“I am Leftenant Trig Bioblast, Second Shaman of the OCSS Skull Crusher,” the newest orc introduced himself.
“Greetings, Leftenant.” Beya nodded at the shaman. “I am Beya Fei Geist, Shaman Mistress of the Olafa Horde on Ithgar. We Dream Spoke previously.”
“Indeed; a pleasure to astrascope you,” the leftenant said.
“Farsooth Goretusk, Vice Shaman of the Rockgut Horde on Romdan,” Farsooth introduced himself. “I must ask, what is an OCSS Skull Crusher?”
The leftenant grinned. “The Oak Clan Star Ship Skull Crusher.”
“Starship?” Rupert asked. “Sorry — I am Rupert, Lord Tommus’s son and apprentice to Beya Fei Geist.”
Trig Bioblast arched an eyebrow and nodded in recognition to Rupert. He did not seem surprised that the Lord of Doom appeared to have an orc son. “Greetings, Prince Rupert.” He grinned. “Lord Tommus informed me that most of you were from technology-suppressed realms. A starship is an enclosed ship that travels not between continents but rather between the stars.”
Ragala-nargoloth choked on her cigar. “You mean the lights in the sky at night?”
The leftenant grinned and nodded. “Indeed; stars with planets around them and various races living on them.”
“Incredible!” Ragala-nargoloth shook her head. “Ragala-nargoloth, First Shaman of the Nart Tribe on Etterdam.”
“I will need to learn more of your strange world,” Tal Gor said, trying to sound more confident and experienced than he felt at the moment. “I am Tal Gor El Crooked Stick, Assistant Shaman to the Crooked Sticks of Astlan.” He had no desire to admit that he was technically only an apprentice.
“And I am Fer-Rog, son of Zelda, Steward of the Mount and Ser-Rog of the Bear Clan of Veresai,” Fer-Rog said proudly. “Oh, and apprentice of Beya Fei Geist.”
Trig Bioblast grinned at the boy and nodded in recognition.
“Well, now that we have the introductions done,” Beya said, “we have much to discuss, much work to do to reestablish the links and gateways between the worlds so that the Restoration of Glory may proceed at a pace satisfactory to the Lord of Doom.”
Trig Bioblast chuckled. “Ah, yes. Nothing like a good campaign of interdimensional conquest!”
Several others chuckled at that.
“If I could, I would drink to that!” Ragala-nargoloth said, pulling the cigar from her mouth. “Oh wait, I can!” She reached down beside her pillow, where a goblet suddenly appeared in her hand. She brought it up to her face and gestured in a salute before taking a drink.
Trig Bioblast glanced to Tal Gor. “She is quite skilled.”
Tal Gor could only nod in agreement at the leftenant and look in admiration at the hard-living shaman as she took her drink. Smoking and drinking while in a trance was certainly impressive.
“This place has seriously gone downhill,” Sentir Fallon observed, standing on the top floor of the long-abandoned tower in which the three of them were meeting.
“We haven’t used it in four thousand years, and we have never allowed any of our servants to know of this place,” Lilith replied.
“Enough small talk,” Aodh said. “We agreed that meeting here at our old location in Etterdam was far safer than meeting in the Abyss or the Outer Planes, and for the same reasons we had four thousand years ago.”
“Agreed,” Lilith said. “Sentir, I believe you said you had a favor to ask?”
“A favor, an early offer of negotiation,” Sentir Fallon replied.
“Very well; you know how I enjoy deal-making.” Lilith grinned maliciously. “What is your proposal?”
Sentir Fallon sighed. “Apparently some very foolish members of our Church and the Rod, in pursuit of this greater demon currently hiding in Mount Doom, joined forces with the Oorstemothians and have decided to invade the Abyss.”
Lilith blinked twice and then shook her head. “They what?”
Sentir Fallon sighed again. “Yes, apparently the Oorstemothians have built some sort extra-dimensional paddy wagon, allowing them to travel anywhere in the multiverse and serve up their idea of justice.”
Aodh made a snorting noise. Sentir Fallon and Lilith both looked at the avatar, who was covering his mouth to suppress a laugh. Sentir had not been aware that Aodh was capable of humor.
Lilith chuckled as well. “So, what — they loaded it up with a bunch of priests and Knights Rampant?”
Sentir Fallon shrugged. “So it appears.”
Aodh looked questioningly at Sentir Fallon and asked, “They are looking for a single knight, who was kidnapped by a so-called greater demon and could be anywhere in the Abyss?” He shook his head in amazement. “How do they expect to find this knight? They do realize that the Abyss is slightly infinite?”
Sentir Fallon rolled his neck on his head in frustration. “Mortals do not often think clearly.”
“Often? Try never,” Aodh replied smugly, shaking his head.
“So what do you want me to do?” Lilith asked.
“If you or your agents encounter them, try not to kill all of them. We will ransom their return,” Sentir Fallon said.
Lilith shrugged. “Very well.” Sentir Fallon felt a wave of relief, she was being quite reasonable. “Of course,” she continued, “I cannot vouch for Sammael. Even if I cared to inform him of this event, I would have no way to explain how I know about it. I am not about to reveal our machinations.”
“You may not,” Aodh said firmly. Lilith gave him a small glare of annoyance.
Sentir Fallon nodded. “I understand. We shall just have to hope that Sammael does not discover their existence.”
“So, now on to more interesting topics,” Aodh said, changing the subject. “Any word from the Lords of Chaos?”
Reggie stood in his room, turning, twisting and flexing in front of his full-length mirror, trying to determine the best possible poses to showcase his absolutely stunning muscle development. He was, he had to admit, incredibly handsome and gorgeous. More than he could have ever dreamed of being in his old life.
He was so incredibly beautiful he often found himself just looking at himself lustfully, or gently caressing his own arms, legs and every other inch of his hunky purplish body. He was a walking, talking, living, breathing (when he needed to talk, at least) sex machine! The perfect embodiment of male sexual perfection!
To add to that, he had been learning all sorts of new positions and maneuvers designed to please his partners from his accursed mistress, the bodaciously built black beauty, Merit-Ptah. He was the perfect lover, or would be once she finished his training. And that, right there, was the problem! He was not training! He had not seen his bootylicious babe of a mistress in several days, not since she had freaked out about learning that he was on a first-name basis with her boss. Well, her god rather, but he was pretty sure it was the same idea. He hoped that hadn’t offended her. He could not imagine that it would have intimidated such a strong-willed woman.
Reggie sighed. To say he was feeling frustrated, meaning sexually frustrated, would be an understatement. Things were worse now than they had been on Earth, where he had literally gotten no action that wasn’t his own! He had gotten so accustomed to the all-night love sessions with Merit-Ptah that he was now feeling this giant passion hole at the center of his being. He’d have called it a case of “blue balls,” but his were already a really dark purple, so that might not have made sense. Of course, that expression made no sense either; was it blue from cold?