General Herbison is sitting at his desk in the Netherworld living quarters writing: And with a clash of lightning the door swung open to reveal…

Jinx slowly opens the door and walks into the room.

General: A woman of such beauty that even the darkest shadows could not conceal.

Jinx freezes on the spot.

General: In the grip of her unstoppable magical will, her victim gasped for mercy.

Jinx creeps up on the General.

General: Her eyes spoke of wonder and things beyond any mortal understanding as her iron grip crushed the life from his body.

Jinx crouches down so she is level with his head: Boo!

The General jumps violently and falls off his chair: Hostiles! Security!

Jinx lifts the paper: What are you writing anyway?

General takes them back: Just some ideas. Anyway, disclaimer time. This story belongs to Sunjinjo as do her original characters. Hope you enjoy.

Jinx grabs the papers and runs away as the General pursues.

Battle of the Northern Fields

An alarm bell was ringing in Litatio, but too late, too late.

Already black smoke was rising from the small town at the base of the northern mountains, just inside the borders of the Glorious Empire. Litatio itself lay in a valley amidst sloping hills, and only the estates and farmlands around it rose above it, but the chaos was visible from miles around. The town was so remote, however, that help would probably never arrive in time.

Some legions were encamped in the town, and those had their hands more than full with the current problem.

Darkness had descended on them with the dawn, and it wasn't planning on leaving any survivors.
A giant armoured form waltzed through the streets, seated on a huge hoofed animal with horns a few feet wide, flinging around a heavy mace, every blow accompanied by cracking skulls and breaking bones. Jumping and swinging between the walls was a black-haired girl with a glistening sword already dripping with blood. Every now and then she shot into a window feet-first, and every time screams and gurgling followed. As she came to the ground it was upon the back of a grey wolf, at the head of an entire pack, ridden by brown creatures with large pointed ears and varying headgear.

Chaos and death had stormed into Litatio, in the shape of the Overlord, the Purple Scourge and four hordes of colourful demons. And they were laughing.

This wasn't more than practise to Lord Sayron. He could just as well have travelled around Litatio, but he wanted to stamp his influence on the land, and ensure no messengers escaped the town while he was at it. When he'd be done with them they'd think again before they dared to do so.

He still felt a bit strange; to be out and about without any upcoming Tower Gates. He wouldn't see the Netherworld again before Solarius' head rolled over the marble of his own palace, he'd sworn that to himself. He'd return as an Emperor, or not at all.

A bright red parrot whizzed past his head, to strike a man to his right. Razorlike claws scratched deep wounds over one eye, a sharpened beak pecked at the other. A scream, hands clawed at bloody, empty sockets, and a brown Minion wearing a black bandana finished the job. Scabies affectionately scratched Duda's head as the parrot landed on his shoulder.

Salamanders shot over the walls and roofs of the town like fiery flashes, and breathed their fire into every window, every door and every chimney they could find. The black smoke rising from the valley was mainly their doing, and the red Minions were as happy as could be – Litatio was mainly built with wood and straw. It lay beside the river they'd followed from the Black Gate, and the people were running around with buckets of cold water like crazy, but it was in vain. The fire of the reds turned out to be very hard to extinguish.

One of the reds looked on in appreciation as his salamander spewed flames into an open window with wide open jaws, as the screams of the inhabitants slowly died away in crackling fire. Eventually his mount coughed and closed his smoking maw, to look up at him blinking. They descended along the wall. Not a heartbeat later the roof collapsed in a whirl of flying cinders.

"Nice, Nitro!" another red laughed, on the other side of the street.

"Not nice enough," the red sizzled. "Miss something." His salamander hiccupped up a quivering fireball in agreement. Then the red looked up; somewhere further away in the neighbourhood a thundering explosion resounded, and a flaming mushroom cloud ascended to the morning sky.

Fever was warming up.

"That I mean," Nitro chuckled, rubbing his white-hot claws together, shooting away to the chain of explosions twisting itself through Litatio.

The Overlord and the Minions had rapidly spread through the town, and so the few soldiers present had been forced to do the same. The legions had been broken in many cases, and they were far from efficient. The people themselves had weapons too, however, in the form of short swords and axes and more often in that of pitchforks and scythes. Here at the edge of town, where the farmland started, small groups of reckless Minions were still doing battle with the hardened farmers of this mountain village. These were strong Minions, and often more than a little insane… in a good way.

Except for one.

There was a green flash, jumping over the backs of the men as if they were trampolines, and with every jump a fountain of blood flew with him. The spray of opened arteries accompanied him like a reversed red carpet. Another thing accompanying him was a constant stream of terrible, high-pitched, insane giggling.

At long last, Stabbit had found his entertainment again.

The rising sun glistened on his claw knives, his eyes shone with insane sadism and all his teeth were bared, as blood and laughter flowed out between them. He created a path for the rest of the hordes; a path of screaming, collapsing, weakened or dead men.

