Legacy of the Overlord Chapter 4: First Impressions, an overlord fanfic

CHAPTER EDITED: Chapter has been checked for spelling mistakes and plot mishaps.

Well here you are, chapter four. What does the future hold for poor Briar? Don't ask me I'd be ruining my own story.

I own nothing to do with the Overlord games, I only made Briar and the brays and if Code Masters or Triumph Studios want to use them, they can

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Legacy of the Overlord

Chapter Four: First Impressions

It was peaceful here, she didn't know where she was but she didn't care anymore, she had her eyes closed and was being held tightly to a warm body. Briar thought she had forgotten the smell of her mother's hair. But with the soft red strands tickling her nose she realized she hadn't hadn't forgotten at all, the scent was just as she remembered when her mother was with her at their farm, in their home, enjoying a well deserved hug and rest after a long day shepherding the, back then, smaller goat herd around the pastures of Mellow Hills. Things had been so much simpler, when it had just been them, when Briar smiled daily for her mother.

She was older now and as such she didn't fit her mother's lap as well as she used to, but that didn't matter. Her worries had long melted away and her eyes were closed as she rested her head on her mother's warm shoulder, her hands fisted in the cloth of her mother's dress. Her mother's own hands stroking her back and caressing her long black hair. "Briar, time to get back to work."

"No, a couple more minutes. Please." the young girl begged. She knew her mother was probably smiling but her hands stopped stroking her hair and back.

"Come on, we can rest later. More cuddles then."

"No, there won't." Her daughter said "You've been dead for five years, this is just me having some sort of pain induced hallucination. If not then it's that moment when I die, I was getting pulled apart by horses after all." The young girl explained calmly. Her mother's smile faded and Briar felt her sigh heavily.

"Yes, you are probably right." Her mother agreed and she placed a kiss on her daughter's cheek; Briar felt the wetness of her mother's tears. "But you can't spend you're entire time on my lap, your father wouldn't have minded but you're a little too big for me."

"Don't know who Father was, you never told me."

"I had good reasons not to tell you."

"I know." There was a pause and Briar's grip on her mother's dress loosened. "He's dead too, isn't he?"

"He may as well be."

"... I don't feel good."

"Like you said, you were getting pulled apart by horses, you didn't think you'd get out of that without feeling something, did you?" Her mother stroked her back one final time. "Let me go now." Briar tried to get a better hold on her mother's dress, but she couldn't, the fabric was slipping through her fingers. "Briar, don't be stubborn." There was choking in her mother's voice and Briar felt her eyes sting with tears.

"I miss you."

"I do too. Make sure you go to bed at a reasonable time and keep your clothes clean. Make sure those dogs are kept flea clear." Briar finally let go of her mother, darkness covered her sight and the scent of her mother's hair faded. "I love you, Baby." It was the last she heard of her mother's voice and she wished she could have said something more, but their was a pain in her throat and a dull ache wrapped itself around her body.

------ LoO ------

Briar's blue, dimly glowing eyes opened to an unfamiliar chamber room... cave, was a more appropriate word for it; sections of pillars and what looked worryingly like supporting structures had crumbled and fallen to the black stone floor and many of the vast room's decorative statues were rendered unrecognizable.

Briar was lying on her front so that her burning back was not pressed against anything, she was resting on something which felt like a bed and she could see that she was lying on thick fabric, or something similar like fur. It certainly didn't feel like her hay and straw bed back home.

The young shepherdess dared not move, she knew the throbbing ache was there for a reason and pulling on the healing muscles would be painful, she couldn't feel her arms or legs anyway, the extremities had somehow been numbed; she could see her left arm stretched out to the side, blocking some of her vision across the decrepit, echoing chamber. If she still had one arm it was hopeful she still had the other, with luck she would still have her legs too.

She was alone in the large ruined chamber with its crumbling statues of strange minions with webbed toes and fins coming out of their heads, one of the only statues to retain some detail. "Blues." Briar found herself thinking, the browns had told her little about them other than the fact they could swim and cast a sort of healing magic.

As her aches began to get worse the wounded girl heard tapping, at first thinking it was something preparing to fall down in the chamber she searched with her eyes gaining enough courage to move her neck just a few millimeters. She immediately regretted it as her back exploded in pain causing her to snap her eyes shut to try and do something to ease the pain.

