OVERLORD: Minions and Magic!

[Bag of Bones]

Consciousness slowly returned to me as I lay wrapped in heavy fur sheets and feather-stuffed pillows. I slowly rouse to a sitting position, rubbing my eyes in the dim light of fading candles and torches of the cavern that served as my temporary quarters. The massive form of Ylva that lay wrapped around my bed stirred as well with a large yawn that quickly spread to me as well despite my efforts to suppress it.

"Is it dawn yet Ylvaaaaaaaaaah." I yawned again, hand in front of my mouth to at least preserve some dignity.

"Can't tell, grrrrrr, underground a pain," Ylva complains. "Need sun!"

"I know, Ylva," I say, stroking her side, Gnarl had said the physical laws are flexible in the netherworld, and it certainly felt like time was one of them. "We need only bear it for a little while longer."

Ylva harrumphed and began grooming herself; I joined her with the washbasin the Minions provided for me beside her. Temporary like the rest of my quarters until "Something more fitting for an Overlord'' as Mortis put it, was built, though I did not mind my current quarters outside of the lack of sunlight and the flow of air… as well as the ever-present dampness and the odour that seemed to permeate everywhere.

… I may have a few problems with it, but I will not complain and will bear with these circumstances, especially since it was still reasonably cosy in a strange way compared to my previous sleeping arrangements, at least those I had since that day when I left the palace to begin my journey, once in parade and hope… the other in fear and tears.

"Elenaril?" Ylva asks with concern, startling me out of my thoughts. "You lost in head?"

I blink momentarily in confusion before I understand what she means and give her a small smile. "Yes… I suppose I am."

I wet a wash cloth and start cleaning myself. "I find myself ruminating a lot on my past life, Ylva, comparing to my circumstances now. I have not told you before but would you believe I did not once need to dress myself when I lived in the palace?"

"Were you sick?" Ylva asks in the most confused tone I had ever heard from her.

I giggle. "No Ylva, it was part of a silly custom for the royal family. We had many silly customs like that and… it feels good to not have to follow them any more."

"Father was just being cruel", Ylva grumbles, clearly assuming malice on the part of my father in all his actions. I do not blame her for that assumption.

But the truth was different in this case: "No, he had to do even more silly customs with even less privacy than I was afforded. I am not even sure he enjoyed it." I corrected Ylva, pondering my father's behaviour and my memories. "He was obsessed with sticking even to the 'ancient' customs set by his father no matter how silly it seemed, claiming it would be a loss of order to deviate."

I began brushing my hair with a comb the Minions found somewhere, lamenting that they did not also find a mirror. "I wonder… how much of that stubbornness twisted him into the monster he is now. Did the man my mother love exist at one point, or did he also bewitch her mind like he did with me…"

"Elenaril…" Ylva says softly, moving to comfort me, but I shook my head.

"It's fine, Ylva," I reassure her as I stand to dress myself. "I was just voicing a thought."

Ylva still looks at me with concern and I give her a small smile to alleviate it. I truly appreciate her concern, but for this moment her being at my side is enough.

I move to the pile of clothes the Minions set out for me, a slightly disorganised mess of clothes belonging to both men and women that the Minions acquired through dubious means; that they all fit my person was a miracle in and of itself. After a moment of digging through the pile, I chose dark trousers, a shirt that I swore was white at some point despite the thorough cleaning it was subjected to and boots that had a decent grip to them so I did not slip on the frequently wet rock.

It was only when I finished fastening my ancestors' cloak and the gauntlet I now so rarely went without that I had realised I completely ignored the woman's clothing set out for me as well. On our flight to the north, it had become my normal clothing out of sheer necessity and now it had become my preferred clothing, something that would certainly be a major scandal if I was back at the palace. Why my father would certainly turn interesting shades if he saw I was dressing myself in men's clothing and actively preferred to do so!

A minor act of rebellion against my father that he was completely unaware of, but it still lifted my spirits a bit as I exited with Ylva from my temporary quarters to the salutes from the Minion guards and the ever-present sound of distant construction. With a nod of acknowledgement to the Minions I walked down the hallway with Ylva from the temporary quarters towards the temporary dining room to have breakfast all the while marvelling at the Minions working. For creatures that lack the sensibilities and… self-preservation of other forms of life they seem to be surprisingly skilled at construction as what were once rough-hewn tunnels and natural caverns are transformed into actual hallways of surprising scale and craftsmanship.

All around me were Minions working, hammering nails, hauling blocks or carving stones, almost in what could be called unison. Browns and Greens clambered over scaffolding, doing the majority of the heavy labour while the Reds heated fires and shaped metal. Only the blues seemed uninterested in working, staying at the bottom of the scaffolding, amusing themselves with small shells, or just staring off into nothing; I did not know initially why the other Minions would allow the Blues to laze around until an accident had occurred.

A scream followed by a wet thud behind me informed me that another accident occurred, likely a Brown. I stopped in my pace and resisted every urge of mine to turn around and witness the mangled body of the Minion until a Blue Minion with an annoyed expression on its face casually walked past me to revive the Minion. Several sickening sounds later, a Brown Minion rushed past me, pausing only to salute me, and clambered up the scaffolding to get back to whatever it was that Minion was doing as the Blue went back to staring into nothing.

An audible shudder erupted from Ylva. "Urgh, never getting used to that!"

I nodded, trying desperately to not make myself sick with the memory of the many instances of Minion healing magic I have had the misfortune to witness in recent weeks and continued walking forward desperate to be away from the majority of Minion accidents into the more completed sections passing groups of Minions on their way to work.

"Still useful, makes them dangerous," Ylva says, making conversation.

"Hmmmm," I mumble as I suppress a shudder as I imagine what these Minions were capable of under a cunning Overlord with no moral qualms as they no doubt had in the past, with even what I had seen of their capabilities they would no doubt be a formidable foe despite their lack of intelligence.

My eyes flick towards a newly completed section of wall, desperate to draw my focus away from past horrors. "It certainly makes them quick to…" I pause in my words, eyes squinting at the architectural style of the wall. "Ylva… Do the walls seem familiar to you?"

"Hrrrm?" Ylva said as she looked around the wide hallway, we found ourselves in. "Looks like walls to me? Why…" Ylva's voice trails off as we beheld the completed hallway; with surprising skill, the Minions created sweeping curved archways and branch-like patterns in the walls. Even the sconces that lit the hallway seemed to flow from the rock in an almost natural way. A blue light seemed to suffice from the cracks and patterns in the wall, giving the hallway both an ominous feeling but also a beauty that I had only really seen…

"They copied her tomb…" Ylva says with no small amount of awe, as we both realised what the Minions had decided to base the architecture of this new structure on. "Though they were not capable…"

"The tower reflects the Overlord," I say absentmindedly, remembering what Mortis mentioned to me as I ran my fingers across the patterns across the wall. It lacked the skill of the Elvish craftsmen and no doubt years of experience that had crafted my ancestor's tomb, and it's defences, but there was still beauty here and a strength that was not present at the tomb, for that was a place of remembrance and final gift to my ancestor while this new building was to be a fortress against the forces of the Sentinels and the first step in righting the wrongs they have inflicted on the world. I should praise the Minions for creating this, give them the praise they-

"Urrrrrrrrgh, it look awful!" came the observation of a passing Minion.

"I know! Walls keep making themselves Elfy!" was the response of another before ineffectually lowering his voice when they notice me. "Giblet can't stop it! Mistress must be furious!"

Ylva looked at me with an expression that was equal parts lack of surprise and disappointment, an expression no doubt mirrored on my own face. Without a word we continue down the hall to the temporary dining room, a plainly adorned chamber and cavern with some ancient oak table the Minions pulled from somewhere along with some mismatched chairs. Sitting at the table with bloodshot eyes, a frazzled look about him was Gnarl sipping what I assumed to be coffee from an ancient-looking mug.

Those same bloodshot eyes blink slowly, one after another before flicking in my direction "Before you complain Princess I've already told Giblet to ignore the Elf architecture popping up and focus on finishing the bloody tower." Gnarl said with a hoarse voice, which surprised me; I would have thought that'd be the first thing he'd complain about.

In fact, this is the most frazzled I've seen him. "Gnarl…" I say with concern, surprising even myself. "Are you alright this morning?"

Gnarl gives a strained version of his usual sneer. "Well, princess, it's past noon." I feel my ears twitch. "and unlike you, I am overseeing the defence against one of the most dangerous trolls in history!"

"There's not much more we can do, Gnarl," I respond as, without prompting, several Minions bring out a platter of food for me, a small mountain of bacon, sweet breads and various pickled vegetables while Ylva got a pile of raw meat sourced from what I can assume was an entire herd of deer. "Our defences are as strong as we can make them and Ologul seems content staying in his fortress." which was true; outside some Snaga scouts probing the Netherworld tunnels, Ologul made no movement against us which only meant one thing…

"Content staying in his fortress, preparing even greater traps to ensnare us the moment we move for the hive!" Gnarl retorts. "Ologul would know what the hive truly is! He would know we will seek it out and is smart enough to prepare for any possibility of us trying to reclaim it!"

