The Economic Woes of the Lord of Evilland
Epic #5 – Rorgaag the Slayer
Within the walls of the lair of the Lord of Evilland stands a long, wooden table adorned by the bones of many adversaries of the emperor of the realm – in the center, a pile of skulls melded together with resin towers over the rest of the bones as a cabal of various beings enter the room: one by one the ministers of the Lord of Evilland enter the council chambers – the orc finance minister Rorgaag the Slayer being the first to enter with a series of tables and charts he begins to set up at the head of the table for presentation. Next to arrive is Loogrug Staabs, who struggles to pull out a chair designed with significantly larger beings in mind before the foreign minister Ogre King Grushuum waltzes in and pulls out the seat for him.
As the minutes pass more and more beings take their proper seats at the table – a stone troll covered in moss and carrying scrolls on his back, a demonic centaur with burning horns engraved with esoteric sigils and a gigantic minotaur covered in black, blood-stained fur carrying a massive club studded with metal spokes all arrive for the bi-weekly meeting: all here to represent their area of concern with the emperor being absent – as usual it seems these days.
"Alright...” the orc finance minister begins as he produces a parchment of names for roll call - “ Loogrug Staabs is present, as is ogre King Grushuum, interior minister Uruug, energy minister D'vorrah and...” he sighs with a bit of contempt at the mention of the following individual “Tarrox: Slayer of Man, Beast and Risen Dead. Here to advocate for more war, I suppose...”
“More war!” the blood-soaked minotaur replies with a deep, booming voice filled with sadistic malice. “War is life – war makes living worthwhile! War makes Evilland great!”
“In other times perhaps, but right now it's putting a huge drain on our resources” the orc finance minister retorts as he opens up the charts and graphs he has set up earlier. “The first item of business here actually relates to this issue as developments in recent months have negatively impacted our ability to wage war due to lack of experienced manpower resources – I refer specifically to the incidents involving Komaang and Blue Zonja, of course: thanks to the unfortunate events surrounding these people and their relationship to our now-absent lord, the cost of acquiring mercenaries, especially experienced shock troops, has risen over 400% as you can clearly see here in Figure A” he finishes as he gestures towards the graph at the head of the table.
“Therefore” he continues, “it behooves us to come up with some way to either bring down the cost of experienced troops or else scrounge financial resources from other sectors to continue our war efforts. Any ideas?”
“New troops not needed!” the minotaur interjects. “Let me and my war herd supply all the shock troops! We shall bathe in the blood of the fallen for many days and then seek out even more blood to bathe in!”
"For the last time, Tarrox” the orc finance minister interrupts, “that's simply not feasible – your war herd doesn't have the numbers to effectively cover all fronts! Besides, there needs to be at least 10% of your available fighting force held in reserve to deal with rebellions: do you not remember that incident with Blue Zonja's people we just finished dealing with? Do you have any idea how long and hard that struggle would have been if we didn't have elite shock troops to break them quickly?”
“My people grow restless when no blood is being spilled!” the minotaur roars back at the finance minister. “We crave blood! We crave death at our hands and the crunching of bones beneath our hooves! You deny us this because you are too weak to keep a few warrior chicks in line!”
“Orge King Grushuum say that the amazon rebellion is but symptom of larger problems” the foreign minister interjects. “Ogre King Grushuum say that Blue Zonja isn't the only regional warlord looking to rebel against Evilland – due to issues with delivery of wages to mercenary troops, others may follow the example of Blue Zonja and challenge the Lord of Evilland directly. Ogre King Grushuum say that your war herd may be crunching bones soon enough even without going to the frontlines.”
“In any case, we still haven't addressed the original issue here – how do we reduce the impact on the bottom line casued by the cost of manpower?” the orc finance minister questions in an attempt to refocus to discussion. “Normally I would advise seeking out a new source of manpower to make the market for mercenaries more competitive and bring down costs, but we are a bit short on available manpower right now due to incidents already discussed previously. Does anyone have other ideas?”
“Ogre King Grushuum say that these current conflicts cannot be sustained without additional resources” the foreign minister answers. “Ogre King Grushuum say that dialogue needs to be opened with at least one of the belligerent powers we are currently fighting against - if we can negotiate a peace agreement, we can begin diverting manpower from the former frontline area to other fronts that are in greater need. Ogre King Grushuum say that he believes that the reptilemen in the South would be the most receptive to overtures for peace at this time now that recent incidents have caused the price of virgins to fall: they might just be willing to make peace in exchange for access to the virgins we have on hand if we offer them a discounted price.”