"You're finally awake I see." came a voice. Opening her eyes she saw a minion dressed in a black robe with some sort of glowing stone dangling above his head. The light she had seen at her execution, this was the creature that had spoken to her before she black out. The tapping sound turned out to be the claws on his feet hitting the stone floor as he walked. Behind him was another minion carrying a large scythe, he too was wearing a black robe and Briar could just make out large webbed feet flopping onto the ground as he walked towards her with the aged grey minion. "We were very worried you know, you were asleep for three weeks as your body healed and your heart beat got very slow."

"... who..." she tried to say something more but her throat was bone dry and just like everywhere else on her body, hurt like hell when she used it.

"Um?... Oh, introductions, of course." the grey minion chastised himself. His companion was looking over Briar after he had clambered up onto the surface she was lying on. "I am Gnarl, Minion Master and Devoted Servant of Darkness. The blue minion who is checking to see if the tendons in arm are reattaching themselves is Minion Mortis."

Briar had been wondering what the shadowy minion was doing when he began lifting her outstretched arm and letting it drop; she groaned each time he touched it, her throat was too dry to scream.

"Life is strong with this one, Gnarl. Strange magic, strong magic, it flows in her veins. Death is frightened of her." Mortis said in a droning, bored voice. He rested his scythe against his shoulder and picked up her hand, examining every finger as if it would suddenly explode; given the trouble she had been through recently Briar wouldn't be surprised if they did. "Arcane scars..." it seemed as if the old purple tinted Blue minion could see something she and Gnarl couldn't, her hand looked normal to her as he let it drop again.

If she could have moved she'd have wrapped her hands around his throat.

"Arcane powers? Are you sure Mortis." Gnarl said, sounding excited, the shadowy Blue nodded. "Perhaps Gloob and the others were right when they said she should be a Mistress." Gnarl stroked his chin before he returned his attention back to Briar. "Gloob, Rasp, Torn, Pummel, Gash and Clod, who they say was trampled by one of those wretched unicorns in Evernight, were a search party I sent to Mellow Hills to look for clues on the whereabouts of our next Overlord. I honestly did not think they'd find anything there, but they've told me a lot about you, young Briar." The old minion explained taking a seat on a small pile of rubble beside whatever she was using as a bed. "Exceptional sword skills, feared by bandit tribes, capable of giving orders to wolfs, a herd of goat-men prepared to do anything for you... "

"The skins of five corrupt unicorns, their twisted horns, plenty of goat sinew and her own blood concentrated with arcane mana." Mortis added, once again in his bored voice. Gnarl went silent and a strange atmosphere descended. That obviously meant something, but whatever it was, it was lost on Briar. The unicorn skins had been trophies from her jaunts into Evernight Forest to find lost goats, she took their twisting horns because she thought they looked nice. Although she did have a feeling you could do something with them, but she had no idea what.

"Yes... " the grey minion commented, glaring at the back of the old blue "but still, very impressive, Briar." Gnarl continued, trying to pretend Mortis' words had not shaken him as much as they had. Briar was too weak to say anything about it and just listened to the Minion Master as he explained how Torn had found him and the other minions as they discovered the hidden entrance to the old Minion Burrows, which was the place she was in now. Torn had told Gnarl about a female magic user who powered the old arcane gate to send him to the frozen land of Nordberg. "We gathered what minions we could and followed him back to your farm to find the remaining minions and your 'brays' in a panic. You were being taken to the Slave Camp to be executed, we reached you just in time before the mana in your bloodstream ran out, if we had been just a few seconds longer then your limbs would've been strewn about the camp in an awful mess." Gnarl concluded, all the while Mortis had pulled the thin blanket from her body so he could smear something onto the whippings ailing her back. It was then she realized she was naked. "Only a select few of the Nether Gates work on their own power. We had to use our feet and the old Arcane Gates to reach your farm. That was why we took so long to get back; we had to get back to the Arcane Gate Torn used."

"That is done now." Mortis said as he returned a now empty jar to the confines of his robe. He pulled the light blanket back over Briar and jumped down to the ground. "I will return to the Minion Barracks and prepare the next treatment." The dark blue minion turned to face Briar again. Her blue eyes stared deep into his sunken, dark ones for a minute and Briar felt some sort of connection, some sort of understanding come from the blue minion. He bowed deeply, the tip of his scythe touching the ground. "You are healing well... young Mistress." and he left.

