Apostles of Doom

Zargvost nodded and thundered, “Greetings, Soo Van. It has been over four thousand years since I strode these plains; I am honored to do so once more. And I am honored to meet you and your clan.” He grinned rather suddenly and alarmingly, and gestured to the top of Mount Orc. “I remember well manning the walls of Mount Orc during the Desolation. The treacherous alfar were ruthless; yet we did prevail and shall always do so.” His grin widened into a very toothy smile as he chuckled, apparently with fond memories.

The Rock Smashers were looking at Zargvost even more oddly than before, if that were possible. Tal Gor could hear the amazed whispers of the rest of the tribe behind their leaders.

The man named Gor Varg suddenly spoke up. “You’ve mentioned Mount Doom and the dead god Orcus; are you saying you are with them?”

Zargvost nodded. “I am — we are. Lord Orcus and a large number of our forces, both from the Abyss and the Planes of Orc, were slain by treachery in Etterdam on the battlefield and at Mount Doom by the Five Siblings, allied with Lilith, Queen of the Damned, and we believe, somehow, the Los Alfar. With Orcus’s death, the Wand of Orcus was lost and the fires of Doom quenched for over four thousand years.”

Zargvost frowned and bowed his head for a moment, then looked up with a fierce grin of determination. “However, that has all changed. The long-prophesied Heir of Orcus has finally arrived! Having wrested mana from the gods, he recovered the Wand of Orcus and relit the Fires of Doom — all as prophesied by the shaman Tiss-Arog-Dal one hundred years after the death of Lord Orcus. Lord Tommus is the heir of Orcus and shall restore the orcs to their rightful place in the multiverse.” Zargvost grinned. “And, of course, along the way, we shall have vengeance!”

Tal Gor’s orcs and D’Orcs roared loudly in approval behind him. He noted a significant number of excited orcs in the assembled crowd of Rock Smashers; their whispering and internal conversations had stepped up and a few had cheered as well. The leaders seemed far more reserved, as one would expect. They would not want lose face by appearing too eager at the claims of people, even someone they knew, who showed up unexpectedly on their doorstep in the morning.

“Well then,” Soo Van said, “it appears we have much to discuss.” She looked to Lob Smasher. “By the honor of the Crooked Sticks, do you swear that this visit shall be peaceful?”

Lob Smasher nodded and gave her a sincere smile of confidence. “On my family’s honor, I, and we, so swear it.” He bowed his head in acknowledgement as did Soo Van.

Ithgar, Orcopolis: Midmorning

Rupert and Fer-Rog sat on a marble bench in the courtyard of the house they were visiting. Beya, Hespith and Ugdur Helg, chief of the Helg tribe — their tribe within the Olafa horde — were inside in a private meeting with Orcag Deathfinger, chief of the Deathfinger tribe within the Houofa horde. The rest of their contingent were relaxing in the courtyard.

Apparently Beya had contacted Orcag’s shaman a few days back, so the Deathfingers had been expecting them this morning. After their private meeting, the rest of Beya’s contingent and the rest of the house would share breakfast together. They had been meeting for almost half a period at this point.

“I guess it’s a good thing we don’t need to sleep in Astlan,” Fer-Rog noted. “We wouldn’t have gotten much last night.”

Rupert chuckled. “I hope Aggfred and Snoggard’s friends were able to get them home safely. They were looking seriously worse for the wear.”

“Their walking was about one degree above crawling.” Fer-Rog laughed.

“I had more fun last night than at any time other than the inauguration party,” Rupert said with a bright smile.

“And if there had been cookies, it would have been even better!” Fer-Rog agreed.

“Hmm, not sure how our new friends would have done with cookies.” Rupert frowned. “Given how they hit us, the cookies might be a bit like x-glargh for normal orcs.”

“Pretty sure someone said that x-glargh is poisonous for orcs.”

“Exactly. Cookies probably wouldn’t have been worth having. It would have been hard to explain why we couldn’t share,” Rupert noted.

Suddenly, the doors to the house opened and Beya was there, gesturing for everyone to come in and break their fast. She smiled brightly. “Come in everyone; we’ve come to a great agreement!”

Everyone filed into the entry hall and proceeded to a large dining room. There was a large buffet along one wall; in the center of the room there were tables arranged in a circle so that everyone would be able to see each other.

“Please, take a seat at the table!” Orcag exclaimed, gesturing. “We shall have a toast before we dine!”

As people came in to take seats, servants — or at least, Rupert assumed they were servants — were pouring some sort of liquid into chalices at each diner’s seat. He wasn’t sure, but it looked sort of like orange juice, albeit perhaps a bit runnier.