Apostles of Doom

“This Titan is not the most dangerous, so that is good. The real danger is that it might disturb the sleep of others and wake up something more dangerous,” Völund said.

“So what do we do to stop that from happening?” Morok Deathstealer asked.

Phaestus shrugged. “For now, we keep a close eye on it. If the restlessness continues”—he paused and looked at a monitoring screen with some image on it that Tom couldn’t quite make out—“then the answer is probably the same as if it were fully awoken. If it woke, given time, it would work to awaken the others.”

Arg-nargoth sighed. “How many worlds are going to have to pay for that?”

“What do you mean?” Tom asked, concerned.

“For this particular Titan, the best answer would be to let it out for some exercise until it tires itself out and wants to sleep again,” Völund said sourly.

“Hence the death toll,” Darg-Krallnom said.

“And that works?” Tom asked dubiously. He couldn’t imagine an awakened Titan just going on a vengeful rampage and then docilely returning to sleep.

“With this one, yes. It’s been done before, both for restlessness and to be of use to the gods,” Phaestus said.

“Wait!” Tizzy exclaimed. “You said Aqua-Chamber K?”

“Correct.” Völund nodded.

Tizzy shook his head and grinned. “In that case I claim dibs on giving the order!”

“Dibs on the order?” Zelda asked, puzzled.

“Yes,” Tizzy said. “I get to be the one to say: ‘Release the Kraken!’ ”

Murgatroy

Vaselle was starting to feel more than a bit tipsy. He was in fact, quite drunk. This crap beer was hitting him hard, he realized as he swallowed the last of his fifth one. He motioned the barkeep for two more beers, one for him and another for the priest. Vaselle had started paying because naturally, itinerant priests did not have much money.

Vaselle was by no means wealthy. He had a good middle-class (by Freehold standards) income, which here was probably a pretty decent income. However, he also had quite a bit of change left over from exchanging Mount Doom gems for material components. Plus, he was quite sure he could get more gems and precious metals from Mount Doom if needed. He’d have to be careful about flooding local economies, of course, he thought dizzily.

He and Teragdor had been having a surprisingly enjoyable discussion. True, they did have a common background in wanting to serve the Five Siblings, but then their career paths had radically diverged. Or at least Vaselle’s had; he’d been forced out and into conjury, only to end up as a warlock to the Lord of Doom.

Teragdor had faced tremendous prejudice due his bloodline, but had somehow persevered in the face of prejudice, resentment, fear and generalized resistance to his becoming a priest. Which seemed to Vaselle a rather depressing indictment of himself: a half-orc could become a priest of Tiernon, yet he could not?

But Vaselle could not complain with his new lot, nor with his new acquaintance. Even though Teragdor was one of the FOG (Forces of Good) and he, Vaselle was a member of the FOE (Forces of Evil), at the end of the day, they had a lot in common. Strange how that sort of thing happened.

“So,” Teragdor continued. He was also quite drunk. Vaselle felt fortunate that half-orcs had only half the drinking stamina of full orcs, or he’d be under the bar at this point. He had learned that lesson at the party.

“So,” Teragdor started a second time after a hiccup, “you grew up in Eton…”

Vaselle nodded. “New Etonia, in a smaller town about fifty leagues from Hendel Hearth.”

“…and then moved to Justicia, when you decided to change your faith to Tiernon from Hendel,” Teragdor finished, recounting what he’d been told.

“Indeed.”

“Oh, would I love to see Justicia…” Teragdor sighed as the barkeep put a new mug in front of him.

“It is a truly glorious city, a fitting honor to the Lord God Tiernon,” Vaselle said, smiling, drunkenly remembering the beautifully clean city. The utter opposite of the shithole of a village they were now in.

“Amen,” Teragdor said.

“Amen,” Vaselle agreed.

“But then you moved to Freehold?”

Vaselle began to shake his head from side to side, but had to stop as he was getting too dizzy. “I spent several years in a school a hundred leagues or so from Freehold,” he corrected the other priest.

“And you graduated and moved to Freehold?”

“Correct.” Vaselle nodded in agreement.

“And you own your own business making arcane devices,” Teragdor confirmed.

“Yep. Like this one!” Vaselle tugged on his Amulet of Cooling, still around his neck.

Teragdor stared at it. “What does it do?”

“It cools a thin layer of air around your body and keeps you and the air you breathe cool even in extremely hot environments,” Vaselle proclaimed proudly.

“How hot?”

Vaselle shrugged. “I have it on some authority that it will keep you cool even in the Abyss!”

“No!” Teragdor drunkenly punched Vaselle in the shoulder, who swayed dangerously on his stool.

“Forsooth! I got the idea from a wizard who had travelled through the Abyss,” Vaselle said.