In Reality, Elves are dangerous...

“So, remember how we talked about Classes and Levels, and what you got from them?” Briggs asked Estemar casually.

The young Paladin nodded quickly. “Of course. Optimizing your Class Levels is a powerful tool, and I’ve seen the results.” He held up his hands, and lightning crackled over his gauntlets.

“Right. Well, there’s what’s called Racial Levels, too. Racial Levels, in fact, dominate the world.” Estemar lifted an eyebrow. “Yeah. You see, Class Levels are what humanoids have. They are basically an invention of mortals to deal with the insanely overpowered things that Nature gives birth to in a magical world.

“Think about it. Do you need to teach a tiger how to hunt? Deer to gather in herds? Birds to migrate? Bees to tend flowers?” Estemar pursed his lips. “That’s right, most creatures simply inherit what they know. In a magical world, they simply build on what they inherit, and make it greater. Like most Jotuns… they are remarkably good at what they do, even if they don’t practice it, or learn it from anyone in particular. Dragons can get skilled at stuff simply by going to sleep for a couple centuries.” Estemar blinked, and then nodded.

“What does that have to do with elves?” he wondered.

“Well, you probably know that elves are dangerous, right? They are all good with spells and blades and bows and whatnot, they live a long time so they can learn a lot of tricks… they are just extremely gifted in using magic, depending on their subrace,” Briggs went on.

“That is a racial trait, but not the same as a whole class-?” Estemar wondered aloud.

“Every single elf is a near-Warrior/stripped Caster at three-quarters advancement, with no cap on Racial Levels.”

Estemar blinked. “That… sounds extremely powerful,” he admitted, taking a mental step back. “Their entire race…?” he went on.

“Yeah. But you know how you get all those neat Paladin powers as you go up in Level, in addition to Casting? Laying on Hands, disease immunity, fear immunity, Sword Spirit, Summon Mount, Smiting? Elves don’t get any of them. They get to fight like skilled fighters, cast like skilled Casters… but they don’t get any of the tricks and benefits of Class Levels with them.”

Estemar furrowed his brow, thinking about that. “So… an Elven Wizard is likely someone who has both Class Levels and Racial Levels, and they complement one another?”

“And he can fight like a proficient swordsman and shoot like a decent archer.” Briggs nodded at the army of elves moving out around them. “So, every single Elf here is a spellcaster to some degree or another. If they are Fours, then they are equivalent to a level Three Warrior and a Level Three Caster.

“I don’t think I should need to tell you what having hundreds of spellcasters available can do for any people or nation, and why you shouldn’t mess with them.”

Estemar took a deep breath. “All of them are Casters… what an incredible source of strength!” He wasn’t a total fool.

“And they naturally get stronger and more adept as they get older. Old Elves are powerful, even if they get somewhat frailer.” The silver was all melted now, and he engaged the force filter as he crouched down, directing the slender stream of molten metal onto the carved stone below. The Disk moved around effortlessly at his pressure, his ki giving him a level of control ordinary touch couldn’t match.

“As I understand it, the gold elves tend to be neo-Wizards or neo-Clerics. The silver elves tend to be Sorcerers or Favored. The bronze elves tend to be Druidic Casters. Any of them can also be Bardic Casters, and usually end up taking that Class to build on that talent. Other Traditions are pretty rare, and since they don’t dovetail with their natural Talents, rarely pursued.”

The silver was almost gone, filling up the carving. He passed his hand over it, his Vajra smoothing out imperfections, bonding the cooling metal to the stone as if it had been polished for hours. He took out a waiting pitcher of cold Lightning Water and poured the sparkling liquid slowly and carefully over the stone, to accelerate the cooling process and make it ready for Investment.

“Here you go, Sparkie.” He hefted the new Trap in one hand, and set it off to the side, and then began to grab the smithing Tools as the Soul Familiar went to work maintaining the Investment. “Now, consider that most of the elven are going to have access to healing magic, and tell me what the recovery capacity of your average elven force is.”

“Ah.” Estemar blinked. “Considerable?”

“In their own way, yes. They tend not to have much Soak, and that means from fight to fight during a day, they have less staying power. But from one day to the next, it is generally not much of an issue. They get their spells back, and they have staying power again.” He grunted as he put the first couple ingots into the new flames of Forge, and then lifted the Anvil of Silent Thunder out of its Cabinet and put it on a level spot close by.

“They are a lot like the fey, in that as they grow their Racial Levels and Hit Dice, they magically reinforce their bodies to become tougher. If they earn the right to a Healing Reserve, they can be fixed up to nearly their best condition between fights.”

“I remember that as one of the key Feats you wanted me to learn?” Estemar asked.

