Chapter III: Eight is Company

"Seeing as I really have no choice, I accept," Hanson said.

"Excellent," Gnarl said. "Now we will have eight candidates and we no longer have to look for any more." Gnarl opened Hanson's door, looked out into the hallway and called out "Giblet!"

A brown minion with a welder's mask ran through the door and hopped up on Hanson's bed.

"This is our Forge Master Giblet," Gnarl said. "He will measure you to build you a set of armor and a weapon of your choice for the upcoming competition."

"Stand up please," Giblet said.

Hanson stood up and Giblet began to measure him. While he worked Giblet asked "What weapon you want?"

"An axe I guess," Hanson replied.

Giblet nodded, wrote something down on a piece of parchment and headed out of the door.

"It's best if you don't go out of your room while not wearing your armor," Gnarl said as he prepared to leave. "The helmet will create a shroud of darkness to hide your features from others." Hanson nodded his understanding and Gnarl left the room. Evil is growing stronger and stronger with this one, the old minion mused while walking down to the spawning pits.

Northlands

William rode out of the town that had sheltered him and his men for the night out of gratitude for the demise of the sorcerer. As the King and his forces were leaving, a caravan left the town and drew abreast with the forty-one men.

"Where are you going?" he asked, slightly confused. "The threat is gone."

"This place is evil," the caravan leader replied. "As soon as one evil falls, it is replaced by another. We're going to the other side of the mountain to start a new town."

"What will you call it?" William asked.

"Nordberg," the villager replied. The two parties went their separate ways: William to the bay and the caravan to the mountain pass. Neither party was aware that forty-two years from this very day, Midwinter's Eve, a ten-year-old child the Nordbergians would call "Witch-Boy" would come to Nordberg and be handed over to the Glorious Empire by the townspeople in attempt to save their town. None were aware that thirteen years later, the boy would return a fully grown Overlord and bring the people under his iron heel…

Dark Tower

A knock on the door startled Hanson, who was watching reds throwing fireballs at one another in something equivalent to the snowball fights Hanson had participated in while living in the Northlands.

Hanson opened the door and saw Giblet and three other minions who were carrying a wooden crate.

"Your armor and weapon ready!" Giblet said. The three other browns placed the crate on the floor and took off the top. Inside lay a suit of steel armor and a single headed war axe.

"Stand still," Giblet ordered as he and the other minions began to take out the armor. Hanson did as he was told and the browns began to assemble the armor on him as if he was a 3-D puzzle. A few minutes later Hanson stood fully armored in his room, battle axe in hand. It was a fearsome-looking weapon with a spike at the top that Hanson assumed was used for stabbing. The bottom of the axe haft was no less dangerous as it had what looked like a miniature mace on it. Hanson swung the axe experimentally and was rewarded with a deep whooshing noise.

"Gnarl waiting in training room," Giblet said as he and the other three minions left. Hanson nodded and descended to the throne room and then a few more flights of stairs to the training room.

"Ah, you've found your way in here," Gnarl said as Hanson entered. "Excellent, excellent."

"Why did you want me to come down here?" Hanson asked

"You must be tested to make sure that you have the strength necessary to wield your new weapon," Gnarl answered. "We can't have you falling down after a few swings now can we?" Hanson shrugged and raised his axe.

"See if you can shatter that training dummy," Gnarl said, pointing at a wooden mannequin.

Capital City

King William's return to his kingdom was a national celebration. He was greatly loved by his people because of how much he cared for them all. His daughter, Elizabeth, was waiting in the throne room. Yet something was wrong, William felt it in the atmosphere of the room. His suspicions were confirmed when Elizabeth hugged him tightly and said through tears, "Father, Nicholas has been found dead in a village called Spree along with all twenty of his guards! The villagers spoke of creatures that only the Overlord could command!"

"The Overlord? But we had a treaty of peace!" William said angrily. "That bastard will pay for this. Send word to all my troops: we march on the Dark Tower!"

Dark Tower

"You have all agreed to participate in this competition to inherit my title," the Overlord began. "You are here because there is Evil in your hearts and you have proven yourselves worthy in some way to be the next Overlord. You have been armed and armored according to your preferences and have spent a week honing your combat skills. Tomorrow the first task of the contest begins and by tomorrow evening, there will be only four of you standing before me. Tomorrow's task is Gold Gathering. He who has more gold than his opponent wins and advances to the next round. However, there are two ways to win. The first and more obvious way to win is to have more gold when the time runs out. The second option is to eliminate your opponent. While this may not seem fair, remember that if you are an Overlord, there are no rules. Thus, these tasks also lack rules." The candidates looked at one another, trying to determine exactly who it would be unwise to fight. "Now, pick a color to represent you," the Overlord said, shaking the candidates out of their reverie. Eight servants came forward, each bearing an Overlord cloak of a different color: red, blue, green, yellow, black, white, orange and gray.

Each man picked a color (Hanson picked red) and the servants fastened the cloaks around their shoulders.

"Sleep well," the Overlord said. "Tomorrow begins the first challenge…"

Next Morning…

Hanson descended to the Throne Room of the Dark Tower and found that four of the other candidates were already there.

"That's five…" Gnarl murmured as he checked off something on a piece of parchment. "What would you like for an after task lunch that includes beer?"

"I'm sorry," Hanson said. "What?"

"The first task is in the Golden Hills, the realm of the dwarves. Everything edible there comes with beer, so choose."

"Mutton, I guess then," Hanson said. "I hear that goes well with beer."

Gnarl snorted and started to laugh. "I certainly hope that no more bandits show up, for their sake," he said, chuckling quietly to himself. Hanson also laughed and sat down in a reinforced chair to wait.

"Eight candidates begin today, but only four will get to stay!" The five men looked at the source of the noise: a brown minion in a jester cap with a jester stick was doing cartwheels around the throne room and singing "Eight candidates…"

The jester continued to do cartwheels and sing the same song until the Overlord descended from his private quarters. The Overlord wasted no time in punting the jester into a wall, putting an abrupt end to his concert.

"If he gets on your nerves, don't hesitate to give him a good kick," the Overlord said as the three final candidates appeared. "Now, step through the Portal and wait for the rest of us," he said, indicating the pool of water to the candidates' left. With a shrug, Hanson stepped up to his knees into the pool and vanished.

Golden Hills

The eight would-be Overlords, Gnarl and the Dark Lord appeared in a mountainous area near a mine.

"In that mine is where the first task will take place," the Overlord began. "The two opponents will take one of those two waypoint gates to their starting areas and the competition will begin. The first pair will be red and blue."

Hanson and the blue candidate stepped out of the line and walked towards the waypoint gates. Hanson looked at his opponent and saw that he wielded a large and lethal-looking mace. I hope I don't get hit by that, Hanson thought as he stepped on the waypoint gate and disappeared.