(A/N): Well, this is another long one. I decided to slow down a little with the updates so I could produce more quality content. As always, enjoy.
Disclaimer: I own the characters I create, not the Overlord series.
Chapter XV: Size Matters
Hanson stood still as Giblet and his assistants suited him up in the newly-made Durium armor. The Overlord had decided to forgo his old armor design in favor of one that offered more protection from possible threats. The new armor featured extended shoulder pauldrons, increased plating near the elbows and heavier gauntlets that had spikes on the knuckles for hand-to-hand fighting.
The Overlord's new sword had been forged using the design that Gnarl had provided: a bastard sword with a blade that thinned as it left the crosspiece and thickened after the first half of the blade. In the end, the weight was the same as that of a normal sword, but the damage caused by it was frightful. Hanson took a few experimental swings and was very satisfied with his new weapon.
The Overlord descended the stone steps to the library, plotting Evil deeds. Situated beneath the throne room, the library had low ceilings that were almost brushed by the many bookcases that filled the room. The many square stone columns that held up the ceiling contained four torches, one on each side that burned with an unnatural white flame. The torches' combined light burned as bright as day, allowing for reading at any time. A plush carpet covered the floor, hand woven by enslaved elves during the reign of the third Overlord, almost a thousand years ago.
Hanson made his way towards the back end of the library, where Gnarl paced back and forth lecturing Assira. As he neared, the Overlord could hear the minion master discussing the matter of Evil fashion and decorum.
"Those in the business of Evil never created the grisly fashion for which we are known today. The people under their dominion seemed to think that being evil meant you grew spikes and decorated your home with skulls. The first evildoers, not wishing to disappoint their subjects, were quick to affix spikes to their armor and to decorate their dwellings with skulls of various types. Unfortunately, maintaining such an image is high maintenance, as the spikes could rust and the likelihood of finding skulls conveniently lying around is low. Besides the need to constantly keep flies away from the fresh skulls, the spikes added a lot of weight and as a result, evil females declared the spikes almost unbearable, leaving them to the men."
Gnarl paused and produced a small bottle labeled Condensed Fear: For evildoers, by evildoers. As he took a swig, Assira's voice came from behind a stack of books, one of which, Hanson noted, looked like Gnarl's personal copy of Evil Architecture through the Ages, a well-worn dog-eared book that the minion master always kept on hand during construction projects.
"So what do Evil women wear?" Assira asked. Gnarl put down the bottle and wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his robe before answering "Female outfits in the Evil fashion generally consist of an expensive dress, preferably made from some vanishing species, as well as a cloak made from fluffy and adorable creatures such as seals and lambs. There's nothing quite like reminding those tree-hugging elves that 'survival of the fluffiest' will never catch on."
Gnarl paused and noticed Hanson standing by one of the pillars, the white torchlight reflecting off of the Durium that made up his armor. "Sire, your new armor is sure to ruin the pants of your enemies," he said with an evil chuckle.
Assira stood, happy for the excuse to get out of her chair, and stretched, feeling her joints pop as she listened to Hanson and Gnarl.
"Master, I do believe that it is time to make your presence known while increasing the Dark Tower's income. The time is ripe for your soon-to-be loyal subjects to know that the Overlord has returned. If I remember correctly, there is a small mining village in the mountains called Clearhollow. It would suit your needs well as a first conquest, as it is quite isolated."
The Overlord flexed his left arm, feeling the tendons stretch as he did so, and nodded silently. Without a word, he turned around and began to ascend the stairs two at a time, drawing his new sword from its sheath on his back as he went.
"Your lesson for today is at an end," Gnarl said. "We shall reconvene tomorrow after breakfast." With that, the minion master began to climb the stairs, leaving Assira on her own in the library.
Hanson appeared on the tower gate at the foot of Mount Clearhollow, named for its clear springs. The Overlord summoned his minions, thankful that the Tower had saved him an arduous journey on foot. As Hanson started up the mountain, it quickly became apparent that something was wrong. The front gate of the mining colony was wide open, no people, or anything living could be seen.