"I wonder what's got into him," Gnarl said out loud "He never once bowed to an Overlord."

"... water... " Briar managed to croak out. The old minion gave a wide grin and pulled out a hip flask from his robes, unscrewing the cap he placed it against Briar's dried lips.

"Wondered when you would ask." Briar coughed and spluttered when the water hit the back of her throat but thirst wouldn't let her take her lips from the cap until Gnarl took it away. He screwed the cap back and set the flask on the rubble he had been sitting on. "I will send up Gloob and the others, they've been asking non-stop about you. But, if you don't mind young Mistress, don't ask them to get the flask for you. Try and get up and get it yourself when next you get thirsty."

It was a good challenge. Briar knew she should have felt a little insulted, here she was healing from getting pulled in four opposite directions by horses and this aging grey minion had just told her to get her own drink. But Briar couldn't help but give the old minion a grin as he left.

A few minutes later a thundering sound came from the entrance Gnarl had left from and in piled the four browns, now reunited with Torn (who was wearing his tunic and trousers she had made), some of her brays led by Ramrod and her six strong dog pack, tails wagging like propellers. The flask would not be touched for some days.

------ LoO ------

The Minion Barracks were a vast place, a huge open cavern dug and built solely for the purpose of housing the four minion hives and their graveyard where Mortis tended the dead souls in the River Styx. And it was to see Mortis that Gnarl had ventured into the Barracks after sending the minions and the few brays that hung around in the throne room up to see Briar.

In his life, Gnarl had met many Mistresses, all of whom had helped their Overlord conquer the land as well as perform certain 'other' things for their respective Lord, but few had left any impression on him. Young Briar wasn't even old enough to be a proper Mistress (not that age had ever been a problem with some Overlords) and he already knew he wouldn't be forgetting her for some time. He liked females that approved of a bit of bloodshed, even better, one who was good at causing it herself. But still, he needed to talk with Mortis about what they should do with Briar once she was healed; if she should stay with the minion horde or be returned to a town somewhere to be collected later, when the Overlord began his campaign. There were daily Leader meeting, where all four of the Minion Leaders would meet up to discuss the days events and what actions to take later regarding them. Being the leader of the browns, Gnarl would go where ever the browns would go, but poor Mortis had been separated from the blues as the hives went their separate ways when they fled from the old Tower, they had no idea what had happened to the air-headed healers, being the most magic-orientated of the minion tribes they had felt most lost and confused without an Overlord to guide them. Mortis had told him that the Blues had probably returned to the Moist Hollows in Heaven's Peak, but when Gnarl had sent scouts there to see if they had it turned out the Blues had not taken up residence there again. The other two leaders were probably still with their hives... wherever their hives were.

Gnarl saw several of the strange bray creatures with the browns as he walked to the Minion Graveyard. They were looking around where the others hives would be placed once they were found and the browns were explaining about what the hives were and telling them about the Five Minion Commandments. These brays likely hadn't heard that their 'Shepherd', as they called Briar, had woken yet and had remained with the browns in the Barracks. Surprisingly the brays and the browns got on considerable well considering that if they were still normal goats the browns would be slaughtering them; Mistress Briar's herd or not, it was what a brown minion did best.

The Graveyard was alongside the River Styx, the River of Death, which flowed through the great cavern the Barracks was built in. An impressive waterfall marked the place where the Blue hive would be put when it was found and Mortis was standing beside the altar where newborn minions would be sacrificed for their life force to bring the more advanced fighters back from the dead, his dark robe soaked by the river's spray and his scythe glistening. He was paying no heed to the grey donkey that had followed them from Briar's farmstead which was feed on some winter grasses the brays had brought down from the surface. "I thought I would find you here, Mortis. Why did you bow to Briar?" the Minion Master asked.

"Have you not told me many times that I should bow to the Master?" the purple tinted Blue leader said with his bored, droning voice sounding even more bored and droning, he was examining the flow in the river as it rushed past him, just inches from his feet.

"Well... yes," Gnarl admitted "but Briar still isn't a Mistress and we still have not found the Overlord yet." Mortis turned to face Gnarl and despite the amber glow you could easily see the irritation in Mortis' eyes.

"Gnarl, there is writing in bold minion runes and written in seal blood on these obsidian walls but you, our Minion Master, refuse to read the message." Gnarl's posture went hard as anger crept into his old mind, when he was still a youngster and just about to crack something's head open with a club... or a sword... or a mace or... anything that was on hand.

