What happens when the land of Equestria needs not a hero but a villian? Why chaos to make Discord himself feel proud. Now what if he was from another world?
Equestria, a land of peace and prosperity, ruled by the wise Princess Celestia and Luna. Or, that's what it use to be. Now its hardly peaceful, and its hardly prosperous. Well, unless you have a horn or live on the top; or in some cases the clouds.
And as for Celestia and Luna? Well no one knows where they went. They weren't dead, the sun and the moon still rose and set, but they certainly weren't around to lead. So who was in charge? Why Blueblood of course, and his council of friends. So no worries.
And as for peace, well, we won't get into all the politics. Lets just say that, ambitions and insults go a long way towards peace and war. Especially when one doesn't need to worry anymore about keeping the sun and moon on their daily schedule; or the magical cure all known as the Elements of Harmony.
Yes Equestria was in a sorry state, or better off depending on who you asked. It needed a hero, or maybe....
Ah, I remember it all like it was yesterday. We minions were once again without an Overlord, and worse the land was once again torn apart by a cataclysm. No doubt some tree hugging elf again, but whatever the case, not only was our old Overlord destroyed but we minions were cast from the very world upon which we called home. The minion tribes were scattered, and even the Hand of Evil, the artifact upon which all Overlords wield their power, was lost to us. It seemed that the hope for Evil was crushed at last.
But, as I always say: Evil always find a way.
- Gnarl, Minion Master and Devoted Servant of Darkness.
Gnarl stroked the tufts of hair that made up his beard. He examined the details of the circle, as Brown minions worked under his watchful eyes.
"Gubbin! Rework that rune there!" He shouted, pointing to an area of the circle.
The Brown saluted and began reworking the rune with the specially created paint. It had taken months to find enough dragon bones to grind up into the paste. And Gnarl didn't even want to remember the sheer amount of pain they all had to endure to get their claws on Troll blood. Poor Fidget, he would be missed.
'Still, it was him or me. I don't exactly have being a trolls action figure on my wish list of jobs.' Gnarl thought, chuckling evilly.
"Moldy! I see you slacking off. Get back to work before I stack you out for the crows!" Gnarl shouted at a lounging Brown.
Perfect. Everything had to be perfect. They only had one shot at this, and if they failed....
"Slog! Get up Slog!" Gnarl shouted, hobbling over to a brown who sat against the wall. He whacked the Brown across the head, and the Brown merely fell to the ground.
Gnarl tilted his head and examined Slog, and stepped back with a sigh as he registered the glazed over eyes.
"Dead. Mortis!" Gnarl called.
From out of the shadows, walked a cloaked cladded Blue. Mortis, perhaps one of the oldest minions left. Next to him and Gibblet of course. Mortis gripped Slog's dead body and began dragging him back toward the Minion graveyard. As he went, Gnarl caught Mortis saying his most famous of quotes, "Do not fear the reaper."
Gnarl ignored him, and turned back to the circle.
"Flub! Pull your own weight Flub!" Gnarl shouted, tossing a rock at a slacking off Brown.
Perfect. It all had to be perfect. Otherwise....well Gnarl decided not to think about the otherwise.
"Just remember," He said to himself, "Evil always finds a way." He chuckled, his laugh echoing in the caverns.
Damion sighed as he sat on the couch. He fiddled with the black tie he wore, alongside the dark suit. He didn't like wearing suits due to how constraining they made him feel. But today was a day it was required.
"I just can't believe he's gone." He said to himself.
It was his grandfather. After eighty five years of life, the man had finally gone off to whatever after life had in store for him. It was a sad time for Damion and his family. His grandfather had been well loved, and respected. The whole family and town had come to the funeral, all to pay their respects.
Many tears had been shed that day, and looking up Damion saw his mother dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief. Yes, everyone still had water to leak....all but him.
Don't get him wrong, Damion had loved his grandfather. He could remember all the archeological digs his grandfather had taken him to during the summers. Grandpa had been a big history buff, and his house was full of old artifacts he had dug up in his life. Damion himself had gotten that same desire for knowledge and old ruins from him.
But Damion found he couldn't cry a lot at this time. He had a few wet moments, but they were easily wiped away. In fact, a part of him was actually happy that grandpa had finally gone off to the other world. He was finally at peace.
His grandfather had suffered a lot in life. He had lost a leg in a terrorist attack in town, alongside his wife. And his ailing health had made it difficult for him to engage in his passions of archeology. And age had started its cruel works upon his mind and body. Damion always felt sad when he saw his grandfather in those last few days. To see a man slowly withering away like that, it was just too sad and painful. But now it was over, and grandpa wouldn't feel anymore pain...and he was with grandma again.
And for that, Damion felt slightly happy.
"Damion."
Damion looked up and saw his mother, her make up slightly ruined from her tears. She also was holding a box.
"Mom?" Damion asked.
His mother frowned, looked at the box, then handed it to him.
"This...this is from your grandfather. It was...something he wanted to give you on your birthday next month...but....now..." His mother looked away and brought her handkerchief to her eyes again as she took a ragged breath in to hold back her sorrow.
Damion took the box, and looked at it. He held it in his hands as if it was a delicate ming vase, and slowly stood up.
"Thanks mom." He said, and he held the box to his chest.
He held it there as he sat, till finally all the mourners were gone and the day was almost over. No one talked to him much, save to give their condolences. Damion liked it that way, he preferred to be alone at times like this. And now, he sat in his room alone, looking at the box that held the last gift his grandfather would ever give him.
"Well...I guess I should see what it is." He said, and slowly he began to open the box.
As he did, a thousand memories of times past flooded his mind. He remembered his grandfather and their trips. He remembered the smiles grandpa would get when he brought him an old piece of pottery, or if he was lucky an old artifact, to him. When he had been younger Damion always seemed to act as if he had found Atlantis when he brought grandpa those pieces. Grandpa always laughed, patted his back and the two of them would then study the pieces and try to figure out what it was part of.
He remembered his grandfathers more eccentric side to archeology, and the few trips they took to Gibraltar and the Mediterranean to actually try to find Atlantis. Damion smiled remembering how sometimes his grandpa could get all conspiracy theorist when he got deep into this kind of work, so much that his hair would get into a very similar way like that one guy from Ancient Aliens.
And he remembered all the simple things. And he knew that....now they could never happen again. And now that he was alone...Damion did start to cry. He didn't sob, he didn't want people to hear, but he did find tears flooding out from his eyes.
When he finally got the box open, he wiped his eyes and sniffled a bit as he looked in at the contents.
It was a gauntlet. Attached to it was a note.
Damion took the note, and recognized his grandfathers handwriting. It seemed his grandfather had done an intense study of the gauntlet, and had come to the conclusion that it wasn't of human make.
For one the gauntlet was old. Very old, despite its pristine and well taken care of look. It wasn't modern make, at least that was what a study of the craftsmanship had shown. As well, it was apparently made of a metal not yet discovered by humans today. It could withstand extreme temperatures and apparently not even a diamond drill had managed to cut it.
Damion read over the note some more, noting all the details of his grandfathers study. He then looked at the gauntlet. It had a length that would probably go up to his elbow. The finger digits were sharp and pointed, and the backhand had an empty sphere slot where perhaps a gem had been kept before? Damion scratched his head as he looked it over.
"I wonder..." Damion said as he slid his hand into the gauntlet.
As soon as his fingers touched the soft, well kept insides of the gauntlet that it suddenly shot up his arm till his fingers slide into the digit guards.
"Whoa!" he gasped as the gauntlet began to move, the metal realigning themselves as the gauntlet shrank to fit his arm and hand like a second pair of skin. All on its own.
"Whoa....that....this can't be normal." He said as he looked at the gauntlet. He moved his fingers and found that now the empty sphere socket was filled with a strange soft glowing light.
Damion went to take it off, but found that he couldn't remove the gauntlet.
"What the...hey...come....off." He grunted as he tried to yank the gauntlet off. It didn't budge. Finally Damion gave up as he gasped for air.
"This can't be good." He said. He now had a strange, old artifact that defied anything that current human knowledge or tech on his arm; and had no idea what it did, if anything. It was like Curse of the Mummy almost.
"God, I hope I didn't awaken an evil spirit." Damion said with a slight bit of worry.
Suddenly the gauntlet began to feel hot, and Damion screamed as he felt as if his entire body was being pulled apart.
"Crap! Crap!" He shouted, trying to get the gauntlet off.
Gnarl watched as the minions danced, cheered and howled around the arcane circle. Though minions could not do direct magic, save the blues and reds but only limited, they were still magical creatures. Magical creatures all had innate magic to them, that could affect their bodies and how the world worked with the body.
And more importantly, that innate magic could go to fueling magic rituals, or empower weapons and armor with a few minions thrown into a forge of molten metal. Heheheheh. A few runes, a proper circle, and lots of screaming and howling and jumping around. All that made a ritual a ritual.
"Faster, faster! Move like your lives depended on it!" Gnarl called, moving his hands in the way of a conductor as Quaver and his band began pounding drums. In a way, their lives did depend on the success of this ritual.
Minions needed an Overlord, and to find an Overlord they needed the Hand of Evil. And that was what this ritual was for, to pull the artifact back to them from whatever universe it was shot off to in the cosmos. And with it returned to them, they could find their new Overlord.
Gnarl's ears twitched as he felt the winds change, and the circle grew bright. With a pulse of dark and bright lights, finally the Hand of Evil was theirs again.
