Whining about how things are now...
They were big, hairy men, brawny and muscular, with an air of incipient violence ready to boil over hanging around them. Their Armor and Weapons showed signs of a lot of use, and they handed them over to the smiths to fix almost reluctantly, as if thinking they might be stolen away by the craftsmen.
Berserkers, the frenzied savages of the martial world, endemic to barbarian cultures, reveling in their fury and the raw, brutal power of their emotions. Elite warriors of their tribes and clans, coming to this place to fight, and finding the servants of the Warp Gods had a mindset all too familiar to them.
I didn’t have a single berserker in Marktell. They hadn’t matched my mindset in Nightmare, so none had come or been recruited to me in their dreams. I’d opened their Chakra without hesitation; they could use the Soul Magic edge, but not much beyond that.
It left them outside the Marktell, and the power that could be displayed by it. They were witnessing the Marked around them performing with astonishing power, fluid coordination, and instantaneous responses, and it was affecting their status.
Like great athletes suddenly being eclipsed by a new generation, they weren’t too happy about it. The looks they were throwing me were a strange mix of grateful for what I had done, and sullen that they couldn’t get the full treatment.
I finished up my Tatting, and eyed the lot of twenty or so Kaldens standing there. They were all veteran warriors, and they’d certainly earned their positions, but they were now feeling the pressure from behind, and it was daunting them.
“Your stink-eyes are hurting by dose,” I said, pinching my nostrils. “What’s up with you lot? Standing around waiting for your armor is a waste of time.”
They all looked at one another, wondering who would be the first to speak.
A red-bearded brute shouldered his way forwards to look at me, like a big hairy bear. “We want to be Marked, Sage Sama,” he said, as if it was a given that I would do so.
“No. I don’t want guys like you in my head,” I denied him simply, staring right into his eyes. “You’re not Good people. Our personalities would clash immediately, and you’d start having reactions to my being there. You’d try to resist the influence that would be coming off me, and that would send you straight to the Warp, given how close the Rift is. Ergo, insane and bloodthirsty, ready to turn on us whenever the Warp commanded it. Not to mention the Mark would fade away under your defiance within three days. You’d burn it right off yourselves to get me out of your heads.”
He took a few deep breaths, nostrils flaring, but all their impressiveness didn’t deter me a single bit. I met all their eyes at once, and ever-so-slightly narrowed mine at their body language.
They all took a step back at the same time. I’d come in once to deal with some Weavers from jRaztl, and they’d seen me butcher a Spell Weaver with extreme prejudice. None of them could do that, and just because I was half their size didn’t mean squat.
Redbeard’s mouth worked, twisting around unfamiliar words. After all, men like them just didn’t apologize. “We meant no offense. It was, it would be, an honor to accept a Mark!” he managed to get out, saving his bacon.
“Some would think. I don’t give them out as honors, I give them out as rewards and tools. Rewards for good life choices, tools to help fight an Evil so great that it threatens to destroy the world.
“Neither of those are why you fight.” I met all their eyes easily, and despite being mighty berserkers, their gazes dropped or they looked away. “Our motivations don’t match. Because of that, giving you a Mark is useless.”
They tensed up despite themselves. This whole talk of Evil simply went right past them. They lived in a world of strength and battle, and being praised for that prowess. Any other measure was simply foreign to them.
“What you really want is more power, isn’t it?” Their eyes snapped back to me with very quick interest. “You can feel all the others fighting with you getting stronger faster than you are. Your position is threatened, and they are poking your pride. You don’t fit in, even more than before, and it’s isolating you.
“And the eyes of the women going elsewhere probably doesn’t help.”
They all found something to cough about right about then. There were quite a few women fighters among the Kalden, but they tended to be shield-maids, not berserkers. There were a couple bat-crazy women berserkers among them, but they weren’t here, preferring to fight alongside the shield-maids who helped keep them alive.
“What you want isn’t a Mark. What you want is advice.” They all blinked at me, huffing in reaction, scrunching up their brutal faces at the very idea of thinking hard. “Seriously, you’ve got all the power you need, simply because you’re all Powered. You don’t NEED a Mark. You might want it, but you certainly don’t NEED it.
“Your problem is that you are on a very straight road that has an ending. It’s been trod by countless numbers of your ancestors, you know it from song and tales; where you can go, and what you can do. Maybe you can even break into the ranks of legends and become as famous as your ancestors...
“But opening your Chakras has shown you that there are other roads, just as wide and broad as your own, only you don’t have any tales to guide you. You don’t know what to do, and so you are asking for a Mark, because that seems like the strong play.”
They shuffled a bit as they thought about that. Not being too introspective, they realized I was probably right. They wanted to grow their strength, but they didn’t know how.
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“Go down to the river, and wash up. Scrub yourself clean, skin pink, clothes washed. I’ll be down there at dusk, and I’ll talk with you.”
Their eyes lit up despite trying to seem reserved. They knew I Knew Everything, and such words were bound to be valuable. Sage Sama, duh... Feeling much better about themselves, they started for the river, someone mentioned they were hungry, and they shifted course towards the mess tent promptly.
I shook my head, and joined the many smiths at their repair work. There were now six copies of my Tools in existence, and two more Silent Thunder Anvils. Add in Mikel’s clan of brownies helping with the soft goods repair and maintenance work, and we got things fixed very quickly around here...
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There was a fire, not too high, not too low. The berserker women had heard hints given out that this would be useful for them, and the grim-faced, scarred not-quite-Amazons had also arrived to hear this.
If a few others were keeping a polite distance in the dark to listen in, I didn’t have any problems with it.
Silence fell as I stepped up to the circle where everyone could see me, Tremble floating beside me and ready to start a Holopoint presentation.
