The Power of Ten

The Present...

“Wait, what?” I had to interrupt. “You killed a Genius Loci... as a Six?”

Sama gave me a smug look. “Hey, I know how to build to power, too, and I’m already a Sage.” I rolled my eyes at the jibe. I wanted my Sage of Focus Title badly. “Please don’t think I’m weird for doing something in sixteen years that it took you less than three months to be able to do.”

“Ouch! Peace, peace.” She snorted at me merrily. Okay, I deserved it. Yes, I could take out a Genius Loci now, too, and there was literally nothing it could do about it. “But... why aren’t you a Ten? You soloed a Twenty!”

“Because Rantha Racial Levels are just that damn expensive, and the carryover onto normal Class Levels is just as bad.” She sighed heavily. “I could maaaaaybe have made Rantha Seven with the Karma. Then I realized that I needed all that Karma to take deep Class Levels, or it was going to take me grokking forever to get them later on. It all went into multiplier-priced Class Levels.”

“Ewww.”

“Tell me about it.” Sama tinked the Amulet around her neck happily. “This thing is going to let me do Cleave Runs in Shroudzones. I don’t know if it will take care of the Karma problem, but based on this Firezone, it’s going to be better!”

“I would say yes... but the Shroudzones here aren’t Corpsecrafting their dead like they should be, which means the majority of their undead minions suck. The Russian zone might be different... but that has to be the last one they do.” I tilted my head slightly. “Then again, I bet the Glory Award for breaking whatever the cultivators are doing in China is going to be worth a lot.”

Her smile was feral. “Definitely looking forward to it, although it isn’t like I don’t have other things I would happily do...”

“Weres and a crazed fey land spirit in Wakefield. What was involved in Portal?”

She frowned as she glowered at her drink for a moment. “Hags. Hags, Warlocks, and Demons... and Imprusar trying to get me killed.”

This sounded like it was going to be good...

===================

Several months, a lot of dead weres in unvisited places, and some soon-missing Imprusar working through catspaws in prior years pass by...

It was, in the end, a national duty to undertake two years of military service. Her problem was that she had no identification papers indicating date of birth or anything to establish her identity, leaving this open as a potential sore spot that might be exploited in the future by the unscrupulous.

Everybody had to serve, for one reason or another. The government always had something that you could do, even if you couldn’t fight, and it would teach you to do that, filling areas of knowledge and training that society needed as part of the mobilization effort and recovery effort needed to strengthen the human and demi-human races and be ready for the undead.

Sama did have, however, connections in a certain dwarven clan-centered family named Blakhamar, whose patriarch Hank could also have the words Colonel, Ret., added to his name. He happened to have several kids making careers there, and even more who had gone through and done their service with exemplary enthusiasm.

Hank was actually quite happy to set up TWO sets of adoption papers, and admit two Hagchildren to his family at the same time.

A letter of introduction, a few words here and there, and Samantha and Lily Blakhamar’s admittance for their required military service went quite smoothly.

The military services were both more inclusive and more divisive than before. What species you were largely didn’t matter... if you were Primos, or had little Talent. Crappy Powered weren’t much stronger than Primos, only better at operating magical devices.

Average people got sent into normal duties, without exception. However, truly exceptional, more-than-human people, got sent into the Special Division.

Young women who could toss grown men through a wall qualified for the Special Division.

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Sama wasn’t trying to stand out, but there wasn’t much she could do to hide just how enormously capable a Rantha Hag was. Lily wasn’t nearly as juiced as her older sister, but she was still a Hagchild taking Level advice from Sama Rantha, was far stronger than she looked, and much more skilled after her time getting trained at Heavenbound Hall, in the arenas, and under Sama directly up in Wakefield.

Likewise, the military was anything but unfamiliar with prohibitions on using firearms. Getting an Amazon to reliably carry a firearm was literally impossible, and while Valkyries would do so, they always preferred a spear. They weren’t unfamiliar with Hagchildren, either, although such were understandably rare, and while having two at a time come in was something of an event, when Lily planted Vines in the head of a target dummy forty yards away as casually as lobbing a softball, and Sama deftly put two bolts in for its eyes, and six more for a smile around that long nose, they realized the two girls had alternatives.

Hilarity ensued when they wanted to cut the hair of the two of them. Sama’s hair shattered the teeth of the electric razor after the sergeant insisted that they needed to be cut down, and when they tried to cut down Lily's hair, it literally regrew back around the razor faster than they could cut it. Muttering things about magical Curses, the observers allowed the two to pass through, to the envy of the other women recruits. They were given standing passes to carry around for the inevitable questions about why their hair was not at regulation length, and to wear it up and braided.

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“They think we can’t hear them complaining about us getting to keep our hair,” Lily smirked as the two of them sat at the mess hall table. Their hair had been rapidly, almost magically braided up into long and interwoven designs behind them, behind which it was still patently obvious that they had all their locks.

