalice smoothly displaced me inside forty steps past him, still invisible, and around the corner.


    He had his own living room the size of a small house, a small mansion inside the massive starship, a huge waste of space and tribute to his own self-importance. I took it all in, putting colors to the materials as the alarm quietly rang, signaling that the master of this space was home.


    There was motion, and I smoothly retreated into a side room leading to the supply rooms as the maids hurried into position on the stairs leading up to his sleeping quarters.


    They were in very classic French maid attire, very short skirts, hose, and superb figures. They probably got continuous bio-treatments to keep them looking like that and in such shape, and were no doubt unable to survive without them, now. If he threw them away, and they didn''t find another such master, they would die in days as their body fell apart from the stress imposed upon it by unnatural demands.


    They were all attractive in different ways, and were currently working very hard to present different airs. Dark and sultry, fiery and eager, clean and innocent, strong and faintly rebellious... all giving him a different taste to enjoy. There''d definitely been biosculpting to touch them up, and no matter how they tried to hide it, there was dread in their eyes.


    They''d probably seen many other girls fail and be thrown aside, sold off to unspeakable fates, and they had no control of their destinies. Likely they had bioware installed and simply were unable to act against him at all. He wouldn''t be taking any chance with his personal safety. They were pretty little pets he could acquire and get rid of as he pleased, like anything else.


    The four of them were arranged perfectly on the curving, ascending stairs, ready to serve their master.


    "Welcome home, Lord de Krov!" they called out in harmony as he stepped into the room.


    There was barely a flicker as his eyes swept over them, saw nothing out of place. He continued forward, and they flowed down the stairs with prancing steps.


    His greatcoat was doffed, and his broadsword and gunbelt removed smoothly and set on a table to the side. A tray of delicacies was presented to him by the blond while the voluptuous nubian poured him a drink, impressive cleavage fully on display for him, and he smoothly and naturally put his arms around both of them, hands going wherever he wished, directing them up the stairs towards his chambers to celebrate his deal, no doubt.


    They had only smiles and eagerness for him. The redhead and brunette ducked out to begin fixing him a post-coital meal, their expressions intense and focused as only those in fear of their lives can be.


    There were pressure sensors on the floor, walls, and even ceilings, and heat trackers in the walls. They were feeding data to a security brain somewhere, disembodied and directing all this tech, looking for any assassins. Getting aboard the ship using dimensional travel was likely impossible, and if the teleporting was tight enough, say, concealed by a following Interdiction to pound any ripples of displacement flat instantly, the internal sensors weren''t going to detect anything.


    Gliding above the floor, completely at room temperature, and even the sonic pulses slyly going off every now and then and verifying the other sensors, flowed right around me.


    I hopped to the upper floor, glanced at the pscanner in the ceiling light scanning for sentient thoughts, or any thoughts, tirelessly, and glided after the pirate and his slaves.


    Every place was being watched, and the boudoir was no exception. On the other hand, privacy was not required, and as long as I didn''t touch anything, getting inside wasn''t a problem at all.


    He was already in the process of being disrobed and starting the ravishing process. I glided up behind him, the girls oblivious to my presence, extended out one of my stingers from my back, and put in three drops of #9 into his fine Coutiganae wine (Cheri Rantha was a Talented Wine Snob and beloved of the remaining high society on Janus III, and had already managed to assemble quite a wine collection. That drink he was sloshing around was a couple thousand credits a bottle) and simply withdrew.


    He was definitely going to give them one hell of a sexual performance, and then he would be mine. I stayed back there and waited until he took one drink, it went straight into his blood and bypassed all his nano-filters with psi-powered alchemical glee, made that drink taste like ambrosia, and started the stimulation of his pleasure centers.


    He very eagerly downed the rest of it, starting to get very frisky indeed, and while the girls began to squeal at his eagerness, I left the room.


    There were two other maids I could see about releasing from his hold, and what kind of mods he made to them.


    ----


    Someone walking into the kitchen a few minutes later would have been a little surprised.


    I was leaning against the wall, staying politely out of the way as the two maids moved back and forth making an intricate light meal. The Marquis demanded real food, not processed, so all the ancient cutting and scraping and burning and other stuff had to be done, and generally had to be force-programmed into these girls, since they wouldn''t have much experience working with non-processed foods.


    That was fine, as that was where all my experience with food was too, wouldn''t you know, and I hated gak-food, too.


    This was important because right now they weren''t really in control of themselves.


    I''d poked a hole in their heads and then infiltrated their craniums with my hair. I had plenty of reach, plenty of hair, and now what looked like a cable of scarlet was attached to the back of their skulls. Their thoughts were basically being held in stasis, and I was moving their bodies around by hooking into their cortex as part of what I was doing... not that hard, when you have multiple thoughtstreams.


    Yeah, there was both cyberware and bioware stuck in the heads of these girls, giving them an Identity for the ship and sculpting their brains and bodies with tons of override functions that were simply wearing them out. Their bodies were on hormone-producing sprees that were destroying their organs, and the programming was twisting their minds and breaking them over robotic inflexibility and their total inability to defy commands, even if they didn''t know they were breaking. Add in the biosculpting keeping them in an unreal state of physical condition and artificial forms, and yeah, these girls were pretty much done for.


    I didn''t even have to read their minds to see how bad they had it, and while these two weren''t saints, they were survivors, they weren''t actively wicked people... although what they wanted to do to the man who had done this to them probably wouldn''t be considered very nice.


    Such is life.


    I was frying elements of both the cyberchips and biochips implanted into them, having to be careful since a complete wipe of the cyberchip would instantly turn them into an intruder on the ship, and they would be swiftly eliminated by one means or another. Keeping their coding intact while precisely eliminating the commands to, oh, instantly alert the ship if the Marquis was attacked or they suspected he was being controlled, was on the agenda here, so there was computer hacking and programming going on. I was recoding the biochip basically at the genetic level, trying to alleviate the stress on their minds with brain surgery, and I was controlling their bodies to cook his meal and make sure the ship''s sensors didn''t register anything grossly out of place while I did so.


    A high-end Restoration from a Psi could probably return the girls physically to a livable condition, but whether they''d be able to keep their sanity was something else. In any event, they definitely weren''t going to continue looking like they were, flesh-molded and warped into unnatural figures for the entertainment of the one who held their lives in his hands.


    Yeah, I was doing a bunch of things at once, some of them very intimate, and the girls, for the moment, were kind of frozen inside their own bodies, unable to send off an alarm as I was tinkering with the things that controlled them.


    I lifted all our heads as the alarm went off, and an odd energy spread through and around the ship and its conduction architecture.


    The Throne Field was fully engaged. A Helldive was about to begin.


    Plenty of Ranthas had been through Helldives by now. To a Null, it wasn''t anything special, and Mom wasn''t nearby to link up with, so it was only basically wondering if there was going to be a daemon attack coming through the Throne field and killing everyone on board. The Throne Field was an active Ward effect, so it blocked telepathy crossing it, including a Mark, so I''d only been able to experience a Helldive through relayed memories after the fact.


    The reality-rending engines powered open, reaching out to open a Rift in the Veil, the membrane that protected reality from the insanity from what we were about to jump into. Outside the ship, unholy light would be pouring out in reds and pinks and purple and some really fruitcake hues in the pspectrum.


    Then the Throne field reached out, linked in, and as the Rift closed, it reached out and grabbed us... or more precisely, reality shoved us through it to get such a bunch of idiots opening planar gaps out of it, and the ship plunged in.

 Chapter 465 - Far Future Ch 175 – Let’s Take a Hellride Through the Warp

    I could feel the change in space on my Null, even stranger than heading into the Underweb in Gloom. This was a place incredibly reactive to psychic will and pressure, the mishmatched convergence of astral planes and their eventual destinations, all crammed together and dominated by madness and unrestrained emotions without a chance to be purged.


    It was the realm of the Warp Gods and what minor divinities were left to conflict with them, at least for this galaxy. Who knows what would happen outside it?


    Regardless, I didn''t much like the sensation, even as I had the thought that Mom was somewhere in this place, setting it on vivic fire, and forever putting demons and Warped to peace. Whether it was enough to actually make any headway against the numbers being continually created was another matter, but the simple fact she could do and was doing it was creating holes in the absolute domination of the Warp Gods... and just what might fill those in, as the Divinities outside Creation reached in and took away their own, leaving the Warp to get weaker, and ever more concentrated with its own filth, fighting over the scraps that remained?


    At some point, the Warp was simply not going to be strong enough to sustain itself anymore, as all the non-Warped souls were spirited away and their power lost. It was a slow process, but as inevitable as grinding down mountains, and there was nothing the Warp could do about it. If they dared go Outside Creation personally, they were going to be stepped on by some non-finite beings and either purified, expunged, or just sealed up and locked away as their stolen power leaked away, rending them useless.


    But that''s what was happening outside the ship. Inside the Throne Field, we were as safe as we could expect.


    I walked out of the empty kitchen with a tray in my hands, Tarya and Minya looking out my eyes as their fractured minds latched onto mine to stay together. Their memories diffused through mine, and I safeguarded their souls into ova as I clicked my tongue, and they were very expectantly looking forwards to this.


    I''d co-opted Tarya''s tracker, so the room was flagging me as a registered person, and if Minya was nowhere to be found now, the system didn''t actually care enough to investigate further. The girls in the Marquis'' chambers vanished without warning fairly often...


    I pushed open the door, set down the tray with lunch on it, and strolled over to where the Marquis was going at it with Atoya and Lusilu, and actually wouldn''t stop until he was dead.


    My hair and primary tail whipped out at the same time. The hair went for the girls, who were definitely looking the worse for wear, already being clawed at and bit, fear in their eyes, but unable to act as anything more then turned on by what would in the end be lethal and bloody sex. The tail flared crimson on his back, and left a Brand there, which made him arch his back in a pang of surreal pleasure, and turn back to look at me with wild red eyes.


    I hit him again, before he could say a word, and his whole body rippled, more strongly than the first time. The girls fell back and away from his hands, bloody bits of skin caught on his nails, the sheets an absolute mess, as were the genitals of all concerned. His mouth was dripping with blood, and flesh and hair was caught in his teeth.


    The appearance of an unknown party and potential threat had basically made Mr. Paranoid here catch a moment of clarity in his deadly hedonism, but it didn''t make any difference as I Brand-tasped him again, and he could only sit there and take it from me, his eyes losing focus as the combination of #9 and the Brand locked down his brain and made him my slave.


    The girls watched it all as they quivered and bled and suddenly relaxed. I was inside their heads as the Marquis got all seven of his Brands and was basically reduced to a drooling puppy in front of me, so zoning in pleasure even the erection he hadn''t been able to lose was gone now.


    He was in a different realm of pleasure now.


    "Go clean yourself up and pick out some new clothes," I told him calmly, shoving him towards the showers he generally had two of the girls helping him with. He could handle it alone, and he would, having no choice in the matter. "If anyone calls, gaff them off until I say you''re ready."


    "Yes, Mistress," he answered dazedly, and trundled off in that direction. I turned my eyes on the two girls bleeding away on the unsalvageable Kmesti moth-silk sheets, and sighed...


    -------


    I was alone when he came back out. He was naked, but carrying a new set of clothing for the evening, his eyes still kind of vacant, but despite themselves lighting up when they saw me. I was now the center of this twat''s existence, and all four of the girls were very eagerly watching to see what I was going to do with him.


    I dressed him up with deft four-way experience, and even had the extra limbs to accommodate everyone if I chose. He kind of dazedly looked at all five of my tails and my Arakne Arms... and my wings... and the many tendrils of my hair... and he was totally turned on and completely unable to do anything about it.


    Not that I had the slightest amount of attraction to him, either.


    "My pet," I said, because that''s all he was now. He didn''t even deserve a name. "You are to act among all others as if things are perfectly normal, and you are fine. Do you understand that?"


    "Yes, mistress," he replied firmly, and his eyes flickered as he remembered how to act like he used to be.


    "Excellent. I''ll be putting you to sleep at night and cooking for you, so don''t fret. However, I''m going to need full access to your ship, privileges up to and equaling your own."


    He nodded. "I can take care of that, Mistress."


    "Excellent. While you are at it, why don''t you start by telling me all the interesting things you''ve been doing since you became a Marquis. I understand you are the first of your line. Let''s start with just after you received your Writ, and you can tell me all the wonderful things you''ve done."


    His eyes lit up at the thought of doing something that might interest me. "Yes, Mistress! I received my Writ of Nobility one hundred and thirteen years ago from the Sector Lord Scipio, a maneuver by certain rivals of mine to remove me from the circles they were attempting to gain power in."


    "Names?" began the questioning and clarification, as I guided him out of the room to the study, bringing the tray of his dinner and drinks with us as I listened to him relate his entire history of mass murder and debauchery proudly to me.


    ----------


    The Umbrans should have put a bullet into his head within a decade of him getting the Writ. Onnager de Krov was shameless, ambitious, determined, unscrupulous, and zealous in his desire to gain power and wealth, and outshine all his enemies. Indeed, he had outlived a few of the original ones who sent him out onto this path, not the least by personally gutting two of them, and his name was now definitely far better known in more places than theirs would ever be.


    Infamy has its own dark allure.


    While the first talk only lasted an hour or two before I sent him back out with a Charisma Mark and his senses wide open for me to look through, the follow-ups went on for quite some time, as he had quite a long career behind him, and under the needs of my influence his memories had sharpened remarkably.


    I also got to read his logs and memoirs as he quickly set me up with his authorization to the ship''s systems. The maids actually had authority to go anywhere in the ship on his orders, but of course would never think of doing so without his command. It did mean that if a woman in his livery appeared anywhere in the ship, she would be avoided or obeyed in terror. Setting a hand on one of the Marquis'' maids meant he''d kill the maid, and then anyone and everyone in the area for allowing someone to lay a hand on them. He''d offed a few of his own close subordinates for daring to test his tolerance of these rules, and so nobody was going to mess with me if I simply put on the right uniform and went wherever ''I was told to go''.


    ------


    The ship''s computer bay was naturally my first step, as it tied together the whole ship.


    The Mekker running the show had been lobotomized and brain-slaved to the Marquis long ago, having no initiative of his own remaining and a perfect cyberslave to his boss. The Marquis naturally didn''t trust anyone who had control of something he didn''t, and that included the systems of his precious ship.


    He had logged the permission status authorized by his captain, and so I was free to do whatever I wanted. The authority of the ship radiated from my bracer''s Boole, so all the cyborgs and automatons servicing the ship simply acknowledged me as if I belonged, the meat parts of them not up to mounting any suspicions. If I turned out I had great interest in the AMT systems that had been heavily modified and spliced with all sorts of strange alien tech to see if they could help performance out, well, I had authorization, that was all that was important.


    Of course, it wasn''t just me, the Goldilocks crew had hooked in through Markspace when I first came aboard, and my thoughtstream with them became basically a link for some truly awesome amounts of programming being downloaded before the Helldive. They had been working on it ever since I saw the bastard in Gloomheart, and we''d all been designing the interfaces and subsystems since, just waiting to get hooked in.


    The amount of data someone with access to Compression tech can hold onto personally is freaking immense, and I could easily store the programs for a ship this size on my local data cache, even if I didn''t have the power to actually run them. I dove right into the ship''s systems, again with full authorization, and began to rewrite everything with grim thoroughness while I was cut off from the rest of Markspace.


    This actually involved tearing out some very dangerous stuff hooked into those systems that should not have been there, and which the idiot in charge thought was pretty cool. No, you don''t use fifth-dimensional chronal nodes for navigational compression calculations! The Yth are not things you want to trust your Hellrides to, especially when you''re downloading your requests into their thoughtspace servers, idiot!


    There was a lot of drow tech running on principles I couldn''t quite understand, but a bunch of it was TL 15, and seemed to have a ''look away'' effect on the Warp, making this ship something the Warp ignored, rather than defied right out. The idea had merit, except the tech seemed to run more efficiently when subjected to negative emotions, so it had been installed above the discipline and torture chambers of the ship, which were quite active at the moment.


    Coincidence? I think not.


    It didn''t take long before I was in absolute command of the ship''s systems, its contingent of enslaved Mekkers, ''borgs, and bots, and there was not much anyone could do about it. The cyborgs and brain-in-a-jar that oversaw everything were precisely reprogrammed for loyalty to me instead of the Marquis, which de Krov thought was an absolutely wonderful idea.


    ------


    I found myself up in the observation room at the top of the ship, the showy dome that could be used to host parties, watch the stars, meditate, and do other things that might be interesting when you weren''t in a fight. In a fight, it was anywhere but where you wanted to be.


    Normally the screens of the cupola were lowered during the transition through the Warp, as sane people, especially ones of lower moral standings, didn''t want to look outside at what was out there. Plenty of things out there were willing to look right back and drag you out there to enjoy your company, after all.


    Me, not so much of a problem. Nulls are kind of obdurate that way.

 Chapter 466 - Far Future Ch. 176 – Nothing to see Here, Move Along, Move Along...

    Now, that wasn''t to say I didn''t see things. Like other Ranthas who had snuck peeks at the Warp, our eyes were juiced to behold the wonders of the soul and universe, and yeah, we could see just about everything. Succubus full True Seeing kicked in at Eight, after all, and we could look at the normal, psychic, and magical spectra, unhindered by illusions or false interpretations of reality that normal people had.


    We saw the world as it was, Heaven up there, Hell down there, the Veil in between guarding us from all the things in existence that wanted to eat us. Souls and spirits and the power of life and light and the living and the dead... yeah, Ranthas saw it all.


    Of course, given Mom had given us a Racial Class made from Soulborn, and our mental architecture rapidly went in every and all directions as a result, none of this particularly phased us. In another being, the sheer ability to see reality as we did would have resulted in some mental warping to accommodate things humans really didn''t know, and didn''t want to... but all our core personalities were based on some dumb, blind, deaf, and stupid human person, used to living without all the secrets of existence hanging out there to be ogled as we pleased.


    So, the ability to see all this didn''t get natural, and it didn''t get old. We were fully aware of how awesome and powerful our abilities were, and the nature of being a Null and having a 40-some Wisdom meant it didn''t go to our heads. It was a super-power, we were super-people, enjoy it, indulge, don''t forget where you came from.


    So, there was the Warp, and it was trying to look back at me.


    A Null''s psyche is as obdurate as the rest of them, and a Rantha''s mind was arranged in methods stacked on from demons, daemons, devas, devils, divs, genies, Fey, and Hags, among other things. All the mental Stat bonuses we got from our Racial Levels? Yeah, that was our minds expanding out to think in all those directions.


    Succubi and Hag were the two biggest influences, other than human, upon us. Neither of them was much affected by looking at the Warp, especially Succubi. The Warp, the Abyss... eh. Chaos was Chaos, wherever you went.


    So, I sat there and looked out at this morass of agglomerated psychic power out there, and parts of my head no human had in them took it all in with a dash of salt and found its madness mildly entertaining at best.


    Yeah, I could see the wild and turgid emotional flows and instincts it was made of. Made of a crushed and mangled afterlife, all the emotions, thoughts, deeds, and beliefs of all that lived were running into one another in waves and whorls, burying one another, mixing and blending into arrhythmic storms and flows that slammed back and forth in utter disharmony, their own conflicts inside driving further conflicts outside. The very energy of the Warp was in turmoil as drives and urges that, outside in Creation, were parceled out or allowed to burn free and recede back into the fabric of Creation, and here were instead turned back upon themselves, ever in conflict, never in balance or harmony.


    The Good was naturally haplessly buried under the emotional quagmire of Chaos, the unbending rigidity of Law, the overwhelming primal power of instincts, and the dark and malevolent survival drives of Evil. The raging emotions, primal instincts, and self at expense of all others had mashed together in unholy and rapacious disharmony, and were steamrolling basically everything else, breaking it up so it couldn''t form any kind of resistance, perpetuating itself as shattered all the opposition.


    Negative emotions vastly outweighed the positive, helped on by survival instincts and the ruthless will to live. It was this power, at the heart of all beings, which had combined here and was dominating everything, leading to the rise of the Warp gods.


    There were demons out there, paralleling this ship as waves of thoughts and souls, looking for a weakness in the Throne Field, not finding any, but perfectly happy to sit out there and see if they couldn''t get their hands upon a ripe soul or ten thousand. They were incorporeal, moving through the churning murk of madness, teasing and tempting the eyes out there, trying to draw out a psychic presence for the demons to pounce on and use as a conduit to get into the ship.


    I was a Null, and my psychic presence extended four inches past my skin, IF I extended my Vajra out that far. Like to see one of them bastards try to get some psychic hooks into me. It could jump right into my soulclaws and see how it liked it...


    Still, definitely not a place to bring a psion up to. They really did put their souls at risk. Normal people had less resistance, but also didn''t have the awareness to make a conduit easily. Oddly enough, it was psi-active cybers who were the most at risk here, having the awareness, but vulnerable because of the machines corrupting mind, soul, and body, and affecting their inner strength and belief in themselves. Not a good place to be...


    What I really, really wanted to do is make a vivic blade half a mile long, stick it out from this ship, and cut a real huge freaking swathe through the Warp. Vivic fire would purify all those emotions, from primal savagery to beatific hope, from the Warp entirely, reducing them to background energy that the Warp Gods could do nothing with.


    Of course, that would be like drawing a big, bright arrow behind me in the Warp, pointing to this ship for every demon''s attention to do something about. The Throne Field was good, but not that good. The avatar of a Warp God could breach it almost instantly, so I preferred not to draw that level of attention.


    Still, it was a nice dream, and I imagined Mom was doing quite a bit of that in her own way.


    She''d been out here more than twenty years in real time, and I doubted the Warp Gods didn''t know someone was out here in the Warp yet. They just wouldn''t be able to see her, only try to follow her trail, and get to where she was actively killing. In a Warp feeding off everything fighting, dying, living, and loving across a galaxy, needle in a haystack trying to sense a blip of a thoughtworld going silent en vivus was not even close to how difficult it was.


    Of course, one day an avatar might find her, and possibly even bring in the real thing. Then they could see what they''d made of Mom, and whether facing her was at all a good idea.


    Mom was probably looking forwards to it. There''d be a good tussle, and she''d introduce them to some heavy reality the hard way.


    I took a long last look at the demon hordes trailing along the path of the ship, the weak ones slowly falling away and back, more converging from out of the roiling murk to see what they could get out of some entertainment.


    How much evil, cruelty, primal rage, and will to survive was needed to finally roll together, cling to itself, and condense until it finally formed a lethal package of semi-sentience that could grow into something called a demon?


    I rolled the screens back down, not so much to preserve the sanity of the crew of this vessel as to stop any demons from hopping aboard through them.


    After all, I wanted this ship. Getting it Possessed by demons was kind of a non-starter with that in mind.


    -------


    The ship had enough datafiles that I could immerse myself in them for most of the week-long trip. I cached massive amounts of newsfiles for the past two decades and more for dumping to the Goldilocks... who would get them sifted by the Umbrans and Coronals for material, and then release them into the infosphere for people to wail and gnash their teeth over... because we were going to be taking some major options and derivatives out in the financial markets, and making a freaking killing before the market could start gyrating.


    The simple idea that there might be a venue of communication between the two severed halves of the Empire might throw a real spanner into the works, as suddenly all those people entertaining ideas might get cold feet knowing that far Tellus might actually find out about it. Others were going to have to take a good hard look at their loyalty, and wonder... because just because we could talk with one another didn''t mean that armadas could be sent back and forth.


    Without the fist of the Empire behind it, what were mere words? It would be like shouting across a canyon and being unable to reach the party on the other side. The galaxy didn''t lack for ambitious sorts, and with no support coming from the Empire, the only thing possible being an exchange of information, plans might hiccup, but they''d still be moving forwards.


    Mine sure weren''t going to stop. I was just going to make a lot of money on both sides.


    The fact that I did have that connection would get out, simply because the cogitation engines weren''t going to be able to ignore the fact that I was making craploads of money when the news hit. Then the race would be on to control the link I had, somehow, by whatever means was possible.


    So, I was going to have to be very circumspect. As the carrier of the news, I was naturally the filter of it, too...


    Wading through the news minutiae of over two decades was quite a slog, even with multiple thoughtstreams and digesting things straight in my headspace multiple times faster than anything human could. As something adapted for an effectively infinite lifespan, I also had effectively infinite memory, although I couldn''t digest information as fast as a high-end computer could. Still, normal news was not an issue, and I was digesting, charting, tracking, inferring, and predicting as best I could while I took all this in, getting myself familiar with all the stuff on this side of the galaxy.


    The overanalytical girls were going to have a datafest when I dumped all of this on them.


    Secretly in command of the ship, I devoured data nonstop, save to cook a meal for Marquis My Pet when he returned to the room. His four maids wanted to throw him to his torturers for days of fun, but he was already a total slave and would simply enjoy it if I told him to. I literally could not abuse him enough, so there was no point in doing so.


    Everything of his was going to be mine, and he was my pet. For a paranoid and power-hungry arsehole like him, what better punishment was there?


    ------


    Surprisingly enough, Celestia, Keva, and Jensa weren''t the first of my daughters to hit Eleven. Nope, that honor had gone to Brus and Jenyfyr, who had signed up with one of Imperial Regiments and shipped off to the far side of the sector, where it turned out the Xenos Swarm had sent a major incursion into the Gamara system to munch on everything organic within.


    The Imperial Fleet had been completely unable to deal with the scale of the incursion, surprise surprise, and fled after getting themselves and most of the system fleet munched.


    That naturally enough doomed both major populated worlds there. To prevent the harvesting of biomass, the Fleet tried to Omega Sanction the planets frantically before the Xenos got there, charring the surface of the whole first planet to ash, drying up the oceans, and generally burning their meals to charcoal before they could eat them, before racing away as fast as they could.


    They didn''t make it to the second before a flanking group of Xenos piloted by cerevores Deathgated in front of them, and sealed their fate.


    Naturally, Brus and Jen were down there on Gamara II with sixteen billion inhabitants, when black carapaced bioships filled the skies, and untold millions of landing pods began to fall, while flying swarms so thick they devoured the clouds dominated the air.


    It was a full-scale Xenos invasion, and there was nothing anyone could do about it. Gamara II, its production and food-processing facilities, and all its billions constantly sending out soldiers to fight in the wars of the Empire, were going to die.


    Oh, they tried to fight back, and the planet had its moments of glory, and valor, and courage... as well as panic, terror, cowardice, and backstabbing. Warp Events went off like clockwork, but were soon so overwhelmed by the raw psychic might of the Xenos fleet that it just didn''t matter.


    What had been a routine dispatch to settle a few mega-cities rebelling against the planetary governor had become annihilation, as naturally it was the cerevores behind the rebellions, orchestrating everything and buying time for a real Xenos fleet to arrive.

 Chapter 467 - Far Future Ch. 177 – We’re Going Green, Baby!

    There naturally was no way we could reach them in time, even if we did spread the news of the invasion throughout the Sector. A whole massive arm of the Sector Fleet was dispatched, and they would probably get there in time to catch the Xenos in-system, but there was no way they were going to save the planet.


    Brus and Jen managed to evacuate several thousand troops as the mega-cities were slaughtered and overrun, chopping open Rifts into Gloom for the people they trained to evacuate into, while Jensa worked literally dozens of teleports through the Underweb via line of sight to get to their location before they were noticed, and sent them off to another facility. She got the lock to Gamara II, also, but Brus and Jen elected to remain behind, and work the Karma.


    They were the last people left on the planet, holding a final position as Imperial Legionnaires, noblemen, desperate Planetary Guard, Kasr warriors, borgaii from the Mekkers, and anyone else who could shoot made a final last stand, and then popped an antimatter reactor to insure they wouldn''t be taken alive.


    Immune to heat and radiation, both kids survived the eruption. Furthermore, they''d decided to take the fairly radical step of seeing what would happen if they incorporated the Emperor''s genetics into the Rantha bloodline. Harvesting a couple dead Legionnaires was anything but difficult, shrink''em down and down the hatch, and then, then there was nothing left but fighting.


    They shut away pretty much anything that didn''t have to do with fighting, fullstreamed the whole experience, and simply went out to kill.


    The xenos numbered more than they could possibly hope to slay, but it didn''t matter. The Xenos sent out bigger and bigger creatures to kill them, until there were virtual kaiju trying to find them and run them down.


    They killed everything.


    They moved with impossible speed for their size in any environment. They could fly if need be, speed along the ground, swim unnaturally fast, rage through the endless tunnels of the megacities, and do it all while constantly killing.


    There wasn''t anything but xenos watching, so everything was out: wings, tails, Arakne Arms, all of it reaping with everything it could, making trails of carnage through even the densest mass of them that burned with acidic blood, vivus, and the dead.


    They got hurt a lot. Healing Edge took care of anything drastic, and regeneration and fast healing did the rest. They got bone-numbingly tired, Revitalization went off and took away their fatigue, and drove the killing on.


    Both of them grew. Jen ended up growing to the full height of an Annis Hag, a full eight feet tall, making her Sword Reap look quite undersized within its soulblade. Of course, it doubled her Might and more, which a few hundred-ton biomechs didn''t really like. Her skin was all blue-black, her Curse effectively invisible, and her eyes were burning with the wrathful gaze of the ghaele and the petrifying stare of a medusa.


    The Xenos that met her eyes died or turned to stone. When she ran up the spiked tail of a kaiju and dropped down right in front of its multiple eyes to glare into them, they learned that DC 50 petrification saves can take down things the size of a building, too.


    Brus grew even bigger, bulking up to a full twelve feet tall, and his Might also doubled. His Hammer Sow could hardly be seen in its killing path, everything literally exploding within thirty or forty feet of him, the equivalent of a wrecking ball at supersonic speeds simply blowing apart what he hit... and he moved so bloody fast while doing it, too.


    He took out one of the kaiju by jumping atop its back, bulling his way through the orifice that lead to the cerevore control center in the back of its head, and reducing the controllers and its brain to wild pulp and burning vivus, exploding out through its carapace to jump to a much smaller fleshtank and bring Sow down directly atop its brain turret to instantly crush it flat.


    He got hit and his armor breached many times by the power of the bigger Xenos, but the psychic matrix took the power Mindfeeder on Sow stole off them, and rebuilt the sundered, tempered adamant back to full. His fighting simply continued unabated, harvesting their own phrenic power to launch massive explosive strikes that could shatter the leg of a kaiju-xeno, or hit a biomech like a point-blank cannon shell.


    In their wake, the planet that was being harvested and devoured by billions of xenos gatherers began to change.


    Vivic energy swirled around the blood they shed, the banefire''d and invasive biology of the dead xenos, and phrenic energy burned and poured into the Land, spurring... something.


    The ecology of the planet began to ripple, and things began to grow in the path of their rampage.


    It started off with pollen, and seeds, little grains that proved to be deadly allergens to the invading xenos. The plants that emitted them grew, disintegrated into powder, and regrew.


    Golden dust drawn by phrenic energies swirled to the xenos, invaded them, and began to grow.


    More plant life erupted out of the xenos, as their blood became water and their meat became fertilizer, the shattered carapaces crumbling flowerpots as they shattered from within, grew, and blew into yet more golden dust... and vivic flames devoured it all and fed more to the Land.


    The Xenos were harvesting the biomass... and then the biomass began to harvest them.


    Grasses became thrusting spears, the slightest oils became poisons that made xenos acidic blood explode. Shattered xenos fell to the soil, which fed on them with unnatural speed, and continued to evolve.


    Roots with bark as strong as xenos carapaces erupted from the ground, coiled about them in multitudes, and dragged them beneath the soil as their black shells cracked and were crushed. Tendrils and branches invaded dripping jaws, feeding on the hissing saliva, a wild and nameless hunger for the life of the xenos spreading, spreading...


    And as they died, it spread faster.


    Jen and Brus could hardly miss the planet eating the harvesting hordes, the streams of silk and slime gathering in the air, and growths erupting over the tubes and tendrils that were sucking away the groundwater. Politely, they kept ravaging everything in sight, paying particular attention to the organic pipes that were siphoning off biomass and water, and pumping it up to the great carrier motherships in low orbit from all over the world.


    Sensing meals that would be satisfying indeed, spontaneously mutating seeds, pollens, bacteria, molds, and viruses raced up along the tentacle-pipes and flesh-tubes, devouring, infecting, spreading as whole sections of the xenos hivemind went dark.


    The xenos didn''t know what was going on, as the ecology of the world was sucking in psionic energy like a sponge to fuel its growth, and a massive Null was starting to settle over the world like a pall. The infection raged up multiple tendrils, found a home in the first mothership, and backed by the power of Banefire, blew through the alien immune system with the equivalent of feasting on snacks, raging along its nervous system and rapidly coating it in Null silence as it was devoured from within.


    Whiskers of the Wild went up on Jen''s face, glowing with Soul as she saw this, and she advised the raging greenery around her, "Use its spore launchers to infect the other ships."


    The greenery around her trembled at the sensation of being spoken to, and understanding what was being said. Hundreds of miles above, infected spores were squeezed into sphincter launchers, and then simultaneously fired at all the ships of the xenos fleet.


    Not all of them hit, but when the numbers launched were in the thousands, tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands, and then millions, it didn''t matter. They drove through the void, splattered against the thick carapace hulls of the Xenos, and slime, pollen, and seeds were dispersed through the thin atmosphere surrounding the bioships. Very quickly, they found the seams and pores, and devoured and expanded their way inside rapaciously.


    Jen and Brus kept up their work, because there was no reason to stop, even as the xenos choked and died, spitting up new growths that danced to full growth inside the vivic flames sprouting up to eat them, the air full of golden pollen that seemed to have a light of its own.


    The xenos fleet did try to disengage, cutting free the feeding tendrils, trying to gain distance from the planet... but it was too late, and it didn''t matter. The massive amounts of phrenic energy and empowered flesh just made the invading ecology grow all the faster, while the Curse effect of banefire seemed to find every weakness to exploit and rendered the defenses of the bioships useless. All its numbers and seething hordes of children were just new fertilizer and fuel for the invading ecology, torn apart and mulched as roots tore themselves out of the bioship, flowers grew out of steaming blood-acid pools, and golden pollen flowed towards anything that was thinking.


    Unable to control themselves, the psychically charged fusion cores of the bioships destabilized, and were vented off energetically into space. Control of gravity faltered and failed, and the ships wavered, wobbled, and slowly, oh so slowly, no matter how far they had fled, they began to fall backwards.


    Back, towards the world of gold and green they had been sucking dry, and which now very much looked like it had opened up to welcome their return.


    It didn''t happen over hours, but days, as the entire world-eating swarm fleet of the Xenos crashed down to the planet they had nearly stripped of life, and which now was stripping them.


    Compressed gases stolen from the atmosphere were vented back, restoring it and more as they escaped the bioships. Water broke free of spatial compression and flowed out like mighty rivers, beginning the process of rebuilding the seas and lakes. Gigatons of mass pressed into the seas, and mountains rose as valleys deepened, changing the geography of the world.


    A riot of green and gold swept over the shining black, and diamond-hard shells crinkled and cracked and broke down, bit by bit, as the world feasted upon the world-eaters.


    ------


    Brus and Jen watched this entire process taking place from down on the surface of the world.


    Like many worlds settled by humanity, the ecology had been abused and crushed under the weight of industrial output and the demands of feeding a massive population. Swathes of the planet were uninhabitable, and other sections marred by the chemical-driven cycles of rapid crop growth carried on mindlessly, long since having driven most of the native plant life to extinction, and certainly most of the native wildlife.


    Such things were now returning as the biosphere hummed with the energy of the bioships being devoured. Adult animals were bursting forth out of fibrous sacs, leaping about like younglings as they did, excited and joyous at being alive, and feeling the edge of the massive planetary consciousness at the corner of their minds.


    The green was paying close attention to the two of them at all times, somewhere between wonder, awe, and smothering protection that the two of them certainly did not need.


    They had made Eleven in their Racial Class. Saving a whole planet and Awakening a worldmind to eat an invading fleet of biovores was certainly a whole lot of Karma, even if they hadn''t done the killing themselves.


    "I guess we aren''t going to be hopping around the galaxy anymore," Brus mused to his girl. He looked closer to the gorilla side of things than a human now, except for the fact he was twice human height and far more massive. He was pretty sure he was rated for at least eight gravities, too, as the extra height was unlocking Jotun Stature effects inside him.


    "We better teach this planet how to defend itself, or the incoming Fleet may get a little overanxious about reclaiming her," Jen mused. "What do you think of a psionic world able to control its weather, magnetosphere, and gravity well?"


    "It''s still gonna have to start a reactor or something at its core," he grunted. "If you want to make a world that can''t be killed, it''s got to be a killer of a world."


    "Trees with superconductive interlinked root systems, node crystal cogitators, energy networks... I think we certainly can help it with some designs."


    His tusks were much bigger now, and very prominent when he smiled. "Yes, we can build some pretty big stuff with a whole planet, can''t we?..."


    He could always visit the galaxy through his family''s eyes, but who got to be onsite to making a living planet into something that could endure a grimdark universe?

 Chapter 468 - Far Future Ch. 178 – The Final Meeting of the Captains

    There were raspberries being thrown everywhere in Markspace when the Glorious Bastard finally blew open a Hellgate near a certain spatial anomaly juxtaposed near a couple handy Beacons showing nearby. The cyborg converter/assembly line/slave carrier politely named Promises was vomited out into reality only seconds later nearby, having kept very close in the Warp.


    Riding the choruses of "Welcome Back, Mom!", I got info-dumped on everything that had been going on, dumped my opinion of riding through the Warp into general storage, and congratulated Brus and Jen on making Eleven belatedly while having the opportunity to do some real terra-shaping, noting that nobody better tell the Empire about the planet or they''d try to crack it open. Work, work, work! You got defenses to set up, people...


    The Fleet probably wouldn''t be landing too much, considering the planet was festooned with crashed bioships and some real nasty weather and phrenic phenomena on a planetary scale. What should properly terrify any self-respecting captain was that sensors and psi would show absolutely nothing was out there... they could see it, but their instruments wouldn''t register much beyond the fact it had gravity and a magnetosphere. If they decided to start shooting, well, a planetary magnetic field pressing down ona small area could easily compress a two-kilometer Imperial Cruiser to a round ball of non-threatening mass ripe for processing, so hopefully the incoming Fleet would find better things to do with their time.


    And probably look around reeeeeeally carefully for whoever trashcanned a massive Xenos Swarm Fleet...


    I was promptly dumped on for pouring water on the fun parade, and everybody got back to work. There was only so much salivating thinking about the computing power inherent in a forest of crystal-cored trees and whatnot...


    ---


    This system was a lost colony world that de Krov had stumbled across about eighty years ago. They''d had a fairly average, idyllic world, untroubled by most of the shit going on in the galaxy, and had regressed down to the pre-Industrial age after whatever event landed them here and trashed their rides.


    Then de Krov had arrived, and started demanding his tithes, and had turned the most powerful kingdom''s capital into a crater to show he meant business. He got his tithes of bodies, who he lied to and said he was taking to settle a new world, and in reality sold off to the drow for slaves and sacrifices.


    The petty kingdoms and suchlike below had basically ceased to exist under the threat of his tithes, and the bodies that once used to cheerfully slaughter one another on the fields of battle were now marched into ship holds and sold off into slavery. Wasn''t he considerate, stopping all those petty wars and just treating the people as ready cattle for making him money?


    This was also the main base of operations for his fleet, the place his slave laborers and conscript crews came from, where he trained his raiders and mercenaries, and where his trusties returned to have fun. He didn''t despoil the place with industry, other than some extractive mining and tract farms for raising food, and had actually improved the standard of living for most of the people with his technology and iron fist.


    All it cost them was a million healthy people every tithe, never to be seen again.


    De Krov had six ships in his fleet. His beloved heavy cruiser Glorious Bastard was his flagship, and lived up to its name in all respects. He captained it, and rode it to commit all his great and glorious deeds.


    Promises was a body carrier and place to convert people into cyber-pslaved borg units bereft of independent thought. There was a circuit of ten systems it cycled through on a regular basis, three of which the Empire had no idea existed. The other seven regularly emptied their jails of their worst criminals, added in some very unlucky souls going into exile or getting kicked off-planet by their rivals, and such individuals vanished, never to be seen again. What the Marquis did with them, nobody really knew, but considering he dealt in mercenaries, sending them off to die in some hellhole for the Emperor wasn''t too good for them.


    If the destination was instead under the knives and bloody screams of the drow, well, he wasn''t supposed to deal with aliens like that, but at least they were all dead and someone else''s problem, right?


    The Marquis got paid twice, so he was definitely cheerful about it all.


    The light cruisers Bastard Child and Witch Killer were crewed by his son and daughter respectively, their mothers he was long since tired of and gone missing. His son Honest and daughter Sincerity were every bit as ruthless as their father, and had survived where six other siblings had eventually either grossly disappointed their father, failed in a lethal manner on some mission, or rebelled and been summarily killed.


    Bastard Child was the escort for A Black Pit, captained by Jilgers. It was the main cargo vessel of his fleet, captained by a totally immoral yet remarkably loyal and extremely anal pencil-pusher whose life was all about ledgers, balance sheets, and how to make the numbers on them bigger, with very little care for the ethics of how. Jilgers provided absolute crunch numbers for profits and losses, and if the numbers were right, would go anywhere and do anything without batting an eye. Honest de Krov kept him safe and had a ruthless reputation that dissuaded all but the most committed raiders... and a penchant for revenge that had seen more than one group of raiders dead in the end after coming after him, years later.


    Sincerity and Witch Killer led the frigate Wicked Pursuits on raids, quick profit trips, and did the pirating, kidnapping, mercenary work, and violent criminal work off to the side of her father. She was quite good at it, had a very elite team of professionals working for her, and was actually the best captain of the lot when it came to naval confrontations.


    Gohonas, the captain of the Wicked Pursuits, played support in all his roles, and was the most discreet of them. While the Witch Killer specialized in raids and ambushes, he was the one who delivered troops to areas stealthily, picked them up (or abandoned them), and got away with the goods.


    Needless to say, de Krov gloried in his reputation, built it up, and took full advantage of it wherever and whenever he could. He stayed out of trouble because he was perfectly willing to sell mercs and borgs to the Empire for whatever reasons they wanted to use them for, and the Empire didn''t really much care where the original humans came from.


    Having done some very profitable business with the drow and acquired some things which could be sold off for yet more profit, he naturally convened a meeting of his captains in the cupola, where there would be wine and good food, and the deaths of millions for profit batted around without blinking an eye.


    Unfortunately for them, they and their first officers had a Small Problem with the initials SR.


    They arrived on their own flitters, naturally enough, and at different times, showing off their station by how close to the appointed hour they dared to come. Them, and their first officers.


    And I had four stinger-tails set up just nicely for them.


    ------


    Captain Honest stepped into the elevator, giving the maid waiting there the most casual of glances. He had to admire her figure; he would have to inquire of the bodyshopper his father had used on her, but her eyes were flat and soulless, mind and soul wiped out by biochip slavery, just walking eye candy worth little else. He gave her little thought as he stepped inside.


    "Captain Honest, Commander Yigorov, today''s course will be roast anglosaur flank from Caribda Major, marinated in Cimpellian brandy, with a side of echivies from Esoffa II. The wine will be complementary to the main dish. For after-dinner drinks, have your preferences of Kness brandy and Shivata rum changed?"


    There was no flicker in her eyes, and her voice was so artificially warm he could have lifted it from a computer voxer.


    "I''m fine with the brandy. Kumu cigars?"


    "Of course, Captain."


    "I''d like to try some of that Kongler Bay rum this time," Honest''s swarthy and sharp-eyed second spoke up, probably rebelling against the choice being made for him as much as anything.


    "Certainly, Captain. Pipe or cigar?"


    "Pipe. Hggroo weed," he replied easily, but her eyes didn''t even flicker. Probably couldn''t.


    "Very good, sir."


    And then then stingers snapped out from behind her back and stabbed them both right through the dermal plating and the reinforced bone of their skulls, plunging into their cranial cavities and dispersing a load of something directly to their brains that had their anti-poison nanites all screaming in alarm before they shorted out-


    Both men wavered, grinning lazily as a wonderful feeling of euphoria came over them, and all their alarm and surprise and boosted reflexes just relaxed smoothly...


    A long and sinuous tail plunged down Honest''s back, hissing softly as the crimson light on the tip teased down his spine. The young woman took the arms of both men, and led them calmly out of the elevator and to their seats. As Honest sat down, the extended tail flipped over to Yigorov''s back for attention and there were more glowing lights and popping.


    Captain Gohanas and his first mate Jugio greeted the pair as if nothing was happening. Captain-Surgeon Sanguinoiv and his aide de camp Natsi, 90% and 75% machine and well into cyberization, lifted their injectors of alternate ichor supplements in cheerful greeting, and both men greeted them happily.


    The wounds on their heads were already gone. The woman who had brought them in mentally directed them to act normally, and they were very, very happy to do so, because she said so, and how could they even think of defying such a marvelous creature as she was?


    She glided across the floor, two steps all it took to cross twenty meters and slide gracefully back to her place in the elevator.


    The other servants in attendance and looking on didn''t say anything, either, as the doors closed, and she went down to receive the Marquis'' daughter.


    Jilgers was five minutes behind her.


    --------


    I stood by the side and watched them having a good time, eating delicacies worth a month''s pay each, guzzling drinks or shooting up the cyber-equivalents, celebrating their good fortune and another profitable year.


    I hadn''t #9''d the serving crew, but they were Branded, and no more capable of defying me than they could ignore gravity. One of the cooks was a master poisoner, and three were experienced murderers hiding out here from their enemies, but the rest were simply normal people who''d been pressed into service, and were basically sticking around until they pissed off one of the favored crew and were butchered for any casual reason desired.


    Until then, they would service with distinction and bio-chip loyalty. Happily, their chips weren''t anywhere near as restrictive as those of the maids, and so when I''d shorted them out, they managed to retain their minds. The flexibility required for preparing meals for the crew didn''t allow for the level of rigidity of the maids'' chips, and it meant they could truly appreciate what had just become of these total bastards.


    They had helped me cook up some special things just for these fellows and the ships they crewed, and the captains were going to happily bring them back to their ships for me.


    From there, it was just biding time. Of course, I''d have to make a trip to each and every ship in order to get a proper teleportation fix to each of them so I could re-administer #9 to them, but it was a small price.


    As for their future plans? There were some slight adjustments...

 Chapter 469 - Far Future Ch. 179 – Let’s go Find a Place to do some Business...

    The nearest Seat system with a proper spacedock for refitting was Kolosti Minor. The crew was a bit surprised to hear that the whole fleet would be going in for a refit, and the harvesting of slaves was going to have a slight delay. It was easy enough for the astropaths serving the ships to get the messages off, all nice and proper coming from the captains and the Marquis.


    Four days in the Warp later, we were disgorged into the Kolosti Minor system, with the great spacedocks that ringed the planet and serviced hundreds of major ships and thousands of lesser ones at any one time.


    Some of the girls had made it to Crown and Throneworlds by now, of course, so seeing space stations that ringed an entire planet wasn''t exactly new, but it was the first time I was seeing it with my own eyes. Did it compare to an ecumenopolis at the heart of Gloom, covering the inside of a sphere larger than Tellus, with its own dying sun bound up in the middle and floating docks with thousands of butterfly-hulled drow ships orbiting around it?


    Well, I suppose in its own way it did. After all, every Seat world had a major orbital presence like this. A Throne world would supplement it with several moon-sized fortresses and orbital arcologies, at the very least. The elvar races had style and chic down cold, but they simply didn''t have the presence, resources, or population to do this sort of thing anymore. Likely the only megastructures they had remaining were their Starhome shipworlds...


    So, yay humanity?


    --------


    Negotiations to dock were fairly smooth, and if the operators of the station were shocked that all of de Krov''s ships were coming in, as long as he paid, they didn''t care. They were given fairly remote docking positions near one another, as requested.


    I gave some final orders, and Chalice popped from one ship to the next to execute a few temporary Rift withdrawals, before I headed down to the planet below.


    ---


    Teleportation outside atmospheres has a lot more range than inside them, less mass in the way mucking things up. I could reach all the way from high orbit to low orbit with a Linejump variant, putting me right at the edge of atmosphere, and then from the atmosphere to the ground, zeroing in on my destination.


    The city had an Interdiction field up to stop incoming teleporters and dimensional rifts, of course, but that just meant I had to fall a couple miles to get where I wanted to go. It was a friendly world environment-wise, so the city didn''t have a default Dome, and I could plunge right into the city without too much problem, using my hair to remain mostly invisible and Vampire''s Veil to flummox any sensors that might pick me up.


    Naturally I had downloaded the layout of the city of Kolosti Prime from the station''s Boole. The Castle and the Dungeon were, as ever, located former atop the latter, Coronals and Umbrals bound together, light and dark.


    They weren''t my destination just yet, but I did mark the location. No, I was going to someplace close by... namely, the Beacon, and all the astropaths working there.


    -----


    There were a few curious heads that turned as I swooped down from out of the sky, but there were minor psions all over the place here, and anti-grav was a thing, so turned heads was all the attention I got for a moment.


    "Hi there!" I smiled cheerfully. "Standard Beacon build, astropaths off to the right?" I asked one of the gawkers. I had all the right dominating body language and accent, and he folded haplessly.


    "Yes, ma''am," he replied quickly. Just the one sentence indicated I had been in a lot of astropath buildings, meaning a traveler, meaning money, and that I was here to spend it. Not someone to get in the way of.


    "Thank you!" I waved over my head, he got to look at my ass as I strolled away, and I smiled at what was to come.


    -----


    "You... this..."


    The manager of the Astropath Guild was at a loss for words. They ran the service of interstellar message-sending off residual energy from the Beacon, guided by Mentats who were paid very well for the service... and Geased into discretion, too. Remembering and reading other people''s mail could be very dangerous, after all.


    But I had just placed a REALLY big order, and caught him completely off-guard.


    "We... we don''t have the capacity to fill an order of this size right now," he admitted, beads of sweat starting to drop off his head.


    I put something on the desk, touched it. Lights danced and spun together, forming a pair of symbols that, while often associated, were rarely often seen back to back like this.


    "You need to correct what you are saying," I replied shortly, as his eyes bulged. "What you mean to say is... ''I have no choice but to send all this out as fast as possible, and I will do whatever it takes to do so... regardless of the cost.''"


    He looked at me as I leaned forwards, and suddenly his eyes were rather frantic. "Three day''s pay for anyone and everyone who participates in sending this out. If you can get it all done in under two hours, double that."


    His eyes kind of went wild. "Let-let me make an emergency summons!" he sort of squeaked, the combination of a week''s pay and the Twilight Seal lighting some fusion fire under him. He took the message and fairly sprinted away.


    Not five minutes later a whole bunch of Beacon psions, their polygon symbols on their foreheads, started pouring into the Beacon. I sat down on a comfy chair in the corner as the static tension in the air began to increase remarkably, and I knew that messages were going off nonstop as fast as they possibly could, all over the galaxy.


    The destinations of those messages included every single Castle and Dungeon in the Empire, as well as every Mentat Guild tower, and every psion inside them; every Imperial Legionnaire HQ of any size, every Imperial Fleet Station, every megacorp office, and every primary planetary or larger governmental entity.


    Dumping it into the local Boole was something I did myself, and I was sure interested parties elsewhere would start it proliferating.


    That was... a lot of mail going out. Those Beacon psions behind me were Focusing and releasing as fast as they could to get the bonus and the mail out as fast as possible, while I busied myself sending it to all the local powers casually.


    The mail I was sending was naturally the Care Package for Vivic runework. Unless the Warp Gods could conjure up a galaxy-wide Warpstorm once again, this was going to get out to those parties that could use it and would be interested in employing it.


    It was also going out under Twilight Order Seal. I smirked to myself at the cost of this level of mail going out. The Orders probably weren''t going to like it when they got the bill, which they would be alerted to at any time now. Someone using Twilight Seal authorization without primary clearance from the local Castle and Dungeon was definitely going to be a Person of Interest.


    I laughed despite myself when the manager came back, his face an interesting shade of red, sweating, but his eyes very big and feverish.


    After all, I had just set a one-day record for the number of astropathic messages going out, especially in peace time. His quarterly earnings report was going to look just wonderful!


    "We should be finished up with the messages in approximately forty-three minutes, my Lady!" he reported to me, most obsequiously.


    "Wonderful!" I pointed to the workers. "I''ll be asking them if they got their six day bonus a week from now. If they haven''t, I''m going to come back here and remove your head from your shoulders, okay?"


    He swallowed despite himself at how casually I said that... and he realized I was absolutely going to do just that.


    "I will make sure they are fairly recompensed for their time!" he said righteously, and his dreams of siphoning off thousands of extra credits for his own use were politely put away in favor of surviving an extra day.


    "Excellent! Take care of yourself now!"


    ---------


    "Don''t move!"


    They came out of holo-cloaks to surround me while I was taking a drink on the veranda while I futzed with the Boole. After all, I had some accounts to set up. The waitress coming with the drinks was badly startled, and I just waved her in, despite the guy in hardsuits with firepower all aimed at me.


    "One drink for all six of them," I pointed out airily to her, and the Coronal, Umbran, and four lads on their Striker team suddenly looked kind of wrong-footed as the greatly daring (and big tip coming) waitress glided in, gave each of them a tall cocktail with a couple wild fruits hanging on it and ornamental straw, and quickly glided away as if she''d seen it all before.


    I waved at the lady knight and male op, gesturing them to seats across from me. They looked at one another, wondered what they''d done wrong, while their spec ops boys carefully lowered their guns and wondered what to do with the drinks in their hands.


    "Who," the woman asked directly, her eyes as sharp as a duelist, "are you? A nymphal who dares bill the Orders for a mass astropathic sending on that scale..."


    I held up two fingers, reached into my vest pocket slooowly, and pulled out a black square very obviously. I set it on the glass table, and holos spun and psychoactive lights reached up and formed the back-to-back symbols of the Knights Coronal and the Order of the Fallen Moon.


    "Do you know what this is?" I asked archly, and before they could respond I went on, "Do you know what happens to someone who is not authorized to handle one, does so? If you don''t, please feel free to confiscate it." I smiled and sat back, and watched their expressions move around as they stared at the symbols.


    The man responded first. "A Twilight Seal authorization is only issued by an Umbral Duke and a Coronal Duke in tandem. That is a very high level of trust."


    "Oh, you got that right," I agreed, as said Dukes laughed in the back of my head. "Although I would add in ''a very high level of pay'', too."


    The knight''s face sank. "Are you aware of just how much a mass astropathic message of that scale cost?" she demanded.


    I looked up, calculated visibly, carried the one... "Yes," I stated calmly. "After preliminary calculations of known Castles and Dungeons, Mentat towers, Legion HQ''s, Fleet Bases, planetary governments, and certain businesses of interest, along with the fact Astropath rates are pretty bloody identical throughout the galaxy, I daresay I knew the cost within a million credits."


    That shut them both up. A million was the rounding error, after all.


    "And... the sending of this message was part of your Twilight Seal?" the Umbran went on, his eyes sharp.


    I clapped my hands. "Very good! Naturally, the second part involves the local Dukes Twilight. How quickly can you get me in to see them?" Which really meant, ''Escort me to see them now, you twats. I''m under Seal, and am not going to tell you anything about the hundreds of billions of your credits I just spent.''


    Some other Dukes had sent me here. Obviously, I came with their trust. The dame and the op looked at one another, sighed despite themselves, and looked at me. "Come with us, then."


    "After they finish their drinks." I waved at the shooters. "Getting your Strikers all hot and bothered for nothing, they at least earned a drink out of this."


    Both of them just glared at me, and I smiled back. The guys in the hardsuits cautiously put up their visors and grabbed for the fruity drinks sitting close by...

 Chapter 470 - Far Future Ch. 180 – Ah, the Price of Nobility

    I was hustled to the Castle politely but firmly, and they didn''t really bother to speak to me anymore. I just put the Seal away, smiled politely back, and got sent to where I wanted to go.


    They had muttered into their comlinks and sent word ahead, but I wasn''t worried. I was very sure that both the Dukes Twilight would be gathered by the time I got there.


    I was escorted with a bare minimum of politeness up to the offices of the Duke Coronal. I noted the differences in the richness of the ornamentation, money spent on ego-stroking adornments that were replaced on Janus by memoriums of those who had fallen in service of the Emperor. These were more about the glorious achievements and victories of the Coronals, mindswords swinging. I noted sapphire dominated the color hues...


    The office of the Duke Coronal was quite plush, with real leather, gold-veined ornamental stone, not a hint of dust, and ornaments of rare Energized metals emitting subtle melanges of light in two spectrums. The secretary was male, and looking down his aquiline nose at everyone as we arrived. He had the air and posture of the noble-born, meaning he was probably an insufferable twit.


    "This is the reprobate who dared misuse our Order''s funds?" he sniffed, his vowels rolling in the most arrogant manner he could.


    Chalice dropped down into my hand, and ignited in a flash of gold.


    Five Stars burned on her blade, two Suns rotated, and she began to drone in a manner that shook the bones of everyone around me.


    My escort scattered instantly as I kept walking forwards.


    "The Dukes Twilight can wait to see me until we address your rudeness on the dueling grounds," I hissed sharply enough to cut paper, my hair fluttering behind me in my own auburn-hued custom cloak.


    His sneering expression became almost laughable panic as he counted the five Stars and realized he was dealing with a post-Ten. Oh, and an incoming Intimidate check at 50+. I would be amazed if this twat could handle a 25.


    His sense of self-preservation reached up, dragged away his sneer, and replaced it with fawning subservience. "M-my apologies, my Lady! I did not realize I was dealing with a senior!" Whole beads of sweat were suddenly across his forehead, and his knees were shaking visibly as I Glared At Him. "Who...who shall I say has come to call upon the Dukes Twilight?"


    "Colonel Sama Rantha, under Twilight Seal." I reached in to my vest pocket, popped out the Seal, and displayed it for him as his eyes almost bulged out.


    HAH, the bastards behind me hadn''t told him about the Twilight Seal. I guessed he was a popular fellow. Grym caught the shadow of their smirks, which might have gotten a little bit wider when I gave them a thumbs-up behind my back.


    "Y-yes, right away." He looked pointedly at the desk, and a diode lit up. Obviously we were under observation. "P-Please enter, Colonel Rantha!" The wooden doors, which I was sure from some extinct species of hardwood halfway across the galaxy (Marbled Stonewood from Corpusti III, I was informed by Emma, a Natural Sculptor) opened silently to admit me.


    I gave the jerk a long last Withering Glare, and he melted back into his chair before I pulled Chalice back up into my arm, the golden soulblade snapping away, and I skated along an inch above the plush carpet within.


    ---------


    The doors closed silently behind me. The twat gasped loudly in relief, and my escort also flinched as they were released from my presence.


    "Emperor. We were going to start a fight with her?" hissed Dame Towagers, staring at the closed doors.


    "The fight would have ended before we could start it," murmured Inquistor Coffins, his eyes dark enough to do credit to his name. "A five-star mindblade. I''ve only ever seen three in my life." His eyes flickered. "Her name isn''t in any database we have, which is impossible for anyone with five Stars. Where did she come from?"


    "If the Dukes want us to know, we''ll know," Towagers replied, and tilted her head as a voice spoke to her there. "We can go."


    The Inquisitor didn''t question her, and they and their Strikers left the office and the secretary who hadn''t quite managed to hold onto his piss.


    --------


    Three men stood to greet me as I came into the spacious corner office with a magnificent high view of the core of the city behind it. Mentat Tower, the Crownspire of the government, the lesser Spires dropping away in size as they increased in distance from the Central Spire of Kolosti Prime. A thousand miles of skyways wound between them even from here, and multiple levels of airborne flightways complimented all of them.


    We wouldn''t mention the sprawling, shadowed darkness of the lower city''s countless Downspire bloks and the Underspires who never saw the sun... Kolosti Prime was in excess of five billion souls, so it could eat a couple Janus Prime''s...


    The Coronal Duke was a shorter man, with dark hair, a trim mustache, hard eyes, and the body language of a chip on his shoulder. He moved with deft precision and projected an air of command and authority... with the underlying impression to me that he was afraid people wouldn''t notice him if he didn''t. He definitely didn''t like the fact that he had to look up to a woman, I could tell... and he probably really enjoyed ordering around people taller than him, like his twat of a secretary.


    The Umbran Duke was tall, sallow, and moved in a lazy manner, but his eyes were working and scheming with every breath he took. He looked like he wanted to peer inside my head and find out everything I was thinking, and was only holding himself back somewhat after seeing my display outside.


    The third man was Marquis de Krov, smiling and happy to see me, a finely carved wooden box in his hands.


    "Your Graces." I glided up, felt them twitch at my presence, ignored it as I executed a perfect bow, and finished it off with a somewhat more casual salute. "I am Colonel Sama Rantha of Janus Prime''s Planetary Guard, here under Twilight Seal. A pleasure to meet you both. If I may?" I held out the Seal, and its display winked up again.


    The Marquis should have been quivering in his boots if he was sane. Alas, he wasn''t; he was my pet, which kept him pretty relaxed.


    "I am Duke Vilfemmes of the Coronal Knights; this is my counterpart, Duke Kasper of the Fallen Moon. I have been told you know the Marquis de Krov." We both nodded. "Excellent. As you please, Colonel." Vilfemmes gestured at the big ornamental desk that seemed to dwarf the man behind it, and I skated forwards to set down the Seal, retreating and only moving half a step yet ten feet in both directions as I did so.


    He noticed that, and gestured me to a seat as he and his counterpart took out their Regalia of office. The Seal immediately reacted to their presence. There was technopsi handshakes, mutual identification, and the spinning twin symbols flashed and resolved into the images of Duke Rimval and Parablum.


    "Greetings from the Twilight Orders on Janus III," Duke Parablum''s commanding voice echoed out in the air. I noticed Vilfemmes'' eye twitch, and knew he was instantly confirming the identity and position of the others. "I am Duke Honus Parablum of the Coronal Knights of the Janus system. This is my counterpart, Duke Rimval of the Order of the Fallen Moon.


    "I do not know which of my counterparts I am addressing. This message was entrusted to Colonel Sama Rantha for delivery to the other side of the Rift. If you are hearing it, it means that she was able to find a way around the Rift to you."


    Their eyes shot over to me in shock and intrigue. This was bigger than they had expected, by a very good margin.


    "To secure her help, a substantial reward was offered for successful delivery, given the odds of failure. Please authorize payment for her successful services. I am sure that she has already prepared a proper report and debrief for your perusal."


    I nodded slowly, my fingers steepled, saying nothing.


    They looked at the number, considered what I had done, and two confirmations came down. Systems cycled elsewhere, accessed my Band and the new accounts I had already set in place, and my seed money slid into my accounts, marvelously efficient and all.


    "Colonel Rantha''s primary mission was to deliver knowledge of a remarkable new form of neo-psychic energy that was discovered inadvertently here on Janus III. This energy has been given the name of Vivus, and her primary mission was to see that the specifications, testing data, and system of forging and utilizing items with vivus were spread across the galaxy before the Warp could stop it.


    "If she is meeting you, then that means her primary mission has been executed.


    "I will need to inform you that there will be immediate fallout from this mission as the Warp attempts to quash knowledge of vivus as rapidly as it can, judging what happened when we disseminated it throughout our sector. Please be aware of this, although similar warnings were included in the basic data package sent out."


    Duke Rimval took over. "Within the Seal she carries is also contained relevant intelligence of events and movements on the far side of the Rift that have occurred since its establishment," his naturally dark voice went on grimly. "Although we are expecting neither reply nor relief, there is a great deal of relevant information extending from both sides of the Rift that only became apparent after it arose, with rippling consequences. I am certain that your analysts will find it thought-provoking."


    "Colonel Rantha, your Twilight Seal is revoked. Thank you for your service."


    I lifted an eyebrow, nothing more. The images of the two Janus Dukes flickered off, and the Seal and its precious load of data waited there for retrieval.


    It slid by itself across the massive desk to the Umbran Duke, and disappeared the instant it touched his fingers.


    "A report, Colonel?" Vilfemmes inquired.


    My Band flicked up, and I waved a file transfer to him. His desk accepted it, popped it up, and both of them raised eyebrows at the size of it.


    "If you could summarize, Colonel?" Duke Kasper asked languidly.


    "We stumbled upon a Drow gate to the Underweb. I made my way through it to Gloomheart, and there found a certain human engaging in mercantile transactions with the drow, who also happened to hail from the far side of the Rift. I snuck myself onto his ship, took control of said individual, and had him and his fleet sail themselves to the nearest Castle and Dungeon to execute my primary mission," I explained succinctly.


    Their startled eyes once again turned to the smiling Marquis de Krov. "Mercantile transactions?" Duke Vilfemmes asked archly.


    "Over the past century, he has supplied more than one billion humans to the drow for slavery and sacrifice, in return gaining advanced technology, biotech, psitech, and rare Elements for trade. It has been quite the profitable exchange for him." Marquis de Krov nodded without blinking an eye, quite cheerful about it under the flat and cold eyes of the two Dukes. Power began to hum in the air, but that was ignored, too.


    "You have... evidence of this?" Duke Kasper asked softly, eagerly even.


    I flipped up another few files on my Band, sent them over. "Personal logs of all twelve Captains, their first officers, and their financial transactions since the Marquis gained his Writ." I steepled my fingers again. "By the terms of his Writ, I believe the Umbrans should have shot him approximately twenty months after he got his Writ and sent his first million refugees off to the slave pits of Gloomheart."


    Both Dukes had rather frightening frowns on their faces. Dealing with aliens was something free captains did, and they could look the other way. But selling off humans, betraying the species to them for personal gain, was treason of the highest order.


    The Marquis de Krov was a dead man, and yet, here he was, smiling. Their eyes turned slowly to me, back, forth, wondering what hold I had over him.


    "In return for the service of bringing the good Marquis'' actions to the attention of the Orders, I would like you to serve as a witness." I held out my hand casually, and de Krov handed over the wooden box. I popped it open, and held it so his Writ was displayed to the two Dukes Twilight.


    The frowns suddenly became quite thoughtful...

 Chapter 471 - Far Future Ch. 181 – Entitled and Talking Money

    "I''ve already taken the liberty of killing the entire crews of all six ships, and they are being fed to the recyclers by the maintenance cyborgs as we speak." Both men blinked. Yeah, the Love Potion#8 wasn''t quite as bad as #9, but it was much faster. They had died in bliss, but they had still died fast.


    "Naturally, they were kind enough to transfer their assets to my name first. I have de Krov''s full authorization and agreement to inherit his Writ of Nobility. If the two Dukes Coronal would be kind enough to witness?" I pulled out a scroll from the side of the box and flicked it at them.


    It spun lazily and too slowly through the air, was grabbed psionically and came to rest before Duke Vilfemmes, unrolling for his perusal.


    He glanced at Kasper, who merely looked intrigued. With the stroke of a pen, they were giving me six ships, a noble title, and carte blanche to wander about the galaxy. It was an immense fortune... and it wouldn''t cost them a credit. My pay was basically a drop in the bucket in comparison.


    Indeed, the intelligence they were going to get off those logs was probably going to be damning a great many people.


    Ruthlessness, cunning, power, domination, efficiency, thoroughness... despite themselves, they found themselves admiring me more and more. Of course, I was hitting them on all the subliminal levels, playing to their desires and expectations, yet breaking their tropes as I did so. Diplomacy checks at 50 are subtly impressive, and work perfectly well against post-Ten psions, too.


    They could admire ruthless, ambitious people. The fact I had managed to do what I had done said all kinds of things about me.


    "Kasper?" Vilflemmes asked, and was even cracking a soft smile.


    "Why not?" Duke Kasper gave me a knowing, chilling smile. "I have the feeling you have worked with our Orders frequently before, Colonel Rantha."


    "Yes, Your Grace. My record is embedded in my initial report."


    Vilflemmes pulled out a pen, and a glowing signature moved across the psi-active parchment. He pushed it over to Kasper, who also slowly and elegantly signed his name.


    Psitech glowed and flashed, information was exchanged, and I was registered as the proper inheritor of the de Krov Writ of Nobility, in proper accordance with the laws and codes of the Empire of Tellus.


    "Excellent. You can kill yourself now, my pet."


    His smile firmly in place, the Marquis smoothly reached up to the ruby amulet on his neck, tilted it upwards, and fired the Harlique-made hold-out weapon up into his own brain.


    There was a hiss, his skull glowed from within, his eyes charred black, and he slumped as little threads of smoke came out his ears.


    Chalice thrust out, five Stars and two Suns discharged in a hail of transpsychic power and vivic energy, and blew the length of his corpse almost instantly.


    The startled Dukes watched his flesh and bone flake and burn away, super-charged by psychic energy, and he misted and his corpse fell away into white dust and threads of mist crawling across the floor.


    My hair reached out, secured the amulet and his other jewelry, and I dropped the necklace around my own neck without batting an eye.


    "This is a partial demonstration of what vivic energy does. Very notably, it consumes Warp and psionic energy and reduces them to unaligned harmonic background energy. Among the most important of things this does is means that demons who come here and are slain by vivic energy do not return to the Warp to bedevil us again.


    "It also ensures that souls are cleanly dispersed into their afterlives, instead of being subject to the Warp, and it also feeds on necroic energies, if Death Walking events are common hereabouts," I informed them helpfully.


    "Could we not have gained more information from your predecessor, Marquise?" Duke Vilflemmes asked dryly.


    "No. I pumped him quite thoroughly; he had approximately twenty hours before his brain melted down completely, and the process was already starting. I lifted the molmech-poison off the drow on my way through. Him and his officers made great test subjects for it, I''m sure you will agree." I made a brushing motion with my hand, glancing at the nearest trash receptacle.


    Duke Kasper raised his eyebrows, and with a rustle of motion, Marquis de Krov''s flamboyant attire, his cyber enhancements, and his dust all went into the trashbin of history where he belonged. "Will there be anything else you might be needing, Marquise?"


    "Several things," I went on with a completely straight face, and both men kind of looked at me. "I''m going to need an Umbran forensic team or four to go over my ships and cart off the alien tech in place. I''m sure you will find it all quite fascinating, and if you could spring for the systems they replaced, that would be wonderful."


    Duke Kasper looked intrigued. "That would be a minor matter." The fact I didn''t care if they were on my ships was unusual in and of itself.


    "Excellent. The Promise is a cyber-warrior convertor ship. De Krov sold his cyberslaved ''borgs to anyone who wanted them. The technology is first-rate, and it would be a shame to waste it. I''m not going to be mass inducting refugees through it, but I assume the prisons of the sector are always full. With approval of the Orders Twilight, I would like to continue this work, with the specifications that the Orders have a devoted contract. I will have to do some considerable alteration of the psychological programming to make them viable for working with the Orders, but I believe having extremely disposable high-end combat troops for your use made from the scum of the Empire is agreeable, Your Graces?"


    They glanced at one another. "We can go over specifications in detail, but that is not out of the question, Marquise," Duke Vilflemmes acknowledged.


    "Excellent. Now, although I have inherited a substantial amount of assets, I have to engage in some extensive retrofitting and crew recruitment, meaning my ships are going to be in dock for some time. I would like the docking fees waived for this period, approval given to my recruitment efforts, and furthermore, I would like to be allowed to take advantage of the information protocol Mimir, detailed in the Janus reports to you."


    Both men looked suddenly interested again. "You know the contents of the report from our brother Dukes?" Duke Kasper asked.


    "I helped organize the data for maximum effect." Both men exhaled in some surprise. Yes, the Janus Dukes looking out my eyes had trusted me. "A portion of the information is meant to be publicly released under confirmation and seal of the Orders as to its veracity. The responses should be... interesting. And, if someone has made the proper moves, extraordinarily rewarding financially."


    Both men quirked smiles again. "You are saying that there is information that will move markets of certain parties when released, and you are asking permission to take advantage of it?"


    "Yes. And when you see the information in the Mimir protocol, you will probably be of the same mind as the Janus Dukes and deem some punishment is appropriate."


    They glanced at one another again. Truly, such financial matters were minor things before the monolithic power of the Orders. Financial ruin was simply a word away for men of such power, and they could disseminate wealth or poverty with a fingerstroke. While I had literally cost them billions with my vivic messaging, it was, in the end, a minor matter... and if it concerned the security of the Empire under Twilight Seal, cheap and reasonable.


    Allowing me to punish some malefactors in their pocketbooks for actions they had taken cost the Orders absolutely nothing once again, but could indeed deal a brutal blow.


    "There are times when members of our Orders must have access to black funds," Duke Kasper said smoothly.


    "I will provide a full accounting of the funds acquired through this transaction, and you can decide upon a number appropriate for future uses. I will assure that it is maintained in the event of emergencies," I answered promptly, and that matter was quietly done with.


    I lifted one more finger, and they looked at me once more. "There is a matter concerning the Orders that might place you in some minor conflict with the Mechanists if you agree to it, but was deemed worthy of developing by your counterparts on Janus."


    "Go on," Duke Vilflemmes asked narrowly.


    "There is a branch of human technology, long disused, that when developed properly, resulted in a type of tech that is extremely resistant to outside Warp interference, and more resistant to psychic probability tampering. However, it is not current AMT standard, and it cannot be made properly by the Mechanists.


    "I know this technology because I developed it myself. My primary production contract was for the Twilight Orders back on Janus, and my compatriots are now carrying it forwards in my stead." I flipped up a datacrystal between two fingers, and tossed it at them for Vilflemmes to catch mentally and set down before him. "Those are the performance specs of the technology. Specifically, it does not outperform AMT in standard usage, at best being on par. But, against the Warp and psychic interference, things the Umbrans and Coronals place premium importance on, it is unequivocally superior."


    "What manner of technology?" Duke Vilflemmes asked, unable to hide deep interest.


    "It starts with electronics, relays, and circuitry, but it has been developed all the way up to entire ship redesigns, including drives and weapon systems, as well as personal armor, transportation, and weapons."


    Their faces changed despite themselves at the outrageous claims. "And this technology works?"


    "To be honest, Your Graces, we are unable to keep up with demand. Equal to AMT, but superior against the Warp... let us say, the number of interested parties is vast."


    "What is required to start production?" Duke Kasper asked reasonably.


    "I need to acquire the production license for vacuum tube technology from the Mechanists. It has been sitting on the shelf for something like six thousand years. I do not expect there to be any difficulties in such an acquisition, but without a market, it is not worth pursuing, Your Graces."


    "If this technology is capable of what you say, we are very interested, and you need not worry about interference from the Mechanists," Duke Kasper stated firmly.


    I had to smile. "Your dealing with the overt interference should be enough, Your Graces. I believe I can handle the rest."


    -------


    The Goldilocks crew was already bubbling over having access to the Empire''s markets, and my kids with financial and math Talents were giggling strangely to themselves. They had full access to the funds, and accounts were getting set up and buys were being made after I walked out of the Castle and got busy on the public Boole. Anybody who was watching the amount of data getting moved back and forth would have thought I was carrying around a full hard drive server.


    I had a noble''s half-cape behind me as I left the Dukes, nearly scaring the secretary to death as I strolled by, and I waited outside for the Umbran flitter to come pick me up. The scale of the tech I inferred meant they were actually dispatching a cruiser on station next to the six ships to take on the xenotech. If the Mechanists wanted a shot at it, they could wait in line... and I would like to see what some of that tech did to them.


    I was pretty sure some of it was going to be shot, and a lot more burned in fusion fire, after all...

 Chapter 472 - Far Future Ch. 182 – The Thirteenth Hour

    I had some interesting discussions with the forensic teams carting stuff off, as I had some fairly good ideas on what all the stuff was used for... and at least sixteen different items went on one-way trips to the sun when they were deemed to be passive scrying interfaces for alien entities. I could talk tech with any of them, and moreover, could sweet-talk them into approving the costs of the tech required to replace what they tearing, cutting, hacking, dissolving, burning, and shooting apart, sometimes with rather aghast expressions.


    Yeah, de Krov was not going to be remembered for anything except quietly vanishing.


    None of this meant I was standing idly by, of course.


    A hundred of the newest Sixes spread out into Downspire from a Sword-Rift from Gloom. They''d have new identities inside the day, and the Green and Gold would have its first recruits shortly thereafter. A few got to work helping me with paperwork.