“And deprive ourselves of much-needed virgin revenue?” energy minister D'vorrah questions as the sigil-inscribed horns above him blaze hotter than before. “Why not just take an axe to our own feet? Evilland struggles to pay off its creditors as it is and our economy runs on virgins!”
“This is why... I spoke... To representatives... Of Virgin-Mobil... About alternative... Uses for virgins... To generate more revenue” the stone troll Uruug lazily chimes into the conversation. “They suggest... A new league... For sporting events... Surrounding virgin sacrifice. It would lead... To the rise... Of new business opportunities... And create... More taxable income.”
“And I suppose that they do this from the kindness of their hearts too...” D'vorrah sarcastically remarks. “What did those vampires offer you to advocate for their interests? What does it take to buy the voice of the interior minister at this table?”
“Look, I don't want to accuse anyone of anything!” the orc finance minister interrupts. “And we need to keep options on the table here! What exactly is it that Virgin-Mobil plans for this new sporting event?”
The stone troll reaches slowly towards the sack of scrolls on his moss-covered back – producing a parchment that he gently unfurls on the bone-adorned table as he begins to speak. “They propose... A temple complex... In six major centers... Of trade and commerce. “They ask... For those temples... To be dedicated... To six different eldritch gods. And they ask... For those temples... To be exempted... From property taxes. They promise... That the rise... Of new businesses... Surrounding the temples... Will more than provide... Enough taxable income... To make up the shortfall... And much more.”
“Hmph...” the energy minister scoffs at the troll. “Surely a big corporate entity would never make promises that it can't deliver on! What guarantee do we have that these temples will draw enough of an audience to warrant the creation of businesses to service their needs? This is just a waste of valuable virgins on public spectacle if you ask me!” he continues as his horns finally begin to cool as his rage is replaced by simple disappointment.
“Perhaps we could... Promote their sport... During a season... Unfit for other events” the troll replies. “The spring... And summer rains... Make the ground... Largely unfit... For Death Derby events. Perhaps we could... Promote the sacrifice... During this time... To prevent... Competition from overlap.”
“So, you propose Death Derby as the winter sport and virgin sacrifice as the summer sport?” the orc finance minister inquires. “This might be workable, but I think that a complete exemption from property taxes is a bit much here – especially since the plans for these temple complexes you present call for the acquisition of lots of prime real estate: see if they will respond to a 25% reduction in property taxes and some zero-interest loans to cover the cost of construction instead” he continues before turning to the rest of the council of ministers gathered at the table. “So, any other suggestions?”
“Generating revenue might be the least of our problems” a garbled, echoing voice proclaims from an undetermined point in the room – within moments of this utterance, a series of tendrils and arthropod limbs materialize from the shadows on the walls as a conglomerated mass before they take a vaguely humanoid shape wreathed in shadow that pulls up to a seat at the table.
“Meffas, minister of propaganda and press – you are late” the orc finance minister says with a nonchalant tone in his voice. “We discussed this before: you need to make an effort to appear at these meetings on time.”
“Apologies great slayer” the shadowy being replies as it produces a chart with polling data from its amorphous mass. “I was delayed by my work, which is becoming increasingly difficult as these conflicts continue to rage on: as of today, only about 5% of the total population is in favor of waging these conflicts while 20% vehemently oppose them – the remaining 75% are presently indifferent, but that might change as the costs become more apparent to their own lives and livelihoods.”
“Bah!” Loogrug Staabs responds dismissively. “Let dem complain all dey want! With no central leader to git dem all stirred up, dey will just keep on doin' what dey be doin' – and no central leader will stir dem up cause me and me boys keep on stabbin' dem whenever dey speak up!”
“But even without a leader the discontent has significant impacts” the shadowy press and propaganda minister retorts. “Already we have seen a 30% decrease in productivity across the board as morale plummets throughout the working classes – without a common cause to rally the workers around, they become complacent and disillusioned enough to not put their all towards their jobs or even inflict economic losses on their workplaces via corruption and graft: resulting in lost revenue that could be diverted towards the war efforts. Discontent in the shadows may be less grandiose in its destruction, but it's also more insidious and harder to address.”
“Ya worry too much about dey feelin's – just threaten to give dem all a good stabbin' and see dem redouble dey efforts!” the goblin replies. “Ya be overthinkin' dis!”
