TOS- Vol 2, Pt 4, Ch 34

The Overlord Saga

Vol II. Versus

Part IV - Fire and Ice

“Fire and Ice
Light and Dark
Longing and Vice
Blades clash with a spark
In this never-ending fight
There are scars that can never mend
Though they are out of sight
No one knows what will happen in the end.”

Chapter 34: The Frozen Wasteland (pt 1)

The Between lay before the campsite in all of its newly frozen glory. The crimson sky, now completely blotted out by a dark blanket of blue-gray clouds, was alien to the Overlord, creating a wintery feel about the Second Realm as she cast her eyes over the icicles that dangled precariously from the branches. Reaching up and snapping a particularly large sickle from a tree, she melted it with a bare palm, smiling as the steam rose into the air.

The Insurgents’ old camp had been re-made into the ANF campsite. Tents had been erected, banners strewn among the frigid branches, and the snow had melted along the edges of their campfires. The soldiers on guard stood, shivering in their armor, which had been provided for by Jamie’s efforts on Cyrodiil. The Twin had introduced the Overlord to the new recruits the previous day, which consisted of, most notably, Jason Bourne and Chuck Norris. However, there were whispers of who DIB had recruited and the Overlord was dismayed to hear that their enemy had doubled their forces since the initial assault on the Fortress.

Previously, the ANF generals had been decided as the Overlord, the Twin, Jamie, the Witch (who insisted), Elwell (as a representative of the Wises), and Venice Vedette (as she was the oldest of the Elite). Though an attack from Fort Effort had seemed plausible, the Scholar had pointed out later on that the Twin’s forces were blocked by the mountains that separated Fort Effort from the Fortress. Travel on the ice caps would have been impossible, leading to a direct attack from the Insurgents’ forest. But a problem had been caught upon entering the Wastelands in which the Fortress lay- and that was a massive layer of permafrost and ice that stretched to the very gates of dragon-guarded Fortress. The Nemesis’ bestial followers would have picked the army to pieces from the sky, and so the ANF forces were unable to strike... Yet.

In her tent, the Overlord stood before a large mirror, inspecting the new fiery armor that had been forged for her. It was much more decorated than any previous armor set she had ever owned- all of which now were being kept by the Nemesis (though she doubted he could fit into any of them). The armor was primarily silver, with the cape resembling fire- shades of crimson intertwined with orange and yellow. The armor plates covered her vitals, but were not overbearing at all. The Overlord could still move and run as fast as ever. She wore her infamous battle boots- black, reinforced with silver. The most notable part was the helm, formed so that it resembled the head of a phoenix, with the sides curling in around her cheeks like wings, leaving her face exposed. Large red plumes fell from the crest, adding onto the decor. She placed the helmet upon her head, and grasped Kagi’s hilt tightly.

“You look...” A voice interrupted her. She hadn’t expected to have company. Glancing back over her shoulder, she spied the Evocator, dressed in a white, ornate button-up over-shirt that flowed down past her knees, opened in the center to reveal a pair of neat capris and a simple black shirt. She buried part of her mouth in a cape-like scarf that wrapped around her neck, warming her from the chilled air outside. The Evocator finished, head tilted to the side, “... Like an Overlord.”

“I haven’t felt like one for awhile,” the Overlord nodded, adjusting her gloves, “You don’t look so bad yourself.”

The Evocator nodded, watching the Overlord in silence. The Overlord removed the helmet, then began fiddling with one of the feathers, awkwardly trying to ignore the giant proverbial elephant in the room. But it was the Evocator that spoke, “I’ve been avoiding you.”

“I’ve been avoiding you,” the Overlord echoed in a confession.

“Ever since Alexi died...” the Evocator’s voice was already cracking, eyes already moist with forming tears. “It’s been hard. It’s been hard to talk to you. It’s been hard... to even think about all of this.”

“I know,” the Overlord didn’t look at her. “I didn’t know what to say to you. I didn’t know how you felt. Hell, I thought you hated me.”