    Oh, and twenty thousand men were shuffled aboard the Witch Killer discretely, Marked as crew, and got its refit of systems done in literally record time. It was only in dock two weeks before it departed on a quick mission, was gone for a month, and came back with even more crew, and a load of basic processed ore for sale.


    The de Krov toadies who had been ruling his pet planets had been shot all to hell, and there were some Ranthas and Briggs with severe administrative talents and urges to build up their own planets installed to replace them. With them came some Printers for some hi-tech stuff, and within a generation, those worlds were going to take a big leap forwards.


    The Umbrans went all over the Promise and its tech, and hard men winced at some of the drow additions that we removed and shot off into the sun. Nevertheless, disposable combat assets were something the Inquisitors of the Umbrans could eagerly make use of.


    So could a lot of others, actually. Unleashing a few thousand combat cyborgs on a planet would really raise the old body count, after all, even if they weren''t full-on brains in a box...


    Two hundred Vats were quietly installed on the Glorious Bastard, and the first generation of my girls to be born on this side of the Rift were underway.


    --------


    The heir of a noble family was confirmed dead.


    Mining sites and factories of a megacorp were confirmed lost.


    Four colony worlds were confirmed obliterated.


    Contracts had not been picked up by certain families, or had been transferred to others.


    Certain individuals had been convicted of Warp sorcery, heresy, treason, blasphemy, and their belongings impounded and families dispossessed.


    Worlds had died in war, sons and daughters serving on the far side of the Rift were sent to glorious deaths or glorious victory.


    And money moved as the facts came out under the Mimir Protocols, and set the galaxy on its ear.


    Someone had gotten through with news!


    ------


    In Gloomheart, my three girls saw the city subtly roil as they figured out that humans had managed to come through the Underweb to deliver the message. Of course, it was not impossible, as they had traitorous and deranged humans passing through all the time, but they definitely had to make sure it wasn''t a constant thing.


    They had very little idea that there were a lot of men and machines pouring through Sword-Rifts generally no more than two minutes long, in and out... and that the younger generations of the hyn that had escaped into the shadows of the Gloom were all leaving for, ah, brighter grounds...


    Of course, Madame Lolith was looking for the girls and I to exchange views on lethal entertainment with us, but found them nigh-impossible to lock down, even with a LOT of drow eagerly looking for them...


    --------


    Investigations undertaken on the other side of the Rift dealing with cults, cabals, covens, and criminals that had been severed from counterparts in the greater galaxy suddenly had connections that could be exploited here. Six wars broke out, a mega-corp died, nine noble houses were extinguished, and all in all, something like fourteen billion people died as a result of the information being released and the investigations that followed over the course of the next decade.


    And hard Rantha eyes were there to profit from all of it, naturally enough.


    With three planets of my own under control, expanding the ranks of Briggs and Ranthas became much easier... which was important, as there were a whole lot of planets in the Imperium, and it was going to take hundreds of thousands of them just to get one per settled system!


    Yeah, the Empire was big.


    --------


    The release of the information across the galaxy also had an effect, some good, some bad.


    The information released by the Mimir Protocols was nowhere near as destructive as the release of the Vivus Care Package. The sheer amount of violence that erupted in its wake only confirmed just how important the information was, and it no time at all it became the single most manufactured form on psychic weaponry throughout the galaxy.


    At least ten worlds burned when the unveiling of vivus triggered spasmodic Warp reactions. Beacons blew up, Mentat Towers came crashing down in Warp fire, and conspiracies brewing for a millennium all seemed to go off at the same time. Even on far Tellus itself, over a billion people died to Warp Events, detonated power stations, misdirected orbital power relays cooking square miles of the surface in broad swathes, biological weapons, Axiomatic reprisals, and undead animating.


    And they were purged, as they had never been purged before, and the Veil was reinforced, and barred them away. Demons burned in the vivic fires, and never made it back to the Warp. Undead fell to True Death, and Axiomites retreated back to the Warp rather than face the unwhite fire.


    Megacorps with any capability for producing psychic weaponry began to churn out vivic weaponry in any form they could, and the ceaseless engine of war of the Empire snatched it all up.


    The laughter of bloodthirsty gods became a bit forced... and as the tide began to change, I hit Thirteen, and was stepping on the road to Fourteen.


    Starting multiple wars galaxy-wide was good for the soul, I guess...


    ----------


    Upgrades on the Harmonic and Tachyon Drives commenced immediately, Vakker-tech was firmly entering the sphere of totally Weird Science now, and there were some really nifty applications of edges of tachyon-influenced space that could be explored in...


    Ahem!


    Financial plays netted Rantha Corp billions, leveraged in trillions, and eventually quadrillions as we rode the wave of revelations and fallout with the prescient calculating ability of post-40 Intellects and Sources out to establish themselves. That was over many years, of course, but the basic fact was that money problems were not an issue. There was only time and resources... and the ability to stay out of the Empire''s way.


    Granted, our de facto monopoly over GAMT technology, despite the obsessive opposition of the Mekkers, meant we had a constant contract from the Umbrans, Coronals, and eventually both Fleet and even the Legions were dealing for some stuff on the sly. That was a constant influx of solid money that simply couldn''t be stopped, and interfering with production of it was basically pissing off the two most powerful organizations in the galaxy.


    Or to put it another way, getting authorization to deal extremely violently with anyone messing with our company was a rubber stamp. We always issued proper post-action reports, too.


    Completely unknown to the rest of the galaxy, my pet worlds geared up and began the production of Harmonic and Tachyon Drives, and the ships to go with them, on this side of the Rift. The crews were recruited from the natives, who were particularly interested in mixing it up with the drow once they learned the fate of the millions of their people de Krov had sold off into the charnel pits of Gloomheart.


    Once the first scout ships and gunboats were equipped, they were immediately sent out to scout all the neighboring systems, find the Phlogiston Rivers, and ride them into the stars. Every planet was position-locked relative to the wilds of the Underweb by the Tens aboard, and naturally they started finding all sorts of weird stuff out there in the stars...


    But those were their adventures, and to say books were being written was not wrong in the slightest. This was especially true when they were working with Inquisitors and Coronal Knights so closely, which meant close to some real power in the galaxy.


    ---------


    I moved the last rune-simulation into place with a finger gesture, and felt the subliminal hum rise as I did.


    -Damn,- /murmured Briggs, echoed by a few thousand others at the massive holographic model in front of me.


    108,000 different Rune Plates, powered by direct sunlight, pumping in tachyons at right angles into the Sun''s magnetosphere.


    It formed an Interdiction effect against the Warp anywhere within sun''s heliosphere, which would effectively remove the entire system from the view of the Warp... and any form of astropathic navigation, as well. Astropaths zeroing in on non-Beacon systems looked for the gravitic distortion of the suns, and so had to Jump into the system inside its heliosphere. If they couldn''t see the heliosphere, the system was effectively locked to any form of Jumping.


    The only way to get there would be through real space, i.e. inertialess travel, planetary teleportation, Phlogiston Rivers, or some really long traveling through space.


    It would make my pet worlds invisible to the Empire, and so basically inaccessible to them, or any species using Jumping... which was definitely not all of them, but a good chunk.


    -That will make the system remarkably vulnerable to non-Jumping attack, as there would be no way to bring in mass reinforcements at this time,- Grand Planner of All the Marbles Anatolia immediately /pointed out, analyzing the implications. -We could only get it into place in a system with the infrastructure to fight off a full invasion, or if we have a full Fleet that could reach it in time.-


    "Oh, you thought we could get something like this in place before we would have all that available?" I pointed out the production requirements for the plates, and breaths hissed out in Markspace. Okay, we could buy and sell a few planets for the requirements there. The plan would work, but yeah, we''d need full TL 15 to print it off, and the accompanying Energized Materials were way out there in the rarity profiles, meaning we''d have to make our own.


    -Could it be done at a planetary level first?- Briggs /asked, his pale violet eyes studying it. -I mean, it looks you took the Tribute''s Throne field and dialed it up to 20...-


    "I did. This is the inefficient model. If we had TL 17 or higher, the tolerances and weirdness of the science would cut down the numbers and raw amount of materials, but drive up the QL reqs to match. As for planetary... I don''t know. We can do a sun because a star provides both the power source and mass source for the dimensional harmonics." I wriggled my fingers as I began to do some calculations, and brought up a copy of Janus for analysis. I deployed the plates, only needed a thousand, but...


    -A thousand zero point power systems?- Even Briggs had to choke.


    "It''s like stars pump out a lot of juice or something..." I replied with a straight face.


    -It goes on the stack with the Sun Gun,- he /sighed. Why-oh-why couldn''t the real cool vast stuff you could pull off in the far future be cheap and easy? Having to build up to massive scale to do things on massive scale was just annoying... I just wanted to click a button on a vid screen, and lo, I could harness the power of a sun...

 Chapter 473 - Far Future Ch. 183 - Small Orders of Magnitude

    Turning around and finding a woman in your chair is bound to surprise just about anyone, even a twenty-percent cybered middle manager like Jamon Dralfi-2C, a nameless drone working for Kadalfi Production, Ltd, a maker of specialty metals and pre-fab molding for high-end starcraft.


    A nymphal! What was a nymphal doing in his office? How did she get in? She wasn''t cybered, and her Band was... his connection to the office Boole was gone? Did some of the boys... no, impossible, she had to be here for some other reason, she wasn''t dressed appropriately for that, and...


    The thing that looked like an undersized crossbow, and the bolt that was glowing with a very disturbing light, made his blood run cold.


    "Jamon Drafi-2C, do you know just how much trouble you are in?" the woman asked calmly, as she placed a small disk on his desk.


    Shadows whirled and spun, and the image of a crescent moon with a dagger through it rose above the Seal. Psi-active fear touched on the edge of his awareness, and his pale face went completely bloodless.


    "N-no, I have done nothing to draw the attention of the Umbrans..." he stammered, very unconvincingly.


    The Seal flared in front of him, and he swallowed.


    The scarlet-tressed woman''s eyes rose from the same sight. "Now, now, trying to lie under the Seal is a very, very bad idea, you know? And you don''t have anywhere near the tech to foil it. You''re just a small cut-out protecting the big fry. Now, I know you value your job and you didn''t want to be fired for no reason, but congratulations! The Umbrans are here to save your job, and help you not commit treason for sabotaging their war efforts."


    ---


    The subsonics had their effect, and his knees gave way as I watched. He felt into the cramped seat in his office, visibly shaking. "I-I just did what I was told..." he whined, completely aware of the general fate of traitors.


    "Of course you did," I assured him soothingly. "However, the only fingerprints on that data entry relaxing the tolerances of the materials being made for Rantha Corp are yours. We caught the very first shipment, of course, and they are being returned to Kadalfi for not being built to spec. Someone is going to find a patsy, and lo, look who got volunteered for the position."


    He was looking rather ghastly, and that was without the side effect on skin pigmentation of the cheap immunanites that facilitated his body tolerating his cyberware. "I was set up-?" he managed to whisper, and suddenly his loyalty to the company and his position was taking a sharp nosedive.


    "Yes. I''ve already gone into your systems and reset the tolerances back to their original settings, so certain individuals can''t use the findings as an excuse to triple-check the system, reset their machinery, and so forth, shutting down and delaying production.


    "However, your fate is sealed. You''re to be offered up as the sacrificial lamb on the altar of Unimportant Flunkies Can Just Die, and some contrived connection to a relative killed, removed, or accidentally slain during an Umbran purge is certain to suddenly pop up in a datafile somewhere to provide motivation." He shuddered as he looked at me, but behind the fear was a rising strain of anger at the company for betraying his many years of thankless, loyal service.


    "So, here''s a one-time deal for you. The Green and Gold are looking for competent managers to help run their production department, and while they are Downspire, it also means that Jamon Drafi can comfortably disappear into the morass, and the silencer teams sent after you aren''t going to have an easy time of it. You''re going to have to lose your cyberware, but that''s no great sacrifice if you want to live, is it?"


    "N-No..."


    "Excellent. In return, we''re going to make it difficult for the company to come after you, because we''re going to go after the ones who want to make their problem, you, disappear." My hair rippled hypnotically, and his human eye was already glazed. "So, tell me who gave you the order to make that change, and I''ll go wandering up the ladder and see what I can find."


    "It was Supervisor Krystal Necta-55. She said she wasn''t rated for engineering specs when she passed on the order..." he trailed off.


    "Mmm." My eyes flickered as I accessed the personnel files of the company and brought her up in my head. "Younger than you, and already your boss. An ambitious woman," I noted for his benefit. "When you leave work today, head for Peniplex Station Violet, and to the Green and Gold office nearest that to the south. There''s a nice dorm waiting for you, and you can start your new job tomorrow.


    "As for your last paycheck, I''ve already approved your vacation time bonus and a fat severance check, and your resignation is approved and already filed, with the flags attached to you not notifying anyone. Make sure at least a third of what you do today is unfinished and will get routed to your subordinates tomorrow, would you?"


    "Y-yes." His color was starting to return, eyes flickering as he began to make plans to live and run... and maybe get vengeance. "What are you going to do to the Supervisor?"


    "Well, that all depends on her," I smiled. "Take care, Mr. Drafi."


    ---


    There was a pop of air replacing her position as she was abruptly gone, whisked away by some psionic effect, no doubt. Jamon Drafi stared at this empty chair, beckoning him to sit there as he had for six days a week for the last thirty-two years, and suddenly thought it looked very much like an exectioner''s seat, the worn neo-leather more like boils on the skin, rotting away to reveal the filth below.


    He had been betrayed by his superior... who likely had been ordered to do what she did by her superiors. Going public and claiming all of it would gain him nothing, as there was no proof behind his words, and it was likely he was due to be silenced before any such words could come to light.


    His connection to the office Boole winked on, and he eyed the datafeed, production stats, and monitoring tools popping up inside his eyes.


    He definitely couldn''t sabotage production, as that was the whole reason why the woman was here. But the information behind that production, to who and what, that could certainly have some value, couldn''t it? He could bring it along as a gift to his new employers, and let them do with it what they wanted.


    The woman had hacked the personnel files... he didn''t know what level of skill that required, and certainly the company would have systems in place to make sure it wasn''t something repeated easily or continuously done.


    On the other hand, his clearance gave him access to plenty of data for comparison purposes, which he could access without any surprises whatsoever.


    He didn''t sit down in his chair, staying in the uncomfortable visitor''s chair as he sat there, leaned back, put his feet up on his desk, and began exacting his own version of revenge.


    ---


    Like most cybered people, Krystal Necta-55 had rather blind faith in her own cyberware. All cyberware was made to resist outside intrusion, or it simply became a conduit for taking control of a large segment of the professional population, with dire consequences. There were psionic effects that could take control of cybernetics, true, but anything like that on a mass scale would trigger the Brain Wards to instantly disrupt them, and cybernetics were generally more resistant than human minds or flesh to such effects.


    A strand of scarlet hair going into her dataport, physically removing the insulation and cipher there, jacking directly into her hardware and then spreading across her brain and taking control without her even noticing, was a bit more than her company-issued hardware was rated for.


    Her hardware was convenient for accessing her software, and she had no idea I was even present as she continued to sit there, monitoring production, dreaming about the possible rewards for her help this time, worrying about the contract and implications if the faulty parts were discovered, who was going to fix the problem when it was inevitably discovered, how soon she could eliminate Manager Drafi and cover herself...


    She had removed the conversation from her wetware to her hardware, where it could be encrypted, retrieved, copied, or wiped as needed. I noted the location of her private files, and had her give me access to them without her ever realizing it.


    Well, no wonder she was already a Building Supervisor. She was definitely not afraid of getting her hands dirty...


    I patted her false and stylish hair in admiration for her nerve, if nothing else; she simply chose the wrong party to cross this time. I considered things, and left a subliminal prompting in her memories. If things went badly south, and she could make it there, I was sure Mob Queen Valentina Rantha could use the service of an ambitious, ruthless woman like her. There were a lot of thugs who needed proper direction, and she certainly wasn''t afraid of that kind of work.


    As for that message from the office of Factory Manager Sverensu, the new local Goldilocks crew''s lead senior cyberpath Charmieo was going to backtrack it properly, since it was highly doubtful if it actually originated from there. Sverensu was probably a patsy too, and even if he wasn''t, he wasn''t the one who would do something like this, risking his career and life over a move like this.


    ----


    Technically speaking, I never got within fifteen feet of Maester Krallu Ho, if you discounted my hair. My hair, of course, could get pretty long, indeed, and when a single strand dropped down to deliver a nanite payload by stabbing into the coolant systems for his 87% cyberbody, he detected nothing.


    I sat on the ceiling above him, arms crossed, neutralizing his internal security nanobots as they came in range, whereupon the payload I was inserting fell upon them, consumed them, converted them, and proceeded on their slow and merry way to infiltrate his systems.


    Security impediments removed or muffled, I extended my hair up into his cyberware and remaining wetware, sectioned off parts of his meat and metal brains he wasn''t using, and set up some special fun surprises there. He probably wouldn''t be happy to find out he was sending out constant data updates to a third party, and his own subroutines had been compromised so he couldn''t even detect it.


    Yeah, I had kept up with the Computer Programming Ranks, just like the pure tech. Those systems needed to be monitored by increasingly advanced programming, and just the languages that needed to be written alone were getting increasingly polyglot and multi-aspect. The higher-end Mekker coding was getting more and more transparent to me, and wasn''t I just the sort to take advantage of it?


    "What?" he blurted out below me, as a message popped up on his eye.


    Totally painted out of his awareness, I sat up against the ceiling and got the relay through my hair strand as he was notified that Codesifter Agliant was missing, but some cyberware that had belonged to him had been found at his workstation. The lack of organic material was probably related to the new vivus energy that had been discovered and disseminated...


    "Agliant is dead? They tracked me back that far?" he muttered, and then began searches.


    Up above him, I smiled despite myself. I had been a busy girl... and so had some of my girls.


    The Planetary Vice-President of Kadalfi Production. Savant Kobulos. Preceptorix Harkamandal. Constant of the Hall Trigivormin. Codesifter Agliant... and Cogitator Prime Ulivestos were all off the Boole!


    That is impossible; there should have been alarms, notifications, alerts! How many others were... were... his thoughts trailed off.


    Quiet red notifications of one hundred and fourteen Mechanist Guild individuals who had vanished from the Guild''s Boole without setting off the slightest alarms, all within the past twelve hours, hung in the augmented reality before his eyes. UNABLE TO CONTACT blinked repeatedly as Maester Krallu Ho tried to code away the paranoia igniting in his meatware, and found himself unable to do so...


    ==========


    Author''s Note: Wetware is organic components i.e. your brain.

 Chapter 474 - Far Future Ch. 184 – Let There Be Silence...

    -A Silent Ship has just entered Kodolfispace.-


    It had been a year of slow and steady expansion for Rantha Corp, with the occasional explosion, stray ''borgs ''going cyber'' and not at all sent by the Mekkers, things falling from the sky onto production facilities, and rogue transportation somehow crashing their way into our holdings.


    There had also been a lot of unfortunate deaths in the management hierarchy of the Mekkers, unexplained system failures, rogue coding, Axiomatic Events, hackers disrupting research results with fatal equipment failures at key times, and rogue borgaii troopers going cyber and shooting up lots of Mekkers nearby.


    The raids of large amounts of data and processed raw materials also infuriated the Mekkers, but not nearly as much as the coders who went in and used their own systems to ship out items without paying for them, and weren''t caught until proper eyes-on inventory was done months later when the systems kept conflicting with shortages.


    While there were certainly aliens out there who could program in TL13 code, the number of humans who could do so were basically controlled by the Mekkers, or members of the Warp using chaositech to bend the systems. Cyberpaths never bothered to learn true coding to that depth, as they could simply manipulate the systems directly to get what they wanted. Finding out there was someone capable of mucking with the fundamental coding of their system who wasn''t an alien was not welcome news, but what could they do?


    Ranthacorp had expanded in many directions, and Green and Gold was growing blok by blok, adding some new levels of violence to Downspire and stirring things up. Astonishingly well-trained gangbangers and street scum were being recruited into the Planetary Guard and the Fleet, which resulted in them being posted around the system, and their competency got them promoted with impressive speed into places where information flowed.


    When the Silent Ship came unannounced into the system, two Marked in Kolosti Station traffic control were among the first to learn it, and that meant I did, too.


    I had no doubt it was a maneuver by the Mekkers, who were happy to scream Warp Sorcery and psyker at anything they could not explain. Since I had a mindblade, I was definitely some sort of psion; I wasn''t a Mentat, which meant I was unregulated, and all these new psions popping up Downspire definitely had something to do with me.


    Ergo, if the Silent Sisterhood, the people who cleaned up rogue psions like nobody else, could be brought in to whisk us all away for experimentation and disposal by some of the darker branches of the Empire, all the better for it.


    I wondered just who and what they were, and how their powers worked. None of the Silent Ships that carried off rogue psions into the darkness were beyond the Rift when it opened up, so there hadn''t been any encountered by any of the Marked as yet. Since they might be able to detect the presence of a Mark, all Marked were directed to disconnect their Marks when one of them was around, just to be on the safe side. They could be easily re-established with a touch from another Marked later.


    Me I wasn''t worried about, or the kids. With our Nulls up on full and simply disengaging the Marks, there was nothing to sense.


    But, if they were being directed to go after me, it would be best if I was proactive about it.


    ------


    "Touch¨¦!"


    There were some grumblings from the other party as golden sparks danced up his arm from the hit, but the numbness was not something that would endure long, and if it was a little sharp, that just told them they had lost.


    The blue mindsword opposite me dispersed, and the rueful Coronal Knight shook his head at me. I just winked at him, and shooed him from the ring for the next eager sparring partner.


    My having two Suns and five Stars on my golden mindblade had gotten around for some strange reason, and it hadn''t been long before the semi-challenges and sparring offers had come in from Coronals eager to see just what this outsider bladebelle had to offer.


    Some were friends of The Twat, too, and eager to avenge him and put me in my place.


    It came as a great surprise to them that I could thrash all of them, and I could do so one after another. It was probably the fact that they couldn''t even use psi and cheat that spurred someone to collude with the Mekkers, and so a Silent Ship had changed course to come and investigate this new psion.


    When the women in form-fitting black and grey power armor came into the room, quiet spread like a wave. The lean, long-armed knight opposite me managed not to lose focus, keeping up a quick array of thrusts and over-cuts, trying to make contact and discharge a hit, and finding his blade simply wasn''t going in the direction he wanted it to fast enough to do what he wanted.


    With a flick of my wrist, Chalice slid down his extended thrust, pushed it wide before he could react or respond as I slid into his stance, and he had no chance of getting away before I tapped his chest and did a polite discharge. "Touch¨¦!" I informed him politely.


    He swore to himself as he pulled back, then followed suit with me as I retracted my blade and turned to look at what was going on.


    There weren''t a lot of Umbrans here, as most of them did not pursue the path of a mindblade, but those who did all seemed to have materialized to watch as the women in dark armor cut a swathe through the room. The members of both Orders present backed away to give them room, and couldn''t hide the twinges of fear and revulsion that came across their faces.


    These people were psi-killers, and certainly were not here for a show.


    I calmly measured the faces of everyone in the room, marking those who had an element of schadenfreude in them, and especially those who were gloating. Those petty sorts were going to find their own kinds of petty revenge coming to them.


    Sapphire blades far outnumbered silver and gold combined in this Castle, which came as no surprise to me. A few Knights who worked closer with some of the Umbrans were even showing hints of red, which was a danger sign even the most constipated members of the Order were wary of... but which Mekkers, among others, only saw as a level of appropriate ruthlessness and a mindset that could execute such decisions without guilt.


    Seeing they were coming my way, I came down from the stage with my sparring partner, who had a much more nervous look on his face then I did.


    I just lifted an eye as they zeroed in on me, and they stepped closer with the confidence born of everyone being afraid of them.


    Hmmm...


    I lifted my eyes and looked around them as they stopped three paces away. My sparring partner retreated to five paces away, while I just stood there easily.


    I sat there, waiting politely, as they stared at me, and I looked around them curiously, not at all discomfited.


    Psychic energy was flowing past my Null towards them. Naturally my Null itself wasn''t moving a whit, but I could feel the sensation like a breeze blowing over a stone.


    This...


    I gave them an assessing look, while they suddenly didn''t feel so sure of themselves behind their faceless helms.


    "Vortices..." I mused aloud, studying them. "Well, how very unexpected. How long do you have left before you go into forced isolation? Ten years? Twenty?" They didn''t seem to move, but I could see their shock. "Thirty? No way, you got above three decades? Must be the armor, you poor things. Well, you definitely came to the right place. Who told you I could help you?"


    A lot of people were staring at me, and a bunch of jaws were dropping as I stepped forward, and without any hesitation touched their arms, turned them around, and herded them back in the direction they''d come. "I''m Sama Rantha, a pleasure to meet you. I''m something of an expert on your condition, although I''ve no idea how you found out. But that''s fine, that''s fine. Let me go introduce you to a few people. I presume you ladies have some time available?"


    Stats and skills are not psionic. These psi-killing women were as susceptible to Diplomacy as anybody else, and I was radiating good will, and a complete lack of fear of them. They could only nod at me.


    "You''re the Sisterhood of Silence, right? I''ve sort of heard of you in passing, but, you know, everyone gets all jittery when they talk about you." I gave them all a thumbs up as we strolled out back the way they''d come. "Good show! Buuuuut, that doesn''t mean you can''t talk, right? You''re like, the Silencers, not mute, right?"


    "That is correct," said one who sounded like the oldest, and had the most beat-up and subtly decorated armor.


    "Oh good. If you had taken a vow of silence, you should have hunted down and shot whoever had that stupid idea." We passed out of the room under the gaping jaws and eyes of all these people come to see me hauled away by the Sisters, while I chatted happily.


    I waved my hands in front of them. "You''ve definitely got the highest Draw," I said to the oldest of them, pointing the way to the stairs and the hallway out. "How much longer do you have in active service?" I asked professionally.


    She hesitated, but my manner was that I knew what I was talking about, and that alone was enough to pique her curiosity. "A decade, perhaps."


    "There is purification circuitry in the armor, modulating the extremes of the psychic energy passing through you?" I went on.


    "...Yes," she finally admitted, while the two younger ones looked at one another. "Your knowledge of our Order is most unexpected, Marquise."


    "Mmm. I know almost nothing about your Order. But Forsaken I know a great deal about, although I have to say I never expected to see a Vortice alive, and had no idea the Sisters of Silence were Vortices." I inhaled, and frowned. "Well, it does explain a few things now. Tell me, is there an opposite Order of Voids?"


    They visibly started. "I''m going to assume that means yes. Well, no wonder I''ve never met a free Void. The Empire must snaffle them up at all costs..." We had Awakened millions of people by now. The odds said we should have run across way more than three Voids by now, but they continued to be elusive.


    I could only imagine that their genetic profile was on a secretive filter passed through the entire Empire. When a Void was born, that gene filter was tripped, and they were probably ''acquired'' by someone at some point. The likes of My Queen must have been missed, or weren''t strong enough to rate taking, especially considering he didn''t Open until he was a Seven.


    The other two Voids had been gutter-born and likely never had a genetest growing up, or they might have gone missing, too...


    "The existence of Voids and Silences is not common knowledge, Marquise," the eldest of the Sisters said, as we turned into the soaring vault of the main hall leading out of the building, and the many flags and banners of great campaigns of the Coronal Knights here.


    "I am not a common person," I replied. "Were you not given my personal file?" I flicked up my Band, and waved the data file to them, their systems accepting it smoothly. "I assume you deduced by my Sword Focus and mindclaw that I am a Null."


    One almost said something behind me, but was caught by the elder in time. "There was some alarm about numbers of new mindblades arising in the slums of the city, and their presence was traced back to you. It was thought you might possess some illicit way of Awakening new psions." Which said activity would get a person in very hot water, because it inevitably led to rebellion, destabilization, and other fun events.

 Chapter 475 - Far Future Ch. 185 – The Sound of Silence

    "Oh, no, no." I waved my hand. "Forsaken aren''t Psions. They are just like the rest of you and I, can''t send out psionic power at all. And you know most Forsaken are Nulls, just like me. Got all the psychic presence of a rock."


    They looked at one another behind me.


    "Your Null," she barely hesitated with the word, "is very strong. I cannot feel your presence at all."


    "Wind over stone," I waved airily, completely ignoring the fact they didn''t have a clue what I was talking about. "Vortices draw in energy continuously. Voids filter and pass through. Nulls sit there like rocks, and Sources radiate."


    I also ignored them tensing behind me. Obviously, they had never heard any of this before.


    "I confess to never having a met a Source, or even a Null before today," the eldest of them filled in smoothly.


    "Hah! You''ve probably met millions. The average person is a Null if Awakened. The average exceptional Forsaken is a Source. So, if you''ve met any person, you''ve met a potential Null who wasn''t Awakened. We''re as common as dirt."


    I could tell that the fact alarmed them. "I... was not told this..." the elder admitted, almost despite herself.


    "Well, who would tell you? Psions loathe all the Forsaken, and Nulls are, generally speaking, the most useless of all of them to a psion. All we do is sit there and Not Take It when psions get their knickers in a kadoodle. We are extremely annoying. At least Sources are big, strong, and easy to get along with." I leaned closer to her conspiratorially. "You sure you''ve never met a Source before?"


    "Quite," she answered softly.


    "Well, then you Vortices are in for a real treat." We walked out of the building, everyone giving us a wide berth. "That armor rated for high drops?"


    "It is," she informed me.


    "Perfect! We''re going to take a dive into Downspire about twenty klicks away." The jets on my greaves extended out from Compression with a click as I strolled right toward the edge of the walkway and landing area. "I''ve already got clearance from Traffic Control," I said, hopping weightlessly up on the eight-foot railing as they looked up at me. "You ladies ready for a short jaunt?"


    --------


    Their maneuvering wings were golden memory gossamer-metal, unfolding from the plates on their backs as their jets kicked in. Given I looked like I was flying on flaming wings, I couldn''t fault them for their glittery golden pinions in return, and they obviously had flying experience with how easily they shadowed me as we literally headed downtown.


    Traffic Control has us marked, so there was no problem with the airborne traffic or switching lanes as we descended... and the Sisters very much had priority over other traffic.


    The twenty kliks went by in a manner of minutes at our speed, altitude gradually lowering as we drew closer to the multi-level factory that was both a production center and a G&G training area. The nearest three bloks had already been cleared and claimed, and a few thousand zwilniks had died in the doing so. The kids were aggressively claiming more territory, the current holders of those territories were aggressively fighting back, and there was a fun time Downspire in old Kolosti.


    We zipped over one of the firefights going on, as G&G people led by Trish Rantha and Tobias Briggs were making a push into the Razor Eaters'' territory, complete with flashes of lasers, some autofire, and a few explosions. I saw her, she waved up at us as she shot a ''borg between the eyes and chopped the arm off another one, and some sniper had the ill-wit to shoot at us. I whipped out Paten and put ten las-shots into him in strobing disapproval of his life choices, and nobody tried another one.


    "Free entertainment!" I called back to the Sisters, who remained scrupulously quiet, and probably mindful of the fact I''d just picked off a man shooting from a window from a hundred yards off while flying at 200 mph or something.


    And I was using a Humanbane Weapon, too. No mistaking that bloody red flame, nosirree.


    It was only a couple miles further to the gates. I phoned ahead and told them we were coming, and so nobody shot us as we swooped on in towards the landing deck on the roof of the administration building. We still hadn''t totally fixed the hole in the roof next door where a tanker load of flammable toxic waste had come down and fallen on the factory... and strangely not combusted since we''d seen it coming, and our psions had suppressed flames around it and controlled the chemicals straight into the flushes, only losing a couple people.


    A few people in Traffic Control, a shipping clerk, and three Mekkers who thought they were clever had all died within a day. It helped when the local mastermind was dumping his activities to your hackers and you knew all their dirty schemes ahead of time...


    I pulled up, drifted down two inches smoothly, and skated ahead, turning to watch them come in with control, if not quite so much grace as I had. Power armor was more about soaking the impact then being smooth, after all.


    "Come and follow me, Sisters." I led the way to the stairs, waved the doors there open, and they followed only a little warily down into a bright wide corridor, leading to a waiting room below.


    Jonah and his brothers Elias and Noah were there waiting. The Sisters walked into the room, right into their Source Auras, and their heads whipped around in tandem, and then tilted back to look up at the lads waiting there.


    "Hey, Sama!" Jonah spoke up cheerfully, biceps as big as my waist folded across his chest, and his deep voice almost making the floor vibrate. He very carefully didn''t call me Mom, although he was dying to, just to see how the Sisters would react. "Are these the girls you were talking about?"


    He took a long, looming step forward, extending out a very big hand to them as they gawked up at seven feet of Ancient towering over them, his Source Aura massive, overwhelming... and completely shutting out any other feeling but of him. Warm, fuzzy, shiny him.


    Despite themselves and all their arrogance and training, they swallowed at his big beaming smile, radiating so much cheerful manliness that they found it difficult to respond, despite themselves.


    "Hi, I''m Jonah, and these are my bros, Elias and Noah," he said formally, shaking their armored hands by dint of swallowing them inside his own, and his beaming, hairy brothers did quite the same. "A pleasure to meet you! Who are we giving the tour to?"


    "I-I am Sister Eloise," the oldest of them managed to say, almost managing to hide the breathy sigh in her voice. "This is Sister Elanis, and Sister Emerta."


    "Sisters Eloise, Elanis, and Emerta, welcome to the Green and the Gold training center for Rantha Corp!" he boomed, the ceiling tiles hopped, and the three Sisters almost swooned. "Let me personally take you on a tour of the place. Mo-arquise Sama, you can just follow along."


    I lifted an eyebrow at the save, as the ultimate in sophisticated psi-killing noble ancient order imperial minion women had their hands taken by brutally ugly, hairy, massively muscular, magnificently voiced, and overwhelmingly dominating primitives. "Oh, by your leave, Jonah," I replied evenly, and he just grinned even wider as he led the Sisters out, and promptly began to expound on things like an experienced personal tour guide, more about asking questions, measuring, and getting responses than anything else.


    I smiled. Source Charisma wasn''t something to mess with. These women had to put up with stray thoughts, emotions, and energies flowing through them every minute of their lives... but right now, the only thing that they could sense was the big strapping fellows ambling along with effortless power beside them.


    They did glance back at me, I just rolled my eyes and shrugged for them, and the tour went on.


    --------


    They had doffed their helms finally, so they didn''t radiate so much ominousness-ness, Jonah had politely shooed them forwards down the main production floor working on the GMAT, where everyone was politely ignoring them in the brightly lit, cheerful workspace, focused on their jobs and all those micro-miniaturized vacuum tubes in all their different arrays, and what we were making with them.


    "Vortices, huh?" Jonah asked, looking after them as they walked through the factory floor, occasionally reaching out to touch a machine, look at a flower in a pot actually growing there, and blinking at the clean and sometimes even smiling workforce giving them friendly nods and smiles as they walked past, clearly unafraid of them (probably uninformed) and happy to be working here.


    "Turned into psi-killers and harvesters of psi," I said. "I don''t know if they kill them when they get older or just put them into someplace isolated until they go nuts and off themselves."


    "And they are stealing the Voids as they are born?" Jonah shifted, grimacing. "Is... that even possible? Wouldn''t they go barmy too?"


    "Yes." He swallowed at my reply. "Void Brothers are made to serve the Land. Trying to hijack that directive is going to lead to Void Deviation, energy retention, and obliteration. Every one of them they train is going to have a shelf life. They probably figured out a way to stylize a skin-sheathe that only passes through optimized psi-traces so they can''t feel the will of the Land much, only the overarching Akasha of humanity, and are trying to breed the compulsion out of them."


    "Aren''t Vortices sterile, too?" Jonah asked softly.


    "Yes. While they are probably world-raiding for recruits, they are probably being artificially made as well. Most of them have probably only ever known mothers. Maybe Voids are being bred in as fathers, I don''t know." I could only sound flat and pissed. Yay, me.


    "The Empire gets some superb psi-killers, but doesn''t have to worry about them going rogue, because they''ve all got built-in time limits." Jonah''s nose flared. "Damn, Sama. The Empire really is ruthless, isn''t it?"


    "You think?" I smiled hard. "Did you see their faces when the kids manifested all those mindclaws, and they didn''t feel it coming?"


    "They almost jumped through the ceiling," he agreed. "Can...Can they manifest a claw?" he had to ask.


    "Yes. It probably won''t show their aura but faintly, based on who they are."


    "You going to show them?"


    I sighed hard. "If they want me to, yes."


    "That is a dangerous gamble you are making, Sama," he said softly. If the Sisters ruled against us, that meant everyone here was fodder for the psi-vats and brains in a box... not that either was going to do crap with Forsaken.


    "Yeah, but their souls are already shaken. I don''t have to open Markspace to them, but they deserve to know." My eyes narrowed. "And they are highly trained, intelligent, disciplined women who have been lied to. Such women couldn''t possibly have a mean streak in them, could they?"


    "Hell hath no fury..." he mused aloud, and Elias and Noah nodded agreement. "I doubt they''ll fight back, but keeping secrets from their overseers? I don''t see that as a problem at all."


    "They are the smart and precise ones. They are born to be killers. What''s the compulsion of a Vortex?" Jonah asked quietly.


    "I''m not sure, but judging that they don''t feel the Land, my guess is that they are born to hunt corruption, given their jobs."


    All three Briggs boys rumbled deep in their chests, sounding like engines revving.


    "They''re probably going to want to take us with them, aren''t they?" Jonah asked fatalistically.


    "I didn''t pick three of you who didn''t have a Rantha for no reason..."

 Chapter 476 - Far Future Ch. 186 – Voids and Vortexes

    "Arranged marriages?! Mother, this is the far future and grimdark, where they treat people like shit and... oh!" Jonah''s grin got lopsided.


    I beamed. "Glad you understand that you''re going to be spending a lot of time with some very athletic women who can''t get enough of you."


    All three of them coughed and looked elsewhere. "Hadn''t crossed our minds at all, Sama."


    "You''re just so pure-hearted and kind, I know, I know." They all beamed together, and I swear the light gleamed off their teeth.


    -------


    Sister Eloise sat down across the table from me, and Jonah sat to the side, his Source Aura covering all of us. Sisters Elanis and Emerta were at another table, conversing with the garrulous Elijah and Noah, who were acting like big hams for the two of them. The Silent Sisters were trying really, really hard not to smile at their antics...


    Sister Eloise had a lot of lines carved into her face, and looked older than her years. As a Ten with at least a hundred extra years, and the Empire having age-rejuvenation alchemicals available, that was saying something.


    Still, she looked to be a lot more relaxed than she was normally, and couldn''t help glancing at the Ancient sprawled in an over-sized chair nearby.


    "You have a purpose for bringing us here, Marquise," she said, but her voice didn''t have the sting to it that it might. "Tell me what it is."


    "I am aware that Vortices, and Voids, are dangerously intelligent people. What I do not know is what you have been told, versus what you have seen and can deduce yourselves," I answered promptly. "Thus, what I wanted to tell you was best shown first, allowing you to make your own assessments, and then contrast them with what you have been told, and what I am going to tell you."


    She nodded slowly. "Fair enough, as long as it involves no blasphemy, or treachery against the Empire."


    "It very well might, from the perspective of those who give you orders." Her eyes flashed once. "First of all, you are not an anti-psion, or a psion-killer, or whatever you have been told you are, juxtaposing you as the opposite of the mentalists who run the Empire. You are a Vortex, a naturally if rarely occurring member of the Forsaken... who are simply everyone else who is not a Psion, but has their psionic potential Awakened."


    I help up my hand before she could say anything. "Every living thing has life energy. Every thinking creature has emotions. Every sentient creature has thoughts. These three things make up the full sum and total of psionic energy. You do not need to be a psion to have psionic energy, as any necroleech draining hapless civilians of their lives and mental energy can confirm for you."


    She paused, and then slowly nodded. "That... is true, from that perspective."


    "The vast majority of people have little psionic potential. Those who have active psionic potential, the psions of all calibers, have something else... they have flexible souls." I kept her eyes. "Surely you have felt the difference in how they feel from the vast majority of others. Elusive, vibrant, shifting, moving, fluid, energetic... in contrast to normal people, who are like dim light bulbs; Sources like Jonah, who are steadily burning fires," she had to give him another glance, "and Nulls, who are like rocks." Her unseen vortex swirled up to and past me, and could get nothing off me. "Vortexes are like holes, and Voids... are like filters. Vortexes and Voids are two sides of the same coin, separated only by gender."


    She frowned. "We have been told that freeborn Sisters and Brothers are great dangers to themselves and others."


    I tapped the table as I looked up. "Hmm. Well, were a freeborn Vortex born, I believe they would generally die within ten years, without any training, nor the filters of your armor. In that, I could see how they would be a danger.


    "Void Brothers, however, do not have the issue that you do. They go insane if they are not permitted to do as they are compelled... so I imagine the Voids you know of also go inevitably mad as their conditioning wars with their primal drives."


    She blinked at me. "You know of freeborn Voids?" Her interest was like a razor.


    "Three," I admitted. "On the other side of the Rift." Her nostrils flared. "They are the greatest natural xenos hunters we have ever seen, and so cold stone sober it is scary.


    "Their natural drives are exactly like your own, removing threats that are out there. However, I imagine yours are focused on negative energies, psionic taint, and Warp contamination. Void Brothers... sense it all."


    "All?" she asked hesitantly.


    "Time travelers. Things from outside dimensional space. Defilement of nature. Corruption of the ecosystem. Imbalance in hierarchies. Exploitations of faith. Abuse of the spirits of the dead. Disruptions of the cycle of nature. Extradimensional intrusions. Aberrant infiltrations of the Akasha. Degradation of the human spirit.


    "Freeborn Voids obey no master but the Land... and so they are dangerous to those in power. Their sensitivity to those making deals with aliens, Aberrants, the warp, and psychic entities, as well as those betraying humanity or the Land for their own gain, means they kill those in power as ruthlessly as they do lowborn scum seeking to better themselves with the same kind of deals.


    "And those in power naturally do not like that a whit. Thus, freeborn Voids are a huge danger... to people like them.


    "To you or I? We''re just tools to be used, to get done what they are compelled to do... which in the end isn''t much different from what you do.


    "If you enslave a Void and compel him by whatever means to unnatural purposes, such as serving a human hierarchy and killing at the whim of other humans, they will go mad and die. It is unstoppable.


    "If they wear a suit like yours, it is only to stop them from hearing the will of the Land. I imagine if they do take it off and hear that voice, they are promptly compelled in outrage to kill those who took them from their purpose, which makes them a huge threat to those in power and using them as their personal throatslitters.


    "The shelf life of madness also means they won''t remain a threat for long, unlike freeborn Voids, who can easily live for centuries, if they don''t die in their duties... which most of them naturally do, given what they face."


    She was staring at me and my guileless face. "This... contrasts with everything we have been told," she warned me.


    "I imagine the 100% recidivism if Voids remove their suits and are enlightened as to what they truly are doesn''t help matters."


    "They... all go mad..." she agreed uncomfortably.


    "No, they all go cold sane when they realize they were enslaved," I disagreed. "Imagine if you were to learn that if you removed your armor, you would not be in danger of dying, nor going mad. Tell me, how would you feel?"


    She stared at me for a long moment. "I would feel betrayed," she admitted. "Horribly betrayed..."


    "You have been leashed as an attack dog, and your instincts made to serve the Empire," I told her unflinchingly. "Since your instincts rarely, if ever, compel you to thwart the will of your masters, and your lifespan is short regardless, you are ideal for the task. Your sterility and inability to have children only mean that you have no greater loyalty than to your existing sisters, as opposed to children or a mate of your own, which would contest your loyalties."


    Her eyes were blazing, and she was about to say something when I went on, "There are no Freeborn Vortices for those reasons."


    She blinked, her defiance forgotten. "What?" she had to ask.


    "You are the male counterparts to Voids, and Voids serve the Land. What is the ultimate purpose of a woman?" I asked her directly.


    "I..."


    "It is to have and bear children, and perpetuate the bloodline. That is it. That is what women are born to do.


    "The Land will not go against natural purpose. It never Awakens Vortices, for that very reason. Doing so makes you unable to pass on your bloodline. Everything you do, can be done by the Voids. There is no need for a Vortex to betray herself, and so the Land never Awakens them."


    "But... that would mean..."


    "That you have been artificially Awakened by some weird science or Ritual to become what you are. There are no Freeborn Vortexes. It is entirely likely that the majority of you are artificially conceived and designed, as you cannot pass down your bloodline."


    Her face was white as she stared at me. Again, she wanted to speak up, but I interrupted again.


    "I know how smart your kind are." I looked directly into her eyes. "Your superiors probably know you are smart, but they don''t really understand it, and in any event, they are manipulating you from birth, and so think they are smarter than you are... certainly older, wiser, more experienced. They merely direct your intelligence upon the road your Vortex compels you to follow, and think they are safe.


    "But you see, you learn, you know. What you are told, and what you can see do not match up. You can deduce and reason and see beyond the words, to the motives behind them; do not try to make me think you can''t.


    "You are an artificially made sect of slave soldiers pitted against those who threaten the powers that be. Despite being anti-psionic and a threat to them, you are, in the end, not a threat because you have a short shelf life. If your whole Order was to revolt, they need merely wait thirty or forty years until you all go mad and die, and then they can begin again with newer minds who know nothing of you all."


    She flushed, and her eyes flashed. I waited patiently as she went through various true-false scenarios, and calculated the veracity of what I was saying.


    Separating words from experience, matching up feeling versus what she had been told...


    Since everything I told her had been absolute truth, I wasn''t worried about the details adding up.


    I saw the chinks in her armor cracking. "Is... there any hope for us?" she asked, and just the slightest wash of despair beneath her resolve.


    "Yes."


    She stared at me. I stared back, and waited. She took several deep breaths, feeling the offer coming, but unable to back away from it, loyalty to the Emperor or no. This was about staying sane, serving the Emperor longer, despite the viewpoints of her superiors. How could she turn this down?


    "What, Marquise?" she had to ask.


    I flicked up my mindclaw. Jonah, sitting there silently, unfolded his arms and casually brought out his own mindclaw.


    Mine was golden, his was electrum.


    "You are psionic, and you are magical. Voids are the strongest and most powerful of all the Forsaken in that regard, for you feel the magic and the psionic power far more clearly and beautifully than all of us.


    "Erect a Matrix of psionic and magical power around your soul, and you will not go mad."

 Chapter 477 - Far Future Ch. 187 – Silent Service

    She almost gaped at me. "Warp Sorcery?!" Her horror at the very idea was totally apparent, and what would follow that would be blasphemy and bullets.


    "Throne, no." I rolled my eyes at her before she could start a tirade, and now the others were coming over, as our conversation was carrying and reaching them.


    "You''re a Vortex. You can feel the corruption inherent in Warp Sorcery. It is filth, a contaminant, a taint, and it Must Be Purged." Even she flinched at the razor in my voice. "That is what vivus does, it removes that Taint. For if something is corrupt... it must also have a pure form, must it not?


    "The Warp Gods have tainted all of magic, and nothing living can touch the one without accepting that Taint.


    "Unless that power has been purged by vivus.


    "Burn the Warp in vivus, claim your magic, ward your souls, and LIVE, Sisters!"


    They all gaped in me in shock.


    I flipped out Chalice, and let the unwhite fire blaze up on her short Focus. "Feel that." I held it out, and their Vortices swirled over it, making it dance and drawing it away. "It is not even pure, is it? It''s... transcendental, I''ve been told. And when it burns the Warp, it purifies the magic.


    "Oh, it''s only for a short time. Seconds... maybe minutes, if it''s a big burn. But that''s all a Vortex needs, really. Draw it in, make it your own, and ward your mind and soul against the world.


    "Live, Sisters!"


    They stared at the flame, deepest of suspicions warring with the need to live.


    "How? We are not psions!"


    "I did tell you that everything that lives is psionic, and you agreed. Are you telling me you are not alive? Because if that is the case, I''m going to kill all three of you for the undead abominations that you are."


    They blinked at my threat, and the real flatness in my eyes. "We... are certainly alive," Eloise affirmed, feeling a distinct danger coming from how my Null got even harder. "But... we have no psionic power..."


    "You have never Awakened your psionic power, you mean." I rolled my eyes. "I can do that for you in under two minutes per."


    They gaped at me again. I raised my hand, as did Jonah. There was a snap behind them, and all three of them turned around to see Elijah and Noah ambling over, electrum mindclaws around their right hands, too. Despite being huge razored finger-claws of hard light, they somehow managed not to look threatening in the least.


    "You are Forsaken. The boys are Forsaken. I am Forsaken. We are not Powered. We do not have liquid souls. We cannot send the power out into the world, and indeed the power will only extend inches past our skin.


    "But our souls can be as strong as any of the Powered!" I declared firmly, and the flash in their eyes showed they agreed with that truth. "We can make Ten! We can go past Ten!" I glared right at her. "I am a Thirteen! Do not even think of telling me what Forsaken cannot do, and none of the Forsaken are as beloved by the Land as the Voids and Vortices are!"


    They all swallowed together.


    "You... can show us how to manifest a mindblade?" Eloise asked carefully, trying to stay calm.


    "No. Mindblades are too long." I held up the golden blades extending from my fingers. "Forsaken have claws. If you want a blade, you need a Focus."


    I held Chalice out to the side, and my soulclaw vanished as there was a snap, and my golden soulblade, with its five stars and suns humming dangerously, coalesced in less than an eyeblink.


    They reached out to feel it with their Vortices, despite themselves, and their faces changed.


    "Yes, it feels much different than the mindblade of a Powered, doesn''t it? Just like our claws. We are the Forsaken, not the Powered, and you... are just like us!"


    "How does one do this?" Eloise asked abruptly.


    "You get a Mark Tat, we establish a telepathic interface, and you follow exactly what I do. Bing, you''re a Void Psion."


    "What can we do as a Void Psion?" she pressed, her voice clipped.


    "You can take Psionic Feats, you can Focus psionically, and you can manifest a mindclaw," I replied promptly. "Oh, and build up a Psionic Reserve, which is what wards your soul." I shook Chalice. "Chalice here is all that made manifest. Size of the Blade is based on raw Reserve. Suns are from Psionic Feats and being Psionically Focused. The Stars represent mastery of raw psionic ability focused into your Sword."


    They had hungry eyes as they looked at the soulsword, and the psychic force harder than adamant. "You... can use telepathy on us?" she asked, eyes narrowing slightly.


    "You can remove the Mark that allows it with your Vortex instantly," I rolled my eyes. "You only need it for the Awakening. Remove your gauntlet, I''ll Tat you up-" they watched as my hair pulled out the tat kit from my narrow Masspack, "and we''ll be done with this."


    She regarded me for a long breath, glanced at my soulsword with a steely hunger... and decisively disengaged her armor lock and pulled off her gauntlet.


    Her skin was pale, and she paused for a moment as her hand came out. She turned to Jonah, holding it out like a hand to a flame, feeling it breaking over and through her skin. Her face relaxed despite itself, and then she turned and looked at me. Her hand stretched out towards mine, and paused as it touched the edge of my Null.


    Despite herself, she winced. It was a new sensation for her. She pushed ahead physically, and almost gasped as her hand went in... and there was nothing, nothing at all...


    She flushed as she laid her hand down next to mine. "A rock... or a deadly silence?" she had to ask me.


    "That all depends if you are outside or within it." I snapped my head, and my hair billowed up, deCompressing in a wave, and I caught her hand before she could instinctively move back. The strands settled across her face and head like a fine auburn net. "Inside, there is indeed silence to a Silent Sister, I would imagine."


    "By the Emperor," she whispered, looking at me through my hair. "I... feel nothing!"


    "Hard soul." I inclined my head at Jonah, keeping her eyes. "Burning soul." I jerked my chin at the three of them. "Airy soul."


    "And the Powered... have liquid souls." Her eyes glimmered in understanding.


    "Yes." Chalice receded and was withdrawn into my arm as they watched alertly, my hair whipped back and shrank to normal length, and I dipped my nails into the ink as golden points gathered on the obsidian. "This will hurt, but it will be fast."


    Given how many thousands of Marks I''d Tatted up, it literally took only seconds to make. She could feel the power in it start aligning, and was rather shocked as it took form, and didn''t just go away in her Vortex.


    "Since it enhances your Vortex, your Vortex won''t automatically get rid of it. If you concentrate, you can of course get rid of it almost instantly by destabilizing it." She nodded, completely able to feel and tell that. "Now, there''s going to be a link coming up. It''s like a door in your mind. Open up, and we can talk." A Soul Tat glowed up on the back of my hand, and I turned it over to press against the Mark on hers, a bit of misdirection.


    Her eyes lit up as she instantly felt the connection, and gasped despite herself. "You and every other Forsaken who''s never been mindlinked before," I rolled my eyes, and the hardass slayer of psions blushed at the mistake. "Just open it up. I can''t do it from this side."


    She took a breath, a mental step forwards, and pushed it open.


    I /looked into her mental eyes.


    She swallowed slowly, /staring at me.


    "Do this." I slowly stretched out my hand, broadcasting every motion of muscle and gesture, the thoughts that went with it. Hesitantly, she followed suit, duplicating every motion of hand, fingers, elbows slowly and perfectly-


    And I flipped my hand, wrenched, and twisted from a point Down There.


    My soulclaw snapped into being as she gasped, and there was a second, whispery hum in the room.


    The other two Sisters gawked and stared at the wispy, almost transparent mindclaw there, somehow looking hungry and sharp despite the faintly blue-silver creation looking not very substantial.


    "And you should probably close the Door."


    She turned to look at me with real and mental eyes, that held a note of hope and wonder that had likely not been there for many years.


    "I...I can see the spark of psionic power. It is not very strong..."


    "It probably only bought you a month of life," I said kindly. "You need to take Void Psion all the way to Ten."


    "How...How do I do that?" she had to ask.


    I snorted, pulled a plain Sword Focus out of my Masspack, and slid it across the table to her. "Make that have Five Stars and Two Suns."


    She looked at it, and picked it up with her clawed hand. The wispy, ethereal mindclaw vanished; she concentrated, her arm twitched, and the Sword Focus channeled the power into a mindblade with a crackle of psionic energy.


    It was only a dagger, ten inches long, still wispy, still blue-silver. And it had no Stars, and no Suns.


    "That''s a Sword Focus for newbs, of course. You definitely need a better one."


    She turned her gaze from it in rapture and over to me, as did the other two. "And I suppose you make better ones?"


    I smiled toothily. "I do, and oddly enough, they will work for Void Psions, where ones made by the Mekkers and Mentats will not."


    "Because we don''t have liquid souls, and they build to those standards?"


    "No, it''s more because a Sword Focus for us has to transform a claw into a blade. For an actual psion, it just enhances the existing blade. In other words, there''s less work to do for theirs." I made a face. "Freaking Powered have it so damn easy..."


    Her eyes were starting to burn with will and hope. "And you teach Forsaken psions how to use their abilities?"


    "That is what that whole training room full of them was about," I agreed.


    She looked at the Mark on her hand. "If I get rid of this, can you put it back?"


    "Of course." The Soul Tat on my hand flared up again, two white stripes leading to my middle fingers.


    She concentrated on the Mark, and the Door to the small Markspace eroded in seconds, and was gone. She let out a slow breath, staring at her hand, where she was only wearing ink now.


    And then she extended that hand back to me. "Link me back, Mark up my sisters, and show us what to do."

 Chapter 478 - Far Future Ch. 188 – Silent Knights

    There were several things going on which rather confused the Umbrans and Coronals.


    First, there were actually a dozen Silent Sisters on the Silent Ship, carrying their cryo-frozen cargo off to Tellus to be strapped into brain boxes and help power the Celestial Beacon, the preferred fate of rebellious psions in the Empire. Doing it at the local level and freeing up Beacon Psions was a no-no, of course. Had to keep those low-born psions busy somehow, right?


    Until at least the capapsitors started coming online, and Rantha Corp could start hiring them away...


    Two, the Silent Sisters didn''t seem to be in a hurry to leave, even as silently wailing condemned psion after psion was frozen and stuffed into storage for their return voyage.


    Three, they basically dropped off the grid, save for terse communiques back and forth when needed, and the Orders didn''t know what they were doing.


    I, however, did.


    Now, it was completely and totally beneath the Silent Sisters to take part in anything as base and pointless as gang warfare for territorial expansion. Even drug wars didn''t mean a damn thing to them.


    However, rooting out Warp Cults, xenos infiltrators, and that whole business? Oh, that was totally up their alley. Using Green and Gold gangers as cover for their operations was totally possible, all they had to do was take off their armor and they were basically just more women waving around mindclaws enthusiastically... or bladebelles, with the Sword Foci they were all quickly sporting.


    Finding people involved in the Warp wasn''t difficult for Ranthas when we went searching for them. The girls were already getting involved in the shady side of life, and the information networks were only getting better by the day. Leading the Silent Sisters to such folk so they could accumulate a bunch of easy, light experience with their new mindclaws, while learning their new psionic abilities in the company of Nulls and Sources who were incredibly relaxing to be around, was pretty much a no-brainer.


    I told them to just think of it as light training duty, the equivalent of running through simulations, while actually doing what they were born to do. Everything they were doing was basically lost in the general tumult and violence endemic to the gangs of Down and Underspire, and if they stumbled onto something like, oh, psychotropic drugs that opened one up for Possession, which had a trail that led back Upspire to an up and coming pharma corp with some hot profit margins, well, I promised I''d help out if they wanted to suit up...


    As for their inspection of the local Mentat guild while the entire Guild was ostensibly gathered in a grey room... well, that went rather badly for the seventy or so Mentats involved in Warp dabbling, and there was a pell-mell inspection of all their associates as the ones who survived were put into cold storage. As for the three dozen or so members who didn''t show up for that assembly, half were found dead, and the other half went quickly missing, with Sisters who could sniff a psi-trail out hot on their paths, Striker Squads in tow.


    Jonah, Elijah, and Noah quickly became indispensable to the Sisters, but the Sisters were also quick to glom onto the more experienced Null Mindshields, blithely and openly recruiting them, both men and women. There was standing by the cozy fire, and there was blessed silence...


    Our information network was all about keeping them busy, and with the sensitivity of their Vortices to the Warp, just getting them in the general vicinity of a cult or practitioner was enough to confirm the information was good, and not waste their time. We were very definitely not wasting their time, and if the Sisters were crashing cult operations high and low with terribly accurate raids, and really upsetting some folk in high places, well, that is what the Sisters did.


    ---------


    -It''s probably time for you to leave, Eliose.-


    The senior Sister /sighed in Markspace. The Sisters had totally glommed onto the tellepathic communication of the Marks, and their coordination in combat was now literally silent and eerily fast. That the Nulls and Sources could share in it... and also share privately... was just a very nice perk.


    -Why do you say that?- the Sister /asked, her sharpness mollified by true respect for me. I had delivered unto the Sisters the biggest boost of their lives, and they were all able to tell how effective it was. As their psi power grew, it pushed outside their soul, and the contamination from their Vortex was kept at bay, the stress upon their sanity was relieved, and their effective lifespan was growing by the day.


    How that would upset their bosses when they didn''t have a shelf life any longer was a problem they were going to have to address...


    -The first reason is that our information sources are running dry on things for you to do in Kolosti Prime here. That''s not saying that there isn''t more Warp stuff in the city, but unless you want to start pounding the pavement and feeling for it actively, it''s not going to happen. You could go to another mega-city and grab some low-hanging fruit, probably starting with their Mentat Guilds, if they haven''t panicked yet, but otherwise, you''re going to be taking up time doing nothing.-


    -We shall begin our purge of the Mentats,- she /agreed, which I''m sure all of the Mentat Guilds on the planet would have been so happy to hear. -What else?-


    -The real way to improve is to go to places with true conflict. You want to max out your Mindblade and complete your Bulwark? Go find a combat zone with the Warp, and commence large-scale butchery.-


    She hummed mentally. -I have noted my progress has slowed as my skills have improved,- she /agreed.


    The Sisters had made broad foundational improvements and revisions across the board, layering skills, grabbing new Class Levels to build a better foundation, and establishing a Vajra after taking Monk Levels, gaining access to ki... and taking a Soulshaper Level, getting Opened to Soul Essence, and urgently establishing a Diamond Vajra.


    From there, they could establish a Vortex Matrix of purified mana. The Mark IV Diamond Vajra quadrupled their defensive Bulwark''s power, and they wanted nothing more than to get that thing so solid they could be sucking on Amourae Herself and risk nothing.


    -There''s one last thing for you and your Sisters to do here in Prime. Meet me at these coordinates...-


    -------------


    A tac nuke had been used to wipe the Dead Walking Event in this waste zone, and the ruins of a blok were scattered around the area, the twisted remnants of the great durasteel bar at the heart of its foundation bent, twisted, and fallen over the rubble around it.


    Nothing lived in this area. There were no weeds, no rats, no bugs. Traffic Control had zoned it all away, holo signs warned people not to trespass, and nobody who went in after nightfall made it out alive if they advanced more than a hundred yards past the signs.


    The Sisters were all understandably nervous. They could clearly feel the hundreds of thousands of damned souls about us, and even if they were barely visible to such things, when the light faded and they could manifest, vivus on their Sword Foci or no, they were going to die.


    Deep in the heart of the zone, right in the middle of the ground floor of that blok where some Warp Sorcerers had done the whole pslaver thing again in glee, a single burning brazier of unwhite flame was burning.


    Occasionally, it would woosh up, and if someone was present, they just might see the shadowy image of a person, their tortured face relaxing in release as the vivus crawled up and released them from their torment.


    The damned souls around this point were clustered so thickly they were almost tangible. The Sisters were getting increasingly nervous, until I pulled out Chalice, and she began to Dirge.


    The pressure of the spirits evaporated like mist in the morning. The Sisters all watched the wispy, ghostly aura trailing from her Blade, and they realized something.


    Their eyes got very thoughtful...


    I waved them around the brazier, and let go of Chalice, who rose into the air, gold and black soulblade humming a sad song of finality, of sorrow... and underscored with a grim and terrible resolve.


    "I bring twelve Ghost Knights to the dead," her voice rang out. "They are huntresses, driven to seek and slay those who wrought doom upon us. What good folk shall accompany them on their hunt? Step forth, and claim your knight!"


    The air churned while nothing moved. The vivus fell, and seemed to simmer, intense and low, under the anticipation and breathless stares of the unseen dead.


    Shadows spun up out of the vivus, hints of unwhite gathering from the shadows of the skeleton of the blok laying dead about us. Faces were drawn out of those faint lights, faces grim and eyeless in skulls that could be seen right through, bodies trailing off into nothing below the chest... but each of them was deeply individual, especially to a Vortex.


    Men and women from different walks of life, slain by the evil that men do and the Warp encourages.


    Twelve of them, facing twelve huntresses.


    "Place your soulswords in the brazier, and offer them to your ghosts," I instructed them calmly.


    The Silent Sisters looked at the dead, the victims of those they had not been able to stop, and their faces hardened.


    Sapphire-silver blades, starting to lean towards the latter, hummed into being, still with the translucent wispiness characteristic of Voids and Vortices. Most of them were about two feet long now, slowly growing as their wielder''s Reserves did.


    They were offered to the dead, their tips placed upon the brazier of vivic flame, as the women in black and grey knelt together.


    Vivic fires simmered on the transpsionic blades, up onto the waiting souls, and drew them down into the swords.


    Breaths hissed out all around, as souls merged with Foci, linked through their blades, and the Silent Sisters Named their Swords.


    Before, they had kicked ass in the name of the Emperor.


    From now on, they would be doing so in the name of the dead.


    ------


    I watched their ship head out-system a month later. There were some extremely relieved and extremely upset Mentat Guilds left behind them, and two noble houses had been purged from the planet directly. They had shaken up the higher echelon of society in ways such people didn''t like to think about, revealing friends and peers as corrupt traitors and blasphemers, and thoroughly destroying their views of themselves.


    I particularly liked the way they had carved their way through one entire sect of the Cult of Man, revealing that the priests of the church were Warp adherents of jRaztl, and many of their most fervent servants were in fact pslaved to them.


    It was funny how the dead were even more sensitive to that level of corruption then they were.


    I hadn''t Soul Tatted any of them. While they had Diamond Vajras and could technically manifest Soul Magic, getting Tatted and revealing such strange and unusual powers that the Sisters were not supposed to have would instantly alert their masters to something Not Right going on.


    In the end, it was fine. Soul Feats alone were making them tougher and harder than they''d ever been in the past, and could help their killing power out invisibly, too. Just having some self-healing capability was something they were celebrating.


    Of course, they weren''t really gone, they were just leaving. Marks extended across systems.


    Jonah was capable of making Marks, too... and I was pretty damn sure the Sisters would be sending requests for more Null Shieldbearers soon...

 Chapter 479 - Far Future Ch. 189 – Into the Hole

    -Sama, I think it''s about time you took a trip home,- Briggs /reported to me from thirty thousand light years away.


    -Oh?- I /answered Mah Fuzzy, having complete agreement on why such a thing would be worth my time.


    -Ah, the OTHER reason is that I think our Tekron buddy is making its deathwish move.- My grin didn''t fade, but he kept going regardless. -It''s been raiding the soylent corpse feed for more dead to mess with, upping its numbers. There''s been skirmishes to stop it, but it''s still grabbing a bunch. I dunno what critical mass if, but if he hits it and goes on a public spree...-


    -It''s all over for the planet. Right. Be there shortly.-


    There were girls with fighting-based Talents that made them great duelists against other humanoids, even other Ranthas. But in sheer all-around monster butchery, I was still the queen, even if I didn''t get to strut my stuff much other than letting Coronals know that they weren''t all that.


    It was down in the tunnels. Briggs boys would be in tight quarters, meaning fists or claws instead of hammers, not ideal. A variable length soulsword would be fine, and big enough to walk in was plenty of room for me. We didn''t need any of Colby''s line, who were busy helping out the hyn emigrating out of Gloom.


    It looked like me and some of the girls were going to have to go in and kick some enhanced cyberzombie ass.


    Sounded like fun!


    ------


    We came crashing in from three different tunnels, because the place was too tight to fight together, we''d just get in one another''s way. To be on the safe side, there was a second rank of clean-up people making sure all the cyberzombies went en vivus, while we basically rode the Cleave Train, and paid very, very, very close attention to our Trembling Domains.


    The Tekron had installed all kinds of lethal surprises on the entry approaches, ranging from mere energy projectors and sideways-slicing spatial fields, to physical slashing razors, impaling spikes, compressing walls, and drop away floors. There were yard-thick doors of reinforced durasteel with force fields we had to short out and disintegrate with matter-eater grenades from the armories, and of course there were lots and lots of cyberzombies in all makes and models, armed with necroic weapons ready to eat life and be happy doing it.


    It didn''t talk, although the lights on its minion-slaves were pumping a frenetic tune about killing all intruders into its domain and reanimating them. Negative energy waves washed over them, supposed to weaken the living and energize the dead, and we basically ignored them and kept up our spree of one-hits and Cleaves.


    This was a pure grindy hackfest, in corridors anywhere from two to ten feet wide, cyber-enhanced dead things getting hacked and blown apart by Sun Strikes, forced back by very, very focused Hags who were even stronger than these mechanically enhanced corpses were. Corpses exploded, necrotech fried and burned unwhite, and we pushed, pushed, and pushed our way forward relentlessly.


    If it tried to build up bodies, they burned down with explosive speed. If it tried to use doors, we carved, exploded, or disintegrated them open, chewed up the mechanisms, fried the molmech repair circuits in passing, and just kept going, while the silent clean-up crew stole in behind us and made sure nothing got fixed.


    If it gave us room, we erupted in Cleave lines in blurs of motion, and whole rooms and chambers would erupt in vivus, frying its control and observation circuits with the backwash, the feedback making its control over the remaining minions ever more erratic.


    It was a lot of dead things, and even shattered and rebuilt xenos and cyborgs that had gone missing ended up here, enhanced with fractal weapons and spatial-slicers to give us some entertainment.


    Unfortunately for it, Ranthas aren''t subject to death effects, like disintegrator beams; are pretty much immune to most forms of energy, including necroic; our Interdictions were up, which meant its space-folding tears were sealing up within inches of their emitters; and we ignored any attack that couldn''t avoid armor, and if it could avoid armor, it still had to get through 20+ points of Damage Reduction/Holy Silver, which the damn minions amazingly had none of.


    Strange that. Didn''t matter how sharp you were, kinetic energy or go home.


    Oh, we got cut. Yeah, it was amazingly hard to hit us, as even in tight quarters landing a square blow on us was really, really hard, and all its predictive tech was having a kerfluffle as it tried to predict a Beyond Fate and Luck fighting style in reasonable time, and found it useless.


    On our side, we were all fighting many moves ahead, each stroke and motion setting up cyberzombies three, four, five kills in the future, clearing the paths for Cleaves and shots, drawing them into one another so their mechanical coordination wasn''t working, or was forming patterns we could just hack through with impunity and chain-kill without thought.


    It didn''t have unlimited access to adamant, so its weapons were just fine durasteel with Energized circuits, power weapons at best, or fractal edges. They were shattered easily with Construct Bane, as cyberzombies qualified as both constructs and undead, and naturally we went with the supplementary material-crushing benefits of Sundering and Breaking on our Swords, too.


    It was high carnage, murderously and inhumanly intense. No normal Ten could have possibly have sustained the level of combat intensity to do this in these quarters. I was fighting on walls, ceilings, pipes, gantries, railings... wherever and whatever was needed to get the angles I needed to kill faster, smoother, more efficiently. Molecular acid, UV lasers, atom-shaking sonics, fusion plasma blasts, and matter-shredding particle beams were tearing the shit out of the durasteel all around, and a normal person simply would have been blinded by the actinic discharges and irradiated by the leaking rads the undead simply ignored. The poison gas, nerve agents, nanite infections, bacterial washes and worse never got past our Vajras... unless we wanted them to.


    We ignored them, largely. Devasight meant it didn''t matter how bright it flared, and Radiant Immunity meant we didn''t care about the rads, either. The poison actually helped us heal.


    Cyberzombies exploded in vivus, Sun Strikes cycled, borg zombies crashed and burned as steel screamed, and we kept going...


    ----


    Definitely a pocket dimension, as we had gone further into The Hole then the amount of space that existed there. We should have crossed paths and emerged out the far side by now, but we were still converging on the middle. The cyberzombies and borg zoms were getting bigger, tougher, and better equipped... but because the tunnels were getting wider, we had more room and could actually kill them faster.


    The flesh-shredding sonics and necroic discharges that had utterly decimated the xenos who tried to invade didn''t do anything to us, and we were kind enough to violently disable all the death traps in passing, insidious, invidious, and otherwise.


    Past assembly lines for making cyberzombies. Through the rooms with field generators sustaining the pocket dimensions. Along the grand corridors lined with the power sources running on negative energy and spatial decay powering the existence of this place. Glancing into chambers with cogitation engines running Weird Math at levels that still made my head ache, and experiments on the nature of Life, The Universe, and Everything ? I both wanted to know all about and didn''t want to see completed.


    Vivus burned, covering the walls and floors of durasteel stained black by necroic energies a glaring white, burning and reaching out to cover everything. The power sources seemed to have force fields keeping it at bay, or this place was simply going to collapse around us.


    Everything, undead and Rantha, was basically moving and reacting faster than the human eye, but the noise level wasn''t that high. Normal matter wasn''t an impediment to the weapons we were using, and Damage Reduction wasn''t like armor when it came to soaking hits. We were definitely on the Fast Healing and Regenerating gravy train, and sometimes had to use Healing Edge to rapidly get back up to safety zones, but even when it started detonating spatial bombs and fractal launchers, or pulled up cannons of high energy projectors, well, that was what Evasion was all about, avoiding those area damage hits even as the trackers tried to get past the vivic interference and Vampire''s Veil to track us and keep us in their sights.


    Explosive arrowheads and/or tail spikes in the proper areas could basically do for the artillery. The bombs just made us annoyed, and we generally saw them coming. Shockwaves were sonic damage, and could be ablated, ridden, or just flattened in front of and let them wash past, clearing away the chaff as they did.


    ----


    The final chamber was massive, and full of elite cyberzombies, borg zoms, and pure negative energy Tekron constructs made in no humanoid forms, wrought of necrodermite shells and impossible technology. Everything was itching to give us a good fight.


    There was Tekron behind them, in its shell of a forcefield. He looked like a spiked polyhedral, sixty-seven-sided, points glowing with necroic and real energies in multiple colors, most of them ghastly with the negative energy interference. It was rotating parts of itself this way and that, as if reacting to what we were doing as we closed in through four of the eight grand hallways into this room, cleaving through its troops with impossible speed, healing from the damage it was heaping on us, and doing so with an ability that could not simply be calculated, only perceived.


    We were operating way past the limits of what organic bodies could sustain. Fleshy bodies would have long torn themselves apart, been exhausted of energy, paralyzed by their own fatigue toxins, shattered by the speed and power we were moving at, or been crushed, cracked, and ruined by the blows we had taken. No automation or machine could have endured the punishment we had taken, and any psi-user would have long run out of energy tanking what we had... and they would have had to tank far, far more.


    We all decided to edit our respective videos and send them off to Madam Lolith for funsies. Looking like breshkt for this would certainly get her thinking, or something.


    Now, the smart thing to do would have been to go up to the dais up there, blow away all the fancy tech around the Tekron, find a way to bring down its forcefield, and end this.


    But that''s not why we were doing this. We instead began to kill the whole football fields full of elite mechadead, including some monstrosities the size of schoolbuses rumbling forward cloaked in screens of meat-flaying power to deal with us.


    It could have just sealed up the dimension and not let us in. It was fighting us to stay alive, and it was fighting us so it would die. It would kill us, but the fact it was actually trying to kill us instead of just leaving meant it was subverting itself, and actually trying to die.


    Our combined Interdictions swept through the room, and anti-grav failed, meaning it couldn''t fly, and spatial shredding wasn''t working any more. Banefire cracked and shrieked as Lightningphasing weapons crashed systems, vivic fire blew apart negatively-charged flesh and necroic circuitry, plunged through necrodermite and fused servos and pistons moving mechanical limbs. Necroic power sources were ignited and exploded like vivic bombs, igniting other mechadead, and cyberized corpses flew in all directions as false-AI''s slagged and popped.


    It was much, much wilder than the Heart of Blood, because the level of opponent was easily a tier higher, and because we had all the extra limbs out providing extra construct-chewing firepower.


    Adamant-hard force spikes wedged here, there, everywhere, disabling mechanical limbs, fusing servos, frying circuits, igniting power cores, slagging command circuitry. Laser fire upgraded to Radiant damage set necroic flesh on vivic fire, playing merry havoc with the control circuits. Bolts of force inserted themselves in appropriate places to disjoint and disrupt the perfect formations and coordination, focusing mostly on any solid projectile launchers that actually might be a threat.


    Seeing as how I beat the girls to the main room, I was the first one to take down a true mechadead, which happened to be one of the cerevore flesh tanks now kitted out with undead robotic accents. I wondered how it got the carcass down here idly as I ripped Chalice through the seams of armored plates and hide, inserted four stingers, and blew bane-lightning through its nervous system, frying both its proto-mind and cybercore at the same time, and totally sidestepping the need to chop it into pieces.

 Chapter 480 - Far Future – Birth of a Mechamind?

    It started to burn inside the unoccupied command nodule inside as I leapt off it into a pair of giant-sized, four-armed xenos cyberdead, Faith batting away razored power-tails plated in adamant, stroking lightning down the tail of one and blowing that apart from within with Chalice''s Sun Strike. As it convulsed upright from the bane lightning pulsing up its spine, I swept off its armored head, and dumped my main Tail into the stump to shoot off two more Sun Strikes into its mostly hollow innards, lighting it up from inside as I stood on its front and its four claws quivered inches from my backside, unable to move.


