Apostles of Doom

Tal Gor nodded. It was good. Trevin D’Vils had assured them that her ship, which had returned after a few days away, had verified the alvar were gone from orc lands. She had given both himself and Ferroos link stones to contact the Nimbus in the event any more alvar were found. She had also promised to proactively monitor alvaran activity.

Tal Gor mounted Schwarzenfürze. “We thank you for your assistance, and for continuing to guard the prisoners. Contact us if they need to be cast into the Abyss!” he smiled at Elgrida and Ferroos.

“Good fortune in seeking the Doom of Astlan, apostle,” Elgrida said.

“Apostle?” Tal Gor asked her curiously.

“We do not like the term Emissary of Doom; it sounds too much like a diplomat,” Elgrida said.

Tal Gor winced at the frightful comparison. He could not argue that point — he had not thought of it — but now, particularly after the last several days, it was unmistakable.

“So we have decided to refer to you as apostles. All of you,” Ferroos said. “A thousand years from now, when storytellers around campfires regale children of the Restoration of Glory, it will be much better to speak of the Apostles of Doom and the Quest for Justice!”

Tal Gor nodded with a broad grin. “Thank you all!” He looked to Bor Tal and Zargvarst, who both nodded back, and then they launched themselves into the air towards Jötunnhenj and their Doom.

The First Lacuna

Nysegard, Teampull de Ùpraid

Sutekh, God of Chaos, Lord of the Desert Storm, Purveyor of Change, stood before the scrying pool beside his long-term ally, Dysnoma, Goddess of Anarchy, and their very useful compatriot, Baron(ess) Tartibsizlik. The scrying pool revealed an aerial view of the battlefield around the Citadel of Light, where the Storm Lords’ army had just fled the field of battle in defeat.

“Well, Tartibsizlik, your warning was most prescient,” Sutekh noted.

“The Lord of Law, the Oath Maker has returned,” Dysnoma said acidly. “Your minion and his allies did not finish off the Oath Maker as promised.” She glared briefly at Sutekh.

“It has been expensive,” Tartibsizlik said, hir face flashing to that of an angry old crone. “We have lost an entire Maelstrom, and now the Storm Lords have lost half of their supposedly overwhelming army, even with the interdiction and four risar at their disposal.”

“The Unlife are useful for the fear, disruption and chaos they bring. But perhaps it is time we recognize that they have their limits,” Sutekh said.

“Clearly,” Tartibsizlik agreed.

“Perhaps — or is it their leadership?” Dysnoma asked.

“Your suggestion?” Sutekh asked.

“Perhaps we should not put all of our Unlife support in the Storm Lords. I think it is time we provide Czernobog von Smerti with the resources he has been requesting,” Dysnoma suggested.

“If you wish,” Sutekh replied. “However, Orcus is moving quickly to undo much of what we have worked these last six thousand years to gain. We may need to move even more aggressively than that.”

Dysnoma chuckled. “I hope you were not expecting me to disagree? You know there is nothing in the multiverse that I want more than to punish my dear brother. He must suffer for our mother’s fate!”

The Second Lacuna

Citadel of Light, Dungeons: DOA + 20, Early First Period (During Battle)

Rede sat despondently in his cell. He had not seen the saint or the priest in what he guessed was two days. Fortunately, however, the guards had continued to bring him blood and fresh water, and emptied the chamber pot. Not that there was ever much for him to leave in the chamber pot, given his liquid diet.

Unlike a vampire, dhampyrs could and did eat food as well. They preferred meat, naturally, but could digest anything their non-dhampyr parent’s race could eat. He could survive on blood if need be, at least for longer than a non-dhampyr could survive on water; however, it was not particularly healthy in the long term and he would get sick.

He assumed the war was in full gear by this point. He based this assumption on what little he knew of the army’s plans and the fact that the number of guards was lower than it had been previously. He sighed, shaking his head at the irony of his situation.

For his entire life, even after his symptoms emerged, he had been on the side of the Light. He had done what he could to support their village and people. He had always rooted against the Storm Lords and their army. At least until he’d been forced to join them. At which point, as miserable as that might have been, it was his side.

Now, however, he was trapped in the dungeon of the Citadel, awaiting inevitable death. His only hope was for the Storm Lords to overrun the Citadel, killing everyone in it and then freeing him. How horrific! His own life depended on hundreds of thousands of people dying.