So that is the reason why Gnarl seems so on edge; he must have been spending entire nights trying to figure out some way to retrieve the hive from Ologul, only to find no answer. I… almost feel sympathy for him.

That still raises the question on how we will actually retrieve the hive if Gnarl can not figure out the means… Then, I do not know what to do next.

"Grrrr should draw Ologul out, kill him!" Ylva growls out. "Not so tough without an army or fortress to hide behind!"

"Oh yes, a direct fight with the troll king; it's not like he rivals Ilimitar himself in skill and power!" Gnarl says with a great deal of exasperation. "Just like a dumb mutt to come up with a completely buffoonish idea!"

A growl erupted from Ylva, but before anything could happen, I simply said with softness, "Ylva…" and she huffed in annoyance before going back to her meal. I, on the other hand, turn to Gnarl. "Is there anything, anything at all, that we could use to reclaim the Hive? If not about Ologul, then the fortress itself?"

Gnarl gave a frustrated look to me before sighing. "There are some small openings, drains, and the like; a few of the Browns kept as slaves in the fortress have managed to escape using them, so it is technically possible to enter it into the damp and mouldy under fortress and the vault in which the Hive is kept." Gnarl then affixes a beady yellow eye on me. "But that is still suicide! There is an army between the drains and the vault, not to mention the sheer number of magical defences! We can't even open a netherworld gate, and that is the only way the Hive is getting out beyond walking out the front gate!"

"There is a way inside!" I exclaim, that certainly changes things! If we can get inside, there is still hope! "Those that escaped, did they reveal anything else to you?" If there was something Gnarl missed, something he didn't put much stock in.

Gnarl's laugh dashed that hope. "Hah! They're lucky to remember they can breathe much less the layout of Ologul's fortress. Only consistent thing beyond praising their favourite mould was complaining about the spring floods soaking their toes."

My face falls, and I rub my temples. "There must be something! Has Stench-"

"I've already sent him to scout multiple times! Not a damn thing of use!" Gnarl interrupts before falling into a grumbling silence while I desperately wrack my skull for an idea, any idea that could change our fortunes; Ylva too had a contemplative look on her face as she chewed on a mouthful of meat.

I don't know if it was fortune or not, but all our thoughts were interrupted by a frantic Giblet bursting into the room shouting, "Gnarl! Mistress!"

"What?" Gnarl snaps while I blinked in confusion.

"Found the well!" Giblet shouts excitedly.

"WHAT!" Gnarl shouts back, his mood elating judging from the foul glee that his face now shown.

"The well?" I ask, are they excited about a new source of water, or is it something fouler?

"I'll explain on the way!" Gnarl says as he leaps from his chair to follow after Giblet, "Finally! Some good fortune at last!"

My stomach let loose a large grumble at that, and I looked at my plate of cooling food with longing.

Gnarl, noticing both the grumble and my look, palms his face. "Of course, we can't have the princess starve! Go ahead, eat and waste hours!"

The sarcasm in his words was not lost on me as I began to dig in with speed.

********​

"Where in the blazes did you put all that?" Asked a flabbergasted Gnarl minutes later.

"I was hungry…" I say sheepishly as we walked deeper into the Netherworld, through tunnels I was sure were older than even my grandfather.

Ylva snickered behind me, and my face became very hot.

"Ignoring the pit that is apparently the Princess's stomach, we have another more useful pit! The Well of Life Force!"

I have spent enough time around Gnarl to dread that name despite the seeming innocence of it, and Gnarl seems to pick up on my dread with the sly grin he shoots back at me. "My, My, the princess is learning," he says in a way that makes my skin feel like it is crawling across my bones.

"What kind of horror is this well Gnarl?" I finally ask as we pass into the massive cavern that held the remains of the old tower and the magical geyser that now reached the very summit of the mountain above us.

Gnarl gives another sinister grin at me before laughing. "Hah! The look on your face! The well is simply a font and container for extra life force that the previous Overlords created and upgraded throughout the years." Gnarl gets a wistful look on his face. "Ah, those were the days. The first was simply tired of having to farm life force with no say of where it would go, but his successor, oh his successor, really pushed evil forward! His experiments on life force were a thing of dark beauty! Even installed the capability for the well to generate life force from ambient magic! Oh, I foolishly complained at the time for it not being evil enough but the old master wanted to keep to the shadows, leave as little trace as possible to keep good off his behind while he worked his strings and experimented! And what evil did he unleash with good none the wiser! Acts of god, they called it! HAHAHAHA!" Gnarl reminisced as I wondered what part of hidden history Gnarl referred to and dreaded which one it was.

"Bad times, bad times," Giblet sighed wistfully as if I needed another reminder of the kinds of creatures I had found myself with as we passed through even more tunnels, cruder and more recently excavated than the others, bypassing hallways that at one point seemed to have been filled with demonic statues and carvings but now ended in mounds of rubble and shattered masonry, the result of the fall of the old tower no doubt.

The tunnels were becoming harder to walk through, evidently not built to have creatures other than Minions crawl through them; Ylva tried her hardest to follow us, but it soon became clear that her size would not avail her any further passage as she tried to force herself through a too small tunnel.

"Ylva…" I sigh as the scraping of claws against stone becomes more and more intense.

"Almost… through!" Ylva grunted as she continued her furious attempt.

"You're going to get stuck, Ylva…" I say as I step forward, Ylva immediately stopping in order to not hurt me. "Just wait here, and I'll be right back, okay?"

Ylva's response was to just glare past me to a no-doubt sneering Gnarl.

"Ylva, I will be alright for a little bit in Gnarl's company. Just wait here, and I will be right back," I reassure her while petting her snout.

Ylva gives me the most adorable pout before letting out a sigh of "Fine." Before locking her two big blue wolf eyes onto me. "Be safe."

I give her a small smile in return. "I will, Ylva."

"IT'S JUST A BLOODY SLIGHTLY MAGIC WELL! LITERALLY DOWN THE HALL! WITHIN EYESHOT! WHY ARE YOU DOING THAT CLICHE HERIOC GOODBYE GARBAGE!" Gnarl yells, what passing for patience for him finally running out.

We both look back to him with mirroring annoyed expressions on our faces, and I decidedly ignore the fact that I can see a shimmer at the end of a slightly curved hallway, not twenty metres from where we stood. With my face kept as stoic as possible despite the heat it was now radiating, I walk past Gnarl, who scoffs, towards the shimmer; it is not like we are being overly dramatic. Whenever I am separated from Ylva, I feel nervous… Even when we are required to be separate for reasons of duty and privacy.

As I round the bend, I finally get to see the well of lifeforce that the Minions were so excited about, and I assume for someone more magically educated than I, they would understand what exactly I was now looking at, but alas, I was just stuck with my first impression: that of dome-shaped stone room with the wall covered in glowing blue runes. The well itself was a bit impressive; a geyser of magic emanated down from the ceiling to meet the top points, two large black spikes that jutted and curved from either side of a spiked-rimmed hole towards its centre. A metal platform and attached stairway also led to the centre of this well, stopping only just before the two points of the spikes where the magic seemed to be collecting; I realised quickly that the space between the two points was just large enough for someone to put their arm in between, a gauntleted arm.

"Ooooh, the well is still intact!" Gnarl cooed as he pushed past me. "Look, Look! The well is full as well," pointing towards the well where I could see that the well was almost overflowing with a shimmering, glowing liquid that resembled bubbling mercury with splashes of brown, red, green and blue bubbling up and disappearing.

Gnarl rubbed his claws together. "Oh yes, this is good, very good. If we manage to find a hive, any hive, then we can birth potentially hundreds, maybe even thousands of Minions in an instant!"

"If we find a hive…" I say gloomily.

Gnarl froze. "Yes… that is the problem" he drawled out before stamping his feet in frustration. "Damnit, all!"

"Giblet needs to check for cracks," Giblet says, heedless of Gnarl's frustration, before walking past him to a rune, causing a sigh from Gnarl.

"Yes, I will help with that. Powerful magic reacts poorly to faults, and I'd rather not lose the well." Gnarl then looks at me. "Well, your presence here is no longer required, and unless you have a background in magic runes, which I doubt, I suggest you go do… Something princessy, maybe? By evil, I am off my game today."

My only response to that was to rub my temple as I turn heel and walked away, frustrated and disappointed. As excited as Gnarl was about the well, there was no use for it without a hive, leaving it a curiosity.

Ylva doesn't say a word as I reach her, just seeing my expression telling her all she needed to know about the well; she just walks in step behind me as I make my way up the various passageways.

We need a hive; it is our only hope, but we know only the location of the Brown hive! Our only path to retaking it seems to be one that will end in complete folly!