"I think I'm gonna be sick."
"What?" Gnarl said, as the lights and smoke cleared and the unknown speaker came into view.
It was a human! True, Gnarl had seen plenty of humans before, but as far as he could tell from what little he and the minions had seen of this world; it did not have humans. So given that, he had to be from another world. But the ritual had been to bring forth the Hand of Evil, not a human.
"Master!"
"Master!"
"Master!"
Gnarl looked around at the gathered browns, and saw they were all jumping around, doing flips and even hugging each other, and all cheering the word Master. Gnarl looked back at the human, who was leaning over his legs and clutching at his stomach and his eyes widened at what he saw on the hand covering the humans mouth.
It was the Hand of Evil, and the human was wearing it. Gnarl was surprised, shocked, aghast. This human didn't look menacing, or physically imposing. But he wore the Hand of Evil, and that meant only one thing.
"Kneel! Bow! To our new Overlord!" Gnarl said, as he bent into a formal bow to their new Overlord.
"Master!" The Browns called and they all bowed, some flopping onto their faces in their attempts to bow.
Gnarl looked up at the human, and saw the boy looked both confused and shocked.
"Where the hell am I!?" The human yelled.
Damion looked around, breathing quickly as he examined his new surroundings.
He could safely say he wasn't in Kansas, or California in his case, anymore.
He was in what he assumed was a cave, but it seemed a manmade cave, or partial in any case. Columns besides stalagmites and stalactites were apparent on the walls. A few burning torches offered light in the darkness.
But the most shocking, were the yellow glowing eyes of short little creatures that slowly came into the light.
They looked like the gremlins from the Gremlin movie! Only without any hair and less ugly. Though maybe not as ugly. Still their glowing eyes, clawed hands and sharp teeth made Damin take a step back and look around with quickening breath as he realized he was surrounded.
Where was he? How did he get here? What were these things. Were they going to eat him? Why was this his fate? Eaten by gremlin knock offs.
Damion began to hyperventilate as the creatures grew closer, and his mind suddenly entered fight or flight. There was too many to fight, so he ran and jumped over a number of the small creatures and bolted down the dark hall.
He didn't know where he was or where he was going, but anywhere was better.
Gnarl watched in surprised shock as the human who was their new overlord took off like a monkey from a box.
"You five! Go after him! Protect our overlord before he hurts himself!" He snapped at a number of browns. The browns saluted, one or two hitting themselves in the head with their clubs and charged after to protect their overlord.
Gnarl watched and stroked his beard as he tried to figure out what would cause an Overlord to run in such fear. It was no doubt a side effect of the trans planar travel. Sudden shifts of a creature from its native plane to another could often leave it feeling shocked and afraid. The Overlord must have fell back into a primal state to survive out of instinct.
"Hmmm, well it doesn't matter. He is here now." Gnarl said with a shrug as he began shouting orders to the remaining browns to make preparations. They all looked more lively now, and even Gnarl felt like he could bash in a sheep's head or two like he was a young minion again. With the Hand of Evil and a new overlord, their energies were already feeling recharged.
The Overlord would surely calm down once his mind felt safe and in time he would surely return. It was his destiny after all. The browns with him would keep him safe from any hostile creatures. And if not.....
...well. They had the Hand back now. They could always find another Overlord if this one didn't last long.
After all.
Evil will always find a way.
Twilight Sparkle sighed as she sorted the many books in the Royal Library of Canterlot. She readjusted her glasses, as her light spell allowed her to see which titles went where in the dim light. She would have loved to have some mage light stone torches in the library to help her see, but as her supervisor always told her.
"There is just no room in the budget." Twilight said in a mocking tone.
Well maybe there would be a better budget if the Head Librarian ever did any work instead of knocking up any mare librarian that fell for his idiot charms and throwing parties and gambling.
Twilight sighed, and returned to her work. Sure this job had its downsides, but she loved it either way. The chance to be surrounded by all the works of the most famous authors and unicorn mages in all of Equestrian history was a dream for her. When she had failed her magic test, she felt sure that access to such knowledge would be lost to her forever.
From her earliest she would jealously watch other unicorns on their way to the Canterlot Royal Magic Academy, and had studied and worked for months to prepare for her test. Normally only the noble born could attend, but her parents had managed to get her a chance; though she never knew how and to this day they never speak of it. Yet, on the day of her test she had failed, the spell just wouldn't work.
But now here she was, in the library she had dreamed about. Perhaps not in the way she had wanted, and she had had to do somethings she was not proud of to get there. But it was something.
Besides, food didn't put itself on the table.
Setting the last book in, Twilight slid down the ladder and began walking toward the front desk. Check a clock on the wall, she saw that her shift was almost done.
Getting up to the front desk, Twilight stopped in her tracks to see the Head Librarian, Mythic Scroll at the desk. Beside him was her coworker, Violet Rose, who stood stiff and uncomfortable even as the Head Librarian leaned in next to her and whispered into her ear; his hoof drawing slow circles on her flank.
Twilight groaned inward, and hoped she could get her saddle bag and finish up her paperwork without having to deal with her boss.
But as if sensing her presence, Mythic, turned and stepped away from Violet with a quick slap on her flank with his tail and causing her to jump.
"Ah Twilight. I'm glad to run into you. As you know I am just doing a usual check up on the facilities." Mythic said, even as his eyes roamed over Twilight.
Twilight tried to suppress her shiver of disgust. But kept to her paper work.
"I've organized Sections L through S and the scrolls and arcane books in the Starswirl wing." Twilight said, adjusting her glasses as she stapled her papers together and set them in a pile of finished work before handing them to Mythic.
"Yes, yes, Good," Mythic said, taking the papers and stuffing them without a care into a bag, "But you know Twilight that I care more about my staff then some old scrolls. I want to know how you are doing."
Mythic moved up and placed his hoof on Twilight's shoulder, and moved it down and up the small of her back.
"I am just fine. But, I think I should leave now. I have some things I have to finish at home." Twilight said, starting to stand. But Mythic pressed his hoof on her shoulder.
"Oh don't be so shy Twilight. You hardly seem to get out, that's not good for a mare of your age and beauty to just isolate herself. I'm having a little party with some friends. Why don't you come and join me." Mythic said, offering a smile, even as his tail brushed against her flank.
Twilight thought she was going to vomit and she quickly stood and moved away from her boss.
"I'm flattered. Really, but I just have too much to do. Dishes to clean and stuff to dust." Twilight started, and turned to leave. But Mythic cut her off and wrapped a hoof around her shoulders.
"Oh come on Twilight. It will be fun." Mythic said, before leaning in and whispering to her.
"Or would you like to be out of a job?" He whispered venomously.
Twilight looked at Mythic in shock, "Y-you can't..."
"I can. I'm friends with some very high up ponies. The point is, if I feel you aren't worth being here, you won't be here ever again." Mythic whispered, "So...why don't you show me you are worth staying here."
Twilight felt like she was going to throw up. She looked around for somepny, anypony to help. She shot a pleading look to Violet Rose, but the scared mare only looked at her with a sorry expression before grabbing her bags and fleeing.
Twilight watched in horror as her coworker left, before looking at Mythic.
The unicorn looked at her with a mocking smirk that said that he was in control. Twilight felt her ears flatten and she looked down.
"Fine. I'll go." She said, biting back a whimper.
"Excellent. You'll have lots of fun, and my friends have all been dying to meet you. Who knows, you might even make some friends for once." Mythic said, even as he slapped Twilight's flank and herded her out of the building and into an awaiting carriage outside.
Friends? Why in Tartarus would Twilight want friends like that? Why would she want friends at all? She didn't have friends, and even somepony who she thought at least she could connect with left her to the mercies of this...this....demon!
As the carriage door closed, Twilight shivered as she felt Mythic wrap his hoof around her waist, and reach lower. She wouldn't cry though. She wouldn't give him that, to none of them.
Even when she arrived, and felt the stallions eyes looking her over like a piece of meat. Even when their hooves pulled at her mane, their hot heavy breath in her ears. The painful slap of their bodies against hers, biting her and kissing her and licking her. Passing her and two other mares around alongside wine and drink.
Even when it was all finally done and she was forced to walk home from Mythics manor, some several streets from her house. Even as she entered into her house, alone and in the dark. Even as she rushed into her shower and cleaned herself for nearly an hour in scalding hot water. Only when she was in her bed, that she let herself cry.
She knew there was nothing she could do. Report it? She would just lose her job, and Mythic would probably find some way to get out of punishment. And then he would make her life even worse. She was trapped, helpless. How she wished she had succeeded in her test. She would never be in this then. She wished that the Princess of the Sun and the Moon would return. Surely they could fix it.
But that was just a filly's dream. No one could fix things. This was her life, and she would just have to live it as best she could.
Running through darkness, Damion finally spotted light at the end of the tunnel. He rushed toward it and burst out into the open air. All around him he saw craggy rocks and cliffs. A forest in the wider distance, and below what he assumed was a few miles looked like the smoke coming from a town.
Civilization. Normally it would be a blessing, but Damion wasn't sure he wanted to see what lived in a world populated by gremlins. But behind him, he could hear the breathing and hooting of those creatures. Following him. He had to run.
Turning, he ran down a slight slope and ran towards the woods. As he ran, he tripped and fell, sliding down the slope. He placed his arms around his head to protect it. When he was still, cut and bruised, he got up on shaky legs and ran into the woods. The twisting labyrinth of trees, bushes and low hanging limbs, made movement impossible to register. Again his pant legs got caught on something and Damion fell again.