And then there was the sudden silver shine of a scythe's blade, and Stabbit thudded down onto the drenched, dark earth. His head rolled on for a moment.

The man wielding the scythe looked down on the green Minion with satisfaction, then he turned and went for a couple of browns, some of them riding wolves. The predators jumped up at him, but he fenced them off with the scythe's grip.

Behind him the headless Minion's fingers twitched.

The frontmost wolf was beaten back. A blow of the scythe pulled a deep cut across the snout, and the beast yelped, but then that changed into a rattling growl. The brown on its back growled with it, and twisted the short, jagged sword around in his hand.

Claws pulled the body forward and grabbled around. A farmer, burning and running away from a few red Minions on salamanders with their maws wide open, threatened to kick away the head that lay a little distance away, but at that moment the head opened its eyes and the mouth twisted in a sudden, sharp hiss. The claws found the head, green light flashed, Stabbit kicked himself away from the ground and suddenly there was another head rolling over the fertile soil outside Litatio, a human head with wide eyes of surprise. The scythe thudded down, and the brown Minion with the jagged sword chuckled in appreciation.

Stabbit giggled. He blinked up at the people around him, licking his bloodied teeth and grinning with their sudden fear.

"His head was chopped clean off!" one of the farmers exclaimed. "He isn't mortal!"

"We'll see about that," a deeper voice spoke, and Stabbit spun around, claws spread and suddenly hissing with aggression.

Then a sharpened blade descended upon him, a weapon quite a bit more professional than the scythe. There was nothing Stabbit could do as his skull was cracked and the sword sliced through his body as a hot knife through butter, and neatly divided him in two pieces.

Then suddenly a wolf hung from the soldier's muscular arm, and then suddenly he no longer had an arm. The man roared up at the darkening sky, and the battle raged on.

Not much later it was over, and the two bloody halves of the green Minion still lay on the blood-drenched field.

And they started glistening with a green light.

The hornbeast slowly walked through the ruined, scorched streets and let the occasional skull crack like a walnut beneath his hooves. Blood stained the rough hide, but it was mainly the blood of others. On his back the Overlord still sat, looking out over the chaos with fiery eyes.

Lord Sayron slowly drove the survivors together, assisted by his Minions and the Purple Scourge, jumping through the streets and dragging people out of their hiding places as she went, to gather them on a small market square in the middle of town. The remains of stalls lay scattered around, broken and blackened.

The hornbeast came to a standstill. Sayron dismounted, and Jinx came down next to him, her knees bent and one hand on the ground. As she straightened out the two grinned at each other briefly. "Nice work, Lord," the horde leader nodded.

"You too." Sayron chuckled for a moment, and then turned to the remaining people. Many of them were injured, but they'd survive, if they made the right decision that was.

"People of Litatio," the Overlord started with devilish delight in his voice. "As you might suspect by now, I'm on my way to the capital. If you want to see the next sunrise, you'll have to come with me."

"They'll only slow us down," Jinx muttered from the corner of her mouth.

"I know, but they'd be a good addition, survivors are strong," Sayron muttered back. "What say you?" he asked the people in a louder voice.

For a moment all was quiet. The people looked at each other uneasily.

On the southern farmlands a slight tremor coursed through the soil. A few bodies moved.

"What say you?!" the Overlord shouted.

A young man stepped forward. For a moment his dark eyes pierced Sayron's. Then he spat on the ground. "Never!"

"Very well," Sayron growled. He reached backwards to take his mace from his back.
He never had the chance to finish that movement.

Even as the young man clenched his fists and narrowed his eyes at the Overlord an enormous tumult coursed through the ground underneath the square. The cobblestones undulated, some damaged houses around them partly collapsed.

Then the ground below the people opened.

A fissure ran through the market square, and Sayron and Jinx stepped back in fright as it reached them. The widest point lay directly beneath the group of survivors, however, a point where the cobblestones fell away in a deep hole, where dark earth was visible at first… and then teeth.

A gruesome mouth, circular and certainly five meters across, came to light to swallow the people. The teeth just kept going, all the way into the darkness where nothing else was visible.

And then that darkness came up.

As if an Everlightian forest giant was erupting from the ground as quick as lightning, a dark pillar of armour-like scales appeared from Litatio's soil. It seemed to have no end, and the Minions flattened their ears in the shadow of the apparition. Sayron gripped his mace so tightly his knuckles paled, and Jinx gasped for breath as she cowered down slightly.

This was a Ruborian sand worm.

The rumbling of the earth died away, as did the screams of the people. The creature couldn't close its mouth and blood gushed over the armour plates as the eyeless head turned to the Overlord and his followers. Sayron swallowed.

"Bahi, my Lord."

The voice was soft in the sudden silence, and had a Ruborian accent. The Overlord spun around, his eyes wide.

There, leaning against a cracked wall, was a small, slender Ruborian man with wooden beads in his black hair.

