Apostles of Doom

Here in Nysegard, Tom and his D’Orcs were actively fighting the same enemies as the Five Siblings. By definition, they should be neutral with respect to Unlife, if not allied with them. However, they were actively engaged in open warfare with the creatures.

He had to stop and think about some of the things Tom had told him. So much of what the demon had said early on, Talarius had written off as demonic lies. However, it was becoming increasingly difficult to believe that everything Tom said was a lie; and now with this new information, perhaps the demon’s reactions had been sincere. Talarius shuddered. Ascribing human emotions and motivations to a demon was heresy, he was fairly certain.

Yet if Stainsberry, and for that matter his own eyes last night, were to be believed, much of these demon creatures were formerly mortal — human, orc, or alfar beings to which traditional motivations could be applied. It would therefore seem that one could ascribe such motivations to them.

Talarius sighed. He was going to need a long day of prayer and contemplation. He should probably fast, but his morning hunger after the night’s rest was far greater than normal for some reason. He really wanted something to eat. It needed to be huge, a good snack, sweet, salty. Hmm…

Astlan, Orcan Plains, Stone Finger Camp: Mid Third Period

Tal Gor finished checking both his own and his tribe’s bandages. Fortunately, he had not been responsible for bandaging and healing, as a shaman normally would be without a healer. He could bandage as well or better than most, but his shamanistic healing was not quite what he might like. However, that had been taken care of by Ferroos, the shaman for the Stone Finger tribe’s camp, where they had spent the night.

It had been the Stone Fingers whose tents Zargvarst had spotted to the north of where they had been attacked by the alvar. They had flown there, not stopping to tend wounds; it had not been that terribly far when flying.

Naturally, their arrival had been greeted with shock and fear, but Lob had quickly shown the Stone Fingers their credentials from Mount Orc, which included a Stone Finger talisman. Their news and the obvious state of the orcs had further worked to smooth the introductions.

The Stone Fingers had quickly mounted a wargback party to retrieve prisoners and corpses. Nagh Felwraith led a band to the alvaran crash site. It went unspoken, but Nagh would be able to provide additional support should more alvar have survived than they suspected. The other D’Orcs stayed with the Crooked Sticks and Stone Fingers should any aerial attacks occur from other alvaran resources.

Elgrida Far Eyes, the chief of the Stone Finger band, also sent riders out to nearby tribes and bands to alert them. While awaiting the return of those seeking the remains of the alvaran force, Ferroos had treated the Crooked Stick wounds, which fortunately, were mere flesh wounds. No organs or serious damage had been done, in large part thanks to the skillful nature of the D’Wargs in shielding their riders.

During their patch-up, Elgrida mentioned that Ferroos had spotted the flying patrols, but had not been able to determine who they were. Tal Gor and their band had just confirmed their worst suspicions. This, added to the fact that the alvar had broken the armistice, was definitely cause for a small celebration.

Not only was war coming and they could begin plotting their strategies, but the Stone Fingers were anxious to hear of the battle in the sky. It had been a great long time since the orcs had had such a decisive victory. Five D’Orcs, six orcs and ten D’Wargs taking out one hundred alvar and another hundred hippogriffs was a monumental victory! Victory against ten times one’s own forces was legendary.

They had feasted and were well into celebratory toasts when the recovery expedition returned near midnight with about a dozen wounded alvar and a similar number of hippogriffs. Naturally, they had confiscated all the alvaran treasure they could locate before burning the bodies. They had cleared the area safely and monitored the fires until they began to die down; at that point they had left, leaving only a large cloud of oily black soot oozing into the sky.

Suffice to say, they had not gotten to sleep until the wee hours of the morning. To the consternation of the Crooked Sticks, D’Orcs neither slept nor got drunk on glargh. While they’d sipped some of their x-glargh, they preferred to remain vigilant through the night. Even with the late start to the morning, most of the orcs in the camp were feeling a wee bit glarghvosted.

“Let us harness the D’Wargs and get ready for the morning training session!” Zargvarst told the band.