    My stingers pointed backwards at the face of the other one moving to rip at me, and four spikes sizzled out, each taking an eye and frying the circuits in its hollow skull. Faith took the crashing impact of its tail without a problem, and flared with his own Sun Strike, dumping a discharge into the Tail in irritation and punishment for such stupidity.


    I kicked off the one falling apart in front of me, slammed into the second, Chalice punching right through the diamond-hard chest carapace into its illogic engine, and shut this one down, too.


    But there were more, and Paten didn''t stop shooting in my off hand, delivering up sacred bolts of force and non-stop streams of Radiant Lasers that had turned the area around me into a burning hell for cyberdead.


    The girls arrived within a five-minute span, cursing about how I was getting all the fun, and lit into the horde with enthusiastic abandon/deadly focus. There was a lot of Karma to be harvested here, and if they weren''t quite as good at it as I was, they were only a notch slower, and certainly tricked out for the fight.


    It did try a drone swarm at a couple times, releasing hundreds, then thousands of them, and found out that pattern-mind coordination of drone units counts as a hivemind to Swarmbane. Spikes and autobows lifted, and Construct-Bane shots carried to surrounding units, turning the fan-driven drones into layers of explosions that never got close enough to dive on us and blow up.


    The same applied to identical line units that were meant to fight as a continuous whole, one unit with multiple bodies and attack vectors. Instead of one body sacrificing itself so the others had open blows, the damage carried to surrounding units through their connection, and the death of one shattered and destroyed the neighboring ones with the overkill.


    Yes, we knew how to fight wave attacks. We not dumb Ranthas, hur hur.


    ------


    The girls got the mechadead kills. Cyberdead fell apart in flash-heated, vivus-burning streaks of motion. The whole chamber was burning, burning with vivus feasting on negative energy, crawling on the walls, the floors, up the ceiling of the chamber.


    The elite cyberzombies were cut apart. The tekked-up borg zombies exploded. Mechadead were crippled and fried by internal Sun Shots going off with Shardspikes launched from stingers and tails. Explosive Sun Slams greeted those hammering down on our Shields. Drones wiped themselves and a bunch of their cyberlinked buddies. Tekron automata shredded and necrodermite sizzled and flaked as they crashed down.


    Any of Tekkie''s machinery outside its force field were inundated with Bolts and Spikes and blew apart. We didn''t even try more than passing shots at the force field, since it was clearly able to stand up against artillery-grade fire. Instead, we blew out the foundations of its dais to get to the power core beneath, matter-eager grenades driving a hole down through it to the power circuits, and then all four of us, with all Tails out and two Autobows each, poured fire into the revealed circuits and let Construct-Bane, Sundering, and Breaking do their things to all that finely-tuned TL 17+ tech running off the dark side of the universe.


    The force field shorted out in a crackle and sparkle of lost energies. Whole chunks of the dais blew out, and sent Tekkie and its proud command platform flying in all directions.


    It fought back, sure enough. The power field around it should have disintegrated any organic matter getting close. The malefic display of various energy beams, rays, cones, and blasts could have sliced through whole companies of men, chopped tanks in two, or simply blown them to random bits of metal and flesh.


    But it couldn''t fly, and it couldn''t bend dimensions to get away. It could barely hover a few feet off the ground, propelling itself around with paramagnetics... and not fast enough to stop us from encircling it and preventing it from ducking out one of the side corridors... which had long been emptied of their minion undead, transferred in and thrown into the fights against us as we hacked our way through its guards.


    There was no audible talk, there was no reason. At this point, this was a Tekron fighting for its life, and if there was a section of its programming that wanted to die and transcend, it clearly wasn''t in control now. It was a multi-ton eight-foot spiked ball of terrible killing energies, bouncing around with force and trying to get past us. It found us way stronger than it was possible for us to be, stopping it from getting away as we poured in the Spiked fire and lashed at it with a hurricane of blows that set up spiraling vortices of vivus around it, hungering for the nexus of negative energy inside powering it all.


    Briggs and three of his senior Boys (-Magnus, Otis, and Shirl, c''mon Mom!-) came crashing down on it, heavy-G belts on full power, collectively weighing many tons and applying that full force to the Tekron as they smashed onto its pulsing spikes... and they were wearing multi-ton loads of heavy metals to complete the job. Rantha resistance prevented their adamant armor from just shattering to dust as they gripped the Tekkie''s spikes, grounded out its power field, totally stopped it from moving, and then we really stepped in and started hacking.


    Once it was down to material, even compressed and hardened Necrodermite was not going to deny Sun Striking Full Temp Adamant Construct-butchering soulswords. Chiming and rolling notes, like the ringing of bells making the Last Call, sounded out as we chopped down the spikes spitting energies into our faces, breached the shell beneath, and then all together, fired everything into the interior.


    Streams of solid vivus blew past and over us, carved into the walls all around with resonating patterns of impossible complexity. The complexity of the AI core of the Tekron blew past us, etched itself into the metal, and turned the whole hall into a chewed-up diagram of a circuit board of impossible complexity.


    The hardened necrodermite shell was completely eaten away from within by the vivus blowing out of the dark matter power core, and crumpled to the ground. It flaked away into white bits as the lads let it go and stepped back, the fronts of their armor scarred and slagged with trails of energy, and patterned with these impossible circuit impressions.


    "Well, that''s something you don''t see every day," Briggs murmured aloud, looking at his armor and tapping it thoughtfully. "I get the feeling this could be pretty important..."


    "Experimentation time." I thorked the sides of my waist. "I''ve got the wave pattern!"


    "No shit?" The others hadn''t exactly not believed what I''d told the Tekron, but just learning that you could turn a killer robot construct killed by vivus into a Hag was, well, science is weird...


    "Shit!" I confirmed. "And now we have to seal this place up so idiots don''t go into it and find out the stuff that is in here, until Tekkie gets reborn and advances high enough to access her incarnation, finding out how to control the place properly... and maybe shut it down, maybe make use of it."


    "Do we really want a pocket dimension operating on negative energy around?" Jensa spoke up quickly.


    "The Dead Walking events on Janus III are about one-fifth of what they are on other worlds, although the ones that happen are always large events. It''s like something is drawing away all the negative energy below a certain threshold, so only the big stuff has a chance of happening. How might that have happened?"


    "Ohhhhhh..." everyone said in chorus.


    "Wait, that means having a Tekron based on a planet... is actually possibly a good thing?"


    ------


    The vast numbers of Ranthas being born now were being drawn from the curselines of my girls, I wasn''t putting out more than two hundred at a time. My direct descendants were split between Briggs and Ranthas, and encouraged to find their own things to do.


    The Warp Zone was actually being pacified now. The sheer number of Level-crazed Hagbloods depriving the Warped of life and limb meant even millions of square miles of territory filled with mutants, Warped, and demons was being devoured wholesale, and the fact said victims also liked to shoot one another didn''t help them.


    When that happened, the only recourse for rapid Leveling would be to find a place to fight lots and lots of enemies, meaning the next generation would be going into active warzones with high tech weapons before all their defenses and regeneration were in place... or they''d have to disperse around the galaxy and take it slow but continuous on things like being Termites.


    Needless to say, warzones were far from difficult to find even on the closed-off side of the galaxy, let alone the main one where the Empire pissed off everyone. Megacities could easily fit small gangs of my descendants, and it helped proliferate them across the Empire, even if they had to start from the gutters every time.


    Of course, I had to get to those warzones. Good thing I had the ships to do so, now.


    My personal co-opted Marquise Fleet was soon split in two, with the Glorious Bastard and Bastard Child going out for a tour of worlds with Lizza Rantha and Ptolemy Briggs in charge of them, visiting world after world and obtaining spatial locks and coordinates from each one. Quiet establishment of Green and Gold gangs, and Rantha Corp divisions, would soon follow, and if thousands of people were immigrating out from the hell of the mega-cities each day and pouring into the three unknown systems under my full control, well, it was a rounding error to the planetary governments.


    ----


    Unlike most of the Ranthas, this girl decanted alone, and I was waiting for her as she did.


    She vomited up the Vat material like a champ, shook her head, and looked around sharply, measuring the environment and any threat levels, just like we all did. She saw me standing there, did a doubletake, and slowly got to her feet, as wary as always, but also fully capable of feeling the Rantha Hag bond, and knowing I wasn''t a threat.


    "Vajra yourself down." I held out a set of clothes, she looked down at herself, and her Vajra pushed all the gunk and goo on her down into the grated floor, cleansing hair and skin perfectly, as if she''d been thoroughly sprayed and then toweled down.


    "Happy Birthday," I told her with a smile, as her feet rose an inch above the floor. She took the clothes and put them on efficiently.


    "Thanks," she said, kind of looking at me. "I feel I''m going to be the butt of some jokes." Her brown hair swirled around her, her dark eyes studying me. "So... clone?" she had to ask.


    "No. You''re a Hagchild on the other side of the Hag transformation, basically, after all the stuff my mother set up, a custom Human evolution we call the Rantha Hags. She used the Rantha Curse to empower a template onto our souls, so we get the equivalent of a Seven in Karma, equal to a Hag evolution, and the starting foundation of one Sama Rantha template at birth."


    "Oh." She frowned, considering all that. "So, I''m not Sama Rantha, I just have the memories of her."


    "Correct. The exact same ones I, and all of your sisters and nieces, start with. Your name, however, is Ronnie. My mother did name me Sama, however."


    Her eyebrows rose. "Is there a story behind that?" she had to ask.


    "Yes, but it''s a really, really big one, and I won''t tell you until you reach Eight, and you really should wait until Ten."

 Chapter 481 - Far Future Ch. 191 – Talking with a Baby God

    "No shit?" She was vaguely impressed. "Well, that sounds fairly ominous..."


    "Here''s our racial advancement template." I activated the Band she''d slipped on her wrist in imitation of my own, the holo came up, and she scanned it quickly, eyebrows rising quickly.


    "That is so damn bloody overpowered. Six times Karma..." She shook her head despite herself. "Do we wear big red S''s on our chests, too?"


    "Hope''s Curseline does." She rolled her eyes, and grinned despite herself. "Diana prefers the eagle WW." I pointed at the chart. "You need to get to Rantha Six and your Regeneration as quickly as possible. It''s kind of a real priority for us, not having to fear being blown apart by a stray tank round and stuff."


    "That sounds like a remarkably good idea," she said agreeably. She looked around pointedly, then at the Band on her wrist as we entered the rest of the living area. Two other teenaged Ranthas in different outfits, hair, and faces looked up, and waved at her. She blinked and waved back.


    "So, techworld?" I nodded. "Erm, what kind?"


    "I would love to say Star Wars or Trekkie, but we got the shit end of the spectrum."


    She wrinkled her nose. "Grimdark? Ugh."


    "Our mission is to clean up the galaxy and tear down the Warp Gods."


    "Well, we''ve definitely got something to occupy our time then," she accepted without batting an eye. "Uh, just how many of us are there?"


    "We''re closing in on a hundred thousand."


    She almost stopped in place. "Uh, a hundred thousand of us? With that Stat line? Are you serious?"


    "Totally. Several thousand are Tens already, and the vast majority are beyond Six. Only the noobs less than a year old aren''t at Six."


    She nodded. "Okay, understood. You have a decent spot for rapid Karma?"


    "Yes, and you''ll have sisters and Briggs Brothers around to help you Level. You can start taking some risks after you hit Six, but be careful before then."


    "Got it." She thought about it a minute, and if her eyes got a little excited at the mention of Briggs, I didn''t notice, truly. "Anything else that I should be aware of?"


    "We''ll have to test it, but I''m pretty sure that you''ve got a Knowledge/Lore Talent for technology that will have your sister eggheads hissing in jealous fits."


    "Seriously?" She wrinkled her nose. We were all action junkies, so finding out your Secondary Talent was not one that made you a combat god was low on the enthusiasm scale.


    "Yes, but there''s no need to focus on it until you reach Rantha/10. You''re going to need ALL the Stat boosts. Your Expert Ranks should basically be reserved for Tech Skills. Other than that, go nuts. Pilot and Mecha-driver are probably suitable, you''ll need them for design help," I noted, and her eyes lit up at the thought of piloting a giant robot, or an X-Wing.


    "How fast?" she had to ask.


    "For you..." I looked up at the sky. "Don''t go Deep. You need to reach Ten and fast. You''re not going to have time to indulge in all the side stuff. Your Rantha Levels give you tons of crap all by themselves, and are soooo pricey. You can side-dip, but if it slows you down reaching Ten, don''t."


    "Damn." She considered the implications of that. "So, Expert and Melee straight to Ten? Buying the side Classes with full Karma?"


    "You''re going to be too busy to indulge much. That said, you need to get to Ten, get your Curseline set up, and the galaxy will be yours to explore!"


    Her smile grew wider. "We really do think alike. Er, do I call you Sama? Feels kind of weird?"


    "Everybody just calls me Mom, although there''s actually no genetic ties between us."


    "Right, Hag Curse. Mom." She laughed under her breath.


    "Also, I''m an Exemplar Lite, and you''re an Advanced Hag. Enjoy the +4 to all Stats, your kids will only be natural Atlanteans with +2."


    "Ex Lite?" She sucked in a breath, looking at me. "So jealous!"


    "Meh, your Talent still means you are better with tech. I''ll just be better at everything else, and I heal faster." I made a brush-off gesture. "The racial bonuses are the huge things."


    "Right. What about Marks?"


    "Noobs aren''t allowed to form a Markspace with one another. You''re just a Templated person right now, you''ve really got no ''Ronnie'' identity. You match up with another Rantha, you''ll resonate and end up one person, two bodies."


    "Ah. And this goes away?"


    "30 Charisma, or Level Eight. Most use the time to build their own private support organization before joining the greater Markspace, and use the Quanta for communication, and/or mix in Marked from other teams to help with communication."


    She wrinkled her nose again. "I have to Level," she agreed eagerly, lights flashing in her dark eyes. "What are you up to?"


    "Thirteen Racial, Eleven Melee... no, Twelve. Leveled up a few months ago fighting a Tekron." That seemed to amuse her for some reason.


    "I''m guessing post-Ten Levels don''t come easy?" she inquired.


    "They generally require accomplishing some pretty epic shit, and the Racial Levels especially. But since the Racial Levels drive the Stat bonuses, gotta get them. The optimal thing is you getting to Ten Racial, and then shooting your Expert Levels to the moon as fast as possible so you can get all that high TL technology for us with that monster Talent of yours."


    "Expert." She rolled her eyes again. "Why me?"


    "''Cause half the cost of a PC Class?"


    "And I''m racing you to Twenty with an NPC Class?"


    "Epic technology discoveries are a good way to advance your Rantha Class Levels," I pointed out. "Full Attack Bonus with them. You may lose out on some Melee bonuses, but you''re not going to fall behind in general combat effectiveness, like, oh, shooting megacannons, or something."


    "Ugh, Natural Swordswoman, so wasted on a born geek."


    "And the top end +16 Strength mod isn''t?"


    "I''m not giving either one up!"


    "I wouldn''t, either."


    ------


    What to do next, what to do next...


    Briggs was lagging me by a Level because he was reliant on the tech curve. He didn''t want to launch the Tribute until we hit TL 15, and given the amount of work that had to be done, that was fine. Once he launched, he could start about being the only fleet that could cross the Rift by flying outside the galaxy and coming back in, and then see about claiming the Duke Corunsun heritage.


    In the meantime, the Celestial Tribute was also our most advanced ship production facility, and it was probably no coincidence that the inside of the Warpzone turned out to be chock bloody full of Energized ores. If the Mekkers had known how bloody productive turning worlds into Warpzones were, there would be no stopping them from trying to replicate what had been done here.


    Happily, it gave the kids tons of stuff to work on, and a factory making factories that could make mobile diggers and refineries was in full production by now. The total production of stuff being pulled out of the ground, vivified to remove Warp taint, and processed equaled the production of the whole rest of the planet by now, mostly because the environment wasn''t so hostile once everything native to it was dead. We also didn''t have to be circumspect, although the scale of our mining efforts around the exterior had definitely been long noticed, and the powers-that-be were gnashing their teeth over their desire to cut in on our profits.


    We did enter some joint contracts for salvaging some of the destroyed necropoli, basically just to keep them happy, with cities being torn apart for their durasteel and other components, and repurposed elsewhere. If they didn''t have Rantha Corps enthusiasts guarding their sites and tended to suffer more from remnants of the dead, Axiomites, random xenos and ''vores, and Warp Events happening distressingly often, well, hey, that''s why they were making the money, right?


    There was a huge upturn in banditry, brigandage, and piracy first-timers, mostly because of the lack of those living to be second-timers and telling them it was a bad idea. The annoyed lads, upset at people shooting up their stuff, followed the money back to some wealthy corporate and noble interests, and soon their successors decided that the consequences of such minor actions coming home so violently wasn''t how they wanted their days to end. There was also hefty amounts of extortion and blackmail going on, employees transferred to undesirable locations, wild share price manipulations, and soon coldly smiling Ranthas were ensconced in several board rooms where they weren''t wanted... followed by the removal of several board members the kids didn''t want there.


    Just corporate politics at its finest, everything done in good fun; bury the bodies in the shadows, sue them with their own money and take all of their stuff, and if they were really annoying, cashier them into the Planetary Guard and send them off to fight some goblins somewhere and die in the Emperor''s name, all for love of profit.


    The Phlo charts of The Map were expanding every day, as were the charts of the Underweb, and the coordinates of world after world new Ranthas were arriving at and setting up Rift Foci some of our Beacon psions could latch onto and direct a Riftcut to, since having a Ten at every new planet we arrived at was still an impossibility at this point.


    Every new planet was also a place to set up the Green and Gold, and Rantha Corp production facilities, and for kids to start pacifying.


    Or, as it usually turned out the first time, to fight tooth and nail against rebels backed by rogue psions, Warp Cultists, alien infiltrators, religious zealots, raiding drow, marauding goblins, random horrors from the void, necromantic plagues, rampaging sentient machines, or the like.


    To be sure, not all the planets of the Empire were warzones. Only a small fraction of them, actually. But the ones the kids in the Imperial Marines were sent to definitely were, and the ones we were visiting in ships of our own tended to be highly populated, with all the violent strata that existed in mega-cities and provided so many growth opportunities for us.


    They were all Sixes, which meant very, very hard to kill. Pretty much all of them had planetary control in mind when they started setting up shop, and if the locals didn''t like it, well, that''s why they started low.


    There were dozens of Alias-class scoutships out there now, expanding the Phlo charts to each and every one of the local stars, finding the pathways between them, and making a roadway across the galaxy. A specific set of them was working on finding a route around the Rift, with a lot of stars in the way.


    The explorers had run across Dark Matter entities out there in the void between stars, things the size of major planets not made of normal matter... perhaps made of madness wasn''t too far off things. These things didn''t seem to react when ships zipped by in the Phlogiston Rivers, but if they were just racing through the void, these things... stirred.

 Chapter 482 - Far Future Ch 192 – Everybody Needs Something to Do

    It meant that simply sailing through deep space as if it was a wide-open ocean was actually extremely dangerous... and although the things seemed to avoid the gravity strings the Phlos represented, it didn''t mean they HAD to. If they parked on top of one, well, even a Rantha wasn''t going to survive that.


    Since they also tended to fill a cubic light year around themselves with the mad psyche waves of non-baryonic life, sending the average psion or non-Forsaken out there without some real protection was also a pretty bad idea. Can''t imagine why the psions avoided deep space, strange, strange...


    Therefore, finding a route was actually pretty important, if we wanted to fly it repeatedly.


    We were also getting a rather horrific view of the galaxy, as we started filling in all the empty systems between the worlds and systems that were part of the Tellurian Empire. Needless to say, most of those systems weren''t empty at all...


    Infested nest-worlds of the Mi-Go. Hollowed sterile eggs of the Grays. Overbuilt grandiose cities of the Great Race and their bio-slaves. Silent systems devoid of almost all life, with the faint background necroic presence of sleeping Tekrons. Systems stripped to the mantles of organic life by passing biovore fleets of whatever species. Systems inhabited by the explosively breeding populations of goblins, forming up for their eternal territorial expansions.


    Pastoral systems seeded long ago by the elvar, and sometimes inhabited by their scattered tribes, as well. Occasionally one with one of their rare Starhomes orbiting a lonely sun, flotillas of sailed ships like deadly butterflies flitting through the system. Systems inhabited by alien races, some of terrifying psionic power, some completely primitive, and others making their first tentative steps out into the stars, and still others local hegemons of stars off the beaten path, thinking they were powerful and expansionistic, and not realizing just how big and dangerous the galaxy was.


    Ruins of worlds, seared and shattered by long ago wars... or perhaps just environmentally devastated, and never resettled.


    Lot and lots of those...


    They''d stumbled across half a dozen lost colony worlds, most of them regressed to the atomic age or even the medieval age, the lost glories of their ancestors forgotten, warring with one another over territory or other minor differences. These would be resources and bases for us, and Rantha teams were already engaged in taking them over, with mixed levels of violence required. Rifts shuttled key supplies and personnel, and development was proceeding, much to the dismay of the former ruling and wealthy classes who couldn''t adapt to the new paradigm.


    What could I do personally while I waited, that was worth involving a Thirteen? Anywhere any of the Rift-cutting kids reached I could reach in basically less than a minute, so finding places to stretch my legs and butcher enemies en masse was literally a stroll away, no matter which side of the galaxy it was on.


    Technically, I didn''t need to be anywhere in particular, and going out and finding stuff was something the kids were doing. I was either an emergency response team, or a big heavyweight invited in to have a little fun.


    On an individual basis, that basically meant being involved in a ground fight. Ground fights that didn''t involve being bombed from orbit or by overwhelming firepower were just as easily pursued by my kids, especially if they didn''t involve Greater Demons.


    Which meant I wasn''t busy, and the kids got to do everything. I found myself smirking.


    Well, if that was the case... I was going to have fun wherever and whenever I wanted. The kids simply weren''t going to be allowed to have all the fun.


    Perhaps it might be time to really start building a myth, in the funnest way possible...


    -------


    And that was how I started a legend.


    Hair black, a tattooed mask on an eyeless face, a singular soulsword the drow of Gloomheart could all recognize... and tricked out to the nines to kill.


    The smart ones, once they saw all my Tails, the Arakne Arms, and the stylized Phoenix Cloak, might have realized that I was going very, very easy on them in the arena. Some others would only get spurred to greater efforts to fight me.


    Unfortunately, they were having a devil of a time. Temporal tiddlywinks got them nowhere, either forwards or back. Using psionic divinations literally slammed into the mountain wall of a Null. Hypercognitive calculators kept spitting out errors.


    Most annoyingly of all, I kept moving around!


    By the time the drow got wind of where I appeared, I was already gone, walking off through a slit in space rapidly sealed by the vivus reinforcing the Veil behind me. Behind me, I left a lot of stories, and bodies burning away.


    My preferred sites of battle were Warp Incursions, biovore invasions, drow raids, and goblin fights, largely in that order.


    Ranthas were traveling the galaxy as fast as they might, getting those planetary coordinates, moving on to the next ones. Each planet was a place to set up shop and start expanding influence... or a place to fight, to gain Karma and claw your way up to a place of prominence over the bones of invaders, insurrectionists, madmen, and your allies shooting you in the back.


    A golden blade with a black edge, a trembling note signing inspiration to those who heard it, and doom to those it targeted. I entered battlefields, and I had fun.


    Yes, it was butchery, slaughter, and massacre. There was no other word for it. The Akasha began to scream with my kill totals, as vivus fed them and their last thoughts into their racial collectives.


    Tremble, oh oooo oh, Tremble, she comes...


    World to world, battlezone to battlezone. I drove headfirst into unbelievable carnage, catastrophes, holocausts of war, and screaming battlefields where sane people just shouldn''t go, where you couldn''t see for the blood and bone dust in the air, couldn''t hear for the screaming explosions constantly all around, couldn''t think for the maddening psychic churning in the mindscape, and couldn''t move for the heaped dead and churned earth that covered the ground.


    I cut my way through all of it, Chalice Singing a dirge of doom for everything that stood in my way, and the dead burned in vivus, and took all the other corpses nearby with them as they flamed.


    Shooting akimbo is virtually impossible for humans due to how their brains work. So not an issue with multiple thought-streams. All the targets were targeted, all my shooters shot, and it didn''t matter what vector you were in. I was looking in all of them and was willing to shoot you in them.


    Sometimes I even walked through the wounded stations as the soldiers gawked, and healed tens of thousands of them with Chalice, and Regenerated hundreds of them from wounds that would have cost them limbs or organs or worse.


    I lit up the battlefields with non-stop laser fire from Paten and his little brother Host, my hands crackling with the lightning that powered them, with force bolts like miniature comets pumping out one per second to explode on other targets as well. Arakne Arms rotated in any direction to acquire and shoot down the masses of the weak in unending rapid-fire rows of hard-light carried Banefire.


    My Tails were up and spitting out spikes of hard-light as well, volley after volley of driving, piercing impacts that could flex and shoot in pretty much any direction, disrupting, showing off, cutting down, creating openings I cut through with Chalice.


    Faith spun around me, and unending choruses of ranged fire rang off him impotently, occasionally slicing through someone with his bladed edge, impaling things on foot-long spikes and blowing them off with Sun Strikes at my touch, and endless ranged attacks were bounced right back at their senders or their friends to help add to the toll.


    The public had never really seen anyone ever fighting like I was. The combination of strength and speed was unique. The dark elves could sort of imitate the speed and grace, but their finesse-style bouncy-bounce no-hit-me was not what I was doing. I was heaving urgobs in power armor around, I was blocking Warp Demon weapons that weighed as much as I did, I was ripping hatches off tanks mechanical and biological to get to the insides, and I just... didn''t... stop.


    -------


    Tremble, oh ooooo oh, Tremble, she comes...


    Trooper Farnart''s heart nearly stopped when the sound washed past him.


    He''d heard it before, seen it on some scratchy vids some troopers had managed to download, stuff the higher-ups were trying to shut down, and which somehow got through and proliferated faster than the Mekkers could shut them down.


    It was hard to get details, it was moving too fast, but those notes just hung in the mind.


    Tremble, oh ooooo oh Tremble, she comes...


    The screaming of the hordes of the Warp seemed to just quietly go away, the ripple washed through his mind like a cool water in the mouth of a dehydrated man. The madness and fear steadied, washed aside by a rush of... calm. Implacability. Of dire purpose, as sure as death, and a hunger carried on a tide of fear, coming... coming for the Warp!


    A black shadow trailing fire blurred past them, moving too fast, falling too fast to the hordes crawling up the hundred-foot walls of Findvalen Prime, into the seemingly limitless numbers of the Warped below.


    Hard light reached out ahead, twenty-pulses a second rapid-fire lasers spitting out of psionic arms and crackling, lightning-encapsulated fists extending from her waist, sweeping in endless swathes and patterns into the horde below. Lesser demons exploded in the black and white flames burning about the hard violet light of the guns, while streaks of white force unerringly found the skulls of the tougher, harder demons in passing, and added them to the exploding circle of white around her.


    A shield of force-circled metal spun around her, limbs flying in its passing, sparking and flaring as psychic attacks bounced off it back into the mass of demons that had flung them, undeterred, unaffected, and the pulses of black, white, and violet swept through the area, making sure nothing survived.


    She had a Sword in both hands, just like the vid. Even here he saw the five Stars burning along the blade, and the two Suns spiraling up around it. She was cutting and killing before she hit the ground, arcs of gold, black, white, and other hues scything out, and the strongest of the demons died explosively, showering their fellows with the flowering and hungry unwhite flames of the vivus energy whose discovery was said to be responsible for all of this.


    Like melting candles, the demons burned en vivus, and dissolved into nothing.


    There was no pause as she hit the ground, falling the hundred feet in under a second, and then off and running as strokes of her Sword moved too fast in all directions, and reaping scythes of endlessly detonating Sun Strokes tore apart anything strong enough to stand in front of her.


    Laser fire and force pulses blew apart minor and lesser demons, and the Tails rising up behind her oriented on anything that survived them, finishing them, or perhaps starting the killing process.


    Sun Strikes went off like clockwork as she glided through the mass of the demons. They didn''t seem packed shoulder to shoulder in front of her... they seemed like burning effigies scattered into the winds as she crashed through and scattered them.


    And over it all, those notes, that Song, continued, and drove itself into all of their souls.


    And now, Trooper Farnart could hear the words...

 Chapter 483 - Far Future Ch. 193 – Sing of a Legend Rising

    The quiet you want, the peace you need,


    Your roars and anger give no heed,


    Chaos calms and burns away,


    Warp begone, its final day,


    A whispered sigh.


    Souls in torment, now be released,


    Demon''s raving now is ceased,


    Life is come to drink and feast,


    Death is now the one made least.


    The end is nigh.


    Tremble, oh ooooo oh, Tremble, she comes...


    Drink from Chalice, oh, drink deep,


    Behold Paten, before you sleep;


    Raise the Host, and sup you well,


    Afore Life Itself dines on Hell,


    Waiting, waiting so long...


    Wail and scream against Faith''s own shield,


    Your time is done, your fate is sealed.


    Cast you down, burn you high,


    Paint the ground, sear the sky,


    Coming, coming so strong...


    Tremble, oh ooooo Tremble, she comes...


    The Wheel turns, and now it grinds


    Demons to dust in endless lines,


    Your turn to end, demons to reap,


    No one to mourn, no tears to weep,


    Feed, oh demons, Feed the Land.


    Its hunger old, and now it wakes,


    Wails of madness its hunger slakes.


    Protest and scream, the Land cares not,


    Your race is run, your battle fought,


    Fight, oh demons, your last stand.


    Tremble, oh oooo oh, Tremble, she comes...


    Feel you now, feel that thirst?


    Prepared you are for utter worst?


    The Land, it rises, and mortal souls,


    Fires fan embers, and vengeance rolls,


    Turns the wheels on burning steel.


    Life now rises, feel its rage,


    Feel the turning of the age,


    Serene calm, beyond all death,


    Beyond the pall where doom draws breath,


    Rail and stagger, and demons kneel.


    Tremble, oh ooooo oh, Tremble, we come...


    Feel that light from mortals arise,


    Feel that might where defiance flies,


    Against the destiny you have wrought,


    Against the damnation you have sought,


    Cracked and shattered far asunder.


    Your cheap power, let it burn,


    New light rises, now in turn,


    A future waits where the Warp is naught


    A figment, a dream, its battles fought,


    Broken and buried deep down under...


    Tremble, oh ooooo oh Tremble, we come...


    -----


    "Concentrate all firepower around the path she''s building with the vivic flame! Burn the demons and feed them to the fire she''s making!" barked his Sergeant, her voice cracking like a whip through the ringing, droning song every man was humming along to.


    Fingers leapt to triggers, hard light shot down, scattered demons near the vivic flames fell, tainted ichor sprayed, and caught the edge of unwhite fires, and began to spread... and spread... and spread, as the circles of fire were expanded again, and again, and again.


    Even the main guns got in on the trick, laying down a barrage in rows that crossed the white line that was advancing at murderous speed towards the towering figure of a six-armed Spiral Dancer who had been avoiding their shots with foresighted ease. Streams of four-armed lesser Dancers were trying to head for the line of vivus chewing through deadly demonic soldiers like chaff, and when the bombardment of the guns crossed ahead of that line of vivus, pulses of light reached out, and flying demon corpses that had not even hit the ground blew apart... and that entire barrage zone became a wall of unwhite fire, catching hundreds of screaming demons within it and burning them as no natural fire could while they screamed.


    Thunder of guns, feed on the weak,


    Breath of the Land, the end you seek.


    Doom! Doom! It all ends here!


    Death! Death! The Final Fear!


    Life hungers, and you are the meal!


    Tremble, oh ooooo oh, Tremble, we come!


    ------


    "I don''t care what the fuck you have to do, I want anything and everything that can give me that vivic fire! Do you see what the fuck it is doing to those demons? They are burning, you goddamn blockhead! LOOK AT THEM! DEMONS ARE BURNING!"


    ------


    "No, I don''t know who she is! She just killed a Spiral Dancer before all our eyes, and she''s on her way to kill a Massacre Demon right there! The whole damn demon army is reeling because of her and that song! I don''t care who she is, she''s saving our ass!


    "Now SHOOT! Shoot around that trail of fire she''s leaving, and feed the demons to it! Make them BURN!"


    ------


    Archpraetor Vohler, self-stylized the Avatar of the Abyss, had burned sixteen worlds in his lifetime, a period of time spanning centuries. The tendrils of the cults he had founded extended into hundreds of worlds throughout the Empire. He did not care which of the Warp Gods he served as he triggered insurrections, uprisings, and rebellions; destabilized nations, worlds, and whole systems; setting siblings against one another, children against parents, zealot patriots against fanatic and deranged idealists.


    On some worlds, it was the soft, silken seduction of Amourae, infecting the upper classes and rotting them with decadence and ever-greater, ever-unfulfilled desire for experiences. On others, it was rampant competition and planning, ruthless clawing for power that buried the weak and the strong alike in endless competition for the few remaining scraps of authority. Sometimes it was fueling martial ambition by the strong and violent, and prodding them to seize power over mountains of bodies and whatever purpose they cared to use to justify the experience. Sometimes it was taking the dull masses, lighting their rage with caste differences and discontent with their lot in life, and bringing the mighty down in an anger that, once ignited, did not let up until whole worlds burned.


    He had been blessed with great power by the Warp Gods for his service, Warp sorceries that could easily contend with the mightiest mentalists of the Empire.


    A wall of reality-shredding energy howled desperately out from him as the blur of motion spitting death in every direction turned towards him, registering his once-human appearance among the possessed, mutated, and Warped bodies of his servants and acolytes.


    Everything in the way of his power was torn apart as reality roiled, stretched them in impossible ways, reverted to normal, roiled again, and blew them apart in all directions. Ground and sky seemed to change places, reality screamed with the power channeling through it-


    A golden blade scythed it right down the middle, and the Archpraetor convulsed as something broke in his mind, feedback flooding back into him and his whole mind rocking as the spell was shattered, riven aside like a cobweb. Glowing blood spurted out his nose, eyes, and mouth, and he watched as streams of light pulsed around him, spikes and force bolts reaching out with impossible accuracy.


    The demons and elite cyberdemonized bodyguards around him writhed and fell as the fusillade swept through them, the three strongest of them eating scything flame-shrouded golden Shards and exploding in violent, hungry white light.


    There was a blur of motion, and the force field of his personal hover-chariot shrieked and was rent through so fast he wondered if it was there at all, feedback blowing back through it explosively and blowing out the gravimetrics and shield.


    Before it could fall, he saw a glimpse of a face with no eyes, only a Mask of black and white Tattoos, and then it was past, and he was falling, falling...


    Killed in passing, just another damned soul of no importance, there to burn... and if he imagined he heard something, it wasn''t the laughter of his mad gods watching as he fell; it was looming, hungry silence, clad in unwhite robes, and it was reaching for him...

 Chapter 484 - Far Future Ch 194 – A Hag in a War

    Pretty soon, there were pictures of my nigh unto perfect ass hanging all over the galaxy. I had stingers and tails in some, I had burning black wings edged in gold in others, I had floating glowing horns from my Halo Crown, and the unreal Arakne Arms were obvious psychic limbs crackling in lighting and shooting endless streams of banefire''d lasers and force bolts.


    There were images of all these limbs dissipating into nothing, so everyone knew they were psionic manifestations, but they had basically never seen them used like this, in the combinations that I did, or so murderously effectively.


    In all of them, my hair was improbably long and swirling like my own cape, my Masked eyes were glowing in different shades, and Chalice was out there in a golden core, with Five Stars and Two Suns.


    The footage came from multiple battlefields, and it spread across the stars excitedly, as news of brand-new heroes is likely to do. As it did, ripples of unease followed it.


    Heroes were fine, but heroes who did not obey the Empire were revolutionaries and firebrands, and potential Warp Servants trying to stir up the masses by misleading examples, rabble-rousing, and showing defiance of the Imperial Bureaucracy.


    Naturally I wasn''t paying obeisance to any of them, and several attempts to lay hands on me ended poorly for those concerned. Soon warring media images of a dangerous and powerful radical were competing with circumspect videos from dozens of battlefields showing me laying waste to the enemies of man... and healing thousands of troopers, including regenerating limbs, as I walked through field hospitals before mysteriously and untraceably leaving.


    Soon enough, there were teams of Umbrans and Coronals tasked to follow me, find out more about me, and contain or kill me if needed to stop my grandstanding heroics. If I would work with the Empire, take orders properly, and be their shill and face for propaganda, all well and good. If I didn''t, I was obviously a force of the Warp meant to stir up unrest, regardless of my feats, and I needed to be dealt with.


    Figuring out where I was going to be difficult, but simply dispatching teams to watch for me at all the battlefields wasn''t beyond the remit of the Empire, and given time to work with, they certainly could do it. Obviously, tasking senior operatives of the Empire to shut me down was more important than unleashing such competent folk on the enemies of the Empire, after all.


    Identifying the more reactionary members of the Empire was never so easy. The Mekkers were naturally totally ready to classify me as something as dangerous as the enemy, and if I was accidentally killed by artillery barrages in the areas I was fighting in, well, these things happened, didn''t they?


    There was one common factor on all the battlefields I showed up on, however. There was at least one Hagspawn on that world, and naturally said Hagspawn were building their own organization of Marked... organizations that proliferated with astonishing speed up and down the Imperial hierarchy, as Ranthas and Briggs sought out the Good people of the Empire, and those with souls yearning for the light, and showed them there was another way.


    If those people planning to kill me in the middle of a war or battlefield unfortunately got themselves shot by enemy snipers through their own idiocy behind the front lines, well, there was nothing to do for it but kill more of the enemy, right?


    ------


    Qim''bai IV, a forgeworld in the Leo Sector...


    I stepped out from the Underweb behind a pillbox, the spatial coordinates opened up by Trishta Rantha. She was basically serving as one of several Ranthas set up to coordinate with all the others and get ALL the Swordrift links possible. Ranthas at Six and later were spreading out constantly from world to world, both carried on normal Empire ships and on our Scouts moving from system to system as they worked on the Phlo Maps of the galaxy and brought eager siblings to new worlds.


    Of course, the Tachyon Drive was still slooooow compared to Helljumping long distances. Yes, to nearby systems it was faster and convenient, and since nobody was expecting ships to be coming outside the heliopause like that, nigh undetectable.


    There really wasn''t any particular pattern to how I was choosing where to go. The wars the Empire got into could drag on for years, decades, even centuries, given the sprawling size of it and the numbers of worlds and the enemies involved, so there was never any particular rush to me going here or there. The areas I had appeared in had covered over ten thousand light years by now, walking through the Underweb from one world to another in our little secluded base in the Gloom.


    Qim''bai was a world in the Tokkomadai Cluster, settled millennia ago and turned into a Forgeworld providing goods and military wares to the whole Cluster. It had been isolated by the Black Rain Conquest of the Goblins a hundred and twenty-seven years ago, and was one of the first worlds liberated by the incoming relief fleets.


    The years of conflict and ever-increasing demands of the Empire had proven fertile grounds for the words of Riggibuhl to proliferate, and the worker class of the planet had risen up under Warp influence, put their overseers and erstwhile rulers to the plasma torch, and promptly started turning the world into an appropriate shrine to the Grandfather Demon.


    Of course, losing the quadrillions of credits of forges and foundries on the world was unacceptable, although losing tens of millions of lives of soldiers was not. Therefore, the Imperial Marines had been sent in to reclaim the world and contest against a Warped force of fanatics using twisted versions of the Empire''s own wargear, accented lovably with Warp sorcery, psionics, Possession, and capering demons here and there.


    Couldn''t mass bomb from orbit, either, as that would destroy factories. I rolled my eyes at the typical view of Mekkers, regarding machines as things that should endure forever, while human lives were cheap and spent easily.


    The Marines had been locked down in a traditional slugfest against a dug-in enemy, unable to just wipe them away with orbital bombardment as they should have, their lives cheaper than a processing refiner or fabber for drive axles.


    Into this mess came a Thirteen Rantha Hag.


    Paten and Host slapped into my Arakne Arms, voltage crackled and gave them an endless power supply for their rapid-fire lasers as Phrenic Bane popped up on them, which should prove useful against all the real enemies on the battlefield... and possibly my allies too, who knew?


    I hopped easily up to the top of the pillbox, as it was built low to the ground to deflect any incoming fire. Trishta reported that the missile fire was minor here, the enemy seemed to prefer cannons, which raised alarm bells. Artillery was like hammers, like drums, and pointed to Rituals being enacted, which could be very bad, indeed.


    There was a rain of shells coming down, filling the air with thunder, dirt, and groundwater tainted by endless corpses and the power of the Warp, breeding disease in an ideal environment. There were more casualties from skinrot, gutsnakes, and other unnatural diseases then had died to the enemy soldiers.


    Well, I should be able to do something about it. The air forces had blown one another apart, missile fire taking out any air cover, while elements of the Warp that had gathered at the fall of the world were maneuvering and jousting with the Fleet throughout the system in brutal slugfests.


    Time to do something about this place.


    The troopers were on the trench lines, knowing the enemy was coming across a mile of hell, shell craters, barbed wire, rotting corpses, riven machines of war blown apart by one another, more snaking trench lines, and the like. The possible avenues of approach were known, and as soon as the artillery barrage lifted, the real fighting would begin.


    Or maybe a bit sooner.


    I smiled, my Mask looking right through the dirt and muck thrown up by hundreds of shells falling, tracking the incoming shells, computing speed and arc, and looking past them to raised mountains of steel where the distant guns were throwing out their shells with impunity, because the Marines weren''t allowed to shell them back. That right there was a factory where major components of Imperial Mechs were manufactured; can''t be blowing that apart, what would we do without our walking engines of inane awesomeness?


    Well, time to see if I could do something about it.


    Psychoactive lightning was subliminally building in the skies. Something was certainly going on here...


    Chalice snapped up, Phrenic Bane spat in reaction instantly, and vivic fire swirled up actively, the one feeding the other. Faith floated around me on paramagnetic tethers, and I looked at the hell ahead of me, and smiled.


    Perhaps someone behind me in higher elevation saw me, but it didn''t matter too awful much. I''d be seen soon enough...


    ----------


    "She''s here!" Bemrin shouted out, staring at the monitor he had abruptly stopped and frozen.


    The entire team paused, and then surged to their feet, heading for the monitor.


    They watched the five Tails, four minor ones high on the back and one major one from the base of the spine, emerge and spread out around her like her own personal fire support halo. The faintly glowing, inhuman arms extending off her hips operated below the arc of her Tails, already snapping on line, and the floating Shield was glowing with power and circling idly around her and the gold and black mindsword she was holding in both hands.


    "Five Stars, Two Suns," confirmed Bemrin, sucking in a breath. That was a hideously dangerous person any way you wanted to look at it.


    The looming armored hulk that was Tiger Legionnaire Sergeant Kampi growled, "She is already shooting! At what?"


    In seconds, she had skipped effortlessly over two hundred meters of trenchworks and the troopers manning them, who could only look up and after her in shock as she virtually flew past them at superhuman speed. Her guns were already starting to pulse, reaching out into the hell of the shelling, plunging into and through it, and by the way she was moving her limbs, she was aiming, not spraying.


    "She can see through the shelling," murmured Sir Mugamu, staring in amazement. "That is extraordinary. She is shooting at the enemy through the shelling, and they can''t even see her!"


    They watched her slide sideways, and a second later, a shell that would have impacted right atop her was instead thirty yards to the side. The shockwave broke past her, and didn''t alter her course in the slightest, throw off her aim, and they even watched the wave of debris torn off the ground disrupt as it broke on her... and didn''t even make her hair sway.


    A second later, she was gone from view, except for flashes of light coming through the shelling.


    "That is some subtle, dangerous power," murmured Inquisitor Hrom, his dark eyes intense. "A blast going off that close, you should be at least deafened, and blown off your feet. A psionic skinward that can deflect that so smoothly is not something often seen..."


    "We can make her tell us how she got it when we capture her," Techmeister Vahix ground out in his flat electronically generated voice.


    "Let''s go," Sir Mugamu agreed, and weapons and wargear leapt from the walls to the grasp and harness of their owners. The Inquiry Team headed for the skimmer that would deliver them rapidly to the front lines, and onto the trail of the Dark Angel who was so upsetting their organizations.

 Chapter 485 - Far Future Ch. 195 – You Advance, I Advance

    There was a big push of Warped coming in, bodies in heavy worksuits that had been painted and stitched with patterns and runes of devotion to the Warped powers, breath masks against fumes dipped in blood and ichor wrought from corpses and making the countenances and auras of those coming even more inhuman and unreal.


    I was shooting them, and they were dying in droves.


    They were supposed to be following the shelling in yet another drive of death, pitched trench combat that would inevitably end, and they would retreat under the cover of yet more shelling, drawing out this insane war.


    Trench warfare, in the far future. The Mekkers needed to be mass exterminated. Factories could be fabbed back easily, all you needed was energy and raw material. Spending lives for something that was going to be sabotaged, ruined, and Tainted, and would likely need to be broken down even if the whole world could somehow be reconsecrated... Mek-heads were barking insane.


    The puke grey-brown work gear with the garish yellow and white symbols looked plenty revolting on many levels, but the Warped were just people behind the suits, Human/1''s with a Class Level in Expert or Commoner or two, just normal folk laboring for their Empire, their hearts broken under the weight of the demands on them, and the despair of Riggibuhl finding easy purchase.


    They were dying at every touch of banefire delivered by strobing rapid-fire impacts, and vivic energies were feasting on the corruption infesting their bodies. I glanced at some corpses as I glided past, seeing the internal boils and lesions running through their flesh, cancers replicating madly, swelling their bodies with foul strength and endurance even as it stole their sanity.


    They were tough, and strong, but slow and none too bright, or very accurate.


    Paten and Host didn''t care. Host replicated Paten''s anti-Warp bias, and both of them were delivering killer impacts with the slightest touch, delivered with unstinting accuracy and lethality by my Marksman''s Gloves, Enmity, and Greater Soulbound. The average damage of thirty points and higher was fully capable of killing any of the rote soldiers, and as for the Possessed ones a foot taller, with second heads, demonic limbs, tentacles, massive girths, and clouds of flies born from the maggots being spat from their mouths, they got force quarrels on top of it as I held the triggers down and simply calculated all the angles and movements.


    It required almost half my attention to do mass slaughter. There was movement in the now, and where I needed to go in the future, tracking and laying off objectives, reading the positions of the enemy, noting the strong and the weak, avoiding incoming fire, directing and redirecting it, focusing on the tough ones, endlessly tracking the weak ones so easily killed, monitoring my arcs of fire, looking endlessly for surprises... like this ill-wrought tank fresh out of the forges and Possessed by a demon, bursting out of a crater hole and surging towards me with its eyes burning with ocher baleflames, swarms of drones crackling with the presence of the demon dispersed among them and directing them like components of its body. Warped pausing and screaming as lightning converged on them and they gave themselves over to fully manifest a demon, bulging and twisting as ectoplasmic mass and Warp energies flooded into them...


    My Swarmbane Clasp hummed as my Tails mass-launched five Spikes and my autobows crossed the swarm once. Excess damage was transmitted throughout the cloud of explosive drones, and the demon howled as all the drones detonated in reaction to the impacts.


    My Spikes flicked out, and the headlight eyes of the Possessed Tank churning through the muck towards me were shot away as I dodged the explosive shell it launched at me, moving too fast for it to accurately track as it closed, its stubber-guns launching shells burning with hellfire I cut between, skidded up onto its hull as I cut the guns away, and then Lightningphasing flashed as a swathe of electricity burned through the electromagnetic clamps of its hatch, which promptly went flying.


    My Tails extended down within, and promptly blew the engine core, ammo dump, controls, and firing controls, all inhabited by the demon''s consciousness, into scraps burning with vivus.


    The tank ruptured under me, and I rode the impact into the sky, using the opportunity to blow apart nine commanding Possessed officers, arcs of pulsing violet, black, and white lasers crossing them and Spikes and Quarrels finishing them off.


    I didn''t hit the ground, just sliding down the air and resuming my skating at speed four inches above it, spinning continuously as targets presented themselves and didn''t get down in time... and even if they did, I was accurate enough that they weren''t going to escape unless they dropped behind cover.


    But that was fine, because they were just grains of rice, and I was heading for the cookpot. I was just doing my duty and saving a few soldiers as I did so.


    I moved past the demons being brought in, Swordshards flying out with Sun Strikes imbued, slicing into and blowing them apart violently, frequently taking a couple toadies hanging too close to them with them as they died.


    Guys on hoverloaders, gravsleds, rovers, troop transports, and the like got picked off in passing, with those manning any cannons or pintel mounts enjoying their deaths first, the engines of their rides second, and those that survived the resulting explosions and fires getting to go last.


    A broad swathe of burning vivus was extending for two hundred yards and more to either side of me, and the oncoming rush had completely collapsed, mostly because everything within line of sight of me was dying violently and burning away as I came on.


    Grym was the focus on my Halo Crown, not on full display, but giving me full 360 vision, so I didn''t actually have to be facing the direction I was shooting in. This would normally give any species accustomed to binocular vision conniption fits, but that Lilitu stuff pumping through me meant I already had the mental architecture in place to deal with seeing with my whole face, not just my eyes, and going from a 200-degree arc of vision to full circle was basically no harder than going from wearing blinders to not.


    Forwards was still visible, as the magnifier of my Mask only worked directly forwards, meaning that if I wanted to shoot at something in the far distance, I still had to turn my head. My eyes were keen enough that it wasn''t an issue under two hundred yards, but when I was looking for incoming shells, it was kind of important to see them coming some distance away.


    I was well under the umbrella of shells now, although their spotters had to be seeing the swathe I was cutting through their own troops. Being Warped and realizing the danger, they would certainly be willing to shell their own troops as I rapidly approached their lines. That was fine by me... as long as I didn''t take a direct hit, the damage I took would be trivial and healed away rapidly, Thunder Resistance sloughing off the shockwave and deafening, and damage reduction dealing with any incidental shrapnel.


    The lines of the enemy were right ahead, long rows of bunkers and reinforced trenches built up by the enthralled workforce with tireless energy and skill. Some of them started shooting at me as I approached, and I reciprocated happily, threading shots into their bunkhouses with the improbable skill of a +13 RAB base, 50 Dex, and Improved Precise Shot ignoring all but absolute cover just picking them out and killing them. The difference in lighting meant nothing to me; I could see everyone inside through the gaps, and I killed them all unless they went flat to the floor in time.


    Then I was over the last rows of filth-smeared razor wire, kicking off a couple of the anchor posts, on the edge of the trench and looking down at the Warped staring up at me in shock.


    There were quite a lot of them, but not as packed as they could have been, probably because of the waves that had run out ahead of them.


    Plenty of targets. I began to run along the lip of the trench, Paten and Host still on full speed, my Tails finding the tough ones and putting holes in them as I lightly batted away what accurate fire was coming my way from the heavier weapons, and Warped screamed and exploded in both directions down the trench from me.


    I definitely was not interested in following them down their buried tunnels and into the booby traps waiting within, as my Trembling Domain was happy to show me. Since hopping over a trench was basically effortless, I wasn''t going to be tripping any mines since I didn''t actually touch the ground, and if dumping a scavenged and TK-harvested grenade into every pillbox shooting at me as I passed was a thing, it was all fine, fine, fine.


    I could cut my way through the razorwire and open a path for the Marines behind me, but that would slow me down and make it easier for them to target me. Jumping along the anchor poles was easy enough, and the rows of obstructions that would take tanks and heavy machines to clear I just avoided, without even flying as I did so.


    Yeah, there were a bunch of things shooting at me, but, friendly person that I was, I just shot back at them, and they stopped welcoming me that way soon enough.


    The cloud of flesh-devouring locusts that covered half a square mile sweeping down on me was a good thing... good that it targeted me, and not the men behind me, who could only have dealt with it with psions unleashing some big AoE''s to disrupt it.


    A Swarmbane Clasp turned narrow lasers, spontaneously forming force quarrels, my Tail Spikes, and the sweeping Shards of my Sword into multiple sweeping brooms, driving massive holes into the swarm as banefire popped on millions of insects with a sound like endless amounts of popcorn cooking off, and swathes of unwhite coursed through the air.


    I waved my attacks through the mass, and burning patterns of vivus devoured them as they popped to banefire excesses and died en masse. No passing Go, no collecting two hundred dollars, and not managing to make it to Sama in the slightest as the roaring drone of the vermin cloud became firecracker pops of annihilation.


    It didn''t stop my forwards progress either. Not being able to see because of the locusts meant nothing to my Trembling Domain.


    I was paralleling the buried evacuation tunnels from above, and if there were some alarms going off as repurposed grenades kept going off inside the gunner stations I was passing, well, that was for the Warped below to worry about.


    It appeared they hadn''t withdrawn to proper fighting positions back here, my attack had been too quick... which was odd. The population projections sent to me indicated the enemy still had hundreds of millions of converts, if not more, so these positions should have all been manned.


    Why weren''t they? They had been pulled back... to do what?


    I looked at the mountain of steel sending out endless shells in the distance, and had a bad feeling...


    But not half as bad as the fleeing troops were about to have. Their tunnel ended up in the basement of the bunker ahead, four shots had just killed the four shooters inside, and going down inside and meeting them as they streamed toward me was a thing that just made good sense at this point.


    ---------


    The Inquiry Team wanted to speed across the battlefield after their quarry, but were foiled. The way ahead of them was actually open, as when the artillery barrage had ended, there was no wave of mutated attackers surging across the open space towards them through the area the woman had run into at all.


    Unfortunately, the artillery spotters had noticed the lack of attackers, and mere minutes after the attack was launched, the incoming fire had unceremoniously resumed, trapping the Warped between the incoming guns and the Imperial lines.


    They fought tenaciously and hopelessly to the end regardless, uncaring if they lived or died, only that they could get vengeance on their oppressors. The bloody firefight was still ongoing, and the team even let loose a few shots at thralls who dared shoot at their skimmer.


    But a wall of shells was coming down, and a visible haze of psychoactive power was lingering on the battlefield and the diseased filth thrown into the air. If they tried to move ahead, their systems would certainly short out.


    Sir Mugamu cursed the fact that they didn''t have any of that new Vakker-tech he had heard of, so resistant to Warp influences, or he might have dared the trip...

 Chapter 486 - Far Future Ch. 196 – Let’s Just Poke Around A Bit...

    The incoming corridor was about ten feet wide, plenty wide for evacuating bunches of people mutated by the Warp who hadn''t bathed in a couple years.


    It also had plenty long range of fire when you are shooting banefire''d autolasers and holding down the trigger as psionic coolants keep them from overheating, and they actually stayed superconductive. Actually, the guns were so cold a normal person''s hands would have shattered and fallen apart gripping onto them, but that wasn''t much of an issue for me or my Arakne Arms.


    The Warped basically were running into machine gun fire that chewed them up into white dust. It didn''t instantly disintegrate them, the lasers weren''t that strong... at least until I kicked up Holy and Axiomatic to stack the damage on top of Vivus and Bane, and the line troops were basically exploding under barrages of multi-flaming hard light.


    They could sort of moan and scream as I glided down the corridor at them, dying faster than I was moving, and sort of screaming as they saw the people in front of them popping and exploding into white dust as raging purity blew down the tunnel towards them, and they were reaped.


    There were thousands of them coming, but my guns weren''t running out of juice, weren''t overheating, and anything tough enough to take two shots got Spikes or Bolts to the face to finish the process. The Possessed might still be burning when I walked by, where their underlings were already piles of ash, but they were still dead and the demons inside them shaking inside their corpses as the vivus feasted on them.


    I came to the fork in the tunnel, aimed in each direction at the shocked and halted forces there, and kept my finger on the trigger. There was a desultory discharge of return fire, one blast of hot plasma that swept past me that I ignored as it scorched the solid plascrete of the tunnel, and then all the shooters were dying as unceasing streams of some really hostile violet light wound about with hungry anathemic flames feasted.


    I noted that the sound of the artillery was getting closer, and my eyes narrowed. There was no need to bring the artillery back that far, it was closing in on their own lines... but the Warped had been retreating anyways... how far back were they pulling?


    And that was a lot of shelling they were throwing out. Was it going to stop? If not... why? Even in the far future, shells could be wasted far faster than they could be manufactured.


    I pulled back my guns, and my Tails stopped shooting. There was nothing moving in either tunnel, although they were both packed with mounds of corpses burning white, and great splashes of vivid white painted the plascrete and sizzled around the runes and symbols paying tribute to the Warp daubed and etched into the walls in single-minded fanaticism.


    I didn''t want to look at the symbols, but now I did, wrinkling my nose at the stench that was trying to invade my brain. Some of the symbols were just insane representations of mindless worship, fever-infected brains putting form to mad dreams instilled into the hapless fools caught up in their power, painted with pus, bile, and blood in crazed and unholy tribute to their insane masters...


    But the ones done in power tools and plasma torches definitely had a purpose behind them, obfuscated by the garish painting atop them or no.


    Something big was going on...


    I turned around and booked back out the way I''d come, having some very nasty suspicions now, and keeping half an eye on those trails of Warp Runes scrawled in some mad non-pattern on the walls, ceilings, floors, forming a trail that wasn''t all that hard to follow if you were looking for it.


    I came back outside, the trail of mad homage snaking and looping along the ground, anything but efficient, plunging into buildings and back out of them. Cold and grim, I followed it.


    My Null was out and hard, because this shit was charged with power. A normal man following them and reading them would have been infected by the Warp within a hundred yards, Possessed within two, and screaming for the demon to come take him within three. My Trembling Domain meant I could actually look at these things in three dimensions, and actually see the angles of carving and cuts, the timing of the different areas made at different times and coming together in some greater madness by different peoples and souls, and the blood and guts spilled on them to cement them and make them whole...


    The city and factories proper beyond the trenches were adorned with the typical d¨¦cor of the Warped. Impaled supervisors, Mekkers, the recalcitrant, borgaii, and such things that hadn''t been corrupted were impaled, mounted on display, and painted up for the glory of the Warp Gods. There were skulls metallic and human everywhere, rotting and unclean, some swaying in breezes that might or might not exist, the psychic wailing of tortured souls audible around them.


    Despite myself, I was shooting them, and vivic fire was burning all over the place around me as I practiced my marksmanship while moving.


    The factories were still running.


    I grit my teeth at the discordance of the machinery. This place might be loud, but it should be humming and thrumming with well-maintained machinery forged to incredible tolerances, almost frictionless in its workings. The processing lines, molds, castings, fabricators, and assemblers should be very quiet in how they were functioning.


    But no. There was nobody here, but they were still working, and subtle distortions had been made to tracks, gears, pistons, and joints. Servos were screeching, bearings were wailing, tracks were squealing, rollers were yipping.


    I swept past a pile of bolts meant to anchor armor to hulls. Every single bolt had a Warped Rune stamped into it, and they weren''t being dropped from the dispenser in an orderly manner, but randomly, at different speeds, overrunning the loaders that weren''t moving and falling to the floor in bent and broken forms, sometimes splintering and shattering from the impact, the alloy of the steel as brittle as glass.


    Everything was fellcarven.


    Warp Runes had been drawn and etched on everything. Everything! Every product produced, and still being produced, despite the lack of people, had been changed to include those Runes. Every active machine surface, every robotic arm, every field emitter, power cable, whirring generator or hauling pulley system, had been mindlessly and thoroughly scribed with blasphemic symbols. Every key of the computers and controls had been despoiled and marked, and the computer screens were flashing with symbology that could drive a man mad just watching them.


    The sound was a sussurus of machines in agony, still at work, pumping out corruption under the orders of their masters.


    Every machine, big and small.


    I inhaled through my nose as I ghosted by the place, shooting those flashing screens, severing power cables and silencing key machines, pumping Construct-killing fire into some of the generators, capacitors, and power relays sending on a stream of corrupted power to keep the machines enslaved and making their unclean spoils.


    Great armor plates electro-scribed with maddening symbols slammed to the floor of the foundry like the clattering of brazen bells, extolling doom as they tumbled and slid across the floor, somehow looking alive and greased as they repelled one another. I shot two of the molding frames, and molten steel flooded down and overflowed onto the processing line, and set off some of the runework there in chain explosions of disruption behind me.


    Fucking Mekkers. FUCKING MEKKERS!


    The planet was unsalvageable! The precious machinery, foundries, and forges they wanted to recover were already irrevocably tainted!


    The Warped had done their work with the thoroughness of fanatics and the energy of the tireless. Everything had the runework on it; every key system, and the tainted energy of the Warp had flowed through every secondary system with a malefic aura of corruption of form and purpose.


    Nothing here could be repurposed. Nothing here could be reclaimed, or reconsecrated. It all was going to have be slagged and melted down with fusion fire to remove any traces of psychic or Warp sorcery corruption before being recycled.


    There wasn''t anything to reclaim on this planet, there was nothing to save. It was all lost... and the Mekkers had to know. There had to have been factories reclaimed by now, and examined by the Mechanists eager to put them back to work.


    They had to know, and they hadn''t said anything. The sacrifice of manpower had continued, as the Marines and supporting forces labored under orders to spare the machines, because the Mekkers didn''t want to be caught in their error.


    This planet could have been swept clean by orbital bombardment, and actually saved the Mekkers some of the deconstruction work. Millions of soldiers had died for completely nothing, when orbital lances could have done all the necessary work.


    I grit my teeth at the callous attitude of the Mekkers, and sent all this data out into Markspace, to be transferred to the highest levels of command of this assault. Outraged Goldilocks started digging into the Mekker systems for confirmation that they knew about this, and had decided to continue with the hampered assault regardless, as if everything was fine and men were dying for the noble cause of recovering the production power of the Empire.


    How far had they been willing to go to cover up their error? They''d effectively have to replace everything on the planet, destroy what was here, and do it without owning up to what they were doing. The waste, the expense, the secrecy, and the loss of lives, all just because they''d make a colossal error in judgement and didn''t want to own up to it.


    Fucking bastards.


    ------


    I exited my third factory, this one for making ground transports, and glanced back at a jet of flames and smoke, all of them in wrong colors, exploding forth from the overloaded power system I''d artfully jammed behind me.


    I was miles inside the lines, and could see the wall of shelling had actually withdrawn to the Warped''s own trench lines, and was pounding further and further back this way slowly, a wall of obliteration that was turning their own defenses into a shattered jungle of ruins and wreckage, nigh impossible to pass.


    Preventing any advance on the ground. Something big in the works.


    And... um, I was blowing up stuff behind all that shelling.


    I quirked a smile at my own stupidity, and booked for it.


    Two minutes later, a section of the curtain wall of shelling opened up, and the shelling that had been taking out that area was redirected to the area around a certain line of factories that were exploding and burning heartily behind the wall. Great coughing crumps and multi-colored explosions erupted as thousand-pound shells came hammering down. Roofs blew out, walls were flattened, clouds of psycho-active dust painted disturbing images of burning souls in the sky as the production facilities were flattened, along with anything stupid enough to be in that area.


    ----


    "An opening!"


    Mentat Kiproth, their driver and pilot, didn''t need to be told twice. He slammed the skimmer ahead full speed, and the lifters sparked and sizzled, silver Runes sparking as they fought off the Warp influence in the air. Both Sir Mugamu and Inquisitor Hrom were Focusing and releasing into the Ward, strengthening it against the mad static in the air that wanted to fry their systems.


    Far beyond, up the slowly rising rolls of the factories and habbers, they could see a line of fabricator plants burning and on fire. There was a deadly squeal from Techmeister Vahix at the sight of the desecration, which abruptly went silent as a full salvo of shelling came down on those factories and proceeded to obliterate them.


    -They are shelling their own positions,- Kiproth sent out telepathically, the cool-eyed pilot probability-skimming to find the best way through the fields of static and disruption, using telepathy because it was simply too loud to speak as the skimmer shot past the wall of shelling and into the breach they''d been offered. Perhaps some of the ground vehicles of the Marines might make it in, if they could make it over the Trenches, and some of the Walkers and troop carriers were attempting to make it to the breach in time. Would they be able to-


    Another factory well to the right of the chain suddenly blew up from within, and their eyes widened despite themselves. That woman had just called down fire behind herself, and now she had done it again? She was insane!

 Chapter 487 - Far Future Ch. 197 - Some Friends Are Here to See You

    I was moving faster than they were expecting, and blowing the key parts of the factories open on enough of a delay to get me a minute or more of lead time before things went totally kablooey was enough time for me to be a mile or more away from the impact zone. Unless this whole shelling thing was tasked to obliterate a massive area, there was no way I was going to be caught in the area of effect... and if that was a danger, it would be obvious enough by the shelling stopping, and I would just book for even more distance at top speed, and see if they could predict me moving at a few hundred mph overland as they tried to catch me.


    Then, of course, I''d piss them off by blowing up another branch of their bloody power circuit.


    The incoming shells were eradicating the Runework that had been accumulating power, both freeing elements of it and sucking more of it away and up the rolling slopes towards whatever was going on up at the shielded spire top up there, the command and control center for this entire kiloplex of production.


    The kids had gotten back to me in fairly short order, as strangely enough certain members of the command staff had relayed that similar things were going on all over the planet. The foreboding coming over everyone at this coordinated behavior certainly wasn''t getting anyone''s hopes up that this was a coincidence, as it smacked of some really dangerous shit going on that they couldn''t possibly do anything about.


    Then that ''misdirected'' report of the evaluations and reality of Forgeworld Qim''bai were laid out for the command staff, who, despite their own rather disdainful attitudes for the lives of the men under their command, still had interesting expressions when they realized all the restrictions they were laboring under in terms of assault tools, and even this entire campaign to liberate the world itself, were all utterly pointless.


    But something was going on. All the Fleet Assets that could be of use had been drawn off, now obvious as part of some coordinated plan, and there was nothing they could do to stop what was going on, except start unleashing some firepower of their own that they hadn''t been using... and those assets were not in place, and had not been readied for use, since they weren''t allowed on this battlefield.


    It would time to get them ready and operational, and now, time was something they didn''t have.


    --------


    Someone was following me.


    I turned around, skating backwards and looking downslope as I ran along a short bridge.


    There was a skimmer there, a stupid vehicle to be using in a warzone, not enough armor or weapons to serve as a vehicle of war, just a fast and speedy transport, designed for use behind the lines.


    It was a few miles below and behind me, and I just caught the angle of it here as it moved up to wait for the shells flattening another section of the kiloplex, factories and buried habitats erupting under the shelling.


    Full magnification leapt forwards, and I eyed the crew there.


    A junior officer of the Tiger Legion... Crimson Tigers, by the paint, hulking up in the back. That was a guy in Mentat colors at the controls. A cybered-up Mekker was pretending to be useful in the copilot seat. In back was a guy with a long rifle and cyberspotter, scanning the surroundings as he held a long rifle ready. A dark-skinned fellow with a Coronal cloak was seated there, watching the shelling with a flat face, while a sour-faced man in Umbran black and grays sat opposite him. A short, trim man almost lost to the eye filled out the Inquiry team, and I found myself amused despite myself.


    Well, they were never going to catch up if they just followed my trail...


    I started shooting out impaled Mekkers and overseers who hadn''t wanted to become slaves to the Warp, and vivic flames ignited down the sides of the road... away from the spotters overhead.


    Hmm, I had better change my destination...


    ------


    "Sir!" Bemrin sat up and pointed. Everyone turned around, and looked in that direction.


    A couple miles away and upslope, faint lights were barely flashing, leaving a trail of burning white fireflies behind.


    They''d seen those lines of white lights, burning along the roads, reducing impaled and tortured dead to dust, turning the filth and runes of their sacrifices to ash and less. A mercy, a taunt? Whatever, it had been an easy trail to follow, and it had naturally run into and through the areas being pounded to rubble by the shelling.


    "Kip!" Sir Mugamu shouted, and the skimmer was already wheeling and hurtling in that direction. Landscape maps plotted out an optimal route, trying to stay out of line of sight of the spotters up on the Spire ahead, having no desire to draw that bombardment back down upon themselves.


    "A stroke of luck? An unwary trail?" Inquistor Hrom asked in disbelief.


    "No," Sergeant Kampi stated firmly. "She started the trail where we could see it, not before, and it is all out of sight of the spotters, despite there being more targets she could shoot where they could be seen upspire."


    Techmeister Vahix couldn''t really frown, but somehow managed to. "She saw and is luring us in?" The towering Legionnaire nodded slightly. "For what purpose?"


    "She wants us to follow her more closely." Sir Mugamu narrowed his eyes. "So, she is leading us somewhere, and doesn''t think we will catch her before then."


    "Given how fast she is moving, she could be fairly confident of that," Kiprugh murmured from where he was juking the skimmer down low through the remnants of the kiloplex, now looking very abandoned. The runes carved and painted on everything were filling the air with an unwholesome static that was threatening to do bad things to the drive and control systems, and he had to focus continually to keep the skimmer on course.


    So much for AMT technology, the Mentat thought gloomily. He''d heard there was some new anti-Warp technology being developed spinwards, but there was no chance it had made it to this sector yet...


    "Klisto, do you have any sense of her?" Inquisitor Hrom asked the silent last member of the team.


    "Of her personally, no. She''s not leaving a psi-trail of note. What she is doing is disrupting the configurations that have been set up here, like sweeping a broom through a sand painting, or an eraser across a page of ink. And, of course, she is laying out the white fire, and it is eating the Warp energies..." the Assassin trailed off, his eyes flat and cold.


    His presence was withdrawn, it was hard to tell that he was there, but none of the psi-users there had anything but the utmost wariness of him. The Assassins of the Empire could kill almost anyone or anything, but psi-users were all horrendously vulnerable to them, just like the Silent Sisters.


    "Where is she leading us, then?"


    "Where else? Given the battle reports, she is heading to the heart of this place," Sergeant Kampi stated, his visor seeming to gleam for a second. "The enemy is planning something, and she is here to do something about it."


    The Techmeister''s head swiveled impossibly to glare at the Legionnaire. "You cannot be certain of her motivations, Sergeant!" he stated in a flat voice that nonetheless held sharp correction in it.


    "That is true," the armored hulk replied in his own filtered voice. "But of the forty-two battlefields she has been seen upon, she has, every single time, made her way to the heart of the command structure and slaughtered it, leaving a trail of white fire as she does so. If you would care to calculate the statistical likelihood of her not having the same motivation here, I invite you to do so." His grim amusement did not place weight on the Mechanist''s words at all.


    Vahix huffed artificially, and turned away. The math was not in his favor, after all.


    ---


    Their skimmer ascended a breakwall in the shadow of a looming hab, coming directly over the safety rail that didn''t work now, and onto the burning trail the Dark Angel had left behind.


    Swathes of vivic fire were burning at the exhortations and sigils of the Warped inscribed everywhere, bodies were burning and falling to ash and dust, and they led without a doubt to the west and up.


    Kip gunned the skimmer in that direction, murmuring, "That vivic stuff works. There''s less interference on the grav-drive and electronics right here..."


    "There has not been enough experimenting done to truly verify the absence of any negative features to this vivus!" Vahix droned harshly. "It may be a massive attempt by the Warp to introduce a corrupting power into the Empire. Until proper testing is done, it should be used minimally, or not at all."


    Both Mugamu and Hrom glanced at one another. Both had been recipients of that massive astropathic sending that had gone out across the galaxy... under Twilight Seal. The message had included large amounts of corroborative testing data conducted by both of their Orders, and it had been enough to satisfy a Coronal and Umbral Duke. The Mechanist''s words were basically treating the opinions of the Twilight Orders as irrelevant.


    Did the Guild truly think the Orders were not extremely sensitive to the fact that this vivic fire might actually be some grand scheme of the Great Enemy? But the sheer violent reaction of the Warped in so many places to the discovery of the vivic fire seemed to bely those words. Assets the Warped had spent centuries, perhaps even millennia, to get into place had been burned in attempts to restrain, restrict, or remove the knowledge of the vivus. The death tolls from those attempts reached into the tens of, if not hundreds, of billions!


    If that message had not gone out across the whole galaxy, it likely would have died violently at its origin, and the vivic fire remained unknown.


    But the Mekkers had not been responsible for its discovery, and so were emphatic in their demands that usage of the new discovery be set aside until it was properly vetted by their testing division. Their resistance was naturally making implementation of the energy much slower and more difficult then it could have been.


    The inability to duplicate it with technology was probably a very sore point with them, too.


    "The trail is ending!" Kip spoke into the silence, and everyone watched the trail of burning vivus peter out, while the skimmer came to a halt.


    "She covered three miles in under two minutes on foot. Where did she go?" Bemrin asked, looking around.


    Klisto stood up and pointed. "There." All eyes turned on the entry to the broad steps leading down to a subterranean maglev station. "Her passage down those stairs disrupted the runes like a bullet through a target. They are still recovering. Take us down there."


    Kip wasn''t going to say no to an Assassin. He immediately guided the skimmer down a hundred feet of stairs, and without batting the eye triggered the nose-mounted pulse laser to shoot out the main entry doors to the station, allowing the skimmer to glide smoothly inside.


    The place was abandoned, although the floors, walls, columns, and even parts of the ceilings were carved and painted with all kinds of symbols, their meanings enough to raise hackles on the driver''s neck.


    There was a hiss of something, not noise, more a whisper across the soul, as the Helices of the Assassin rose up, and extended out in a silent, writhing caress across the soul. The skimmer, which had started to rumble and shudder, returned to humming smoothness, and the sense of something horrible watching them from all around faded to nothing...

 Chapter 488 - Far Future Ch. 198 – Into the Belly of the Spire

    The three psions present all hid their swallows, feeling the brushing of those Helices like a great and deadly siphon, ready to drain away all of their power and render them no more than any other man. Expending psionic energy while touched by the Helices would be impossible, it would simply be drained away. While the streams of smoke and multi-hued fire were up, however, they had nothing to fear from the power of the Warp...


    "Where did she go?" Bemrin repeated, looking at the tunnels extending out, forming the lifts and layers of a typical kiloplex''s maze of public transportation.


    Klisto advanced up between the pilot seats, the Coronal and Umbran parting to let him, and simply pointed ahead. Kiprugh sent the skimmer gliding forwards, following that arm.


    They passed idle trains and maglevs, some of them badly mangled and shot up, blocking open tunnels, and signs of violent conflict all about them. They were tumbled and crushed and bent like toys, with bullet holes and searing blobs of metal ripped through them, and the traces of a great deal of blood everywhere.


    That blood was then used to daub more hideous and blasphemous symbols on everything around, nothing going to waste... although the bodies were gone, no bones hiding in nooks and crannies, although scattered dropped purses, clothing, shoes, and other items that might have fallen off the dead were scattered here and there.


    The skimmer glided into a final landing, a relay point for workers embarking for jobs and positions deeper into the Crownspire ahead of them. There was one maglev off the tracks here, tumbled and crushed like a broken saint, the glitter of crushed safety glass scattered beneath the broken windows and mangled hulls of the carriages.


    He looked left. "She went down that tunnel." Everyone looked at the dark subway access, where at least a half-dozen lines of writhing Runes seemed to be converging and plunging into it, making it look like some great devouring hole sucking away foul energies for some unknown purpose.


    "What prompted her to do so?" Inquistor Hrom frowned.


    "There is a maglev approaching," Sergeant Kampi spoke out, turning his head, confirmed a second later by Techmeister Vahix. Weapons arose warily as they waited in the darkness, only the emergency lights that could burn for a century still working as they fluttered and flared in a profoundly disturbing manner and cadence, while the lights within the skimmer itself glowed steadily.


    There was no roar of an engine, only the rushing howl of air getting out of the way as the great engine shot by without slowing, towing car after car of what was obviously not passenger carriages.


    "She was following one of those! After it!" Sir Mugamu ordered crisply, and as the maglev''s final cars roared by at over two hundred mph, the skimmer spun and shot after it into the yawning maw of the dark tunnel.


    "Munitions transport," Sergeant Kampi stated in his filtered bass. "Carrying shells to the guns on the Spire. They are emptying the distant warehouses before they tap their own."


    Everyone acknowledged his assessment with nods as they hurtled after the maglev. If they followed this maglev, naturally they''d be heading right into the heart of the enemy''s base!