Omari, the mage who'd left Nordberg during their travel through Fay's Last Sanctuary. Omari, who'd returned to Ruboria. Omari…

"…Do you control that sand worm?!" Sayron asked, almost breathlessly.

"I offered him blood and fear," the mage spoke as he stepped forward. "More food than he'd get in Ruboria." He bared his white teeth in a grin. "He came all by himself."

"Unholy Lord," Jinx whispered, staring up at the beast, scarcely realizing she'd taken on a new god to swear by. "With this creature..."

Sayron stared between the sand worm and Omari for a moment. "...I hadn't expected this," he uttered. "Make sure you keep an eye on it, will you?" He doubted he could dominate the sand worm with magic before the beast realized it and swallowed him whole. He also doubted he could sleep with this creature in the soil below him.

"Certainly, my Lord!" Omari bowed deeply.

"Master!" A brown Minion ran into the square panting and tripping, almost falling over with surprise and fear as he saw the sand worm towering above the buildings. He composed himself surprisingly quick, however. "Messengers, Master. Carrier pigeons. Minc, Masud and others didn't shoot everything."

Sayron kept still for a moment, then turned back to Omari. "Make sure nobody gets away."
The mage nodded and walked over to the sand worm. Briefly he spoke to the creature, a flood of quick syllables in his own tongue. Then the sand worm disappeared into the earth again, surprisingly swift and quietly. Just the dark hole remained.

A light tremor turned south, the direction into which the messengers would hurry to Arcadiopolis. Omari bowed to the Overlord again. "It is done."

On the southern pastures the ground was torn open again and again, in rapid succession, and every time the screams were cut off quickly in a rumble of earth and rock. Even the few carrier pigeons that'd escaped the archers' arrows were intercepted.

But high up in the air, above the thin veils of mist in the valley, one bird soared south, a gleaming copper cylinder bound to its leg.

(LATER)

The march went on, ever further.

On the backs of wolves, salamanders and spiders, and in one case on that of a hornbeast the dark army sped through the increasingly lower mountains and hills in the north of the Empire. They also travelled outside the hours of daylight, following the rivers on their inevitable path to sea. They came through some more villages and small towns, and they left no survivors in either of them. Omari's sand worm intercepted everything.

On the back of her rough wolf, at the head of the brown horde, Jinx enjoyed the speed and the wild travel every day. But every day, a trace of fear nestled itself deeper into the pit of her stomach, and she knew she wasn't the only one. The moment she'd been living for, for over a year – ever since she'd joined Sayron – was coming very close now, and there was a chance this would be the end for her. If she'd fall there'd be no Well for her, not another second chance.

And then finally the day came that, early in the morning, the few wolf riders they'd sent forward came back very quickly with news that made everyone's heart skip a beat.

"Camped soldiers," one of them panted. "Knew we'd be here!"

Sayron stepped forward, seated on Ruau. "Then this is our moment," he spoke. He straightened his back. "Gnarl, how close are we to the city?"

The advisor coughed to loosen his voice. "Closer than you think, Sire." He chuckled. "I think we couldn't have gotten the Tower Gate any closer under the influence of the anti-magic shield."

Sayron kept silent for a moment. "That close?" He took a deep breath, almost unable to believe the moment had finally arrived. "Gnarl, bring up my armies."

"I'm already on the job, Sire, the throne room is filling up rapidly," the old Minion snickered. "If you'd be so kind as to climb this hill."

Sayron spurred on the hornbeast and the duo ascended up the smooth slope of the grass-covered hill. On their left the sun rose into the sky and outstretched their shadows to the right. Around them the Minions climbed up as well.

Sayron stretched his neck to look over the ridge. He held his breath as more and more came to sight.

The first thing he could see was a blue haze, strangely out of place in the rosy morning sky. As he climbed up further this turned out to be floating in the air above a magnificent city going on as far as the eye could see. Enormous white marble buildings with crafted walls, pillars, terracotta roof tiles, elegant towers and statues. The farmlands and fields leading down to the city walls were filled with slender, tall trees gently moving in the wind.
Arcadiopolis, nestled safely beneath the anti-magic shield. The capital of the Glorious Empire, seat of power of Emperor Solarius. At last.

The slender trees weren't the only thing filling the fields. Many of them had been chopped down, and the wood was no doubt part of the many, many tents on the fields now. Probably of the ballistae, too.

Arcadiopolis had known they were coming. Omari's sand worm had let a messenger escape somewhere. And now the fields around the city were filled with encamped soldiers, fully aware of their approach, ready for battle.

It was only fitting they were too.

Sayron's eyes fell to a wooden tower, hung with red and golden banners, within which a large number of archers was probably encamped. A nice vantage point, and very close by as well. Too close to his liking.

That didn't last long.

Beneath his gaze the tower shook, and then burst apart. The massive beams gave way in a shower of splinters, the banners ripped. And then something worked its way up from the ground beneath. The brief screams of the camping archers quickly died away.