I stopped my climb up the various passageways to stop on one that led to a ledge overlooking the vast lake and the Minion city that surrounded it, a geyser of magic shooting upwards to the ceiling.

For whatever reason, my eyes locked onto the hole in the ceiling; from there, the old tower once hung until it fell to make the island in the centre of the lake. Idly, I marvelled that mere water brought down such a mighty structure, a centre of evil that came crashing down in a no doubt cataclysmic deluge of rock and water.

I shake my head, trying to refocus my thoughts and continue the long climb up, back presumably to my quarters. I needed to think, needed to find some way to reclaim the hive. Imagining how the old tower fell would not help with that. After all, it is not like Ologul's fortress is at any risk of being swept away…

I freeze as the thought hits me, electing a whine from Ylva. "Oh, I am such a stupid girl…" I whisper, mentally kicking myself. Could the solution be really that simple? "GNARL!" I yell as the gauntlet lets loose a mighty trumpeting bellow that seemed to shake the very cavern.

I did not have to wait long until an irritated "WHAT!" yells out, and an extremely angry-looking Gnarl scampers up, expression demanding an explanation.

I simply point to the hole in the ceiling of the cavern.

Gnarl looks towards it, angrily. "That's why you called me! To look at the…" he trails off as some rusted gear clicks into place in his malevolent, wrinkled head, and his expression becomes one of epiphany. "... It was staring me in the face this whole time; I must be going senile."

"What going on!" Ylva barks impatiently, still not catching on until she looks up at the ceiling, water coming from it and receives the same epiphany I and Gnarl did. "Oooooooooooooooh"

As always, thanks to @MysticKnightJoe for editing.

Please comment, discuss and criticize, as it is super appreciated.

 

[Calico J]

That's probably the ultimate test for a tradition; when you have to explain it to someone who's never heard of it before, do they look at you like you're nuts?

 

[Zaealix]

Eating ever so much at every opportunity…
*glances at Princess' back*
Hrrrrm.
Well. It should be some time before that comes up.

As for plan wash the fortress down…
Oh boy that's going to leave a mark!

 

[Bag of Bones]

"I still don't understand why you would insist on practising outside in this freezing cold," came the ever annoyed voice of Gnarl from the helmet strapped to Ylva's saddlebag.

I could not resist rolling my eyes at that, losing my focus for only a split second but enough to cause the tower of water I was controlling that used to be a frozen pond to waver slightly. Seeing this refocused me, and I quickly asserted my will back onto the tower, stabilising its shape

Hearing no response from me, Gnarl began one of his standard insults against my heritage. "Of course, I shouldn't be surprised; you are an elf after-"

"Shh!" Ylva snapped at the helmet. "Let her focus!"

I smiled behind my scarf at Gnarl's disappointed grumble and began focusing on something more difficult than keeping the pond's water in the shape of a tower. Strands of water came off the tower like the tendrils of a sea creature and began to surround me, connecting in great rings around me. Nine interlocking rings began spinning around me, interlocking and then coming apart, and I was sorely tempted to make things more intricate, but that was not the goal of this exercise.

Once she saw that I had control over the rings, Ylva turned around and began to dig into the snow, taking care to hit me with as much debris as she could, just as I asked her to. Clumps of snow and dirt hit me with surprising force, but still, I held focus even as I began to wither against the onslaught until my vision became stars, and my face felt the cold chill of snow and rather hard dirt strike it and knock me off my feet onto my back.

Immediately, Ylva stopped her onslaught and spun around with a cry of concern and apology; I simply lay upon my back and blinked out the stars.

"My, my, I must admit I am impressed, princess," Gnarl remarks, and I can not help but sigh in exasperation as I slowly lift myself, ready to endure more of Gnarl's disparagement of myself, "The Tower Heart has indeed bonded itself to you quite thoroughly."

The first thing I felt upon hearing those words was surprise and confusion, then, as my senses returned to me, astonishment. As I sat up, I beheld the rings of water, still floating in the air as if I had not been struck in the head.

Gnarl continued to speak, "On top of a nearly inexhaustible source of magic, it appears that the Tower Heart has enabled you to maintain at least some spells with the barest amount of focus, useful especially in our coming assault."

"Then… We are ready?" I say as I wave my hand to send the water back into the pond, these past few days I had learned much of the limits of the power the Tower Heart granted me regarding hydrokinesis and it was both reassuring and worrying that I had yet to encounter a limit.

"Soon, Giblet and Grubby still need a bit more time to alter the portals." Gnarl answers, "Stench needs to scout out the perfect locations to open the portals without Ologul instantly closing them on us."

"Then we wait," I say as I hear a grunt of acknowledgement from Gnarl.

"Should we go back?" Ylva asks as she walks up to me.

"No… I think I would like to stay here a moment longer," I say as I stand, adjust my winter cap and look out over the pond. We were in a forest clearing where many ponds were clustered. Ylva had discovered it in her wanderings through the forests surrounding Helfrost and it was a peaceful place that was far from any settlement, a welcome respite from the Netherworld.

I looked at the pond whose water I had used to practice my spell as a light snowfall began descending from the sky, chunks of ice floated in the water, no doubt irritating the fish who nestled at the very bottom (who I was very careful to rob of water). This pond would freeze over in time, though it was too small to go ice skating, something I would dearly love to do. Mother promised me when I was very little, and I had read about it in books, but… Fate had other plans.

Ylva spares me a glance as she lays down beside me. "You are worried", she says to me.

I sigh and place a hand upon my breast. "I do not know if there is something that doesn't worry me now." I turn my head to her and give Ylva a small smile. "But… let us enjoy this time we have left; I am sure it is not too troubling to ask Giblet for some ice skates?"

Ylva huffed. "Don't like that pond ice, would break under me." Then she fixes me with a wry smile on her wolven features. "But elves very light."

Now a genuine joy entered my smile, though Ylva would not join me due to the unfortunate reality of her size I would still be able to do something I had only read about.

Though fate once again had other plans for as soon as I began to turn to journey with Ylva back to the gate did my ears perk at some sounds I could not yet place.

Ylva perked as well, astonishment on her face. "This far?" she says, almost horrified as the sounds became louder, and it finally dawned upon me what I was hearing:

The laughter and merriment of children.

A revelation that was accompanied by a large weight in my chest as it struck me how little I heard that in my life.

My heart longed to join them in whatever merriment they were having, but my head granted me the clarity to realise what had horrified Ylva. "We are… We are nowhere near a village! What possessed them to come out this far?"

Ylva growled "Don't know, but will run if we go near."

"Surely I can-"

"Eyes."

"O-oh." I stammer out, I had forgotten about the glow that my eyes now emitted.

"Oh no, don't tell me you're going to waste time on heroics for a bunch of brats," Gnarl laments from the helmet, which Ylva and I ignored.

"We should keep an eye on them regardless and try to guide them back to safety," I suggest, and Ylva huffs in agreement.

"That I know well; follow the lead," Ylva says with confidence as she gets as low as she can to the ground. I copy her, my ancestor's cloak taking on the appearance of my surroundings. I trust Ylva's experience with this matter; she must have dealt with many similar situations during the years she guarded my ancestor's tomb.

The voices grew louder as the children came closer, and I could make out individual conversations now. "We're lost!" A girl's voice was the loudest and most exasperated, reminding me of myself after a conversation with Gnarl.

"No, we're not! We just got to keep walking to the old oak, and we'll be at old lady Margaret's hut in no time," An older boy said, his voice cracking much like the younger sons of the nobles at court whenever they spoke to servants, though their voices would become increasingly higher pitched and polite when they finally noticed my presence.

Ylva did have a curious reaction with her stiffening and a quiet "Oops" coming from her, a clue perhaps where this oak ended up and why these children became lost.

"It is all right, Ylva," I reassure her. "Fortune is on our side, and we can lead them to this, Margaret."

"Margaret? The witch Margaret?!" Gnarl exclaims from the helmet, which garners my curiosity.

"You know her Gnarl?" I ask the helmet, only to feel my stomach give out as I remember who I was talking to. "On no… You know her."

"Not like there's anything worth to know; I'm more surprised Ologul left her alive. He's not the type to tolerate her presence," came the scoff from Gnarl, "minor evil witch, likes to pull cruel cons on the unwary and bake children into pies."

"What." came the flat reply from both Ylva and myself.

"Oh yes, in the spring, she pulls the old 'ask for payment to ensure a good harvest' con, and the villagers give the children happily, foolishly thinking their children will be raised in her strange forest ways instead of ending up in her belly." Gnarl chuckles before I hear a contemplative tone in his voice "It is unusual for Margaret to ask for this many children and during midwinter though, but she was always the stupid greedy type. Why, she even tried to con one of the previous Overlords but quickly regretted that, as all do eventually hehehehehehe."

"Where is she?" I ask, my voice free from emotion despite the cold rage boiling within me.