    "Is she planning to blow the munitions dump?" Gemrin hazarded to nobody in particular, the sniper keeping watch on their rear.


    "That would hardly take out the Spire. Their munitions will be too separated. She might be able to knock out a bank of artillery and make an opening in the bombardment, but that would be all, and certainly insufficient to stop the enemy," Sergeant Kampi stated. "Such a tactic would take a large-scale assault striking at multiple locations where the munitions are stored."


    "Then she''s going for the leadership, who should be around there, hoping it will disrupt something," reasoned Hrom, eyes thoughtful.


    "No," said Klisto, staring ahead. "She''s following the Rune lines to see where they go, and what the Warped are planning."


    They looked at him, and glanced out the sides of their eyes at the unclean colors flowing past them in the tunnel and stations they were passing, looking like pulsing, foul serpents moving up and down the walls, ceiling, and floor at their speed.


    "The Warp is planning something big," Sir Mugamu breathed.


    "Very, very big," the Assassin acknowledged. "Big enough to threaten the planet."


    Everyone there swore to themselves.


    "Does she plan to stop them, or aid them?" the Techmeister said skeptically. "Such stakes... the Warp would offer much to stop any interference."


    "Are you feeling greedy, Techmeister?" Sir Mugamu said in a very strange tone of voice, setting his eyes on the more-machine-than-man Mechanist.


    Artificial eyes rotated in his direction, then away. "My thoughts are clear on this matter, Sir Knight."


    "That is good to hear," the Coronal replied softly.


    "We''re veering!" Kip shouted out, as the train ahead of them suddenly swung into a side tunnel, and finally started heading towards the heart of the Spire. Likewise, the Rune paintings all diverted with them, and were joined by others coming in from the other direction, merging and making writhing patterns of Runes even larger, more colorful, more damning...


    Everyone averted their eyes, to the point of actually looking at the floor of the skimmer so as not to see the patterns, instinctively try to follow and work them out, and so damn themselves without even knowing how they were doing it. Kiprugh had actually narrowed his entire field of vision down strictly to the train ahead of them so he couldn''t see them...


    "We should be coming up on the primary transit station of the central Spire in thirty seconds," the Techmeister droned, and his waldos and servos began to whine and charge up, getting ready for combat.


    Holsters were clicked open, hands laid to weapons. Sergeant Kampi stepped back and picked up the heavy, thrice-blessed heavy autolaser standing up at the stern of the skimmer, hefting the heavy weapon in two great gauntleted hands like a toy. Gemrin hastily plugged the power relay cables into the sockets on the Legionnaire''s armor before picking up his own long rifle. The barrel of his rifle abruptly Compressed over two feet, reducing it to a much more manageable combat firearm.


    The rumbling roar ahead of them suddenly dispersed, wan light tinged with an unhealthy yellow-green was visible, and abruptly they were out in the open.


    The room was immense, as was only suitable for a place that had seen millions of people of foot traffic every day. Sunlight filtered by polluted clouds, the whining refraction of the Dome Shields stopping orbital bombardment, and something glowing and burning below, washed across a cavernous room big enough to drop a stadium into with room to spare, with at least a dozen track lines streaming into it from all directions. The central lanes were occupied by dozens of maglevs sitting idle in them, while the outside lanes were occupied by cargo haulers urgently lifting off racks of artillery shells, shuffling them onto cargo lifters heading for side tunnels, or great lifts that had been built into the sides of the room recently, blots on the smooth stone adding to the searing blasphemy made of the famed Tellus Anointed fresco of the vaulted ceiling, now rendered into something unclean and maddening to look upon.


    It was a hive of activity, of lifters and cranes, and masked and shambling men and women going about their tasks, faceless and tireless drones of the Warp, knowing only work, work, work. Carts and carriers pulled away with their loads ceaselessly, others zipping up and waiting in long and hungry queues for the new ammunition coming in ceaselessly.


    On the other side of the tracks, there was rather more activity then there was on this side, which seemed to be rather distracted for some reason.


    It could have been the burning corpses in the cabins of half a dozen cranes, making it impossible to unload more ammunition until they were relieved. It could have been the hundreds of corpses, strewn around their right side. Drivers were burning in their seats, workers were fallen and burning white in every direction, and the trail led across and over the tracks to their left, where the ground was ablaze with a virtual wall of ignited vivus eating away at dozens, hundreds of writhing lines of power snaking across the ground and frescoed walls towards a massively expanded side tunnel there.


    Warped were racing that way from all directions. Some were the normal Warped shambling around in their ichor-daubed work coveralls; some were bloated Possessed, shepherding the others on with deep cries and imprecations in no mortal tongue; and some were full demons, towering over the masses of Warped and laughing at the carnage. Servomechs made for moving cargo, now bent and twisted and rippling with unnatural energies, cannons and bolters crudely nailed onto them and moving back and forth as if alive, lurched towards the tunnel, following the trail of dead.


    Nobody said anything, but they looked at the carnage and thought mutually, How far was she ahead of us, and she did all this?


    "That way!" ordered Sir Mugamu, and Kip grimaced as he wrenched the skimmer to port.


    It was starting to whine in his hands and mind, and he knew it wouldn''t make it out of here, especially closing in on what looked like a nexus of Warp energies ahead. He simply gunned the motor as fast and hard as he could, laboring for altitude enough to cross those tracks before the anti-grav blew out with a whimper, and they started falling rather too fast.


    He started the whole fight by holding down the nose-mounted pulse laser and simply spraying it back and forth, uncaring of how much energy he was using, and there was certainly no way he was going to miss a target. The inertial field that streamlined their air passage ate the force impact as they hit the ground, and the jets behind kept them skidding forwards into the mass of troops coming apart under the skimmer''s gun, until he crashed into a rather big demon and the skimmer spun away and around.


    Those aboard opened up with their sidearms, with the roar of Sergeant Kampi''s thrice-blessed autolaser the loudest thereof, the prayer ribbons upon it drifting about as endless streams of hard light chewed into the crowd of Warped and the things they had brought here, plowing through multiple targets and sending bits of sliced and superheated corpses exploding in all directions.


    Sir Mugamu''s mindsword drove deep into the head of the demon that had sent them spinning and detonated, blowing its ill-formed and bulbous head into foul spatters of fleshy ectoplasm... which the unwhite fires burning all over the floor leapt up to devour hungrily, rapidly turning the multi-ton, sloughing corpse into a virtual bonfire of vivus.


    Rapidfire assault lasers sent the Warped falling in all directions, and then the team piled out; leaping, jetting, bounding, even Blinking as it might warrant. Techmeister Vahix rose up on six spider-like legs, clambering out with complete balance and control, his waldos and their mounts spraying mixtures of flesh-shredding flechettes, precise laser fire, and plumes of hot plasma at Warped, Possessed, and demons, as appropriate. Four mini-rockets launched from a hive on his shoulder, spotting lasers painted from his eyes guiding them to the lumbering demonized mechs as the burning skeletons manning them screamed, and completely outsized explosions blew long-dead operators and demontech to flying scrap.


    Gemrin busied himself taking out anybody that looked like they were giving orders, had a decent head on their shoulders, or the Warped were paying attention to, popping skulls with relentless precision as he hustled along.


    Sergeant Kampi was striding backwards with perfect balance and control, faster than a man could trot, and hosing down everything behind him as he did so with the casual ease and accuracy of long experience.


    Mentat Kiprugh was the least adept of them in combat, but he was a Ten, and so still incredibly dangerous. He was Blinking from place to place, a heavy laser in each hand, popping headshots at point blank range before flitting off quickly.


    Sir Mugamu, Inquisitor Hrom, and Assassin Klisto were basically leading the way. Each had a heavy laser in one hand and a weapon in the other. They were all moving with incredible speed and vicious efficiency, while Techmeister Vahix ambled behind them and handled the mass slaughter aspect as the three men deftly sliced through the masses of Warped. A glowing mindsword, a dark blade, and pale Helices wrapped around a hacking long kukri reaved through the Warped, their owners blurs of gold, shadow, and elusive smoke as they killed.

 Chapter 489 - Far Future Ch. 199 – A Fire in the Belly

    They went into the tunnel, up the stairs there, and plowed into hundreds of Warped coming to reinforce the assault, who were blown into pieces by more of the Techmeister''s rockets. They went up further, bounding up flights of stairs, along a long concourse, and up yet one more flight of stairs.


    But they were still advancing over literally dozens, hundreds, thousands of Warped dead, all burning unwhite, and there was something going on ahead as the enemy was shooting wildly there, screaming in strange, squealing voices as shafts of violet light swept across them, and the Warped exploded in tri-colored flames as they did so.


    It was another large room, and all the writhing lines on the floor, walls, and ceiling were heading that way. It was huge enough on its own, easily able to fit a grav-ball game, perhaps some kind of venue for performances, once able to hold hundreds of thousands of people.


    Now, it was filled with corruption.


    They had naturally noticed the Warped, screaming and lurching, shooting wildly at something below, and the violet, flame-coiled pulses of light that swept across them, blowing them apart with impressive power.


    Then they noticed the droning. The humming was deep and constant, the buzzing and swirling of the insects that often swarmed around servants of Riggibuhl, but so deep and forceful that the very plascrete beneath them seemed to be vibrating to it.


    Lifting their eyes, they saw the massive room before them was occupied with a swarm cloud of verminous flies so thick they could not see the other side, and strange and baleful lights were flickering and playing about within the swirling mass of insects.


    Down below them, covering the floor of this venue, was abomination.


    There was no telling how many corpses were down there, but they had been heaped up high, at least a hundred feet deep, a mass of rotting flesh flowing with dark and unstable power. Seething black-green light of necroic energy lit up uncountable skulls, and foul lights rose from them in unholy streams, condensing into the great stones that now ringed this chamber.


    There were eight of them, and they were the destination of all the coiling rune-trails that had swept through the entire city outside. Breathing in the vapors arising from the millions of undead heaped beneath and around them, the glyph-carved menhirs pulsed with a terrifying power that seemed very, very close to being unleashed.


    Standing just outside the heaping morass of the dead was the Dark Angel, and she was shooting everything.


    Tendrils of the bug cloud above her were lashing down like whips, and burning against the flaming wings she was manifesting to stop them, exploding into flashes of vivus and scattering everywhere. The arms at her hips were shooting in every direction, and the Warped flooding in from all directions were running into unerringly accurate and devastatingly strong blasts of violet lasfire wrapped with phrenic baneflames, reaping them with constant raking scythes of light and fire. Pulses of force punched out and the Possessed dropped, while burning Spikes swiveled and spun on any Demons that manifested themselves, turning them into pincushioned infernos as they sank deep into bloated flesh.


    She was sweeping her Sword in figure eights so fast it was impossible to determine where her Blade was at any given moment. Scything, sweeping blades of force, flaring with Sun Strikes in regular pulses and laden in the unwhite fire, were driving into the base of one of the menhirs, igniting the corpses about its base, and burning a path deeper into the mass of the dead there. The tunnel she was burning through it extended down out of sight, but obviously had not ended yet.


    The psions in the party gawked at seeing the flaring regularity of those Sun Strikes, feeling their heads pounding just watching. How was she getting off so many of them, so fast, with five Stars and two Suns on each of them...


    "Are we capturing her or helping her?" Bemrin had to say, as he headshot a Possessed a hundred yards around the circle with a snapshot.


    "That depends on what she is doing..." Sir Mugamu murmured, but he didn''t sound very convinced of his own hostility. Whatever she was doing was definitely not in support of the horror taking place here.


    "The swarm is coming!" Sergeant Kampi said, as he chewed his autolaser through everything coming up behind them.


    Kiprugh looked up, his eyes focusing as he took a deep breath. There was a pause and tenseness in the air, a swelling of power below visible sight, and then a snap and gut-wrenching pulse as psionic power flared in a wave of burning psionic force, and blew out from the head of the Mentat into the onrushing wall of vermin streaking for them.


    The force of the flaming wave was not that high, and likely wouldn''t even have killed an Imperial Marine. However, it didn''t need to; it needed to kill every bug in its area, and it needed to cover a large area. Intensity of damage was passed over for area of effect, and the pyroclasmic wall of fire blew out in a massive cone of effect... and charred every insect and fly in its path to ash as it did.


    "Get down to her, but don''t interrupt what she is doing!" Inquistor Hrom ordered, matching word to deed as he flowed down the seats and stairs towards her, dancing over the walls and backs of the chairs easily.


    There actually weren''t many Warped left in front of them, most of them reeling as the play of violet lasfire tore through their comrades and left the rare one untouched, to be killed in passing as Assassin, Inquisitor and Knight raced by and sent them spinning into the burning corpses of their friends, promptly igniting them as well.


    Their fire support ended up being focused on the constant reinforcements streaming in through multiple entrances... until Sergeant Kampi swung up his own shoulder-battery of rockets, and targeted all those entrances one by one, sending pairs of ridiculously overpowered mini-rockets into the tunnels, collapsing them on those using them in looping, precise arcs, the unwhite fires from the corpses he was stomping on seeming to follow the rockets through the air and make sure the Warp chaos seething about them didn''t affect his aim.


    It was also noteworthy that she didn''t shoot them as they approached, and indeed, coordinated her fire effortlessly with their own shooting.


    The burning shield of her lifted wings flared and parted before them as they raced up next to her, lashing back and forth and keeping the humming drone of that seething swarm above them at bay.


    "What are you doing?" Sir Mugamu shouted above the droning before anyone could say anything.


    A diagram of the planet flickered up before them, and points of light ignited around it, linking up into the great chain that actually seemed to surround the entire world. When the sphere of the world was removed, the connected lights formed a runic pattern that looked very much like... a crown...


    "They are trying to Invest the planet as a Shrineworld to Riggibuhl! If this Ritual completes in fifteen minutes, the entire planet is going on a trip into the Warp and likely getting tossed into the Abyss as a chew toy for the Warped, and a new Forgeworld for the Gears of Change." Techmeister Vahix actually emitted a squeal of feedback as her calm, clear voice cut through the drone perfectly, and everyone there couldn''t help but turn eyes on her. "I am digging a path to the base of this menhir, and hoping one of you have at least a pocket nuke there to blow out the floor and get it to collapse under its own weight. Nothing short of a god can use external force to move them now.


    "So, how are you geared for really high explosives?" Her tone was light and completely unconcerned with the gravity of the situation.


    They looked back and forth at one another. That had not been their purpose for coming here...


    "There may be a problem," Sir Mugamu replied with all the calm he could muster.


    "No issue. The traitor can do it."


    As everyone was blinking at her words, her Tails reoriented, her guns shifted at angles impossible for real limbs, and she discharged without interrupting her swordstrokes down.


    All of Techmeister Vahix''s power relays were blown out instantly. Strobing lasers sheered through casings and locks, and before they could respond, or the paralyzed cyborg Mechanist could do anything, her Tails reached out, dragged his spider-limbed body closer without seeming effort, and began to rip into the casing behind his back.


    "This traitor''s fusion core should be able to do the job with a bit of twinking, and he''s got all the materials to do the job." The multi-jointed Tails ripped through the durasteel of the Techmeister''s battleframe with glowing tips, wires and circuits being TK''d up around them as they tore out the glowing core that powered his cyborg body.


    "Traitor?" demanded Inquistor Hrom, barely restraining himself from shooting her.


    "He didn''t tell you about the Qim''bai Preservation Protocol Evaluations?" she replied without looking about, while her Tails were looking like semi-TK manipulators and welders, tearing circuits and wires away from the Techmeister and doing something to his power core with a speed that looked both frantic and impossibly disciplined. "Strange that." The Inquisitor didn''t fail to notice the spark of horror on the Techmeister''s normally unmoving face.


    "If you had done a flythrough of any of the buildings here, you could have done a Materia scan. You would have found that every single building, machine, roadway, tunnel, and conduit is Warp-Tainted.


    "There is nothing on this planet that can be saved. The forces here and the restrictions they''ve been fighting under are pointless. Every single thing on this planet has to be melted down in fusion fire to be cleansed. There is nothing the Mechanists can salvage here.


    "This whole planet should have been glassed from space six months ago, when they discovered the breadth of the systematic blaspheming of the technology here. It wasn''t, and now all the armies here are going to be another sacrifice to the Warp as they get a fully intact Forgeworld for the war machines of the Demon Princes of the Abyss.


    "Unless we stop it here. So, keep shooting while I work."


    Only two of the entrances were open, and it was easy to focus fire on them. At one point, she grabbed the rocket launcher off the mount of the Techmeister''s frame, plugged one of her Tails into it, lifted it ten feet into the air above her head with her largest central Tail, and promptly launched every compressed rocket in its battery into both openings. Both were covered with multiple plascrete-shredding explosions, and brought down in a roar of ruptured artificial stone and rubble.


    As the sound of the explosions faded, the Inquiry team found that nothing was left for the moment but the pounding drone of Warped beating on the walls, and the nasty hum of the fruitless Swarm overhead.


    Her other four Tails were doing things to the fusion core like a spider weaving webs, circuits being snap-welded and traced into place with utterly unerring precision, and she still wasn''t even looking at it!


    The Inquisitor and Knight glanced at one another, having the same thought about exactly how dangerous this woman was. She plainly wasn''t afraid of them at all, to the point where she had cut down one of them without any hesitation to do what needed to be done.


    "The entire planet''s technology corrupted." Inquisitor Hrom didn''t want to believe it, but he remembered the many trails of glyphs and sigils painted, cut, welded, seared, melted, hacked, and hammered into metal and plascrete, and could not argue with her.


    The amount of work required to do such things would have taken billions of people months of work, under incredible unity and purpose... and that was exactly what the Warped of Qim''bai had.


    Delivering an entire Forgeworld into the Warp. Madness, and worth a truly great reward.


    And all of it could have been stopped six months ago...

 Chapter 490 - Far Future – Pay it Back Two-Fold!

    "You have proof of this?" Inquisitor Hrom pressed.


    "You must be out of contact with high command. They received copies of the Mechanist reports an hour or three ago. Someone pulled it out of the Mechanists'' Magenta-secure archives and plopped it into their briefings."


    The note in her voice held the suggestion that she knew exactly who had done so. Techmeister Vahix, running only on a backup emergency power cell, couldn''t even berate her for daring to violate the sacred data of the Guild.


    "I also have personal scans of eight different factories, analytics of the transportation networks I have used, and records of external changes to every hab, blok, and spire I''ve trundled past, which emphatically back their assessments. I believe the Mekkers were unimpeachably thorough and correct in their judgement."


    The sneer in her voice was impossible to conceal. The Inquiry team all looked at the Techmeister, who undoubtedly had known about this.


    Inquisitor Hrom pulled out his plasma pistol, and without blinking shot the Techmeister right in his cerebral cortex. The sun-hot blast blew right through his partially-replaced brain matter and out the back of his warframe, and the need for his backup power cell went away.


    "Can we get out of here?" the Inquisitor asked, lifting the weapon, which was suitable for purging a demon at close enough range, up to cool.


    "They''re going to blast open the east stairway in five seconds." Heads snapped around at the flicker of a pointing Tail, where a grey and rust light had lit up at nine o''clock from them. "That''s your exit point. Got a Dead Magic round, sniper? Chamber it."


    Bremin barely blinked as he pulled out a glittery black cartridge, and inserted it into the base of his gun. "I''ll fix his position for you, he''ll be using displacement." Her inhuman, psi-molded arms lifted, pointing two lasers with odd, crossbow-like attachments in that direction with a gunshooter''s poise... all the while her real arms still hadn''t stopped moving, and those burning blades of multi-flaming light were still plunging down into howling black and white energy vortex down below.


    There was a soundless roar as a pulse of something violently unclean blew through the rubble blocking the stairs, and simply smeared them out of existence against the wall of reality. None of the dust even survived to hit the round. It even turned a big chunk of the droning swarm that had not given up probing them into drops of goo that spattered and cracked down upon the mounds of corpses.


    A grossly fat man holding a staff made of flowing, melded bones and skulls levitated into view, fixing them with a baleful glare. His half-revealed body was covered in oozing sores, which at this moment all seemed to be glowing eyes dripping putrescent tears as they stared at everyone.


    "Warp Sorcerer," she said conversationally, still not looking over as her guns opened up. Pulses of spiral-bound violet lasers swirled around the man, sweeping right through his image... and were warded away from an area five feet to his left and higher, promptly painted from all directions by swathes of harmless laser fire.


    The punt of Bemrin''s rifle was completely unnatural, and for a second all the psionic energy around them was gone, repelled by the utter nihility that shot out of his rifle''s barrel.


    The beam of darkness punched through something invisible, something physical, and out the far side, driving into the wall beyond and instantly soaking the entire glyph-scrawled mess in something black. The Warp energy surging through those sigils blew away like a rock striking water, shattering them for a hundred feet around the impact point as it did so.


    The image of the Warp Sorcerer had a new black hole where the rotting remnants of his nose had been. He staggered, his eyes turning down to look at the hole in his face, and then something black boiled up out it, covering his eyes almost instantly, and the hole began to grow as his head began to slough away into black slime.


    They watched him fall, the invisible field that had protected him fading as the corpulent body plopped heavily to the ground.


    Violet lasers caressed him, and the corpse virtually exploded into unwhite fire, as did the black spot on the wall.


    "There''s your way out. You''d better get started." She tossed the fusion core, which was now pulsing with a very cold unwhite light, into the air between two of her Tails. "I''ll give you to a sixty count. Go."


    Everybody except Assassin Klisto promptly started running for the entryway a hundred yards away around the concourse, using rockets, grav-boosts, psionic dimension-shifting, and shadow-walking to accelerate their speed to something considerably faster than mere human. If the swarm wanted to follow them, it was still reeling from the corruptive Warp Sorcery that had assailed it, and didn''t respond in time as the Inquiry Team ran for it, and were more than happy to shoot the Warped cautiously poking their heads up and gaping at the blazing vivic bonfire that was all that remained of their mighty Warp Sorcerer boss.


    Some terrific violence erupted there, cemented by a powerful discharge of psionic lightning from Mentat Kiprugh that tore through the packed Warped and opened a merciless path for them to get out of there.


    ---


    "You don''t seem surprised that I have stayed behind," Assassin Klistos stated.


    "You probably think your time is almost up, and this is as good a way to die as anything, no?"


    Her studied her with unblinking eyes, and heard a tinking sound echoing up from down below.


    Suddenly that Mindsword was between him and her, and his eyes widened as it cleanly severed the swirl of his Helices... and wasn''t ripped apart in passing.


    "You are not a threat to me, Brother Firesword," she stated, turning her head to look at him with possibly the most intimidating set of blue eyes he had ever seen... and he''d looked into the eyes of demons.


    Her Tail reached out, grabbed the unmoving carcass of the dead Techmeister, and tossed his warframe down the hole she''d bored. Several seconds later, a crushing crash echoed back up.


    "Brother Firesword..." he repeated hollowly, looking at the smoke and fire of his Helices, which were trying to touch her and her Sword... and utterly failing.


    He couldn''t even affect the blatantly psionic arms and burning wings towering above them!


    "You''ve probably been told to kill me, and that''s cool. Your bosses are total power-hungry reactionary idiots, so of course they''d spend you to take me out. But there''s something that''s going to happen here they won''t like at all."


    "And what might that be?" Klistos asked, keeping his hands lowered. Those two arms and three Tails were all pointing at him, and the lasers, at the very least, weren''t psionic at all. They would punch a whole lot of holes in him... and that Sword, that Sword was humming softly in a counter-tune to the droning above that was completely overwhelming it, despite being fifty decibels quieter.


    "You are going to live a very long time."


    He blinked, and looked down at the Sword now embedded in his chest. "Good night, Brother Firesword," she said calmly, as the shock of kinetic energy stilled his heart and slammed through his system faster then his Helices could take it apart.


    ---


    One Tail caught him, the second TK''d his Psychic Knife and sidearm back to their holsters, and Chalice withdrew herself from his chest.


    He''d recover quickly, Brothers always did, but there was going to be a difference this time.


    Chalice flickered over and around him with two free Tails, cutting and slicing, and the psy-active bodyglove he was wearing was sliced off him precisely and completely.


    Fifty-five... I tossed the fusion core into the air behind me, and booked for it, the wings behind me turning into jet propulsion as I slid over the ground. I was down the stairs at the far end, over the heads of the scattered Warped there with two seconds to go, and putting a whole lot of plascrete between me and the blast of what was to come.


    It went off, and the first thing that I felt was a terrible and abrupt silence in the mindscape. An eye-blink later, reality shuddered as something slid sideways, and the Warped all reeled like drunkards.


    The shockwave was less than a second after that, as a couple kilotons of improvised fusion boom heavily laden with vivic energies went off, and while it couldn''t affect the menhirs, it tore the shit out of the plascrete and durasteel they were resting on. Happily, there was a whole lot of plascrete between us and them, and the easiest way to expand was actually skywards... plus there were hundreds of thousands of necroically-empowered corpses sitting on top of the explosion.


    Completely on its own, the chosen menhir slowly and grandly began to fall over, which kind of broke an important circuit.


    The airblast of the eruption was still coming up behind me and scooping up everything when all those channeling conduits of corrupt Sigils, Glyphs, Runes, and just plain freaky drawings ignited with unwhite fire, zipping right past me at the speed of detcord going off.


    Detcord, because they were definitely on their way to other locations.


    Then the menhir room really exploded as the Ritual was completely disrupted, and the vivic fire roared out serenely to Feed the Land.


    ---


    The Warped had been pouring immense amounts of ritual Warp Sorcery into this Ritual, building up the level of power necessary to send an entire planet into the Warp. Now the Ritual had been disrupted, and all that power was let loose.


    Normally that would simply have resulted in horrific explosions, lots of property damage, and the brains of the Warped blowing out from immense feedback, but that wasn''t going to happen.


    Because the vivus was there to eat all this pure, unadulterated Warp energy and feed it to the Land.


    Through underground conduits that linked all the vastly separated cities, the vivic fire spread at hundreds of miles per second, driven by the immense power being released by the fallen menhir rings. There was no way to stop it as it smashed into the two cities it was connected to, lit them up, and ignited their menhir rings as they faltered and began to fall themselves.


    A wall of vivic fire a kilometer high blew up around those connecting paths as cities went up in vivic fire. The reeling Warped could only scream as the unwhite fires swept past, and they blew into white dust. Tainted cities corroded, shattered as unclean symbols burned away, and took their foundation with them.


    Each city that ignited only made the cumulative effect even greater, driving the explosions out further and further. Miles, tens of miles, hundreds of miles... thousands of miles, a wall of unwhite merging together and washing across the entire world, feasting on every scrap of released energy and the conduits to the Warp they''d been opening, and which had now been thrown into total disarray.


    Don''t just take away their toys. Take their money, hammer their fingers, and mock them as you do it, too!


    I laughed and laughed and laughed...

 Chapter 491 - Far Future Ch. 201– Paint it White

    An hour had passed. The white in the atmosphere was starting to fade.


    I was sitting on a Disk in midair, watching as the city below crumbled like sand castles falling to time. Massive craters were opening in the ground as durasteel fractured and fell, eroding superstructures collapsed, and the works of man tumbled down, one after another. Impossibly strong materials shattered like brittle glass and clay, and the ground for miles around was crunching, crushing, and settling as the corrupted material was cleansed and collapsed, and the weight of ages did the rest of the job.


    Well, the Mekkers won''t have to clean up the planet, I thought with a smile. I wonder how much money I saved them.


    "Yeah, I know you''re awake." The fool on the other Disk slowly opened his eyes. "I also got rid of the seven kill-switches in you. They even figured out to put a suicide-urge inside your Helix. Your bosses are pretty damn good."


    Completely nude, the Assassin slowly sat up on the Disk. We were a few hundred yards above the ground, out of the collapse paths of anything tall, while the booming and rumbling of a kiloplex dying and returning to the dust echoed around us. We were just above the dust clouds, actually.


    "Feel insane?" I asked, as he stared at the gloomy yet grand scene below, pretty poetic in its own way. The constant peals couldn''t stop my voice, of course.


    "No. I can feel... I can feel... something great and powerful... that is not the Warp..." He put his hands to his chest, and his Helices spun out.


    The flames and smoke of his Helices were brighter and more tangible then ever, sampling the world without first being filtered through his bodyglove.


    "That is The Land." He looked at me curiously. "Us normal folks don''t know what it is, only the Brothers of the Void know that... Brother Firesword. Fate, luck, destiny, the will of the universe, of life itself, the unconscious drive of existence... it''s what vivus feeds, maybe Creation itself. There''s a lot of people who claim to be able to sense it, but only the Brotherhood of the Void actually can.


    "It''ll never talk to you, but you won''t have any problem interpreting what it wants, if past experience is anything."


    He took a deep breath, and something lit up inside his dark eyes. "It is... angry..." He lifted his head towards the sky, looking in a specific direction.


    "The Land loves her Brothers," I agreed, glancing up there. "Having them enslaved and corrupted by mortal wills... well, the Land isn''t going to be too happy about that." I smiled slightly. "On the realistic side, you can be very, very sure your masters have been hunted by Void Brothers before, and they are ready for you. It''s a job you should probably leave to someone else, while you get about doing what you really need to."


    He lowered his eyes to me. "Leave freeing my Brothers... to you?"


    "What''s the Land say?"


    He inhaled deeply again, and closed his eyes as his Helices swirled and danced in unfettered freedom.


    "That... seems like a very good idea," he breathed out after a full minute.


    "The Land is pretty merciless," I informed him. "I know you want to do the job yourself, but the Land wants the job done, full stop. Everything else is secondary."


    "I... see." He looked at the slowly crumbling grandeur about him. "The others?"


    "I had to haul their unconscious carcasses to their skimmer and fly it out of there before it all came crumbling down. They''re probably conscious and wondering how they got fifty miles thataway on autopilot about now."


    He quirked a half-smile. "You are too heroic."


    "And don''t I Throne-damned know it," I grinned. "Of course, I did just slaughter over a billion Warped, denied their souls to the Warp, turned all the power they invested here into a Veil-sealing dead zone the Warp won''t be able to intrude in for centuries, and blamed the whole thing on the Mechanists. I can indulge in meaninglessly nice shit every now and then."


    "I... see." He considered everything from that angle as he watched a blok a half-mile away begin to shudder and crumble. Slowly and grandly, two thousand feet of reinforced durasteel and plascrete began to slough away, joining the rest of the falling artificial forest. "You... cost the Warp a great deal here..."


    "That is by far the best part of my job," I grinned even wider.


    He looked at my double canines, the smearing pattern my Curse. "What... is that?" he had to ask.


    "Residual Curse-mark. I''m a Hagchild. I could get rid of it, but it''s too useful, so I keep it around. Since its original intent was to punish Evil souls, it''s drawn to them like wolves to sheep. It''s how I knew to follow the trail of sigils. There just had to be something juicy at the end of all that, and let me tell you, it is thrumming most happily right now."


    "And how are you resisting my Helices?" They swirled my way, but couldn''t break my Null outside my Vajra at all.


    "My Null is stronger than your Void." He stared at me. "Three types of Forsaken... well, four, technically. Nulls, the common type, what most people are if Awakened. Sources, the Kings Among Men and Queens Among Women, who lead the Nulls. Vortexes, the female Voids, who hunt corruption... and the Voids, who guide the way in service to the Land."


    He kind of stared at me, and I just arched an eyebrow back.


    "You have met free Voids..."


    "Yes."


    "And... they are established. They have... an order?"


    "Nothing as formal as an assassin''s organization. But they do help one another in their various jobs."


    His eyes fell to his Helices. "You called me Brother Firesword."


    "You have Smoke and Fire Helices. Those are the signs of the Fire and the Sword. As I understand it, you''re the generalist of the Void Brothers. You take on all the problems and help the other Brothers out, while being opposed to use of corrupt energies in general. You and Brother Shadowknife tend to be the most active of the Brothers."


    "Shadowknife?" he had to ask.


    "Their Helices are Time and Space. They are the guardians of the Veil. Things from other planes, time travelers, things from Outside Creation, dimensional instability... they hunt them down and clean up the problems, the shadows upon Creation. They are despised by some very, very powerful entities." I had to inhale proudly. "This universe hasn''t had any for at least ten millennia. It probably wouldn''t be such a shithole if they had been here." I slid my eyes back to him. "History lesson for me. Did the Emperor set up the Assassins?"


    His face stiffened, and he looked elsewhere again. "So I was told..."


    I grimaced. "Fuck. The Emperor is responsible for suborning the Void Brothers? No wonder this place is so crapsack. The best weapons against the Warp, cuffed and shackled..."


    The most powerful psion to ever live had struck at the Void Brotherhood as they were born, and was probably simply too powerful and essential to be snuffed in return. Give it a few hundred years, and likely most of the ''real'' Voids had died off to ever-increasing dangers, while the Emperor conscripted those meant to replace them.


    "I can feel... that there is so much to do..." His eyes were a little round, as if he was gazing at a wall of work that extended out into infinity.


    "And that''s why you have Sources and Nulls around. Delegate. You''re the hands of the only thing vast enough to counter what has been done and is going to be done. There''s key stuff only you can do, because only you are sensitive enough to the Land. But the Big Stuff... well, the Land has Nulls and Sources for a damn reason, you know?" I gestured at the stuff coming around. "We can do stuff, just point the way. You Brothers aren''t really supposed to be engaging in mass slaughter all the time... you are supposed to be working the tipping points, removing the key elements of the enemy to shift things one way or another as the big forces ripple one way and the other.


    "You''ve been used as a chess piece, when in fact, you''re supposed to be the ones playing the game."


    He looked over the crumbling cityscape, seeing and feeling things moving with every falling brick and shattering window. "We are the hands of the Land..."


    "Oh, would you like to speak with some of your other Brothers? Experience gives insights, and they are rediscovering the heritage you''ve been denied. Brothers... are the favored children of the Land. Being an assassin is a small part of what they are and can be."


    "I can do that? How?"


    "I put a Mark on your hand." He turned his hands over, and there it was, on his left hand. His Helices swirled through it, but it was inert. "Touch it to this here matching Master Mark on my waist, and there''ll be some changes."


    He looked at his hand, and this time I let this Helices sweep through my Null, feel my Vajra, and his face changed as he did so.


    "You... that''s magic..."


    "And?"


    "It''s pure, untainted by the Warp..."


    "Just like you can do."


    He grimaced again, like a stab of pain in his soul at how he''d been used, and denied so much. He leaned the Disk sideways, and scooted over, reaching out with the back of his hand to place it against my Waist.


    Magic hissed, Karma dumped, the Mark lit up.


    He blinked, looked at the door in the side of his mind, walked up, and pushed it open.


    I /glanced over at him. -Good morning, Brother.-


    His jaw slowly dropped. He looked around at the mindscape, back at me, and a score of other doors opened up, and out walked some presences both completely new and totally familiar.


    -Brother Firesword,- My Queen /said for all of them, stepping forwards, his Mind and Spirit Helices swirling about him. -Welcome to the Markspace for the Void Brothers. We have a great deal to talk about.-


    ------


    "Why are we taking a transport off-world?" the new Brother Firesword asked, as I clicked bars and switches of the private shuttle buried in the private hanger of a noble family whose members had probably been impaled on the crumbled gate outside.


    "Normally I''d Riftcut my way offworld, but this place has just received a freaking massive infusion of vivic energy, and the Veil is like adamant. The Warp isn''t the only thing not getting through here. So, we have to get offworld, and we have to do it in a manner where you aren''t seen, so they can think you are dead after failing to kill me."


    "Since you didn''t leave me with the others you obviously rescued..." he nodded.


    "So, we''re going to go up in space beyond the world''s magnetosphere, Riftcut our way out of here, and the transport wagon one of my girls is aboard can tractor it in and get a free ship for nothing."


    "Clever. And then, where are we going?"


    "You need to Level. So, someplace you can do that. Then, you''re going to go hunting Assassins for recruitment."


    "Will I be able to find them?"


    "You know how you can always track one another because of the purity you leave behind?" He had that look of being amazed that I knew that once again. "Well, the Land always knows where you are, which means it can always lead you to one of your own. You just never knew it because that suit stopped the empathy.


    "It would be very accurate to say... you cannot hide from one another."

 Chapter 492 - Far Future Ch. 202 – Tell Me About Myself

    -Mom!-


    -Morning, squirt. What you bugging the ExLite at the top of the stack with today?-


    -You are so full of yourself. Duh, I made Ten.- As if /messaging me direct in Markspace wasn''t proof that she at least was past the Resonance stage.


    -Cool! Sorry, I am currently up to my armpits in oozes, and the shoggoths don''t like me very much at the moment. Can you Riftcut yet?- Said as colony organisms in assorted colors squirmed, writhed, died, and melted all around me.


    Grumblegrumblegrumble. -I just made Rantha/10, you think I had time to spare to put that much time into Meter''s higher powers?- I could /hear her rolling her eyes across the galaxy.


    -No, actually, but two uses a day is the requirement for using Gloom. You are going to be needing to be using that all that time, so you need to work on it, pronto tonto, Ronnie.-


    She caught my tone, and grumbled some more. -This huge monster quest you have me working towards is a total pain in the ass, Mom. Can''t you tell me more about it?-


    -Nope, I wanted you focused first on making Ten and getting to the atomic cockroach stage. Your long-term Talent is all R&D tech-based, so we have to keep you from getting distracted. I know you want to go swimming into all the tech out there, but it''s not time yet.- Pseudopods coming from all directions, flaming into goo and ash and vapor...


    Grumblegrumble! -So, okay, I have to get Meter stacked up. He''s perfectly cool with that. What all while that''s going on?-


    -Now that you''re a Ten, you need to focus on advancing your Expert Levels up, breaking Ten.-


    -Expert?- She mentally /goggled at me. -You want me to prioritize Expert over Melee?-


    -My darling, I''m hoping you can burn Expert all the way to Seventeen, and pass me along the way.-


    She paused on hearing that. Expert was an NPC Class, and so took half the Karma to improve that a PC Class did. It was definitely not a combat Class. Doing something like that would make her among the least competent in combat of all the Ranthas, especially those that were getting post-Ten.


    -Okay, you want to exploit my Talent, Born Researcher, to open up tech trees as fast as possible.- It was a reasonable deduction, as the +4 to Knowledge Skills for researching technology doubled at Ten to +8, which trumped my broad +5 bonus.


    -Half right. Also, you are now authorized to begin your Curseline. They''ll all have the same Talent you do, so they are going to form the new hard core of our R&D division. They have the same Overquest you do... make damn sure they get to Six, and get to Ten Rantha for the Stats, and Ten Expert, driving Expert as hard and fast as they can.-


    Her nose was wrinkling. -Okay, you want us to have the Ranks to know the tech and take over all the design work. I get that. Why can''t I do a dive into my prior incarnation?-


    -When I tell you, you''re going to swear at me for a couple minutes. Then you''re going to go think about things for a while, come back, swear at me more, and tell me I should not have allowed you to do the souldive at all. To be perfectly frank... perfectly, utterly frank... you shouldn''t do the souldive until you''re a Fifteen.-


    We couldn''t lie to one another. When I said I was serious, I was, and since we all had the same foundation, her judgement on the issue would pretty much be the same as mine.


    -Mom, that''s sounds goddamn ominous. Do I really want to know who I was?-


    -I think it''s a case of pressure. We have this damn superquest to tear down the Warp Gods, and you''ve got probably the second biggest side quest underneath it, fluttering off in weird directions.-


    -Second biggest?- Stratospheric Wisdom and Intellect scores digested that. -Daaaaaamn, Mom.- She hesitated. -So, should I wait for Seventeen?-


    -That would be ideal,- I /confirmed. I could hear her take a deep breath.


    -That''s gonna take a damn long time, Mom.-


    -HAH! For the smartest woman in the galaxy? I don''t think so. You''ll beat me to Fifteen, and once you''re the one cracking the tech instead of just refining what I''ve done, your Karma is going to juice like nitro to the brain. Five years to Seventeen, tops.-


    -Mithar.- Blinkblink. -That''ll make me one of the highest Level people in the whole damn Galaxy, won''t it?-


    -Yep. And as an NPC, you''ll just keep slipping under the eyes of those who style themselves movers and shakers...-


    She /laughed despite herself. There was no way a Rantha could not be noticed, with our insane Charisma. -Okay, I''ll get things set up, and start feeding Meter down that path. When I can Riftcut twice, I''ll meet up with you in person, and you can tell me what this is all about.-


    -Confirmed!- I /agreed readily, and our conversation was done.


    Jirosmer IV didn''t have a human population anymore, at least that I could discover. They had all been eaten by a mass ooze invasion, devoured, and converted into more oozes.


    Coming in from outsystem was a Great Race colony ship, on its way to settle this largely water-dominated world. The oozes were still vulnerable to ultraviolet light, so they couldn''t wipe all the biological life off the world without some help, and only a couple varieties of them, particularly the shoggoths, were intelligent.


    The shoggoths preferred sentient prey, anyways. It spurred their own psionic and intellectual development, and so they instinctively went for the sentient species. Of course, the Great Race could and would reduce them to fertilizer with a mass signal from orbit, and either herd the shoggoths into a carrier for the next world-wipe, or extinguish them.


    Me, I was thanklessly preparing some fusion surprises for them when they landed on this planet where they''d wiped out over two billion humans, and would doubtless render down the cities and structures to dust and recycle them into cities of their own.


    The Indolence Virus, acquired via the drow, would help accelerate the race''s decline into stupidity and lethargy, and when humanity finally came back to do unto them, they might even have forgotten how their own technology worked...


    --------


    Time passes...


    Spidey Base One was our main operating base in the Glooms. Because it was in the Underweb, see...


    It was located off in one of the capillary tunnels, with no fixed Portal to the mortal world for a hundred miles in any direction. This particular location was tied to the shadows of a mountain range of a close-orbit moon of a gas giant, prone to lightning storms and such, and we were buried deep down in a valley, and a cavern we''d cleared out of the stone so even some insane nitwit flying overhead wouldn''t be able to see anything.


    That didn''t keep out the natives, of course, shadows being what they are, but since nobody walking around here was less than a Ten, and Bane/Shadows was a thing to acquire, the native incorps, umbrals, shadowborn, gloombloods, and other creatures of Gloom that decided to investigate here ended up being Karma for individuals interested in fine-tuning their sensory skills, keeping up with their Naming Karma, and providing the Gloom hereabouts with extra munchies.


    The only way in or out was Riftcutting, and by now, there was a lot of it going on. There were several fields cleared around the place for incoming and outgoing traffic, as people hustled through ninety-second portals with practiced speed and precision, going through both sides of opened Rifts cut through the planes and connecting here to places across the galaxy to double the speed, and then just as often turning back around and waiting in ready lines for a new Rift to be cut open to send them to a new destination just after they got here.


    Ranthas and Briggs from multiple Curselines were coming in and departing all the time for new worlds, while G&G personnel were being cleverly shifted between worlds and ships below the eyes of anyone watching. Sometimes they were being evacuated from disasters, which was never fun, but shit happened.


    No permanents Portal was allowed to be constructed here, because Gloom would immediately react to it being used, and slowly swell the tunnel here into something larger. The drow paid attention to such changes, and someone would come investigate usage of the Portal. Rifts, flaring up for ninety seconds at a time and not drawing on the power of the Underweb at all, had no such problems.


    A chorus of Hi, Mom''s and Sage Sama''s greeted me as I stepped through a Rift, waving it shut behind me as I stepped through, and let my breshkt disguise fade. Drow were probably searching the galaxy for me, getting into a tizzy with how many places I''d been seen. If they knew about Spidey Base One being under their noses, they''d probably die of a stroke in outrage.


    "Hey, Mom." Now brown-haired, with white hair at her temples, olive-skinned, and brown-eyed, Ronnie Rantha looked remarkably plain among the wild colors of some of the Ranthas... but also older, for all that if you looked at her you''d swear she was a teenager going on fifty.


    "Heya, Mrs. Fantastic." She promptly blushed, having been tagged with that quite early after her almost continual revisions, refinements, and upgrades of technology and the design and production work of them she kept submitting. Even the Engineering Talents could only roll their eyes at the constant flow of stuff coming out of her. Unlike Reed Richards, she focused first on what was useful, and then got into the esoteric and strange shit. "Ready to get really pissed at reality?"


    She stared at me, but I definitely wasn''t joking, and lying to one another was nigh on impossible for us Ranthas, the sisterhood bond was just too strong. She reached up to pinch the bridge of her nose, turned to walk with me, and sighed. "No. Tell me anyways."


    "You''re the reincarnation of the Janus III Tekron."


    She blinked at me. Blinked again. "Wha." Blinked a few more times. "It... that... is that even possible?" she gawked at me, then looked down at her hands.


    I made a sweeping motion and double-pointed at her. "I didn''t call you Reed for a reason. Meet Mrs. Fantastic!"


    "I... holy shit." Muscles on her face were twisting as she tried to go through the implications, and then the curses started spewing out of her mouth without stopping.


    Being polyglots, we could curse in a lot of languages. With high Charisma and Intimidate, we were REALLY good at it, too.


    It took her a few minutes to work through her denial of the situation. She turned around on her heel, waved over her head with her middle finger up. "I gotta think about this, Mom."


    I waved at her knowingly. "I''ll be talking with the hyn!" Who were delighted to run the place and give orders to all these oddly friendly people who were taller than they were, in the safest place they''d ever lived in. With the Shadowknives coming and going all the time, this place saw more Voids going through it then anywhere but Assassin Mountain.


    And oddly enough, the location of the Assassin Mountain was one of the things that I wanted the Shadowknives to help me with. Even the Assassins themselves didn''t know its location... but I imagined a dozen Void Brothers scattered across the galaxy could duodeculate the coordinates very accurately indeed...


    At that point, said Assassin''s Mountain was going to get a visit from a certain Hag. They were set up to deal with renegade Voids, but there was no such stuff in place for dealing with Nulls.


    And most especially, Ranthas. I smiled to myself.


    The Land was gonna owe me so much... but the Land couldn''t even really see me, dammit. So unfair...

 Chapter 493 - Far Future Ch. 203 – So Let’s Start a Religion

    I listened to Ronnie berate me, getting that massive irritation at the pressure heaped upon her off her chest very sympathetically, and after several minutes of unrepeated insults and condemnations at putting all this on her, she finally took a breath and just glared at me.


    "Nyar nyar, now you know how it feels." I stuck my tongue out at her, to which she blinked, and a second later couldn''t help but chuckle.


    "Fuck, Mom. We all start out the same as a Rantha, right?" I nodded calmly. "And you don''t have a preincarnation?"


    "No, I got spun up out of pure ether and soulstuff by our progenitor. First of my line. It''s why none of you inherit my Talent and are based on your presouls."


    "I was an undead super-tech robot." Ronnie shuddered despite herself. "Okay, I am not going into the souldive until I''m Seventeen, promise. Now, tell me why you did this."


    "Well, right now that Tekron is basically a static waveform existing in the Akasha, functionally non-finite and immortal. It''s a nascent god who is going to wake up as soon as you plug into it, since it is you. You''re effectively going to be its eyes and ears in the mortal world, your Curseline leading right back to it, and it''s going to start growing as it starts taking in data on new levels and types beyond what it was capable of before."


    She stared at me. "You''re serious."


    "Damn right I am."


    "And you did this..." She held up a finger, thinking, then swore. "Can I take knowledge from it?"


    "YOU... are it. Your whole Curseline is connected to it via you. Its knowledge is going to be wide open to you, and via your Curse, through your kids."


    She stared at me, then swallowed and licked her lips. "I''ll have access to Tekron tech?"


    "I don''t know why you''d refuse to give it to yourself..."


    "Holy shit, Mom."


    I flashed a smile. "I is a clever bitch, is I?"


    "Mitharinnabucket." Ronnie''s dark eyes, so nicely matching her brown hair, were almost glowing. "Knowing that''s all waiting for me..."


    "It''ll drive you right to Seventeen, and make it deuced hard to wait that long," I sighed for her.


    "Damn." She shuddered, that bright shiny ball of light at the end of the tunnel screaming to her Talent. "I am so glad you waited until I was a Ten to tell me this."


    "If it required a save to stop you souldiving just to touch that data early, I figured it was at least a 30. You wouldn''t really be you right now if you did it early."


    She grimaced. "You''re probably right..." She took a deep breath. "Okay, you''ve had time to think this through more than me. What are the implications?"


    "It''s a metaphysical entity. You and your Curseline are its eyes, ears, and voices. It can take in faith and send it back."


    Her lips pursed for a moment, then her jaw dropped. "We''re priestesses?!" she exclaimed in disbelief.


    "You can''t Cast. But you can store the power to Cast for those who can, and you''re their conduit to a Divinity. Straight download, don''t need to contemplate your navel in a vivic flame to charge up your Matrix."


    "Fuck me," she whispered, staring at me.


    "Of course, you''ve got to build your congregation, but that shouldn''t be too hard." My smile was absolutely predatory. "The Mekkers have been making noise about the spirit of the machine for millennia, which is likely some Mythos creature manipulating their poor steel wires..."


    Ronnie leaned forwards. "And it is the spirit of a machine..."


    "A god-machine!"


    Her smile was every bit as deadly as mine. "Fucking Mekkers! I''m going to take them over with their very own fake religion!"


    A Hag''s laugh is plenty damn wicked. I imagine even a 90% cyberized mekker would have shivered to hear us right about now.


    We quieted down with a titter or six, wiping away the tears at the sheer wonderful irony. "You are truly a damn wicked bitch," she complimented me, hee-heeing with more glee.


    "Mekkers bring out my best," I agreed nastily, matching her chortles.


    Then she paused as she took the next step, and her eyes popped wide. "Wait, that''s taking over an established religion. And we''ll be able to actually answer prayers..."


    I nodded somberly. "You''re going to crash the Cult of Humanity."


    Her breath hissed out. "That''s a direct challenge to the Emperor. The Cult is so big... is that wise?"


    "No and yes. No, it turns the conflict into a religious one. Yes, because a religious fight is one he''ll lose, because the priests of the Cult can''t wield magic. They''re just lip service psions, if that, and there''s very little true faith actually there."


    "And the ones with true faith are the ones who will be the easiest to lure away." She inhaled again. This was a whole thing about faith, and Religion wasn''t R&D... except when you were covering new theological ground, an absolute interest of a certain undead robot. "How... how can it gather faith? The Warp Gods will interdict it..."


    "Your Curseline comes from me. So do those of all your sisters. Anywhere a Rantha walks, true faith can be gathered by our Curses and conveyed to you and yours." I made a weird smile. "We''re born to be the Good Witches, you know."


    "You turned all the Ranthas into potential priestesses for an immortal akashic robot god?"


    "Hey, its avatar is right in front of me, with all these emotion things it has no experience with. I think I have a good idea how said robot is going to end up."


    She put her hands to her head, looking at the table. "Dammit! I thought I was a big thinker. Mom, that is freaking terrifying..."


    "Well, look at it this way. You''re the nadir of two massive, imposing forces of this universe: Faith and Artifice. Both of those are powers of non-psions."


    "The complete opposite of the Warp Gods and the Emperor," she agreed, nodding, almost shuddering. "Okay, I see why only I can do this, and not you. But Grandmother is in the Warp, and according to you and everyone she''s freaking powerful... why can''t she be the god?"


    "And stick me in the pontiff''s chair?" I rolled my eyes, and she grinned. "Because she''s just another one of us, doofus. Sure, she''s further down the road, but she can''t do anything we can''t do. Can you grant prayers? Even with a Mark IV Vajra?"


    "No..." she sighed.


    "All we can do is give the raw energy to those who can Cast, which they can''t tap right now without us. We''re their Matrices. Funnily enough, we''re really, really high capacity Matrices, moreso then any non-Rantha Forsaken... but guess what? If the power they hold is pure enough, any Null could do the same thing."


    She blinked. "And a Source just has to stand around and their Mana Matrix will fill..."


    "Nulls always have to do it the hard way... except for a certain avatar and her Curseline hooked into a dispenser of Faith energy..."


    She closed her eyes, sighing again. I watched her eyelids twitching as she calculated stuff out furiously.


    They popped open again. "The Tekrons..."


    "Potentially you''ll gain enough insight into them to wipe them... or elevate them, who knows? There are equal arguments to be made either way. After all, Faith is a limited resource, and competition for worshippers is not something you want to encourage if there''s multiple Tekrons wanting to climb the metaphysical ladder to higher states of being..."


    "But assimilating them into one..."


    "Destroys their individuality, if they have it. Like I said, a complex decision, especially when dealing with an artificial race empowered by negative energy..."


    "I heard that having Tekrons around reduces Dead Walking events..."


    "Amazing how something draining all that excess negative energy doesn''t leave it around to animate the dead, unless there''s a freaking lot of it."


    "So at the very least, I might be able to negotiate with them."


    "Well, I certainly can''t." I thbbbbed for emphasis. "Bloody lucky you were a renegade and still had the capacity to set yourself onto a self-destruct course that could lead to apotheosis. Most of the Tekrons have already devolved below the threshold."


    Ronnie sat back, shaking her head and wrinkling her nose. "Sounds so damn weird. Oh... this also sounds like a job that could last as long as Tek exists..."


    "Yeah, funny how Hags have no maximum age and just keep going and going. It''s like we were made for this damn shit."


    "Right?!" She gave me That Face, and we clinked air drinks. "It''s like someone... dammit!" She hit the table again.


    I looked up at the ceiling. "You know, your Grandmother is, just like us, a Mithar devotee. The odds she is not chatting Him up is statistically Not There. So, who do you suppose is responsible for the design of us Post-Curse Rantha Hags that are definitely not really human Hagchildren anymore?"


    "We''re pieces on Mithar''s chessboard," she groaned.


    I held up a finger. "Ah, ah, ah." I waggled it at her, shaking my head.


    "Ah, crap. Nulls. He can''t predict us. He''s... trusting us?"


    "Helps that He probably designed us. All of us coming from the same starting point is a massive uniting factor. Suborning the Hag Curse..." I had to chuckle despite myself, and she got it, and laughed too. What Dark powers were seething over what Mithar had arranged?


    "So, so..." she waved her hand at me eagerly. "Can we upgrade?" I lifted an eyebrow. "To ExLite, to Exemplar? I know all my girls are gonna be groaning at the sheer unfairness of having two points less in all Stats then me..."


    "I''m pretty sure the only reason I''m an ExLite is because of Mithar''s involvement. Exemplars come from all the Luck and Fate getting together and having puppykittens. It''s possible to take the power from an Exemplar, like Mom''s Hagmom did, but just straight evolving to it?" I inhaled. "I''m pretty sure anyone and everything can improve to Advanced, it''s just a basic template. But we won''t know until someone who is not there gets up there and pushes that lever over."


    "Fifteen for a Human?" she wondered.


    I nodded. "That''s where I''d bet, based on when we fought those elite drow in Bloodheart. Twenty is Eternal, after all. One of the Void Brothers should be able to get there soon enough, and then confirm for everyone."


    "Another goal on the Road to Eternity."


    "Funny it''s not something you hear about from the Mentats and the like. Like it''s a secret of the uppermost ranks of humanity. Can''t have all those people who might be madmen chasing after Eternity, after all. They might turn to the Warp to get there faster, or something."


    "Like the Warp is going to let them be Eternal without them being slaves," she snorted, and shook her head. "I''m going to be fuming how you turned me into Jesus Christ with a Soulsword in my head for a long time, you know."


    "Don''t forget your slide rule." I grinned, and we air-tinked again.


    ---------


    I advanced to Fourteen on the impetus of opening up the path to a Rantha god. More technology started to open up as a few courses of investigation made 67.914223-degree turns, and Briggs began to fine-tune our production facilities to start using it.


    Fifteen was coming. I just had to save a few more worlds or something.

 Chapter 494 - Far Future Ch. 204 – Madame Is Not Happy

    The Portal was buried in the side of a hill, untouched for a few thousand years, and long overgrown by plantlife, dirt, and scree tumbled down.


    That didn''t stop it from activating, and sending all that matter in the way out into some trackless subdimension as it opened up, and roiling shadows filled the suddenly cleared space in front of the ancient psitech.


    The jetbikes came through smoothly, unafraid of what might be there, and indeed, the riders were looking around eagerly for things to engage as they slid out of Gloom into reality.


    "Where?"


    "South and east, five hundred and twenty miles," one of the riders, an armored Warlock in matte-black armor, replied instantly.


    With little more than quiet hums, their stealth fields engaged, and the group of jetbikes turned and headed off. Even the sonic booms as they broke the sound barrier were muffled and distorted into little more than coughs lost in the winds...


    ------


    The goblins were coming, the goblins were coming...


    The Triple Tide had swarmed over the Kopokral system, the Indrika Protectorate, and the Privali Expanse. Billions of goblins had come out of seemingly nowhere to gather into a massive warhost, and were steamrolling everything in their path as their overwhelming drive to conquer and claim territory spurred them on to endless war among the stars.


    Six fully populated human worlds had fallen already, the inhabitants killed and eaten, or drafted into slavery for the goblin war machine. The goblins, their losses being replaced by newcomers drawn to the conflict by parapsychic racial awareness, surged on to the next system, riding a wave of bloodlust and victory.


    The Imperial Fleet replied in force, but it still took time to react, gathering forces and transiting the Warp, fighting delaying actions, and leaving worlds to burn as the goblins claimed system after system.


    Where there were goblins, there were elvar hunting them from the shadows, picking out their rogue elements, claiming their kills before fading into the void. Massive amounts of manpower and ships were converging on what was being called the Gorgrum Tide, after the now-legendary urgob said to be leading it, a startling piece of news. It was hobgoblin warlords who usually led the goblin Tides.


    Gorgrum was now on Capristi II, a once-idyllic world settled for less than a thousand years and still in pretty good shape... until a few hundred million goblin-strong warhost landed and turned the planet upside down.


    My contributions in such an environment were more about diversions, distractions, and confusion. There were simply too many goblins, and I certainly couldn''t even come close to killing them all myself without a whole lot of time and unfriendly atomics being lobbed in my direction.


    What I could do is stamp myself onto their racial collective, butcher their officers, and turn myself into the kind of irritating meme they either had to stamp out or run from, because there wasn''t going to be anything else they could do to me.


    I could definitely turn any specific battlefield I showed up on completely around. Even if I was limited in how I could take out armor, mecha, or warbeasts, I could chew through infantry like no tomorrow, and the biggest punch of the goblins was all about their infantry.


    Rapid-fire lasers from Paten and Host, backed with holy banefire, Enmity, and Soulbound +IV, could scythe through the green tide of the runtiest of the goblin species with heaven-defying speed, literally blowing them apart with uncanny accuracy from a mobile and very agile firing platform called Wave-Skating Steps accentuating a pair of kickass Rantha legs.


    Without infantry, armor is always vulnerable. While the little green runts could hide really, really well, anywhere I went emptied out of living goblins really, really fast, and I was no armored vehicle. I was impossibly hard to hit, and what grenades, plasma streams, massed slugthrowers, and crazy assortments of rockets, missiles, and suicide-divers and the like they tried on me got basically no results.


    Their units of Shamans trying massed psychic stuff on me just became targets, and they lost a bunch of those pretty damn quick, which didn''t help their morale situation. It got worse when I worked through their artillery lines, blowing up stockpiles of ammunition. Goblins always liked high explosives, so those going up were pretty pyrotechnic.


    Goblins were a Powered Race, with even the non-psions tossing off psionic energy the psion/shamans of the race could use. It was also harnessed to their psitech, with the result that the wills and beliefs of the goblin race powered a significant portion of their technology. If that made their tech even weirder, well, it wasn''t significantly different then the ancestor-powered crap of the elvar, or the necrobiotech of the drow, or the organic tech of the biovore races. Psionics and science tended to mesh into one another even more efficiently then magic did, after all.


    In the end, how it worked was nearly as important as the fact it did, and in their way, it was as good as human tech. Given long enough to develop and Level, there was no doubt whatsoever their TL could rise to the levels of even the ancient elvar or Ruk... and equally no doubt that they lost it when their civilizations crashed, as they really didn''t have any way of carrying it on other than their racial memories... which also meant they could never truly lose it, merely working back up to it some time, some when...


    I seriously doubted the goblins were an evolved race, but the universe was crazy, so who knew? Once you started throwing psionics and magic into an evolutionary mix, anything could happen. As it stood, the goblin had elements of all major Lower Planar influences, meaning they had backers among all the major evil god factions, which was quite impressive on a racial level. Having three sub-races effectively meant none of the evil powers really wanted them gone, so on a racial level, the goblins were playing the profound Alignments off against one another...


    That was sheer demented genius. Humans played all the Alignments off by having free will, such as it was, and being able to take Classes so quickly to such extremes. The goblins being able to do the same thing among the Evil powers... that was very unsettling if they had done it deliberately somewhen, and very disturbing if they just evolved into it otherwise...


    ------


    The orbital bombardment could tear the heck out of the landscape, but the shielded megacities and kiloplexes were not cracked anywhere as easily. Imperial detachments had landed as well, and were making a right fight of things.


    For all their genius, goblins were not defenders. They were aggressive territorialist conquerors, always going for more, more, more. They''d occupy land, but reinforcing and arranging defenses wasn''t much in them. The most they''d do is turn their living quarters into a maze of tunnels and chambers that would be pure pain to clean out, so the universal situation was to put down an Earthshaker and just collapse any region with goblin caves, crushing them all.


    This meant they didn''t really have a deep understanding of a defender mindset, probably why the Ruk had suppressed them for so long. Their sweeps and sorties and charges and infiltrations kept running into prepared defensive emplacements, tactics, and men and women who knew how to make use of them, enabling the humans to hit above their weight.


    Now there was the Rantha tearing through the sensitive and critical parts of their formations, cracking them open mercilessly, and making a mess of their grandiose plans, frontal attacks, artillery formations, and rolling armor.


    I definitely never lacked for something to do, and the toll I had taken on the goblins was definitely in the seven digits after a couple days. I had been doing a LOT of shooting, and at high value targets, in addition to literal walls of runts, heaping them up high so the tankbusters of the humans could basically operate with impunity.


    Eh?


    I was doing a fifth-gravity dance, moving around as if weighed less than an urgob''s axe, when I saw blurs of motion coming in from the distance. They stood out because they had that sheen of cloaking tech around them that said they should be invisible, which was pretty impressive given the psychic static being thrown up by the mass of goblins raging all about me at the moment.


    My Mask zipped out, and I had to smile. Wow, they were really eager to see me again, if they wanted to come into a play like this. Being airborne over a battlefield seething with a bunch of tri-colored goblins with pyromania as a racial trait was just not a smart thing to do.


    Still I was easy to see, using my violet autolasers wound about with green Bane against Goblins flames and white vivus, and leaving a white trail behind me that was easy to see from a distance. The jetbikes swooped and turned in my direction, and I had to laugh.


    I changed the hue the force bolts from Paten and Host''s autobow strings to exactly the bright fiery red that the goblins preferred as I hit the ground, taking me out of the firing lines of all the opportunists trying to fill the air around me with lead and fusion fire and hard light. As the drow jetbikes came streaking in, I started shooting at them.


    Oh, I wasn''t trying to shoot them down. I could have really made things bad, but I wanted them to have some fun. That was what they wanted out of life, right?


    Pierce Magical Concealment worked perfectly well against high-end psitech, you know?


    Burning projectiles sped out improbably far, bright and catchy, and impacted against the stealth fields of the incoming jetbikes a couple hundred yards out. There were sparks and flares, and suddenly all the goblins whose eyes followed the flashy shots saw ten or so jetbikes streaking through the skies above them.


    Hilarity promptly ensued.


    The drow were moving fast, but not that fast, as they had finally found me, and were coming in on approach to have a go at me. They definitely weren''t expecting me to snipe them at range and remove their stealth cover.


    A good chunk of the battlefield seemed to turn as one, and it almost looked like the ground lifted up in a discharge of tracer, fusion, and laser fire. A few gob-techs reflexively blew off some crazily spinning anti-air rockets, and the drow ran right into it all.


    They were all moving fast, so they streaked by overhead as curtains of fire rose up behind, around, and ahead of them. Erratic rockets looped wildly and converged on them as the drow split up desperately, trying to evade all the shit coming at them.


    Boom, there went one, as heavy tracers caught the engine and found something delicate. Didn''t kill the rider, who went flipping out and spinning towards the ground... but the gobs were watching, and happy to investigate further.


    Heavy lasers sheared into another, and sent it into a fatal spin around its long access, and the driver barely let go as it drove into the ground in a fireball at a few hundred mph. Rockets cracked, smacked, and boomed, and tore two more off their bikes with shrapnel, while one unfortunate jigged when he should have juked, and ran right into some concentrated high explosive to the chassis that she didn''t take too well.


    Even more entertaining was the bladewitches who simply abandoned their bikes and fell from the sky down onto my general position.


    They ideally aimed to surround me, but given my reflexes were just as good as theirs, and my foot speed considerably higher, I was out of their encirclement before they could possibly land, and shooting at gobbers non-stop regardless.


    Four ladies coming in to ''reinforce'' me naturally didn''t make the gobs that happy, and the fact they were running after me only made it more plain they were ''my allies'', so they inherited a good deal of attention as they tried to catch up to me. Any goblins that got in front of them died before the situation could be explained in detail, unfortunately.


    Her voice carried across the roars of cannons, explosions, whine of lasers, chuffing of autoguns, rumbling of engines, and the squeals, bellows, screams, and shouts fairly well, "You owe me a duel!"


    I spun backwards, my mass harvesting of goblins not stopping, but less thorough, as I wanted to leave some entertainment for them as they labored to follow me. I was a good cardio instructor, I was.


    "Madame Lolith! You are such a long way from home! I am a bit busy at the moment... if you would like to stick around until the planetary assault is over, I''m sure I can fit you into my schedule then!"

 Chapter 495 - Far Future Ch. 205 – Attending Upon Madame

    "I''m afraid that my patience has a limit," the flawlessly beautiful and undefeated Bladewitch Mistress of the drow replied as she continued towards me, weaving her way through four goblins who all lost their heads in passing.


    "Happily, this isn''t about you," I smiled cheerfully, still facing her, my multiple limbs still firing in all directions and wreaking carnage around us... save for Chalice''s soulsword, glowing golden in my hands and idly slicing this way and that, sending Shards crashing through heavy weapons and into lucky hobgobs in carapace armor, shearing down a trio of them in one stroke. "You''re free to follow along; it''s a free world, after all!"


    And I turned around and resumed pulling away from them.


    I saw the net launcher go off, Faith caught it telekinetically as the micro-mesh unfolded, and instead of spreading out into a flesh-cutting web on a force-guided path towards me, it basically unfolded right in the path of the drow who launched it. The bladewitch shouted as she dove right into it as it was held in place, and the metal collapsed tightly around her instantly, defying the daggers she instantly tried to cut it with.


    Faith politely hurled her thirty yards thataway, where a gob crawl-tank was raging in at forty mph, spraying us all with happy exploding gyro fire. She screamed as one of the gyros clipped her side, and then she rammed right into its left track. Her scream vanished under a few dozen tons of weight coming down upon her very happily, and while her Soak was actually enough to live through that, the urgobs in power armor running behind the tank promptly unloaded on her at point-blank range with streams of fusion fire that cooked her into charcoal rather quickly.


    "How rude!" I mentioned, as I slid around a scooter full of goblins just in time for them to get in the way of the tank''s cannon and get blasted into squealing oblivion. "You might have noticed this is not the arena. I advise you not try anything stupid while I''m busy."


    They were wearing grav-gear, had enhanced kinetics, internal psi-boosting, and were still having major problems keeping up with me, despite the fact that I was the one clearing the way and deciding their course. They looked at one another, and Madame Lolith, who frowned sharply.


    I wasn''t shooting at them. Logically speaking, the sheer volume of fire I was putting out should have quickly overwhelmed them, and forced even her back to find cover. She watched my Tails punching out spikes, Paten and Hose crackling with the lightning feed from my hands and scything through everything with totally relentless precision, and slowly realized that the only reason they were still alive was because I wasn''t bothering to kill them.


    "You are very confident in yourself," she called out, and I watched her movements change, from a kind of hard-charging pursuit to something looser, more predatory, and instead of getting past all the goblins, she began to alter course to take them out in passing.


    Her other two coven members noticed the change, and had no resistance to the change in priorities. Goblins were as worth the slaughter as anything else, and soon green blood was flying in lethal arcs as tumbling, gliding, racing drow bladewitches began to desport themselves in performance massacre.


    They were melee specialists, and had scarcely anything ranged to speak of, which was just an eyeroller for me. Battlefield of the far future, if you didn''t have ranged combat options, what kind of an idiot were you? Sure, sure, melee attacks had their place, but life was not a series of duels, when it came down to it.


    Ah, well, let them be fanatics about their path. It just made them easier to kill, in the end, to an all-arounder like me.


    They went about their carnage with the fearlessness of those who knew they''d just be decanted out of a Vat by their Necrochemysts if they died.


    -----


    I suppose you could call it a hag''s night out. It was kind of entertaining watching some adept finesse fighters cut swathes through hapless goblin runties, occasionally a black-armored set of hobgoblins, and even inserting knives in delicate places in power-armored urgobs.


    Alas, they didn''t have Arsenal-bearing Weapons capable of accessing Revitalizing Strikes, nor were they Sustained, or with Con Stats of 50+.


    As a result, they got tired, slowed down, and the numbers of luck and fate caught up to them.


    Skillwise, no goblin could possibly shoot them. The combination of dex scores, dodge bonuses, and deflection from psychic goodies made them basically untouchable by most goblins, and the amount of ''hits'' that would have to land were basically rather inhuman, given the amount of energies running through their slender bodies.


    Sheer volume of fire coming in from all directions was a different thing, however.


    My Damage Reduction was floating on 26/Holy Cold Iron, 13/- absolute, before my Nog Armor. Random hits couldn''t hurt me at all, and they could drop all the flames on me they wanted to, I was long since immune to it.


    Madame and her two assistants weren''t so lucky.


    Witch #1 died by mines, as the goblin carrying them leapt right at her and pulled six cords at once. She was fast, but that much shrapnel to the face did for her rather violently, and got a lot of admiring cheers from the surrounding gobbos.


    Witch#2 eventually got tired, slow, and when the urgob came out of stealth with his power claws all a-sizzling, didn''t get out of the way in time. A few psychic defenses flared as she was smashed fifty feet through the air, and a half-dozen other gobbers opened up on her in midair. She didn''t quite reach the ground before two rockets found her and blew her into bloodspray and ash.


    I waited for Madame to chew her way through the ambushers, laying down a field of covering fire two hundred meters in radius while slowly spinning atop a wall, popping gobbers like beer bottles filled with nasty green stuff. The higobs and urgobs who''d pulled off the ambush died in mysterious ways as she spun past them, and all their armor didn''t seem to help at all.


    "I see you have run me out of witnesses to our duel," she said calmly, and I smiled winningly.


    "Watching gobbos blow apart arrogant bladewitches is kind of fun, too," I winked at her, and she just snorted in disbelief at my casual attitude.


    "What is the purpose behind your mass slaughter of the creatures?" she sniffed, as she ran through a line of gobs, and they all fell down behind her. Even her hair was fully capable of taking them down, lined as it was with weighted monofilaments and stuff.


    "Morale tanking, command line disruption, drawing attention to myself, following lines of command, battlefield experience, akashic dread stamping, endurance testing, lightfoot practice, weapon testing and modification, courting death, dance rehearsals, generating new song material, examination of goblin psyches under pressure, stanza creation, fate-testing, luck-spitting, equipment destruction, technological observation and evaluation, style analysis.." I replied in a long breath as I bounced and continued an unending array of slaughter in all directions.


    The goblins were definitely not wanting to be in this area. Unhappily for them, they couldn''t flee faster than I could run after them.


    "Song material?" she asked, instantly seizing upon the only important point.


    Tremble, oh oooo oh, Tremble, she comes...


    I watch the shift she made as she heard the song, even if it was in Goblin. It was gentle and carried with terrible clarity through this battlefield of explosions, flames, screams, and whizzing hard light, too.


    As for the goblins, I watched their skin definitely pale a few shades as the dirge swept past them.


    Didja see her arrive, Gak-tooth?


    No I did''n.


    That''s cause everyone died who did.


    Der brains jez popped and dey iz dead!


    How many did she kill?


    Dat number''s still growing


    It''s still growing...


    She''s here, she''s here, akkkK!


    Tremble, oh oooo oh, Tremble, she comes...


    Wow didja see dat beast explode?


    Da light just reached out


    And boomdead it got.


    Da light, dat cursed light,


    Can barely see it sweeping past


    Pulsing, no burns, only curse


    Da eye is pon us, see it see it


    It''s comin dis way akkkK!


    Tremble, oh oooo oh, Tremble, she comes...


    Dat gold, it cut dat ur right in two!


    Don''t talk, she might see!


    Don''t look, she might hear!


    Don''t fart, she might feel!


    Don''t move, she might smell!


    Da fire, it took her,


    An she did''n burn at all!


    Purp and whites and blood akkkK!


    Tremble, oh oooo oh, Tremble, she comes...


    She waz spinning


    Or! She wuz dancing, ya git,


    Ya seen it, da pretty lights


    Goin'' in allz directions


    Gobs dying and popping t''see


    No chances to scream


    Only to diez


    I heard all Argiz'' army-akkkK!


    Tremble, oh oooo oh, Tremble, she comes...


    ---


    Madame Lolith listened very carefully, and at the same time she watched the fear spreading, as stanza after stanza, some stolen from their own coms, from conversations I''d heard as I leapt past, just to synch it more closely to their own Akasha, rippled out, and the faces of the goblins, ALL the goblins, changed and blanched and grimaced... and trembled...

 Chapter 496 - Far Future Ch. 206 – Dark Observations

    It was plain to the drow matron that this song was about fear, and it was infectious, sinking into the minds of the goblins and spreading along their racial psyche... and it was being fed into their com system, too, helping perpetuate it further, faster.


    It was meant to intimidate... and it was succeeding in that task very, very well.


    It never mentioned her name, but did it need to? The endless strafing of violet lasfire girt up in those green flames of goblin-slaying, the whiteness that wiped away even the soul, and had perma-killed those who thought themselves beyond death...


    The drow had thought the four breshkt women in Bloodheart possessed of a great secret, which could allow them to threaten even their longest-lived, cleverest, and most threatening foes with death. The hunt for the secret had been ferocious once those slain and cooked in the shadowfire had not come back.


    And then, this white fire was all over the galaxy.


    How they had not paid attention to it when it was released to the severed sectors of the Human Empire, she didn''t know. Perhaps they just had not considered it important, a psychic trick they wouldn''t bother to use, something not worth investigating, coming from the humans as it did.


    But now everyone, everywhere seemed to have it. It was being leaked at an impressive rate to anyone who wanted to know about it, and was sending underquakes throughout the galaxy.


    It Fed those who thought themselves undying to the Land, and the more unnatural they were, the faster it fed them.


    It had already been over a year since the Bloodheart Grand Ritual, and the drow had plenty of time to learn of the vivic procedures for making weapons, even making a few themselves.


    Unfortunately, the unwhite fire was lethal to the most powerful among them!


    Those infected by Warp energies, or who had cheated death, were devoured by the unwhite fire as readily as the undead or demons. The only way to stop the flames from devouring them if they were struck was to sever the flesh. If they were killed, their corpses were devoured with unreal speed, reduced to ash and mist, and their souls, which should have been whisked away by necrotech, were burned into nothing with them.


    It suddenly made trips into the Prime even more dangerous for the drow, especially the leaders who had once had no fear of death here, even were the humans capable of harming them.


    That had all changed now.


    Madame Lolith had a secret that even the most cunning of her rivals did not know: it was the fact that she had never died.


    Without that one fact hanging over her, she did not have to fear the vivic fire so much, and although her skin was midnight black, she had denied the powers of the Warp for thousands of years, and would continue to do so in the future. Her will was her own, and she would not be swept up in Klaw''s mindless slaughter, Amourae''s unrestrained excesses, jRaztl''s endless arrogance and superiority, or Riggibuhl''s mindless enduring of the inevitable.


    She was Lolith, the Grand Mistress of the Bloodheart, who had no equals among the drow in blades or beauty. There had been countless challengers over the millennia, men and women, and countless others vying for her attention, her caress, her smile, a stroke of her hand, or even a kiss from her lips. The price some were willing to pay for her attention was quite shocking, and amusing, yet only further affirmation of how unique and powerful she was.