“You can't just stab all the workers!” the press minister rebukes the goblin. “In fact, a significant portion of the enslaved workers would regard that as a form of bitter mercy – especially those amazons that were just introduced to the marketplace: I have personally seen quite a few of them beg for death once they heard of the fate of their homeland and its rulers – to such persons, it's better to die than live in such undignified circumstances”
“Then perhaps that's what needs to be done” the orc finance minister interrupts - “most of the captive amazon warriors are virgins, so I'm sure that Virgin-Mobil will be happy to take them off our hands at a discounted price: they aren't the best quality, but they won't argue too much with a price that's about 20% off the going market rate – besides, we can't let them spread that attitude of 'dignity or death' to the other slaves, now can we?”
“Ogre King Grushuum say that this is the best possible solution to this absurd problem we are faced with – one which would not even exist if our current ruler were not so divisive” the foreign minister interjects. “Ogre King Grushuum say that he wonders just where our great emperor is in this hour of military and financial crisis anyway! Ogre King Grushuum say that it's his duty to see to it that Evilland is properly governed!”
“Well, our illustrious emperor Zhorg the Sovereign Lord of Evilland, may his reign be long and prosperous, is currently taking some personal time in a small resort town called Delapore along the Northern coast” the orc finance minister explains. “I hear that his vacation was cut a bit short by some kind of elf trouble or some such, but he is expected to return before this day is over.”
“What da hell do ya mean 'elf trouble?'” the goblin intelligence minister interrupts. “Me boys haven't told me of no gods damn pointy-eared bastards up there!”
"Perhaps it's ratmen...” interior minister Uruug replies. “I have heard... Many rumors... About their kind... Building tunnel networks... Underneath population centers.”
“Don't be stupid!” Tarrox bellows out at the rock troll. “There are no ratmen! And if there ever were, my war herd would have slain and devoured them all long ago! They are nothing but tales told by the parents of weak little humans to their offspring to frighten them into compliance with their arbitrary rules!”
“Settle down!” the finance minister shouts from the head of the table. “I am just going off of early reports that come from the intern our emperor recently hired and they seem rather sketchy right now. Loogrug Staabs, I charge you and your department with investigating this incident: have a full report ready for presentation at the next bi-weekly meeting and we will see what needs to be done about these disturbing rumors that the intern relayed to us.”
“Heh...” the goblin chuckles. “Who woulda thunk dat some college chick would be doin' more work runnin' Evilland than da boss himself?”
“You dare speak ill of the Lord of Evilland, goblin scum?” Tarrox roars. “He is what keeps us strong! He keeps us culling the weak and useless through constant battle!”
"Battles that... He does not... Participate in... Himself these days” Uruug interjects. “He spends less... And less... Of his time... On the front... Each passing month.”
“He is needed here to discourage rebellion” Meffas opines. “You are surely well aware of the fact that many regional lords are tempted to take advantage of popular discontent and declare themselves independent states from Evilland – so long as the emperor remains, they will think twice before making such declarations.”
“A notion that has been seriously challenged lately” D'vorrah the energy minister retorts. “We all saw what happened with Blue Zonja lately – although her rebellion was crushed, it raises the very real question regarding who else seeks to challenge his rule. And we all know that as long as the wars rage on the popular support for the Lord of Evilland with be whittled away: we need a strong leader to keep the regional lords in line and I for one have doubts about Emperor Zhorg's abilities to accomplish this task under the present conditions – either the wars end or we face more rebellions with each passing year!”
“Enough!” the orc finance minister shouts as he pounds the table with his fists. “Look, we all know that our present emperor isn't the best statesman and that he has a tendency to cause more problems than he solves – no one sitting at this table with the exception of Tarrox believes that Zhorg is the best man for this job, even though no one will say so in public” he says with a heavy sigh at the end. “But what choice do we have but to work around him?” he continues “There's only one way to remove him from his position of power and you all know what that is: I doubt that anyone here is up to that challenge – does anyone here have a dissenting opinion?”
With this silence fell over the table – all but one of the ministers gathered here recognize the true source of their troubles, but none can do anything about it: the only way that the Lord of Evilland can be replaced is through a challenge to personal combat and emperor Zhorg has proven himself to be the greatest one-on-one combatant alive. All gathered at this table have seen him tear apart entire companies of soldiers single-handedly, slay demonic beasts and undead abominations conjured by sorcerers and even butcher his own offspring just to elevate his status as a fighter – it is said that he is all but invincible so long as he bears the armor gifted to him by his adopted father Chorneesh and few will even recount the tale of how he allegedly convinced the god of bloodshed and carnal pleasures to grant him that cursed relic.
