The Present, and Sama has things to say...
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 drew their attention. The conversations started to drop off, heads to turn, and hard, assessing eyes looked me over.
Five-foot-six, blonde hair worn too long and bright, Tat Mask, no figure to really speak of other than a ripple of really good skin tone.
Then I looked back at them, white eyes on black, and the conversations stopped like a knife. The smart ones even swallowed.
“Generally speaking, I don’t want you here,” I opened up, my 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 had 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 their faces. 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 them 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 had 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 quickly. 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 the skins, blood, bones, and organs of magical creatures; ivory, gems, gold ornamentation and jewelry; and some magical Armor, Weapons, and knickknacks, probably more valuables than most things you’ve ever fought. As the Warped have no homes of their own, they carry all their own treasures on them.”
Their heads were nodding eagerly, grim smiles rising. This was good news!...
“Fully a third of what they have is Cursed or Possessed.” Their faces fell instantly. “That doesn’t mean it’s not valuable, it just means that you best be damn careful when looting. 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 its raw form, remove impurities and foul magic, and distill 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.”
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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 drew 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 have 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, as it’s just 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, shape-shifters, 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 avail 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, and send you right back out here 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 reins on killing the enemy. Access to more potential plunder than you’ve ever had, and even purging the danger that the loot comes with,” I enumerated, one after another. “These are what you are being 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 so you can leech from it longer.
“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, that 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 power 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 same 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 hard and 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.