It wasn't Omari's sand worm. It was a Tower Gate.

The wind blew in the direction of the dark traveling army, and more hill ridges largely obscured the gate from view from the walls. This wouldn't draw anyone's attention yet.
Black claws spread to the sky and an azure beam of light drifted up, straight from the Netherworld. Next to Sayron Jinx appeared on the hilltop, riding her wolf, and together they looked on as the first of their soldiers clambered from the gate. Around the Tower Gate four Minion gates dug themselves from the ground, and those started spewing forth warriors soon as well.

Slowly the depression behind the hill started filling up with Ruborians, Nordbergians, former Imperials from Everlight, and elves. Seffec, the wounds on his back fully healed, took position at the head of the desert dwellers, and it was clear his loyalty to Sayron hadn't been diminished yet – he gnashed his teeth at seeing the walls of the city where he'd served in the Arena for years.

Kivner joined the Nordbergians, Marcus Cassius the Everlightians. The last one to step from the gate was a woman in a black dress, briefly taking the lead of the elven soldiers – an apparition with flaming red hair, gleaming golden eyes and a royal demeanour. Sayron and Fay exchanged affectionate glances. As she joined his side, the Minions just kept pouring from their gates, a seemingly endless stream of brown, red, green and blue.

The full army of the Netherworld had assembled, just outside Arcadiopolis, but also just outside the Empire's vision. And it was enormous.

The mass of humans, elves and Minions outstretched, swallowing and enveloping the original traveling army, and it went on to a whole lot of hill ridges further north, where they'd come from. The once quiet landscape was a ravel of activity now, full of soft voices and the clanging of weapons. Wolves, taken directly from the Netherworld, growled and yelped at each other, filled with as much excitement as the Minions on their backs. Spiders and salamanders clicked and creaked at each other. Blue Minions threw up healing blue sparks as practice. The yeti came out of the Tower Gate, rid of his cage and growling with withheld bloodlust.

Then a small group of Minions emerged from the gate, carrying the gleaming, fiery Tower Heart.

Sayron dismounted and remained standing next to his mount, a hand on the rough head. For a moment he laid his hands on the Heart, and lightning flashed between his fingers, more powerful than ever. He allowed Jinx to do the same to strengthen her magic. Then he straightened out and raised his flaming mace up high. The sunlight spattered from the dark arcanium. "My armies!" he called out, and the wind carried his words over the men and Minions. "You don't know how proud I am to see you here today."

Next to him Jinx looked out over the mass of Minions, beaming with joy and pride, but then realized Sayron was happier with the humans. Careful, Lord. Being an Overlord is mainly about the Minions. Don't grow too fond of the people you dominate.

"You've all suffered because of the Empire, as have I." Sayron's eyes narrowed. "But this is the hour of our vengeance."

There was no cheering, but only because the soldiers would definitely hear it. The eyes of the men and Minions were ablaze.

"For Nordberg, Ruboria and Everlight. For blood and death. For magic!"

"For the one true Emperor!" someone called out, and Sayron's eyes flared.

"For the one true Emperor, Lord," Jinx spoke softly. She exchanged glances with him. "It's time."

The Overlord nodded silently, and raised his weapon once more, as he mounted his hornbeast.

As the armies slowly put themselves into motion and spread to the top of the hill ridge, three Minions stayed behind, close to the Tower Heart. Or actually four. The red and blue Minions with the black-lined eyes looked up in surprise as two greens joined them; one on foot, the other riding a large black spider. Both of them were giggling, with one voice. The effect was eerie.

"What did you do this time, Stabbit," the red sighed, not making the effort of speaking in broken sentences like a normal red Minion would.

The blue chuckled briefly. "It had to happen one day, brother."

"As long as you fuse later," Fever growled. "This is our moment too, and I don't want you stealing the spotlight…" The glow of his eyes flared to almost white for a moment, and the same happened to his hands. He could barely contain his inner fire.

"Easy, brother," Goudvis grinned. "Leave something for us."

With a crooked grin the red outstretched his glowing hands, and the other two – or three – took them, to form a square. Four pairs of black-lined eyes closed.

Dark clouds rolled in from the north, to spread with the armies of the Netherworld, across the northern fields.

(IMPERIAL FORCES)

Fabius Amicus, a soldier in a green tunic and with a long bow strung around his back, climbed the high walls of Arcadiopolis, yawning and rubbing his eyes. It was time to relieve the night's watch again.

With him, more men ascended to the wall. "Boys," he spoke, still tired, but busy waking up. "Time for the shift, come on."

"Hm?"

Leaning against a watchtower, his helmet half across his eyes, his predecessor turned to him. Fabius shook his head. "Sleeping on the job? You know what's coming for us, don't you?"

There was no answer – his colleague just groaned as he stretched until his back creaked. In the meantime Fabius' eyes dwelt to the northern horizon.