“So then...” the orc finance minister pauses. “I believe that this concludes our bi-weekly meeting. I hope you all have some better news to report at the next one...” he states as he rises up from the head of the table and calmly walks out the door.
***
The orc minister works at his desk in the fortress lair – going over the journal entries for revenues and expenses incurred by the daily activities of the realm of Evilland: payments to soldiers, construction and maintenance costs for vital infrastructure, revenue generated by taxes (almost exclusively collected from the lower classes – it seems as though the wealthier members of Evilland society have all immunized themselves from being taxed...) and, the favorite of his lord, income from looting despoiled enemies – the last of which is the only positive source of income on the books this quarter. But even this positive has a significant downside as the income derived from looting the amazon homeland of New Themiscyra that puts them in the black also deprives them of a significant amount of tax revenue due to despoiled lands that were once productive for Evilland (not to mention the cost of resettling and refurbishing the infrastructure destroyed in that campaign) and had a significant impact on the price of mercenary troops.
Rorgaag the Slayer can do little more than press his fingers into his eyes with frustration at this somber acknowledgement of the financial realities of Evilland – it seems that all he can do is try to conjure enough income to cover the ever-increasing expenses posed by the whims of his lord these days in an attempt to stave off a political and financial collapse for another year. But dwelling on this bleak reality isn't doing any favors for his health or his mental state, so he rolls up the scrolls and returns them to their appropriate place in the shelves so that he might forget these worries for the remainder of the day and get some exercise in.
“Guard!” he calls down the hall from his office as he locks the barred gates of the door behind him - “send word to the minotaur war herd soldiers that they should have half a dozen of their number meet me in the sparring area within the hour. And tell them to bring blunted weapons this time: I will not risk the injury of elite troops when they are so hard to come by these days!”
“But boss,” the guard replies, “ya know how da cows hate combat that don't go to the death.”
“If they wish to have their pound of flesh so badly they can await their rotation to the frontlines – in the meantime they need to keep their skills sharp and so do I. Deliver the message and then run as fast as your feet can carry you” the orc finance minister replies.
“As ya say boss” the goblin says with more than a hint of dread in his voice – more than a few of his compatriots have been torn apart by the elite guard of the minotaur war herd when delivering them unwelcome news.
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After a brief walk from the office to training chambers, Rorgaag the Slayer places the tools of his primary trade on a stool beside the combat ring – his pencils, glasses, presentation materials – so that he might engage in the activity that gave him his name: no one, regardless of academic ability or qualifying experience, ever rises to any level of significance in the realm of Evilland without proving oneself in combat – the strong dominate the weak and that has been the way of things for many generation and the very concept of anyone in a position of leadership who cannot slay his competitors in open combat is anathema to the ways of Evilland.
“Alright...” the orc finance minister grumbles to himself as he climbs the ropes into the ring in full armor and tower shield – his normal battle axe switched out for a blunted one that had the spoke removed from the top. “Just where are the minotaurs?”
No sooner than he finishes that question to himself does the sound of stampeding hooves reach his ears – through the doorway on his left come six bulls full of fire and rage with the one at the front carrying the head of the goblin guard that was dispatched to summon them.
“What is the meaning of this insult?” the minotaur at the head of the stampede bellows out. “You know our ways! You know that a fight to the death is the only honorable one, yet you would have us use blunted weapons?”
“I believe you are well aware that...” the orc finance minister begins just as he is cut off by the outraged roaring of the bulls.
“There is no excuse for this cowardice!” the head minotaur in the group rebukes the orc. “We shall fight, but you will taste our full fury as we shall fight with our weapons fully sharpened!” he shouts with fury as he leads the charge over the ropes, soon to be followed by the rest of the stampede.
I suppose there's no avoiding this... the finance minister ponders to himself with a sigh as he readies his blunted axe – with a single strike to the mid-section of the head minotaur, he leaves his bovine foe on the floor in a heap as he charges over the top of the ropes. Two more of the beasts come from the ropes on his left and his right: the blocks the blow of the one on his left with his tower shield as he sweeps the legs of the one from his right with his axe before swerving towards the previously blocked opponent for a strike over the head – leaving him unconscious on the floor.
“Three down already...” the orc calmly informs the remaining bulls - “if you wish to be added to the tally, be my guest.”
At this rather measured and serene taunt from the orc, the remaining bulls back away in confusion – seeing the strongest of their number fall to a single opponent in this manner causes them to question their own fighting prowess.