“I could never... Not because...” the Evocator’s voice grew very soft, almost motherly. But it changed, growing more withdrawn and quiet, “I just... want to know what happened.” She was clutching something in her hand. The Overlord made it out as a journal, leather-bound and neat looking under her frantic fingers. The pages seemed flawless, though a small scrap of paper stuck out from the corner. She could barely make-out the Theurgist’s handwriting.

“The Theurgist attempted to bind himself with God,” the Overlord’s voice was plain, almost heartless. It was the only way to keep herself from losing it. To stop succumbing into tears like she wanted to... “No one can do it. Not alone. He tried... He created an explosion big enough to stun the Nemesis temporarily. He told me to run. So I honored his last wish.”

“He gave this to me. This note,” the Evocator held it out shakily to the Overlord, who took it gratefully before glancing down to see what it said. Blotches in the ink revealed where the paper had once been wet- tears, she assumed, but whether they were Theurgist’s or the Evocator’s, she had no idea.

“ ‘Overlord’,” the Overlord began to read, uncertain, “ ‘Today is the day that I have dreamt of for years. By the time you receive this letter, you will undoubtedly be on the eve of battle and about to pledge yourself to a fight you cannot afford to lose. Your fate has been decided by the higher powers, Overlord. And you need to know that before you leave to fight the Nemesis, you will-’ ”

“Uhhhh Overlord?” it was McCoy- bandaged but in his trenchcoat. The Overlord grimaced at a particularly nasty burn wound on his cheek- a reminder of what they were up against. “Two things...” McCoy held up one finger, “Blondie escaped somewhere between leaving Fort Effort and getting here.” Second finger was raised as well now, “There’s a lady here to see you.”

“Blondie’s gone?” the Overlord scowled, “Whatever. He’s useless, he’ll die in the upcoming fight. Bring the visitor in here, McCoy. And take it easy... Tell Fish to rest, too. And see the Sorceress before you two hit the battlefront.”

“Of course!” McCoy saluted, then disappeared. A few moments later, a woman in a striped jock jacket walked in, her hair short and blonde. Viewing the tent in disdain, the lady folded her arms and stared right at the Overlord.

“Just what kind of army do you think you’re running here?” the lady demanded in a rather snippy tone. The Overlord was taken aback, the Evocator even recoiling as though she’d been hit. But nothing was said in response. “What sort of freak show are you running here?”

“Hello, I’m the Overlord, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” the Overlord said blandly, her expression clearly disdainful of the newcomer. “See this, Evocator?” She pointed at the lady rather casually, “Even the mortal paparazzi is following us across the worlds. Ain’t it tough being a celebrity?”

“I beg your pardon. You think that’s hard? Welcome to the life of Sue Sylvester,” the lady retorted.

“Excuse me?” the Overlord remarked with a scoff. “Who?”

“This story is a load of crap,” Sue continued, ignoring the Overlord, “The stench of its cliche plotline is... About as overwhelming as that hideous outfit.” Sue gestured to the Evocator’s new outfit, “It looks like you took that off of a cadaver... It smells like you took that off of a cadaver.”

“... So who are you again?” the Overlord asked in confusion.

“Sue Sylvester. Cheerleading coach. Five-time champion at nationals. News reporter, Sue’s Corner, have you ever heard of it?” Sue slurped a portion of her protein shake, glaring at the Overlord and the Evocator as though they were stupid. “I’m here because no story is good without Sue Sylvester. Let me get that cleared before you think it has to do with me being a good guy.”

“You’re here to join the ANF?” the Overlord asked, incredulous. “Can you even FIGHT?”

“Of course not. I was only a POW during the Civil War, and an admiral during World War II. I liberated France from those pesky Nazis. Do you think I’m useless?” Sue Sylvester demanded, taking another slurp from her shake.

“You... What...?” Evocator frowned, “How is that...?”

“I... I don’t even know...” the Overlord sighed, “You’re obnoxious enough. Maybe you’ll scare the DIB soldiers away.”

“I resent being called obnoxious. I prefer the term pro-noise,” Sue retorted, but stalked out of the tent rather defiantly. The Overlord offered a shrug to the Evocator, then began to step out of the tent.

