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Renegade Iris Belle
d97a61
>>3580883fd4fb
>>358127Alratan
>>358173Falcon
>Eat nothing
>>358080Shot
>>358082MRAZYCAN
>>358134Wutenheimer
>Eat Romanov heart now.
>>358086TMI
>>358090FuckyouThair
>>358132Mystic
>>358140ba6280
>Delay eating Romanov heart.
>>358085168cea
>>358128Arkeus
>>358141MrTT
>>358269Grail
>>358271Guile
>>358273DoubleU
>>358290Samar
>Eat both Sami and Romanov hearts
>>358272Shifter55
>Eat Sami heart.
>>358153
>Only eat Romanov if you can get both bloodlines together, and Valkonen blood.
>[MAJORITY DISPOSITION: HAVE AMEN CHECK ROMANOV HEART, AUGMENT AS POSSIBLE, EAT ROMANOV HEART, EAT SAMI]
Before I do anything else-
Amen you didn't answer my question: Can you fuse the Sami bloodlines into something superior to the base in any way at all?
>[Amen]"...This one could, could could shave bits of one soul to another, if given whole bodies to work with. The gains would be far, far less than simply adding the total magical potential of two given Sami bloodlines-but this one is obliged to mention this possibility is known to exist.
How much of a gain are you talking about-give me some reference.
>[Amen]"From ten bloodlines, a single bloodline with a fourteenth more power than any individual bloodline in the group."
I.... can get quite a bit from trading these bodies, I predict-and that's not really a fraction I care to lose that to.
>[Amen]"Then perforce, master must, must must use what master has, the heart the goblin brought."
Hrm.
I turn my attention outward once more as I address all three figures before me in Finnish.
"So-how about we trade thoughts on what transpired on a magical level? Could be we all come away richer with knowledge."
>[SM][In Finnish]"You propose this for all of us? What constraints do you propose to impose equity?"
"I suggest Hillevi starts, I speak next, then Einrik-Somewhere in there should be things you did not know to begin with-and you can offer equivalent information until the scales are balanced-does that appease you?"
>[SM][In Finnish]"Perfectly."
Without any one time I could point to it happening at, his mask has now become featureless metal as he turns to Hillevi.
>[SM][In Finnish]"Well, do you mind starting then?"
>[Hillevi][In Finnish]"Ah-well, I..."
Okay-Sake, Shadowbro, Amen, Silja, Iron Trick-what did you detect transpiring in me with that last magical shift?
>[Silja]"You... well, feel different doesn't say anything, but... neater? Cleaner? Tidier? I'm not quite sure how to phrase it... oh, how about if before you were a pile of sticks, now you are a stacked row of the same sticks-that's the closest I can come to describing the change."
>[Sake]"Your soul has reshaped itself, parts in different places in their way-Where before it might have been called round, now it would be polygonal-with three faces standing apart from one another in place of what was once one massive waiting Winter bloodline-to-be."
>[Amen]"Well, well well-master's soul has had Order introduced to it, no questioning this truth, even through your own limited senses. Though beyond that I could not be completely certain without more... direct ways to observe-with my blood disposed as it is within your body, I am less... able to push your senses to where I need them."
>"The more fluid normal soul material that defined your blank winter slot was safely separated into three distinct yet linked nodes, by means of re-arranging the more solid and rigid soul scarring to your name. ...It's positioning is now less random, and more planned, orchestrated-as Amen said, Orderly, though I know not if that is a detectable for of magic."
>[Iron Trick]"Ho-ho, you're asking huh? Alright: My thoughts aren't on what transpired-because frankly you've got enough from the rest that I couldn't add much myself-no, my advice is on how to take all that input-and phrase it as if it was your own, instinctual sense of the situation. Sure you can plot fine on your own-but an extra head can't hurt, and'll make it easier to impress the Goblin-which really is what you're shooting for here, since our deals aren't even close to done."
I tune back in to my environment before I get the chance to bounce respective input off differing advisors as Einrik speaks up, cutting off the spluttering Hillevi.