“Smart move” the orc answers their actions as he bends down to pick up the bulls he previously floored. “Such insubordination would typically mean death, but I know that we can't afford to expend experienced troops right now” he adds as he allows two of the bulls to leave the ring.
“However...” he continues as he approaches the first minotaur to charge over the top of ropes, “some measure of discipline is in order” he finishes as he delivers a solid right hook to the jaw of the beast – knocking loose a couple of the bull's teeth and sending him back to the floor. Even as the beast moans with pain, the orc continues his assault: grabbing his hind leg between his own, forming a figure-eight leg-lock, has he pulls back on the hoof until the knee dislocates from its socket – eliciting a cry of agony from the wounded bull.
With a low squat, the orc hefts the injured beast off the floor and tosses him from the ring towards his herd mates. “Fix him up and have him return to duty ASAP – and know that further insubordination will not be treated with this leniency...” he commands as he leaves the ring to continue his exercises in the free-weight area. It's too bad... he muses to himself as he stacks about 300 lbs on a barbell for some clean-and-jerk exercises, I was really looking forward to a good sparring match, but it seems as though the minotaurs are getting rusty – they really need to take care to keep their skills sharp, but they are so opposed to a good sparring session. What to do about this problem...
“Hey boss!” a goblin guard calls to the orc finance minister as he just finishes his first set. “We just got word dat the emperor is on da way – he'll be here in less than half an hour!”
“I suppose this will have to wait...” the orc sighs in frustration – given a choice between the insubordinate minotaurs and the Lord of Evilland, he would happily deal with the former any day of the week as he has the option of beating some sense into them. The emperor, on the other hand...
I just hope that he didn't fuck things up too much on his trip... he silently frets to himself as he leaves the training area to meet his lord.
***
A blue coach pulled by a team of mules pulls up to the gate of the lair of the Lord of Evilland – they swing wide on their iron hinges to allow the team access to the courtyard of the palace. The coach quickly moves along the path towards the entrance of the great, black fortress that the emperor calls home before coming to a complete stop – the coachman quickly descends from the driver's seat to open the door, allowing the Lord of Evilland himself to emerge from the vehicle.
“Ah, it is good for the Lord of Evilland to be back in his lair!” he shouts into the air as the door to the main entrance opens wide. “He believes that this experience was exactly what was needed to revive his weary spirits!”
“Yeah, glad to be of help to you emperor dude” Brett answers merrily from inside the coach. “You really know how to party, man – you are welcome to slay the ceremonial virgin at my party anytime.” he finishes as Lavinia follows her lord out of the mule-driven vehicle.
Thank you so much for salvaging this disaster of a trip!” Lavinia says with utmost gratitude in her voice. “I know why you had to let us go from the job, but that party was absolutely banging! And the local fishermen didn't even seem all that upset once they had a few shots of booze in them! I don't know how we could have averted a crisis without your help!”
“No problem, Lav” the bronzed lifeguard responds with a grin on his face. “You can drop me a line any time – I'm off to Oonai, so you and the girls can feel free to join me in party city down there, ok?”
“Were I not bound by duties here, I would take you up on that offer in a heartbeat!” Lavinia answers as her lord casually waltzes towards to open doors of the lair. “But I owe my life to my lord, quite literally, and can't just leave his side right now.”
“That's cool – I'll be around if you got any time to spare.” the lifeguard finishes his thought as the coachman closes the door in preparation to leave the fortress.
***
Upon entry into the main hall of the fortress, the Lord of Evilland is met by the orc finance minister. “Good afternoon, my lord” the orc greets the emperor - “we have much do discuss in relation to the well-being of your kingdom, as well as your most recent experience in Delapore.”
“Ah yes, the home of a most gracious host!” the emperor interrupts. “The Lord of Evilland will most certainly return there when he feels the need to get away from the stresses of rulership and indulge in much consumption of booze and bedding of random beach chicks.”
“You are indeed a beast, my lord!” the goth intern agrees with her master. “Taking on three at a time is quite a feat of animal power and stamina!” I only wish I could have been part of it... she leaves unsaid, even as the yearning is visible on her face.
“Uh...” the orc finance minister pauses. “I... I was referring to the incident with the 'elves' by the docks. You know, the one that resulted in the death of your intern...”
“Oh, foo!” the goth intern retorts. “What's a little bit of death between friends? Right, my lord?”
