Apostles of Doom

“True, and apparently the battle in the great hall, what with the meteors, giant cracks in the floor… well, let us say there was tremendous structural damage to much of the palace’s foundation,” Trisfelt said. “That, in fact, is what keeps me so busy. I am getting no teaching done; I am needed to inspect and work repairs upon so much of the infrastructure.”

Hilda shook her head in shared dismay. “It seems patently unfair. Thaumaturgists build and strengthen while pyromancers and similar simply destroy, and destruction is so much easier than construction. What takes them but minutes to destroy takes you days and months to repair.”

“Indeed. However, I assure you that the conjurors are also working overtime. Maintaining these demon wards is quite exhausting and resource-intensive. Lenamare, Randolf and Damien are working as much overtime as I am in trying to improve our demonic defenses and make them more affordable, resource-wise, to maintain,” Trisfelt explained.

Hilda nodded, then tilted her head. “Did I not hear that the wards could only be maintained so long with the resources within the city?”

Trisfelt nodded. “Indeed. However, in part that has been alleviated because we are nearly exclusively focusing on demonic and extra-planar defense. This simplifies the consumable material component supplies a fair amount. The Church of Tiernon has actually been quite helpful on this front, assisting us in acquiring more of the material components we need. Being in the demon-vanquishing business means they do have the sort of components we need. Jehenna, who is in charge of acquiring material components for the wards, has sent our traders out looking for the additional resources.”

“Interesting. So the Council is actively working with the Rod and Iskerus?” Hilda inquired.

“Indeed, although Iskerus seems to have vanished on some mission for the church; rather odd as we were in the middle of planning how to bring them inside the city, both to shelter them and to add to our defenses for when the archdemons return with their armies.”

“Hmm, these are clearly odd times. The Church and Rod have gone from laying siege to preparing to be besieged.” Hilda shook her head in amazement.

“A great common enemy often has that effect.” Trisfelt chuckled.

Etterdam, Nart Camp: DOA + 11, Early Third Period

Arg-nargoloth surveyed the mock combat being conducted over the plains below him. Given that the Doomalogue on Etterdam was occupied by alvar, they had brought in another two hundred D’Wargs and brought the total D’Orc contingent to forty. More than enough to deal with any mortal alvaran army.

He was hovering in the air next to Ragala-nargoloth, who was on D’Wargback beside him. Watching the clumsy swipes that the orcs were taking at each other, he chuckled and shook his head.

“Something amusing?” Ragala-nargoloth asked him.

“More like a pleasant memory, or perhaps some forgetfulness. It has been so long since we’ve had to train orcs on D’Wargback that one forgets that it is not simply an innate skill,” Arg-nargoloth said.

Ragala-nargoloth twisted her mouth in a grimace. “You must admit the extra dimension, and the rotational abilities of D’Wargs compared to wargs, requires some practice to get accustomed to.”

Arg-nargoloth grinned over at the shaman. “No insult to your warriors. Remember, they are my very distant kin as well. No, it has never been trivial to adjust to aerial combat; not for orcs on D’Wargback, nor for newly arrived D’Orcs. One simply forgets over time.”

Ragala-nargoloth asked, “How long has it been since you were a new D’Orc? You have been a legend for longer than anyone can remember. There are many that do not even believe you were once mortal. They only remember you as the most famous D’Orc of Etterdam.”

Arg-nargoloth closed his eyes, remembering. “It is odd how memories fade with time. Even now, that dark limbo between Orcus’s death and the arrival of Lord Tommus seems but a fugue state of dull memories that are evaporating, and I am recalling Doom’s various battles and training of armies. I have trained, or seen to the training of, hundreds of thousands of orcs and D’Orcs over the millennia, to the point where I do not remember most individual names; however, I still remember my mortal days upon this world with a sharp clarity. The threat of imminent death makes each breath, each thrust of the sword, each gulp of ale all the more glorious and memorable.” The D’Orc shook his head. “I recall that time, those experiences, over seventy-thousand years ago, better than I remember the names of my thousands upon thousands of vanquished foes during the intervening years.”

Ragala-nargoloth whistled.

Arg-nargoloth glanced at her curiously.

“You may actually be older than some of these hills!” She gestured to the hills on the plains.