122 Chapter One Hundred and Twenty-Two – Pride of the Erlking (1/2)
”Well, duh. A Chaotic Twenty warlord, and a Warp Gate singing with the siren call of slaughter. They're pulling you in like a hungry lion to bleeding bait. Of course you were going to be here!”
He didn't look all that happy at hearing that, frowning at the impression he was a toy and a pawn before greater forces. For the willfully independent Fey, it was a maddening feeling.
”And so... you have come to fight me? To chase me off?” he asked, irked.
”Of course not. That is a total waste of my time, and doesn't accomplish anything whatsoever,” I snorted, and he actually relaxed a little bit. ”No, no, I'm going to do things Properly. That means pissing the gods of the Warp off entirely, and turning their bait into a royal pain in the neck.”
His head tilted with the sharpness of an eagle seeing prey. ”What do you mean?”
I waved my hand, and from the trees behind me a couple of Marked elves came out, pushing a Disk with a decent amount of proper victuals on it. Elves were a neutral party to the Fey, so he could tolerate them much more easily. A couple chairs were set up on either side of the Disk, I waved him to one, and we both took a seat.
He watched with naturally unblinking eyes as I poured the wine, and sampled some of the pastries. He was more a meat lover, naturally, but the nutty things were still acceptable, and they were Real, unlike the crap largely spun out of Glamour in Fey Courts.
”Hearing you have designs upon me does not set me at ease, Sage Sama Rantha,” he said proudly.
”Oh, well, if you want to become a slave to the Warp Gods by charging out there with that force of incompetents you've assembled, you're totally free to do so, I won't stop you. I'll just slaughter you once you give in.” My tone was so casual he flushed, because he knew I could do it, too.
”So, what machinations have you spun around me, then?”
I reached over my back to my Masspack, and pulled out a Torc made of adamant, all of my personal supply having gone into it; an inhumanly shaped and horned skull that looked like it had been dipped in a weird combination of silver and gold; and a Diadem carved of dark bone, silver-filled scrimshaw etched over it, with several watching ravens.
His eyes narrowed sharply, especially at the Torc. There were many, many Runes scrawled over it, limned in mithral, and an aura coming from it that, while not opposed to him, was not exactly harmonious, either.
”And these are?” he asked shortly, eyeing them strangely.
”This is a Crown of the Eternal Foe.” I flicked it towards him, and it skidded across the Disk to stop before him. ”We both know that while you will be useful against the Warped simply because you're a Twenty and you can heal yourself endlessly, you won't be dominating unless you restrain yourself to just picking on humans, who number a third or less of the incoming forces. The mutants that look so much like the centaurs, satyrs, and even minotaurs with you, you're just not going to be very impressive against.
”The crux of that is your hatred of humans makes you very strong against them, and a complete putz for your Level otherwise.” His face flushed, he tensed up again, and I blandly went on before he let his anger get to his head and I would need to beat him down. ”The Crown changes that enmity, what we call a Favored Enemy Bonus, to the Warped.”
Now he blinked, looking down at the bone crown. He reached out with nails more like talons, picked it up, and inspected it despite himself.
He was a Twenty, and could appreciate Craftsmanship at that level. QL 35 was not something he often saw, especially in bone... and then he saw at least four different types of bones represented, and some familiar gemstones from a certain breastplate, and his eyes glittered in appreciation.
”So, while wearing it, your natural, Fey-born enmity for Humans will fade away, but you'll be filled with the same level of revulsion and disdain for the Warped... and all the miscellaneous effects that can operate off Favored Enemies will work for you. Foremost among them being Scorned Magic, a Feat which is nominally granted you by the gemstones set in the bone.
”They will make you hugely resistant to any influence of the Warped.”
He exhaled sharply through his nose. It was an incredibly powerful, precisely directed gift. Totally useless, except against the Warped, against whom it would make him a terrible foe.
And he would repay their disdain and arrogance tenfold...
”And this?” he asked, touching the Torc, feeling the power.
”You are already protected from the powers of Law and Evil.” He gazed at it uncertainly. ”The Warp is of Chaos... but it is also of deep, deep Evil; demonic, abyssal, primal. Your natural protection is not at a level that can defy pure Divine power. The Torc simply reinforces your natural protection. In magical terms, it raises its Valence from I to V.” I tapped my finger twice for emphasis, shaking the Disk. ”That means that the gods of the Warp cannot simply reach out and seize your mind and soul, and twist you for their own.
”I know you don't like to touch metal, but the fact is, this is the thing that is going to save you, more than anything else. I made it out of adamant and tulstang, treated it to be immune to rust and corrosion, and it was even Hardened on top of that. It has to Not Break. If it goes down, and you're on that battlefield, you're done.”
His talons clicked lightly on the Torc, considering.
”The first time that thing lights up, and you feel their power wash past you, instead of into you, I can guarantee that you're not going to mind wearing it. Furthermore, if they use any form of magic on you that has a transformative, mutative, or corruptive aspect to it, the tulstang will stop it instantly.”
He took another long, deep breath, almost a caw. ”And it has no effect against those that are not wedded to Evil,” he mused, almost amused. The profound Alignments were things Fey thought themselves above... right up until the Alignments kicked them in the teeth.
”Correct.”
”And this Skull?” he inquired, picking it up.
”Baneskull against the Warped, currently at Lesser Status. It will grow stronger as you slaughter them. Put it on the pommel of your Sword, or mount it on your Bow.”
He unslung his scabbarded wooden blade, and inserted the pommel nut into the spinal opening of the Skull. The thing shrank down instantly, sealing itself with a pop around the pommel.
He drew it out slowly, watching the Banefire running along the edge of the Blade. It was of multiple hues all at once... bloody red, pink and yellow, orange and white, dirty green and brown, all stemming from a thin, sharp edge of utter black at the edge of the wooden blade.
Tremble drifted out from behind me, and there was a flicker as golden soulfire was overlaid with the exact same assortment of colors. He noted the similarity instantly, and nodded slowly.
”Powerful gifts, but only against the foe before us,” he judged calmly, eyeing me shrewdly. ”You want me to fight them...”