The Power of Ten

It was a round, short-brimmed hat suitable for an angler, complete with a couple gleaming hooks and fancy feathered fly lures already stuck into it.

I lifted it off Graf Mochtal's hands, stepped over to the end of the tub and the head of the angel jutting above it, and set it on that silvery brow.

Light glimmered and flowed, seeming to relax. The seven-foot tall planetar shrank and morphed, taking on flesh tones, an older human face weathered by years and trials, great pain, and solemn joys.

I nodded quietly, turning to the people in the room. “Give him a clean atmosphere to recover in. We do not know how long it will be before he recovers, but he deserves all our best efforts.”

An elven woman bearing a lyre stepped forward with a quiet smile. “I am honored to be the first to play for him, Lady Traveler,” she said, long fingers trailing across the strings.

“Thank you, Eailmistra,” I inclined my head to her. She was one of the most famous harpists in the world, and people would pay fortunes to hear her play and sing. There were many musicians in Heavenbound Hall, including their Divine Patrons Muse, Nuava, and Tiirith as it did, and she had won the first chance to play for the wounded angelic lord. “We take our leave.”

Respectfully, everyone not involved in keeping the angel quiet company or tending to his surroundings left the room. A single Heavenbound was there to keep the fires of his tub warm and friendly with heavenly flame. Choirs of chanters would come later with some others, all sorts of ideas being bandied about to fill the atmosphere with the right air and feeling. After all, holy didn’t mean solemn at all to the more free-wheeling faiths.

Crystalline liquid notes began to fill the air behind us as the door was quietly shut, and everyone departed in silence.

---------

Sleipner was with Master Fred, his cycle folded up and getting Disked along behind us as I led everyone out of there. The matter of the planetar recovering was now up to time and mercy.

“Show us about Hong Kong,” the Angelos said softly, but there was a grim and quiet note to his voice I hadn’t heard before. He was in his human guise here, of course, but the Aura about him had sharpened to that of someone who was in truth an angelic warrior in the service of Heaven.

I reached out to touch the arms of him and Graf Mochtal, and smoothly dumped the memories of what we had seen and felt in Hong Kong to the both of them.

They both ended up looking very grim indeed, but their eyes glittered as they watched heaps of Hellbound souls impaled into their own version of the Ward. The people of Hong Kong were effectively imprisoned inside it until they ran out of evil souls to feed the thing... or we told them that it was safe to come out and made them an exit.

“Did they not know what he sacrificed for them?” the Angelos snarled, and then caught himself. “A foolish question. Obviously, they did not, and doubtless the Infernals got their claws into them and it was too late to do anything about it. Perhaps... perhaps the Commander knows what happened to our general...”

“I’m guessing the whole world knows what happened to your general, they just don’t know it was your general,” I told him softly.

“You refer to the Curse of the Sun,” the Angelos said quietly.

“Magic of that level, a Curse on a Curse, of light against dark, life against undeath... there isn’t anybody here who could possibly get something like that off below his level. The only question is whether he was annihilated getting it off, or his spirit is trapped in the Shroud like all the other dead at this point.”

There really wasn’t anything below a World-Angel in power that could have done what had been done to save this world. That didn’t mean that there weren’t other things who could have done it, but I couldn’t think of any that WOULD do it.

“The servants of Hell were very opportunistic, and impeccable in taking advantage of the chance,” Windgraf Mochtal said softly. “Simply by cutting off lines of communication, we had no idea it was happening, or we would have acted much sooner.”

“They were clever. I do not know how many Hellbound they created from Good souls, and then simply worked them to death... but I believe a case can be made for coercion in many of their sentences, we shall have to see. After the Shroud comes down.”

The Angelos sneered darkly. “They will demand a price to release those souls, regardless.”

I turned my eyes to the unseen Haze above, the eyes of the dead always looking my way. “There are a great many Hellbound souls in the Shroud. I imagine that Hell wants its due, when it is time. But, you know, the Shroud covers many worlds, many places. Imagine if all those Hellbound souls were sent back to where this arm of the Shroud came from, and simply continued on from one Shroud to the next, Hell never getting its toll, even when a world is freed...”

Both Soulborn raised their eyebrows. Windgraf Mochtal asked in surprise, “You could arrange that?”

“It would be more accurate to say... I could stop it from happening by default, like I intend to do with the Good and Neutral souls here.”

“Ah.” The Angelos’ smile was hard now. “And would it be a stretch to say that you might also offer some of those souls the option of... vivic oblivion, instead?”

“Why, no. That would not be much of a stretch at all,” I also smiled coldly. “I imagine if I were to throw that out there up into the Haze, the numbers of volunteers who do not want to be tortured and rendered down for theirs sins for ages unknown/the rest of eternity/endlessly would number in the hundreds of millions.”

“From a purely mercantile perspective my family might have some knowledge of, we could call that a bargaining chip,” Windgraf Mochtal murmured in admiration.

