The Overlord Saga
Vol I. Past, Present, Future
Chapter 3: Setting Up
Underling Sexist stood by the main gate, nervously watching the Soul-Keeper as he leaned against his staff. His eyes shifted to the large mechanism that controlled the main gate, which lay just beyond the easily distracted Soul-Keeper. Sexist leaned to one side, looking at the switch that would let him flee into freedom. ‘If I can distract him long enough...’ He thought and began casually, “So what does the Overlord have me here for, anyways?”
“Something about the Insurgents,” the Soul-Keeper watched a butterfly as it fluttered near his mask. He reached out and tried to grab it, startling as it flew away. Bouncing up and down, he tried to snatch it in midair, but gave up with a sigh.
“There’s a lot of butterflies inside the Fortress,” Sexist said, holding his breath as the Soul-Keeper turned to face him. “You can catch those... I’ll sit here and wait for the Overlord.”
“I’m not stupid,” the Soul-Keeper said flatly, arms folded.
“That’s probably the funniest thing that’s been said in this entire story,” Sexist remarked sourly.
“You’re not being very nice,” the Soul-Keeper pouted.
“You people TOOK MY SOUL!” Sexist yelled.
“Go cry about it,” the Soul-Keeper stuck his tongue out, temporarily forgetting that he was wearing a mask and accidentally licked the inside of it. “Ewwww...”
“Good to see you two boys are getting along,” the Overlord said as she appeared next to the Soul-Keeper, “Sexist, how are you this evening?”
“I’d be a lot better if I had my soul back,” Sexist grumbled with a pout.
The Overlord patted his head gently and sighed, “Of course, of course. You’re still in the denial stage, aren’t you? Oh well, you’ll accept your fate eventually.” She looked at the Soul-Keeper, who was distractedly trying to position his mask to where it would stop sliding about on his face. Glancing back at Sexist, she asked, “Do you know what I intend to do with you?”
Sexist took a step back very quickly. The Overlord frowned and then clarified, “Your beloved leader is just outside those walls and in the forests. And he wants you back... For whatever reason THAT is.” She sniggered, obviously amused at herself, then cleared her throat, “And we’ll let you return to him.”
“You will?” Sexist’s eyes lit up in excitement.
“No, are you stupid?” the Overlord said seriously.
“Why...?” Sexist hung his head.
“I just wanted to crush your hopes and dreams,” the Overlord shrugged, then said, “You will be positioned atop the gate until the Insurgents come out of hiding. And then, you will be allowed to leave the gates... Under the careful eye of the Ninja-Lord.”
“The Ninja-Lord?” Sexist asked in confusion.
The Ninja-Lord appeared behind him then, tapping his shoulder, and whispering “Boo.” She laughed harshly as he jumped almost out of his skin, then added, “You’re not leaving. Not on my watch. And I have troops that have the entire area covered.” She gestured with a hand around the courtyard of the building.
“What troops?” Sexist asked with an uncertain laugh.
“They’re ninjas, you can’t SEE them,” the Ninja-Lord lightly bumped Sexist on the forehead with a palm.
“Then it’s settled? The minute that you see that little fiend from Munchkinland, you let him down from the wall. And then, we strike,” the Overlord nodded to the Ninja-Lord, “I need to make sure that the Advisor has the preparations complete. This will be the shortest battle in Archenemy history.”
“What have you done to the Insurgents?” Sexist asked, “You’re using me as bait! You can’t do that!”
“I think I just did,” the Overlord said flatly, then waved jovially, “I’ll see you later!” As she began to walk away, she beckoned the Soul-Keeper with a hand. As he scurried after her, she grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him closer to her so that she could whisper in his ear, “I want him back in his cell by the end of this. Make sure it happens. Sexist does not walk free.”
“What about the Insurgent Leader? What are you going to do to him?” the Soul-Keeper asked quietly.
“His soul is mine. His body can rot in the Dungeon for all I care,” the Overlord retorted.
“The Dungeon!?” the Soul-Keeper asked excitedly, “Oh boy, oh boy! Yes! Yes!”
“Don’t get too excited. We still have to catch the blighter,” the Overlord rubbed her hands together, “And that is easier said than done... I wonder if he’s found our little gift yet...?”
