92 Chapter Ninety-Two – Caught in Dreams I (1/2)
He was a Ten swordsman, with Mastery in the Sword, and his Weapon was magical to +III. He had some classic training in long and short, and with his size advantage, thought he had this.
It took him two long minutes to realize that I was toying with him and enjoying the sparring, letting him test himself uselessly against my defenses, and then made him defend himself madly against the crushing power of my attacks, always getting faster, faster, exploiting every opening he had. All the while, Tremble was chanting ”Tremble, She Comes!”, and as my momentum built, so did the speed of his chant.
And then I swept out his legs, Tremble came down into his mouth, and I broke his sword-hand's wrist with Stand even as I parried his dagger with it.
He looked up at me in disbelief with his fevered eyes.
”Wake up, and stay out of Dream. It's not a place a man like you should be living.” His eyes stayed on me as I pushed Tremble down, and vivus flared along his spine.
There was a woosh of wind, whiteness sending him off, and he was gone. I toed his Sword up to my hand.
Dream or no, there was still magic inside it.
I looked up at the milling cavalry, whose control had passed to and was dependent on me. One group of heavy cavalry, majority medium, some light cavalry for scouting and skirmishing.
I'd try to save the heavy cav first. The knights would be elite troops. At a mere twelve an hour, I didn't know how many I could save, but we could only try.
-Form up ranks,- I /sent to my own men, giving them the deployment formation. As control shifted to me, that meant the timer would reset and conflict would soon start again. I'd be damned if the Curse thought I was actually going to invade those mounds, though.
”Line up for me to have a look at you! You, you, and you, move your squads over here and dismount!” -Get my Tatting stand up pronto!- I /ordered, and my people scurried for places as loot made its way to the wagons, and our small camp was quickly shifted down off the mesa.
It wasn't like the Curse was going to run out of centaur ants to throw at us…
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The last order I gave them before they died was to lead their brothers back to me.
Horses whinnied, armor clinked in the grey mist. Several hundred Ironblooded, their wounds and exhaustion cleared away by Renewal, the details of the day before already fading into distant memory, were drawn up and waiting as those who had died came out of the mist.
Eight hundred and fourteen new soldiers were among them, each of the seventy-four Marked men in the cavalry leading ten others out of the mist of dissolution, and back to do battle once more.
There were calls of greeting, shaking heads, and confused expressions on the faces of those who had not been Marked, wondering what the celebration was for.
”Dismount. We Sing to Sylune for Renewal, and then to Aru for a new day,” I ordered the horsemen, who dismounted readily enough.
I had reached /5 in Capacity of Souls, the Mastery that raised the virtua Character Level for Capacity of Soul Tats and Feats, some time ago, putting me at Fifteen virtua. That meant my base Limit on Essence investable was at Four, and with Improved Capacity, and Improved Chakra Points, was actually Five.
Marshal the Soul was a Soul Feat that enhanced all Marshal capabilities, while Marshal the Field was a Mastery that did almost the same thing, restricted to numbers of troops and command radius, and was also raised to /5.
Marshal the Field is what had raised my Command Capability to 2,250 troops. Five Essence in Marshal the Soul raised it to virtua Twenty, four thousand troops, and gave me 5 +1's to allocate to my people, +1 each to AC, Saves, Damage, and To-Hit, with one floating that I could choose.
They were Morale bonuses, just like Bardsong... but they were constant.
And they were affected by Courageous from Tremble, if they could hear him.
With Marks, they could ALL hear him, and my Command Radius carried the sound of him out two hundred yards otherwise. Since he was usually at +VIII, that meant a +4 improvement to any morale bonuses they had.
A blanket +5 to AC, Saves, Damage, and To-Hit for serving under a legendary virtua-Twenty Marshal was a hellacious bonus for any group of soldiers.
I had hundreds more Marks to scribe and magic Weapons and Armor to get made, but that was a Good Thing. The newcomers could only look at the Weapons lighting up with magic as we Sang to the Queen of Stars and King of Suns, and agree to join us…
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Dry dunes on open sands, a crashing battle against giant jackal-headed bastards from Dolor…
A world of needle-like peaks and stony valleys, fort after fort of dug-in goblins and their spidery allies…
Another temperate realm of copses and fields and villages, and ophidians swarming through it to kill everything.
Massive tunnels bored through the endless stone, and our enemies could come from any side, including above and below…
And on, and on…
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Birds calling. The raucous howls of monkeys, the distant roar of something they were pissing off. The burble of water, splashing against stones.