>[Einrik][In Finnish]"Trader, I respectfully suggest I shoulder the payment Hillevi had implicitly promised by being part of this-and by that, insure you are denied no information she would have given. Will you let her skip her turn?"
>[SM][In Finnish]"Agreed, Scion of Valkonen."
..Crap, did I overestimate her? ...Yeah, I guess it makes sense she's not quite as good at on the spot reasoning and in-depth analysis so much as practical combat actions. As her Warder, I should have picked up on that.
Either way, my turn-and so it is that with some easily twisted words, I relate what I learned from four separate sources, with the aid of a fifth easily speaking naught but truth. Both the Goblin and Einrik seem to infer my sources-but my phrasing is cunning, and leaves them little to work with beyond what they know. 'Were I to look at what happened to me from a magical item's perspective, I suppose...' does wonders to keep the fact I've got TWO item-based sources of input as quiet as I can muster.
Next is Einrik.
>[Einrik][In Finnish]"As Armas noted, his soul has formed an ordered latticework of soul scarring throughout it's interior and some portions of it's surface, in a manner rather similar to an endoskeletal system being applied to a largely spherical entity. Between the order and the reposition, the soul scar's function has changed enough I feel it necessary to call them by a new name-until a permanent word is chosen or found, I nominate soul bones. So, these soul bones actually provide internalized channels to connect all the instances of unmarred soul mass, even bridging areas separated on the surface by... soul bones. Because the soul bones have their densest node at the very core of your soul, it allows the endoskeletal system it formed to be... well, let me clarify: by my senses the soul bone structure of your soul looks to be, relative to an origin point at the epicenter of your soul, helically symmetrical and rotoreflectional symmetrical with a polygonal sphere outer appearance-which would be quite impossible in the physical realm. ...I wish I could use some real world examples, but describing multidimensional objects beyond the three that to humans are the norm is a weak point of mine. From this we can take that your soul was both ordered-and a Euclidean internal geometry. A rather fascinating development-but it does rather perfectly fit what you sought-a composite bloodline waiting to happen, using the damaged and simultaneously defensive parts of your soul as stabilizing internal support rather than external armor and randomized marbling. You sacrificed less total potential power than you would in any way I could postulate-including plans that were much longer term than this. I admit I wish to pick the brains of the one that created this ritual rather badly-but that is for another time, I think. Well, Trader-did you hear anything new, and worth sharing your own input on?
>[SM][In Finnish]"Things were learned that must be properly paid for, yes. The reason you ascribe such shaping to his soul is because it now exists in the same multidimensional sense as any soul wholly formed and contained in the Never Never, like my own-yet is still tied to the dimensionality of the mortal realm. To continue the trend of analogies in this discussion and insure equivalence, it is trying to see all of yourself at once with the aid of a single standing mirror-it cannot be done. This does not imply it would innately benefit you to spend more time in the Never Never, or to in some way convert your soul's anchor to something more amenable to the shape it now takes-it simply means you are spiritually perceived by Mortals with sensory capacity as a strange being of the Never Never-while those of us from the mentioned location would view you spiritually as a truly strange mortal. You stand between worlds, without having taken a stand in doing so. The question from here, of course-is what do you pour into your lonesome road, what do you use to pave your way?"
To answer that-
Amen, tell me if you would be able to comply with the following order-and if you can, assume the order I am about to give to be official and binding to you.
>[Amen]"This one listens."
"Amen, I order you to use your blood magics on these internal organs and assorted internal material of Gleb Romanov to maximize the chance of me attaining a singular bloodline that is itself a hybrid of Einher and Romanov, or failing that the Imperial Bloodline of the Romanovs as opposed to the Einher bloodline, and to do such in a way that doesn't increase its chances of harming me more or in a different way than acquiring the bloodline in such a way would and/or damage it so that I can't acquire the bloodline through consumption of the materials in the time it would take for them to be delivered and consumed, keeping in mind any slight delays. Furthermore, I forbid you from adding anything that would anyway harm me to the organs. You are also to allow SM to deliver and retrieve these organs unharmed so that he may drop them off for your task and deliver them to me after you've prepared them, and ensure that any actions performed with, near, or in relation to the material causes no harm to the man it sprung from, nor his kin, friends, or associates. Additionally, all of the material not used for the ritual specified must be disposed of totally once we are done with it in a way that prevents harm or tracking of the source and ourselves."