"Eh, somewhere in the middle of the woods but why…" Gnarls voice trails off only to be replaced by the sound of a thud and a groan. "I'm talking to bloody heroes, why in the abyss did I forget that!"

"She's dead." Ylva growls.

"The children first, Ylva," I say, my voice somehow still calm. "Then we bring her to justice."

Gnarl just groans again.

"Look!" cried the voice of a voice younger than the other two children's voices drawing our attention back to the children who were only now coming into view and by the goddess there were alot of them, at least thirty at first head count.

Thirty children, upon seeing the clearing, scattered into it to start playing, much to the frustration of a lanky, pimple-scarred older boy and what I presume were his friends.

I heard Ylva let out a drawn-out groan, and I shared in her frustration corralling this many children was certainly going to be difficult. I mused calling the Minions to help, but this matter required a delicate touch, and I was certainly not going to let them anywhere near children.

So we were stuck watching the children as they played, which I suppose wasn't too awful despite the cold that was beginning to chill me. It was still daylight but worryingly close to sunset when we received our first bit of good luck when in the distance we heard the cries of wolves beginning their hunts. Normally a worrying sign but Ylva's ears perking and wagging tail meant these wolves were fully under her sway, something she bragged about to me soon after we became established in these lands.

Now, all Ylva had to do was sneak away and draw the wolves without alarming the children, which was likely difficult but doable unless something went hideously wrong.

"Hey, look!" A girl shouted. "There's ponds here, and they're all iced over Weeeeeee!"

Oh no.

A large group of children immediately followed the girl onto an iced over pond, almost immediately I heard almost imperceptible cracks in the ice with each movement of the children on the ice and it seemed to be growing louder.

Ker-chink!

It was growing louder.

Without even thinking, I leapt from our hiding place and began bounding full sprint towards the children, shouting "GET OFF THE ICE!" as loud as my lungs could muster. It was to my horror that the children didn't move and just stood dumbfounded as I ran towards them. Even as the cracks in the ice reached a crescendo, a few children began to look down and slowly realise their imminent doom.

I would not let that happen, with a single bound I leapt the rest of the distance, my armoured hand becoming a nimbus of blue energy just as I was about to land and the ice to break fully underneath the children.

I land on my feet on the muck of the bottom of the pond as the ice and water parted to form a path directly to the shore. The children did not land so gracefully and flopped in confusion in the muck with the coordination of headless fish, bewildered by what just happened and the pond water now forming a wall around them.

"Go! I cannot hold the water forever!" I shout to the children with all the urgency that I could muster. True or not I did not truly know for sure but the bottom of a pond was not the place to find that out especially with children here and at risk!

Some of the children pushed their fellows up the path, eager to be away from the frigid water, taking an uncomfortably long time until they stopped right at the lip. Sounds of commotion and anger baffled me. Why weren't they leaving the pond?

I walked up, the muck providing no resistance to me, pushing the water further away from the group of children and widening the path. The children immediately ran to the new openings with surprising haste, making me even more confused as to what was going on beyond the lip of the pond. The snowball I received to my face, leaving me sputtering in confusion, answered that question, as did the cries of "Drown the witch!" from some of the older children and the boy who was leading them.

In disbelief at this nonsense and the mindset necessary to block fleeing children, I weathered the hail for a moment until the last child was out of the pond, the troublmakers aim thankfully not terribly accurate or strong, at least compared to the deluge from Ylva I recently endured. The moment the last child was out, a few strides and a flick of my guantled wrist sent the water back into the pond, the snow being pelted at me, scattering to the wind, and my extremely crossed self towering in front of some suddenly very frightened but extremely poorly behaved children who endangered the lives of their fellows.

I immediately recognized their leader as the pimply and lanky older boy who, through bravery or lack of sense, immediately shouted, "Come on! Rush the witch! We gotta drown the 'ore!"

"Do not use that language with me, young mister!" I lectured with a wag of my finger. "What were you thinking!"

The boy sneers at me "Da says I can say whatever I want to witches and 'ores! Smack them around and drown em! You're a witch and pumpkin thief, so we're gonna drown ya!" which was baffling as there were no pumpkins. The boy's proclamation also did not seem to inspire any one of the children but a few of the older boys and some girls, the rest simply looked at me with frightened eyes that broke my heart.

"That'd be unwise" came the low ominous voice of Ylva as she trotted up nearly silently to the children's ears, as one they turned to look only to stare in silent horror as her massive form cast a shadow over the entire group.

There was a heartbeat of silence from the children until the lanky boy yelled, "Wolf!" and, with fumbling speed, threw a snowball with such a lack of force that I was surprised it even landed on her paw. "Take that, you stupid mutt!" to the cheers of two of the older boys.

Ylva tilted her head in confusion with bafflement clear on her face, something I mimicked as I stared at the boy, wonderment in my heart at how an absence of sense could replace bravery so completely. The other children, to my joy, before it devolved into horror, looked at the lanky boy in horrified shock and began to back away, clearly ready to bolt into the woods where the danger would be tenfold and finding them all before they came to harm would be a nearly impossible task.

I can not express enough the sheer relief I felt when a pack of snarling wolves, over a dozen large and grey-furred, emerged from the woods at that very moment right in the path of the children, the farthest of whom practically lept back into the crowd with a scream as the wolves advanced.

A bark from Ylva and the pack immediately turned their heads to her, to which Ylva let loose another few barks, which seemed to be acknowledged by the pack, who began pacing along the border of the crowd, no longer snarling but clearly blocking any chance of escape from the children who had devolved into panicked whimpering.

I tried shouting, "Please, remain calm! You are in no danger!" but the crowd became increasingly inconsolable with each passing moment.

The lanky boy was not helping with him throwing more snowballs. "Come on, we could rush them!" he said, along with other increasingly unhelpful words.

Ylva, witnessing all of this, lost her patience, slamming her paw down with enough force to cause the ground to shake and several children to fall to the ground. "SHADDUP!" she roared, and silence at last fell over the clearing. She shot a glare at the now fallen lanky boy who was opening his mouth before saying, "Don't say anything, you stupid boy!" evidently finally getting through the boy's delusions that she toweringly huge wolf as his mouth slammed shut, the colour left his skin and… the snow around him got increasingly yellow. As the children shuffled away from the lanky boy in disgust, Ylva looked to me and spoke with a softness that seemed to be just as shocking to the crowd as her presence was: "Your turn."

The children looked to me, and I, for a moment, lost my courage and faltered under their gaze, but the necessity of getting them to safety brought it roaring back like a fire in my chest with each beat of my heart, and suddenly I knew exactly what I needed to say "Children… You have been tricked by Margaret." my voice was calm, but there was a power to it, a tone that seemed oddly familiar "a foul being who preys on the innocent and unwary. She planned on devouring you all, but it was only good fortune that you came here instead." I said this as gently as I could, I truely did not want them to be afraid and to listen to my words, it was to my great elation that they seemed to calm down and start listening to me!

"Nuh-uh!" One of the older boys said, one of the few who stuck close to the lanky boy who seemed to be furiously trying to silence them along with two others "She only eats unwanted brats! Da said so!"

There was shocked silence with that as I felt my eyes widen in shock with many of the children "You knew!" I stated in disbelief alongside one of the older girls, the power in my voice disappearing with the horror of this revelation.

"Stupid child! You were food also!" Ylva snapped, recovering from shock quicker than I could.

The boy faltered as he looked around at growing glares surrounding him while the lanky boy simply muttered in disbelief. "b-b-but this is everyone…"

Ylva growled in disgust, and I shared in it, but I needed to know more, so I kept my voice as calm and gentle as possible as I said, "Please, tell me everything that happened."

One of the smaller children spoke up though there were tears in his eyes, "T-the elders sent e-everyone away to the next village then… hic… said we needed to help old lady Margaret."

"There was going to be a reward…" A guilty looking older boy said and with that I finally pieced together what had happened: the village elders were promised a reward for giving over their children to the witch even though they knew what she was. Gnarl said the witch decieves villagers in order to feed on children but to know that and still give over your children… I have seen much evil in these past few months, but I am constantly surprised and sickened to keep finding even greater depths.

Once again, I swallow my disgust and spoke as gently as I could, "Hush now, children, we will take you home now.

"I will handle that." Ylva huffed before looking at me with a serious expression. "Witch expecting children, not justice, no hiding, but will grow suspicious."

I nodded as I understood what Ylva meant, if she were expecting children then whatever magic she used to conceal or defend her lair would be at its weakest… Probably, I knew not enough to be sure but I am sure now is the best time we had to bring this witch to justice.

The lanky boy spoke up in disbelief, also understanding what we were planning "Wait, you're going to fight old lady Margaret!? Who do you think you are!"

I nearly gave my name right then and there but thankfully caution strangled it in my throat before it could come out, even if they were my subjects I cannot give out my identity yet.

