Apostles of Doom

“What language is that, and why can’t we understand it? I thought the demons and D’Orcs all spoke some sort of universal language.” Talarius looked to Stainsberry.

“Interesting that they call it Universal and not Multiversal,” Stainsberry commented while visibly swaying to the rhythm of the drums, which were slowing down and losing some of their intensity, allowing them to speak. “There are clearly some obvious limits to what it can translate. Or something. I think the point is that Lord Tommus isn’t actually speaking Universal.”

Sir Stainsberry blinked a few times and waved his hand towards Talarius in a vague gesture. “Could you please stop swaying so much? You are making me dizzy.”

“I’m not the one swaying. You are the one who is swaying!” Talarius paused, suddenly realizing that he was swaying, just like Stainsberry. “Oh wait, my bad. I am also swaying.”

Talarius moved his head from side to side, trying to clear it. “So what… what was he speaking?”

“Not sure,” Stainsberry said, “but I sort of think it might have been Jtunnspråk, the ancient high language of the jötunn. Sort of like High Jötnmál. Doubt anyone’s heard it since Ragnarök.”

“Ragnarök?” Talarius asked. “Wasn’t that some sort of huge battle between giants, gods and mortals?”

“Indeed. In theory, the last battle was but a few hundred years before Orcus was slain in Etterdam. Some among the El Ohîm suspect that his slaying may, in some way, have been the true last battle, or at least in some way connected.”

“Huh.” Talarius tilted his head to think about that, or at least to think about thinking about it. He was having a bit of difficulty concentrating on much of anything. Suddenly he noticed another splash of light from the center of the henge. The flames around the new D’Orc flashed brightly and then died, leaving no sign of Karth.

“He has gone to Mount Doom,” Sir Stainsberry said. “I wonder if they have someone watching for him?”

“That would be awkward, showing up at your new home with no one there to greet you,” Talarius said. “I think I need to sit down.”

“Good idea!” Stainsberry said. They both tried to sit down rather awkwardly; neither one had much in the way of equilibrium.

“I hate vertigo!” Talarius muttered.

DoomSpa: Minutes Later

“Incoming!” Talgorf yelled down the tunnel towards the DoomSpa. Bellyachus and Lesteroth Gorflog were supposed to be standing by. Talgorf was carrying the front end of the stretcher with Karth on it. Svartbart, the apprentice quartermaster, who was of Nysegardian descent, carried the rear of the stretcher. Ayega DeathTusk brought up the rear, behind the stretcher. As Commander of the 7^th Regiment, she had been in charge of the welcoming committee.

“Make sure we have a nice, soothing, hot mercury bath for him! It’s been thousands upon thousands of years, but I still remember how much pain I was in after my ascension!” Ayega shouted at the top of her lungs.

Bellyachus shouted back. “We are all set, everything in place as ordered! Ufthak Skinpeeler has her massage table set up and ready to go as soon as he’s out of the bath!”

Ayega chuckled. “Excellent. There is no ache or pain a good session with Ufthak can’t cure. She is the best torturer I’ve ever encountered! She’s been at it for over twenty-one thousand years.”

“From the screams I hear outside her sessions, she sounds fantastic!” Talgorf said over his shoulder.

“She is. Of course, since the fall of Doom, she’s been limited to mostly massages, teaching yoga and Pilates classes and, of course, recreational and therapeutic torture,” Ayega said.

“No, she got in a few captives from Doom’s Redoubt,” Talgorf said. “I know one guy who chose to flee to the hinterlands after Lord Tommus’s deep freeze maneuver. He was once captured in one of our raids and she tortured him for a solid two decades before she got bored and tossed him out on the slopes of Mount Doom to drag his seriously broken body back to the Redoubt. He spoke of her often for the next six or seven hundred years. You don’t forget someone with her expertise.”

Ayega chuckled. “She’d be pleased to know that. Have you two reminisced?”

Talgorf shook his head. “No. To be honest, she sort of intimidates me. I’ve been too nervous to approach her on it.”

Ayega shook her head. “No, no, she’s a sweetheart. She loves to hear about past clients, at least when they’re still alive. Although, from what I’ve heard, you might not want to bring it up during a session. You know — old memories, old muscle memories?”

“Mmm. Good point!” Talgorf nodded in agreement.

“Unholy sephiroth!” Bellyachus exclaimed, seeing Karth on the stretcher. “He’s huge! Even for a D’Orc! That is one huge and scary-looking shaman!”

Ayega nodded. “That ceremony was more than a little overkill — or over-rebirth — or something. There were more people at that ceremony than any other I can remember seeing.”

Talgorf shook his head. “Given that he was already a very good shaman, he’s going to be really powerful.”