---
The Insurgent Leader could be described as a daring and compassionate leader that always saw the good in everyone. He COULD be described as that, but a more accurate description of him would say that he was incredibly short of stature, quite possibly the most un-intimidating thing to have walked the planet, and potentially even more stubborn than the Overlord. He was a thin person, assumably a human from Earth, and looked about the age of twelve (or some say), which did little to help the Overlord’s case when she tried to explain to the other super villains how powerful he was.
However, despite his feeble physical appearance, every Insurgent knew that their leader was the strongest man to have ever challenged the Overlord. Through some chain of events, the Insurgent Leader had powers, though, no one was quite sure what they were, but they enabled him to travel through Life and Death, and whatever lay between as though he was strolling down the street. His powers also gave him enhanced strength, which gave him the ability to wield the sword that he had supposedly stolen from an ancient, wise samurai. No one was quite sure what the story was behind it, but the sword was untouchable by any mortal. The Insurgent Leader kept it close, though, not quite as close as the Soul-Keeper kept his pickle jar. Its name was Muramasa, no doubt named after the sword smith from Japan that had supposedly forged fell blades.
The Insurgent Leader made a point in displaying his power before his soldiers by polishing Muramasa once per day, running the cloth along the longsword’s blade and carefully avoiding being cut. While this might seem not significant at all to any part of the story, it actually was this time of day when his messenger had burst into his office, carrying a tray of delicious-smelling bean burritos and a letter.
“What’s this?” the Insurgent Leader asked, smelling the burritos, “Did you go to Taco Bell without me?”
“No, sir, these appeared by our camp, sir,” the messenger informed him, “It came with a letter from the Overlord!”
“Dang it! I had hoped these burritos would have been ours to eat,” the Insurgent Leader frowned and opened the envelope containing a letter, “ ‘Dear Insurgent Leader, I have your second-in-command atop my gate and have decided that you may take him back as he is useless and sexist. Here are some burritos so that you don’t have to worry about feeding your troops tonight. Thank you and I hope to see you soon, the Overlord’.”
“That sounds suspicious,” the messenger commented.
“Yes. Take those burritos in for inspection and rally our forces! Tonight, we rescue my comrade!” the Insurgent Leader declared. “The False One will NOT get away with this!”
“What about the other letter we got a few days ago?” the messenger asked.
The Insurgent Leader rubbed his chin, recalling the previous letter he had received from the Overlord. It had been a few days ago, during a time of peace when the Insurgent Leader had been scheming his next plan to take the Overlord’s Fortress. His messengers had come in, distraught over a threat from the Overlord in a note, detailing how she planning on smashing their rebellion in two weeks. At first, the Insurgent Leader had thought it was a joke, but further thought made him feel a bit wary.
“It hasn’t been two weeks, yet. This is our chance to turn the tides,” the Insurgent Leader replied firmly, “We’ll be careful. No False One will defeat me!”
“If you say so...” the messenger nodded and disappeared.
---
The Overlord was back in her office, standing in front of the fire. She inhaled deeply, holding her breath as she listened for the shouts of the angry Insurgents wanting their comrade back. But when she heard nothing, the Overlord exhaled loudly and cracked her knuckles. The Insurgents were taking their sweet time... Or maybe the diarrhea had already kicked in. She leaned against the mantle and closed her eyes, thinking of how she could possibly torture the Insurgent Leader once his soul was hers. She’d keep him locked away, even to where he couldn’t see the light of day... Something very fitting for a rebel like him.
“Overlord?” the Soul-Keeper peered into the office, “The Insurgents are marching toward the main gates.” Her eyes snapped open and she turned to face the Soul-Keeper. He had his staff in both hands and added, “Everyone’s in position.”
“Excellent,” the Overlord nodded, then looked back at the fireplace. Reaching up, she grabbed the scythe hanging on the wall and had it rest in both of her hands. Clearing her throat, the Overlord ordered, “Proceed with the plans. Just remember... No matter what, the Insurgent Leader is mine!”
“That’s great... Just one more thing, there’s this weird robed guy here to see you,” the Soul-Keeper leaned in and added, “I think he’s an angel.”
The Overlord stopped, eyes widened in horror as she stared at the Soul-Keeper. “An... angel?” She asked, trying to think of the last time she had spoken with one of those. She didn’t remember anything positive resulting from it. “Are you sure?” She asked with a groan.