"Then read it for me Mortis, what does this 'writing' say?"

"You are smart for a brown, even when you were younger... you do not need me to read for you."

"Some unicorn skins and impressive arcane magics do not make an Overlord, Mortis. There can be no female Overlord."

"Of course there can be no female Overlord," Mortis agreed with his bored voice "... 'Lord' is a male title."

"Do not twist my words, Blue!" Gnarl growled "You may be a leader but that won't stop me from pulling your eyes out through your nose!" Mortis just shook his head, rolled his eyes and said

"I fear neither death nor decay Gnarl, Death will embrace me. I am its eternal servant, it will eat me and spit back, it will ravaged my body with disease and crush all my bones but it will take me violently... as it takes all minions violently. But Briar..." Mortis paused as a strange look came to his glowing amber eyes, Gnarl had never seen it before. "It crawls and shies away from her, it approaches but does not advance to her, it's creeping black mass strokes her with its tendrils like a lover as she sleeps but flees when she stirs. It stalks her, waiting for a chance to cut her throat and drink deep of her life, but it cannot help the shivering fear when Briar stares back at it, her eyes alight with the arcane blue glow." Mortis gripped his scythe tighter and even Gnarl couldn't help but feel something seeing the normally unshakable Blue Master shivering. "It fears her, it fears her for what she will become... I am just stating to you what you should know Old Brown."

"It just means she has the possibility of becoming a powerful magic user, all the more reason why we should have her as a Mistress." Gnarl explained. Mortis sighed before talking again.

"Maddened unicorn skins stitched together with goat sinew; goats, very good creatures at absorbing magic... stitched with a unicorn-horn needle tainted by arcane blood, then cut, trimmed and tidied by a unicorn-horn knife again tainted. Lastly; the most important part, staining the unicorn cloak with arcane blood; the power of such an object is terrifying to behold."

A Cloak of Shadows was an item worth its weight in innocent blood... three hundredfold. The cloak made you invulnerable to spells and enchantments from enemies but it strengthened your own, the woulds from normal weapons closed and healed the second they were cleaved to the flesh and only the strongest of magical weapons could destroy it, those forged in mythrill or arcanium with powerful enchantments placed upon them. The older the cloak got, the more potent it became. Only one Cloak of Shadows existed at any one time, if two were created the vast power of the objects would gradually tear the world apart.

A Cloak of Shadows would work only for its maker and its maker's bloodline; the maker of the first Cloak of Shadows was an exceptionally strong sorceress who was also the mother to the very first Overlord. The cloaks would serve no other, being handed down through families passing through hundred of Overlord eras and into the next.

"Let me guess," Gnarl began "you found a needle and a knife made from unicorn horn in that pitiful house of hers, didn't you?"

"Already stained with her blood along with the mad unicorn skins and plenty of goat sinew, old goat sinews, the strongest goat sinews. Briar has the means to create a Cloak of Shadows, the creation of it and the things and tools that she needs are committed to her instincts, not her memory. She knows how to make a Shadow Cloak instinctively, that is more than just coincidence Gnarl."

"Anyone can make a unicorn skin cloak." the Minion Master said, growing tired from the discussion "Needles and simple knifes made from unicorn horn never need to be sharpened and never break, Briar would be interested in having something she wouldn't have to replace guessing from the way she had to live and she has plenty of goats to get sinew from. She uses it more like thread, mending her old clothes and fixing stuff around her pitiful farm. A terrible waste yes, but far from coincidence Mortis. As of the Shadow Cloak, the main power comes from soaking the cloak in the arcane blood of the maker and I doubt the thought of soaking a revoltingly beautiful article of clothing in her own blood would appeal very much to Briar."

"... It does not matter for now, we shall see." Mortis said twisting his scythe around. "I think that once the young Mistress heals we should take her to Nordberg Town to be with other people. Minions are hardly company for a young Mistress to grow up around." Gnarl nodded his head, glad that Mortis was finally dropping the argument.

"Yes, I agree. We do not want a repeat of Mistress Dara." The two minion leaders shuddered at the memory of Mistress Dara as some nearby browns who had been listening in on their conversation cheered at the mention of the ancient Mistress; the brays that had been with them just staring at each other in confusion.