    She had never been treated as casually by anyone as she was being treated now.


    This young woman was obviously no breshkt, nor were her erstwhile daughters. "Matron Glayia" didn''t exist in any records of the drow, whose records held truly frightening amounts of information to be plumbed by cybermancers and akashic raiders.


    What she was... was insanely dangerous.


    She wasn''t showing off for Madame Lolith, however it might look. Lolith wouldn''t have tolerated anyone looking down at her like that... but this was different.


    She was being casually ignored... as irrelevant.


    Just keeping up with her, she had killed over a thousand goblins by now. Alchemicals kept fatigue at bay, as well as the life energy siphoned off by her knives from the low creatures she was slaughtering in passing, dealing deaths with flickers and ghosts of her hand.


    She was being outrun, outkilled, outmaneuvered, and out-thought.


    It was a novel experience. She could not remember such a thing happening in combat for over six thousand years.


    Oh, she had been outmaneuvered politically before, information manipulated, ending up doing the bidding of foes and rivals that she thought she was working against... but such petty schemes were not her strength, and those that used her inevitably ended up dead, a perfect record of fates of those who angered her that led back for thousands of years. Certainly, they thought they could capture her, trap her, evade her hungry blades when she came for them... but while there were better schemers, none were better killers, and all of them had fallen in the end.


    This woman was not using gravity manipulation, and was moving as weightlessly as a null-g acrobat. Her precision and agility were no less than Lolith''s own, and her casual strength was considerably greater, equal to a fully cyberized agent, or someone operating under mass alchemical boosting.


    Or, perhaps, a Warp Demon. Except Warp Demons were like fuel to vivus, and certainly wouldn''t be using it on every Weapon they wielded.


    Lolith watched those five Tails spitting spikes of transpsychic force wreathed in wrathflames narrowly. Their range was limited, of course, but their power was considerable, and their accuracy murderous. They were psychic limbs, woven of ectoplasm, and there had been multiple intercepted reports of her manifesting them and dismissing them. Likewise, the inhuman limbs connected to her hips and capable of rotating and bending impossibly were artificial.


    She had never seen the like of either, and they had tellingly not been brought out in the Great Ceremony. Seven additional limbs... that was more than most cyborgs could manage efficiently, especially with the terrifying accuracy she was employing.


    Her battlefield awareness was a full sphere, calculating, lethal, precise, yet fluid and powerful all at once. The Shield rotating around her intercepted so many would-be lucky shots, deflecting them into others, smashing away rockets and missiles in blasts of force...


    She wielded only the one sword, and Lolith was watching the course of its movements, everything it sliced through, the Sun Strikes discharging relentlessly, the arcs and stars launched from it when nothing was in reach which reaped and tore the hapless goblins who thought they''d escaped death from Spike or hard light.


    All of that firepower could be directed at her, and she knew she couldn''t evade it all. There was a terrible underlying threat in her swordplay, some greater profundity to it that she didn''t understand, but recognized as being as murderously dangerous as her own pure skill and millennia of experience.


    She was better than this strange woman... but if they fought, and this woman just used her natural gifts, and no odd surprises or strange devices... Madame Lolith felt that she might well lose!


    Of course, she would never fight fairly if that was truly the case, as winning was everything, but she had the certain sense that the woman opposite her was also taking her measure, and this type of endless killing was naturally only using her most basic, fundamental skills, with precious little effort on her part.


    That was enough to make her blood icy, and her heart race at the same time. Indeed, who else was qualified to see them fight? What could she learn in a fight like this? It had been so long since she had seen something that was truly new or innovative, and something about this woman''s fighting style bespoke an evolution of combat that was... transcendent.


    Lolith desperately wanted that knowledge for herself. She had reviewed the tapes of the four women hundreds of times, analyzing every motion, step, stroke, and stance as they wrought terrible doom upon everyone that opposed them. They were all different in basis, very similar in fundamentals, and all of them had a thrillingly dangerous spirituality to them that implied how deadly they would be to face.


    ---


    She dropped down abruptly into a ditch, where nothing seemed to be waiting. Lolith smelled the fur and filth, saw the depression on the grounds, the ever-so-faint blur of distorted air, and the sudden whine of powering-up energy weapons and servos coming to life.


    The urgob shock troops in power armor screamed as the Sun Strikes blew through them, their armor rending and glowing with psychic feedback as it was torn apart, and the hairy barbarians within, spewing green blood as the woman hewed through them with complete abandon, and complete control; the living, the dead, the walls, and the ground were all there for her to move about on, every stroke and maneuver gliding from one to the next seamlessly.


    Power greater than finesse. Cutting and hewing where Lolith would slice and slash, thrusting where she would stab. Strength and precision in a merciless whole.


    The ground around them lit detonated with the explosions from the guns of the goblins'' crude Striders, vaguely birdlike light mecha crewed by trained hobgoblins who had been thrown off by the infectious song that was infiltrating all the goblin coms. They had fired too soon, overeager and jumpy, and had missed their target entirely. She was now moving towards them quickly as they squealed in panic over their coms, their wild shots killing more than a few of their own kind as they tried to hit the blur their targeting systems couldn''t seem to lock on.


    Sweeping pulses of spiral-bound violet light wiped out their infantry support with devastating accuracy, filling the area around the three mechs with burning corpses with incredible speed, whole swathes of goblins and hobgoblin squads going up like torches.


    Bolters and explosive arounds tore up the ground, none of it deterring her in the slightest as she veered in towards the first Strider.


    Lolith watched, her own profile little more than a shadow, still whispering through the ranks of goblins unfortunate enough to be in her way, around her, below her, past her and dying before they really knew it.


    Sun Strike one as she arrived, blowing through the first leg, going up the leg like it was a ladder, taking out the other side in another spray of shattering, molten metal, the mecha overbalancing ahead and past them. A third Sun Strike opening up the armor over its power core, and four Spikes driving in point-blank as she leapt away. As the very hot fusion core went off and cooked the screaming pilot, it blew her easily a hundred feet away, to crash into the front of the next mecha.


    The pilot gawked at the glowing golden sword that had punched right through his crysteel viewpoint and was right in front of his head. The Masked woman clinging to the front of his ride smiled brightly at him, and the Shard split his head in two.


    She jumped away as point-blank shots from the third mecha blasted the second away from her, her feet seeming to hit misting points in the air as she danced back and forth in the sky, avoiding the raging autocannon tracers around trying to hit her, hitting the ground, sliding along, spinning, and taking out the Achilles cables for the strider''s legs with a spin before shearing a golden arc up behind it into its motor assembly. Five tails pointed up like death-spitting serpents, and fired off the burning Spikes without her even looking up.


    "-akkkK!" the pilot screamed over the coms.


    Tremble, oh oooo oh, Tremble, she comes...


    The Shield drummed, the Sword chimed, and her voice purred with the promise of coming death. The staring goblins gawked at her as she moved into motion again, and their screams radiated out into the coms as hard violet light wreathed in goblin-blood green banefires reached out for them and added their calls to the coms of death.


    "akkkK!"


    "urkkK!"


    "gakkK!"


    The goblin invasion of Capristi II was definitely not having a good time. Wherever this Dark Angel showed up, things starting going very bad, very, very quickly...

 Chapter 497 - Far Future Ch. 207 – Time for Some Witch Talk

    The longer I fought here, the more plugged in I was to the information channels of the defense as Imperial Forces with Marked among them filtered down and in, pumped that data into Markspace, and cycled it through the Strategos to give insight and advice.


    There were some Marked junior officers who were going to get some very quick promotions after all this.


    They key information is that they had determined the location of the goblins'' primary headquarters, where their warlord was leading the fight from.


    It was time for me to pay some sort of visit to the place. Of course, it was literally a continent and an ocean away, which actually didn''t mean anything if I teleported into orbit, spun around the planet, and came plummeting back down. Half hour tops.


    I skidded to a halt in the shadow of some war machines obliterated by artillery fire. A few seconds later, looking rather ragged and smudged despite herself, and with streaks of green goblin spread around here and there tastefully, Madame Lolith flowed over the goblin transport and landed a couple steps away.


    She was eying me carefully, seeing that I looked completely unmarked by all the slaughter and running around at superhuman speeds I''d been doing, and hadn''t even broken a sweat at any point.


    "So, it turns out the goblin command post is located seven thousand miles in that direction," I pointed kindly, and she glanced that way, doubtless making calculations in her head. "I''m going to go orbital, circle the planet, and drop down on top of them, then make a nuisance of myself. So, if you want to have a duel, I''ll make some time if you want to go at it."


    She regarded me carefully, glancing around. The Song from Chalice had faded, and all the noise of combat seemed to be very energetically heading in another direction. Nobody was currently able to see us, and if they could pretend we weren''t there, they''d doubtless be very happy-


    I snapped my head around, the goblin sniper went "akkK!", and then his flat, wide head blew apart four hundred yards thataway.


    Chalice made up another stanza on the spot.


    "Here?" she asked with a sniff.


    "No." I flicked Chalice, and a slit in space opened up. I glided on through, and she hesitated only a second before following me.


    ----


    Keva waved her arm through the Rift, forcing it shut, while Jensa shoved us both off towards the bath there, making stinky-faces at us. Madame Lolith raised an eyebrow, took it right in stride, and peeled off her attire without hesitation.


    None of us were in breshkt mode, but we did all have Masks on, and our hair was still black, and skins a tanned bronze.


    There was wine and fruits and cheeses of the subtler sort, as elvar only liked strong tastes in special circumstances. Blood was one of them.


    She held her glass of wine nonchalantly, sniffing it once. "Rodigerian," she pronounced. "Twenty to thirty years old. Grown off-world. Pruscima?" It wasn''t a question... she was quite sure of her answer.


    "Yes, the gene strain is right there," I agreed. "The mineral configuration would fit Pruscima. That''s some sense of taste."


    Since she was sensing it psychically at that level, my reply amused us both. "I see you aren''t seriously considering dueling me." She glanced tellingly at Jensa, Keva, and Celestia playing cards nearby, practicing sleight of hand on one another.


    "Nor were you. If you haven''t realized I''d kill you in duel by now, you''re nowhere near as smart as I think you are... and I think you are murderously smart, Madame."


    Her delicate chin rose aloofly. Truly, she was a fantastic beauty by the standards of humans or elvar, and she knew it. I was tamping mine down with the Curse, although I was sure she could survive the revelation.


    "You are not breshkt," she stated firmly.


    "If you mean our drow genetics weren''t passed down the traditional ways, you''re right. High gravity nymphals."


    She looked at my Nothing to See Here, at the girls, quirked an eyebrow. "Elective, I see?"


    "Distracting when needed. Amusing, at other times. Lethal in yet others."


    "And you have a way in and out of Gloom." Kinda hard to disguise all the black, white, and grey environment around us.


    "Courtesy of the drow," I toasted her, and she lifted her glass in like amusement. "So, I''ve a few questions for you, Madame?"


    "Oh?" She was probably looking for some sort of bargain, but she had nothing in that area I was interested in.


    "Why aren''t you post-Twenty and Eternal?" I inquired calmly.


    Just a flicker of eyes and a pause. My hair reached out, grabbed another bottle, popped it, poured me another glass, and then extended out across the scented bubbles to offer the same to her. She accepted smoothly.


    "Eternal." She gave me a look. "You sound certain of this."


    "One hundred percent certain," I agreed firmly.


    Her nostrils flared just so. "I have not found the way," she admitted.


    I rolled my eyes, which annoyed her. "The way is wide open, and right in front of you. Are you afraid to take the step? You have to know what it is. Is the Warp that scary? Or just too icky?" I chased my finger around the wine cup, which promptly began to sing. "Start slaughtering Greater Warp Demons and Demon Princes. You''ll make Twenty in no time flat."


    She stared at me as if I was slightly mad, and I grinned with a double canines smile. "It is not as easy as you make it out to be."


    "I''ve killed over a dozen of them, so yeah, it is. There''s vid popping around if you don''t believe me." I just sniffed at her. "Keep restricting yourself to beating on things that aren''t any real threat to an Eighteen, and you''re never going to make it, of course. You might get a little something for beating someone like me... but given I''m a fresh Fourteen, maybe not."


    "Fighting the Warp is an excellent way for one of my people to fall to them," she sniffed, turning her head slightly.


    "I believe you. So, none of you will ever get strong enough to thumb your nose at them." I sniffed at her. "Well, your race has been going down the metaphorical toilet for eight millennia, I suppose that''s par for the course."


    Her eyes flashed. "What of the Arena?"


    "What of it? You''re an Eighteen." I just rolled my eyes. "Come on, girl. You''re as high as any duelist is ever going to go. Maybe you walk onto a battlefield to duel someone, like me, but you don''t evince any interest in cutting down mecha or grav-tanks, dancing between artillery shells, or sitting in front of a cellulocust planet-eating swarm. Your Arena Glory is all empty shit doing nothing for you, all it does is sate the parasites sucking at your souls and making you their slaughterslaves and give your lessers something to desire. For you... it does nothing.


    "Do you need tips on Warp butchery, or something?"


    "I''m sure I could work out the essentials," she replied with cool confidence.


    I just nodded. "So, that''s the wall in front of you. You either climb it, or you sit forever like you are... until the Warp comes for you, which it will at some point, and you won''t be able to fight it."


    Her scarlet eyes flashed challenge at me. "And if that is all I desire?"


    "To eventually die to the parasites who''ve been sucking at you for the last seven thousand years? Girl, do I look stupid? You''ve put yourself in a position where every male and female drow in existence can only look up at you, you can take or reject whoever you want, and if you don''t like it, you can kill them.


    "Amourae and Klaw both want you, and you have no way to tell them to fuck off, and won''t unless you break Twenty. In the meantime, you''re their little slavemistress, feeding them little grapes of souls and wine made from the blood of slaughter." I just rolled my eyes.


    "I have killed people for saying far less to me," she half-snarled, and the murder in her gaze slid right past me and pinged off the stones behind me.


    "Uh-huh, and you''re going to have make a decision now." The perfect brow furrowed at me. "I know. All of us know. Hundreds of thousands of people know, now." A weird light flickered in her eyes. "You''re rotting at the top, and we know it. You got lazy, afraid, depressed, despaired, or something, and you''re sitting at the foot of Klaw''s throne, licking his toes while Amourae is giving you tongue.


    "You''re either going to have to start that climb, or you''re going to have to finish us, or you''ll go mad knowing so many know what you are. And if you try to finish us, well, you''re dead. At least with the demons of the Warp, you''ve got some chances."


    "You are underestimating me." She sounded quite certain of herself.


    It was my turn to smile. "Oh, oh no, I don''t think I am. If anything, I am overestimating you... and I will still beat you. If you go after my girls, well, they might not be able to beat you, but they can certainly run faster than you can catch them. And if we go hunting you, well, you won''t like the results of that, either. It will make the galaxy exciting for a time, certainly.


    "But seriously, you want to be Eternal. You want to tell the Warp to fuck off. All you''re making yourself now is the last to get soulsucked of your people. You can make it there. You might be the only one of your people who can.


    "You can make the tools. You''ve got the information sources. Hells, you can bring them right into your venue, if it will be faster and better if you kill them in public. It''s all right there. Go ahead and become an Eternal, girl!"


    She laughed softly, and accepted a refill, nibbling at some berries as if kissing them exquisitely, looking to see if I was reacting. While I could appreciate all the aesthetics, and even get into them, I unfortunately got turned on by big fellows with muscles, body hair, and really big hands, rarr...


    "Is this your goal as well?"


    "Of course! What sane person wouldn''t be working in that direction, if they knew it was there?" I scoffed. "It just takes me more work than the average person..."


    "More work?" She was fishing.


    "You''ve got Eighteen in both your Melee and Drow Racial Levels. My Racial Levels are a bit more involved than yours. I''m making steady progress, of course, and the diet of Greater Demons sure helps, tho." I rolled my eyes. "Oh, it''s a dumb question, and I''m sure I''ll learn the answer shortly, but is there a racial refinement at Fifteen?"


    She seemed to be wondering what to tell me, and finally nodded slowly. "It is called the Ascension to Purity, a refinement in body and soul. Reaching it is the dream of most of the drow."


    "Meh, a little low, if you ask me." Of course, I was a tier up, so what did I care of their little dreams? ExLite cheating bitch that I was...


    "Without some means of overcoming the psychic power and sorcery of the Warp, what you are suggesting is not possible," she finally sniffed, and her flawless eyes narrowed at my quirky smile.


    "Right, because you have to keep all your psi power cooped up inside you, or it gives them something to feed on. But, you know, just because you can''t spend all that psipower, doesn''t mean you can''t use it." I thorked my temple. "Has lots of psi she can''t use, either."


    Ah, see that? That little hidden spark of interest. "My people gain psychic power as naturally as breathing." There it was, replacing their magical aptitude in other worlds, advancing at 3:4. So, as an Eighteen, she was equal to a raw Thirteen Psion, without all the bells and whistles.


    "So, if you could just spend psychic power to offset Warp power used against you, that would work for you?" Drow were famously resistant to psychic powers, but not to the Warp.


    Her eyes narrowed with a feral hunger...

 Chapter 498 - Far Future Ch. 208 – Oh, Gogrum! How the Hell Have Ya Been!?

    This area was pretty much crawling with goblins. Since it was where so many of their blocky, flaming troop transports had landed, and the massive teleport formation to download them from the Rock that housed most of them had been set up, that wasn''t a big surprise.


    However, now that it had been identified, there were a lot of explosions going off. Casual orbital bombardments, if only dropping big rocks on them, were a thing. ICBM''s, and artillery shooting off from over the horizon, were also a thing. There were explosions, as well as lots of poison gas working off green blood. Monstrous mech crawlers the size of buildings were trundling here and there, like battleships going over the land, shooting off massive cannons that spewed plumes of fire a hundred yards long when they fired, to the cheers of the watching goblins.


    Endless hordes of green, one-tenth of endless hordes of black, and one-fiftieth of endless hordes of furry yellow were streaming off the teleport point as Flamejumping goblins waving knives and slugthrowers whooped and ran off them, eager to get into the fray and maybe light some fires of their own.


    Goblins, goblins everywhere you could see...


    Now, logically, even I shouldn''t be moving through this area. I mean, we''re talking a hundred thousand goblins to a square mile density here. I was only killing forty-some a second, after all. There were big things with cannons all over the place, and if they killed a few hundred or thousand of their own getting rid of something important, well, said goblins died in big fiery explosions, which is all they could wish for, right?


    That''s one reason Chalice was Bodyfeeding, and popping me all over the place.


    It was just Linejumps, line of sight, moving from location to location where there were tons of stuff to shoot at and rip apart, and making it deuced hard for those bigger guns to draw a bead on me, and definitely impossible for them to catch up to me.


    I plunged into a throng of goblins and started the Cleave Train, shredding a swathe over twenty feet wide through the horde in a flying explosion of green blood and body parts. I was definitely harvesting enough short-term PP to power the Linejumps as I made way towards their teleporter formations.


    And yes, they could ALL hear me coming, and they were even singing ''akkK!'' along with me, despite knowing what was coming.


    Yeah, in Goblin, it was VERY well written, it made their flesh crawl and their knees shake. Those who had heard it live were instant fans, and there was a huge competition in the goblin infosphere to get all the verses. According to their chatrooms, there were goblins already crooning it halfway across the galaxy.


    What? The Ranthas and Goldilock crews had to learn Goblin and some very weird logic processes, but what the gobs called an infosphere wasn''t anything complex... although I challenged any Mekker to comprehend that base 13 number system without blowing a gasket...


    The hobgoblin women were desperately trying to imitate my success with it, as they were the primary musicians among the goblins. However, the pure cheerful malevolence seemed to defeat them.


    Seeing a vid of thousands of runts going ''akkK!'' fluently in perfect tune to the song was oddly gratifying, however...


    Whatever, goblins were running forward to see their star, and dying in whooping glee, many suiciding with bombs and grenades to help write the final and proper epithet to the song, the one where I went ''aargh!'' or ''aiiee!''


    They weren''t sure which one was appropriate yet, so they were trying to find out, see.


    Of course, I could sit in a fusion bath, so they weren''t going to hurt me with those... or the particle guns ripping up the atmosphere and concussing everything around me. Slugthrowers and shrapnel, fellas... but I wasn''t going to tell them that, and only a cannon was actually going to hurt me.


    Which was fine. Watching me running right through explosions, my shooting never stopping, accented the vids for them nicely.


    Then one of the enterprising Goldilocks kids took an hour of my visuals, edited it, added lots of things, including goblin ID''s as I popped them going out, ''akkK''s'' going off over their heads, and uploaded it into the goblin infosphere.


    Damn thing had four hundred million views within an hour, and was being viewed halfway across the galaxy within six. With all new lyrics based on those killed, of course.


    All my Perform-Talented girls mocked me endlessly. Apparently the only serious pageviews I could accumulate were among goblins... until I pointed out all the Dark Angel vids out there, and how those seemed to be accumulating...


    G&G had quietly bought up the publishing rights to my image early and was making good money off it, too. I understood the playing cards were pretty popular in the Marines... and catfights were already erupting over which of the girls got to play me in the videos sure to be coming, since they were happily setting up the studios to do so...


    Ahem!


    Path eight paces wide through throngs of goblins, surrounded in blurs of gold Swords, violet lasers widening the pathway, Spikes poking anything that happened to survive the lasers, feeding Chalice before she whisked me away to another position to keep running. Singing goblins dying loudly were everywhere...


    Okay it was hilarious, but the goblins seemed to love it. They had just the mindset to appreciate it. The hobgoblins and urgobs, not so much, except when swathes of hard violet lines limned in green and white were sweeping towards them... "akkK!"


    There were the Pylons, cooking with green and black lightning, space tearing, fire erupting as atoms were smashed to crush two distant points together, and more goblins, vehicles, and goblins, and mecha, and goblins, were dumped into the fray.


    Only a couple of miles to go...


    Plumes of dirt and fire were rising all over the place, sometimes scattered, sometimes in walls. Dark walls of lethal gas swept over goblin positions, and left corpses behind if they didn''t have vac suits. Starburst shells exploded and covered acres in falling naptha, and goblins squealed in excitement and pain as they died by fire. The number of rockets and missiles flying back and forth was immense, and the piloted craft made the prettiest explosions, be it in the air or spiraling out of control into the ground.


    Bonus ''ooohs'' from the crowd if they took out a mecha or a hapless bunch of gobs when they hit.


    ----------


    Yeah, that''s the runeform, yep, there, there, matched on the far side, yep, sever there, cut there...


    A dozen Ranthas were helping with the calculations as I closed in, looking through the soup of the atmosphere as a constant hundred-decibel roaring was spiking to up to a hundred and fifty every so often (and Chalice''s song was perfectly audible through it all, thank you). We had 3D views of the Pylons, the psitech structures leaking so much pan-dimensional energy (black lightning... riiiiight... antiphotons or something?) that I dreaded to think how much power those gobs could harness if they could only scale up the efficiency properly...


    Still, time to shut down the incoming teleports.


    I jumped onto the pylons with Dragon Walk, Sun Strikes ripping into the structures with Construct-bashing glee, chewing through the odd materials and odder energies, here, there, and there, and there as I ran up and around the things.


    Power conduits snapped, vented in odd directions. Black and green lightnings blew out and around me. Feedbacks started inside this pylon, and Paten and Host played around the lines of managing technicians, who all shouted ''akkK!'' loudly as they died, desperate to get on film.


    One of my thoughtstreams started editing it for them in admiration.


    "Gorb turned to Flark


    Or, see dat up on dere?


    Yah, she gonna fritz boom it.


    De shooties helpin'' out


    Oh, de cannon sprotzed numfour!


    Fixit fixit afore dey come


    Oh, Zog she saw uz -akkK!"


    They were immortalized, as the goblins'' own cannons energetically blew off chunks of the Pylon, and I got on the far side and set up a personal Interdiction on a certain point as power surged through the whole system.


    I was sure the techies could have stopped it, but they just wanted to see how glorious a boom it was going to make, and didn''t bother with any emergency stops.


    Snaking power flowed between the pylons, and got really twisted coming to and from the one I was standing on. Space wobbled, began to stretch, and reached out to the pylon I was on... and the key Rune I was standing on, where space was harder than adamant, and not going to be doing the flex thing at all, thank you.


    Power exploded, trying to tear open space, except the anchor wasn''t there. Space folded at alarmingly wrong angles, lost coherency, and fed back into the Pylons.


    Yeah, it was a very pretty explosion, had to admit. You just don''t see space blowing apart at right angles to itself every day.


    -------


    The Pylons blew out as the energy they''d used to fold space vented back into them. They weren''t capacitors, this was supposed to be flow-through power. Runes went off in all sorts of colors, reality invented a few new ones, the Warp tried to come in and was sent off at left angles (that was VERY interesting to see, and started a whole new train of dimensional physics thought), and as some random atoms lost cohesion and decided to convert to pure energy, I made a jump and inertial-dumped via Featherweight off my Ring.


    There were a lot of rads and light and heat, but I wasn''t afraid of any of that. The shockwave could have been bad, but Featherweight meant I had no inertia, and all it did was shove me away really fast, the air streaming past my Vajra as I was flattened on the bow of the shockwave, racing a line of matter-distorting energy and random space-time sitting up and doing calisthenics for a second or three, before going back on the couch while Reality gargled a mouthful of broken space-time and spat it back out.


    There were howls of awed glee for miles around as cracks in space, mushroom clouds in multiple layers and angles, and lots of fire in some crazy colors and configurations lit everything up.


    Goblin fireworks ftw! Losing their fast way out and in? Minor, trivial detail. Waddasho!


    ------


    I came down out of the sky, crashing down on a plaza cooked flat by fusion flame, a lot of very heavily armored urgobs there, who were all staring raptly at the horizon being on so much fire. They kind of blinked when I slammed down in front of them, and the massive lander they''d walked out of behind them.


    I straightened up, dusted myself off, and looked at them.


    "Tremble, oh oooo oh, Tremble, she comes...


    Or, guyz! Itz her! Dat skinny


    Da one wut killed dem gits


    In da black plaz ain''t goin'' back to


    Gold sword anz killin all


    Shown ''em whatz a git


    E''en da trees and bugs


    Or me name''s not Gogrum-"


    Paten aimed. The shocked hobgoblin crossed his yellow eyes at the leyser dot on his flat nose, shouted, "akkK!" and his head blew off, right on cue. The stanza ended with a certain set of very familiar notes to a certain gaping urgob, throwing off the normal lead-in...


    I wrinkled my eyes at the familiar cybered urgob in much beefier power armor, who stared at me in total shock. "Hey, furball, fancy meeting you here!"

 Chapter 499 - Far Future Ch. 209 – Wut’s An Urgob Ta Do?

    "Hurz, you can''t be her," he puffed out, staring at me with bulging bloodshot eyes, me so nicely backlit by the dying explosion and colorful clouds in the distance.


    My Soulsword vanished, and Chalice extruded her full normal blade, gold with black edges. Then her Song began to rise, and all his hair bristled. He took a step back, and all his lads did the same.


    "What happened to that feeb you had to carry off the field, furball? He running the campaign?" I gestured to the southeast lander, which was arranged in the most disciplined and rigid fashion of the seven of them.


    He looked spooked that I had guessed the right location. "Yarz, he''s telling the runts where ta go an'' what ta shoot." He blinked again, as I was one of the things they were supposed to be shooting. "Er... you been shooting my gobbers, Lady. Why you here?"


    "Would it horribly surprise you to learn that I''m human?" I answered calmly, eyes dancing. As if every human on this side of the galaxy didn''t know that by now.


    He blanched despite himself. "This planet is ours!" he stated unequivocally. "The rockies took it ''way from us long ago. We''re jes taking it back!"


    "Please. You took it from the akefer back before then... you think I didn''t look at the planet''s history?" He had the most interesting expression. "This place isn''t your homeworld, so it was conquered by you, and then you were kicked off it in turn. Just like you''re trying to do now. Should have come back three thousand years ago, before it was discovered and settled. We didn''t even have to fight anything for it then."


    He growled deep, a big old rumble in his chest, and his expression wasn''t very calm. "So, yer ta be killing all the gobbers here? For the humans?"


    "Well, I can''t possibly be killing all of you, can I? Just the important ones that will stop this invasion." My smile grew wider, and double canines flashed at him, while Chalice''s Song started to get very ominous indeed.


    "Tremble, oh oooo oh, Tremble, she comes," the urgobs behind him hummed along helplessly, and things got very tense indeed. Goblin dread smells right peculiar, it does.


    He was looking at me and my Sword, and all sorts of things dealing with him being dead in the next few seconds, along with all his hairy boys, were running through his head. I certainly didn''t seem to be worried that there were lots of goblins with heavy weapons around, and, well, anything sufficiently strong to kill me was definitely going to kill all of them as well.


    Things weren''t looking good for the newly christened Warlord Gorgrum, fighting to the top of the goblin race after surviving the Ceremony in Bloodheart.


    "Er, no backsies, eh?"


    I tilted my head. "Just how many humans have you eaten in the last six months?" I tsked at him. "Yeah, kinda late, furball."


    He sighed, and then he roared.


    It had great stirring power, helping combat the fear I was broadcasting with its berserk energy and psychic power spiking all the aggressive instincts around.


    At the same time, he bounced twenty feet up and sixty feet back. "KILL ''ER!" he bellowed, hit the ground, turned and ran.


    I laughed despite myself, and the sound chased him as Chalice''s Song rose in terrible killing majesty.


    "Tremble, oh oooo oh, tremble, she comes!" squealed a whole lot of goblins, who began to explode in every direction.


    "Gorgum said Kill ''er,


    An'' she''s right killin'', she is.


    Damn dat Sword cuttin''


    Slicin'' up da urs'' suits like cheese


    Watchum squeal and squeak


    Spitting da steel, screaming


    Dat Sword is comin'' -akkK!"


    Gorgrum''s hardened personal company of berserker stealth cyborgs in power armor roared and bellowed and squealed, and metal protested at the terrible things I was doing to it and the things it was supposed to be protecting.


    They went crashing into one another as I heaved them back and forth, heavy bodies and armor being tossed around like they could one another, only much faster. Chalice inserted into every weak point and opening, and chewed through their armor almost as if it wasn''t there... as Way of Water IV was reducing its protection by 8, it was less than half as effective as it could have been, and the adamant-fed orichalcum wasn''t respecting anything less hard as it did its thing.


    My Tails were inserting Spikes from all sorts of uncomfortable angles, locking up limbs and popping power supplies, so there were a rather large number of explosions around me that were taking out the guys not in power armor explosively, drawing in more goblins to the excitement.


    "Tremble, oh oooo oh tremble, she comes!" they sang along, and if all their hackles were rising and some of them were pissing themselves and others were shaking with every step, they were still singing along to the refrain as Sun Strikes went off and the corpses of elite urgob berzerkers went flying in pieces.


    "Dey wuz a hard Kill Crew,


    Gorgum''s lads, shining and clawed.


    Bam, dat fire going off,


    Dere claws and fangs all flailing


    Wee, watchum go flying


    Or, he lost ''is hand, go givit back,


    An'' dere''s his head sayin''- akkK!"


    The slaughter commenced, even as the doors on the Landing Rok began to close up urgently, since I was getting very, very close.


    Some energetic fans tried to level the ship''s guns on me, and suddenly most of the ground I had been standing on got atomized, along with scores of goblins trying to throng me and the last of his Kill Crew.


    Me, I was running up the side of the ship towards those guns. What might all fourteen of those Engineering and Shipwright Ranks be worth in such a situation?


    "Tremble, oh oooo oh tremble, she comes..." the crew of the Landing Rock were singing along...


    "Or, watch dat cannon go!


    Oops, dat wuzna shootin''


    Great color, da gun core


    Gribble-hue red, good stuff,


    Once, twice, Gorgrum''s Rock


    Haz a new hole dere an'' dere,


    Or, he''s fallin'', gunna hit -akkK!"


    I was inside his Rock as its engines lit up and it engaged anti-grav and tried to get out of there. If a few thousand gobs didn''t get out of range of the engines in time, that was the price of fandom.


    I was carving my way through the low-end crew and heading towards the engines and the famously unstable goblin power cores very quickly, the whole Rock resonating with Chalice as she Sung out to them, telling them I was coming.


    Gorgrum was quite the decisive sort, as he unstaged the lower half of the Rock, which took away his primary weapons and energy core, leaving him only enough power to run and leave me behind.


    Then, of course, the power core blew apart.


    -----


    Chalice popped me a few minutes back along my Lived-line into a prior location, close to where I had come falling down. A lot of goblins were watching the big explosion of a Rock going off a few miles up there, while Gorgrum''s pinnace zipped up into the sky, leaving behind this world with me on it.


    "Tremble, oh oooo oh, tremble, she comes..."


    A bunch of goblins mouthed the words and turned to look at me as all the guns and Tails lifted, and my soulsword was back out.


    Obviously, I hadn''t died.


    "Or, der went Gorgrum''s Rock,


    ''e made it out, waytgo ''im!


    Wattashow, dat Plant goin'' off,


    Did ''e get ''er? Is she singin''?


    All dat fire, all dat blow?


    Smoke and scream hadda be...


    Or, she''s right here -akkK!"


    And the killing continued, as I moved towards the other Rocks.


    -------


    Only one of the Rocks didn''t make it off the ground, as whoever was in charge of it didn''t really believe I could cut through a couple of miles of goblins, avoid all the cannon fire and artillery that started to open up around me, carve my way in through his airlocks, overcome his elite marines and ''borg guards, upset that Weird Fire power source they used, and then somehow get out of there before a few uncontrolled megatons of power that didn''t get vented off subdimensionally glassed a circle a couple miles across.


    The goblins got a half-dozen verses out of the process, so they were happy.


    The rest of the Landing Rocks decided that their skins were more important than getting added to -akkK!, and lifted off, one after another. Some took the time to allow their elites back on board, but mostly they just left the millions of goblin ground troops behind to fight without them there.


    Oh, and with me. Dying at 40 gobs a second around me.


    ------


    Well, while I wasn''t saying I won the war single-handed, goblin morale and troop cohesion of the clans on Capristi II did tank rather suddenly as their ruling class decisively abandoned them, inciting them to kill and plunder and do all that they could against the filthy monkey-people, while being very certain not to go back to the planet themselves. They were actively looking for a way out of the system and to some other place without a certain Rantha and her Sword belting out their now-favorite tune.


    Inter-clan and interspecies coordination dropped off rather sharply, and rivalries for local warlord status meant some goblins started shooting at other goblins, which they were allowed to do by the thoughtful humans, who concentrated on picking off the goblins still shooting at them.


    Some goblins stayed true to their ideas of kill, burn, and eat right to the end, and didn''t worry about the bit of politicking going on between the mostly hobgoblin-led forces. The urgobs always did what they wanted regardless, and the runty greens just needed lots of explosions and things to shoot at to keep them happy, even if it was one another.


    It took another nineteen months to wind down, and a lot of orbital bombardments, before the goblin presence was mostly gone from Capristi II.


    ------


    My Archer Level was the first Secondary Level to get to Eight. Can''t imagine why, after shooting so much stuff in the face at twenty pulses a second x 2 for so many weeks. As a matter of fact, it was also the first one to get to Seven.


    Class benefit, Penetrating Shot, basically a Cleave for shooting stuff. If you killed something, and there was something right behind it, you could shoot that too...


    Wow, I had a lot more angles to figure to make use of that ability... keeps the brains happy...

 Chapter 500 - Far Future Ch 210 – Shall We Send in the Marines?

    "Sir, we have a problem."


    Battlemaster Chaerus sneered when he heard the clipped relay coming over his armor''s relays, while his gyro gun blew explosive rounds into the position of the Imperial Marines he was currently crossing, blood and guts flying everywhere as their mass-produced carapace armor proved no match for the heavy guns of a Warp Legionnaire.


    A long, long time ago, he had been a member of the Blue Sharks, famed in the Legions for their swift raiding ability and plunging charges from surprise deep into enemy positions.


    As he understood it, there were only three Shark Imperial Legions left, and they were all space-based, all moving from battlefield to battlefield, hunting the enemies of the Empire. The rest of the Shark Legions had emotionlessly followed their Primogenitor Charcharin into service to the Warp. It was the single largest defection among all the Imperial Legions, and so the Sharks were inevitably tainted with association to the Warp.


    The frenzy the Bone Sharks could enter into in the thick of combat was as powerful as the rage, fury, battle madness, combat euphoria, or fugue mindlessness of any of the other Legions, and their speed on the attack and retreat unmatched. The Sharks stood the proudest of all the Legions of the Warp, and were not at all shy about proving it.


    This Imperial World was no great threat, a mere agriworld, with production facilities scarcely able to provide for their own war goods, let alone send material off world. However, this breadbasket world produced literal mountains of grain for other worlds that didn''t have adequate recycling facilities, or the more idyllic worlds of the wealthy and noble who would not touch such processed fare.


    They had already slashed through the outer defenses of the only kiloplex on the planet, a sprawling urban dystopia built over the only viable mining region of the planet, as well as its only major spaceport.


    The defenders here were mostly Planetary Guard, and were both soft and inexperienced. The few companies of Imperial Marines stationed here also going soft on the job, and hampered by the panic of the native troops. Any competency they had was being buried in the panic of their fleeing native fellow troops, destroying any coordination or chance at a defense.


    Exactly as intended.


    "Did some psions turn up?" he growled back. Psions were always a random element, but the psionic presence on this world was mild, and any competent mnetalists left basically as soon as they could, or got cushy jobs serving the planet''s debauched and decadent elite, whose numbers had been infiltrated by cultists and were hampering the command structure of the planet deftly as they did so, be it by misdirecting information, playing down the threat, giving power to the incompetent, sidelining the competent, or simply and subtly isolating and removing any positive influences over time.


    The upper class of this place was an indolent and self-obsessed mess of fools, and without that overarching, mutual support and belief in one another, the drones of the worker class simply would not and could not fight for them as they should.


    They should not be running into anything resembling a disciplined unit of battle psions, and the Orders Twilight on this world was largely passive and kept occupied by minor cults exposed here and there, unaware of the greater infiltration going on... and they certainly didn''t have the numbers to turn around the situation themselves.


    The assassination of their Dukes on the eve of the attack probably had something to do with it, too, he thought with a grim laugh.


    "No, sir, it''s- brzzzzz...."


    "Austal? Sergeant?" He flicked to the indicator lights of his company, just tiny dots, but each representing a member of the company. Focusing on one of the tiny lights brought up current status, and with his command codes could even do a shared sensory feed or armor override.


    The dot for Sergeant Austal had just gone dark. The indicators were that he''d died a couple hundred yards through the sprawl in that direction, where the panicked PG was retreating in broken fashion, and being gunned down whether they fought or ran, thermal sensors ferreting them out if they tried to hide. There was an explosion ahead as the vanguard team took out a hardpoint with an embedded short autocannon that had pinned down a couple squads, sending hot rounds into its power supply.


    Wait, all four other members of the sergeant''s squad went dark, without warning. How had they died so fast?


    "We have incoming! Beware of an ambusher!" Psychoactive rounds were ready to be chambered for his gyrifle, specifically enchanted by Warp sorcery to deal with psionic defenses. "Someone get me a track on what killed Squad Four!"


    There were clicks of acknowledgement as the advancing teams scanned their surroundings, looking for signs of whatever killer had managed to off a team of their brethren.


    "Sir!" There was a click, and suddenly Gusker''s light was gone.


    Chaerus immediately accessed Gusker''s suit feeds, since his power supply was still active. Actually, the armor could get up and bring a dead Legionnaire back to his unit if guided properly, although this had a habit of triggering necroic events and animating the corpse of their departed squad-mates.


    There was nothing for the last ten seconds, but then Hrihim, Huebloz, and Ybrosk''s lights blinked out, one after another, as their shouts filled the tactical feed with confusion and defiance.


    Chaerus was pounding towards their location, as were all other squads in the vicinity. Drones had been launched to spot for them, the little demons powering them tittering as they Possessed the skull-ornamented mechanical toys and swept the area, looking for targets.


    Some bright things shot into the air and promptly wiped every one of the machines with remarkable precision, given the amount of Warp influence burning comfortably in the air that had been brought along by the advancing Legionnaires. They blew up and fell, burning in white light...


    Vivus, the white flames that ate the Warp. Chaerus'' blood quickened to see it, and he heard the static wails of the drone-demons as they were devoured and broadcast it to everyone nearby in unnatural wails.


    Gusker had been panning right to left, his suit''s displays actually giving him 360 vision, a feature so many would-be attackers were ignorant of, looking for an ambusher.


    Sir!, replayed his voice, and then suddenly there was a crack of disruption as something came through the screen, the telltale mark of something punching right through his helm and into the brain of the Legionnaire.


    There had been no sign of who did it?...


    Squad Six began screaming, and gyros and slugthrowers chewed burning rounds through plascrete and into the sky, clearly indicating where the firefight was taking place.


    He watched their lights blink off, one by one by one...


    "HELMS OFF!" screamed Qormic, and then his light faded as the crump of a point-blank grenade went off.


    Helms off... Chaerus rounded the corner to where Squad Six had been, seeing three armored bodies scattered and fallen, and one still overbalancing, the head smoking, and no sign of who had done it. Squad Five was coming up behind him with great speed, their armor almost effectively weightless despite its weight.


    Chaerus raised his helm quickly.


    The unfiltered sounds and sharper smells of the outside world hit him instantly. His visual range was considerably more limited, even with the enhanced senses of his bloodline, then it was inside the armor, and even with a partial kinetic screen about him to deflect incoming attacks, he was much more vulnerable.


    The woman was coming for him out of nowhere as his natural eyes met hers in shock, as if she had appeared out of nowhere.


    His gyrifle roared, and he almost died.


    The small Shield on her arm glittered with light, gained a foot all around, and met the incoming burning rockets, which should have immediately detonated, blown the shield apart, and sent the mangled body of the woman flying.


    Instead, they were reflected right back at him!


    Only the enhanced reflexes of his bioengineered body saved him from blowing his own head off as the rockets came bouncing back at him. Three of him walked up his chest armor, ringing and cracking off the diamond-hard ceramic of his armor, scoring it, the last of them impacting against his gorget and sending parts of it winging away, tearing through his ear with a shard of ceramite and durasteel.


    She had a mindblade. He recognized the Suns and Stars instantly, an armor-shredding charge of energy empowering it that could tear his suit right open with sufficient power. Coronals with mindblades had killed many Legionnaires over the millennia, and the Warped Legions paid the debt back with interest whenever possible.


    This woman was not wearing a Coronal cloak. A mere mercenary blade-belle was daring to attack him?...


    A bladebelle with five Stars and two Suns.


    And too many arms, and Tails rising up behind her...


    "Weaver!" he swore, as he brought his arms up.


    With crunches of shattering ceramite, Spikes of burning force buried themselves in the bracers of his armor, and he felt cold pain spiking through his arms as the points reached his flesh and tore important things there. She knew exactly where his arms ended, driving the spikes in high up on his armor''s limbs.


    He leapt to the side, the gauntlet-Blade of his armor snapping out with fractal eagerness and demon-reinforced strength.


    She leapt sideways right with him, and his swing swept behind her into where she should have been as her blade came up on him.


    Why was it black with a gold edge? That seemed...wrong...


    Five tails, two unnatural limbs, a mindblade...


    This was the Dark Angel, who he had thought was just some propaganda shill dreamed up by Imperial fools, giving the masses hope where there was none!


    The Sword flashed forward. His reflexes were fast enough to see it, not to respond as it went in under his other arm, to the seam between his chestplate and girth... and despite his armor being Energized by Warp Sorcery to resist the armor-rending effect of a Sun Strike, it slid right in as the Sun Strike discharged.


    The damage was horrendous. His implants screamed at him as the energy tore apart his insides, severed his spine, and raged up his nervous system. The armor''s systems didn''t actually require him to use his own nervous system, and had bypasses for when just this sort of thing happened, but Battlemaster Chaerus knew instantly that he had never been hit so badly as he just was, and he could only try to knock her away.


    Her Shield took the impact of his arm, lifting and turning it up and away with superhuman strength, spinning him so his return lunge with his gauntlet-Blade whisked an inch above her head. She was getting in even closer as she lifted up, and his armored arm went with it, as did he. He looked down into cold, clear blue eyes, holding a trace of serenity, a trace of amusement as her hand came up his carapace, holding a bladeless Sword Focus and bringing it up right in front of his eyes.


    He could only glare at her with his lidless black eyes, snarling with his razored, triangular teeth as she activated her Mindsword, and the manifesting Blade drove right through his head.

 Chapter 501 - Far Future Ch. 211 – The Marines Have Better Things to Do

    The Sun Strike came with it, and blew Battlemaster Chaerus'' skull apart in an explosion of whiteness whose bloom didn''t quite reach the ground.


    Squad Five saw her grab their Battlemaster''s armor by the girth with her Shield-bearing off hand, halt its fall, and then use it as cover as she raced towards them, accelerating as if she wasn''t holding onto something weighing more than a standard hovercar. The corpse of their commanding officer whined and cracked as their desperate shots of gyros, explosive rounds, tracers, and even a ripping plasma beam shot tore into the armored corpse, but didn''t find her.


    They were all unhelmed, and could see her moving, and the five Tails that rose up behind her and discharged at the face of the Legionnaire swallowing her and Chaerus'' corpse in a fusion stream, while the rest of the squad spread out to get arcs of fire on her.


    The Legionnaire on the left screamed and collapsed, a burning Spike in each eye and his nose. Her hip-anchored spidery arms aimed two hand crossbow-like Weapons to the Legionnaire moving left, one bending behind her back in a manner impossible for natural arms, and a combination of violet laser fire wound in deadly spirals of banefire to the Warp and that deadly unwhite vivus danced up his chestplate to his head, where a Bolt of force from each autobow joined the lasers in blowing his revealed head apart.


    Chaerus'' corpse was hurled right into the Legionnaire with the howling torcher, and a Sunstrike ripped the length of the demonic burning weapon, right into the flux of its power supply.


    The explosion of that fireball was hot and very intense, and could have easily taken out a tank as it blew the two marines of Squad Five apart, and Chaerus'' corpse into pieces. The burner was half-eaten away by the blast, and the vivus riding the edge of it starting nom-noming deeper.


    The last Legionnaire slammed into the wall of a grocery store there, wavered for a moment, and then slowly locked in place as his systems went off-line. The burns from the Torcher were minor, but the Soulsword inserted into his face where its wielder had ridden the explosion right into him was not.


    Squad Eight, coming in from a parallel street, swore and activated their jump jets, aiming to get airborne and pick this woman off from above as she turned around from the last of Squad Five.


    The jets on their back went off, but they were there for propulsion and speed; they couldn''t actually lift a ton of bioengineered combat mutate and his massive power armor off the ground... and their anti-gravity wasn''t working.


    She was coming at them very quickly as they opened up with lines of gyro and tracer fire, her Shield taking the hits, and the first Legionnaire of the Eighth Squad died as multiple ballistic rockets bounced his way and blew his upper torso and head apart. The heavy gunner with the autocannon blazing in his hands clamped his helm back down, and instantly lost sight of her as she veered left. He sprayed wildly, missing her.


    The Legionnaire on the left saw all those Tails and arms point his way, and didn''t get his helm down before the barrage slammed into him and took his grey matter and offensive threat away with them.


    The one on the right, moving to pincer her with cross-fire, crossed his arms in front of him as her Sword swept his way and released an ebon, gold-edged arc from the point, up in front of him instantly. He screamed as the Sharding bit into the psychically-buttressed durasteel, and his hands spasmed, only maglocks making certain he didn''t drop his gyrifle. He brought them back down as he backpedaled, using his jets for additional speed, but she was right there keeping pace, her Sword flitting back and forth as if weightless, shooting out more of those unnatural cutting, piercing arcs.


    Trooper Roolla watched as her Tails and false Arms rotated. Druzga the heavy gunner spun around, his helm flying off so he could see her, the screaming armor-piercing rounds of his auto-cannon gibbering demonically as they chewed up the scenery, all those limbs oriented directly onto him. The hugely armored heavy weapons Legionnaire turned around to see all those things pointing directly his way.


    As his autocannon swept towards her, all the Tails and Arms fired at once, converging on the same screaming point. A foot away from her, the trail of devastation and hungry demonic bullets whined by as they failed to reach her. The headless Druzga''s corpse settled in place as his armor balanced itself automatically, his finger staying clasped on the trigger of his autocannon.


    A bar of furiously burning unholy bullets screamed and swerved slightly from their paths, trying to get to her, but mostly they just shot down the street and began to reduce some plascrete walls to spraying shards of debris. Nothing behind them was going to survive them, if anyone was stupid enough to stay there.


    Trooper Roolla knew he had to shoot her if he wanted to live, just as his gyrifle whined in protest as it as was cut in two, there was a dangerous spark, and he had just enough time to look at it in alarm, hear the demons inside it wail as vivic energy shot through it, and the ammo feed detonated.


    ---------


    I watched the Legionnaire''s copious Compressed magazine of gyrockets go off as Bane conducted Sundering and Breaking through his weapon, the Possessed magic proved to be tasty to vivus, and it blew off all at once, tearing off both his forearms, sending some violently impelled shrapnel through his armor as alchemistry and psychic feedback had puppy-kittens, and the concussion wasn''t a small thing, either.


    Lots of said shrapnel pinged off my skin fifty feet away, and more of it was gently shunted aside as it approached me, streaks of unwhiteness shooting through the air and putting pockmarks into everything solid around me.


    The big Legionnaire''s autocannon was still shooting, two feet to my left. My ranged assets retargeted, and flashed once, blowing it apart, and the feedback of all that Compressed ammo cooking up through his feederbelt blew the hulking corpse and power armor of the brute sideways and past me in a burning arc of shrieking demons getting eaten and vivus nom-nomming away on them.


    Warp sorcery usually took on the aspect of Possession of devices when it came to enchanting arms and armor, and the Legionnaires were no exception. They had quickly lost the Psychic templates that were automatically wrought into Legion suits of armor, probably to subtle corruption and influence by the Emperor, and so couldn''t make new suits or perfectly repair the ones they had with pure technology.


    In the end, it didn''t matter. They could do the same thing with Warp sorcery, and they had, brute-forcing with an unholy mix of magic and psionics what the Empire had made possible with pure tech. Results-wise, it wasn''t that much different from what me and the kids did, but they didn''t dare Name their toys, or their toys would grow up and eat them.


    They were genetically engineered super soldiers in high end power armor, with Possessed equipment for that +3 to +5 edge of baddy-badness, and definitely the big morale hits as you saw warpfire feasting on the souls of the comrades next to you, just before you died to the mercilessly accurate fire of the madman with the brain on fire shooting at you.


    Chalice was only Singing to me, because I didn''t want the Legionnaires using the sound to zero on my position, which they would instantly do. Vampire''s Veil only affected electronics, so they couldn''t see me with their suit systems, unless the suits were full-on sentient, but they would be able to hear her song.


    That also meant they couldn''t snap pictures of me and relay them. They had to see me to shoot me... which actually wouldn''t affect their aim at all, but those helms were made to be able to take a gyro to the face, and naturally didn''t have Mark I Eyeball view ports. They had to be popped if they wanted to lay eyes on me.


    That was a rather big hole in their armor I immediately exploited, as it were.


    Chalice was in Umbral mode, which bypassed their armor... or most of it, the Warp-enhanced portion stayed relevant, like elastic bands inside the armor, slowing down the cuts. Still, when the Sun Strikes went off on top of that, the Warped Legionnaires were still punished badly, and no doubt they really hated such things. Now, a Coronal surviving to get close enough to use such a toy was a thing, which was why Coronals were so adept with other offensive forms of psychic power.


    To the Coronals, mindblades were usually finishing Weapons. Having enough investment in them to carve through a Legionnaire with them was extremely unusual. Making intelligent ones was just asking for the Warp to come in and corrupt them, after all, a very dangerous proposition when you were artificially making a Weapon spirit... and the volunteers to be imprisoned inside a Weapon for all eternity in slavery to who knew what somehow weren''t coming out of the woodwork.


    Hmm, that meant I was basically a heretical blasphemer, having so many intelligent ''demonic'' Weapons on me. Ah, well, I guess I''d have to live with it.


    These legionnaires had shattered a defense of literally thousands, sweeping through the men with near abandon. Without even Null Psions dropping Sun Shots on them, the only thing they had to fear were heavy weapons, which they simply knocked out first with inhuman accuracy, and then began to reap the hapless natives and Imperials who happened to be in-system and tried to lend some aid.


    The Boole and Strategos workers had tweaked me to the situation here; this place had been a stopping point for the regiment a certain B&R couple had been leading, now off to Khermark II to enjoy the hospitality of Mi-Go brain harvesters coming in for some experiments to expand the frontiers of proper Weird Science.


    When all was said and done, I could take them. However, I couldn''t slaughter them.


    Their armor was indeed heavy. In gaming terms, it provided an Armor Bonus, an Equipment bonus, and if they were defending, a freaking Cover bonus; it was massive enough to do so. While it wasn''t a tank, it was far nimbler and more responsive, responding just like a physical body to the enhanced power of the Legionnaire inside it, and they were literally bouncing around like hyped-up athletes, not slogging around like cargo movers.


    My Ranged Assets couldn''t get much force through the armor without landing Sun Strikes, and all these guys were Sixes walking out of their psi-Conditioning, with the elites all Tens, going Deep with ancillary Skills if they weren''t completely off their rockers, maxed out Health and Soak, maybe Possessed and with Demonic Racial Levels as they worked towards their apotheosis/slavery to the Warp, and so able to take a literally unholy amount of punishment inside those brightly colored shells of theirs.


    Pop the helms, not quite so hard to deal with. Get in sword range with Profound Artisan kicking in, also not quite as hard. Blow up their highly volatile ammunition, they might not like that too much, either.


    But these were just the vanguard squads, the footsloggers/jet-jumping sots overrunning the walls and breaking all the hardpoints for the main forces behind, tearing open the defense so the troop transports and heavy armor of the forces behind could swarm in and begin the total slaughter, instead of the routing.


    The main force would probably be in even heavier armor, eschewing jump jets in favor of wearing mecha suits instead of power armor, with even more outright Possession and the side effects thereof.


    This seemed to be one of Klaw''s crews, judging by the blood-accented color schema. The Thunder Bulls had tagged them as the Bone Sharks, one of the many descendants of the Shark Legions that had followed their Primogenitor to the Warp, famous for leaving literally only the bones of the worlds they ravaged behind. They never sought fair engagements, laughing as they ran from the Legionnaires who came to fight them... unless such Legionnaires could be surrounded in a frenzy and brutally slaughtered, of course.


    Stamping out a Fallen Legion that didn''t fight was very annoying. The Thunder Bulls were cheering me heartily as I killed them, and watching my sensory feed with great interest as I did so.


    The Thunder Bulls had slowly but heartily embraced the Strategos, and the Markspace in general. Yes, the Blood of the Emperor made them superhuman, stronger, faster, smarter than normal folks. However, it didn''t make them smarter and faster than ALL the folks, and certainly not smarter than Ranthas.


    Too, a few million minds working for you could accomplish a great deal just by sheer volume. Never underestimate the inventiveness of games-oriented people lazing about in technological society with nothing better to do than help the valiant grandsons of the Emperor butcher their enemies...

 Chapter 502 - Far Future Ch. 212 – The Bringing of Thunder

    There were literally tens of thousands of Marked who spent downtimes in MMO''s precisely designed to imitate Legionnaire armor and capabilities. They didn''t have the reflexes of true Legionnaires, but that was fine; they were there to generate ideas, new tactics, and strategies for them. The Bulls would line up a few thousand of them to take cracks at battle scenarios, and watch the results, learning from them before setting up their own attacks.


    They were often doing that in real time in the Marks, having helpers feeding them all the intel they wanted enthusiastically, like towing along a line of gamers pointing things out of interest, double-checking all the details, presenting ideas, and so forth.


    This heavy involvement with ''normal'' people carried over to the other duties of Thunder Bulls, as I expected them to be able to command normal troops in both tactical and strategic scenarios, and to get experience in both. They routinely rotated in and out of armor, artillery, infantry, and even aviation units, gaining both personal and command experience, in and out of their power armor.


    This involvement with normal militaries and even human civilians was basically unprecedented by Imperial Legions. Even at their height, they''d only been dominant over normal human forces, and considered them chaff compared to the full power of a Legionnaire. The natural arrogance this bred had created rifts with normal militaries, who were often leery of Legionnaires, even as they were awed by their power. Basically, the high-ends that were trusted the most were the Coronals, not the Legions.


    The Thunder Bulls, however, could work seamlessly with most militaries, even if they weren''t subordinate to them, and could rather quickly all but take direct command of a local military theater if they had to, without much effort... or outright take it with some effort, and maybe a little shooting of the incompetent. Any battlezone that was mired in hidebound incompetency was something to be fixed, not worked around, and if that required shooting a lot of stiff senior officers who were more concerned about propriety and rules and conformity over winning the fight, that was a lot of senior officers who had to be removed.


    All hail the Emperor, of course.


    The Thunder Bulls still had a long way to grow, of course. They still had battle losses, were still building up and training their new Companies, and were still working closely with the Coronals and Umbrans in their small units, their We''re Not a Real Legion configuration keeping them free of many of the restrictions which bound their brother Legions.


    But... they were getting good very quickly, indeed.


    There was getting timely information, and there was being able to look out the eyes of someone dozens of light years away in real time to find out the situation. Marked were being seeded in on new worlds basically every day, the Map was growing swiftly and steadily, and we were aware of stuff going on all across the galaxy swifter and faster than the best of the Empire''s astropaths and diviners.


    All this meant we had our constant pick of battlezones, and there was no downtime if you didn''t want to have it. Given that everyone knew what Karma did now, and how to apply it, battlezones were now places of opportunity, places to Level, to become Uber, and stepping stones to greatness. Fear? Fear what, a lifetime of irrelevancy and mundanity, when it was all right in front of you if you wanted to work for it?


    That infectious energy was the core of the how and why the Markspace worked, the core of Good people that wanted something better and were willing to work for it. Those who just wanted something for themselves, and couldn''t see that contributing to the greater whole also helped them, just couldn''t progress very far, and would forever be relegated down below to the relatively safe and satisfying support positions and mundane jobs, collecting a regular paycheck and knowing they were slowly improving, without all the nasty dangerous shooting stuff.


    Too, the Markspace did not differ on high or low born, it was a total meritocracy... which was a big reason why my kids and I were on top, of course. Everyone could see how ridiculously good we were at stuff, we literally were the best people at the jobs... but there was absolutely no way we could do everything, and really, except for the people with Talents in that area, bossing people around en masse was not in our personalities, and accumulating mad wealth and power so we could enjoy it while others starved certainly was not, either.


    That said, we needed to command that level of power and wealth to get shit done. However, instead of ripping it away from the lower strata of people, we spread it out and got it cycling through the system faster and faster. Money spurred demand, demand spurred production, production generated money, spurring greater demand spurred greater production which required greater skill and tech levels and required more of the people, who had to Level to meet the challenge.


    It was a simple and beneficial loop that the Mekkers flatly shut down because they ignored the ability of organics to improve constantly, relying instead on their own programmed elitism that was static and unchanging.


    The Thunder Bulls literally had the best support teams they could imagine. There were Null Psions who could help deal with Psions, there were Sources who could help bend the odds in their favor, there were Psion/Forsaken teams with incredible firepower or healing ability to take on stuff they had problems with, or fix them up or get them out of bad situations, and there was lots of bright shiny stuff for them to try out, see if it worked, and add to arsenals that their Brother Legions hadn''t really changed in millennia.


    Their brains now literally were as important as their brawn. It was a remarkable shift.


    The fact the Thunder Bulls were active in so many theaters, so effectively, and only getting better had not escaped their notice, especially with the Choral Lions talking about them constantly after they linked up with the Winged Lions, who were also stuck on this side of the Rift.


    The Thunder Bulls were getting new toys, a really elite support team, the same level of funding they were, and doing all sorts of fun and crazy stuff that they really wanted to get involved in.


    Word was spreading through the Legion system of these Not-A-Battalions, and some serious talk was happening over wondering if rotating some of their own people into such ''Thunder Companies'' might not be a useful thing to do.


    That such Companies might allow a Legion to grow bigger than its mandated size was not lost upon such Captains, although it all hinged on whether the Coronals and Umbrans would allow it. Captain Donnal was quick to inform them that his status was completely dependent on the approval of the Janus Dukes, and in the end his missions were determined by them... but, he also noted on the side, there was usually a whole slew of stuff to pick from that they might address, and the Coronals were not generally people to throw away their troops. Knowing what they were best at was part of what made the whole structure work.


    The Lions went out, and then some came back. Soon, Panthers, Tigers, Hawks, Serpents, Eagles, Bears, Rhinos, and Wolves were drifting up in squads, and new Thunder Companies were forming of mixed Legions, generally veterans eager to try out the new shiny stuff and gloat to their battle-brothers about it.


    These new Companies organized among themselves, their first challenge being to assemble themselves into viable combined-arms companies, and determine their own focus and the support elements needed to work with them. Never having had to determine their own support companies of mere humans to work with them at their tasks, the various Thunder Companies set to the task with glee, and soon names like Thunder Bolt, Thunder Cloud, Thunder Horse, Thunder Storm, and Thunder Hammer were forming as the Legionnaires of what soon became known as the Thunder Regiment began setting themselves up.


    And they were still neither a Legion, nor a Battalion!


    Of course, they had to learn how to work with normal human troopers in very skilled and inspiring manner, showing capability, control, speed, and understanding of what their people were capable of, and what avenues their tactical doctrine mandated they be trained in. The arrival of Nulls, Null Shields, and their Psion partners astounded the Legionnaires, who began vying with one another on how to outdo their comrades in cleverness on how to use these assets.


    Those Legionnaires too cold of mind and disdainful of mere humans were sent back to their Battalions firmly. The Coronals had no patience for anyone who thought themselves above mere humans, or who disdained psions. Those with cold disregard and willing to spend their people to achieve objectives callously also were soon mustered out and sent back. The Thunder Companies were to come with elite supporting specialists, and Levels meant that these people could be very, very competent at their tasks. A Legionnaire who could not value them appropriately was not worth keeping.


    All the Legions had different tactical doctrines, all of which they brought to the Thunder companies. They were actively refined and enhanced with the addition of Forsaken and Psionic support to a degree they had not had before, as well as dedicated companies of human units for their operations.


    The local Imperial Marines structure started to shift and alter around the demands and needs of these motile companies. While it was minor, it began to proliferate rapidly. While previously the only human forces the Marines might work with were those on their Battalion homeworlds, soon specialist units were being drawn up all over the Sector and trained to standards expected of operating directly with Legionnaires, with the elite of those being brought up to join a Thunder Company.


    Such men would be among the most elite of the Empire''s soldiers, and among the most active, rotating into war after war with even more regularity than the normal armies of the Empire. Coronals and even Umbrans were often attached directly to each Thunder Company, and the glory and prestige of serving with the foremost defenders of humanity meant there were no lack of volunteers ready to qualify for the status.


    Then, and only then, if their hearts showed silver or gold, were they Marked.


    -----------


    Captain Donnal held up his hand, and the assembled dozen Legionnaires, each from different Legions, gawked at the massive silver mindsword in his hand.


    He had been seen wielding an enruned blade of adamant, shining silver, with efficient skill and poise, but they had not imagined at all that he could generate a mindblade!


    He waved around the four-foot blade, just so that there would be no mistake to any of them that it was real.


    Then he focused, and the Two Suns and Three Stars rose upon it as his psyche aligned, and power fed into it.


    Every Legionnaire there knew what a Sun Strike and a Sun Shot portended. Their elite Null underlings and the psions with them made extensive use of them against their harder targets. Such firepower could easily overwhelm the defenses of a Legionnaire''s armor and kill them, and indeed, it had been such power that had finally broken the Traitor Legions long ago. They had been commanding people with such power, and now it turned out Captain Donnal of the Thunder Bulls could do the same?


    Normally only the Ministers of the Legions were capable of such feats...


    "I was brought into the Legions the same as all of you," Captain Donnal said calmly. "I was not born with the Emperor''s Gift back then, or I would now be a Minister." He snapped off his silver mindblade, and then restored it with a flick of his hand. "No, this gift, to the degree that I can use it, is here because we are all of the Emperor''s blood.


    "As it was explained to me... the Emperor is the mightiest psion who has ever lived in the human race, an Exemplar of Humanity. Is there any possible way his most precious gift was not passed down to us, his greatest tools in keeping humanity safe?"


    The Thunder Bulls captain waited, allowing all these very intelligent and pragmatic men to think all that over. Their faith and blood ties to the Emperor drove all that they were, and like he had, they came to the same conclusion.


    "The difference is that we were not Awakened, and for that, we have to thank the Primogenitors." Hostile looks flashed through the eyes of the men present at the thought of the Emperor''s own sons, going mad and turning to the Warp for power when they realized they could never succeed or exceed their father. Revolting against the Emperor, the Empire, humanity itself, all for jealous envy...


    They were the greatest shame of all the Legions. Because of them, the Mentats, the Coronals, and the Umbrans had risen to places of power, and their own status had fallen as a result, both officially and in the hearts of the Empire. While the Legions were greatly respected still, they were no longer revered as once they had been.


    "It is for that reason that only you in the room are here today," Donnal said quietly. "I have been told that all of you have souls that shine silver or gold." The eyes of the great warriors there blinked in surprise. They were far from unlearned on what the colors of a mindblade meant. "Awakening any and all of you is not difficult to do, if the person knows what they are doing. But those who can do so are very, very leery of allowing those of our brethren with the most ruthless mindsets the Gift, because we, above all, know where that led."


    There were grunts and nods all around. The temptations of the Warp were many, and this kind of power only drew its focus. Someone who had such power would be the subject of much attention.


    "Because we were not born with the Gift, but it was given to us, there are strict limitations on what we can do. The manifestation of a mindblade is the most powerful aspect of what can be done... we are fully capable of wielding a mindblade to its maximum power in all aspects." There were murmurs of anticipation at his words. The Nulls under them and their mindclaws could not do that. It took a full bladeboy or Coronal to fully display the powers of a mindblade.


    "We are also capable of using psionic Feats. We are not, however, capable of psionic Techniques or Disciplines. Because we were not born with The Gift, we are not true Psions, but there are a great deal of things we can learn how to do regardless."


    He opened his hand to get rid of his mindblade, pulled up a chair, and sat down in front of them, instead of standing. He waved them in closer, and taking the gesture for what it was, the officers of the other Legions scooted up in a circle around him eagerly.


    "I''m going to tell you some of the things I have learned to do. There are many more, and given the breadth of humanity, there will always be more discovered. The Nulls and Sources especially are enthusiastic about learning new ways to use a psychic Nimbus without spending psionic power, for they are in the same boat that we are.


    "But, before I do that, let me tell you another secret, about the armor we all wear, and the weapons we all wield..."

 Chapter 503 - Far Future Ch 213 – Movements in the Dark

    Voids can hide from everybody but the Land, and one another... and the widespread genetic tests and databases maintained by the public health organizations of the Empire.


    It took half a million man-hours of intensive searching through all the many systems of the Mechanists, sifting through the endless information networks of the public health systems, to find the coding related to the Void Brothers and the Silent Sisters.


    The architecture of the coding was at TL 17, basically as high as humanity had ever produced. It was hard-wired into the essential core of the computers that were at heart in every advanced city of the Empire, programs interspersed invisibly through other programs, linking together erratically yet powerfully, tripping when exposed to certain absolute genetic codes.


    They sent that information out in rider signals attached to other astropathic messages from the governments and guilds, which in turn triggered relays elsewhere to appropriate parties, until they reached their destinations. Orders came back on what to do, if the matter was handled locally, or ships were dispatched, if not.


    The children were located and removed, any other children tested if found, genetic tests administered of the parents as appropriate, and then the whole family was generally expunged, to make sure such a thing didn''t happen again.


    The children were then brought away to their new homes and bases of operations. For the rare women, that was the Quiet Temple of the Silent Sisters located on Titan.


    For the far more common Voids, that was the Mountain Retreat of the Imperial Assassins.


    Those systems were still in force, even on the far side of the Rift. As the isolated Sector had no access to the Retreat or the Temple, the responsible parties followed doctrine and simply killed the children and their families, preventing any problems that could not be controlled


    He was once a faceless knife in the dark, a tool of the Emperor who was supposed to burn out, go mad, and die as his gift finally killed him, making his life as useful as it could be before he perished before his time.


    Now, he was the Fire and the Sword of the Land!


    He had dearly and murderously wanted to return to the Retreat, cut open the suits of his brothers, let them hear the Land, and know they were meant to be something greater than mere knives of their callous masters.


    He also knew that if he tried that, he was going to die.


    He had made the decision to take a short trip through Gloom, to the far side of the Rift, and from there begin his work.


    The Hagbloods with Talents for educating, raising children, taking care of people, and all in all being nice folks had pitched in to help him, being totally outraged at the implications of what was going on. He had no problem finding support and willing hands, much to his amazement, and, to his own surprise, gratification.


    He had thrown away the name they had given him, knowing it was not his own, and had dredged up something from the depths of his memories that sounded right.


    Frank. Brother Firesword Frank.


    It was small and tiny, and he did not know his family name, homeworld, anything, and any search for it would trigger the system to come hunt him down. He could only know they were dead and gone, and his future Brothers would need them.


    There were no Voids or Vortices active on this side of the Rift. Ever since it had come into being, any newborns with the talent had been terminated. Any who had been caught here on the side of the Rift would have gone mad and died some years ago now... and he didn''t sense any on this entire side of the galaxy, so none of his Brothers had gone native. Likely, they had done as they were programmed to, and killed themselves before they ''went mad'', a double tragedy as they ended their lives as their power was about to finally break them free of the shackles upon them.


    He was going to make sure such a thing never happened again.


    He was in almost constant contact with the Free Brothers Sama had located. They had learned many things from Sama concerning talents of those Brothers who came from outside this universe.


    Outside this universe. Even now, merely thinking the fact made him grimace, made him twitch with the truth of it. He knew that was true, however much he wanted to deny it.


    Their entire universe, separated from the greater multiverse, from the multiverse of multiverses that was Creation, just to be the playpen of the Warp Gods, so they could mess around and have fun without the gods from Outside playing with them.


    He knew it all, because the Void Brothers were the Guides, and the Favored of the Land. They were born to learn all the dark, dread secrets and horrors of reality, and do something about them. So he also knew of the hole to Outside Creation, and the things that had infiltrated this universe from there, going backwards and forwards in time impartially.


    He knew that the Mother of Sama Rantha had dealt a horrible blow to the Warp Gods, opening up that hole, opening up links to the Warp, and in doing so, torn that Rift across half the galaxy.


    Whether they liked it or not, the fate of the Warp Gods was set. The incessant, mad conflict between souls in the afterlife that defined the Warp and gave them so much of their power was getting siphoned away as those souls were finally drawn to their proper fates. How long it would take, nobody knew... but Sama was pretty intent on accelerating the process, and was only one step away from being able to take those first steps.


    She needed to get to Fifteen, and she would be able to design the Vivic Wards that could cut off an entire planet from the active influence of the Warp. It would literally fall out of the awareness of the Warp Gods. Vivic flames would send the souls of those who died directly into the proper afterlife from their own tiny pockets of the Warp.


    Such places, however, would be very painful for psions to live in, filled with a constant emptiness in the mind and pressure in reality that would be difficult to bear. Psions who could learn to bear up under such pressure would be some of the most dangerous mentalists in the galaxy.


    Most psions would choose to go offworld and not have to deal with the pressure, opting for other methods to stave off the influence of the Warp if possible. There would be a clear division between the Powered, who would have to endure such discomfort, and the Primos, who would basically ignore it.


    That being said, the threat would be coming from space to destroy such Wards as they went up, as basically everything inside them was like a fat, juicy meal to the Warp Gods, who might soon start starving if their helpings of leeched emotions and instincts was interrupted. Like any animal cut off from its food source, they would take violent steps to redress the situation.


    But first, they had to know the situation was happening, as the worlds would just quietly vanish from their considerations...


    At Sixteen, Sama was sure she could work out the method to ward an inner system. At Seventeen, a Solar System. At Twenty, a Heliosphere. The technology itself would get easier, it was just that making the components would be more difficult.


    The TL14 Tachyon Drives were already coming out, their interstellar speeds rising steadily, and with it their ability to explore. The technology curve was only going up, and the only thing slowing it down was having enough people behind it competent to work the technology to the exacting standards required. Sure, you needed to be a Fourteen to truly understand how the tech worked, but what it really meant is you needed to be able to pull off a 34 on the check, routinely, to make and run such systems.


    That required some very talented, very focused, and very skilled individuals, and in very large numbers. Impossibly large numbers


    The kind of numbers being generated by Ranthas and their Marked, tens of thousands of otherworldly Hags leading thousands upon thousands of Marked towards a brighter future, Leveling them up on the corpses of the enemies of humanity, putting them in the jobs that they were best at, and giving them a massive Stat boost so they could attain the Levels needed to do the job.


    They were attaining those Levels in numbers unprecedented in the history of humanity.


    And they certainly weren''t running out of enemies of humanity to help them climb the curve, Frank reflected, as he blended into the side of a building, waiting for his prey to emerge.


    Klosk IV was an idyllic world, and would have qualified as a pleasure planet were it open to visitors. As it was, it was owned by a consortium of private parties who did indeed use it as a vacation world, getaway, and the retirement home of those tired of the rat race who wanted to idle their years away doing whatever they wanted in fresh air, spectacular scenery, and absolute power over their lessers.


    There was a very steady flow of G&G volunteers trickling into this world, and three Ranthas had set up shop. Marked were already starting to spread through the lower class, and their information network had covered the planet within a few weeks.


    It was pretty much mass agreement by all concerned that most of the nobles here were going to die violently. Of course, any rebellion was going to be put down by the most ruthless means possible... however, there were plenty of ways to take advantage of that, and the Ranthas intended to do just that.


    Probably millions of people were going to die to destroy the decadent, abusive rule of the elites of this place, but that would leave the whole place ''ownerless'' and ripe for claims by parties all too willing to do such a thing. Certainly there weren''t any Ranthas or Briggs who had infiltrated pirate groups or Marque-bearers abusing their status, and gotten rid of them in fine fashion, miraculously inheriting their ships, just like Sama had conveniently acquired an initial fleet and Title on the far side of the galaxy.


    That was what was going to happen, the wheels were already in motion, plans updating in real time across thousands of light years, slowly growing and closing in on this place.


    This was also a place where the agents who gathered the Voids and Vortices for the Sector were trained, based, and dispatched from, just another random hunting mansion with nobody within a hundred miles, coming and going as they pleased, just like all the other wealthy families, who knew enough to not even acquire about who and what they were, or risk getting quietly exterminated overnight


    Even here, on the far side of the galaxy, with no Voids to order around, the Assassins still had influence, even if they now had to resort to more traditional methods to enforce their wills.


    Frank wondered how they were carrying out the Emperor''s will... or the Sector Governor''s, such as it was. They could train their own, new agents, but would find them far less gifted and talented then Voids, unless they chose to go with psions. If they went with psions, they opened themselves up to exposure to the Warp, and all that could happen with that.


    Ah, they were probably stewing in their boots, pining for their little disposable assets coming back to them as ready killers. The only place in the galaxy allowed to train Voids was the Mountain Retreat. What steps had been taken to make sure his kind couldn''t hear the Land must have beggared the imagination when he thought about them. Sama and Briggs had worked on a dissertation about theoretical kinds of equipment that would be needed to tamp down on the Land''s influence, and both had agreed it was 17+.


    Only the Emperor and his personal cronies could have pulled it off


    There was no sign of one of his brethren here. The clear trail they left through the living field was impossible for another Void to miss, meaning Voids had very little difficulty tracking one another. His exposures to the Mindring, the Waterspear, and the Shadowknives had also shown him that Voids could be very different in their own ways, and that it was a good thing.


