The Overlord Saga
Vol II. Versus
Chapter 26: Burning Resolve
The Insurgent Leader stared across the table, his dark eyes unblinking. The house he was inside was some small circular room, with a ceiling so low that he even had the issue of hitting his head. He was in a chair, nestled into its back with a woven blanket wrapped around him. As “Bob” continued his work in the kitchen, the Insurgent Leader shifted his gaze from the goat-man to the various items laying about. A flute of some sort, a few household things like candles and pillows, an umbrella- this guy really had a humble life. But that did not suppress the Insurgent Leader’s worry. Unsure of how he had even gotten to this home, the Insurgent Leader merely remembered collapsing in the snow, shivering with the thought of freezing to death wavering about his half-sane mind. This stranger had taken him in, though the Insurgent Leader was puzzled as to why he had.
Paranoia convincing him that this was some ANF trap, the Insurgent Leader had not said a word to “Bob”, keeping to himself for the most part. The goat-man had offered to feed him, and had given him a bowl of stew despite the Insurgent Leader’s vigorous head shakes. He feared there was poison in the broth. Or worse. Date rape. Anywho, the Insurgent Leader had several reasons why it was perfectly feasible that this man was an ANF spy:
The stranger had been stalking him.
The stranger did not seem to approve of him.
And the Insurgent Leader had awoken in a completely different set of clothes than the set of clothes he had been wearing previously, alluding to very, VERY bad things.
Clutching his arms in a pathetic self-hug, the Insurgent Leader rocked back and forth. Shaking, he eyed the odd stew before him, unsure of what the gunk comprised of. He found slightly more comfort from the fire pulsing in the hearth. “Bob” had it well-kept with a clump of logs and a rack of fire irons to the left, dangling harmlessly. And that’s when the Insurgent Leader had one of those very classic ‘lightbulb’ moments.
Perhaps he was their assassin. Perhaps he was there to kill him. To torture him. To get information out of him. The Insurgent Leader understood now why the goat-man had not killed him. Not yet, at least. ‘I must escape,’ the Insurgent Leader’s mind shifted gears- from self-pity to survival. It was time to leave.
Tentatively glancing at “Bob”, the Insurgent Leader reached an ungloved hand, the black swirl falling into view of the light. Biting back a shameful groan, the Insurgent Leader snatched a fire iron, silently moving it into the crimson flames. And he waited, keeping a watchful dark eye on the busied goat-man. As the iron began to glow red, the Insurgent Leader drew it away, smoke tinting the air. Creeping behind “Bob”, he reached out with his free hand, holding the fire iron with his marked hand at about eye level. Grabbing the goat-man by the shoulder, he turned him around suddenly, shouting something incoherent.
“Oh my!” the goat-man shrieked, the dishes in his hands dropping. The Insurgent Leader held the fire iron up, angrily gritting his teeth together.
“WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME!?”
“S-Son of Adam!”
“YOU STUPID GOAT, I WILL SEND YOU TO A MEAT PACKING PLANT! WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME!?”
“C-calm down!”
The Insurgent Leader threw “Bob” to the ground, shaking as he did so. Dropping the iron onto the floor, he made a sprint for the door, his heart thundering in his head. He burst through the door, staggering outside into the snow. Boots stomping deep holes into the perfectly smooth ground, the Insurgent Leader threw himself at the pathway, stagger-running towards the horizon. It wasn’t long down the road when he tripped and fell to the ground, twitching and cringing as he pushed himself back up.
Footsteps. He heard them everywhere. “Bob” was coming. He was coming for revenge! The Insurgent Leader grabbed the nearest rock, eyes stretched wide in madness as he reached back to send it hurtling at “Bob”. He saw shadows creeping around him once more, dancing behind the trees and slithering in the shade of the massive trunks. He held his breath, nothing but the footsteps and the sound of his own heart flooding his ears.