Ylva, again, came to the rescue with a happy yelp of, "We're heroes!" to the awed gasps of the children, which caused my spirit to soar and a smile to erupt from my lips. "Go," Ylva whispered to me before letting out a series of barks to the surrounding wolves, who began herding the children back in the direction they came. The children were nervous but not fearful except for the small band around the lanky boy who received glares from wolf and child alike.

I took that as my cue to leave, walking away towards our hiding spot… It was only then that I remembered that Ylva still possessed the helmet and that I had no means of contacting Gnarl, who remained oddly silent throughout that whole-

"Yipe!" I yiped as my foot collided with something hard, metal and pointed causing me to suddenly pitch forward and end up with a faceful of snow.

"About bloody time!" Came the voice from the partially buried helmet "What? The stupid mutt couldn't remember where she buried the priceless artefact of the Overlords after the two of you ran off to be blasted heroes!"

… Ylva, I am going to give you so many pats upon your belly when I see you again, I think as I brush myself off and pick up the cold helmet "Gnarl, gather the minions, my armour and my weapons." I say with the authority of someone who didn't just trip over a buried helmet.

"Eh? Why? What in the abyss did that mutt make me miss?"

I place the helmet upon my head, and despite not being able to see my face, I somehow knew my eyes flashed brighter in that moment "We are hunting a witch."

"... Seriously? Don't we have better things to do with our time?"

As always, thanks to @MysticKnightJoe for editing.

Please comment, discuss and criticize, as it is super appreciated.

 

[Zaealix]

Lanky boy have you no sense!?
Okay, the rest of the children it was a tragedy.
For him? How did he put it?
…
Oh my goodness he didn't say it one of his friends did.
"She only eats unwanted brats! Da said so!"

Boy, if you were older I'd say you were a poor judge of character.
But I suppose that's why you were friends with lanky dummy!

 

[Calico J]

Children frequently act stupidly. But, I mean, wow...y'all need to check the village well for lead contamination.

Thanks for the chapter!

 

[Bag of Bones]

A light snowfall trickled down through the forest's canopy onto the silent undergrowth of the forest floor as the sun began its descent past the horizon. The forest was quiet, almost peaceful. In fact, the only sound that could be heard outside my helmet was the occasional creaking of trees as the occasional breeze blew through the forest and the rustling clink of the metal plates of my armour rubbing against one another as I ran with purpose deeper and deeper into the centre of this forest.

The sounds inside my helmet, on the other hand, were… less than ideal. "A fine evening for evil, and you're wasting it hunting down an incompetent witch," Gnarl said through my helmet before I heard the unmistakable crunch of something being chewed upon.

I do my best to ignore it. Gnarl has been complaining the entire time, and despite how vexing he is, I can't lose focus. I know not what evil awaits me in the heart of this forest (mostly due to Gnarl being unhelpful), so I must keep my wits about me.

I hear the almost imperceptible creak of a branch to the left of me, and my eyes flick towards it to see a green-scaled tail disappear into a bush, followed by the sound of an irritated hiss. My eyes flick around quickly, and if I did not know what to search for, I would have missed the signs, shadows leaping through the tree branches and the soft crunch of snow as green shapes darted between drifts and bushes as around a hundred Green Minions moved around me, hunting for our quarry. I allow my lips to move upwards into a brief smile before I resume my focus on the task ahead of me. The Greens were my choice of Minion for this task, not only were they experts at stealth but they claimed they were natural hunters and eager to show off those skills to me. It is ironic that the skills of this breed of Minion, no doubt used by the Overlords of old for the dark deeds of assassinations and sabotage, would be used to bring justice to a truly evil individual.

It was not lost on me that I intended to use them the same way, only on a target far more deserving than their usual. Trickery and stealth may be considered dishonourable, but I knew not what this witch could unleash. Despite Gnarl's assurances that Margaret was a minor witch and of little threat, I had no idea what I was walking into, and I was not foolish enough to think that even a minor witch could not still be dangerous.

I slowed my speed, with how long we've been going we must be close to the centre of the forest now so I must now be truly and completely on guard. Each step needs to be measured and careful, my senses fully devoted to even the slightest-

"Oh? Who walks in my forest?"

I brought Warlock to bare from my back in the blink of an eye, the voice that seemed to come from nowhere was that of an old woman's, kind and sickly sweet but every word sent a chill down my spine. I scanned my surroundings, wondering if Ithilalme would have been more useful in this environment but I was not yet confident of my aim to wield it against the witch.

My aim with my magic, on the other hand, was more than sufficient.

The voice spoke again, "Oh my! A fairy queen! Old Margaret has not seen one of you in ages and so strong as well!" I do not know if the new eagerness in the witch's voice was worse than the false kindness, but her words made me grip the warlock even tighter, for I was not aware she could see my identity through my armour! The witch apparently didn't know exactly who I was and mistook me for a true fairy queen like mother and grandmother, but the fact she could see from this…

"To come so far and so alone, why you must be truly desperate to see old Margaret! Is it illness, forbidden love? Oh, I shouldn't be so presumptuous, but it has been so long since I've gotten a guest of your calibre! Please come to me, come to Margaret." Her words confused me; did she not see I was armed and armoured? She also made no mention of the Minions which either meant she had not noticed them or she was lulling me into a trap.
I can't afford to doubt myself at this point; I have to press forward, and so I did with sword at the ready. Each step I took, the forest around me seemed to become more unnatural. The trees seemed to be forced to come closer, blocking out light from the setting sun and any sight of the forest beyond. The trees themselves were twisted into an unrecognisable shape. instead of the great numbers of spruce and birch, I had passed on my way here, my heart ached for them, for they did not deserve to have been abused by the witch.

I felt a chill in the air, colder than even the winter air, and my vision began to blur. But I blinked, and it was gone, a warmth in my heart pushing it away. My eyes flicked around to see the cause, but all I could see was that the forest shifted behind me. The twisted trees blocked my passage, but forward was a dirt path lined with ancient standing stones leading ever deeper into the forest.

For some reason I could not yet explain, the sight of the stones filled me with an almost indescribable amount of dread, but outside of the occasional weary eye, I ignored the portant and pressed forward, each step calculated with warlock at the ready.

The forest loomed around me, but it did not feel like the lands of darkness or even the Netherworld, where evil was ever present, ever watchful, ever waiting to pounce, but here… The land felt as if it was being lashed, bent forcibly by cruelty and spite into its current form. I shuddered from the sensation, the pain of the forest, as it washed over me. A desire to somehow bring comfort to the land, to find some way to ease its pain, nearly overwhelmed me, but the sound of an owl's hoot from somewhere ahead of me startled me back into focus by nearly making me jump out of my skin and bare Warlock in the direction of the sound.

"Pfft, what an amateur display." Gnarl scoffed in my ear before I heard the crunch of something hard being chewed upon as I steady myself and I bit my tongue to not send a scathing remark back at him as the owl gave off the same hoot… from right behind me?

It was the same owl from the sound of it, but surely it would not come near me to just hoot at me? The hoot sounded strange as well, nothing like I've heard in these lands.

My answer came from the witch's voice: "My, my, are you scared of a little owl? Don't worry; it won't hurt you, but you might want to quicken your pace. Wolves hunt in these woods." And then I heard the howl of a wolf in the distance, a howl that unnaturally cut itself off right before the end, and suddenly I realised what the witch was doing.

I quickened my pace, face burning and cursing myself under my breath. An illusion! The thing I should have been prepared for from the beginning! The witch is playing with me!

"That's it! You're almost here!" I heard the witch exclaim from somewhere in front of me as I continued along the path. " Why must you be frozen stiff to be so silent? Don't worry; Old Margaret has soup to warm your bones, and we can have a long chat by the fire."

The fake howls grew louder, and I broke into a run, Warlock at the ready. I knew not what awaited me ahead, but I would meet it head-on with magic and blade.

The witch couldn't help but laugh. "Yes, quickly now! The wolves are close! But you'll be nice and safe in my cottage." My run became a sprint, and a growl of hate for this witch came deep from within my chest, I raised my gauntleted hand to cast as the path led me into a clearing, and I first beheld the witch and her cottage. "Quickly, into my coooOH FUCK!" Her scream of shock gave me my target, and I let loose my fury

Krack-thoom!

I dug Warlock into the ground to prevent myself from being blasted backwards by the recoil of my lightning, but all it did was keep me on my feet, leaving a deep gouge in the ground. My head shot up to see the damage I had inflicted, and I let out a growl of frustration.