Gasping and breathing, Damion took deep breathes as he felt exhaustion hit.
"I...I can't....I can't....." He breathed, and tried to stand.
The sound of something snapping made Damion look around. And then he saw the set of glowing yellow eyes. He began crawling back towards a tree. He expected the gremlin monsters, but instead he saw what looked like a wolf. If a wolf was made out of wood.
The creature growled, and lowered itself. Before leaping, wooden mouth opening to show wooden sharp teeth. Going for his throat.
Damion shielded himself with his arms, expecting death. But a shout came from the woods.
"Protect the Master!"
From behind a bush, five brown gremlin creatures that were chasing him leapt out and leaped upon the back of the wooden wolf. Their arms smashing it about its head and body with their clubs. They pulled on its head and tail, digging claws in and biting and smashing. The wooden wolf howled and tried to bite and shake off the attacking creatures.
Damion watched, in shock as the creatures beat the wooden wolf to death, or was that splinters. The creature finally lay on the ground, but the gremlin creatures kept hitting it for some time before turning toward him. They were cut, bruised, but their wounds seemed to slowly be closing up.
"Master okay?" One asked, kneeling to him.
"Master. Master." Another cheered, before falling on his face in a bow.
"We protect Master!" Three more cheered, throwing their clubs up as they screamed.
Damion looked at them, surprised they talked, then pointed at himself.
Evil or Really Evil? Pure(Evil) or Corruption? Domination or Destruction? Order or Chaos? These are things an Overlord needs to think about.
-Gnarl's Musings.
Damion looked at the gremlins before him, as they continued to bow to him in an almost worshipful way. He would admit, a small part of him was liking the attention. Well, it was better then being eaten anyway.
But his attention was lost as the dead wood wolf twitched and looked at him again.
"Wagh! It's still alive. Kill! Kill it!" He shouted, getting to his feet and stepping back.
The brown gremlin creatures went right to work, with a cheering scream of excitement as they did so, taking their clubs and bashing at the still prone but twitching form of the wooden wolf. It didn't last a second as it was once again made motionless and still; but of course the brown creatures still kept hitting it and jumping up and down on its body.
One even started to take a short leak on it.
Damion sighed and wiped his brow with the sleeve of his tux. He took a moment to examine himself, and for a moment worried about how the tux rental place would react once they saw the tuxedo.
Damion chuckled a bit at the thought. Here he was, somewhere with gremlin monsters and wolves made from wood, and here he was worrying about getting his deposit back for a rented tux.
"Uh...good job." Damion said hesitantly, as the creatures kept bashing the body for a few more seconds before calming down and breathing heavily, tongues hanging out like dogs.
"We serve master!" They shouted.
"Uh...right." Damion said uncomfortably.
He still wasn't sure what to make of that. So instead he turned to the dead body before him and went over to examine the wooden creature. Curiosity of how such a creature could exist taking hold of his mind.
Yet, as he placed his gauntleted hand on the body, he felt a sudden hot sensation burning through the gauntlet and green and brown colored energy seemed to be drained from the body of the wooden wolf and into the gauntlet.
"Life force for master!"
"Drain more life force master!"
"Aaaagh! What is this!?" Damion shouted, grabbing the gauntlet with his free hand and tried to pull it off as it continued to drain the strange energy until finally it ended.
When the last bit of that brown energy was drained by the gauntlet, the wooden wolf's body fell into pieces.
"Oooooh. That's mine!" One said, as it pulled off the top half of the creature's head from the ground and planted it firmly on its forehead like a helmet.
"This mine!" Another shouted, holding up a claw and leg and doing a little dance.
Damion watched them, before looking at the gauntlet in confusion. What was that? It didn't hurt him, it just felt a little warm as it drained....whatever that energy thing was. Wait, these gremlin creatures had called it Life Force?
Did I drain its life, or whatever was left of it? Damion wondered.
The thought was a little revolting, but more so he wondered how he did it in the first place.
"This is getting weirder and weirder." Damion said, stepping back from the pile of wooden body parts.
Damion looked around, before starting off in another direction. Hopefully this one with less wooden monsters out to eat him.
The sound of footsteps behind him caught his ear, and Damion turned and saw the five brown gremlin creatures standing behind him; keeping a slight distance from him.
Damion blinked, turned and kept going.
Again he heard them following. Their steps stopping with his, and when he turned they stood behind him, some even saluting him.
Damion scowled, and began walking forward, keeping his head turned to keep an eye on the creatures. As he walked, they followed. Seeing this Damion turned and ran, and the sound of the creatures following behind him followed.
Damion turned, jumped over a fallen log and ducked behind a tree. He breathed, as he slowly looked out from behind the tree and nearly jumped as the creatures leapt over the log and appeared before him. Again they stood near him and saluted, some panting like dog.
"Why are you following me?" Damion asked out right, finding this annoying now.
"We must protect master!" One shouted.
"Yes, yes. Protect the master!"
"We protect you master!"
Damion just blinked, looking at the creatures. Finally he face palmed.
"Ow." He said, forgetting that he was wearing a metal gauntlet on the hand he used to facepalm himself. He rubbed his face with his other hand and again tried to pull the gauntlet off.
Again, it stuck to him like glue.
Damion sighed.
"Fine. Follow me." Damion said. He wasn't sure if he should trust these creatures.
Buuuuut. They did save him from that monster, and as they said it were suppose to protect him. Why, he didn't understand. But, if there were more of...whatever that thing was around, he could certainly use the protection as he himself did not have a weapon
Damion began moving once more, the gremlins following behind. Every so often, he would glance back as he did not fully trust these creatures yet. And he still didn't understand why they thought he was their master.
Actually, there was a lot of things he didn't understand. How could he understand them? How did they know English? Where was he? He couldn't be on Earth, that much he had to admit. He had seen enough to know that wherever he was, it wasn't earth.
Years of science fiction came to play now. Was he in a parallel world? An alien planet? A different dimension? Anyone one of those possibilities could be true. Under normal circumstances, anyone would probably be freaking out.
Though after his near death experience, Damion felt that he had done enough freaking out. Now he had to focus on something more important. Survival. And maybe finding a way back home.
If there was a way.
A growling in his stomach, made Damion pause and place his hand over his belly.
'Hmmm, maybe get something to eat first.' He thought.
He could try hunting or foraging. But he wasn't wise enough on either subject that he felt he could succeed or pick something safe. And if this was a different world, then that would be unwise to try to eat what was without knowing what was safe or not.
Then he thought of that town. He wasn't that far. Maybe he could find food there, and maybe get a sense of where he was.
Of course, just cause they had towns didn't mean they might be friendly. He didn't even know what constituted for intelligent life in this world. Still, if they had society then they might not kill him out right. And his instincts told him that the town was the place to go.
So he walked in the direction he had seen it in. His little gremlins behind him all the way.
Damion hiked for maybe an hour or more. HIs feet were sore, and he was hot and exhausted. Yet it was all worth it as he came over a ridge and saw the small town just below him. He could make out thatched roofs and wooden homes. At the center was a small, white colored building with what looked like two statues in front of it.
The whole town looked like a dump, with only the white building in the center looking even remotely well taken care of. Even the wall surrounding the town, looked to be in disrepair as he saw some gaps or makeshift barricades in front of holes in the wall.
Still, it was a town. Damion was ready to go rushing down and beg for help, but a number of things came to mind.
One, he was sure he was not on earth. Would he even be speaking the same language as whoever lived in this town?
What would they think of him? Would they be human like him, or something else? Something dangerous?
"Spree?!" One of the gremlins shouted
"Not Spree. Spree gone. Stupid." Another gremlin said to the first, hitting it on the head with its club and starting a fight between the two as they swung their clubs at each other.
"Hey!" Damion shouted, his voice stopping the fight and the five creatures stood and saluted.
"Stay here and out of trouble." Damion said, hoping they would listen.
If he went into town with these things following him, who knew what would happen.
The gremlins looked at each other, then at him and Damion could see an internal conflict in their eyes. They wanted to go with him to protect him, yet they seemed compelled to obey his words.
"Look, if I don't come back in half an hour you can come running in and get me." Damion said, hoping to at least relive them of their stress.
The creatures saluted again, though they still seemed worried. Damion put it out of his mind though as he walked down toward the town.
Entering the town felt like entering a ghost town. Creaking window frames and empty streets. Somewhere he heard a dog barking, but he saw no one around.
Most surprising was the buildings themselves, they looked a lot smaller then when he had been farther away. If he wanted to entering a building, he would have had to probably crouch or kneel low to avoid hitting his head; or even his shoulders. He was at least five feet ten inches. Those doors looked fit for something at four feet at the highest.
"H-Hello. Is anyone there?" Damion called as he walked around, looking for any sign of life.
He heard the sound of a door creaking, and Damion turned and saw what looked like someone looking through a crack in a door. He waved and walked over.
"H-hello? I need help W-wait!" Damion shouted as the door slammed shut and he thought he heard the sound of something being pushed against it.
"Hello? Hello?" Damion called as he knocked on the door.
Damion moved over to the window and pressed his face against it. He looked around, but the dust and shadows made looking inside difficult. With a sigh, he stepped back and went back onto the road of the town and kept looking around.
"Anybody home!?" He shouted.
