Apostles of Doom

Catapult bombs? Teragdor suddenly understood the purpose of the platforms hanging below the wall. He had noticed them earlier. On the inside of the wall he was currently on, there were platforms on rails stationed about thirty feet down, at inserts. Inside the inserts were wheeled carts, obviously intended to roll out onto the platforms and be raised to the top of the wall as needed.

“The Holy Water in the moat is continuously cycled through the vat system to be re-consecrated, as well as to ensure that the water is continuously running in the moats. Thus, not only do we have a ground deterrent, but also an aerial deterrent for those Unlife that cannot cross running water,” Leighton explained.

“Incredible,” Teragdor breathed in awe.

Leighton shrugged. “We do what we can. Thirty thousand-plus years of never-ending war tends to spur advancements.”

Isle of Doom: Early Fourth Period

Tom, Boggy, Tizzy and Estrebrius wandered down the path from the volcano to Krallnomton, or more precisely, the henge there. Reggie, Völund and Targh, along with Valg and Kroth-bitor, one of the three first generation D’Orc shamans, were examining a leather bag that Reggie was holding.

“How is it going?” Tom asked.

“We have rounded up all the cookies we could find,” Völund replied.

“Why are you rounding up cookies?” Tizzy asked. “They aren’t horses or D’Wargs; I hope you aren’t planning on riding them.”

Targh rolled his eyes and replied, “We are preparing to ascend Karth Death Cheater.”

“Ascend? As in D’Orcination?” Tizzy asked, sounding surprised.

“Exactly,” Völund said.

“I know that I’ve said this before, but you’re sending him to the Abyss. Isn’t that more of a descension?” Tizzy asked.

Tom glanced at the octopod. He was suddenly disturbed that Tizzy was speaking aloud the very same thoughts he had had. Almost verbatim. That was rather frightening.

Völund sighed and turned to Kroth-bitor, ignoring Tizzy. “Do you want to grind the cookies up?”

“Ack! What? What? Grind up my cookies! My epicurean delights? My babies of buttah!” Tizzy suddenly shifted to his yenta voice on the word “butter.” “How dare you, sirs! Have you no respect for high-end gourmet edibles! These cookies have won Best Cookie of the Year, every year, from High Times magazine. And with different judges every year — apparently each year’s judges have mysteriously disappeared shortly after the contest,” Tizzy said, his voice descending to an almost conspiratorial whisper with the last phrase. “No idea why,” he continued his rambling subtext, scratching his chin. “I suspect they feel they have reached edible nirvana and so no longer wish to tempt fate with potentially lesser consumables in subsequent years.”

Targh grunted. “As you know, we need demon weed, and this was what we had in your absence. We had no idea where you were, you just up and vanished on us.”

Tizzy grinned mischievously. “So you are saying that you missed me?”

“We could not find you. I think the phrase ‘misplaced you’ is more accurate,” Völund said quickly before Targh could respond.

Tizzy glared at him. “You aren’t being very nice to someone who has something you want!” he said, sounding quite miffed.

“Do you have demon weed on you?” Tom asked, trying to cut this off.

“Is my name Tiss-asteratorh-atora-Dale Forgenzatola-makafolah?” Tizzy asked.

“Not that we know of,” Boggy said.

“Oh.” Tizzy stopped abruptly, looking puzzled. He twisted his lips, thinking. “What is my name? I am pretty sure I wrote it down somewhere.” He shook his head, seemingly completely distracted. “Where did I write that? Was it in my journal?”

Boggy gave him a puzzled expression. “You do not have a journal.”

Tizzy looked back at him, equally puzzled. “You mean I don’t have a personal journal where I put all my hopes, fears, dreams and ideas?”

Boggy simply shook his head.

Tizzy scrunched his eyes together and then suddenly released them, opening them wide. “You are right; that’s my friend Jenn!” He grinned. “Some really juicy stuff in there.”

“Tizzy,” Tom stated rather sternly. The little demon was going off the rails again. “Do you have any demon weed that we can use for the ascension?”

“Oh. Right.” Tizzy shook his head and seemed to get more focused. “Sure, just let me reach into my stash and get you some.”

“Everyone avert your eyes! I am pretty sure we don’t know want to see where he keeps it!” Boggy shouted. Reggie giggled and Estrebrius chuckled.

Tizzy glared at him and shook his head. He stuck out his lower right fist and opened it palm down. A small leather pouch dropped from his palm, suspended by a small drawstring wrapped around his ring finger.

“I keep it in my hand. Where do you think I keep it?” Tizzy demanded of Boggy.

“Well…” Boggy shrugged. “I’ve never known. I suspected…”

“Suspected?” Tizzy asked, squinting.

“Never mind,” Boggy replied, closing his eyes.

“How much do you need?” Tizzy asked.

“Well… we are still trying to figure that out. We were just going to use all that we had,” Tom said.