Apostles of Doom

They had to take a small detour around one of the village wells, where three young orcs were battling it out with wooden practice axes. Valg chuckled at their youthful exuberance and joy while whacking away at each other. One of these days he would like to have children of his own, but he needed to win a girlfriend first.

An orc his age would have been married and had children and possibly grandchildren, but with his D’Orc blood, his first duty was to all the people in their charge. So training, vigilance and battle took precedence over his personal life. He could also expect to live considerably longer than an orc. It wasn’t exactly clear how long a half-D’Orc or anyone with D’Orc blood could expect to live. There were not that many after all, and most of them pushed themselves so hard that eventually an honorable death in battle claimed them. If not, they were still around and fighting after multiple centuries.

The oldest living half-D’Orc was about a thousand years old. D’Orcs and orcs hadn’t started intermarrying until about two thousand years ago, and the first several over-extended themselves in combat and perished. Shamans had not had any luck in summoning them after death, so presumably only full D’Orcs returned to the Abyss.

They reached Valg’s parents’ home, where he had grown up. Valg had moved into quarters within the volcano complex about two decades ago. His father had always felt too removed from nature and the spirits of the world within the volcano, so his mother had moved out to the village with him.

His father was sitting at his worktable in his wheeled chair, meditating; the strong smell of incense filled the living room. He opened his eyes as they entered, nodding respectfully to Targh, his son and giving his wife a tight smile.

“Ah, you come for a visit?” Valg’s father asked softly. He no longer had the fierce energy that Valg remembered from his youth. His physical health had been declining ever more quickly over the last one to two decades. His mind and his powers, however, remained as strong as ever.

“Indeed.” Targh’s strong voice reverberated around the closed space. He nodded to Valg. “Your son has confirmed the feelings I have been getting. Something is changing.”

Karth nodded. “Indeed; the very air is charged beyond anything I have ever experienced. I am feeling an overall increase in ambient mana, and I have no idea what could be causing that.”

“That is what it is!” Valg said, suddenly recognizing the sensation he’d been feeling. That feeling, as if before a storm — it was an increase in the surrounding levels of mana!

Targh nodded. “But what would be the cause of this?”

Karth shrugged. “Unfortunately, the most obvious would be that mana is being focused here in preparation for a large spell.”

“As in an attack?” Valg’s mother asked.

“That would be the most obvious,” Karth agreed.

“Are you sensing Unlife?” Targh asked.

Valg’s father shrugged. “I am basically stuck in this village. Around here, I sense no darkness, nor any with the mana; however, that does not mean it is not nearby.”

Valg nodded. “I have been surveying the lands around the volcano from the watchtower and have not sensed any Unlife; not within the range of my perceptions.”

“We need to increase our vigilance. I will also contact the other villages to see if they are noticing similar increasing levels,” Targh said.

Karth frowned. “A wise precaution, but if we have an enemy, presumably the Storm Lords, capable of this sort of attack… Well, if they can do it simultaneously in multiple locations, we are in very serious danger.”

Valg gritted his teeth. This was not good. He had not felt anything particularly ominous about these sensations until now. He still felt nothing directly, but this discussion was unsettling and caused his stomach to clench with dread.

Rumble.

Everyone in the room looked startled as the ground, and thus the entire house, shook with a tremor.

“What was that?” Valg’s mother asked.

“A groundquake?” Karth said, puzzled.

“There have been no quakes since the volcano went dormant,” Targh said, a note of concern in his voice.

“Let us get outside, in case there are more,” Karth said.

Rumble.

Rumble.

Several more tremors shook the ground as the four left the house, Eldebra pushing her husband’s chair. As they exited the house, they could see that everyone else in the village had come outside as well. People were looking around.

“In the air — we need to look around!” Targh commanded.

Valg, Targh, his mother and the other three D’Orcs currently in the village launched themselves into the air, fanning out around the village’s palisade, all scanning with D’Orc sight for threats.

Rumble.

Rumble.

Rumble. CRAAACK!!

A tremendous cracking noise came from above them, up near the dome of the volcano. The D’Orcs and everyone in the village turned to stare up at the cone of the volcano in shock.

“What in the Abyss?” Targh bellowed.

Rumble.

CRAAACK!! CRAAACK!! CRUNCH!!