Nothing but the creaking of wood in the wind.
Damion was staring to get a little creeped out now, as he stood in what to him was a ghost town. Years of horror films now started to rear their ugly head, and he began to half expect zombies to come around a corner or slowly start walking out of the doors and windows. Or a cult of children to sacrifice him to a corn field. Or even a cult of people who think the end times were upon them and he would end up running away and getting his genitals impaled by a pick axe.
'If I ever get home, I'm never reading another creepypasta for as long as I live.' Damion thought, now starting to feel very exposed and defenseless. And a feeling that something, someone, was watching him despite the silence.
A shadow of movement at the corner of his eyes, made Damion turn sharply and look down a street that led to the center of the town where that building in the center he had seen was. Since he was closer, Damion felt sure that the building had to be some sort of church or other holy building. It was probably made of marble or something, and following the thought that someone was here he walked down that street.
He heard the creaking sound of a door slamming from the church building made Damion slowly approach it. He saw two large statues that stood at the entrance that looked like strange thin horse like creatures. They looked nothing like horses back on earth, their bodies were way different in terms of form and shape. And they had wings and horns as well. On the chest of these statues were crest like symbols that showed a sun and a moon.
Some sort of deities?
Maybe there was a priest, preacher or rabbi or someone inside. Given the buildings well taken care of exterior, it would seem that someone had to be living here.
Of course, there were all those horror films of blood crazy cults.
'God damn it.' Damion thought with a groan and slowly he made his way to the door. He was cutting all horror films from his life if he ever got back home again. He did not need this paranoia right now.
'Maybe I should have brought my little body guards.' He thought, as he pushed open the door and looked inside. As outside, the inside looked well taken care of. But like outside, it was empty.
Well, not fully empty. There, on an alter, Damion saw what looked like an offering of food and drink. A big jug of some liquid and bowls of fruit that he amazingly could recognize. Bananas. Apples.
A slight growling in his stomach, and a sudden thirst in his throat reminded Damion that he was both thirsty and hungry after his trek down to this town. He looked around, before rushing to the alter.
Some might call what he was about to do blasphemy. But Damion didn't really care, he was hungry and it would be rather dumb to let food go to waste.
Besides, he wasn't part of whatever religion this church was too.
He made a few taste tests of the fruit, just to make sure it was fresh and well real. It was, and her tore into the bananas and apples first. He almost gasped at the sheer sweetness of the apple, and the banana. He then checked the jug and saw it was water. He grabbed and downed it, gasping when he had final quenched his thirst.
A scream to his right made Damion jump almost out of his skin, and knock the bowl to the ground and drop the jug to the ground where it hit the floor with a crash.
Damion swallowed the food in his mouth, and stared at what he saw before him. It looked like a pony, and by look like all Damion could see was a slight resemblance. Ears. Hooves. tail. Mane. But the similarities ended there.
The coat was a deep blue, and the mane a aqua green color and styled into a bun. The eyes looked nothing like a pony's eyes from his world. They were bigger, and looked more human like. The face was smaller, and the mouth more expressive then a horses on his world; as by the look of horror and fear that he saw on the creatures face.
Oh and it had wings. Did that make it a Pegasus? oh and it wore clothes, in this case what looked like nun robes. In its hooves it held what looked like a broom, pointed at him like a make shift weapon.
Well, this was not what Damion had thought of when he thought of civilized life in this world. But, he would take anything at this point. But first, he should probably try to avoid an incident.
He slowly lifted his hand, but the pony like creature screamed and charged, swinging the broom at him.
Damion leapt to the side, "Whoa! Hold it!"
The pony shouted something in a language that Damion had no idea what it meant, and the pony swung at him again. Damion dove, hitting the ground and pulled himself up as he ran to the door. But as he reached the door, it burst open and something blunt struck him across the head and sending him to the ground with a thud.
Damion's world spun, and his vision was blurry as he looked up at other pony creature surrounding him with various clubs and sticks. Amongst the pony creatures one stood out the most. Wearing the equivalent of what he suspected was a preacher or bishops robes, this pony was bigger and more muscular then the one in the nun robes. He could tell even in his blurry state of vision that this guy was a male.
It seemed to be speaking loudly, then to the nun pony who said something and pointed to the alter. The bishop pony looked shocked and shouted something. Then a number of ponies began striking him with their clubs, and Damion screamed as he threw his arms over his head to protect it from the blows.
The blows kept coming, and Damion kept still, trying not to black out. He felt sure he was going to die, when he felt something thrown over him and he was then dragged out into the light.
Damion groaned, blinking as he saw that he was in a net and being dragged out into the town. All around he saw more ponies, all who looked shallow eyed and well...desperate. Fearful. He groaned, as he was yanked into the center of the town and left, all the ponies around him.
"W-wait....wait..." Damion gasped, trying to get to his feet.
He looked around, the wide almost fanatical look in the eyes of all the ponies as they surrounded him. Each had a rock in its hoof, and the bishop pony stood at the front, holding a book in his hooves and shouting something, probably preaching. A sudden horror came to Damion's mind as he started to get a cast the first stone feeling.
The bishop pony turned, pointed at him and shouted something. Even though Damion couldn't understand the words, he was sure it was probably along the lines of.
"Let he who is without sin, cast the first stone!"
And with that, the ponies began to throw their rocks. One struck across Damion's head, knocking him to the ground and drawing blood as his vision spun. He curled up, covering his head as the hail of rocks kept up, sending waves of pain up around his body.
Damion screamed as he felt the rocks assail his body. Fear of death rearing into his mind. But within that fear, he felt another emotion.
Anger. At what, he didn't know. The ponies? The fear of death? Stubborn survival instinct? He wasn't sure what caused the anger, but as he growled he felt a sudden burning sensation in the gauntlet on his arm and he saw the gem on it began to glow brightly. The burning sensation became an inferno and with a roar Damion thrust his fist up and slammed the gauntleted hand down with all his might.
A scream went up, and the sound of bodies hitting the ground made Damion look up as the rocks stopped. The ponies around him had all been blow back by a few inches, and some had been knocked so off their feet or hooves, they were on the ground. All eyes looking at him in fear as he stood up on shaky, unsteady legs.
"For the Master!" A shout went up, and down the street Damion saw the sights of the five brown gremlins charging toward him. They leapt up and landed on ponies, beginning to smack them about with their clubs.
Panic followed that. Some ponies turned and ran, in fact most ran. But others tried to fight back against the gremlins. Damion immediately saw that the favor of battle was in the gremlins side. For one, they were quicker due to their size in comparison to the ponies and these brown gremlins were obviously trained in battle, being able to dodge or block the clumsy strikes of the ponies before hitting back or leaping onto their backs and slamming them about the head with their clubs.
But of course, some ponies managed to stab some of the gremlins with their pitchforks, but the creatures did not seem as bothered by such injures, shrugging them off and fighting like mad.
Damion felt his legs give out and he fell to his knees before flopping onto the ground, his body was tired and in such pain he was barely able to keep his eyes open. The ponies were all now running, and the brown gremlins, some injured and bleeding, surrounded Damion in a shield like formation. The gremlins snarled at the ponies, some now holding pitchforks they had taken from some of the unconscious or dead ponies.
"Protect master!" The gremlins called.
Three of the gremlins grabbed Damion and with surprising strength, managed to lift him, while the other two guarded the sides as the three gremlins carried him out of town.
"We take Master back to Tower!"
"Get healing for master!"
Damion didn't say anything as he breathed a sigh of relief. Despite his uncertainty of these creatures, they seemed intent on helping him. He let himself close his eyes, and drift into darkness as he felt his body carried off.
Gnarl paced back and forth, rubbing his bread with a scowl. When the browns he had sent to guard their new overlord after he ran away in shock, he had not expected them to return with his body battered and bloody. The fact that minions, browns no less, had been forced to carry their master in a retreat was not only shocking it was a blow to their status as minions of the overlord!
Their master was hurt, and after so long with so many loses, they could not risk losing a master after finally getting one.
"Well Mortis?" Gnarl asked, looking to the dark cloaked blue as he attended the Overlord, who lay unconscious on a slab of stone as a makeshift bed.
"He will not meet the reaper." Mortis said, as he finished the last bit of healing.
Gnarl nodded, "Well that is something. When will he wake."
"Not sure. He took a heavy blow to the head. It might be a few hours. Then we will know the full extent of any injuries." Mortis grumbled.
Gnarl scowled, "Very well."
As Mortis shuffled off, Gnarl began sending orders to the minions. He set a party out to hunt down a boar or something, no doubt suspecting the master would be hungry when he woke, and then began setting orders to get the construction on the future New Dark Tower up and running; though process was slow without proper tools, so far all they had managed was to outfit some natural cave rooms into a semblance of living quarters and Spawning Chamber to rest the Brown Hive. By the time he was finished, he heard a groan coming from the Overlord.
"Ugh...my head. Where am I?" The Overlord groaned, slowly getting up.
"Ah sire, it is good to see you awake and well, but try not to move. You have had a rough day it seems, and we do not wish to see you strain yourself." Gnarl said as he shuffled over.
The Overlord jumped a bit when Gnarl approached, before wincing and laying back down.
"You again. Who are you?" The Overlord asked.
"Ah, yes we never did properly introduce ourselves to each other. I am Gnarl, Minion Master and devoted servant of Darkness." Gnarl said with a bow, "And what might I call you Master?"