“If one were a sinful sort engaging in some sort of spiritual blackmail... or polite diplomatic maneuverings, as it were, one could even call it leverage,” the Angelos agreed with that assessment.

“Is there something you will have to make to execute this kind of thing?” the Windgraf asked, his mood improving at the thought of payback for wrongs inflicted. He was not even an associate of the angelic Commander, but an evil done to the friend of his good friend was an evil done to him... and he lived, after all, in Heavenbound Hall. A little enthusiastic righteousness was to be expected.

“I shall have to build a Pyramid,” I admitted, which lifted their eyebrows again. “But that is something that is going to happen as the final moves are being made. There is a great deal of killing which has to be done before that happens.”

Even the Angelos sighed at that. “The War never ends,” he said, with the calm of a being for which it had lasted for untold years, and for eons before him.

“That is very, very true. But before it does happen, I need to make another video.”

My tone perked up their ears. “On what subject matter?” Windgraf Mochtal asked, very curious. The buzz and quiet waves that my previous videos had begun to unleash on the foundations of society were only building with time, changing the behavior of people as they began to pursue Levels and Karma... and my and Sama’s ability to let them break Four and start the Leveling climb was only growing the relative power and size of Heavenbound Hall, and the Jet and Silver.

“We have discovered the Human Racial Class.”

Both of them furrowed their brows, not understanding the significance of such an event, although my tone made it plain it was very important.

“The Human Racial Levels are not the same?” the Angelos asked hesitantly.

“No. I had to do some Communing with the Akasha, the Land, and even some of the spirits in the Haze to work it out.” Which had taken up some of my Meditation time and a bunch of V’s, but that was what they were there for. “Also, the Racial Classes for Urukhar, Dhatun, Halvyr, Orcs, Hyn, Elves, Gnomes, Dwarves, and Goblins.”

Because once you found the one, the others naturally weren’t too hard to suss out.

“Your tone makes this sound like something incredible, but I do not picture it so,” Windgraf Mochtal admitted.

“Do you know what Soulborn Racial Levels are?” I asked in return.

Both of them blinked, but it was the genie who answered first. “The djinn must advance the power of our race to earn the ability to grant Wishes,” he said calmly. “Although it is difficult to advance to the later stages and become a Sultan or Caliph, or even approach being a Suzerain, there is no upper limit to this.”

“Would it surprise you both to know that if you strip off the starting points and powers particular to your Races, your Soulborn Levels are fundamentally identical?”

The two looked at one another in surprise. “This... was not apparent to me, Lady Traveler,” the Angelos admitted.

I flicked up a display of a Soulborn Racial Level.

Full Attack Bonus. D8 Hit Die. All Good Saves. 8 Skill points per Hit Die. Base abilities of an outsider, mostly related to eating, sleeping, and magic immunities and vulnerabilities of creature types.

“The base Level of Soulborn and Dragons are the two best advancement paradigms that exist.” I flicked up the Dragon schema for them to look at curiously. Full attack bonus, d12 Hit Dice, all Good Saves, 6 skill points per Level, extra powers of dragons, immunities, et al. “Onto this basic foundation, your races advance.”

Windgraf Mochtal choked as the advancement paradigm for the djinn played out before him, including what Level they had to grow to in order to gain what powers. This wasn’t something a mortal should readily know, but here it was, laid out before him like another Class Advance Schema.

“Devas are made, not grown, unlike genies, Master Angelos, as you come from the Afterworld. But still, you advance racially with standard Soulborn Levels, and you have to hit 17 of them to be eligible for evolution into a planetar, while different tiers of devas also require different base Levels.” I broke down a half-dozen types of devic angels for him as he watched in fascination. “Angels can grow within their type, or into new types, where genies advance to adulthood seamlessly as they age, but then must excel to graduate to greater powers and nobility among their kind. There is probably a racial limit on how many can wield the greater powers of their people, too.”

The Windgraf fell into thought as he considered that. It was true that many djinn simply could not advance to Noble status, regardless of how they tried, and so turned away to the more mundane ways to gain power, mostly the Class Levels that mortals used.

“How does this relate to Racial Class Levels for mortals?” the Angelos asked, interested.

“Racial Class Levels do not have Stat requirements like Class Levels do, Elders.”

Both of them half-paused in their steps as they digested that, but quickly resumed their paces.

“That... would raise the floor of mortals significantly,” the Angelos was the first to realize. “Broad, low power and Levels for those who need it most!”

“Are they better than Class Levels?” Windgraf Mochtal inquired quickly.

“Then more advanced Classes, no. They would at least rival Vizard, Expert, or Noble, and might exceed them. The real strength of Classes from an evolutionary standpoint is the use of Soak, if you remember. It is far more useful than Health to species who cannot heal themselves quickly or easily, or are not naturally resistant to damage. But, if you have no other avenues of advance... they are perfect.”