Apostles of Doom

The situation this morning, the emergency meeting — all of it had been mind- and soul-numbing to Karis and the other priests. She was in shock; she barely knew what to think. However, she was half-orc, a Battle Priestess of Tiernon, and they were at war against the Forces Of Darkness. It would be a far harder battle than they had anticipated, particularly in light of the secret that had been shared in the meeting.

Being cut off from Tierhallon also meant that those who perished would not immediately be sent to Tierhallon, as their souls could not get off-plane. That revelation had sent the assembled priests into the closest thing she had ever seen to a panic within the Citadel. Of course, there had been assurances that the avatars were working on this and would find a solution. However, in the meantime, they were not to bring this up with worshipers unless asked, and then they were to simply assure them that the avatars would handle things.

Karis had to admit, that was very small comfort. In any event, they had been instructed to focus their use of the limited mana supply available to healing and defensive spells. Keep people alive, keep them safe. Alternate plans were being made for the offense; in particular, how to remove the interdiction and restore extra-planar connections. That was the only offensive plan at the moment; everything else would be defensive.

Near the end of the meeting, Grob had motioned her over and told her to wait for him in the vestry. So here she now was, doing all she could to be brave in this unimaginable situation. She prayed to Tiernon directly, even though she knew it would not get through. The only place a prayer could get to at the moment was to the avatars already here. If she needed to pray to one of them, it would probably be more effective to just walk up and talk to them in person. She shook her head. What a weird situation.

The door to the vestry suddenly opened and Grob came in quickly and shut the door behind him.

“Yes, Vicar General?” Karis asked.

“Karis,” Grob said, coming over to her to speak more softly. “As you may be aware, the avatars do not want us reaching out to the Isle of Doom.”

“I was not aware of that, but given the resources we thought we had, that makes sense. No need to bother them; it would be very difficult for them to get here in time anyway,” Karis said.

“I know. I have no idea what resources they might have to spare, nor do I think they can get here very quickly. It is nearly a week of around-the-clock flying for them under the best of circumstances. However, we are in very dire straits. If nothing else, perhaps they can avenge us when they finally arrive,” Grob said.

Karis nodded grimly. It was a very dark thought.

“You know where the communication stone is, yes?” Grob asked.

“I do, Vicar General,” Karis answered.

“Then get hold of Targh Bowelsplitter and see what they can do.”

Isle of Doom, Krallnomton

“Orcus’s balls!” Targh cursed as Valg brought him the news from the Citadel. Valg had been the closest shaman to the linked talisman to the Citadel, and thus the one to answer its call. The young shaman had been in complete shock and quickly assured the person on the other end that he would inform the Oracle, Targh, and get back to her shortly.

“Sound the Call. We need to prepared for anything, including going to the Citadel if Lord Tommus agrees,” Targh said. “I will go gather the commanders in Mount Doom.”

Valg nodded and launched himself towards the Call Tower as Targh flew off towards the entrance to the volcano.

Mount Doom, Council Chamber

Tom entered the conference room with Darg-Krallnom and Tamarin by his side. Most of his commanders were already seated; he was surprised to note that Talarius had also come. Naturally he would have heard the Call of the Horns on the island and would have wanted to know what was going on.

Tom himself wanted to know what was going on. All he knew was that they had been contacted by the Citadel of Light, one of the largest fortresses belonging to the Five Siblings. He assumed that Talarius knew that too. This could be tricky.

Tom sat down in his chair; Tamarin shrank herself and sat on his shoulder. He waited a few moments for the last of his commanders to assemble. He then looked to Targh, even as Valg entered and went to stand by his grandfather’s side.

“What news?” Tom asked.

“Valg has received word from the Citadel that they are under an unprecedented attack by the Storm Lords,” Targh said.

“Unprecedented?” Darg-Krallnom asked. “That is a very strong word, given the history of the Citadel.”

“Indeed. It seems that the Storm Lords have not only lain siege, but somehow cut off all extra-planar contact to the Citadel,” Targh said.

That caused the assembled commanders to murmur amongst themselves.

Tom shook his head. “So they cannot plane shift or open gateways to other planes such as the Abyss? But do they even use demons? How much of a problem is this?”