“It does seem as though death has lost much of its meaning to one that has been risen from their essential salts so many times” the Lord of Evilland answers. “But such matters pale in comparison to a debt that the Lord of Evilland must pay to a former roommate – the incident you allude to cost the Lord of Evilland his job and he had to rely on loans from the punk girl that she made to him via... Alternative sources of revenue.”
“Uh huh...” the orc minister nods in apparent agreement. “Well, our treasury is finally somewhat solvent for the time being but we are still in critical condition for long-term revenue sources as we are now heavily-reliant upon plunder for income – which is not sustainable. I wish to make some proposals to address this issue by...”
“RORGAAG!” a roaring voice calls from a doorway leading deeper into the lair. “What have you done to my captain? He shall be unable to command for weeks because of you!” Tarrox bellows at the orc finance minister.
“I merely illustrated the punishment for insubordination” the orc replies. “Had he complied with orders I would not have needed to incapacitate him. Besides, it's his own fault for not keeping his skills sharp...”
“My people sharpen their skills on the bones of the slain!” Tarrox bellows in response. “And these troops have been cooped up in this place for months – no real foes to challenge! Over and over again have I told you that our place in on the frontlines, not waiting around to crush petty rebellions!”
“If frontline combat is what you desire, then frontline combat you shall have!” the emperor responds in agreement. “Prepare your men to move out to slay live foes of your choice in the next week – and the Lord of Evilland will join you in the bloodletting!”
“But my lord” the orc finance minister objects - “your kingdom is not stable right now: are you not concerned about rebels and infiltrators like those 'elves' you encountered recently?”
“The Lord of Evilland believes these are simple one-off events” the emperor dismisses his minister - “besides, it's been far too long since the Lord of Evilland made an appearance on the front: he must go there to deliver terror into the hearts of his enemies! Tarrox – you have the order! Make it so!”
The great bull minotaur roars with ecstasy upon hearing the word of his lord – leaving the entrance hall in a hurry to secure the necessary provisions for the journey. “The Lord of Evilland is happy to see that at least one of his advisors shares his love of bloodshed and carnage” the emperor observes. “Why can't you be more like him?”
If I were more like him, this kingdom would be in ruins the finance minister ruminates. “My lord, I understand that battle fill your thoughts but there are still some pressing matters that demand your attention...” the minister continues before being abruptly cut off.
“The only matter that concerns the Lord of Evilland is repayment of a debt” the emperor rebuffs - “to that end, he must find employment once more! My minion, accompany your lord to the nearest temp agency!”
“As you wish, master!” the intern gleefully replies – following him into the stables to ready the hellfire chariot. “I wonder what exciting new career opportunities await us today!” she wonders aloud as the two disappear from the entrance hall.
“You have got to be kidding me...” the orc minister utters with frustration – pressing his fingers into his eyes to alleviate the stress headaches this encounter with his lord has inflicted upon him. Well, might as well get back to my training. Then run a few errands... he muses to himself. It's not like I can do much else of consequence today...
***
The remainder of the day has passed without any meaningful incident for the orc finance minister thus far – he managed to fish up his physical training, pick up a cart of basic provisions and have his armor serviced at the local smith. As he exits the workshop of the metalworker, Rorgaag the Slayer produces a small piece of parchment to determine what other matters merit his attention this day. “Let's see...” he mumbles to himself as he works his way down the list. “Serviced armor, picked up groceries, purchase Death Derby tickets? Nah, that can wait until later this week. Looks like I just need to restock on virgins for the next three months...”
After consulting the list, the orc finance minister makes a brief walk down to the nearest Virgin-Mobil station – he takes note of the sign up front that puts premium virgins at 49.99 gold coins each: a price hike of nearly 10% since he passed this station by just yesterday. I really should have done this yesterday he muses to himself. But there's no arguing with necessity – the fortress will run out of power by morning if I don't get them now. The price of having a home off the main grid, I suppose...
Rorgaag the Slayer approaches the door of the station, a glass door covered in advertisements for the Death Derby events taking place this month, and opens it wide to find a struggle in the aisle – an older human male wearing the Virgin-Mobil uniform fights for his life, his face turning blue, as a young, well-built human female in the white dress garb of a sacrificial virgin latches herself to his back, wrapping a pair of shackles around his neck. Just before the attendant expires from constricted air pathways, the orc finance minister grabs the virgin subduing him by the neck: crushing her spinal column beneath the base of the skull with but a simple squeeze of his fingers before tossing the now-lifeless body aside.
“Oh gods!” the attendant gasps as he hastily removes the shackles from around his neck - “I thought that was the end! Your helpfulness will not go unnoticed, my friend! Now, what can I do for you, sir?”