------ LoO ------

Three days past since she awoke and Briar was getting restless from boredom and thirst. The flask was still on the rubble Gnarl had put it on and the young girl had taken up his challenge; she was beginning to wonder if that had been a good idea but it was too late to wonder now, too late to go back on it, besides no one was with her at this moment in time. She had told Ramrod and her five browns not to come and see her too early, her only company at the moment were her dog pack, sleeping in a heap on the end of the stone bed.

She had feeling other than pain in her limbs now and her back was healing well but that didn't mean she was ready to get back on her feet. Briar wriggled her fingers to test her body; they didn't hurt anymore and so she began to slowly move her arms bringing them into her body, the muscles caught some still tender whippings on her back but she knew that it would mostly hurt when she got to her feet, she hadn't used her legs for several weeks. She pushed herself to a position on her hands and knees, feeling her knees give a dull ache in protest to her actions, the joints was encircled by a dull orange-brown bruise where the executioners had tied the ropes to her and had tried to pull her apart, her elbows, wrists, knees and ankles all bore these bruises, at least they were healing quick and the bruise on her face had healed days ago.

The girl turned herself over and rested as her toes touched the floor as she sat on the edge of the falling stone bed she had been confined to by her pain and braced herself before she tried to stand. Her legs didn't hold her first time and sent her face first to the obsidian floor. She groaned as her legs sent angry daggers of pain up her body. But Briar was thirsty and she would get that flask. As Grim, Dark Lace and Fang climbed down from the bed and licked her face her eyes were glowing again, her magic taking away the stinging edge to her pain allowing her to think clearly.

The young girl tried several times to find her footing and after more painful falls she finally found it, her body radiating with a dull ache and Briar's young mind wondered if this was what it felt like to be old. Archie had always complained of aches and pains in his knees as the years got on and some of the older Spree bastards were bent double by pains in their backs, but the little thought was short-lived... like most of Briar's little, unimportant thoughts.

She finally reached the flask Gnarl had put down to torture her with into standing up, unscrewing the cap and taking a long drink. Briar wondered if water had always tasted this good, but again, didn't give the unimportant little thought another mind after that. Realizing she was still naked, Briar returned to her crumbled stone bed and wrapped the thin blanket around her, she went to sweep her long hair out from under the nape but then remembered her hair had been cut short by the executioners. It would grow back.

Her dogs encircled her and waited their turns for strokes and ear-rubs before following Briar who kept the flask with her as she made for the entrance to the Private Quarters, wincing and groaning as she began the decent down the black stairs.

------ LoO ------

The minions and brays had become very close and Mortis had discovered that some of the brays were able to cast magical enchantments, he had explained to Gnarl and Briar that it had something to do with them being a magical mutation of goats, which were very good at absorbing the magical energy that was all around them. Now that the brays were showing a use not just as retainers and servants to Mistress Briar, but also a possibility to be used on the battlefield to give helpful 'buffs' to the minions they had gained a whole new respect in the minion society. The brays weren't as fight orientated as the browns so while they could do some damage with a good head butt or a gouging horn they had turned out to be a rather tough little race.

Each day they made a three and a half hour trek up to the surface and the freezing Nordberg snows where they would spend up to four hours eating the long winter grasses and even climbing trees to reach the tough leaves before making the long trek back down to the Netherworld, the grey donkey who he discovered was called Brum, always went with them. Even Gnarl had to respect the kind of audacity it took to face the freezing weather. He'd rather eat a Rotten Rat Sandwich (a delicacy which had been created by the Greens, they had stomachs which could handle such food) before willingly going to the frozen surface.

It was actually dinner that Gnarl and a humorous minion with strange dark skin, called Quaver, were talking about. Quaver was a rare minion, one that was born 'somewhat' smarter than the others. Gnarl for example, had just been a regular brown when he was born, he had earned his brains surviving countless battles before earning his title as Minion Master. Quaver's dark skin had shown he was different and in minion society, different wasn't always seen as a good thing unless you knew how to use a blunt instrument; though Quaver would fight if the need was great, but he much preferred being the Tower's Jester... and singing crude songs and limericks, he was also a good cook... as far as a minion was concerned anyway.

"Well, what about Poison Pod Stewed Ferrets?" Gnarl asked

"Poison pods? Where will we find poison pods in Nordberg?" Quaver asked incredulously.

