App herunterladen
26.77% The Power of Ten: Sama Rantha / Chapter 143: Chapter One Hundred and Forty-Three –Hell hath Fury like a Woman’s Scorn

Kapitel 143: Chapter One Hundred and Forty-Three –Hell hath Fury like a Woman’s Scorn

The Golden Wing was a pretentious bunch of erinyes-inspired women who had set themselves up as a monastery of sorts, where they accepted orphans, exiles, and the remnants of noble families or merchants who'd lost everything in cutthroat competition, as long as they were young and female.

The Wing turned them into assassins, escorts, bodyguards, and special agents... basically ninjas with fashion sense. One had probably been purchased for 'special services' by the Benedelli heir, flaunting his power via money.

She wasn't hard to pick out, being dressed in gold and black, the colors of the Golden Wing, her attire revealing a finely-honed athletic figure, lots of golden skin, and dark eyes that were measuring Errant up in both arrogance and amusement.

Looked like a Seven. She'd been brought along to cool down his brother, who was a Five treading on Six, and talented and happy to beat people up to show it. And of course, the Benedelli could get some special instruction from an older woman...

"Come now, little brother. Your love of pugilism is one of the few accomplishments you can claim in the family. Are you truly going to let this chance to defend the honor of the Gilderalz before the eyes of our peers pass you by?"

Ah, pride, that Hellish thing thou art... "Well, yes, brother, I am. I've some conditioning to get back to." His brother's face instantly blackened. "After all, accruing some glory for the House and you does nothing for me. I imagine you even have a side wager... yes, I see you do. And I'm supposed to just stand here and be a punching bag while you walk off with the winnings if I do well." Errant held up his hand and wagged a finger at Guteriz, whose ears started to turn red.

His voice was a little irritable. "What do you want, then?" It was said in just that tone of voice, as if Errant was an unreasonable money-grubber.

Errant glanced at the Benedelli. "What's the bet?" he asked.

Slicked black hair, aloof noise, decadent air as if he was above all the masses, at least five hundred gold in an outfit he'd probably only wear once, the amused scion replied, "A thousand gold."

"Double it, my brother pays if I lose, I keep it if I win, and he can go talk about the glory of it all and how mighty our family is."

That seemed to amuse the Benedelli all the more. "Oh, what pluck!" He glanced at Guteriz, whose face was going black. Errant would get a beating, and his brother's purse would be emptied. If Errant lost, well, she was a Seven, and he was barely eleven years old. It was to be expected. He'd look like an idiot, and Errant could probably even lose on purpose just to spite him.

But Guteriz, to Errant's surprise, just nodded shortly. Privately amused, he wondered just what sort of beating Guteriz had arranged for him. The bet would be paid publicly and returned in private, no doubt.

"Well then, bring her in." A circle was instantly cleared in the room by the interested scions, and whispers and wagers began to fly. "Oh, what are the odds? I'll put five hundred gold on myself."

There was stunned silence, and then the Benedelli laughed aloud in delight. Everyone knew what was going on then, and he stated loudly, "I'll pay you five to one if you win!" he called out, utterly confident.

Oh, he was about to have a bad day. The glance the fop sent to the hot blonde with the poison nails had all sorts of meaning. She completely ignored it, coldly confident in her abilities, and even a little irritated that she be given a job as simple as this.

Errant put up his fists, and she paused, looking at him. "Are you certain you don't want to remove your... accoutrements?" she asked delicately.

"Do I need to?" Errant returned casually.

She raised her nose, staring at him. "That is not a suit of armor. It will hinder you far more then it will protect you," she said, as if instructing a fool.

"Says a woman trained for horizontal naked combat," Errant replied, rolling his eyes. "When you know something about armor, you can give me advice."

Her eyes sparked with something, tightly controlled, but he hadn't actually insulted her... because she actually was trained to kill people that way.

"It is your funeral!" she stated, and blurred into motion.

