-Revised and stuff-

A/N:The story takes place way after the events of Overlord 2 and crossovers to the Saints Row 2 game with all of the campaign missions completed. revised

Chapter 1: A long nap.

The world had slowly turned its dance on its axis for thousands of years. Many people who live there have lived daily lives that they considered a daily struggle of life. To simply work minimum wage so they can earn their place in society by paying rent, food, accessories, entertainment, and other necessities. But among some who were wealthy and powerful, or those who wanted more no matter the cost, they dreamed up new ideas and new cons to net themselves a fatter pocket book or bank account, which usually preyed upon those who survived on minimum wage. But the poor and the rich, the majority and the minority, both suffer under the same mistress that is the bitch called 'life'. Turns out that said bitch favors wealth more, though all suffer and die in the end all the same. If it is true what they say about life being a cruel mistress, then death is her master, her king, her lord, whom decides the fate of all souls. The only fair consistency in an unfair world.

But there is another lord waiting beneath the world. To be precise, beneath Stilwater. Or to be more precise, beneath the rocky crust.

Under the streets, sewers, pipes, dirt, bedrock, stone, metal, gems, and earth. Deep deep deep past much of the crust, and old obsidian structure long since forgotten came to the surface of magma and burrowed its way into the hard soil and into cooler temperatures. Finding a place that is perfect for it, it made its new home and attached itself to the roof of the chamber, like a barnacle to a whale. It pressurized the chamber, pushing away the magma that threatened to rise up and create a new volcano. It resembled a stalactite. But its purpose is to be of a dark tower, an evil seat of power. It was a tower that housed an unimaginable evil. It shook itself, shaking extra magma off of itself and much of the volcanic rock that didn't belong.

Eons ago, this tower belonged in another world, a different dimensional reality where there was elves, dwarves, halflings, unicorns, dragons, enormous slugs, rock giants, and magic. Once upon a time ago, a mistress gave birth to a baby boy that the father, though apathetic and snide at first, raised. He named his son Carlon. Sadly his father, the Witchking of Nordberg, fell to a slow illness that ate away his muscles and bones. It was the price to pay when sifting through the toxic magical ooze just to piece together again the tower heart that gave power to many overlords that it served. Many objects belonging to a former tower home were retrieved, kept safe by the third overlord before the cataclysm. Aside from the trophies and artifacts collected from the surface tower, objects that Carlon's father collected in his peak of glory also held importance. But tragedy struck when the people his father ruled learned of the fourth overlords debilitating weakness, and tried to strike back at him. The fourth overlord gathered all of his resources, his minions, his treasures and his son and casted three spells that had completely depleted the tower heart's magical reserves. The first spell made the netherworld tower detach from their world, become animated, and enter a portal to a different realm of reality. The second spell protected the tower as they were transferred through the magma. The third spell was a protective sleep spell that was casted onto his son and the son's minions when he was finally of age years later. Carlon and his army of evil would remain asleep for thousands of years till the heart regained its full magic.

Once the tower heart finally recharged itself to full power and released Carlon from the spell, he would finally wake from his slumber, rumbling and shaking free from the magma rock that seeped in and covered him. His sleepy, yet glowing eyes blinked a few times before surveying the chamber. He had faint memories to when the place looked better. Anything that didn't get burned up by the magma either turned to dust or was in great disrepair. But he was sure the treasures and magical objects stayed preserved. Carlon raised his left hand into the air and sent his will through the tower, making the tower vibrate again, but this time more forcibly to make much of the magma rock fall away even more, and make lava stream down throughout the tower, lighting the halls and throne room like it did in his memories long ago. He is the appearance of a 7'7" tall giant. His veins glowed blue while his eyes glowed white. His muscled body was a Caucasian color, though his skin was pale from no contact to the sun on the surface for many years. His hair was red in color, protected from age so it didn't grey in time. But it was unnaturally long, dragging across the floor and becoming dirty.

A gnarled minion, named Gnarl, yawned and opened his iron maiden, located to the side of the throne room, creaking it open and looking groggy and very crusty-eyed. The small ancient minion was adorned with old black and red rags, with a glowing large gemstone lantern on a stick that jangled just above his head. "Yawn." He almost tripped from his morning stupor.

"You awake yet?" Carlon gruffly said, brushing off flakes of ash, soot, and brimstone from his person.

"Yawn~. ... Wait. Today is the day, isn't it?" Gnarl came to the center of the throne room and looked down onto a floor panel that opened up. The tower heart floated above an abyss just below. It glowed with an eerie blue and gray light. "Ah, the tower heart is fully charged. Today is the day!" he clasped his hands in glee. "I was getting a little worried that if I slept any longer, the sandman would bury me under his own dandruff!"

Carlon shook his head. "Happy to know that a walnut like you can best a fairytale lie."

"Oh you know what I meant!" Gnarl chided, but realized that chiding an heir to the throne of evil might have consequences. "Erm I mean, you know what I meant, sire."

Carlon didn't chuckle aloud, but he will admit to himself that flustering a minion that used to be a strict teacher of combat tactics and evildoing was refreshing. "The heart took its damn time. Now, I can finally stretch my legs and rule like my father did."