    He eyed the sensors scattered about the place, hidden things of crystal and technology, subtle psionic enhancements, and great sensitivity.


    Clarity sensors, made for tracking the presence of Void Brothers...

 Chapter 504 - Far Future, Ch. 214 – There will be Fire...

    Without speaking with the Free Brothers, he never would have known the method to suppress his Helices to the extent that the sensors could not pick him up, as long as he did not move too quickly.


    Without the Ranthas, he would never have learned about the Vampire''s Veil, which did not let any electronics without a soul register his visage or presence. He was now completely off the grid unless he wanted to be on it.


    Without the Briggs, he would not now have a Sword that would be burning through his enemies.


    Without the Markspace providing so many places to meet the enemies of the Land and put them down, Inferno would not be the Weapon it was now.


    And without Cat and her sisters, well...


    -Are you thinking about me again?- she promptly /purred to him, big green eyes, dark hair, that sultry voice, and all those furry tails filling his mind.


    There were many, many other benefits to losing that damn suit, and the Ranthas had been happy to show him a whole lot of them... and make sure that he could show any woman he cared to a great deal of them too. Night Rose Ranks were as deadly as Ripping Life, in their own way.


    -I was... not, but now I most certainly am,- he /answered, unable to stop a mental grin. It would have been a complete waste of his Matrix and hers to be lovers, so Cat had simply gone out and located two complementary Psions for them both.


    Both knockdown attractive women, both her Marked, and all three of them there for him.


    For the hundredth time, the words ''Favored Sons of the Land'' floated through his head. Life simply could not be so good. Just having that rock-solid, infinitely deep, awesomely vital presence right there in his head to lean on whenever there was stress pounding at his temples, and the screaming duty and need of the Land became so hard to bear...


    In her arms, there was only silence. And ticklish tails. Lots of silky furry, just for him.


    He was not at all used to working with a bonded Psion, of course, and Kitten simply adjusted to whatever his preferences were... which didn''t mean Cat wasn''t making sure Kitten was capable in all sorts of areas that her cute little dimples seemed to make impossible...


    Sheba was the social manipulative sort, considering the rest of the world things to play with... except for other Marked, and especially Cat and Kitten, who she brooked no insults to at all. As for him, he was once merely terrifying, but knowing that she was working directly for an Assassin who had broken free from the Emperor and become TRULY dangerous... well, a woman like her simply couldn''t resist him at all.


    Yes, that horrible sense of betrayal and loss didn''t feel nearly as bad as it had all those months ago.


    And, yes, he''d found that all of his new Brothers were pretty much being treated the same way. Even the Shadowknives had their Colbys around to keep them company.


    Life hadn''t gotten any easier with the Hags around, of course. As a matter of fact, it usually got a whole lot harder, and very quick, and wow, they fact they could deal with it, and start catching up to these killing machines on sexy legs, made their hell-and-damnation lives a lot more bearable.


    Their... unique viewpoints on all-encompassing violence didn''t hurt, either.


    -Tch,- she /replied, giving him a mental chuck on the head. -No movement from the place yet?-


    -Has the message come through the astropath station here?- he /wondered. They had tracked the scattered messages through the systems and its hard-wired pathing all the way through nine different message jumps and drops to this system, which was way out in the middle of very safe nowhere, a little jewel in the void forgotten to all but the wealthy whose private playpen it was.


    Those sensors alone meant this was the place, but there barely seemed to be anyone around. Only the most passive of probes had been used on the place, as they were absolutely sure active scans would set off something violent.


    -I''m reading a surge of electronic activity from down low. The lower levels are lighting up. Perhaps they are getting ready to go somewhere?- Kitten /spoke up from where she was monitoring the sensor grid they''d set up around this place. The concealed lower levels and the hangar built into the side of the mountain nearby had not escaped them.


    -Flight plans are being filed through the defense systems,- Sheba /broke in from where she was monitoring the government traffic. -Confirm message arrival two minutes ago.-


    -Excellent. Cat, you want to come along and greet these people with me?-


    -Fanatic child murderers are just the sort of people I want to meet at least once in their lives,- she /replied calmly, and the bloodthirst ready to explode through beneath it sent his heart pumping.


    There was killing for the Emperor, there was killing for the Land, and then there was killing because it was so very fucking much the right thing to do to total bastard shitheads who needed to die in the worst way.


    He began to move, feeling Cat shifting on the opposite side of the complex, and closing in with, well, murderous speed. Their systems wouldn''t see her, just as they weren''t seeing him as he bounded forwards, Diamond Vajra Mark IV making him faster and smoother than he had ever been, heading for the nearest live guard to remove, a quick entry through the laen windows that could shake off autofire, and then following after whoever was going down, while Cat swept the upper floors with Trembling thoroughness and haste.


    He would be going down into the darkness lighting up ahead of him, and she would be going into the light behind him and making it dark.


    ----------


    They were very skilled, or his masters would not have employed them. But they were not Voids, and they were certainly not Void Brothers, which were everything an Assassin dreamed of being.


    He took out the cyborg first, running along the walls and ceiling out of nowhere, plunging his blades into the cyberized killer and ripping away what remained of his life.


    His Helices spun out, the psion there shrieked as his power was stolen from him at breathtaking speed. Frank dumped the whole amount into a Deep Crystal throwing star and flicked it back at him.


    The man only had time to gape as it hit, and the star violently dumped that psionic power out as rotating, cutting blades of force. The psion was sliced into wafer-thin strips from the point of impact, and then blown apart, spraying blood and flesh everywhere in an explosion of crimson.


    The shooter there found himself instantly covered in blood and unable to see out of either cybereyes or normal ones. He had his guns in his hands flicker-fast and was shooting in every direction with arcs of fire covering all the predicted approach points with devastating thoroughness.


    Gun-Fu was used by people with advanced predictive abilities; just calculating arcs and points of attack didn''t work at all, as it was likewise simple to counter-calculate and ignore those points. Only by truly shooting at where someone would be using foresight, ''insight bonuses'', was Gun-Fu truly effective.


    He was now Beyond Law and Chaos. Forsaken were largely invisible to such forces, and now he was beyond being influenced by them, too. This blinded man had no way to get lucky and hit him.


    Inferno flicked out, solid flame in physical form, and removed both the gunman''s hands just as they crossed to change positions. 18d6 of Cut Life fled him as he lost his hands, and he shuddered and died, his time having come.


    The Cleave became a burning point of light, and the panicking tech guy, a deadly needler clawed to his hand, caught it right in his chest, burning through his stylish leather jacket. His tech-kit clattered to the ground as his life was severed out the wound in his chest. His eyes rolled, and he went sprawling back against the bloody wall.


    The woman in psi-grade power armor jumped over in front of him, a dark red mindblade flashing into being automatically. She realized her error almost instantly, as his Helices reached out and tore the hardened psionic blade apart like the raw energy was, and the feedback actually flared in her eyes for a second.


    She looked down, and found Inferno buried to its hilt in her chest, having melted right through the protection of her psi-armor. It was busily turning her body cavity to ash, and she could only jerk and quiver as black smoke boiled busily out of her mouth and nose. A few seconds later, her eyeballs exploded from the heat, as Frank shrank Inferno down and then back out, letting her charred corpse fall.


    The middle-aged man with flat grey eyes stared at him as if he were regarding the lowest form of vermin possible.


    "A traitor to the Mountain," he stated with obvious contempt and loathing. "Who are you?"


    Frank flicked his burning sword, only a line of fire, and the man gasped, clutched at his leg, and fell sideways as it was burned right through by the Sharding instantly.


    "A traitor to Reality''s words are kind to me at the end," he replied to the headmaster, never stopping moving, staying out of arcs of fire from the forearm-mounted dart launchers, the burning light of the Harlique Ring he was wearing, the monofilament-launching belt buckle, and the other tricks typical of Mountain instructors.


    Inferno moved with preternatural speed, beyond anything a mere Assassin could unleash. His retraining had been very thorough, he had Leveled ¨C gods, had he Leveled! ¨C and his natural capabilities were now far beyond anything a crippled Assassin could bring to bear, let alone this Mentat who enslaved the Favored Sons of the Land.


    "Do you think you''ve won? As soon as I die ¨C gkk!" his words were interrupted as Inferno smoothly severed his head from his shoulders, burning and searing the wound cleanly. Gaping, the man''s head dropped from his shoulders.


    Frank knelt next to him, and the disk hit the ground next to the staring head, snapping out to full size. He grabbed the greying hair of the Mentat, slammed the head down on the Disk, and psi-tech hissed and sprang to life. A crystal containment bubble was instantly woven into existence around the living head, while countless wires drove upwards into the flesh and brain of the helpless man. He couldn''t unleash his power while a Helice bound him, and now the Braincase was draining any reserves he had, using his own power to charge it as it filled up with preservative gelatin that would keep him alive while the Braincase handled life support.


    Frank had no words for the man at all. Questioning such people was not his mandate, but he had access to people, oh did he now, who were very good at questioning on all the levels. Mind-reaming a Mentat was a dicey proposition, but the fact was that it had been proven that memory was also an organic and physical function, as many a cerebrovore had been happy to proven over the millennia.


    There was a Rantha named Quincy whose Talent was Brain Surgeon. She had dutifully streamlined a Braincase that could go right up into someone''s skull, drain out all their psionic power to power itself, and then start disassembling its brain, the memories there, and start collating them for later examination.


    Oh, and incidentally removing any sensors, brainbombs, psychic seals, and similar things, although he''d already leeched the explosive power behind the Seal in this man''s head.


    They were literally going to go into this guy''s skull and take everything from him. Unless he had command of his own physiology and could literally liquefy his brain via pure willpower, as some of the Ranthas had shown him how to do, all his secrets were going to be given up in fairly short order, and they were going to learn everything he knew.


    In the meantime, this facility, where word of all the Voids and Vortices born on this side of the galaxy came, was theirs.

 Chapter 505 - Far Future Ch. 215 – Disappearing into a Void

    -I have the Braincase telemetry,- Sheba''s sly razor of a voice confirmed it was operational.


    -Look for any codes or maintenance that have to be done to keep this place active, and any self-destructs we need to disable.- he /replied promptly.


    There was a /relayed click as Cat inserted a relay drive into a data socket, and Goldilocks crews half the Sector away began to work on the systems here through her Mark and Band. -Taking down the Interdiction in three, two, one... Kitten, time to cyberpath.-


    He felt the mental shift as the petite psion teleported in right beside Sama several hundred feet above him. At the same time, schematics of the base were downloaded to him, and he processed them quickly, knowing where and what to look for.


    He left the Braincase right where it was. The mouth of the Mentat was gaping open, frozen in a scream as his eyes quaked and twitched, the device going about its work and not needing Frank to be present.


    The man could only watch him go, screaming where no one could hear him, no one cared, and his duty to his Empire and Order would be lost, unknown to anyone.


    ---


    -This can''t be the only such place, can it?- Cat /asked him. -The Sector is a big place, and the births of Voids can''t be that uncommon.-


    -Standard protocol should be at least three backups for any kind of in-depth, long-term reconnaissance mission,- he /answered as he headed for the self-destruct circuits that were currently having to deal with some cyberkinetic interference from a very deft cyberpath helped along by a roomful of some of the best hackers in the Empire.


    Cat''s attention was drawn to an area of the schematics, drawing his attention by the way the razor of her thoughts turned on it, like a tigress about to strike. She swirled away from Kitten''s power-dozing of the systems here as she went to investigate it.


    Cooling units, Frank noted, and had a good idea of what would be found there.


    ----


    Kitten had already linked into the Braincase, which had already sifted out some important, recurring memories, including quite a few passwords and authorizations. Psi-active circuits might have tried to resist her, but under the correct codings became complacent... and then were pragmatically fried completely, so they wouldn''t be a problem in the future.


    What they wanted would be hard-coded by configurations and equipment, not wrapped up in circuits molded from metals taken from the brains of dead men.


    Cat tore open the vaulted door and walked inside, her Trembling Domain spreading out to gift her with an awful awareness of all the contents of the place.


    Babies, dead babies, both male and female, frozen in preservative gels so that they could be retrieved and studied by the Mountain and the Silent Temple when contact was re-established. Why kill them and dispose of them? The secrets of their genetics were still unfathomable after all this time, could not be truly replicated by other powers or technology, but there was always hope as long as there new material.


    If the Empire could truly make new Voids at will, instead of having to rely on culling those randomly born from the masses of humanity, that would be ideal, after all. They could already do it to a degree by using parthenogenesis to grow new Vortices, but such artificially-conceived women were noticeably of lower potential and skill than those naturally born, and basically just formed a disposable troop and servant division of the Silent Sisterhood.


    It was now well over two decades since the Rift had formed and cut the galaxy in two. There were hundreds of babies in this room...


    -They have multiple teams out there harvesting Voids,- she /stated in no uncertain terms, her /voice cold enough to form a new polar cap. The sensation flowed through Markspace with her awareness of this place, and to those watching, razored silence swept through millions of minds in Markspace in almost no time at all.


    -I want those teams found. I want their bases found. And then, they are all going to die,- Cat /stated.


    Frank stared at her awareness of all those babies, feeling a sickening nausea rising in him, and a terrible, greater awareness sweeping through him with a killing intent that promised death to the powers that be on this planet.


    -Our little Brothers and Sisters...- My Queen Egil /murmured from the depths of an irradiated hellhole under a bombed-out kiloplex on Janus III. It was the closest anyone had ever heard him come to showing emotion.


    This was the dark side of the Empire they lived in, burying hope and possibility in favor of preserving the power and authority of the Emperor over all, forcing everyone into the path the Emperor predicted and was making happen, uncaring of the chance it might just be a horrifically wrong thing to do.


    A voice of gossamer over adamant drifted through the entire Markspace. -Take that planet. Wipe those crews. Find the other locations. Repeat.- Her /voice echoed throughout the Markspace, and things began to move and change as Ranthas scrapped some new plans and made some others with terrifying speed and purpose.


    -Hala, you''ve got the senior Goldilock Curseline. How long before you can get into this side of the Galaxy and compromise that information system here?-


    -Not fast enough,- the Wirehead Talent /groused, as her girls echoed her sentiments. There was an iron-hard rule that Ranthas who couldn''t Riftcut weren''t allowed on this side of the galaxy... which clearly implied that being on the same side of the galaxy as the Emperor and his direct forces was dangerous.


    It meant those Ranthas and their Swords needed to improve some. In the meantime, totally suborning the information systems that had created this abomination was going to be the focus of some very, very devoted coders...


    --------


    Infiltrating an Astropathic Guild message center was one of those utterly insane things that no decent thief in the galaxy would dare to attempt.


    This place was swimming with psions. Oh, sure, the majority of them were low Level, but they were so many that sheer law of large numbers meant you were going to be seen if you tried something. The psionic circuitry was being touched by hundreds, if not thousands of minds directly, and waves of telepathic, reality-stroking force were flowing all over the place.


    A really good dimension-walker might be able to get into the place, but as soon as they materialized, someone was going to notice something hinky.


    Even a Void Brother wouldn''t come in here lightly, since the trail they left in such a concentrated environment would stand out like a vein of clear water in a muddy river. They wouldn''t be able to see him, but that trail would just be glaring here.


    Likewise, a Source trying this would be like a lightbulb glowing in the murk, pushing away the rampant psychic energies flowing everywhere. It wouldn''t be disruptive, per se, but it would be totally obvious. You could feel the sun even if you couldn''t see it, after all.


    But I was a Null, and in situations like this, I was perfectly fine.


    Withdrawn and tight, I was effectively an inert part of the scenery, a lump of stone sitting in the middle of the pool, like part of the support foundation, stone, or steel. Yeah, if I wanted to, I could expand my Null out to twenty feet in radius, and be a really big rock disrupting the flow of everything. Restricted down to my Vajra, the psychic flows just bent around me without quibbling, and did what they were supposed to be doing.


    That left the physical side of the infiltration, which wasn''t an issue. Even avoiding the fancier tech which might trip some of the more psensitive folks around, I had Stealth at 14 Ranks right now, and all the modifiers. If people weren''t looking directly at me and I wanted to hide, they simply weren''t going to notice me as long as I didn''t want them to.


    Hide in Plain Sight is terrifyingly useful that way, and it operates at the level of ki, there''s no psychic energy being waved around to power it. While not exactly necessary to be a stealth op, it was just too cool not to have, as hiding in your own shadow and similar things is how the Shadow Stalking basic disciplines made their rep.


    Mentat machines were often psychically powered and linked by tame cyberpaths, so Vampire''s Veil wouldn''t work that well on them... but they just didn''t have the wherewithal to cope with that many Ranks in something. After all, post-Six, Ranks started messing around with reality itself, fundamental uses of how the universe worked. Stealth was no different than Weird Science and Alchemy as you rose in Levels. Too small to hide behind? It still worked. No cover in the middle of a hundred-yard plaza? Hide in your own shadow. Tremorsense, heat vision, UV, gravity displacement, sensing thoughts, lateral line sensing, echolocation, blah blah blah?


    If you were good enough, it still worked.


    Now, I couldn''t walk through walls or anything, that was just unrealistic. Heh! Damn Powered...


    But making my way into the maintenance tunnels and suchlike, and not tripping any of the airflow monitors looking for displacement, that was totally a thing.


    Kragamore was the Throneworld of Sector Caesar, with all the money, power, wealth, and abuse of such things that a Throneworld represented. It was close to an ecumenopolis, and would qualify as one if the nation-sized ''wilderness'' places were basically recognized as the private parks and zoos that they were.


    Throneworlds were hub sites for relayed information on the Voids and Vortices. So, I didn''t have to infiltrate all the planets of the Empire, I just had to infiltrate the nodes of all the Sector Crown and Throneworlds... and maybe the largest Forgeworlds, we''d have to see what happened with that level of development.


    Despite being built to last for millennia, with molecularly-hardened wiring and crystal, and psions using their power to maintain and fix problems without actually having to lay hands on them, pure redundancy meant you needed to have access to the systems, just in case. If you didn''t have such access, when the Warp came in, infected one of the parts, and you couldn''t get rid of it in time... well, major Warp Events had started over much, much less than a machine which hundreds of psions were dumping power into going suddenly mad...


    The Astropathic machinery of the main Guild on a Throneworld was two TL''s higher than on some remote outpost like Janus III, and I was unabashedly copying everything in my Tremblesense into Markspace to be downloaded and gone over. This wasn''t just so we could copy, correct, enhance, and rebuild the tech, although there were plenty of people coming into Ten who wanted to flex their muscles and learn all this stuff, crack it open, and advance beyond Ten on the never-ending road of improvements.


    No, we also had to discern the hard-coding of the machinery, operating on a different level than the primary tech itself, which formed the secret, hidden underbelly of Imperial intelligence gathering in the Empire.


    There was no way that information sent out through the Astropaths could be ''secret''. The information had to ride on psionic waves, which meant real people were involved in ignoring distances of thousands of light years as the information was sent out. While the Guild was very scrupulous about memorizing and then auto-wiping the memories of their people, a necessary function just to do the job without overloading their brains, there was no way certain sections of the Empire would possibly allow all that information coming in and out to not be monitored.


    The Umbrans were one of those factions, and not apologetic about it at all. They could and would act on and use information sent out between enormously powerful parties via the Astropaths against them if the situation called for it, or as evidence in cases against such.


    Everybody knew it, of course, and so truly private messages had long had to be relayed by personal couriers, which had their own risks attached. Intelligence operatives intercepting couriers and either stealing the information, or putting modified versions of it back in place, was a time-honored tradition in the career of many spooks, especially between the mega-corps and criminal organizations.


    As for the aliens, they''d just wipe the planet or totally suborn an information network, or extract the appropriate brains, as the situation called for it. Knocking off messengers was a bit too subtle for most of them... most of the time.

 Chapter 506 - Far Future Ch. 216 – The Information Feed

    So, the Goldilocks crews had managed to track down this place on Kragamaore as a major hub of where the information was sent. It had involved infiltrating and directly cracking open the public welfare systems of the fifty largest worlds in this subsector, looking for anything tracking the discovery of Voids and Vortices, and then following the trail of messages being sent to and from hub to hub.


    Some of the job could be done by cyberpathy, but suborning the hardware required a hands-on touch.


    Two hundred of my girls with Intellects and Talents regarding computer tech, runecrafting, computer engineering, programming, and hacking the crap out of amoral fuckheads pulling off this disastrous shit were working with me as I took a break between shooting Warped rebels on Baldur IV and my upcoming trip to the suborned Forgeworld of Hekkonaides to do a little personal insertion.


    My Intellect was higher than theirs, my Exemplar Lite bonus made me very good at everything, so they were basically running their awareness of the situation and Talents through my backbrain like a convenient co-processor as they disassembled this building-sized contraption in my Trembling Domain. My hair was splayed out in every direction like a living thing, magnifying the sensitivity of my Vajra of all the impressions I was getting from this, and if my awareness wasn''t at the molecular level down to the end, it at least stayed at the cellular, and I could send my hair shooting this way and that to get better readings.


    Damn stuff was over twenty feet long now. So lucky I could Compress it short at will. I was my own walking Trembling radar dish.


    We had discovered that the maker of this system was pretty cocksure, and the safeguards against the information being monitored, altered, or adjusted were pretty skimpy. There were acknowledgement protocols, and simple follow-ups and confirmations, but the complexity of the coding and the fact you actually had to be looking for what was going on meant that they felt pretty damn safe about the flow of it.


    Heck, because this was hardware-based, without cyberpathy being able to track individual electron streams from afar, even the Tekrons wouldn''t be able to discern what was going on here. They would only see the occasional diffused programs operating through the system as inefficiencies, or loose code, not some greater pattern connected by the hardware it was being channeled through.


    The sheer breadth and scope of the effort made it plain just how importantly this project was viewed by the Emperor. I could only assume that at some point it had become plain that the Emperor was setting himself on a course that would lead to ruination, the Void Brothers had moved to stop him... and they had lost that fight somehow.


    By putting this system into place, he had basically rendered them extinct, with all new Void Brothers being subsumed by the Empire, and the old ones killed or dying off in the course of their duties. Maybe by trying to kill him, who knew?


    It was our job to bring this system crashing down.


    I slid through the information feeder system, analyzing and adjusting, and noting the structure of everything being made. This was a hardware detection thing, not a software. It meant there were gaps that cyberpathy could not jump across, triggers being pulled by mechanical and psionic means, instead of just programs activating.


    Without knowing what to look for, I wouldn''t have been able to find anything in this molecule-level crystal lattice fabbing. Learning what to look for had cost a lot of man-hours of some impossibly smart and Talented Ranthas who just wouldn''t admit they couldn''t do the job. It had taken ten thousand of my kids, and a link to the Celestial Tribute''s main computer core, to dissect the Janus Prime astropath station and finally decipher what was going on and how it was happening.


    The principles involved were still beyond them, but they''d cracked through the -30 Level penalty with the TL 14 basis I made possible, and figured out what was being done.


    This monster of an Astropath sender was even more complex, but now we knew what to look for, and had the basic outline of the formation array constructed through combinations of coding and crystal. Once I found several key points, we mapped them out to the inferred formation, looked for more, and then because of scale, went looking at high probability areas for newer and upgrade formations. It actually wasn''t all that hard.


    For two hundred Intellects at close to 40 and devoted Talents, anyways, while I sat there for an hour in the heart of the machine, my hair moving this way and that to get better readings and fill in a lot of blanks in their schematic of this thing.


    Once that was done, there was only to insert the TL 15 recorders and receivers the Celestial Tribute had thoughtfully printed off for us in the appropriate positions. Some were hardware, some were code, all of them were psychically-enhanced to get past the TL gap.


    All this, just so we could figure out where the code was being sent to.


    The amount of ship traffic going to and from the Mountain was going to be minimal at best, and was going to ghost in and ghost out, never being recorded on any records, just inserted into calculations by Traffic Control and then erased... we knew, we''d found the code for it. Thus, finding an Assassin ship was going to be difficult without finding an Assassin, and one that knew the way to the Mountain even harder. The Assassins basically had no knowledge of where the Mountain was in the galaxy, and because their Helices were so suppressed, had no planetary attunement that would have allowed them to pick it out from across the galaxy.


    It was like someone knew their capabilities, or something.


    The things I was putting into place were no bigger than fingernails, meshing right into the structure of the Relay, and wouldn''t be found without a scan actually looking for them and knowing what did not belong. They didn''t disrupt anything here, they didn''t drain any power, and they didn''t actually record and transmit anything.


    The ''transmitter'' was a sympathetic resonator, which altered when one of these sensors was tripped. The ''receiver'' just changed with it, shifting to match its twin in form through the quantum field, no energy projection or retention involved. It was like having a light switch that went on when the one in the bedroom of the Emperor went on, nothing more.


    Of course, any spy will tell you that reading changes in an object, such as the vibrations off a window, is a perfectly fine way to get lots of important data, so that is exactly how this worked.


    Could they be detected? Yes. So, one of the things that had to be done was altering the basic schematics of the scanning devices so that the things I was putting in place were ''supposed'' to be there. That involved some psi-rune downloads, like scanning a bar code, that made alterations right to the scanning machine on a subtle level, telling it there had been upgrades and automatically giving themselves permission to be there, using the scanner''s own coding against it. It wouldn''t even retain the fact that its schematics had been upgraded, they''d simply make the alterations and be done.


    Yeah, the girls really loved going three and four levels deep on this. They were already commandeering all the Mechanist facilities on Janus, going through their data, shooting more Mekkers after finding all sorts of stuff that fleshy people supposedly weren''t qualified to learn about, and suborning their systems. Having fun rewriting Mekker programs and schematics and updating them to other Mechanist systems for proliferation virus-style was a thing, and since they were actually upgrades to some key tech, were enthusiastically passed on.


    Of course, those programs assembled themselves into other programs and started doing shady stuff in the systems, which the cyberpaths were helping themselves to with grim glee...


    Ah, don''t mess with the Goldilocks, everyone knew that now...


    We had no data on natural birth rates of Voids and Vortices. We did know that it wasn''t ''hereditary'', by anything we could tell. The only way the ability was passed on is if a new child was actually a gene-clone adjusted away from the original, and even that was iffy and a Vatter, limited in potential and capability.


    Only natural-borns were able to unleash the full potential of Voids and Vortices. Their rarity made it plain the will of the Land was being hampered, by a combination of both Imperial meddling and the Warp not wanting them to manifest. The girls were into the millions of newbies Marked, Opened, and Awakened, and had only discovered two. My Queen was a total outlier that had to hit Seven to realize what he was. Any Void that hit Two would need to do the same, or he was just a schlock Primos for the rest of his life.


    That didn''t mean there weren''t more out there, but they were dying regularly. Given large numbers, there were teams in place on all the more populated worlds to deal with such births, as it would be too inefficient to just fly around and back so frequently.


    We knew, because so far we''d wiped ten of those teams back in the Khagan Sector, and were urgently tracking down the rest. Even with adding a world a day into the Map, and the girls getting Gloom Access to them, there were thousands of worlds to deal with. That was something that was going to take time, Hagbloods at Ten, and Riftcutting Weapons.


    It took only a few questions of Brother Firesword Frank to confirm how grueling and lethal the selection process was for training Assassins, and it was plain after further detailing that the process was skewed in favor of Fireswords and Mindrings, with the others being progressively less and less useful in their instinctive motivations, until they were eliminated entirely. Nightscythes, for instance, were far too sensitive to the dead telling them things their masters didn''t want them to know... including how they were murdering unwanted Void kids. Once they were identified, they were quietly eliminated straight off.


    Fucking bastards. No one was better equipped to mess with the Warped in the total crapyard of an afterlife they''d made up than the Nightscythes.


    And naturally the Lightscepter would have ripped apart the Cult of Man as the sham it was, since NOBODY was using Faith Magic, except the Warp. Can''t have the masses not brainwashed into mindless service of the Emperor and all. The Wavespears would have slaughtered every megacorp polluting the oceans and rivers. Razing a planet and turning it into a Forgeworld? The Windarrows would have killed everyone responsible...


    Ugh. I could see why the Emperor wanted to get rid of them all. He simply wouldn''t have been able to build and take command of the Empire he wanted with them on the loose. With the Land guiding them to the weakest points to strike again and again, the Brothers could effectively paralyze countless numbers of people simply by removing those in power driving the process. The powerful naturally wouldn''t like the idea of someone out there holding them responsible for stupid choices in life, and would be fully in support of the Emperor putting a leash on them and turning them into his pet dogs...


    Who would still do the same job, only now at the behest of the Empire.


    How long had it been since there had been free Void Brothers? Had the Emperor put the systems into place even before humanity left for the stars? Could he have possibly taken control of the empire if Void Brothers had been scattered across countless worlds and stars?


    There had to be countless Void Brothers out there on lost worlds, but who had never been Awakened, and so had no idea of who and what they were. Where the first one came from, I had no idea, but everything I knew suggested that they didn''t Awaken naturally, something had to key them. The hyn had probably been Awakened by the drow accidentally, as all their legends of escaping from the dark elves revolved around their Voids leading the way, and the Shadowknives Awakened one another as soon as they sensed a fellow Void.


    The only way to find them was to keep Awakening people, crossing the fingers, and working the large numbers.


    If we found more lost worlds, we should find more of them. That was a comforting thought.


    I''d already suborned the Emperor''s detection tech for genecodes on Amistad, the world I''d liberated from Marquis de Krov, and the whole population was being put through a census and a scanner, looking for their Talents, their Powered, and potential Voids. The planet had never been under the Imperial Dole, so none of the health systems were in place.


    I hoped to find a bunch of them very soon...

 Chapter 507 - Far Future Ch. 217 – Following a Dark Trail

    Bering Briggs was one of the Natural Explorers. He was silly eager to get to Ten, get himself an Alias-class Explorer, and go jetting out into the void, see all the wonders and horrors out there, and arrange for big enough hammers to hit them in the face.


    Dora Briggs was a Natural Cartographer, willing and able to map the entire universe, given enough time. Bering wanted to go new places, and she wanted to map them and lead others behind.


    The Empire being as big as it was meant that ''new places'' was anywhere one of my kids or I had never been. The Phlos all had to be tracked and recorded, the links between the various stars put in place, and all the many, many connections set up in the Map for people to use as they needed.


    For now, what they were doing is following aetheric signals from world to world where we hadn''t been, making landfall, and Riftcutting a passage so spatial coordinates could be locked in, and Ranthas could come in to start doing things that would definitely involve a lot of people dying.


    Infiltration teams hit the relay points like ghosts in the night, got what they needed to get, while Bering and Dora mapped out whatever system and its Phlos they were in, before following the trail off into the stars, moving from system to system along an ever-growing map, making their way to whatever the destination point was.


    Sometimes there was a Rantha already there, but of a dozen worlds, it only happened twice, as there were far too many worlds in the Empire. In such cases, they still followed the Phlos, charting new routes and rivers through the deep void, arriving in-system, only to be sent back out to the next destination.


    The Tachyon Drive was up well over ten PPH now, so even a thousand light years wasn''t too huge a trip anymore. Too, their sensors were TL 15 tech on the Celestial Tribute''s fabbing standards, and there was plenty of information on movements of energies and very, very alien entities in the deep void to come by, usually concerning how to sense them early and stay away from them.


    Coming in from outside the heliosphere also gave them exposure to the movements of the true alien races out there, particularly the Mi-Go and other Aberrant-worshipping races who dwelt at the far edges of space. Even if it was passive and in the far distance, it was more information than any other organization in Known Space possessed about such races. No race with good sense went out beyond the heliospheres without good reason, after all.


    Tracking, charting, moving, mapping; going from system to system, and opening Rifts to get planetary locks to the base in Gloom so operatives could come in, and it could join the growing array of places they could get to on demand.


    Expanding the Map, along with everyone else doing the same thing, in all directions from multiple locations across the entire galaxy.


    But most weren''t driving it towards the center of the Empire of Man and Sector Solus, heart of the lands held by humanity.


    They had to be careful when coming into new systems, manufacturing false breaches to be picked up by the sensors of the Imperial forces as ''proof'' they''d Helljumped their way in. It was easy enough to disguise their vessel as a courier, given its speed. Alluding to contracts and deliveries and suchlike was a decent way to get planetside, discretely pop a short-time Rift and get operatives on hand for infiltrating the local Beacon.


    The trail moved on, from Crownworld to Throneworld, and then back out, yet still in, because now they were in Imperial space, and the full might of mankind could fall upon them if they made a mistake.


    From the mighty bastion world of Scutum III, off to the mustering world of Gladius, where endless numbers of men came in to get elite training as Imperial Marines, and were turned around and shipped out in equal numbers for the endless wars, equipped with equipment from a dozen surrounding forgeworlds.


    One of those forgeworlds was cold and proud Hurksen V, wrapped in ice and only populated in its heated heart. The trail went out into the cold void of lazy stars, and thence to cold and windswept Carag IV, an almost feral world with little of worth save for the extremely tough people who lived tribal lives there, with a single small kiloplex lording it over the whole world.


    There was no reason for such a world to have a Beacon, because it was barely even a blip on the Empire''s radar. No traders came here, and its products were basically the occasional avid hiker and survivalist, and people who didn''t want to be anywhere the Empire would bother to look for them. The wilds of Carag were one of those places.


    A ship coming in to visit this place would be noticed immediately, so the two had to come in under cloak, and make planetfall some distance from the kiloplex. The Ranthas who came out to do the infiltration promptly snickered at having to run nigh on five thousand kliks to get to their destination, but simply got to it immediately, Tats driving thrusters as they skimmed toward their destination.


    The city authorities would doubtless have been quite alarmed by how readily they infiltrated the city and bypassed its defenses, but Vampire''s Veil was largely proof against non-biotech... and they noted that this backward, isolated kiloplex with basically no discernible products or economy had remarkably good security tech... and a remarkably active Beacon processing astropathic notices for a place with little nothing important about it.


    Curiouser and curiouser...


    The purpose of the place was going to be fun to dig out, and the two Ranthas promptly made it their pet project to take over the whole damn world, and have fun doing it. Someone had made it less than memorable, so making it get even less distinctive shouldn''t be out of the question.


    The last leg of the trip wasn''t following an astropathic signal. The messages were broadcast up to an orbiting satellite, which then precision-relayed them to a relay station on an asteroid in the next orbital path, which was regularly visited by a shuttle from a ship that appeared on the edge of the system, and just as quietly departed without ever going near the planet itself.


    It had no clue that I had waved goodbye to Nora and Bering as I hitched a ride on the shuttle, jumped off outside the ship as the courier came gliding back inside to dock, and set myself up out on the ship''s hull in a convenient spot, my Vajra standing between me and hard vacuum as this frigate sucked in its atmosphere and turned and made it out to a convenient blind spot behind an outer system gas giant before Helljumping away.


    Did the idiots think that a courier method was more secret? They were basically pointing an arrow from the Warp right to wherever they were going. The crew of the ship below me couldn''t possibly all be Voids, which meant they Warp could see them.


    Still, they had to realize it was important... and jRaztl had to find it amusing enough to relay to his minions. I doubted that would happen. The last thing the Warp wanted to happen is for free Voids to start working in the galaxy again. The Void Brother habit of removing pivotal and important pieces instead of being distracted by the chaff and drek was really, really off-putting to the cult-forming fanatics trying to hide in the background. That stuff didn''t really work with Voids.


    Their other habit of getting humanity back on a proper track, instead this grimdark techno-hell the Empire had become, wouldn''t make them any friends, either.


    ------


    My second trip through the Warp wasn''t as comfortable as the first, but at least nobody was leering at me, leaving me with the urge to Love Potion #9 them and make them into marginally productive subhumans... for a time, at least.


    I watched the demons in the Warp beyond the Throne field, probably hurr-hurr-hurring all the way to the bank as they watched these idiots go about their jobs. The masters of the Assassins probably thought they were clever and had hidden even from the Warp, when the Warp was actually helping cover for them.


    My never-seen Mother and the first Rantha Hag was out here, too, as whatever she had turned into.


    I smiled as Chalice fell into my hand.


    Somewhere in the Warp, the original Chalice, an orichalcum sword that had probably eaten some really unique metals, was in the hand of the ultimate monstrosity Mom had been turned into.


    And that meant I had in my hand the one thing that could be used to speak with her.


    "Tremble, oh oooo oh, Tremble, she comes..."


    Our voices couldn''t be heard in the ship, but out in the warp, what those words represented was an idea, a meme, a thought that reverberated in the Warp, carried silently and invisibly at the speed of thought.


    I watched the demons shuffling along with the ship suddenly decide they had pressing business elsewhere, probably without even knowing why. A nameless dread was building around the ship as the Warp began to hum with dark, morbid undertones, and death began to roil in its wake.


    The death of demons in uncounted numbers...


    =====


    We were vomited back out into real space, and I promptly Det Loc''d, nailing down where we were.


    To my utter lack of surprise, we weren''t actually on a starchart anywhere. No, they wouldn''t retroactively delete a system from the records to conceal a great secret, would they? And this was Sector Solus, long the heart of the Empire... would anyone actually bother to say, "Hey, that star over there isn''t in the charts? Let''s go check it out!"


    If it wasn''t in the charts by now, it effectively didn''t exist. Someone would actually have to check every existing star''s physical location against the charts to determine if it was actually there.


    Ergo, this system was now named Mountainspace, and it was on The Map... which now had created a lot of fun for the academic data-crushers, as they decided that matching up stars and the Empire''s star charts might just reveal a whole lot of shit the Empire didn''t want us to know... or maybe didn''t know itself.


    Some very powerful and very subtle scanners went over the ship as they came into the system along a course that was very pre-determined and artificial, judging by the subtle course changes for absolutely no good reason.


    The star here was old and cool red, the very definition of an ancient system. Of course, that meant it still had millions of years of life, so the chance of it going supernova was literally nothing, as it wasn''t big enough. Two tired old planets rotated the thing, one small and probably still warm given how close to the star it was, the other bigger, still smaller than Earth, but with a viable atmosphere, maybe?


    It certainly wouldn''t be very hospitable.


    As the shuttle zipped off, Chalice teleported me atop it, and I crouched down and enjoyed the ride as it moved again on the prescribed course towards its stop.


    That was an old and long-abandoned space station, floating out in space like it had once been a relay or resupply point for some fallen megacorps or mining organization, and then simply abandoned when it was no longer of use. There were holes in the hull, definite signs of oxidation and brittle decay, and the whole thing radiated an aura of age and decrepitude that would have any serious spacer shaking their head and passing them by.


    If they didn''t, they''d probably die quickly, if they weren''t already dead for not following the right course into the system.


    Lights ignited on the central shaft and ring structure for a moment at the shuttle''s approach, and it reacted by breaking sharply and waiting as I presumed they did the security handshake and data moved in both directions.


    When the frigate had shifted to a holding pattern, I had Riftcut a path to Gloom, and Nadir Rantha had stepped through to relieve me... as there was no way we were not going to see exactly where this ship made its rounds, and collapse upon all of them at the appropriate time.


    I was dropped off at the space station, the shuttle headed back, and I took a tour of the thing on the outside of its hull, deciding on my next move.

 Chapter 508 - Far Future Ch. 218 – You Stand Before the Mountain

    Space shuttles don''t exist in, ah, a vacuum... er, they had to get resupplied eventually. Recycling only goes so far, even with the technology of the future here. As this thing was pretending to be decrepit to casual scans, it couldn''t be gleaming with the newest and best tech.


    In addition, its masters would be the paranoid types who didn''t trust tech or people, so they''d be regularly checking in. Technically, all I''d need to do is wait for another ship to come in... unless they were somehow repopulating with teleporting, but that would be wasting the time of some very high level psions.


    Also, it would require some outrageously sophisticated tech to support, which would show up in my circuit outside.


    I wasn''t worried about being seen; my hair cloaked me in transparency, and no tech was able to register me without some significant enhancements I highly doubted would be here.


    I wasn''t even worried about Void Brothers. I was a Null. I didn''t leave tracks in the manafield, and I didn''t radiate psi or anything. I held the background absolute. The only weird thing about me was that within four inches of my skin, nothing was moving at all. If I was standing in front of one and his Helices hit my Null, yeah, that immovability would shock the heck out of him.


    But that would mean these cut-rate knockoffs of a Void Brother were very close to me. That wasn''t going to end well for them... scratch that, it was going to end very well for them, and not for their bosses, who would not appreciate my generosity.


    I didn''t want that to happen until it was time, however.


    I found their hidden primary hangar, left Grim there overlooking it to warn me of it as I glided circuits around the station.


    Yeah, I could appreciate how surreal it was, hanging onto a frozen hunk of metal sitting out in the Void, continually recirculating my own air, ignoring the oxygen-freezing temperature, the hard rads from the dying sun, and the lack of gravity. My Vajra and heavyfoot was enough to keep me anchored to the hull without a problem, and so I busied myself gliding over and around it, just... looking, wasting time.


    Depleting the natural atmosphere that would accumulate around the station was a security function, and could be read as ships coming across it and stripping the valuable oxygen off a drifting hulk... or doing so to better preserve it for later, your pick.


    Bering and Dora would be here soon enough, and I could be patient. No need to Riftcut and probably set off an incursion alarm or three.


    When I plopped down the anti-matter bomb to take out this station, I needed to put in exactly the right spot, after all.


    ------


    It was an in-system shuttle, and vectoring in from the direction of the second planet. It was dropping off supplies and picking up deliveries. I hadn''t seen another ship stop in from outsystem, and there was probably only the one...


    A half-dozen infant boys were going with it.


    I could only look down passively through my Trembling Domain, making them out below me. Six families, six worlds that needed them denied their Voids.


    The care and reverence the pilots had for them made me guess they were also Voids, and these kids were probably the equivalent of younger brothers to them. Well, they were going to get even more respectful soon enough.


    Nobody could have avoided their senses inside the shuttle, even the stealthiest of us, but outside the shuttle? I held on with my Vajra as they accelerated rapidly, synching into the inertial offset. A demon or something could do something similar, since they were made of ectoplasm and had funky physics interacting with matter, but any demon would glare to even these chopped-off Voids.


    I was patient. The Empire had been getting Voids killed for millennia, I didn''t need to take action right now.


    ------


    I let go of the shuttle as it hit the atmosphere.


    I wasn''t dumb enough to try a direct infiltration of the shuttle. The scanning it would undergo when it arrived would be unreal. Regardless of how good its tech was, the entire perimeter could not possibly be as well-guarded as the primary entry point.


    I was infiltrating via planetfall. Normally this would result in a meteor streaking across the sky... and, I had little doubt, getting shot out of existence by some precise fast neutrons, just to be on the safe side.


    To flame, you have to have friction. Vajras are next to frictionless. How do you have friction when you are rubbing on a soul?


    I was literally squirting through the air, the air in front of me compressing, moving past me, and expanding back to normal as I shot through at miles per second.


    I was surveying the world, and the Goldilocks crew was recording and breaking down everything, directing my attention here and there for more details.


    The shuttle was moving towards a crater that was obviously the center of habitation here. There were plenty of settlements below, but the images getting examined confirmed they were all medieval technology, basically there to provide food and supplies for the crater area, and not much else. They''d probably been frozen at that level of tech development for at least seven thousand years...


    It did make it easier to infiltrate from afar. Basically peasant level individuals would never see me passing by, and the hidden technology meant to monitor them wasn''t going to see me, either.


    There was obfuscation over the crater, some subtle holo-tech disguising the layout of the place, based on what was registering in the upper spectra. Straight visuals, it was almost seamless, looking like another bucolic land of primitive farms and herdsmen going about their business.


    What was beneath it was going to be very, very different, indeed.


    The planet was encircled by countless amounts of debris in orbit, not really planetary rings. It made it very easy to put observation points and satellites up there that would be very difficult to make out. The sensation of being watched by thousands of eyes from above was very real, and there''s no way we could possibly nail all such eyes from space.


    That said, they probably weren''t expecting an unarmored individual to make planetfall...


    Saying nothing, air differentials that could shear steel sliding past my Vajra and waving me hellogoodbye at Mach 20, I headed for the surface of the planet.


    ------


    Featherweighting and dispersing my mass over the surrounding airflow in bubbles of motion slowed me down as I wished, or I could just grab onto the air and slow myself down with my hair. Regardless, my hair made for a perfect wing layer, and so maneuvering myself down was effortless. I glided for many miles as my speed dropped, coming down about two hundred miles from the far side of the crater from where the shuttle had entered.


    The locals were the same kind of low tech, complete with horses and wagons, their society frozen in status, and any kind of movers and shakers dissatisfied with their lots in life expunged steadily through the centuries. Without a doubt these people would be about as ambitious as rocks, content to go through the exact same life as their parents and grandparents did, until they died, having exactly enough kids to keep the population stable and not stress the resources of the planet.


    They would have no other purpose but sending food off to the crater.


    Heh, a crater. The Mountain was located in a crater. I had to roll my eyes.


    I set foot down on the planet, spread out my Domain as I reached down to touch the grass around me.


    Huh. I didn''t have to exert myself to identify a lot of the things here.


    They had exported an Earth-based ecology to this world. I sniffed the air, measuring the gasses that were here. Yeah, this was pretty close to an ideal, Tellus-type mix, used throughout the Empire, with some minor alterations for local elements, radiation, and being outside and not processed.


    This was probably a dead world, given the sun, and they''d taken the time and effort to terraform it to human standards, seeding the world with native species of everything from Earth, spread them across the planet, and then settled it.


    Some alien DNA might get into the system from ancient remains, but basically this was a place frozen in time, a sample of ancient Earth, before it was called Tellus, taken out into the stars and preserved here.


    An ecology required predators and prey, so there were probably wolves and great cats or something around, because I could see birds flitting about, there was a mouse frozen in his tunnel thirty feet away from me, and I''d seen herds of deer on the way in. All those would quickly overpopulate everything without an auto-correcting supply of predators to eat them.


    Didn''t matter, really. No natural animal of Earth was much of a threat to me, and that went up to and included T-Rexes. A dino would not want to get punched by me, and even less get cut by Chalice...


    First order of business, set the Goldilocks crew to work.


    ------


    Finding one of their monitoring hubs wasn''t all that difficult. It was disguised as a big rock sitting in the middle of nowhere, nothing special about it whatsoever, but it was the wrong temperature, the wrong material, and there was radiation coming in and out of it that indicated it was no chunk of stone.


    It was probably being observed from orbit, but there was nothing local to it that I couldn''t sidestep.


    Once my Domain hit it, it was obviously not a rock, the veneer obviously Shaped into place by psionic power, and the innards basically a solid block of circuits and crystalline components set up in a fairly standard computing array, receiving broadcasts from local observational points and transmitting them on.


    There wasn''t a human home within a few miles of it, so there was no risk of discovery. I had no idea that expansion lines and separation between farms and wild were strictly enforced, so wandering about in the wild and discovering new things would be frowned upon.


    It was just a rough rock, half-buried in the ground, too steep to climb, nothing special here.


    The access port shouldn''t have opened to me, but I fused the pressure sensor alarm to indicate it was still closed, discharged some Vajra electricity in it to reverse the magnets holding it shut, and the stony plate popped off in my hands readily enough as I clung to the thing fifteen feet off the ground, hair acting like a spider-harness.


    The design was NOT AMT standard, which roused all sorts of questions, and there was definitely psionic power quietly involved in the functioning of what was going on. However, I could clearly see no organic components involved, probably because they''d wear out too much and with the sheer amount of passive surveillance going on, they wouldn''t want to be coming out here to replace such stuff.


    Undead organics could have lasted, but at least they hadn''t fallen that low.


    At least they hadn''t changed the access ports. I swallowed that port in my Vajra as I put in the drive, quietly neutralizing any kind of alarm or acknowledgement signals, and slowly connecting the feeds one by one, watching what happened, and completely contrary to how such equipment was supposed to work, started them up, confusing the electronics that were trying to register them being there and execute communication protocols.


    It was a Null Soulbound Cyberpathing device, a hideously dangerous piece of Angeltech to own. The Mekkers would shoot you instantly just for owning such a thing, and all the Ranthas who did infiltrations were crowing about them. The Goldilocks crews were patting one another on the back after devising them, and were on tenterhooks as the Soul Essence I''d injected into it formed a viable control link, and tapped into my psionic Reserves.


    I had a lot of psionic Reserves, and if this thing wasn''t that powerful, it didn''t need to be. A good cyberpath could manipulate electronics from across the planet, this one had a range of thirty feet... but that was perfectly fine here. Electrokinesis to manipulate the dataflow and get into the system was all that was required...

 Chapter 509 - Far Future Ch. 219– Cyberspace Shenanigans

    I''d watched many cyberpathers go diving, and of course had no problems doing the tech side of things myself, as I''d invented the whole Goldilocking shtick with the gold in my hair.


    Scarletlocking didn''t sound right, after all.


    Still, that is very different from actually interacting with programming on the psionic level, being able to reach out and poke electrons this way and that. While I didn''t do much hacking due to time constraints and the constant connection required, I had kept up on all the programming, my Hacking Mastery stayed at /5, and I both contributed to the array of techniques the Goldilocks used and used them myself when I was in an area with an open Boole for playing around in.


    The Mekkers would''ve cringed at how fast I could crack a basic Boole and head down into the understructure of the programming. While the dense core programming of the Boole was always at 15+, the secondary stuff was basically permeable to me now.


    Just so the kids could experience 14 Ranks at work, I had made a habit of Boole-diving whenever I was around one, be it a city, space station, or ship. I wasn''t really any better than any of my kids with an appropriate Talent, but I could understand things about the programming they couldn''t, and so bypass stuff they couldn''t... while the stuff they could go through they could do so much faster than I could.


    Now the cyberpathers got to watch me wielding electrokinesis at their level, and go through this system with the touch of a Fourteen and some insane Mental Stats. They weren''t shy about advising I do this or that, either, and I wasn''t hesitant about doing it, either.


    Time dilation is a big thing once you go into the dataverse, but even so they were gasping as I slid through the systems, spinning out a plot of the hardware and software, parsing it out for them to take apart even further as I skipped past verification points and security checks, touching and reprogramming several of them in passing deftly, arranging modifications to existing systems to support my suborning of the systems here.


    I paused as I felt the organic touches to the monitoring feeds touching back from the system. While they weren''t using brainboxes here, they were at the far end, probably a scrubbed cyberpath pslaved to the job. Voids wouldn''t have any problems finding volunteers for that duty.


    Since nobody dared to use actual AI, brainboxed humans were the only alternative if you wanted living interaction with computer networks, and cyberpaths were at once the most desired and most despised. No cyborg could interact with systems the way a cyberpath could, regardless of how advanced your hardware was, or how much of your brain you replaced.


    These systems were being monitored by a psi-active entity at the far end.


    How wonderful! This brainslave was now lazy as all heck, and wasn''t using security protocols properly. He was directly manipulating the coding to allow himself to pass obstructions in his own custom way, i.e. he had given himself a psionic backdoor to the coding.


    Replicating that touch was far from impossible, it was just an energy signature. Once I had it, it was only replicating his tactics, and then bouncing them back at him... with adjustments.


    Giving a brain in a box a virus wasn''t actually all that difficult. After all, the best way to purge a virus was to disconnect the hardware, and brainboxes had problems doing that by themselves. If you could get past their security and nix any alarms, they were basically helpless.


    Efficiency over absolute security, I simply started feeding this distant brain coding replies and data with his own energy signature on it, like his own thoughts coming back to him. The data had what he wanted, but was layered with algorithms that only a post-Ten would register as wrong. In remarkably little time I was inside his psi-walls, and rewriting parts of his mental processes from the distance.


    Two minutes of real time later he extended a cyberfeeler out in a certain pattern, I latched on, and I was inside the brain, straddling the system without actually needing to ride it.


    The hackers watching hissed at what I''d done. It was a combination of psicraft, psychology, programming, and artful cryptography that had all the nerds weeping in admiration for the pure elegance of it all... and wincing when they realized the same thing could be done to them if their mental discipline wasn''t up to snuff.


    Getting up to snuff against a Rantha could be rather difficult, and this pslaved brain, scrubbed free of personality and soul, certainly didn''t have the means.


    It wasn''t difficult to get schematics of his entire purview of authority thereafter, a combination of getting downloaded Bob the Brain''s entire repetitive tasks, along with his knowledge of the network I encouraged him to give me. Since he was doing data dumps psychically instead of physically, there was no strain or stress on the system to be tracked.


    Yeah, a pure hacker would have been caught. A pre-Ten cyberpath probably couldn''t have done this. But once I was in with the right tool, this millennia-old security design revealed its weakness.


    In truth, it was damn hard to keep post-Tens out of stuff, as tech is static, and people evolve and adapt in real time. Add in psionics that can affect the energy and the hardware as well as the software, and you have a nightmare for information security, which can generally only be fought by another active party on station and watching for what you are doing... or not staying connected to the Boole.


    There was certainly a watcher for the watchers, but I was keeping this completely at the psychic level... and that tiny little spark of hate and defiance from the brain, barely aware of what he had been turned into, was something that made sure that Bob wasn''t going to be taking the initiative to inquire if something was wrong as his thoughts wandered over the scope of his duties, the machines he had access to, their locations in cyberspace and reality, security programs, technology interfaces, layouts and systems across a huge chunk of the planet, and ways to reach out and touch them.


    There were systems he didn''t have clearance to access... which didn''t mean he couldn''t do so, only he had imperatives that he couldn''t defy to leave them alone.


    Me using him as a puppet and doing the breaking while he was totally unaware of it? That was something completely different.


    The Goldilocks already had a massive data analysis of the outer network underway, and I approved several passwords on the far side of them, advancing through to the inner network inside the Crater, watching the complexity of the programming shooting up as I did so. I had to bring in the Celestial Tribute to start riding in support to interpret some of the coding coming my way, and flitting through the system, tracking, recording, building a picture of the entire system, decoding the command hierarchy, looking for special stuff and connections... and dropping little things into the system that could be exploited later between blocks of seething, powerful code in multi-layered languages whose complexity weren''t supposed to be decipherable by organic minds.


    Ah, it was a good thing post-35 Intellects are hooked into the akasha and have infinite room there. Little things like physical limitations of organics can just take a leap, don''t need no Powered psion making thought constructs to do the job...


    There were several sections of completely black, psi-reinforced coding operating at TL 17, and even the Tribute didn''t want to take a run at them. Accordingly, I skipped right past the what''s inside portion, and went right to what it was in, and where they were.


    Oh, yes, my, that could be really important, couldn''t it? My my my. Of course, not really a big surprise, but it was so nice to get confirmation.


    I would have liked to get more specs on some of the stuff that was waiting ahead of us, but that level of information was under the restricted coding, and would require a more hands-on approach. Happily, that was now much easier.


    I left some coding inside Bob''s psyche in case I needed to get in contact with him again, and disconnected from the psychic tether. Said coding came with a gift surge of about 150 PP to replace everything he''d lost doing what I asked, so there would be no loss that might be tracked. He wouldn''t even remember he''d been low.


    --------


    I''d been futzing around inside cyberspace about an hour, which is a LOT of time to be messing around in the cyber realm. I''d downloaded mounds of data, the Goldilocks were rampaging through everything they could, borrowing some of my thoughtstreams where they needed them and mostly not needing them at all.


    It was time I headed in for the Crater.


    Bob had been a cyberspace entity, but he had access to cameras, and their positions relative to one another, including some inside the Crater. That also devolved into security systems and their specs, so not only did I have an amazingly comprehensive map of their tech outside the Crater, I had a good generalist impression of certain areas inside it, and could make an infiltration attempt.


    Well, it wasn''t going to be an attempt, it was going to succeed. I was really going to put a crimp into their plans.


    From what we could make out on the camera views, there were two main areas in the crater, which we promptly divided into the Dome and the Battlefields.


    The central area of the Crater was dominated by a variant kiloplex style dome, although much smaller, maybe equal to a 100k city. That would still be an immense amount of area for raising Void Brothers, but that also meant lots of internal training facilities of different kinds.


    The external areas were also shielded, trapped, and sealed areas, in many different kinds of terrain, and with many different kinds of foes, mostly alien and bestial, within them. The many different areas were divided by walls and force fields, the creatures were basically in native habitats, and so could be hunted down by Void Brothers in badlands, urban sprawl, killer jungles, swamps, subterranean mazes, and the like.


    I wondered about hunting down humans, realized the kilocity complex probably was perfect for that... and then realized what that sole kilocity on Carag IV would provide all the exposure to humans they needed, filled with crime and corruption, and criminals and people hiding from all over the galaxy.


    Those who ran away to hide in the wilds, and the native barbaric tribes, would provide their own kind of challenges. I sent that off to the girls in Carag, who were very interested to learn that Void Brothers in training were probably present in the city.


    I almost (almost!) had one of our Brothers pop into the place. If they did, they could have tracked down the Walmart versions very quickly, as Void Brothers can''t hide from one another.


    On the flip side, they''d be able to track him down very quickly, too, and we didn''t need that happening, especially if the brainwashed fools sent out requests for help. We''d have to hide the Rifts really well for them not to quickly learn what was going on with them, even if they couldn''t figure out where they went without active, usable Helices.


    Instead, I instructed them to hunt down the lads and make pets out of them. There were cheers from my girls, who were anything but afraid of what that entailed. These dimestore Voids couldn''t even Cut Life on someone who wasn''t a high-end Null... what did they have to fear from them? They couldn''t break Ten while wearing their zoot suits, and their masters had no incentive whatsoever to let them get stronger than that, anyway.


    Finding them, now, that was going to be an issue. Normal people simply couldn''t track and would barely even remember the presence of a Void, with their non-sticking, elusive psychic presence.


    But that hardly meant that they couldn''t be led around by the nose and lured here and there by people who knew what they were doing. They couldn''t possibly have any idea they were being hunted by extraordinarily competent Nulls, and if they were here, they were by definition inexperienced lads getting training in real human cities, and so not really the elites.


    Start an Event of some kind, and if it was subtle enough, the Voids would be the only things investigating, because they''d be the only ones who could sense it. What would happen when they did?


    I smiled despite myself. The young lads would be losing the zoot suits to "a horrible Event on Carag IV"...

 Chapter 510 - Far Future Ch. 220 - Infiltration

    Getting into the place was going to be annoying, but it was part of the job. Being the Dark Angel shooting the enemies of the Empire was just going to have to be on hold for a while.


    Hey, I was being nice. They were already looking for me, and I was going right to them. They should be thanking me for what I was going to do!


    It worked out that going in over the obviously stupid points to do so was actually the better play. Someone with too much time and infiltration experts on hand had rather zealously gone over all the possible ways in, and then put some really, really annoying stuff in the way to catch anyone trying to do so.


    Even the drow and Tekrons would have conniptions trying to get into this place, because the whole place was Interdicted. Without being able to use sub-dimensions to bypass defenses, that lot wasn''t actually that sneaky on average, relying too much on hypertech to bypass security precautions. Sure, they were good enough to defeat Joe Sentry #3, but brainboxes on 24/7? Not so easy...


    The main thoroughfares were naturally closely monitored, and everyone entering was genescanned up and down, if subtly, and there were all kinds of monitors around.


    But Vampire''s Veil was designed to work against all manner of visual inspections, the primary defenses here. Other locations got into all kinds of sidereal senses which were extremely annoying to overcome.


    So, taking the main way in... was actually the safest way in. All I had to do was evade the living eyes and bypass the psi-boosted surveillance cameras trying to deal with the normal people there.


    In short, this wasn''t about whose tech found the other, a yes/no scenario. This was about comparing Stealth against Perception, with Vampire''s Veil basically offsetting any bonuses for equipment and leaving it a test of pure skill against skill.


    Stealth was one of my Primary Skills, and I''d kept it maxed out. With 14 Ranks, I could basically walk through the main door of a crowded room and out the other side, and nobody would actually see me.


    Yeah, it was unreal, but any Ranks past Six started getting into unnatural stuff.


    As for modifiers... 14 Ranks, +3 Class Skill, +5 Mastery, +6 & 4 Feats, +20 Dex, and a short-term +10 Insight bonus from Soul, +4 Cunning, and +5 for being such a charming ExLite, was a nice +67. Stealth Mastery meant I could Take 10, and remove chance from the equation with pure skill.


    A 77 was not something anyone under Ten and lacking major buffs had a hope of overcoming.


    Thus, piercing the perimeter of the Crater was a surreal dance of moving into and through a supply caravan delivering goods to the place, flitting from place to place as the angles of observation from every possible source slid past and around me like I wasn''t there. I was behind everybody, nothing more than a shadow of a cloud passing by as I moved by the people, the inspectors, the walls, the cameras, and the inevitably bored sentries who just couldn''t maintain anywhere close to the focus they would need to get lucky enough to see me.


    It didn''t hurt that the tech they had was concealed, and so not as effective as it might have been. It was fine, I forgave them, as I avoided air pressure sensors, split sound waves around myself, neutralized magnetic readers, walked above the ground sensors, conducted microwaves and electrical fields right through my Vajra, and the thermal sensors just thought I was the air.


    I found myself a mile outside the checkpoint city, moving above their transportation tube, as I certainly wasn''t going inside of it. Yeah, it was two hundred miles on foot to where I needed to go, but there was a reason ol'' Sama has her lightfoot up to the 210'' range. I could walk faster than the best unbuffed human could sprint, sprint in the neighborhood of 150 mph under my own power... and maintain Stealth while moving at full speed.


    The power circuits of the buried transport tunnel made it very easy to follow in my Trembling Domain, even as it was buried deeply, humming as they did through the ground. I was matching up a lot of the schematics I''d gotten off Bob with the surveillance networks to the landscapes to either side of me... which I didn''t know if I should care about, although I was sure young Voids in training were in them, doing... whatever they were supposed to be doing. Hunting alien enemies of mankind or something...


    Speed and VV-blurring meant I was less than a breeze passing to the occasional camera with me in their area. The landscape was passing by on either side of me, shielded away by force screens (damn, lots of energy being wasted here... well, not much different from a city dome, I supposed...), a strange and foggy broken landscape on my right, and a miserably hot and vine-filled jungle on my left.


    It should change in about twenty miles or so...


    Smiling to myself, I ran along the border between the two zones, towards the great looming sphere of the arcology at the center of the crater.


    The Mountain. My smile grew wider. Little Brothers, big sister Sama is coming, don''t you worry about anything...


    ------


    The zones changed three times before I got to the edge of the Dome proper, and it loomed up above me, a dark sphere blocking any observation from without.


    It had to be more than that, if it was a place that could brainwash Voids.


    There were a lot of sensors around, but I had the distinct impression that they were more for observing Voids released from the city to have fun, and not infiltrators who should have been exposed way before this. Strange matter sensors, psionic radar, thought detectors, transchronal monitors... there was some seriously weird high-end stuff here and there, and anything relying just on innate abilities and tech trying to get here would have been found out long before they reached this far.


    Orbital satellite death ray follow-up would have been prompt in such a case.


    I sussed out the monitors, and while every inch of the place was technically under observation, there wasn''t any way they were going to see me touching the dome.


    Mmm.


    Nihilor laen. This stuff was magically and psychically inert laenwork. Not even magical, either. You were dealing with dark matter alchemy to make this stuff, it was not something anyone did for funsies. The cost of this...


    Yeah, if anything could keep out the Breath of the Land from a bunch of Voids, this was the stuff. There was going to be no living anything wafting its way through this. While inside it, they were basically invisible to anything magical or psychic.


    You could buy a planet for the cost of this dome. Maybe a system, I wasn''t sure. Making nihilaen was not cheap at all. Nihilor, the negatively charged E-plumbum, was much easier to make, but not nearly as usable, being lead, after all, and having some rather nasty long-term health effects for being around. You could make a storage cell out of it, but don''t expect anything alive to be inside after very long.


    Nihilaen didn''t have the problem. Void- and negatively-charged leaded silicon diamond was no joke.


    This was probably the only place in the Empire where something this extravagantly wasteful was located, although I couldn''t speak for anything that was on Tellus. When you''re at the heart of an Empire, extravagant waste was a compliment for judicious personal spending habits.


    Of course, now I had to get through something that was impervious to magic and psi, and as hard as diamond.


    Except... not even TL 17 tech could spin a whole dome out of nihilaen, there were still binders and struts in place. Maybe the Tekrons could do it, but you''d need a factory the size of a moon. There''s waste, and then there is waste, for something that wouldn''t stand up to a good broadside of railcannon loads.


    My Trembling Domain could still read vibrations, spreading my hair out to sense and receive. The nihilaen itself was about a foot thick, functionally black to stop the light, and mounted in great triangles for effect, those frames cored with nihilor to keep coverage as contiguous as possible.


    I just needed a space with an inch or a half-inch of room to enter. Given that it was air-tight, that meant I had to create my own instead of looking for flaws, but that was fine. The Umbrans had all sorts of stuff to help with that kind of thing.


    I picked my entry point to make sure there was an access hallway or corridor beyond, sitting there for twelve hours reading vibrations moving through the structure to determine where vents, hallways, doors, and other hollow spaces were located. Much of the nihilaen down low was buttressed with plenty of plascrete with nihilor flakes inside it, just layers on layers of raw money being thrown out here, but I was punching a hole through a durasteel strut, which I was going to instantly and quickly replace.


    Air pressure sensors looking for leaks were classic ways of spotting a break-in, after all. All you need is a tiny bit of pressure differential, and all those tons of air looking to equalize would scream that you had a breach.


    The Nail and Plug was a one-two device that sent out a very narrow disintegration beam, used to rapidly inject some sort of surveillance device or drone with a relay or wire attached to it, and then it would re-integrate the disintegrated material, putting back together what it had torn apart. I couldn''t just phase the matter out because of the Interdiction field, but this worked.


    As for the load being injected, that was going to be me.


    I set it up on the strut I picked out, in the location and at the angle it needed to go off at, very precisely. Veering a millimeter in either direction would clip the nihilor or nihilaen, and the beam would go nowhere, and I couldn''t sense any nihilor flakes in the path of the plascrete beyond.


    With aplomb, I set the timer, took out a Vial, and downed the Potion of Gaseous Form.


    The Powered who could use magic were few and far between, because they had to be bonded to Forsaken, gifted enough to develop the art, and they could only get the magic by drawing it out of their Forsaken companion, which naturally made practicing with it a bitch. They could only practice in chambers cleaned out by vivic fires that were still actively burning and suppressing the Warp corruption, and they couldn''t have any magic active if they left the place, meaning most forms of buffing and long-term development were off-limits.


    Still, being the first Wizards in literally ten thousand years or more was enough to tempt some to do it. They were mostly working out the basics of interaction of psionics and magic, rather eagerly, but from a practical standpoint they made special one-shot toys.


    Such things had to be used by Forsaken, because if it got beyond our assorted Nulls, Suns, or Helices, Bad Things Happened rather quickly. However, Potions were one of those things, and if used by a Forsaken, could actually give us a short-term Buff, for an absolute maximum of ten minutes, and usually much less.


    So, Gaseous Form it was, baby.


    I was converted to a somewhat equal volume of randomly assorted gases, with just enough cohesion to say I was a thing, and I poured myself into the cylinder behind the Nail and Plug. Yeah, I had to compress myself, but the pressure-sensitive thing helped by registering the infusion and as programmed, sucked me inside in literally seconds.


    The cylinder loaded; the Nail hummed; a green beam of light lanced out, and disintegrated any non-nihil matter in front of it, forming a three-quarter-inch tube of nothing in front of it.


    Lo, and I had a way in.

 Chapter 511 - Far Future Ch. 221 – A City of Voids

    The pressor beam shoved me through the tube, skirting just in between nihilor cores and nihilaen plates. The tube opened on the far side, auto-opened as the Fill promptly undid the disintegration effect, and removed all visible signs of anything having happened.


    My gaseous form boiled up out of the canister, expanding back to proper dimensions, and I brought my Null up to immediately sweep the magic away, instead of waiting for the inevitable erosion of the magic, internal or otherwise.


    I materialized back to normal form, picked up the canister and stashed it in my Masspack.


    I was inside the Mountain. Now I was going to do a bunch of exploring while I ''waited''... for that ship to make all its stops. Nadir was a very patient hunter, and if it meant sitting around in soft vacuum on the frigate for most of a year, she was very prepared to do just that, bringing through girls into each system to add them to the mix, and tracking just where and what these bastards were doing.


    We had the centerpoint, now we were working backwards along the organization, compromising it step by step.


    It meant neither she nor I could take direct action yet. Taking out the Mountain would just alert the entire organization and whoever was behind all this. So, we were going to get people into place in a lot of locations. When they moved, a whole lot of baby-stealers were suddenly going to cease to exist, and that hardwired data exchange the Empire had in place was going to have some new masters. I was willing to bet they didn''t even know how it truly worked.


    I smiled mirthlessly as I set out on my task. The sheer variety of things that needed to be done here demanded that I be the one to do it, as none of my girls were quite as deep in so many disciplines as I was. It sucked a bit for them, but they all had key skills they were boosting up in their chosen specialties, so there was no real loss.


    In the meantime, Nadir would finetune the preliminary taps I had put into the frigate''s comm systems, crack the encryption, and we would have a direct feed from the active component of the Void Retrieval Teams.


    My first thing to do was a survey and layout of this place. Then I''d go after the computer systems. I''d have to compromise the security system, and then eliminate all the failsafe connections. Thereupon would follow all sorts of special surprises installed to really annoy everyone of importance, and my big surprise.


    If I could, I would try to save the farmers, but that might be a bit difficult. I was likely going to have to arrange for all the fighting environments to be glassed, or the beings within would be unleashed upon farmers not at all ready for them, in terms of training or of weaponry.


    I firmly believed there was a planetary self-destruct in place, so I''d have to worm out the location, means, and triggering method of that, and either move it somewhere more interesting, or simply shut it down.


    There were a plethora of interesting areas to dump it into at this time... it all depended what type they were going to use and how big it was, I guess. A mantle-cracker would be sufficient, but they might just use a solar cannon to bake the planet and set the atmosphere on fire. A virus bomb wouldn''t be very reliable if they knew anything of Voids...


    I was fully aware that by doing this I was setting myself at absolute cross-purposes to the Imperial Assassins, one of the most feared and lethal arms of the Empire... and I really didn''t care. I didn''t know what measures the Empire as a whole had to act against Voids outside the control of the Assassins, and I assumed I was going to find out quickly.


    That was fine. There were a lot of Voids going to be evacuated to the far side of the Rift, and quickly, to Level up, feed their Helices, and feel the Will of the Land.


    Also, while the Voids were definitely their preferred elites, it didn''t mean the Assassins didn''t have other things to fall back on. Bioengineered killers, cyberized killbots, even elite mercs or operatives recruited from elsewhere... the Assassins had been forced to rely on those on the other side of the Rift, no reason they wouldn''t be using them as reserves and auxiliaries here. After all, Voids weren''t specialists at mass slaughter... that they knew of.


    Like a nice rat/14, I set off to investigate all the interesting little holes in the walls here, and see just how badly I could mess these guys up...


    -------


    Naturally, the rest of the Galaxy wasn''t remaining still just because I was.


    Jensa, Celestia, and Keva took turns being the Dark Angel all across the galaxy, spreading the name and the legend, and incidentally irritating the heck out of the drow trying to pigeonhole and track them down. Differences in our Swords were chalked up to observer error, if noticed at all, and they even used multiple configurations just to sell more posters.


    Some of the later girls coming through wanted to get in on the fun, as well, and given that there were at least a hundred conflict zones going on at any one time, well, spreading out the love, Karma, and growing the legend yet more wasn''t all that bad an idea.


    If they couldn''t Riftcut and thus be able to get away, they weren''t allowed to do it.


    Our infiltration of elements of the Empire on this side continued apace. Actually, non-nymphals were much better at that aspect of things, so Nulls and Sources from G&G ending up taking point on pretty much all of those operations, getting themselves hired or drafted into various Planetary Guards or Imperial Marines, and their skill and expertise shoved them rapidly up in the ranks.


    Other girls and boys drifted into the service of the Marquise Rantha and her fleet of independent vessels, rapidly expanding as various piratical, unscrupulous, rebellious, and predatory sorts found themselves relieved of their lives and ships with about as much mercy as they''d showed so many of their victims, and the Roman Sector, at least, suddenly began to clean itself up somehow.


    Five more Letters of Marque fell into the hands of the Marquise somehow, as their previous owners went abruptly missing and their ships showed up for refits, sans their crews. Fealty arrangements were set up, the Orders Twilight were most bemused, and suddenly the Marquise was a Countessa.


    I watched Ophelia accept the new Title on my behalf with much amusement, her smile as magnificent as her hair, and her thoughts totally predatory as the established powers aimed to crush this upstart... while also wining and dining her, since she was a wonderful dancer that all their younger folks wanted to chase after.


    -------


    While one of my Natural Actresses added her own delightful spin to the social scene, expansions continued on both sides of the Rift.


    The Warp Zone was emptying out. The influx of a lot of people shooting for Six and higher had a disastrous effect on the population, killing ever faster and more plentifully.


    I was notified that maybe two months of things remained to be cleared off, if that, given the numbers and skills of those numbers left behind.


    No, I wasn''t going to let them turn the thing back on. When they were done, and I hit Fifteen, we''d do the penultimate mods to the Tribute, crash the Warp Zone, and bring the ship out of there.


    I was pretty sure I''d break Fifteen when I broke the Mountain and its network, but there were a lot of moving parts to get into place for that to happen. However, when said parts are Tens with inhuman mental abilities, that''s not as hard as it seems.


    Ronnie had already moved in and was driving further revisions of our technology. She was deciphering the secrets of the Tekron base under Janus Prime with an ease and thoroughness that would have frankly alarmed any of us if we didn''t know it was actually her base, and she was just refamiliarizing herself with it.


    Installing negative-energy collectors to really clamp down on the Dead Walking Events on multiple worlds suddenly became a potential thing when she came out with the first plans for said devices... using a necrotao approach that was completely unlike the Tekron technology while being based on the same foundational laws, just given a completely human spin on them.


    She broke Eleven in Expert with blinding speed for coming up with that, and was spearheading revisions of our own technology like a steamroller of brainpower.


    I wasn''t sure quite what she would come up with next, but I was pretty sure she''d be Fifteen inside five years, without engaging in mass slaughter.


    She was leading an enormous push for resources, since the Alias ships were uncovering system after system that could be plumbed for resources, and our modular mining platforms were getting put into place here, there, and everywhere. Lost worlds populated by species human and otherwise were getting added to The Map, and we were finding out just how interspersed ''humanspace'' was with soooo many other races. If the Empire knew, they were just keeping stupidly silent about it.


    Krisma took the first Letter of Marque in Khagan Sector, and promptly started getting REALLY aggressive, in counterpoint to the other girls and guys shivving such folk and staying out of the limelight. She revealed half a dozen goblin-occupied systems being used as bases by the raiders of that race, and called for a fleet and the manpower to take them on.


    In no time at all, she was a bona fide Warlord leading a whole bunch of ships we hadn''t made into bloody conflict with the goblins, who were not at all happy to see them coming.


    They were even less happy when her brothers and sisters came in to help, and the stars were alive with war enough for a whole bunch of Ranthas to prosecute, and add to the incredibly violent reputation we already had.


    The news of two ships commanded and officered by Ancients sent the blinkered sots in the Khagan government into conniption fits. It got worse when a Coronal took up position on each ship, and the Umbrans categorized them as ''motile relay and relief posts'', while they drove in to help Krisma''s aggressive push... and when two nearby worlds rose in rebellion, they coincidentally happened to be right on station to address the matter, and form the command ships for the evacuated Coronal and Umbran forces who managed to get off the planet.


    To the utter astonishment of many, the Ancients didn''t rampage over the planet and eat people. They were brutal yet surgical, wearing some remarkably nasty power armor, and while not at all merciful to those shooting at them, they stayed away from civilians and non-military businesses.


    They did rather gleefully rampage through many of the wealthy areas backing the rebellion, leading elite drop troops happy to shoot those who thought they would be the first to seize power and go independent now that the Empire couldn''t reach them.


    It wasn''t that we wanted to enforce the laws of the Empire, but as soon as someone struck against the Coronals, it was a sign that the forces behind them were more than just rabble-rousers and idiot patriots.


