The Heavenly Host

The demon lord chuckled. “Strength comes in many forms. Do not belittle yourself. You have come here today, uncalled when we were about to look for you. Your strength as a shaman has impressed the commanders of the D’Orcs, and it has impressed me. You have chosen to come to me, and I could use your assistance. Will you swear to be my shaman?”

Still in shock, Tal Gor nodded.

“Grasp the head of my mace and swear by your name and tribe that you shall serve me faithfully as my shaman,” Dark Lord Tommus commanded.

Tal Gor reached out and grasped the head of the mace with his cut hand. “I, Tal Gor El Crooked Stick, son of Sal Gor El Crooked Stick and Mar An Crooked Stick, Apprentice of Horrgus Trifeather, do hereby solemnly swear to be shaman of Lord Tommus, Master of Mount Doom, with all the duties and responsibilities that ensue.” Tal Gor was improvising based on other oath-taking ceremonies he knew of; specifically, the shamanic oaths of service.

“I, Tommus, Master of Mount Doom, do hereby take thee, Tal Gor El Crooked Stick, to be my shaman with all the duties and responsibilities that ensue.”

Suddenly, Tal Gor felt himself overwhelmed by the presence of Tommus. Strange visions and things he did not understand swept through him and he felt weak and dizzy and lost, and then suddenly he felt a warmth and an embracing that was unlike anything he’d felt before.

Tal Gor, return to your sleep now. My commanders and I shall have work for you. We will need to hunt, a great deal, and will need your assistance to come into your realm. I shall contact you when the time is right, Lord Tommus boomed inside Tal Gor’s mind.

∼

Tom waited for his new shaman to disappear before turning to his commanders. “Well, that went strangely well.”

“Indeed. Would that shamans from other planes came so easily,” Darg-Krallnom said.

“I have, obviously, never witnessed a shamanic binding before,” Zelda said.

Tom shrugged. “To be honest, I have never done one before. I based it on what I’ve done before for binding warlocks and similar tasks.”

“It seemed pretty much identical to what your previous self did,” Arg-nargoloth said. “The words were different, but then, the ritual always varied according to the individual.”

Tom hoped so; he did not know for sure he was doing any of it right, warlock or shaman. He had spent considerable time analyzing what he had done with Vaselle, comparing it to his possession experiences, and had tried to refine it, make it less intrusive. He was not sure a warlock binding and a shaman binding would be the same, but he presumed they would be similar. Did not shamans channel spirits, sometimes being possessed? And presumably the shaman would want to call on his aid or power. Tom was not sure how such power sharing might work, although the aid part at least made some sense. He had a link to both Vaselle and Tal Gor and could roughly sense where they were. Presumably, he could send mana down that link the same way whoever had been upstream of the priests sent mana down to them.

“So that’s one down in Astlan. We should see about contacting some more shamans,” Tom said.

“I was thinking on the glargh,” Roth said, and Tom looked to the commander. “Neth Darthelm, Zog’s father, used to brag of how they ‘mass produced’ glargh in giant barrels on moving platforms in large breweries on planets that their tribe inhabited.”

Tom nodded. “A spacefaring tribe would probably have access to advanced manufacturing and mass production.” Except for Roth, the commanders looked at him as if he was speaking a foreign tongue. “Meaning I agree, that might be the best option,” he quickly added.

“For the hunting though, we want to do that the normal way. We have many warriors that would love to hunt the Planes of Orcs again,” Vargg said.

Zelda laughed. “Do you have any idea how many people have requested to be in a hunting party?”

Tom shrugged. “If we get enough shamans, perhaps we should do this more often. I think it would do a lot to sharpen skills and work off frustration.”

Darg nodded. “I like that idea, and I am sure the D’Wargs would like it as well.”

D’Wargs? Tom wondered. Like demon wargs, giant demon wolves ridden by orcs in Tolkien’s and other fantasy books. “You have both D’Wargs and hydra hounds?” he asked.

Vargg nodded. “The hounds are a bit small for riding.”

“And they tend to roast the prey before we get a chance to kill it,” Darg-Krallnom added.

“The hydra hounds go sort of flame crazy when they get out of the Abyss. Everyone here is immune to fire so they never get to toast anyone,” Roth said, shaking his head in sorrow for the poor hydra hounds.

“I like my bison and ox on the bloody side; I’m not a fan of eating cinders and ash,” Vargg said.