159 Chapter One Hundred and Fifty-Nine – The Berserkers Complain (1/2)
They were big, hairy men, brawny and muscular, with an air of incipient violence hanging around them , ready to boil over. 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 having all too familiar a mindset to theirs.
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, they'd certainly earned their positions, but now were 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 commands 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 once. 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 themselves, their gazes dropped or 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 despite themselves, 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, 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.
”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 themselves. 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.”