“So... Everything is fine between us... right?” the Evocator asked quietly, watching the Overlord as she left. “I don’t want things to be awkward. I just... Want to go home. And I want to forget that any of this ever happened. Well... Not Alexi... I don’t want to forget him.”

“I don’t think you ever could,” the Overlord responded, a hint of sorrow in her voice, “Evocator... I’ll fight for him. I’ll fight the Nemesis in his memory. There’s so much that I owe him...” She found her voice cracking. Through the partially opened tent flap, the wind blew into the tent, causing a chill to run down her spine. For a moment, she saw the Theurgist’s partially transparent form etched in the breeze, but it faded away. “... This is my way of thanking him.”

“I’ll fight for him, too...” the Evocator promised quietly, “I’ll make him proud.”

“He already is,” the Overlord smiled half-way, then glanced down at the ground, “I know he is.”

“What?” the Evocator asked, eyebrows raised.

“We’ve all... grown up a bit,” the Overlord nodded, “And when this is all over? We’ll all have learned from what’s happened. I know that I’ll be a better leader now. And that things... Things will get better from here on out. I promise.”

“Thank you...” the Evocator lowered her head, “So much...”

The Overlord walked away quietly, helmet tucked under her arm. She looked at the Grasshopper, who was sitting with the Animal Tamer and the Apprentice, warming her hands by the fire. Placing a friendly hand atop her heir’s head, the Overlord ruffled her now blonde hair, smiling to herself as she looked across the campsite. Everything seemed calm, but not peaceful. It was the quiet before the storm. She tried to lift her moods, but thoughts plagued her- how would they cross the frozen wasteland? She saw Fish sitting on a log, arm being inspected by the Sorceress. The Scholar was observing Fish’s claws, which had grown longer and were now retractable. She was busily writing things down in her notepad, excitedly bouncing up and down.

The Corporal was with the Captain and the Lieutenant, exchanging war stories, no doubt. The Swordmaster was with the Ninja Squadron, each polishing their katanas in respectful, almost sacred silence. The Overlord glanced at where the Twin was sitting in a tree, leaned back and texting on her phone quietly. Centurion Ifill was leaning against the trunk below, sitting with Jamie, the Scribe, Belarus, and the Advisor. The Witch was trying to bend some of the fire from the campfire into the shape of an alligator- the Overlord was unsure what had brought this about. Maverick sat in a corner of the campsite, silently watching and waiting. The Overlord felt her eyes on her and looked away, trying to brush it off.

The Soul-Keeper was standing guard, quiet for once, as he looked out at the Fortress. Sexist was not far away, leaning against a tree in his usual brooding position. The silhouettes of dragons stood out against the dark sky, their large forms circling the upper towers.

“You’ve grown up,” Venice stood behind the Overlord, hands on her hips, “I remember when you were just a small little fledgling of a fighter.”

“We’ve all changed,” the Overlord glanced over her shoulder, looking at her old idol with placid green eyes, “The Fatal Duelist they call you now. It’s rather fitting,” the Overlord sighed, seeing her breath in the air before her. She grabbed at it, watching the wisps as they danced around her fingers and vanished.

“And you, the Phoenix General,” Venice smiled, “It’s good to see the younger generations stepping up where the Elite left off. I just hope that what we have is enough.”

“I know the feeling,” the Overlord said bitterly. She breathed in, then exhaled slowly, “I’d like to say we have more spirit than the Dark Ice Brotherhood. But even our spirits seem low in this weather.” She reached out with a toe and nudged a chunk of ice, sighing as it rolled over limply.

“Come on. I know you’re not going to give up that easily,” Venice replied, “You’re supposed to be my ‘little me’. Isn’t that what the others used to say?” The Overlord glanced down and smiled, closing her eyes and nodding her head vigorously. Venice laughed, then added, “Then you’ll find a way. No doubt about it.” The Overlord watched as Venice walked away, left with her thoughts.