“Valus is a Berserker.”
It was probably the last thing they expected me to say. A couple of them even gaped at me.
“I know, I know, you lot love Hurn the War God, because He’s a Berserker, too, and you think Rage is only good for fighting. That’s because you don’t understand what Rage is.” I let that sit for a minute, as they struggled with that.
“Rage is emotional power. It is magic, on the same level with ki, and basically on the opposite side of the spectrum. It has exactly the same relationship with Soul Magic that ki does, as a result. Yes, it’s magic; shut up, don’t try to deny it. The fact that you don’t know it’s magic means you aren’t using it right. Some of the shit Rage can do is so obviously magical you’ll hit yourself for even doubting it.” The ones about to speak up shut up again.
“Rage has three factors to it: Emotion, and its derivations, Instinct and Passion. The problem you all have is that you are sitting in the first one and thinking it’s awesome, and ignoring the other two, where all the real power is. You Rage, you go stupid, you get big and strong, and think you’re awesome, when what you’ve got is a fairly minor Buff to Strength and Constitution.” I rolled my eyes meaningfully, and they twitched, despite themselves.
“Instinct is just that, your connection to your animal roots. Rage is that same fighting instinct that pops up in every animal when it’s time to fight. It’s why you feel a closeness to animals that are ready to fight; you share that primal fury.
“And then you absolutely ignore the fact that you are connected to those animals, and can do so much more than fight by accessing that primal instinct.” I glared at all of them, and they shuffled uneasily once again.
“Passion is different from Emotion and Instinct. Instinct and Emotion are inflicted upon you when you respond to something. Passion... is what you choose to drive you. I want you for my mate.” Redbeard went red as I pointed. “I want you dead!” A balding man paled. “I want to be the greatest warrior on this field! I want to dive to the bottom of the sea! I want to climb to the top of the greatest mountain! I want to scream out at the gods, and I want them to KNOW MY NAME!”
They were all shaking now, thrumming with the power of the Heartsong in my voice.
“That is Passion! And that is the other end of Rage that you are ignoring... the fact that you can choose to make of your Rage a power driven by YOUR will, YOUR desires, not just some damn automatic Buff on a field of combat! Eesh.” I rolled my eyes, and they looked ashamed again.
“The two extra paths to power are based around Totems, and Passions, Goals, Quests, whatever you want to call them.
“Valus calls his Passions Quests, and he is the Questing Knight. He is always following his Passions.
“Hurn has only one Passion, and it is War!
“As for the Dark Powers... their Passions are numerous, dark, and unrestrained, and they pursue them with abandonment and fervor. You could say that little exists of them beside their particular Passion.” The Holopoint behind me listed half a dozen divine beings of Chaos, and their Passions, and even the Berserkers blanched a bit.
“Totems... are the primal side of your powers. I noticed some time ago that not a single one of you bothered to pick a Totem. I wanted to knock your heads in for sheer stupidity, but it was your choice, not mine.” Their eyes looked away again as I glared at them.
One of the women raised a hand. I jerked my chin at her. “Aren’t Totems something that comes and picks you?” she asked hesitantly. “I’ve heard of them in the tales...”
“If you’re a wolf, a wolf will pick you. If you’re a bear, a bear will pick you. I don’t see any wolves or bears here.” Crickets played, the woman flushed. “You’re Human. More specifically, you are Powered. You are MAGICAL.” I slapped my head thrice. “Magical people, all of you, and acting so dumb! YOU CAN PICK YOUR OWN DAMN TOTEM!”
They kind of gaped at me.
“What? Some scrawny Powered Wizard guy can wiggle his fingers and cast a fireball two hundred yards away, killing a score of men, and you equally Powered magical people can’t even select your own Totem?” I leaned forwards despite myself. “Just what kind of inferiority complex do you people have, anyways?”
They all flushed despite their grim natures. I was really hammering this home. They were magical people, and they were just acting like they didn’t have magic.
“I’m going to first tell you about Totems. There are two basic categories: Group Totems, and Champion Totems.
“Group Totems are animals that live and fight in groups: Wolves, Lions, Griffons, Deer, and so forth. Champion Totems are animals that fight alone: Tigers, Bears, Dragons, Snakes, and so forth. These Totems have very different mindsets.” I looked over them all.
“Here’s where you all have to make one of your choices in life. A group Totem will bind you to a tribe, a clan, a company. You are a family. Members of a Totem tribe work together very, very well... especially in wartime, on a battlefield, and geegollygosh, where are we now?”
Several of them actually looked thoughtful at that remark.
“Champions work for themselves. Even if you’ve others like you, they are rivals and competitors, allies by happenstance only. You may have friends and family, but in the end, it’s all you and nobody else, baby.”
Others flushed; some with excitement, others in embarrassment. So easy to read...
“Different Totems focus on different things, and will guide you to different understandings of Rage.”
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It was weird seeing Berserkers thinking hard about what they were going to do. I went over the Totems, the Passions, and then just to annoy them further with possibilities, delved further into Soul Magic, noted they all had potential for other kinds of magic they might Cast before a battle even started.
They would be nothing unless they were masters of their Rage, not addicts dependent upon it. It was their choice to make themselves better people, I wasn’t going to make them do it. If they became worthy of and tolerable to me, they could get Marked. Before then, they’d need a Marked officer to tell them where to go and what to do.
Oh, and they wanted Courageous Weapons, because it would amplify the effects of their Rage powers, always a useful thing. But that was reliant on Naming their Weapons and fighting successfully.
I gave them three hours of my time, answering questions that popped up, helping them visualize just what kind of Rage machines they wanted to be. They definitely had a lot to talk about...