“He has a halo. It must be true,” the Soul-Keeper grimaced.
“Oh damn,” the Overlord remarked, and sighed, “Bring him in. We can deal with this before the Insurgents, I suppose.”
Angels were a thorn in her side, almost as disruptive as demons were. While demons were easy to just lock out of the Fortress, the Overlord always felt a pang of guilt whenever she threw an angel out of her lair, perhaps due to the fact that they were usually so kind. ‘Kind, but needy. All the time. They always want something,’ the Overlord thought as the Soul-Keeper slipped out of the room.
As the doors opened to reveal a tall, radiating figure, the Overlord couldn’t help but cringe visibly. She knew this angel better than the others, the famous Gabriel the Messenger of God. The Overlord watched the winged entity as he seemed to glide on his feet, gracefully looking about the eerie office. His halo pulsed with such an unnatural, blinding light that the Overlord was forced to shield her eyes for a few moments.
“Greetings, Overlord,” Gabriel greeted her with the wave of his glowing hand.
“Hello,” she replied, but realized that her greeting sounded a little less friendly and a little more like ‘What the hell do you want?’. She wasn’t very partial to angels, as they usually brought what she deemed to be ‘bad news’. The Overlord had a reoccurring dream that started the same way each night about Gabriel, where the angel descended from Heaven and greeted her jovially. Each time, he would tell her that she had been chosen by God as the new Virgin Mary- albeit, called the Virgin Overlord. And every night, the Overlord would always wake up screaming and, sometimes even crying and clutching her pillow at the thought of some invisible, omniscient thing coming in and impregnating her while she wasn’t looking. She didn’t want to have the next incarnation of Jesus. She didn’t even want kids.
So, long story short, the Overlord was expecting Gabriel to pop the news to her, though, she figured she’d have to have a word with God if she found out he’d been poking around where he shouldn’t have. The Overlord was not known for being particularly nice, even to higher beings. It was known that she had once caused the Devil to go crying back to Hell... though... this story was only remembered by the Soul-Keeper, so its validity was constantly questioned.
“I see you’re busy here, so I’ll cut to the chase,” Gabriel looked concerned and the Overlord held her breath, her hand instinctively grabbing her stomach in horror. Gabriel shot her an odd look, then said, “Heaven is lacking a large sum of souls. It’s my task to tell you that you are required to give a donation of 200 souls to Heaven. All must be cleansed of sin, of course.”
The Overlord’s hand dropped from her stomach and she breathed a small sigh of relief. ‘Good, no pregnancy’, she thought, then frowned, “200 souls? That’s a lot... Why not 100?”
“No, 200 is the minimum, God wishes for there to be 200,” Gabriel tsked, “And to be honest, we’re quite concerned with the casualty amount that your forces have caused... God is looking to replace you if you do not comply with his request.”
“Replace me?” the Overlord asked, raising her eyebrows.
“Yes.”
“You can’t replace me!”
“I can’t. God can.”
“He can’t do that either!”
“Who gave you your powers?”
The Overlord went silent and she sighed, furiously stamping her foot, “Who would replace me, then!?”
Gabriel gave a simple shrug and said, “The Tooth Fairy.”
“This is stupid. I can’t give up 200 souls right now. I’m about to start a war here and I need all of those souls!” the Overlord roared angrily.
“I will come back in two weeks. God is giving you time, Overlord, so be grateful. He will wait, but I need those souls in Heaven’s Gates in two weeks. Understood?” Gabriel asked.
“I’ll see what I can do,” the Overlord replied crossly, arms folded. Gabriel took his leave quickly, feeling the Overlord’s gaze on him until the doors shut behind him. The Overlord looked at the Soul-Keeper, who was standing in stunned silence.
“Soooo... What’s the plan?” the Soul-Keeper asked.
“We deal with the Insurgent Leader. And then, we’ll go find 200 useless souls that we don’t need anymore...” the Overlord snorted, “Or we see if we can strike a better bargain. Jesus loves me, he’ll listen to me.”
“Jesus loves everyone,” the Soul-Keeper pointed out.
“But Jesus loves the Overlord the most,” the Overlord shook her head. The Soul-Keeper knew better than to argue.
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