There is a long silence.
>[Amen]"Yes, yes yes-this one can follow that order-and will obey, when the material has been brought."
We're on then.
"Funny you should say that Sometimes, how would you like to see two of the three parts filled, for the low low price of briefly playing courier?"
>[SM][In Finnish]"Go on."
I hold forth the bottle.
"Bring this to Amen, let him work on it, and return with it-simple as that."
His mask shifts in the shadows to now be both a frown and a grin, madly dancing between the two expressions. The goblin reaches out.
>[SM][In Finnish]"Agreed."
An abrupt gust of wind from nowhere in particular makes me reflexively blink-and the Merchant is gone.
Before Einrik can take Hillevi aside and start explaining a few things, I snag him and ask if he'd be willing to try and unbind the Russian solders-and as it turns out, he's not confident he could do so without moderate risk to the soldiers-and strongly recommends seeking out an actual Blood Mage for the work.
From there, I leave the Valkonens to their talk, and after snagging three bottles of vodka from the very impressive minibar, march out onto the runway, looking to get some Russians drunk under the morning stars in the middle of an airport.
Turns out they don't have an issue with my plan.
It takes me nearly half an hour, but I've got them noticeably warmer to me, and I have them open to the idea of seeing a blood magic specialist under my coverage to get that binding taken off. During this, I find out the binding's a bit more complex than I originally thought-seems one part's put on when you join, the second when you retire. During this whole exchange, Amen comments that he is able to use both souls-but at best can offer me one bloodline with a flavor of the other-and after carefully questioning him to be certain he's not hiding something behind words as obtuse as mine, I select Romanov with a hint of Einher-and despite the gruesome nature of the bloodline's physical form, I'm nearly drooling thinking about the possibilities it could offer-to be broken out of it as Matvey shows me the mark on his neck that would have eventually linked to a chest tattoo like Antonije's. While an interesting distinction between the two, it doesn't really change anything-and I get more than a few almost happy waves when Hillevi asks me to step back inside-seems the Merchant is back.
So it is I leave the bottles behind and excuse myself-having to wait at the entrance as Hillevi first steps out-seems in her talk with Einrik, it was decided this wasn't for her. Well, their family, their rules, whatever.
Inside, I find the Merchant to be standing holding two hearts-in one a normal human heart the sami specimen he brought with him-in the other a patchwork shambles held together by stitches of crystallized blood that looks disturbingly like red sugar cane no matter how I look at it. Amen mentions to me that all he could really get to stick from the Einher line was some of the Einher time sensing and magical threat detection trick-which, given it could even help me understand my own weapons better, is something I'm happy to hear. So I missed out on the post-death soul boosting, so I missed out on the Einher healing mechanism that Gleb hinted was more complex than the instant, automatic scarification most Einher practice. Being able to get back up from dying sounds way more useful than either of those.
So, Romanov with a touch of Einherjar Item sensing, and a prime example of the Sami spirit manipulation bloodline-with two hearts put in my hands, I began to feast before my the two living observers, as well as the four nonliving and the one distant watcher.
The sami heart should taste disgusting.
Human flesh should be disgusting, right? I mean I'm doing this for the power this could mean for me-I should be doing it in spite of the grotesque nature and flavor of the item. Yet... from the first bite, the heart tastes like a heavily seasoned steak, barbecued to perfection and filled with savory smokiness.
I nearly lose it when I bite into Romanov's reconstructed heart.
It's as if every tastebud on my tongue was a dick, and every goddamn one came from how fucking delicious this is.
>"You're a disgusting meatbag-but by no means should you stop eating that wonderful snarl of magic."
I barely even hear my soul brother's commentary, too fixated on eating more-and more-and more-
In moments the hearts are both gone and I realize I'm licking my blood-stained fingers dry-what the fuck is wrong with me?
