The Heavenly Host

“Ah,” Tom said. Had 40K got it right? He had always preferred the original, but if it turned out to be based on a real place — wait, he was already stuck in one crazy fantasy world. No need to think about gaming in another. He shook his head. “Such metal ships might prove interesting.”

Zog nodded and stepped back.

The next commander stepped forward stiffly and bowed. “Fester Dourtooth, son of Helga Dourtooth of the Dourtooth Clan of Nysegard.”

“Helga” — Tom gestured to the burly female — “is your mother?”

“Yes, My Lord.”

“And you have risen to commander, as well. Your prowess honors her,” Tom said. He really had no idea what to say to show appreciation, but he figured that anything you might say to praise a Klingon should work for D’Orcs.

Fester made a very slight grin — hard to detect, but noticeable. Helga seemed pleased as well as she stared at her son. Mother and son fighting side by side in battle. Tom mentally shook his head. He had not even been here an hour and already he was starting to think like a D’Orc — or a Klingon, at least.

Another female D’Orc stepped forward. She was, as they all were, quite muscular, but this one was noticeably a bit smaller, perhaps younger, than the last few commanders. “My Lord, am Velma Snargspitter, daughter of Heathgol Snargspitter, son of Hera Snargspitter of the Snargspitter Clan of Verasai.”

Tom was right; she was from a newer generation. He nodded in solemn greeting at the younger D’Orc.

“I am Morok Deathstealer, son of Arshog, son of Arog, son of Pharog and Vesog, daughter of Ysog, daughter of Ithog Deathstealer of the Deathstealer Clan of Attanoobe Five on the Plane of Orcneas, Visteroth,” said the next D’Orc, who was very unusual. He was very tall, quite thin and pale as a ghost, but he did have the other orc-like attributes.

Tom blinked. That was a very different genealogy than the others; was it incestuous? No time for that. He needed to get through this, but he was curious. “From the name of the plane and the planet name, can I take it that the Deathstealer Clan are space travelers?”

“Yes, My Lord. We plied our star system as traders and explorers,” Morok said.

“Fascinating,” Tom said. Morok stepped back and a very craggy-looking D’Orc stepped forward. He was very bulky, but still seemed rather young.

“M’Lord. I be Ferrus RockSmasher, son of Aeris RockSmasher, daughter of Plumbum RockSmasher. “We are from the RockSmasher Clan of Nysegard.”

Another male commander of about the same age as Ferrus stepped forward. “M’Lord, I am Hewith Bilespitter, son of Hegron, son of Haeron Bilespitter of the Bilespitter Clan of Verasai.”

The next commander was a bit smaller and younger yet. She seemed a bit more hesitant. “My Lord, I am Ruthus Tarpit, daughter of Rufus Tarpit, son of Teeg Tarpit, daughter of Reeg Tarpit of the Labraen Horde of Romdan.” Tom nodded at her. Yes, same generation as Zelda.

The last of the male commanders stepped forward; he appeared to be fourth generation, if Tom was getting the hang of this. “I am Kraukus Skullspitter, son of Kraig, son of Kaela, daughter of Raig of the Skullspitter Clan of Verasai.”

The last three commanders were women and of what Tom took to be the fourth generation. The first of the final three stepped forward. “I am Flora Lifender, daughter of Lucreza, daughter of Amethyst, daughter of Fauna Lifender of the Lifender Matrimony of Targella.”

The next one stepped up holding a rather odd-looking battle axe. It was very long along the hilt and narrow compared to what the others typically had. “I am Serah Sidesplitter.” She stressed the L in Sidesplitter, apparently to differentiate it from the various “spitter” clans. “My father was Trog Sidesplitter, whose father was Seroh Sidesplitter, whose father was Dagog Sidesplitter of the Splitter Horde of Excelsion.” She nodded and stepped back as the last of the commanders came forward.

“I am Vespa Crooked Stick, daughter of Selma Crooked Stick, daughter of Hazel, daughter of Vera of the Crooked Stick Tribe of Astlan.”

Tom nodded at her with a tight grin, as he had tried to do for all the others. “Well met. I shall rely on your strength and courage even as Zelda does. I am confident I shall be well served,” Tom said, once again making it all up as he went along. He had really never planned on being a general or a leader, and certainly not a dark overlord of a demon army. His nerves were really starting to fray. He just wanted to curl up into a fetal ball and make the world go away. Intellectually he knew he should be enjoying this — it was straight out of every teenager’s power trip fantasy — but all he could think of was how this was all going to blow up horribly once the D’Orcs figured out he was faking it.

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