There were a lot of Powered young women who were extremely annoyed with them for being able to keep their hair. After all, one of the privileges they’d been able to enjoy their entire life had been to look any way they wanted to, as Powered were expected to show off and look different from ‘normal’ people. Now they were being forced into nigh-identical uniforms and couldn’t even keep their hairstyles. Even their tats were mostly covered, if they had them.

“They should get Cursed at birth so it’s not an issue,” Sama shot back without the slightest bit of guilt. “Oh, I forget, they’re Powered. They’re cursed by greatness. Being envious of two unpowered people must be massively unwelcome for them!”

A fist slammed at the next table, and a tall woman rose to her feet, turning to glare at them. She was supermodel attractive, ripped, and could have stepped off a skin mag cover. “Not everyone in here besides you two is Powered, hags!” she cursed at them, clearly irked at her long brown locks having been trimmed back to less than an inch long.

“And the woman with a false face is complaining about her fake hair getting trimmed,” Sama promptly phthbbbed back, making crimson blossom on the woman’s cheeks. “You don’t even have the right to complain, so why the fuck are you talking?”

“Cause she’s an Amazon, and they don’t like Hags?” Lily answered brightly.

“Well, I don’t like fake-faced goddess-whores, either, but at least she has the grace not to be an Eryllian,” Sama agreed snidely, and despite themselves, the young women at the other tables snickered.

“What did you call me?!” the Aethran Amazon fairly screamed at them in disbelief.

“They are known for their eyes, not their ears,” Sama advised Lily calmly, not moved in the slightest.

“Yeah, but if she’s not an Eryllian, you’ll feel guilty after you mess up her pretty face. You shouldn’t goad her,” Lily went on, as if the Amazon wasn’t looming behind her.

“She’s a Three, come on. She’s got a perfect face and some arena experience, and thinks she’s seen the world. She’ll be sparring with you, she’s got spear calluses.”

“Oh, is that so? What’s her Oak and Willow at?” Lily asked, still not looking back.

“Base spec. Hasn’t even reached first tier Weapon Mastery. Been an Amazon less than six months. Probably spent all her time on a Wall somewhere sniping undead with a longbow and getting shown up by the Windbow Archers. Came here because she’d only have to compete with guns.”

“Amazons have to put in their time, too,” Lily reminded Sama. The seething Amazon behind her was looking back and forth between them as they ignored her, and then around at the rest of the cafeteria staring at them, waiting for some action to explode.

Sama lazily followed her eyes. “Oh, look, the lucky Powered want some non-Powered to fight and entertain them. Going to buy into it, Amazon?”

The lovely warrior woman blinked once, visibly regained control of herself, and stared at Sama. “You’re annoying, even if you’re right!”

“Well, of course I am, I’m a hagchild. Born to annoy everyone, especially our dear Hagmothers.” Both of them laughed at the same time, and hairs stood up on the back of the arms of those listening at the edge in those cackles. “You’ll be taking orders from me soon enough, so you better get used to it,” Sama advised her, still completely unimpressed.

The Amazon popped her knuckles, and sent a scornful glance over the other women, who looked irritated despite themselves. “Please. They’ve got fun tricks, but they have no ability or training to command. What makes you think you’ve got what it takes to be in command here?” She and her perfect Stat line grinned proudly.

Sama’s eyes drifted over to hers, including the witch-eye crossed by her Curse, and the Amazon stiffened despite herself as that stare drove into her.

“I’m tired of your attitude. If you don’t turn around and sit down right now and act with proper discipline, I’m going to put you through that wall right in front of these observers, and they’ll write me up as extremely violent wow great recruit who can beat up an Amazon and doesn’t tolerate inferior wannabes lipping off to her.

“Sit. Down.”

The Amazon blinked, finding herself sitting on her seat, all the hairs on her neck up, as if she’d just escaped something that had promised to be very, very painful.

She had lost before she could even put up a fight. That was literally the most intimidating stare she had ever seen.

She was about to say something, and that eye twitched in her direction. She almost choked as she instinctively swallowed her words, turned around, and resumed eating in silence.

Those looking on and smirking felt their smiles flutter and fall away when that witch-eye turned in their direction, and the rest of their eating time was remarkably quiet, to the astonishment of their observers.

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“Recruit, where is your pack?” the instructor at the shooting range yelled at her after the squad completed their five-mile morning run. Sama had run it backwards calmly, annoying everyone, including the drill instructor... right up until she launched into a sea shanty that had all their ears reddening at the increasingly explicit lyrics, even the experienced sergeant, as they could not help but belt out the refrain when her Voice prompted them.

Sama reached back, grabbed the top of her issued pack, and pulled it up out of her Masspack halfway, then dropped it back down. “Sir, do I need something from it, sir?”

“Why are you using a Masspack, Private?” the sergeant demanded. “There is-“

“Sir, the issued pack is much too light to give me any exercise, sir,” she interrupted him blithely. “I use the Masspack so I can carry around an extra two hundred pounds without bulk problems, sir.”

His mouth worked for a moment, taking in the strange looks of the other young women. This was the Special Division, he shouldn’t have been surprised...