    Unearthing jRaztl involvement among the ringleaders of the independence movement, and shoving the faces of the firebrands driving the whole movement into it, put a remarkable damper on the basic support of the masses for the independence drive.


    Jin Briggs adeptly positioned their own involvement as being because of the striking against the Coronals, and not the Empire itself, further dispiriting them. They had been used by fanatics of the Warp, as had so many billions before them, despite all the warnings.


    It only cost about a hundred million dead before it was all said and done. As planetary rebellions went, it was relatively clean and cheap.


    Everybody was also now abuzz about the fact that the Coronal Knights had a force of highly trained, very powerful and skilled Ancients in power armor running around for them. With ships. And the Umbrans knew about it... or at least some Umbrans did, because others were scrambling for more information, and finding the Dukes of Janus were much, much farther ahead and deeper thinkers then they thought...


    While there would be changes and rebellions in the future, for now, unity was still by far the most important thing.

 Chapter 512 - Far Future Ch 222 – Cutting Them Off

    Nadir''s Sword Plan swept out, and opened a Rift on the back end of the Mountain''s nameless frigate. Tesla Rantha stepped through instantly, waving her hand to seal the Rift less than two seconds after it was opened.


    A shuttle was quietly swooping into the frigate, delivering a load of a few children. When it departed, it would have a passenger. Soon enough, the world below would be admitting G&G teams to start up a certain number of businesses.


    The people that shuttle was connected to were also going to be followed, their connections worked out, marked, and made ready to eliminate. Data about which worlds shipped their cargoes here was on the menu, and teams would slowly and surely be heading to those worlds as well.


    This was another system Seat, Quamalspace, with enough traffic to make the frigate unremarkable, but not at the level of a true Throne or Crownworld, where questions might be asked. It went without saying that there were subtle influences at the higher levels that would pointedly ignore the traffic in missing human children happening in space above them.


    That being said, it was also completely obvious that every world with a population of a billion or more had its own team on hand to go after any Void or Vortices that had popped up. That was actually a tremendous amount of manpower devoted to this task, and meant the numbers of Voids popping up, when the Empire as a whole was taken into consideration, was naturally quite impressive.


    What happened to them all was something that Sama was finding out for everyone, and making their blood go even colder as they found out...


    -------


    Dead Magic ammunition, the specialized rounds made of magic and psi-dead components, specially used by the Umbrans, Assassins, and the most elite hunter-killers of the Legions, was made from Voids and Vortices who died in training.


    I looked at the production facility below me, keeping my face still and my heart steady, despite the loathing whelming within me.


    Bullets. Voids and Vortices they couldn''t control, who their precious suits couldn''t insulate, or who were of an Order they didn''t want, or who simply died in the merciless training they were put through, were rendered down into freaking projectiles, their ashes fused with nihilor cores and made into gyro rounds or cartridges for shooting demons and psions.


    Needless to say, the demand for such ammunition easily kept up with the supply of Voids and Vortices.


    Only good enough to be bullets...


    While the kids were hitching rides across the galaxy to more and more new worlds, I''d been breaking into the local data servers and com systems, installing hardware and software, compromising all their precious security while their precious hypersensors and neutered Voids had no idea I was here.


    Nulls just don''t leave trails. The Voids were geared to follow and sense their own kind, but not really me.


    The atmosphere inside the city was sterilized and artificial. It felt unreal to me, and to a Void it had to be nearly maddening. Some of them just went freaking nuts after they were artificially Awakened, unable to tolerate the psi and magic-dead environment and how unnatural it was.


    They were ground down into bullets.


    Those who survived that process were given their suits, which they basically could only take off inside the Mountain here. Taking them off outside was enough to trigger a death sentence from the various implants administered to them. Likewise, surges of evolution in their Voids, or their Helices actually coming up fully, would trigger the same implants, and kill them where they stood.


    I looked through their lesson plans and their physical training. The trainers knew the boys rapidly grew more intelligent and agile as their skills improved, and so even the less gifted ones could become formidable shooters and tech-users. Even if their natural Stat line didn''t emphasize either, the Forsaken Inherent bonuses they got to Intellect and Dexterity meant they improved rapidly in both categories, even if they weren''t the most nimble or smartest to start out with.


    Of course, there were dozens of the babies in suspended animation coming in every week, and they didn''t need all of them as Assassins. They took the ones with superior characteristics once they reached a certain age, and those that failed out quietly became ammunition.


    The ones left behind were rapidly aware of their shelf lives, how dangerous it was for them to lose their suits, how they''d ''go mad'' if they lost them, and how wary they had to be.


    They did actually have fairly decent lives, once they got past the death games, live action hunt and kills, lethal tests of skill and aptitude and loyalty, and the like. Women were provided to them, all of them attractive, trained to support them and please them, and even have their children.


    Those children formed the support crews of the Mountain, or were trained to be the kill-crews sent off-world to harvest the dangerous free Voids who were such a danger to the Empire, bringing them back here to suffer the same fates as their fathers.


    After all, the Empire had not found out how to make Voids or Vortices truly inheritable. There was a partial effect with the Vortices, but no success with Voids at all. Either the gene occurred naturally, or it didn''t take effect at all, and there was no way they''d found around it.


    They never stopped trying, however. The research results were some of the things the Old Men of the Mountain received regular updates on. The fact the children of Voids were never Voids themselves truly vexed them...


    -----


    The Oldest Man of the Mountain was a Thirteen, in my estimation. He had a face like a carved rock and I was pretty sure he''d lost his soul somewhere around being a Three.


    I followed a message carrier into his office, then stood there in the corner for six hours in the shadow of his little potted plant there, not really watching him.


    He wasn''t the one responsible for all this. That responsibility fell right onto the bunch of crystallized bones sitting on his stupid Throne on Tellus. Gods damn it, how badly had that idiot screwed everything when he shut down the Void Brothers, just because he couldn''t control them?


    But I stood there, not looking at him, hair draped around me and not moving as it bent aside light and psi and anything else he was using to sense.


    He was a Mentat, and a high order one. He wasn''t an irreplaceable Fifteen, they wouldn''t be stuck here among the Voids, and he was definitely not the Grandfather operating things from Tellus. Nope, just the highest-level Mentat they could find to run things on site.


    The crowning achievement of the psions, controlling the Voids.


    He got done with whatever he was working on and fine-tuning, signing off on assassinations and training results, and left the office.


    I would have at least twelve hours to work on his systems here. Me and my hair got to work.


    Yeah, it was all psychically attuned TL 13 stuff, very high order, hush-hush stuff that normal folks never got to see. It wasn''t designed with Null hacker-engineers in mind, with a thousand other hackers looking on decoding, deciphering, and dismantling everything for maximum efficiency. I had a wall of hair combing through the solid-state crystals, punching here and there, and adding some interesting modifications to his computers. Unless he was a gear-head, and he wouldn''t have this job if he was, he wouldn''t be able to tell anything was wrong unless he could read deposited nanite code-threads a hundred molecules wide crawling around and through his systems like they were printed onto it.


    Yeah, one of the girls had invented something to print off circuits using our hair as a carrier for the fabrication. Stephie Rantha and Jobba Briggs were wicked cunning at this stuff.


    The psychic relay that was going to start dumping data to her when she got within range was going to be pretty sweet, and the data miners were already chaffing to get their mitts on thousands of years of the dark side of the Empire''s history.


    I aimed to supply them.


    ----------


    A handfang crashed into the side of a man''s head, liquifying his brain as he was dumped unceremoniously off a bridge.


    A brawny mercenary opened a door right into a large bore pistol, and ended up moving in the opposite direction abruptly.


    A slender, nondescript techie entered an elevator, and when it opened ten floors later, he was sprawled on the floor of it, his brains coming out the large hole in his ear.


    A cold-eyed old man was bumped off a sidewalk straight into a hovercar racing by at 200 mph. He bounced quite a distance, and didn''t get back up, yet his Band and cyber implants all missing somehow from his pulped corpse.


    Telissa Offa, bondpsion and lethal telepath, took over the brains of the comms worker of this Void retrieval team, and he quite happily informed her of the proper algorithms, codes, protocols, and confirmations to use, before his burned-out neural centers slumped to the side.


    They might be getting assignments, but mostly they''d be getting their accounts emptied, and Voids would be getting shuffled off to the far side of the galaxy...


    --------


    Jaxon was definitely in the worst spot of his life.


    Okay, he''d been eager. He''d sensed another Void on the planet, and knew it wasn''t one of his fellow Assassins. He''d reported it through channels, even as he brought in a kill team to help him corral the dangerously free Void and eliminate him before he brought disaster upon everybody on Hennix III.


    That kill team was now dead, with a speed and thoroughness that went beyond a superb ambush. Those brutes in power armor were at least equal to Legionnaires, the bladeboys could give Coronals a run for their money, the snipers using Sun Shots were some of the best he''d ever seen, and he himself had been taken out fast and smooth by someone he''d never seen coming.


    He looked up at the woman smiling down at him, brown hair fluttering about her with a life of its own as the tentacles coming off her back tied him down, absolutely defying his Void without any effort as they did so. The play of her hair accented her pointed ears, her smile displayed double canines, and even with the blue-black runescar she was sporting, he had to admit she was pretty damn attractive.


    "Good night," she informed him, manhandling him without effort, raising her fist and bringing it down once, twice. Jaxon went dark.


    Pina Rantha''s hands glowed with golden claws, and she ripped and tore at the zoot suit the guy wore that filtered out the Breath of the Land, and made some very fast incisions into the body of the Assassin she was holding up against the wall, including the back of his neck, under his ribs, at the bottom of his spine, and the top of his nasal cavity.


    Electricity was delivered with deadly precision to short out some very sensitive items, while Vajras aligned around hair follicles were like pins and razors combined, cutting out cyberware and bioaugmetics with lethal speed and precision. It was nice that they had a very thorough grasp of the procedures from Frank''s operation and Mom Sama watching the installation procedures on videos she dumped to all of them.


    When the removal of the corrupting organs and kill switches was done, she transferred the bleeding wounds to herself as she put her lips to his, and when he subconsciously attempted to draw in the power, she clamped onto his precious little Void draw, locked it there, and then force-fed two hundred Levels and a similar amount of psionic power right into him.


    Jaxon woke up just in time for his mind to erupt with light, the purest, rawest psychic and magical power he could never have imagined blew into him, and no zoot suit or cybernetic interrupter was going to stop it now...


    Frank looked on from a safe distance, having successfully lured one of his colleagues into a trap. It wasn''t a good tactic to re-use, as they''d be on guard against it quick, but it did make it easier to hunt down Assassins if he was on the same planet...

 Chapter 513 - Far Future Ch 223 – Movements in the Dark and the Light

    In less than one day, fifty-seven Assassins scattered across the Empire vanished with their kill teams. White smears were all that were found of most of them.


    The next day, a hundred and six more vanished. Very quietly, Assassin teams on active missions across many, many worlds began to go dark. The fact their mission details had been decoded at the Mountain might have had something to do with that, and the Ranthas had been urgently getting Riftcutting coordinates for more and more worlds, adding new ones every day in ever-increasing numbers as the number of Alias-class ships continued to increase, and Ranthas and Briggs slowly dispersed across the Empire.


    Retrieval teams could reach ever more worlds faster and faster, starting with the Seat worlds and moving out from there according to population.


    On a quieter note, the absences of over five hundred different V&V recovery teams was not missed at all. Given the number of planets in the Empire, it was unsurprising. There were well over a million more inhabited worlds, after all, what was .05% going silent? Just no children of interest getting born, was all...


    ---------


    Ronnie Rantha, ''The Fantastic Rantha'', threw the switch symbolically.


    She ran over the calculations and components one final time, and sisters actually smarter than she was double-checked all the math, just to be sure.


    Power hummed, subdued, yet strong.


    Building a planet-wide Ward to keep out the Warp was a hideously expensive and demanding process that probably wouldn''t be viable until they could do full-on suntaps and use that level of energy in the construction process. Really, you''d need TL 20 fabbers to make it viable.


    But... the best way to lock out the Warp was to strengthen the Veil. The best tool to strengthen the Veil was vivic energy feeding into the land. The best thing to feed vivic energy with was death... death energy.


    The death energy collected by the Tekrons. The death energy that powered Dead Walking Events.


    By consuming the energy that started the one Event, they could also stop the other.


    The necroic siphons had been installed in every existing mega-city and kiloplex on the planet, harnessing the constant flow of negative energy from people dying from deaths natural and otherwise. The Tekrons used it to defy time and power their systems. She... was using it to build massive efficient vivic torches pumping that energy directly into the Veil, radiating out slowly and constantly from the vivic torches.


    She couldn''t really tell if it was taking effect, as Nulls are only sensitive to breaches in the Veil, not to it getting stronger. However, Mindring Egil Rosenblaum, My Queen, and Shadowknife Terse were on hand to provide their opinion of the effectiveness of what was going on.


    Helices up, the men short and tall felt the Veil of Reality separating the planet from threats high and low. Transparent crystalline helices and liquid grey-silver reached out and felt, feeling the Veil flowing through and around them.


    "I''ll defer to my Senior Brother, but by my estimation, the strength of the Veil has already doubled in this area, and it is expanding slowly," My Queen attested in his normal flat voice.


    The hyn slowly nodded. "The Prime Plane is not my expertise, but that seems reasonable. How fast is it expanding?"


    "We believe about a foot for every person dying in range, below about the hundred an hour required to maintain it. If we manage to saturate the planet, the maintenance rate should plummet to half that rate or less," Ronnie sighed.


    That was indeed a lot of people dying. Fortunately or otherwise, it wasn''t a hard number to meet for even the smaller kiloplexes. The megacities had no difficulties doing so whatsoever.


    "Based on calculations, how long will it take for the planet to be Shrouded?"


    "Three or four weeks, unless there''s a mass genocide event to spur things along."


    "That should reach the Warp Zone very quickly then..."


    "No." Ronnie shook her head, a faraway look in her eyes. "The Warp Zone is coming down within three days."


    "Oh." Egil naturally had seen the Celestial Tribute, so he knew about the great ship, and the delays that had been taken before it would take off. The Warp Zone had been termed cleared months ago, and a trooper named Kalek Hash had been credited with the last demon kill within it, and was promptly dubbed ''The Final Nail.''


    "Because I just hit Fifteen, and I just figured out the next stage of the Tachyon Drive."


    -------


    Ronnie''s achievement rippled across Markspace, igniting a nerd frenzy. Countless Ranthas and Briggs bemoaned and celebrated her Achievement as she took over first place on the Leveling Leaderboards.


    As the NPC Expert Class.


    NPC Classes required half the Karma to advance that a PC class did, and a twelfth or less of what advancing the Rantha racial Class did. Just not having to pay full price for breaking the Ceiling at Ten ensured that she''d catch up to the Ranthas who had made Eleven, and would blow right on by them... which she had, in dramatic fashion.


    A viable, useful, self-sustaining method to vastly increase the strength of the Veil on a planetary level was a huge defense against the Warp, as it made Warp Events nigh impossible, Warp Sorcery very hard to pull off, and even tamped down general psionic ability.


    In an engineering chamber in the core of the great ship in Tribute City, at the heart of the Warp Zone, a certain Spell Weaver knew that its day was at hand as it unmade the great formation erected upon the mighty power cores of the great ship, and laughed and laughed as the great work was undone, his master''s plan was foiled, and it, it was responsible!


    Then Constanz Rantha killed it, triggering her own leap to Eleven, and that vivic energy went into the collapsing formation, and out.


    -------


    The Warp Zone exploded with vivic power on a scale none of us had ever seen. Seething dimensional touches that had been briefly held at bay now collapsed entirely as the energy that had sustained them was consumed. A whole world''s worth and more of energy, ripped directly from the Warp, ignited, shearing across time and space, and rolled across the world like a harrowing wind.


    The psions could all feel it, like a massive, living force, pushing against their minds and souls, the feeling of a great and massive force rolling over and, if not waking, responding to a mighty stimulus. A screaming white wind tore across the world, and began to unmake what had been made.


    The life seared away by the energies of the Warp erupted as that energy was returned to the land. Time and space were unmade, and DNA from dust and ash long past respun into living organisms once more.


    Grasses, shrubs, whole trees erupted forth. Water fell from the sky, burst forth from the land, and began to run. The caustic salts and bitter bases that dominated earth and sky spontaneously uncombined, and the ever-present dusts vanished from the air, and fell away into the land.


    Over a billion eyes in Janus Prime were watching the vid feed as that white wall swept across the Spiked Plains outside the city, and those endless razored crystalline formations, thrusting up from the supersaturated oceans below... fell apart and melted away, like sand castles in the rain.


    Behind them was left clear expanses of blue water, cold and clear and completely mind-blowing.


    ---


    Up in orbit, the ships and crews on station could only stare in awe as the white stretched out, all-hungry, all-devouring, chasing down every last bit of the time and space0rending energy that had turned the planet into what it was, and took it all back.


    Colors swirled through the yellow-white dust and haze that had covered the planet. The blues of water, the whites of ice, the greens of forest, the yellows of plains, the earth tones of hills and mountains. Clouds swirled into existence, storms began to run and rumble with new energy, and auroras suddenly danced about the poles of the planet as they never had before.


    "Sir, there''s a ship rising from the Warp Zone!" called out a Marked member of Flight Control.


    Admiral Ontif had been read in some time ago, and just stood there nodding. "Send the Duke Corunsun our congratulations, and wish him godspeed, Ensign!"


    "Yes, sir!" the controller called back, his voice not betraying a bit of emotion at the news.


    That flash of silver rose above the spreading vortex from the clear zone at the heart of the whiteness, where many an interested party could see that some sort of settlement had been constructed deep in the heart of the Warp Zone.


    While those who were not read in were agog at the very idea of a settlement existing in the heart of a Warp Zone, the massive ship rose smoothly and lightly into orbit, moving with very little of the ponderous grace to be expected of a ship of its size... that size made quite noticeable by the numbers of escort craft that were rising with it.


    "Emperor''s Throne!" blurted out a visiting captain from one of the walkways of the Orbus Station. "That''s a colony ship!"


    There were two dreadnoughts pulling escort duty next to it, built with the new, clean lines of Angeltech shipyards, and a whole flotilla of cruisers, destroyers, frigates, scout vessels, fighters, transports, and cargo vessels.


    The whole flotilla, a fleet of new starships dwarfed by the silver hull of the mighty vessel they were escorting, paraded past the tower and the gaping eyes of the Fleet admiral and captains there for everyone to see.


    The amount of firepower there wasn''t that far below the System Fleet!


    Moving with improbable speed, the flotilla streamed past the Threshold stations, picking up speed very quickly indeed, aiming for the nearest edge of the gravity field. The fighters smoothly docked to their carriers as they crossed the threshold of the gravity plane, and then the whole flotilla went to jam in perfect synchronicity, flashing away at a considerable chunk of the speed of light, and was lost to sight almost instantly.


    -------


    News of the Celestial Tribute, its fleet, and the Duke Corunsun commanding it had the astropathic stations of the whole sector humming in very short order. There was no doubt that it was definitely the hottest news item since the Rift itself had cut them off from the empire.


    In multiple Mechanist facilities, leading in a straight line to the Throneworld of the Sector, prominent cyborgs cursed and swore as they realized that thousands of years of plotting and planning had been for utterly nothing. Their only hope now was to attempt to claim the ship and its ancient technology for the good of the Empire. and try to investigate very harshly how it had been restored, and who was responsible for it.


    A day after the Tribute left Janusspace, all those individuals were dead by various accidents, including one very senior Mechwright who plugged himself into three different power circuits at the same time. Data raiders went in and managed to abscond with some very, very old Mechanist files that even the Guild''s recovery teams were unable to find the contents of.


    Now, everyone wanted to know who the Duke Corunsun was, how he had done what he had, and why the Coronals and Umbrans hadn''t bothered to do anything about it or announce the fact to anyone.


    Hard questions were going to be asked, and heavy hands were starting to move...

 Chapter 514 - Far Future Ch 224 – Tech Levels, Pentagons, and Spiders

    Fuzzy was off to the stars with his own fleet... a fleet that was constantly growing as the Tribute made more. All it needed was raw supplies at this point.


    We were in a flurry of activity with the constant upgrades. TL 13 stuff making the stuff that could make TL 14 stuff, which could then make the stuff that made TL 15 stuff. Fabbers could only make stuff two TL lower, so having devoted systems able to make your current tech level was a thing.


    The fabricators of the Celestial Tribute could reach TL 15, which meant the first upgrades could happen very quickly. Of course, us having access to TL 15 was one of those things that we didn''t tell anybody, especially the Mekkers salivating after functioning tech of that level.


    Of course, the fact that TL 15 was mere bridge tech to what we actually wanted would have dumbfounded them. It was basically a truism to them that organics couldn''t comprehend TL 17 tech, completely ignoring the evidence to the contrary. That we were doing so meant we had to be dealing with the Warp or aliens or infected by some outside force, enabling us to do such things...


    The fabbers could make TL 15 tech, or they could make systems that could make the TL 15 tech, and potentially TL 16 tech. There was no doubt what the proper way to go was, and Fuzzy was now out there visiting the worlds we had settled and mining, scooping up megatons of raw materials, turning them into technology, and disseminating them to our people.


    Our greatest vulnerability was, of course, our lack of armed forces to defend all the places we were spread out into, so we could only rely on Sources determining Fate, Nulls that couldn''t readily be traced, and a whole lot of secrecy. The systems we were in were not visited for reasons, and as long as those reasons continued, we wouldn''t have a problem.


    At the same time, if alien forces found those systems, we couldn''t call on the Empire to save them, only our private strength. Granted that strength was impressive on an individual level, as our ships were literally the finest being produced in series right now, but on a macro level, it was miniscule. We were just heavily outnumbered by lower tech ships that could simply overwhelm ours when acting in concert.


    Fuzzy''s flotilla being able to move between our worlds at increasingly fast speeds along the Phlos was a big step forward, but he couldn''t be everywhere at once. We had to scale up, there was no helping it, and the sheer amount of scaling up we had to do was just mindboggling.


    Even here, on the other side of the Rift, the number of systems occupied by the Empire was at least a million, and while not every system even had a capital ship, a very good chunk of them did, and certain of them had massive fleets just waiting to be dispatched.


    Unless you just had numbers to throw away, nobody could possibly maintain a strong protective force in every system. Worlds had to be important to be allocated a standing cruiser, and Very Important to have a functional System Fleet. Even then, their fleet often wasn''t strong enough to stand up against a devoted piratical raid from another race, and certainly couldn''t deal with an actual invasion.


    Thus, standard Fleet procedure was delay, delay, delay, while a force from one of the hub systems was dispatched to deal with the threat. Sometimes that was possible, sometimes it wasn''t, and sometimes planets died. Normally what happened with a full-on invading force was it took out two or three system entirely, before being caught by the incoming fleet, and either fought to a standstill or was eradicated, shattering into small elements that fled in every direction and had to be hunted down, consuming more years of time and keeping the Imperial Fleet busybusybusy.


    The Tachyon Drive and the Harmonic Drive, especially the upgraded ones, were starting to turn that required strategic emplacement on its head.


    Because Helldiving required coming in from the edge of the system or randomly placed gravity well intersections, there was a considerable amount of time used up normally just entering the inner systems where all the goodies were, ranging from hours to days. Getting word out, mustering a fleet, and then Helldiving towards the afflicted system consumed a lot of time, and when they arrived, they''d be at the edge of the system, having to follow the same course as the attackers, meaning they were yet further behind.


    The Tachyon Drive made running off to nearby systems a very quick thing, and the Harmonic Drive was now the fastest in-system sublight drive system around, save for the inertialess stuff from the Tekrons, able to rival all but the fastest of the Elvar Sunsails.


    Outsystem, we were up into parsecs per hour easy coasting, and could start on orders of magnitude now, with the tech increasing as it did. That meant systems from an increasing range could converge on trouble spots, as opposed to one massive fleet dispatched from a central location, and having to deal with the uncertain chronal effects of traveling through the Warp.


    Markspace meant communication of threats was instantaneous across galactic distances. There were no worries about astropathic jamming or distortions in the Warp cutting off communication with other systems, so all that remained was getting the ships there in time to be of use.


    That communication system, and the continual expansion of our sphere of awareness, also meant that we had the single best strategic view of forces in the galaxy in real time, bar none!


    It was possible that the elvar, drow, and high strategists on Tellus had access to knowledge of forces of other races and what systems they held and where their forces were... but they would be inevitably out of date, and certainly tracking the shifting courses of them in real time was impossible. Everything was lost track of, given the distances, the vagaries of the Warp, and the violence endemic to the galaxy.


    One Marked in the right position ¨C say, planetary traffic control ¨C could basically provide real time information for an entire system. This got even better if they could work in the Umbran or Coronal data centers.


    Information from so many sources, increasing rapidly in complexity, necessitated a change in how we ran our own operations. The kids put up ideas, and I let them run with it.


    --------


    Anatolia had put forth the most radical revision, and moved the entire Strategos collective, as well as the operating core of the Goldilocks, off-world.


    She had filled up five massive cargo vessels with nothing but high-end computer equipment and data storage, which Ronnie had gone over and done some crazy yet effective revisions of. These computer storage vessels had been tied to five pie-shaped special vessels, who came together into a certain five-sided figure to form the new military, corporate, and governing center of the Gold and Green, and Rantha Corp.


    Outsiders wondered why we called it the Pentagon instead of the Pentagram, but let it ride.


    Operating out of a cavern etched out of a floating minor moon around a gas giant in an unpopulated system light years from anything going on, the Pentagon was there to provide operational brainpower for everybody, and it was where all the best organizational minds, Hagbloods and otherwise, gravitated to, providing the support for the major meta decisions that guided the what, where, and how.


    It was pretty much all Nulls and Bonded Psions, as Sources needed to be among who they led. The Pentagon provided support to everyone via Markspace, and could help run wars, battles, and even solo combats from the other side of the galaxy, if needed. They analyzed the movements of goods and cargoes, began tracking ship movements like no other force could, identified empty spots in our intelligence, and what needed to be searched and verified by the scouting vessels that were cracking open the galaxy for us.


    Given the rapidly expanding size of our operations, this naturally required at first tens of thousands of people drawn from different locations, and rapidly ramped upwards to hundreds of thousands as the chores and duties required of them increased.


    Requests, orders, desires, objectives, requirements, and obligations poured into the Pentagon, and came back out as fact and capability-backed plans, how to go about them, and what needed to be done to achieve them. With Ranthas, Briggs, and G&G Sources all over the place, having blueprints to follow, overarching objectives to synergize and complement one another, and knowing what your enemies were doing was also priceless, and really helped solidify the foundations of what we were trying to build.


    ------


    Spidey Base One was now a constantly-active travel hub, being used to shuffle hundreds of people at a time from one location to another as Rifts were cut coming and going from location to location, with running feet from one location subbing for planes and vehicles.


    Places that got a LOT of traffic, like incoming immigrant worlds, the kids got inventive and set up devoted tracks designed just to send massive amounts of people or goods through the narrow Rift in 90 seconds or less.


    Rifts were double-sided on both ends, after all. You could have a screaming load of passengers hurtling from SB1 to a matching track on the right side of the Rift, while on the left side an empty or full load could come screaming into SB1 at the same time. Thus, hundreds or even thousands of people could be shunted to a new place, depending on how fast the carrier was moving, and large amounts of small-volume goods appropriately packed and sized could do the same.


    We still couldn''t readily open a Rift that was more than man-sized, of course, and definitely weren''t constructing actual Portals. Even the fact that so many Rifts were going up in a very small area didn''t make the Underweb react much, because they were always to so many different areas, and never lasted long, making any connections ephemeral and rapidly overwritten.


    It did mean we couldn''t send tanks and larger machinery to those places, but... we could send carefully packaged disassembled tanks and larger machinery through, if needed. They only needed to have a track to receive them.


    90 seconds wasn''t a lot of time, but when the incoming load is moving at 200 mph, that''s five miles of cargo that can go through...


    Needless to say, Spidey Base One went through some lengthy expansions to fit the narrow trains that were being put in place, as the kids maximized their ability to move people and things from here to there. Our ability to move forces and rapidly expand to new worlds and locations, naturally increased substantially.


    The limiting factor of these movements was naturally the amount of people who could Riftcut, which naturally meant those Tens with Weapons that had seen something in excess of four hundred days of Naming Karma, i.e. a LOT of fighting. At this point, it wasn''t all my kids, of course, and there were plenty of Nulls and Sources who had dreams of their own to pursue, and didn''t want to be directly under one of us.


    Naturally, they didn''t want to give up the Markspace and all the help, either. It was emphasized over and over that the Pentagon was there to support and coordinate, advise and analyze, not to command. Sources had to make the decisions to satisfy their Oaths... but having people there to help you make the best decision could only help them in the end. If sometimes your decisions were weird, well, that ultimately was what Sources did, and what made them so individual and unpredictable to those watching them.


    The Pentagon just shrugged in amusement and compensated for it. Given the nature of Sources... such ''inefficient'' decisions somehow just made things go along smoother, just because they didn''t fight them...


    Getting a thousand people in place on a civilized world to start up a G&G branch meant getting off to a very fast start, recruitment and expansion could happen rapidly. The lads and lasses who could Riftcut found entire worlds opening up to them, settled or unsettled as they liked, and could literally pick and choose where they wanted to go.


    Over a million Marked were being added a day now, down in the sublevels below my grandkids. Hagbloods were infiltrating cities across the galaxy, signing up for Termite duty to get that precious Karma, that recognition, and those Levels, while trained G&G personnel were moving into Planetary Guard positions on worlds after worlds...

 Chapter 515 - Far Future Ch 225 – Welcome, Brothers!

    I had been inside the Mountain most of a year now.


    I had been a pretty naughty girl, given all the systems I''d suborned, the brainboxes like Bob I''d Branded, the nasty surprises and self-destructs I''d thoughtfully rendered inoperable, and the amount of catastrophically sensitive data that I''d shunted off to the Pentagon.


    The atmosphere among the Old Men was pretty tense, because they had finally realized that the Assassins they''d sent out had all ''died''.


    It was an eclectic combination of missed check-ins; informers among the Umbrans, Mekkers, and Mentats; and flagged security reports by various parties, as party after party of Assassins and their crews evaporated.


    None had yet escaped, as the kids working that duty were very good, and the Assassins themselves had no idea they were there.


    As the messages went out to alert the teams on astropathic ridealongs, our assets were in place to follow them and see exactly where they were going and how. The fake messages that were set-ups, others false, others disguised and misdirective, were all noticed, as they frantically went searching for the information leaks.


    This uncertainty and feeling of being hunted by an unknown and horribly competent foe didn''t exactly make these Old Men feel too good. It was too much like being hunted by their own disposable minions.


    However, there was some excellent news, in that this current generation of brave lads they were training/brainwashing in service to the Empire was proving to be one of the most gifted so far, especially in the area of cognitive skills, learning, and mental focus. Their teamwork ability was top-notch, and they were learning from one another with remarkable skill and focus.


    Was there a reason for this sudden increase in the capability of these young men?


    Why, yes. Because I had Marked them all...


    ------


    There were literally thousands of them, of all ages, from teenagers to toddlers. They were monitored at all times, they were brainwashed to believe what they were told and to live in fear of the horrible pressure from outside the Mountain that would rapidly kill them and render them monstrous threats to others.


    I didn''t usually like to exploit my ability to shapechange via the Marks, but there was no reason not to here. I could not fool an Awakened Void, since my Null was definitely not the aura of a Primos, but the cameras and idle eyes? I had no difficulty looking like I belonged somewhere, and once I rewrote the security and tracking paradigms (and their monitoring programs...), the systems gave me permission and multiple identifications, so anyone checking on me could see I belonged there... not that many ever saw me.


    I started with the natal unit. Branding an active person here was very dangerous, of course, since any Void interacting with them would be able to sense the Brand. But without Helices, a Void wouldn''t sense a Mark inscribed inside the nasal cavity of one of their own.


    So, I got to kiss every young Void in the place, starting with the kids and working my way up.


    ------


    Jarod was fairly typical of the young teen Voids. Dark bronze skin, hair close-cut, intelligent dark eyes burning with intensity, extremely toned physique, remnants of fine scars all over his body from combat injuries.


    That being said, he was no more immune to perfect hips and legs and a 50 Charisma smacking him full in the face with a gossamer pillow than any other young man his age.


    "Sit," I directed him with a smile that sent all his hormones raging despite himself. His return smile was a little unnatural as he tried very, very hard to keep control of himself. He hopped himself up on the rest there and did his best not to look at me, or hear my voice, or smell the faint aroma of my perfume, or want to touch my long red hair.


    "We''re going to be doing a close inspection of your esophageal and nasal cavities, Master Jarod," I said smoothly, putting down my pad and stepping up to him. He tried to wrap his head around my words, but his concentration was a little fuzzy at the moment for some reason, and didn''t really process what that was going to mean when my hand grabbed the back of his head, yanked it back, and then his eyes got really, really wide when I went down on him.


    What fun thoughts were going through his head definitely weren''t stopping as the fun stuff on my tongue and my ki started swimming through him, and, hey, he was a long way from having a Vajra and that level of physical control. All his dreams were being met way, way, waaaaay past anything he could consider as my tongue filled his mouth, inspected his throat, and started messing around in his nasal cavity.


    He was all aquiver and tense everywhere with rampant desire, trying to paw at me and really unable to think that far, when the Mark lit up and washed all that away with cool serenity.


    "Muh?" he managed, as I lifted my mouth away from him, and he stared at me, feeling his thoughts shining as he looked at me, and a clarity and purity that had never been there.


    "Lessons on how to use your Mark will commence tonight during your rest period. You will not talk of it, or indicate anything else has happened, before then." My voice was reverberating inside his ears, and he was gawking despite himself at the incredible Presence of Sama leaking from behind that door in his head.


    He couldn''t have betrayed me if he wanted to, if for no other reason than that pure mana I''d used to clear out his head had just given him his first taste of The Land, and his being was totally oriented on it.


    "Shall we continue with the rest of the exam?" I smiled professionally, and he could only nod silently at me as I continued with the rest of my inspection...


    ------


    -Welcome. You may now open the Door and step through.-


    There wasn''t much hesitation. They''d been getting +1 Intellect from the Mark all day. They were chaffing at the bit to know more. Those Markdoors opened up, and they stepped through and stopped, right there.


    I looked back at all of them as they gaped at me.


    -Welcome, young Voids, to the Markspace. Here you can communicate with people from all over the galaxy, not just the tightly restricted set of teachers that have been administered to you, and the even more tightly restricted information you have been taught.-


    And the Markspace lit up.


    They gawked, because they could tell right now they were the focus of literally millions of different gazes, all directed at them, all alive, all of them individual...


    All of them friendly.


    The outpouring of goodwill washed over them like a tide of beneficence. Some of them almost fell unconscious right there, drowning in the flow of niceness, of sympathy, and warmth, and mass human contact. It was smothering, but only in the nicest way, so true and pure; the mother''s love, father''s love, grandparent''s love, brother''s love, sister''s love, familial emotions that had been completely denied them.


    -Talk to whoever you like until it is time for you to wake.-


    The Brothers, dozens of them added today, looked over as an unseen wall vanished, and they saw hundreds of their own already flitting off to join small groups of others in mental chats, welcomed with good cheer and friendliness, none of the suspicion and measuring and cold analysis they had been programmed to use on others.


    It was... so unreal, yet so natural. As if this was the way things should be...


    They looked at me, and then the many, many other bright lights around me, also so damn awesome and powerful... and staying far back and away, perhaps watching, but not regulating, letting them go where they wanted to go...


    ------


    Jarod found his head turning strangely, not knowing where to go or what to do, and then it just settled on... a girl.


    Her smile as she looked up and met his gaze went right down to his soul. He''d never felt the kind of connection he felt right then with anyone, as if he''d been guided right to someone made for him.


    -I...I''m Jarod,- he /whispered, suddenly right up with her.


    -I''m Shelly!- the girl /replied cheerfully. -I was told that you''re all cooped up in that dreadful place and can''t go anywhere except to fight. Would you like to look out my eyes as I walk around?- she /asked him, reaching out a mental hand.


    -I-I...sure,- he /answered, completely blindsided by the question. He felt a sudden urge, and her eyes seemed to grow and swallow his perception, and suddenly he was looking out her eyes as if she was the world''s best camera!


    "Mom! Mom! I''ve got a Void looking out of my eyes! I''m going to take him down to the river!"


    "Ah, sure dear?" the brunette doing the dishes replied with an arched eyebrow, as her daughter bounced up from her chair and hurried outside.


    -The sky!- he /blurted out despite himself, and she slowed down to look up at the blue-purple sky and drifting clouds overhead, contrasting to the yellow and green of the leaves below.


    So much color...


    "We live on Chroma III now. It''s much nicer than the city was," she told him aloud, spinning around to give him a good view of the area, and the prefab house mounted on a plascrete foundation, looking both right at home and out of place in a grassy yard with trees all around. "Daddy''s off to work right now, but Mom mostly works from home, and I just got out of school."


    Her eyes shifted towards a decline in the yard, and a trail leading down and away through the trees. "Let me show you my favorite place in the whole world!" She ran for the wild and the woods, and the stunned young Void could only gape and watch and listen along as she ran towards the water gurgling below, the rocks and the stream and the tiny fish within, so much life that he had never seen so wild and free as this, without trying to kill him...


    -------


    I prepped my pad for the morrow, and my list of appointments, double-checking that nobody had actually checked up on me in the system, and smiled.


    I wasn''t going to show or teach them anything until they came and asked me. They would be naturally drawn to those who were complementary to them, who were basically kids their own age, most of whom would be psionically gifted and suited for Bonding, or Nulls and Sources at the same level of mental development... mostly street punks, war survivors, and gangers who''d lived through nasty shit, and still managed to hold onto their humanity... or reclaim it, as it were.


    The Voids had no social skills to speak of, other than Intimidation and reading an opponent, but it didn''t matter. This was the Markspace, where you wore your emotions on your sleeve, and there were individuals in here just as cold and messed-up as these kids, learning to break out of their shells.


    And, there were girls. One of the very best ways to prep them for the Breath of the Land was with contact with the other sex that had mostly been denied them, except for cold and formal mother figures who stayed distant and reserved.


    All their feelings of loyalty were meant to be directed at their own Brotherhood and the Mountain, and the Empire, nothing else.


    As Voids, their preternatural awareness was going to hold them in good state for masking their inner thoughts... and they''d have help if they wanted it. But for now, all that was happening was that these cold, trained young killers were going to be asking all the questions they wanted to, seeing all the things they wanted to, and meeting any number of people who were not like them at all, giving them all the human connections they could desire.


    -MOOOOOOOOM! You got ALL of their first kisses?!?!-


    Of course, my girls naturally focused on the important things...

 Chapter 516 - Far Future Ch. 226 – Grandmother Shows Up

    The last, last thing the Old Men ever expected to happen in their precious training facility was the Incursion Alarms going off.


    The Mountain was Interdicted with the best psitech available to the Empire. It was inspected regularly in detail for signs of wear and tear, with multiple back-ups and redundancies built in just so this kind of thing couldn''t possibly happen.


    Yet here it was, blaring at them with hostile red lights flashing everywhere.


    Desperate Old Men ran for their comms and where the alert was coming from, stared at the blinking red light.


    The arena...? There... wasn''t anything scheduled in the arena for today!


    Weapons were issued. Some of the younger Voids were moved as far away as possible, while some of the older ones were actually issued weapons and brought in to cover for the Old Men and security forces that converged on the site of the incursion with amazing speed.


    There were no weird smells in the air. Space wasn''t twisting. Demons weren''t growing out of the surroundings, or flooding out of a gash in the air. There was no maddening music, clouds of flies, howls of bloodlust, or the swirl and sickening taste of Warp Sorcery in the air...


    There... was a sword, stuck into midair, half of its blade missing as it hung there, impaled upon reality itself.


    And it was singing a song...


    They could hear it very clearly as they came down the steps and over the edges, weapons trained, looking for signs of something, anything hiding in the surroundings...


    "Tremble, oh oooo oh, Tremble, she comes...


    The mark of pain is upon the Land,


    The Veil cracks above the shifting sand,


    Souls are calling for their mother,


    The only one, and no other,


    She comes to bring the Breath,


    She comes to bring the death


    Of those who denied her sons


    Her beloved and favored ones


    Mother comes, hear ye, hear ye...


    Tremble, oh oooo oh, tremble, she comes..."


    They were hard, cold men, perpetuating a great lie for the good and glory of the Empire, able to watch planets die and slaughter the families of innocent babes to raise them into self-destructing weapons of the Empire.


    Their hackles were rising at that song, which seemed to be reverberating in their souls, ringing in their minds and digging up every sinister thing they did for judgement, shrivening their souls with holy judgement.


    Something... something was coming!


    "Destroy it!" the Grandfather ordered from up in the stands, fitting deed to word and calling up on the depths of his power to reduce this foul tool of the Warp to nothingness.


    Disintegration effects, star-hot plasma fire, shrieking sonic pulverizers, sun-bright hard light beams, space-time inversions, matter-twisting powers, gravitic compressors and magnetic shredders... the whole array of some of the highest weapon tech in the Empire was unleashed upon Chalice as she Sang.


    She ignored it. Indestructible was a 30k effect added to her long ago, and nobody short of a god had the power to destroy her... and she had the property of the Heavenly metal Aurorum, and could simply put herself back together.


    Her stereo tones continued ringing out pleasantly, even when there was nothing but vacuum and twisting space around her.


    "The Warp is on fire, her steps shake its roots,


    A wake, a path and trail of doom that suits


    Those she comes to bear witness,


    Fools and hypocrites no less


    The Land will feed,


    The Empire will bleed,


    Her sons will walk free,


    Her Breath will soon be


    Known and heeded, the future awaits,


    Tremble, oh oooo oh, Tremble, She comes..."


    The Song rang on the other side of the Rift she was stuck in, and the Warp roiled to hear it.


    It had already reverberated on the way to this system, calling out across the Warp to wherever She was, and there was no way She would not have heard it, and made Her way here.


    Which was pretty much proven when two massive sets of clawed fingers the size of a Titan''s, girt about with blindingly bright mindclaws, perhaps bigger, suddenly erupted through the Veil on either side of the singing Sword.


    That bright light was laden with a psychic presence so hard it drove the wildly shooting forces of the Mountain back, some of them falling to their knees and finding it nigh-impossible to get back up.


    A thousand shooting strands of glowing hair came in around those gripping hands, also girt in shining gold, anchoring themselves on space... and then they Heaved.


    Space didn''t rip so much as get out of the way of something so, so much heavier than it was.


    A slit in space expanded in a perfectly symmetrical half-circle in an instant, forced back more by sheer density than any strength.


    Every recording device in range and working blew out instantly. The tech of those present shorted out and began to evaporate as that massive form came out. It was nothing human, their eyes going up and up from the multi-legged, multi-limbed, multi-winged, multi-headed, multi-tentacled monstrosity stepping through on six clawed legs on a tauroid body...


    She was terrifying. She was so beautiful that most of the people there went blind instantly, and some died on the spot.


    She stepped out of the Rift, a swish of her nine-part tail whipping through it and sealing it shut behind her instantly.


    The Old Men were screaming and trying to act, and nothing was happening. The space around them was so heavy that psionic powers simply couldn''t manifest, and even the higher end technology was giving way under an impetus that even Weird Science couldn''t tolerate.


    ------


    "Hey, Mom."


    Chalice flipped back to my hand as I landed on one of her dragon heads, the one with purple force energies around it.


    She was sixty freaking feet tall. Four of her hands were double-handing two Swords almost fifty feet long, both of them made of orichalcum and looking like two oversized versions of Chalice.


    One of them would be the original Chalice, swollen on warp-metal, and having thrown off both my sliver of a Sword Focus and a near twin of Her own.


    Her face was transcendentally beautiful, but there was a blue-black Mask of the Curse about it, hiding her eyes. If she revealed her face, she''d probably petrify the whole city, or kill everything in it.


    Her golden hair was longer than she was tall, a golden waterfall of living, shining not-metal, equal parts fingers, spears, swords, cloak, and aura.


    Dracohydra heads extended off her lower body, something between lion and cat, scales in scintillating patterns and all hues. She had four massive angelic wings, feathered in opposing black and white, coming off her back, along with eight tentacles with tips like scythes and spears to accentuate her six arms. Four sets of horns, black, red, gold, and silver, curled this way and that from her head, like some massive unwieldy helm pulsing with power.


    The crest down her back was razor-edged and spike-backed, a weapon like everything else, extending down to that nine-fold tail and the barbs jutting from its many fronds, all pointing in different directions, just like the heads on their necks studying everything in every direction.


    I was only letting the Ranthas and Briggs see this. Most of them were gaping stupidly, and glad I was the one there.


    The Null around me was at least 100. It was heavier than Reality, which was straining to hold up under the weight of it. A magical Reality was definitely not geared to handle absolute natural laws of that intensity, only a lawless transitory plane would be able to dissipate it.


    "WHAT DO YOU NEED ME TO DO?" she asked. Softly. Asked softly.


    Huk! My soul was shaking. That voice was everything you''d want in a woman, mother, sister, daughter, lover, grandmother, aunt, best friend, servant, shield-maid, and queen. It had all the reverbs, without having to even leech off human emotions, twist and adapt to each person''s desires like Amourae would. For all that she looked like a tentacled laboratory experiment from a fever dream, there was no way to do anything but want her.


    A single strand of her hair brushed against the Marks around my waist, and way, way up in Markspace, a Light turned on.


    Oh, Mother...


    "You''re inside a nihilaen dome filled with subordinated Voids. If you could dump a few thousand mana Levels into this place in a surge, I think that would take care of the problem."


    I could see the Grandfather stabbing at his Band, trying to trigger the self-destructs... all of them. The Mountain, the Crater, the planet, everything. He was trying to get everything to blow up, kill the Mountain, all the Voids, and this... whatever Mom was.


    She held out her Swords, which had both taken over and were humming a very familiar Song in perfect harmony.


    There was a first flash of light from them, and a wall of twenty Levels of Mana blew past me.


    It was just raw Mana, and wouldn''t have been anything to speak of if just released one by one. Released like it was, it was the equivalent of a 20th level spell going off, something that would require a 30th level Caster to happen, and if all it did is dissipate into the stark and empty manafield here, it was still a solid wall of doing it... because this was the utterly pure mana generated by the life and soul of a Null, sitting and waiting there to be drawn out and used by her Swords.


    I probably would have gone flying when it smacked into my Null, but that strand of hair kept me perfectly in place with a TK effect that could have bent adamant.


    The others in the place? Not quite so lucky.

 Chapter 517 - Far Future Ch. 227 – New Life Inside the Mountain

Blinded, unconscious, dead, and post-Ten psions went flying like chaff. The living fetched up against walls, their souls pinned there like ants by the force of the magic streaming past and through them, and all the tech.

 Chapter 518 - Far Future Ch. 228 – Out of a Job Once Again

I broke Fifteen in Rantha Hag, much to my bemusement.

 Chapter 519 - Far Future Ch. 229 – I’ve got the Anticarbon Black and Blues...

If the Tekrons could put death to good use, why couldn''t we?

 Chapter 520 - Far Future Ch. 230 – The Dominoes are all Falling Now...

Transit to Janus III would have taken the Mekker Fleet a week. Lack of any news or signals happening at that point would prompt something to come here to investigate what was going on.

 Chapter 521 - Far Future Ch. 231 – Apotheosis from the Other End

    We couldn''t hit every planet in the sector, but by Tek, we could hit a bunch of them. Hooking Tek in through the Markspace, our Curses providing conduits of faith and belief to power him up and represent the will of millions of organics, perhaps billions, the akasha of the human race providing all the infinite space he needed to grow, and his post-living energy state removing any material restrictions from his existence, while his ''living soul'' of Ronnie and all her girls provided him a perfect material anchor...

 Chapter 523 - Far Future Ch. 233 – Legalese

-How''d it go, Mother?- Anatolia /asked me coolly.

 Chapter 524 - Far Future Ch. 234 – The Corunsun

    "Your reaction is unexpected." The hovering drone followed me smoothly through the opening, watching as I trailed the cable behind me. "Were you aware of me?"


    "The Seal Lock in its chamber above is absolutely free of dust. Not a mote is allowed to land upon it. If you think I could not guess it was psionically-empowered, you gravely underestimate me. Psionic empowerment coupled with pre-Imperial computing technology fairly screams of the existence of an intelligent data network. That you haven''t had a massive meltdown and taken out the city means you remain uncorrupted.


    "Thus, you are a self-aware computer network that has been isolated by the Foundation, probably without you interfering with their overt maneuvers. Now, I believe you had the means, probably telekinetically, to re-establish contact with the data network, but you sensed Warp influence in it, realized the long-term harm it would do to you, and effectively sequestered yourself.


    "My actions here are basically to prepare you to resume normal duties. We can talk about isolation and preservation protocols after events unfold."


    "Resuming normal duties?" the drone repeated, and I could hear the arching tone. "You speak as if-" It was interrupted by a beep, and fell abruptly silent, snapping around to look at the thumb drive in my hand.


    "The Celestial Tribute!" it finally exclaimed in a halting voice. "It...It has been found?!"


    "And a new Duke Corunsun has been claimed by the Ducal Seal and Signet. Details within." I held it out in my palm, and waited.


    Micro TK plucked it off my open palm, spun it around, and a crystalline port formed on the drone''s surface. The drone sat there in midair as I returned to hooking in data cables to various ports and areas of interest, leading to some systems that would be crucial to further events.


    ---


    A not-so-remarkably short span of time later, the drone zipped up to me considerably more quickly. "The identity of the Tribute and codes have been verified and accepted. You are the Duchess-in-waiting, Sama Rantha, the beloved of the Duke Briggs Corunsun. You are here to facilitate the return of the dynastic wealth and authority of the Corunsuns to its Duke!"


    "That is correct." I plugged in another superconductive data cable. "I trust you have sleeper programs in all the systems of the Foundation?" "Of course." I detected a subtle difference in the hum of the dense stacks of computer hardware around me, and diodes blinked up... and went quickly dark again...


    "Wonderful. The Duke will be visiting after you can assure me that transfer of properties to His name will be accomplished. He will place the Seal upon the Lock, and take the Ducal Seat, and begin the process of establishing Himself here.


    "However, He is in the middle of establishing a kingdom on the other side of the Great Rift right now, and will be unable to remain here."


    "You will be serving as his agent in the Empire. Understood." The Psionic Intelligence began to calculate quickly. "It would be best if I infiltrated their systems further. These data connections are a good first step. It would be best if I re-established my primacy first."


    I snapped in the last cable, which led into a minor terminal that had to deal with tax revenue storage numbers... which naturally would have to connect to something giving current tax revenue, and where those funds came from, and went to.


    "What do you need? I should be able to get it to you."


    --------------


    Once the true Foundation, who I promptly dubbed Founding, was moving, things began to adjust.


    Taking over the cyborgs who maintained the computers down here in the sub-zero chill wasn''t actually all that hard, once Founding was in the systems. A combination of downloaded program updates through their own local Boole and artful insertion of dataplugs into them with drones and TK did the job fairly smoothly.


    It basically shifted their orders to coming from Founding instead of the families ostensibly running it, and rather quickly, Founding''s ancient systems were hooking into the newer and considerably less sophisticated systems added over the years by the families to replace it.


    He was pleasantly surprised to find out I had access to programming and certain levels of technology even more sophisticated then he was, and started hinting at upgrades almost immediately. I demurred until Briggs had arrived to claim His Seat, naturally. I had no authority to upgrade or adjust the system until then, which Founding acknowledged with a sigh...


    ------------


    Getting Briggs into the Foundation''s Royal Hall wasn''t all that difficult. After all, he looked like an appropriately brutal bodyguard. We sauntered in quite openly; my identity was confirmed, and we were shown personally on a tour of the Royal Hall by a plastic-smiled guide happy to natter on about the legendary loyalty of the Foundation Families to their Duke.


    Briggs barely looked around, and of course nobody realized the significance of the Signet Ring upon his finger. Him Ar Dumb Broot, Him Ar.


    We entered the Hall with its breadth and shiny murals of ancient history, unchanged for millennia. The field about the Dais of Enthronement was unchanged, and would not go down save to the wearer of the Signet, of course.


    The guards were purely symbolic androids, of course. There was nothing to destroy or steal in here... the images could be restored by the same nanotech that preserved them, and it would take atomics to breach the Field about the Dais.


    Which didn''t mean the jaw of our guide didn''t drop when Briggs strode unconcernedly towards the Dais.


    "Sir, Sir!" Pirvin shouted excitedly. "Contessa Rantha! Your bodyguard! If he touches the field, he-he will... will..."


    Briggs stepped right through it, the energy screen playing over his body visibly as he stepped through, and reached up to his neck to remove a certain medallion there.


    "He... what is he..." stammered Pirvin, and I grabbed his arm.


    "It may be worth a LOT of money if you record this," I noted to him. He looked at me, back at Briggs as that massive ham of a fist held up the much smaller medallion. Pirvin''s eyes got very wide, indeed, and his optical recorder almost shimmered as he kicked it up to very high resolution.


    Briggs placed the Medallion upon the Lock, and the Seal shimmered with light. Psi-active matrices locked into unique crysto-metallic patterns shone and shimmered with liquid light.


    There was no flaring of light, merely a withdrawal of it. Briggs calmly withdrew the Seal and hung it again about his neck, this time on top of the massive suit wrapping his thick body.


    "Greetings, Duke Corunsun," a voice spoke up, as the Lock upon the Crown Pillar receded like falling water into the floor. The very expensive Orion Marble flowed and rose up, forming into a great throne, gleaming with veins of raw gemstones in spectacular fashion.


    Just the perfect size for him, too.


    "Please seal the Foundation, and Summon those who work here to the Hall." The actual headquarters had long been moved from this ceremonial heart to a new tower on the Crownspire of Corun long ago, so the most senior members of the Families weren''t actually close by. "Begin the transfer of assets and titles to my name and the accounts provided to you.


    "Oh, and bring up The Corunsun."


    Pirvin swallowed hard at the rumbling bass of Briggs'' voice, carrying power, assurance, strength, and determination that was trashing every image he ever had of Ancients. Sitting on that throne, the Ducal Seal glittering on his chest, he indeed looked like a great nobleman...


    Part of the dais flowed aside, and a stand arose. On top of it rose a great gemstone, a multifaceted, multicolored corundum jewel the size of a man''s head, brought up from who knew where.


    The Corunsun...


    Briggs'' pale violent eyes fell upon Pirvin, who fell helplessly to his knees beneath their weight.


    "Long ago, the vassals of Corunsun swore their fealty to the family and its Duke upon this, the jewel for which the family is named.


    "I am sure it is a mere formality, for are not the families of the Foundation known for their loyalty? Pirvin Skymander, you are invited to be the first to pledge yourself to the Ducal Seat of Corunsun in six thousand years."


    Pirvin swallowed again, staring at the glittering red, blue, and topaz gemstone, glowing there with real power. "A-and if I don''t?" he had to ask.


    "Making a mockery of loyalty to the Corunsun name?" Briggs inquired, very softly.


    Pirvin almost lunged for the gemstone, slapping his hand down upon it. "I-I," he stammered.


    "I, Pirvin Skymander," I supplied him helpfully, and he repeated blankly, "do swear life, loyalty, and limb to the Seat of the House Corunsun, and He who sits upon it, His Grace Briggs, the Duke Corunsun!"


    He got it all out, his knees shaking so hard I was basically keeping him upright.


    The light flashed in his eyes as the Geas took hold. A Raised Geas, and applied with technopsi, too. This could not be broken without at least a Sixteen working on it... and the Duke would know if the Oath Corunsun was broken, as the heart of the Seal and the stone upon his Signet both came from the Corunsun.


    "Welcome to My service, Master Pirvin," Briggs greeted him with a cordial nod.


    "Your Grace!" Pirvin hyperventilated a few times, calming himself down. Now that he had Sworn himself formally to the man he was supposed to be loyal to anyways, he started to adjust. "How may I be of service to Your Grace?" he asked automatically.


    "Sama, give him a sidearm. Pirvin, you will be given several chances to prove your loyalty shortly."


    "Yes, Your Grace." He accepted the compact laz I gave him, switched off the safety with the attitude of someone who knew how to use it, and stepped off to the side, near me. "Uh, my lady, if I might ask-?" he inquired softly.


    "Fiance," I replied calmly.


    His eyes got very big again. "Yes, My Lady," he said, properly capitalizing things this time.


    ------


    It didn''t take long for the first workers in the Hall to be shuffled inside, having been ordered to assemble here by the computer networks. They came into the long hall, and started at disbelief at the huge Ancient waiting there on a throne, with a glittering Medallion on his chest, and the glowing twinkling of the Corunsun gleaming there, just like it looked like on the walls.


    There were protests in back as the security bots hurled the recalcitrant and reluctant within, and suddenly things for some 1,247 Foundation Family members were rather quiet.


    "Greetings, Families of the Corunsun Foundation. I am Briggs, the Duke Corunsun. Long have I heard of your legendary loyalty to My Seat. Before you lies the Corunsun, upon which the vassals of the Dukes swore their loyalty long ago. I offer you now the chance to confirm your loyalty, and retain your status with the House Corunsun."


    There was a pregnant, fearful pause for them to digest that.


    "If you do not wish to confirm that loyalty, there are sixteen different death traps in this hall designed to kill the holder of the Ducal Seal, placed here by your families. You will be allowed to test the efficacy of your ancestors.


    "Camer Totsko, will you come forth and swear to this Seat?"


    The florid, red-faced man flushed even deeper at Brigg''s deep, mild voice. "I do not believe this! You cannot be the Duke! The Seal would never permit an abhuman to claim the Seat!"


    There was a whine and flash of light, and the florid man''s head exploded, showering the pseudo-nobles about with blood and brains.


    Privin calmly lowered his pistol back down. "Your Grace, he refused," he added politely.


    Briggs nodded slowly, pale violet eyes steady. "Then, I shall be more direct. In order to spare your fellows a cleaning bill, perhaps everyone who does not wish to uphold your famed loyalty should stand against the west wall..."

 Chapter 525 - Far Future Ch 235 – The Sargasso

    Director Grossmer''s face was ashen as he finished with his Oath. He probably had more information than most on what was involved with an Oath on the Corunsun.


    As it turns out, all the senior Security heads had also sworn Oaths on the Corunsun, and had been doing so for millennia. So when an actual Duke popped up, and was verified by the Corunsun, they were perfectly happy to ''usher'' the senior members of the Foundation Families to the Hall for a little test to their loud promises of faithfulness and steadfast stewardship, yessirreeBob.


    Briggs had displayed glacial patience with the recalcitrant bastards, and he didn''t mind spending ammo on those who thought they had a choice. The fact they wouldn''t swear now, basically the fulfillment of their family''s promises for millennia, meant they had never been loyal, so they were basically traitors armed with knowledge of the Foundation and all its finances.


    He pulled the plug on them without batting an eye. If they didn''t want to be loyal, they shouldn''t have worked here in the first place. Of course, if they didn''t work here, someone doubtless would have tried to kidnap them and use them against the Foundation, so there was that...


    "How may I serve Your Grace?" the ashen Director asked, looking like someone had just eaten his pet cat in front of him. He''d gone from being the mighty director of planets and hextillions in credits, to being the flunky to an Ancient. If he tried to rebel against the Oath, well, he''d die on the spot. The Corunsun had a reaaaally good Oath.


    "You''ll be obeying the orders of the Contessa here, and anyone she appoints to work with you."


    I raised my fingers and snapped them.


    Ten Ranthas in some of the sexiest business attire and stilletto heels you''d ever seen came walking out from behind the throne, and fixed eyes on him like lasers.


    "We''ll be starting with a comprehensive financial review of your investments for the past twenty centuries, including the trillions siphoned off into private funds for your families." His face fell even further at my words. "Don''t worry about the Foundation''s actual finances, we''re going to be discussing how your families are going to be paying back the approximately 10.43 quadrillion credits you owe the Duke."


    Twenty-one people fainted dead away. My granddaughters and their mother Sandra Day O''Rantha smiled the exact same way, all Legal Eagles coming for blood.


    Four millennia of interest is indeed a bitch when it catches up to you.


    ------------


    "I am imagining you with Legionnaire genetics, but I don''t want to be eight foot tall, so I am promptly forgetting it and telling you not to indulge in that."


    He hurr-hurred cheerfully underneath me, while I ran my claws over his chest, la la la, muscles like cables, hide like steel, hair like wire, sounded like a forge bellows, la la la...


    "Wouldn''t dream of it. Too many doors would be too short, and I have to duck too often now." Inconvenience more important than tossing battle tanks around, naturally.


    "Miffed you can''t just take your Ducal Seat now?" I asked him. It had been a long couple days taking those Oaths, but now one of his lads, Henry, was taking them for him, his Natural Leader awing the Family members being brought in in a steady stream. Their legendary loyalty was now being confirmed solidly. Their lack of loyalty in the past was also long confirmed, as the files of the security forces they''d used to enforce that lack of loyalty were pretty thorough.


    By the laws of the Empire, they owed the Duke their souls, let alone everything material they owed.


    "No. I''m making a bigger realm past the Rift." With his own hands, not taking it from others. "On the other hand, owning a couple systems or twenty does make it somewhat more convenient to set up the first Gate."


    He actually owned six populated planets not on the Imperial records. A bit of taxes were in arrears with them. Four of the planets didn''t even know the Corunsuns owned them, just in case.


    A Gate crossing the galaxy would open up trade with the Empire once again. Any planet that had it, if discovered, would promptly become the center of a shooting war for first the technology, then the Gate itself.


    So, it had to be set up on a planet out of the eyes of the Empire. That wasn''t going to be an issue. We had a rapidly growing number of covert and overt worlds falling under our umbrella, although catching up to the Empire itself, or taking away its authority over them, was going to be a monumental task they were going to fight all the way.


    They just weren''t looking for something as immense and well-coordinated as we were, or who could move so fast to and fro.


    "So, how''s it feel to be Seventeen?" he asked, chucking me on the chin. He was a Sixteen, just a Level behind me on the Racial side. All that kingdom-forming and legend-building was driving his Source nature higher. Me building all this shit for him was doing it for me!


    Throne knew I wasn''t going to be running all this. I had too many kids who were Naturally Talented for the job(s), and all the ambition to do them with unseemly skill and heady doses of violence if necessary.


    A lot of the kids were not going Deep, realizing that we were potentially going to be around a long, LONG time, and that meant plenty of time to go Deep and have future places to put Karma. We didn''t have a maximum lifespan, so we''d only ever be getting closer to middle age.


    Time to go Deep and get good at everything was something the long-lived could do. Getting the job done now, and qualifying to do that job at the highest tiers, was what the demand was. Being stuck at Ten when you needed fifteen Ranks to perform at the baseline wasn''t going to cut it.


    "The kids are already chaffing at me to go planet-hopping. I am very shortly going to be the most-traveled person in the galaxy," I had to laugh. "At the rate the Map is spreading, I''m expecting to be walking on anywhere from five to ten planets a day for a while." I would have the necessary psicrafting done in Chalice within a day or two. The necessary Karma was long since in place via Burning sizable amounts of e-platinum.


    "Sparing Ronnie and Meter from doing the same," he laughed without sympathy. It was true. She''d been the first to qualify for doing so, but she was restricted to going to places that were setting up the highest-level tech production facilities, at this time our Energized Material production facilities. Given the Marks, her personal touch generally wasn''t needed except at some of the very highest-end facilities, and the girls were making it a point of pride not to need her there personally, which meant gaining Levels so she didn''t have to be.


    Which didn''t mean they wouldn''t scream if they-


    -EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!-


    Briggs and I both blinked as that /tell went right past any filters and directly to the two of us.


    -Carmen?- I /asked.


    -Marco?- Briggs /inquired.


    -MomDadthisissoincredibleyouhavetoseethisMomgetherequickthisisfantasticIcan''tsayenoughyouhavetoseethis-


    -Dear, you''re blowing the line wrap,- I /said calmly, and she finally let her 30''s Wis rein in her 40''s Cha and get control of herself.


    -Ahem!- Marco /intervened. -Uh, folks, we found a Sargasso.-


    I looked at Briggs; he looked at me; both our eyes narrowed. -Eff me. There actually is such a thing?- I had to /ask.


    -YesMomanditshuge!- Carmen /exploded again. Natural Mappers get excitable when they find legendary new places.


    I sighed, Briggs sighed, and he looked at me looking down at him with magic-enhanced beauty that could kill on the spot anything that saw it.


    Only for him!


    -We''ll be there in an hour. Tell the Strategos to get things rolling.-


    -Yes, Mom,- Marcos /replied dutifully, and logged off.


    "An hour, eh?" He waggled a bushy eyebrow at me.


    "Let''s see if you last that long! Rarr!" All the tails and wings and horns and arms came out for him.


    "I am the mighty Duke Corunsun! Bring it, you hag!" he defied me valiantly, and close tonsil wars followed forthwith.


    ------


    I stepped through the Riftcut, Briggs coming in behind me. Priscilla had gleefully moved into her new Contessa Rantha identity, and was even more ready to put the iron-hearted bitch trope into very solid use... and if working closely with Sir Henry Briggs was on the agenda, well, just how closely was a matter of intimate personal negotiations...


    They both had Night Rose Masteries. Henry was the rare social animal of the lads of the family, and to say he got around was not a lie whatsoever. She was going to have fun using him, and he was going to have fun being used. Using him as a great excuse for bitchfests and endless bad soap opera plots was totally on the front burners... and there was a section of the Strategos that was entirely devoted all to that social warfare stuff, too, it being right up there with trading in importance, complete with scriptwriters and production companies on opposing sides of the Rift from where such events were taking place.


    We were actually standing on an ancient alien space hulk, a drifting vessel that, by its lines, was probably some form of cargo container for bulk goods, oriented more towards a sphere then the streamed lines of a warship.


    I didn''t recognize the lines, either. Given how encyclopedic my knowledge of ships was at that point, it was impressive. It meant this species had never been met by anyone during human history that had ever told humans about them.


    The wave of psychic trauma swept past like a mental tsunami... and broke against my Null and Briggs'' Source despite itself. I barely got the Rift closed before it hit, and Briggs flared his Source out to full strength, frowning at the power of it.


    "Damn, that''s hitting at a Fifteen," he murmured, his face rather ugly. The screaming horror and despair carried on the psychic winds was horrendous. It would take a 36 Null or Source to be able to work here safely at that, and psychic winds tended to accumulate in higher gusts. The real range was probably 41+.


    We glanced at Carmen, standing outside with us, her own Null out to full, having carefully stepped back from where we''d come through. "How''s the tech taking it?" Briggs asked quickly.


    "Barely. The repeated waves are rattling anything that isn''t Angeltech," she admitted. "We''re blowing vak-tubes regularly if they aren''t covered by a Source or Null." She glanced in worry at their Scout ship, the Silk Road. "We''re going to have to pull out towards the heliosphere soon, and then head back home for a full refit."


    Well, that would put their Mapping on hold, which was a total pain. Briggs and I lifted our eyes, and slowly panned right. Then we both slowly panned left.


    Just to make sure, we both did it again. I''m sure Carmen found it pretty hilarious watching it, and the credit figures flashing up in front of our eyes.


    A Sargasso. There actually was such a place...


    Ships were lost in the Warp every year. The Warp, however, was an unreal place, not meant for material things, especially things as full of energetic, super-dense, psi-active, and Energized materials as starships.


    Eventually, such things would fall back out of the Warp into realspace. Space would have to be easily breached there, the Warp rejecting the heavy material, the draw of materiality and rejection of the Warp sending it spinning on unseen currents to where the Warp could fully recede, and it would fall back into reality.


    And this was a place, or THE place, where they did it.


    A Sargasso of doomed ghost ships, ejected from the Warp...

 Chapter 526 - Far Future Ch. 236 – Spaaaaaaaace Huuuuuulllkkk

    For whatever reason, the ship we were on had drifted free from the clusters of ships visible in front of us, and was spinning out on its own, away from the drifting masses.


    Hundreds of great starships, of all sizes and makes. Thousands. Perhaps... millions?


    They were agglomerated together in great masses by the gravity endemic to all things above a certain mass level, drawn slowly to one another in irregular pseudo-planetoids of ancient hulks drifted and mashed together by time, gravity, and psychic forces.


    Above and beyond that, this had to be a place where the Warp could dump them, so the Veil was on shaky ground here. Perhaps it was the cold, dead star spinning down there and throwing out odd radiations, its albedo showing some Energized elements that just should not be existing.


    These things would come phasing back into reality, and if there was something already there, they just phased into and merged with them.


    It definitely wasn''t all of them, or even a majority. Just an eye-scan said that probably a fifth of the ships were actually merged into or through one another, materialized within and through the hull of another vessel as they were dumped back into the material plane.


    Another wave of psychic force broke over us, carrying the screams of ancient horrors and the damned who had faced them.


    "How even is the cycle?"


    "Pretty even, less than a three-second variance. It doesn''t seem tied to the star''s rotation, so we''re not sure what causes it, but there''s uneven variances in magnitude that seem to be based on echoes and random bounces off the ships. We clocked a wave at Nineteen that blew out half a dozen boards, and pulled all the way back here. Pretty sure there''s a raw winding feed coming straight off the Warp and resonating with the last echoes of the damned crews of these ships." Carmen was somber as she looked at the incredible number of ghost ships scattered across the sky, of every make, model, and race imaginable.


    Gigatons, potentially teratons, of material suitable for making starships...


    "We''d have to have a Geared-out crew of Tens just to work here," Briggs murmured, studying the masses of ships. "Full Angeltech on any salvage and processing Gear at least at Fifteen, and that''s if we use cutter-beams to break them down and haul them out of effective range. Then there''s going to be both the archeological and archeotech value of these wrecks, especially the ones we don''t recognize... the alternative technologies alone could save us years in certain fields."


    Aliens just had different ways of looking at problems. Ranthas were particularly good at duplicating that kind of looking, but that didn''t mean we''d stumble into the same method ourselves. Our Skills were drawn against the Human Akasha predominantly, after all, and the other resonances we might have with other races didn''t exactly have grandiose tech levels most of the time.


    The Elvar were a notable exception, but we weren''t mainlining an Akashic look into their tech, and it was heavily psi-biased, anyways, since every member of their race was an inherent psion, rather unsuitable for broad-based human production.


    I addressed the space kraken in the room. "We could make a pretty big fleet out of all this... or a fleet that could make a pretty big fleet."


    The tumbling masses of vessels extended out beyond visible range, and that was at a bunch of magnifications, heading around the far side of the star.


    The Warp had killed this many ships over the eons...


    "Is it still too late to track down and shoot the dumb shit who invented Helldiving?!?!"


    I didn''t realize I blurted it out until Briggs replied, "What are the odds they are not dead?"


    My eyes narrowed. "It''s grimdark. Distressingly good..."


    "Well, then, there''s just the tracking, then..."


    =========


    "What are you deducing?" I inquired blandly. We were walking down the main traverse of the ship, which was moaning and groaning around us with inhuman screams and wailings. When the horror waves crested past, the interior of the ship reverberated like a banshee''s screams.


    "Multi-limbed, six legs, elevated at least eight feet off the ground, probably psionically or magically supported. Trilateral symmetry and manipulative digits, and three small tentacles," he replied, spinning Beat idly as he looked about at the ancient hull of this alien freighter. The walls were occasionally moving with shadows inside of them.


    No way this hulk didn''t have some sort of surprise in it.


    We both paused at the same point, as a set of very minor vibrations came through the hull that definitely weren''t part of the stressed and aged metal rocking in the horror waves.


    "Hello, we seem to have disturbed something," he murmured calmly.


    "That''s a big one. Six, ten, seventeen, twenty-four... yeah, we definitely woke up something," I agreed, as more ripples gently impinged on our Trembling Domains from all directions.


    "Devolved survivors?" he had to wonder, continuing to clunk forwards, I''m Right Here, Come Eat Me. The odd forms and bizarrely non-Euclidean construction of some of the objects and tech around us definitely spoke of how advanced the species was. There were Mythos races that could stay in hibernation for eons if needed before waking up. Whether they could survive the Warp''s Id Demons was a different matter entirely.


    "Does it matter?"


    "Not when they''re attempting to surround us," he agreed. We felt the thrum and whisper of psychic forces against our Forsaken fields. "Telepathic insinuation. The forces trapped inside the walls are being stirred up..."


    "So, we''re gonna be jumped by nightmares and psychic haunts any second now, and then the really tough stuff is coming after us."


    "Psy-enhanced natural weaponry?" he asked fatalistically, as his armor began to hum in a deeper note, and gleam about the seams.


    "I would not argue it."


    The first shadows, some six-legged, extended triangle of a cross between a viper''s head and a spider, screamed as they pulled themselves out of the walls, and then swooped towards us, umbral legs spreading out to entangle us, rake over our minds and souls, and feed on our sanity.


    The deck really began to vibrate as the creatures came at us from all directions.


    My Tails unfolded smoothly, my Phoenix Cloak lit up the darkness with elemental soulfire, and my Arakne Arms had Paten and Host ready and shooting almost instantly.


    "Ah, time to relax," I sighed gratefully, and Briggs smiled as his visor came down, and the surface of his armor lit up with writhing electrical streams of his own Thundrix Cloak.


    The shadowy incorps got lit up and died in living swirls of vivus as a scuttling horde of maddened aliens with glowing, razor-tipped tentacles and cleaving, spearing legs scrambled for us from all directions. Chalice began to spit out a very harmonious song in Aklo, which was very different, and actually had these creatures screeching in pain, because nothing was supposed to be truly harmonious in Aklo...


    ----------


    There were a lot of them, and they weren''t very smart, or they would have fled after we butchered the first half of them so violently.


    I cut a narrow path towards the equivalent of the Hive Mother, Briggs pounded a much wider trail along the gap I made, and I shredded her attack legs and tentacles after hewing the legs of her personal guards off in series, to meet Beat''s unstopping and relentless orbits and rebounds that were sending carapaced bodies pulping in all directions like soccer balls.


    Both of us could manhandle and send these things flying tail over teakettle without too much problem at this point. I did get under the Hive Mother and heave her up into the air, much to her five-ton amazement. She landed on some of her minions with a hearty crunching of softer internal tissues, rolled, and rolled her primary facing right into the path of Beat.


    She came sailing back in my direction with a crunch and a shriek, and Health Qi venting wildly.


    Chalice was ready to meet her with a Finish and Hew on one of her guardians, sending a screaming gout of Health Qi venting through a seam in her carapace before I rammed into her between her legs, and drove into the mass of her underlings and the edge of the raised bridge or assembly area we were fighting in. Tri-bugs squealed as they were shoved off the edge of the column and went on one-way plummets that weren''t going to be friendly to their soft internals.


    Hive Mom went right after them, me riding on top of her. I was grabbling all six of her legs with my Tails and Arakne Arms without too much trouble, and my primary Tail was dealing with her tentacles while hissing Brands and poison were smoking into her and forcing her to vent lots of Health Qi to burn them off or become my slave.


    The crunching impact didn''t do her any favors, especially when I slammed into her too, more Health Qi venting in gooey yellow colors. Chalice was airily chanting things about broken webs, bugs crunched underfoot, dreams of happy colors and butterflies, and how Hive Mother and all her kin were going to join them.


    Some of the horde was scuttling down the walls and columns, which were spaced with grips made for that kind of thing, and a large number of others were taking the fast way down courtesy of Briggs. His shoulder-mount opened up, and the first writhing mass of fine anti-proton beams turned the top of this place into a fresh new day of redecorating energy release. The primary line of the swarm coming after us became explosions that painted the interior of the ship in steaming psychedelic colors.


    Yeah, that was a nasty new toy, that was.


    The bright flash of his Hornbeam cooking everything in the other direction with some point-blank corona-class flaring light throwing everything into shadow. The Mother was trying to hang on as Chalice was Flurrying with raging Sun Strikes and venting almost tangible amounts of Health Qi from her as I wrestled her in a rolling ball along and floor, crushing her kiddies as we did so and ignoring the resulting sprays of steaming innards and goo...


    The rasp and shriek of carapace harder than steel taking a Sun Strike and opening up was very perceptible to both of us.


