Apostles of Doom

“Denubian Demons^TM. You really do not want to leave out the trademark.” Sir Samwell grimaced and shook his head. “I would not expect you to have heard of them. They rarely get to Astlan,” the knight explained. “For one thing, no one native to Astlan could properly pronounce their true names to summon them. You need a minimum of two mouths to get the names even remotely close to being accurate. Most greater and higher demons would require at least three or four mouths.”

“And you know all of this because…?” Chancellor Alighieri asked the knight, who shrugged.

“The same way I know much about anything here; at some point, or rather points, I have been the ‘guest’ of various Denubian Demons^TM.” He shook his head. “As you might image, their questioning can be quite disconcerting. They neither speak nor think linearly, so you get all sorts of odd questions hammered at you at the same time, even from a single torturer.”

“What would Talarius be doing here?” Gadius asked. “The demon who took him was certainly not a Denubian Demon^TM.”

“Indeed,” Sir Samwell replied with a frown. “That would be a very interesting turn of events.”

Chapter 137

Mount Doom, Tizzy’s Kitchen: Late Fourth Period

“Here,” Tizzy told Reggie, handing him a stone bowl and pestle. “I need you to grind up those dried mushrooms.” He pointed towards five bushel-sized baskets of dried mushrooms on a nearby counter. “There’s a second bowl and pestle under the counter. You should be able to do two bowls at once.”

“Why am I grinding mushrooms?” Reggie asked. Estrebrius had come and dragged him down to the kitchen, telling him that Tom needed his help. “And where is Tom?”

“No idea; probably in Krallnomton,” Tizzy said. “Get busy. It took me forever to get these ingredients; we have to grind them all and then mix them just exactly right!” He waved towards the others in the kitchen: Boggy, Estrebrius and Antefalken. Each had large baskets of different dried plants.

“You told me Tom needed my help!” Reggie said to Estrebrius.

“He does. He needs you to help us grind the ingredients for the mortal stash! We don’t have a lot of time before the ceremony starts,” Tizzy replied over whatever Estrebrius had started to say, hurrying over to check on Boggy’s work. “And we gotta get everyone’s pipes stocked.”

“Mortal stash?” Reggie asked, not having a clue what the octopod was talking about.

Tizzy sighed, his top shoulders sinking in exasperation. “For the D’Orcing!”

“Okay, but what do you mean, ‘mortal stash’?” Reggie asked.

Tizzy shook his head in bemusement. “You really are a lousy stoner! All those participating in the ceremony need some enhancement to ensure everything goes smoothly, that non-mana wielders are able to share their mana easily with Tom and the shamans. Standard religious-slash-shamanistic practice for mana harvesting. Did you never go to church?”

“We didn’t take drugs in my church!” Reggie objected.

“I think you have to be on drugs to believe in the gods,” Boggy said.

“So you don’t think Phaestus is real?” Antefalken spoke up.

Boggy shook his head. “Obviously, having met the geezer, I know he exists; I simply refuse to believe that the gods are all-knowing, all-powerful solutions to life’s problems.”

“In my experience, they are not the solutions, so much as the problems,” Tizzy quipped. “However, that is beside my point. We need to stay focused on our project!”

Boggy stared in shock at Tizzy. “Who are you and what did you do with my partner? Are you possessed? I’ve heard rumors of humanic possession, but never thought I’d see it.”

“You are very funny. But as the official Stash Master of Doom, I have responsibilities!” Tizzy moved around the kitchen, waving his upper two hands and then looking over Antefalken’s shoulder. “Anyway, as I was saying, the D’Orc and demon participants will be smoking pipes with demon weed. We can’t give mortals pure demon weed, except for our victim — er, patient.” Tizzy shook his head at his slip of tongue. “If we gave them all demon weed, who knows where they’d end up on the Astral Plane? Probably somewhere near the Knights of Chaos, or worse, the Lords of Law! Talk about a boring group — makes the Oorstemothians seem like drunken frat brothers.”

“How do you know about fraternities?” Reggie asked, shaking his head in puzzlement.

“That’s not important! What’s important is that we need to have a mixture of ingredients for the mortals to smoke! We’ve got trace amounts of demon weed, normal marijuana, tobacco, the wax off these poppy seed pods, and of course those mushrooms.” He pointed to Reggie’s mushrooms.

Reggie raised an eyebrow and leaned over the bowl to sniff the mushrooms. “Ugh!” He shook his head, pulling his face back; they smelled like cow shit. “These are psychedelic mushrooms!”

“Psycho what?” Estrebrius asked.

“You know, stuff that makes you hallucinate,” Reggie said.