On top of a mound, surrounded by standing stones, was a surprisingly modern-looking two-story cottage with small windows, a shingled roof and a brick chimney and wooden steps leading up to it. If not for its occupant and the now shattered upper story, it would have been a nice place to live. Speaking of the occupant, I could see the witch staring at me wide eyed with greenish swamp coloured eyes, at first glance she looked like any old woman in the numerous villages in these lands but her form shifted and her true monstrous appearance became revealed. Hunchbacked, corpse-skinned, deformed and clad in expensive furs and jewels that clearly were not meant for her or were stitched from smaller outfits, the… thing was a horrific parody of every elderly woman I had ever seen. A wrinkled triangular face with a too large mouth filled with fangs and broken teeth hung open in pure terror. She had an inhumanly long, hooked, and crooked nose with equally long and crooked limbs. Inhumanly long hands and fingers pushed her up as the witch scrambled to her feet, shrieking, "OVERLORD!?" with a voice filled with raw terror and disbelief.

And with that word, the minions were upon her as, with a snarl, ten green minions lept from seemingly nowhere, blades ready to sink into her.

Only for the minions to tumble down the mound, cries of confusion coming from them as the witch scrambled back into the house, slamming the door behind her.

"Well, that's new." I hear Gnarl exclaim in bafflement as, with a roar, I let loose another blast of lightning after her, only to be left in disbelief as the bolt swerves away from the house and shatters nearby trees. "That's really new! How in the abyss did she do that!"

I didn't answer, too focused on chasing the witch. I took off running after her, passing the inner ring of standing stones and-

A wave of dread washed over me seemingly out of nowhere, like I was before the lair of some terrible monster like the colossal sea serpent again. I skid to a stop in sheer shock, almost tripping over my feet as my eyes inadvertently locked onto the cottage and mound, the seeming source of the dread and the nearly overwhelming desire to run as fast as I could away from this accursed place.

At least until I heard the words "Eh? What's gotten into you?" from that ever-present voice from my helmet, and I shook my head to clear whatever magic the witch had just thrown at me.

"It's nothing," I respond with an air of frustration as I began moving. The dread did not leave, but I could move forward again. My approach was slower and more cautious than it was, but it was enough that I reached the cottage's door at a decent pace. I hesitated for but a moment, wondering what the witch had in store for me and what would be the best move to counteract. The unnatural dread was nearly palpable now and distracting me from deciding. Yet, that moment was enough for me to be caught completely by surprise by the door suddenly swinging open.

With a war screech, I swung Warlock where the Witch's head would be, and the edge of my blade sunk deep.

Into the edge of the doorframe.

Stench, unperturbed by the fact that a taller creature would have had their head cleaved off and the high-pitched panicked scream of a princess making a fool of herself, stood in the entranceway with a look of utter frustration and reported in a voice just as frustrated, "Witch Gone-gone!"

"What?" I said, gobsmacked, both hands still gripping the now very stuck sword.

Stench just threw up his claws in a shrug of frustration and walked back into the cottage, where I could hear some things that were very expensive and fragile come crashing to the floor and the many furious hissing of Green Minions as they presumably performed their version of a thorough search of the building.

After confirming that I possessed neither the strength or weight to dislodge Warlock from the doorframe and doing my utmost best to ignore Gnarl's uproarious laughter, I followed Stench into the building with my hand outstretched and ready to cast whatever spell I needed.

What first struck me as I entered the house was how normal the building looked from the interior: A standard entry hall with a staircase leading to the second floor, far below in status to anything I was familiar with, but I could reasonably assume that glass chandeliers (now shattered on the carpeted floor) were not common in the lairs of evil witches. If not for its occupant and isolation, at first glance, you could actually say this would have been a decent dwelling to live in.

"Well, well, well. Looks like the old hag has been doing quite well with her conning." I heard Gnarl say as the sounds of Green Minions tearing through cloth and fine porcelain echoed around me. "Look at the walls. Can you see the runes beneath the plaster? That explains how nothing could touch her."

I could just faintly see the carvings, as Gnarl had pointed out, in corners and over the doorway, as well as within the chandelier's glass. "She is far more skilled with magic than you told me, Gnarl," I say with frustration in my voice, to which Gnarl scoffed.

"Hah, I doubt it. Unless Margaret suddenly became a professional in multiple architectural fields, those runes were part of the original construction." Gnarl explained and I must admit he had a point, this house looked far too professional to be the construction of a single witch regardless of how much wealth she schemed away from the nearby villages. "Now, I've been out of the industry for a while, but I can recognize the work of a professional architect. The witches' council (the governing body of witches like Margaret) must have contracted someone quite extraordinary to build such a house for the old hag, and those don't come cheap, so why go through the effort for someone so isolated and pathetic?"

"Witches' council? Are they aligned with the Sentinels?" I asked as I scanned the stairs leading to the second floor, not daring to move from the entry hall. I could hear Minions all over the house, which suggested I could safely search, but I needed to be sure. That and the dread I've been feeling seemed to be even stronger inside the cottage. There was something here, something dangerous, and I knew not what action would draw danger to me.

Gnarl was silent for a few seconds. "No, No, I doubt it. They were always focused on causing their brand of mischief on the populace and there's certainly no love for the Sentinels after the rise of the Glorious Empire decimated them and forced them into hiding." I could imagine Gnarl stroking his goatee as he said, "But, I never saw them spending inordinate amounts of gold on failures like Margaret, so who knows how things have changed since last I checked in."

For a brief moment, I sickened myself imagining the kind of organization that would allow a child murderer such as Margaret to do as they pleased when my attention was suddenly drawn to the flash of greenish light from the embedded runes and the loud screeching voice of the witch echoed in all our ears from them. "OF COURSE AN ABYSS DAMNED OVERLORD WOULD SHOW UP AND RUIN EVERYTHING! YOU LOT ARE WORSE THAN THAT DAMN TROLL IN TIMING!"

My hand was a nimbus of magic, ready to strike even though I had half a mind to cover my ears from the deafening and no doubt magically enhanced yelling of the witch.

"That little shit Gnarl must have figured it out… siced another of those fairy arse loving Overlords on me. Should have never listened to Brenda, council shits too damned worried about that damn troll and not enough about a fucking Overlord! If they find the sigil, years of work would be ruined! … No, those tinheads would never think of looking there!" I heard the witch then mumble clearly before her voice confusedly became louder again. "He he he, You didn't expect old Margaret to give you the slip, you damn fairy fucker, but I did! Now you can just sit there and mope while I am free to continue the plan! Hehehehehe!"

I had half a mind to yell back at the witch through her cackling before Gnarl said with an almost bored tone, "Don't bother with one of those irritating heroic speeches, princess. This magic is one way, so we're stuck listening to the damned witch, mind her evil laugh has improved since the last time I heard it, D for effort."

Annoyed that Gnarl predicted what I was going to do, I consigned myself to listen to the witch's continuing laughter. "Hehehe! You, that damn troll and the empire are going to get what's coming to you! No one will mock Margaret ever again as I… and the rest of the witches, will reign supreme!" the witch's proclamation which caused me to let out a sigh of exhaustion, is it just my fate to deal with an endless parade of villains causing unending misery in some mad bid for power? "Now, how do I turn this off? Do I press this or-"

"Finally!" Came the voice of a Green Minion from somewhere in the building the moment the witch's voice cut off to a chorus of agreement and the resumption of destruction.

I, on the other hand, just asked Gnarl, "How far do you think she is? Can we find her?"

Gnarl just laughed. "Considering her defences were apparently meant to be used in case of Ologul, what do you think?" My fist clenched hard enough to be painful, and I dearly wanted to level this foul building in retribution, but I stayed my hand for the simple reason that Gnarl voiced. "So, how about you start looking for that sigil and anything else that could explain what the Witches' council were up to here? I must say that whole tirade got me curious."

"Whatever they were planning, they were going to use the children for it," I growl out in disgust.

"An accurate assumption, princess. A sacrifice of that scale could certainly power some extremely potent dark magic, which makes me all the more curious as to what it is they're planning."

Disgust and anger grew inside me to the point of bursting. It was a small relief when I heard Stench call from an open door to what was presumably the living room: "Mistress! Found-found trapdoor!"

Taking a deep breath to steady myself, I turned and entered the living room "Good work Ste-" I began to say only to cut myself off with a gasp of horror; the living room, ignoring the destroyed furniture and paintings, could have been called the picture perfect example of the modern living room with fine curtains and embroidered furniture. The fireplace, in particular, would certainly be of a familiar style for those who enjoyed a level of wealth that I was not familiar with, but upon that fireplace's mantle were what could only be five small human skulls, meticulously cleaned and serving as candle holders.

I stared at the skulls, mouth working up and down in horror at the sheer vileness on literal display before me.

"Yes, those are skulls; now, if you could look at that bloody trapdoor and get some value out of this waste of time." Gnarl reprimands without an ounce of sympathy or care but, and it pains me to admit this, he's right. We need to find out what that witch was planning so I tear my eyes away from the skulls and look towards the shredded carpet and the three green minions surrounding what is very clearly a trap door in the floor.

"Be ready for anything," I order the Minions and obediently brandish claws and knives, ready to pounce on whatever emerges from below as I reach for the handle built into the trapdoor and, with a grunt of exertion, pull it open.