Errant turned off his Angel Weight, and stepped into the coming kick.

She was actually really surprised, and had a right to be. He moved as easily in the clumsy, overweight training garb as someone in leathers, smashing aside her kick with a heavy arm, and then directly crashing into her with an elbow before she could dance back.

With a whoosh of breath leaving her, she jumped back, folded over and needing five steps to regain her balance. There was more then a flicker of surprise in her eyes as she stared at him.

"What style is that?" she asked, and this time, her hands came up carefully, half-claws ready to rip and rend flesh, the golden nails indeed poisoned, and ready to be used.

"It's a Thunder style, made to be used against profound practitioners," Errant replied calmly, gauntlets closed into fists. "You were probably told I was a boxer." Her eyes flickered. "But, you know, there's all kinds of ways hands can be used." He hopped forwards a pace, as if he wasn't nearly three hundred pounds at the moment, and her eyes narrowed at the display of easy strength. "So, this is going to hurt. Get ready."

And completely screwing over her belief that he was going to be slow and clumsy, Errant danced in at her, and began to jab.

Well, it looked like a jab, except his arm was carrying over ten pounds of metal and leather with it, and she got to feel it all when she blocked.

He didn't really bother to block much. His base DR was high enough that she wasn't going to do anything to him, nor was he afraid of her poison. Poison resistance was a thing with Alchemists, further enhanced by his Warlock Ward, and he'd been building it faithfully.

She ripped, slapped, clutched, pulled, and kicked. She tried to throw him, but that didn't end well, as he had total control of his momentum, and if her hands stayed still for even a second, he was going to crush them. He utterly ignored everything she slammed into him, driving her across the circle as she ducked and dodged quickly, trying to circle him, and instead getting matched and forced backwards as his feet slammed to the ground with every step of his overweighted suit, and his hands didn't stop coming at her.

She couldn't take the continued impacts, and couldn't dodge them effectively. He was actually using a combined Fire and Thunder form, reducing both dodge-based and insight-based AC by 4 each, effectively taking her greater agility and monkish training and rendering it useless. It was like guided chaos, his fists filling the air in front of her tirelessly, disrupting her rhythm and battering her non-stop.

Throws and locks were contested checks, and she was a finesse fighter, so he was using Way of Valus and plowing his armor into her strikes, subtly disrupting them by shifting vulnerable spots that tiny bit and rendering her blows, which relied on great precision, useless by forcing them to hit his armor. She couldn't push or pull him at all.

And with DR 11/Silver, her base 1-6 +2 just wasn't getting anywhere.

Of course, she was a Seven. Her hands burst into hellfire, which almost made him laugh at their uselessness. She scored the leather of his training armor a little bit, strikes which could rend chainmail and set wood on fire he barely acknowledged. She did get off a burning spin kick into his side that actually hurt... and then he slapped his arm down, caught her leg and spun before she could pull back, yanking her off her feet as his fist came down on her knee.

The crack was audible, as was the gasp of pain as his backfirst overwhelmed her block and smashed across the fine bones of her face. Her head jerked back, and he grabbed her arm, jerking her forwards as his head snapped counter, and rammed his heavy helm into her forehead.

The other leg she was balancing on folded as her eyes rolled back, and he let her drop unconscious to the floor, her nose flattened against her face.

The Benedelli started to step forward, gasping, and Errant turned to face him. "I'll expect the twelve thousand five hundred gold to be delivered to my room promptly." The fop's eyes popped in outrage. "You DID say, very loudly, that you'd be paying me five to one, and the bet totaled twenty-five hundred, did it not?" Errant continued coolly.

The Benedelli went white, looking at Guteriz, whose face was flat and impassive, concealing the shock he was feeling. Of course he had said that, and to a member of the Duke's family. There was no way he was going to back out.

She should have sent Errant flying and flipping all over the place, heavy and clumsy in this suit, truly treated him like a humiliating sand bag to beat on as she wished. Instead, he had rather brutally put her down and made her look ineffective and useless.