“You can start by telling me how you wound up in that situation” the orc replies without missing a beat. “It's obvious that this was a discount virgin – Evilland Code of Commerce regarding the sale of slaves require all virgins not graded as premium to be shackled with their hands behind their backs at all times due to their unpredictable nature.”
“Well, I guess that this one got loose” the attendant speculated. “Maybe she found a way to pick the lock” he continues as Rorgaag the Slayer inspects the shackles that were recently used as a weapon – he finds no scratches or other marks that indicate tampering with the locking mechanism of the shackles: it's obvious that she was turned loose – and that she turned on the one who loosed her from her bindings.
“Tell me” the orc mutters with a low voice – “you must be familiar with the penalty for releasing non-premium virgins from their bindings, yes? You should know that our energy minister wants to deal with people who commit this offense... Personally.”
“Uh... Yeah... I... I'm aware” the attendant stammers out. “It's all part of... Part of our training at Virgin-Mobil – we have Orange MacStone videos on the penalties for mishandling virgins and everything!”
“Then I am certain that this one wasn't intentionally set free” the orc continues - “say... By the result of some bargain to give over her virginity to her rescuer, perhaps?”
“Why... I... I don't know where you got that idea” the attendant protests as his face turns pale from the blood being suddenly drained away from it. “I would never risk the wrath of D'vorrah for such a trivial thing! I heard what he does to the souls of his victims – how they become bound to his horns and feed his power! I don't want to meet that fate!”
“I'm sure that you don't” the orc finance minister replies. “I'll tell you what – you turn over a half-dozen of your premium virgins to me at a discounted price, say... 20% off the market value... and I will forget that this incident ever occurred. I'll even dispose of the body of this amazon, and judging by her build she almost certainly is an amazon, for you as a bonus.”
“Yes... She most certainly was an amazon” the attendant confirms his speculation. “I've always wanted to try one out, but now I know that they just aren't worth the risk... Not that I was about to actually do that, mind you!” he catches himself just shy of admitting his intentions.
“Of course you weren't” the orc responds sarcastically. “So, about that discount?”
“Sure!” the attendant agrees enthusiastically. “We'll just enter it in the books as a 'consumer loyalty discount' – easy enough to justify as you come here often” he continues as he opens up his ledger. “Just sign here and I'll take care of the rest – I know you are good for the coin, so no need to pay up immediately if you don't want to.”
“A pleasure doing business with you” the orc remarks as the attendant pulls out the keys to the storage room – he unlocks an iron door and descends into the cellar for a few moments and returns with a half-dozen young females clad in the white dresses of the sacrificial virgin. “Come now” the orc commands his newly-acquire property. “You serve the Lord of Evilland himself this day!”
As the virgins march passed the aisle of the Virgin-Mobil station they all take note of the body of the slain girl on the floor. “Oh my gods!” one exclaims. “How horrible!” another agrees. “She will never fulfill her purpose now and know the eldritch embrace...” yet another laments.
“Alright, keep the commentary to yourselves” the orc commands as he picks up the lifeless corpse – first we make a stop at the landfill, then it's off to your new home.”
***
Once the fresh stock of virgins had been introduced to their quarters to await their fates, save one intended for use this night, Rorgaag the Slayer decides to make a quick stop in the imperial pantry to unload the grocery items he procured earlier – as he comes through the door pulling his cart with a newly-purchased virgin in tow, he finds two members of the emperor's harem preparing dinner for their lord.
“Evening ladies” he casually greets them as he begins stocking his own goods on the shelf – a task made complicated by the stores of specialty foods placed there by the other advisors: salted human flesh for the goblin intelligence minister, Capri-eclipse blood packs for the minotaur war minister and the eyes of sacrificial virgins for the demon centaur energy minister (his favorite snack) being but a few of the items that cluttered the shelf that is shared by the council. I swear, we all need our own designated storage places the orc complains to himself as he is reviled at the thought of his own nourishment coming into contact with that of his fellow ministers.
As the orc stocks the shelf, the sacrificial virgin lauds the harem girls - “You are so fortunate - if I were not chosen to experience the eldritch embrace, I would kill to be one of you! You are as close to a divine being as a non-chosen one can possibly become without achieving a status of demi-godhood yourself!”
“Uh...” one of the girls utters as she eyes her compatriot nervously, not having an appropriate answer ready for this situation. “Yes!” the other harem girl quickly chimes in to break the awkwardness. “We are indeed honored to serve the needs of the son of Chorneesh – may his rule be long as prosperous!” she continues with a disapproving nod towards the other girl for her failure to respond appropriately.