"Didn't we have any in storage?"

"Used the last of them in the Boar Brain Surprise last week." Gnarl slapped himself, he'd forgotten about that. He had been looking forward to a nice ferret.

"The Young Mistress walks!" he heard a brown shout from one of the balconies overlooking the throne room and Netherworld Gate. The Minion Master turned to see Briar slowly coming down the stairs wrapped in the thin blanket and being escorted by her dog pack; she used the heads of minions and brays which had approached to assist her to steady herself on her aching knees. Ramrod was at her side by the time she reached the last obsidian stair near the stone throne. Like everything else, the throne was barely holding itself together, but that didn't stop Briar from taking a seat on it. Unseen by anyone, the two yellow and blue globes on nearby columns began to glow very faintly.

"It is good to see you've got the use of your limbs back." Gnarl said, coming to stand in front of the seated Mistress. "I did wonder if I should have left you some clothes, but I thought you would need more time for your tendons and muscles to heal, Mistress."

"I was thirsty."

"I'm glad that the flask worked."

"You're finally down here with us peons, Mistress, with us is where you belong." Quaver said taking a hold of Briar's hand and giving it a lick. Minion's didn't understand the concept of kissing. "Even tottering on sore knees and using minions as walking sticks you make a most foreboding dark presence for one so little. Much better than laying on that bed, it gave you no justice." Briar and Quaver had met a couple of days ago when Gnarl had been busy with some sort of accident in the Minion Barracks and had told Quaver to take the young mistress something to eat; just some boiled pork, but Briar had eaten it like it was the best cuts of venison or rabbit available. Quaver's dirty limericks had got Briar smiling and of course, anyone who laughed at his limericks was an instant hit with the black minion.

"So I am staying here then, until you find your Overlord?" Briar asked Gnarl.

"Well it turns out things are a little more complicated down here than we thought, Briar." the Minion Master said "I guess now is as good a time as any to explain the plan. Me and Mortis think it is best if you go to live in Nordberg Town, young mistress." Briar stared at the old minion in confusion.

"I thought I was meant to stay here and wait for the Overlord."

"Oh, don't worry, we'll return for you once we have found our Master, but for now it is probably safer for you to return to civilization. Your brays are already drawing attention to the entrance on the surface and the magic in this place is unstable until it chooses a Master. That incident in the Barracks was caused by the instability of the magic keeping this place working."

"I thought you said there was no magic here?" Briar commented.

"Precisely, that's the problem." Gnarl said "It's using the massed magic energy created by the browns, and probably to an extent, you and your brays, but even so it's just not enough to keep this place fully operational."

"But what about the townsfolk? Will they not attack the Shepherd when they discover her eyes?" Ramrod asked, making sure not to stand on any of the dogs' tails as they laid around the throne, Grimjaw at Briar's feet.

"Not if your 'Shepherd' plays her cards right." Gnarl said with an almost mischievous grin. "Norbergians are not like those peasants from Mellow Hills or for that matter, anywhere in the Kingdom of Belmna. While they do persecute magic users they pity people who were made magical by accidents. You know, like... falling into an Elven Moon Pool or getting poked in the eye by a gnome..."

"... or getting skewered on the horn of a unicorn." Briar added, touching a round scar on her thigh through the fabric of her makeshift robe. A souvenir from her first unicorn confrontation.

"Exactly, young Mistress. And you can say that same unicorn terrorized your goats which made them... like that." Gnarl added, pointing to Ramrod. "If things turn sour, we'll be quick to bring you back to the Netherworld." With that kind of reassurance Briar couldn't argue any further, so she sighed and sat back against the throne.

Her aches and pains ebbed away suddenly and she felt secure in this broken, dark place, her eyes glowing. Her fingers traced the slight engravings in the surface of the broken throne which she sat on, perhaps her eyes were deceiving her but she swore she could see little arcs of blue light jumping from the runes to her fingers.

"When do I leave?"

"... Par... pardon, Mistress?" Gnarl stuttered out.

"When do I have to go to the town?"

"Not until you're fully healed..." Gnarl came closer and took hold of her hand, stopping her from watching the blue arcs that he couldn't see. "Mistress, that throne is a ruin. Perhaps you should get off it before it crumbles entirely. Quaver, get the Mistress a chair from the old Library." He had to push Quaver to get the black minion's eyes off of the two globes which had brightened when Briar sat properly in the throne and began playing with the engraved runes.