>[Sake]"You do have a significant portion of your soul being derived from a divine cannibal-and you directly benefit from consuming magical flesh as well as specifically in this case since you are acquiring winter bloodlines. It is not so unusual such would induce an innate-possibly even forced-inclination for such morsels.
I.... I don't feel any diffe-
I know now what makes Iron Trick's primary ability activate: All three other abilities must be used against a foe, then every shot thereafter is eligible to make a 'gamble'. I also know that the soul slivers taken are small enough that calling one once a day would in no way threaten my soul with permanent damage. This isn't the result of an epiphany, some fancy reasoning, or luck leading me to simply guess it-I go from not knowing it, to knowing it so utterly, in such an alien sense I know it immediately as part of the item sensing. Beyond that, I detect that Silja's vessel has fully fused the bayonet to the total weapon-from a magical standpoint, there no longer can be any distinction between the two-making the epee an extension of her prison-and one that I... I just know she could see out of if I stain it with magically active blood-at least until it is smudged, wiped or flaked off. I know the Matebas to have so little magical energy to them that Shadowbro may actually be able to teleport them without risk of harm-meaning I cold make them the new Judges, and treat them as holdouts, possibly kept in a backpack or even perpetually in the Dark.
>"That.... that... is actually not a bad idea."
I know the mere for what it is: a mirror to Whaitiri's dwelling in the Never Never-a place she can watch me from at will-yet I can only watch her back at her choosing.
I know all of this in a flash-
Even as I feel myself a great deal more aware of what Einrik was talking about as......
...As I can feel my soul.
>"Spiritual self awareness? That has to be the Shami bloodline, it's spirit manipulation."
As my Soul Shadow speaks, I can detect his fragment of our once whole being, the sliver of soul that is mired in the murk around us, neat, tidy-cold. Such a contrast to my mind-warped and complex, paradoxically ordered and ever-changing soul of Euclidean proportions, both symmetrical like a drill's bit, and like two identical ice cream cones stuck together by their wide ends-gah, even trying to put a description to it makes my eyes water-and I'm not even looking at it-what the hell.
From Sake I detect a feral, roguish spirit nestled within my eye-and almost smile at the... the fuzziness of his soul. From Silja I detect a simple, not-quite-stark and dignity-filled sense of modesty-something unadorned, unapologetic, not a single shadow or hidden fact to be felt. From Iron Trick... gah, if I thought my soul looked wonky I got nothing on... shit, I don't even remember what it looked like anymore.
>[Iron Trick]"Maybe if you weren't being a baby-man with your new magic powers there, you'd learn something. As is-YOU ARE ONE HUNDRED UNITS OF TIME TOO EARLY, BOY!"
From SM I feel absolutely nothing.
But Einrik.....
His soul... is tranquil. It exudes a sense of peace, of zen-like acceptance of what comes with an unflappable aura of calmness. I can't... I can't even feel a trace of bloodlust, of battlethirst-or any of the more violent tendencies I've watched him and the rest of his family practice.
Instead, I envision an unscarred Einrik, a simple sage, happy to walk the world and know it's secrets, free of the burdens of life.
...Wow, this is pretty fucking cool.
The Merchant speaks.
>[SM][In Finnish]"Yes... well, I suppose I must endorse your increase in survivability, Armas. But with this, our business is concluded."
Without the chance to even mention the eye patch I hoped to snag, the Goblin is simply gone.
So, as Einrik calls Hillevi back in-and has to pull her to keep her perplexed attention off of me as she enters-he asks me to give him a few minutes. Eager to see what I can make out of the Russian soldier's souls-and to learn more about them in general, these men who I'm planning to trust to be my guards and combatants, albeit with a loose leash.
Seems, though, that everyone talked and decided to not use their military ranks anymore without exception-they decided it would be stupidly obvious they were ex-military, and be far too likely to get back to Chugainov. I only spend some twenty more minutes talking with them, but between the near hour we've talked, plus some time to look at them in a new light-I think I've at least identified faces I should be watching from the get-go, even though I'm certain all have tales, ambitions and dreams to their names.