It was a slap to Errant's brother, his fop of a friend, and the Golden Wing and her Order.

That much gold was not a small bet. You could buy some serious magic for that much money, and it likely exceeded his budget for this trip by a fair amount. There was taking out money to buy stuff, and there was losing that much for no return.

And doubtless the Belledini couldn't help feeling that Guteriz had set him up to put him in his place.

'Look, fop, this is the home of the Gilderalz family. We FIGHT here. Look what your money can do, and know your place.'

Errant didn't know which way Guteriz would spin it, but it would be to his benefit, no doubt.

Then he'd probably want Errant to give him a share of the winnings. Errant laughed to himself after receiving the Benedelli's reluctant nod, and marched out of the room, leaving the hellpriest acolytes standing by to rush forward and administer healing magic on the fallen Golden Wing.

The burn marks on his gear would generate a lot of reminder stories for a long time after this...

-------

The gold bars were on his desk, no one would dare touch them, save his father. Errant pulled out the set of mithral alloy bracers he'd had the family smith make, just waiting for a moment like this.

Tonight would be day one of Infusing the Bracers. +2 Ward/Humans would raise his DR by another +2, and his Armor by 4... while wearing no armor. While he could potentially wear armor, it was not something normally worn by any but earth or metal-aligned Warlocks, and put major restrictions on use of Wrath and Whim, since it leeched away at the power of eldritch energy. In the future, he wouldn't be using armor at all, relying on the Bracers for what protection they could give him, and the Monk training from Secondary Classing to make up for what plate armor could give him.

Word was spreading again. The family's warriors were again giving him cautious and careful looks. What the Benedelli and the Golden Wing might pull, he wasn't worried about. Regardless of anything else, he'd gained great face for his family, as even the non-Powered runt of the Gilderalz could beat down a skilled hireling, what more those who could actually fight!

It was laughable, but it was the way the world was.

Errant carefully lifted a heavy bar up onto the soles of his feet, rolled onto his back, levered it into the air, and rose into a handstand, all while under triple gravity. Any error or mistake could send it falling down onto his head, and it magnified any and all wavering in his balance and poise.

The Pattern under the rug glowed, and gold burned away as it bound with Karma into the set of Bracers made to accept the magic. Calmly, Errant kept it going as he exercised in the dark of the night.


AUTORENGEDANKEN
Aelryinth Aelryinth

Discord server at https://discord.gg/2qrTZU , TPoT, if you want to chat or have questions about the world.

Ten reviews is the threshold for showing on the main page, I'm ONE SHY. If you could spare five minutes for a review for me, I'd appreciate it, everyone! One extra chap per review, up to six more!

One stone a week from each of my readers would raise the story's rank a lot! Thank you for your support!== Ael

Kapitel 144: Chapter One Hundred and Forty-Four – The Mercs

The chatter didn't stop as I walked in, as the ones here were too busy proving their manhood to one another, and didn't notice me, at least at first. Then I walked up on the stage, and that got attention. The conversations started to drop off, heads to turn, and hard, assessing eyes looked me over.

Barely five-foot-tall, blond hair worn too long and bright, Tat Mask, no figure to really speak of other then a ripple of really good muscle tone.

And then I looked back at them, white eyes on black, and conversation stopped like a knife. The smart ones even swallowed.

"Generally speaking, I don't want you here," I opened up, voice carrying very clearly to every ear. "I'm aware of what you are, who you are, and what you do. You are slaves to coin, and you've been bandits, raiders, marauders, pillagers, and looters, in addition to paid soldiers," I stated flatly. "A good number of you have innocent blood on your hands, and there's some dark places waiting for you when you die. The rest of you are pragmatic and ruthless, getting to where you are because someone else died for you to get here."

A number of them shuffled uneasily. This definitely wasn't going as they hoped for.

