Apostles of Doom

“They are making progress,” Tom told them, “but they are not sure how quickly they can put something together. If you can have any first-generation D’Orc shamans come and assist her, that will speed things up. Tamarin will also look into using djinn magic to borrow Karth more time. The idea is to boost him enough to keep him alive until the ceremony, and then pay the additional price after he is a D’Orc and much stronger.”

Darg-Krallnom shrugged. “That sounds like good news. Why the sigh?”

“She reminded me that we need demon weed, and that means…” Tom trailed off.

“You need a favor from Tizzy,” Darg-Krallnom said.

“Exactly. Do you know where he is?” Tom asked, looking around. “I have not seen him in quite some time.” As he said it, he suddenly realized it was true. Tizzy had not been hanging around being annoying lately.

Darg-Krallnom shook his head, looking puzzled. “Now that you mention it, I do not think I have seen him since the day Sammael and his ship full of Astlanians showed up to get their thumping. No wonder I have been so happy the last few days! The pest is gone.” Darg-Krallnom grinned widely with pleasure.

Tom snorted. “Well, now we have to find him. I don’t suppose anyone has an idea of how to summon him?”

Darg-Krallnom shook his head quickly from side to side and said, “I believe this is the first time I have ever heard someone say that. Typically, no one seeks to summon Tizzy; they are almost always far more interested in banishing him.”

Vargg Agnoth had walked up and joined them. “I would seriously have to wonder about any wizard thinking to conjure Tizzy. One would be in for a lot of frustration if he were bound to you.”

“I pity the wizard,” Vargg said.

Darg-Krallnom said, “Yes. This master of his — I think he said his name is Gastropé—must seriously regret binding the octopod.”

“Gastropé, yes,” Tom said. “He has a binding on Tizzy. He summoned Tizzy when we were at Hellsprings Eternal and then Tizzy was able to contact Gastropé to pull the shamans back to Midgard.” Tom frowned; he had not really thought to ask how that binding had come about. How would Gastropé have managed that? Sure, Tizzy wasn’t a particularly powerful demon, but Tom had trouble believing that Gastropé would ever want to even try binding Tizzy. “Actually, the more I think about that link, the weirder it is. Gastropé’s a friend of mine. How would he have gotten Tizzy’s true name?” Tom asked out loud.

Darg-Krallnom shrugged. “If Tizzy was willing to accept the binding, knowing his true name would not be required.”

Tom frowned again. “Okay, then this is making even less sense. I knew there was a reason I had refused to think about this.” He rubbed his forehead. “Why would those two have entered a mutual binding? It makes very little sense.”

“It makes sense if Tizzy needed a way to get to Midgard, and he trusted this Gastropé fellow,” Vargg Agnoth countered.

Tom sighed. “Well, one way or the other, it is a moot point for now. I have no way of contacting Gastropé to have him summon Tizzy.” Tom shook his head. “Perhaps Boggy will know a way of contacting him.”

“Seriously did not think I would live to see the day when we would have to go to this much trouble to find Tizzy,” Darg-Krallnom said, shaking his head.

Astlan, Northeast of Mount Orc: Early Fifth Period

Tal Gor was enjoying the contrast of the warm afternoon sun on his back and the cool breeze in his face as they flew through the air en route to the Doom of Astlan. Once they had arrived at Mount Orc, Zargvarst had been able to get his bearings and update their maps as to the location of the Doomalogue.

Today, the Doomalogue and its rather unique surroundings were called Jötunnhenj. It was often mistakenly confused as being the original home of all jötunnkind in Astlan. Zargvarst said that wasn’t actually the case, however; there had naturally been a large number of jötunnkind around it, and under Loki’s guidance, they had helped construct the Doomalogue.

The “henj” part was due to the fact that the entire region was set up like a natural henge. A river ring completely surrounded the region, inside of which were fourteen enormously high and relatively thin peaks that formed the henge. Inside of those peaks were a number of other very large mountains that were not as tall, but of broader base. At the very heart was the volcano that was the Doomalogue. A long road wrapped its way up the side of the volcano, leading up to the mouth.

Zargvarst had told them that the tall, thin peaks were designed to mimic the tall, thin pillars seen only in the Abyss. Obviously, the laws of nature being what they were, the peaks were not as thin, certainly not at the base. It was, Zargvarst assured them, a breathtaking sight.

Click-Click. Click-Click.