The Overlord blinked, "Uh...Damion."
"Hail Overlord Damion. Tell me, are you well? You had some nasty bumps on your head when the brown minions I sent to guard you returned you here. Are you feeling dizzy? How many claws am I holding up?" Gnarl asked as he held up a claw.
Overlord Damion blinked, "Uh...I'm fine. And two claws. What do you mean by Overlord?"
"Ah, I suspected you would ask," Gnarl said with a nod, "You see sire, we minions are servants of darkness and evil. It is our lot and joy in life to serve the master of such forces, the Overlord. That Overlord is you now master, and we minions will serve you without question and with undying loyalty."
Gnarl gave a slight bow, but noticed that Overlord Damion still looked confused.
"W-wait? I can't be this...Overlord thing. I'm not evil." Damion said, "Well, not more then most people."
Gnarl cackled, "Ah, I have served masters who denied their nature, but the Hand always reveals the truth."
"The what?" Damion asked.
"The Hand of Evil," Gnarl said again, "forged from the fires of the universes creation, the focal point of an Overlord's power and the center point of all evil. The gauntlet which you wear right now."
Overlord Damion blinked, then lifted his gauntleted arm, the Hand of Evil glowing darkly in the torch light.
"If this thing is suppose to be some evil artifact, how the hell did my grandfather find it?" Overlord Damion asked.
Gnarl smiled, "Ah, well you see that is a long story. To be short, long ago we minions did not reside on this world we are now. A terrible magical cataclysm literally tore us from our world and deposited us on this one. In the chaos, the Hand was lost in this transportation and flung across the multiverse. It must have landed in your world, and soon it found you."
Overlord Damion rubbed his head, "This is...this all just...so much."
"Yes, I suspect it may. Not everyone goes through being pulled across universes and into the highest posisiton of power in such a short time as you master. I will be glad to give you time alone to get use to the adjustments." Gnarl offered with a bow of his head.
"What?" Overlord Damion said, "No! I don't want to get use to it." He stood up, staggering a moment before standing straight and thrust his gauntled arm out.
"Look, if you need this thing so bad. Take it. But I'm not cut out to be a focal point of evil." Overlord Damion said.
Gnarl was somewhat surprised by this. Who would turn down such power!? But he smiled a coy smile and shook his head.
"I'm afraid I can't master," He said with a chuckle, "You see, despite what you might think or say, the Hand has chosen you. I can no more separate it from you then one could separate a fish from swimming."
"What do you mean?" Overlord Damion asked.
"The Hand is an artifact of evil. But while it is a tool alone, it possess some sentience. The Hand chooses its master, and only its chosen master can wield and wear it," Gnarl stated, pointing a claw at Overlord Damion, "There is something in you that the Hand senses. Something evil. Something that, despite whatever you tell yourself lurks in the darkest recesses of your soul. You are the chosen Overlord of the Hand of Evil sire."
Overlord Damion looked at the Hand of Evil with wide eyes, confused comprehension coming into his eyes. Gnarl could not help but chuckle. He had served masters liked this once in the past, and while all had gone to become powerful Overlords, there was still always something delightful in seeing someone who believed themselves good to become aware of their inner nature.
It reminded him of a quote a former master once told him.
The Good. They don't know how close to evil they really are.
"But...but why me? Why bring me here?" Overlord Damion asked.
Gnarl smirked, "Well...to be honest, we weren't trying to bring you master. Our ritual was to bring the Hand of Evil to us, so that we might find a new Overlord. We had no idea it had already chosen a master."
"Well can't you send me back!?" Damion asked, looking somewhat fearful. And yet, Gnarl suspected something else under that.
Gnarl took a slight step back, "I am afraid not sire. Travel across the multiverse is difficult, and it was a miracle that you yourself were not torn apart by the energies that brought the Hand to us. But I am afraid that sending you back would be almost impossible."
Gnarl gagged as Overlord Damion moved with a surprising speed and grabbed him by the throat and lifted him up off the ground.
"You mean I can't go back home!" Overlord Damion shouted, and Gnarl choked somewhat as he tightened his grip around his neck. Gnarl, while certainly afraid for his life now, still could not help but smile at the look of inner rage and a desire to rip him apart that he saw in his Overlords eyes.
It made his black heart feel all warm and fuzzy inside.
For a moment, Gnarl wasn't sure if Overlord Damion would crush his wind pipe or not, but as quickly as he had grabbed him, Overlord Damion released Gnarl, making him grunt as his old bones groaned from the fall, and stepped back and flop down onto the rock slab bed.
"Why....why me?" Overlord Damion asked, as he placed his face into his palms.
"I know this must be a lot to take in," Gnarl started, taking it slow now least he incite his masters rage again, "But while you may be pulled from your native world, you are now on a new world, in a position of power with your own personal army ready to serve you. What more could any creature want?"
"Just go away!" Overlord Damion snapped, never looking up.
Gnarl bowed his head, and slowly made his retreat. He suspected that in time, his new master would see the position he was in and since he would be unable to return to his own world, take the offer so generously given to him. But for now, he needed time to come to terms with it all.
Gnarl then set orders to minions to prepare for the Initiation Ceremony, and when the hunting Browns returned to prepare the boar they had killed for the Overlords dinner. Once Overlord Damion came around, they would need to initiate him fully as the Overlord, so that he could use the full force of the Hand of Evil.
Damion sat there, face in his hands. The cold metal of the gauntlet, the Hand of Evil, felt even colder against his flesh. He snarled, grabbed it and tried to yank it off. But like always, it stayed stuck to his hand. He screamed and slammed his fist into the ground, again and again, hitting his gauntleted fist into the stone till he grew tired.
He couldn't go home. He was stuck here. Forever!
'Mom. Dad.' Damion thought sadly. His family had just lost his grandfather, now they had lost him. What would they do? How would they react? He didn't even get to say goodbye.
Damion's body shook as he started to cry.
"Damn it! Damn it!" Damion gasped as he wiped at his eyes, "This sucks!"
Damion sat onto his rear and leaned against the rock he had been laying on, staring up at the dark ceiling of this cave he was in.
What did he do now?
Damion looked at the gauntlet he wore again. Gnarl's words began to play back in his head. Was he really evil? Did this gauntlet sense something in him...dark?
Damion didn't consider himself evil. True, maybe he had some thoughts that others might not agree with. But did that make him evil?
He shook his head as he stood, wiping his eyes again. He was stuck upon a world that was alien, and if his memories of that town of pony things, hostile to him. Yet he had, for whatever reason, an army of gremlins or minions at his disposal. If he was stuck here...why not take what was offered to him?
He wasn't a survival expert. If he went out on his own, he would probably die. And even if he could not get home, Damion did not want to die. He might one day find a way to get back home. That small hope, it was all he had even if it was foolish or false hope.
But it was all he needed to help him make his decision.
Gnarl watched the Dark Crystals, what few they had with them after the cataclysm that brought them here, were set up with the proper runes and circles. His ears twitched as he heard footsteps behind him. Gnarl turned and smiled. The minions around stopped their work and bowed.
"Ah, sire, I trust you have had time to think." Gnarl started.
"Shut it!" Overlord Damion snapped, "I'm still rather angry about what you did to me. Taking me from my life and family on my world."
Gnarl stepped back slightly from the anger he saw in his master's eyes. He smiled, seeing the sheer rage in those eyes.
"But," Overlord Damion started, "If I'm stuck here then it would be stupid to turn down whatever advantages I can get to survive on this world. So if this Hand thing thinks I'm an Overlord. Then fine."
Gnarl laughed, "Excellent! We have already nearly finished the preparations for your initiation. Stand there in the center of the circle sire, and with the energies of the Dark Crystals, we will attune your body full to the Hand of Evil."
Overlord Damion scowled, but walked to the center of the circle. Gnarl snapped orders to the minions to get back to work, and in no time at all they circles were finished.
"Quaver! Begin!" Gnarl shouted, and he watched as the court jester got his band up and going into a tune of beating drums as minions danced around the edge of the circles, their natural magical energies already getting into work.
Overlord Damion watched as the circle began to glow, and the Dark Crystals as well. Within moments beams of dark energy shot from the crystals and towards Overlord Damion's body, lifting him off his feet.
"AAAAH!" Overlord Damion screamed, his body twisting as the dark energies of the Hand and the Crystals worked in unison to unite and attune themselves to the Overlord's body.
Gnarl watched with inner glee, soon a new Overlord would be birthed fully and a new dark domain would be born. Or, if the Overlords body be unfit to handle the full energies of the Hand....
...well, they would at least have the Hand ready to find a new overlord.
Overlord Damion kept screaming, until the ritual was finally over and his body fell to the ground as the energies vanished and the minions shouted before collapsing to their knees in deep bows to the prone body of their Overlord.
Garl frowned, and approached the still form of Overlord Damion.
"Master?" He asked, gasping as Overlord Damion's hand shot and grabbed his throat.
Overlord Damion groaned, before looking up at Gnarl with glowing yellow eyes. Gnarl smiled, seeing the ritual was a success.
"Ah sire, it is good to see you well. Now, with you fully as our accepted Overlord, we can move to establish a dark domain over these lands." Gnarl said with rapture, as Overlord Damion released his neck and stood up.
"We do...what I say." Overlord Damion said, looking down at Gnarl with a hard look.
"Of course sire. We can talk of future events later. For now we must celebrate your ascension." Gnarl said with a bow.