Gnarl was glad Briar had agreed to go to Nordberg. She would not be able to activate anymore Overlord artifacts in the Netherworld. It would give him time to look around his own library to try and find out what sort of magic Briar had that it copied the Overlord's power.

Down in the Barracks and the Minion Graveyard, Mortis smiled as he felt the Netherworld's arcane magical forces slow and become stable for the first time since they had found it.

For a brief moment before Quaver returned with the chair, Briar was where she belonged... sitting on the throne.

------ LoO ------

A month had passed so quickly and so much had happened: the brays had embraced the ideals of shamanism and were now adept at enchanting minions and their weapons, bray sacrifices to the Shepherd kept their beliefs going and their brown allies enjoyed the meat and milk, they especially enjoyed watching the sacrifices as the the victims' throats were cut, spilling blood everywhere. Quaver had expanded his retinue of dishes thanks to the brays. Gnarl was getting closer to understanding what Briar's magic might be but still thought it better for her to leave the Netherworld until the Overlord was found. Mortis had tried many times to sway Gnarl's mind, but not even the actions of the Netherworld itself seemed to deter the Minion Master from his solid, steadfast belief that Briar could not possibly be the Overlord.

The goodbyes to the minions and the Netherworld had been quick and without tears, but the minions did seem a bit forlorn in losing the brays and the young Mistress and Briar had to admit she would miss them, especially Torn, Gloob, Rasp, Gash and Pummel.

The virgin snow crunched loudly under Brum's hooves, who Briar was riding, and the hooves of the brays, who had adopted their quadrupedal stance as they kept pace with the Shepherd through the snow covered land, following a map Gnarl had made for her to reach Nordberg. Like this, and wearing old torn robes and stitched-together pelts they looked like normal goats dressed to withstand the cold, even the newborn kids had something wrapped around them; Sally's kid was wearing a bit of pelt from an old male bray, one of the sacrificial victims back in the Netherworld. Briar, herself was dressed in some of her old clothes that the minions had taken from her farm when they fled with her, but even with several layers and a new red hood and cloak the young girl could still feel the biting cold. Rabbits and winter hares returned to their warrens and holes as she and her herd walked by, she even saw what looked like a couple of gnomes waving at her at one time; her sword, which the minions had also taken with them, was strapped to her side should they come across any of the tundra's more hostile residents. Briar stopped and dismounted, stretching to remove the kinks she had got from riding Brum for too long and the disguised bray herd and her dogs stopped as well while Briar could get her bearings and look to the map. As Grim and the pack patrolled around them, Ramrod, still wearing her old red blanket sidled up to the girl and gave a quick look around to make sure there were no other humans about.

"Kind Shepherd?" Briar hummed in response to her lead bray to show she was listening. "I... believe we have already come this way already... several times." Briar sighed.

"Yes, I thought so too." Briar turned the map upside down to see if she was reading it wrong, but it made no difference. "I would have thought following a map would be easy, considering Gnarl and the minions have spent nine years in this god-forsaken waste. I mean there's nothing but frozen trees and seals here!" The young shepherdess, who had turned fourteen in the Netherworld, sat down on a fallen tree and threw the map away. "We'd be better off using the dogs to sniff Nordberg out; if the townsfolk are anything like the ones at Crosskeys or Spree it shouldn't take them long." Ramrod stood up and stretched. His stretching got Briar's attention and she suddenly stood quickly, spooking Ramrod who returned to all-fours. "We go that way." Briar was pointing to something behind him and looking, the bray leader could see a faint, thin pillar of smoke in the white sky. "Looks like a camp fire."

"Brays! We are moving again!" Ramrod called to the herd which immediately got back into a group behind the remounted shepherd and began to walk once more. Grimjaw came to walk at Brum's side as the rest of the dogs lingered around the herd's flanks and rear, guarding from all quarters.

The camp turned out to be empty, but a fire was going strong and fresh footprints showed there had been a lot of activity just moments ago, tracks which seemed to have been made by several people running off in a northern direction. There were a few personal items to be found in the strange round houses which, to Briar's amazement, turned out to be made from snow and there were drying seal skins and hunting gear still dotted around the small hunter's camp. The dogs were picking something up in the air and it was causing their fur to stand on end.

