Chapter 138: Do you know any wizards?

Chapter 138: Do you know any wizards?

Blake and Ilya returned to the orc ‘pub’ that night. Then one by one orc warriors were brought in as if to drink or eat in the tavern, and one by one Blake sat them down in a back corner, and asked them his questions.

"What are your parents' names? Tell me your greatest fear. Tell me what you want if you could have anything."

They were confused, sometimes offended, sometimes amused. All that mattered was that they gave Blake the information he needed for Mind Control to be most effective. Once or twice Chief Terzog reassured them if they tried to leave, then they'd sit back and down and look into Blake's eyes. He always started with the barest flick of Mental Influence—a little Trust, just enough to activate the power.

Mind Control was easier on targets he'd already Influenced. Like Influence, it didn't produce something the mind didn't already have. Blake's powers simply used those tools to his ends, and the main tool was narrative. What a person told themselves, what a person believed—human or orc, it mattered more to them than reality.

Mind Control was largely a story. Blake wasn’t exactly certain why or how he understood his power, save maybe that he’d been such a good liar in his former life. But he did.

So somehow he knew he didn't destroy the will of his target. He merely broke their natural disbelief—tricking them into believing something he wished them to believe. Once tricked, their will became his. Their resentment and rage, their hopes and dreams. It was something like magic hypnosis.

Once he learned the fears and goals of each individual orc, things became far simpler. He also learned Mind Control had two forms—the second only becoming available when he was out of a dangerous situation and with a somewhat willing participant.

The first was instant, temporary—clearly designed primarily for turning foes in combat with a simple change in who they perceived as friends or allies. Or for quick convincing. The other was more like...a suggestion, to be carried out later by the target. This was the version Blake decided to use.

He planted a seed in every orc's mind, just waiting to be activated. But Blake wasn’t trying to help them stop smoking cigarettes.

A time will come when King Gromsh gives you one command, and I give you another, he began. To prevent your <insert fear>, and to achieve your <insert goal>, you must obey me in that moment.

He hoped that did the trick, but he couldn't be sure. All he knew was that terror and reward were the two building blocks of proper motivation.

When he'd finished casting the orc would blink or shake their head in confusion, and Blake thanked roboGod for his Orc Whisperer title. The occasional warrior got a nose bleed.

"Is it finished?" they'd usually ask, and Blake would nod and smile.

"Your mind is now protected. Wait for the command of your chief."

Off they’d go, then Ilya would bring him the next, and the process would repeat. To Blake's nearly overwhelming joy, every orc he Mind Controlled gave him experience. After twenty three he'd even leveled up again.

Blake Nimitz

Level: 8

Class: Psion

Strength: 3

Dexterity: 3

Vitality: 3

"My suffering amuses you?"

Ilya shook her head and clearly tried to fight her amusement. "You don't act like any orc I know."

"Well,” Blake shrugged. “Do you know any wizards?"

"No." Ilya grinned, and Blake quirked his head in victory. The orc leaned forward, seemingly not much interested in her food. "Please tell me about where you're from. I've never left the towers. Are there many orcs? What is it like?"

Blake sighed, not that enthusiastic about lying to the girl more than he had to. Partially he supposed because then he'd have to remember. Partially because he just liked her. But the best deception was close to the truth.

"It's a small place. Very few orcs. Our warriors are powerful, though, as are our wizards."

"Do the gods favor you with tasks? Like guarding the holy stones?"

"Sometimes." Blake smiled. "Why do you think I'm here?"

Ilya’s eyes went wide. "You are Chosen."

"Some might say so.” Blake shrugged and kept eating. The worm was actually not bad. “But I don’t want to talk about me. I want to know where you got your scrying crystal, and how you managed to see me. Where did you learn such things?"

Ilya’s skin flushed a little yellow as she looked at the table. "My mother was an oracle. I was not chosen, but, she taught me things anyway, before she died."

"I'm sorry." Blake said reflexively, but Ilya shrugged.

"It was many years ago. I have her orb, and her staff. I can cast some spells. But not well."

"I disagree." Blake spooned in some more stew, then waited until Ilya met his eyes. "Without Ilya, there would be no rebellion. Remember that. It would make your family proud."

She smiled, and so did Blake, with a small trace of guilt, perhaps, but more devious pleasure. They ate their stew together in a pleasant silence, then Blake followed Ilya back to his hiding hole. As usual the guards paid little attention if they stayed out of the middle of the street, and soon he was safe and hidden by his little creek.

"Good night, Thrall," Ilya smiled shyly. "If you need anything else, just ask."

"Good night Ilya. I'll see you in the morning."

Blake was no expert on orc women, but something about Ilya's expression gave him a continued feeling of...invitation.

An all around bad idea, he decided, not trusting cultural or biological differences, nor his magical deception nearly that far. He could also be entirely wrong and end up with a knife in his eye, or at least alienate the girl to become less useful.

So instead he played with his new passive power, sliding his bar entirely to physical as he lifted a rock and squeezed. The difference was instantly obvious. He noticed his physical stats were glowing slightly, too, though they gave no indication of how much they’d been affected.

Not sure exactly how it would help, he slid the bar entirely to mental, feeling a very strange, almost cold rush of air through his brain. He blinked and tried a few mental calculations, definitely feeling like he could do them faster and with more digits than he could otherwise.

He grinned, but let it sit for now. He needed mana, and sleep, so he closed his eyes and started Meditating. He wanted half a quarter before he Dreamwalked, and hoped Mason actually slept like a normal person soon.