As the Overlord entered the town proper, he became aware of the smell of death and rotting corpses emanating from the town hall. Hanson cautiously opened the door and peered inside. At least a hundred rotting corpses lay all over the floor in various stages of decay, swarms of flies circling them like vultures. "The ghastly smells, the decaying corpses, its all so homely," Gnarl said through the link into Hanson's helmet. "I would not get close to them though sire, I feel the tingle of magic here. Never a good feeling in towns as out of the way as this one master, perhaps there's something more valuable here than gold."
Hanson heeded Gnarl's advice and exited the town hall, making sure not to touch the corpses. The Overlord approached the mine shaft that loomed, dank and dark, out of the side of the mountain. "I really don't like the look of this sire," Gnarl said. "Expect to encounter necromantic magic inside." Hanson nodded in acknowledgement and stepped inside the Clearhollow Mine.
Assira sat in the room that Hanson had provided for her own personal use. It was simply furnished, a woolen carpet, several chairs, a comfortable bed, and a wooden table with bookshelves above it. The ornate window was wide open and the red curtains billowed in the breeze. Assira sighed as she sank into one of the chairs and sighed contentedly, letting her long red hair drape down the back of the chair. She reached over to the mirror that she kept on the edge of the table. Assira looked into it, more out of habit than necessity. She saw an elegant face with high cheekbones, making her look regal and cold, but her eyes were a lively, scorching green that had given her the name Assira, meaning "scorching" in the ancient tongue of some civilization that had long since vanished into the annals of history.
Assira sat and mused on the strange feelings she had for Hanson. She couldn't quite explain them, but like everything about the Overlord, she had a feeling it was magical in nature. Outside, the reds were back at their usual station, frying all the birds that dared enter the Tower's airspace with fireballs. Lulled by the sound of scorched poultry hitting the ground, Assira nodded off.
As the Overlord entered the mine with fifteen browns and five reds at his back, he heard an unearthly scream issuing forth from the darkness. A zombie shuffled out of the darkness, its mouth slavering, its single remaining eye fixed on what it hoped would be its next meal. Hanson swung with his new Durium sword in an upwards arc, splitting the zombie in half. The Overlord raised his left arm and the crystal within his gauntlet flared white, illuminating the passageway.
He saw fifteen zombies shuffling aimlessly around the passage that turned to look, and then charged at the Overlord. The first five caught fire as the reds chucked fireballs, and the rest were roasted as Hanson raised his left hand and incinerated the rest with a blast of orange flame.
As the zombies sizzled and the smell of roast meat filled the passage, Gnarl spoke once more. "It appears that someone, or something, doesn't want us to advance down the passage sire. I'm sure that provides all the more reason to continue, assuming you're able to handle the zombie hordes sire."
Hanson shifted his grip on his sword and continued down the tunnel, his left arm illuminating the passage ahead of him. As the minion horde and their Overlord continued down the tunnel, the amount of zombies exponentially increased. Hanson was glad for the protection his armor provided against the undead, but the minions were not so fortunate. Despite their natural tenacity and general fearlessness, they began to die as the undead came in ever-increasing droves.
Soon, Hanson was down to five hardy browns and the five reds that had come with him. "You are almost at the bottom of the mine sire," Gnarl said in Hanson's ear. "I recommend that you find the zombies' controller instead of blindly engaging the undead themselves."
The Overlord stepped into a large chamber within the mine, lit by torchlight. Gold lay heaped in large piles around several large cylinders. One had a carving of a minion, the other glowed blue, and one red. "Interesting," Gnarl said. "A minion, mana, and health upgrade in one place? I smell a trap, and not a very clever one. That usually means that whoever set the trap is in some dark corner giggling."