Briar jumped and the herd froze when a scream rent the air not too far away and the dogs began to growl loudly.

"Ramrod, keep the brays here! Fang, Jagger, Lace! Guard!" Briar ordered the three dogs who returned to the bray herd with Ramrod. "Grim, Rip Tooth, Bubbles! Come." Briar left Brum with the herd and ran off in the direction of the screaming, following the footprints and her three dogs followed, barking and snarling at her heels, eager for a fight.

------ LoO ------

Her legs were starting to tire and her lungs were burning from the cold air as she tried to escape the beast's anger. She couldn't exactly say it was an unprovoked attacked, she had killed and skinned its youngster after all but she had no idea it would be so relentless in chasing her. At the young age of thirteen Kelda prided herself in being Nordberg's youngest, and some would say, best hunter. But even she could not predict how an animal would react and the baby walrus was such a rare creature in these parts she just couldn't resist in trying to get it. Now her young legs were running themselves into the ground as she tried to reach shore and get off the ice sheets.

She had seen her father and some of the other Nordberg hunters try and stop the huge mother walrus, but the enraged beast had shaken off the spears and harpoons like they were nothing, swatting away the veteran hunters with a huge strong flipper, sending them into rocks and boulders and knocking them out. The walrus had gone under the ice, but she knew that she wouldn't be safe until she reached solid ground so the walrus could not break the ice she was running on and so send her to a freezing, watery grave. Her heart was pounding as she finally reached the shore and stopped to breathe, the walrus would not be able to break the ice from under her now. Unfortunately, she had forgotten that a walrus could survive on land.

She had not gone into the shore far enough, and the young, red headed huntress was sent flying as the ice close to her erupted and out came the vengeful, bellowing mother walrus, her great tusks hanging from her mouth looking like great pikes, they were certainly strong enough to gouge the young hunter that had killed her offspring, her huge blubbery body and thick flippers came to land inches away from her quarry.

Kelda screamed, shrill and loud, but her father and the other hunters had all been knocked out by the walrus mother. There was no one to save her and her ankle had been twisted when the walrus attacked from the ice. She was able to dodge out of the way of the mother's tusks, but she was getting tired again and the walrus seemed to be energized by her anger.

The walrus reared up above her and for a split second Kelda knew she was dead, the walrus hadn't brought its tusks down on he yet, but she knew she was dead. There was a sudden crackling sound and then the mother walruses' face burst into flames.

The great beast cried out in agony and its bulk landed away from Kelda, she heard growling and turned to see what she thought were the largest wolves she had ever seen jump over her prone form and leap onto the walrus attacking her face and back, causing the sea mammal to flay about blindly since the fire had burned her eyes. Kelda saw a figure rush past her wearing a read hood, bearing a sword and with their eyes aglow. A magic user.

A magic user had saved her life. After everything her father and the other adults had told her about magic users, one was actually saving her. The red hooded figure reached the the huge walrus, avoiding its tusks and flippers and swiping at it with their sword in graceful arcs and slashes, moving like they were in some deadly dance. The figure shouted an order to the wolves, a young feminine voice, and to Kelda's surprise the wolves obeyed. Leaping off the beast and getting away a short distance, one of them just inches from her and she watched as the figure got onto the walrus mother's back, reached her monstrous head and plunged her sword into the top of its skull.

The beast went still and fell heavily to the side, blood staining the ice and and snow. The female magic user came to stand in front of her looking like a heroic statue to Kelda's eyes. For a few moments they just stared, Kelda in wide eyed wonderment, the stranger's expression unreadable, her eyes glowing with a beautiful blue light. Finally, Kelda found her voice,

"Thank you."

"... You're welcome... "

"I'm Kelda."

"Briar."

Briar seemed to hesitate for a second before offering Kelda her hand; her glowing eyes were gradually returning to normal. Kelda reached out for her, behind Briar and the slayed walrus, she could she her limping father and several hunters hurrying to them.

The first time Briar meets Kelda, and what a first meeting. I wanted Briar to make a big impression on Kelda and what better impression than saving her from a hulking walrus.

Why a walrus? Have you seen how massive those things are! I would never think of killing one however, but Briar doesn't give a damn.

Well this is it. I have a good idea of what I'm going to do for the next few chapters, but please, keep your plot ideas coming. As I keep saying, even if I don't use any of them I might turn them into little one-shot stories to keep me writing.