An Overlord's Fable
Disclaimer: I own one copy each of Fable III and Overlord II. That's it.
Chapter 1: Blue Beginnings
– The Candidate –
Noon
The man…well, boy, to be a little more accurate, groaned and sat up, stretching his arms out and yawning. It was a few seconds before he finally opened his eyes, expecting to see his princely bedchamber and a girl or two in his bed with him.
Instead, he saw a beach next to the ocean, bright and sunny, and around him was a gaggle of strange blue creatures, about the size of Hobbes. Directly in front of him was the figure he'd seen before, thought to be a dream or some fevered delusion.
"Awake, Master?" It rasped. The boy hesitated and then nodded once. "Good. Too much longer…would have left you there…can't resurrect Humans. Not right anyway…" The reaper-like figure, complete with scythe, waddled around the boy, clammy hands patting him over and apparently checking for something. "No more wounds?"
"Ah…no…"
"Good. Might want to get moving now." The creature said, waving at the others to follow it as it waddled along the beach. The boy studied the creatures closely now. They looked like Hobbes, if you stripped away layers of fat, colored them a sea blue and gave them fins instead of ears, webbed digits and loincloths. He stood, stretching again and wondering at how refreshed he felt. Three days adrift at sea, he expected to feel quite a bit worse than he did now. Infinitely worse. Dead.
Did this…creature heal me? The boy heard jabbering up ahead, and looked to see one of the blue things jumping up and down, waving at him. Still at a loss for words, the ship-wrecked boy followed. The path the group took was fairly straightforward, following along the coastline for a half-hour before meeting the mouth of a river. One by one, the not-Hobbes jumped into the river and started swimming up it. The boy followed, wading through the waist-deep water without much in the way of trouble. The river wound through a forest, blanketed with snow the likes of which he'd only seen in Mistpeak. The water was quite cold, and he was somewhat astonished that the creatures were able to swim so briskly through the river.
Small streams branched off from the flow at several points, with more of the creatures coming up from them and joining the original group, led by the robed one. Most of them were faster though, making it apparent that the only reason the group with him remained so at their discretion. Slogging forward, the boy wondered if he would have been better to go look for shelter instead of following these dubious beings. Before he could finish his train of thought, two of the creatures crept up behind him and pushed at his legs, making him fall backwards until they grabbed him by his shoulders. Two of them ahead fell back and grabbed his legs, the four together lifting him and hustling forward through the river, taking him towards a large hole were the river issued from.
Seeing the gaping maw of a cave, the boy was suddenly struck with memories of his father telling him stories of his adventures. In particular, about a cave filled with hobbes who stole children to turn them into more of their foul kind. A scowl worked its way across the boy's face as he started struggling.
Not even if they serve Lucien himself will I allow these things to turn me into more of them! While unable to completely break free, the boy managed to make the creatures struggle to bring him forward. Eventually, the robed one moved back towards them and sighed, a gurgling sound, before waving another four of his kind forward, these ones grabbing him and helping his current handlers to drag him into the cave. Despite himself, the boy panicked as the darkness engulfed him, all around nothing but the glowing yellow eyes of the not-Hobbes, with the sounds of the river and their jabbering.
He couldn't tell how long they were in the darkness, but suddenly light blossomed, allowing the boy sight again. And what he saw astonished him.
It was an enormous cavern, large enough house Bowerstone with room leftover to expand. The floor was covered in glowing hot magma that illuminated the vista…and the construct above. If one took a tower, made for the darkest and evilest of Heros past and inverted it that would be the closest description to the edifice the boy saw before him now. Around it orbited dozens if not hundreds of floating rocks, The tip of the upside-down tower glowed with a mystic energy, a pillar of blue light lancing into the floor of the cavern, a place around which the pools and streams of magma coiled.
The creatures surged out of the river, still carrying him and moving towards a platform of some sort where a floating stone with a flat top awaited. Atop it awaited a creature that looked much like the robed blue thing, except with a gaunt, grey skin and bat-like ears. A stick attached to its back dangled some sort of glowing stone above its head, illuminating the area around it further.
– The Minion Master –
Gnarl waited on the Transport Stone impatiently, wondering just where Mortis was. The ancient Blue, one of Gnarl's oldest brethren, had sent one of his younger and much stupider brothers to tell Gnarl to bring a Stone down for a 'good surprise'.