"You are our new Overlord!" Gnarl shouted, thrusting a claw up in cheer. All around Minions cheered.
The only good Halfling, is an on fire and screaming Halfling. -Gnarl's Musings
Damion stared at his reflection in the metal of the axe that had been offered to him by Gibblet, the Forge Master minion. He traced his hand under his eyes.
His glowing, yellow, eyes.
'Man. this is weird.' He thought as he looked at his new opticals.
When Damion had agreed to be Overlord, he had done it more out of a need for survival. That and maybe because he was angry. Angry at being stuck here. Angry at being torn from his life, his family. So he took what he could.
Yet it had not what he had expected. But then again, what was he suppose to suspect? This was after all new ground.
Yet that ritual. He had to suppress as shiver when he remembered that ritual. The pain he had felt, was something he couldn't begin to describe. Yet, when it had all been done with, he had felt...well he didn't feel anything. He didn't feel compulsions to beat up puppies or something. He felt that he was in control of his actions, instead of being some puppet.
Yet he was different. Not just his eyes. There was something.....something....well he just felt like his mind was more free. Like he wasn't bound by some rule that he had not known he was bound by.
The ritual had changed him, it would be time to see how far it did.
"Master, your armor is ready." Gnarl said, as he bowed with a flourish as Gibblet presented a suit of armor, greaves and gauntlets that floated over a pedestal.
Damion slowly got up, carrying the helm and approached the armor. He didn't understand how it was floating, and not on a base like clothes were, but something in his mind told him that it was not ordinary armor.
"This suit of armor, has been passed down from Overlord to Overlord. It is magical in nature, and will naturally fit to your form. We did have to modifying a bit, even magic has its limits. We were lucky to have it with us when the Great Cataclysm brought us minions to this world. Like the Hand of Evil, it is a one of a kind." Gnarl explained.
Damion looked at the gauntlet, and then placed it on the armor. Like something similar to an Ironman suit up, the armor opened and began morphing about his form, clicking and sliding into place as it encased him. Finally, with a makeshift tower of minions, Gibblet jumped ontop of the shoulders of the minions to grasp the helmet and place it onto Damion's head. Like the armor it too seemed to reshape itself to fit snuggly on his head.
"Master, evilness truly suits you," Gnarl proclaimed as he clapped his claws, "Now we can go out, and establish a new dark domain."
Damion was then presented with a wide axe, that looked extremely heavy. Yet the ritual had not only changed his eyes, but his physical health had been vastly improved; which to him was kinda cool. With an ease he lifted the axe up with his one hand.
"I can feel the land quaking in fear already." Gnarl finished with a cackle.
Once Damion was fully garbed in his armor, and holding his new axe aloft on his shoulder in a lazy matter, he followed Gnarl to the throne room, where he was greeted to a procession of Brown minions, all cheering and waving their clubs, some swinging the pitchforks and make shift weapons from that village, before all collapsing onto their faces in a bow as Damion crossed the room.
"You're throne room sire." Gnarl declared as he bowed and stood at the side of the make shift throne.
The throne itself was nothing more then a large slab of stone placed on two smaller stones on a small mound of dirt. The throne room itself was nothing more then a wide cave with natural columns in it.
"Alas, given our current situation, your bastion of evil is on a rocky start. Though we have done our best to make these cave systems as livable as possible, we minions are not capable construction workers or builders. It makes me long for the days when we had whole cities of servants to do the work for us." Gnarl sighed, and had a longing sort of look of remembrance on his face for a moment.
But Gnarl shook his head and went on, "But, under your iron hand, a new dark domain will be established on this world. All hail the Overlord!"
"Overlord!"
"Master!"
Damion sat down slowly as the minions all around shouted and screamed with glee.
Crescent Lyric scrubbed the floor of the altar vigorously, something that she had been going at for nearly three hours. Though she had made the entire interior of the chapel clean and sparkling, she still felt that it was filthy.
Defiled.
Tainted.
All because of that thing.
She shivered, remembering when she first saw it. Its form utterly alien to her, its very presence almost an affront to the Sisters. The Father claimed it was a demon brought by the sins of the village. Hence why she worked so hard today, hoping that if she worked extra hard to clean the altar and the chapel, that the sisters might forgive them.
It was the duty of everypony to atone for the sins that sent the Sisters away, so that they would return.
"Crescent Lyric, I would have thought you would have gone home by now."
Crescent jumped, nearly spilling the bucket of water she had, as she turned to see the robed figure of The Father, or Stout Faith or just Father Faith, saintly clad in the white and black robes of an official priest of the Church of the Twins.
Crescent quickly got up, bowing her head as she fixed her own robes, "Father! I-I just wanted to make sure everything was perfect."
Father Faith chuckled, "It lightens my heart to see such devotion to the sanctity of the chapel in your capable hooves my sweet child."
Crescent blushed, and she looked at her hooves. The father was always so praising of her, it was always embarrassing.
"Thank you father. But I just do what I can to atone for my sins. Just as you teach us." Crescent said modestly.
Father Faith stepped over to Crescent, and placed a hoof on her shoulder and gently rubbed it.
"Truly you are the purest of my flock dear Crescent. If the Sisters are watching, they see that you are truly faithful." Faith said, his rubbing now moving up her neck.
Crescent shivered, blushed, "Th-thank you father...."
"But are you truly sincere?" Father Faith's took a more serious tone now.
Crescent felt her throat catch and she looked at the priest in fear now.
"A demon did show up in our most sacred temple....while you were on duty....perhaps it was drawn by the sins you do not admit?" Father Faith said, his voice accusing and cold.
"NO! I'm pure and faithful!" Crescent shouted, fear gripping her heart now.
"If you are, you must prove it....are you truly standing in the light of the sisters?" Faith said, demanding an answer even as he moved around Crescent and pushed her down, her flank up in the air.
"F-Father...I" Crescent said, fearful now.
"Are you faithful!?" The father demanded, and Crescent felt a hard smack across her flank.
"Y-yes!" Crescent shouted, biting her lip to ignore the pain.
She bit harder even as she felt the father mount her. All she could do was claim her faithfulness, and hope the father believed her.
He did eventually....when they were finished.
Damion stood in a dark cave tunnel, five brown minions behind him. Despite the darkness, he fond the helmet, or perhaps the ritual, or perhaps both, improved his vision in the darkness. He could see as clearly as if it was day light. He wondered if his eyes were glowing like a cats.
Heh well technically his eyes were glowing. He wondered how that looked in the dark. Shame he couldn't get a selfy, that be an awesome picture.
"Can you hear me sire?" Gnarl's voice soon called in the helm, a bit too loudly.
"Aghhh! Yes Gnarl I can!" Damion shouted, lifting the helm to rub at his ears, as the rung a little.
There was some muffled rubbing and some blowing on a mic like sound.
"Ah forgive the volume sire. This thing is a bit musty, it has been awhile since we used it. I am using what is called a Sight Stone, it will allow me to see and hear what you do through your helmet. And allow me to communicate with you to provide any tactical advice, or witty commentary if you like." Gnarl said, the volume now at a normal level.
"Uh...great. So why am I down here exactly?" Damion asked.
"Well sire, it wouldn't be wise, not that I am calling you unwise of course, but in any case it would be best for you to have some training in before you set out on your conquest," Gnarl said, chuckling darkly and Damion was sure rubbing his claws gleefully. "and so the minions and I have set up a training course for you. This will help you get in touch with your new powers and learn the finer arts of combat and minion control as your predecessors before you. I only wish we could have kept that yeti from before. They make such excellent punhing bags heheheheh."
'Yeti?' Damion thought confused, but shrugged it off.
"Well lets get training then." Damion said, hefting his axe over his shoulder.
"That's the spirit master!" Gnarl applauded, "If you proceed down the tunnel master, you can begin the first trial I have set up for you."
Damion moved down the tunnel and came into a cavern where some minions stood ready, clubs in claws, and hissing and snarling at him. His own minions snarled back in retaliation.
"Now Sire, Scabby and his gang have agreed to be your combat instructors. They'll help in learning the finer combat skills and minion control of a true Overlord. Just use the Hand of Evil, to telepathically direct your minions and send them charging in to battle!"
Damion looked at the gauntlet, before in an almost instinctive way he never knew before, he lifted his hand up, and the brown minions beside him charged, screaming and howling little war cries.
The brown minion Scabby and his gang charged in kind, and the two groups of minions spent the next few minutes, bashing and clubbing each other about the head and other body parts.
"Ah watch them go sire. Browns are truly at their best when they are ripping something apart. Anything else just makes their little brains hurt." Gnarl mused.
Eventually Scabby and his gang broke off, and ran up a fallen stalagmite onto a raised rock mound. They then began making obscene gestures towards Damion and his minions.
"Scabby and the others have gone to high ground. This is where sweeping can come into play."
"Sweeping?" Damion asked.
"Yes," Gnarl said, no doubt nodding, "The Hand allows you to not only give direct orders of charge or retreat to your minions, it also allows you to gain a sense of control of them. Just direct your will and the Hand will impose it upon the lead minion in your group. He will lead the way and the rest of your minions will follow in whatever direction or path you desire."
Damion gave it a shot, and directed his minions along an alternate path he noticed, allowing his minions to leap down from an above rock and onto Scabby's gang from behind.
"Ha! A fine strategy master!" Gnarl proclaimed, as the minions had leaped onto the backs and heads of the other minions and proceeded to beat them about. One in particular forcing the enemy minion down and proceeding to ride him like a horse, beating his club along his rear.
