Apostles of Doom

Teragdor had shaken his head in wonder at everything that had happened while he had slept in town last night. There was a creaking noise behind him as someone came down the very questionable stairs in the tower behind him. Teragdor looked behind him to see a large man with a huge mane of hair and full beard stepping onto the main floor. The change in lighting from the outside to the inside kept him from recognizing the man in the interior darkness.

The man chuckled and nodded to Teragdor, seeing the priest’s expression of wonder at the activity in the fort. “When needed, we can literally move heaven and hell, it seems.”

Teragdor grinned and stepped aside into the courtyard, allowing the large man to exit. As the man came into the daylight, Teragdor gasped and fell to his knees. The prophet himself! The Prophet of Astlan, Baysir Tomgren, was standing beside him!

The prophet shook his head and gestured Teragdor to stand. “We are on a holy mission together, Teragdor, and time is of the essence, so no need for formality.”

“Your Holiness.” Teragdor bowed his head in acknowledgement as he stood.

The prophet chuckled. “You will learn, with time, that the true secret to miracles is speed and efficiency, my lad.” The saint made a broad sweeping gesture. “We need this fortress ready and we need it in place before any of those who might seek to hinder us are even aware of its existence. We need it to appear as if it sprang up overnight,” he said, chuckling at his own words.

“Well, Your Holiness, it is pretty close to that,” Teragdor said.

The prophet smiled down at him and nodded. “And in most cases, close is good enough.” He turned to look back at the construction. “Using a true miracle to make a permanent fortress would require so much mana that it would set off alarm bells throughout the plane. The trick is to use just enough mana to avoid detection and get the job done as fast as possible.”

“That seems reasonable.” Teragdor really had no idea how to respond.

The prophet looked carefully at him. “Teragdor, we value your assistance in this. In particular, we appreciate your assistance in helping us work outside our normal channels.”

Teragdor nodded. Stevos had been very clear that they wanted to do this outside the normal church hierarchy, for some reason.

The prophet continued, “Once built, this fortress and chapel will be in your province. Stevos will help as time permits, but it will be a challenge for you. We are going to man the walls with Torean’s Rangers, and a local priest of Torean will also be here. As we find people we can trust for this mission, they too will arrive and assist you.”

“Understood, Your Holiness. Or…” Teragdor paused, uncertain if he should go on.

“Or?” the prophet asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Or, I think I understand. I’m not completely sure why you are all so adamant about not involving the Church and Rod,” Teragdor said rather timorously for an orc, or half-orc.

Baysir nodded and smiled. They were suddenly surrounded in a dome of light, obscuring the sight and sound of the courtyard.

“What I am telling you, you must not reveal to anyone in Astlan that we have not vetted,” the prophet said. Teragdor nodded. “There have been certain actions taken by the Church and Rod that make us suspect there may be some corruption of doctrine, and potentially the shielding of information from Tierhallon. Until we know how great the problem is, we are taking no chances. The Rangers and Brothers of Torean we are using are from more isolated orders here in Astlan; they too have been sworn to secrecy by Torean’s saints.”

Teragdor gulped; this was far beyond anything he would have ever suspected. He shook his head. “What sort of actions have they hidden?”

Baysir chuckled wryly. “There has been a long strand of suspicious behavior, here and on a few other planes. However, the most recent is an undisclosed alliance with Oorstemoth and an undisclosed and unauthorized invasion of the Abyss.”

Teragdor’s eyes got wide and he had to steady himself. “The Rod invaded the Abyss?”

Baysir grimaced. “Yes, and we are not particularly happy about it.”

Freehold, Council Palace

“Wow,” Vaselle said as he stood next to Damien in the demolished grand foyer of the Council Palace.

“We probably should have magically reinforced the walls,” Damien said sourly.

“Well, at least the Council will be stimulating the economy with lots of construction work, what with fleeing demons blowing holes in walls and councilors battling it out with a former councilor,” Crispin, standing beside them, said with a smile.

Crispin had finally left Freehold for Djinnistan this morning, and so Tom had been able to establish a link outside of Freehold. Vaselle had decided then and there that he needed to construct something with a link on it outside the city. He had several items in his shop with links to himself; however, the wards had been up and blocking his links, so they had been of no use to his master.