“And indeed it shall be” the voice of the emperor is heard by all as the Lord of Evilland comes marching through the door – over his shoulder he carries the corpse of his intern, her skull caved in from blunt trauma. “Fetch the Lord of Evilland a snack suited to his tastes before he goes down to the resurrection chamber!” he commands as he takes a seat at the table, leaving Lavinia's body on the floor beside him.
“Oh gods!” the virgin gasps as she bows to her knees - “the Lord of Evilland himself! I am so honored to be in your presence!” she continues fawning over the emperor as he simply ignores her, waiting on the harem girls to bring him his favorite snack: jelly donuts coated in powdered sugar.
“Greetings my lord” the orc finance minister utters as he emerges from the pantry area - “I see that your adventure in the working world has had lethal consequences for your intern again...” he continues as he observes the corpse on the floor. “Might I ask what happened this time?”
“Yeah...” the emperor pauses. “The temp agency sent the Lord of Evilland to a construction site – there was a disagreement over break times, a fight broke out and some bricks fell from a scaffold. The intern wasn't prepared for it and you should know the rest...” he concludes nonchalantly.
“I see...” the orc minister concurs – this seems to be the way it always goes, doesn't it? He muses to himself in silence. Why he keeps restoring this minion to life is something I will never comprehend – perhaps my lord just likes having an unconditionally loyal “yes man” around... “In any event” he changes the subject, “I am off to renew the palatial power supply – come along, virgin, it's time to fulfill your purpose” he commands the star-struck girl.
“This has made my day!” the virgin exclaims. “I met the one who makes all of Evilland work on the same day I achieve eldritch embrace! Can this get any better?”
“I suppose that's the best you can possibly hope for...” the orc responds with an exasperated sigh as he take her down the hall – towards the ritual chamber at the heart of the dark fortress...
***
“Oh my gods!” the virgin gushes with glee “It's happening! It's finally happening!” she continues as she makes her way to the sacrificial chamber – a place lit by green flames coming from small outlet embedded in the floor along a mosaic pathway: at the end of the pathway stands a stone alter with a stand in which a dagger rests – above the alter, a great metal disk with a swirling pattern of black and gold hangs with a pair of bronze pillars that extend deep underground alongside.
“Indeed it is...” the orc finance minister replies with a hint of sarcasm. “Now remove the dress and get on the alter” he commands as he finishes donning a ceremonial black robe and grabbing the ceremonial dagger from its stand by the alter. Without any further comment, the girl tosses her white dress on the floor and throws her exposed form on the alter with enthusiasm as the orc begins the chant to summon the god that shall consume her soul...
IA CTHULHU NYTH SYHA'H FHTAGN
Y-BTHNK HUPADGH CTHULHU BTHNKOR
Y-LLOIG HUPDGH CTHULHU LLOIGHNAH
As the Orc chants, the room fills with red, ethereal mist that pours forth from the disk above – the swirling black and gold pattern begins to move in circles as the finance minister chants with more fervent intensity.
Y-ORRE LLLL CTHULHU CH'SHAGG
Y-ORRE LLLL CTHULHU BUG SHUGG
C-STELL'BSN CTHULHU CH'SHUGG
Just as he utters the final line, he takes the ceremonial dagger and plunges it deep into the chest of the virgin on the alter – slicing her open with a vertical line leading from the larynx down to the abdomen before reaching into the exposed cavity to remove her heart: once removed, a faint light emerges from the heart – the light begins as a sphere but morphs into a replication of the body of the now-slain virgin and drifts upwards towards the swirling disk.
“I'm off to experience the love of a god!” the disembodied soul shouts as a series of tendrils emerge from the disk's swirling patter – wrapping themselves around her, they drag her into the center of the disk: creating a sudden burst of eldritch energies as they depart this world – energies that are quickly drawn to the bronze pillars and channeled deep into the earth below.
With that chore completed, the orc removes the black robe and places the ceremonial dagger back onto the stand. This should power this palace for another two weeks he muses to himself. I just need to preserve the eyes for D'vorrah and the goblins can consume the rest of the remains.
“Two weeks” he utters aloud to himself – the exact amount of time until the next meeting of the ministers. “Will there really be any change in that time?”
With these thoughts, he leaves the chamber to go restore himself for the coming day – wondering if it's even possible to hold this kingdom together long enough to make the next sacrifice...