Frankly, unless he's finally used that scythe for something other than threatening the newborns and brought me a fresh sheep, he's going to spend some time helping Gubbin in the Dungeons!
"What is it Mortis? I swear, if you've brought me down here for something foolish…" Gnarl's raspy voice trailed off as he saw the load eight of the Blues were carrying, a young human male that they carried onto the platform. Gnarl's eyes bugged out as they brought the human closer, and he felt an old Evil spring in his heart cavity. "I don't believe it! You found an heir!" The boy had a neck-length mane of black hair, with highlights of red, and a nice pale skin tone that brought to mind the Vampiric Overlords about nine centuries past. The eyes were a dark blue color, and didn't have the trademark Overlord glow, but Gnarl figured he'd get that sooner or later.
"All washed up on the beach…" Mortis replied. Gnarl could feel his mouth twist into a smile that had sent the prisoners into spasms of terror way back in the Bad Old Days.
"Well don't keep hauling him around like a sack of halfings! Come on, stand him up!" The eight Blues scrambled to put the boy down as gently as possible, somehow managing to stand him on his two feet despite his dizziness and shock. "Welcome Master! My apologies for the Blues' enthusiasm, but well, it's just been so long since we've had an Overlord…"
"Wait, wait, time-out." The boy blurted. "Just what in Jack of Blades' bloody name is going on here!" Gnarl and Mortis glanced at each other, sharing the same toothy grin.
"I am Gnarl, Minion Master, and devoted Servant of Darkness." Gnarl said, bowing his head. "And this is Mortis, oldest of the Blues and keeper of the Minion Dead."
"Master." Mortis said, sweeping a bow before the boy.
"…Okay…that doesn't really explain anything…"
"Forgive me, but being down here doesn't help my skin, so if you'll allow me to explain on the way…" Gnarl said, before triggering the Transport Stone. The boy managed to keep his balance as the Stone, old and probably suffering from the lack of a good magic boost, jerked into motion.
Good balance, good, that'll help him in combat. Gnarl observed, the grin still wide on his face.
"What the – I-is this magic?" The boys stuttered.
Hmm, he'll have to lose that. Can't have a new Overlord stuttering when he's threatening the populace! "Indeed Master." Gnarl answered. "The Netherworld is a nexus for the Darkest, most Evil magical energies in the world! The Tower and all around it is imbued enormous magical power!" The boy looked suitably impressed by that statement. "This is also where the Very First Overlord created the Minion race!"
"…Er, what are Minions?"
"…Didn't I tell you?"
"No."
"Drat. I'm starting to get forgetful in my age." The Stone shuddered to a stop at the landing platform, allowing Gnarl to step off followed by the boy and Mortis into the Throne Room, the centerpiece of Netherworld Tower, with stony pillars and…well, the tattered drapes…damn Gnomes. "MOULDY! Get your worthless hide down here NOW!" There was a series of bangs, bumps and shouts before the Brown finally tumbled down the stairs from what had been the Private Quarters of the Overlord, which also happened to include the library. "Get me my book!"
"Which one Gnarl?"
"The one I wrote you twit!" Mouldy looked confused for a second before he spotted the boy, and grinned widely, scrambling back up the stairs and disappearing for a bit before returning, lugging a tome half as large as himself. Mouldy dropped the large book in front of the boy's feet. "Here you are Sire, Gnarl's Guide to Overlording! I'll try and tell you what you need to know, but in case I miss anything, this book will help!" Gnarl remembered writing the book fondly, an activity that had distracted him and the other Elder Minions in the three hundred years since the last Overlord had bought the slaughterhouse. The covers were made out of smelted scraps of arcanium left over from the Second Overlord of the Dark Tower, a Master Gnarl remembered fondly.
Pity he got trapped in the Abyss.
While arcanium was rather light for its size, the book still came up to the boy's knee, so it was surprising to see him lift the heavy tome up with only a moderate amount of difficulty. Could use a little work-out, but alright.
– The Candidate –
The boy opened the book, wondering at the pages, which were of four different sorts, a leathery brown, a parchment-like blue, a rough pinkish-red and a strangely smooth light grass-green.
"What are the pages made out of?"
"Tanned Minion hide."
"Cool." The boy opened the book.
Gnarl's Guide to Overlording
Written by Gnarl
Edited by Mortis, Wolvie and Pyre
Introduction
Greetings Master! This book is here to guide you through the early stages of your Overlording career! Hopefully I'm still around to help out, but if not this book should cover the basics enough for you to survive – and thrive!
