Apostles of Doom

Ragala-nargoloth spit into the brazier, causing it to sputter and sizzle. “Voghdaskanare gorbhalemcht nasvarghblhast vekkumtosdt.” She centered her mind and reached out through the bracelet upon her left arm. Technically, it was a ring for its owner, but on Ragala-nargoloth it was a bracelet.

She continued to chant in Uracai, allowing the words to wash over her as she followed the linkage. There! She felt her target! “Dossdachnt tor-norgomonos, bratlzven torvoldhuzt!”

The larger brazier in the center of her runes suddenly burst out brighter and stronger, smoke billowing as a rumble of thunder came from within the fire.

“Who summons me?” boomed a loud voice in normal orcish.

“It is I, Ragala-nargoloth, First Shaman of the Nart Tribe of Etterdam! By the power of my legendary ancestor, Arg-nargoloth the Left Hand of Doom, I command you to appear!”

“You do, do you?” the voice boomed.

“I do,” Ragala-nargoloth stated firmly.

“I sense no protections upon you worthy of my might. You do understand that by summoning me without protection, I will be free to do the most ungodly and perverted tortures upon your body?”

“I am counting on it!” Ragala-nargoloth chortled.

The booming voice laughed as well. “Very well then, my luscious victim, prepare to be ravaged!”

Arg-nargoloth stepped through the flames and into Ragala-nargoloth’s tent. “I have been awaiting your summons with great anticipation of our planned perversions.”

“Welcome, my lover! Mama’s got an itch deep inside; it needs to be scratched!”

Fort Murgatroid: DOA + 10, Shortly After Lunch

Iskerus watched the Rangers, who had only arrived this morning, reorganize in preparation for departing once more, this time for the Citadel of Light. Iskerus shook his head at the name; it was rather grandiose. Different worlds, different standards, he supposed.

The Citadel of Light, as it was called, was the largest Etonian city/fortress in Nysegard, apparently. Iskerus had virtually no knowledge of Nysegard, other than that it was a place no one in their right mind would venture to, second only to the Abyss. Of course, given that he had sent a large Rod contingent to the Abyss, he was not exactly in a position to throw stones.

He supposed he should be grateful that Teragdor and his people were willing to rescue Talarius. However, he had to admit some guilt at staying here rather than venturing to Nysegard to rescue the knight himself.

“Here you go!” Iskerus turned to see Teragdor dragging a large wheeled trunk behind him, stopping to Iskerus’s left.

“Here I go?” Iskerus asked, staring at the trunk, obviously not understanding.

“Well, recognizing that you had no change of clothing with you, Stevos requisitioned from Tierhallon robes, clothing, undergarments, armor and accessories for one of your station in Nysegard.” Teragdor smiled happily at the Arch-Diocate.

“Appropriate for one of my station in Nysegard?” Iskerus echoed with a sinking feeling.

“Of course. Surely you want to go along to rescue Talarius, be the friendly face that he recognizes. He will need someone he is comfortable with, someone he trusts and with whom he can open up about his ordeal!” the apostle said with a broad grin.

“Yes. Of course. How generous of Saint Stevos!” Iskerus tried his best to look grateful and hide his shock.

“They don’t call them saints for nothing!” Teragdor said, patting Iskerus on the back. “We expect to depart within about two hours.”

Nysegard, Citadel of Light: Dusk

Karis Crooked Stick, Battle Priestess of Tiernon and squad leader of the Night’s Watch, removed her helmet as she marched across the common area of the lower east guard hall. She needed to report her squad’s findings to Vicar General Grob Darkness Slayer.

She hung her helmet and small shield upon their hooks and continued on up the steeply winding ramp towards the sixth floor, eight levels up from the guard hall. There were very few stairs in the Citadel; it was critical that they be able to deploy large equipment and weaponry wherever needed. Most of the larger pieces were on wheels, but the rest were bulky enough that stairs would be treacherous for lugging the devices.

Exiting on the sixth floor, she made her way down the corridor to the debriefing room. She knocked on the door and received a grunt of acknowledgement from the other side. She twisted the handle and marched in to find, as expected, Vicar General Grob Darkness Slayer sitting at his map table. Slightly less expected was Diocate Aeris, who was apparently consulting with the Vicar General.

Her surprise was due to finding the two of them alone in the same room; Karis had the impression that Aeris and Grob did not like each other. They rarely shared words when in common company. Which, of course, was not that unexpected, given that Grob was an orc and Aeris an alfar.