The Heavenly Host

Hilda nodded in agreement. “It gets even odder. To get direct information, the three of us headed out to Murgatroy’s wargtown.”

“Its what?” Danyel asked, puzzled.

Hilda nodded her head. “Wargtown. Apparently it is — or rather actually is, since I spent the day there and can attest to it — a place to stable one’s wargs.” Danyel was looking at her oddly.

“Wargs: those giant, scary wolves that orcs like to ride,” Hilda said, thinking he did not understand.

Danyel nodded quickly. “Oh, I know what they are; I think all of us were raised on horror stories of orcs on wargback and their raids. It must have been terrifying!”

Hilda waggled her head from side to side. “Not as much as one might think. The orcs watching over them took more of my attention, and after I got a few glasses of glargh in them, and me, I really didn’t notice them that much.” Danyel was shaking his head in disbelief. “And, to be fair, being dead and currently an immortal saint does sort of lessen the tension in such situations,” Hilda admitted.

Danyel chuckled. “So you were getting the warg tenders drunk to tell you about something that happened?”

Hilda nodded. “Yes. A group of twenty orcs had flown in on D’Wargback the prior day with twenty D’Orcs.”

Danyel shook his head and looked completely puzzled. “Flew in? On dwargback with dorks? Huh?”

Hilda sighed. These creatures really had such an awkward name. One would think that after who-knew-how-many thousands of years, they might have realized what it sounded like and gotten a new name? She grinned, preparing to fill Danyel in on more details.

∼

Sir Talarius skewered a piece of undercooked roast... something and took a bite. Not bad; the spices used were a bit unusual, or was that the meat? He shook his head. At this point, he would not complain. He had not eaten the entire time he had been in the Abyss. He had not gotten hungry, but it still felt pleasurable to resume the habit. He had drunk water of course, from his Flask of Holy Refreshment. It was always cold and fresh, and that had done wonders for his morale.

He wandered away from the buffet table, enjoying being in the presence of two other humans and not needing to wear his helmet. He kept it tucked under his arm, just in case, but it was nice to not have it on all the time. Admittedly, he had repeated his exercise of barring his door and sleeping without armor. It really did help him regain his strength to get a good night’s sleep.

He could have done without the orc conspirators of the demon, but while surly, disreputable, disagreeable, smelly, unpleasant to look at, and of low character, they were still better company than demons. He was not that familiar with orc shamans, but they were generally the best educated, or rather the only educated orcs. Presumably, they were capable of civilized conversation.

He walked over to the youngest one, the one with the seriously ugly pet that was sleeping in the room behind him. This young orc seemed to have been wounded at some point; he walked with a limp and one of his legs was twisted very awkwardly and appeared somewhat shriveled under his trousers. Talarius was not a good judge of orc ages, but he guessed by his small frame and relatively good looks — good looks in the sense that Talarius could eat food while looking at him — that this one was a youth of less than twenty years.

“So, how were you injured?” Talarius asked. He was a warrior, not a conversationalist. Yes, as a Knight Rampant, diplomacy, politeness and a courtly nature were intrinsic to his training, but he was a damn hostage to a demon lord in the Abyss. Screw courtliness. He no longer had the patience after the insanity of the last week.

The orc looked at him suspiciously. “Wyvern,” he finally said.

Talarius blinked at this information and looked down at the lad’s leg and foot. “It appears long set, so not recently?”

Tal Gor looked at him for a bit and then stared straight ahead. “It was my second hunt. I was thirteen. My three hunting companions and I encountered the wyvern. They died; I fought it off long enough for my father, who had been trailing us, to catch up and slay it.”

“At thirteen, you held off a wyvern by yourself after it killed three others?” Talarius asked.

“Yes,” Tal Gor said. He appeared embarrassed.

“Hmm,” Talarius said. “Apparently the legends of orcs being nearly impossible to kill are true. If a youth on his second hunting trip can hold off a wyvern for any length of time — that is impressive.”

Tal Gor looked at Talarius angrily. “You mock my weakness?”