First off, the basics for the uninitiated. An Overlord is a Dark Master of Evil equally capable of hacking heads off with an axe as blasting peasants with spells, Overlords rule over their lands with a mailed fist, crackling with eldritch energy! Not only that, but Overlords command hordes of Minions!
Created by the First Overlord in the bowels of the Netherworld, Minions come in four different lovely flavors: The Browns, The Reds, The Greens, and The Blues, each with their own abilities. As the most devoted and loyal servants, Minions will gladly sacrifice their lives for you, Master!
"Bloody awesome." The boy chuckled, reading the book. Then out of nowhere, something thumped into his head, almost sending him crashing to the ground. Some sort of high-pitched squeaking erupted from the thing now sitting on his head, almost painful in its pitch.
"Bloody Gnomes!" Gnarl growled. "Ever since that day two hundred and fifty years ago when they tunneled into the Netherworld, we haven't been able to get rid of them! Annoyances, the lot of them!" The Gnome on the boy's head started squeaking again, to which Gnarl replied: "No, your brother is a greasy stain! I should know, I watched the Overlord of Nordberg grind him into the ground!" More squeaking. "Eh…now he's either declaring holy crusade…or selling paintings at a two-for-one deal…" At that point, the small weight launched itself from the boy's head and attacked Gnarl.
The creature was maybe the size of the boy's fist, wearing dull brown clothes and a pointy brown hat, pummeling Gnarl's head with its tiny fists. By now thoroughly annoyed, the lad simply grabbed the Gnome by its leg and tossed it into the wall with a splat.
"Ah, thank you Master."
"Yeah, about that, how do you guys know that I'm this Overlord?"
"Why, we can feel it! The darkness in our souls draws us to the best candidates! Although it's a bit of a mystery, since we've been searching for the last three hundred years…where did you come from Master?"
"Albion."
"Ah, that explains it! You're from the Original Overlord's homeland!"
"Eh, what?"
"You see Master, the Original Overlord, way back in the day, before even my time, had a terrible row with his brother Bill, and left to seek out his fortune. He came to this land, and started terrorizing the population almost before he set foot on dry land! He went about like this for twenty years before he decided that he needed some help fending off the armies that were sent after him, so, using his awesome magic, he created us, the Minions!"
"Uh-huh."
"So with our help, he subdued several kingdoms and created an Evil Empire that ruled the land for centuries! And, also, took a few dozen mistresses."
"I like the sound of that."
"Ha! I thought you would! Anyway, Lord Black had quite a number of children by these mistresses, and his reign ended when they all blasted him with an assortment of spells."
"Ouch."
"Indeed, and then they started fighting over who would be the next Overlord. The less gutsy fled to other lands while the eldest and strongest fought over the throne until one of them finally claimed it. Unfortunately, some of the later descendants went good and started doing heroism and other muck like that and started killing off as many of the still-evil descendants as they could find, which eventually left us in the present situation."
"So, you're saying I'm the grand-nephew of the Original Overlord?"
"Oh yes, or else the Throne Room wouldn't be all aglow like this!" Looking around, the boy could see a harsh dark glow from the stones that made up the room, particularly focused on the stony throne in front of him. At the moment, they were standing in a circular depression made by about three round steps, with lines of magma glowing all around.
"Brilliant! How do I start?" The boy exclaimed, walking towards the throne.
"Well, first we're going to need to get a hold of a Spell Stone so we can wake the Netherworld up properly. Three hundred years has taken its toll on the place, and it needs a boost of magic to get working."
"Alright, well where are we going to find that?"
"Well, if you'll just sit on the throne…" The boy did so, and was surprised to see a map appear out of thin air before him. "Ah, there it is. Hmm, now the Netherworld should be able to pinpoint the location of at least one Spell Stone…hah! New Spree!" Gnarl chuckled, jabbing a claw at the part of the map marking the south-east, where there was a small glowing jewel embedded into the fabric. "I should have figured they'd rebuild there after the Conqueror of Nordberg cleared up the Wasteland!"
"Alright, so let's get going!"
"I like your enthusiasm Master, but we have a bit of a problem."
"And what's that?"
"Other than me and a few other Browns, we have only Blue Minions."
"Okay, and what can they do?"