"I am aware that some of you are agents of Huul, Imprus, Angar, Hurn, Shoul, and a dozen mortal powers who think they are relevant to what is going on. In truth, I don't care, nor do the gods of the Warp. They'll butcher you all just the same, no favorites among them."

More uneasy shuffling. One bright boy started to speak up, "Now, see here, girl–"

There was a flash of light, and he pitched off his seat as a Banestar smashed into his head, hitting the ground cold and silent.

I went on as Tremble clicked back home. "Be that as it may, you being butchered saves some of my people from being killed. The Warp certainly has enough loot to go around, and enough things to kill, that feeding you to the crows isn't going to cost the rest of us anything."

They had ugly expressions on. I was indeed talking to them like their lives didn't matter, and they really didn't. These were men who didn't give a shit about others, so naturally I didn't give a shit about them.

"You've probably heard of the awesomeness of getting Marked and Opened by now." I measured the instant eagerness in their eyes. "It should come as no surprise to you that neither you nor those you command will be getting much of that." Protests started to rise to lips, and my hand shifted ever so slightly towards Tremble. Nobody missed it, and everyone shut up.

"I have no obligations to you whatsoever. You are not my people. I did not ask for you to come, you came seeking gold. You are perfectly welcome to turn around and go right back to where you came from. Indeed, I wouldn't be too surprised if you go running off to the Warp and try to offer your services, sell off your souls, and I get to butcher you on the battlefield."

Clearly, I didn't have a high opinion of them. Their mood darkened further.

"So, I am not here to discuss recruiting you, because I'm not. I have no desire whatsoever to have people like you Marked, nor am I going to waste the time to Open you. You all have your methods, they brought you this far, I'm sure you'll make do." I waved my hand in dismissal. "I had you all brought here to discuss what I will give you."

They rustled uncomfortably, having a clear indication that things were not going as they hoped.

"If you want to fight, you go and fight. I'm not giving you support troops, I'm not giving you supplies. If you want them, you buy them. To buy them, you're going to need plunder.

"I will give you a base of operations, insofar as it is going to keep moving. If you are in that base, you'll be able to get some free healing every day in the form of a Healing Trap, so all of you can get fixed up fairly quick. If you've got the gold, I'll even sell you one, no skin off my nose.

"The warbands of the Warp have a significant amount of loot on them in the form of skins, blood, bones, and organs of magical creatures, ivory, gems, gold ornamentation and jewelry, and some magical armor, weapons, and knickknacks, probably more than most things you've ever fought. As the Warped have no homes of their own, they carry all their valuables on them."

Their heads were nodding, grim smiles rising. This was good news!...

"Fully a third of what they have is Cursed or Possessed." Faces fell instantly. "That doesn't mean its not valuable, it just means that you best be damn careful when looting, and if you're greedy enough to keep something for yourself, you're going to end up a Warp slave in no time at all, and it will be my pleasure to gut you like a fish and feed you to the Land."

They hid their sneers, but it didn't disguise the fear in their eyes. Possessed loot was no joke, nor were Curses.

"We'll have exchanges where you can burn loot down to raw form, remove impurities and foul magic, and revert them to mana crystals, which you can use to upgrade your own Gear directly, or pay to have someone do it for you. If you've never done Mana Infusion or Investment, we'll show you how. You pay the fee to use a Pattern or you buy one for yourself, and you use your own eight hours a day max to do it, instead of someone else's. But it's a skill, and if you don't know much spellcraft, you're only going to be able to do the most basic upgrades.

"That said, I am not lying when I say that if you focus on getting your men stronger, you'll very rapidly be able to provide all of them with magical armor and weapons... if they don't die. And though I can see the greed shining in your eyes, the best way to win is to make all your people stronger, not just you... not that you care."

Faces twisted again, as I voiced what was in their hearts.

"You will have the opportunity to employ some of the Marked as guides." That startled them. "I don't think I should need to tell you the benefits, but I will, anyways.