Dark clouds rolled in across the hill ridges. Briefly a shiver crept up his own back.

That shiver grew in intensity as the call of a wolf suddenly reached his ears.

And another, and another. And then it was a chorus of wild, bloodthirsty singing voices.
Then it died away, but in a way that was even worse.

Fabius snatched the bow off his back and gripped the wood so firmly his knuckles paled. His eyes were wide and his breathing quickened.

A figure appeared above the hilltop.

Even from this distance he could see what it was. A grey Nordbergian wolf, with a demon riding its back – pointy, frayed ears, flashing eyes, a raised sword. The howl resounded again.

Then all hell streamed down the hill.

Before he knew what he was doing Fabius' legs already carried him across the wall at breakneck speed, screaming in panic. "He's here! The Demon Lord is here!" He reached the central watchtower on the wall and started hoisting on the bell rope like a lunatic. It wasn't long before the deep ring of the bell resounded across the northern fields. The tents shook beneath the violence of suddenly waking soldiers.

"Bring up the catapults! The ballistae! Everything!"

The chime of the bell rang out over the city, and even though it resounded very softly there, a figure still appeared on the balcony of the Imperial Palace, deep in the heart of Arcadiopolis.

Emperor Solarius looked up at the dark clouds in his morning sky. His gloved hands tightened their grip on the balustrade.

(BATTLEFIELD)

Uphill Jinx had taken it easy. The fear in her stomach had reached its peak, at the same time as she reached the top of the hill.

But down… down things went a lot faster.

She had no choice. Her wolf flew forward, at the head of the pack, and the wolves behind forced her forward just as much as she pulled them along.

And her fear evaporated like water in a frying pan of bloodthirstiness and the joy of war.

Jinx raised her sword up high and screamed until she was out of breath. Behind her the Minions and wolves followed her example, a chorus of fear-inducing, raspy voices. She could almost see how the Imperial soldiers backed away in fear…

There was the front line. She could see the tents emptying, the soldiers gathering from the fields and from within the city itself. Ropes and ladders were lowered from the walls, and at the same time catapults and ballistae were raised up and readied. The first giant boulders were pulled back in their leather slings, and then they came down whistling and screaming through the rosy sky above the battlefield.

"Dodge!" the horde leader screamed. "Split up!" She briefly glanced back and saw the Minions following her order. She herself stayed her course, straight for one of the oncoming rocks. She raised a hand, pumped through a flood of fortified magic and enveloped the boulder in it. A mighty crack followed, and then it was only dust and rock chippings descending upon her. She pulled back her hand and grinned wildly. Now she could actually see the soldiers backing away.

She ended up amidst them anyway, not a heartbeat later.

The impact whacked all air from her lungs, but fortunately not from those of her wolf. The beast burst through the front line, flew into his first victim and immediately ripped off his throat. Blood spattered onto the rough fur and the armour of his rider. Everywhere around them the scene repeated itself as the brown horde plunged into battle.

War. More than a skirmish, more than survival. More than the relatively simple battles for Nordberg and Orntal. War was something else.

But Jinx knew she enjoyed it more than anything else she'd experienced thus far.

The Empire's soldiers were well-trained. Though they'd only just woken up they fought like lions already, and Jinx could see there weren't just green and blue tunics now, but black ones as well – Solarius' highest elite, of the same calibre as the Arena guards.

She saw Minions fall already, and she knew Mortis was saving lives in rapid succession down in the Netherworld – Sayron had ordered him to resurrect his strongest Minions without further command. There was more than enough life force, thanks to the people of Nordberg and Everlight. The stream from the Minion gates would never stop, not until the city was theirs.

It didn't take long for the horde leader and her wolf to be covered in blood. The wolf was stabbed or struck by arrows multiple times, but Jinx could stop most of those and the animal only grew more ferocious with pain. She herself acquired deep cuts over her arms as well, and one across her chest that went so deep her breastplate was split by it, but the healing magic did its job and soon only the blood remained.

She realized the other clans joined them in battle. Salamanders shot past, low to the ground, and burnt through the legs of the men with the fire pouring from their opened maws, or caused pillars of flame consuming them whole. Spiders lightly floated over the heads of the soldiers so the green Minions on their backs could cut throats to the left and right or jump over to human backs.

The human armies didn't think twice either. Along the entire breadth of the Imperial lines the Nordbergians, Ruborians, Everlightians and elves jumped into battle, with swords, axes, clubs and elegant bows. Quite a lot of them fell as well, however. Jinx growled – she didn't value the mortal side of their army all that much anymore. This war would be won by Minions.

Sayron had stayed behind for a bit, but when he came forward it was with a shining mace and all the savage power Ruau had in his body. He was seated high enough to fling around severed heads, limbs and entire bodies with every blow of his weapon.