“I’ll kill you...” He broke his paranoid silence, “All of you. I’ll send you straight to-”
“Insurgent Leader?”
It was the Rebel Commander. He stared at the Insurgent Leader for a few moments, blinking as he took in the odd, crazed leader. “You look bad.” A pause. “Really bad.” The Insurgent Leader hadn’t needed the news update to know that. He let the rock fall to the ground, almost weak in the knees at the thought of company. “So this is where you’ve been?”
“Are you... an... an illusion?” the Insurgent Leader stammered in disbelief.
With a wry smile, the Rebel Commander shook his head, “Naw. Come on. Let’s get you back to DIB. You need a bath. I could smell you on the other side of the wardrobe.”
---
The meeting room was bleak. Shifting her weight in her lawn chair, the Overlord had let her eyes glaze over in boredom, her thoughts swirling about her head leisurely. The Theurgist was standing behind her, actually paying attention as Jamie gave her report on her ship’s repairs. The Overlord saw little purpose to clinging to the pirate ship- there were no rivers remotely by the Fortress. They were sitting here talking about useless information and she couldn’t take it any longer. “DIB has yet to strike us in some time,” the Twin was most likely going to propose taking back Fort Effort. The Overlord could feel it in the air- they needed a decisive victory.
“All we’ve been doing is sitting here, getting attacked, building forces...” the Advisor tapped her fingers on the small pool table they’d been using as a meeting table. “It’s time we did something.” ‘Of course,’ the Overlord thought moodily. Everyone wanted action, they wanted revenge for what had happened. People were just tired of running, and she couldn’t blame them. What held her back from the grand finale? She knew it in her heart, the chains that bound her to the ravine. The fear that made her even doubt her skill as a fighter.
“I agree!” the Animal Tamer waved her hands frantically over her head, “Fluffy wants to go kill DIB now!” The Overlord recoiled slightly at the Animal Tamer’s enthusiasm. She heard the spirit in the younger Overling’s voice, reminded very much of her own confidence- the confidence that had died the day the Nemesis had taken over the Fortress.
“What IS your plan, Overlord?” the Evocator inquired, glancing over her Nintendo DS and staring at the half-alert Overlord.
There were eyes bearing into hers, glaring her down, watching her as she stood up. The Theurgist quirked an eyebrow, messing with the rim of his fedora hat. The Overlord took a deep breath, the tension in the room rising as she did so. She avoided direct eye contact, instead, staring at the back of the room with the general powerful leader gaze. Breaking her silence, the Overlord proclaimed, “I need some fresh air,” then promptly departed from the tent, the Theurgist trailing behind. As the Overlord stepped toward the pool of water
“Overlord.”
Silence.
“Overlord.”
Further silence.
“EMILY!”
“WHAT!?” the Overlord spun around, green eyes wide in frustration. And then, more calmly, “What?” She knew better than to lose her temper, but at the same time, it was just too easy. Especially here lately... She just couldn’t bear dealing with people. They all wanted something from her. Something she could never give. She wanted back in her Fortress, but at the same time, the fresh air seemed to call to her more than ever. Dare she said it, she was beginning to like the idea of abandonment- finding a new hobby other than reaping the souls of mortals. Her perspective almost even changed to ‘let the Nemesis win’... And then she caught herself, realizing how she was bastardizing her title. The Theurgist deserved better- he deserved vengeance. Gaze hardening on the swirl of the waters at her feet, the Overlord bit back a sigh. She didn't want to talk about 'how she felt'. She just wanted this to be done with already.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Sure...”
The Overlord bent down and touched the surface of the water lightly with her index and middle finger, testing its temperature. She tilted her head, then sighed, glancing at the Theurgist, “Death. It’s possible to go there while alive, right?” She was starting to form an idea that would be considered by most to be one of those ‘half-baked, awful plans’.
“Possible. But difficult,” the Theurgist considered for a moment, then sat down next to the Overlord, “What’s on your mind?”