Gnarl gave a wrinkled, sharp grin. "That's right. The tower heart's power is restored. And you are the heir to the late overlord. Oooh it warms my evil beating heart to see the day that you finally take your fathers place!" Gnarl said, pumping his fists into the air.

The slumbering inheritor shrugged, moving his arms in a way to get his muscles working and limber. "Let us prepare then. My first action as overlord... is to wake the hives and clean this place up. I will be needing new armor, an axe, and a gate to the surface installed so that I can see my stomping grounds." Carlon said, snapping his fingers.

"Right away, sire." Gnarl said, bowing and going about his way to wake the minion hives.

Carlon went to and sat on his throne again, plonking his butt on it and methodically feeling the contours of his chair that was his chrysalis for so long. He found it funny that the device responsible to hold his sleeping ass all this time would double as a seat of power. Carlon saw minions walk around sluggishly, rubbing their eyes after a long slumber, going about their way to tidy the place up. Their shenanigans was interesting to watch, amusing Carlon a little. A minion with a jester's hat and cane walked up to the new overlord 17 minutes after Gnarl went to wake up everyone.

"Hail 'the slumbering king'! He who inherits daddy's horde! Now the tower heart is charged, and he now sits here, bored!" Quaver praised, waving his arms and addressing Carlon.

"Quaver," Overlord Carlon warned. "I rather you played with the musical instruments that you use to play for father."

"But they all burned away when we were hibernating, my lord! All I can do is tappity-taps with my cane!" Quaver whined.

"So much as do the 'tappity-taps', and you will be the combat dummy for every minion spawned for as long as I reign."

Quaver had nothing to say about that, and scuttled away. The other minions laughed at Quaver before continuing with their duties. Minion Master Gnarl came back after Quaver left the throne room. "I'm sorry to inform you, sire, but some of the minion tribes are still covered in cooled molten rock. The browns are doing their best to clear away the rock and debris."

"Figures. Maybe I need to shake the tower some more?" Carlon said, raising his hand into the air.

"Sire, further damage to the tower should be avoided. It would be time consuming to retrieve anything that fell into the chasm. It'd take months!"

Carlon sighed. "Well, get them moving as fast as minionly possible. How about my armor?" He got up, his body language signaling to Gnarl to proceed to the forge room.

Gnarl lead the way to the forge. "The reds won't be able to power the forge for some time, but your equipment your father forged on your behalf remained. It's simple... but serviceable."

Carlon rolled his eyes as he walked. The forge had seen better days, but at least it was intact, aside from all the hardened magma caking into the forges. The armory opened, brimstone making the hinges screech as though pained from being opened, and showed the armor that his father made for him. Slightly less elegant than what his father would normally wear. It looked like it was made of steel. He then found an axe meant for him. Sadly, it wasn't on fire.

Carlon looked at it this-way and that-way, growling his disdain over something that wasn't a flammable weapon. But its first use was to shorten his ungodly long hair. He reached behind his head and gripped his hair into a rough pony-tail shape, then gingerly used his axe, slicing the hair till it's long enough to drape the back of his neck's nape. He applied some spittle to his left hand and brushed the saliva onto his hair, making it so that the hair would be swept back until the helmet was donned. Gnarl sighed. "Sadly sire, without the reds, we won't be able to access the forge for any upgrading for now. But perhaps your fire-based spells can provide you with some... entertainment? Bwehehehahahah~" Gnarl chuckled evilly.

After equipping his axe and armor, he focused his emotions to create a fireball from his palm, and then manipulated its energy into a fissure, spouting and throwing flame straight up into the air. "Mm. Nothing like a good burn when you want things barbequed."

"And the evil presence spell, sire?" Gnarl asked. "We may need of it, for when someone needs a good... subjugation."

"That spell is only good on powerful fools, but it's useful when I don't want to spare my minions." Carlon said, making his hand electrify with the spell. He then reached down to pick up one final piece of equipment, his helmet. After the helmet was equipped, he turned to Gnarl. "Can we start the carnage?"

"Let's see if the minion diggers found a way up." Gnarl said, going ahead of Carlon to the throne room.

They eventually ended up at the throne room again; both looked up to the chandelier that appeared more like a claw. It functions exactly like a claw, but its purpose is to transport resources to and fro the netherworld tower and wherever a gate entrance has been placed. A digger finally came back and saluted the two of them. "Gate is ready, masta'! We dug into skelly graves! A sem-eh-tair-wree!" A minion digger reported.

"A cemetery you say? How symbolic. We rise from a death-like sleep for so long, and now rising to sow destruction and panic to the world!" Gnarl shouted, excited to get some overlording done. "Sire, it is prudent to take in as much information we need. Being up to date with current events shall help us get a feel for the land. I'll be contacting you through the helm you're wearing."

Carlon stepped onto the platform, the chandelier/claw descended to pick up the overlord and transport him to the surface. What new sights and smells he can experience is uncertain. But the greatest certainty is that the world would be unprepared for his arrival, whether they like it or not. Carlon felt a smile spread across his masked face, hidden by his helmet. Though he wasn't sure if Gnarl can see him smile from within his helmet. Was he? That question didn't matter though.

It was time to raise hell.

A/N: So yeah, this is my first story to post here. I hope it's good for everyone. Post your reviews with what you like and dislike, and how I can improve or acquire inventive ideas. Say, has anyone done a Saints Row and Overlord crossover before? :U