"First, you'll have access to The Map. That means you'll have a superb guide who can get you where you want to go without fail. You won't be running into competitors... because we all know you aren't allies." That actually got some grim laughs from them. "Furthermore, you'll be able to pick out and call dibs on warbands we've information on... and we'll actually and very happily let you run out there and let yourselves get killed fighting them. Force breakdowns, numbers, position, advised combat points... yes, we'll give that to you without a problem.

"It also means we don't have to worry about you ambushing some of our forces out there for some spur of the moment funsies, and then having to slaughter you all in return.

"The cost of having a Marked with you will be an officer's salary, paid a month in advance for the service of the Marked, and twenty percent of plunder. If you fuck us over on the loot, you're cut off, and open season on whoever wants to take you out. I don't really give a damn if you all kill one another, it's one less headache for me to keep track of." I paused significantly. "I really, strongly suggest you employ a Marked Guide."

If this wasn't earning me any friendly faces, I didn't much care. They weren't friendly.

"If you want to succeed out there, you have an additional option of employing more Marked as either eyes or officers, who will actually fight. I don't think I should have to tell you what having ten men who can instantly relay commands and observations across a chaotic battlefield could do for you, but the choice is yours. You'll have to negotiate individually with Marked, and given who some of you are and your reputations, you're screwed.

"Don't try to follow an Alliance force and mooch off them. This is pay as you go, feed as you go. We aren't paying you, you're paying us... but we'll let you kill all of the enemy you want to, and the spoils are totally worth it, even from your points of view.

"I totally expect your numbers to be infiltrated by traitors, shapeshifters, the Possessed, and fanatic converts to the Warp in short order, because you're just the kind of people the gods of the Warp love the most." Their expressions were indeed fun to watch.

"Lastly, the thing you want to hear the least." I frowned at all of them. "We're watching. All of us. I'm going to know if you turn on my Marked. So are thousands and thousands of others. We're going to know if you lie, cheat, and steal, and everyone is going to know rapidly, and we will cut you off or down, as the situation warrants it, instantly.

"You can con one another. You can cheat one another. You can even go and kill one another, I don't care. But if you fuck up anything for the Alliance, if you screw over one of our people, and if you prey on those coming up here to join the Alliance, not just availing themselves of the loot harvest... you're dead. There are thousands of people here doing their best to defeat entities that literally threaten the entire world, and we have one another's backs.

"You prey on them, and the only place you can run to is the Warp... and the gods there will take you in, relieve you of your souls, and send you right back out to prove your worth, so we'll kill you anyways." I frowned over all of them, completely uncaring of their expressions. "It isn't a promise, or a threat. It's just a fact.

"Base of operations. Place to buy supplies. Some free healing. Information and guides. Free reign on killing the enemy. Access to more potential plunder then you've ever had, and even purging the danger that it comes with," I enumerated, one after another. "These are what you are given here. You have the potential to make great profit, to get in as much fighting as you want, and you'll be dealt with fairly, if you're fair in return.

"But as I said, I can guarantee that you're going to be problems. The greedy are going to hold back loot for themselves, and fall to the Warp when their loot eats their souls. You're going to be infiltrated by spies and saboteurs and fanatics. You have agendas that involve subverting the Alliance and extending this fight out as long as possible.

"That's fine. I know it. The Alliance knows it. There's going to be some throats slit in the night, some heads hacked off in the day, and life will go on.

"Are there any questions?"

Instantly a hand shot up. I nodded at the big man with the flaming red beard. "Just how much loot are we talking, Sage Sama?" the burly man asked incorrigibly.

"The average amount of plunder we've been getting has worked out to around twenty goldweight per thousand troops in the Warpbands we've faced. If they have monstrous beasts with viable alchemical comps, this tends to go somewhat higher... but monstrous beasts naturally come with more deaths, so there's a trade-off," I replied without batting an eye.