“So inquisitive,” the Overlord stretched, stood up, then sighed, “I need to talk to Metatron.” When the Theurgist opened his mouth skeptically, the Overlord explained shortly, “One of the Archangels. Speaker of God. I need to ‘borrow’ a few souls. A group in particular.” The Theurgist’s mouth shut, but the quizzical look remained. The Overlord grinned sinisterly, holding up a hand.
“Ever heard of the Trojan War?”
---
The Overlord was unsure how she’d managed to get the Ninja-Lord and the Soul-Keeper in on the mission. But the two were more than willing to jump into the very pits of Death, which, was courage that the Overlord had to admire, but it was slowly becoming more evident that the two were not courageous at all. No, they were freaking nuts. The Soul-Keeper shuffled through the gray halls of the massive building. It looked like some deranged hospital met by an apartment complex- the Overlord just wasn’t sure if she’d accidentally warped them into a psych ward or if she’d actually managed to get them into the middle level of Death- supposedly called ‘Purgatory’.
Purgatory. It was a funny world. There was nothing to be purged here. It was a proverbial waiting line to be sorted. Think of the first-years from Harry Potter. They clumped them all together like sheep before putting them in their houses. Purgatory was the same- only there were two places you could go from there. Granted, there weren’t departed souls packed from wall-to-wall. No, they stayed in rooms, very much like a giant hotel. Except, the Overlord had yet to find the indoor swimming pool.
The Ninja-Lord bumped into a rather chubby looking old man, one that the Overlord suspected was either a pedophile, a rapist, or a Walmart greeter in his lifetime. The man shot the Ninja-Lord a glare as she passed through part of him, then promptly waddled away. “Keep your hands to yourself,” the Soul-Keeper giggled, then stopped, “Or... Is it... ‘Keep your hand to yourself’...?” The Ninja-Lord elbowed him in the stomach in a quick response.
The halls opened up to a main corridor, bleak and white as some hospital. There were chairs that lined the walls, each filled with an eager, or panicked deceased spirit. As they passed through towards a large office at the far end, the Soul-Keeper piped up, “You think the Theurgist is here somewhere?”
“Some spirits don’t pass through here. They have bonds in Life, so they stay. So you never know,” the Overlord said, almost absent-mindedly. The Ninja-Lord shot her an inquiring look, and the Overlord shrugged it off almost immediately, “Just speculation. Wouldn’t be surprised if the Evocator had given him reason enough not to move on.”
“Or revenge,” the Ninja-Lord remarked almost pointedly.
“Yeah, that too,” the Overlord nodded then promptly barged into the office labeled ‘Gabriel the Archangel’. However, what the Overlord found in the office was not Gabriel. Though he radiated with just as much light as the other Archangel, this angel was indeed different. With a scroll and feather pen in hand, he looked up, his muscles bulging. The Soul-Keeper visibly cringed at the sight of the massive angel, hunched in the chair with his golden-tipped wings folded around him. His hair bouncing in ringlets, the angel might’ve struck the three as calm and innocent had he not the brawn that could’ve snapped even the Captain in half.
“Oh boy,” the Ninja-Lord whispered under her breath.
“Metatron,” the Overlord’s voice was even, almost smooth- almost. She still had a distaste for the angels- they were too nice. Too needy. Too perfect. It drove her freaking insane. He rose from the chair, his silk robe draped around him lightly, edged with gold and silver. “Good to see you.” She understood that he understood that she was lying through her teeth.
“Well if it isn’t the brat girl from Tamashii,” the comment stung, but she shrugged it off as the muscular angel continued, “I ought to have you thrown out of here for what you did to Gabriel.”
“Touch her and you’ll regret it,” the Ninja-Lord warned, hand resting on the hilt of her katana. The Overlord wasn’t sure why the Ninja-Lord thought that she could get away with threatening the most powerful angel in Heaven, but it didn’t seem to overly irk the Archangel.
