Chapter 12-333: The Luck of the Irish

On March 12 and 13th, two things happened of significance for me.

The first was that Einz reached his cap of functioning Telekinesis, topping off at 750 lbs. Until I got my Spellcraft higher, he couldn’t advance.

Naturally, he turned to his other protective functions to round them out, and his Naming Karma started going into his Sacred and Luck Protection functions. Maxing those out to +3 would also take months of daily effort.

The next day, Clavus finished his Investing as a Staff of the Evoker, and there was a mental Ding! My Stafflord Title was finally awarded to me.

I had actually stripped down much of the power of a Staff of the Evoker, as I didn’t really need it to be storing spells for me to Cast. Extra volume of fire I could either get on Wands inserted into his Wand Chamber, or by ki recycling. I could recharge him quickly enough, so all I really wanted him to be able to do was the two main powers of the Staff.

The first was for non-specialist Wizards, for whom the Staff was designed. It gave the basic School Benefit of an Evoker, i.e., the +1 damage/die to all Evocation spells, to a standard Wizard, who normally did not get that benefit.

Beyond that, the Staff could expend one charge per Valence modifier to add exactly one more Metamagic to any Evocation spell, sort of an emergency booster situation if you really needed some extra bang.

In the future I’d seek to upgrade him to a Staff of the High Evoker, which would give me some ability to absorb incoming spells to use as charges and the like. But that was going to take 18 Ranks in Spellcraft or so, so not a priority.

I could also make him a Staff of the Arcane, able to change the School Benefit at Renewal.

Since there was a time crunch, I opted to start shooting directly for a Legendary Weapon. I had a smith available to do it, and I wasn’t going to be wearing Armor of any kind, regardless. To make Clavus Legendary, I had to get him Refined to QL 41 or higher, and I had to get all ten normal Slots open on him.

He had eight Slots open now. It would take 72 days, 144 goldweight equivalent, to open Slot Zehn and make him ready.

There really wasn’t anything I wanted to add on to him, so I went with straight Enhancement bonuses. More hitting, damaging, and Spell Potency was all I needed now, dependent on what we were going up against.

I was about to head back to Asia when The Mick /called me up and wondered if I might want to take a drive with him.

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Bone Marrow pulled out onto the waters of the Atlantic from the New Jersey shore. Our course was plotted out, The Mick was driving, and we were off. We were taking a more northerly route than I had with Legion and Sleipner.

The Mick had plowed well over 250k in goldweight into his car, instantly making it the single most expensive privately-owned automobile on the planet.

It was his personal pimpmobile, and he was pimping it in pure white style and satiny crimson interior as red as blood.

Amaretta was up in the front seat enjoying the ride with The Mick. I was in the tourist seat, the trunk reconfiguring itself for me with the best of gnomish Artifice, giving the two up front some privacy as I Communed, watching the churning waters behind us closing in as the Parted Water rejoined behind us.

The Mick was going home, for the first time in most of a century. He had his girl with him, and was taking her to meet his folks, and show her the land he grew up in.

He was probably going to be killing a lot of Blooded, too, but who knew? Maybe he could resolve things with the people who had slaughtered his entire family and run him out of his homeland like a dog all amiably and peaceful-like, there’s a good chap.

Smior hummed angrily up in the front seat for some reason. I smirked despite myself.

The Mick had kept himself and the Tomb Clans very busy in China, reaping all the rewards of combat against inhumanly powerful foes on the Karmic meters. He had long advanced to the full Blooded/8 of a Pseudo-Vampire, and poured in the Karma to burn through his Sorcerer and Empty Minstrel Levels to Nog himself to Perfection, minimizing the effects of his Bloodline on his psyche as he did so.

It cut down on his raw Casting ability, but remaining free of the true Thirst was far more important in his mind.

He lacked any sort of real Faith to take up Divine or Druidic Casting, which limited his options tremendously, but he hardly cared. He was in his heart a scrapper, and that wasn’t going to change. He wanted Wizardry because it had a wide toolset he could use, and for Sieging and Reserves it worked as well or better than Sorcerer at lower Levels.

Full +5 Inherent Bonuses and Perfection meant he had 23 in all Stats before his Racial and Level modifiers. He was truly a monster among his people, and he knew it. Now, someone who didn’t want to learn that was going to find out something about a dish served cold...

And they weren’t the only one.

Bone Marrow was purring along at something like 350 kph. That was a lot of engine, a lot of magic, and a lot of QL 35 engineering to make it. He had to Reserve power to it to keep that speed steady, but that was why he had all those rep counts and Double Helix Levels.

Parted Water was all completely smooth, however, so there was no danger of losing control at this speed, and there was nothing out here he was going to run into. The convoys of ships we were passing could only watch us zip on by, slicing through the waves as if they didn’t exist, doubtless wondering if they were seeing things... until Amaretta worked the car horn and waved at the sailors on the decks.

The Mick also wasn’t taking a straight course, arcing this way and that to get us in range of certain key areas down far, far below us.

Sure, it was going to be a long and boring drive. Well, maybe not so boring for some, because both he and Amaretta could feel the Commune and see everything I was bringing up, and there was always something to see when your Dawnstopped Widened Commune with Nature is ninety miles in radius.