It didn't take long before they'd taken a hill closer to the city and could defend it, in the middle of the battle. There the Overlord kept standing, and he raised up his free hand. "Now, Gnarl!"

"Certainly, Sire," the old advisor spoke. A tremor coursed through the ground, a Tower Gate unfolded itself, and then a construction of heavy wooden beams took up all space between the peaks. The first catapult of the Netherworld, given strength by the nearby Tower Heart.

Five Minions hoisted themselves onto the construction, but two of them were shot full of arrows immediately, as was the wood of the catapult itself. Sayron hissed and plunged back into battle, to make sure the catapult could be readied. Soon the first boulders were loaded into the sling and their own rocks thundered down upon the Empire's side.

It seemed the Empire wanted to answer to that. The next catapult boulder to come down onto the Netherworld's side didn't simply crush the dark army, but exploded in a vortex of fire and light. Dozens of Minions were killed instantly, and many others were flung away or ran off screaming and burning. And more of these new boulders sailed through the air, as harbingers of their defeat.

"Not good, Sire," Gnarl remarked. Sayron looked up at the city walls furiously. "We'll have to take those down quick, or nothing will be left of our army!"

As if to worsen the situation, massive forms let themselves fall from the walls. Gargantuans, and Eradicators with their magic-sucking cannons. Some figures in dark blue robes stepped onto the wall between the catapults – Sentinels. "They're really outdoing themselves, aren't they?"

"Time we do the same," Sayron snarled.

(BATTLEFIELD)

"Did he say it?"

Fever opened his eyes and looked straight into Goudvis'. "Since when do you obey people?"
The blue Minion shrugged. "Well. I think this Minion body is taking its toll. Obeying feels pleasant. Ironic, no?"

"We were going to do it anyway," the red chuckled. He looked between the two green Minions. "Yes, brother. It's time indeed."

They let go of each other's hands. Then each of them hunched over, trembling and convulsing violently. The two green Minions melted together with a sickening sound.
And the skin on their backs started moving, as if something stirred beneath.

(BACK TO SAYRON)

The battle raged on.

Sayron tried to get closer to the walls or at least get another catapult above ground, but he didn't fare so well. Every ballista in the wide surroundings that was still intact now concentrated on him, and there was also the problem of the approaching Gargantuans. Ruau scraped his hooves across the ground, but the mountains of human flesh and muscle mirrored that movement, and they were with more.

As Omari's sand worm erupted from the ground time and time again, and cast up the ballistae and some nearby watchtowers in explosions of cracking wood and screaming soldiers, the Gargantuans closed in on Sayron more and more. Then they thundered forward.

Catapult boulders flew through the sky, on both sides. Ruau threw himself forward with at least as much force. For a moment it seemed the Gargantuan would be smart enough to grab on to the horns, but then the hornbeast had toppled him over and the crown of spikes on Sayron's mace squarely rammed the front of his helmet. A crack, a fountain of blood, and the enormous muscles fell silent. Sayron panted and turned Ruau around. "The next one's yours," he uttered. Ruau snorted briefly.

The remaining Gargantuans stomped on the ground. One of them was shot full of arrows on the backside – arrows tipped with colourful feathers, probably from the elves, or Minc and his small cohort of archers. They didn't seem to be slowing the creature down.

Two at once. Would he be able to deal with this? Sayron narrowed his eyes…

…and then widened them, as a thick, dark vine wrapped itself around the necks of his two adversaries. With a fleshy sound razor-sharp thorns burst from the vine, and more blood sprayed across the battlefield. The two Gargantuans collapsed and revealed what was behind them.

Queen Fay lowered her hand and raised her head with a smile. "My pleasure, love."

Sayron opened and closed his mouth for a moment, then grinned. "My one true First Mistress."

"I don't ask for more," the queen laughed with an elegant reverence. Then she whirled off into the fray, throwing out her darkened magic to all sides.

Sayron raised his bloodied hands and called up another catapult. The battlefield was being transformed into glorious chaos.

(BATTLEFIELD)

Chaos was all Jinx could see.

To her, it seemed she was alone amidst a sea of soldiers, cut off from the rest of the horde. Time and time again she fell out, spraying magic into faces until the skin fell from their bones, striking with her sword until her muscles screamed in protest, and then eventually with her ropes, though she couldn't use those half as effectively as normal from wolfback.

Then a pitiful yelp rang out, and the legs of her rough grey mount gave out.

Jinx looked down. A low-cast spear had buried itself into the wolf's chest. The animal collapsed, and as she looked on two arrows pierced his flanks. She rolled away and barely dodged a third.

No mount anymore.

For a moment she mourned her wolf – he'd served her well during the entire march – but then she growled savagely and swept around her ropes. This way she could clear an arena around herself way faster, the way she was used to.

Around her ballista arrows and catapult boulders whirred through the air. The dark, veil-like clouds obscured the sun and cast the battlefield in a strange gloom. In some places piles of bodies had formed, both human and Minion.