Another hand rose, this one from a hawk-faced, lean man with icy eyes. "What size forces are you suggesting we use?" he asked quickly.

"The average size of the Warpbands is between two and four thousand men. Those with monstrous assets tend to have fewer men, as the influence of their Warlords is eroded by having such powerful assets. There is a very complex relationship here between the power of the Warlords and the forces under their command, wholly mandated by the gods they serve. If we start using larger forces, or setting up fortifications, the Warlords will start joining forces and the average size of a fighting force will skyrocket quickly.

"We cannot win a numbers game with the Warp in this aspect. So, I would recommend that you organize yourselves in forces up to a thousand in number, and assemble and disassemble to face the Warpbands that you hunt.

"Yes, I know it is totally insane, and if you can outnumber the enemy's power, you should do so. And you know what? If you're weak and inept, the gods of the Warp will let you gang up and do just that, so that there is even more slaughter and loss of human souls.

"But they don't want to see elites using numbers to kill stuff. They want to see you FIGHT." I dropped my voice down, and had their attention. "If you're good, you get the rewards. If you don't, you're carrion. If you break their rules, then they'll happily arrange things so you get a proper match on their terms... or maybe they'll just bulldoze you with a demon swarm.

"You're fucking with gods here, people." I didn't hide my scorn. "They are gods, and they want to have a good fight. You're their gladiators, and if you don't like it, you're fertilizer for the gardens of blood.

"Live, you'll get glory, you'll get gold, and you'll be fighting things that live for the exact some reasons. Die, nobody cares. There's more fighting to come."

Some of them shivered at the cold reality of my voice. Others were excited at the coming fight, having no care for what was on the other side of that fight. They'd been hearing about how we'd been ripping through the enemy, so they had no idea what they were in for.

They weren't elves, with warcraft and magic on their side. They weren't dwarves, with millennia-deep reserves of magical arms and armor, total discipline and brotherhood to carry them along. They weren't Marked, with boosted Stats and my Warlord bonus plus Courageous to turn them into killing machines.

They were greedy men eager for gold and glory, and they were going to get ground into paste.

"Now, let me give you some idea of what you are going to be fighting, so you can prepare yourselves..."

But that was okay. Every Warped they killed was one more we didn't have to. There was plenty to go around, as we stumped slowly and grimly north and east.

To Yle Tyorm.


AUTORENGEDANKEN
Aelryinth Aelryinth

ONE MORE REVIEW NEEDED! Someone help! Extra chapter when it gets here!

If all my readers gave me just one vote per week, we'd be in the top hundred!!

Thanks for your votes and support! ==Ael

Load failed, please RETRY

Wöchentlicher Energiestatus

Stapelfreischaltung von Kapiteln

Inhaltsverzeichnis

Anzeigeoptionen

Hintergrund

Schriftart

Größe

Kapitel-Kommentare

Schreiben Sie eine Rezension Lese-Status: C143
Fehler beim Posten. Bitte versuchen Sie es erneut
  • Qualität des Schreibens
  • Veröffentlichungsstabilität
  • Geschichtenentwicklung
  • Charakter-Design
  • Welthintergrund

Die Gesamtpunktzahl 0.0

Rezension erfolgreich gepostet! Lesen Sie mehr Rezensionen
Stimmen Sie mit Powerstein ab
Rank 200+ Macht-Rangliste
Stone 0 Power-Stein
Unangemessene Inhalte melden
error Tipp

Missbrauch melden

Kommentare zu Absätzen

Einloggen

tip Kommentar absatzweise anzeigen

Die Absatzkommentarfunktion ist jetzt im Web! Bewegen Sie den Mauszeiger über einen beliebigen Absatz und klicken Sie auf das Symbol, um Ihren Kommentar hinzuzufügen.

Außerdem können Sie es jederzeit in den Einstellungen aus- und einschalten.

ICH HAB ES