“Let’s skip the formalities, I guess,” the Overlord remarked, “You know what’s going on in the Between. I’m here to cash in a favor.”
“What FAVOR do we owe you?” Metatron hissed angrily, a vein beginning to pulse on his neck. The Soul-Keeper held tight to his staff, eyes narrowed from under his hood. The Ninja-Lord’s free hand strayed to a small dagger, her heart beginning to race as the Archangel took flight, then landed with a thud a few inches from the Overlord. “You corrupt little...!”
“Do you want to sit here and condemn souls all day or do you want Gabriel back?” the Overlord asked impatiently, glaring up at the angel with folded arms, “My demand is this- the Trojan Army.”
“Ha! A legion of Godless failures?!” Metatron roared with laughter, “I suppose it’s fitting... For you.”
“So you’ll give me them? Hector included?” the Overlord asked, eyes narrowed as she craned her neck back to stare intimidatingly at the Archangel. He grinned at her, his own arms weaving into a fold. A strong beat from his wings caused a small breeze to blow the Overlord’s dark hair back, though she stood still in the room. With a cunning smile, Metatron replied.
“No.”
The Overlord sprang into action, left hand moving behind her cape and snagging the hilt of her concealed sword. Meanwhile, the Soul-Keeper barred the doors, the ends of his staff glowing as he turned to face the stunned Archangel. The Ninja-Lord leapt, sending the dagger flying and pinning Metatron’s sleeve to the desk. In a flip, she lunged over him, missing his outstretched hand by less than an inch, drawing her sword, then whirling around. The Overlord’s katana pressed against one side of Metatron’s neck, the other secured by the Ninja-Lord’s katana.
“You were saying?” the Overlord asked.
Reluctantly, the Archangel’s eyes locked with the Overlord’s, his anger and hatred for her evident in his cerulean eyes, “I will fetch them. Promptly.” At the Overlord’s signal, she and the Ninja-Lord lowered their blades, both heaving sighs. Metatron disappeared in a flash of gold light and the Overlord sat down on the edge of the desk, dangling her feet off the edge.
“That was easy,” the Soul-Keeper remarked. “Now, comes the interesting part...”
“Soul-Keeper, what do you know about the Trojans?” the Ninja-Lord asked, glancing over at where he was still guarding the door.
“It’s a condom brand?” the Soul-Keeper shrugged, warranting an immediate facepalm from the Overlord.
---
The three had returned with the Trojans that evening, who were partially resurrected. When I say this, I don’t mean that they were zombies, as that would not only royally freak the Captain and the Lieutenant out, but be downright cliche and disturbing. The Overlord had been given a warrant for the temporary revival of the Trojan Army, who was dead set on attacking DIB. Granted, it had taken some coercion to get them to pledge their new, short lives to the Overlord- they were actually convinced that they were fighting the Greek Army once more in revenge for the sacking of Troy. Hector was especially eager to find Achilles.
As the night rolled in, the Overlord’s thoughts had finally settled down to confirm a few things- the final battle had to come sooner than she’d ever want and that their present state in the ravine was bad. With the Trojans, they swarmed the forests and people would begin to notice their presence. The Overlord knew it was time to divide and conquer- there was enough of an army to begin an actual conquest. And if DIB hadn’t been attacking them, then they had been attacking elsewhere- perhaps innocent towns and villages.
Calling Jamie and the Twin away from the rest of camp had been a challenge, especially with everyone constantly watching the Overlord. However, she had managed to get them a half mile down the ravine before she felt as though no one had followed them. The night had settled in and it was fairly dark. The Twin had taken a few neon glowsticks to light their way. As the Overlord held a lime green one in her hand, she found that they were by a partially caved-in wall from some old building. Deciding it was best to stop here, the Overlord held up a hand, then sat down on a nearby log, careful where to put her feet.