A Gargantuan stormed straight through the free arena Jinx had created, and she could barely dodge him by jumping up – but the creature slowed down and struck at her. Jinx answered by hooking on to his armour and kept holding on as the creature furiously swatted at her – and flung away his own troops again and again. The horde leader held on tightly to his helmet and shoulder pieces, as he crushed the bodies of her wolf and the soldiers beneath his gigantic feet. For a while she maintained this, then she tore off the helmet, cast a glance into a misshapen face with a huge nose and ears and small, beady eyes, and then blew off the entire head. The body collapsed into the churned, dry grass, and Jinx rolled away from the spears and swords immediately coming down to meet her.

Somewhere close by an exploding catapult boulder shook the entire field.

(BATTLEFIELD)

An explosion had him diving away for cover.

Not in a very smart direction, it turned out. As Seffec wiped the soot off his face and opened his eyes he looked up at a couple of figures awfully familiar to him. A neatly ordered group of men, with black tunics and plumed helmets.

Arena guards. Normally he saw those standing at the edges of the Arena, blocking his way back to the dungeons and keeping him from attacking the audience. Now…

The Ruborian leader drew his scimitar. Behind him his own men recovered from the blow.
Ruborians were strong, stronger than they'd let show in the Arena. Seffec narrowed his eyes. Then the two groups stormed at each other, as new explosions shook the ground.

The first guards fell out with their long swords, with swift, trained movements. Seffec shielded himself with his own sword and tried to push his opponent's arm away, but they were matched. Then the Ruborian briefly drew back and kicked the guard in the chest, so he fell back into the group. A second later an arrow ricocheted off his helmet – Seffec glanced back and caught a glimpse of Masud – and the next planted itself in an eye. The man roared and clawed at his head, but a few seconds later he was dead, save for a few last twitches.
Seffec barely had time to breathe before a new Arena guard charged at him, his weapon held low. The boy couldn't prevent it pulling a long wound across his arm, but he paid the man back with a deep gash to the shoulder. The guard didn't even blink, and immediately fell out again. Seffec dodged him by shooting to the right, and rammed his knee into the man's armoured stomach with a cracking sound. The scimitar flashed over his back and then hacked deeply into the back of his neck. A new crack, of bone this time, and the guard fell down convulsing.

Immediately Seffec turned to the rest of the garrison, with flashing blue eyes and an even brighter flashing sword.

A strange glow radiated upwards from behind the hilltops, further north, outside of the siege.

Here, too, the gnash and creak of bones resounded. Something was going horribly wrong here.

Fever, Goudvis and Stabbit – back in one body – still stood hunched over in a triangle, but now something started to happen. The skin on their backs was still moving, increasingly wild and jolting.

At the same time their faces changed, lengthening forwards until it was no longer normal for a Minion, but resembled a snout. From their brow ridges increasingly long horns appeared, almost straight and ridgy. Their muscles thickened, their legs grew longer, their claws sharper. All this time their eyes remained closed, and it was clear the changes caused them immense pain.

Then something burst through the skin on their backs, in an eruption of slime and blood. Screams and horrible hissing resounded from behind the ridge.

Explosions and rains of sparks descended upon the Netherworld's side of the battlefield. Every time such a catapult boulder impacted, a considerable part of the hordes and armies was wiped out, and some of those Minions didn't die for the first time. The catapults were a problem Sayron and Gnarl racked their brains over for the moment. None of the Netherworldly warriors could reach the city walls to dispatch the siege weapons, and their own catapults were too far away to do any damage.

There was a small figure causing explosions in the Imperial legions too, however.

The Empire had brought bomb throwers to the battle, men in blue tunics with dozens of spherical explosives strapped to their bodies. Many of them now lay dead in the dust, as they weren't exactly invincible.

A few Minions had taken off their bombs and used them for themselves. But not one of them was as enthusiastic as Nitro.

The red Minion was very young, but he'd had a love for explosions from the very beginning, and now he was as happy as could be. Everywhere he went he caused a chain of blooming fires and deafening bangs, and bodies and parts of them flew around behind him. Every now and then he went on apart from his salamander, jumping and climbing over Gargantuans and Eradicators, sometimes leaving bombs in their armour so they burst apart behind him in a clash of flying copper.

Then something huge sailed over his head, something letting through the remaining sunlight in a rain of ruby-red rays. A mighty beating of wings resounded, and Nitro was forced to shield his eyes as a sea of fire suddenly bloomed in front of him, in a long arch ending in a giant mushrooming explosion. The men caught in it screamed and shrieked, with much higher-pitched voices than he'd expected.

The red slowly lowered his claw, his forgotten bomb still clenched tightly. His eyes widened.

Amidst the rising cinders, lifted on his own thermal, soared an enormous, gruesome creature. A scaly, scarlet red skin, ivory claws on hands and feet, a glowing chest, horns – not curved like a red's, but almost straight. And, yes, wings... wings with half-transparent, bloody red membranes between the outstretched wing fingers.

