The Heavenly Host

Antefalken shook his head. “I’ve known him since I first arrived in the Abyss. The only thing he ever seems to reliably remember to do is to restock his pipe stash. Otherwise, he is very unreliable. Actually, the fact that he’s stuck around so long with us is pretty remarkable.”

Edwyrd nodded. “That’s what I’ve noticed. Although I still don’t know where he’s keeping his pipe and stash.”

Antefalken grinned. “I can guess about the pipe.” His grin was suddenly replaced by a frown. “Although now that I say that, as a fiend he should not be able to do that.” He shook his head. “Whatever. I don’t think it is relevant, other than I have no idea where he gets the stuff he smokes.”

“If this is where this conversation is going” — Damien shook his head and reached for the wine decanter — “I’m going to need another drink.”

“Me too,” Vaselle said, lifting his glass towards the decanter so Damien could refill it.

“You would need a drink if you’d been stuck in a cave with Tizzy going on and on the whole time. If not talking to us or irritating Talarius, he would just start up conversations with himself,” Edwyrd said, smiling.

“You mean like the heated debate he had with himself over ruined buildings in the Courts of Chaos? And why someone might choose to live in a ruin?” Antefalken asked, laughing.

Edwyrd laughed and looked at Damien. “Tizzy is nuts. It’s just that this prophecy stuff from the D’Orcs has me getting a bit paranoid.” He turned back to Antefalken. “Before one goes too far off the deep end, it’s always critical to step back and take a rational look at reality and who one is dealing with.”

Damien chuckled and lifted his wine glass in a toast.

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^{DOF +8}

^{After Midnight (Murgatroy Time) 16-05-440}

Tal Gor groaned as Schwarzenfürze was buffeted by a particularly strong wind current. He was strapped in pretty tight and resting his head on the D’Warg’s neck and the back of her head. He was trying to sleep off a bad case of glarghvost as they flew to Murgatroy, but it was a bumpy flight. He could only imagine how his family and tribemates were doing on their D’Wargs. Evil D’Orcs had been having great fun at their expense. Glargh could not make D’Orcs drunk, but they had failed to tell anyone that, so that had led to drinking challenges that his tribe had all promptly failed. It was very hard to outdrink someone who could not get drunk.

The D’Orcs had eventually explained to everyone that they drank x-glargh, which was a more potent (as in fatal to orcs), version of glargh. They wanted to get glargh in Murgatroy so they could doctor it into x-glargh for their party. At this point, Tal Gor could not even imagine a party with glargh, let alone x-glargh.

They had had an incredible feast and party after they had returned from the hunt. No one in the tribe could remember a bigger haul for a hunting party. Nor could anyone recall stories of one. The D’Orcs had let the tribe keep as much as they could readily eat or preserve, and the rest had been hauled through a portal to Mount Doom for the feast of Lord Tommus.

The tribe had eaten better this evening than they had in at least a generation! It had been a feast to remember for a lifetime and everyone was exceedingly pleased. The hunters had regaled the rest of the tribe with the events of the day, their great kills. He smiled to think how jealous those who had been left behind were. None of them had ever hunted from the air before. So much glory! So much honor!

Even through his lingering drunken haze and severe headache, Tal Gor felt deliriously happy. Now they were on their mission for more glargh. The plan was to go and buy as many barrels of glargh as they could; he would then summon Lord Tommus. They would then all go into Mount Doom, bringing the glargh with them. Lord Tommus said they would do the swap in the freezer so as not to be roasted. Very odd comment, but apparently it was quite hot in the Abyss.

Lord Tommus had left his son Rupert and Rupert’s friend Fer-Rog with the tribe. Apparently, Lord Tommus could communicate with Rupert. He would summon Lord Tommus to open a portal, and then the orcs could return to camp without having to make the long return journey, bringing a couple of barrels of glargh back with them.

It would have been a lot of effort to carry a dozen or more barrels of glargh on the long flight back to the camp. Tal Gor shook his head, thinking about how much easier life was when you could fly and open shortcuts to other planes to travel through. It was literally the stuff of legends.

As he eyed the dark, distant ground below him, he wondered what it would feel like to be puked on from above. Certainly worse than bird droppings. Something or someone down there might have to find out soon. His stomach was no happier than his head. He gently petted Schwarzenfürze’s fur as they flew; doing so was rather soothing to his glargh-addled body.

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