The Atlantic’s sleepy perception of sea life wasn’t very precise, only relative size could be seen... or intelligence level, as sapient life had a very different signature then merely sentient. That meant that whales really stood out... and there was no misidentifying those locations on the sea floor that were either strongly Warded against the awareness of the ocean, or swarming with intelligent life down there in the deeps.

I noted that the prevalence of lonely sea hulks laying cold and dead on the ocean floor a mile down increased markedly close to those locations.

Minor settlements here, here, here...

Back at Heavenbound Hall, these most accurate topographical maps imaginable were being fed into the computers there, and the planning of where, what, and how to deliver the payloads for those places was underway.

I had a LOT more ocean to cover, however, and couldn’t just have The Mick wasting days driving over the ocean. This was my job, and he had other things he could be doing.

Given all the logistics work going on, it definitely wouldn’t be boring, and the survey community was going to go apeshit with glee regardless...

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Our course closed in on Ireland, ignoring a sudden squall that came up, the rain and waves not even touching the magical Caddister as it drove on, merely making for a grand gothic landscape of towering waves, cold red hate lightning, and angry elements flailing about us in impotent rage, the Atlantic getting restless in its dreams.

I lifted my eyes. -Lord Mick,- I /pointed out.

-We see it!,- he /replied, turning the wheel slightly, and finally stepping on the gas.

There were at least a thousand horses going at it in that engine, and now they really began to roar. Bone Marrow picked up speed, the Wind Ward screaming as it deflected the air and rain around us, and the highway of the sea became a raceway.

Just at the edge of perception initially, now rapidly getting closer, a fishing trawler was frantically making its way towards land, both caught in the storm and being pursued by something large and alien behind it. They weren’t moving very fast, so it seemed there was a problem with their engines. The creature was coming in, battering at it, and moving away.

-What do you think it is?- Amaretta /asked, focusing on what I was relaying. The creature was large, but obviously fast enough to keep pace with the trawler. It was coming in, bumping the boat, and retreating, obviously trying to stave in the hull.

-Given the sensations, I’m going to guess a morkoth.- The alien nature of the creature was repulsive to the ocean, which was hardly a surprise. They were repulsive, murderous things to begin with. -Brave sort, as this is Deep One territory. They’ve an outpost only thirty miles from there.-

Deep Ones were Dagonics, which meant they got along pretty well with krakens. Krakens had no hesitation in eating morkoths, although Deep Ones generally left them alone out of respect.

Must not have been a steel-hulled trawler, and they must have had some sort of deck defense, because it wasn’t trying to clamber aboard. Guns were indeed good at fending such stuff off, and fishing knives are really sharp and good at dealing with tentacles and suckers, too.

Well, it was twenty minutes away. If the ship stopped, I could reach them with a Waterjump, although it would be annoying breaking my Lived-Line, and I’d have to backtrack here to pick it back up.

It looked like the trawler was heading for the Shannon Estuary, just like us, but we were naturally going to overtake it. I made ready to head out for a rescue if needed, while the distance and the miles closed rapidly...

“Whoa!” all three of us said at the same time.

There was a fuckload of Deep Ones ahead of the trawler! It was heading right into them!

Halfway around the world, Briggs’ fighting intent, currently involved in another skirmish with Cultivators, rounded on me and soared.

Briggs did not like aquatic raiders... especially when there were two krakens in the middle of that damn mess!

-You come get me as soon as you make landfall,- Briggs /ground out, and that only just before the whole Morningsun family piped up urgently for the same.

Oh, yes, the roots of the Morningsuns were indeed in Ireland, I had forgotten. Their only problem was no Lived-Line except mine connected their two locations...

-Yes, yes. Archtheurge Airlines will be in service as soon as The Mick Marine Company docks,- I /reassured them all. Seriously, just because I was the only person who could Teleport around the planet, everyone kept wanting a minute of my time to just go here and there without needing to spend hours and hours doing it themselves.

-What were th’ odds I’d be coming home in time t’ be moshing with some slimers from the briney deep?- The Mick /wondered, dark eyes glittering with fell intent. -No showin’ me up in me homeland, ya oversized ape with delusions o’ mediocrity!-

-I make no promises unless you kill those kraken before I do,- Briggs /answered with a total lack of humor, and his formerly autonomic slaughter of Cultivators on the other side of the continent suddenly became much more energetic, catching friends and enemies by surprise. He’d just been phoning it in, dealing with the most dangerous Cultivators and letting the Purgers take most of the Karma, but now he was grimly intent on ending that fight as soon as possible.

Neither side there really appreciated it, although the Purgers’ protests were a bit cheeky. Karma was valuable stuff!

The Mick half-turned his head, and /asked over his shoulder, -The little fellow has a taste for seafood, does he?-

-It probably matches your taste for the Fir Ocras.-

Amaretta conveyed to me the twitch in The Mick’s cheek, and the way his eyes went red.

-I’ll be racing ya t’ dead squid then, ape!- he /answered firmly, and Briggs just /grunted as Cultivators screamed and died around him messily, and Purgers piped up with all sorts of half-protesting calls about kill-stealing and stuff.