Hanson skirted the obvious piles of gold as well as the Tower objects and made his way towards the shadowy corner of the chamber where he could have sworn he had heard giggling a few seconds ago. As he neared, a small figure dressed in a purple robe ran out of the corner, waving a staff. "To me my evil minions," the strange being shouted in a high-pitched voice. The zombies that had streamed through the entrance to the chamber shuffled towards the figure, forming a protective barrier.
"Time for your next lesson sire," Gnarl said hurriedly. "Focus your Evil energy into your hands, and imagine something that angers you to such intensity that you feel aflame." The Overlord stabbed his sword into the ground and did as Gnarl said.
"I knew you would draw on my power again…" the voice of the being whose power Hanson had used five years ago resounded in the Overlord's mind. "I shall grant you the power you seek, for a price." What price would that be? Hanson thought. "You will give me the embodiment of love in exchange for the greatest Evil power this pitiful world shall ever know," the voice said, presumably reading the young man's thoughts. Sounds like a fair trade, Hanson thought. "Prepare yourself mortal," the voice said with what sounded like a warped chuckle.
Time seemed to stop as the Overlord felt power flowing through his veins far beyond what he had ever known before. Black flames seemed to leap from his outstretched arms, incinerating the zombies in their path, until the entire horde of undead had been reduced to ashes. Hanson could hear Gnarl saying something, but couldn't hear him over the roar of the fires.
The purple-robed necromancer stared in shock as Hanson approached, his hands still burning with black flames. "Wha-how?" he squeaked. "Does it matter?" Hanson said as he gripped the short necromancer by the collar. "You have delayed my plans for the domination of this town's populace by zombifying them. Now, you shall pay."
"They haven't been turned into zombies!" the necromancer squealed. "They're in the cells at the town prison. I wanted them to work for me! We're both Evil, we should work together, and become the most powerful Evil men in the world!"
"I think not," Hanson said as he began to incinerate the necromancer. "The evil men do is nothing compared to the Evil I do." The necromancer squealed one final time as Hanson turned him to ash.
"Well done sire," Gnarl said as the black flames died down. "Now, it would be beneficial to inform the villagers of their 'salvation.' Now would also be the best time to 'rescue' all the gold and tower objects you can. I believe I should be able to reactivate a waypoint gate in the vicinity."
A blue light began to glow in one of the chamber's corners, and the Overlord summoned a fresh horde of minions to steal all he could. With that task complete, Hanson began the trip back to the surface.
The citizens of the village were the necromancer had said they were: the town prison. "You are free from the necromancer's rule," Hanson announced. "Now, you will obey me, or your lives and souls are forfeit." "As you say m'lord," the village elder said. "Just let us out."
The Overlord emerged out of the Tower Portal, a satisfied smirk on his face as the young man removed his helmet and wiped his sweaty black hair with an armored hand. "Your plans are coming to fruition sire," Gnarl said with a gleeful grin. "Soon you will be able to conquer Spree as well, rebuilding the previous Overlord's Dark Domain."
"No," Hanson said. "I plan to go much further than the old Overlord. I plan to conquer William's kingdom and burn it to the ground. That pious bastard will pay for what he has done to me."
The barely-suppressed rage in the Overlord's voice gladdened Gnarl: if the master was angry, then Gnarl's carefully-laid plans for global subjection to Evil would succeed all that much quicker. As beneficial as his rage can be, it might cause him to destroy himself in the long run of things, Gnarl thought.
"Hanson, is that you?" a sleepy voice said. Hanson's expression noticeably softened as Assira appeared on the stairs and began to descend. Excellent, Gnarl thought. If she can keep his blinding fits of rage in check, he shall become the greatest Overlord in the history of the entire world.
(A/N): Well, this is my longest chapter so far folks. Tune in next time to a chapter hopefully not titled by a sexual pun (if you chose to interpret it that way).
Review please, and constructively criticize me where necessary.
If you plan to complain about Elizabeth's lack of character, physical description, etc, I'm working on it. :D ~Russian Overlord~