“Yes. Basically, it is a source of unlimited Healing power to Health, limited only by time. You have to obtain the acknowledgement of Amana to use it, of course, and She is picky about who earns the right. Also, unless you are one of Her priestesses, you literally do have to earn the right. A Priest of other Good gods can waive the initial requirement, but has to pay it back to advance. A Paladin, Bard, or other type of Healer has to pay first, showing their dedication.”

“What is this price?” Estemar asked, intrigued.

“Five hundred Valences worth of Healing magic Cast on other people.” He glanced at Estemar, who looked a little startled. “I think every two dice of your Laying on of Hands counts as one Valence. Other forms of healing, like Bardsong, Channeling Life Energy, pure arcane magic, or ki-based healing, don’t qualify.

“That just gets you the very basic level. Keep a Valence One Healing spell active in your Matrix, and you can heal two points of Health damage every six seconds on someone, including yourself.”

“That… seems rather slow,” Estemar murmured, brow furrowing.

“It is,” agreed Briggs. “But, over the course of eight hours, that is 4,800 points of Health, which is literally an army. Every three minutes, you can take an elite elven soldier from near-death to almost full fighting capacity. Twenty an hour, a hundred and sixty every eight… multiplied by the number of Healers…”

“And the next day, barring crippling injuries and death, your entire army is at full strength.” Estemar got the point. “Even one such Healer could easily care for an entire company of men.”

“And they do. Didn’t your Order use such Healers when anticipating major battles?”

“There were several Clerics attached to the Order, but I heard nothing specific about their healing ability,” Estemar admitted. “They were just Healers...”

“Well, the Feat is open to Paladins, if you use your healing magic enough on others. If you keep doing so, the Reserve improves. As you improve up the scale, you gain the right to have it work off higher Valences. A Valence Two is four points per six seconds, Three is six, all the way up to ten points per six seconds if you have a Valence Five Heal spell in memory.”

That would be a torrent of healing magic. Estemar was impressed as he did the math.

“It means that if a company has no Healer… you could fill that hole and be that Healer,” Briggs told him, watching the ingots start to redden quickly, the Shaping Hammer in his fist ready to work. “It gives you versatility and options, and it can save a lot of lives. Healing spells are fast, powerful, precious, and ultimately limited in quantity. They can take you from on death’s door to fighting trim in seconds. The Healing Reserve is nowhere near as powerful, but it is steady and inexhaustible, and lets you save the magic for when it is truly needed.”

“Are not humans limited in Racial Levels, and thus how much Health they can acquire?” Estemar asked after a moment, contemplating this.

“Correct. We get exactly three Racial Levels, and then we’re working on Evolutionary Levels, which are more dangerous.” Briggs grunted as the ingots turned white-hot. “Of course, lots of ways to increase Health. Toughness Feat, Soul-Fortified body, higher Con score, maximizing Health through training…” Briggs waved his hand dismissively. “Sure, you’re not going to match a monstrous foe, but that’s not the idea. Soak has always been what helped us turn the tables, given the superior recovery ability of many magical beings and creatures.”

Estemar looked away, then back at him. “How about Lady Sama?”

“How about her, what?”

“How much is her Soak and Health?”

Briggs glanced over at where Sama was Tatting up elves. “Probably over three hundred and a hundred, respectively.”

Estemar could only blink. He’d seen his own numbers on his Assay, and they were much, much less than that.

“How?” he asked in a faltering voice.

“She’s a Null Forsaken Deep Ten. Her Con score is probably over 40, and she’ll have maxed it, because that’s what Nulls do.” The ingots were melting down, and he put the basic mold down underneath for them to drain into.

“Rep counts,” Estemar remembered. “That’s what Powered do…”

“Yes. They Cast all their spells, every day, to get better at Casting spells. And when they’ve done it enough, Reserves, Sieging, Metacasting, all those things open up, giving options and power they didn’t have before.” The last of the steel poured through the force filter, and he nudged the Disk away as he picked up the mold, and tapped a Rune on it. There was a hiss as it cooled very rapidly, venting the heat skywards.

“As a Paladin, you’re a bit different, since you’ve got magical abilities that aren’t spells. Those can be worked on, too.”

“Yes,” Estemar agreed. “I have been doing some of that...”

“Cool. Mithar is The Grandmaster, Paladin. He’s a SMART fighter, the very best. He gives you gifts to develop them, not to just accept as they are. Sure, you can go Ironskull and shoot for power… but unless there’s a need for speed, go Deep and build yourself into a monster they’ll never expect. Fight smarter and beat the crap out of them.”

“If you are given the time to do so,” Estemar noted, reflecting on something.

“That’s a given. Go, have one of them elves waiting over there show you what to do.” He put the crude shield, red with heat, on the anvil with his bare hands and hefted the Shaping Hammer. “Work to do.”

Estemar nodded and hurried away.

Mithar is The Grandmaster, he repeated to himself, a whole new way of looking at the gifts he’d been given coming to life. Possibilities of Soul and Divine power, how they might mix, if he had the time to practice them…