The Heavenly Host

“Orcus? Like the demon prince Antefalken was telling us about? The one who was killed by Sentir Fallon in Etterdam?” Tom looked down at his mace, if this Orcus was the same as the fantasy Orcus from his world. “And they think I am him reborn because...?”

Tizzy grimaced and shrugged. “Because you reclaimed that.” He pointed to the Rod of Tommus.

“And that means my Rod of Tommus is really...”

“The Wand of Orcus?” Tizzy said hesitantly, apparently knowing full well that he had been hiding information.

∼

Lilith was relaxing in her spa; a small imp was giving her a pedicure. The imp had just placed her feet in the pleasantly hot blood bath below her spa chair when a knock came at the door. That should not have happened. Lilith carefully raised her hands to remove the Denubian Space Cucumbers from her eyes, being careful not to disturb the moisturizing mask on her face. “Come in,” she commanded warningly.

“Sorry, mistress, but this demon was carrying a high-priority token and said it was imperative to see you,” the extremely nervous guard explained.

“Come around where I can see the two of you better.” Lilith was not going to rotate her chair and disturb the blood bath, nor twist her head and disturb the mask. She recognized the guard. The smaller demon, a fiend, stood nervously beside the guard, wringing its hands.

She stared at the fiend, trying to remember who he was. She saw the token he was clutching nervously in his claws, noted the gulp of fear at her stare. She just could not remember who he was. “Your name?” Lilith demanded.

“Lesteroth Garflog, Your Dark Majesty,” the fiend yammered hesitantly.

Lesteroth Garflog. Lilith pondered the name. She had heard it before, a very long time ago. She raised an eyebrow. “Your commander is?”

“Darflow Skragnarth, Dark Majesty.”

Lilith shot straight up in her chair, spilling the bubbling pot of coagulating blood at her feet. “Everyone out and away from the doorway, now! Not you, Lesteroth Garflog,” she added as the small fiend started to retreat. The imp and the guard quickly fled through the door, shutting it behind them. “If you can still hear me, you will be worse than dead if you don’t get out of my voice’s range, now!” Lilith called.

She waited a few moments, Liliththen looked back to Lesteroth. “What word do you bring? It had better be important.”

Lesteroth gulped and nodded. “My commander bade me tell you ‘Mount Doom awakes.’ ”

Lilith, who had been leaning forward in her chair, now sat straight up. “That is not possible,” she said with an icy coldness.

“There have been multiple tremors, lava has been spotted flowing and storm clouds gather.” Lesteroth gulped again. “I swear, Dark Majesty; I have seen it with my own eyes, as have all the demons of Doom’s Redoubt.”

“This cannot be possible! There is only one way to wake that volcano, and HE assured me it could not be done!” Lilith stood, spilling the remaining blood from the foot bath, and began to pace, tracking coagulated blood over the white fur rug. Her face was taut and frowning with concentration. “I must see this. Prepare to return with me,” she ordered Lesteroth. “But first call all my attendants and get this mess cleaned up and me ready to travel!”

∼

The Wand of Orcus? He had stolen and activated the Wand of Orcus? Tom sat down on the nearby sofa. This was turning into one very bad campaign! First the Monty Haul dungeon of gems, now the Wand of Orcus? Any serious dungeon master putting this in an adventure would be run out of a convention! The only way you could have a Wand of Orcus sitting around was if it was at the culmination of, say, a five- or six-year-long campaign in which everyone played religiously. But even then, the Wand of Orcus? It was such an incredibly overused trope that... that... seriously? The Wand of Orcus?

He had only been a demon for a bit over a month at most! Now he had the Wand of Orcus and a horde of D’Orcs who thought he was Orcus reincarnated! Could this day get any worse?

Estrebrius suddenly leaped off his stool. “Tom! It’s Vaselle — he’s summoning me. We need to go collect your warlock!”

Tom just stared in shock at the little demon. His mind was starting to numb over again.

∼

“Well, there some of them go,” Lenamare said to the others. He was standing atop a tower on the city wall in the early morning light, peering through the semi-translucent wards as a good number of Oorstemothian ships rose into the air and began their turning arcs to return home. Some distance away, one could see the light of the runic gateway where a long string of Rod members, two by two, were leaving for Hoggensforth and their ships.

“It would be nice if they were all going,” Hortwell said.

“I suppose,” Trisfelt replied. “However, I am not that opposed to their presence if it provides a deterrent to another demonic invasion.”

“Is the sword going with them?” Lenamare asked.

“That’s a good question,” Damien replied. “I am sort of doubting it.”

“What are you two talking about?” Gandros asked.

“Talarius’s sword,” Damien answered.