Apostles of Doom

Exador shook his head. “Relax, it’s just Morthador, my greater shadow and trusted spy.”

Exador glanced into the darkest upper reaches of the room. “What news, my faithful servant?”

A deep bass whisper reverberated from the darkness. It was felt more in the inner bones of the ear than in the air itself. “Greetings, master. I have intercepted more transmissions from the Grove.”

“Curious. Who in Freehold would know to communicate via the earth?” Exador asked.

“Not to Freehold, but rather to Steelwell and other cities of the Modgradin Association,” Morthador whispered.

“The dwarves?” Ramses asked, puzzled. “What would be bothering them?”

“The alfar,” Morthador stated.

“Of course, the alfar, but that’s a given.” Exador shrugged impatiently. “Why would they use such a secure line of communication to whine about the elves?”

“Because the alfar are quickly marshalling forces for war,” Morthador said.

Both Ramses and Exador did a double take. “What do you mean, quickly marshalling? The alfar do nothing in less than a decade,” Exador asked peevishly.

“And against whom? The dwarves?” Ramses added.

“The orcs,” Morthador replied.

“Orcs?” Ramses’ face twisted in consternation. “The orcs in Astlan have not been a serious threat to anyone in thousands of years.”

“In Murgandy, in the town of Murgatroy, a sizeable contingent of orc warriors on D’Wargs, accompanied by D’Orcs, showed up on what appears to have been a supply run,” Morthador told them. “The alfar in the Grove are also claiming similar reports in Etterdam, Ithgar and Romdan.”

“I’m sorry, but what? Dorks and dwargs?” Exador asked. Ramses seemed equally puzzled.

“No, D’Orcs and D’Wargs. Demon Orcs and Demon Wargs,” Morthador replied instructively.

“Demon orcs?” Exador looked at Ramses. “Have you ever heard of such a thing? I thought we all came from human stock, except of course for the dragon demons… I suppose we should call them D’Dragons or something.”

“No, I have never heard of them,” Ramses said.

“They predate you,” Morthador said.

“Exactly how old are you?”

Morthador was silent for a while before replying. “Time has little meaning in the shadows in the belly of the ground. I do not know.”

“Okay then,” Exador said. “What do you know of them and why do the alfar hate them?”

“The D’Orcs were the minions of Orcus. He led them and the orcs in numerous battles against the alfar and their allies, on many worlds,” Morthador explained.

“Orcus?” Ramses grimaced. “I am pretty sure he was put down before my time; by an avatar of Tiernon, as I recall.”

“Yes, I’ve heard Damien’s bard sing the tale before the Courts. It was one of their favorite ballads. It was also indescribably long and tedious.” Exador shook his head. “But I am fairly certain it made good money for that bard.”

“Yes, you are right. I have heard it once.” Ramses tilted his head. “Wasn’t Damien’s bard also with the extra-greater demon?”

Exador grunted a short laugh. “I have to admit, this is getting curious.” He shook his head and turned back to the dark recess of the room. “What more can you tell me?”

Freehold, Council Chamber: Early Sixth Period

“I assume that I speak for us all in saying that it has been an exhausting day?” Gandros Ysandr-Eranos, Lord Chairman of the Council of Wizardry, asked wearily, resting his gavel after calling the Council to order. It had been two days since the main entranceway to the palace had been destroyed in the Council’s battle with Exador, and the entire Council had been working extremely long hours shoring up their defenses and dealing with structural damages to their fortress and city.

Meteor storms tended to be rather devastating. While Exador had been felled by half a dozen good-sized meteors, several smaller rocks had been drawn in with the larger one and rained down upon the city proper, causing collateral damage, as had Exador’s geo-quake spell. Miraculously, there had been only minor injuries.

“That would be an understatement,” Sier Barvon stated. The councilors had not only had to go out and inspect the damages, reassure people who were now worried about impending demonic vengeance, but also start preparing new defenses for what they were sure was coming soon.

“This is an unprecedented crisis and we are nowhere close to our full strength!” Tureledor complained.

“We were down a councilor as it was, awaiting the yearly meeting for the next election, and now one of our most formidable members has become our most formidable enemy,” Davron agreed.

“Trevin is out chasing down a goddess we could currently care less about and Damien appears to have gone missing,” Zilquar said.

Randolf shook his head. “Damien had to attend to some issue involving that Lord Edwyrd fellow, and took a few days leave. It was therefore Council business, given this Edwyrd fellow was pursuing leads regarding these demons.”

“So he said,” Sier Barvon complained. “Mighty convenient that he leaves a few hours before all hell — and I clearly mean that literally — broke loose!”