---


Fish and McCoy sat near the fire, quietly watching as it settled down. Taking a small stick, McCoy prodded at the flames, other arm still in a sling kept close to his chest. There was silence for a moment, before the former Insurgent said, “The Insurgent Leader is planning on betraying the Nemesis.” Fish’s head bobbed up and down silently. He flexed his claws, watching as they glinted off the firelight. McCoy fell silent a few moments, then asked abruptly, “What do you think will happen when this all ends?”

“That depends...” Fish replied, “Will things go back as to how they were before? Or maybe the question is... could they?”

“The Insurgent Leader will accept me once things have changed. Back into the army. Back into my old position, too,” McCoy prodded the flames some more and an odd silence fell over the two. “Come with me. I’d hate to see you sit here and rot under her rule.”

“I swore an oath...” Fish said uncertainly, looking up at McCoy, “Just as you swore an oath to the Insurgent Leader. I’d... rather not break it.”

McCoy was quiet, pensive as he stared into the roaring crimson and orange. He tilted his hat to where it rested further back on his head, itching his brow. Offering a shrug, he fought to keep the disappointment from his voice, “I suppose I can’t argue with that. If it’s a matter of honor and all.”

“We’re friends. And we’ll always be such...” Fish sighed, “Why are we even talking about this? We don’t even know if we’ll win.”

A stirring shadow roused McCoy to his feet, crouching down and moving his hand for his machine gun. Maverick merely slid into view, tucked into her hooded robe and concealing her face. A twig of dark hair could be seen from beneath the smooth cloth, but that was all. Her voice, slightly slurred with exhaustion, creaked through the air ominously, “Careful, careful, should the footsoldiers speak. Maverick hears all. Even the doubts. Doubts that the generals need not hear. Morale is as low as the temperatures.”

“What say you about the upcoming battle?” McCoy asked, changing the subject abruptly. There was no sense in arguing with her.

“Fanged flames and clawed ice
Willpower surpassing all.
God hath rolled His dice
To see which shall take their fall.”

As the small poem ended, Maverick rose from the earth and began to carry herself away, but not before uttering above her shoulder, “The ANF has spirit that no ice can freeze. Take heart in that, says Maverick, or else ye shall be as happy as an emo donkey.”

“A donkey?” Fish and McCoy asked simultaneously.

“No. Not a mere donkey, but an emo one, says the Maverick,” Maverick scolded lightly, a finger wagged at both the Insurgent and the Underling. She tucked her hands back into her sleeves, gazing at them with her dark eyes momentarily before fading off into the shadows.


---


The Captain and the Lieutenant sat in silence, the latter taking a soiled looking rag to the barrel of his rifle. He allowed the rag to caress the gun, tenderly looking down at the black gun as though he was viewing a baby. While the Captain sat with a stern, disgruntled, yet thoughtful look on his face, his left hand stroked the small dark head of a kitten, who seemed rather disgruntled at being shoved in the Captain’s coat pocket. As the kitten gave a grumpy ‘mrrw’ at its owner, the Captain merely placed a finger on the cat’s head and shoved it back into the pocket with a very firm, “No.”

Having nothing else better to do, the Animal Tamer was walking through the campsite, bundled in a hat and a large coat. She had been forced to leave Fluffy at Fort Effort, as the temperatures were too extreme for a cold-blooded reptile, so she’d become rather used to riding Otto around the camp. However, after she’d accidentally toppled her sister’s tent, Otto had been put ‘time out’ and she was left without a steed. Taking notice of the two Zombie Headhunters, the Animal Tamer had bounced over to them, rather bored with the rest of the army. “... Is that a cat in your pocket?” she inquired, dark brown eyes wide as she stared at the Captain in disbelief.

“Jon, why is Ding in your pocket again?” the Lieutenant asked in his typical ‘almost-scolding-but-not-really’ voice.

“He’s quite terrifying,” Jon fished into his coat pocket and brought out the little black kitten in his palm, holding him up for the Animal Tamer to see. “DJ Dingler Esteban Catastrophic! ... Or just Ding.”