"Well, they can resurrect your fallen Minions if they get to them in time, they can swim and breath underwater, and can damage spiritual entities…but they're absolutely horribly fighters."
"I see your point. What happened to the other three?"
"Well, after the Gnomes broke in, Giblet took the other Browns to start a war against them, and I haven't heard from them since…A few decades after that, Wolvie and the other Greens left for the east to look for Overlord candidates, while Pyre and the other Reds said they 'felt the call' and went on some trip to a place called Moria. Mortis and the Blues only stayed because-"
"Greetings! Oh-he-who-would-be-our-Dark-Lord!" The interruption came from a brown-skinned minion off to the left of the boy and Gnarl, wearing a jester hat made out of green cloth and sticks while using a skull-topped cane to stand. White tattoos all over his body were either strange arcane runes, or the random dabbling of a half-insane artist.
"Quaver." Gnarl groaned.
"I must commemorate this occasion with a poem!" The Minion – Quaver it seems – declared, before starting to dance a little jig.
"Our Lord has arrived, from a land far away,
Grateful are we, who will get to make them pay!"
For a long moment, everyone in the chamber, Mouldy, Mortis, Gnarl and the boy, just stared at Quaver, before the scythe-wielding Blue whacked the jester on the top of his head.
"Anyway," The boy said, "All we need is the Spell Stone, right? There's no need to fight right off, I'll just go and get it and then come back…by the way, how am I getting there?"
"The tunnel system, of course." Gnarl replied. "Luckily enough for us, the Gnomes didn't manage to penetrate any of the tunnels the Overlord of Nordberg made, so we have a free pass to the Mellow Hills."
"Well then, let's get going." The boy said, standing up from the throne as the map rolled back up and disappeared.
"Wait Master! You couldn't possibly go out wearing that!" The boy paused and looked down at his clothes, and he had to admit that the seasalt-encrusted and sand-dirtied garments wouldn't exactly make for a good first impression.
"Mouldy! Gubbin! Get the medium-sized gauntlet and leather armor from the Armory!" There was a mad scramble as the mentioned Brown Minions popped out of nowhere, carrying an assortment of items and swarming the boy, a series of clicks, clanks and other noises indicating their progress until finally they stood back for the rest to see the boy.
"Ooh!" Was the general agreement. The armor was dark black leather, with an iron plates sewn into the front of the cuirass and over the pauldrons and greaves. While the right hand was enclosed in normal leather glove, the left was armored in a black gauntlet, the forearm carved to resemble a dragon's head with a large glowing gold gem embedded in it. Over the youth's head went the traditional Overlord helm, a tri-horned metal helmet that enclosed his face to the extent that shaded his eyes from view, while a cloth mask went over his lower face.
"Huh…this fits rather well." The boy commented. Gubbin brought forward a sword, smaller than usually used by Overlords but just the right size for a growing novice like the boy. Made of good steel, it had a keen double-edged blade, a grip wrapped in Salamander hide, and a guard that looked like a Minion's face.
"Congratulations to thee, our Tyrant Trainee!"
"Shut up Quaver!" Mouldy scolded, kicking the jester into one of the small stone pillars in the room.
"Ahem. While Quaver put it rather flippantly, it is true that this marks you as a Tyrant-in-Training!" Gnarl declared, to the glee of the other Minions.
"Cool." The Trainee Tyrant commented. "Now, where are these tunnels?"
"Ah yes, if you step here My Lord…" The Trainee moved back to the center of the room, standing in the circular depression again.
"Alright now – Whoah!" The ceiling opened up above him, black segmented claws curling around him as the stones making the circular depression separated and sank into the floor around them, exposing an enormous pit that went right through the tower and into the lake of magma below. Instead of falling, a strange light brought him up, and he shot into a morass of dark energy and stone.
– The Trainee –
Mellow Hills
It was a woozy and bewildered Tyrant-in-Training that wandered off of the Netherworld Gate and into a thriving field, surrounded by sheep.
"Ahem, testing, testing, can you hear me Master?"
"What! Gnarl, is that you?"
"Yes, it's me, but there's no need to talk out loud, this is all in your head…not in the crazy way though."
Hm. Can you hear me?
"Yes, reception is perfect Sire. Now, before we do anything else, why don't you summon some Blues? After all, some Minions are better than none."
Alright. How do I do that?