As the red Minion looked on two more flying forms joined the first above the fire. The left one was green and spotted, and his teeth were bared in a hissing grin. The one on the right was blue, and a white mist was descending from his body. Nitro realized the creature's skin was so cold an icy air flow was streaming off him, even in the heat of the inferno.

The red flying creature beat his wings and almost shot over his head again. As he came closer Nitro suddenly saw the fierce eyes were black-lined, dark lines continuing to the sides of the horned head. The same went for the green and blue creatures.

Then the three parted ways in gusts of fire, green smoke and icy mist.

The fiery creature savagely flapped his new wings and tried to gain some control over his course. It was hard flying when a ceaseless, blazingly hot thermal rushed beneath one's wings.

The creature that'd once been Fever, but could now barely remember his name because of the flood of new power coursing through his body, widely opened his maw and filled the air above the battlefield with fire. Then he soared down and pulled a swathe of destruction through the Imperial troops. Wherever he went flames ignited, and men screamed as Sayron would never, in all of his days, be able to make them scream. He cut through the armies like a scythe and decimated entire legions, until there was nothing left but flying cinders and glowing ashes.

The Imperial armies were far larger than Sayron's ragtag mess, he could clearly see that now he had a proper vantage point. Luckily Sayron had some forces on his side Solarius couldn't have anticipated.

A whistle reached his pointed ears. Fever wildly flapped his wings and turned in the air, just in time to see a huge boulder coming his way, fired with startling precision from one of the catapults on the city wall.

The winged Minion grinned briefly and pulled back his arm. As the rock reached him he beat it back with a deafening blow, and on this flight the rock pulled a flaming trail through the sky. As it came down amidst the Imperial troops it burst apart in an explosion of thick, liquid lava.

Fever turned his wings and soared back to Sayron's side of the battlefield, to tap some catapult boulders from that side in their flight as he went. They hissed and cracked as in answer, as if to let him know their hearts had been rendered liquid by his touch. Now they could do quite a bit more damage than simple crushing.

He rose up on the heat of his own flames and cast a glance east. There his brother was hard at work as well.

Thick clouds of green gas streamed from between the long, sharp teeth of the green flyer and spread across the battlefield, whirling in the air flows of his wingbeat.

Stabbit was still laughing incessantly, but he was no longer the only one. Wherever the gas reached the Empire's troops the men dropped their weapons and burst out roaring with insane laughter. Where the gas lingered, they often fell down altogether, their lungs clogged with the winged green Minion's poison.

Now Stabbit was finally satisfied. This was fun, even more so than being in two heads at once. He swiped out his claws and whirled down, to cut off raised spears and heads as if he was mowing grass. Behind him the laughter rose up anew.

Where he went his poison also afflicted the Minions, but they seemed to suffer much less. Some were caught in fits of laughter, others in coughing, but none of them died of it – also because the greens, immune as always, often dragged the others away.

But Stabbit still wasn't entirely right in the head, and it seemed he made little distinction between the Netherworld's side and that of the Empire. At one moment he sliced straight through the Netherworld's army and started cutting off the highest parts there too – the peoples' heads. For the blink of an eye his nails pulled deep scratches through the armour plates of Omari's sand worm as it abruptly erupted from the soil. And then something else was hanging from his razor-sharp claws.

The insane flyer looked to the side. There, wrestling in his elongated fingers, hung a brown Minion with a black bandana over his ears. From far away the caw of a large tropical bird resounded, but Stabbit was flying way too fast for Duda to catch up.

Scabies dug his own claws into Stabbit's wrist in a desperate attempt to cling on. At that the flyer flung back his hand, but the only result was that the brown Minion landed on Stabbit's back, between the wings, his arms around the muscular, spotted neck in a cramped embrace.

Then the long, frayed ears were suddenly in a vice grip, and Scabies yanked them hard.

"Flying too low, scumbag!"

Stabbit yelped with surprise and wildly flapped his wings, resulting in the duo rising up above the battlefield uncontrolled, barely dodging an exploding catapult boulder. They tumbled back towards the city walls, incessantly spewing green gas.

General Herbison is standing on a raised platform with archers: Fire!

A hailstorm of arrows rain down on Imperial troops.

General: Maintain suppression fire and prepare to roll out the catapult on the enemy reinforcements. I'm not going to be the one who tells the Overlord, or Jinx, we screwed up.

An arrow whistles through the air and just misses his head.

General: Ha! Is that the best you can do? You've got no aim at all!

This time an arrow knocks his hat off.

The General dives for his hat: Hat down! I repeat, we've got a hat down!

Jinx races past: Would you focus already?

General salutes: Yes ma'am. Sorry ma'am. Please review readers, pledge your support to the Overlord! Or to Jinx if you think she looks nice as she disembowels enemy soldiers… which I do. Till next time.