The Animal Tamer glanced from the small kitten to the large, camouflage-suited, bazooka-bearing Underling, and stifled a giggle, “I didn’t think you liked kitties, Captain!” There was a squeal of pure amusement in her voice.

“He is not a kitty. He is a kitten,” the Captain corrected her, in time for Ding to reach up and attempt to bite his nose. However, before the feline’s fangs could make contact, the Captain opened his mouth and placed the cat’s head inside. The Animal Tamer stopped laughing- immediately, and replaced her smile with a look of sheer horror.

“OH MY GOSH, DON’T EAT HIM!”

“Relax!” the Lieutenant began in an attempt to reassure her.

“HE’S GONNA EAT HIM!”

“No, no, Robin, he’s just-”

“OH MY GOSH! AHHHHH!”

“... It’s a sign of dominance!”

The Captain removed Ding’s head from his mouth and the kitten sat in his hand, perplexed and stunned looking. With a smug look, the Captain replaced Ding in his coat pocket, and shrugged the entire incident off casually. “He’s fine,” the Captain sounded incredibly apathetic, despite the amusement in his eyes. The Lieutenant chuckled at the Animal Tamer’s horrified expression, laughing even more as she began to walk away, stunned and appalled by what she saw.

“C-come on, Nard... let’s go find Ichy and warn him to stay away from the Zombie Headhunters!” the Animal Tamer muttered, looking down at the little white, fluffy dog as he stared at her, tongue sticking out. “It’s a miracle your tongue hasn’t frozen over!” She added, scooping him off, and walking back toward her tent.

---


Blondie reached the Fortress, unsure of how this happened. Grasping his bleeding side (his previous, healing wounds had opened up in the flight from the campsite), he leaned against the gates into the inner gardens of the Fortress, his nails scratching against the stone. Voice hoarse, he threw his head back and called out, “HEY! OPEN THE GATES!” His shirt was bloodied, with stains from where he’d fallen in the wet, freezing snow. Blonde hair matted and in his eyes, he inhaled deeply, feeling incredibly light-headed. “In the name of the Dark Ice Brotherhood... Open... the... Gates...” He wheezed, coughed, then bent over, sinking to a knee.

As the gates creaked and cracked open, the snarl of a dragon could be heard overhead. Blondie ignored this, knowing that the Nemesis’ pets would not harm him. Standing on the other side of the gates, Blondie recognized the Insurgent Leader, his former leader before the Dark Ice Brotherhood had started. Grabbing the wounded soldier’s arm, the Insurgent Leader silently began to help Blondie into the safety of the Fortress’ inner grounds, the freezing gale blowing through his short, spiked blonde hair. Insurgent Tinkerbell and Insurgent Batman could be seen on the steps into the Fortress, both armed and looking on as the Insurgent Leader brought Blondie towards the building.

“They’re in the woods... your old campsite...” Blondie coughed, “They’re going to attack soon...”

“I see...” the Insurgent Leader cast a glance at Tinkerbell, who merely inclined his head ever so slightly. Batman folded his arms into the nook between his upper arm and chest, shivering as he did so. The three exchanged knowing looks before the Insurgent Leader added onto his response, “Who is there? How many?”

“There are many. Enough to... kill us all...” Blondie was fighting for the strength to speak. “If they get past the dragons...”

“If.” Tinkerbell remarked, “We still have a chance.”

“McCoy is with them. So is Eric. They’ve been stealing our soldiers...” Blondie’s voice was faint and far-off. The Insurgent Leader helped him into the doors, walking past a few masked and stoic soldiers that the Nemesis had employed. As usual, they remained still, as statues did, unmoving and uncaring. The Insurgent Leader glanced at one of the still warriors, fairly convinced that they were not even human.

“Fetch Agent and Norris from the training grounds,” the Insurgent Leader nodded to Insurgent Batman, then glanced at Tinkerbell, “Help me get him up the stairs.” Tinkerbell nodded and took Blondie’s other side, careful not to let the wounded DIB member see the hint of a smirk on his features. The Insurgent Leader began up the stairs slowly, weighted down heavily by Blondie’s much taller form. As they fought up the flights of stairs, the Insurgent Leader cast a glance back at where the almost soulless DIB soldiers stood at each hallway, their icy blue armor reflecting off the cold lights that illuminated the corridors.