"Well, there should be some Minion Pits next to the Gate – ah, there they are!" Next to the Netherworld Gate were piles of stone, two on either side, the ones on the left faintly glowing blue and green, while the others on the right had yellow-brown and red auras. The blue pile was taller, more like a mound with spikes like a ziggurat and a hole that delved into the earth. "Good, now reach out with your gauntleted hand and command the Blues to emerge, feel your power bending them to your will!" The Trainee did as advised, his hand curling into an upraised claw as the crystal set into the gauntlet glowed. Blue Minions started to leap out of the hole, again and again until a decent-sized force was before him.
"Amazing! You've summoned twenty-five Minions!"
Is that good?
"Well, usually a beginning Overlord can only summon ten to fifteen Minions. Only the Original Overlord could directly control all of the Minions at once. Later on, some of his descendants created the Minion Totems, a set of magical objects that could enhance their willpower and allow them to control more Minions. You being able to command twenty-five off the bat might mean that the Totems will have a better effect! But, ah, that's just speculation. We don't have the Minion Totems, or any of the others."
Why's that? The Trainee Tyrant asked, waving the Blues to follow him.
"The Gnomes. They invaded and looted the Netherworld of all the artifacts, armor and weapons our Masters took so long to painstakingly collect and forge, everything from the Life, Mana and Minion Totems to the Mace of Doom sealed in the Master's vault! Why, they even sabotaged the Forge and drove Giblet mad!"
Hold that thought. The sounds of battle came from ahead, and the Tyrant Trainee saw what it was as soon as he and his small force crested the grassy hill.
"My word! Halfings and Gnomes fighting together! Abomination!" The Trainee assumed that the 'Halflings' were the short, squat things that looked like someone took a man and squished him down to half his size and made most of his muscle into fat. They were armed with swords and bucklers, fighting against dozens of Brown Minions, most of which fought with clubs and were dressed just in loincloths, but a few of which had metal helmets and armor, wielding spears. Leading the Brown Horde was a Minion dressed in goggles and mask with a black apron, wielding an improbably large hammer. "There's Giblet! Quickly Master, slay the Halfling filth and cleanse the Gnomish scourge!"
Despite irritation at Gnarl's tone, the Tyrant-in-Training charged forward, Blues trailing behind to slam into the flanks of the combined Halfing/Gnome force. The Halflings looked a lot like Hobbes, making it a lot easier for the Tyrant to use his meager sword-fighting skills to slaughter them. Despite their decent weapons, the Halflings were definitely no fighters, having even less skill than the Tyrant. Apparently, only the Minion's lack of decent coordination and the number of Halflings had kept this fight equal, something the sudden interference turned into a clear advantage for the Minions. Most of the Gnomes were useless to the Halflings, the Tyrant just stomping on whatever Gnome was foolish enough to get near him. The Blues, true to Gnarl's description, were just as useless in the fight, instead going and reviving whatever Brown fell in the battle.
It didn't take long for the Halfling ranks to break apart and flee, the short stubby things running with far greater speed than one might expect from such rotund creatures. The Minions allowed this, Browns gathering around the Trainee as the Blues resurrected who they could. The Browns were staring at him, until the one called Giblet forced his way through the crowd and stared.
"Master?" he asked, reaching out to touch the Tyrant.
"Yes." The Trainee replied.
"The Master is…back?" Giblet whispered. "The Master is back!" He repeated louder, to the cheers of the Browns around, waving their hands in the air and even hugging each other. Before the Trainee could do anything, the Brown Horde enveloped him and the Blues, tugging and pulling them back along the road on which the battle had taken place, towards a ruined tower in the distance.
– The Author –
Alright, first chapter is up.
I started the Trainee Tyrant off with the Blues just to subvert the common formula that most Overlord fanfics have starting the Overlord off with the Browns. There's not a lot of effective difference in the plot, because he pretty much just met the Browns now, although he's not going to get his gauntlet on the Brown Hive as easily.
Now, first off, this story's pretty much going to follow the games' formula, with the Overlord establishing his tyrannical reign over the course of gaining his power and recollecting the lost artifacts. I had the reason for the loss of the Netherworld Objects be the Gnomes because, they had to get back somehow after the massacre of 1000 of their species.
Before anyone asks (if anyone was going to ask) there is a reason I'm not giving the Trainee's name yet. I'm setting up a joke later on and a Shout-Out as well.
Gnomish Kill Count: 127/50,000
Knightmare Gundam of Ni