//------------------------------// // Prologue: Evil Always Finds a Way // Story: The Overlord Chronicles // by ShadowWalking18 //------------------------------// 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. "I'm your master?" He asked. The creatures cheered, "Master!" Damion just blinked, and rubbed his head. Where the hell was he?