No horrors poured out, and no cries of a startled villain greeted us, only the smell of dust and the faintest hint of a metallic scent, which only briefly lasted before the smell of the Minions overpowered it.

"Smellsss like old death." A Green muttered as they peeked into whatever lay below.

"Old-old, not witch." Agreed Stench as he clambered forward for a better look.

Curious I leaned over for a better look as well, my left hand alight with a nimbus of magic and my heart for some reason pounding in my ears. The dread had returned, and as I peeked down, it only grew in ever greater intensity; the trapdoor was guarding a ladder leading down a several-meter-long shaft into the mound below us, but instead of a chamber at the bottom like you would expect, I only saw a stone slab with some kind of circular sigil carved into the rock.

The sigil was a mess of circles and runes that distressingly glinted with some dried liquid, but other than that, I saw nothing that gave any indication of what exactly I was looking at or its purpose.

Gnarl hummed to himself. "Well, that's a rather advanced magical sigil and familiar too… Now, why would the Witch's council dig into a mound to carve a… No! It can't be! GET OUT! GET OUT NOW!"

Gnarl's sudden yell of panic was so unexpected that I nearly jumped out of my skin and fell into the shaft, but several scaled claws held me back. "Wha!!" was all I could muster as I landed backwards onto my bottom onto an unfortunate but strangely happy-sounding Minion.

"RUN! GET OUT NOW!" Gnarl screamed again with an urgency and fear I had never heard him utter before, and I would later thank the goddess herself that I listened to him and my pounding, fearful heart. I half crawled half ran to the exit before going into a dead sprint down the mound as soon as I made it past the door. Minions poured out of the cottage in a green tide. Their pace was instinctually slower than mine as they were ready to lay down their lives to facilitate their mistress' escape.

I ran into the woods, not even daring to look back and not stopping even as a chunk of Netherworld rock erupted in front of me. The chunk had not even finished unfurling as I dove into the portal, feeling that sense of displacement and landing on the hard floor of the Netherworld. Beside myself, I could hear a panting Gnarl speak, "If even a drop of your blood landed on that sigil… By the abyss with the Tower Heart inside you, your very presence could have been enough!"

In one swift motion, I got to my feet and removed my helmet, silver-white hair cascading around me and sweat running down my face. I turned and looked at the paler Gnarl and asked, "Gnarl, what was that?"

Gnarl fixed with a look of absolute seriousness. "That, Princess, was the incomplete rune of awakening for the Draugr Jarl buried in that burial mound and if it had awakened, we, Ologul, the idiotic witches, the entire north! All of us would be on the fast track to slavery in undeath."

Another dastardly plot revealed! As if Elenaril had enough on her plate to deal with!

As always, thanks to @MysticKnightJoe for editing.

Please comment, discuss and criticize, as it is super appreciated.

 

[Zaealix]

Ooooh.
REALLY sucks that we're working on what minions the Blues can keep going instead of having a Minion Hive or two to work with!

 

[Bag of Bones]

"It was almost a thousand years ago," Gnarl explains as I, still clad in armour, and the newly returned and triumphant, Ylva sat at the dining room table. "Your grandfather was still a young, for an elf, prince and the Empire of Light had only a few centuries under its belt. After decades of war and chaos, everyone was looking forward to a century or two of peace."

"Except you," Ylva growled.

Gnarl just laughed. "Hah, shows what you know. The Overlords of the time preferred the shadows, working their evil through the merchants, the nobility, and the priests." Gnarl then stroked his goatee with a nostalgic expression. "It turned out we were just in competition with the evil of the merchants, the nobility, and the priests, so we then switched tactics to-."

"Gnarl…" I said, trying to get him back on track instead of further informing and depressing me about the history of corruption in the Empire.

"Ah yes, our impending doom." Gnarl reminds himself before continuing his story. "Well, here in the north, the Northmen, observant of this newfound prosperity for the Empire, decided that they wanted to partake in it as well, so they promptly decided to pillage the entire coastline."

"The Northmen invasions," I state, eyes widening in realisation and remembrance.

"Ah, so the Princess isn't completely uneducated, though I suppose gloating can be a form of education." Gnarl snarked as I blushed; he was, unfortunately, not wrong. What little I knew of the invasions were the names of famous battles and conversions, lovingly retold through the art that adorned the palace and what little my tutors deemed to share with me. It was not a woman's place to know the details, only the triumph of true faith against the pagans, they repeatedly told me as they attempted to crush my curiosity.

How much was I robbed of because of that?

Gnarl continued his tale, "Anyway, this continued through the decades, great bloody raids evolving into wars and vice versa as land and treasure were exchanged in both conflict and tribute. Oh, it was such a wonderful time! Especially once we learned that with the right amount of coin to the right hands can put an army of pillaging Northmen in the exact place you want them, be it to kill the right people or die to the right deviously implemented trap."

Ylva growled, "I knew it! I knew you were involved in this!"

Gnarl rolled his eyes. "Of course, we were bloody involved! They were men! Men with hearts full of greed for riches, land and wenches, like we were going to ignore a chance to puppet the kings and jarls of the north to our advantage!"

"And the Empire did the same," I state with gloom in my voice at having to agree with Gnarl. "To turn the pagan to the faith and send them against the heathens who refuse."

Gnarl gives me a nod. "Hrrm, yes, of course, bribes, treaties, and vassalizations were the more common method. Everyone including among the northmen were looking to exploit the situation to their advantage, kingdoms rose and fell in the north because of this over the centuries of the invasions." Gnarl's expression then became grave. "Then came the Draugr King."

My brow furrowed. "I do not recognize that title, but surely, if this king was part of the invasions, some knowledge of his existence would have passed to me."

"Draugr is the northmen name for what he became, his living name is probably more familiar to you: Hastein the Accursed!"

My eyes widened at the mention of that name as I realised that I had absolutely no recollection of that name ever being taught to me in any significant detail.

"Yes… Hastein the Accursed, infamous even in the north for his savagery, greed, lack of anything resembling morals and general debauchery," Gnarl continues, not noticing my lack of recognition. "Also, a surprisingly good wood carver, won the local evil wood sculpting competition three years running! Without cheating! Bloody bastard cost me a fortune in bets until we bribed the judges to have it on a different day, then he couldn't attend due to scheduling conflicts and-"

"Gnarl…" I gently chastise.

"Right… Outside of lording his carving abilities over us, Hastein also likes performing blood eagles on rivals (also city populations), pillaging women, land and gold and most important of all, Collecting knowledge of dark sorcery even from the Overlord's personal collection!"

"Oh, of course, he's a sorcerer who stole from an Overlord!" Ylva groaned, "That's just what we needed!"

"Indeed, mutt, but this is where the story becomes strange, for you see Hastein was getting long in years with injuries catching up to him, driving him even more looney than he was. His obsession with dark magic only grew, but the accounts we got from spies told us of dark spells being cast that should have been far beyond him and the knowledge he collected was only used to augment these rituals. We thought he was looking for a way to extend his life, and at one point he probably was, but from there… things become sketchy," Gnarl explains, "The whole kingdom became almost cultish until one day he and his army just packed up their treasures and weapons and travelled further north into the wilderness with not a word as to where they were going."

"And when he returned… he was a Draugr?" I surmise to Gnarl's nod of confirmation.

"Yes, for months, the dreams of the north were plagued with the sound of far-off laughter in frigid blizzards until the snows came, and then that laughter became very real. Villages were found pillaged, livestock mad and soon to be dead, and the peasants slaughtered, but their bodies would mysteriously vanish with the night as if they got up and walked away. The north, in a surprising show of pattern recognition, blamed a Draugr for these attacks, but no one was prepared for the scale of what we were about to face!" Gnarl then fixed me with a serious stare "To understand the scale of the problem you must know what a Draugr is, Princess; Draugr are an extremely deadly variant of cursed undead, they bring death and misfortune to the living out of hatred, envy and spite."

"These Draugr sound like something an Overlord would create," I say accusingly, and Gnarl shrugs.

"Eh, a curse here and there may have caused a localized outbreak or two in the past, but that's not the point! Draugr possess far greater strength than they had in life, the ability to shift their size and pass through walls like air, spit fire and frost, even control the weather. Some could shapeshift, spread disease and curses, but the most infamous of their abilities was that those slain by the undead would then themselves rise as Draugr."

"By the goddess…" Ylva and I whisper in horror.

"So after we figured out what was happening and the threat of an undead apocalypse became apparent, evil and good decided on a temporary truce before things got truly dire and launched a counterattack; oh the battles were legendary with some cataclysmic spells being thrown around, Ologul made quite a name for himself in those battles and so did your grandfather."

I smiled a bit at that. "Grandfather would have fought the Draugr king singlehandedly if it meant sparing innocents from harm," I said, imagining with pride how heroic my grandfather would have been in those days.