After awhile, Damion called the minions back as Scabby and his friends pathetically waved small white flags in defeat.
"Excellent master," Gnarl cheered, "You are truly a skilled tactician. Move onto the next tunnel, where we will test your own personal combat and magic skills."
Damion moved on, and came upon another group of minions.
"As you no doubt already have tried master, The Hand of Evil, allows you a number of spells. Unfortunately, most of them are still unavailable to you at the moment, but as the evil energy in you grows, so too will you can access to new powers that the Hand will offer you. For now, your first spell is the Fire spell. Robust fellow, always seems to hang around no matter what happens."
"Now, go and give that axe a few swings. Don't worry, browns are tough and can take a licking." Gnarl said, laughing.
Damion couldn't help but smirk, before hefting his axe up in one hand and charging. The other minions charged in, but where quickly swatted aside as Damion brought down his axe and slapped them about with the flat of the blade; sending them flying. He then felt the power of evil burn in his veins and he directed it into a fiery blast of flames upon the group of minions, who squealed in pain as they began rolling in the dirt to put out the unholy fires. Damion let them burn for a bit, before willing the fire out; leaving the poor minions toasty but at least alive.
"Ah master, you are truly after my cold, evil heart," Gnarl mused, sighing in an almost affectionate way, "You take to this like a natural."
"It does come easy." Damion mused, smirking. He knew that he should perhaps be shocked by how easy this came; yet he couldn't seem to understand why. It was like he did not care anymore.
"Now we can, wait what's that noise?" Gnarl said, as the sound of something digging through rock became evident.
Damion turned toward the source, as several stones and dirt fell from the cavern wall and out fell three strange creatures.
"Gah, this isn't a gem cave. Stupid!" The first creature shouted at another, bonking it on the head.
Damion stared at these creatures, who soon noticed him and stared back. They looked like dogs, only taller and spoke. They wore simple basic colored vests and collars with gems in place of tags.
"What in evil's name are those?" Gnarl asked, seemingly confused.
"Ahh! Intruders!" One of the dog creatures shouted, before all three charged.
Damion swung his axe, catching the first across the head and taking the top part of the head off in a gorey mess of brains and blood, as the other two swung their claws at him, smashing against the armor he wore and causing them to howl in pain.
"Dumb dogs." Damion said to himself, thinking how his own dog would have done things that always got him hurt.
Damion swung again as he ordered his minions to attack the second, killing the second and the minions slowly but surely beating the third to death. With the three dog creatures dead, Damion then focused and drew the remaining life force from the bodies.
"Splendid master," Gnarl laughed, "Those fools will never again attempt such wanton acts of aggression upon you. Though where did such creatures come from. That tunnel no doubt has the answers."
Damion looked at the new tunnel, made by the strange dog creatures. He placed his axes on his shoulder before leading with his minions in tow down the new passage.
"Our master went into tunnels deep, to test his mighty powers. Along the way he decided to play, with our furry neighbors. They howled, they growled, but in the end, all they could do was cower."
Quaver's Poems, Dog Wrangler.
Damion moved down the new round of cavern halls that the strange dog men he had killed, and whose vests three of his minions now wore on their bodies and their collars on their heads; the jewels bobbing up and down as they moved and flipped. The halls had long given way from the natural formation of a cave and seemed to slowly gave way to carved hall way, the wall stone smoothed and shaped; torches offering light in intervals.
"Hmm, it seems those dog men seem to know their way about shaping stone. These caverns remind me of the Underworld tower back in our old world." Gnarl mused.
"I agree. In fact, I think we might have a use for these dog men." Damion answered, rubbing his chin, "Gnarl how good are minions in construction?"
"Mmmm...so-so, sire." Gnarl said, "Brown's tend to be better at breaking things then fixing them. I can usually direct them on the right way, though it does take a bit of whippings and a few being hung up by their ears before they get the idea."
Damion smirked, "Then perhaps I have my builders right here."
Damion stepped out into a wide corridor, where a dozen dog men in armor and spears stood, growling low and threateningly.
"You intruder! Who you!?" One, the leader, barked.
Damion smirked, "I am Overlord Damion. These caves are property of mine now. If you agree to this, I guarantee you a prosperous agreement in my domain. Resist and I will just give the offer to your next of kin."
The lead dog snarled and led the charge of dogs to attack. Damion smirked, feeling a rushing sensation in his blood as he ordered his minions to charge. He threw out his hand, emptying a vast swath of fire onto the dogs, sending several to scatter as their bodies were eaten by the fires. The rest of the charge, halted slightly as the sight of ones friends being burnt alive could be rather disheartening. Especially to dogs, as some followed a primal instinct, and ran from the bright red flames.
Damion smacked the helmed head of the lead dog with the flat of his axe. Severed another dog with a side swing at the hip, felt the thrust of a spear shatter against the armor at his hip; before smashing the pick head at the back of the axe into the gut of the assaulting enemy. His minions, leapt and moved about, bashing at heads or cutting at leg tendons on the tall enemies; forcing the dogs to fall in yelps of pain before being stabbed and clubbed to death when they were at eye length with the minions.
The few remaining dogs were soon running, howling down the tunnels; no doubt sending distress calls to other dogs. Damion let them run, he was not cold hearted enough to hunt down a fleeing enemy and if they were smart the survivors would demoralize the next batch of guards with no doubt fear exaggerated tales of his ability.
Damion decided to take a look into the rooms of the doors that dotted along the wide chamber he was now in. He saw several doors close suddenly, and he sent minions to stand near those doors. He didn't have them break the doors down, yet. Though the minions did pound on the doors; he thought he heard whimpers of distress from one as he passed. Other rooms were empty, save for well crafted furniture that glittered in the light. His eyes nearly popped out of their sockets when he saw what they were made of.
"Holy shit these dogs make their furniture out of gems!?" Damion swore, jaw dropping.
"Gems? An evil domain does need a heavy treasury sire...and what good are gems under the furry bottoms of slobbering mutts." Gnarl mused, as he himself saw the gemstone furniture.
"Ugh...I don't really want butt gems in my pocket. Lets find more....clean ones." Damion said, suddenly having an image of dog butts on the jewels.
"Oh very well sire. I suppose even evil must have standards." Gnarl sighed.
Damion kept up his search in the rooms, his minions bashing pots and over turning furniture. Some found vests to wear and others picks, spears that they cut in half to make them better suited to their size. A few even took pieces of the dog guards armor and helmets and fashioned helms and shields for themselves. What Damion did like was the small bits of jewels that the minions brought to him.
"You and you. Gather up the lose gems and take them back to the main chambers. I want them organized by size and color when I return and counted." Damion ordered two minions, who saluted and began gathering up the gems. Damion then turned to the rest of his minions.
"Clean them out." He said simply, and the minions standing at the doors with occupants inside, bashed the doors opened and began assaulting and dragging said occupants out by the tails as others tore apart the insides carrying out loot. One minion went to slit the throat of a dog, but Damion held up a hand.
"No." He said, knowing he did not need to shout. The minion would hear and obey even if he whispered.
Damion approached the dogs, as he ordered them gathered up near the dead guards. He absorbed what life force remained in the corpses before turning to the dogs. Most if not all were small, clearly puppies or children he supposed he could call them. Two or three were teenagers and the rest were adults. All of the adults were female.
How did Damion know this? Well all the dogs seemed to wear vests of the same style. On the males it was okay, but the females....well....it did not do much to hide the apparent trait of all female dogs.
"I haven't seen that many teats in one room since that rather raunchy time in the private quarters our last master had with his mistresses." Gnarl chuckled, "Get it? Teats?"
"Wh-Who are you?" One female whimpered, holding three small new born puppies to her chest.
"I am Overlord Damion," Damion said, "These caves are now under my domain. Who...and what...are you?"
"We Diamond Dogs. This packs tunnels. Not smelly overlord and imps. Go away!" One young teenaged dog snarled.
"Be quiet!" A female barked, holding the defient teen to her.
Damion looked at the teen, and a flash of fear and a gulp soon replaced that defiance for a few moments.
"And who is the leader of your pack?" Damion asked, slowly and gently placing his hand on the teens head and began to scratch ideally behind the ear.
The dog teen, despite the slight movement in his tail at the scratching, snapped at his gauntleted hand. Damion ignored the yelp of pain as teeth met metal and he continued to scratch.
"Our Alpha will kill you. Bruno strong alpha." A female barked, glaring.
"Good," Damion chuckled, "I kinda would like a challenge before I take control of all of you. These easy kills are getting boring."
All the gathered dogs looked at him in shock and then at each other before back at Damion. Damion ignored them, and ordered them all bound. A minion brought some rope found in a number of rooms to him and Damion chuckled.
He was not heartless however. Females with new born pups were allowed to have their arms unbound to carry their young, but were tied about the neck. The teenagers and older children had their hands and necks bound and females without new borns were bound the same. Six minions guarded the captives, as the remaining minions followed Damion ahead of the captives deeper into the caves.
As he expected more guards showed up, and Damion found a certain thrill in the carnage. The snapping of bones, and cutting of flesh. The smell of burnt meat and screams of pain. He fought any who got in his way, those he killed he drained of life force and those who managed to survive were beaten into unconsciousness. All the way, Damion pillaged more rooms, adding to his hoard of gems and even had a few more captives. By the time he finally reached the main hall, he was down to just two minions. But he did not care, as he stood before his intended target.