Upon reaching the Insurgent Leader’s room, Tinkerbell and the Insurgent Leader set Blondie upon the bed. Tinkerbell immediately went to the door and locked it, a hand moving to a curved blade at his side, smirking to himself as he looked at the Insurgent Leader. Rather relieved that they had made it this far without interrupting, the Insurgent Leader bent over Blondie, examining his wounds. Blondie was observing a small kennel and water dish that lay unused.

“I had a dog,” the Insurgent Leader said awkwardly to break the silence. He remembered the hellhound that had been staying with him- his own dark summon that had faded several days ago. A glance at his hand would reveal that the dark magic mark had faded, though still could be seen vaguely etched into his flesh. “... He died.” Darkness had become his element- permanently. His sister’s disapproval would do nothing to change this now, because it was impossible to let it go. Black magic had bound itself to his bones, his very blood- and this had even been done against his will. But there was nothing limiting him to use this for evil... The Insurgent Leader still had his morals in check. And that was why he was doing what he had to.

“I’m sorry,” Blondie responded, equally as awkward.

“The Anti-Nemesis Faction has surpassed everyone’s expectations and will be marching to our doorstep any day now,” the Insurgent Leader pulled up a chair and sat next to where Blondie lay, reaching a hand out to touch a large gasp on his arm. As he began to heal the DIB member, the Insurgent Leader continued, “It was a mistake, Blondie... To join DIB.”

“I left your pathetic group when I knew we had no chance,” Blondie’s voice was venomous to the extent that the Insurgent Leader recoiled slightly, but kept the healing magic flowing, “The Nemesis offered me power if he said I could get the famous Insurgent Leader to help his cause...”

“So that’s why a peon like you got such a high rank,” Tinkerbell scoffed, despite the Insurgent Leader’s warning glare.

“The Insurgents will march once more, but this time, against DIB,” the Insurgent Leader replied, “You can either re-join us as your old rank- a footsoldier- or die with the Nemesis. The Overlord and I have forged a contract that surpasses the Dark Ice Brotherhood’s.”

“You’ll team up with that bitch just to make things how they used to be? Where you lived in a damn forest and continued to fail to complete your mission every day? You want to be a failure, Insurgent Leader?” Blondie said scathingly, “You traitor!”

“Things were better back then. Better than they are now. I cannot pledge my sword to a dishonorable wretch like him,” the Insurgent Leader’s voice had gotten cold. He had stopped healing Blondie and rose, Muramasa in hand, “You will commit your blade to my cause or to no cause entirely. Be grateful I’m allowing you the chance to live.”

“The Nemesis will do you in just like he’ll do the Overlord in!” Blondie roared. Tinkerbell seized him by the arms suddenly, pinning him down against the bed. The Insurgent Leader dealt a blow to the former Insurgent’s head with the hilt of his sword, rendering him unconscious.

“At least the Rebel Commander decided to join us,” Tinkerbell remarked, “Where should we keep this guy?”

“The Dungeon. No one ever goes down there anymore,” the Insurgent Leader nodded, “Bind his hands. Put a bag over his head. No one has to know who he is. Get Agent and Norris to help you when they get here. Finish healing him, too... I don’t want the moron to die because he’s stupid.”

“I figured you’d have killed the asshole,” Tinkerbell retorted, “But I guess he used to be one of us. Might be one of us someday.”

“That’s what I’m hoping,” the Insurgent Leader nodded, moving towards the door. He took another glance at his hand and the symbol vaguely visible anymore, inhaling deeply as he turned the knob to leave the room. Over his shoulder, he added, “Be prepared for the upcoming battle. I’ll find the rest of the army and see to it that they’re all ready for war.”

“This is going to be a big fight, isn’t it?” Tinkerbell asked, arms folded.

“Bigger than any fight we’ve seen before,” the Insurgent Leader answered quietly before slipping into the hall, shutting the door behind him.