“Well, are ye three goin’ to stand around gawking at me, like I’m some sorta devil, or whatever ye worship? Let’s leave this place, while this giant snake is still recovering!” Harold the barbarian then took off, running onto a dirt road, barely distinguishable on the swampy ground. The Dark Lord thought for a moment, and just before he made the decision whether or not to follow the imbecile on legs has been picked up by the death knight barbarian, placed into the armpit, and carried away in the same direction, while the skeleton barely kept up with the fighters’ fast pace. The necromancer, for his part, kept yelling and screaming, demanding to be put down, but inexplicably the undead minion refused to listen. Be it magical interference, lack of hearing, or even deep held instinct, he did not know, but he did not care about it either. However, just before he cast a spell that would surely destroy the insubordinate undead, an incredible crashing sound came from behind them. Luckily, the wizard had just enough maneuverability to look in the direction of the noise. Unluckily, the wizard saw what he did not not want to see.
A serpent head was following close behind, its eyes narrowed, mouth watering, nostrils widened. The hydra’s notorious physiology allowed one of its necks to grow to incredible lengths, to keep up with the strangers’ run, while the rest of its heads and body took care of the obstacles in closer proximity, such as pesky trees that stood between it and its lunch. According to bursts of crows in the sky, the body was quite a ways for now, but the reach of its necks was evidence of the incredible amount of heads on its body and that the necromancer’s plan of destroying the creature in one fell swoop was doomed for failure, no matter how high-level a spell he would cast. But in a moment of panic, the necromancer had not a single thought neither of doom nor fate, but a simple matter of survival.
A fireball cast can do a number of things both beneficial and destructive. It can be a demolition spell for construction workers in large cities. It can be a great tactical step in eliminating your enemies. It can even be a party trick with the right combination of colors. What it can’t do is keep the trees from bursting into fire. Some would say it is its only function, and so should not be used in any forested environment, but whether or not the Dark Lord held such a conversation with someone before mattered not, for the actions speak much louder than words.
The serpentine head exploded on impact with the spell, and so did twenty or so trees in the vicinity. Burning branches flew in every direction, bringing flames to the dying trees around, which burst into flames. Spark after inevitable spark spread the fire quickly and surely. An impenetrable wall grew between the pursuer and the pursued, as black smoke of filth rushed into the sky, blocking what little sunlight there was. Long dancing shadows crossed the surroundings, like stripes of a tiger, a new hunter for the quartet of runners. But with the main threat gone it took no time for them to exit the dark damp swamp. The column of fire in the distance grew smaller every time they looked back at it, and nature itself took it upon oneself to prevent the world of another disaster as dark wet clouds found their place above the epicenter.
With a moment to spare and rest, the Dark Lord’s commands finally penetrated the thick helmet and skull of his death knight minion, and the necromancer was put down on his pair of feet. With a solid ground beneath his feet, and the imminent danger somewhere far from here, the necromancer finally did what he wanted to do for the past half a year, and a vast bombardment of almost every spell known to him flew in the direction of the barbarian, who so rudely saved his life. When the dust settled, the imbecile was nowhere to be found. Expected for sure, but what was not was a fist in its place aimed straight into his face.
Punch, crunch, bump, and the view changed from an empty dusty field on the forest edge to a dark cloudy sky. The red-haired and bearded face of Harold entered the scene and said something. The something was drowned out by the ringing in the evil wizard’s ears, so with no way out left, the barbarian grabbed the necromancer by the collar, raised him in the air, and shook him vigorously, until some sort of bearing fell back into its rightful slot. “Can ye hear me now, ya lousy moron?” the warrior rudely asked. The Dark Lord meekly nodded. “Good. Now, lemme repeat meself. WHAT THE FECK WAS THAT FOR?!”
“What was that for?! You foolish simpleton, you dare embark upon my lands, fail to kill the monster that pesters me, make it stronger, and expect me to greet you with a cup of tea and a biscuit?!”
“Well, I…”
“You should be thankful that I decided to kill you on the spot instead of turning you into my minion! You cannot imagine what horrors I would have put you through just to amuse me, what tasks you would have embarked upon to satiate my thirst for power, what devious demonic rituals you would have assisted me in accomplishing! You would have been a great addition to my army, but I spared you this fate, so that your death would have quick and painless!”
“... Thanks?”
Stolen story; please report.
“Do not thank me, mortal imbecile, but your sly ‘girlfriend’ Chardra!” The necromancer’s disdain for the word ‘girlfriend’ was evident as the mocking tone used was high-pitched, piercing the eardrums of every creature in the vicinity. “Speaking of, where is that wretched drow cow?! She sent you here to die, but what for?! Tell me now, you ignorant swine!”