In the main chamber, seated before a stone throne, sat a large and scar covered diamond dog. All around from the floor to the catwalks above were dozens of other dogs, most were citizens like his prisoners but others were soldiers.
"Grrrr. You trespasser. Bruno kill! Mount head on wall like trophy!" The lead dog growled, as his soldiers howled.
"That's yet to be seen. So will you send your troops to do that for you? Or are you too chicken to fight me yourself?" Damion asked, smirking.
Bruno snarled and snapped his teeth, sending spittle about, "Bruno strongest alpha! Why you here!?"
"Your caverns are within my domain. As Overlord that makes them and all of you mine. Surrender and be spared. Fight and die. Either way...I get more soldiers." Damion said, chuckling.
Bruno growled and stood up, "You claim to own brunos pack! You no alpha! You intruder!"
"Then prove it." Damion said, seeing his chance. He knew well that if this leader and his soldiers all attacked at once, he might not survive. But if he could turn this into a challenge, he might gain the work force he needed without having to get his blood everywhere.
"You challane Bruno!?" The lead dog said in shock, before laughing, "Why should Bruno accept?"
"If you are so strong and powerful, then you should be able to easily kill me. I've killed your guards, prove to them you are the strongest. Or are you too chicken?" Damion taunted, as his two minions began making clucking sounds and doing a chicken walk.
"Becareful master. While you would no doubt come out on top in a fight, we would not want to risk your health. It would be a shame for us to lose you so soon after your arrival. Not that I doubt your victory but...caution is a rather good trait in an overlord as well as random violence."
"Relax Gnarl. I'll be fine." Damion said, smiling.
"Grrr Who intruder talking to?" Bruno shouted, before finally marching out toward him, "Bruno accept. Will kill slowly so can enjoy screams." The big dog then took hold of two large swords, made of gems, at his back and stood in a ready position.
Damion smirked, ordered his minions to stay back, and moved to meet the leader in one on one combat.
"Sire, are you sure this is wise?" Gnarl asked, "Browns are not greens, but they can be deadly when they can flank an enemy just as well as any green."
"Silence!" Damion snapped, "I might be evil, but I have an honor code. This is a battle between rulers Gnarl. I am not going to do dirty tricks"
Damion ignored the old minion. Gnarl did not have to like his ways, but this was his choice. Damion had given up so much since he came here, more then he realized he would probably ever understand, but if he was Overlord he was going to do it his way. This was one of those ways.
Damion and Bruno, slowly began to circle each other. Around dogs and minions cheered and booed, as Damion brought up his axe to defend a twin over head slice before going in for a kick at Bruno's gut. The lead diamond dog though was faster then his size let on and he managed to side step the strike and counter. Damion felt the twin blades smash against his armor, and he staggered back before going for a strike. But he learned that while he was stronger, combat experience was something he did not have in as much as Bruno had. All this time he had been winging it, letting his new powers do the work for him. But in a combat like this, Bruno clearly had the advantage.
Damion kept up his swings, doing his best to parry but Bruno always managed to get a hit in. And as he blocked an attack, one of the blades slipped past his guard and went up into his helm! The helmet flew off as Damion stood in shock, the blade having torn across the side of his cheek and cut deep. He rolled away and place a hand over the deep wound.
"Sire! Sire! What is happening!?" Gnarls voice came from the lost helm as Damion stood shocked. He looked at his blood covered gauntlet in awe.
Bruno chucked as he began slowly circling again. "Was fun, but you die now!"
Damion looked at his blood and while he felt a stirring of fear from his near death experience, he could not help but...smile.
Finally. A real fight. Life and Death. The thought was....appealing.
"You are good Bruno...I'll give you that." Damion said approvingly, "But there can only be one top dog here!"
Bruno said nothing as he charged, even as Damion brought up his hand.
"And that one is me!" Damion shouted, and unleashed a torrent of fire on the charging dog.
Bruno saw the fire, but his speed had brought him too close to dodge and his face was hit directly with the flames. He screamed and dropped his swords as his claws tore at his face to put out the fire. Damion side stepped and stuck a leg out to trip the burning alpha. Bruno continued to scream in pain, even more so when Damion slammed his iron plated foot onto the chest of the dog. He could almost hear the cracking of bone underfoot.
"As the first one to ever wound me, I will ensure you are given a proper burial and a foot note in history. But in these tunnels I am alpha and you...." Damion lifted up the hand of evil and began draining the life force from Bruno's still living body.
Damion almost threw up, as he found that the process of draining life force from a still living body was far different from a corpse. Bruno screamed, in a way that seemed almost more pained then the fire that ate at his face. His body spasmed and twisted in ways that Damion could hear bone snapping, and his whole frame seemed to sink in on itself till the flesh seemed to hang on the skeleton. The amount of life force drained, was greater in quantity however and on an instinct Damion knew he had gained enough from this one body alone to birth forth twenty five browns.
Finally the screams died as did the fires. Bruno, lay was nothing more then a burnt fur and flesh skin rag over a skeleton. Damion removed his foot and looked to all the gathered dogs, as his minions cheered.
"Does anyone else wish to challenge me?" He shouted, holding his arms out.
The dogs cowered and whimpered, and Damion smirked.
"I thought not. From this day forth you are all mine! And anyone who says otherwise....will meet the same fate as this one." He shouted, lifting up the rag doll that had once been Bruno. Damion then moved to place his helmet back on his head.
"Oh thank the darkness. Sire, what has happened?" Gnarl asked, worry clear in his voice.
"I won Gnarl, and I have myself my own little pack of dogs. Gather the minions and proceed to my location. We have our new home now." Damion said, "Oh and....do you know anything on stiches?"
A few hours had passed, and Gnarl had finally moved all the browns and the Brown hive to the diamond dog tunnels. The elderly minion had to admit, this was much better then the caves they had. Why build new tunnels when they could move into premade ones. Though they could do with some....improvements.
'Hmmm, perhaps a few gibbets and maybe some open flames.' Gnarl mused, thinking on how he could really evil the place up.
When he arrived to the throne room, he assumed it was the throne room now, he found the Overlord seated on a throne. All about he had a line of dogs before him.
"Next." The overlord called as one dog moved off, and another prostrated itself and began to swear an oath. An oath of loyalty no doubt.
Gnarl ignored this, and stared at the deep bloody cut across the Overlords now unhelmed face.
"Sire! What happened?" Gnarl asked as he hobbled over as fast as his old legs could carry him.
"I got hurt. I hope you are good with medicine. I don't trust these guys near my face." The overlord said, pointing to some browns who held up various medical tools and one with leeches.
"Well I am no blue, but I know my way. But how could you have become so wounded sire?" Gnarl asked, before being yanked up by his throat.
"Because Gnarl, "Damion said, his voice low and threatening as he gripped Gnarl's throat tighter, "I might be stronger...and faster then I use to be, but I don't know anything about actual combat. The minions seem to do most of the fighting, I just swing my axe about. You didn't bother to tell me that!"
Gnarl choked, "Well sire, most overlords don't stick to foolish notions of honor and single combat." He squirmed, his legs kicking as Overlord Damion stood, still holding him by the neck.
"And I told you, this is my way. It is my way or the high way!" Damion snapped, before letting gnarl go and sitting back down, "I'm leaving you with the run of the place. Get these tunnels up to par with what you think we need. As for myself, see to it that every diamond dog guard that's alive and able, reports to the training grounds for sparing. Before I go out any further, I want to know how to properly fight. Is that clear?"
Gnarl rubbed his throat and bowed, "Yes sire. I will see to it all."
Gnarl still did not agree with all this. Still he was a loyal minion, and in his many years he had served many masters of varying degrees of evil. And besides, seeing that they now had an army of stone workers to build their new tower, Gnarl had to begrudgingly admit that the Overlord's methods had yielded spectacular results. He just hoped that as he matured, he abandoned some of these notions.
In any case, they now had a tower and Evil was now once more on its feet. Soon all the land of this world would be theirs.
It was just a matter of time.
As the line of dogs continued to swear allegiance to Damion, Gnarl took his customary position as advisor at his masters side. Despite it all it did feel good to have someone to serve again. A pat on his back took him by surprise and Gnarl saw Quaver stand beside him, glass eye shining in the torch light.
"Ahh Gnarl my friend, tis a glories day is it not. Our master has entered glorious battle and emerged supreme and now sits on his throne as is his right." The jester declared, before bowing to Damion.
"Sire, in honor of your recent deeds, I have constructed a song in your honor. Though I do be without a band at the present, I hope my singing voice be enough for your ears." Quaver said, before going off on his song.
"Oh there he goes again. I suggest getting use to this sire, "Gnarl sighed, "Our last overlord was able to acquire quiet a number of titles and poems before his reign ended. Still, Quaver is a far more loyal jester then the last one, locking our oldest master in hell like that?"
"Say what?" Damion asked, looking at Gnarl.
"Oh nothing," Gnarl quickly said, "Uh shall we see to your wound now sire. It might scar, but I hear that is what the evil mistresses are all delighted by. You do plan on getting a mistress or three right?"
"With what?" Damion asked, looking perplexed.
Far off, beyond the soon to be growing realm of Overlord Damion, Twilight Sparkle sneezed as she closed a book.
"Ugh...dust." She sniffled, rubbing her nose and putting the book away with a sigh.