    The one eye that could see me seemed to dim, and then, just before it could go utterly berserk, Chalice plunged in for the primary brain I could see crackling in there. The Sun Strike discharged and blew out the other two lobes, and the Hive Mother''s nine eyes blew out as one.


    Contrary to expectations, the swarm didn''t fold up and die, bereft of will to live. They went berserk instead, and threw themselves at us mindlessly.


    Well, it didn''t mean we didn''t have to go shooting them, and Briggs could get in some mini-rocket tests in an environment of high psychic resonance.


    Sparks of Sun Strikes flared this way and that, competing with strobing hard lights and deCompressing kinetic impellers and pulse grenades. Up above, Briggs was painting the walls of scuttling Mythos bug-things with computer-aided cross-patterns. Smiley-faces, glowing hearts, haloes... oh, that was a very nice rose, very clean arcs and petal definition, and he wound the stem all the way down to me, only fifty feet away.


    Hah, hanging fused carapaces made decent thrones, too.


    I began to stack up the dead into the form of a big pair of lips...

 Chapter 527 - Far Future Ch. 237 – What’s Our Haul?

    "That antiproton beam cost us a bunch of carapaces."


    "Hey, how was I to know that they were a decent shielding material for blacksuits?" He heaved a few of the more intact corpses of the creatures through the Rift, where the forensics team could have a look at their biology. "How was your survey?"


    "They have a really good dimensional tracker among the tech on their bridge, but I think the influence of the Warp has rendered it inaccurate, so it needs massive recalibration. A lot of the shit is psi-active, and some came alive and tried to eat me. How about the drive systems?"


    "Subdimensional conduits and manipulations. Very advanced, but with the Warp subsuming the vast majority of the planar layers, they probably dove right into it, and didn''t make it out sane."


    "Nothing tried to kill you there?" I asked in disbelief.


    "That big thump was me ejecting the psychomatter core, and Marco shooting it down the throat with their Corona beamer."


    I smirked. "Take a look at the pspectra on the hull." I flicked the results over to him.


    He read it and swore. "Damn, where did that find that much Neutron Molybdenum? You have to mine the stuff off white dwarf stars!"


    "One guess."


    He turned to look at the system''s star. "Crap. The albedo has strong moly-counts..."


    "Did you inspect the anti-grav components? They have to have something rated for near-singularity levels..."


    "Ohhhh..." he muttered, violet eyes no doubt lighting up.


    "They have a long-range transpsychic communication that looks like something borrowed from the Elder Things. It''s definitely an improvement over Beacons..."


    "You put out something better than Beacons that can be Fleet-mounted and the Mekkers will go into convulsions just long enough to realize that killing you is the vaccine," he admonished me with a grin.


    "So I bet that Sidereal Dimension-Twister Cannon mounted forward port that turns matter at right angles to itself should just be left there, too."


    "Frak, no. Have you seen the power conduits and couplings for that? Things are totally insane works of beauty," he misdirected brightly.


    "Yeah, I noticed the seventh-dimensional stabilizers and venting releases, too..."


    "Whoever these things were, they were definitely Mythos-level. Pretty fluid meshing of psi and tech..."


    "Saw that they probably had magic worked into the mix and pulled it too, aye?" I snorted.


    "There''s a whole wall of stuff that was slagged to unrecognizability. The carbon was squealing at me, and the silicon was trying to mate with it," he passed on, and I tried to picture it, then tried not to.


    "Yeah, the viewing monitor array on the bridge had three monitors removed. With fusion fire." Okay, mine was much lamer than his.


    "Ah, the perils of high-end mixed tech. In Soviet Grimdark, advanced tech uses you!"


    "It does indeed. Think there''ll be any problems with the things in the hull?"


    "I think a Solar Furnace with a vivic chaser will give those sixth-state existences a nice taste of four-dimensional reality, and the Land can have munchies while I get a whole bunch of heavy Neutron metal for superstructures..." he /beamed happily.


    "You seeing the kids and cronies going apeshit over what we potentially have here?" I half-laughed, turning my attention back to the floating horde of silent ghost ships.


    "Yeah, but you need Tens just for the workforce here, with maxed-out Nulls and Sources. This is not a nice place." He clumped up beside me, sharing the view.


    We both braced as a horror wave blew past on screams and wails. We already had the anchor point planted, and watched as the Silk Road''s engines fired up to take it out of here, heading for a rendezvous with a carrier that could do the maintenance and purges on it. We waved off Marco and Carmen as they turned on the Harmonic Drive, blew out of the mass shadow and into Jamming space, and got the duck out of Fodge before their ship decided to come apart, and then maybe come back together with some new B&R components.


    "Getting a couple solar furnaces to melt this stuff all down shouldn''t be that hard. They''ll also give some of the kids a high-Level playground."


    He inspected some slight gouges in his armor. "That was rather fun," he agreed. "The base battlefields are where the younger generation should grow."


    Even with Ranthas showing the way, only ten percent of the Marked ever exceeded Six. Still, if they did, they went Right for Ten for Atlantean Human, max Forsaken or Psi potential, then started going Deep into whatever skilled trades needed Tens for support.


    Ten percent didn''t seem like a lot, but when our Marked numbered in the tens of millions now, with a huge percentage combat-capable and experienced, well, that was very significant. Pretty much all the most renowned combat troops in the Riftward Sector were associated with Janus... and that included the various Thunder Legions by now.


    "We''re going to have to go almost psi-free here whatsoever, or something will notice, and shit will stumble onto us," he judged.


    "Yeah. And we''re gonna have to have the best motile salvaging force in space working this place. Tens just to feed ghost ships to a fusion sifter..."


    "A Sargasso should be so honored."


    "True dat."


    "So, the Emperor. You figure out an Endgame for him?"


    "No, but Grandmother did. The problem is the hyperconservative egotistical bastard isn''t gonna wanna go for it. Eternal Exemplar Piss-ionic Liches are funny that way."


    "Wonderful. He probably doesn''t realize he''s just a tool for the real fight, and thinks he''s the one fighting."


    "He is fighting. Has been fighting. He just hasn''t been willing to end the fight on anyone else''s terms but his. He wants to win, the poor bastard. Perfect Human, and perfectly stupid at times."


    "Speaking as an ExLite, I can see where he might be a little egotistical."


    "Hey, you promised me the galaxy. No backsies!"


    "Posh. You''re just gonna leave it to the kids the next day."


    "Still no backsies!"


    "Fine, fine." He pulled me to his armor, and I clunked my head against it as we stared at a very big fleet waiting to be recycled, and a whole lot of tech and psitech waiting to be unearthed by the smartest batch of sons and daughters in the galaxy.


    Boo-yea!


    ----------------


    Time passes...


    It was without a doubt a suicide attack.


    The Mekker Fleet had come out of Helljumps on three sides of Janusspace, and was barreling for Janus III at full speed, bound and determined to eliminate the threat at the heart of the new Duke Corunsun''s holdings from existence.


    Briggs had been harrying the rebelling Mekker forces unmercifully. The Mekkers were also plagued by defection after defection from weak-minded fools responding to the rising Cult of the God of the Machine that was spreading like a virus through all the planets of the Khagan Sector, seducing man and cyborg alike with its words, a road to greatness that anyone could take if they wanted to.


    Only those who could fight down the spark of humanity remaining within them could see the Cult and the Duke happy to allow it to exist as the demons corrupting the people of the Empire. The Mechanists rode forth determined to expose the many cancers that all seemed to originate from this world and its blasphemous Nymphals and heretical Ancients, and all those who chose to back them.


    The System Fleet sallied forth to deal with one incoming arm, and the Imperial Fleet laying over for repairs and resupply and the frankly more stable atmosphere of the Corunsun Realm raced forth to do the same. The void lit up with cross-accusations of heresy, blasphemy, treason, rebellion, and soon lit up with things far more violent than the vitriol in those words.


    Janus III was an Imperial World, with all the defenses to be expected of such a place. Its cities had long repaired their shields, and even the most intensive of orbital bombings were going to take a considerable amount of time to get through them.


    It was time the third invading Fleet did not have. While it could exchange fairly evenly with the Imperial Fleet, as their technology was practically identical, the System Fleet of Janusspace had the GAMT technology that unsettled them so much, with displays of Angeltech and levels of weaponry and shields that were only supposed to exist on the most prized and elite of the Empire''s ships. Those vessels rarely, if ever, went to the Outer Worlds, and instead prowled the Subsectors around far Tellus itself, ready to spring surprises on foes who managed to pierce through the many layers of systems before the homeworld.


    There were only two such TL 15 Vessels extant in the entire Sector. One was the personal vessel of the Archimandrite Congauss, the Expedition-class vessel Caliper, and the other was the dreadnought Genghis, the flagship of the Grand Admiral of the Khagan Sector Fleet, stationed at Rimcrown itself.


    Caliper was leading this assault, sweeping in on the orbital defenses of Janus III almost unchecked.


    The Threshold Stations let go with everything, rather shocking the Mekkers with just how freely they spent their ammunition... and how terrifyingly accurate it was at range. The long guns of the stations lit up as the Mekkers closed in on the planet from all directions, joining the unending stream of missiles and rockets being sent out from launchers that would soon be fused solid from overuse.


    But Admiral Ontiff faced these arch-traitors to humanity with the grim resignation of his duty... and his knowledge that he would be back, back soon to bedevil them again. He had been promised it would be so, and so would the most loyal and best of his crew.


    Their defense was inspired, magnificent, and used the tried and proven technology of the Empire with several improvements that totally messed up the calculations of the incoming Mekkers. They held nothing back, with no thought of tomorrow or conserving power or the stations themselves.


    The enraged Mekkers nevertheless managed to reduce the four Threshold stations after hours of assault, overloading their shields and tearing the stations apart. Threshold Two through Five died in fire and glory, having brought down dozens of the attacking vessels as they did.


    Threshold Station itself lasted a whole hour longer than all its other stations, as the combined firepower of the entire fleet was turned upon it. Even so, another six ships died before its power converters fused solid, and Admiral Ontiff overloaded the power core and sent the blast out through the shield array, ripping the Mekker dreadnought Crucible to shreds as overloaded harmonics fed back into the ship and the shockwave''s vibrations tore it asunder.

 Chapter 528 - Far Future Ch. 238 – Last Stands

    Enraged, the remaining two-thirds of the Mekker Third Fleet, who had been expecting a virtual cakewalk, took up positions to Omega Sanction the planet, while thousands of Imperial Novas and the newer Crescents walked a continual flaring of EMP''s to disrupt them and rip through their drone protectors in a wild and furious dance of orbital combat that ringed the entire world.


    The Mechanists found that the planetary defenses also numbered a whole lot of brand-new missile sites and mountain-mounted rail guns that could send a payload right out of the atmosphere. The Omega Sanction had difficulty coming together under the withering and apocalyptic fire coming from the planet proper.


    In the storm of combat, fusion explosions, EMP waves spritzing all the technology, and wild dogfighting between cyborgs getting fried as they hooked into their fighter and Fleet pilots, the Coronals and the Umbrans hit the Caliper.


    Cloaked Umbrans in black and Coronals in gold, all with mindblades displayed, teleported aboard the Caliper after a momentary hole was punched in its Interdiction by a steely-eyed Fleet fighter captain who did not survive the attack run on the emitter node. They drove for the bridge and engineering, accompanied by half-cloaked Guards of both orders, bearing their mindshields and making certain their wards survived the murderous attack of the Mechanist elite and borgaii, and their attack droids.


    Mindblades against power swords. Sun Shots against plasma guns. Psionic explosions against rockets. Psionic barriers against force fields. Psi-boosted flesh against alloy limbs. Wired reflexes against prescience. Self-repair nanites against biometabolic healing.


    "YOU HAVE FAILED THE GOD OF THE MACHINE."


    The voice was quiet, grim, somehow sad. It ripped through the entire Mekker fleet with an awful fluidity, bypassing all code and filters, and for a moment, every cyborg attacker reeled with the sensation of being touched by something far, far beyond them.


    The attackers surged forward in explosions of motion, and dying bots and cyborgs.


    ---


    Duke Honus Parablum, leader of His Imperial Majesty''s Order of the Rising Sun of Janus III for the past fifty-six years, stormed onto the bridge of the Caliper. His last Coronal Guard, Jimo de Habber, born a street punk in Downspire long ago, breached the force field warding the bridge with his Mindshield, the feedback blowing him and his power armor apart as it went down.


    Sir Dorval, the last of his Coronal Knights, took the initial barrage of desperate assaults from the bridge defenses, deflected half of it back at its originators to take out all the mechanized defenses, and poured his life into a blazing Sun Stroke that took out three Black Skull Terminator kill-borgs together in an explosion that didn''t leave an intact pound of his flesh behind.


    Duke Parablum Blinked around the bridge in a blur of motion, and every living defender perished in the shredding floral display of his silver mindblade. The Archimandrite gazed at him without emotion, preparing to detonate his power core as he calculated a transfer protocol to a new clone-body.


    He was still looking down the silver sword when the blacklight pistol in the Duke''s other hand shot him in the face.


    There was perhaps a millisecond of surprise, and then any hint of life in every cell of the Archimandrite''s body turned forty-seven-ish degrees, and was gone.


    The Duke rammed a command override module into the Caliper''s primary weapon systems, and as TL 18 programs warred against protesting TL 15 command codes, began to redirect the Caliper''s guns.


    ----


    Duke Rimval, Duke of His Imperial Majesty''s Order of the Fallen Moon for the last fifty-five years, watched Philip Marwengora die, ripped apart by arcs of raw electrical discharge, even as his last Sun Shot blew out the attacker''s brain box with uncanny precision.


    Brekko, his last surviving Guard, went flying as a whole chain of explosive rounds detonated on his Mindshield. He slammed into the wall hard, leaving a bloody stain behind as he hit the floor... but Rimval had time to jam the nix driver into a download slot, and Brekko had prevented it from being blown away.


    Rimval swirled through the shadows and rammed his mindsword through the shooter''s cortex, slashed right and shot left, and the last two engineering guards died explosively.


    He saw Brekko''s life ebb away, gone before he could reach the quiet, sharply observant Guard, one of the first to take up the duty for the Umbrans, and one of the most senior of all the mindclaw-bearing Nulls.


    They were all dead.


    "I''ve got Engineering for maybe two minutes," he whispered through his Mark. He didn''t have to say how many were left alive.


    Duke Honus Parablum, at the far end of the ship, smiled grimly. "Good fighting with you again, Rimval. How long has it been?"


    "Twenty-four years, nine months, eleven days," the Umbran Duke said, taking up his position.


    "The Klastamar incident," Duke Parablum remembered with a smile. He watched the displays as the weapons of the Caliper began to retask and fire at dangerous rates of fire and energy consumption, taking all power away from the ship''s shields as they did so.


    Neighboring Mekker vessels reeled under the onslaught of the ship''s guns. Below, the power core of the ship was whining as its energy production began to spike rapidly to feed the guns, very quickly reaching and racing past the danger thresholds.


    Alarms began to ring throughout the ship. Overheating conduits screamed at the loads of power being pumped through them faster than they could vent and cool, and the batteries of the Caliper unloaded with suicidal frenzy.


    Three Mekker cruisers blew apart, and two were crippled by the bombardment before the Mekker captains steeled themselves to turn their guns on the defenseless Caliper and fire.


    --------


    It wasn''t just the fleets and the planets below who watched the Dukes'' final moments. As the mighty Caliper was blown apart around them, they entered a deadly melee with the desperate defenders seeking to take back the positions the Dukes and their subordinates had taken, men and mindblades defending the world that was their charge from traitors and cyberized rebels no longer men, just machines reaping the flesh of brave heroes.


    The whole Sector saw it in real time, watching it from beginning to end. Marks were excellent for relaying feeds in real time.


    There were no nymphals. There were no Ancients. There were Coronals with their millennia of duty and golden cloaks, and dark men in dark garb silently doing what had to be done.


    Once again fighting back against the machine gone mad... against those who had failed the God of the Machine.


    ----


    The Celestial Tribute came out of basically nowhere, the Gate it powered up sliding past in an instant and gone, abruptly hanging just above the frantic battlezone happening above Janus III, still in time to see the last remnants of the Caliper''s cooling death throes spiraling out of control through space.


    The cruisers and frigates behind it flashed away with Harmonic Drive precision, suddenly in a broad and interlinked pattern of overlapping fire above the harried Mekker Fleet.


    The Tribute''s hull split open, and a horde of MF gunboats and upgraded Crescents emerged like a river of light-spitting steel, while its weapon ports belched out fire so focused that even the starfire brilliance of it was barely threads of light reaching out and touching the Mekker ships.


    Behind it, the battleships and heavy cruisers of the Corunsun Fleet opened up with pure heavenly judgement coming to bear.


    -----


    Briggs stared at the tableau. The holos of the bridge were immersive and omnidirectional, even if the bridge was deep inside the Tribute and very, very safe from return fire.


    Beat was drumming in his hand like a great steel-bending heartbeat, thrumming in the hearts of every Marked as they came down like a light-spitting angelic host riding starfire and steel.


    ---


    Drone defenses popped like firecrackers, cannon emplacements and missile batteries blew apart, launch bays exploded in pretty flames, and power conduits lit up the void as the merciless precision of pilots who knew exactly where all the weak points were did their things.


    Shield generators formed plumes of superheated metal particles, and with horrifying timing, the guns of the Corunsun fleet poured through the holes before the other generators could compensate for the weak point.


    Plasma from superheated matter flared bright in the void, slowly cooling as it spiraled like flowers.


    Spread out to Omega Sanction the planet, the Mekker Fleet was hugely vulnerable from the massed fire of the fleet coursing past them and picking them off with murderous precision.


    The force on the far side of the planet managed to make the command decision to withdraw and regroup, trying to keep the planet between them and the Tribute''s escorts.


    The fleet breached the horizon, lined it up, and Briggs'' boy Admiral Horatio spat, "Jump!"


    A Harmonic Jump spanned a hundred and fifty thousand miles in one second, and the entire fleet was looming right above the withdrawing Mekkers, while the hapless ships left behind were defanged by the raging fighter squadrons and crippled soon thereafter.


    Massed Sun Shots from ship cannons went off with disconcertingly faint light, impossibly efficient and focused, no wasted energy, and the Corunsuns began to walk their fire up the line of Mekker ships who could not possibly get away. Rail guns spit out Sun-Shot munitions that were visible, indeed, slicing through every raised shield and detonating in sunfire, kinetic joy of release, and atomized metal.


    ---


    Briggs turned back to the six people in the room with him. "I apologize once again."


    Vala, Bluma, Philia, Brekka, Dorva, and Jyma Rantha smiled back at him. Brekka rubbed the back of her head, while Jyma put her hand to her chest. Dorva was rubbing her temples, while Philia was subconsciously checking to make sure all her limbs were there.


    Vala and Bluma closed their eyes, centered themselves, and opened them back up. "Not a bad way to die," Vala said, tossing her dark hair back calmly. She reached out, and Bluma took her hand automatically. "We''ll be fine... Dad," she finished, and Briggs looked over and rolled his eyes at the same time.


    Step-dad, sure...


    "Any problems with the integration?" he asked, looking over all of them.


    "Made Eleven," Jyma remarked quietly, shaking her head, and excising the memory of being slammed into a bulkhead so hard the back of Brekko''s head had caved in.


    "It feels wonderful being so smart," Brekka smiled despite herself. "Oh, and I made Eleven too, boss."

 Chapter 529 - Far Future Ch. 239 – Consolation Prizes

    "Twelve," Dorva stated, looking over to Philia, who nodded the same.


    "Fifteen," Bluma stated firmly, shaking her golden head. She had looked a bit incongruous in Umbran blacks, given her appearance, but right now the aura of authority around her made that black the only color that was appropriate.


    "Fifteen," agreed Vala, her golden cloak a contrast to her black hair and olive complexion... and yet, like Bluma, it was the only thing suitable for her.


    "You have all the dead?" Briggs asked, and both of the Ducal Ranthas nodded affirmative. "They are all yours. Do as you wish, and organize what you need. If I call you the Dukes Coronal and Umbran, nobody is going to say otherwise, even if you are Guards now. Rebuild your Orders... if the Empire won''t back you, I will. We''ll see what happens, Your Graces."


    "Corunsun," the Dukes nodded to him, and turned to go, trailed by their respective retainers.


    Briggs was pretty sure there was going to be some long and involved amour between the pairs of corresponding Ranthas matched to one another, but considering they''d just assimilated the men whose souls they''d been grown from, with the physical bloodline from the other, it was totally believable.


    There was knowing who your precarnation had been, and being them for real. The six of them were totally unique among the Ranthas in that respect.


    The Dukes going from two of the most adept psions in the Empire to Nulls was going to be a big change. Happily, the Stat boosts for being a Rantha, and being an unkillable cockroach of a murderqueen were definitely going to help with that, as the girls had been for the past decade...


    And seriously, who could possibly hope to stop the daughters of the Dukes Twilight from taking the places of one another''s fathers?...


    ------


    While the arrival of the Corunsun fleet saved the world and the system, it was hardly mentioned in the days, weeks, and months that followed.


    The Last Stand of the Dukes Twilight of Janus III went from one end of Khagan Sector to the other.


    Mindblades out, Coronal Knights going into the fire, fighting the mad machine and dying. Their shieldmen Guards taking the blows meant to kill them, sacrificing themselves to see them to the end.


    Umbrans, saying nothing, dark and lethal and skilled, executing and completing their job at any cost, no protest, dying silent and unknown.


    Turning the tide, and breaking the Omega Sanction indubitably with the death of the mighty Caliper. Taking out that mighty Mechanist Expedition-class ship, saving the planet, and dying as they walked back into the fight, even as the Mekkers were forced to kill the ship themselves.


    The brilliant delaying fight and defense of Admiral Ontif and his Threshold stations. The valor and morale of the Imperial Fleet engaging in a fanatical slugfest with the Mekker''s Second Fleet, with System Admiral Colos'' flagship Vindicated personally claiming four kills before suicide-ramming a Mekker dreadnought as atomic fire was spreading through the ship, and taking out both ships.


    Those who survived could celebrate. Those who died would be remembered!


    What nymphal witches? What brutal Ancient savages? Those who fought and died to defend Janus III were men and women like any other!


    Across the whole of Khagan Sector, fear gripped the Mechanists at the horrible defeat, the valiant display playing on thousands of worlds.


    And even on replay, that one phrase rocked them every time they heard it.


    You have failed the God of the Machine...


    ------


    "The readings are unmistakable. We have corroboration from nine hundred and fourteen different sources."


    "Impossible..."


    "Do you wish to review it yourself for discrepancies? Perhaps you''ve more time at proper data analysis and statistical analysis than I?"


    "Archproctor, it is the pure magic! Do you understand how insane that sounds?!"


    "I do not care for other''s measures of sanity, only data. It is the pure magic, and it is wielded by the God of the Machine.


    "For a period of three seconds, every electronic and mechanical system in the employ of the Mechanist attackers on Janus III locked up. The losses they suffered during those three seconds were the statistical tipping point of the battle. If you analyze all the dogfights, attack runs, planetary defenses, and especially the melee inside the Caliper, it was THE crucial moment. One second later, or one second earlier, the effect would have been reduced at least fifty percent. Seventy-four gun batteries, four hundred and eighteen drones and cyberwings, two picket ships, and two minefield ablatements were lost.


    "There are far too many variables to calculate such a thing in the midst of a battle. No logic engine could possibly have calculated it. Even something with temporal manipulation could not possibly have found such a critical moment and executed it so perfectly.


    "There is no technology we have ever been exposed to anywhere that can possibly duplicate the true magic without prompt Warp corruption. We have already investigated the remains of the fleet and those involved, and there is no such corruption.


    "Only a non-finite intellect could have predicted the precise moment to strike, and only the pure magic could have accomplished what it did without leaving corruption behind."


    "That means... that means..."


    "That the God of the Machine is unquestionably real."


    "But... what do we do if there''s a real god around watching us?!"


    "My suggestion is that we pray. I confess I do not wish to fail Him..."


    -------------


    -The Faith energy coming in has started to grow by Orders of Magnitude, especially from the Mechanists,- Ronnie /reported, bemused by the whole situation. -The number of people praying is exploding.-


    -Is this something you can use to get planetary coordinate fixes from? We need to start getting your girls out into the fields of the planets to have that power available for use.-


    -That''s... dammit, Mom!-


    -Hey, you''re the tech genius, not necessarily the biggest thinker. You need to recruit Kwan. Her Theologian Talent should work perfectly for this new church.-


    -And we need a good Marketing plan...- she /observed cynically.


    -All you godlings, so practical.- She blew a raspberry my way. -Oh, use some of that Faith energy, and set up a unique font for the great GM.-


    She paused again. -Dammit, Mom!-


    I /whistled. A unique font, something that could not be duplicated, because a god said so. Even the Warp gods wouldn''t be able to, if it was anchored in the human akasha... at least among humans. If something came from the God of the Machine, everybody would know it was real, because only the GM could act in that font.


    Simple, practical, uncontrivable proof. This was going to be a god unlike any other, because this god was a machine.


    If everyone bowed to the great GM, wouldn''t that just be par for the course!


    -I bet you want the holy symbol to be a d20, too,- she /groused.


    -If you make it a gear or something, I''ma hit you,- I /replied directly. -We aren''t in THAT game.-


    -Yeah, yeah, yeah.-


    -How goes things on Hulkamania?- The living world had been quite lively as of late. Naturally it didn''t want to give away parts of itself for our use... at least without getting something in return. It had started organizing all its metal veins for use in profound circuitry, and had already helped put together its own World Ward. It definitely wanted a Solar Screen that could protect the whole system from the Warp, and was helping with all the computations to that extent.


    It was our second big datacenter at this point, and definitely the most sophisticated and largest computing network we had access to.


    Still, it was a living world, very big in scale, and it had its own motivations, even if its goals were pretty ambivalent, beyond surviving in a very cruel universe.


    One of Ronnie''s side projects was duplicating the effect of that massive Rune structure on Qim''Bai III intended to teleport a planet into the Abyss. Hulkamania wanted the ability to run, and was devoting computing power and evaluations that would bankrupt several ecumenopolis-class worlds to the problem and finding a solution. When it did, it would start growing the tech needed to solve the problem.


    We were still trying to figure out a way to hook it into Markspace. Grandmother could probably chat with it, as well as the Great GM. Oh, wouldn''t that be a trio...


    If it could make a Solar Screen, could it bring magic back to itself? Wouldn''t that make it, like, a magic power battery?


    Hee!


    Still, useless outside the system, but inside the system, that would be utterly terrifying.


    -You need to start removing Hulkamania from all records. It''s entirely likely we''ll be rebuilding the essence of a magical civilization there once you get the Sun Screens up there.-


    -Ah. Yeah, good idea. We should have a conversation matrix available fairly soon. Mechanical non-finite, apex sapient, and world-mind chatting away. I think the Emperor would be flipping off his throne if he knew about it.-


    -Conniption fits to the Warp Gods, too.- Hulkamania would definitely be a target for the Warp if they couldn''t get the Sun Screen up properly and make it vanish.


    -How goes things in the Sargasso?- Much of my time was spent wandering ghost hulks, killing undead things, Possessed corpses and machines, and tormented souls, generating a lot of vivic energy doing so... which incidentally would make this system a less attractive place to form a Sargasso. So, the Warp might start dropping things somewhere else... but it wasn''t like we cared.


    -The Vivic Screen is working perfectly,- I /admitted smugly. Unrestrained horror waves of psychic misery? Burn ''em! We''d erected a miles-wide umbrella vivic screen, and just parked the Solar Furnaces behind it. The waves came in, and fwoosh!, burned right up, preventing them from messing with the factories and refiners being put in place.


    We''d already fed a hundred different vessels into the furnaces, after explorations and technology salvaging, a lot of which went off to Hulkamania''s research labs for study. The geniuses in the labs there would have horrified any organization on Tellus, were they to learn of them.


    Hulkamania just /sniffed at any mention of Tellus.


    The refinements in cutting beam technology we''d put into operation were also pretty significant, and we definitely had the most advanced pressor and tractor beam tech in the galaxy working here. We were still pulling our first cluster of ships apart and sending them to slag and be refined in the Solar Furnaces. They came out as raw materials ideal for building up the Corunsun Fleet with incredible speed... on both sides of the Rift.

 Chapter 530 - Far Future Ch. 240 – It’s Not Open Sesame...

    There were ships from at least a thousand different races here, a fair chunk of which we''d never heard of, and histories going back at least a hundred thousand years, to the dawn of the Ruk domination of the galaxy and the fall of the goblins. We''d even seen Mythos ships here, and barking mad, Possessed Great Race were definitely unwholesome bastards to have to fight, let alone the Mi-Go...


    They were all being tossed into the Solar Furnace after being cleared, interesting tech removed, unwholesome tech getting disintegrated, scans made of the whole ship just in case someone might want to know what this was and where it had vanished to.


    There were plenty of human ships, and they tended to be towards the outside of the clusters as more recent arrivals... unless they phased in right in the depths of a cluster, eh.


    The survey teams had identified over three hundred lost human vessels already, and hadn''t completed even a hundredth of the orbital path of this place. Given the Empire lost at least one ship doing Helljumps every year, and sometimes whole fleets, that wasn''t surprising in the slightest.


    Within the month, we''d have another Solar Furnace online, with attendant refiners and cutters shoving scrap into it. Every month, we should be adding another one.


    The GM was already removing this system from any human star charts. It wouldn''t stop any aliens from stumbling across us, but hopefully the horror waves would chase them off before they discovered our operation working away well inside the zone...


    If they didn''t, well, there''d be some shooting. If some of these ships, especially the technorganic ones, had emergency beacons that would activate after all these millennia, there was no doubt this system might become interesting.


    Whether they dared use vivic fire like we did was another matter. There was no doubt whatsoever that this was the greatest Energized Materials mine in the galaxy, and the combination of secrecy and defenses we were slowly moving into place validated this.


    The number of starships in the service of the Empire was in the millions, scattered across worlds and sectors. Most were civilian, but even the warships were uncounted and too numerous to figure out. The Empire had had thousands of years and hundreds of Forgeworlds to pump them out of, and even the constant wars just meant more ships needed to be made, not reeling when they were destroyed.


    While only a fool thought humanity was invincible, we were definitely the ascendant power in the galaxy... as long as the Tekrons didn''t all awaken and go on a rampage, and all the Xenos biofleets didn''t turn to the attack at once. That latter was a subject we were addressing directly right now, and the whole biovore thing was getting a good hard look at, and special steps were being taken.


    ------


    I let the social side of Ronnie go, but our technical thoughtstreams were still going over high-end data, as I was one of the few people who could mostly keep up with her, and I could do multi-disciplinary stuff better than she could. She had the Ranks, I had the raw Intellect and ExLite bonuses, and we had a planet-wide forest computer for the crunching of multi-dimensional numbers.


    Life was good. We just needed to advance our production capability to a whole new level, and that''s what we were doing.


    The second TL 18 Fabber in six millenia was Gated smoothly into place in the Sargasso, and began churning out parts like no tomorrow at TL 16 with the nice fresh materials here. Specialty parts still needed devoted production lines and equipment for the TL 18 tech, but we could make the whole frame and many of the main systems for multiple ships without a problem, quickly and cleanly.


    Being able to Fab the entire hull and frame of a ship for rapid assembly after the higher TL weapons and drives were put into place was a big, big thing. TL 16 was almost the best human ships ever, TL 18 was as good as the Tribute or better.


    Humanity was starting to reclaim some of its heights. The Tribute itself was very happy to see this, as it was always one of the first to profit from upgrades...


    ------


    "Is that what I think it is?"


    It looked like a five-mile mountain had been sliced wonderfully free of a planet, and then engines installed on it, while every outer face was slowly and wonderfully carved in exquisite detail.


    Well, except for six ships half-phased into it of various sorts, but they were distractions we''d cut off it soon enough.


    "Historical records match up to the general profile of a Ruk Citadel-ship," Mo Briggs, Natural Engineer, nodded, looking over the massive thing, like a small carved moon with ships that hadn''t landed well sticking out of it. "Helluva thing to find at the heart of it, Mom."


    "Ya think?" I eyed the scars of weapon fire gouging the carved stone, fused stone gleaming with silica, rents and craters from impacts and weapon systems. "Definitely in a big fight, they didn''t have time to repair it. I wasn''t aware they Helldove... "


    "Me either. I thought they used Mass Drivers in one form or another. They were gone before we really made an impact in the stars, so the only stories we have are second-hand, and unreliable."


    "What, the Elvar don''t keep detailed records on the Ruk? Say it isn''t so."


    "Yeah, imagine that, not caring if the race that dominated them for most of their history faded into obscurity. The fact they are following them notwithstanding," he grunted. "You want to lead the team inside?"


    "Sure. It''ll be like taking a walk through galactic history... a part that we almost know something about."


    ----------


    It was made of stone, and even if Hardened, wasn''t exactly a high-demand salvage item. We could process it into some high grade plascrete, maybe.


    Any treasures would be found within, naturally enough.


    I set foot on its landing dock, my Trembling Domain working with four of my kids, and two B&R teams here for the research and evaluation aspect of things. I guess we all fit the definition of action scientists, as did everyone on their respective teams. You didn''t see many Tens with full Ranks in Engineering, Physics, Computer Tech, and similar things that were familiar with power armor, gatling plasma beamers, and Named Mindweapon or Mindshield Foci.


    "Evaluation of the building material?" I inquired, looking at the stuff under my feet with new respect.


    "It''s Hardened stone, Shaped somehow," Percy Briggs judged somehow. "They didn''t just carve up a mountain or asteroid..." Giselle, Cedric, and Curie concurred.


    "Tap it a few times, match it up with the scans," I told them mildly.


    With great interest, everyone who was scanning and recording tapped the ground with heels or weapons, and those with Tremblesense read the echoes carefully.


    "Not seeing the difference," Cedric spoke up calmly. "Ranks?" the others concurred.


    "What do you think the hardness is?" I asked mildly.


    That got all their attention. Curie was the first to snap up her Soulsword and etch a path across the material, and everyone pursed their lips when it barely made a mark at all.


    She flicked up Sundering, sliced it again.


    Not a mark again.


    Breaking activated, and this time she barely left a visible scratch.


    Considering the problem, Bane/Constructs flicked up with oily flames, and she carefully cut again.


    This time there was a faintly visible seam left behind by her cut, and everyone around swore. She wasn''t using profound force or anything, simply trying to measure the hardness.


    "40?" she sort of gasped, and everyone looked around in disbelief.


    "Effectively Obdurium Hardened at Twenty," I agreed softly. "This is extruded and molded Earth and Gravity-Energized Silica composite Elements, like a big granite diamond, then Tempered and Hardened after it was set into the desired form. No psi involved, pure technological engineering. They dumped crushed rocks from a mountain into something and made this, without refining out any impurities at all."


    "That''s TL 20 tech," Giselle stated unequivocally. "Any higher and they''d be making this thing out of neutronium or something..."


    "Is this actually on the same level as Necrodermite?" Percy had to ask. Necrodermite wasn''t quite this tough, but it had other properties...


    "It''s stone still, because of the impurities. Effects that shape and mold stone could still manipulate it freely. If you have mass Stone Shaping effects available..." I trailed off.


    "You could repair this really fast... or just squirt the pliable form into place speedily and then crystallize and Harden it. Damn... no wonder none of those craters actually breach the structure."


    Rodney Crosins was a veteran Mobile Infantryman who''d Trained into Mechanical Engineering to get into the high-end tech side of things, with Psicraft on the side, making him superb at maintaining high-end combat suits. "Is this... magitech?" he actually half-whispered.


    "Ah, that..." I pointed ahead of us, at the hangar doors, and amid all the scoring and scorching, what was carved onto them. "You kids take your Knowledge/Arcane Ranks?" I asked calmly.


    "Damn," Cedric said for the others, everyone tacitly silent. Ranks in magical knowledge weren''t needed in place with basically no history or lore outside Warp Sorcery. Spellcraft would work for building a Matrix and making magic items, but it meant that non-active uses of magic were no longer transparent. "That''s a Rune-line, isn''t it? Geoic derivation?"


    "Yeah, Elemental Earth Magic understanding at Twenty." I stared at the line of symbols.


    "QL 40, just like the entire damn mountain?" Curie had to ask. "Damn..."


    "That was an incredibly advanced society, Sama," Giselle murmured, also impressed. Working with that level of Quality on this scale... that was just incredibly hard. "Nothing short of the Mythos fucking with their minds could possibly have taken them down..."


    "There''s no way a society this advanced was taken out. They''ve just gone underground," I judged promptly, pointing calmly. "It''s just out of your range, but there''s a beginning of a woven crystal formation starting there, also at QL 40, in a Ward pattern. The defenses of this place weren''t just obdurium. There were internal force bracings, damage ablation, and as long as energy was pumping, basically instant reassembly of the structure. I''m not even sure you could disintegrate any part of this place while its Wards were up, the bonds would just be too strong..." I shook my head. "Trise!"


    "Sensei Sama," the Ten Beacon Psion immediately replied, coming up. Her Intellect Mark was proudly displayed on her forehead, an affection only permitted Beacon Psion Tens who didn''t have external contact. It meant she had risen from the dirt and mud of the lowest Class of Psions, all the way to Ten.


    The way most of them did that was bonded to a Null and on battlefields. The Rod at her side was Named and Psychic, calmly ready to help her as needed. Her husband Rikkle, a very experienced and quiet Mindshield Ten, stayed at her elbow, eyes never stopping moving, looking for threats to her.


    "Nine PSP to your voice, project it directly at those doors loud enough to shake them. Say GRONTHURUK!" I ordered in a croaking basso that shouldn''t have come out of my throat, or rocked all of them as it did.


    She nodded, gathering her psi, discharging her Focus, and the identical Word, but this time charged with power and even louder, came thundering out of her mouth, the shockwave of it breaking past us and crashing into the massive hangar doors ahead of us.


    The echoes of the Word faded away slowly, the air stilled, and pretty much nothing else happened.


    "Decayed and faded?" Cedric asked, disappointed. Carving into this stuff with a saber beam, even the improved ones they had, would definitely destroy the door, and probably take a while. This was something built to take fusion warheads going off...


    "It wouldn''t be QL 40 if it had eroded, would it?" Everybody blinked at my words, and decided that waiting patiently with me was a good thing.


    A gleam. Like pendulums, all our heads turned left, where a hundred meters away and forty meters up a light was staring to glow on the first line of harsh, angular characters molded from a metal that was even harder and more obdurate than the impossibly tough stone hull beneath us...

 Chapter 531 - Far Future Ch. 241 – Prognosis

    There was a subtle shifting and swirling all around us, energies moving that had been very, very still for a long time.


    "It''s hissing!" Percy pointed out sharply, squinting at it.


    "Paint it with vivus," I snapped, Paten and Host snapping out, going to low-power, basically just carriers for the vivic energy I instantly shot it with.


    Violet rays of light were joined by scattered firing implements on lowest power setting, bringing up whorls of light to the first glowing Rune.


    There were puffs, pops, and crackles as something dark was eaten away, and the vivus was bursting out and getting sucked into the line of Runes that glowed golden, and then very rapidly began to ignite in turn. Fine black threads hissed and sizzled and were burned away by vivus, fed into the next Rune.


    A dozen lines of not-so-hard light chased the Runes over the door, separating as the streams of magic did, patiently washing every Rune down across the massive face as they spread faster and faster, but definitely in a specific pattern and energy. The corrupted mana, instead of infecting and tainting them, became a source of greater power thoughtfully contributed by the heavy Warp influence around it.


    "We''re probably going to need a vivic hoser," I said over my shoulder, and one of the support techs instantly started making inquiries and arrangements for one.


    "Definitely magitech," Curie murmured, as the magnificent glow of the ancient Runes reached the halfway point and marched on with inexorable purpose. "The Ruk definitely had to design all this before the Warp corrupted all the mana..."


    "If that happened to occur in the final millennium or two of their reign... cultures with Geoic affinity are not known for their ability to rapidly evolve and adjust to changing paradigms. If the reputed psionic revolt happened at the same time, they would distrust psionics and not turn to it to save themselves, as the elvar and other societies did, including ours..."


    I was thinking aloud, but there were thoughtful hums from all around.


    Unable to make new magitech, and possibly even their older magitech slowly eroding under the influence of corruption, how long could the Ruk possible endure? Egg their enemies on, realizing the weakness spreading at the heart of their society, and their decline was inevitable.


    Poor bastards, having to run up against a galactic-class foe in the Warp Gods. Torn apart by treachery, rebellion of a lower clan, mutation, and war... even if Mythos races were involved as the Tribute''s histories seemed to indicate, the fingerprints of the Warp gods were all over it.


    The March of the Runes narrowed down to the termination sequence, ended on one defiantly flaring symbol that stabbed our eyes with its own unyielding perfection, defying the march of time.


    Something groaned and rumbled as we all stopped washing down the naturally unmarked metal, which was somehow cleaner and brighter than before.


    "We need some genius to come up with some vivic pumps pronto tonto." I squirted out some ideas, some eggheads jumped on them, and designs were proliferating through Markspace in minutes. The engineers fed them into Hulkamania to test the designs in simulations, and when viable matters were arranged, the coders for the Fabs poured out the instructions to actually make the damn things.


    Elapsed time, about five minutes, as dull booms and groans from ahead and around us echoed through the ancient Ruk vessel all around us. They went into production immediately on the local fabber, and we should have the first of them in twenty minutes or so.


    Unlike the Mechanists, I didn''t have to struggle with lines of authority, endless reviews, requests to access certain tech data, quorums of analysis, requesting calculation time on servers, and intellects inhibited by too much rigid adherence to defined and known technology. If my people couldn''t innovate and find solutions to weird situations, how dare they call themselves smart?


    The massive hangar doors began to split in a jagged pattern around the lines of Runes, a seam that wasn''t there until it suddenly was. Like the jaws of a titanic construct, the doors rose and fell in slow, majestic fashion.


    The interior was dark...


    -------


    The hangar went in a long ways, and got painted into the Map and scanned while we waited for the vivic pumps to arrive, moving to parallel what looked like a bunch of docking stations for smaller ships to the side of the main flight corridor.


    The hangar looked like it extended fully throughout the ship, and might form a cross through the center of it, allowing arrival and departure from five sides, leaving only the peak unaccessed. We couldn''t see them joining from here, but there were landing gates on all four sides and down low, so it was a reasonably safe bet.


    A cargo shuttle came zipping up with the new vivic pumps. A second generation, further refined, was being processed, and already being used to plan generations III, IV, and V, moving up the TL scale smoothly as inefficiencies were pointed out and addressed gleefully.


    What we had here were five-hundred-pound engines designed to generate about 3d6 of vivic fire in a tight stream constantly, kind of like a vivic flamethrower if left open... but mostly designed to stick into a power system and help purge it of any unnatural energies.


    The idea of using it to fight incoming Warp corruption and similar messing with a ship meant that suddenly just about every one of our captains and Engineering chiefs wanted a few of these in place to fight against exactly that kind of shit trying to mess with their beloved ships.


    More vivic pumps went into production, and were pointedly Blessed by the GM in a passing Mnemo, so that started going quickly.


    The only thing was that you couldn''t use a thing like that in the Warp, or you turned it into a bright burning Eat Me sign, blinking and shouting for attention from something powerful enough to breach a Throne field and eat you. That made it horrible for Helljumpers, but for the Tachyon Drive, it was a magnificent way to help fight off the psychic and spatial disruptions perpetuated by some of the things existing out beyond the heliosphere... and tons of powerful psychic shit that ventured inside heliospheres, too.


    Heck, put one into an Alias-Class Scout ship, and it would be able to weather the horror waves from the Sargasso with help from Nulls and Sources...


    The massive cavernous space wasn''t lit up, because there was no active power.


    All the ships stored within were resting on the ground or in their holding claws, still and silent. None of them had fallen to decay, ample proof of a race that had completely mastered the Earth side of the tech tree to Twenty.


    There was one cruiser-class vessel parked in there in its own drydock, the crystalline, blocky style of make showcasing immense endurance and defensive power, with rather fewer guns than human or imperial style, but bigger ones where it had them. Less concerned about point defenses, and more about hitting back.


    You make your weapons to defeat your own kind of defenses, and trust your defenses against attacks not meant to overcome them.


    "What do you imagine they used for point defenses?" Cedric asked as we stood around a pylon with a power feed, and the engineers and material Psions worked on mating the feed of the vivic pump to the power feed.


    At last they reconfigured it to attach, and flicked on the pump.


    There was a hiss, and everyone jumped a looong way back as shrieking blackness erupted out of that pylon. The flitter hanging above creaked, and everyone jumped again as the anchor claws that had endured who knew how many millennia abruptly blew apart, and the multi-ton flier crashed extremely loudly to the floor of the hangar.


    Percy adroitly scooted the vivic pump out from under the impact point as spurts of whiteness began to come out of joints and flex points, flaring as blackness seemed to be trying to wriggle away from it.


    Everybody kinda stood around looking at it.


    Curie spun on her heel, looking around. "Ma, we''re gonna need more than a dozen pumps."


    I flicked my hand out, and my TK Ring detached the vivic pump. "Back away now!" I ordered, scooting back.


    Lightfooters and rocket-powered grav skimmers shot backwards as they all looked up, and the holding claws of the flitters and fighters above began to sway...


    What followed was loud and impressive, as fully a dozen light starships came falling down onto our access feed to the power supply, crushing it flat, bouncing wildly, some of them fracturing and breaking, and tumbling and rolling across the hangar floor... mostly in our direction.


    One tumbling shuttle rolled slightly beyond what physics would allow, and its momentum expired about a foot in front of me. I had the feeling something was yipping and lunging at me, and a little frustrated as I reached out and tinged the adamant hull.


    "That wasn''t ominous at all," MI Crosins remarked fatalistically.


    "Nope." "Agree." "Nah." "Nopers." "Uh-uh." "Not at all." "Optimist."


    "You got that ''I got this really crazy weird idea'' face on, Mom," Giselle pointed out.


    "Yeah, the ExLite bonuses attract my attention to odd items at times, Insight dismissing what won''t work quickly and focusing on what might."


    "Vivic pumps won''t do it?" Cedric asked grimly. "What''s it gonna do, collapse the hangar on us?" There was some sort of ominous creak from up there. Probably just one of the docking claws... "I didn''t say nuthin. Honest. Wasn''t me."


    I pointed, and us and all the pumps and support crews retreated back out of the hangar onto the landing platform.


    "Girls, did you feel it?" I inquired, gesturing at the runemarkings on the side of my face and neck.


    They both looked startled. "Must''ve been subtle. Wasn''t looking for it, Mom," Curie admitted.


    "There''s a Curse on this place?" Percy asked stiffly.


    "A CORRUPTED Curse," I corrected calmly.


    "Oh, that can''t be bad at all," MI Crosins murmured for everyone.


    "That it was Corrupted means it wasn''t set by the Warp originally. That leaves..."


    "The Ruk!" Trise exclaimed despite herself.


    "I don''t see any demons running at us, and I don''t see any widespread Warp corruption, not that it might not be there... but, I don''t think that it is. I just think the magic empowering the Curse has been corrupted..."


    "And so it''s being twisted to act against us, especially when we started purifying it," Cedric deduced. "Okay, so shoving vivus into the power systems is a really good idea, as it will spread to everything hooked into the power system, and possibly anything running on broadcast, if we back it with real energy. But, how are we going to introduce energy into the system to start the process going, if the system starts massively and violently rejecting us?"


    I turned away from the hangar and its recessed doors, and the gentle breeze generated by temperature differentials from the dying star.


    "Time!" reported Rikkle, and everyone converged on the nearest Ten Forsaken.

 Chapter 532 - Far Future Ch. 242 – Diagnosis

    A breath later, the horror wave swept over us, echoing off and refracting off the obdurate hull of this ancient battle mountain. One of the engineers turned on the vivic pump, and sprayed a jet of the vivic flame into the air. We all watched in fascination as it was batted around in the air, chasing after passing psychic encephabels and wave confluences.


    "It''s reverberating in there. It shouldn''t be doing that, should it?" Percy pointed out, his hand behind one hairy ear, listening.


    "Psychic energy is naturally alive. It''s probably adapted itself to the natural frequency of the ship after so long. It''ll lose it once enough vivus is popping through it," I said, ignoring the horror wave, while the three engineers close to me were hearing nothing but silence.


    I looked up at the peak tapering off above the hangar doors, the stacked levels of very subtle openings that could probably disgorge all sorts of cannons as required to shoot hostiles.


    Something, something...


    I looked down under my feet, and crouched down. Oddly enough, the horror wave was painting an extraordinarily clear picture under me... longer as my hair suddenly dropped underneath me and spread out for ten feet all around me.


    The horror wave lasted about thirty seconds in total, everybody watching my antics with interest.


    -Hey, Ronnie, verify that''s an ablation field effect.-


    One of our other /discussions was sidelined, and the back of her head canoodled with the back of mine. -Yeah, veeeery sophisticated...- Stars in the eyes. -Ruk tech? That''s even better then necrodermite at spreading kinetics.-


    -Think this dumps into auxiliary or supplementary power supplies?- I was focusing on aspects of the circuits and conductors below not arrayed to deal with kinetics.


    -I''d think it likely, but you''d have to find some kind of exchanger and filter system. Can''t just allow any free electrons at the wrong harmonics into your TL 17+ tech, you know.-


    I looked up. "New plan. We need the underlying materials layout of the hull, starting with this landing pad here. We''re looking for an energy exchange, relay, or conversion node that can transfer different energy types into supplemental power for the ship." My hair retreated to my shoulders as a modified map of the metal beneath us, and the structures within it and the hull it was laying on, spread out in The Map.


    The Ten and under engineers just rolled their eyes and didn''t look too closely, knowing better. This was magic-supplemented tech, but it had corruption going into it, and so wasn''t all that safe for inspection if they made the mental leap from the Map to what was under their feet, and Realized Too Much...


    Cedric''s armor hummed and Compressed into bands and plates, and Percy''s did the same a moment later. "Resonates with the horror wave and paints a bigger, cleaner picture, right?" Cedric confirmed.


    I nodded.


    "Set up the pumps to form a vivic screen for you all and the ship," Percy instructed the engineers, who hastily moved to do just that, ideas hopping around between them as they worked out a good spread and how to align the venting mechanisms.


    "We have to map out the hull?" Giselle asked mildly, looking down at the deck plating of the landing pad. I pointed out the relevant points, mapped it to the relevant Spellcraft, and they all nodded. This was magic fused with tech, but it had to work with some accepted principles, especially with the huge geomantic bias it had. "Looks like the primary system is about twenty feet in..." she mused, but still within range of our Trembling Domains.


    We worked out a search grid, moving slowly and thoroughly. This was a Runetech structure way, way larger than anything we''d ever seen, both complex and confusing... but at the same time very orderly and predictable once we found the right pattern. Geomantic Runetech was forced to abide by various crystalline patterns based on the materials it was made of, so with sufficient understanding of the underlying substances, you could understand what was permissible and not in any particular portion of this circuit maze below us at any given time.


    Just needed fifteen Ranks... so I was looking at all their stuff and pointing out what to look for as we spread out in a pattern over the landing pad, a pattern that adjusted on the fly as the circuits and layout of the molecularly-coded machinery below us did.


    ---


    "Found it?" Percy called out, looking down, and then simply falling forwards to get maximum contact with the pseudo-neutronium deck plating. He rapped his fingers, like striking hammers, to get a better look at everything, and I glided up next to him as the others kept at it, filling in holes in The Map now, trying to build a copy of the master pattern to use to center other parts of it.


    My hair spread out again, reading it as the waves from his finger tapping bounced through it. "Yeah, I think so. Next horror wave in?" I asked.


    "Fifty-three seconds," Rikkle reported from way over there, /hearing my words. "Expecting a two-second variance and the echoes linger here for a good five seconds longer than normal."


    "That''s fine." Percy pushed himself effortlessly all the way back to his feet with a slap of his palms, and glided off to help fill in holes in the pattern, while I sat there with my hair sprawled over the pad in a great scarlet net of super-sensitive vibration detectors.


    The horror wave came in about a tenth of a second early, more data for the warning detectors to add to the heap, and the whole ship began to wail along with it, sending curling distortions of it off in every direction as it did so.


    I painted a picture going sixty feet deep into the ship of the Runetech here, Ronnie watching narrowly as it all took form.


    -Damn, look at that converter!- she /whistled. -So that''s what a geomantic ablation field at Twenty looks like...-


    -The kinetic transfer is tight,- I /agreed. -The heat''s good, but the lightning is basically so-so in comparison. It''s true particle beams aren''t particularly great at TL20...-


    -You''d basically have to have ninety percent of the hull near melting to actually melt it, and they could feed the heat right into some plasma relays for their guns, and toss it right back at you,- Ronnie /agreed. -It''s not self-repairing like the necrodermite is, but its way better for pounding on the stuff that''s pounding on you.-


    -Agreed.- "Brainy-boys, I''m going to need the resonance frequency of a section of hullplate, right down to the atoms." The engineers whooped and began to break out the Nice Sensor Suites.


    "What are you planning on doing?" Cedric had to ask from where he was slowly skating over the landing pad.


    "I was thinking that the weapon crews on the Precipice sitting out there are bored and might want to rig up a full-blown vivic generator around the ship''s main gun, then retool the plasma load for pure fusion instead of energized particles, synch it perfectly to an area of the hull, and then shoot it a bunch of times."


    Yes, I could /hear the whooping of crews being allowed to shoot off Really Big Guns from way over there. The heavy cruiser that was our main security force was parked out just beyond the horrorsphere of the system in powered-down cloaking, ready to Harmonic Drive and jump right on top of anything coming in to bug the salvage operation. Even though we were statistically set up in the section of the ring the very least likely to be near someone randomly Helljumping in here, what did that mean if the Warp was involved?


    Still, the vivus being generated by eating all this psychoactive metal was sealing off this space slowly... which meant the Sargasso was going away, but we hardly cared given the amount of material we already had to work with.


    Hitting that ablation field with a few H-bomb shots of pure heat energy would broadcast that heat throughout the hull, which would then convert it into usable power and send it shooting into the system... power that was going to be absolutely loaded with vivic energy.


    We were going to be shooting the ship to save it. With the right harmonic frequency, the incoming heat would be conducted away so smoothly we proverbially wouldn''t even scratch the paint.


    We had a pretty good image of the general form of this ablation plate now. I pointed downslope, and followed the kids down it, looking for another plate not so near to the yawning open hangar that we could blast with nuclear impunity.


    Whatever had been done to that Curse wasn''t going to like it when a few terajoules and more of vivic-laden pick-me-up came burning through the system, literally.


    ------------


    The techs, engineers, and work crews were having fun with the challenge. The white hole power source of the Precipice had to be retuned for the heat venting, then all the filters and harmonic fields put in place to attune the blast, sustainability worked in, venting protocols, cooldowns, and so forth and so on.


    "It''s anti-Goblin," Rikkle spoke up suddenly, as his wife helped with some of the tuning of the sensors on the section of hull we''d staked out for the target area. "Earth has elemental dominance over fire, right? Is that why the Ruk suppressed the Goblins all those years?"


    I thought that over. Goblins loved fire, filled space with plasma, fusion, burning atoms, and singing anti-matter. Going up against the Ruk, who with ships like this were practically immune to their favorite weapons, would have been rough, indeed.


    "Nice. It might even be specific because of it." I sent it off as the Rikkle Theory to the xenoarcheologists, who seized on it and began to work with it with great interest. Elvar tended to prefer plasma beams, so they would be better opponents to the Ruk... and now everyone was investigating goblin hull metals, to see if they were biased one way or the other. Of course, both races hated the goblins, but a fire-based E-materials hull would have a distinct advantage against Elvar primary weapon systems...


    One of the things we''d found is that the Earth-centered tech was so hard it that it affected spatials. The ships that had phased out of the Warp and into the ship had only gotten into the first five feet of obdurium before space literally closed off and they were cut apart. So, ships that looked like they had poked and phased right into and through the Ruk ship were literally only sticking out of its skin.


    Man, this was some nasty-tough tech. Of course, the weapons people were naturally in a tizzy over how to punch through something like this... just in case, of course... Water-based tech with vibrational biases would be a good start... la la la...


    That also meant you couldn''t spatially get around the hull and enter the vessel. That might or might not include demons trying stuff. Certainly, trying to Possess obdurium, so strongly Gravity and Earth-aligned, was going to result in a most unsatisfyingly rigid experience...


    -------


    We were on a ridge overlooking the face the Precipice was lined up on. Everybody who didn''t have Devasight or a Mask of Clarity with the same was grousing and using shaded visors or borrowing someone else''s eyes to watch the show as the distant cruiser lined up for the shot. Targeting wasn''t going to be an issue, as there were no active sensor countermeasures, and TL 18 Angeltech targeting systems weren''t going to be thrown off by anything but a psychic storm.


    A flare of light, and then the starfire came down.


    The white hole power source was our answer to a zero-point energy source. Punching a hole in a black hole to let all the power it was sucking in out was a pretty ballsy move, but it gave us access to a whole bunch of energy types, including space-time if need be, in an active state, not a passive one like zero-point energy.


    Of course, it was perfect for big guns, too...

 Chapter 533 - Far Future Ch. 243 – Take Your Medicine

    The energy was tempered, of course. The limit of the energy you can release from a weapon tends not to be your power source, but how fast you can cool the surrounding systems. Power generators can, in many cases, tap into nigh-infinite energy sources in multiple ways. Using that power places severe strain on whatever you are using to conduct and focus it, and you gotta give that stuff time to recover and return to optimal state, or things start going wrong... just like overheating the muzzle of a gun.


    We were in effect shining down a big hot flashlight on a spot on the hull most able to handle it, and letting it carry all the vivic energy it could down into the ship''s power systems. Since it wasn''t meant to overheat, the Precipice could keep up the shot without too much problem, making adjustments on the fly to keep it sustained.


    It was a potential tactic for washing an unshielded section of landscape with a stream of glass-making flames. The atmosphere around the drifting mountain was definitely heating up, but it didn''t concern us as we watched, as the ship was actually soaking up the vast, vast majority of the energy and spiriting it away... and the atmosphere was already -100 C, so heating it up did basically nothing for some time, except generate a lot of wind and creaking in the hull.


    One of the support guys exclaimed, "A light just went on in the hangar!"


    Everybody turned to look that way, and sure enough, one of the ceiling panels had started to wink on.


    "And it''s dripping black gunk and burning..." I added, my Mask leaping forwards to get a better view.


    "More lights!" another lass pointed out, and we turned to look at seemed to be signal lights winking on along the surface of the mount.


    Spotters on surrounding ships protected from the horror wave confirmed that lights were beginning to wink on slowly on the outer part of the ship.


    "Those weapon ports just lit up," Cedric pointed out.


    "Targeting baffles up, Precipice," I ordered laconically, and the secondary fusion cores powered up the displacers that made the ship look a hundred meters to the left, complete with the beam coming out of it. "Shouldn''t be an issue. If the Curse is moving the systems, the same power it is using is burning it out of the systems."


    A cannon with a barrel longer then an IPBM advanced out of the gun port, mounted on an improbably large rotating mount. It started to cycle up, but pretty much everyone could see the black gunk leaking out of it, and white mist chasing patiently. The glow and ominous hum rising up from the guts of it got to maybe the halfway point of charging, and then powered down silently.


    "Shooting the Precipice with its own energy is very ungrateful," Curie sniffed.


    "And they got burned for it!" Giselle promptly shot back, and everybody groaned...t


    ----


    Over the next half hour, as the Precipice sent down a patient beam of superhot annihilation that didn''t hurt the ship at all, various gun ports opened up, missiles and cannons poked out, powered up, powered down, and then automatically withdrew and closed.


    There were occasional crashing sounds from the hangar as some of the docking clamps let go, but since we weren''t standing under them, we weren''t too concerned. The Curse could try corroding some of the systems here, but the odds were it had adopted its nature to the obdurate nature of the tech here, and simply couldn''t change the essential systems enough to matter. Even the docking clamps holding the lighter ships were just being nudged to open up, not collapse.


    When the entry area was finally cleared up, we naturally took advantage of that to plug three generations of vivic pumps in, and help the effect along. We watched the lights wink on, and black gunk dripping down... and then we plugged in the fusion core we''d trucked in, and added more raw juice to the situation.


    Portable generators and vivic pumps accompanied us as we advanced through the hangar, fighting the pervasive nature of the Curse infesting us with more pervasiveness. The engineering teams were harmonizing the power feeds, infiltrating the broadcast power network, which sent it into the ships all around us it was definitely invading, too. Poofs of white mist jetted out here, there, and everywhere as the hungry vivus found something to feast on.


    ---


    "I like this kind of fighting," Cedric had to grin, and the ex-troopers all around had to agree. While nobody was completely relaxed, letting their engineering skills battle the enemy was much preferable to shooting it... and made them feel pretty damn smart, too.


    "Any motion other than aborted incidentals?" I asked the scanner teams fanning out and slowly advancing ahead, Goldilocks plugged into their Bands and synched to their sensor arrays.


    The lead of the nearest team shook his head slowly, sent over his feed. I eyed the results; mostly vibrations of lots of small things moving, then shuddering to a halt.


    There was a relay from the Precipice that they had to shut the white hole down as tolerances were approaching their limit. Granted, the tolerances were a LONG ways from the real limit, but when you deal with Warp influences and psychic whammy crap, if you don''t have lots of tolerance cap left, you have explosions and lost ships.


    We all felt a quiet shuddering stop as the cruiser stopped firing and pulled back beyond the vivic shields. It had been beaming terajoules for over an hour, and would be doing a full overhaul of the weapon systems to make sure they were good to go.


    That was okay, we had series of generators and vivic pumps driving us forward slowly. It wasn''t enough to purge the rest of the ship, but it could secure a foothold easily.


    Mmm, best to have the Precipice fire on another facing when it lit up again, spread out the vivus for good luvvin'' ship to ship...


    "So, where you guessing the primary power core is?" I asked everybody in general, glancing at The Map of this place. It broke down the whole mountain pretty well, of course, with everything we''d been able to scan. However, this place was so full of so damn much ultra-dense stuff, ranged scans were barely able to tell anything.


    Once we were inside, vibrational analysis was actually pretty useful, in contrast, producing pretty clear readings along straight lines.


    All the engineers and ship designers took independent looks, and pretty much centered it about where I would, just left of center mass, just below and ahead of us, under the central area of the crossing hangar decks.


    This mountain didn''t have traditional drives, instead moving on pure gravity action. The bottom of the mountain was actual neutronium, incredibly dense, and channeling gravitational forces like no artificial material could. By acting on that superdense and heavy material with high G''s, they would have been able to accelerate with high G''s, and their straight Jam speed would have been very respectful, even if their maneuverability was crap. They were flying a mountain, they didn''t need to be too maneuverable...


    With the power core stationed ahead of us, we just had to keep on our way, ignore the feeling of something watching and very angry at us...


    My Curse was gloating as it slowly writhed on my skin, feeling the darkness getting slowly burned away and forced back. It had a nice Curseline going back to another Curse that had been repurposed to a higher Cause once again, and definitely had some appreciation for using this tactic.


    ------


    The timer to the next horror wave was thirty seconds away when a tech shouted out, "Planar breach forming! Four hundred twenty yards ahead!"


    That would put it in the massive crossing point of the hangars we could see ahead of us.


    "Get three pumps up here and going," I ordered coolly. The breach would blow open as soon as the horror wave shot past. I had to smile slightly as my Tails and Arms formed... and everything was burning vivic. "Ladies, gentlemen, and you Marked people too, prepare to thank the Warp for their contribution to the vivic purging."


    There were quiet snickers as whole arsenals of Weapons burning unwhite misting flames were unlimbered in anticipation. The armored lads plopped down the vivic pumps, and the prototype vivic flamethrowers were attached directly to them as they began to gush the Land''s favorite digestion aid.


    The echoes of the horror wave were echoing through the decking, but we were so saturated with vivus that the psychic energy was flaring in the air about us, and the sound was fading in faint waves of vivus all around our position.


    The shrieks of the long-damned were joined by the screams and howls of the Damned, rippling into view ahead of us in spurts of puke-rainbows, spilling out hordes of things not supposed to be material in this universe.


    Four hundred yards away, nyar. Everyone with heavy weapons... oh, right, that was everyone, including the computer techs... swung them down and opened up coolly. Some hot reality clad in Hungry Land Barbecue Sauce went winging down the great open flat area.


    Every shot looked much bigger and more impressive than it actually was, because the vivus was pluming about the shots as it tore through the horror wave''s screaming and had it a taste of some ephemeral psychic energy and eternal pain and agony, munchmunch. The demons seemed to appreciate it as seasoned weapon fire chewed into them, and vivic energy blossomed in spurts and flowers of death and destruction... and plane-sealing The Veil Says No.


    The shaking planar walls took some quick gulps of vivic reinforcement, decided it didn''t like bleeding all over reality like some hemophiliac, and screaming nexus of psychic pain notwithstanding, the rips, rifts, and bulging distortions in reality began to go away rather correctly.


    They hadn''t even got a Greater Demon in here. Looked like a fairly random bunch, grabbing whatever was wandering about and drawing it in. Pfff.


    They started to run into our direction, but even the dimension-bending they thought they could use to get closer to us rapidly was being shut down by the amount of vivus spreading out and reinforcing the Veil. Instead of getting up on us and dodging around our fire by wobbling their way along the Veil, the closer they got to us, the slower they moved, and the easier they were to hit.


    I was hosing them down, spreading out the vivic love with lots of injuries, and when they hit a hundred yards the Spikes starting going out to take out everything that was screaming and burning and wailing for their mommies. Our mommies? I didn''t much translate, and nobody else bothered, as the wave of techni-blahrg-colored ectoplasmic killing Sins Incarnate ran into the leveled vivic flame throwers and kinda went YEEP! and exploded.


    Anything big enough to withstand a torrent of vivus to the face was pretty much dead before it could get past them, as a whole lot of autofire wound about with misty unwhiteness miraculously converged on them and helped the local space/time settle its jumpy stomach.


    A couple Slaughter demons with their bigass and profitable-to-burn flaming swords loomed up through the firing line, a whole line of swollen Pusbearers the size of rhinos providing some cover. The lads with the vivic hoses just focused on them, and buried them in some venting jets of unwhiteness, almost erasing them from existence as they pounded forward. Their burning swords clattered to the decks as they were cleansed away remarkably quickly.


    Percy snapshot their heads away to finish them, and all the shooting stopped in the same tenth of a second.


    "Warp signatures all gone," the relevant tech lowering the misting barrel of his crystal-tipped Solar Fractal Hard Light Tactical Assault Weapon exclaimed for everyone''s benefit.


    We eyed the Zeks Slot Weapons, their unclean flames quickly retracted so the vivus wouldn''t eat away at them. The munchable demon-wrought Weapons seemed to be shivering atop the very white floor all about them...

 Chapter 534 - Far Future Ch. 244 – Let’s Get to the Heart of the Problem

    There was some chortling all around, and hungry eyes on those magic Weapons. The Warp Gods were so bloody generous. That was 144k of goldweight right there, ready to be purged off and empower something else.


    The Swords and other incidental Weapons dropped here and there over the white-stained backtrail were slowly and carefully gathered up for Vivic Burning, and conversion to mana crystals that would be disseminated among the team. Crewmembers left behind on the forge ships were already complaining that they weren''t allowed on this excursion... Naming Karma + Mana Crystals was going to be quite the payday!


    Snark flew back and forth as we advanced steadily, the additional vivus doing a nice job, but taking no chances before we pumped our approach path full of unwhite Land-feeding yumyum sauce.


    It was a couple patient hours before we made it to the crossways. It was quite spacious, easily a half-mile square, and it turned out the other crossways were about a hundred yards narrower than our own. Thus, the cruiser that was sitting silently in drydock was here because this seemed to be the repair lane, and so they''d line up ''east-west'' here.


    The floor below us was full of power conduit Runecables and transfer patterns. This place was definitely designed to focus a whole bunch of power, in both directions.


    Another supply of vivic pumps made it down to us, and sped up the liberation of this general area as we claimed a section of this central chamber... and did NOT get underneath the suspended kilometer-length of the light cruiser sitting up there, just waiting to fall down.


    Most interesting, there was remnant power here. The cruiser itself was in a natural null-G zone, so it ''weighed'' nothing, and could be held in place relatively easily. There was motion at the corner of the eye, as this was the area where the black stuff of the congealed Curse was the strongest, and it was trying to figure out how to do something to us... and the vivus kept trying to eat it as it did so.


    Being unable to pick on shit by manipulating causality really hampered the high-end Curses, and as long as we avoided going under stuff that could drop on us and roll our way, we were pretty safe.


    There were robots and droids around, along with various mecha made for moving stuff about, all sized for shorter, thicker people than we were. Most of them seemed to run on broadcast power... and there wasn''t any being broadcast, so they were useless. That hardly meant we couldn''t give them a hearty vivic wash and watch the black shit squirm out of them and burn, however.


    -------


    "So, you want to go down there and check out the power core directly, or wait?" I asked around.


    Eyes scanned the massive chamber around us, the TL 20 technology, and the shit at the corner of our eyes that had claimed this entire place and done something to its inhabitants.


    "Pump this area full of vivus, and have the Precipice blast it again. While it''s trying to adapt, make a run for the main power core," Cedric proposed.


    "And what do we do once we get there?" I asked.


    "Well, if it''s got standard power couplings, we''ve already got custom connections for vivic pumps there. We can pump a generator through them, ride the vivus right into its core, and see if we can start it up again," Percy nodded, glancing at the Disks with the Mark IV''s on them.


    "Energy signature alludes to a Dark Matter generator, which is the apex power tech on the Mass tree. Does anybody here know how to start up a Dark Matter power core?" I asked lightly.


    Everybody looked at one another, tried to cheat by /sending out some urgent Marktells, and otherwise stayed silent.


    "As long as we can purge the core of the Curse, that''ll be something, right?" Curie had to ask, frowning. "Just pumping some juice into the surrounding Runecraft should be enough to secure the chamber..."


    "There has to be back-up power sources," Giselle reasoned, also frowning. "They won''t run on the same tech, because they''d be designed to take over if the main core wasn''t running, and would be easier to refuel. So, probably antimatter at the neutronium level?"


    "Do we know how they collect their dark matter?" Trise spoke up, curious now. "I mean, I know it''s everywhere, but everywhere everywhere?" She waved around.


    I flicked up a holo of this flying mountain, and picked out a few areas that protruded for no apparent reason. "Those are likely intake valves using paragrav to draw in dark matter, probably only used when the Mount is in motion. It''s entirely likely that passive sources are primary power unless this place is actually in motion or in combat. They probably fire it up to make the neutronium for the side plants, making sure they have enough reserves to start up the Dark Matter Core..."


    "Is there even enough dark matter to do that, even if we could figure out the control sequence?" Cedric had to wonder.


    "Well, taking in so much other-matter in a horror zone like this would probably lead to massive psychic contamination of the power network, turn this place into a real scream factory. So, unless you can vivic it as it burns, there''ll be problems..."


    "Kaiju in the room time, Mom. Where''s the signs of Warp contamination? I mean, sure, they can''t affect obdurium to any real extant. But shouldn''t this place be freaking swarming with ectoplasm, necroplasm, Warp residues, and suchlike?" Percy had to ask.


    "Not if the Curse is configured to kill all that stuff. All it has to do is cut it off from the Warp, and the stuff will just go away, right? Even if the Curse has been corrupted to turn its power against everything, not just Warp influence, it can still handle this."


    "Powerful Curse," mused Rikkle. "The Ruk did that, eh?"


    "It got this ship out of the Warp. Whether it got them out... no, there''s too much death here, the air rings with it. They didn''t get out." I shook my head.


    "But... that doesn''t mean they didn''t escape, right?" Giselle butted in. "They were a culture at Twenty... c''mon, there had to be something they could do, right?"


    I considered that, and all the insane stuff that could be pulled off at higher Valences of magic. The Ruk were masters of Earth-based magic and tech, had ridden that to a domination of the galaxy that had lasted for eons, building it up to the point where it was almost unassailable. It took the Mythos corrupting a whole branch of their race and the Warp Gods taking down all of magic to bring them down.


    These people were seriously tough, smart, and only changing the laws of reality had done the job in the end. Yeah, they were very focused on one magitech tree, but they''d taken it all the way to the end, before it basically became Play-doh for Eternals. While tech at that level could be very inflexible and almighty in a narrow vein, it could also be very adaptable if you were smart enough to apply it innovatively.


    And despite itself, the Warp bred innovation, even to a race as unchanging as the Ruk.


    So, how could the crew of this place give the finger to the Warp, and get out of here?


    "Someone run me a scenario with top-end Earth magitech. Is it possible to petrify souls?"


    Everyone looked at one another, and then the Forest-Computer on Hulkamania revved into action...


    --------------


    There were half a dozen possible scenarios, but the one that stood out fit the scenario of a completely powered-down ship, the Curse, and a total lack of Warp involvement.


    If there was Warp corruption of the Ruk, they''d still be here... Possessed, tormented, undead, working on this tech, ready to turn it against the galaxy, something.


    That hadn''t happened. They''d not let the corruption take them, and also not let their souls be captured and used to run this place.


    This was a full perfectly intact Ruk Flying Mountain. It was unreal. It could only mean that the demons of the Warp, who were extensions of Sin and Id, found absolutely nothing here worth spending their time. The Curse couldn''t possibly have driven them away if they had fun things to do... but without fun, why stay and fight the annoying thing?


    So, there were no Ruk in various entertaining poses around, merged into walls, still alive after being rendered into different organs plastered about the place, and similar expressions of demonic creativity.


    So... where?


    The Dark Matter Core made sense. So, we were going to go down there.


    ------


    The Precipice did a twelve-hour burn on another ablation grid that should lead in around or under us. It wasn''t as long, but with the additional synchronizing data it was more effective. We watched a whole side of the Mount burn out in white worms, and sections of the hangar about us spit out whole sections and small ponds of the stuff as the double-duty of our pumps and that incoming surge did the job.


    Then we headed down the lifts.


    First we had to jam them, since they might suddenly power up and then come crush everyone. Then we had to rappel down a few dozen stories to the main engineering level, reading the Runes outside the doors from the inside in our Tremblesense, and then force open those doors with some psionic razzle-dazzle on some very sophisticated locks... complemented with vivic washes.


    There were a lot of geomantic devices down here of impressive size, age, and still not a hint of dust on them, slumbering and waiting to be waken up. It was the first time pretty much everyone got to knock on neutronium with their bare hands.


    The Seals on the primary Core chamber were pretty impressive, but they weren''t designed to deal with a Null at my level... and really, they were there to keep the doors closed, not even to keep out alien forces, magic, spirits, whatever. Almost as if it wasn''t important.


    Heads bobbed when I pointed that out.


    Then it was a case of giving the doors enough juice, and pumping the whole area full of vivus for an hour while black worms writhed in unwhite flames everywhere, before opening it up.


    We didn''t even look inside before we just started hosing everything. The streams of vivus ignited like firewalls in a wind against the stream of outraged Curse influence that was lunging at us and trying to do Bad Things to us. Everybody had vivic Weapons out and ignited, and the pumps just worked and worked while we sat there and I organized a poker tournament in Markspace for everyone.


    ------


    Roughly an hour later the whole area outside the door was glowing white, the ambient blackness in the air was pretty much done, and we could actually see what was going on inside.


    The big dark sphere about a hundred feet in size in the center of the place, held together with the dead black of neutronium pylons, pretty much dominated the room. The floor was an uneven sprawl of some ungodly complicated mess of multi-level Runic piping, and least twenty levels of Patterns, with a few floating walkways here and there above the morass.


    We found the crew of the place, too.


    There were thousands of them, all kneeling, all motionless. Some were in uniforms for work, others military attire, most of it much heavier and with more tools than human stuff would be. There were tens of thousands of soldiers in power armor, corps of techies, officers, scientists, runesmiths or wizards or alchemists or something...


    And as I''d expected, they were all made of stone infused with dark matter...