Harold’s grip weakened, and the wizard was put back on the ground panting for air after the prolonged tirade. The barbarian’s face grew stern and determined, but he spoke uncharacteristically meekly: “She did not send me here, ye idiot.”
“Then where is she?!”
“At her homeland I presume, trying to conquer it.” The barbarian’s words sound defeated and unsure. There was something in his tone of voice that suggested an obvious subcontext that the warrior did not wish to say out loud. However, instead of voicing the obvious, the necromancer let Harold continue his speech, just to have a confirmation of the supposed events. “See… that’s why I’m here, lass. Chardy and I had been having some arguments lately. Last one was a big’un, and she did some sorta teleport thing, and I can’t find ‘er.”
That confirmed it. The drow rogue known as Chardra Kenund has finally left this imbecile of a man to pursue whatever it is she wanted to pursue. World domination most likely, as that is all the villains usually strove for. The necromancer was somewhat glad that the woman finally came to her senses and left this ball of muscle for something more worthy of her undeniably beautiful stature. “How is this a problem of mine? Chardra was always a woman of her own wims, and even I, the great Dark Lord, could not convince her to do anything she didn’t want to.”
“I know, I know. That’s my Chardy, that’s why she was so fascinating to me but… I just need to see her, have a conversation, and get things straight. Out of everyone, I know ye would know her more, so I came here to ask for a favor, and help me find her.”
Finding Chardra was an easier task said than done. The Dark Lord knew her, knew her well, enough to know that if she did not want to be found, no one would. And a moment of brilliance struck the necromancer: she broke up with this imbecile barbarian without even acknowledging the break up. She must have known that this idiot would seek help of one and only person that knew her well enough to find her in the first place, who was the one and only Dark Lord himself. Chardra knew that this Harold guy would seek him, ask him for help to find her, and inevitably the wizard and the rogue would once again meet. And what other reason would she have to meet him, other than get back together?! Brilliant! It was the best plan that cow has ever conceived in her long villainous life, to start dating this good for nothing idiot warrior, just so she could make him jealous, and once again get back together, and for good this time around! The Dark Lord had to begrudgingly admit that he admired her scheme that lasted for a decade, but nothing else made sense. And so this plea for help from Harold was nothing more than the call to action from Chardra. Incredibly elegant, and the best way to get in contact with whom was surely to be soon-to-be-former-ex.
“Fine! I will help you in your fruitless endeavour to win Chardra over, but!” the necromancer raised a finger with a flourish, “you will promise me your own help in achieving my own goals!”
“What do ye want?” asked Harold bothe thankful and exasperated.
“I have recently begun anew my own pursuit for world domination, and while my beginnings are quite humble, I would not be opposed to receiving hand so-to-speak. You see, there is a village nearby, full of pesky farmer idiots who don’t know right from wrong. I wish to conquer their little homeland to bring in a new army of undead minions, but with these two brainless and weaponless morons, it is almost certainly impossible. With you, however, it is one more living brain to come up with a proper conquering strategy”.
Afterall, why waste such a great opportunity to increase your numbers? Even though Chardra was smart, she must have missed that this opportunity would have resulted in the inevitable subjugation of her barbarian ex, by the one and only Dark Lord. Of course, it might upset the drow, but sacrifices had to be made, when the upcoming world domination was just over the horizon.
“Sounds fine to me, ye undead bastard. Shake on it?” Before the reply, the barbarian spit in his hand and extended it towards his new partner in crime. The Dark Lord grimaced under his disheveled black robe and snapped his fingers. In response, the death knight who received a mental command went ahead and shook the hand with a loud squelch. “Oof!” the living barbarian went. “You’ve got a grip on ya, don’t ya? And the physique’s pretty impressive for an undead abomination. Who was this guy, anyway?”
“Do you expect me to know who this moron before he became my minion? Some stupid adventurer who arrived to battle me! His struggles were futile as you see, no need to congratulate me”.
Harold the barbarian, however, did not congratulate the Dark Lord. After some time he simply shook his long-haired head to dislodge an annoying thought, which found its way into the crevices of his brain, just like a piece of meat finds its way between the teeth. “So, where do we start looking for her?”
“We shall begin with the village!”
“But I thought…”
“It matters not what you think, peasant! As far as you know, she might as well be there. And what is it you simpletons like to say? ‘Kill two birds with one stone’?”