“What’s up?” Jamie plopped down next to her, earrings dangling amidst her long brown hair.
“We can’t continue like this,” the Overlord remarked, “Not in our present state. I’m dividing our troops. Between the three of us. Twin, I know you want to take your fort back. And Jamie, we need more supplies. We don’t have the weaponry to win a battle.”
“Divide the tasks? Is that what you’re suggesting?” the Twin asked, sitting down across from the two, “I could take Fort Effort back, Jamie could get supplies, and...?” She stared at the Overlord questioningly.
“Back when the Uberlord was around, there was a collection of warriors. A guild. Twin, we were once affiliated with that guild. They were called the Elite. Remember... They helped us before. And I’m convinced they would help us again,” the Overlord announced, glancing between the Twin and Jamie, “I want to find them.”
“The Elite?” the Twin scoffed, then shook her head, “They disbanded a long time ago...”
“I know. But they’re still strong. I know I can find them. And you know, if we get them on our side, we’ll win no matter what,” the Overlord said firmly, “The Swordmaster, the Corporal, the Scholar, the Sorceress... Venice...” She sighed, “Have you heard from any of them? I lost contact years ago...”
“Well... The Scholar was at Fort Effort when it was overrun...” the Twin remarked flatly. The Overlord cocked her head then looked at the Twin urgently, eyes wide. The Twin patted the Overlord on the head, then added, “You’ve got your work cut out for you. They disbanded for a reason.”
“And if they know what’s best for them, they’ll regroup,” the Overlord remarked.
“So says little baby Fortenberry,” the Twin stood up, “Remember, you’re the Overlord of the Underlings. Not the Elite. You were young when they were around. Who says they’ll listen to you, huh?”
“It’s not a lost cause, I’m sure...” Jamie pointed out, “Well, in any case, there’s no point in not trying to talk to them.”
“Precisely,” the Overlord stood up, then looked at Jamie, “I need you to get the supplies and armor that we’re gonna need. I don’t care how you do it. You’re good at getting what you want. And Twin... You’re good at recruiting people, right? Once you have Fort Effort, you can continue building up the army while I’m looking for the Elite.”
“Yeah, that’s great and all, but who are you gonna take with you? Because if push comes to shove, you’re not gonna be fighting alone. I don’t allow that,” the Twin remarked, hands on her hips defiantly.
“I don’t need as many forces as you two do. Twin, take the Ninja-Lord with you back to Fort Effort. And the Captain and Lieutenant. Heck, McCoy and Fish will do you a service, too. Jamie, I want the Apprentice, the Witch, the Evocator, the Animal Tamer, and whoever else you can find to go with you. You’ll need all the help you can get. DIB won’t want us to be preparing for a full-out war. You’ll meet resistance,” the Overlord cracked her knuckles, “I’ll take the Soul-Keeper, Advisor, and the Grasshopper. That should suffice.”
“Everyone should be extra careful and should send word as much as they can,” Jamie pointed out, “Y’know, just in case someone is stupid and gets caught by DIB.”
“Excellent,” the Overlord smiled at her two friends, then held out a hand, eyes glittering with excitement. As the Twin giggled and fist-bumped the Overlord, Jamie began smirking sinisterly. ‘And so it’s settled. Jamie to get supplies. The Twin to take back her fort. And I... to find the Elite’, the Overlord thought, catching sight of the wavering spirit of the Theurgist. After receiving a look of approval, the Overlord inclined her head, smiling, then turning away to glance at the half moon above them.
“So... Which one of the Elite are you going after first?” the Twin asked, raising an eyebrow.
“I heard a rumor that there was something up north that I should take a look at,” the Overlord smiled thoughtfully, then looked to her two friends. “But first, I want to talk to Thomas. Just one last time before the big fight. Maybe I can sort this entire thing out before...” Her voice faltered, though she shrugged, “... He does something stupid.”
END OF PART TWO
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