He shook his head, frustrated at his unmet needs. Of course, he had to admit, it wasn’t like he wasn’t getting any action. Sure, there were a huge number of really hot and horny D’Orcettes or Lady D’Orcs or whatever they were called, and they were not at all shy; anything but! He was routinely groped by them while walking down the corridors. It was quite fun, and sure, he probably made love to seven or eight of them a day, but that was not the same. Plus, that only accounted for what? Eleven or twelve hours out of his day?
Sure, he was learning quite a bit from the Lady D’Orcs. They were incredibly strong, so doing things like making love standing, or upside-down in a handstand, was pretty cool. As was sex on the wing above Mount Doom, but he just felt like something was lacking. Hell, he had even played around with a couple of those demon attendant guys at the Doom Spa! He had never seen himself as gay or bi or anything, but hell, it had been fun. Just not as fun as with his accursed mistress. He really missed her.
He wished there was some way he could make her summon him. He knew that it wasn’t supposed to work that way, but he wished he could. He longed to follow that binding link coming out of his chest, follow it right through the Astral Plane to Merit-Ptah’s house. Reggie closed his eyes, imagining how he’d do it.
Just like in his dream-loving sessions, he would follow the link through the crazy lights until he saw her sleeping form. There, resting in her bed, sound asleep, her more-than-ample bosom slowly rising and falling under her nightgown. He would sneak into her dream bedroom, lift the covers at the foot of the bed, and slide upward towards her warmth. He would nestle in gently and softly, his tongue reaching out to—
“Reggie!” he heard Merit-Ptah exclaim. He glanced up to see her sitting up, in her dream, and lifting the bed covers to peer down at him to see what was going on. “What are you doing here?” She seemed surprised.
Reggie felt hurt, and he knew it must have shown on his face. “I missed you, my dearest mistress. I needed your warmth, your love, your passion!”
Merit-Ptah blinked a few times, and suddenly her expression softened with love. “I’m sorry, my pet. I did not mean to neglect you. Let me make it all better…”
Reggie grinned at her from under the covers with unfettered joy, and an incredible amount of lust.
Sir Samwell was passing by the officer’s mess on the way to his cabin when he noted that Wing Arms Master Heron was alone in the mess, going over numerous documents spread before him on the table. This might be a good information gathering opportunity, Sammael thought to himself.
“You are working late,” Sir Samwell said.
“Late? I have no idea how one determines time in this place,” Heron replied, looking up as Samwell entered the small room.
“A good point. However, even after all this time — and especially odd given the fact that we do not need to sleep here — I still find myself thinking in terms of night and day.” Sir Samwell grinned and then frowned. “Actually, now that I think of it, many demons do the same. Even the Courts of Chaos have magically simulated night and day.”
Heron shrugged. “I suspect it is ingrained in everyone.”
“But why in demons?” Sir Samwell asked. “There is no fierd in the Abyss; why would beings from a world without a fierd have any sort of inherent desire to organize time as mortals would?”
Heron blinked in surprise, not having thought of that before. “That is unusual. Are you certain of this?”
“Well, if one is in the Courts of Chaos, it’s pretty hard to miss the fact that it gets very dark and lamps are turned on for half the day.” Samwell shrugged.
“That is odd,” Heron noted. “It is almost as if demons were not actually native to the Abyss.”
Sir Samwell chuckled. “I would not mention that to your religious comrades; I suspect such a statement would be considered heresy.”
Heron grinned at the knight.
Samwell sat down across the table from the Wing Arms Master. “So, I am a bit curious.”
Heron tilted his head questioningly.
“I get the impression that locating and rescuing me may not have been your primary goal on this venture. Am I correct?” Sir Samwell asked.
Heron suddenly looked a bit uncomfortable. “I will admit, finding you, and doing so this quickly, was a bit of a surprise. After all, the Abyss is a big place.”
“Indeed,” Sir Samwell agreed, nodding. “So, since it was not your knight that was kidnapped by this greater demon, what exactly is your, or rather, our — Oorstemoth’s — goal in this venture? What does Oorstemoth get out of it? Other than yours truly?”
Heron sighed, sitting back. “Well, that is a bit complicated.”
Sir Samwell nodded for the Wing Arms Master to continue.
“The Church and Rod of Tiernon became involved with this greater demon when one of their priests accidentally summoned the greater demon, who proceeded to open an Abyssal gateway and bring forth a party of mortals in the small city of Gizzor Del,” Heron said.
“Gizzor Del?” Sir Samwell asked in surprise. “Is that tiny hellhole of a city still around?”
“It is,” Heron said while Sir Samwell shook his head in disbelief. “In any event, this party booked passage to Norelon aboard the vessel of a smuggler wanted on multiple warrants for illegal trade, falsified permits, tax evasion, larceny, general perfidy and a host of other illicit activities,” Heron continued. “The Constabulary had word that he was in Gizzor Del and were waiting for him to leave so that they might execute the warrants against him.”
“A demon booked passage on a smuggler’s ship?” Sir Samwell asked, puzzled. “What sort of smuggler books demons as passengers?” He shook his head. “The moral turpitude of Gizzor Del must have sunk to levels even lower than in my day!”
“Well, not exactly. While the city has very few laws, it is not quite that bad yet,” Heron answered. “The demon came through with a second demon and three mortals. At some point in Gizzor Del, the greater demon disappeared and a fourth mortal, a Lord Edwyrd, appeared. It was Lord Edwyrd that booked passage. The second demon was also not present until much later. So Asmeth would not have been aware of the demons.”
“Ah-hah,” Sir Samwell said.
“To make a long story short, our Protectors intercepted the ship and demanded that they submit to summary high justice,” Heron told the knight.
“I would assume that in this particular case, the correct judicial sentence would be the destruction of the vessel and imprisonment or termination of the criminal and all associated parties?” Sir Samwell asked.
“Indeed.” Heron nodded.
“And I take it that this Lord Edwyrd and his party resisted the Order of Summary High Justice?” Samwell asked.
“Indeed, which automatically condemned them to their own Order of Summary High Justice,” Heron replied.
“Foolish of them. If they were truly innocent passengers, they should have worked to hand the criminals over to the Protectors and then submitted themselves for trial on the grounds of criminal ignorance of the law,” Sir Samwell said.
Heron nodded in agreement. “I am sure they would have been given a lenient sentence; perhaps only a decade or two in prison.”
“What is wrong with the criminal mind?” Sir Samwell shook his head in disbelief at such irrational behavior.
“I suspect it is something intrinsic to their naturally disordered state,” Heron said. “So this Lord Edwyrd not only prevented the execution of the warrants, he sank our vessel, killing the entire crew with the exception of Assistant Vice-Constable Pyromancer Fiernon.” He shook his head.
“They were truly asking for the Writ of Law to strike them down,” Sir Samwell said, once more shaking his head.