Gnarl just scratched the back of his head. "Well, uh, he did and a fair number of the Jarls, too… Sure, there were some other heroes with him, but from all accounts, it was mostly your grandfather going on a warpath."

"Oh, that's good too… Wait, then why was that Draugr Jarl buried in the middle of the woods? Surely, my grandfather would have destroyed such a threat in its entirety." I ask, quickly realising the fallacy and absurdity of our current predicament if my grandfather was involved.

"Oh, he definitely would have tried, but unfortunately for us all, that final battle with the Draugr king left Ilimitar grievously wounded, and he fell into a coma after breaking the curse that bound the Draugr king's army to him," Gnarl explained before he spoke with disgust, "Then his precious allies, those idiotic heroes, decided that sealing the Draugr king and his Jarls in tombs across the north was better than just destroying them!"

"WHAT!" Both myself and Ylva exclaimed in unison before I spoke in disbelief. "Why would they decide that was the correct response!?"

Gnarl shrugged and retorted, "How in the infernal abyss should I know? It's not like those heroes consulted evil before deciding on sealing away the Draugr, and our efforts to discover the tombs or at least find out why sealing was decided upon was, of course, met with suspicion. I do know your grandfather was enraged when he awoke from his coma and that the heroes were well aware of how to permanently kill a Draugr despite their excuses (fire and scattering the ashes with optional decapitation, by the way), but the heroes were celebrities, and your grandfather's righteous rage was associated with us in a far too cleverly designed smear campaign, almost costing him the throne despite even your father's ancestor, the emperor of the time, siding with him."

"... They were told not to," I surmise as an epiphany strikes me. "Someone wanted those Draugr to not be destroyed, it is the only explanation."

"That and/or immense stupidity as is common in the forces of good, though I am certain they weren't expecting your grandfather to survive nor him to be a right thorn in the side. The Elf King is clever and would have made every effort to minimize what they could gain from the Draugr and probably made more than one secret incursion to the north to hunt down and destroy the tombs."

"But why was that tomb in the hands of the witch? King Ilimitar would never let such a tomb fall into evil's hands, even if he had to do it in secret!" Ylva says.

"Maybe he couldn't destroy them or protect them…" I theorise, "Could wards or guards have awoken the Draugr Jarl?"

Gnarl's eyes widen. "Yes… and those heroes might have placed a curse on the mound to prevent anyone from disturbing it! Those fools!"

"Yet the witch managed to build her house on top of one," Ylva grumbled with suspicion.

"Maybe it's a specifically triggered curse or the witch knew something we don't, the point is we have a very dangerous situation on our hands. The ritual the witch was attempting was a misguided attempt to control the Jarl and would have only awoken and enraged him, and when one Jarl wakes, they all will," Gnarl ominously explains.

"Then we need to hunt down that witch and take her alive," I conclude. "We need to find out where she learned that ritual and who is backing her."

Gnarl nods. "For once, I am in complete agreement with you. Margaret may be a pawn, but she had to get her marching orders from somewhere, and there has to be a reason why they would choose now of all times to try and awaken the Draugr."

"But how will we find her? Even with everything we have, it would take weeks, maybe months, to search the entire north and with Ologul and Sentinels at doorstep…" Ylva points out the obvious flaw causing us all to slump, the north is too massive to search and none of us know where to even begin.

We were silent after that; Gnarl began to pace in contemplation while Ylva stared at the ceiling, giving an occasional growl indicating she had discarded an idea. I simply sat in my chair, tapping a gauntleted finger against the table.

After an hour, the silence was broken by Mortis entering the room and announcing, "The ritual is disrupted and unmade, the dead still slumber in their tomb, and the witch's vendetta against Ologul has been delayed." Causing us all to breathe a sigh of relief, Mortis took it upon himself to ensure that the Draugr would not awaken when I returned despite the risk, and I am ever so grateful he did.

I am wondering if it would be wrong to trouble him again and ask him to roll his bones for a path forward, about the witch and about the Draugr.

But before I could ask, Ylva barked, "Ologul! That's it!"

"Eh? What are you on about mutt?" Gnarl snapped while Ylva gave a smug expression back.

"Ologul is a smart troll, yes? Smart enough to give King Ilimitar trouble, King Ilimitar was always smart enough to know evil's moves before they did."

"No matter how small or insignificant," Gnarl states in awe as the realisation hits him. "Mutt, your brain has some capability for thought! How in the abyss didn't I realise that!"

The realisation hits me as well, "Even if he didn't consider her a threat, the resources put into her house would at least draw his curiosity, and he must have done something to draw Margaret's ire!" I state the obvious, head whirling at the implications.

"Knowing Ologul, he was probably waiting to see what their plan was so he could demolish it and discover the full extent of their operations, not realising the Witches have gone completely insane." Gnarl states, "Huh… You know I'm not mad about that blindspot, even the most brain dead of Minions wouldn't attempt such a stupid plan."

"That is somehow more terrifying than the horde of giant cursed undead," Ylva replied; Gnarl and I both nodded in agreement.

"Indeed, Mutt, but once Ologul learns of the Witches' true plans, he and his displeased master will throw everything they have into correcting his mistake, giving us some much-needed breathing room for however long it'll take them to hunt down these witches." Gnarl said, and while that was reassuring, I had a premonition of dread.

"Gnarl… Ologul serves the Sentinels; would we not further inflame the witch hunts?"

Gnarl rolled his eyes at me. "Of course, the hero would be concerned about that. Well, as much as it sickens me to confirm this, you don't need to worry your pretty little head about that. Ologul, and most certainly his master as well, prefer the subtle hand. Witch hunts are loud, chaotic affairs that are indiscriminate in what they destroy, a problem for when you have questions, and the Emperor of Darkness certainly has many questions and grudges to settle. This will be handled in darkness with light non the wiser, with poisoned tipped blades and whispered threats, all to ensure no one cocks things up and lets something important slip through his fingers."

I still have my doubts, but… This is our best move for more than just stopping the reawakening of the Draugr King; if the forces of darkness are preoccupied with hunting down Margaret and whatever masters she serves then that leaves us some breathing room to not only carry out my plan to save my grandfather but maybe even give us an opening to stop my father and reclaim the empire from the Sentinels.

But that still leaves actually getting the forces of darkness to begin hunting down the witches. "Gnarl, how will we even inform Ologul about this? There is little reason for him to trust our word or for him to even accept whatever form of communication we could possibly send to him."

Gnarl looked strangely shiftier than normal for a moment before clearing his throat. "That, ahem, is something you don't have to worry about, Princess; I know exactly how to get his attention and deliver a message to him that he will actually pay attention to without Ologul smashing any of us in the process; just need to make the correct standard. I can ensure by the end of the week, the message will be received, and Ologul will be hunting down this witch and the rest of her conspirators."

That is reassuring, though I wonder how exactly a standard would be to get Ologul to trust a message from us. Fortune still smiles on us. "That is good to hear, Gnarl; once Ologul and his army are off hunting, retrieving the Hive should be far simpler." I say in relief.

Both Gnarl and Ylva start at that as if they had forgotten all about the Hive, though Gnarl recovers in an eyeblink. "That it will, princess, Ologul will be left with a sunken fortress and will be too busy hunting down the witch to retaliate! Ah I love it when fortune favours a scheme."

"Heh, Elenaril sounding more like King Ilimitar every day," Ylva remarks with pride, causing my face to turn very hot.

"N-no… G-grandfather is so m-much cleverer than I am, this is just a l-lucky moment." I say trying to dissuade Ylva's praise and keep myself humble, it still caused a smile to form on my lips and my heart to swell with pride.

Ylva just playfully nuzzled me in response, causing me to yelp and giggle as I was pushed off my chair and onto the ground.

Gnarl just gagged. "Ugh, I am going to work on the standard before I lose my lunch. Do your disgusting 'affection' somewhere I can't see or hear it." and with that, he scampers off.

As I stroke Ylva's snout, I can't help but feel a pit of worry though in my stomach; we are lucky that Ologul and his master will focus solely on hunting down these witches, but I am not so naive to think that I won't have to manipulate my foes against each other again in the future, too many terrible foes are arrayed against me and those I love to not seek out what advantages we can against them, I can only hope that I can find a way to ensure no innocents are harmed in the crossfire… and that I do not darken my soul to so.

And if I can not…

… Then I will make a way, I refuse to take the path of least resistance and let innocents suffer just for an easier chance.

That is not who I am.

That is not who I will ever be.

Well, that was quite a bit of exposition. Hopefully, Elenaril will be able to steal back the hive next time!

As always, thanks to @MysticKnightJoe for editing.

Please comment, discuss and criticize, as it is super appreciated.

 

[Zaealix]

…I feel like Gnarl's plan goes like this:
Step 1:make standard with either blackmail or scandalous message.
Step 2: Chase Scene!
Step 3:Show Troll proof of Witchy madness.
Step4: ???
Step 5:Steal Hive while Troll hunts Witch..
Step 6: Profit!