Apostles of Doom

Tizzy looked shocked. “No, no, no. Particularly not with an edible. Not for a D’Orcing!”

“How much do we need?” Targh asked Tizzy.

“Well, let’s see.” Tizzy frowned, thinking. He started counting on his fingers. “One pipe bowl for the victim — ahem — applicant, one for Orcus, one for each shaman present, and then every three D’Orcs in the summoning circle can share a bowl. I, of course, will need a bowl.”

“Orcus isn’t here,” Völund stated.

“Oh. That might be a problem.” Tizzy paused, as if surprised. “Hmm, in that case, Tom will do.”

Tom closed his eyes in frustration. Was it just him, or did it seem like Tizzy was off his meds today? Or was it that he was more on them than usual?

“And why do you need a bowl? Are you planning on being in the ceremony?” Targh asked.

“No. I’m just a spectator,” Tizzy replied.

“So why do you need a bowl?” Targh asked.

“Dude, it’s his weed, man!” Reggie exclaimed.

Tizzy grinned and pointed a finger at Reggie. “Exactly! You know, another hundred thousand years and I might actually like you!” Reggie frowned at that. Tizzy stuck out his tongue.

“I don’t think you have enough in that little bag for that many bowls,” Valg noted.

Tizzy held the bag up and looked at it. It was about an inch and half in diameter. He shifted his eyes to Valg, looking at him slightly askance. “There are four kilos of demon weed in here! I should think that would be enough.”

Valg blinked, shook his head and stared pointedly at the tiny bag. “Four kegs? How…?” He trailed off, noting that Tom was shaking his head.

“Seriously, don’t ask. I am finding it increasingly easier to simply not question him,” Tom said with a sigh.

Citadel of Light: Mid Fourth Period

Teragdor, Rasmeth and Leighton were crossing one of the many large courtyards of the Citadel, returning from a refreshing lunch at one of Krinna’s cafeterias, when very loud, deep and reverberating horns began sounding. Both Teragdor and Rasmeth winced at the tremendous volume of the horns.

“What is that?” Rasmeth yelled to Leighton, who was looking quite concerned.

“They are the Horns of Gathering,” Leighton replied, shouting back.

“And those are?” Teragdor asked.

Leighton made several gestures while mouthing some chant, and suddenly the sound of the horns was suppressed enough that they could converse normally.

“They are horns that will be sounded from relay towers, ordering people in the outer communities and farms to evacuate their homes and come to the Citadel,” Leighton said.

“Does this happen very often?” Rasmeth asked.

“Never in my life, nor that of my father or grandfather. There are other horns for regional evacuations, which are far more common; every decade or so.” Leighton gestured for them to follow him as he changed the direction in which they had been heading. “Let us go see if we can find out more details. As apostles, you will surely be provided detailed information; more than I would normally get.”

Leighton continued his explanation as they headed towards a set of doors. “In order for these horns to sound, the Rangers must have determined credible threats of Unlife armies in at least three of the four cardinal directions; the fourth is typically the sea. Unlife are, by and large, not fond of the sea. Surprisingly, zombies do not float; unlike, for example, a bloated corpse.”

“Unlife armies in three directions?” Teragdor asked with concern. “So essentially surrounding us?”

“Exactly.” Leighton nodded. “Given that they had begun cleansing the moat, this was most likely not unexpected. As you know, the information from Torean’s Rangers, Krinna’s Sky Wardens and even the Shield’s Guard patrols have all been pointing to increasing Unlife activity.”

“And, as I recall from one of our briefings, no ships are making it into the harbor,” Rasmeth stated.

“Ah, yes. Forgot about that one. So then, four sides most likely, or perhaps three known and the Vicar General is simply taking no chances. That’s what we hope to find out.”

They entered back into the Citadel, literally back inside given that the Citadel was surrounding them on all sides and even below their feet. The place was insanely huge. Leighton led them down a long hall to a spiral stair-ramp on their left.

The ramp led them up and up. After passing several levels, they finally exited the ramp. As they did, a familiar voice hailed them. “Teragdor, Rasmeth!” Stevos called, hurrying down the hallway towards them. Timbly was right behind him. “When this infernal racket started I traced your illumination link to find you. Do you have any idea what is going on?”

As the two saints got within a few feet of them, they both suddenly got looks of surprise on their faces as they entered Leighton’s zone of quiet.

Timbly said, frowning, “That’s unusual!” He then took a good look at Leighton. “Ah — priest of Krinna. Of course, should have realized. We do not have this ritual; it could be quite handy. For us, it’s mainly complete silence or nothing.”