First there's the explosives fan Vlad-unsurprisingly, his soul feels volatile, uncomfortably warm and fully of energy. Ivan is a bookish type-and his soul feels so attentive I keep confusing it with an eyeball when not looking at it-a perfect complement to his piercing gaze. Unsurprisingly he has a wrapped rifle with him, and I immediately guess him a sniper. Iosef Markovic is bluntly honest about his fear of the dark-so much so that I actually find myself suggesting to Shadowbro to be lenient, should he ever choose to be impish about the soldiers. His soul is like a fogged over light, shining brightly, desperately despite the impairment. He favors fire in just about any battle application, and carries a 40mm grenade launcher as his 'sidearm'. There's the unofficial chef of the group, Boris, his soul feeling like the smell of home cooking in some reassuring way. Igor is an avid clock hobbyist, and even has two pocket watches he always keeps with him even on duty, one a family heirloom, another one he built himself, rickety but serviceable after years of effort. His soul resounds like a metronomic clock, as if keeping time for the universe simply by being. Andrei is actually quite the computer enthusiast, and frankly wasn't even sure why he was part of a kill squad to being with. His soul feels skittish-but at the same time almost hyper alert. Feodor is a rather well-practiced field medic even in supernatural circumstances, and has quite a healthy bit of medical supplies with him, his soul feeling as if it wanted to rip itself apart to give to those around it when they suffered.
Then there's Lyubov. One of only two women in the group who was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and became an impromptu scapegoat for squad mates working as gunrunners on the job. Her soul feels vigilant, like a warning cry against the dark perpetually held at the ready, the one to refuse silence in the face of the unthinkable. Grisha carries with her a double set of bandoliers as well as a hip-wrap and a thigh wrap for each leg-all said and done, I think she has some fory assorted grenades on her person, and is the resident expert on dealing with entrenched targets with pinpoint lobs and pitches of explosive goodness. Her soul feels playful, like life's a game, but determined to follow the rules she chose to play by. The remaining seven are no lesser of people-but are all in their own way less easily approached than Matvey's talkative ten, himself included-so I simply resolve to play the long game with them.
-Turns out every last one of them knows how to drive a stick, and Vlad knows how to drive several models of APC and was midway through training for tank operation.
-While Vlad has some skill at vehicle maintenance as a byproduct of his wide usage, it's Lyubov who's actually served as an army mechanic, and while she has no tools with her, feels confident she could get a basic, if slow, garage going with the right equipment, should I need alterations, repairs, tune-ups, part swaps, etc.
-Iosef would love to own a flamethrower, Vlad a shoulder-braced standing repeat fire grenade rifle of some sort, Igor would like to get his hands on some RPG's, Matvey wants a magic weapon to his name some day, and Grisha would love to get a setup for building custom size and yield grenades... though one could question the safety of it.
I learn quite a bit from more than half of the Russians and really hit it off with them in a short time-but am shortly beckoned back onto the ship as the engines start up-seems we are off to good old Santander, Spain, to head West and South into the Cantabrian mountains-assuming that's where the Ramidreju is. ...I'll just quick check the compa-yup, yup, still points the same way, okay.
So now I'm briefly putting our more in depth introductions and discussion on hold as I head to the front cabin, knowing I now need to figure out what of the little venture I've had outside of his watchful eye I should tell him about, and how I should phrase it. Obviously he's going to have some concern and interest in what his little sister did, but he likely is also curious about a different view of what happened than Hillevi's own recounting-she could only understand so much of what was said, after all. That language limitation-whew, I'm going to have to do something about that.
...Like maybe cash in some of those lump hours for finishing training every goblin the Merchant wants to get her language lessons, perhaps?
>"I like it."
So, what am I going to tell Einrik, and how should I phrase it?
When I get back in the cabin, what should I talk about with the Russians and/or Hillevi?
Bio of Bloodline on hold until the third slot is filled, since it is designed to be completed.
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